"If I Should Die Before I Wake"
by Gaius Petronius
DISCLAIMER:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on
the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox
and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads,
make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay
claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central
character in an original novel I've been working on now for too
many years.
Spoilers and Summary:
BtVS season two. Originally drafted in spring 1998 in script format, pre-Becoming. In this sequel to Carpe Diem, the young seventeenth century telekinetic, Johannes Martel, is brought back from death by Drusilla. But the reanimation has failed to restore any trace of his soul. With no memories or sense of good or evil, Buffy's new love is only an empty shell of his former self.
As Drusilla channels Jonathan's knowledge and telekinetic powers for her own evil purposes, Buffy and and the Scoobies must launch a rescue effort to prevent Jonathan from unwittingly re-opening the Hellmouth. Again, Buffy must choose. Will she keep the shadow of her love alive risking the safety of the world, or will she break the spell and release his spirit, never to return?
Rating: PG for violence and language."
* * * * * * * *
"But in the grey of the morning,
My mind becomes confused
Between the dead and the sleeping
And the road that I must choose."
The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970
* * * * * * * *
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."
Anonymous child's prayer
* * * * * * * *
Chapter 12 - Follow My Voice
Willow sat alone in front of her computer terminal in the library.
Although Xander and Giles had charged off into the night in search
of Buffy only an hour earlier, it seemed as if days had passed.
To occupy the time, Willow struggled to transcribe the notebook
of Johannes Martel onto her word processor but the combination
of the handwriting and Latin slowed her so much she was reduced
to hunt and peck on the keyboard.
Unaccustomed to the light delicate script and unfamiliar language,
Willow made mistake after mistake. She also kept looking nervously
over her shoulder towards the library door at every sound emanating
from the dark hallway. Finally she slammed her fist on the table
in frustration, and the notebook fell off onto the floor.
"Oh pooh! This is hopeless!" she complained to herself,
"It's like typing code that makes no sense!"
Willow carefully picked up the notebook and stood it up by
the terminal again. She stared at the flowing script that she
couldn't read. In her mind, she imagined Jonathan Martel standing
by her side. But instead of smiling and joking as they all had
on the steps of Sunnydale High just weeks before, his figure appeared
bent over as if bearing a great weight. The impish grin was gone
and his blue eyes shown with a dull grey. Slowly he began silently
pointing out individual words on the page before Willow. She turned
to stare up at his tall form but before her eyes could focus,
the image vanished.
"Where are you?" she whispered earnestly to the empty
air beside her. "We need your help . . . Buffy needs you
. . . we all need you now. Please . . . where are you?"
As if in a trance she began to run one of her hands over the
open pages, feeling the texture of the fibers. Each of the pages
was warm to the touch and she swore they seemed to be emitting
the faintest yellow light. Quickly Willow shook her head. Thinking
the sensations were only a product of her imagination, she redirected
her attention to the transcription work once more.
"Come on, Willow, girl, concentrate! You can do this .
. . for Jonathan."
The sudden echo of the front door slamming and footsteps racing
down the hallway towards the library made her spin in her chair.
In an instant, Buffy burst through the library door and almost
scared Willow off her seat. Buffy's face was dripping with sweat
and her eyes wide with panic.
"Oh! Buffy, it's you!" Willow gasped in relief.
"Where's Giles!?" Buffy panted as she glanced around
frantically.
"He's not here. He and Xander went to look for you."
"When did they leave?" Buffy exclaimed, and Willow
could sense her friend's panic mounting.
"About an hour ago, when you didn't show up."
The Slayer suddenly collapsed in a chair as her panic of moments
before was replaced by a blank stare.
"Then she does have them . . ." she muttered.
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"Drusilla," Buffy said without looking up. "She's
got Giles and Xander. She's gonna sacrifice them to open the Hellmouth.
And I delivered them right to her."
"No, Buffy!" Willow exclaimed as she jumped up from
her terminal and joined Buffy, "You know that's not true!
They were worried. They went to help you!"
"She must be channeling Jonathan's powers," Buffy
continued despairing as she ignored Willow, "Giles was careful,
he never would have allowed himself . . ."
"Buffy, stop talking like that!" Willow shouted.
"Shut up, Willow!" Buffy yelled back with mounting
fury and frustration, "It's all my fault again! I'm responsible
for this! Everything I've ever loved, I've wrecked! My Mom and
Dad's marriage! Angel, he loses his soul! I got Jonathan killed
'cause I didn't protect him! You begged me to, Willow! And now
Giles, my Watcher . . . and Xander . . . poor, brave Xander .
. ."
Buffy's breathing was now coming in gasps that dissolved into
grief. The years of secrets, sorrow and misunderstandings were
flooding out. For a second, she sobbed between breaths and Willow
felt the urge to wrap her arms around her best friend. But suddenly
the Slayer cried out, a howl of despair that rang off the library
walls. Willow imagined it was the sound a soul might make as it
felt the lifeblood of its own body rush away into nothingness
as it was stolen by the attack of a vampire.
"Buffy?" she asked tentatively after silence had
finally descended on the library.
"Shut up! Just Shut Up, Rosenberg!" Buffy shouted
in fury, "Get outta here!"
Buffy's anger was like a slap in the face for Willow. Deeply
hurt, she began to back away from the Slayer. Just as Willow was
about to turn and walk out of the library, she hesitated, wracked
with doubt, and glanced back over her shoulder at Buffy who still
shivered silently sitting in the chair. Willow couldn't leave
her friend now. This was the time. She needed "Willow Tough"
more than anything. Drawing on resources she never knew she had,
she straightened up and strode back to Buffy.
"Leave me alone, Will," the Slayer muttered between
sobs.
Willow didn't speak for a moment. She waited patiently for
the sobs to subside. Puzzled by the silence, Buffy, her face streaked
with tears, finally looked up at Willow again. The Slayer was
immediately confronted by "Willow Tough" who paced back
and forth like a first grade teacher.
"Buffy Summers," Willow announced as if she were
slapping an invisible ruler in her palm in preparation for the
nearest set of knuckles, "I've been your best friend for
two years. But I'm a substitute teacher at this school now as
well and you're still just a student. You may be the Slayer but
I'm pulling rank on you."
Buffy stared in astonishment.
"Ms. Summers," Willow continued in a red haired version
of Principal Snyder, "Your answers to these problems are
completely unacceptable. Besides being grammatically incorrect,
they are ill thought out and they're also . . ."
Willow hesitated for a second searching for the right word.
In reality, she knew exactly what she wanted to say. It was just
she always had "issues" with her own use of vulgarity.
". . . well, they're . . . crap! There, I said it!"
Willow finally spat the word out and her face blushed the color
of her hair.
Buffy, though her eyes were still red from crying, couldn't
help but smile at Willow who was now storming in mock fury back
and forth.
"Your reasoning is crap!" Willow continued, now starting
to relish the wonderfully cacophonous sound of the word, "Blaming
yourself is crap! Everything you just said is . . . crap! Crap!
Crap! Crap!"
Willow began to giggle as Buffy, struggling to control a snicker,
put her hand over her mouth.
"Ms. Summers! What do you find so amusing?" Willow
announced as she battled one list time to keep a straight face,
"Would you like to share it with the class, please. As long
as it's not . . . Crap!"
Willow's giggles overwhelmed her. Buffy, who was now laughing
as well, gave up, stood and hugged her friend standing before
her. Willow, in Buffy's arms, silently smiled.
"Slayerette, two. Sour puss, zero," she said softly
to herself.
Buffy heard the remark and hung her head momentarily.
"Thanks, Will. I'm so sorry."
"Anytime," Willow grinned from cheek to cheek, "Now
that's over with, let's get real here. What are we going to do?"
"I have to return to the Master's Chamber," the Slayer
answered fearfully, "I'm sure Giles and Xander are there.
That's where Drusilla will try to re-open the Hellmouth."
Buffy strode over to Giles' weapons cabinet and withdrew a
second small crossbow.
"And what do you need me to do?" Willow asked eagerly.
"You're staying here. You're not going."
The Slayer's firmness crushed Willow one more time.
"What? Not again!"
"I'm serious, Willow. I may have lost Xander and Giles,
and I don't know what to expect from Jonathan. I don't want to
lose you, too."
"Buffy, remember what Giles said, how the line between
the soul and the mind was not clear," Willow protested, "You've
got to let me get to Jonathan. Even if a little of his soul is
still there, I called him back the first time! I want to try again!"
"No, Willow, that's a long shot and you know it! You're
not going!"
Buffy headed for the library door.
"But Buffy, I'm your first Slayerette!" Willow called
out.
Buffy stopped and turned back.
"No, Willow, you're not!" she replied with as much
love as she could muster. Somehow she had to make her understand.
"You're my best and maybe last friend. If I have to lock
you in that book cage, I will!"
Willow pouted.
"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me," Buffy said
softly as Willow saw the glistening building up in the Slayer's
eyes.
"I have to do it this way . . . If I lost you . . . what
would I have left?"
Buffy quickly ran out through the library door and disappeared
down the hallway before Willow could see the wetness streaming
down the Slayer's cheeks once more. Discouraged, Willow kicked
in anger at a nearby table.
"Ow!"
Sulking, she hobbled over to her computer terminal. She sat
down and picked up the notebook of Johannes Martel, drawing it
up to her chest.
"Oh, Jonathan, what am I going to do?" she whimpered
to the volume resting against her heart.
She lowered the book into her lap and gazed at the dark leather
cover. Then, cradling the notebook once more, Willow rocked gently
back and forth in her chair.
"Jonathan, it's your Lady Willow. Help me. Please, tell
me what to do."
A single small drop fell from her cheek and landed on the leather
cover. It spread as a slight stain on the black calfskin. Suddenly,
the pages inside emitted a faint yellow light. Sucking in a deep
breath, Willow stared down at the transformation taking place
in her lap. She glanced up suddenly at a shimmering in the air
not ten feet away as the translucent figure of Johannes Martel
slowly materialized.
He turned wildly from side to side and his voice was a muffled
echo as if it were traveling across vast dimensions of space and
time.
"Who is it?! Who's here? I know someone's here!"
"It's me, Jonathan!" Willow cried out, "It's
Willow! I'm right in front of you!"
"Please," he pleaded, "Tell me who you are!
I can't see you, and I can barely hear your voice!"
Remembering Buffy's description of their encounter in the cemetery,
Willow leaped to her feet and reached out to grab the specter
by the hand. Her fingers passed through his, but as they did,
she felt a sudden rush of air and a tingling around her palms
that spread up her arm.
Martel suddenly stopped moving. He stared down at his hand
where Willow's floated invisible and motionless, mingling in his
translucent flesh.
"Buffy?" the frightened eighteen year old telekinetic
asked hopefully.
"No," Willow answered, her voice heavy with regret,
"It's just me."
"Lady Willow?" he replied with his super polite name
for her, born from years of training in the court of the Holy
Roman Empire.
"Yeah," she replied adding, "And it's just Willow."
"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot," he answered, looking
down. "I can't see you or anything. Your voice is real faint.
I know this is the library but I'm not really here. I was supposed
to pass over." He paused for a moment, gently trying to caress
the invisible form of Willow's hand.
"Is Buffy there with you?" he finally asked. Willow
heard so much more in that simple question. She felt the chills
run up her spine as she realized, not only was it a lonely cry
in the darkness but a deep yearning love still alive, still hopeful,
reaching out across chasms of intervening Chaos. She understood
that his love for Buffy was calling to her from beyond the grave.
"She's not here," Willow said, the tension mounting
in her voice. "Jonathan! She's in terrible trouble! Drusilla's
got Xander and Giles! She's raised your body and is using your
powers to open the Hellmouth! She's gonna kill Buffy, but Buffy
won't let me help her!"
"Rats' Crap!" he cursed and she felt the sensation
in her hands intensify, "That stinking Drusilla! I knew it
was her! When I get my hands on her, I'll put her ass where he
nose is supposed to be! I'll turn her hair purple and make it
grow out of her teeth!"
"Jonathan . . ." Willow interrupted his temper fit.
"What?"
Willow moved her hand gently through his shadow-like fingers
so he felt her presence.
"You're kinda like, not here."
"Oh," he said discouraged as his voice dropped and
he looked foolishly down at his feet, "I forgot that, too.
I guess I'm not much good to anybody like this."
"No," Willow protested, "Buffy needs you now
more than ever. You have to come back!"
"Don't say that," Jonathan stammered, his voice trembling,
"I . . . I can't . . . I should have passed over three weeks
ago."
"Yes you can! I'm going to do it!"
Jonathan looked up hopefully.
"I believe you," he said slowly with a faith in her
that made Willow's spirit soar and ready to face any challenge.
"What happened to Buffy?"
"She's gone after them!" Willow exclaimed.
"Where?"
"The Master's Chamber in the old north crypt!"
"I don't know where that is!" the young telekinetic
shouted in confusion, " I can't control where I am!"
"I'm going there! Follow my voice!" Willow said as
she clenched at the emptiness that was Jonathan's hand. The tingling
in her fingers and arm was now intense.
"I'm going to call you back the way I did before!"
she continued.
Jonathan eagerly nodded, understanding.
"You have powers none of the others suspect," he
said in awe. Willow heard the words faintly as Jonathan's voice
began to drift.
"What should I do?" she cried out, realizing she
only had seconds. She saw Jonathan's lips move but now the sound
failed to reach across the Void separating them. But Willow knew
exactly what he had said.
"Go, NOW!" his voice screamed silently from the emptiness
between the living and the dead," Help Buffy! Go! Please!"
Willow didn't wait a second longer. She leaped away from her
terminal, at the same time dumping Jonathan's notebook on the
floor, and ran out of the library. The fading image of Jonathan
Martel remained for just a moment more after Willow left. Not
moving from where he stood, he stared around at the empty library.
He mournfully studied each of the ordinary pieces of furniture,
the mounds of books, every object in the room so common in life,
now precious to him beyond words.
"Please, Lady Willow, Help Buffy," his lips prayed
silently as his face, etched with sadness, began to disappear.
He bowed his head, closed his eyes and quickly vanished.
Suddenly, Willow ran back into the now dark library, swept
up Jonathan's notebook off the floor and quickly but carefully
placed it on the table by her terminal. She then turned and ran
as hard as she could through the library doors, down the school
hallway and out into the night after Buffy.
* * * * *
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