[A/N: This is the part where things start to get a bit heavy. One of my personal pet peeves with the show was the flip-flopping by the writers between the terms “witch” and “wiccan”. I’m going to come out and say, yes, I am a practicing witch, have been for more than 30 years, and while I liked how things went as far as a positive image of “wiccan” practitioners, there is a distinction between being a witch and being wiccan. It’s a debate I often have with those I mentor, and its far too complicated to get into in these notes. Suffice to say, in the interest of brevity, a witch will do anything she has to, while a wiccan will shy away from actual blood and/or dark magick. That being said, watch out for the dark stuff contained herein. None of the rituals herein should be used by anyone. You have been warned. Chapter title comes from a Led Zeppelin tune, *smirks* you figure out which one. Quotes are as attributed, and the standard disclaimers apply, though I still think I have better lawyers than some.]
Previously: Everyone is trying to pick up the pieces and go on, but Giles has been recalled to England, Spike is holding it together for Dawn and Willow is plotting away. We now jump ahead in time a bit, and Willow has nearly all her supplies, and is working through the rituals.
7. Shadows taller than our souls.
Mind the three-fold laws you should three times bad and three times good.
When misfortune is enow wear the star upon your brow.
Be true in love this you must do unless your love is false to you.
These eight words the rede fultill:
An ye harm none, do what ye will
The Wiccan Rede, Lady Gwen Thompson, The Green Egg, 1948
Even if we did bring him back, it wouldn't be Michael. It'd be something else. Something dark and unnatural.
Aunt Frances, Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman
One last thing she was waiting for, the last of a long list of supplies that could be gathered beforehand. Everything else was ready. She’d gone over all the lists, eliminating one thing, adding another, but always mindful of the fact that every single one of her supplies had a purpose. All the herbs were packed carefully, wedged together inside the cauldron she was going to use. It had taken weeks, far longer than she had expected to find the pure white bullhide she was planning on using, but she’d finally located one. Searching on e-bay had been the key to finding all the supplies she’d not been able to locate via the Magic Box.
That had been surprisingly easy. Finding the suppliers, calling them directly and having the items shipped to her parent’s house had been deceptively easy. She’d hit a snag with the bullhide though. The rituals were specific and explicit. The only one that would work within the confines of the spell she picked was a pure white bullhide. And it had to be a complete bullhide, no stitching, nothing pieced together to look like it was complete. As a last ditch effort, Willow had logged onto e-bay, after searching forums and chatrooms and every source she could think of. It had taken a while, in fact almost a month and a half later, she still did not have the bullhide in hand, but it was being shipped to her.
Aside from the blood, the bullhide was the last component she needed. And the blood couldn’t be spilled until she was in the middle of the ritual anyway. Willow checked off the supplies on her list, as she packed all of it into the large canvas bag she was using as a carry-all for everything. The bullhide was going to be huge, but it could be stored rolled up and tied while she waited to perform the ritual.
Consulting the astrological aspects, she’d figured that the best time to perform the ritual was another three weeks away, during the full moon. So far nothing had contraindicated that it wasn’t the right time, but Willow was learning to be very wary of thinking things were going to be perfect. She hated that, that she couldn’t pin everything down, and convince herself that it was going to be perfect and go off without a hitch. She might be able to put on a brave and resolved face for Xander and fool him, but she was a mass of self-doubt. Thoughts of not being strong enough, not having energy enough, of outside forces unexpectedly popping up to distract her, or goddess forbid, someone finding out and stopping her swirled about in her head all the time.
Three more weeks. Willow suddenly didn’t know if she could make it that long. All the secrets and lies were just sitting on the tip of her tongue, hovering there every time she opened her mouth to speak. She’d find herself humming mindlessly just to keep from blurting it all out. Xander was the only one that didn’t look at her with questions in his eyes. Instead he looked at her with something like pity or fear. Anya kept eyeing her, but had nothing to base her suspicions on, there was just a niggling feeling along her spine.
Thank the gods that Spike was still wrapped up in taking care of Dawn and patrolling. He was in near constant contact with Giles, phone calls going back and forth every couple of days. Dawn was in summer school, which was nearly over, and her focus was on boys and school.
The supplies were finally all packed away, and Willow turned her attention to the actual rituals.
The ritual itself was problematic. She’d pulled together various rites, rituals, invocations and incantations trying to come up with something specific to raise the slayer. Harnessing all the forces, without frying herself or someone else, was going to be nothing short of a miracle. She couldn’t rely on using anyone else’s magic, since she’d made the decision to shut everyone out, but she could pull energy from them. Tara and Dawn were both essential, at least their blood was. And since Dawn was made of energy, she should be able to tap into the power of the key and use it’s energy. At least that’s what she was hoping for.
Her biggest problem was how to fill the bullhide. Every ritual she found had called for the bullhide to be filled with water and the resurrected person, well, Buffy, should rematerialize and wake up inside the pool of water. At least, that was the way it was supposed to work. She had no idea if the ritual would work exactly that way, since every other ritual called for more than one person working the spell. There were variations in the numbers of people who should be present, and she supposed it all depended upon the amount of power generated and tapped into by the person conducting the ritual. Which was another problem. She was the only one doing the chanting, she was the only one calling on the powers, invoking the gods and goddesses, so there was a limit to the amount of power, unless she could figure out a way to channel some of the key’s energy into the ritual. She also had no idea how she was going to keep the water inside the bullhide.
Willow found her mind circling round and round and tried to focus her attention on something else.
********************************* ***************************************
Dawn was home from school when he finally woke up. They’d agreed that she would come home before going off with her friends, just so he could keep tabs on her. Not that getting around during the day was a real hardship, it was just that Spike had found himself sleeping more since he’d taken an active role in patrol and slaying. Lying on his bed in the basement, Spike thought about the irony of his life. He was of the line of Aurelius, a master vampire in his own right, feared by many, and now, he was stuck playing family to an orphaned girl. That the orphaned girl was truly constructed of mystical energy and he’d sworn to protect her eased his chagrin somewhat; that the girl was the sister of the object of his affection made it disappear completely.
He rolled over, stretching his muscles, feeling the bones pop and crack. Lifting his head up, Spike sniffed out who was upstairs. Three heartbeats registered, only one in a pattern he readily recognized. Dawn had brought friends home. His deep sigh broke the silence of the cellar. Sitting up, Spike reached for his pants and in one smooth motion slid out of the bed and into his pants. Not bothering with shoes or a shirt, Spike padded silently to the basement door. Girlish voices sounded on the other side of the door, and Spike leaned his head against the door for a moment trying to hear who was there. Dawn was easy to identify, and he thought one of the others was Janice, but had no idea who the third one was.
Opening the door, Spike was greeted with the sight of an array of various snack foods piled high on the counter, opened soda bottles and three teenaged girls gaping at him.
“‘lo niblet” was his rumbled greeting. She mumbled something around a mouthful of chips, and Janice just smiled at him, but it was the startled “eep” from the unknown that caught his attention. Her cute little face looked up at him, blue eyes nearly bugging out of her head and mouth open wide in surprise. Dawn and Janice shared a glance and then giggled a bit, while Spike just raised an eyebrow in question. Ambling over to the refrigerator, Spike passed Dawn and pulled on her hair.
“Who’s this then?”
“Spike this is Kirsten.” A deep blush was the only response, while Spike nodded at the introduction. A softly mumbled hey came from the girl, while her eyes traveled the length of his bare torso. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, nor button his pants up completely, and his hair was a mass of unruly curls. Dawn thought he couldn’t have looked any cuter, but decided to keep that thought to herself. Looking over at her friend, she continued “Kirsten, this is Spike, my sister’s boyfriend.”
He swung around to face her. His face was impassive, only his eyes showing what he was thinking. “Bit?”
Dawn raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the girls, silently communicating that this was the best cover she could come up with, waiting for him to understand. Spike stood there, staring at her, his mind not really registering what she had meant. He caught on, though her introduction didn’t please him, he partially understood why she’d done it. “Right. Where’s my stuff?”
Turning back to the refrigerator, Spike searched about for the blood he knew should be there. “Um, I put it in the freezer.”
His impatience with the whole conversation was evident when he slammed the door closed, then ripped open the freezer, looking for his blood supply. He started to rip it out, his temper inexplicably getting the better of him today, then abruptly realized who it was in the kitchen with him. Resting his head on the open freezer door, Spike sighed deeply.
“You ok?” A timid voice asked from beside him. The new girl looked up at him, concern etched on her features. Somehow she had managed to move past the other girls and sidle up to him, all without catching anyone else’s attention.
Spike cleared his features, “‘m fine, just tired is all. Work nights.”
“My dad works nights, so I know how it is. Did we wake you up?” Her voice was sweet, not too girlishly shrill like some of the others Dawn had brought home a time or two, holding the promise of being husky and deep when she got older. She was a pretty little thing, all blue eyes and blondish hair, a slight golden tan dusting her features. Her small hand reached out to touch him, and Spike automatically moved back out of her way. Wasn’t that he didn’t like to be touched, in fact if anything he enjoyed the touch of others, especially women, but this wasn’t a woman. This was a little girl, more importantly, Dawn’s friend, and he didn’t want to give any of them ideas. Oh he knew they all thought he was cute, hard to disguise their increased heart rates and breathing whenever he was around, but he didn’t want any reason for the authorities to come around. So he kept his distance from the girls. Wasn’t always this difficult though.
He stepped back away from her and wasn’t really surprised when she followed. Disconcerted a bit, but entirely unsurprised. There was something about this one, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but she caused his nerves to sing. Not entirely human was his first thought, which was cemented when she looked up at him again. A sparkle entered her eyes, making them appear purple. Spike stepped further away, into the patch of sunlight, and she pulled him away from it before he could react. Her whisper took him by surprise “shouldn’t do that. You could get all crispy.”
An impish smile flashed across her features, rendering Spike speechless. Her next sentence would have stopped his heart, if it had been beating. “Have to keep the key’s protector safe. Can’t break your promise.”
A harsh breath escaped his throat, which somehow went unnoticed by the other two girls. “What do you know of that?”
His hackles rose, every instinct screaming at him to protect Dawn and get this one away from her. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to attack the key. I’m here to . . . “ she thought for a moment, then “not help you, but to, I suppose the best way to put it would be to say, that I’m here to give you hope.”
The look of disbelief on his face must have been comical, because the girl let peels of laughter echo through the room. “Relax Spike. I’m not a threat. I promise.”
“Right, and how’m I supposed to trust that?” He didn’t trust her, didn’t know who sent her, and he’d learned over the last couple of years living over the hellmouth, not to trust even those that professed to be “white hats”. His experience at the hands of the Initiative had driven that point home quite clearly. “Dunno who you are pet, nor why you’re here.”
“I’m here to give you some hope.” Her eyes twinkled, almost whirling with color as he looked carefully at her. “What makes you think I need hope?”
Brilliant reply there mate, he thought. He shook his head, more in denial of the idea of him needing hope than the fact someone thought he needed it. She giggled softly once more, catching his full attention. That giggle . . . his unnecessary breath caught in his throat. God she sounded just like Buffy in that moment. Spike looked down at her again, this time really looking. She was tiny, barely coming up to the middle of his chest, her features small and delicate. She reminded him of Buffy a bit, nothing facially but more in just her impish side.
She raised her eyebrow, a wide smile crossing her features. His nerves were still singing, but for some reason he eased his apprehension a bit. Must be the resemblance to Buffy, he thought, then dismissed it, but the idea remained. Her tiny hand was still wrapped around his forearm, and Spike could feel his skin warming up from just her touch. This one burned warmer than others. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in her scent, listening to the cadence of her heartbeat. A wisp of some scent he never in al his years had come across wafted from her, and it somehow, even while it set his teeth on edge, somehow it soothed him at the same time. The absurd idea that this little girl was otherwordly surfaced, and Spike immediately discarded it.
Opening his eyes, he glanced down once at the creature before him, then over her head to focus on Dawn. She wasn’t human. Two of the girls in this room with him right now at this instant were other than human. Kirsten caught the direction of his gaze and a look he’d not expected cross her face. “My promise to William. I’m not here to hurt her.”
She’d said William. Not Spike, not William the bloody. . . but William. Spike shook his head, negating her words. “I will swear if you want me to.”
Once more he met her gaze, searching for the truth she wanted him to find. Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek. “I swear . . . on the soul of her sister, I’m not here to hurt the key.”
His mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. There wasn’t a single thought in his head, save the repetition of her words. She’d sworn on the soul of the slayer. On the soul of Buffy. To him, there was nothing to refute that.
Clearing his throat, Spike tried to get words past his teeth. “Why then d’you think I need hope?”
Fuck. Wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all, but those were the words that popped out of his mouth. Somehow, their voices had dropped down to a bare whisper, neither one of the wanting to be overheard by the other two. “‘Snot hope I need pet, well, I’m not the one needing it.”
His gaze fixed on Dawn, then unknown to him, softened as he watched her for a moment.
Kirsten smiled, watching him watch Dawn. She suppressed a giggle, all the while thinking, and the vampire thinks he doesn’t need hope. Speaking again, she said “you are a good man Spike.”
He swung his eyes back down to her disbelief shining through. “‘M not a man pet, vampire here.”
The little girl shook her head in defiance. “Still a man. Still good. Its why I’ve been sent here.“
“So tell me pet, why have you been sent? And who sent you?” Spike crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for her answer.
Again she looked up at him, her eyes almost whirling. A soft little sigh escaped from her mouth, and she settled in closer to him, not moving her hand from his arm. “I can’t tell you everything, so don’t get agitated with me.”
The girl he knew as Kirsten waited a beat, caught his imperceptible nod, then spoke “I’m just here to give you a message and hope.” Once again he had that look on his face that said more about him disbelieving the idea that he needed hope, but he nodded, waiting for her to continue. “It’s gonna be okay, you know, despite what you think, and even, despite what you see.”
Once more she waited, this time for the message to sink in. There wasn’t much she could actually come out and say, there were not really rules she had to follow, more like guidelines, but she still had almost said too much. A muscle in his cheek twitched, but otherwise his face was impassive. Kirsten stepped back then quelled her fear, retaking the step she had relinquished. “Please trust this. Trust that the slayer would never hurt the key, trust that she wouldn’t allow anything to harm her. And trust, William, in the trust that she had for you.”
He didn’t want to, but some niggling sense made him stop judging what she said and just let it be. Spike smiled a little, nodding his head to give her a chance to go on. He thought perhaps, that if he didn’t speak, didn’t contradict her in anyway or cause an argument, she might be inclined to spill more than she was. He wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot, and he didn’t get to be this old or a master vampire without having some smarts. So he waited.
And like any woman, when faced with a man who is listening intently, especially a very good looking one, Kirsten did spill more. The room started to recede even more, and Spike had a brief flashback to when Drusilla used to have her visions. “Watch out for the red one, trust in the yellow. The key needs protecting, and harm will come to her. The seer will dance with the devil beneath the stars and the souled one will be lost. One who was will return and will need you. You, and no other.”
The lights in her eyes began to sparkle and he nearly lost himself in her gaze. He very nearly missed what she said next, “someday, William, she will tell you.”
Now he knew something was up, because he had no idea what she meant. Spike stood there quietly, waiting patiently for more. It came, just a whisper and then her eyes changed back to the blue they were before. “Love, William, will come.”
She slumped forward, and he caught her before her head hit the counter. It broke the cloak of silence around them, and both Dawn and Janice jumped to their feet. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she gonna be ok?” Both girls were talking over each other, as Spike lifted Kirsten into his arms.
“Gonna bring her inside, Nib. Hang on.” Suiting action to words, he carried her into the living room, setting her down on the couch. With a hand on Janice’s arm, Spike spoke to Dawn. “Get a wet cloth, need to just wipe her face.”
Dawn sped off in the direction of the bathroom, and Spike looked at Janice. “How long have you known this one?”
The answer kind of surprised him. “Kirsten? Geez Spike, ever since I can remember. She’s always been here. We started kindergarten together.”
Well shit. That just blew his theory out of the water. It would have been easy to subscribe this to intervention if Kirsten was new to Sunnydale, but no, it had to be something else. Spike actually had no idea what she was, but she damn sure wasn’t completely human.
Dawn came back into the room, hearing their voices. “Kirsten is diabetic, Spike. She probably just didn’t eat enough today.”
He had no response for that. Diabetic was the least of what Kirsten was, but he knew enough to let it go.
Still, once the girls were gone, he was going to call Rupert.
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