5. Dusty Tomes and Prophecy before Bed

Giles ran hasty fingers through his hair before flicking on a lamp next to the door. The pounding only increased in intensity, and after situating his glasses he turned the knob. Buffy and Spike pushed across the threshold without waiting to be invited, and headed towards his couch to make themselves comfortable. After taking a token peek at the clock, Giles sighed and shut the door. Do they have no concept of time, he thought. 2 AM.

"Please, by all means, do come in," he murmured, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Buffy turned at his words, taking in the rumpled hair, bleary eyes, and robe. Realizing what time it was, she felt horrible.

"Giles... I... sorry." Her words trailed off. "We... I mean... Spike... he needs your help."

"With something that simply couldn't wait until the normal waking hours? Imagine that," Giles retorted, some of his Ripper attributes coming to the fore at the rude early morning awakening.

"I said I'm sorry. We'll just.go." Buffy stood, grasping Spike's elbow roughly and pulling him to his feet. "It can wait."

"No, it bloody well can't," Spike yelled, shaking his arm free and planting himself firmly on the couch cushions. He paid no attention to the withering glares aimed his direction. Though the alcohol was quickly evaporating from his system, Spike could only look forward to another night of haunting dreams and restless sleep. It set him a bit on edge.

"Spike," Buffy sighed, crossing her arms over her chest "Have some consideration, would you? Giles was..."

"In bed," the Watcher supplied. "But seeing as the harm's already done, why don't we get on with it so I can go back to sleep. As entertaining as you two might find it, I don't particularly care to watch you bicker until the sun rises. I do believe I've had quite enough of this vampire houseguest to last several lifetimes."

Buffy nodded quietly and flopped back down on the couch.

"Now, Spike. If you would be so kind as to relate the undoubtedly dire situation that led you and Buffy to my doorstep at two in the morning."

Drawing a deep breath, Spike launched into his narrative.

*****

Three hours and several glasses of scotch later, Spike had related a detailed description of everything he'd experienced since Glory's defeat. Buffy had long since dozed off under a blanket at the other end of the couch.

"Well?" Spike asked. If anyone could unravel the mess in his dreams, it was the watcher.

Giles mood changed abruptly. He laughed aloud and shook his head, removing his glasses to wipe his watering eyes.

"Fabulous. I've got Dru invading my dreams and the only person who has chance one of helping me has gone completely off his bird."

"Spike." Giles stifled a chuckle behind his hand and replaced his glasses. "In all seriousness. Perhaps next time I discuss my suspicions that you may have a higher purpose, you'll take care to listen. At any rate, it does sound vaguely familiar. Of course, such things tend to when you've done as much research as I have over the years."

"So you're telling me you have no clue what's wrong with me."

"In a word, yes." This earned a groan from the slouching vampire. "On the other hand, you've given me quite enough information and very specific details that will aid me in the search for answers."

Spike stared at him, surprise evident on his face. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. It's intriguing to say the least, and with Glory gone, things have quieted down considerably. The symbol you spoke of should be relatively easy to identify once I find the proper texts."

"Thanks, Rupert. You're all right."

"Well... uh... yes, thank you. I'll let you know what I find."

With that, Spike stood and glanced through the drawn curtains. "Best be on my way, then." He gestured towards Buffy's sleeping form. "She be alright here?"

Giles nodded. Spike strode purposefully to the door, turning as his hand rested on the doorknob. He started to say something, but the words caught in his throat.and then he was gone in a swirl of leather.

*****

The bell tinkled as Buffy pushed open the door of the Magic Box, Dawn following her closely.

"Welcome to the Magic Bo..."

Anya's face brightened at their entrance and then fell as realization hit her, turning to continue her counting. Piles of musty books covered the table in the back, nearly obscuring Giles from view. Things were definitely back to normal.

Slamming the cover of one of his large volumes shut, the Watcher coughed as a cloud of dust enveloped him. "Blast." Cough. "Anya, I thought you dusted the shop." Cough. "Regularly." Cough. "This is unbearable."

Anya simply glared at him and flipped through another pile of bills.

"You okay, Giles. You're looking a little green around the gills," Buffy said with a smile.

"Yes of course. It is my fault, I suppose, for burying myself in these texts so thoroughly."

"Find anything yet?"

"Not as of yet, no."

As far as Buffy knew, the search had been completely fruitless. She snuck a glance at Anya who was watching Dawn closely to make sure she didn't break anything. With a quiet chuckle, she slid onto the bench across from Giles. Leaning her elbows on the table, she began to read the titles of the books in front of her. She only made it through half a dozen before she had to stifle a yawn behind her hand.

"How long have you been at this?" Buffy flipped open the cover of the book in front of her, Celestial Symbolism, letting it drift shut again quickly, a grimace twisting her features.

"Ever since you and Spike crashed through my door, really. There's something very familiar about all of this... as if I read about it very recently." He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to relieve the eyestrain. "I just can't quite put my finger on it." A sigh escaped his lips as he stretched his back. Getting too old for this, he thought. "And Spike, how is he holding up?"

"Spike's... Spike. Just with an extra side of crazy." Her smile faded abruptly. "Honestly? He looks like shit. I know vamps shouldn't technically have to sleep, but he gives new meaning to walking death. I'm kinda worried."

"Perhaps you should say something about it? Encourage him to talk about these dreams. He does accompany you on patrol now, yes?"

Buffy nodded. "I just don't know what to say. There will be times when he's the same old annoying vampire we all love to hate, and then.it's like he's just not there anymore. It's freaky. How do you say, 'Oh, I'm sorry you're being tormented by some unknown force that's messing with your mind' without seeming completely heartless? And to make it worse..." She took a deep breath before continuing. "To make it worse, I feel absolutely helpless to stop it. And then I wonder why I care, if I should care. It's all so... blargh..." Her head thumped against the table.

"Buffy. It's perfectly understandable that you would want to help him. It's what you were born to do... help people that is."

"But Giles, that's just it. He's not 'people'. He's a vampire. Chip or no, that's what he is."

Sighing, Giles pushed the book in front of him aside and looked at his Slayer. "Compassion, in its truest form, has no use for the boundaries of ethnic, social, or political standing. I'd also venture that applies to species as well. Even though Spike is in essence a demon, that fact does not make your sympathy wrong, or inappropriate. He's in pain and you wish it to stop, it's as simple as that. If nothing else, his actions in the past weeks have earned him that much."

Buffy studied Giles for a moment. He could almost see his words rolling around in her head, finding purchase there... sparking memories, kindnesses long ignored. She shook herself out of the stupor, and caught her watcher's eyes with her own. "Yes, I guess they have."

With a small smile, she rose from her place at the table, collecting Dawn on her way out. Shaking his head, Giles returned his focus to the ancient writings before him. He glanced at the volume Buffy had been toying with, before crinkling his brow and picking it up. Pages, undisturbed for ages, rustled against each other as he ran his fingers across them. About three-quarters of the way through he paused, drawing the book closer to him, squinting at the images.

"Oh dear."