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beccaelizabethLast winter solstice I had a story arrive in my head. This was rather a surprise because whilst some ideas had wandered in vaguely on a regular basis it had been years since an actual full story turned up. And this was a full story, beginning middle and end, all tidy and waiting for me to write it. Well, most of it is still waiting, but the beginning of it made it to the page more or less as intended. It wont be relevant until next year, and I'm totally in a different place for writing so may not remember to finish it even for then, but I might as well post what I have.
Don't own BtVS or AtS, certainly don't own A Christmas Carol, probably am not even the first one to put the two together. So it goes.
Giles/Ethan, nothing explicit so far, set somewhere after BtVS finished.
Solstice
It was the longest night, and good pagans everywhere were sat up guarding the last light. Those who just vaguely thought of themselves as Church of England however could be comfortably ensconced in an armchair at home having a quiet drink and watching the telly without being derelict in their duty at all, so Giles counted himself among their number tonight. The girls could defend the world against the purely ceremonial dark forces. He would get a good night’s sleep in the warm. Quiet night enfolded him and he slipped into dreams.
“Blessings of darkness be upon you.”
The voice was familiar, though that was as mixed a blessing as the one he’d spoken. Giles’ subconscious started to conjure up a suitable form for his guest, but even asleep he knew better than to leave this spirit free. The chains appeared first, seeming as appropriate to the two of them as the wide bed they rested on. These however were a rather spectacular set. Whilst well used handcuffs and bits of leather were clearly a feature other links were forged of demon breath or pure wild magic. They wrapped around the man in the dark like a glittering tail or a strange shimmering boa made of things far rarer than simple feathers. Ethan Rayne lay stretched out on the sheets, more framed than bound. He wore only a long waistcoat, tights and tall boots, his bare arms and chest showing marks Ripper had helped put there.
“What do you want with me?” Ripper asked, caustic and cool as ever.
“Much.” Ethan’s voice, no doubt about it, dark with promise and shared knowledge.
Ripper watched the familiar face grow old, young, old again.
“Who are you?”
“Ask me who I was.”
“Who were you then?”
“In life I was your partner, Ethan Rayne.”
Dreaming-Giles recognised this as truth, though something about it worried him slightly. Librarian-Giles however sat back and tried to polish the glasses Ripper never bothered to wear. “Somehow that doesn’t sound quite right.”
“What, you were expecting Marley?”
“Hang on, would that make me Scrooge?”
“Don’t ask me, it’s *your* subconscious.” Ethan grinned and sat up, laughing.
“Generally yes, unless I’ve done an adjoining spell or summoned up the spirit of the first slayer again.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Long story.” Giles drew breath to begin telling it, then realised, “Which I have no need to explain to a figment of my imagination.”
“You don't believe in me,” observed Ethan.
“Not for about a quarter century now.” Giles replied.
“I suppose I know why you’d doubt your senses- common sense was never quite the right tool for our world.”
“In my world it serves quite well. Your world isn’t one I’d know about.”
“No. Not any more.” Ethan sighed. “Probably for the best though. I wouldn’t wish my world on anyone.”
That was so contrary to Rupert’s expectations of the man he started to wonder if he should perhaps believe in him after all.
“Alright, if this isn’t just my usual nightly meanderings, then why do you come to me?”
“To witness what I cannot share, but might have shared, and turned to happiness.”
“Meaning my life? What you would have turned it to I would not call happiness.”
“You would have, once.”
“I also used to consider clean laundry effeminate. Some phases are left behind with great relief.”
“Such a relief, to leave behind freedom for slavery. If I’d known you needed that you could have worn the chains.”
“But they so become you.”
“Oh yes, especially these.” He ran the glittering links through his hands and watched the magic dance. “How does it go? ‘I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.’ Definitely me. Whereas you wear old hand me downs, every link another generation, and the last act of free will you made was to put them on again. When they chafe, you try and change yourself to suit, but you‘ll never feel right in such pedestrian things. Some changes are not in our nature.”
As Ethan talked the forms of those old chains grew up around Giles in coils of old handwriting, diaries of watchers past, careful print of ancient texts, or full pages of woodcuts. Lost in a haze of words- not a place he’d ever hated to be, but without his glasses the meaning eluded him and words were just another darkness. The wild light of Ethan’s magic cut through them as Ethan threw a loop of chain gently around Giles and drew him closer with it.
“Your nature, Ripper, should not be bound, but if it must be then make your chains your own. Wear wild nights with the magic in us and infinity in the palm of our hands. Wear brass knuckles and a switchblade flashing around you. Wear those times when the stakes were more than just wood, and not all the monsters were the enemy.” With every memory Ethan wound him closer, until each word was simply breathed between barely parted lips. “Wear the night, *our* night, when we owned it and it possessed us.”
All the old links flared between them, still there, waiting to be remembered. But at ‘possessed’ Giles recalled more than that, and the mark he still wore burned on his arm. He pushed Ethan back and stepped away. “It was more than night possessed us, Ethan. There’s too much in the dark I can’t live with.”
“Can’t live with, can sleep with. Story of our life.” Ethan sighed.
“I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if you hadn‘t decided to visit. Can’t you just sleep in your own head like normal people? Go home and get some rest.”
“I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.”
Don't own BtVS or AtS, certainly don't own A Christmas Carol, probably am not even the first one to put the two together. So it goes.
Giles/Ethan, nothing explicit so far, set somewhere after BtVS finished.
Solstice
It was the longest night, and good pagans everywhere were sat up guarding the last light. Those who just vaguely thought of themselves as Church of England however could be comfortably ensconced in an armchair at home having a quiet drink and watching the telly without being derelict in their duty at all, so Giles counted himself among their number tonight. The girls could defend the world against the purely ceremonial dark forces. He would get a good night’s sleep in the warm. Quiet night enfolded him and he slipped into dreams.
“Blessings of darkness be upon you.”
The voice was familiar, though that was as mixed a blessing as the one he’d spoken. Giles’ subconscious started to conjure up a suitable form for his guest, but even asleep he knew better than to leave this spirit free. The chains appeared first, seeming as appropriate to the two of them as the wide bed they rested on. These however were a rather spectacular set. Whilst well used handcuffs and bits of leather were clearly a feature other links were forged of demon breath or pure wild magic. They wrapped around the man in the dark like a glittering tail or a strange shimmering boa made of things far rarer than simple feathers. Ethan Rayne lay stretched out on the sheets, more framed than bound. He wore only a long waistcoat, tights and tall boots, his bare arms and chest showing marks Ripper had helped put there.
“What do you want with me?” Ripper asked, caustic and cool as ever.
“Much.” Ethan’s voice, no doubt about it, dark with promise and shared knowledge.
Ripper watched the familiar face grow old, young, old again.
“Who are you?”
“Ask me who I was.”
“Who were you then?”
“In life I was your partner, Ethan Rayne.”
Dreaming-Giles recognised this as truth, though something about it worried him slightly. Librarian-Giles however sat back and tried to polish the glasses Ripper never bothered to wear. “Somehow that doesn’t sound quite right.”
“What, you were expecting Marley?”
“Hang on, would that make me Scrooge?”
“Don’t ask me, it’s *your* subconscious.” Ethan grinned and sat up, laughing.
“Generally yes, unless I’ve done an adjoining spell or summoned up the spirit of the first slayer again.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Long story.” Giles drew breath to begin telling it, then realised, “Which I have no need to explain to a figment of my imagination.”
“You don't believe in me,” observed Ethan.
“Not for about a quarter century now.” Giles replied.
“I suppose I know why you’d doubt your senses- common sense was never quite the right tool for our world.”
“In my world it serves quite well. Your world isn’t one I’d know about.”
“No. Not any more.” Ethan sighed. “Probably for the best though. I wouldn’t wish my world on anyone.”
That was so contrary to Rupert’s expectations of the man he started to wonder if he should perhaps believe in him after all.
“Alright, if this isn’t just my usual nightly meanderings, then why do you come to me?”
“To witness what I cannot share, but might have shared, and turned to happiness.”
“Meaning my life? What you would have turned it to I would not call happiness.”
“You would have, once.”
“I also used to consider clean laundry effeminate. Some phases are left behind with great relief.”
“Such a relief, to leave behind freedom for slavery. If I’d known you needed that you could have worn the chains.”
“But they so become you.”
“Oh yes, especially these.” He ran the glittering links through his hands and watched the magic dance. “How does it go? ‘I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.’ Definitely me. Whereas you wear old hand me downs, every link another generation, and the last act of free will you made was to put them on again. When they chafe, you try and change yourself to suit, but you‘ll never feel right in such pedestrian things. Some changes are not in our nature.”
As Ethan talked the forms of those old chains grew up around Giles in coils of old handwriting, diaries of watchers past, careful print of ancient texts, or full pages of woodcuts. Lost in a haze of words- not a place he’d ever hated to be, but without his glasses the meaning eluded him and words were just another darkness. The wild light of Ethan’s magic cut through them as Ethan threw a loop of chain gently around Giles and drew him closer with it.
“Your nature, Ripper, should not be bound, but if it must be then make your chains your own. Wear wild nights with the magic in us and infinity in the palm of our hands. Wear brass knuckles and a switchblade flashing around you. Wear those times when the stakes were more than just wood, and not all the monsters were the enemy.” With every memory Ethan wound him closer, until each word was simply breathed between barely parted lips. “Wear the night, *our* night, when we owned it and it possessed us.”
All the old links flared between them, still there, waiting to be remembered. But at ‘possessed’ Giles recalled more than that, and the mark he still wore burned on his arm. He pushed Ethan back and stepped away. “It was more than night possessed us, Ethan. There’s too much in the dark I can’t live with.”
“Can’t live with, can sleep with. Story of our life.” Ethan sighed.
“I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if you hadn‘t decided to visit. Can’t you just sleep in your own head like normal people? Go home and get some rest.”
“I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.”
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-29 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 06:37 am (UTC)I also love the way you used lines from A Christmas Carol :)
Please write more