Chapter Four
I don't know what I've gotten into,
But I'm glad that it's now instead of soon...
Dawn awoke to hear some music drifting in from somewhere. She rolled over and the sound intensified. The digital clock radio on her night stand had been programmed to wake her at eight in the morning. Normally, she would have groaned and rolled over to block it out, or turn it off, but she made no sound as she sat up, swung her feet off the edge of the bed and padded into the bathroom to shower.
The basement of the crypt of Hans... something. She thought to herself as the hot water cleansed the disgust off her body. There were two fast forming scabs on her arm, as well as an impression of the rest of the vampire's teeth in a circle around the wound. In the steamy environment of the little shower, she rested a hand against the wall to keep her knees from buckling. She had never imagined what it might feel like to be drained of so much blood. How good it might feel. Somewhere deep inside her, she laughed at how scared she had been, how naive. Outwardly, however, she had none of the strength necessary.
Once she was cleaned, she dried and dressed in an outfit she had bought yesterday. All in silence. The melodies of songs she had never heard danced and played in the background.
Buffy paced the length of the Magic Shop, caught in a twilight zone between vicious pent up anger and equally vicious, gnawing fear.
"She could be anywhere," Xander finally announced. "With your credit card and licence, she could be in New York by now."
"At least, without a passport," Willow offered, "she can't leave the country."
Xander walked towards the counter where the red head was leaning. "Will, can't you... I dunno - magic her back?"
Willow winced, shoving off the counter to stand fully upright. "Honestly? After last night, I don't think I have the strength to even do a locator spell."
"I can't just sit here anymore," Buffy started for the door. "I have to find her. Xander," she tossed back as she reached the door, "I'm borrowing your car."
"Hey, what?" Xander's attention perked up, "Hang on a minute. I'll drive but..." His eyes shifted to Giles'.
The Watcher's brow creased. "We need a destination."
"I think we can follow her without one," Buffy responded.
Spike sat, sulking in the basement, his arms above his head, wrists angled awkwardly in his manacles. He had been sitting there for hours, alternately humming to himself and shouting for help. Finally, he had given up both. Now he merely muttered, semi-coherently.
"When I get my blood hands on her..."
Just then the basement door flew open and Buffy charged down the stairs.
"Spike, I need you... to..." She frowned. "Spike are you chained up?"
"No," he quipped, "I just decided that this was a terribly comfortable position in which to spend my entire bleedin' day."
"Who chained you up?" Buffy went about undoing the restraints.
"That little vixen sister of yours." To Buffy's amused expression, he quickly added, "while I was bloody sleeping."
"Did she say where she was going?" Buffy's expression returned to that of a worried mother-type.
"No," the vampire answered simply, "just that she didn't want you to follow her. Oh, and she was on about what it felt like to get my soul back."
This made Buffy pause. Her frown deepened as she undid the last manacle. "We have to find her. You have to play blood hound."
The two stood, Spike rubbing his wrists.
Buffy ran ahead of him up the stairs.
The vampire scowled. "Oh, yippee."
Dawn strolled through the cemetery, her black and grey sweater covering her formerly exposed skin, and the traces of the fun she had had last night. It was brisk, the noonday sun was obscured with clouds and there was a trace smell of L.A. smog in the air, but altogether, Dawn thought, it was nice. She was still feeling a bit lightheaded from her loss of blood, but it was receding. She searched among the large stone crypts for the one the vampire had indicated.
It had been erected by what had been a small sapling, but was now a thick vast oak tree whose roots broke through the flagstone terrace surrounding the entrance, and whose boughs caste a perpetual shadow across the entrance. The name, however, was clear as a beacon.
Hans Vordidt
1811-1865
A mourning cloaked stone figure presided over the archway, face obscured by the shadow of its stone hood and the shadow of the tree overhead.
Stepping over the tangle of roots and pausing only a moment to reflect on the statue, Dawn started inside. The black iron gate swung back easily and the steps immediately before her led down out of sight.
Her footsteps echoed hollowly between the walls of the descending passageway, causing her to slow her pace until, entombed in complete darkness, she was sure no one was following her. Finally, her blind step faltered as she stepped onto the level stone floor of the basement.
"Come in, Dawn," the husky voice welcomed. "My home is your home."
Dawn froze. She could not tell from which direction the voice was coming, but she knew that she had told no one in Los Angeles of her real name. She had gone by Buffy, as it suited her licence.
"Do not fear, I do not wish to eat you. I am the oracle you seek." The husky voice sounded vaguely familiar, but still it had no source and no emotion that could be pinned down.
"I am ahead of you, if you would like to proceed."
Dawn started forward uneasily, her fingers brushing the cool dry wall to her left as she moved, her toe testing the ground in front of her.
"Perhaps this is helpful," the oracle stated, and the chamber was filled with a dull blue light. Dawn stopped immediately, seeing for the first time that her fingers were inches from brushing against the dead flesh of Hans Vordidt, the corpse laid in a recess in the wall. She shuddered and withdrew her hand to her side, making uneasy fists as she proceeded forward.
The oracle itself was a dully glowing blue statue of a kneeling monk, its hands together in prayer and its eyes closed. The voice now clearly came from the statue's mouth.
"I am the oracle of Mornsae. I give knowledge to those who seek it, but I am but a mirror of yourself, whose reflection you could not otherwise see."
"Oracle," Dawn began, her voice trembling. She had not encountered anything quite like this before and was unsure of the protocol.
"I have the answer you seek," it responded.
Dawn stopped, turned her head to one side for an instant. "You do?"
"Yes," said the kneeling monk. "You are a Specter. One of the soulless children of creation. You are of no consequence and you will pass to nothing."
Dawn's face contorted in sorrow. She held her arms across her stomach and doubled over, trying to draw breath to cry. As if from a physical blow, she fell to her knees, stifling a sob and swallowing hard.
"Is there a soul for me?" She asked, thinking of Spike's successful quest.
"A soul for you?" The oracle responded. "For a soulless one? No. You are like any other reformed demon. You can never shake the consequences of your evil ways."
Dawn's self pity hardened to anger. "I'm not a demon." She ground out.
"I assure you, you are. There are only two kinds of Specters; demons and humans. You are no human, therefore you are a demon. Reformed, yes, but a demon through and through."
"You haven't even looked at me," Dawn rubbed a dust colored finger across her tear stained cheek.
"I do not need to look. I can feel your presence. All that is becomes known to me when necessary." The cold emotionlessness of the dull blue kneeling monk stung at Dawn's heart.
"Then look now," her anger was slowly quenching her sadness, as her hate for this oracle was kindled. "I am not a demon."
"Oracles cannot be mistaken. You are a Specter, but not human, so you are a demon."
"Look at me!" Dawn shouted, "I am human," she fell forward onto her hands as the dizziness overtook her again.
"I shall look." It said simply. "However I give you fair warning. If you are a demon, then no amount of concealment can prevent you from turning to dust under my gaze."
"I am no demon," she answered coldly.
"Very well. Demon or no, I recommend you close your eyes."
And with that, the stone carved eyelids of the monk slid open, piercing blue rays of light throwing the teen back and pinning Dawn against the wall of the crypt.
With her eyes tightly shut, Dawn felt herself being lifted to her knees, then to her feet, and finally with the lightest touch, she was held above the floor as the blue beam of oracle vision probed her body and mind.
I am human, she mouthed as the warmth of the gaze increased to a mild burning sensation. For one fleeting instant, she wondered if it were possible that she might be nothing more than a self-deceived demon. But that thought vanished as the oracle spoke.
"You are indeed correct. You are no demon. Your essence is human through and through. You must forgive me for my conclusion." There was a pause as the beam of blue light held her fast against the stone wall. "Hold on," it said, losing the touch of formality it had before. "What's this then?" The first hint of emotion: confusion, emerged from its voice as Dawn felt a tightening in her chest.
The tightness expanded until she felt as though her whole body was in the grip of some giant's fist. She couldn't seem to breath in. The sound of the blood pounding in her ears intensified.
"Amazing," said the oracle. What was more amazing, to anyone more familiar with oracles than Dawn, was the fact that an oracle could be astonished by anything.
The tightness increased in her chest until Dawn felt sure her ribs were going to splinter. She tried to mouth the word stop but her face was burning with the blood trapped there and she could no longer feel her lips.
Finally, her mind reeling and her consciousness threatening to slip into a dark abyss, Dawn opened her eyes a crack. The light, now concentrated on her torso, was beautiful. It was every shimmering hue of blue imaginable, tinted at its edges with hints of purple and violet.
From her chest, however, a new light was emerging, overpowering the blue. A deep, rich green light swirled around the contact point between the oracle's vision and Dawn's sweater. As Dawn watched, her mind tottering on the edge of a dream state from lack of oxygen, the green energy curled and mingled sensuously with the blue light.
"What in the world are you?" The oracle asked, probing deeper into the teenager than ever before.
At that point, the suffocating grip of the oracle became too much to stand and Dawn began to spiral down into unconsciousness. But before she lost sight of the dancing lights before her, she saw the green tongues of energy snake out and strike the kneeling monk.
"Oh, shi-!" it began and was blown to pieces, the blue light vanishing instantly and the green slithering back to the unconscious form of Dawn, laying on her side in the dark, empty crypt.