Angel released Giles with an inhuman growl, but then shoved his chest, hard, knocking him over. Giles struggled to regain his feet, but the vampire was instantly hovering over him, a knee on his chest, hands gripping his collar.
Expecting either a killing bite or a cruel quip, Giles was amazed to hear Angel demanding, “What did you do?” The light by the front door was just enough to illuminate his transformed face, with its metallic eyes and gleaming fangs. His voice was full of sharply-honed rage as he repeated, “What did you do, Rupert?”
So he had felt something. But this wasn’t the old Angel; the restoration of his soul might disorient him or even send him through a bout of madness, but Giles was sure it wouldn’t look like this. Finding a place of calm in his automatic analysis, he stated, “It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work!?” Angel roared, and this time it was clear - he wasn’t just angry. He was afraid.
“If you kill me you’ll never--” Giles stopped as headlights appeared on the road, causing Angel to rear back and look over his shoulder. In another moment it was apparent that the vehicle was speeding their way, and Angel only had time to stand up and turn to face it before it swerved wildly into the driveway and hit him head on.
Giles was blinded by the light and suffocated by the fumes, but the car stopped with room to spare and Angel fell without touching him. As Giles rolled to the side, coughing, the driver’s side door opened and he heard a high-pitched, panicky voice: “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!”
“Cordelia,” he muttered, staggering upright. He could feel no serious injury, and his glasses were miraculously intact, though dirty. “What are you doing here?”
She stepped out of the car but stayed behind the door, holding its edge like a shield. “I went home and Willow called and she said so I came and oh my God, what are you doing, stake him already!”
Giles turned back to where he had fallen, half expecting Angel to leap up and go in for the kill, but the vampire was gone altogether. Cordelia noticed it too, first craning her neck to look and then darting a few steps away from her car. It was, Giles realized, clever of her to stay clear of the closest place where Angel could be hiding, even if she had learned it from urban legends. He crouched down to check, balancing on his hands, and then rose again and shook his head. “Get back in your car,” he ordered. “Well done, but go now.”
“What about you? Why are you even outside?”
Rather than answering, he moved to his own car and found the keys on the ground. When the interior light came on he could see that Jenny’s position hadn’t changed; she still looked like she was in a deep sleep. From behind him, Cordelia was asking, “Is that Miss Calendar?”
Giles gave her a cursory nod. “I must take her to the hospital. Go home - or to Buffy’s house. She may need your help as well.”
He hoped she didn’t. He hoped that everything was fine at Buffy’s house, and at Willow’s, and that Angel had gone home to lick his wounds. The night might yet get worse, but all he knew for sure was that Jenny needed him now.
Expecting either a killing bite or a cruel quip, Giles was amazed to hear Angel demanding, “What did you do?” The light by the front door was just enough to illuminate his transformed face, with its metallic eyes and gleaming fangs. His voice was full of sharply-honed rage as he repeated, “What did you do, Rupert?”
So he had felt something. But this wasn’t the old Angel; the restoration of his soul might disorient him or even send him through a bout of madness, but Giles was sure it wouldn’t look like this. Finding a place of calm in his automatic analysis, he stated, “It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work!?” Angel roared, and this time it was clear - he wasn’t just angry. He was afraid.
“If you kill me you’ll never--” Giles stopped as headlights appeared on the road, causing Angel to rear back and look over his shoulder. In another moment it was apparent that the vehicle was speeding their way, and Angel only had time to stand up and turn to face it before it swerved wildly into the driveway and hit him head on.
Giles was blinded by the light and suffocated by the fumes, but the car stopped with room to spare and Angel fell without touching him. As Giles rolled to the side, coughing, the driver’s side door opened and he heard a high-pitched, panicky voice: “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!”
“Cordelia,” he muttered, staggering upright. He could feel no serious injury, and his glasses were miraculously intact, though dirty. “What are you doing here?”
She stepped out of the car but stayed behind the door, holding its edge like a shield. “I went home and Willow called and she said so I came and oh my God, what are you doing, stake him already!”
Giles turned back to where he had fallen, half expecting Angel to leap up and go in for the kill, but the vampire was gone altogether. Cordelia noticed it too, first craning her neck to look and then darting a few steps away from her car. It was, Giles realized, clever of her to stay clear of the closest place where Angel could be hiding, even if she had learned it from urban legends. He crouched down to check, balancing on his hands, and then rose again and shook his head. “Get back in your car,” he ordered. “Well done, but go now.”
“What about you? Why are you even outside?”
Rather than answering, he moved to his own car and found the keys on the ground. When the interior light came on he could see that Jenny’s position hadn’t changed; she still looked like she was in a deep sleep. From behind him, Cordelia was asking, “Is that Miss Calendar?”
Giles gave her a cursory nod. “I must take her to the hospital. Go home - or to Buffy’s house. She may need your help as well.”
He hoped she didn’t. He hoped that everything was fine at Buffy’s house, and at Willow’s, and that Angel had gone home to lick his wounds. The night might yet get worse, but all he knew for sure was that Jenny needed him now.
Buffy slowly got to her feet, stake in hand, without taking her eyes off Drusilla. The vampire wasn’t holding anything, just advancing with little steps, swaying now and then as if dancing to music that only she could hear. Buffy didn’t attempt to attack; there were too many ways this could be a trap.
Drusilla stopped a few feet in front of her and said in her wispy voice, “You are lovely, Slayer. Deadly as the sunrise. You still beguile him.”
Buffy twirled her stake. “I’d be happy to beguile him in person if he’d show his cowardly face here instead of sending his arm candy.”
“Oh, yes,” Drusilla purred, raising her wrist up to her lips and gazing at it before trying a lick. “But he had to reprimand the bad teacher.”
“Who?” Buffy asked, but she knew. Her heart froze. “What are you talking about?”
Drusilla’s expression twisted into a nasty sneer. “She’ll try and fail and never try again. Let him be, beautiful sunrise girl. Your court is death, not magic.”
The only possible meaning to these ravings was that Angel knew they were trying to restore his soul. “Okay,” Buffy said in a rush. She crouched to set down the stake with deliberate motions, not breaking eye contact. “I’ll let him be. We won’t try anything. You don’t have to…reprimand--”
She was interrupted by Mom’s Jeep pulling up. Buffy kicked the stake into the bushes and came forward, as close to Drusilla as she dared. “Go,” she demanded. “You have a message to take back to Angel, so go now.”
Mom was getting out with a bag of groceries in her arms, so Buffy ran over to take it from her, forcing a cheerful greeting. “Thanks, dear,” said Mom as she closed and locked the car. “Who’s your friend?”
Buffy glanced back to where Drusilla was still standing, hands folded demurely at her waist. “She’s not - she was just leaving.”
“Must I?” pouted the vampire as Buffy and Mom came closer. “It’s so nice to talk to Buffy.”
Mom sighed, searching her purse for her keys. “Well, why don’t you both co--”
“No!” Buffy said in a near-shout. She took a breath and lowered her voice, even though she knew Drusilla could still hear her. “She isn’t my friend, she’s Angel’s girlfriend and she’s only here to stir up trouble. If you just give us a minute, I’ll get rid of her and I’ll see you inside.”
Mom raised a doubtful eyebrow, but she took the groceries back from Buffy and went inside. Buffy’s relief was short-lived, remembering what Drusilla had said about Miss Calendar, but even that thought was pushed out from her mind as she heard Xander’s voice from a distance, shouting, “Buffy!”
Buffy whirled back around, ready to fight Drusilla bare-handed and damn the consequences, but the vampire was gone. Xander and Willow came running up to the house, both of them panting. Willow managed to puff out, “Is - your mom - okay?”
“She’s fine but we have to go to Giles’s house. Miss Calendar is in danger. Drusilla was here--”
“Whoa, whoa!” Xander held up a hand while still leaning on his knee with the other. “Slow down. We called Cordelia. Willow figured if Angel was trying to get you back to your house, it was to keep you away from somewhere else, so we asked Cordy to check in on Giles. She’s probably there by now so let’s just call before we go running off again, okay?” He paused, straightened up, and added, “That was Drusilla you were talking to just now? I thought it was a ghost.”
Buffy shook her head, dazed. “I’m sorry I ran off without you guys. I was just so…let’s go in.”
Before she had touched the doorknob, another car swerved into the driveway and pulled up next to the Jeep with a screech. Buffy blinked away the light-blindness its headlights had given her and saw Cordelia getting out of the driver’s seat. “Get in!” she ordered everyone. “We’re going to the hospital!”
Drusilla stopped a few feet in front of her and said in her wispy voice, “You are lovely, Slayer. Deadly as the sunrise. You still beguile him.”
Buffy twirled her stake. “I’d be happy to beguile him in person if he’d show his cowardly face here instead of sending his arm candy.”
“Oh, yes,” Drusilla purred, raising her wrist up to her lips and gazing at it before trying a lick. “But he had to reprimand the bad teacher.”
“Who?” Buffy asked, but she knew. Her heart froze. “What are you talking about?”
Drusilla’s expression twisted into a nasty sneer. “She’ll try and fail and never try again. Let him be, beautiful sunrise girl. Your court is death, not magic.”
The only possible meaning to these ravings was that Angel knew they were trying to restore his soul. “Okay,” Buffy said in a rush. She crouched to set down the stake with deliberate motions, not breaking eye contact. “I’ll let him be. We won’t try anything. You don’t have to…reprimand--”
She was interrupted by Mom’s Jeep pulling up. Buffy kicked the stake into the bushes and came forward, as close to Drusilla as she dared. “Go,” she demanded. “You have a message to take back to Angel, so go now.”
Mom was getting out with a bag of groceries in her arms, so Buffy ran over to take it from her, forcing a cheerful greeting. “Thanks, dear,” said Mom as she closed and locked the car. “Who’s your friend?”
Buffy glanced back to where Drusilla was still standing, hands folded demurely at her waist. “She’s not - she was just leaving.”
“Must I?” pouted the vampire as Buffy and Mom came closer. “It’s so nice to talk to Buffy.”
Mom sighed, searching her purse for her keys. “Well, why don’t you both co--”
“No!” Buffy said in a near-shout. She took a breath and lowered her voice, even though she knew Drusilla could still hear her. “She isn’t my friend, she’s Angel’s girlfriend and she’s only here to stir up trouble. If you just give us a minute, I’ll get rid of her and I’ll see you inside.”
Mom raised a doubtful eyebrow, but she took the groceries back from Buffy and went inside. Buffy’s relief was short-lived, remembering what Drusilla had said about Miss Calendar, but even that thought was pushed out from her mind as she heard Xander’s voice from a distance, shouting, “Buffy!”
Buffy whirled back around, ready to fight Drusilla bare-handed and damn the consequences, but the vampire was gone. Xander and Willow came running up to the house, both of them panting. Willow managed to puff out, “Is - your mom - okay?”
“She’s fine but we have to go to Giles’s house. Miss Calendar is in danger. Drusilla was here--”
“Whoa, whoa!” Xander held up a hand while still leaning on his knee with the other. “Slow down. We called Cordelia. Willow figured if Angel was trying to get you back to your house, it was to keep you away from somewhere else, so we asked Cordy to check in on Giles. She’s probably there by now so let’s just call before we go running off again, okay?” He paused, straightened up, and added, “That was Drusilla you were talking to just now? I thought it was a ghost.”
Buffy shook her head, dazed. “I’m sorry I ran off without you guys. I was just so…let’s go in.”
Before she had touched the doorknob, another car swerved into the driveway and pulled up next to the Jeep with a screech. Buffy blinked away the light-blindness its headlights had given her and saw Cordelia getting out of the driver’s seat. “Get in!” she ordered everyone. “We’re going to the hospital!”
Giles had the waiting room to himself for ten minutes after he had delivered Jenny into the hands of the doctors, and then Wesley Wyndam-Pryce came in. Giles didn’t speak or look up from the glasses he was cleaning in his lap. Surely Wesley knew that he was the last person that Giles wanted to see at the moment.
“Pardon me,” Wesley said in a low, respectful tone, “but I wanted to offer my condolences.”
“She isn’t dead,” Giles replied curtly.
The young Watcher was looming obnoxiously near, but he was probably too awkward to take one of the many vacant chairs, and with his height he couldn’t help but loom. “Of course, of course,” he said hurriedly. “Is there-- has there been any change?”
Giles shook his head. It was no use wishing that Cordelia had kept this to herself instead of informing her new boyfriend, but he couldn’t help wondering why Wesley would take the initiative to show up here on his own. “What do you intend to tell the Council about this?” he asked.
“I…well, I haven’t properly thought about it yet. I suppose it would be judicious to advise them that the restoration of Angel’s soul has failed.”
Judicious or not, it would be necessary, Giles acknowledged to himself. The Watchers’ Council would soon be asking for results, and anything but the truth might draw them here to see for themselves. “Let them know that Jenny Calendar is comatose,” he said to Wesley, finally looking up at him. “They must understand that she can’t do anything else to help them.”
With a stammer that didn’t resolve into any intelligible words, Wesley busied himself pulling out a chair and placing it just close enough to Giles to continue speaking quietly. “Then, you believe she won’t wake?”
“I believe that we’d be fools to invite more disaster even if she does.”
There was a pause, filled by the incessant buzz of machinery and some bland music playing in another room. “What if they could help?” said Wesley.
Giles shot him a glare. “Either they can’t or they won’t. There’s never been a third option.”
“If her condition is, ah, magical in nature, perhaps an expert eye could reveal something that these medical professionals have missed…”
For a heartbeat, Giles felt hope rising, and then he visualized it: Quentin Travers and his inner circle, huddled around Jenny’s bed, delving into her aura and attempting communication with any spirits that might still be clinging to her. So far, they knew only that her Romani ancestry gave her access to powerful sorcery, but if they had permission to study her up close, they would surely find out more.
Using that knowledge to heal her would be their absolute last priority.
And Wesley would hand her right over to them.
Before the discussion could turn into a true confrontation, Buffy rushed in, followed closely by Willow, Xander, and Cordelia. Giles rose to meet them and they crowded around him, talking over each other with questions about Miss Calendar. All of them ignored Wesley, save Cordelia, who caught him as he stood up and gave him a squeeze that turned his face a vibrant red.
Giles motioned to quiet the teenagers and told them, “Jenny is in no immediate danger. I don’t know exactly what happened, but it appears that casting the spell was too much for her to take. She’s been unconscious since she tried it.”
Willow covered her face with her hands, and Xander visibly paled. Buffy spoke with a quavering voice: “Cordelia said Angel attacked you.”
“Yes. I believe he could feel the energy of the Orb of Thesulah, but it didn’t restore him. I’m sorry, Buffy.”
“Don’t be.” She glanced at the others, then said, “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
Giles checked his watch and went to find the nurse who had told him earlier that he would be cleared to see the patient again tonight, for a limited time and with no more than one other visitor. A few minutes later, he and Buffy were admitted to Jenny’s room, where she lay like a cursed princess under a thin blanket.
Buffy’s eyes were glistening. “She didn’t deserve this.”
“Neither did you.”
“Giles, Angel knew what you were doing, even before he felt whatever he felt from the ritual. Drusilla was at my house--”
He whipped off his glasses. “What?!”
Buffy made a reassuring gesture. “Just outside. She didn’t hurt anyone. I’m not even sure if Angel sent her there - it seemed like she wanted to talk to me herself, to warn me off. Angel would do the opposite of that.”
“What did she say, then?”
“That I shouldn’t mess with magic anymore.” She hugged her arms to her chest, gazing down at Jenny’s sleeping face. “And I don’t think I will. Not if Angel can predict our moves like this.”
It was time to broach another hard truth with her, one that he had just barely awakened to himself. “I was thinking something very similar,” he said. “But I’m afraid we have another enemy to consider now.” As dispassionately as he could, he relayed the talk that he’d had with Wesley before she came in, finishing with the part he had left unsaid: his own fears that the Watchers would try to exploit Jenny’s magical connections while she was at her most vulnerable.
As he spoke, Buffy’s eyes got wider, and soon she was gripping the bed’s railing with both hands. “You have to take her away from here,” she breathed. “Stay with her. Protect her. If there’s anyone who can find a way to wake her up, it’s you.”
“I couldn’t.” Giles was astonished that Buffy would even suggest it. “I could never leave you alone here, not with…” There was too much to summarize. Sunnydale seemed more of a deathtrap than ever, and he had pledged himself to support the Slayer.
“I’ll be okay. Miss Calendar needs you more than I do now.” Her voice cracked a little. “Giles, I’m asking you to do this. I’m begging you. I can’t let anyone else get hurt trying to clean up my mistakes.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s still my responsibility!” Buffy cast an apologetic look at Jenny, as if her sudden exclamation could have disturbed the patient. After a long beat, she continued, “I’m going to take care of things here, I swear it. I’m going to kill Angel.”
She sounded so determined, so ruthlessly certain, that nobody would ever have thought she was speaking of a man she had loved. Giles thought back to her eighteenth birthday, the night that everything changed. Right up until he lost his soul, Angel had been the one to stand by Buffy, when even her own Watcher betrayed her trust. Now she had lost both of them, and she still wouldn’t break. “I’m so sorry,” he said, at a loss for any words that could truly help. “So sorry.”
Without speaking, Buffy turned to him and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, closing his eyes against the hospital room and the coldness of an unjust world.
“Pardon me,” Wesley said in a low, respectful tone, “but I wanted to offer my condolences.”
“She isn’t dead,” Giles replied curtly.
The young Watcher was looming obnoxiously near, but he was probably too awkward to take one of the many vacant chairs, and with his height he couldn’t help but loom. “Of course, of course,” he said hurriedly. “Is there-- has there been any change?”
Giles shook his head. It was no use wishing that Cordelia had kept this to herself instead of informing her new boyfriend, but he couldn’t help wondering why Wesley would take the initiative to show up here on his own. “What do you intend to tell the Council about this?” he asked.
“I…well, I haven’t properly thought about it yet. I suppose it would be judicious to advise them that the restoration of Angel’s soul has failed.”
Judicious or not, it would be necessary, Giles acknowledged to himself. The Watchers’ Council would soon be asking for results, and anything but the truth might draw them here to see for themselves. “Let them know that Jenny Calendar is comatose,” he said to Wesley, finally looking up at him. “They must understand that she can’t do anything else to help them.”
With a stammer that didn’t resolve into any intelligible words, Wesley busied himself pulling out a chair and placing it just close enough to Giles to continue speaking quietly. “Then, you believe she won’t wake?”
“I believe that we’d be fools to invite more disaster even if she does.”
There was a pause, filled by the incessant buzz of machinery and some bland music playing in another room. “What if they could help?” said Wesley.
Giles shot him a glare. “Either they can’t or they won’t. There’s never been a third option.”
“If her condition is, ah, magical in nature, perhaps an expert eye could reveal something that these medical professionals have missed…”
For a heartbeat, Giles felt hope rising, and then he visualized it: Quentin Travers and his inner circle, huddled around Jenny’s bed, delving into her aura and attempting communication with any spirits that might still be clinging to her. So far, they knew only that her Romani ancestry gave her access to powerful sorcery, but if they had permission to study her up close, they would surely find out more.
Using that knowledge to heal her would be their absolute last priority.
And Wesley would hand her right over to them.
Before the discussion could turn into a true confrontation, Buffy rushed in, followed closely by Willow, Xander, and Cordelia. Giles rose to meet them and they crowded around him, talking over each other with questions about Miss Calendar. All of them ignored Wesley, save Cordelia, who caught him as he stood up and gave him a squeeze that turned his face a vibrant red.
Giles motioned to quiet the teenagers and told them, “Jenny is in no immediate danger. I don’t know exactly what happened, but it appears that casting the spell was too much for her to take. She’s been unconscious since she tried it.”
Willow covered her face with her hands, and Xander visibly paled. Buffy spoke with a quavering voice: “Cordelia said Angel attacked you.”
“Yes. I believe he could feel the energy of the Orb of Thesulah, but it didn’t restore him. I’m sorry, Buffy.”
“Don’t be.” She glanced at the others, then said, “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
Giles checked his watch and went to find the nurse who had told him earlier that he would be cleared to see the patient again tonight, for a limited time and with no more than one other visitor. A few minutes later, he and Buffy were admitted to Jenny’s room, where she lay like a cursed princess under a thin blanket.
Buffy’s eyes were glistening. “She didn’t deserve this.”
“Neither did you.”
“Giles, Angel knew what you were doing, even before he felt whatever he felt from the ritual. Drusilla was at my house--”
He whipped off his glasses. “What?!”
Buffy made a reassuring gesture. “Just outside. She didn’t hurt anyone. I’m not even sure if Angel sent her there - it seemed like she wanted to talk to me herself, to warn me off. Angel would do the opposite of that.”
“What did she say, then?”
“That I shouldn’t mess with magic anymore.” She hugged her arms to her chest, gazing down at Jenny’s sleeping face. “And I don’t think I will. Not if Angel can predict our moves like this.”
It was time to broach another hard truth with her, one that he had just barely awakened to himself. “I was thinking something very similar,” he said. “But I’m afraid we have another enemy to consider now.” As dispassionately as he could, he relayed the talk that he’d had with Wesley before she came in, finishing with the part he had left unsaid: his own fears that the Watchers would try to exploit Jenny’s magical connections while she was at her most vulnerable.
As he spoke, Buffy’s eyes got wider, and soon she was gripping the bed’s railing with both hands. “You have to take her away from here,” she breathed. “Stay with her. Protect her. If there’s anyone who can find a way to wake her up, it’s you.”
“I couldn’t.” Giles was astonished that Buffy would even suggest it. “I could never leave you alone here, not with…” There was too much to summarize. Sunnydale seemed more of a deathtrap than ever, and he had pledged himself to support the Slayer.
“I’ll be okay. Miss Calendar needs you more than I do now.” Her voice cracked a little. “Giles, I’m asking you to do this. I’m begging you. I can’t let anyone else get hurt trying to clean up my mistakes.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s still my responsibility!” Buffy cast an apologetic look at Jenny, as if her sudden exclamation could have disturbed the patient. After a long beat, she continued, “I’m going to take care of things here, I swear it. I’m going to kill Angel.”
She sounded so determined, so ruthlessly certain, that nobody would ever have thought she was speaking of a man she had loved. Giles thought back to her eighteenth birthday, the night that everything changed. Right up until he lost his soul, Angel had been the one to stand by Buffy, when even her own Watcher betrayed her trust. Now she had lost both of them, and she still wouldn’t break. “I’m so sorry,” he said, at a loss for any words that could truly help. “So sorry.”
Without speaking, Buffy turned to him and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, closing his eyes against the hospital room and the coldness of an unjust world.
After Buffy and Giles went to visit Jenny, Willow sat and watched Cordelia and Wesley murmuring together across the room until Xander got restless and tapped her knee, motioning with his head. They left quietly and found an open area down the hall with potted trees and armchairs and only the occasional staff member or visitor walking through.
“Angel’s just going to keep coming,” said Xander. “Isn’t he?”
Willow could only nod. “Miss Calendar’s spell was the only hope we had. I wish we knew what went wrong.”
“I don’t think knowing that would change anything, Will,” Xander replied.
“Well, we don’t have any other way to stop him.” The spell had seemed like such a perfect solution, like an antivirus that brought a computer back to peak performance. Maybe performing magic wasn't that different. Maybe if Willow could take a look at the spell herself...
Xander’s voice was flat and harsh. “Don’t we?”
“Angel’s just going to keep coming,” said Xander. “Isn’t he?”
Willow could only nod. “Miss Calendar’s spell was the only hope we had. I wish we knew what went wrong.”
“I don’t think knowing that would change anything, Will,” Xander replied.
“Well, we don’t have any other way to stop him.” The spell had seemed like such a perfect solution, like an antivirus that brought a computer back to peak performance. Maybe performing magic wasn't that different. Maybe if Willow could take a look at the spell herself...
Xander’s voice was flat and harsh. “Don’t we?”
