Chapter 15 - Sometimes life needs little faith.
December 21, 2005

The dishes were done. Deirdre had simply stood by and watched as Gareth conducted the washing, drying, and putting away like an orchestra leader, his wand swishing through the air to a beat only he could hear. It was a silly moment for the weight of her emotions to finally land on her heart, but land they did. Tenderness, grief, desire, fear, hope, anger, and love all collided in an awkward, gooey mess as she watched him. It didn't matter that she might always feel inadequate, she wanted him anyway. Blinking away tears, she turned to that faithful old standby, the tea kettle. It was always there when you needed to keep your hands busy. As Remus had said, tea was their answer for everything. Didn't get that job you wanted? Tea. Ex-boyfriend that you're still in love with having psychotic sleepwalking episodes? Tea. Zombie apocalypse has begun? Tea.

She filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove, pulling a teapot and mugs from the cupboard and arranging them on the tray Gareth had just emptied of dinner plates. Running a finger over the striped design on the mug she wondered if he'd chosen the pattern. Was that part of the house his sisters had helped him set up when he first moved here? Or maybe he had assistants to do things like that. Or maybe, she shuddered, Valentina had picked them and he'd never bothered to get new ones. Deirdre hated that she thought of her so often. Part of her wanted to pretend she'd never existed and part of her wanted to know what had drawn Gareth to the woman in the first place.

"They remind me of the dishes we had back on the res," Gareth said.

Deirdre started, nearly dropping the mug she'd been holding. "Pardon?" she squeaked, setting it down with a clatter. How could he have known what she was thinking?

"You were tracing the stripes on the mug," he said, setting down his wand and picking up a dishrag to run over the edge of the sink and countertops. "I picked those because they look similar to the old dishes we had growing up." He paused and frowned. "I guess I actually spend a lot of time trying to find things that remind me of home. I hadn't really thought about it before. But moving out of the city, playing in that bar every week, the dishes…" He methodically rinsed and rang out the cloth before draping it over the edge of the sink. "Do you think people like us, people that had…difficult childhoods, are always looking for something like that? The home that other people get? Some sort of ideal?" His eyes were somehow sad and hungry, and then he frowned and turned slightly away from her. "That sounds sentimental and stupid."

Deirdre shook her head, leaning her hip against the counter. "No. I think you're saying something big and true. And when we do that, maybe it does sound like bollocks, but that doesn't mean it's not true."

The kettle chose that moment to begin is shrill song. She turned to grab it, thankful to break eye contact. She'd been very close to saying more, saying something she wouldn't be able to take back. She spooned the tea into the pot and sloshed the water over it. As she moved to get milk from the fridge, Gareth was already standing beside her, holding it.

"Would you stay?" he asked in a soft voice as he poured the milk into the little cream pitcher. "While they're doing the sleep study? You're the only one who really knows what it's like…I…I'd feel better knowing you were there."

Would you stay? The words she'd been desperate to avoid hearing him say for years. "Of course," she answered. Gareth smiled, and even though he was only asking for tonight, only asking for this one strange situation, she knew her answer would be the same if he ever did ask what he'd asked so long ago. If the chance came again, she would stay with him forever.

He picked up the tray and carried it back into the living room. Remus and Professor Snape were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, frowning at each other. It took a moment for the teachers to notice they'd arrived and Professor Snape's wand flicked briskly through the air. Deirdre heard the fire roar to life and realized they must have had a silencing spell up. She wondered what serious things they'd been discussing, if Gareth's situation was worse than they'd let on.

Gareth must have been wondering the same thing. He set the tray down with a thud, making the lid of the teapot rattle. "When would you like to begin?" he asked in a cold voice.

"Gareth, we were discussing the possibility that you would have…back up of a sort when you entered your dream state," Remus said, watching him intently. "Daisy gave me a memory that I think could be encouraging and useful. Your warrior—"

"No," Gareth said sharply, cutting him off. "I don't know what you think you saw, but we can't trust them to help. I will submit to this sleep study, but I will absolutely not seek them out. They promised help before, but when I really needed it they did nothing."

He stood there, ramrod straight with his fists clenched. Deirdre felt a pang of grief hearing him. She didn't interact with the warriors the way Daisy did, but she'd seen them a time or two, and even if how they tried to help didn't always make sense, she didn't doubt that they were trying to help. What had Gareth meant? How had they failed him? She took a step forward and touched his arm, hoping to get him to relax. Surely it wasn't a good idea to start off this sleep study tense and angry. He glanced at her and dropped his stiff posture. She stepped around him and began to pour the tea, passing cups around.

Maybe this is why tea always helped. It made a person pause, gave you time to think about what to say or do next so you didn't just spout off the first foolish thing that came into your head. She looked to Remus to see how he felt about Gareth's opposition to his suggestion. He didn't seem surprised, just disappointed.

"Have you found something that means the sleepwalking is connected to the warriors?" she asked.

Remus took the cup she held out to him and shook his head. "Not exactly. But my research indicates there may be an enemy involved, and Daisy sent along a memory that suggests the warriors—" He cut himself off and gave a slight shrug. "If Gareth doesn't want to pursue that, then it's a moot point."

They spent a strained half hour drinking the tea she'd made with Remus valiantly trying to make small talk by sharing stories about his children and Professor Price adding in amusing mishaps from her potions classes. Deirdre attempted to respond with appropriate remarks and smiles while Professor Snape sat there in silence, like a pensive statue. Gareth was also silent, but growing more and more fidgety as time passed. Finally he stood to his feet, cutting Remus off mid sentence and said, "Let's get this over with. Do you want me to sleep here on the couch?"

Professor Snape regarded him for a long moment before he replied, "That will be adequate, yes. I will fetch the potions I have prepared." He stood and walked briskly out of the room back to the kitchen. Remus whirled his wand through the air with a practiced hand, gathering the teacups back onto the tray.

The professor was back a few moments later, carrying two phials. He held out one toward Gareth, the liquid inside gleaming a dark violet. "This will keep you asleep." He paused a moment and then added in an almost kind tone, "We will wake you at the earliest possible moment."

Gareth stared him down for a long moment, then took the phial from him and unstoppered it, swigging back the liquid as if it were a shot of fire whiskey. He handed the empty phial back and lay down on the sofa. He looked so alone and vulnerable there that Deirdre reacted before she quite knew what she was doing, sinking down to sit on the floor right beside him. "I've said I'll stay," she whispered, taking his hand. "I'll be right here until you wake up."

He gave a nod and took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and clutching her hand against his chest. Within just a few minutes his breathing was deep and regular, the potion very quick-acting. Deirdre tried to ignore the movement around them as the professors began a series of precise wand movements and softly murmured incantations. Occasionally a glow would emanate from different areas of his head as she supposed they worked through the regions of the brain they were checking. But she focused on his face, watching closely for any sign that he was in distress.

Despite her calm demeanor, inside her own heart swirled a confusing hurricane of emotions. One moment she felt like she could honestly stay with him, that she could play the part she would need to play once in a while in front of strangers at fancy dinners or balls. She'd sort of done that the other night at the bar, and it hadn't been terrible. Maybe she could learn to be the sort of person he needed by his side. Then the next moment her own doubts and fears would come crashing down, and she felt irrationally angry that she didn't have magic. Back and forth swung the pendulum of feelings until she became aware that the spells and movement had stopped and the three professors were huddle together looking over a sheet of parchment.

"What have you found?" she asked, her voice louder and more demanding than she'd intended, surprising her.

"There are no abnormalities," Professor Snape said slowly, his gaze still fixed on the parchment. "Everything appears physically sound and functional. And we have pinpointed the area of the brain that is being affected during the dream state."

"So you can wake him up, then," she stated, turning back to look at Gareth.

"Not quite yet," he replied.

She glared at him. "What are you on about? You said you'd wake him up at the earliest possible moment. If you know where his brain is being affected, that means he's in one of those nightmares right now! You have to wake him up!"

He ignored her, turning towards the other two. "I believe we could attempt the Ashlingdorast."

Deirdre had no idea what that meant, but Remus and Professor Price looked shocked by the statement.

"I…" Remus began and then stopped. He looked down at the floor for a moment, smoothing out the ends of his mustache, then raised his eyes and looked at Professor Snape. "Very well. I agree. And I will be the one—"

"That is foolish," Professor Snape interrupted, his lip curled derisively. "You have a family. I have no one—"

Professor Price made a choked sort of scoffing sound and glared at him.

"What are you three talking about?" Deirdre snapped.

Remus came over and knelt beside her. "There is a spell, not commonly used and a bit dangerous. It…connects someone to another person's dream, allowing them to interact and share the experience."

"So someone could be in his dream and…what? What could you do, help him fight off whatever's happening? Do you think if he can beat whatever is attacking him in his dreams it will stop?" Anxiety made her voice fast and breathless, and she knew by the way Remus looked away from her that there was more to it.

"What I think is happening is that the warriors are already there, trying to help, but Gareth is ignoring them or blind to their efforts. You heard how he reacted when I suggested the possibility. But we've seen a memory of Daisy's from the first war. One of them said they would fight together again, that he would be there to help."

"And you think since she sent this memory, that Daisy believes that's what's happening," Deirdre finished. "Only Gareth is being a stubborn git and won't listen," she added in a mutter.

"Something like that," Remus smiled. "So if one of us is in the dream too, perhaps we can convince Gareth to listen and let them help."

"But there's a downside," she said quietly. "Or you and Professor Snape wouldn't be arguing about who does it."

"There's a chance the person sharing the dream can't get back out," Remus said, obviously trying to keep his voice light and even. "But I don't think that's…well, terribly likely."

"But it would be prudent to send the more…expendable person," Professor Snape interjected.

"And while part of me is inclined to agree," Remus said dryly, his voice slightly raised, "particularly because you insist on being as willfully blind as Gareth, the reality is I have never attempted this spell, and since you brought up the possibility I assume you have attempted it, which makes you the better choice to actually cast it."

That seemed to take Professor Snape aback. He opened his mouth, closed it again, drew his eyebrows together fiercely, and then let his face assume a blank mask. "Obviously if you are unfamiliar with the spell it would be foolish to let you attempt it," he finally said begrudgingly.

Deirdre's eye caught a glimpse of movement near the fireplace, and she shifted her gaze, somehow not wholly surprised to see the faint image of a red-gold wolf hovering inside the flames.

I can do it, can't I? Deirdre whispered in her heart to the glowing figure.

Yes, it responded.

And you'll be there to help?

Of course. We are always here.

Deirdre took a deep breath, and then another, trying to get her heart to stop racing. She grabbed the end of her plait, twisting it around her fingers. "I'll do it," she said, again the words coming out louder and more stern than she intended.

Professor Snape looked at her incredulously. "You have no magic," he stated in a flat voice.

"I didn't mean I could cast the spell," she said impatiently. "I meant I could go into the dream. I don't have magic the way you do, but I'm not exactly a Muggle am I? My mother was a witch and I'm a werewolf. I can see Hogwarts, pass through some magic wards. There's more there that just nothing. Besides," she added defiantly, "if you're looking for someone more expendable, I have no family, no job, and make no real impact in the world. But I would wager I care a great deal more about what happens to Gareth than you do." She finished and flipped the end of her plait back over her shoulder, realizing just after that the gesture probably looked a little silly. Professor Snape was staring at her coldly, and she glanced to the others. She was surprised by the sadness in their faces, looking from one to the other, and fear and uncertainty began roaring once more in her head.

Remus sank into one of the armchairs. "You are not…expendable," he said, shooting a glare at Professor Snape. "No one is. Our whole pack would be devastated in something happened to you, and how do you think Gareth would feel if he woke up and we couldn't bring you out?"

She looked to where Gareth still had her hand clutched against his chest, and felt all at once perfectly resolved and sure of a hope she'd only just let herself entertain. "I suspect he would feel the same way I feel now," she said softly. "But I won't know that until this is all over." She looked back at the three professors. "And I think maybe in this moment I also have more…faith, than any of you. The wolves will be there to help, and if Gareth won't acknowledge them or ask them to intervene, I will. What sort of enemy do you think is involved?"

Remus sighed and took his spectacles from his shirt pocket, rising from the chair and retrieving some notes from a side table. "The word Gareth remembers sounds like Asmodeus, from a few Jewish legends about a demon who interferes with, eh, newlyweds," he finished in an apologetic sort of tone. "The name may also be connected with Persian legends of the demon Æshma, who is associated with storms and thus in abstract, rage and anger," he finished, looking up from the paper. "But that is all academic. All I can reasonably hypothesize is that Valetina cast the Hex of Shades and called upon something to torment him. Knowing the specific something may help you fight it, or it may be irrelevant." He set the paper down and took off the glasses, looking at her seriously. "What I mean is knowing my opponent well has helped me fight a few times, but for the most part I didn't know my enemies well enough to counter their specific fighting style and it didn't matter. I fought anyway, the best I could."

She nodded, and turned to the other professors. "Any other objections, or can we proceed? I don't want to leave Gareth trapped there alone any longer than necessary." There, that was a good voice. Not too loud, not breathless or scared. Just matter of fact and determined.

Professor Price shook her head. "I'm in no position to have an opinion. There is too much going on that is completely beyond my experience.

Professor Snape simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. But Deirdre guessed her expression was unreadable too. It was easier to just close off and not let people know what you were thinking. And for the first time she realized that was probably what Professor Snape was doing also, it was his defense mechanism as much as it was hers. "I will cast the spell," he finally said. "And despite your deficit in magical abilities, I do think you are perhaps in a better position to fight this particular battle than anyone."

Remus cleared his throat loudly and Snape's eyes flicked towards him. "And I don't necessarily believe that a lack of magical power makes you more expendable," he added.

Deirdre turned towards Remus in time to see him roll his eyes and she almost smiled. Professor Snape may not necessarily believe her more expendable, but she guessed if he made a chart tallying up their current worth she'd be last on the list. But that didn't matter. He was going to let her try, and she didn't doubt he was the most competent one there to wield the necessary spell. "Remus, would you enlarge the sofa?" she asked, tilting her head toward the still sleeping Gareth.

She gently pulled her hand away from Gareth's, silently promising it was just for a moment, and stepped away from the sofa so Remus could cast the spell, stretching the furniture to double it's width. She sat on the edge as Professor Snape handed her the second phial of the same purple potion Gareth had taken. She tipped it back into her mouth quickly, surprised it tasted sweeter than she'd been expecting. She almost immediately felt time seem to slow down and it was an effort to keep her eyes open. She stretched out on the sofa beside Gareth, taking his hand again, and interlacing their fingers, pressing her palm against his as their arms rested side by side. She let her eyes close and was in the next moment whisked away into sleep.