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The Wolf Within

Disclaimers – Yes there are, go read part 1.

Feedback – Yes, definitely. Feedback makes me write faster (hint, hint). I can be reached at erin@heckman.net .

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Chapter 12

Buffy collapsed on the couch, letting out an exhausted sigh. After Nichole healed her of her injuries, she felt like she could have easily slept for a week; but she would've felt guilty for sticking Willow with all the work of cleaning up Giles' house. Giles was out arranging for a new front door.

Willow collapsed on the couch next to her. "Well, that was a chore," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"Yep." Buffy nodded. "Next time we invite homicidal werewolves over for lunch, I think we should move the party to the backyard."

"Speaking of which," Willow said, "well, not homicidal werewolves, but werewolves anyway, Nichole and Chris aren't back yet?"

"Doesn't appear so. He said they had a lot of stuff to pick up to help us with the trip." Buffy chewed on her lip, absently.

Willow rested her hand on Buffy's leg. "Worried?" She asked, thinking she knew why Buffy was nervous.

"Yeah," Buffy said, covering Willow's hand with her own. "It's just...I dunno, I'm not the outdoorsy type, you know? It's one thing to wander around a graveyard for a few hours, and then wander back home to sleep in your own bed. It's another thing to wander around

the woods with no idea where you are or what you're looking for, exactly."

"You could...I mean, if you don't want..." Willow began.

Buffy shook her head. "No, I want to help you. I told you I'd go anywhere with you, right? I'm just a little concerned, I guess."

"There's no reason to be, sweetcheeks," Chris said, flippantly. He stepped through the doorway, a large cardboard box in his hands. "Nichole and I have thought of everything." He dropped his box on the kitchen counter, and helped Nichole set hers on the floor.

"So what do we get," Buffy said, rising stiffly from the couch. "Tents, sleeping bags..."

"Chemical toilets?" Willow finished, hopefully. Hey, it was better than the alternative.

Chris scoffed. "Please, you're a Glass Walker, none of that 'roughing' it' stuff for you. Some tribes send their cubs out into the wilderness with just a swiss army knife; not us, though." He bent down, and pulled out an amulet. It hung on a leather thong, and was covered with runes which Buffy mistook at first for claw marks. Chris tossed it to Buffy.

"And what does this do?" Buffy said, looking at the amulet closely.

"Well, since it would take way too long to hike through the mountains to find this Gurahl--"

"Waitaminute," Buffy interrupted with surprise. "Mountains? How far away is this werebear, anyway?"

"Um," Nichole looked at her feet. "Well, they tend to be secretive, and there aren't many of them left..."

"Where?" Buffy urged.

Nichole mumbled something. Willow blinked in surprise. "The Cascade mountains?" She said, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. "Aren't those in Washington?"

"Washington, Oregon, Northern California, parts of British Columbia..." Nichole corrected.

Buffy sat down with a thud. Luckily, there happened to be a chair nearby.

"But like I was saying," Chris interjected, "it would take way too long for you two to travel there, so you're going to be traveling through the Umbra."

"The what?" Willow asked.

"The spirit world. Our people use it a lot for travel, for communing with spirits, for fighting the spirit bane allies of the Wyrm, that sort of thing," Chris said. "Willow, you can travel there naturally, as part of your Garou heritage; we'll teach you how tomorrow, before you're ready to leave. But Buffy is going to have to use that amulet.

"While you're in the Umbra," he continued, "you won't get hungry or thirsty. All your body functions will be suspended. Once you get close to your destination, just come out into the physical realm." He dug through his box and began pulling out equipment.

"Where is our destination?" Buffy asked. "Besides a mountain range, I mean."

"I marked it on a map," Nichole said, handing a large wilderness map over to Willow. "I was able to narrow it down to a general location, no more than four square miles or so."

"That's comforting," Willow responded, faintly.

"Also, just in case, Chris and I picked you up some supplies. Backpacks, some powerbars, water..."

"...Cell phone, and Global Positioning System," Chris finished, with a grin. "Just in case you get lost."

"Um, won't we be somewhat outside cell phone radius?" Willow asked.

Chris held up the object in question. "It's a fetish, just like the manacles. It's powered by spirits, so you don't need to worry about range or batteries."

Buffy looked on, impressed. "You should really market those things."

"If I could figure out a way to mass-produce these, believe me I would," Chris replied, regretfully. "But since they require binding spirits, they have to be made one at a time."

"Looks like you guys have thought of everything," Willow said, playing with the GPS.

"Everything except how to actually find the Gurahl," Nichole said. "That's up to you."

* * *

Thraxuil paced the room, unable to believe his ears. This pup, this Lost Cub was still loose; he had lost two warriors to her already, and now he seemed to have lost a third. He turned to face the kneeling Garou. "What happened to him?"

"The spirit banes were vague," Kraxthus responded. "He's not dead; the banes were able to find him, but he is unable to respond to them, unable to change form, and unable to escape into the Umbra."

"I see." His calm voice belied the rage that leapt to his eyes. "I will not fail the Wyrm because of one little girl." You are a failure... That inner voice, silent for so long through his string of

successes in leading this Hive of Black Spirals, began to surface once again. He shook his head wildly, trying to stop the voice. You've failed your Hive mates, you've failed the Wyrm, and you've failed yourself, it said. It's only a matter of time before they find out, and then you die... The fearsome werewolf known as Eater-of-Children doubled over in pain, clutching his head.

"M...my lord?" Kraxthus asked, fearfully.

Thraxuil whirled around at the noise and knocked Kraxthus down to the ground, massive clawed hands wrapped around his throat. "STOP!" Thraxuil screamed, right into Kraxthus' face. "I won't fail the Wyrm! If we can't bring the cub here, then she will die!" With one last,

bone-crunching squeeze, the werewolf rose to his feet, panting heavily. "A pack," he said, already thinking of his next plan. "I will send a whole pack after her. Kraxthus, tell the Hellfire Dancers pack that I wish to see them." When Kraxthus didn't answer, the werewolf turned, eyes finding the cooling body on the floor. Sightless eyes bulged out of their sockets, staring blankly at the rough-hewn ceiling.

Thraxuil backed up slowly, eyes searching the room. It certainly wasn't the first time that one of his minions had turned up dead in his throne room; he just wished that he could discover who the murderer was, before he was next. "Show yourself!" He yelled, and like the other times, there was no response.

Eater-of-Children growled, swallowing the paranoid fear he was feeling, and walked out of the throne room. He would find the Hellfire Dancers himself.

* * *

Willow looked around the back room at the Dream of Gaia, which was lit only by early morning sunlight streaming in from the small window. She shifted nervously, and felt Buffy's hand slip into hers, steadying her.

They were as ready as they'd ever be, she thought to herself. They had made sure to get a good night's sleep last night...eventually. They had all their gear -- hiking boots, durable clothing, parkas, and their backpacks which contained all the gear Nichole and Chris had brought them the day before. Giles assured them that he could handle patrols until they returned.

Nothing left to do, Willow thought with a stifled grin, except travel through the spirit realm to the Cascade mountains, find a werebear, and ask his advice. Oh, is that all.

Nichole brought out a large, dusty object which was covered with a cloth tarp. It looked like a picture frame. When she removed the cloth, Willow saw that it was actually a large, framed mirror.

"You will be traveling through the spirit realm," Nichole said, her normally light voice now serious. "A mirror reflects our physical realm, but distorts it. Similarly, the spirit realm is a reflection of our own physical realm, but it too is distorted. The only way for a Garou to step into the spirit realm is to step into, and _through_the mirror."

Willow stepped up to the mirror, letting her fingertips touch the cold, hard glass. "But...it's solid."

"You don't actually have to walk through the mirror," Chris said, glancing at Nichole. "That's hyperbole. You use the mirror to shift your perceptions so that your natural abilities as a Garou take over."

He glanced over at Buffy. "You are going to have to do this too. That amulet will take the place of natural ability."

Willow stared at the mirror, seeing her own reflection and the reflection of the room behind her. Her eyes unfocused, turning the reflection into a barely distinguishable blur. Something pulled at her now; instead of a mirror in front of her, she felt like it was a doorway, beckoning her to step through.

Buffy saw Willow take a step forward, and vanish. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Chris in shock.

Chris merely nodded, as if he expected it. "Now, your turn."

* * *

Willow looked around the unfamiliar landscape; there was just too much to see, all at once. She felt lightheaded, like that strange detached feeling she sometimes got when she was on heavy cold medication.

The sky itself was dark, although she knew it was daytime. Was it still daytime? She wondered. But the landscape itself glowed, as if from an inner energy. She looked around her, and realized that the building that surrounded her was partly translucent. Everywhere, she saw creatures -- they could only be spirits -- some zipping around where telephone and electricity wires should be; some floating through the air; and some, in the shapes of spiders, weaving pattern webs around the buildings and any spirits slow or unlucky enough to get caught.

And, most shocking of all, she could _see_ pollution. Everything that Chris told her about the Wyrm, and Gaia...nothing had prepared her for this.

She saw black, oily, dripping smog spirits drifting through the streets, coating everything and everyone they passed with taint. She looked down, through the translucent floor to where the city sewer system ran. Small, hideous spirits ran through the tunnels. They were covered in boils which periodically burst, dripping toxins onto the ground around their feet.

She took a step back, hand covering her mouth in horror. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.

"Whoa, everything ok?" Buffy asked, concern in her voice.

Willow grabbed on to Buffy, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding her in a close hug. She buried her face against Buffy's shoulder, tears filling her eyes. "God, don't you see them? They're everywhere, drowning everyone in poison..."

Buffy stroked Willow's hair gently. She looked around, her eyes seeing the spirits that Chris and Nichole always talked about. Some of them were quite beautiful, but others were disgusting and seemed bent on corruption. It made her ill to see the toxins that permeated

the air she breathed, and probably the water she drank and food she ate as well.

"Now you know why we fight the Wyrm," Chris said quietly, appearing next to them. Nichole appeared a moment later. "If humans could see what we see, there'd never be another debate about pollution, or clean air." He sighed, looking at the spirit world around him.

Nichole fixed Willow with a sympathetic gaze. "This is the choice all Garou must make -- to fight for Gaia, or ignore Her suffering at the hands of the Wyrm. As you can see, for most of us it's not very much of a choice at all."

Willow raised her head, and pushed back from Buffy's shoulder. She cleared her throat, and scrubbed away the tears with the back of her hand. So this is what the Wyrm really is, she thought. Not just the mad violence of the Black Spirals, but the slow suffocation of the world, burned and choked and drowned in poison. How could she hope to fight it all? She thought with despair.

By fighting one Wyrm-creature at a time, she realized. By healing those she could, and destroying those she couldn't, so they wouldn't do any more harm. And she knew right where to start. There was suddenly more at stake here than Oz's life -- the real contest was over his soul.

"All right," she said, gritting her teeth. "Let's get started."

Chapter 13

“And it came to pass in those days that the Brothers and Sisters of Bear, called Gurahl, heard the pitiable cries of the new creature, Man; and in response to his pleas for help, they allowed Man to hunt the Bear, and take Bear's flesh for food, and his skin for clothing.”

“And when Man slept, the Brothers and Sisters of Bear would steal into Man's cave and take back the clean bones of Bear. For the Great Mother had taught them the secret of Life and Death, and they knew they could make Bear live again for the next hunt.”

“But while they were performing the Rite, the youngest of the Skin Changers, Garou, came upon them. And he hid, and he saw the miracle of Bear rising again from death. And he said to himself, ‘The Great Mother has given Gurahl the secrets of Life and Death, and Gurahl has not shared them with us. Surely this is wrong.’ And so Garou came to the Brothers and Sisters of Bear, and demanded this secret from them.”

“The Gurahl looked at Garou sadly, and said, ‘You are impulsive, and full of Rage, not Wisdom. You would not use the secret in a matter fitting of the Great Mother. If you have wounded, bring them to us to heal; if you have dead, bring them to us to raise. But we cannot give you the secret.’ With that, Garou went back to his kind, and in a fit of Rage, told them, ‘The Gurahl are conspiring with the Wyrm against us. The Great Mother has given them the secret of Life and Death, but they refuse to share it with us. Surely this goes against the Great Mother's wishes!’

And so the Garou were driven into a great frenzy, and decided to make war upon the Brothers and Sisters of Bear.”

-- From the tales of Artur Mountainwind, Gurahl Tale-Spinner

* * * * * *

Nichole removed some ash of some sort from a pouch at her waist. Sprinkling it to let it float on the breeze, she said, “I ask Your assistance, Luna, Celestine of the Moon, Sacred Guide. Light the way for these travelers, and know that they serve Your will, and that of Mother Gaia.”

Willow's attention was drawn downward, to the ground at her feet. A long, silvery road stretching off to the north began appearing there; after a moment or two it solidified, a ribbon of silvery moonlight hugging the ground.

“Stay on the road,” Nichole cautioned. “It will be safest. You'll travel fast with the spirits of Luna guiding you.” She undid the pouch at her waist, and pressed it into Willow's hand. “When you are ready to return, do what I did, and the spirits will come to you.”

“You have the gifts of a Theurge, one who communes with spirits, as I do. Born under the crescent moon, you pierce the darkness of inner and outer mystery. Gaia guide you on your journey.” With that, she stepped back, and Chris stepped forward.

“I've taught you a lot over the past few days, but now you have to see some things for yourself. Good luck, Willow.” He bent down to hug the redhead. Pulling back, he handed her a small mirror in the form of a compact.

“For when you want to leave the Umbra and come back.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, eyes memorizing her features. “Gaia bless you,” he said, and turned away. Stepping up to Buffy, he hugged her as well. “Good luck. Keep each other safe.”

Buffy nodded, and looked at Willow. “Ready?”

Willow nodded, and with one look back at the two Garou, she and Buffy stepped on the silver road, and began their journey.

* * *

Chris and Nichole emerged from the Umbra, back to the incense-laden storage room of the Dream of Gaia. Chris let out a long breath. “Well, I guess I'd better get back to laughing boy,” he said, grabbing his jacket.

Nichole smiled. “I'll come over after I close the store and give you a hand. I bet he's not exactly the best company.”

“You got that right,” Chris rolled his eyes. Nichole chuckled, and he looked down at the Gaian fondly. Quickly, impulsively, he bent down and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. Blushing, he cleared his throat. “Well, I gotta go,” he said, and practically sprinted out the door.

Nichole, hand touching her cheek, looked after him with a bemused expression.

* * *

Chris entered the house, throwing his keys and his jacket on a side table. He opened up a drawer in the same table, removing a Glock 17. He removed the clip, checked the silver 9mm rounds within, and pushed the clip back home. He stuck the gun in his jeans at the small of his back, and went to go check on his prisoner.

Oz lay on the floor of the converted bedroom listlessly, wrists handcuffed to a large ring set in the floor. His untouched, and now very cold, breakfast still lay within reach.

“What's the matter, aren't hungry?” Chris asked, picking up the plate and tossing the food in the garbage. “How about some TV then?” Chris walked over and collapsed in a leather recliner, grabbing the TV remote. “I think they might be showing ‘Old Yeller’.” He looked over at Oz, whose eyes were staring ahead, unfocused. “I hope you realize what that girl is doing for you. Otherwise, you'd be facing a death sentence.” Receiving no response to this, Chris snorted disgustedly and turned up the TV.

* * *

Nichole walked up the street toward Chris’s ‘safe house’, her coat wrapped tightly around her to ward off the chill. An ever-increasing sense of dread had settled around her ever since she watched Chris leave, until finally she closed the store early and hurried over to see him.

The bitter wind whipped around her, reminding her more of an autumn or winter wind than early spring. She shuddered, and walked faster.

* * *

Chris heard Oz move for the first time in hours, shifting, stretching, testing his handcuffs. “It won't do you any good,” he replied to the restless Black Spiral. “You'll never break those things in your condition.”

“I wouldn't bet on that,” a deep, grumbling voice answered from behind Chris. In a split second, Chris was out of his chair, Glock pointed directly at a Black Spiral in full Crinos who had materialized out of the air behind him. ‘Damn!’ Chris thought fiercely, ‘he must’ve come out

of the Umbra!’

The Black Spiral, eyes flashing sickly green, regarded Chris with amusement. His eyes flicked over to where Oz lay, pulling on his handcuffs so hard that his wrists grew slick with blood.

“Little Garou, did you think you could just hold one of ours without consequence?” The Spiral laughed, a guttural sound.

“Go to Hell,” Chris said, raising the gun. Suddenly, he felt a hard blow to the back of his head, knocking him across the room, into the opposite wall. He fell to the ground with a moan, gun dropping from his hand.

“You first,” an insane voice giggled. Chris raised his head, looking at the Black Spiral that had hit him. This one looked more jackal than wolf, his fur falling out in large patches to reveal sickly-white hide beneath. His form shifted into Homid, and he picked up the gun which was laying just outside Chris's reach.

Another Black Spiral who had just materialized from the Umbra walked over to Oz, and grabbed the handcuffs which bound him. The silver burned his Crinos hands, filling the room with the smell of singed fur and flesh, but the werewolf didn't even flinch. With quick, strong movements he broke the lock on each cuff and let go, allowing the handcuffs to fall to the floor. Oz rose slowly, free from his bondage.

“Now, I think our business is almost complete. Once we track down the little cub and strangle her with her own intestines, that is.” The first Black Spiral laughed madly, pleased at his own joke.

Chris growled, pushing against the wall to raise himself to his feet. “Over my dead body, Wyrm-lover,” he spat, glaring at the lead Spiral.

“That's the idea,” Jackal giggled, and he raised the gun, pointing it at Chris's chest.

* * *

Nichole practically ran up the front walk, terror seizing her now. She tried the front door, which was locked, so she was about to bang on the door to get Chris's attention when she heard the gunshots from inside. Before she realized it, she had shifted into Crinos and knocked aside the strong front door like it was made of balsa.

She rushed into the back bedroom just in time to see three Black Spirals disappear into the Umbra, followed closely by Oz. A semi-automatic pistol lay on the ground, barrel still smoking from use. Her eyes went immediately to the collapsed heap of a man against the wall.

Heart frozen in fear, she ran over to Chris, feeling for a pulse.

“Thank Gaia,” she breathed, feeling his pulse strong under her fingers. Turning him over, she inspected his chest, looking for bullet wounds.

Chris sat up, coughing heavily. “Damn,” he gasped. “That wasn't fun.”

Nichole saw two bloodless bullet holes in his shirt, and she looked at him alarmingly. Chris followed her gaze to the wounds, and shrugged, wincing as he did so. “Damn Black Spirals ruined another shirt,” he said, pulling his shirt off stiffly.

Under his shirt he wore a thin, yet strong and flexible, bulletproof vest.

Nichole sat down with a thud. “Chris,” she said quietly. “I don't want you to ever let me complain about your love of technology again.”

Chris smiled slightly, wincing at the pain in his badly bruised chest. “Deal.” He looked up at Nichole suddenly, fearfully. “They're...they're going after Willow and Buffy.”

Nichole buried her face in her hands, holding back tears. “We can't interfere with a Passage quest, Chris.” She swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. “The best we can hope for is that the Spirals won't be able to track them.”

* * *

Willow was still adjusting to Umbral travel; it was odd, walking on the road that Nichole had created for them. It acted like a moving sidewalk, assuming moving sidewalks moved at 60 miles per hour; they could walk on it, and the landscape appeared to be moving by much faster than it would normally.

She wasn't sure how long they had been walking, or even if time really mattered here.

Buffy seemed to find the Umbral landscape fascinating, her eyes capturing every detail. She was stunned by the sheer number of spirits that seemed to interact with the physical world, and in turn had the physical world interact with them.

Gradually, the cities and suburbs gave way to thin forests. Even here, in the midst of the 'wilderness', the pollution banes existed; smog banes latched on to tree spirits, who were unable to shake their poisoning influence. Toxic banes corrupted water spirits, who in turn corrupted animals who came to drink. Willow was sickened.

“Uh, Will,” Buffy said, interrupting her dark thoughts. “You notice anything strange?”

“In this place?” Willow laughed, more harshly than she intended. “Wouldn't it be better to ask if I _didn't_ see anything strange?”

“That's just it,” Buffy said, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. She hoisted her backpack a little higher on her back, and she said, “Where are all those weird little nature spirits? It's like they just up and disappeared.”

Willow looked around, alarmed. They were traveling through a dark, rather spooky section of forest. Buffy was right; this place should have been teeming with life, but it was silent.

Just then, a mad, piercing howl broke the quiet and caused both girls to shudder.

“Um, I think we should get moving,” Willow said, increasing her walk to a trot. Buffy followed suit, easily keeping up with the faster pace. She looked around, trying to spot the source of the howl.

In the brush off to the left of the silver road, Buffy spotted something keeping pace with them; whatever it was was big and it paid no heed to the dense underbrush which should have slowed it down.

Crashing noises could now be heard off to their right as well, made by similar, shadowy figures.

“Willow...” The two girls heard a hauntingly familiar voice emerge from the darkness, cutting through it like razor claws. “Willow, I've come for you...”

“Oz!” Willow gasped, looking at Buffy wildly.

Buffy nodded, casting glances at the shadowy figures who still managed to keep up with them on either side of the road. “And he's brought friends. C'mon, Will, run!” The Slayer said, breaking into a full run, and checking to make sure Willow kept up beside her.

The two girls ran for all they were worth, landscape flashing by, barely discernable. A mad chorus of howls let loose then, and the chase was well and truly on.

Chapter 14

“And so the Garou made war against the Gurahl, the Brothers and Sisters of Bear. In their anger they invaded our dens and slaughtered our Kinfolk, expecting them to have been corrupted by the Wyrm, who we call Pattern Breaker. The Gurahl fell in great numbers before the claws of the Garou; for they fought in packs, not alone as we did, and they fought with a ferocity that had been gifted them by the Great Mother to use against the Pattern Breaker.”

“And so a Great Council was held of the few Gurahl who remained. It was decided that the Rage of the Brothers and Sisters of Wolf was too great, and that if the war continued it could only spell doom for our people.”

“Many of the Gurahl, in sadness, decided to disappear to the furthest reaches of the world, and could only be found on the remotest mountain, the furthest glacier, or the most distant river. Most chose to cross the great Ice Bridge and dwell in the Pure Lands with their nomadic Kinfolk; some chose to secret themselves in far-off dens, and fall into centuries-long slumber. Still others gave up their physical form, choosing to allow their spirits to travel to the Summerland, to live with the Great Mother.”

-- From the tales of Artur Mountainwind, Gurahl Tale-Spinner

* * *

Willow ran, her blood pounding in her ears. Next to her, Buffy ran hard, looking from side to side to check on the progress of their shadowy pursuers. From the mad howls that erupted from time to time, the Spirals were not only keeping pace, they were enjoying the terror of their prey.

“How are they keeping up?” Willow gasped out. “The spirits...”

Buffy shook her head, tossing sweaty bangs from her face. “Maybe they've got spirits helping them too.” They ran hard for a few minutes more before Buffy said, “We can't keep this up, Will. We've got to get out of the Umbra, try to lose them in the real world.” The girls slowed, then stopped on the silver road, panting with exhaustion.

Buffy watched as their pursuers, four Black Spirals including Oz, emerged from the shadows. They moved slowly now, sensing certain victory over the two young women. They grinned and laughed, howled and giggled, and closed in tightening the trap.

“C'mon, Buffy,” Willow said, shoving the mirror in front of her face. Buffy concentrated for a moment, and disappeared from the Umbral landscape. A moment later, Willow joined her in the moonlit forest of the physical world.

“How much you want to bet they brought mirrors too,” Buffy said, still catching her breath. “We gotta get outta here, post haste.” Willow nodded, and they picked a direction and started running through the woods.

The air was colder here, and it felt good against Buffy's sweat-slicked skin as she ran. She winced as she realized they were leaving a trail a mile wide for the Spirals to follow.

“Buffy, look,” Willow said, tugging on her arm to get her attention. “See that light? It's a campfire, I can smell it!”

“Great, Will,” Buffy said, tiredly. “But what are we going to do, lead the Black Spirals right to a bunch of soon-to-be-unhappy campers?”

“Oh,” Willow said, dejectedly. “I thought, maybe...”

“It's worth checking out, at least,” Buffy said, giving Willow's hand a squeeze. “C’mon.”

They slowed down, and crept to the edge of the firelight. A large, grizzled man sat in front of the fire, his back against a fallen log. He had no tent or camping gear that either one of the girls could see, but he had somehow managed to skin and spit a rabbit, which was at the moment roasting merrily over a crackling fire.

The friends looked at each other, trying to decide what to do, when the man called out in an Irish brogue, “Come on now, I know yer out there. May as well step forward in peace, or step forward an’ get ready to fight. Either way, decide quickly, my rabbit's almost done.”

Willow looked at Buffy and shrugged resignedly. She stepped forward, and said, “Um, sir? I'm sorry to bother you. My friend and I will be on our way, but there are some very dangerous...animals...around here, and we wanted to warn you about them.”

“Dangerous animals, eh?” the Irishman asked. “I've handled a few of ‘em in my day.” He held out a large hand for Willow and Buffy to shake. “M’name's Finian, by the way.”

Willow shook his hand, and gasped at the electric contact. “You...you're Garou,” she said, incredulously.

Finian gave Willow an appraising look. "Aye, of the proud tribe of the Fianna. An’ you are Garou as well, Glass Walker from the look of ye.”

“How did you know?” Willow asked, looking at Buffy askance.

Finian chuckled. “No other Garou would come out here with such trappings of the Weaver,” he said, pointing at their backpacks. “And who are ye, miss?” he asked, with a sideways glance at the Slayer.

“My name is Buffy,” she said, “I'm not a werewolf, but I'm a friend of Willow's.” Buffy liked the old man instantly. Well, not old, she thought, he was probably around Giles' age. Old enough.

“Well, my greetings to the both of ye,” Finian said. “So, what are these dangerous animals ye were talkin’ about?” As if to punctuate his words, the three heard the hair-raising sound of Black Spirals on the hunt. “Oh,” the Irishman said, raising an eyebrow. “I see.”

“It's a long story,” Willow said, quickly. “But there are too many to fight, and we need to get away...”

“Ah, well lass, you're in luck,” Finian said, smiling. “Y’see, it so happens that I have a gift for dealing with these kinds of things. See, back when I was a youngster, learning at me grandfather's knee in the great Sept Tri-Spiral at the Brugh na Boinne...” Another chorus

of howls, closer this time, prompted Buffy to interrupt.

“I sense that it's a story for another time. Can you do anything about this, or are we going to have to run for our lives?”

“Impatient pups,” Finian mumbled. “Of course I can. Come close to the fire.” When Buffy and Willow had stepped forward, Finian began to sing.

“I've been a wild rover for many a year

And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,

And now I'm returning with gold in great store

And I never will play the wild rover no more...”

The howls sounded again, still closer. Willow looked at the Irishman wildly, saying, “Are you sure that's the right song?”

Finian thought for a moment, and replied, “Probably not. Let me think.” After a moment, a very long, tense moment, he began to sing again. This song was ancient, and the beauty of it heartwrenching.

Though neither girl could understand the words, they could tell that it was a song filled with love, with loss, and bitter disappointment. The howls faded now, the Black Spirals sent off, scenting their prey in another direction. Buffy and Willow stared at the man in amazement, as his song ended.

“How...” they both began at once.

Finian chuckled, and replied, “ ‘Tis a gift that the Mother has seen fit to pass on to me. I am, as I said before, a member of the Fianna tribe of Garou. We are one of the oldest tribes, and are one of the only tribes that bothers to sing the old songs and keep the histories.” He shook his head sadly. “Too many of the younger tribes scorn the old ways. But as well as bein’ a Fianna, I'm also a Galliard.”

Willow looked at the man quizzically. “What's a Galliard?”

“What's a Galliard?” He repeated, aghast. “Have yer elders taught ye nothing? Is this what's come of Glass Walkers nowadays?”

Willow blushed, and dropped her head. Buffy fixed the man with a hard stare, and said, “She was a Lost Cub, she hasn't had a chance to learn everything.”

“Aye, I suppose ‘tis true,” he said, nodding regretfully. “With the Apocalypse upon us, many pups get thrown into the world without the proper teachings. Very well then, sit ye down and ye can share my dinner.”

The two girls sat gratefully, as Finian removed the rabbit and began tearing pieces off. “Now, ye know that all Garou consider Gaia to be our Mother, and She gifts us with many weapons and songs to fight the Wyrm. But She is not our only guide or protector.

“Y’see, long ago when Gaia created the Garou, she invited all the creatures of earth and spirit to come see us. Now some, like the Wyrm's minions, were furious that Gaia would create such strong, noble creatures, and they plotted our destruction.

“Some, like the other Shapeshifters, the Bastet, Gurahl, and such, were jealous, and they withheld their gifts and secrets from us because of envy.”

“But the spirit Luna looked down upon us, and put Her special mark on us. She said, ‘Just as I change shape, so do they,’ and so She blessed us with special gifts depending ‘pon which moon we were born under. She called this gift, Auspice.

“An’ that is why one who is born under the crescent moon gains the gift of communin’ with the spirits, and we call that Garou a Theurge. One, like me, who is born under the gibbous moon is called to be a Galliard. We are the lore-keepers, the ones who sing songs of great deeds and valiant ancestors. Whenever a warrior falters, or forgets why it is he fights, we sing our songs and put heart into him once more.”

Willow listened closely to his story while she was eating. That was why Nichole had called her a Theurge, she thought. She was still mulling that over few minutes later, when Finian interrupted her train of thought.

“So what are ye two girls doin’ out here, so far from home?”

Willow and Buffy took turns telling the story. They didn't have Finian's gift of storytelling, but he listened closely all the same. When they were done, he let out a low whistle.

“Gaia's breath,” he swore softly. “They must be makin’ cubs out of sterner stuff if yer elders sent ye on such a quest.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asked, curiously.

“What you are proposing to do has never been done before, girl. Not since the Black Spirals devoured the noble White Howler tribe has any of the Changing Folk discovered a way to change ‘em back. An’ to leave it to a Lost Cub -- and one without a proper pack, besides! -- Gaia, it boggles the mind, an' that's a fact.” The old Fianna sat back against his log with an air of finality.

“So...you think it can’t be done?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Oh, there are a lot of things done every day that have never been done before, an’ no mistake about that. But if ye two succeed, it could mean... Lord, it could mean the return of the White Howler tribe itself!"

Seeing the curious looks of the girls, Finian sighed, and muttered again about the neglect of their elders. “Ye see, the White Howler tribe was a brother tribe to our own. While we claimed as Kinfolk the Celts of the British Isles, the White Howlers claimed the Picts. They held the Highlands of Scotland against Rome, when the Imperial Eagle set its sight on Britain. They were so fierce that the corrupt Romans ordered mighty walls built just to keep the Howlers an’ their Pict Kinfolk out!

“Well, the Romans were corrupt, as I said, an' the Wyrm had rested comfortably inside their greedy, conquest-driven hearts. Many Wyrm beasts, unable to defeat the Howlers through honest battle, began opening Dark Caerns in the Highlands, hoping to give their allies access to the physical realm.”

“Hellmouths,” Buffy breathed.

“Aye, lass. An’ so they opened great black pits, from which all manner of beasts emerged, twisting the countryside into a painful mockery of itself. Now, of course the Howlers, being the brave Garou that they were, decided that the best way to strike at the Wyrm was to strike at its heart. So they formed a mighty army, and entered one of these Dark Caerns, slaying any Wyrm-beast that was unlucky enough to cross their path.

“They made their way to the center of the Caern, some might say that they reached Hell itself; and there, they met a beast so terrifying that half of them were driven mad from the sight. They had gone so far into Hell that they came face to face with the Wyrm.”

“Only one White Howler survived to tell the tale. He fought his way out of the inky darkness, only to see his former brothers emerge from the pit. Where once they stood tall and proud, now they were horrid, twisted by the power of the Wyrm. Their eyes glowed with the green balefire of damnation. They mocked him, and said that they were no longer White Howlers, but Black Spiral Dancers.

“He fled then, knowing that it was his duty to warn others of these twisted mockeries of Garou. He found one of our Septs, and passed along his story. That night, as he slept, the Black Spiral Dancers came for him, and when he was found in the morning, the only thing left were his bones.”

Willow heard a rustle in the bushes, and she immediately leapt up into the air with a yell. Looking around frantically, she saw some small animal scamper off. “Ok, this whole thing has me seriously wigged,” she said, looking around fearfully. Buffy rose, and wrapped Willow in a big hug.

“But ye see, lass, what stands to be gained if ye succeed, Finian said.

Willow nodded, taking comfort from Buffy's embrace.

“Sleep here tonight,” Finian said. “Morning will be soon enough to continue your journey, and you two could use the rest, I think. You'll be safe in this clearing; the Spirals won't pick up your trail until you leave.”

The girls accepted his offer gratefully, and they pulled some thin blankets out of their backpacks to use to keep warm. “Aren't you going to need a blanket or something?” Buffy asked, eyeing the Fianna and his lack of preparedness.

Finian chuckled. “Ye forget who yer talkin’ too, lass,” he said, and in an instant shifted into wolf form.

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Willow said, with a thoughtful look at the Irish wolf. She gave her blanket to Buffy and then shifted into wolf form, curling up next to the Slayer to help keep them both warm.

Buffy smiled and buried her face in warm red fur, falling asleep within seconds.

Continued in Part 5

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