Chapter Text
Rupert Giles heard the jingle-jangle sound of the row of bells that had been placed on the door of the Magic Box. They served the very useful purpose of letting him know when someone came into the store, allowing him to try doing a little work between customers. Straightening the shelves of books, making certain the candles and incenses were stocked, that they didn't run out of 'eye of newt' or 'wool of bat'. The bells were at once a welcome and unwelcome sound. Welcome because without customers, his store would go bankrupt and close. Unwelcome because it would delay or prevent him from finishing theses tasks, and because so many times it was only curious college students who came in, looked around, and bought nothing.
Slowly, he stood up, feeling the vertebrae of his back shift and crackle in protest. Adjusting the glasses that he needed far more than he'd ever have believed possible when he was still in training, he slowly began to move towards the register, partly because it was a good location to look around in. He could see almost the entire store that way. As he moved towards it, there was a slight flicker of movement, someone in dark clothing had just walked into the section that housed the various ingredients. Whoever it was, they walked without any noises, no rattling of jewelry or clicks or squeaks of shoes, no popping of bubble gum or the sounds of portable music. That might be a good sign, most of the casual browsers didn't go to the ingredients, instead browsing in the better lit front, where there were candles, feathers, crystals, books and rattles, drums and sculptures. The whole assortment, actually.
Once he'd reached the register, he settled on the stool, picking up his inventory list, and trying to mark down what and how much of each item he should order. More candles, of course, and the incense in sticks and cones, less of the more solid lumps that required a charcoal burner to use safely. More of the Tarot cards, crystals, and Dream Catchers that sold so easily among the college students.
While he was sitting there, the bells jingled again, and he glanced up to see if it was someone leaving, or someone coming in. A pretty blond woman in a pale pink sweater over a pair of gray slacks stood there, glancing around the store with a slight smile. She walked in, the low heels of her shoes clicking slightly over the wood floor. She glanced at the candles, lingered over the incense, and snickered at the Tarot cards before making her way to the row of small artifacts and orbs that Giles had deemed safe enough to make available for the public.
Picking up a small bonze shape, an arrangement of interlinked rings, she made her way towards him, a pleasant smile on her face. "Pardon me, but can you tell me... Is this a genuine Turan Chuf?"
Rupert felt the urge to smile at her, delighted at the idea of someone in his store that actually knew what they were talking about. "I suppose that depends on your meaning. It's not an actual three thousand year old artifact, but it was made according to the exact same rituals and procedures."
"That's wonderful. Grandpa and I have been looking for one of these for years... He's something of a collector." She was smiling again, with a look of some amusement, as if some of their search had been rather colorful. "Do you know if he happened to come in here? He's about my height, graying hair, dressed in a black suit with a medallion set on a red ribbon?"
Rupert considered her question. "I'm not entirely certain. There was someone who came in before you, but I didn't get a look at them. I believe they went into the area over there, where there are powders, oils and dried herbs in assorted jars."
"That's probably him then. Will it be all right if I just leave this here at the counter for a little bit?" She looked a bit distracted, as if she was already trying to figure out some little mental puzzle. Was it how to use the Turan Chuf, or where to display it for a proper effect? Was it something else, like curiosity over what her Grandfather might be doing? Or something so mundane as wondering what was for dinner?
Nodding, he adjusted his glasses slightly. "Of course. Feel free to browse around the store."
It had been a few minutes before she came back to the front, one hand carrying a basket filled with bottles from the ingredient area. The other hand was gesturing as she spoke with... Well, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a classic black and white vampire film. The very formal tuxedo, with a medallion shaped like a star on a red ribbon. His graying hair had a sharp widow's peak and sort of flew back from his head almost like wings. His face was almost as pale as his crisp looking white shirt, and his shoes were impeccably polished and black.
Good heavens.
"I just wish you wouldn't wander off like that, Grandpa. I don't trust the drivers out here, what if someone tried to run over you?" She sounded like she was gently lecturing the older gentleman - gentle-vampire?
One hand waved almost dismissively, the other busy holding another basket of jars. "Now, Marilyn, calm down. I am five hundred years old after all; I think I can handle a little shopping. This is such a little town anyhow, I'm surprised they have such a good magic store."
"Oh, Grandpa, it's better that you think! There's a Turan Chuf! And all sorts of other things, but I don't think that we were specifically looking for those. Maybe you should check." She looked so excited.
"Hmmm..." He sounded thoughtful, and then made a slight turn, heading towards the register. "Might as well get this sorted out before looking those over."
Rupert was certain that he was staring as the vampire drew closer. It wasn't that this was the first time that he'd encountered a vampire, but the circumstances... ahh, those were quite abnormal. He tried to keep his voice level and calm as he asked the question. "Precisely what did you have in mind for sorting those out?"
"I wasn't planning on buying all of these. Some of them yes, but not all of them." He shook his head, and started pulling bottles out of the basket, eerily reminiscent of Grandma Evans in that moment. Glancing back up, he frowned slightly. "What, you've never seen a vampire before?"
Ahh, the tricky question. "Not on such reasonable behavior. Rational vampires are most uncommon here."
"And why do you suppose that is?" The question sounded almost rhetorical. "Children theses days... It's such a shame. No respect for traditions."
"I'd actually assumed it had something to do with the Hellmouth." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he wished that he could just.. pull them back in, erase them from having ever been spoken.
"This place? A Hellmouth? Huh." He shook his head, looking as if he was half chewing his lip in contemplation. "Apparently, they don't make those the way they used to either. When Lily and that big lug Herman went on their second honeymoon, it was a trip to the Hellmouth in Bermuda. Now THAT was a Hellmouth. But this? You've got all this... sunshine, and songbirds, and..." He waved his hand, as if trying to clear away an offensive odor. "Definitely not a proper Hellmouth at all."
His hands were steady as he measured out the amounts of herbs, oils and powders the vampire wanted. The afternoon had taken an unexpected and bizarre twist, leaving him entirely certain that he now understood what Xander called 'that Twilight Zone feeling'. "My instruction on the matter focused more on the behavioral effects than any sort of... climate control."
With a small frown, the vampire sort of shook his head, as if being forced to concede a point in a debate. "Well, I suppose there is that. But... it just lacks atmosphere. How's a body supposed to know that it's here?"
"As I understood things, Wilkins didn't intend for the human populace to suspect anything unusual about Sunnydale." He was feeling a bit more daring, figuring that since things seemed to be so... unexpectedly civil, he might as well see if he could learn a little bit.
"Wilkins?" There was a look of astonishment. "Not little Dickie Wilkins? How in the world did that dolt ever end up with a Hellmouth?"
"Who was that, Grandpa?" The question sounded almost as if Marilyn was accustomed to discussions of Hellmouths on a regular basis.
"Oh, he studied for a while at the Transylvania Academy of Sorcery... they threw him out after he did something that left the whole castle gleaming. Not a cobweb in sight, even in the storerooms. He always was a strange boy." There was a definite feeling of reminiscence. Then, with a sharp look at Rupert, he asked the bigger question. "How did he ever get the power to have a Hellmouth?"
"I believe that he... ahh... sold his soul." Giles resisted the urge to clean his glasses. They were already quite polished, and he was still measuring powders.
"Hmmm. Must have been one of the most ambitious things that he's done. How is he now?" There was a subtle sense of disapproval in the vampire's voice.
"Actually, he's... rather deceased. There was a rather large explosion, and pieces of him were found over quite a large area afterwards." He wondered if the news would be received with anger, or amusement.
Wincing, the vampire nodded. "That would definitely do it. Marilyn, remind me to pick up another fire extinguisher for the lab, would you?"
"Of course, Grandpa." She looked amused. "But that will mean another store."
"Oh, fine. We can go to another store." He looked almost resigned. "At least this trip hasn't been a total loss."
Rupert tried not to smile as he watched the pair of them. It was one of the few times that he'd ever seen a vampire showing what looked like real affection for anyone else.
The vampire meandered over to the Orbs and artifacts, looking them over. Occasionally, he would pick one up, and sometimes he'd make a little sniff, and other times he would make a sort of admiring nod with a little 'hmmmm' noise. Finally, he came back to the register, carrying two small idols, an Amulet of Driska, and an Orb of Kissiti. "I'd like these as well."
"Of course. And how do you plan to pay for these items?" Giles was just finishing the last measurement.
"Will you take a personal check?" The question was accompanied by the sharpest, toothiest grin that he could ever recall seeing.
"eeerrr... I suppose so, provided that it has all the appropriate information." The words almost emerged on their own. Rupert was certain that most of his mind was too busy noting the very sharp looking teeth, including one molar that appeared to be gold capped...
"Excellent." The black leather checkbook was whipped out with a motion that somehow brought to mind dueling and sharp weapons. A black feather quill was produced from somewhere inside the cloak, and he began writing out the check.
Looking at the upside down gothic style letters, Rupert read part of the top corner, the rest obscured by the motions of the feather.
'Sam Dracula
1313 Mockingbird Lane
Mockingbird Heights, '
Shaking his head slightly, Rupert tried to smile. "I must say, it's certainly been... interesting doing business with you."
"You have a very well stocked store. By chance, do you ship things? I was wondering if I could maybe arrange for home delivery..." There was a thoughtful glance back towards the rows of bottles and vials.
"There is a nominal fee, but of course we can ship. Almost anywhere, although there might be delays if an item needs to be ordered specially, or if the destination is out of the way." A tiny part of his mind was thinking that having this unusually well behaved vampire as a regular mailing customer might not be that bad.
"Wonderful. It's been great, but I'm afraid that Marilyn and I will have to be on our way. Now, you take care of yourself, do you hear?" The feather and checkbook vanished, and the bags slowly started to join the feather in the indiscernible recesses of the cloak.
"Yes, of course." The polite response emerged from Rupert almost automatically.
As they left the store, he sighed, feeling entirely relieved. "I need a good, strong cup of tea."
end Munster in the Magic Box.