“Hi, Giles! So what’s up? You acted like you’d been handed a clandestine envelope that goes - puff - up in flames after reading. What’s so sensitive that we can’t talk about it at the Magic Box?” Buffy greeted him as she entered.
Immediately she noticed several stacks of manila folders on the table. The couch was cluttered with stack of books. Disheveled rows of yellow Post-it notes were sticking out on all sides, marking pages for reference and letting the books look like ruffled canaries. Giles surely was on a serious research spree.
“Hello Buffy, please take a seat.” Giles picked up a stack of leather bound books from the couch and cleared a place for her. Buffy sat down and instantly pulled out a battered looking old scroll that he had overlooked from between the cushions.
Giles headed into his kitchenette and put a kettle on the stove.
“I wanted to talk to you about the results of my research, about the origin of the Key. I thought that you might want to decide what and how much to tell Dawn and your friends about it, so I deemed it better to meet where we might not be overheard by them.”
Giles opened the cupboard and picked out a mug. “Cup of tea? I brought some especially fine selections from England.”
“No tea, thanks. Have you found something useful?” Buffy watched impatiently as Giles prepared himself a cup, all motions meticulous and unhurried. He seemed to have all the time in the world while she sat on hot coals – or on ancient scrolls, more precisely.
Giles returned to the living room and settled down in his chair opposite her. He took a careful sip of his hot tea. “I’ve done intensive research into the properties of the Key. Thelibrary offered a surprising amount of material, most of which was collected or written after Glory made her appearance last year. The Council had started serious investigations into the circumstances of the Key; they even instituted a specific research group with ample funding.”
He sighed and laid his hand onto the folders on the table. “I’m afraid my research wasn’t of much practical use, however; all the reports are full of nothing more than speculation and hearsay. Primarily they concentrated on two contradicting theories: The first states that the energy will leak out and disperse like radiation over time, returning, in due time, the vessel to a normal human being. The second, newer theory, propagates that the energy is actually a magical entity, bound to the vessel, which might take over the control of the body as the resistance of the vessel grows weaker over time. This latest one is based on the now known fact that Glory had eventually been able to take control over her human prison, Ben.”
Buffy frowned, her brows knit in concentration as she followed Giles through the labyrinth of the explanations. Why did researchers have to complicate everything so much? Maybe to hide the fact that they really didn’t know anything solid about the matter?
Giles looked apologetically at Buffy. “I’m sorry that I cannot bring you better news. All research is inconclusive and speculative. To summarize their findings, they state that more research is required and only time will tell.”
“So you’re saying that Dawn either becomes a plain human or will be consumed by the energy? I don’t like the second option at all.” Buffy extracted the facts from the very tedious sermon.
“Indeed, you could sum it up as simply as that…” Giles agreed as he removed his glasses and began polishing them with a hanky. “I’m not happy about the options that second theory leaves us with.”
Giles rubbed the base of his nose wearily before he slowly put back his glasses. When he looked back up at Buffy, his eyes were tired. He picked up the top-most folder from the table, opened it and leaved through some handwritten pages.
“I've also worked through the cross references they gave for the treatises. The Key is old, ancient actually; it existed long before Glory was expelled from her world and locked in ours. The theory that the Key might open not only Glory’s portal but others too, seem plausible enough to me. This power might be at Dawn’s disposal if she learns how to tap into it. She is still young and it would depend on how much control she might gain over the energy. The ritualistic bleeding Glory intended for her to open the portal seems to be only a method to tap into the power from the outside. Dawn, as the vessel itself, should have access solely by her own will power.”
Buffy added thoughtfully, “That sounds possible. When Dawn cut herself, after she found out she was the Key, we didn’t notice any energy outbursts or other effects.”
“The ability to tap into the power of the Key might be similar to… telekinesis or accessing magic to cast spells. Often psychic abilities like that manifest during puberty, so we should watch her for signs of any unusual occurrences around her. I fear my news is not very reassuring for either of you.”
“Giles, it’s not your fault; I don’t blame you, I know you’ve tried your best. I just wish I knew what to tell Dawn. She’s gone through so much lately. She’s still a child, Giles. First our father left us and then, because of me, we had to settle in a new town. It wasn’t so bad for me, but Dawn left so many friends behind.” Buffy grimaced. “Sorry, I always forget that that wasn’t real.”
“Buffy, you shouldn’t think like that. Even if the memories were magically created, they still constitute the framework of her character and personality. They are as real for Dawn as your childhood is for you. Most of our behavior is based on what we experienced in the past. If this experience is real or not doesn’t matter at all; it only matters that we believe it.”
“It’s still confusing, and I know for sure that Dawn has her problems with it. She tries to play it down, but I can see it in her face when she’s near to freaking out again. We talk and some of the fake memories come up… Dawn gets this look of… I don’t know – confusion, self-doubt, insecurity.” Buffy shook her head. “It’s the same for me.”
They sat quietly for a while until Buffy continued, her gaze on her hands clutched in her lap. “And that’s not all. We both still miss our mom so much. There are so many things in the house that remind us of her.” She quickly looked up at Giles. “I don’t want to say, that’s bad. I love to still feel mom’s presence around us. But, at the same time, it hurts so much.”
“Buffy, my dear, what can I say that will help? Such a rupture in your life takes time to heal, time for the pain of your loss to subside. It’s like a wound. First it has to scab over, but it takes more than just a couple of months to close and you will always feel the loss, like a scar. Believe me, over time it will get better. Your mother loved you both so much; her love is what you miss most of all.” Giles looked at her sadly. “I miss Joyce too, even if I had only the pleasure to know her for a few years.”
Buffy nodded and looked back down at her hands as she contemplated what Giles had just told her for a long time. Meanwhile Giles busied himself, cleaning up his kitchen, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Coming to a decision, she finally looked up. “Giles, don’t tell anyone… about Dawn, I mean. What we know now is zilch, speculation, nothing solid. It isn’t any help at all. Especially don’t tell Willow and Xander. You remember last time, when we hadn’t wanted Dawn to know that she was the Key? That was a bummer. She noticed that something was wrong; she’ll definitely notice it now too. When she asks me, I’ll tell her, but I'm not going to volunteer any information. I don’t want to burden her more than necessary.”
Giles nodded in agreement as he came out of the kitchenette. “That would have been my recommendation, also.”
“Thank you again, Giles.” Buffy smiled at him, as she stood up. “Now I’ve to go home so I’ll be there before Dawn gets back from school.”
“Why do I have to dress up? I’m not a kid anymore” Dawn pouted and rolled her eyes, looking exactly like the kid she refused to be. “It’s not like I’ll be allowed to go to a cool Halloween party. It’s just the Halloween sale at the Magic Box.”
“Dawnie, you know we promised Anya and Giles that we’d help them tonight. It’s an important night for them and they expect loads of new customers. They want all the helpers to dress up. Come on, it’ll be fun… we’ll find something nice for you to wear. Maybe my Red Riding Hood costume will fit you.”
“Oh, come on!” Dawn whined, her eyes comically wide in fake horror. “Don’t even think about dressing me as that! I refused to wear it two years ago.”
As Dawn saw Buffy’s confused look she added smugly. “Why do you think mom altered it for you? You looked so cute, like an eight-year old, with your braided pig-tails…”
“Hey, you…!” Buffy grabbed for Dawn, who evaded with a squeal, giggling happily. They squabbled with each other for a while, Dawn dancing just out of her reach and Buffy making playful attempts to corner her. For precious moments they were just two sisters, having a romp.
As they rummaged through the closet they came across Buffy’s old high school cheerleader uniform. It was from her try-out during her first year in Sunnydale. Those had been carefree days, compared to now. She hadn’t even died at that time. What a way was that to define her life, before my death, after my death? Buffy didn’t want to die another time, the drowning had been horrible, she sometimes still had nightmares about it and it took all the fun out of swimming.
“Can I dress up as a cheerleader? At least that’s a cool outfit,” Dawn interrupted her nostalgic thoughts.
“No way are you wearing that tight sweater and short skirt. It’s too skimpy!”
“Buffy, please? What’s the big? You weren’t so much older when you did cheerleading at Hemery High. And I won’t kick my legs up… Look there are matching panties with ruffles, I can wear them underneath.” Dawn looked pleadingly at her.
Buffy sighed, Dawn had a point. She just didn’t want her little sister to grow up too quickly. “Fine, take it. But be careful that you don’t tear it.”
“Look, pompoms!” Dawn hopped in excitement, waving the colorful fluffy balls through the air.
Now Buffy needed a costume too. She would’ve liked to wear a nice new one this year, but she didn’t have the money to even rent one. And her sewing skills were worse than her cooking, which about said it all. She sighed and settled for her old Red Riding Hood costume. She’d lost weight in the last two years so it was a bit loose-fitting. Dawn was right, she looked like a kid in it, but it was practical and she would also be able to do a quick sweep through the cemeteries in it.
When they arrived at the Magic Box in the late afternoon, the shop was already filled to the brim with customers. Giles was again wearing his purple wizard outfit; he had added a long, white Dumbledore beard to it which got tangled all the time. That made him scowl a lot which was so much more fitting than the goofy grin he was wearing at last year's opening.
Anya was dressed in a sexy outfit with red shorts and skates. She was really good at weaving through all the customers, keeping a wary eye on her merchandise. Xander was, as usual, in charge of the provisions, he was selling chocolate doughnuts with orange frosting and coffee or hot chocolate to the customers. He was dressed in a pirate’s costume, complete with a black eye patch, which gave him a roguish touch.
“Dawn, can you join Tara behind the counter and help her pack up the sales?” Anya put Dawn immediately to work. “We have this lovely paper with the pumpkins and orange ribbons. Tara’s excellent in wrapping; she’s not wasting any of the ribbon and the packages look very neat. I’m sure she’ll show you how to do it.”
Tara and Dawn made a pretty good team, folding fancy decorations and attaching elaborate bows to the purchases. At Dawn’s place behind the counter her short skirt was hidden, thank God.
As Buffy looked around to find where she could help, Anya swooped at her on her skates. “Buffy, can you bring more crates and supplies up from the cellar? Isn’t it wonderful? The customers are filling my cash register to overflowing with their hard earned money! We need lots more stuff up here so that they can leave me even more money. They especially buy the decorative items, like these scented candles and the magical fireflies.”
“Can’t Xander do that? I could maybe entertain the kids with Willow over there.” Why should she spend her time in the musty cellar when the others were all having fun up here? Buffy had hoped that helping at the Magic Box would at least have a touch of being at a Halloween party - not sweaty work, dragging crates from the dark cellar.
“Because you’re the strongest one – Spike will not be here for some time.” Trust Anya to have a good argument at hand. “Have you spoken to Spike yet, you know, about my bachelorette party? It would so top everything. I’d so love to take a closer look at all these muscles. I don’t know why I’m not allowed to do that anymore once I’m married.” Anya pouted.
“Sorry, Anya, I haven’t had time to ask him. Maybe you could when you see him the next time?”
Buffy dreaded asking Spike; it felt so awkward. Surely he would think she was crazy, or even worse, he might actually agree to do it – especially if Anya offered to pay him. She didn’t know what she feared most, that Spike would skewer her with one of his sharp tongued remarks when she asked, or that she'd have to watch him remove his T-shirt and – whatever. She'd hoped that Anya would forget the idea, but, like a dog and his favorite bone, she wouldn't let go. Buffy sighed resignedly and headed for the basement.
After several trips to the basement, Buffy’s dress started to look crumply and was smudged with dust and dirt from carrying crates and boxes. She was at a loss as to why someone wanted to buy candles, incense and stinky herbs anyway. Anya had her repack rat’s eyes out of a large earthen bowl into smaller pots… ewww! She was asked to collect mandrake roots – only three to a jar, because they got wonky when they were cramped. Buffy eyed the roots, looking like wizened, dried gnomes, and wondered what wonky mandrakes might be like. Did they join hands and start to Lord-of-the-Dance when there were four or more around?
The worst order was for a woman who asked for a mummy hand. What did you need a mummy hand for? Your mummy lost one hand while haunting the night and now you need a spare part? As Buffy struggled to catch the wriggling hand she just hoped that Anya was getting a really good profit out of it. The hand had clawed at her and finally ripped the hem of her skirt before she could nail it down by stepping on it.
“Anya, I need a break.” Buffy sighed and sank down into a chair at the table to watch Willow for a while.
Willow had offered to do the entertainment for the kids while their parents roamed the shop. She’d dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West; face painted green and three braids sticking out from beneath her pointed hat. She looked formidable in her tight fitting black dress as she performed little spells before the gawping children. To think that only last year Willow had ranted about all the girls dressing up as witches complaining that everybody thought witches were evil and wart-covered. Buffy had to smile as Willow indulged the kids with magic tricks and treats.
“So my little pretties, what should I do with you? Is anyone wearing my shoes? No?” Willow asked as the kids giggled. “Should I float this ribbon for you, my pretty girl?”
With that, Willow let an orange ribbon float through the air, winding around itself and forming flowing circles. Buffy heard one of the parents point at it and whisper to her little boy, “See, if you look carefully, you can see the strings attached. Look right there at the front!”
The Sunnydale inhabitants never ceased to amaze Buffy. Even if it was obvious that only magic or a demon could be responsible, most covered their eyes and ears and pretended that everything was normal. She was so distracted by Willow’s magical performance that she missed the tingles down her spine which announced Spike’s arrival.
“Are you bonkers? If you think I’ll wear that, you’ve gone completely Carrot Top!” Buffy could see Spike’s eyes gleaming golden as he bellowed at Anya, who was standing behind the cash register. If he’d lost so much control, something was seriously wrong. But why were Dawn and Tara grinning?
As Buffy approached, Spike whirled around and held something out to her. “Have you seen that? Am I everybody’s fool now?”
In his hand were white plastic fangs. Vampire fangs… fake ones…
Buffy blinked. Did Anya really…? She looked over at her and saw the black, red lined cape with the large starched collar in her hands. Buffy put her hand over her mouth and looked up at Spike. No, she wouldn’t add to his visible pain by breaking into laughter. Tears formed in her eyes as she tried her best not to fail.
“Pet, you look like you’ve swallowed a frog.” Spike whirled around and looked at the helplessly giggling Dawn, clinging to a wide eyed Tara who bit her lip hard. “You too, Glinda?”
Anya clearly couldn’t understand the problem. “Why not, Spike? I think it’s funny. And it’s not that you would have to actually see yourself wearing the cape and fangs, you know, being reflection challenged and all.”
“Does everybody have to point out how fangless I am? I won’t dress up, you can soddin’ well deal with it.” Spike briskly handed the fake fangs back to Anya with an icy stare and turned his attention on Buffy.
“Ya look lovely, Little Riding Hood. How ‘bout a bit of a rough and tumble with the Big Bad Wolf?” Spike smiled and looked Buffy over. “Looks like you’d had already some rough, maybe we just go on to the tumbling?” He curled his tongue behind his front teeth and gave her a sexy smirk.
“Buffy, I think we have enough stock up here now for the rest of the evening. Now you can spend your time trying to convince Spike to strip at my party. Then we can plan all the details around it.” Anya reminded her.
Spike looked between the blushing Buffy and the oblivious Anya and cocked his eyebrow. “Striptease? Since when are you planning for me to do a striptease?”
“It’s for my bachelorette party, Spike. Buffy as my Maid of Honor helps me with the planning and there must be strippers. We thought you would be perfect. The centerpiece of the whole party.” Anya was biting her lower lip, clearly visualizing again the possible details of her last party in freedom.
Buffy was in dire need of a hole to hide in. Dawn was watching her, wide eyed, and was Spike really considering the notion? “Ummm, it was Anya’s idea and, errhm, she wanted me to ask you…”
Why did Spike start to grin like a cat noticing a saucer filled with cream? He even licked his lips.
“So, you’re the Maid of Honor, eh? Helping with the organization, are you? Anya, you made quite a fine move here, when it comes to plannin’, the Slayer’s the best.”
Spike winked at Anya, pursing his lips, devilish delight glimmering in his eyes. “Demon girl, it would be my pleasure to entertain you. And all the girls will attend? I’ll have to prepare a right catching show then. Buffy, as the Maid of Honor, will surely work out the details with me.”
Buffy felt more blood rushing to her cheeks and her mouth opened and closed, the words she was looking for escaping her brain. She’d have to plan the party. With Spike. Stripping!
“Need some air, pet? We could do a sweep through town; even if most of the nasties are stayin’ home it’ll be safer to check, yeah?” Spike was enjoying her discomfort. She really needed to have a talk with Anya.
“Buffy, I could stay here and you can pick me up later.” Dawn looked coyly over to Spike and suggested, “Or maybe Spike could bring me home on his bike?”
“I could drive her home and wait with her until you get there,” Willow offered.
Buffy sighed heavily. Had everybody watched? Heard? It would be best to leave the field of her humiliation.
“Fine, thanks Wills. I’ll be back home by eleven at the latest. Spike, let’s go!” Buffy swept out of the shop without one backwards glance.