Chapter Twelve

"Buffy," Willow frowned, "we still can't seem to find her with this locating spell." The array of items spread across the table, all conducive to locating Dawn, surrounded a map of the Himalayas.

"So teleportation is definitively out," Tara concluded, "we wouldn't want to find ourselves a week's walk from anywhere. Or... climb."

"I thought so," Buffy nodded. "Logan wouldn't have brought her there unless he thought he could keep her hidden." She sighed, crossing her arms. There was almost no trace of the despair she had felt earlier showing on her face. This Slayer had a plan. "If Riley comes through, then we have transport to L.A. by midnight and then to Tibet..." She thought about this for less than a second under the uncertain gazes of the others. "He'll come through."

"Even if he does, it might take a day or more of flyovers to locate the monastery," Giles put in, "but from what I've been reading about this sacred water ritual they use, it takes days to prepare. We may still have time to prevent him from doing... whatever he intends to do."

"I've always wanted to go to Tibet," Xander grinned.

"Uh, fellas?" Spike was standing, looking out the window. "Whoever said this Logan bloke had this whole thing planned down to a T," he pointed out the window, "wasn't lying."

Three monstrously large creatures, all resembling tarantulas lumbered down the street. The sun was just going down, darkening everything to black and white. The scene outside of people scattering and spiders feeding looked like some cheesy fifties horror flic. The longer Spike watched, the more amused he became, laughing once as a car swerved to avoid the havoc.

His laugh jogged everyone out of their amazement, sending them running for the weapons. "This is exactly what we don't need," Buffy muttered, grabbing a large axe from the weapons chest.

"I think that's the point," Xander added, hefting his sword. "We're going to have pull a fast one on Mr. Nostradamus to even get a chance to find Dawn."

"I think we've got something he didn't count on," Giles came in from the back.

"What's that?" Willow asked, slinging a crossbow over her shoulder.

"We've got his plan."

Xander paused. "Uh, sorry, how does that help us?"

Giles slung the heavy broad sword through the air. "He's counting on us being distracted by these creatures," he explained. "That means he hasn't completed the ritual yet, and perhaps hasn't even started. He's afraid we'll figure out what he's up to, so he's thrown these creatures at us, counting on the fact that we'll stay here to protect Sunnydale."

"Are you saying we shouldn't?" Xander responded.

Anya's attention perked up from behind the Magic Box counter. "I think we should stay... to protect consumerism if nothing else."

"We should," Giles nodded, then pointedly turned his gaze on Buffy.

"I'll go alone," she concluded, lowering her axe.

"We can take care of the creepy crawlies," Xander assured her.

Buffy looked out to the door, then to the smiling face on the computer screen. They could see she was torn. Xander and Giles exchanged glances, but only for an instant, then they both dashed out the door, following Spike who was already goading on one of the terrifying arachnids.

"Well," Buffy shrugged, "I've at least got till midnight to kick some spider thorax," she lifted her axe to complete the pun. With no response, she left Willow, Anya and Tara by the computer.

"Oooh, look at our big strong men folk," Willow said in an awed voice.

"And to a lesser extent, at Xander," Anya added. She then snatched a scythe and followed them.

Willow and Tara looked out the window, admiring the tenacity with which the brave of heart and foolish of mind surrounded and heckled the giant spiders, all patiently awaiting Buffy who proceeded to do away with them, one by one, as she had done their predecessor.

"You know," Tara said as the small crowd of warriors scattered, a spider charging through their midst, "someone should really wait here, in case Riley calls back."

"I think you're absolutely right," Willow agreed, setting her crossbow down and taking her still warm seat at the computer. "And who knows what useful piece of information is just waiting to be discovered?"

"Exactly," Tara agreed, settling down in front of one of the volumes. "It's not like they can't take care of themselves."

"Far from it," Willow added. There was a long pause. "Plus I hate spiders," she said casually.

"Naturally," Tara agreed. "Anyone with any sense hates spiders."

The sun had just risen over the Qingzang Plateau when Dawn was awoken by a gently shaken shoulder. She blinked quietly and looked up from her sleeping mat, expecting to see Loki looking down at her. Instead, she faced the quietly pleasant face of a monk.

"Miss Dawn," he said, almost as a whisper. "It is time to get up."

Without a word, she did, realizing that she hadn't changed her clothes for at least two days. She opened her mouth to say something, but the monk laid out a pair of rough trousers, a plain white tunic and a red burlap robe like the one he wore, by the doorway to the room's head.

He then walked to the door, turned, bowed low, and exited, locking the door behind him.

Dawn sighed and proceeded to change into the trousers and tunic, leaving the robe where it lay. It looked too ceremonial for her tastes, and she did not cherish the memory of the occasion when she had last donned a ceremonial garment.

Soon she was dressed and prepared for whatever the day had in store for her, though, she thought, how anyone could have been prepared for anything that had happened to her this week was a mystery. She stood for a moment or two staring out the small window which overlooked an admittedly breathtaking mountain scape and for an instant she couldn't help but see how much she must look like a damsel in distress locked in a faraway castle... Her eyes slowly dropped from the stunning view and she turned from the window, in her heart knowing no prince was coming. She had locked herself in this tower. She sat cross-legged on her sleeping mat, holding the small sphere she had been given, almost jokingly in accidental mockery of the monks who most certainly meditated not far away. Dawn could hear their low chanting if she listened hard enough. As hard as she tried, she couldn't seem to find the ability to laugh. Nor, however, could she cry. She conjured in her mind the face of Joyce, a face that for the past year and a half had brought tears to her eyes and knots to her throat. Today she felt nothing. Sadness for sure, longing, but no sense-shattering sorrow. She though of Buffy. Of her sister's death. It was now more of an oddity, the fact that she had grieved, as many spectators to her life had said she would, and then had found her sister alive again, and supposedly everything was normal. Her sadness was something she felt should be forgotten. It was not, of course, but the tragedy of the entire situation, now from Dawn's renewed point of view, seemed quite moot.

So she sat, cross-legged on her sleeping mat, oblivious to the resounding inner peace she had unknowingly encountered in this place. Soon, however, the monk returned, rapping on the door, of course, before entering. Again he bowed low and gestured her out of her room.

"Loki has called for you," he said simply.

Dawn stood with a small sense of trepidation, but almost a tenfold feeling of confidence in this man who had seen her at her worst and called on her still. She strode out of the stone room, the chanting of the monks immediately redoubling in volume as she crossed the threshold.

The two walked, the monk in front, Dawn behind, down a relatively broad stone corridor to an impressively open main hall.

There was only one piece of furniture in this hall, at its far end; a roughly fashioned work bench, upon which was strewn a red cloth, the same color as the robes the monks wore. Sitting on top of this was a broad, deep urn, dark jade in color, its contents invisible from where Dawn was passing.

The monk led her down another corridor, identical to the one from which they had just emerged, to meet Loki, forever wearing his khakis and silk shirt.

"Good morning," Loki smiled. He held out his hand.

Without hesitation, Dawn placed the small sphere she had been carrying into his palm. He tucked the ball in a small leather pouch and secured the open end with a leather tie. He sighed, approaching the door to his left, which looked identical to all the other wooden doors they had passed on their journey down these halls. He opened the door a crack, tossing the small pouch inside. There was a brief moment before it made a thunk on the stone of the floor, obviously a little ways below the doorsill.

"Now," Loki explained. "I have explained to you that your quest stone is the most important object in your universe. As long as you have it, your goal is still within your grasp. This is your test of bravery," he announced. "Go and get your stone."

Dawn braced herself for whatever lay behind the wooden door. She took a deep breath, marching solemnly forwards, taking a firm grasp of the door latch. Lifting it and pulling the door ajar, she looked down the flight of stone stairs to where her quest stone lay. Between three of the legs of a giant spider. As she stepped into the room at the top of the stairs, her eyes were wide, her mind racing. The door closed behind her with a hollow boom.