After Xander Harris had left my tomb, I paced the floor. Planning and plotting, running through this scenario and that eventuality, trying to second guess fate.
Finally, I dozed. Tossing and turning, I dreamed feverish nightmares of blood and snow.
The faint sound of a mouse searching for crumbs awoke me hours later. The crack of light around the door was gleaming red. Sunset was in its prime.
I rose and stretched. Note to self: stone is surprisingly uncomfortable. There may be something to these rumors of sleeping pads of soft material.
I reached for my journal. A piece of paper perched on top of the cover fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and scanned the contents. If my heart had a chance of beating before, it was out of luck now.
Tessa -
I hope you'll find what you're looking for. There will be provisions for you at The Magic Box this evening.
I'll be at home. Alone.
If you wish to talk anything through or tell me any of your plans, you may find me there.
Please.
R. Giles
It burned me, the ray of sun striking my cheek. It brought a tear to my eye. I welcomed the pain, because the pain helped to block out the troublesome thoughts that insisted on crowding my brain.
He had been there. In my crypt. He had watched me sleep.
Trying quite unsuccessfully to stay in the shadows and away from the last dancing shreds of daylight, I pulled out the note and read it for the hundredth time. Searching its pen strokes as if they held the meaning to my existence.
Perhaps they did.
Night was seducing the sun, her rays were still demurely clutching at the vestiges of day. When at last the sun relinquished it's hold on the earth, and blessed dankness fell, I raced the final few steps to The Magic Box, lurching through the door like a drunken crusader on his last charge.
The bell jingled merrily, announcing my arrival - Here comes the crazed vampire, tentatively holding onto her sanity! Aren't her shoes so last season?
Anya peered up at me from behind the counter, her interest waning when she recognized me.
"Oh it's you. I thought you were a customer. Here to spend money."
I gave a short laugh. Hunger and Desperation were trying to rip my eyes from my sockets and use them as golf balls, and Anya wanted me to spend money.
"Sorry. They don't tend to bury people with loads of cash" I said.
"Giles left this for you." She held out a bag. Even from ten feet away, my nostrils twitched at the scent of cow's blood.
"Thanks." I strode across the room and ripped it from her hands. Greedily, I sank my fangs into a container of lukewarm blood.
"Ew!" A voice from across the room broke through my blood haze. "That is so gross. At least Spike puts his in a cup first."
I took the empty bag from my mouth and licked the vestiges of blood from my lips. Dawn sat at a table in the center of the room, books spread out around her.
"Were you really that hungry?" Dawn asked.
I nodded slowly, the room gradually coming into focus. I hadn't realized how famished I'd become. How swiftly I could lose control.
"Yes. Yes. I'm sorry. I - I'm usually not like that." I forced the demon back and felt the ridges above my eyes smooth out.
Dawn shrugged. "Giles said you probably hadn't eaten in a while. I've just never seen a vamp attack blood like that before."
I couldn't help but grin. "Sheltered life, eh?"
"You have no idea."
The smile lingering, I turned to Anya. "Sorry about that. I promise, I'm usually much more polite."
The ex-demon cocked her head. "Do you find Xander attractive?"
I spluttered for a moment, trying desperately to find the thread of conversation that I must have missed.
"Excuse me?" I said. "I...that is I've never -"
A giggle from Dawn interrupted my babbling. "She knows that Xander went to your crypt this morning. She thinks that you must have jumped him."
"Well," Anya said, "what else are two people of the opposite sex going to do in an empty room?"
I went from confused to befuddled in record time. "You think that I had sex with Xander simply because we were alone in my crypt for ten minutes this morning?"
"Did you?" Anya asked.
"No!"
"Why not? Don't you find him attractive?"
This girl was wigging me out. "Um, Anya? Exactly what kind of demon were you?"
"Vengeance."
"Ah." That explained so much. "Old habits die hard, I imagine."
I sat down at the table and began to idly flip through the pages of a dusty tome.
"So, what are you two up to?"
Dawn gave an angry sigh and Anya rolled her eyes.
"Did I strike a nerve?" I asked.
"Well, I am researching. Dawn is doing her homework." Anya supplied.
"Would you rather be reading about," I picked up the nearest book, "Urick the Ugly and his fondness for human babies?"
Dawn crossed her arms and frowned at the table. "No. It's just that I never get to go out and help."
"Help with what? You're, what, thirteen?"
"I'm fourteen, thank you very much! And I can help with a lot of stuff."
"I'm sure you could, Dawn. But trust me, ignorance is sleep with less nightmares. Take the non-lethal jobs while you can. You'll be out in the blood and the fracas soon enough." I smiled at her, wishing desperately that I could trade places with her for a few blissful hours. Oh, to be young and uncalled.
"She's right. Why, I remember back in the 1400s there was this Duke-" Anya was off and running. All demons are the same. Give them an opening, and they'll regale you with tales of the 'good ole days' for hours.
I lost interest after the first sentence and allowed my eyes to wander the room, drinking in the space where Rupert spent so much of his time. His essence was everywhere. The books arranged just so, the overstock of crystals, the faint smell of old parchment and tea - he loved it here. It must be his oasis, a place where he felt in control, where everything he needed was at his fingertips.
While Anya continued explaining exactly how she had eviscerated the poor Duke at a dinner party, I climbed the ladder to the upper level. If I owned such a shop, I would keep the more dangerous magicks away from the sticky-fingered kiddies.
"Bingo." I whispered, running my finger along the spines of ancient Spell Books. Even I, with virtually no magic experience, could sense the power in these volumes.
My fingers stopped when they reached the words Alieno Totus.
Forget All.
It was a tome of Forgetting Spells. What people rarely realized was that a widespread memory-altering charm was fairly simple to perform. What got tricky was manipulating specific memories in specific people, while leaving others intact.
Luckily, that wasn't what I needed to do.
I glanced over the table of contents. The whole thing was in Latin. If I knew Rupert, though, there would be an English to Latin translating dictionary around the shop somewhere. Though the actual words of the spell would have to be said in the original language, the dictionary would help me find the right spell and ingredients.
"Hey, Dawn?" I hollered.
"Yeah?" Dawn said.
"I'm going to need some help with this..."
Amazingly enough, she was more than willing to abandon Anya's gory reenactments and her Math homework.
We dug through books and found the correct dictionary. Dawn showed quite an aptitude for ancient languages that made my task much easier. As I called out Latin words, she looked them up, and I began compiling a list. Soon Anya became frustrated with the lack of customers and came over to join us. She worked through her 'Giles Reading List' while Dawn and I continued translating.
"Facio vestri ut nusquam." I said.
"Hm." Dawn was flipping through pages. "I think it means...to make nothing of, wait, no. To make me as nothing. Or something like that."
I scanned the ingredients. Luckily, there were pictures. I only needed some sort of flower, the obligatory candles and binding sand, and the words.
Vestri memoria mei
Est tantum of poena
EGO precor is absentis
Per incendia of meus alica
Pacis rursus.
Perfect.
I looked up to find Dawn staring at me.
"Uh, do you need anything else translated? 'Cause I'm a translating fool!" She smiled at me and waved the dictionary in the air.
"Er, no. Nothing right now. But I'm going to need to take it with me. And this book."
"I don't know if Giles would want you to take that. That's one of his 'personal collection'." Anya frowned. "In fact, I don't know if he would even want you looking at it."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I thought Rupert said that I could pick up the supplies I needed here."
"Well, you can. I mean, he said you could. And he owns the shop. So yes. Please, take the book. And anything else you need. Without paying." With a false smile, Anya marched into the back room.
"Can you translate one more thing for me?" I asked Dawn.
Her face brightened. "Sure!"
I ran my finger down the ingredient list. "What is 'mectabilis bramble'?"
As she rifled through the dictionary, I snagged a bag from behind the cash register and collected eight candles - one for each memory - and a bottle of binding sand.
"Ok, got it. It literally means 'deadly bramble'. But for a spell, you'd use something called Lethe's Bramble." She beamed at me, very pleased with her translation work.
"Excellent Dawn!" I said as I searched the shelves. "And here it is. Lethe's Bramble." I grabbed several of the small florets. "That should do it."
"So, is this going to help? Defeat Laalym, I mean."
I smiled sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's going to work well."
"Cool."
I hoped so.
I went back to the table and added the book and dictionary to my shopping bag.
"Thanks for the help Dawn."
"Hey, no problem. That's me, the helper." She cringed. "Wow, that was lame."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, but lame in a 'too cool to be cool' kind of way."
She grinned.
As I turned to leave, Dawn jumped up.
"Hey, Theresa?"
"Yes?"
"I - I just wanted to say how cool this was. The translating thing. I mean, sometimes I feel like I'm..." She trailed off and waved her hand in the air helplessly.
"In the way?" I said.
"Kinda."
"Yeah. I get that. But cut your sister some slack. She's - well, it's always hard to deal with putting people we love in danger. And you're her family, you know? So she feels doubly responsible."
Dawn looked down, troubled. Again I was struck by how...odd she felt to me. Like something was just a little bit off of normal.
"Buffy is trying, Dawn. And she loves you. That counts for a lot more than you think." I tried a smile. "Once this whole thing she's dealing with is over, I'm sure stuff will get better."
Dawn looked at me, then shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Yeah."
The trouble with this whole scenario was that I knew, better than anyone, that Slayers didn't get normal. I was telling Dawn patronizing glib-ness, and she knew it. But it was better than saying 'Hey, your sister will probably be dead soon, so stop whining!'. So we left it.
"How-how's your journal going?" Dawn said, obviously trying not to end on an awkward note.
On the first day, during my first meeting with the Scoobies, Dawn and I had talked a bit while the rest researched and I waited for Spike to point me towards a likely crypt. She had been writing in her diary, and suggested I start one of my own. She told me it helped with the 'head-noises'.
I had told her that undead demons did not write diaries, soul or no soul. So I adopted my Journal. Much more adult.
"Good," I said. "You're right. It helps."
"Well, good then." Dawn rocked back and forth, fidgeting. I could tell that she was on the verge of telling me something, probably something she knew she shouldn't tell. Suddenly I was desperate to be out of there. My head was bursting with the secrets I had to keep for myself. I honestly didn't think I could keep hers as well.
Besides, it was better I didn't linger too long with any of them. Not now.
"I'd better get going Dawn. I have a lot to do and only so long till the sun. Are you going to be okay here with Anya?"
She looked vaguely disappointed. "Yeah, sure. No problem."
"Alright then." I held her gaze for a moment. If only I had something to offer her. Somehow, I felt that she'd need it. "Good night Dawn."
"Good night."
I turned then and walked through the doorway.
My resolve was only strong enough to get myself through the next two days. I had nothing to spare for little girls who were not quite what they seemed.
I was going hunting.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Anya, Dawn, The Magic Box, Rupert Giles, Buffy, and a sturdy pair of socks. Hubert the Plot Bunny claims ownership of Theresa. I own the misspellings.
Thanks and Fuzzy Thoughts To: J. for the Beta. Google for the Latin. And to you, gentle reader, for sticking with me.
A/N: After a bit of a break, where Anya-speak thoroughly kicked my shins, we've returned. Hope you like it. Any mistakes are, once again, mine alone. And don't forget to leave a review at the door!
