Fic: RFJ 1: Magician/Bateleur, part 1/4

[beccaelizabeth]

Ripper
Fools Journey
1
Magician/Bateleur

Part: 1/4

Rating: I'm aiming for a tone much like Buffy or Angel, which are 15 to 18 rated in the UK.
Pairing(s): None. Yet.
Spoilers: Post Chosen, post Not Fade Away. Refers to earlier series canon.
Second in my Fool's Journey series, the rest in memories here

Summary: Rupert Giles, Andrew Wells, and a situation in a dark house.

23500 words total, 6000 words this part

Disclaimer: Joss told us to "Write fan fic."
So they're still his toys, but he seems to not mind us playing with them.
No money, no harm.

Thanks to pinkdormouse for beta.

Author's notes and warnings:
Once upon a time, there was to be a series called Ripper.
It would star Giles, and it would be about ghosts.
Well, I'm still waiting.
In the meantime, I figured I'd write it myself.
Since ghosts are a central feature, character death is going to happen throughout the series. But that doesn't always remove them from the story. So sometimes the warning is character death, and sometimes it is more character transformation.

I used Tarot cards as inspiration for the 22 episodes, hence 'Fools Journey'. The Fool is card 0. Card 1 of the Major Arcana is The Magician, also known as the Bateleur.
*** *** ***


Giles sheathed his sword, swung it into place behind him, then started running again. Not sprinting, not yet. He was saving that for the home stretch. He covered ground at a steady pace, concentrating on his footing. The oak tree behind him was turning autumnal, the first fallen leaves wet and slippery, but easy enough to avoid so far. The grass, dark green where the long shadows covered it, turned more vivid in the sunlight but no less damp. Recent rain left a chill in the air. Giles breathed steadily, though harder than he'd like. Too much time at a desk. He tried not to think about it, stay cool, and keep running.

Black iron railings closed him in, on his left and now ahead of him. A bit bent and battered, but well maintained and still strong. The rounded arches were about waist high. Giles could jump them, if need be. Instead he turned right.

Now came an obstacle course, heaps of bare earth filled with markers on both sides of him. He dodged between them, not wanting to get mired in the soft earth, or disturb what still lived there. A paved path went out through a gateway to his left, but he crossed it in one step and kept running on the grass. A long curve around one last mound, then the railings closed him in again. Again he turned right.

Now he ran alongside a long herbal border, the plants straggly but tenacious. Their wholesome scents almost overwhelmed the general wet city air. Somewhere in that row was enough variety for most culinary purposes, if you didn't mind what traffic had done to them. In other places more exotic herbs survived. Giles had planted a few of his own, standard magical supplies, carefully labeled. His neighbours hadn't minded, or at least hadn't dug them up. They'd endured his long absence quite well, considering.

The path came up again, and this time Giles turned right along it, and started to sprint for home. Not far to go now. The park was not as long as a football pitch, and only slightly wider. His flat waited for him, half hidden behind the tree. It looked its best this way, warm and welcoming after hard work. The evening sun lit the Bath stone a gentle gold, and the shadows hid where wood and iron could really do with a new coat of paint.

He slowed down when he reached the tree again and got to the gate at a gentle jog, then paused to check for traffic. As usual, under the gleaming windows every parking space was full, but nothing moved. Giles pulled his keys out as he walked across the road, pushed the front door open absently, then took the stairs up to his flat. 2 Oak Tree Place, first floor, or second storey to his American visitors. When he'd moved to Sunnydale he'd found himself a place on another Oak Street, the familiar name feeling closer to home.

The carved face on the lintel watched as he turned both locks then slipped inside before the heat got out. As the door clicked shut behind him he relaxed. The house wards closed along with the wood, and in theory no spell or supernatural being could harm him now. In practice they were likely little more than a magical burglar alarm, alerting him when broken, but they were a comfort nonetheless. The complex runes of their visible component were only conspicuous where they crossed the door. The rest disappeared behind the bookcases, massive oak edifices that covered every bit of wall space, and provided another layer of protection. They were sadly far from full. Most shelves had gaps, scattered spaces between incomplete sets of books. The texts stacked neatly on the desk could have had a shelf to themselves without much rearrangement.

Giles dropped his keys in their bowl, next to the book he'd relabeled 'Doors'. His sword hung on the coat stand, where it had a lot of company, very little of it outdoor wear. Exercise done for the day, he kicked his slightly muddy shoes onto the rack and got his slippers out, then headed for the kitchen to make tea.

That meant passing the answerphone. Which, sure enough, was blinking again. Giles grimaced and hit the button, then went to put the kettle on.

“You have one new message.” -bleep- “Uh... hi, Mr Giles... It's me, Andrew... again...”

Giles sighed.

“Are you there?” There was a pause. “Okay, well, it's about those books...”

Giles glanced over at his desk, where two short stacks of books waited for him, the unread pile rather the taller.

“I asked about them last week? You gave them to the Council library, but you took them out again. Are they still available? Because I tried putting a hold on one, but it still isn't in.” Andrew hesitated, then went on. “Ralamborn's Realms. It's, like, unnatural history, a demon dimension travel guide. See, not many people go those places, so it's pretty rare. The Council only has the one copy.”

Giles got slightly guilty now. The books he'd read mostly had 'ghosts' in the title. The unread pile started out with 'spirits', then went on through more obscure connections to those he thought he remembered as useful. Ralamborn's Realms sat at the bottom of the stack, unopened.

“I guess you really need it. Obviously, or you wouldn't have got it out... For like a month... But, well, I wanted to... I mean, I need to look something up.” Andrew's tone lost the last vestiges of professional detachment and slipped into his usual wheedling whine. “I know it was yours first, but I'd only need it a little while. Maybe a week. Or overnight loan, even. It's just the one thing. Maybe even one page. Or two, you know, if it's longer...”

Giles stopped feeling guilty and went back to exasperated. Andrew generally had that effect on people.

“Mr Giles? Hello? Are you there?” There were a few more moments of breathing, then a sigh. “You're never there. Okay... well, I'll call you back... Later.”

The machine bleeped again and went through its usual routine. “To delete all messages, press delete.” Giles held a hand over it for a moment, then ignored the thing instead. He had a routine of his own.

Tea, sandwiches and research.

His desk sat in the corner across from the kitchen door, near the window but perpendicular to it. He sat between desk and shelves. That way he got the view out of the main window without putting his back to a door. Only one corner of the desk got direct sunlight, and then only first thing in the morning. The desk had been in the same spot so long that that corner of the green leather was noticeably faded. Another faded patch, in the opposite corner, marked where it once sat in his Father's house.

A green lamp he'd sent back from Sunnydale sat in an unfaded spot, and he lit it now, instead of the main room lights. It was ample to read by.

He was in the middle of something promising in Percas Postulates on Phantoms, but he pulled out Ralamborn's Realms first, and flipped to the contents. He ran his finger down the page until he reached chapter 13 – Realms of the Spirits, or, Heavens and Hells. That was certainly relevant to his research. He put the book back in the stack, but on top this time. He'd get to it as soon as possible, then get it back to the library.

For tonight, he opened Percas at the marker, then started adding to his notes.

After all, if Andrew really needed it, he knew where Giles lived.

He worked steadily, until he finished his tea. Then he closed his notes again for the night. A longer project such as this required a different discipline to the kind of frantic work to a deadline he'd been doing for so many years with the Slayer. He was easing himself back into it the same way he was with the exercise. Little and often. No sense wearing himself out.

So he relaxed for a couple of hours with some Agatha Christie, a glass of scotch in hand, then retired early to bed.

He was woken by the pounding on the door.

“Mr Giles! Mr Giles!”

He recognised the voice. Andrew. He swore and grabbed his glasses, stumbled out of bed, and unlocked the door.

“Oh Mr Giles, thank God you're home,” Andrew greeted him. “You're my only hope. Do you have the book?”

“Book? Which...?”

“Ralamborn's Realms. The library said you had it... oh God, you didn't send it back yet, did you?”

“No, it's right here. You need it now?” Giles said, seeing the clock for the first time. Almost four in the morning.

“Yeah. See, it's not really my fault. I found a copy of a page, and it looked like it had everything I'd need on it, only now, it's kind of... stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Not open! Not exactly. Just, still there. We weren't going to go through or anything, I just wanted to take a look.”

“At a demon dimension? Because they're known for their views.” Giles shook his head and turned, headed for the desk. “So now you have a portal. A half open portal. As if opening the Hellmouth in Sunnydale wasn't enough, now you try and make a new one!” As he spoke Giles assembled what he was going to need. Ralamborn's Realms, of course, and something to put it in. His long coat had the largest pockets, and as he'd last worn it down to Devon to see the Coven it still had a few useful ingredients in it.

“Nothing like that, I swear. It's not even a hell place. Just somewhere with demons in it. Probably nice demons,” Andrew said.

Giles glared at him.

He'd need a weapon. The sword he'd been practicing with would hang across his back.

“Right. Where is it?”

“You're... coming back with me?”

“Andrew, you're the one who made the mess. I'm hardly going to hand you the book and hope you can figure it out in time.”

“I guess. I just meant, like that?”

Andrew looked down. Giles did too.

Perfectly respectable pyjamas, hunter green and actually resembling tai chi clothes. Below that...

Right. Shoes.

Back to the shoe rack for the simplest footwear, wellington boots. As he stepped into them, the key bowl caught his eye, and the book sitting next to it. Doors. The single symbol on the cover looked at him sideways, matching the gaze from his lintel. He hesitated, then pocketed the small volume, grabbed the keys, and headed out the door after Andrew.

The journey was far shorter than he expected. In some ways he was thankful. He was seated on the back of a scooter with his arms around Andrew's waist, his coat pulled up and piled on his lap, and the sword poking up behind them. He maintained an expression somewhere between blank and resolute, a face that defied indignity by proclaiming it beneath his notice. He was fairly sure, should anyone be around at 4am on a weeknight, it wouldn't be beneath their notice. Plus weapons were always so hard to explain to the police. So arriving at their destination quickly, without having to use main roads, was a great relief.

However, it did raise some questions.

“You opened a portal in Bath?” Giles asked, pulling off his helmet. They only had the one. Andrew had magnanimously offered it to Giles, because if one of them was likely to get hit on the head...

“Well, yeah. It's... nice here.” Andrew shrugged, then turned and headed up the pavement.

“It's nice here because nothing in our line ever happens. That's why I live here... Oh hang on. Andrew...” He got hold of the boy's arm and turned him around. “You followed me to Bath?”

Andrew sort of shrugged again.

Giles frowned and concluded, “So if you screwed up again I'd be right here to fix it.”

“It wasn't like that! I just... I was hoping... You were teaching me. Before. Training me. I thought maybe, you know, if your research doesn't take all your time, we could... do that... again.” Andrew trailed off in the face of Giles' glare.

“Andrew, I gave you a few books and some martial arts lessons. It wasn't like I was your Watcher.”

“You were my Teacher,” Andrew said, clearly adding a capital letter.

“I just taught you enough to stop you being a danger to yourself and others. Or so I thought,” Giles replied.

Andrew looked away and looked sullen. “Well I thought we were friends. Guess we were both wrong.”

He turned around, pulling out of Giles' grip, and went through a gate up to one of the terrace houses. “It's this way,” he said.

Giles sighed and followed him. Deal with the portal first. He tried to sense the disruption. A breach between worlds would feel like a thunderstorm, or an earthquake. A building tension that would flatten everything. The last thing his home town needed.

He couldn't feel anything like that from here. A good sign, perhaps.

Andrew unlocked the door and went inside. He didn't turn a light on, just stood behind the door and held it open.

“Come on, Mr Giles,” he called out, in a jarringly loud voice.

Giles, tugging the sword into place properly, stepped into the darkened hall.

And saw movement on his right.

Not Andrew. No one Andrew had mentioned. Giles had the sword half out before he turned to see it.

A figure, possibly human, a baseball bat raised.

“Wait, no!” Andrew shouted, and the other figure paused, but Giles had his sword drawn now and brought it around defensively. The other jumped back preternaturally fast.

“Andrew, we have to!” It said. She said? Did Andrew have a Slayer here?

A soft pfft sounded from behind him, and something stung his back. He knew that sound, and the feeling, the heaviness that washed through him.

Andrew stepped into view, his tranquiliser gun in hand.

Giles dropped to his knees.

“No bats, I meant. I've got the gun right here,” Andrew told the girl.

“Oh,” she replied, and stepped into the light.

Not a Slayer. Chalk white, pointed ears, and just a hint of iridescent scales. Giles tried to identify the species, but instead his eyes slipped closed, and things started to fade out.

“I told you, I'll get whatever you need,” Andrew said.

The girl, much closer, murmured, “Even a Giles.”

*** *** ***

Giles woke up slowly, his thoughts sluggish and slightly disconnected. He didn't open his eyes right away. Something nagged at the back of his mind, suggesting things weren't quite as they should be. He felt slow, and heavy, and generally had reason to suspect that he wasn't so much waking up as coming around. He'd done enough of that to feel the distinction was important. But this time his head didn't hurt. That seemed strange. And he didn't feel sick at all.

He listened, but heard nothing that could be any use. So he opened his eyes, just slightly. Daylight came in through an unfamiliar window. It was short, starting at waist height, and about as wide as his shoulders. The ones in his house went from a window seat barely an oversize book height off the ground right up to a paperback short of the ceiling, as wide as his spread arms. This, therefore, was not his room. Neither was this his bed.

Also, he seemed to be handcuffed to it. That didn't tend to happen much any more.

Now what had he been doing?

He heard a noise from the side opposite the window and turned to see a door, currently closed. Beyond it there were footsteps, getting closer. Giles closed his eyes quickly, then opened them a slit.

The door started to open.

“Andrew, where are you going?” a feminine voice asked.

The door stopped, still too closed to show Giles anything.

Andrew replied, “Just checking Mr Giles. The dart should wear off soon. I was going to bring him some water.”

“Oh. Yes, that would be nice. Just, don't be long, okay? I need you.”

“And whatever you need...” Andrew said, then trailed off to silence.

Something bumped into the door, and it swung open.

Andrew was hugging a demon. A five foot tall female, in a short summer dress, but definitely a demon. Scales covered the back of her head and spread down her shoulders. They were white with a nacreous sheen, like oil slick puddles on chalk. One of Andrew's hands rested on them, apparently unconcerned. He was wearing that oversized tweed jacket still, his Watcher suit, and it looked more incongruous than ever.

“Are you sure this is it though?” he asked, still holding her. “We have the book now. You could just read it. Let Giles go and...”

“No!” she said, pulling away. “Andrew, we can't. You know this is my only chance. They'd never help something like me.”

“Someone,” Andrew stressed, cupping her cheek.

“Right. But which would he see?” She covered his hand with her own. The nails were long and pointed.

Andrew bit his lip and looked at Giles, who held quite still. “He's not like the others. He came here to help.”

“He came here to protect himself. That's all they care about, Andrew. Protecting the world, from things like me.” She stared at Giles too, her face unreadable. From this angle she looked almost human. But he couldn't see her eyes clearly, not at this distance. All he could tell was they were dark.

Giles searched his memory for a match, trying to determine what species they were dealing with, but found nothing quite right.

She turned away. “Just don't be gone long, okay? I hate it when you're gone,” she finished in a whisper.

Andrew pulled her close again, and Giles closed his eyes.

Then one set of footsteps left, and the other stepped into the room.

Andrew closed the door, then walked up to the bed. He stood beside Giles, silent, for a long moment.

Then he said, “You know, you look different when you're really asleep. More relaxed. And also, sometimes there's drool.”

Giles debated the dubious merits of playing possum some more, then decided it wasn't worth the aggravation, and opened his eyes.

Andrew looked slightly surprised.

Giles pulled at the handcuffs that spread his arms across the bed, but got no slack from them. “It's very hard to relax when one is chained up against one's will,” he sniped, trying to pull together an air of authority. Not the easiest thing to do while flat on his back. “Take these things off me at once!” he ordered.

Andrew looked uncomfortable. “I can't.”

“Can't? Don't tell me you don't have keys.”

“No, the keys are right here.” Andrew patted his key chain. He had it strung between his pockets like a watch chain, in a waistcoat that matched the jacket.

“Then you can and you will,” Giles told him. He pushed and pulled until he was leaning up against the headboard. The brass bed posts appeared sturdy, which was a pity. He'd probably injure his hands if he tried to pull free.

“Mr Giles, please, I really can't,” Andrew said. “I could... get you some water. Would you like water? Or pizza. It's cold. It's kind of been sitting in the box... for...” He checked his wristwatch. “Huh. Nine hours? Okay, maybe not pizza. Doritos?”

“Andrew, stop flapping around, and get me out of here.”

Andrew bit his lip and looked down. “No,” he said, in a small voice. Then he looked up at him again and repeated, more firmly, “No. I'm not gonna do that. Not yet. See, if I let you go, you'd do something, like take the book or try and stop us, and that... That couldn't end well.” He looked away again.

“Andrew, you are collaborating with a demon to open the door to a hell dimension. How exactly do you expect that to end well?”

“It will help her. It's what she needs. And also, not a door, just a window. Nobody's going through anything.”

“That's what she told you, is it? The demon...”

“The girl,” Andrew interrupted. “The woman. She's a person. Her name is Una.”

“Honour?”

“Una. Like little shiny Oona in 'Legend'. The girl fairy? She had pointy ears too, and rainbow sparkles.”

“They're not sparkles, Andrew, they're scales. And, if I observed correctly, claws.”

“And also, her teeth are getting pointy.” Andrew shrugged, then smiled. “She looks like pearls, with rainbows inside. Like built in jewelry. It's very pretty.”

Giles just stared at him.

“Why am I the only one that can see that?” Andrew asked.

“They do say love is blind.” Giles sighed.

“That's such a dumb saying, though. Love is all about seeing. Love at first sight, seeing someone...”

“Being blind to their faults, to possible dangers...”

“Seeing who they really are, underneath all the stuff that doesn't matter. Not caring if someone wears the cool coat, or drives the sports car, or goes out to work for money. Just... seeing them.”

Giles shook his head.

“Haven't you ever met someone... Someone who sees who you're trying to be, who you really are inside? Someone who looks at you... Believes in you... And it's like... like everything comes into focus. Like it just clicks. Like when you're doing magic and finally you know the world is listening to you, and nobody is laughing. And it all just works.” Andrew looked at the door in dreamy distraction.

Giles thought of demons, and magic, and dark eyes that once looked at him like he was worth believing in.

“Yes,” he said.

Andrew looked at him and blinked.

“It ended... badly.” Blood on a sword, dagger, letter opener. Watching him manhandled into an army vehicle. It always ended, badly.

“Well... This is totally different.”

“Andrew, you're being manipulated into opening a portal by a demon! It isn't even different from last year!”

“The difference is Una! She's not the First, and she's not evil.”

Giles shook his head. Andrew turned and started to pace.

“See, this is what is blind. It's just prejudice. You, the Council Watchers, you're not even looking at her. You just see a demon. It's like... like demons are always NPCs, or just something random out of the Monstrous Manual. Like all you need to know are the basic stats and weaknesses. But Una's a player character, even if she is low level now. A character sheet isn't going to tell you all the stuff you need to know about her.”

Giles had understood maybe one word in ten of that, but he did vaguely recall some of it from being a dwarf just before Sunnydale fell. He could take a guess at the rest from context. “Andrew, I know she's an individual. I know it might seem unfair to think of someone as just an example of their species. But knowing what she is means knowing what she can do. Does she have special powers? Is she stronger, or faster than a human being? Can she influence people...”

“I'm not mind controlled, Giles,” Andrew said. “I didn't take any potions. She didn't cast any spells. She just needed help. So she came to me.”

“She approached you?” Giles asked. “With this plan.”

“No, no plan. It wasn't about that.” Andrew sighed, then sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Mr Giles... Una is a really special woman. She's strong. Not Slayer strong, but most things aren't. She's fast too. Faster than a vampire, I've seen her run one down from a hundred yards away. She can see in the dark, which is really useful for any place without street lights.”

Giles added this to his mental filecard and started to consider possible matches.

“We've been going out together for a while now. Almost every night. She's good, Giles. Really, really good.”

Giles closed his eyes and wished he could polish his glasses. Some parts of Andrew's life he had absolutely no wish to know about.

“I know she's different. More different than when I met her. She can't pass for human any more.”

Gradually deteriorating appearance. Perhaps a wraither? But they usually worked in groups.

“I've been working on this for weeks, checking stuff out, and we still don't know for sure, but all the trails lead to the one place. Now we've got the book...”

“You can destroy reality as we know it. Or you can unchain me and we can stop this.”

Andrew just looked at him for a long moment, then frowned bitterly and shook his head.

“Andrew?” Her voice, from out in the hall. The demon girl pushed the door open.

Andrew went over to her immediately. “I'm here.” He hugged her. “I'm sorry, I know I said I'd be back soon. I just... I was hoping Mr Giles would help us.”

She leaned back in his arms and stared up at him. “Andrew, he's one of them. The Council.”

“I know, but...”

“You told him, right? What we've been doing? Did it change his mind?”

Andrew bit his lip, then shook his head. “I'm sorry. I don't think he believed me.”

“They never do. They don't believe in either of us.”

“I know. But I know they're wrong. Just because you aren't like the other Slayers doesn't mean you can't be a hero,” Andrew affirmed, looking into her eyes.

She looked back at him, her face softening. “I know. I want to. But this power in me...” She looked anxious again. “There's darkness in it. I need to know more. About where I come from, about the others like me. Maybe I could be stronger, I could be better. But I'm scared. I know it's going to be hard. And I can't do it... without you. I need your help. I need you to be my Watcher.”

Andrew smiled down at the girl, positively glowing with pride.

Giles closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

*** *** ***

“Whatever you need,” Andrew promised once more.

There was a silence, then the demon girl spoke again, tentatively. “So... If there was something... Something that sounds bad...”

Giles looked again, eyes narrowed.

Andrew replied. “I'll get it for you. It's okay. I got you the slug candles from the magic shop. And the stuff from the butcher's shop, the... organs. And even stuff from the chemists, for things I don't have the organs for. Trust me, I can do this.”

“Good. Great. So...” She brought her hand up into view. In it was a bowl, small and metal, probably stainless steel from the kitchen. And in that was something else, the handle just visible from where he lay.

Andrew's face went pale.

“These claws get in the way of everything. And I don't think they're sharp enough, not after the sandpaper. So, could you do the cutting parts?”

“No!” Giles said firmly. “There will be no cutting!”

Andrew looked over at him, as did the demon. Her face was still unreadable, but Andrew looked nervous. He put an arm around her and pulled her away down the hall.

Giles heard raised voices then, but couldn't make out the words. He alternated between listening and pulling against the chains. If his options were hurt hands or human sacrifice he knew which one he'd rather risk.

But Andrew returned before he made any progress.

“Andrew Wells, have you learned nothing?” Giles addressed him sternly.

Andrew closed the door behind himself, and slid a bolt across.

“Demons, portals, and now human sacrifice!” Giles continued.

Andrew turned and brought the bowl over to the bed, setting it on the bedside cabinet. The knife was still in the bowl, but Andrew started rummaging in his pockets.

“To kill another human being is the darkest, most dangerous, most damning kind of magic there is...” Giles went on, then trailed off a bit.

Andrew was getting out first aid supplies. A pocket sized tin opened to reveal bandages, antiseptic, even needle and thread. What Andrew removed from the tin would be appropriate for a small cut.

“... and blood magic isn't a hell of a lot better. Especially with unwilling blood,” Giles finished, changing direction only slightly awkwardly.

“You know, the whole thing of being a Watcher would have been a lot easier if everyone didn't keep jumping to 'human sacrifice' whenever I picked up a knife.” Andrew told him, matching actions to words. He looked at the blade, wiped it down with alcohol from the kit, and put it back in the bowl. Then he took off his jacket, looked around for somewhere to put it, and went to hang it on the foot of the bed. He pushed his sleeve up as he came back to stand in front of the bowl, then picked up the knife again. He brought it over his own forearm, and held it there, looking very pale.

“Andrew... This still isn't a good idea.”

Andrew brought the knife down, until it was almost touching his skin, then flinched back again. He took a deep breath.

“Opening a portal to a hell dimension, or even a window... You can't risk turning Bath into another Sunnydale.”

“I really hate this part.” Andrew muttered, lowering the knife again.

“Or risk crippling yourself with that knife! Andrew, really, put it down and let me out of these. You don't know what you're doing!”

“Oh, I know.” Andrew replied, and finally brought knife against skin.

Blood welled out, very slowly. Andrew made a little sound, a stifled thing that wanted to be a scream. He pushed down a little harder.

Blood started to drip, and he made sure it dripped right into the bowl. He pulled the knife away carefully, then put it in the bowl and let the blood drip in steadily.

“I really, really, really hate this part,” he muttered steadily. “Icky and owie and icky and...” he kept up the chant until he bit his lip, then pressed against the wound to open it more.

Giles was, of course, angry at the boy, but some part of him was also obscurely proud. Considering how much of a production he had made about simply removing some tape from his chest, seeing him standing here bleeding himself with relative calm was... well, worrying as all hell, of course, but also a rather large step forwards.

And stupid. Very stupid. He had not been exaggerating about the dangers of blood magic.

But if neither good advice nor pain was going to stop Andrew, a more subtle approach was needed.

“I know you know that you can buy that stuff,” Giles observed. “In convenient sealed bags.”

Andrew glared at him. “The spell was specific. Real specific. Now be quiet. Or, like, moan or something. Una doesn't have super hearing, but...” He glanced over at the door, then looked back at Giles and made a face.

Giles thought he got the message, but needed to confirm. “She thinks the blood is mine?” he asked, very quietly.

Andrew now busied himself stopping the bleeding. It was awkward with one hand, but he'd set out everything he'd need in advance. He hissed when the antiseptic stung, then put a gauze pad over the area.

“She doesn't want me to risk it,” Andrew said absently, concentrating on his work. He tried to get the end of the bandage in place one handed.

“I can help with that,” Giles offered.

Andrew looked up, surprised and hopeful.

“Get one of these cuffs off,” Giles told him, but Andrew looked away and shook his head.

“I spent ages trying to get you guys to untie me, remember? I know all the tricks. Got to scratch, need to pee, let me help you... Which, okay, I did, when you let me go. So...”

Right then came a knock on the door. Andrew quickly fumbled the rest of the bandage into place, taped the end down, and rolled his sleeve back into place.

There was another knock. “Andrew?”

“Nearly ready!” Andrew called back. He grabbed his jacket from the bedstead, wincing slightly as he pulled it on the newly injured arm.

The door handle rattled. Andrew stepped towards it, then turned back and quickly grabbed the bowl. He hurriedly took it over to the door, slipped the bolt, and pulled the door open a crack.

“Got it. Right here. I just... locked it so you wouldn't have to see.”

“That's so sweet,” she told him.

He grinned as he stepped out the room, shutting the door behind him.

Giles was left once again alone, handcuffed to the bed, now with the open tin of first aid supplies on the cabinet beside him.

Well, new resources. Perhaps he could do something with them. A little levitation... not that he'd ever been particularly good at that by himself, but needs must...

He spent the next ten minutes laboriously trying to pull the box towards him, and when that failed, trying to pick out a safety pin or something. It rattled, but was otherwise unmoved. Magic without ritual, words or tools, raw magic, tapping into the basic forces of the universe... Willow had been able to do it in high school. Ethan had used his strength to do more, after university. One fifty year old mage, after retirement, with very rusty skills... managed to make it rattle, a little.

Or was that him at all?

He stopped, and concentrated on his senses.

Magic was building, somewhere. A slow build up of forces. The kind around a boat sail, a dam, or a window in a storm – where one thing meets another and pushes.

That idiot boy and his demon were trying the spell.

He heard her voice rising from some other room, each new syllable answered by rattling from tin and furniture. The bed started to knock against the wall as the floorboards quivered.

The pressure built up until he felt like his ears would pop, until his mind felt pressed within his skull and it was hard to breathe. He heard the demon girl's voice rise up in a final crescendo, felt the summoned magic focus, shaped by her will, and then...

Nothing.

Sudden suspension as disconcerting as the increase had been.

No release, and no cessation. The magic was still there, heavy around him, a hum and a tremble. But it hung there, still, waiting for something.

Then Giles heard footsteps in the hall, and the door burst open.

“You,” the demon girl hissed. “What did you do?”

*** *** ***

Part 2/4 here
Part 3/4 here
Part 4/4 here

Comments

[julia-here.livejournal.com]

Oh, great start, and so glad of that "Next Part Tomorrow" note.

Julia, always better for something to look forward to

[beccaelizabeth]

thanksyou
and tommorrow it is already, so note has turned into link

[brandil.livejournal.com]

Wonderful start!

[beccaelizabeth]

thanksyou :)

[anne_d]

Great start, becca.

Giles and Andrew sound just like they should.

The descriptions are so vivid I can see them, like
The carved face on the lintel watched as he turned both locks then slipped inside before the heat got out.

and the subtle references back to the series, like Giles' lamp from Sunnydale (I remember that lamp), and Ethan, and the night before the big battle, fit in perfectly.

I can't wait to find out what happens next. I'm going to rush over and read part 2 right now.

[beccaelizabeth]

thanksyou :)
I'm glad I got the voices
and that you like the continuity bits

[karinalee.livejournal.com]

“Haven't you ever met someone... Someone who sees who you're trying to be, who you really are inside? Someone who looks at you... Believes in you... And it's like... like everything comes into focus. Like it just clicks. Like when you're doing magic and finally you know the world is listening to you, and nobody is laughing. And it all just works.” Andrew looked at the door in dreamy distraction.

Giles thought of demons, and magic, and dark eyes that once looked at him like he was worth believing in.

“Yes,” he said.

Andrew looked at him and blinked.

“It ended... badly.” Blood on a sword, dagger, letter opener. Watching him manhandled into an army vehicle. It always ended, badly.

“Well... This is totally different.”

“Andrew, you're being manipulated into opening a portal by a demon! It isn't even different from last year!”

*claps* Good job, becca! Loved this passage. It really drew me into the moment. Can't wait to read more. :)

[beccaelizabeth]

excellent :)
because wanting to say that was one of the two things I started with when I set out to write this story.

glad you like it :)

[pinkdormouse.livejournal.com]

I'm liking the changes you've made. It's even better than the last time I saw it.

[beccaelizabeth]

*phew* ;)

and thanks
:)

Lovely!

[(Anonymous)]

I always love your little touches, becca. Like the green lamp brought from Sunnydale, and lines like this: "Also, he seemed to be handcuffed to it. That didn't tend to happen much any more."

Andrew is rather cute and sweet and dim about some things, isn't he? ;-)

Lola

Re: Lovely!

[beccaelizabeth]

Glad you like :)
I was a bit worried about the handcuff line, for it seemed perhaps like I dropped in a funny to be funny. But I also had a point, so I left it there.

Andrew is indeed cute, and sweet, and *epically* stupid.
Hence the fun :)