"Home Before Dark "
Author: Deb Nockels
Email: Debnockels@aol.com
Disclaimer: Lyrics below are from the Broadway play Into The Woods
by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine.
Notes: I decided to ignore that silly business with the demon ghost
thingy that Buffy brought back with her, because as far as I can see there's
no significance to it. So that whole day and night just didn't happen. When
Buffy wakes up the next morning, it will be to see Dawn off to school, as
per the episode "After Life."
Dedication: To Anja, my beta-reader, because she always has a word
of encouragement as well as help. You're the greatest!
"So, any luck?" Buffy asked brightly, plopping her purse onto the table where Tara and Giles sat surrounded by stacks of books. Giles just shook his head without looking up from the huge leather-bound tome he was perusing.
Tara said, "Buffy, we only started looking - " she peered at her watch "- half an hour ago. We can't expect to find the answer right - "
"Whoa." Buffy cut her off. "I was kidding, Tara. I know it'll take time; these things always do." Unconsciously she sighed, which drew Giles' attention away from his book. He studied her face.
‘Is something wrong?" he asked her, then realizing how idiotic that sounded, added, "Something else, I mean. Since last night."
Buffy's smile was fleeting. "You mean something besides finding out that I'm not all here, in the literal, part-of-my-soul-is-playing-hooky sense? No, but there is something I want to talk to you about, Giles, if you can spare some time."
"Of course." Giles marked his place, closed the book, and looked at her inquiringly.
Buffy glanced at the other girl. "Maybe we should go into your office," she suggested. "So we don't disturb Tara."
Giles started to get to his feet, but Tara beat him to it. "I have a better idea. Why don't I walk over to Starbucks and get some coffee? You can talk while I'm gone."
"I made some coffee just for you," Giles protested. "It's in the office."
Tara exchanged a glance with Buffy, then smiled at him. "No offense, Giles, but I'd rather have Starbucks'." Grabbing her bag off the floor, she left.
"Is there something wrong with my coffee?" demanded Giles.
"You mean besides the fact that it could be used to strip paint off a car?" Buffy shrugged and sat down. "Not a thing."
Affronted, Giles decided there was nothing to be gained from pursuing that particular subject. "So what's on your mind?" he asked instead, rather stiffly.
"The dream I had last night," she told him. "I've dreamed it before, when I spent the night with Angel." Giles' eyebrows shot up and she added hurriedly, "I mean *at* Angel's, at the Hyperion, when I was there a few weeks ago."
He looked blank. After a second, Buffy shook her head. "Oh, I forgot, you weren't here then. A few days after I ... came back ... I went to L. A. to help Angel with a situation there and I ended up spending the weekend. You arrived a couple of days later, I think."
"That's right, I remember now. You mentioned it to me once but I'd forgotten. So, your dream, was it a Slayer dream?" he wanted to know.
Buffy shook her head. "I don't think so. It was really vivid and real, and it didn't *feel* like a Slayer dream. Actually, I had several dreams that weekend, but this is the only one that's had a rerun. You remember two years ago when I went to L. A. and saw Angel, after he came to Sunnydale that Thanksgiving?"
Giles nodded. He wasn't likely to forget *that* - nor Buffy's reaction when Xander had spilt the beans about Angel's presence there, which she hadn't known about until then.
Buffy went on, "Well, I don't remember if I ever told you this, but while I was talking to Angel a demon came crashing in through his window. It was big and green and had this huge glowing ruby in its forehead."
"A *ruby*?" interrupted Giles, his eyebrows shooting toward the ceiling again.
"Well, something that looked like a ruby," Buffy amended. "You know, all red and facety. Angel killed it right away by smashing the ... whatever-it-was thing in its forehead. He said it was a Mohra demon."
Giles nodded. "Ah, of course. It's not a ruby, it's ... well, we're not sure exactly what it is, but it's where the demon's life force is contained. Mohras are somewhat rare, as demons go. I'm impressed that Angel knew how to kill it."
"So was I," agreed Buffy. "I mean, he didn't even hesitate. The second after it crashed through the window, Angel had something in his hand and moved in for the smash job. Almost like he'd been expecting it."
"Perhaps he'd had word there was one in the area," Giles suggested. "Very interesting demons, Mohras. Their blood is regenerative."
Buffy looked blank. "Meaning what? If its arm gets chopped off it'll grow a new one, like a lizard?"
"Probably, given time," Giles said. "But it also heals wounds and cures diseases almost instantaneously, which is why the demons are so hard to kill. Their only vulnerable spot is the ‘jewel' on the forehead. At one time they were hunted almost to extinction just for the curative properties of their blood. That was when the Mohras became highly-prized allies of some of the demon lords. In exchange for protection the Mohras agreed to fight beside the lords in their battles and heal them if they were injured."
"Handy little arrangement," she remarked. "You scratch my back, I'll heal yours."
"Indeed," agreed Giles. "However, we're straying from the subject. You were telling me about your dream last night. I assume there's some connection in it with what happened two years ago with the Mohra?"
"That's what the dream was about," Buffy clarified, "except it was different. In the dream Angel didn't kill the Mohra - he didn't seem to know *how* to kill it. Anyway, it got away even though we both attacked it, so we went hunting for it down in the sewers. After a while we split up and I went outside, into the daylight."
"Where Angel couldn't go," Giles commented. "Which the Mohra probably knew."
"Right. Then I got a call from Cordelia that Angel had killed the demon. I guess I went to the beach because suddenly I was standing on the boardwalk looking out over the ocean. I felt something, like I always do when Angel is near, and I turned around and there he was, walking toward me. In the sunlight." Even the memory of that moment sent a wave of emotion coursing through her, and she had to swallow.
"He was immune to it?" asked Giles, recalling the Gem of Amara.
"No. He was human," she replied. "And that's basically where the dream ended, the first time." There was no need to mention the kiss they'd shared in it. She continued, "But last night there was more. Angel and I went back to his place - "
Giles interrupted. "His old place or the Hyperion?"
"His old place, the one that got blown up."
"So there was consistency within the dream," Giles nodded.
"Yeah - which is also way different from the Slayer dreams." After a second she went on, "Anyway, we discussed how his being mortal changed everything - or *he* did anyway."
Buffy couldn't help the slight bitterness that tinged her voice. Recounting the details of the dream was also bringing back the emotions she'd experienced in it. "Angel said he didn't know who he was or where he fit in anymore and that he couldn't just ‘wedge' himself back into my new life, with school and everything, and he was afraid I might not be as focused on my Slaying if he was around. All the logical reasons why we should take it slow."
"Ah." Giles regarded her with a bland expression. "And did you?"
Buffy grinned self-consciously. "Uh, well - actually - no. During the conversation our hands touched, and - well - "
Giles raised *his* hand. "Right. No further details needed; I think I can figure out the rest."
Chuckling, Buffy said, "That's pretty much all of it. Eventually we fell asleep and that's when I woke up - this morning, I mean." Giles nodded his comprehension. "Oh, there was one other thing," Buffy remembered. "When I woke up - this morning - there was this voice in my head. It was saying, ‘Together you are strong. Alone, you are dead.' "
Giles repeated the words, then asked, "Did you recognize the voice?"
Buffy shook her head. "No. It was just a voice, kind of deep and ... strong. Not strong like someone shouting, but ... resonant . . . kind of echo-ey."
"Hmm." Giles reflected.
Buffy watched him for a few moments, then said, "So do you think it's important? The dream, I mean."
Giles sighed and stood up, stretching his back. "Well, I agree that it doesn't appear to be related to your Slayer duties, but I'm afraid I have no idea if it has any other significance. On the surface it would seem to be merely wish-fulfillment. I'm sure you must have wished many times that Angel were human - even dreamed of it, perhaps." He picked up his cup and headed for the office.
Buffy snorted. "Of course I have, about a zillion times, but never like this, where the dream was based on something that actually happened. Besides, I didn't tell you about the other dreams."
Giles stopped and turned. "Other dreams? You mean last night?"
"No, that night at the Hyperion. I had two other strange ones, and one of them turned out to be something that had actually happened to Angel. Something I hadn't known about until then."
"You had three similar dreams all in the same night?" Giles began moving again. "Wait a minute. I need more tea before hearing about this."
"I simply don't know what to say, Buffy," Giles said at last. He took another sip from his cup and grimaced. Buffy was right, this coffee tasted terrible. Of course coffee usually did, to him, but he'd felt the need for something stronger than his usual cup of English Breakfast. Giving it up as a lost cause, he set the cup carefully in the saucer and sat back, running his hand through his thinning hair. Tara had returned to the store about five minutes ago, so they'd moved their conversation into the office, with the door closed so she could continue her research undisturbed. "The dream you had about Angel's epiphany is ... fascinating, but - "
Buffy cast her eyes upward. "You sound like Mr. Spock."
Giles ignored the interruption. "But although I'll definitely note it down for further consideration, I don't see that it necessarily has any connection to the other two dreams, either the one about his visit after Joyce's funeral or the one about the Mohra. I still feel those were most likely just your own wishes becoming more ... tangible."
"Did I mention that Angel also dreamed about his visit here last spring?" Even after all these months, Buffy avoided referring directly to her mother's funeral. "As in, we shared the exact same dream that night?"
"What?" Giles gave her a look. "No, you failed to mention that little detail."
"Well, he did. *We* did. Like we did that time when the First was trying to make him kill himself." It was Buffy's turn to lean back, while Giles rose to his feet and set about making himself a cup of tea to replace the undrinkable coffee.
"I see. Well, that certainly adds another dimension of interest, not to mention confusion." He busied himself with tea bags and boiling water, his mind working furiously. As the tea was steeping he turned to Buffy. "I have to admit I'm out of my league with all this. With your permission I'd like to consult a friend of mine in England."
Buffy frowned. "Someone on the Council?" She still didn't trust the Watchers' Council and didn't want them knowing about her resurrection.
"No," he reassured her. "No, this is a woman I've known for many years - decades, really. She's an expert on the paranormal, as well as being a psychic herself. I also trust her implicitly."
"All right then," Buffy agreed slowly, though not without misgivings. Standing up, she looked around her. "Where's my purse? Oh yeah, I left it in the other room." She reached for the door.
"Are you going somewhere?" Giles was surprised; he'd expected her to help with the research - or at least to work out in the back room.
Buffy grimaced. "Grocery shopping. I hate it but the cupboards are bare, not to mention the fridge. I'll be back later, Giles; don't worry." After she left Giles looked at his watch. With the eight-hour time difference between California and England, he could probably catch Miriam at home before she left to attend whichever evening activity she was involved in that day. He picked up the phone.
The bell jangled as the door flew open, banging against the doorstop. A bent figure dashed inside, a leather duster held over his head. "Bloody hell, that's hot!" He swatted at the smoke wafting upward from his black jeans.
"What do you want, Spike?" Giles straightened up from his book and fixed an unwelcoming look on the peroxide vampire.
Tossing the coat over a chair back, Spike raised an eyebrow. "My, aren't *we* friendly today! Don't get your boxers in a wad; I'll be out of your hair soon. What there is of it." He cast a disparaging glance at the top of Giles' head.
With the ease of long practice, Giles ignored the taunt. "You're leaving Sunnydale?"
He spoke more out of habit than any real hope that it might be true, but to his surprise the vampire mimed admiration. "Give the man a gold star. Got it in one, Rupert."
"What?" Giles stared at him, as did Tara. "You're really going away? For how long?"
"Forever, I hope." Spike glanced around the shop, then toward the back room. "Is Buffy here?"
"No." Still taken aback by Spike's disclosure, and not completely trusting what he was hearing, Giles didn't volunteer any further information.
"Oh." Spike's voice was flat. Disappointment flashed across his face, then his expression went blank. "Thought she might be training. Well, tell her ‘adios' for me then, will ya?" He grabbed his coat and turned.
"You're leaving *now*?" Giles glanced at the window, wondering confusedly if there'd been a sudden change in the weather. No, the sun was still shining brightly. "In broad daylight?"
Spike shrugged. "Got me a new set of wheels, painted the windows over and gassed her up last night. So why not? There's nothin' to keep me here." Again his voice flattened, causing Giles to regard him thoughtfully, with speculation.
"What about Dawn?" Tara asked softly. "Aren't you at least going to say goodbye to *her*? How do you think she'll feel if you just disappear without a word?"
A muscle twitched in Spike's chiseled cheek. "Never was one for mushy farewells," he said gruffly. "Tell the Niblet - " He paused. "Tell her ... tell her I hope she has a good life." With that, he turned on his heel, hoisted the duster high above his head, and was out the door.
Giles and Tara stared after him, then turned and stared at each other.
Giles dumped the new stack on the table and sat down. He pulled off the top book and opened it, but his attention was fixed only partially on the worn, yellowed pages. Half his brain was occupied elsewhere - a portion of it speculating about the reasons behind Spike's unexpected departure, but most of it taken up with his telephone conversation with Miriam that morning.
How could he have been so blind? It had taken his old friend to point out to him the significance of Buffy's dream about Angel's epiphany. If Buffy had indeed been shown the exact details leading up to it - details of which she'd had no previous knowledge - then it was no mere dream she'd had, but a revelation of staggering implications. And, by extension, her other dreams that same night could no longer be easily dismissed as simply projections of her own personal desires. He needed to question Buffy about the dreams again, this time with greater attention to details.
He'd been scanning the pages before him almost absently, but suddenly a phrase caught his eye. "There are accounts of Mohra blood successfully curing not only physical ailments, but those of the mind as well." The entry continued onto the next page.
Giles went back to the beginning of the chapter and read to its end, then went over it one more time to be sure he hadn't missed anything important. "Tara, Willow, I think I may have found something." He briefly explained about Mohras and their blood, then slid the book across the table to them, holding it open with one hand. "Start with the third paragraph on the right."
The two young women read to the end and turned the page. After a moment Willow looked up. "This talks about Mohra blood curing someone with a mental disorder. Buffy isn't crazy, she just isn't all here."
"Not just any mental disorder," Giles corrected. "The young man in question was a psychopath, totally without conscience and unable to distinguish between right and wrong."
"Psychopathy might also be considered more of a psychic or even a spiritual illness than a mental one," said Tara thoughtfully, "and that describes Buffy's problem too. I mean, *it* sure isn't mental. Or physical."
Willow was frowning. "You told us Mohra blood is powerful, but can it fix something that was caused by magic?"
"I intend to find out." Giles stood up with a determined look. "Tara, why don't you continue to look for rituals that might help. Willow, please go through the rest of this book and see if there's anything else about Mohra blood. I'm going to get the Council Chronicles, see if they have anything to say on the subject."
He went into the office, where the girls heard him unlocking his private cabinet. A few minutes later he returned, bearing a massive tome. Setting it down on the table with a heavy thud, he stood with his hands spread over it and muttered something under his breath. A soft yet radiant blue light emanated from the heavy volume, then gradually faded until it was gone.
"What was that?" asked Tara, to Willow's relief. She was itching to know what Giles had done, but after the talking-to he'd given her earlier that morning she was afraid to show much curiosity about *anything* magical. As for the vague idea she'd woken up with, of doing a spell on Buffy to make her forget she'd been in heaven, well, that notion had vanished long before the lecture ended.
Giles opened the book and began turning pages. "Just a little spell to help my research go a faster. It will highlight the word ‘Mohra' every place it appears in this book. Ah!"
Craning their necks, the two girls saw the same blue glow, this time illuminating a single word in the middle of a page. Giles read the passage, then shook his head. "Nothing helpful here." He continued flipping the pages over, alert for the telltale glimmer.
"Cool," Tara commented, and closed the book she'd been looking through. She added it to the ragged stack on her right and pulled another musty volume from the pile to her left. Opening it, she began scanning its contents.
Willow looked down at the book Giles had turned over to her. There was still about two-thirds of it to go through. She hesitated, then said, tentatively, "Giles?"
"Hmm?"
"Uh, that ‘little spell' of yours would help with this book too." When he frowned, she added, "I mean, it *would* speed things along a bit, and didn't you say we need to find the answer soon, for Buffy's sake?"
Giles hesitated. "I did say that," he admitted. "Buffy has been missing part of her soul for almost three months now, and we've seen how even that short time has affected her. Very well, I'll do it. But only until we find our answer."
He raised his hands. Tara interrupted. "Giles. Can you add the word ‘resurrection' to the spell?"
Giles sighed. "Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound." He repeated the spell on the remaining books on the table, including the ones Tara had. The resulting blue glow made them squint; fortunately, it died down after a few seconds.
Willow riffled through the pages. "Wow, look at this! There must be dozens of blue words." She turned back to the front, searching for the first highlighted word. Giles started to remind her that he'd already gone through that part of the book, but decided it couldn't hurt to double-check. Instead he sat down again and opened Volume One of the Council Chronicles.
Buffy stuffed the last remaining item into the cupboard, sighing with relief. There! That was finally done. Not that there had been a ton of stuff, not with the state her finances were in, but putting groceries away had never been one of her favorite chores - even when she was only assisting her mom. Now *she* was the mom, and there was no one to assist, Dawn being at school. Closing the cupboard door, she glanced at the time. One-thirty. Damn, way too early to pay Angel a visit.
Or was it? Her face brightened. After all, it hadn't been *that* late when Angel left last night. He should have gotten to the mansion not long after midnight, so he'd have had plenty of time to sleep. Of course, that was assuming Angel had gone straight to the mansion after leaving her. For all she knew, he'd spent the remainder of the night patrolling or something and not gone to bed until sunrise, in which case he'd need to sleep all day.
Damn.
Sighing, Buffy started for the broom closet. The kitchen floor really needed to be mopped, and the clothes basket upstairs was overflowing. She'd do a fast mopping job and start a load of laundry, then go back to the Magic Box and get in some training. THEN she'd head over to Angel's.
Giles read the passage, scarcely able to believe its content. His search for the highlighted words had brought him to an account of a battle with a Mohra demon. What really caught his attention was that the Mohra was fighting a vampire, one who obviously didn't know the key to killing its opponent. The information came from a retired Watcher who'd chanced upon the scene while wandering in the hills of Northern Italy back in 1892.
"The battle was fierce," he read, "but short in duration as these things go. The vampire was strong, but it was no match for the Mohra, who easily inflicted several serious wounds. But then, unexpectedly, the vampire leaped in close and with one vicious stroke slashed the Mohra's throat with a hunting knife. Green blood spurted everywhere, including on the vampire, as the Mohra slumped to the ground. I was not surprised to see the blood cure the vampire of its numerous injuries; however, I was considerably taken aback when it fell to its knees, emitting cries of pain.
"To my astonishment, it then began breathing in loud gasps! Not merely the drawing in of air in order to speak, as any being must, but what seemed to be actual respiration. It clutched at its chest and gasped, 'My heart!' (It spoke in Italian, of course, a language in which I am fluent, but for the sake of these Chronicles I have translated all vocalized words into English.)
"I ventured out of concealment and walked up to it. So stunned was the creature by events, I was able to take its hand and put my fingers against its wrist. Even though forewarned by what I had witnessed, the feel of a pulse fluttering beneath warm skin still sent a shock of disbelief through me. Surreptitiously I drew my crucifix from my coat pocket and pressed it against the hand; there was no reaction. It was true then; the Mohra's blood had effected a cure no one had dreamed possible.
" 'Congratulations, sir,' I said to him. 'You are human once again. The man (for as such I must now refer to him) turned dazed eyes to my face.
" 'Human?' he croaked. 'How?' "
" 'The Mohra's blood,' I told him. 'It has curative properties. Apparently it considers vampirism as a condition in need of healing.'
" 'I'm human?' he repeated. 'I can breathe and taste food again?'
" 'And go to church and walk in the daylight,' I confirmed. 'Sir, you have been granted the miracle of a new life. It is now up to you to see that this wondrous gift is not wasted.' I glanced over at the fallen demon, on which I had been keeping an eye. It was beginning to stir, for of course cutting its throat had not killed it. 'However, I suggest you leave this vicinity at once. You did not kill the demon, merely rendered it "hors de combat" for a while. It has healed itself and will soon regain consciousness.'
" 'I see.' The man nodded, his face still blank with shock. 'Thank you, sir.' He turned and stumbled off. Once he was out of sight I picked up a large stone from the ground, went over to the Mohra and quickly smashed the gem in its forehead. I then returned to the village where I was staying and sent a telegram to the Council, advising of my early return and using a coded phrase which informed them I had important information to impart.
"Upon reviewing the preceding report of Malcolm Scott, Watcher Emeritus, and after much research and consultation, it is the consensus of this Council that the blood of the Mohra healed the vampire by either destroying the demon or somehow forcing it out of the body it occupied, which then allowed the resumption of life. At the insistence of several of our group, the Council has ordered that this person, Teodoro Rossignelli by name, be kept under secret observation to determine the effects of his miraculous restoration."
Giles skimmed over the next few paragraphs, which rehashed known facts about Mohra blood, discussed the implications of this discovery as it concerned their organization, and generally reinforced his opinion that most Council members were a pompous, long-winded, arrogant lot who'd wet their pants if ever they came face-to-face with a genuine vampire. Then his attention was caught again:
"ADDENDUM: Only five months after the former vampire regained his humanity, he flouted the miracle God had granted him by committing suicide. Talks with his neighbors revealed only that Signor Rossignelli kept to himself, rarely joining in community social life. Indeed, he seldom spoke to anyone unless absolutely necessary. His priest, however, was able to provide more information. Father Aberto proved to be no untutored, naive village cleric, but rather a scholar of impressive attainments as well as a man of experience and wisdom. He would not, of course, reveal anything said to him in the confessional, but he had also had many personal conversations with the deceased, who had told him everything about his restoration to humanity, including the fact that he'd been a vampire for two years.
"Fr. Aberto stated that the deceased suffered from increasing bouts of melancholia, during which he lay in his bed staring at the wall, often refusing even to eat, for days on end. Even when Sr. Rossignelli was not in a depressed condition, he seemed somehow removed from life. "Apathetic" was the word Fr. Aberto used. When asked what he thought ailed the deceased, he stated it was his personal and professional opinion that even though Sr. Rossignelli's humanity was returned, his soul was not. 'When I looked into his eyes, I saw only emptiness,' he said. This accords with the reports from our observer in the village, a sensitive, who in the beginning had believed the hollowness she sensed in Sr. Rossignelli to be temporary, the result of the trauma he'd undergone. However, as time passed she too came to the belief that the soul was lacking.
"This tragic occurrence makes it obvious that it is not God's will that vampires should be cured of their condition, for if this were His desire surely He would have allowed the soul to be returned along with the life. This being the case, the Council decrees there will be no experiments with Mohra blood to return life to newly deceased victims, as some among us have suggested doing, to prevent them from becoming vampires, or at least to return them to their humanity at the first possible moment. "
Giles stared at the page without seeing it, his mind working furiously. Was it possible that Mohra blood could "cure" vampirism? Well, obviously it was, if this account was true - and he had no reason to believe it wasn't. Had the blood somehow driven the demon out of the body or had it actually killed the demon? In either case, why had that allowed life to return to the body as if it had never been interrupted? Was it only on young vampires that it worked? Would older vampires - say, those over one hundred years of age - simply shrivel into dust?
"Giles?"
"Hmm?" he said absently, still thinking hard. Angel would surely want to know about this. Not to mention Buffy - wait a minute! That dream of Buffy's, the one where Angel killed a Mohra demon and later turned up, miraculously human again ... could it be the Mohra's blood that did it? Except that Buffy hadn't known about the blood's properties until he told her, so how could she dream about something she knew nothing about?
Like Angel's epiphany?
"Giles?"
This time he looked up. *"What?"*
Tara was taken aback at his impatient tone. "Uh, y-you've been reading that same page for the last ten minutes." She nodded at the book before him. "I thought m-maybe you'd found something."
Giles hesitated, then smiled apologetically at the young woman. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. No, I'm afraid I let myself get sidetracked, that's all. This is an interesting item, but it isn't anything that will help Buffy." Unless of course it gave her hope that she could be with Angel without fear of him losing his soul. He noted down the page number, then resolutely turned his attention back to his research.