8498/The Librarian: An Overdue Discussion

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The Librarian: An Overdue Discussion
Date of Scene: 25 July 2019
Location: Chez Rosenberg, Sunnyvale
Synopsis: John drops in on Willow to learn more about Librarian and a plan to bother an old women is made.
Cast of Characters: Constantine, Willow Rosenberg
Tinyplot: The Librarian


Constantine has posed:
They never did get a chance to discuss that business Sam and Willow had been investigating the other night. Events conspired to call John away for a bit of his own business and the talk never happened.

Now several days later John was back, no call, no warning, just 'KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK' on Buffy and Willow's door. But hey, at least he brought coffee! Two cups of Mercutio's sit nestled into a cardboard tray in his hand.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
For once Willow wasn't studying.

Okay, more to the point, and rather more truthful, Willow wasn't studying specifically for any particular class. She *might* be trying to get ahead in her fall course curriculam's reading, having procured copies of the old class syllabuses. At worst she's read some interesting things. At best? She's ahead of the game, and given her off-class schedule, that's a good thing.

What she's not expecting, however, is visitors.

"Buffy? You home? Expecting someone?"

No answer.

Shrugging, and with a small frown, Willow sets her book aside and gots to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she blinks at John. "Oh. Did I miss an appointment?" She wracks her brain, but nothing comes to mind.

Constantine has posed:
When the door opens, John thrusts the coffees at Willow as he breezes through the door leaving the woft of his particular scent of cigarette and whiskey trailing behind him.

"Nah, thought I'd drop by and hear about that business you and Big Man were into," John says as he flops into the chair he'd sat in last time. "Since we were rudely interupted."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
STunned, and left with no recourse but to grab the coffee holding tray John thrusts at her, Willow steps aside as John invites himself in. Totally meant he was here on some sort of business. If only to make sure Willow came up for air, but more likely to check in and see what she'd been doing.

"Me and Big Man?" Willow had no clue who that might be, but dutifully closes the door, and locks it. "Wait! you mean Sam? What we were do - OH! You mean that text we were looking for."

She's pleased she's figured it out. "Which of these is yours?" She's already determined one is hers. Now that she knows what's what, she looks much happier, and a lot more relaxed about matters. Even if things stray into other categories like her studies - magical and mundane - or the matter of her other extra curricular activities.

Constantine has posed:
"The one that's tea," John says about the drinks. Though 'the one I poured whiskey in' would also be a valid discriptor.

"Yeah, big bloke, lots of plaid, shaggy hair, 'as an angel for a pet," John says, smiling as he imagines how Castiel would react to being called a pet. "An' yeah, curious about this text business, when there's books scattered around like this one, usually means it's bad business if someone gets them back together again."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
If he'd actually said 'the one with whiskey' Willow would have found her drink in about the same amount of time as she unerringly chooses the coffee cup, peering in only to be hit with a blast of whiskey fumes. "This one has to be yours."

It's held out delicately like she might absorb the offensive alcohol by osmosis.

There a half grin when John describes Sam that way. "A pet? I don't know. I'm not even sure there is an angel, but I wouldn't tell Sam that." Not that Sam would have gotten the short end of that stick - he wasn't the one who was a pet in this equation.

Her tea rescued from the possibility of being confused with John's coffee, Willow sits cross-legged on the couch. "That's what Sam said. Well, he said his angel said that. Something about a doorway to hell? I'm not sure why he couldn't just find it himself if he really is an angel, but we did find a couple of the things already. The book has been harder. But it got simpler when we figured out it was in pieces."

Constantine has posed:
"Thanks, luv," John says taking the 'Irished up' tea and having a sip. Despite the whiskey the tea was already an Irish blend, which, his hand to god already had whiskey in it. Mercutio's was one of the few places that carried it.

"Or he's the angel's pet? I am not sure how it is with that lot," he says before he focuses down on the details.

"You'd think so," John says of the gate to hell. "But then again if it's Hell, Hell, whosever running the place these days might have hidden it from angelic view. Either that, or the winged bugger was farming out some busy work to you and his human." Though John doubted that. He wasn't that bloody likely. "An' wait, don't you lot," he means the Scoobies, "Got a door to hell right in the middle of Sunnydale?"

The good old Hellmouth, right under what's left of their old high school.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Oh," Willow notes, when it's pointed out that the book might actually be hidden from angelic or celestial sorts. "But wouldn't it make sense, then, that maybe they can't find it either and need humans to find it too?"

Which might explain a few things. Like how every trace of anything had just up and disappeared for a bit. Or that creepy lady at the church. Or why she was suddenly getting random hits in a slowly closing circle that seemed to be suggesting the West Coast, and in particular, the Vancouver area. There, or outside the place. It was hard to tell. This wasn't like GPS, at least not yet. Right now, Willow's pings were just seemingly random articles or webpages. They'd not even shown any patterns until several weeks ago.

Constantine has posed:
John takes a sip of his tea and nods, "Yeah, seen that sort of thing before, stuff shielded from above and below. Might be what we're dealin' with here."

"So, what do we know so far?" John asks, as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a notebook and well worn pencil. Yeah, he was basically the anti-Willow when it came to tech.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow looks thoughtful. "That might actually help narrow down the search." She wasn't entirely sure how to use that information yet, but it had possibility. Right now her searches had a lot more parameters than were rightly necessary.

"Well," We have the altar cloth. We know there should be some candles, but I think those might be a red herring. Candlesticks, which would likely have to be the right ones. And a brazier, besides the book itself. I think the book is in five parts. But it could be four, or it could be six. Mostly I know it's not a book."

Constantine has posed:
John makes quick notes.

"Right, and I'm guessin' these are the things folks need to bring together to get whatever the book does to work?" he asks about the altar cloth and all of that. "Speakin' of, where's the cloth? If you want we can keep it in the House, nothin's getting in there."

For all that the House was one big magical nexus of dimensions, it could, when it chose to be a bugger to get into and as a rule it despised those who tried to steal from its caretaker.

"An' wait, the book's not a book?" he asks pencil pausing above the page.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"They're the ritual items. Yeah. Though sometimes you don't actually need them. I think these ones you do? I don't know. The scrying is kind of hazy."

The cloth she had. Sam had made a point of giving it to her before he'd taken off for parts unkown. 'Just in case' he'd said. She'd left it folded up in her underwear drawer. "Want me to get it?"

Pausing when he seems confused about the book. "I thought I told you that? I was researching books that old and it turns out that they usually weren't books. They were often scrolls. Or smaller folios. I think it was a book at one point - I think that's how they hid it. But every time I look for a book I can't find anything. When I just focus on things more.. just the idea of it instead? I started getting hits. They were weird ones. I think someone broke it up again, to hide it."

Which made sense. There were occassions where either format would be more useful for hiding the thing.

Constantine has posed:
"Right, well better to have them than not, yeah?" John says of the items and if they were or weren't needed for the ritual. "An' yeah, would be good to have it under lock and key, just in case these buggers make a play for it."

"Did you?" John asks. "Sorry if you did, luv, been a bit, but yeah, I remember now, lots of little pieces brought together and broken up again. So, guessin' we've got no idea of how many pieces there are now until we try to put the thing together."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow can't remember if she did. She'd thought she had, but he was right, they'd had a lot of things come up in the last month or so, not the least of which was the deal with Superman. "I'm not sure if it's the whole thing that is dangerous, or just a particular text. We really didn't get a lot of information on it, and it's not really something you can go to the library and look up."

Which actually worked in their favour some. Whoever else was looking for it was limited by the same means as Willow - if not less. Willow's means of scrying were unique after all. Of corurse she's not aware of the rather more arcane means already being employed by one interested party...

"Lock and key? No. I just put it in my underwear drawer. I figured it would be safe there?" It wasn't like Willow had bedroom visitors as a matter of course, if ever. She'd not even given it second thoughts. "I can go get it," she offers.

Constantine has posed:
"So then how do we find the rest of the stuff and the bits of the books, sounds like there's a lot to find and not that many leads," he says. "Unless you've got yourself a plan."

As to the storage of the altar cloth, "No, no, meant we should put it under lock and-" he blinks. "Did you say you hid it in your underwear drawer?" he asks her. "Well, go get it, not sure about demons, but that's definitely going to keep me out," he says with a shake of his head and a sip of his tea.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"What's wrong with my underwear?" Willow blinks, the words out of her mouth before she actually has time to think about them. But when she does, the expected blush ensues. To hide this, shge scampers off to retrieve the cloth, which she returns with shortly, still blushing.

It's held out to John. And if she weren't the one holding it out, and affirming it is, indeed, the cloth that Sam had helped retrieve, you'd never know it was important. Unlike most altar cloths, this one wasn't white, or embroidered. In fact, it was red, and rather slender, but long. Not *quite* slender enough for a scarf, but certainly a stole, and long enough for that, in fact. One could easily imagine it draped over the shoulders of someone, hiding in plain sight - which may have very well been a method employed at one point.

"I've been using it to help me. We were following a trail for a bit, into the midwest. We got stuck in a snowstorm, and when the storm was over, we lost the trail. Then there was nothing. When I started getting pings again is when Superman went missing."

Constantine has posed:
John just looks at Willow when she asks that question, holding it until she runs off to get the cloth out of her unmentionables. "Exactly." He answers.

He has another sip of his tea while he waits for her to return.

"Interesting," he says about the timeline. "Any ideas why things went dark?' he asks her. "And why it came back when it did?"

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow lets John handle the cloth, while she sits back on the couch, grabbing her coffee cup to fiddle with while she gets her embarrasment under control. "We're not sure. I think, well, we were tracking an auction house. There were two listings that kept popping up, but they weren't in the same place. We didn't even make it to the one we were looking for. Early snow storm and by the time we were able to get back on the road it was too late."

That, and both trails had gone cold then. Willow didn't know why. It could have been the season was over. Or the items had been sold and were in transit. Or had been warded. Or any other number of things. All she knew was she and Sam had been holed up for two nights, and when the snow cleared enough to drive through the sale was over and she wasn't getting any pings.

None.

That had bothered her, but she'd not only had no explanation, other things had come up and well.. life happened and she'd forgotten.

Constantine has posed:
John could feel the mystic energy of the cloth as he ran his fingers over it. "Yeah, it's a live one," he says, laying it on his lap. "So, these new pings? Same spots or different?" he asks.

"An' any idea of what our opposition's like and why they want this thing?" he asks. That was always an option, work the other side.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Mostly the hits are on the West Coast. Well, they've been moving that direction. I've had a few random hits around here. Smaller ones. I was thinking they might just be anomallies. Or if, say, the candles didn't have to be specific candles, just like blessed ones, maybe. Or pure beeswax oir something. I'm betting they'd need insence too, but that's even more sort of generic and could depend on what they wanted to do with the book."

Willow remembers a thing. "Oh! I think Sam said that his angel said it could be used to close gates too. He wasn't really clear. And when he and Buffy got the cloth, there was this undead thing. Later, he said he met with this woman from this cult who talked about him. How he'd been one of their order who got corrupted by the book. I think they're looking for it too."

Constantine has posed:
John takes that in, "Probably best to focus on the big pings first, worry about the candles or incense once we've got all the big pieces," he opines. "And the West Coast? Hrm, well, guess I could stand to work on my tan."

Boy could he ever, the man stayed indoors a lot and when he was out it was usually at night, it's a wonder nobody's mistaken him for a vampire.

"Hmm, what's this order called then? Might have crossed paths with them, as for the undead, well, that complicates things, but at least we know what sort of nasty we're dealing with."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I don't know," Willow says honestly. "I think Sam said they were an order of some sort? Some church order? He had a name - the undead priest guy is Father Peter something or orther.. Wait." Willow pokes at her laptop and pulls up a name. "Father Peter Halvorson. I think Sam said he wasn't affected by the usual methods of killing undead. Something about his being a priest. The old lady said we were supposed to bring the pieces to her, and there was a ritual in the book we'd have to use at the crypt to banish him."

Constantine has posed:
John jots that name down, "Well there are plenty of religious orders, but knowing that thing's name'll help us slow him down some, got a few curses I can level at a distance once I know a thing's name." It didn't sound like anything he could throw was going to kill this Halvorson, but he could make life difficult.

He nods to the ritual being the key to put down the undead priest, "An' the one who told you this? Where'd you lot find her?"

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Oh, I know the church where the crypt is,"Willow says - offering information she likely should have led with. "It looks abandoned, but the old lady lives underneath it. I think there are some glamors on the place. Sam said the crypt is hidden in a tool shed."

Willow shrugs. Because while it might be a brilliant place to hide a crypt, she's also slightly baffled. Don't people use tool sheds after all?

"I don't know. I don't think she's who she said either. Unless they passed all the information on down. I guess they could have done that."

Constantine has posed:
John nods when Willow says she knows where to find the old lady. "Might need to have a chat with the bird, see what more she can tell us."

It was definitely going to happen before he tried to level a curse on Halvorson, magic had a nasty habit of leading back to the one who cast it and he wanted to know what he was dealing with before he gave the undead thing a trail of bread crumbs that led to his door.

Another sip of tea, "All the more reason to talk to her then, figure all this stuff out."