Chapter 14: Carol of the Bells

“Maybe it’s Death.”

Buffy stared at Dawn. “Huh?”

“You know, like that movie, Final Destination? Death is coming after us, taking us out one by one. That demon guy did have kind of a Grim Reaper thing going on, with the black hooded robe and all. Except with scissors instead of a scythe.”

Exasperated, Buffy collapsed back into the sofa cushions. “You’re never allowed to watch another movie. Ever.”

Giles stood up from where he’d been crouched next to the dead demon in the living room. “Well, leaving aside the fact that no one has died yet, perhaps Dawn has a point.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows, taking a dubious sideways glance at her sister. “Really?”

“This warlock seems to be attacking us systematically,” Giles pointed out. “Willow’s illness has incapacitated her, that demon was obviously intended to take out Spike, and now this hair-snatching, which could be used for any number of spells to harm Dawn.”

“Why Dawn? Willow and Spike, yeah. Diminish my resources. But Dawn?”

“Right.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “’Cause I’m not good for anything.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, it did come in your bedroom window, Buffy,” Giles reasoned. “Perhaps the spell was meant for you.”

Buffy shook her head. “Jacob said it went right for Dawn. Like it knew what it wanted.”

“It did,” Dawn confirmed.

“Ah, where is Jacob?” Giles asked, glancing around as though he expected the young man to appear from the other room.

“I sent him home. I figured he was safer if he wasn’t around me.” She gestured limply toward the corpse. “Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.” Giles stifled a yawn. “I believe it’s a Veloxin demon. They’re a very intelligent species, adept at magic. I don’t doubt they’re in service to the warlock. They’d make quite suitable minions for his purposes.”

“Like stealing my sister’s hair?” Buffy asked in a sour voice. “So they can – what? Kill her? Make her sick like Willow?”

“I don’t know, Buffy,” Giles snapped.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I just – I feel like we’re being hunted. Why can’t this guy just show himself?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated more gently. “I wish there was something more I could tell you.”

Buffy nodded. “I’m sorry I woke you up at four o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No – no, we’ll be fine.” She tried her best to look alert. “I’ll just stay up… in case.”

Giles’ expression softened, and he gathered her into a comforting embrace. “We’ll get through this, Buffy. We always do.”

She buried her face in his chest, taking solace in his fatherly support for a moment before pulling away. “I should get Dawn to bed.”

*****

Buffy awoke again in her own bed, cradled against a cool, solid chest. She opened her eyes slowly to find Spike gazing down at her.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked foggily. “Or was the other thing the dream?”

Spike smiled. “Both real, pet. Watcher stopped by, said you’d had a fright. Thought you could do with some company.”

“I was gonna stay awake.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, without leaving the tight circle of Spike’s arms. “I was supposed to stay awake in case anything else tried to…”

“Yeah. Rupert thought you might not make it ’til morning. ’S why he asked me to keep watch.”

Buffy’s face crinkled into an expression of puzzled appreciation. “I didn’t think he trusted you.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did he? If another beastie did attack…”

“Yeah.” She snuggled into his chest. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t do anything but watch you sleep,” he protested.

“Still. Thanks.”

It was surprising, how much her gratitude seemed alien to him, the lack of appreciation to which he'd grown accustomed over the years still superseding this newer, friendlier Buffy. Or maybe it was because he felt he ought to be thanking her, for allowing him the privilege of holding her while she slept.

“Should be waking Niblet up for school soon,” he said, changing the subject.

“She’s not going to school.” Buffy pulled away and sat up so that she could look at him. “I’m not taking any chances. It’s the last day before winter break anyway; it won’t matter if she misses. Let her sleep.”

Spike nodded.

“I, on the other hand, am gonna take my…” She glanced at the clock and groaned. “…five hours of sleep and run with it.”

With an incredible amount of willpower, she dragged herself out of Spike’s arms and got out of bed. She was suddenly self-conscious as she realized she was still wearing the negligee and bathrobe, and pulled the robe tighter around her. It finally occurred to her to ask, “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being staked out on the couch…”

“An’ that’s where I found you, sound asleep,” Spike teased her. “Carried you up here, figured it’d be more comfortable.”

“Oh, my God,” Buffy groaned, catching sight of herself in the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked like Methuselah?”

“Huh?”

“The lady with the snakes for hair?”

“Medusa.”

“Who’s the other one?”

Spike screwed up his face in thought. “Biblical?”

“Whatever. Remind me never to go to sleep with wet hair.” Looking at her reflection, she desperately tried to smooth down the frizzy mess.

“Think you look gorgeous, pet.”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying,” she said, turning around to give him a look. “Or maybe you’re delirious because you’re sleep-deprived. You can crash here if you want.” She gestured toward the bed, where he was already sprawled anyway.

“’Preciate it.”

“Just… not too long, okay?” she said fretfully. “Not that you’re not welcome, I just… really need you at the Magic Box.”

Spike nodded, understanding the reason for her worry. Rising to his knees, he shuffled over to the edge of the bed so that he could pull her into his arms and place a gentle kiss on her lips. “Just wake me up when you and the Bit are ready to go.”

Releasing her, he collapsed into the Buffy-scented sheets, burying his nose in the pillow and inhaling deeply. He could smell the boy, too, of course, but thankfully there was no stench of sex, even though the sheets were at least a few days old.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard her say softly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

*****

Three hours later, they were at the Magic Box. Giles and Spike, despite their lack of sleep, were back in their now-familiar positions at the research table, poring over the last pieces of information yet to be translated. Xander had gone out for a coffee run, and Anya tried to distract Dawn from her worry by making her inventory the shop’s “organic merchandise.”

“What does that mean?” Dawn asked with suspicion.

“Organic,” Anya repeated. “Didn’t they teach you biology in school? Anything that comes from plants or animals.”

Dawn gave her a disgusted expression. “You mean…?”

“Yes. Eye of toad, eye of newt, chicken feet – you get the idea. Oh, and don’t forget all the fungi.”

While the others were preoccupied with their work, Buffy pulled Emma aside, ducking into the dark corner behind the steps. “I need you to protect Dawn,” she told the witch in a low, intense voice. “Do a spell, whatever you need to –”

“I can’t, Buffy.”

“You have to.”

“There’s no way to stop – once he has a piece of her, he can do anything he wants through thaumaturgy,” Emma explained again, although they’d already been over this in discussing Willow’s condition. “The best I can do is try to lessen the pain, as I’ve done for Willow. But there’s no guarantee –”

“Then, I need you to do something else,” Buffy cut in, a new idea occurring to her. “The thing is, Dawn’s not just my sister. She’s –”

“The Key. Rupert told me.”

“Right, so, when the monks made her, they made her out of me. She’s – she’s a part of me. We’re connected. So, this should be – I mean, could you…” She glanced out at her friends, and then lowered her voice even more. “I want a spell to – to link us, so whatever they try to do to Dawn happens to me instead.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s not possible. And even if it were, it could kill you. A thaumaturgic spell could rip your heart right out of your chest from miles away, if the mage is strong enough.”

“Then, it could kill Dawn like that, too,” Buffy insisted. “I can’t let that happen.”

“Buffy, do you understand –”

“Yes! I understand, okay? I’ve already died for my sister once. What makes you think I won’t do it again?”

Emma’s expression softened at Buffy’s determination.

“Just – just do the spell, or whatever you have to,” Buffy said quietly.

“Don’t you dare.”

Buffy spun around at the low, growly voice behind her. “Spike –”

“Not letting you die again, Buffy.”

“There’s a chance it was meant for me anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But Dawn –”

“No,” Spike said firmly. “I’m not losing either of you. Stop wasting this woman’s time, so she can get back to figuring out how to defeat this wanker.”

Cowed, Buffy turned back to Emma. “I’m sorry.”

Emma nodded, placing a comforting hand on Buffy’s arm before sitting back down at the research table.

Buffy looked up at Spike, and he held her gaze for a long moment, his face reflecting the fear and betrayal he felt at hearing her willingness to die again. How could you leave me again? his eyes asked her. Now, when we’re so close…

Closing her eyes, Buffy pulled him into a silent hug before leading him back to the others.

*****

“Hey, guys,” Tara said, coming into the Magic Box. Emma had gone to relieve her, taking a turn staying with Willow so that Tara could get out of the apartment for a bit. “How’s it going?”

“Not good,” Buffy replied, as she proceeded to fill the blonde witch in on the events of the night before.

“Oh, Dawnie,” Tara said sympathetically, reaching over to hug the girl.

Giles leaned back in his chair with a sigh, giving the text in front of him a reproachful glare.

“Having trouble, Rupert?” Spike asked.

“This book doesn’t make any bloody sense!”

“Want me to have a go?”

Giles took off his glasses and gestured with them toward the book, giving Spike the go-ahead as he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

Spike leaned over and pulled the text in front of him, studying it for a moment before he concluded, “It’s in Grfathian. Demon language,” he explained, when Giles gave him a puzzled expression. “Looks like Russian, but it’s not. It’s in a sort of code, see? You’ve got to rearrange the sentences based on these symbols here.”

Picking up a pencil, he began circling and underlining, drawing arrows all over the page as he reconstructed the translation.

“How do you know this?”

Spike hesitated. “When Dru was sick, one of the first cures I tried was in this godforsaken language. Took me weeks to figure out the code, an’ it turned out to be bloody useless to Dru anyway.”

He expected the Watcher to make some disparaging remark about either his wicked past or his former lover, but all he said was, “Well, at least it’s of some good now.”

Once Spike had worked out the translation, he handed it to Giles with a grim expression. Giles donned his spectacles again and peered at the transcribed text. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” Buffy demanded, instantly turning her attention to the research table. “What did you find?”

“Well,” Giles said slowly, “the good news is, we’ve figured out what this warlock is trying to do.”

“And the bad news?” Xander prompted

“We’ve figured out what this warlock is trying to do,” Spike deadpanned.

Buffy glanced worriedly at Spike, then her Watcher. “What is it, Giles?”

“It seems this series of rituals involves an assumption of power, of sorts.”

“What, like magic?” Buffy asked. “How much power are we talking here?”

“Ah, well, enough to destroy the world, I’d say.”

Her eyes widened. “Giles, spill.”

He nodded. “In Egyptian mythology, Osiris was believed to have the power to grant eternal life. Through rites of imitative magic, he could bestow divinity upon the pharaohs.”

“He’d make them gods,” Spike summarized.

“Yes.”

“But that’s just mythology… right?” Xander asked. “I mean the pharaohs weren’t actually gods.”

“Well, no,” Giles admitted. “But the Egyptians only had one piece of the puzzle. What we’re looking at is an amalgamation of rituals from various cultures, spanning centuries. Why, among us, we’ve translated from at least eight languages.”

Buffy folded her arms across her chest. “So, this guy’s big with the multicultural. What’s the point?”

“The point is, Buffy, that this assumption of power, while borrowed by other cultures, is rooted in demon mythology that is much, much older, and includes a thread of what Emma believes to be authentic black magic. Now, there is a brotherhood, centuries old, which firmly believed that achieving deity status was possible through black magic and ancient rituals, and they were dedicated to tracking down all the pieces that had been dispersed throughout history. I believe my friend Robert was a member of this brotherhood. That’s why he was compiling all this research. And I think he was successful – and that is why he was killed.”

“In other words, this is real?” Buffy said, her cockiness draining away. “This isn’t some conspiracy theory. This warlock could actually become a god.”

“Yes.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, digesting that, and then Anya said, “Well, Giles, thank you for, again, scaring the hell out of us.”

“So, what happens when he becomes a god?” Xander asked, quickly backpedaling when Buffy glared at him. “Which he won’t, of course, because that would mean the demise of the Buffster… but just gimme a ‘what if.’”

“Well, most likely he’ll take over the world and destroy us all.” Spike shrugged. “But that’s just a guess.”

“We still don’t know how to find him,” Buffy pointed out.

“Chances are, he’ll find you, Buffy,” Giles said. “Though I don’t imagine that’s comforting.” Buffy looked at Spike, raising her eyebrows as if to say, “See?”

“There may be something to look for.” Flipping through another large tome, Giles showed Buffy a picture of a symbol, an eye drawn in the center of a pentagram. “This is the symbol of the brotherhood. Find this anywhere in Sunnydale, and I’m sure you’ll find your warlock.”

Spike peered at the symbol over Buffy’s shoulder. “Well, ’s a start, but it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Maybe we could try some sort of locator spell?” Tara suggested. “I don’t know if it would work on a – a symbol, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Yes, all right,” Giles agreed. “Anya?”

“What?”

He gestured to the shelves. “Could you get Tara the necessary ingredients?”

“Is she going to pay for them?” When no one answered her, she said, “Right. No. Emergency. Free stuff. Got it.”

She collected the ingredients, and Tara set up the spell. The others watched anxiously as she went through the candle lighting and the chanting and the powder sprinkling. Suddenly, there was a puff of black smoke, and Tara began coughing, waving her hands around to disperse the smoke.

“That didn’t look good,” Dawn said.

“No.” Tara coughed a bit more and said, “I guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“So, what do we do now?” Xander asked.

Before anyone could answer him, the doorbell jingled and Jacob stepped into the shop. “Hi,” he said, going immediately to Buffy. “Uh, I stopped by the house and no one was there, so I figured…”

“Oh, my God,” she said, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. “Jacob! I’m a terrible person.”

Jacob smiled. “I find that hard to believe.”

“No, really. I completely forgot about dinner!” She’d also forgotten that she was supposed to break up with him before that, but with Dawn in danger and now this new troubling information, it had completely slipped her mind. “I – it’s just, we…”

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked, noticing everyone else. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We figured out what that warlock is trying to do,” Buffy explained. “Jacob, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go –”

“Sure you can,” Xander jumped in. “We’re just doing research, right? Can’t fight 'til we know who we’re fighting. If we need you to hit something, we’ll call ya.”

“But Dawn…” she protested, scrambling for a reason to stay.

“You heard Emma,” Dawn said with a shrug, missing her sister’s cues. “You can’t do anything to protect me anyway.”

Desperately, Buffy looked to Giles, hoping that he out of all of them would see the need for her to stay, but he just nodded, giving her permission to go.

Great. Now he’s okay with choosing dating over slaying. What happened to all that sacred duty bullcrap from when I was sixteen and wanted to date?

She wanted to refuse, to insist that she was needed here, but with everyone encouraging her, she couldn’t back out without a scene – and she definitely was not about to dump Jacob in front of everyone she knew.

“I’m not even dressed for dinner,” she tried weakly, glancing down at her outfit, wishing she hadn’t decided to wear a skirt today. If she’d just worn jeans, she might’ve had a case.

“You look fine,” Jacob assured her.

Out of arguments, she looked helplessly at Spike, as though to tell him she’d tried. He just shrugged, his face closed off and unreadable, and she couldn’t tell if he was okay with it or not.

“Uh, okay, then,” Buffy said. “I guess I’ll – I’ll go.” She grabbed her purse off the table and double-checked to make sure her cell phone was turned on. “Call me the minute you find something.”

*****

Buffy gazed dubiously at the street sign as Jacob made the turn onto his father’s street. “Crawford Street, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Nothing. I just… knew somebody who used to live here,” she said, peering out the window as they drove past Angel’s abandoned mansion. Jacob pulled into a driveway several houses down, in front of what appeared to be a much more lived-in estate.

“Wow. Big house.”

“My dad’s a CEO,” Jacob explained. “That’s not – I mean, you knew my family had money.”

“I know. It’s just… wow.”

Curbing her awe, Buffy stepped out of the car and followed Jacob to the front door. He didn’t bother to knock, pulling out a key to unlock the door.

“Dad?” he called as they stepped into the foyer. Buffy expected a butler to greet them or something, but instead a well-dressed man with a vague resemblance to Jacob came out of one of the many rooms branching off the front hallway.

“Jacob!” The man greeted Jacob with a hug, and then turned to Buffy with a broad smile. “And this must be the lovely Miss Summers.” He took her hand in both of his, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“Yes,” she replied awkwardly, itching to pull her hand away but not wanting to be rude. “Hi. I – I’m Buffy.”

“Come in! Come in – don’t stand here in the doorway. Can I get you a glass of wine, my dear?”

“Sure,” Buffy readily agreed. Something told her alcohol was going to be absolutely necessary if she wanted to get through this evening. “Thank you.”

*****

“…and I’d hoped Jacob would come to work for me someday, but he seems to be taking after his mother, free spirit that she is. God only knows what you do with a history major these days.”

Buffy was working her way through her second glass of wine, listening to Jacob’s father discuss his plans for his son, after having to tactfully explain why she herself had dropped out of college.

“I’m sure there’s… lots of things,” she said, mentally chiding herself for being so lame. “What does your company do, Mr. Kessler?”

“Please, call me David.”

Buffy almost choked on her wine at the name. Jacob’s father was droning on about stocks and financing and conglomerates, but she’d stopped paying attention, furtively scanning the room for any clues that this man was the warlock who was so intent on making her a ritual sacrifice. Her gaze alighted on a stone artifact sitting on the mantle above the elegant marble fireplace. Engraved in the stone was the symbol of the brotherhood.

Buffy hastily put the wine glass down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. Would you excuse me? I have to, uh –” She leaned over close to Jacob. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right down the hall,” he replied. “Go out this door and make a left. Third door on the right.”

“Thanks.” She snatched her purse up and nearly ran out of the room. Out in the hallway, she hesitated, suddenly feeling shaky on her feet. Shit.

Putting one hand against the wall to steady herself, she wondered whether she should try to fight him now or make a run for it and come back with the gang.

What are the chances he’s gonna let me leave? God, this was a set-up from the start! How could I be so stupid?

On the plus side, though, she felt a lot less guilty about cheating on Jacob.

Was he in on it? she wondered, heading down the hall, scoping out the house. Was he playing me all along?

She ducked into the first room she could find that was unlocked, and found herself in David’s study. The room was all dark mahogany, with another large fireplace and walls filled with books.

As she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Dawn’s cell number, she began rifling around for a weapon, cursing herself. Why didn’t I think to bring a weapon? Oh, right. Normal people don’t bring weapons to Christmas dinner. She considered the fire poker, but it was too obvious – where would she hide it?

“Come on, pick up,” she muttered under her breath. Dawn’s voice mail came on, and she jabbed at the buttons to end the call. Grabbing a letter opener from David’s desk and slipping it up her sleeve, she tried Xander’s cell next.

He picked up on the second ring. “Buffy? What’s going on?”

“I found the symbol!” she said in a fierce whisper.

“Hey, that’s great, Buff. Where is it?” It took him a moment, and then he realized, “Wait a minute, aren’t you at Jacob’s dad’s… uh-oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit.”

She heard a flurry of activity on the other end of the line as she pulled open one of the desk drawers. A small handgun lay on top of a pile of papers.

“Buffy, are you there?” Giles’ voice now.

“I’m here.” She hesitated a moment before sticking the gun in her boot, shaking her head to clear the gathering fog. “I think I – I think I’ve been drugged. Giles, you have to –”

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Mr. Kessler’s voice came from the doorway. His tone was darker now and much more menacing than it had been while making small talk.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, trying to surreptitiously hang up the phone and slip it back into her purse before he noticed she’d been making a call. “I must have taken a wrong turn on the way to the bathroo… the bath…” Overcome with dizziness, the phone slipped out of her hand as she collapsed to the floor.