Chapter 5: Never Judge a book by it's cover
 

Four months and 3 days since Spike's disapperance...
 

            “Are you quite through with that?” Nigel’s writing appeared on the blank page of the Journal. Dawn snorted in frustration.

            “Oh stuff a sock in it.” Dawn wrote.

           “Don’t get testy with me because your ‘fabulous plan’ didn’t work.” Nigel wrote.

            “I never called it a ‘fabulous plan’.” Dawn wrote back viciously. “Besides, if you would just tell me what ‘Has begun’, I wouldn’t have to botch spells to force you to tell me.”

           “Truth Spells don’t work on books, my dear. You can’t force a blank page to tell you anything.” Nigel wrote back, in what Dawn imagined to be a haughty tone.

           “Why won’t you tell me?!” Dawn wrote in frustration. She practically threw the Spell ingredients back into her ‘secret box’ that she kept hidden in the back corner of her closet.

           “Because if I told you now, it would upset the balance. I’m sorry my dear, but you’ll just have to wait. Trust me, you’ll know when I want to say something.”

            “Fine.” Dawn wrote moodily.

           “Has your sister decided on a name for the baby?” Nigel wrote.

           “Not really. She bought like, a dozen of those Baby name books…Who in God’s name would name their’ child “Beatrice”?” Dawn wrote.

           “I’ll have you know my mother’s name was Beatrice.” Nigel wrote back.

           “Oh… Sorry.” Dawn wrote sheepishly, “Well… Buffy’s rather fond of “Hope” right now. She said something sappy about the baby being a miracle, blah, blah, blah.”

           “That is a perfect name for the baby. Quite fitting, in fact.” Nigel wrote.

           “I guess. Who knows though…she might change it. It’s still pretty early to be deciding.” Dawn shrugged, even though the journal couldn’t see it.

            “Dawn!! Everyone is here, it’s movie time!” Buffy called up the stairs to her sister’s room.

            “I’m coming!” Dawn yelled back while she wrote to Nigel, “I have to go, Buffy just called for me.”

           “Alright. Good evening Ms. Summers.” Nigel wrote.

           “Bye Nigel.” Dawn wrote and then closed the journal. She put the Journal back in her writing desk, stashed the ‘secret box’ in the closet and trotted downstairs into the living room.

            Buffy, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Giles and Jonathan were all seated around the living room with several bowls of popcorn and beverages scattered amongst them.

            “Hey guys…so what’s the movie feature tonight?” Dawn asked as she took a seat on the couch next to Buffy.

            Jonathan was the one to stand up and proudly present them with the movie box in his hands.

            “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you for your viewing pleasure, a classic film that no person should be deprived of seeing…Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail!!” Jonathan said as he put the movie in the VCR.

            “Oh I love this one!” Xander exclaimed.

            “Never heard of it.” Buffy shrugged.

            “I’ve always wanted to see it.” Willow grinned.

            “Me too.” Tara agreed.

            “Bloody hell, not again.” Giles sighed and sank into his chair.

            “Is this the one with the bunnies?” Anya asked.

            “Spike and I used to watch it-” Dawn started to say, but when everyone fell silent she finished weakly, “In his Crypt.”

            “You did?” Buffy broke the silence.

            “Uh…yeah…we also watched Passions…but I never got into it.”

            “Well um…let’s get on with it.” Jonathan cleared his throat uncomfortably. He put the tape in the VCR, and soon everyone was watching the writers getting sacked.

L.A., the Hyperion Hotel...

             Wesley paced the lobby of the hotel as Cordelia, Fred, Gunn and Lorne all looked on.

             “I’ve been researching this prophecy you all mentioned last time…” Wesley said, “It sounded vaguely familiar…a reference to it was mentioned in a text I was researching when we found out about Angel’s prophecy. It didn’t have anything to do with the Shanshu prophecy so I ignored it…little did I know that-”

             “Wesley?” Cordelia interrupted him.

             “Yes?”

             “Get to the punch line.”

             “Err, yes, right. Sorry. The Prophecy sounds like the Ahmshe’ir prophecy.” Wesley said.

             “Gesuntheit.” Gunn muttered the same time that Fred and Lorne said; “God Bless you.”

             Wesley looked less than amused. “This is no laughing matter. This prophecy is even more vague and more ominous sounding than the Shanshu prophecy. From what can be translated it talks about changing the history of Slayers and bringing about the last apocalypse.”

             “The last apocalypse? Isn’t that a bit redundant?” Gunn raised an eyebrow.

             “Not if it is the one that actually kills us all….the one we can’t prevent.” Wesley muttered.

             “Oh. Bummer.” Gunn amended.

             “So what the heck does ‘Amenheiznir’ mean anyway?” Cordelia asked.

             “It’s pronounced Ahm-she-ir… and that’s a very good question Cordelia,” Wesley said distractedly as he riffled through a stack of old papers.

             “Oh goodie….do I get a cookie?” Cordy asked with false enthusiasm.

             Wesley ignored her as he searched the dusty old texts, “I think….I recognize the language…I just can’t recall the translation…something about….the Ach’ieri race?…no…no…maybe it was….” Wesley trailed off, as he got more involved in searching for the translation.

             “Well while Watcher-boy does his research thing, what do we do now?” Gunn asked Fred, Cordy and Lorne.

             “How about we watch Cordy have a vision?” Fred replied, her eyes wide.

             “Woah! Cordelia?” Gunn waved his hand in front of Cordelia’s face.

             Cordelia was sitting stock still, her eyes locked straight ahead of her and her skin slightly glow-y. To say the least, she looked creepy.

            “It means ‘Savior’.” Cordelia said lucidly, her eyes still unfocused.

             “I-I beg your pardon?” Wesley’s head appeared from behind a large stack of tomes and manuscripts, looking very interested.

             Cordelia’s glowy-ness wore off and her trance went with it.

             “Ahmshe’ir… It means ‘The Savior’.” Cordelia said sounding puzzled about her own ‘vision’.

             Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne all exchanged puzzled glances.

Sunnydale, the Summer's residence...
 

             The group was sitting on the couch, laughing about the noises from the forest as King Arthur’s men built the Giant wooden Rabbit.

             “Spike and I used to made up our own versions of the ‘Trojan Rabbit’.” Dawn giggled at the memory. Everyone gave her a puzzled look, so she clarified.

             “We made stuff up…changed the dialog. Like Buffy would say ‘…If we built a giant wooden vampire!’” Dawn said.

             “Oh I get it!”  Xander said. “…If we built a giant wooden stake!”

            “That’s redundant.” Giles muttered.

            “Exactly!” Dawn laughed.

            “Oh, I got one! …If we built a giant wooden Fyarl demon!” Willow said.

            “I bloody well think not!” Giles said sourly.

            “…If we built a Giant wooden bottle of holy water!” Buffy giggled.

            “…If we built a Giant wooden Rabbit!” Anya exclaimed, but her face fell when everyone frowned. “What? It’s scary.”

            “…If we built a giant wooden Key!” Dawn sniggered.

            “…If we built a giant wooden frog!” Willow said while trying to control her laughter.

            “…If we built a giant wooden Transvestite!” Tara giggled, and Giles raised his eyebrows.

            “…If we built a Giant wooden pack of condoms!” Dawn laughed. When everyone turned wide eyes to her she blushed. “What? It was Spike’s joke. You know….the ’Trojan condom’? It’s a mental image thing.”

            Everyone looked stunned for a moment as they pictured it, but then started laughing uncontrollably.

            “…If we built a giant wooden dildo!” Tara shouted out unexpectedly, which caused the whole room to burst into laughter again.

            “Tara!” Willow exclaimed and turned a bright shade of red, but giggled none-the less.

            “I like how the lesbian thinks honey.” Anya nodded encouragingly to Xander.

            “…If we built a giant wooden Death Star!” Jonathan exclaimed, but the laughter died out. “What? You know, a giant…wooden… Death Star?…Enterprise?… Shuttle-pod one? Work with me people!”

L.A., The Hyperion Hotel Lobby...

             “Work with me people!” Cordelia exclaimed in frustration. Wesley, Lorne, Fred and Gunn all gave her blank looks. Cordy sighed. “Okay, I’ll go over it again! This is what I saw:

            There was a middle-aged English Guy dressed in tweed. He was a Watcher, obviously. He cast this Spell that trapped him inside a book…”

            “Transmogrification.” Wesley said. “It means to change into a different shape or form, usually one that is fantastic or bizarre.”

            “Yeah, that.” Cordelia continued, “ Then next thing I know, I’m looking at the blank pages of the book. Suddenly words appear on the page, like an invisible hand is writing it. First it’s all jumbled and looks like its written in a different language, but then it suddenly translates and makes sense…” Cordelia paused a moment to recall the text, but suddenly her trance took her over, and she began reciting the prophecy, complete with an eerie sounding voice:

And so forth from the shadows and the light within the Valley of the Sun, there shall come unto us a new hope.  The Ahmshe'ir shall be brought forth, born of the Dead With Heart and the Gift of Death, the Ahmshe'ir shall have the life gifted to it from both sides.  And though innocent born, through it's actions, all of the lines of fate shall be shifted forever more.

But as with all lines drawn into the sands of time, the changes wrought by the Ahmshe'ir shall be fragile and all too easily erased.  With the drawing of these new lines, shall the old ones be erased, and new enemies and friends both be made. Even as those who before would attack the righteous shall now lie down in peace with their enemies, and those who have only watched before shall now rise up to attack.  Only by the efforts of all those trapped within the Valley of the Sun in it's days before it's setting, shall all be saved once more.  Guided by the Gift of Death and the Dead With Heart this new Hope shall bring forth the new era in time to see the Sun rise upon it's Valley once more.  Led by the Ahmshe'ir shall the good once more emerge from the ashes after the fires of fate sweep through.”

            Cordelia snapped out of the trance, blinking rapidly. “Hey that was creepy…yet cool.”

            “Have we ever found a prophecy that’s not vague?” Gunn complained.

             “...And those who have only watched before shall now rise up to attack….sounds familiar, doesn’t it Wesley?” Angel’s grim voice from the entranceway startled everyone.

             “Angel!” Cordy gasped.

             Wesley looked a bit stricken, but tried to explain. “Angel, I—“

             “Don’t. Don’t give me any excuses. I don’t want to hear them.” Angel stalked over to Wesley and growled, “Get. Out.”

             Wesley looked for a moment like he was going to do just that, but then he straightened and looked Angel in the eye. “No. They asked for my help, so I’m going to give it.”

             Angel’s anger flared as he saw the guilty looks on the group’s faces. “YOU CALLED HIM?!” Angel fixed his gaze on Cordy.

             “She didn’t. I did.” Gunn said.

            Angel turned his furious glare at Gunn. “You’re fired.”

            Gunn rolled his eyes, “Please, sing me a new one.”

             “Angel, cut it out! Quit acting like a baby.” Cordelia admonished, “Sure Wesley did something totally unforgivable, like steal your son….and I’m not helping anything by bringing that up…but if you’ll just listen to-”

             “Cordelia!!” Angel cut her off.

             “OH GROW UP ANGEL!” Cordelia shouted, finally loosing her temper. “Get over it! Connor is back, and he’s alive! So what if Wesley was tricked by a false Prophecy! He was doing what he thought was right! He was trying to save your son! We *all* would have done the same thing if we were in his position.”

             “You would?” Wesley asked hopefully, but quickly shut up after seeing the murderous glare Cordelia was giving him.

             “And guess what man, this isn’t just about *you*,” Gunn said to Angel, “Wesley is here because he’s the only one that could explain Cordelia’s vision. Spike is in trouble. Something nasty is brewing here bro, and we’re talking big nasty. We’re going to need all the help we can get on this one. Now are you going to help or are you going to get in the way?”

             Angel looked long and hard in the faces of his friends…and decided.

Spike's Cell...
 

             “I’ve come to a decision, Mr. Spike.” Quentin said. He was sitting in his usual chair, one leg crossed over the other looking perfectly smug. Spike wanted to bash his face in.

             “Good for you. Shall I bake you a cake for the occasion? Say, can I borrow a cup of Cyanide?” Spike laughed maniacally at his own joke.

             Quentin’s face remained perfectly humor-less. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you are being entirely uncooperative in answering our questions—“

             “What was your first hint Sherlock?” Spike snorted.

             “So I’ve decided to try a new course of…. persuasion.” Quentin continued.

             “Fabulous,” Spike replied listlessly, “So get on with it then…I’ve got a busy day and all… gotta keep my schedule…can’t keep the Queen waiting.”

             “Sarcasm will get you nowhere Mr. Spike.” Quentin stood from his chair.

             “Well if it chafes your knickers a bit, then it gets me pretty far if you ask me.” Spike chuckled cheerily.

             "Very well, if that is the way you want to play it.” Quentin said with an evil grin that made even Spike flinch at it’s meaning.

The Training room of the Magic Box...
 

            “Alright Jonathan…tell me what can be used as a weapon in this room.” Giles asked.

             Dawn and Buffy were sitting on the couch watching as the ex-Watcher coached Jonathan. He was sitting on a chair in the center of the room while Rupert walked patient circles around him.

             “Um….well..” Jonathan stammered and looked around the room. They had removed all the obvious weapons, leaving only Buffy’s training equipment. “The….uh, chair?”

             “Good. Anything else?” Giles asked.

             Jonathan looked around again, scrutinizing everything in the room…and came up empty. Jonathan shook his head, and Giles sighed.

             “There are at least half a dozen weapons you could use right in front of your eyes.” He said impatiently.

             “Like what?” Jonathan looked around the room again, wondering what they saw that he didn’t.

             “The table…” Giles pointed out the small table stacked with books a few feet away.

             “The heavy books on top of the table…” Dawn chimed in.

             “Dawn’s backpack…” Buffy added.

             “The mirror on the wall, break it, and you have several shards to chose from…” Giles said.

             “Your shirt…”Buffy pointed out.

             “That set of meditation crystals sitting in the corner…” Dawn gestured to them.

             “Alright! I get it.” Jonathan sighed.

             “No, I don’t think you do. You must see every object around you as a potential weapon, from the punching bag, right down to the shirt on your own back. Improvising can save your life, because most often than not, your enemy will not be expecting to be attacked with a shirt.” Giles lectured.

             “Or a book.” Buffy added wryly.

           ::Speaking of books:: A voice out of the blue appeared in all of their thoughts, and made them all jump about a foot in the air. ::Oh, how terrible of me, I startled all of you.::  everyone heard the voice with a very dry English accent chuckle.

             “Giles! Did you hear that?!” Buffy asked him, slightly pale. The Watcher himself had paled considerably.

             ::Oh, do forgive me my dear girl, I’ve not introduced myself. My name is Nigel Hawthorne.::

             “NIGEL?” Dawn gasped and ran over to her book bag, pulling the leather bound journal out and opened the pages. Nothing had changed though.

           ::I told you that if I ever had anything to say, I’d let you know.:: Nigel said, clearly amused at their surprise.

             “Great, now you can talk.” Dawn sighed at the journal.

           ::I could always talk my dear, it just takes more energy for telepathy. I assure you, I can not do this all the time.::

             “Dawn, what’s going on?” Buffy asked, slightly annoyed. Slowly and painstakingly (with plenty Harry Potter references) Dawn told them how she came across the journal (Giles had looked a bit abashed that he had given Dawn the journal rather carelessly), and with running commentaries from Nigel, she told them the whole story.

             ::Which brings me to the reason why I’m contacting all of you in this manner. There is a matter of grave importance that needs to be confronted.:: Nigel said to all of them. It took them a minute to get used to listening to an inanimate object speak inside their heads, but they listened nonetheless. ::Buffy, this will be incredibly hard for you to deal with I’m afraid, but some things must be said…haven’t you ever wondered why there just so happened to be members of the Council ‘out and about’ the night that your Vampire lover was dispatched?::

             Buffy just barely managed to bite back her anger. Spike was more than just my lover. He was an ally. He was a friend. He was a father figure to Dawn. He *is* the father of my daughter. She thought.

           ::I understand your anger Ms. Summers, but really, I’m not the one you need to convince. In fact, I’m on your side.:: Nigel said. Buffy was pretty sure Nigel was only speaking in her mind at the moment, because the others didn’t seem to register the comment.

           Damn. He can read my thoughts?! Buffy grumbled. She heard him chuckle.

             :: I am terribly sorry to intrude upon your private thoughts, but there are more pressing matters at hand…like the fact that you have not answered my question.::

             Buffy bit back another stab of anger. “No, I guess I never really thought about it.”

             ::And you Mr. Giles?:: Nigel asked him.

             Giles blanched and stammered an excuse about the circumstances. Then Nigel must have said something to Giles alone, because the Watcher paled even more.

             “Are you saying the Council purposely came to Sunnydale to get rid of Spike?” Giles asked

             ::No Mr. Giles…I’m saying that the Council came to Sunnydale to *remove* Spike.::

             Giles removed his glasses. “Dear God, you’re not suggesting…”

             “What Giles?” Buffy asked, clearly annoyed by the ‘private Watcher talk’.

             Giles turned to Buffy, with a look on his face she had never seen before. Worry, sympathy, hope, sorrow and shock were just a few words to describe the very mixed emotions that played across his features.

             “Buffy…” Giles said quietly, “Spike is still alive.”

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