Chapter 11: Fusion
 
Giles watched the ambulance pull away, then shut the door. He went over to the nearest chair and threw himself into it, utterly spent. He had spun a tale for the police about an attempted robbery, which Xander had foiled, and they seemed to accept the story without question. The shop was finally empty of Scoobies, customers, vampires, and everyone else who had been driving him to the edge of madness all day. With a sigh, he looked at the books of curses spread out on the table. From what they had read, he felt that he was looking at something personal. Someone had something against one or all of the Scoobies, and was trying to make them suffer by intensifying some of their own natural tendencies to the point of self-destruction. This sort of spell usually required some sort of talisman or other object to focus the spell, but he couldn’t figure out where such a thing could be. There was nothing that had been stashed around the store that he didn’t recognize. I should probably call up Joyce and ask her to see if she sees anything unusual around the house, he thought. Heaving himself out of his chair, he headed to the phone.
 
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Willow wasn’t sure where to look for Tara, so she went back to the dining hall first. She asked the cashier if she had seen Tara. “You mean the crazy chick who just about ate everything we had?” said the cashier. “She finished off that huge pile of food and came back for another whole tray! Halfway through that she got up and tossed her cookies in the trash can. Grossed everyone out of the place. When we tried to get her to leave, she went ballistic. She was screaming, insisting that she was starving, that she needed to eat. We ended up calling campus police to come get her.”
 
“Where did they take her?” Willow asked. Tara, I’m so sorry, what did I do…?
 
The cashier shrugged. “I think they took her to Sunnydale General. She was acting so crazy, I think they thought she needed to be in the psych ward.”
 
Willow turned and flew out of the cafeteria. She ran to the nearest bathroom and shut herself in a stall. No time to wait for a cab, she thought. She closed her eyes and concentrated her will. She had read a teleportation spell not too long ago. She took a deep breath and focused on the image of Sunnydale General Hospital. She opened her eyes and chanted, her eyes growing black with power. Her voice rose until she cried out, “Comportati!” There was a flash and a puff of smoke as Willow disappeared.
 
With a gasp Willow landed on her knees. The world was spinning. She felt like she had been turned inside out. She staggered to her feet, clutching her head. As her vision cleared she realized that she was in an alley. Holding onto a nearby wall for support, she made her way slowly to the street. She realized that she was about 5 blocks from the hospital. Guess I need some practice with that one, she admitted to herself. She tripped and almost fell again, stumbling like a drunk as she made her way down the street. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this awful, ever. She had never been much of a drinker or a party goer, and if this was what hangovers felt like she was never, ever going to drink anything. Ever.
 
By the time she made her way to the hospital doors, her head had cleared and her feet seemed to be working again.  She went up to the information desk, pale and out of breath. “I’m looking for my girlfriend, Tara Maclay,” she panted.
 
The woman behind the desk looked for Tara’s name on the computer. “She’s been taken to the psychiatric ward, fourth floor. You should ask at the nurse’s station up there.” She looked closely at Willow. “Are you feeling ok, Miss?”
 
“I’m fine. Just worried,” Willow said. “Thanks.” Willow made her way to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. The nurse on duty looked up at the redhead and said, “Can I help you?”
 
“My girlfriend was brought in a while ago. Tara Maclay?” Willow said, trying to calm herself down.
 
“Oh yes, Ms. Maclay,” the nurse said. “Are you a relative?”
 
“We live together. Please, is she ok? Can I see her?” Now that the aftereffects of the spell had worn off, Willow was practically in tears with worry.
 
“Let me get Dr. Harper,” said the nurse. Willow sat down on one of the nearby chairs and twisted her hands nervously. A young dark haired doctor came up to her. “Are you here for Ms. Maclay?” he asked.
 
“Yes. Is she ok?” Willow asked, jumping to her feet.
 
“Right now she is heavily sedated. She was fighting the police officers as she was brought in. She was raving about being hungry, and at one point practically attacked an orderly bringing a cart of food to another patient. Can you tell me any of her recent history? Anything that could explain this?”
 
Nothing that you’re going to believe, Willow thought. “She just got over a really bad case of food poisoning, but otherwise, I don’t know what happened to her.” Well, except for a spell or two.
 
“Hmm,” said the doctor. “We’ll just have to keep her under observation for a while then. She’ll be out for several more hours at least, but you are welcome to see her if you like.”
 
Willow followed the doctor into a room where she found Tara, asleep and in restraints. “Tara? Baby? It’s me,” Willow said, gently caressing Tara’s brow. “You’re going to be ok, sweetie, I promise.” Willow sat down next to her and took Tara’s hand. For a moment she thought, I’m sure I could find a spell to fix this. After a few minutes running down a mental list of possibilities, she stopped. This is how she got here, remember? Why can’t I stop? With an extreme effort, she wrenched her mind away from magic and just focused on Tara. She sat there for a long, long time, holding on to the woman she loved and wondering how all this had ever happened.
 
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Anya paced in the emergency room waiting area. I hope his insurance pays for this! How are we going to afford it if we don’t? What if his brain is damaged? Am I going to have to support him? Will that use up all our savings? She pulled the savings account passbook out of her purse and looked at the balance, mentally adding up what a hospital stay could cost, wondering again about the details of Xander’s insurance. Suddenly she realized what she was doing, and was horrified. The man you love is in the hospital with a head wound and you’re worried about the savings account? What is wrong with me?
 
A young female doctor came into the waiting area. “Are you here with Mr. Harris?” she asked.
 
“Yes, I’m his girlfriend. Is he ok?” Anya asked.
 
“His jaw is broken, and he has a hairline fracture in his skull. He needed a few stitches as well. He’s got a pretty good concussion. He’s still unconscious, and he’s going to need to stay here a few days so we can make sure there’s no swelling in his brain. But barring unexpected complications, he should be ok in a couple of days,” she finished.
 
“Can I see him?” Anya pleaded. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.
 
“Sure,” the doctor said warmly. She led Anya into a room where Xander lay, his face all bruised and puffy. His head was swathed in bandages, and the sight caused Anya’s barely controlled tears to spill down her cheeks.
 
“Oh Xander, honey,” she whispered. She sat down next to the bed and stroked his arm gently. For the first time all day, money was the last thing on her mind. “Hang in there, Xander. I love you.” She laid her head down gently on the bed next to him and settled in to her vigil.
 
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Bloody Christ that hurt! Spike moaned to himself as he lay on the floor, clutching his wounded testicles. Next time let her go for the sodding nose, you idiot! He slowly hauled himself to his feet, seeing stars and feeling slightly nauseated. He reached for his clothes and got dressed as rapidly as he could manage. Fucking bitch is not getting out of this that easily, he vowed. Wincing as he buckled his belt and grabbing his duster, he took off as fast as he could to track the Slayer.
 
Buffy had stormed out of Spike’s crypt at a fast walk, furious with herself for ending up in his bed again, and furious at him for tying her brain in knots. How can he love me? He’s just saying that to piss you off! But she knew deep down that she was just covering. He meant it. She knew he meant it. Arrgh! As if I didn’t have enough to worry about without having a lovesick vampire mooning over me! One vampire boyfriend was enough! She clenched her fists as she walked back toward the Magic Box, trying to figure out what she could possibly say to Giles after all this.
 
As she reached the front of the store, she felt the tingle on the back of her neck that signaled vampire a second before she heard Spike’s voice say, “Just a bloody minute there, Slayer.”
 
She turned, setting her jaw and rolling her eyes. “Spike, what part of kicking you in the groin did you NOT understand?”
 
Spike struggled not to wince at the memory, but he stood his ground. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Slayer. You can’t throw yourself at me then kick the crap out of me when you’re done.”
 
Buffy laughed out loud. “Me? Throw myself at you?” she said incredulously. “You’re the one who’s been going around like a dog in heat!”
 
“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve been hating every. single. minute,” Spike purred seductively, moving until he was inches away from Buffy, licking his lips.
 
Heat rushed through Buffy at the sight of those lips. But then the anger came back again in a rush. “Cut it out!” she cried. She grabbed his arm and spun, throwing him through the air. He flew and crashed into the downspout to the side of the Magic Box door, knocking it down with a clatter. Giles’ alarmed face appeared at the window, but he decided it was probably better to wait a moment rather than getting in front of Buffy in this state.
 
Spike sprawled, shaking his head to clear it, then started to get to his feet. “What the fuck was that for, bitch?” he snarled. He put his hand down in an attempt to rise, only to jerk it back with a shout. “Ow! What the bloody hell…?”
 
Buffy stopped, wondering at Spike’s hand, which was burned and smoking. “Spike?” she asked in a less angry tone. “What is it?”
 
“Don’t fucking know,” Spike growled. He used his boot to probe into the corner behind the downspout and nudged a small bundle out into the glow of the streetlight. Buffy bent to pick it up. It was a crucifix. Around it was a scrap of rough brown cloth and a piece of parchment, tied in place with a scarlet ribbon.
 
“What in the name of God is this?” Buffy wondered. She opened the door to the Magic Box and went inside, with Spike following her, nursing his burned hand and his bruised body.
 
“Buffy?” asked Giles warily. “What is it?”
 
“Spike found this outside the door,” Buffy remarked as she fumbled with the ribbon.
 
“Looks like some kind of talisman or something,” Spike said, looking curiously at the strange object.
 
Buffy managed to undo the knot and unroll the parchment and cloth. The parchment had writing on it in rusty looking ink, which Spike recognized as human blood. Buffy looked at the words:
 
Ira Gula Luxuria Superbia Acedia Avaritia Invidia
 
“So, we’re looking for some guy named Ira?” she asked, having no clue what this was supposed to mean.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “No, you daft bint. It’s Latin. Someone’s written out the seven deadly sins in Latin.”
 
“The who?” Buffy was no wiser, and getting angry again. “Would you just explain in English? Like now?”
 
“Not my fault you have the cultural awareness of lint,” Spike growled. “The seven deadly sins. List of the primary vices that put you on the path to hell and damnation, according to the Catholics at least.” He pointed to the Latin and translated for her, “Anger, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, Sloth, Greed, Envy.”
 
“Of course!” Giles said suddenly. They turned to look at him. “Think about it. Anya’s been selling everything that’s not nailed down – Greed. Tara couldn’t stop eating, to the point of food poisoning – Gluttony. Dawn’s been sleeping nonstop – Sloth.”
 
“And I’ve been pissed at the world,” muttered Buffy. “I must have gotten Anger in my stocking.”
 
Giles continued, “Xander’s been jealous of everyone, to the point of fighting with Anya, so we’ll assume he’s Envy. Willow’s magical power trip has Pride written all over it.”
 
Spike cleared his throat and spoke up at this point. “Let’s just say that I’ll cop to Lust, without any details, shall we?” He felt that now was probably not the time to bring up his sexual escapades with the Slayer. Buffy shot him a quick, grateful look.
 
Giles raised his eyebrows, but decided that he really didn’t want to know what a curse of Lust would do to a vampire. He polished his glasses furiously for a minute or two, considering the situation. “Someone has cursed the seven of you to live out the seven deadly sins. Why?”
 
Buffy was at a total loss. “No idea. And how?”
 
Spike studied the parchment and the cloth thoughtfully. “Whoever it was, they’re a religious type,” he reasoned. “This cloth seems like something a monk would wear. Together with the cross and the Latin, I’m guessing we can rule out any Jewish or Hindu enemies.”
 
Giles had a thought. “Were the seven of you all here the other night, when I was out?”
 
“Yes!” Buffy said, seeing Giles’ point. “It was only the seven of us. And it was right after that that things got all wonky. Dawn had wanted to watch a movie, but ended up going to bed, and I started getting really, really irritated over little stuff.”
 
“I… um… started noticing symptoms around then too,” Spike muttered. If vampires were capable of blushing he would have been red as a rose at that point.
 
Giles started to ask a question, then reconsidered. I do not want to know. After all the things I have seen today I most emphatically do not want to know. He cleared his throat and said, “So we would seem to have nailed down when it happened. As to how, clearly it was a curse that was backed up by the talisman to strengthen the effects. But who is doing it? And why?”
 
“And how can we stop whoever it is?” Buffy asked. “I’m… scared, Giles. I could kill someone. I almost killed Xander, and I don’t know how to make this stop.” She shivered a bit and rubbed her arms.
 
“What if we destroy this thing?” Spike wondered, indicating the talisman.
 
“Not sure if that would stop the curse,” Giles replied. “Curses of this magnitude use the talisman to help focus the spellcaster’s energy, but the power is not contained in the talisman itself, but in the person casting the spell.”
 
“So how do we find this person?” Buffy asked.
 
Giles thought about it for a few minutes while Buffy and Spike paced impatiently. “I suppose,” he said at last, “That we could focus on the talisman while using a locator spell. In effect we ask the talisman to tell us where its maker is.”
 
“Then let’s do it,” Spike said impatiently.
 
“Alright,” Giles decided. “We’re going to have to gather a few supplies…”
 
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In his room, Dominic observed his scrying bowl as Giles, Buffy, and Spike prepared the spell. At last, they are coming, he thought. At last you will rest in peace, Gabriel.
 
TBC