Fic: RFJ 2: Higher, part 4/7

[beccaelizabeth]

Ripper
Fools Journey
2
Higher

Part: 4/7

Rating: I'm aiming for a tone much like Buffy or Angel, which are 15 to 18 rated in the UK.
Pairing(s): Giles and Ethan are in the same story, therefore it is vaguely G/E
Spoilers: Post Chosen, post Not Fade Away. Refers to earlier series canon.
Third in my Fool's Journey series, the rest in memories here or my fic tag. This one should basically make sense as a stand alone.

Summary: Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne. Best mates, worst enemies, sometimes both at once. They've got a lot of history. So even when the Initative took Ethan away, Giles was sure he'd see him again, sooner or later...
Now the late Ethan Rayne is turning out to be twice the trouble, and Giles must be the one to deal with it.


38000 words total, 6950 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, The Magician 1. Card 2 of the Major Arcana is The High Priestess.

Part 1/7 here
Part 2/7 here
Part 3/7 here

*** *** ***



The grip on his throat was tight, air a problem, and for a moment Giles thought he was seeing double. But the second Ethan had appeared in the familiar grey and red, fading in.

Ghost and vampire faced each other, and for a moment both looked surprise.

“Oh well done,” the vampire said to his ethereal reflection. “I didn't think you'd get him here this fast. Not with the big push in LA.” Then he turned to look at Giles again. “Or did your Slayer leave you behind again? Gone to play with the green men?” The vampire grinned, in a way made most unpleasant by his revealed fangs. “I'll be sure to send her after them, when I see her.”

The vampire started to raise Giles up by the neck, until he was stretching to keep himself on the ground.

The ghost objected. “Wait! You don't want...”

But when the vampire turned to look, Giles seized on the distraction, and swung his bag up hard. He hit the thing where it hurt, and even the undead have to flinch at that. It doubled over, grip loosening, and Giles had a moment to drop the bag and grab the cross from his pocket with his right hand. He brought it up to meet the vampire's chest, and now it straightened from pain, flinching back from the holy symbol. It pushed him away, but only to arm's length, still not letting him go.

Then it stood still, snarling. After a moment, it pulled him closer instead.

Giles could hear the sizzle as the cross pressed in to the monster's chest, could smell the faint scent of burning as smoke started to rise.

“Hiding behind your dead god, Ripper?” It grinned again, madness and hate in its golden eyes.

Giles shifted his grip on the cross - made of wood, and quite large enough for a stake, if he could only get some muscle behind it. He pulled back his arm to punch it forward.

The vampire dropped his left wrist to grab at his right, instead getting a handful of cross. He wrenched it from Rupert's grasp, breaking it to splinters.

Giles pulled out the Holy Water and flipped the lid. He threw it, aiming for the monster's face, but it dodged and knocked his arm away. Instead the water fell on its left arm, still gripping Giles by the throat, where it burned like acid.

This time the monster screamed, and lost its grip.

Giles stumbled back and went for his bag again, not sure what he'd find of use there but short on options.

The vampire, seeing Ripper now free and reaching for weapons, cradled its arm and stepped away.

As Giles stood, the vampire grabbed a passer by, a young blonde woman. “Be seeing you,” it said, and threw her at Giles.

He dropped the bag to catch her, kept them both upright, but when he looked around again the vampire was gone.

As was the ghost.

Giles grabbed the bag and from it pulled out the small box, at that moment still with two gold eyes glowing above it. But even as he pulled it clear of the bag they faded out. Whichever Ethan it was responding to, they were both out of range, and out of sight.

Giles looked around for a likely direction, then stopped.

Alone, unarmed, still tired, and without either plan or backup. He stood in front of an unfamiliar hotel, in a city he'd never visited before, still bustling at just gone midnight. He looked at the crowds, every one a potential victim.

He swallowed, and felt how his neck was still complaining from the vampire's grip.

He swore, loudly, then closed his bag and turned back to the hotel entrance. A room, a rethink, and perhaps some creative vandalism, would leave him in a better position.

He kept the little box in hand, a wary eye out for warning light.

*** *** ***

He was in a room in the Stratosphere, room service steak half eaten, before the box glowed again.

Ethan appeared, fading in slowly. He looked almost solid when he was done, just the brightest lights visible through him.

He looked around.

“Door chained, chair under the handle, table between you and the way in... expecting company? What, didn't you bring a stake?”

“As a matter of fact, no. They don't get through airport security. Conveniently for you.”

“For that thing, you mean.”

“I mean, Ethan, I'm not a fool. Dozens of hotels on the strip alone, a city of millions, and that 'thing' happens to find me as soon as I set foot here? What do you take me for? So go on, report my room number. I'll be ready for it next time.”

The ghost managed to look aggrieved. Then enraged. “You actually think I'd feed you to... that?”

“Don't play the innocent, Ethan. You've worked with vampires before.”

“None of them had killed me! None of them had... Had taken all I was, all I ever could be, and replaced it with some... Cheap imitation!” Ethan paced, ignoring furniture. “I know you don't respect my calling, Ripper. I'm very well aware you don't respect me. But you could at least understand...” He turned to face Giles again, gesticulating with cupped hands. “I serve my god, my gods, Chaos. I show the world their truth. I never expected statues or even much of a marker, but I had a reputation. That... thing, that monstrosity... Ripper, that could live forever. I've had half a century, give or take. I've done well enough with it. But if that bastard out there gets started... He'll use my name, Rupert. He'll make it mean something... Something a vampire would be proud of. He already called Barvain, a terror shut out of this world for centuries. What's he going to do for an encore? And all as Ethan Rayne!”

Giles shook his head, put the knife down and pulled notepaper forward. “The deaths, the terror, the harm to innocents, that doesn't bother you. I've seen your work.”

Ethan's face set in hard lines. “Sadistic and self-centered, remember?” he said. “Believe your own words at least. I want to hurt what hurt me. That out there hurts me in ways nothing else ever could. Demon possession... I stopped playing with that when you did, and you damn well know it. Now a demon has my body and I want it gone.”

“And to do that you use me. Manipulate me. Bring me here... a little faster than expected.”

“You wanted to find it!”

“And you pride yourself on giving what people want. Just not in the way they want it.”

Ethan rubbed his face with one hand while the other arm crossed over his chest.

“Rupert... Please. This is bad. Bad for both of us.”

“I've heard that before,” Giles replied, then hesitated.

Ethan looked up at him. “And can you honestly say I was wrong?”

Giles sighed, his expression just a little less hard around the edges. He would not look up.

The ghost walked over to the bed and sank down to sit on it.

He looked at Giles, still writing something.

“What is that anyway? More plans?”

“Ones with a rather higher chance of success. And no need for further confrontation.” Giles pulled out his cellphone, checked what time it thought it was. Still a little early to reach the office. He put it down again. He continued to jot down notes, trying to reconstruct verse from memory.

Ethan gave up waiting for elaboration and wandered over to read over his shoulder.

“Orb of Thesula... Rare these days. Used for rituals of the undead. Me or the vampire?” He read a little further, then his eyes widened. “Hang on... Re-ensoulment? Ripper, you can't.”

“I can. I'd rather leave it to someone who has before, but I believe I can acquire everything I need.”

“No. You can't do this to me.”

Giles looked up.

Ethan's dark eyes were pleading, looking down at him.

Giles told him, “In most cases, it would be unconscionable. The soul of the departed has already moved on, bringing it back here would be... potentially, quite awful. But you, you are already here.”

“And if you do this, I'll be here forever... Or whatever damn long time it takes to find another way.” Ethan sank down, until they were on a level. “Rupert, think. Janus is god of doors, you know that. Including the one between this world and the next. Vampires... You've seen it. They bounce right off.”

“Ethan, you're the only man I've ever met who thinks Janus has anything to do with it.”

Ethan gave an impatient shake of his head. “Alright then, go with observation. There's a demon in there. You saw what it did to Eyghon.”

“So you'd be safe from that at least.”

“By selling out to something worse! Damn it, Rupert, you're the one who hates vampires. Do you really hate me that much?”

Giles flinched a little at that, almost imperceptibly. But he went back to writing.

“The vampire who saved us from Eyghon, his name was Angel. He was the first vampire with a soul.”

“Angelus? I've heard that name before. Your scars...”

“The spell is imperfect. At the moment, there's a way to break it.” Giles hesitated, then admitted, “A moment of true happiness, I believe is the phrase.”

“Oh perfect!” Ethan said, standing and throwing his arms up. “Trapped for eternity, with a demon under my skin, and not able to be happy even if I could figure out how?” He paced away again, then turned and spread his hands, asking, “Why are you even thinking about this?”

“You'd be whole,” Giles whispered, making a final note then letting the pen be still. “Not... Not restored, not entirely... But...”

“Corporeal? Revivified? ... Alive? Rupert!” Ethan said, making the name a complaint. Then again, this time with affection. “Oh, Rupert...” He sighed. “What you do to yourself.” He came back to the table, sat down on the nearest edge of the bed.

Giles put the lid back on the pen and put it down. He checked the cell phone again. By now, his former secretary was probably in.

He put the phone down.

“What do you want, Ethan? Really? Just... Just an ending?”

Ethan smirked slightly, bitterly. “Bit of a turn around.”

Giles looked up at him, face once more full of grief.

He sighed, dropped his head. “Rupert, what I want... From you, right now...” He looked up, eyes dark, and still full of stars.

Giles only matched his gaze a moment, then looked down again.

“...Is for you to go get that thing. Stake it. Burn it. Whatever works for you. Just get rid of it.” Ethan sounded tired.

Almost as tired as Giles felt. “Slay the vampire. All right.” He sighed. “So, this time, will you admit you know where it is?”

Ethan looked annoyed. “I didn't know. I'd just seen this place when the tower was going up. Always meant to come back and see the view.”

“That's all?”

“That's all.”

Giles stared at Ethan.

“Look, if you don't trust me, why would you want me back in one piece? If I'm already in collusion with that thing it would hardly change the results.”

Giles looked down, then flipped the notebook closed, and put it on top of his ghost research. He dropped them back in the bag, then put the phone back in his coat pocket.

He rubbed at his eyes.

“The furniture in here is ridiculously well constructed. I'll need some time to get stakes out of it...”

But just then he felt something, and part of it was very familiar. An aftertaste like turkish delight, sweet and sticky. But with it this time an appalling mix of dust and rank blood.

Ethan sat bolt upright, and shivered.

“Red... Red magic, out there...” He pointed out the window.

Giles turned, to face the Stratosphere Tower soaring up above them. He couldn't see magic from here, but he could surely feel it, a tug both familiar and very wrong.

“Yours... The other you. Corrupted...”

He turned back to Ethan.

“Go. Find it.”

Ethan swallowed hard, but nodded, and stood.

He flickered out, but only for a moment.

“Up the top, the observation deck,” he reported. “I don't know what it's done, but they're already screaming.”

Giles' face set, and he stepped around the table, scanning the room again. Nothing he could wrench free in under half an hour. He shook his head, and picked up the steak knife, grimacing.

He looked out the window, calculating. To move down and across... “I need time, Ethan.”

Ethan's hands went to fists, but he pushed them in his pockets and squared his shoulders. “You'll have it.” He faded out again.

Giles unblocked the door, and ran.

*** *** ***

The first obstacle was the ticket office, where they charged some ridiculous amount for one elevator ride. He had to put it on his credit card. As he bent to sign, he shivered, the feel of magic drifting down from above him now. Like fur on his skin, as it always had been. But now fur that was slightly sticky, and damp.

The ticket seller saw his scowl and throught it something to do with them. “Are you sure you want to go up now, sir? We're nearly done for the night...”

“No,” Giles replied, then pasted on a businesslike smile as he straightened up. “I won't be here long.”

“Okay.”

He watched them print the ticket, losing even the false smile, then schooled himself to neither snatch it from their hand nor run to the elevator. Hotel security was watching. He nodded as he walked past them.

In the lift the feel of power built swiftly as he rose up towards it. Giles kept one hand in his pocket, the nearly useless knife at the ready. In the other pocket he had a refilled bottle of holy water – probably too dilute to use, but worth a try. There were also several packets of salt. Not the most useful form of the stuff, but magically versatile.

He was the lift's only occupant. He looked around, seeing posters for Stratosphere attractions. Mostly thrill rides. At the top of the tower? If they were still running this late, perhaps the screaming had a more innocent explanation.

And perhaps the vampire would stay up there to watch the sunrise, and all their troubles would be over.

Giles gripped the knife and made sure to hold it where it could be pulled free in a moment, all tension as the doors opened.

A small crowd waited, to catch the lift going down again. Giles pushed through them, and then found the place nearly empty. He moved forward swiftly, heading for the outer windows of the observation deck.

Through the panes the city lights glittered, neon colors stretching off along the strip. A tiny model city far below, more resembling aerial photos than the view from a building. More than a thousand feet in the air.

On the other side of the glass, one of the advertised rides hung over the edge, dangling fragile humans over that immense drop. It looked like a set of green claws, a circle of seats held within them. It was stretched out into the dark, swaying slightly in the wind.

Didn't seem particularly thrilling to Giles, but then he'd never had a taste for artificial fear. He went to move on.

Then he noticed, the hotel staff were clustered around the edge of the ride, some of them looking frantic. And those in the ride were still screaming.

Eyes narrowed, he walked on, around the glass.

The first door to the outer deck was fully open, and the wind whipped through it with notable force. Screams were carried in on it, and dust, stinging and adding to the dark magic that already made his mouth dry.

Giles hesitated, then continued on along the inside of the glass. Ethan's ghost had not said which side the vampire was on. But if it was outside, there was a better chance of finding it unawares if the wind did not carry his scent.

He moved along the arc, and the screams faded.

At the second door the wind was more fitful, skimming past, not going in.

Then the screams started to get stronger again.

Up ahead a second green glow, this time a bullet shape, started to fall, down into the dark. Giles darted forwards, then slowed when it rose up, apparently unharmed. The other kind of screaming, then. He moved on again.

Suddenly he heard Ethan, his voice as clear as if he were standing next to him.

“Of course they are. Petty little peons, fooled into thinking this is all they can ever be.”

He looked around hurriedly, knife half out, but couldn't see him.

“But weather is so unwieldy. And impersonal. Sure, you can whip up a wind, but what does it do?”

Then he saw them – out on the deck, near the second ride. There were two figures. One was as green as the ride, neon light falling on olive drab. The other at first seemed spotlit, but in ways that had nothing to do with the garish colors around him. He was instead the same red and grey he'd been since Rupert first saw him, at twilight. Against this darkness, he looked a little like stained glass.

The ghost, and the demon, staring out over Las Vegas.

Rupert backed away to the previous door, losing sight of them again. He stepped cautiously through, then slid around the outside of the glass, keeping the concrete supports between him and the vampire. The wind was a fitful breeze now, mostly blocked by the building. The scent of magic hung heavy in the air, and the vampire's words carried to him, though not as strongly as the ghost's.

“Did you see them squealing? All that joyful anticipation as they lined up, ready to taunt the darkness. Think they can play right on the edge and never fall. All that science and technology, meant to 'fail safe'. Hah! Show them a little chaos though...”

Giles reached the next support, and ducked his head out around it. He could just see the two figures, standing on the edge, watching the ride rise up ready for another plunge.

The green one raised a hand, and the magic spiked sharply.

This time the car dropped faster, and the only thing that rose up were screams.

Giles darted out, risked going to the railing. He had to know...

There was a second railing below, and beyond that... A green, bullet shaped car, hanging there in the darkness, below them, but no longer falling.

Giles let out a breath.

“Oh well done. The hotel will have to give them a refund.” The bored drawl must be the ghost's.

Giles turned, and saw one Ethan step away from the edge and turn in his direction. They froze a moment, then Ethan's ghost, with wide eyes, nodded sharply back at the other one. Giles moved forwards, until he was again hugging the glass, and once again a pillar hid the pair.

“This is just the prelude. They're going to see the truth of the darkness. This tower will run red with blood, and the streets will fill with demons. Then let them hide behind denial!”

“They will, you know. They did in Los Angeles. Haven't you seen the gas masks?” The ghost managed to sound superior and disgusted at once.

Giles skirted around the next bit of concrete, and now he could see the ghost around the curve of the tower. The vampire stayed hidden. He'd have to hope he did too.

“Telling them never works. Showing them never works...”

“...But making them... Remaking them, re-creating them in our own image... That will work.”

The ghost's expression was eloquent, and not complimentary. “Making them vampires, you mean.” He shook his head. “Thirty years of magical practice, and what does it end with? A transformation anyone in your species could achieve!”

“Oh, but it will change the world,” the vampire gloated. It threw up it's arms and turned in a wide circle. “All of this! Belonging to the dark!”

The ghost hastily stepped in the way and waved down at the ride still stuck below them. “And this helps how?”

The vampire looked down too, and shrugged. “Appetisers. Fear makes them taste better.” It looked up and grinned, face gone vampiric now. “By the time Barvain gets here, they'll be soaked in terror.”

“Barvain? Hate to tell you, but the army finished him off.”

“Sent him back, yes. I saw. Your fault for running. You were supposed to be his anchor.”

“Never,” Ethan snarled. “I'll never serve, especially not that.”

“You cut the deal.”

“I never called it in. You haven't the right...”

“Oh but I have. I'm Ethan Rayne. I call upon the demon prince Barvain, iraemien erhurech saviwehr...”

The words, in no tongue Giles knew, pulsed through the magic and filled it with a new scent, until all sweetness was lost under foul butchery and brimstone. Giles felt sick as the magic flowed past him, and sicker when his own rose to block it, weakened as it was by much use. He built a cool green barrier in his mind, until the taste in the back of his mouth was mostly washed away.

He stepped out around the last support, and saw the vampire turn to greet him.

“Ripper.” It licked its lips, and grinned. “Cider... Matured, since last time. Nice... Though I always could have lived without the bark. Not a comfortable power to touch, yours.” It stepped forward casually. “Come to match magics again?”

Rupert flicked a glance at the ghost, uncharacteristically silent.

Ethan hung just a little off the floor, his eyes wide and his mouth moving soundlessly. He looked terrified. And the darkness around him... looked to be taking form. Something with claws.

The vampire looked over at him too.

“Yes, well... The price of doing business, I'm afraid. Sold my soul. Not like I needed it any more.”

“Monster,” Giles hissed, and stepped forwards.

The vampire moved back, up against the rail.

Between it and Giles there came a glow, red and gold, like the fires in the desert. Like clawed feet, and legs, rising up, outlined in fire.

“Barvain, saviwehr,” the vampire started chanting again.

Giles stepped forward, the knife in his hand feeling tiny. Each leg now forming was bigger than he was. The screams from the ride below kept getting louder, and now they were joined by screams from above.

Giles looked up, and up some more. He found himself backed into the railing, trying to see.

Above them all, a face was forming. Monstrous, distorted, crowned with horns, the same demonic visage he'd seen in the desert, and still burning.

Around the top of the tower a red serpent of neon was wrapped, along which came a streak of gold. A rollercoaster, Giles realised. Wrapped around the tallest tower in America, more than a thousand feet above the ground.

The demon, still translucent, leaned in, positioned gaping mouth in front of plunging cars.

It went right through... this time.

The demon's roar of frustration joined the chorus of screams.

And the demon kept on getting brighter.

At the base of the figure, between the fiery legs, the vampire stood, eyes glinting gold. It looked up with an expression of unholy joy, arms spread.

“Barvain! Take these offerings, gifts from your servant, your right hand!”

In the demon's right hand, the ghost of Ethan twisted, pounded at the claws. When it heard the vampire's dedication Ethan's face went from fear to fury. He kicked at the thing, and when that didn't work, he ducked his head and bit.

The claws loosened in a spasm, and Ethan's spirit dived over the edge of the tower, landing on the lower level, beyond reach.

“Damn filthy demon.” He spat, then turned and called up, “Exorcism, Ripper! The Janus rite!”

The ghost started chanting, Latin slightly unfamiliar to Giles, calling on Janus as god of portals to bar the one letting this demon in.

The vampire started chanting in counterpoint, voice rising. That fouled power rose with it, bringing the wind towards them now, and the screams, and the terror.

The demon looked stronger.

Giles had words of his own.

“Begone, you bastard!” He screamed, and threw the holy water at the demon.

The bottle burst, the water becoming a puff of steam, but now the demon screamed instead of roaring, and the flames on it went out.

The darkness remained, a huge shape, and the clawed hands reached out for the rollercoaster ride as it came around again higher up.

Ripper dived between the thing's legs, steak knife aimed for the vampire's throat.

It snapped out the casting trance with no time to block, and instead pushed itself up on the railing. The knife sank into the vampire's chest.

The chant cut off, and the vampire fell backwards, over the railing.

Giles lunged forwards, but grabbed the rail in time.

The screams from above came again, and Giles turned.

The golden ride sped along the red towards the dark claws.

The ghost's voice switched from Latin to English. “Janus, just get me out of here!”

Ethan faded out rapidly.

And so did the demon.

The car sped through the fading shadow without a pause, and once it had passed, the light returned to normal. Neon, red, gold, and green, but without the coalescing dark power there. The wind was still blowing, but the power ebbed away and left it almost clean.

Giles looked back down hurriedly, but there was no sign of the vampire.

*** *** ***

When Giles finally got back to his room he had a complimentary hotel gas mask, and a discount should he wish to ascend the tower again. The hotel had been effusive in their apologies. They had also rather got in the way of his attempt at a purification rite. Along with the effects of the wind on the tiny amounts of salt, he rather doubted the efficacy of the rite, however drained it had left him.

He put the chain on the door, dragged the chair back under the handle, and turned to head for bed.

The little box on the table was glowing again.

He hit the lights and spun to check the room, fists raised.

“Sorry, only me,” Ethan said, then walked through the bed for illustration.

Giles relaxed again, as much as he could with that much adrenalin going.

Then he rubbed his face and laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just... When the haunting is the relaxing part...”

“You're living the life. Yes.” Ethan half grinned, briefly.

Giles walked over to the bed, slumped down, and stripped out of his coat. Then he bent and pulled his shoes off.

“Staying in, are we?”

“I need to get some more sleep. I'm stuck until I can do some shopping, which even here is difficult at four in the morning. You may go where you please.” He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt, enough to pull it over his head. Then he paused, and turned to face Ethan. “Although... With that thing still out there... It might be better if you could...”

“Get out of here, and stop spying on you? You still think we're in cahoots?”

“No. No... I saw.” Giles threw his shirt at the table. “You sold your soul?” It came out as a question, just slightly incredulous.

“I never sold my soul,” Ethan objected.

Giles looked at him.

He looked slightly uncomfortable, then attempted a smirk. “There are a number of outstanding promisory notes.”

“Ah. So much better.” Giles sighed, then yawned. He got up to pull the covers back. “Are there any others I should perhaps know about?”

Ethan settled in on the left side of the bed, leaning back against the head board. He put his hands behind his head, leaned back with his eyes closed. “How much time have you got?”

“Wonderful,” Giles muttered. He gave him an exasperated glare. “Get out of there.”

Ethan looked up at him with dark eyes, and just a trace of the old pout. “I thought I'd get comfortable. For more thrilling hours of watching you snore.”

“Ethan!” Giles reined in his irritation. “I actually thought... I hoped you could keep watch.”

“Ah. Well. Now that's different.” He sat a little straighter in the bed. “I'll have to keep my eyes open.”

“In the hall, Ethan. Where you'll see it coming.” Giles sighed. “Please?”

Ethan grinned, and climbed to his feet again. “You do know you've no way of knowing I'll stay there?” His grin faded a bit. “I've no way of knowing, for that matter. Daylight coming...” he trailed off, and looked down at himself, still overlapping the furniture.

“Daylight will be more of a problem for the other one,” Giles said, climbing into bed. “Just... do your best.” He lay down, pulled his glasses off, and closed his eyes.

It was very, very quiet, for long moments.

Giles turned over, curling up on his side.

“You know, you really do look better when you relax.”

Giles opened his eyes and glared at Ethan, who was quite clear at the end of the bed, and clearly smirking again.

The ghost turned, and walked out through the door.

Giles closed his eyes, and rather to his surprise was quickly asleep again.

*** *** ***

The phone woke him.

He fumbled on the bedside cabinet until he found the handset, then got it to his ear, still blinking away the sleep.

“Ha... Hello?” He yawned.

“Hello, Ripper,” Ethan purred, sounding entirely too pleased.

“Ethan,” Giles turned back over and rubbed his eyes. “I was asleep.”

“Dreaming of me?”

“No, it.” Giles opened his eyes, realising. “The vampire. How did you know...?”

“I know you, Ripper.”

Giles looked to the table, and the telltale box. There were no lights above it. But then, anything that blocked sight blocked it.

“Ethan Rayne...” Giles muttered, looking around.

The box lit up, and on the bed next to him the ghostly Ethan appeared, half transparent in a streak of morning sunlight.

The thing on the phone of course thought Giles was addressing it.

“So you do remember me. I was beginning to wonder. 'Monster', 'vampire', 'it'... Really, that's no way to talk to an old mate.”

“My 'mate' died. You are the monster that killed him,” Giles replied calmly. “Where are you?” He was looking at the ghost as he said this, but that Ethan's eyes went wide and he shook his head.

“Somewhere in Paradise, making friends. You'll meet them tonight.”

“Like Barvain? I haven't seen it since last night. Could be we finally killed it.” Giles was still addressing the ghost, who half grimaced, then nodded and stood.

“He has been around since ancient times. It seems unlikely our fight could entirely defeat it,” the phone replied. “Still, I do have other resources.”

The ghost faded out, and Giles turned his attention to the thing on the phone.

“What do you want, vampire?”

“Ripper, you've always known what I want from you. All that's changed is what I can offer you in return.”

“You can offer me nothing that I would want.”

“Really, Ripper? You think you've changed that much? I remember when you and Randall first found the bite dens. Coming home with marks all over...”

“That was a very long time ago.” Giles closed his eyes, then opened them again to watch the warning box. “I'm not that man any more.”

“Of course. You are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good,” it mocked. Then the voice became intense. “I know who you are, Rupert, and I know what you're capable of.”

“Then you should be afraid,” Giles told him, equally intense. “But then, you always are. You run, you hide, you cower...”

“On my knees before you, while you held a gun in my face.” The vampire said it with relish, enjoyment evident. “Do you remember, Ripper? A little bite of magic and you were back. Taking your girl out on the town. Urging her on to beat me. And wherever did that delicious woman you brought get those handcuffs? The same place you acquired the gun?”

“I don't need that kind of magic.”

“No... But you liked it.”

“Like hell...”

“Ripper, this is me. Remember? I saw you. You thoroughly enjoyed yourself. The violence, the power... You always did. That Halloween you broke more than just the statue. Next time you found me, the first thing you did was pull me up by the hair. When we met in the crypt, thrashing me was going to improve your day. Of course, I managed that by other means... Tell me, do you remember it? That last night? What it felt like?”

“I... I don't... I didn't want... What the Initiative did to you...”

“Ha! That. Yes... I'm sure you didn't like to think of me, bound and screaming, in a big glass box. That wouldn't be like the Watcher at all. Would it?”

“I... I didn't... Ethan...” He closed his eyes, reminded himself this was the other one. The thing. He looked around for Ethan, the spirit, but still there was no trace. He gripped the phone too tight, and kept listening.

“But then the Watcher would hardly have done any of it. Not got drunk with a degenerate son of chaos. Not worked magic with him.”

“You turned me into a Fyarl demon!” Giles objected. “I spent all day having to hide. I couldn't talk to anyone!”

“But by night you'd got the hang of it, yes? The power, the rage... The way everyone cowered before you. 'Pissing themselves', I believe you requested.”

“I what?”

“Your objection to the soldier boys. You said they never even noticed you. Well we fixed that.”

“Oh, yes. In the most destructive way possible. You know I was losing myself? All I could feel was the rage.”

“That's all I've felt from you for a long time, Ripper. Wasn't it so much more fun to let it out?”

“No.”

“Oh. It's more fun for me.”

“You... Self centered...”

“... and sadistic. Yes. A matched set.”

“Like hell.”

“You're telling me there was no part of it that you enjoyed? Not a thing?”

Giles opened his mouth, then hesitated. Maggie Walsh. He could tell himself she deserved it, but...

He paused too long, and the vampire drew its own conclusions. “Oh yes. I know who you are. And I know where you come from. You walked into the Rose, beat Randall before he knew he was in a fight, and matched magics with me. The Ripper, in all his glory.”

“A costume, Ethan. A pretense,” Giles told him, wearily.

“But you made it so much more. You made us all names to be feared.”

“Yes.” Giles hung his head, shame faced.

He remembered. Living in the grey areas between the mundane and the dark worlds. So determined to belong in the dark. Magic was the dream he was chasing, but not the only power he'd spent years on yet been told to never use. His martial training, finally unleashed... The thrill of it, the barbaric joy of a good punch up... The darker rush in the glint of steel, the blades he made his name with. Ripper started with vampires, staked his first when he was fresh off the train, sleeping in an alley he didn't know enough to avoid. Yet he learned soon enough that it wasn't just the demons that could make him bleed.

The first time some mere human pulled a knife on him, he was not afraid. Even when he couldn't quite twist aside in time, when it sliced his hip open even though his jeans, it wasn't fear he felt. Something closer to rage, perhaps, or wounded pride, that some guttersnipe could think to pull that with him. His return strike happened without conscious thought, his own blade pulled and used in one motion, drilled into him for years.

Randall pulled him out of there. Ripper hadn't even looked back.

It was hours later, when Cliffe had been summoned and the stitches were going in, that he even thought to wonder how bad the other man was hurt. He'd never actually found out.

But Watchers were trained to go for the heart.

“It's all ancient history. It hardly matters any more.” Giles tried to dismiss it, but he sounded weak even to himself.

Ethan sounded, as always, intense. Voice low and intimate, persuasive. “You showed us what we were capable of, and we all followed your lead. Well, now it's my turn. Let me show you what we could be.”

Giles tried to gather himself. “Rather too late for that.”

“On the contrary, Ripper. Now we can really get started.”

“You're dead, Ethan. It's over.”

“All the pain, all the fear, all the baggage that tries to weigh you down. All over. Think of it, Ripper. Think of the freedom. Thirty years you've hidden inside a Watcher suit, scared of the demons getting under your skin. But you don't have to be scared, if you just let them in.”

“No.”

“Think of the power. All the things you could do if you just let rip...”

“No!”

“And no more worries what you'll feel like in the morning – the night would be our time.”

“Never. Never again.”

“Every time, you say that, but it always ends the same. You let me in.”

Giles got out of the bed and started looking for weapons.

“You'd never have to fear that again, either. Lose that ugly 'phobia'...”

“Don't... That's not...”

“No more needing liquid courage to work up to it. Do you even remember the last time? I do.”

Rupert's hand shook, and he pulled the phone away from his ear, hesitating with it in mid air. The room was empty, the telltale lights still absent, spirit nowhere to be seen. And all he could find for weapons was a fork.

“Come with me, Ripper. You've always wanted it. All it takes now is just one taste...”

The box lit up, and Giles snatched up the fork, even as he slammed the phone down.

The ghost stood in the sunlight, quite transparent, and held his hands up.

Giles dropped the fork again, slightly sheepish.

“Did you... Where is...?”

“I don't know,” Ethan replied.

“You what?” Giles glared at the phone, then returned it to its proper place.

“It has the place surrounded with wards. It was like walking into blood soaked spider webs. I couldn't look around much, I was too busy trying to get out of there.”

“Brilliant.” Giles sank down on the edge of the bed again, and rubbed his face. “Bloody brilliant.”

“I... I heard some of that. Just remember, that isn't me.” This Ethan sounded rather less sure than the other one, and was rather less persuasive.

Giles looked up at him, emotions for once naked, and conflicted. “Ethan... Don't try to tell me you wouldn't say those things. I know you. You've been saying something like them for... Half our lives.”

Ethan looked down, crossed his arms. “That thing's a hollow mask, Rupert. There's nothing left in it that's real.” He fidgeted a moment, then looked up. There was no smirk on his face then, and his dark eyes tried to say something the words could not.

Giles held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away. He reached for his glasses, then stopped. The t-shirt he was wearing had been through rather a lot, and he had others with him. He pulled it over his head, left it beside him on the bed, and leaned forward to snag his bag.

As he sat up, he paused, and said, “It was never about courage. Not... out of a bottle or otherwise. And god knows it had nothing to do with the opinions of the Council.” He pulled the fresh t-shirt on, this one a speckled dark grey. “Not that it helps. Just...” he trailed off, and sighed. He put his glasses on again, then stood up and went to the table for yesterday's shirt.

“Just, either would make it about you. And of course it was always me.” Ethan should have sounded bitter, sarcastic, but it came out too tired for that.

Giles looked up at him, and again their eyes met, all the old story between them.

Ethan stepped forwards, and raised a hand to Rupert's face.

He closed his eyes, then turned away. “Don't.”

“Rupert... If not now, when? We're all out of chances.”

Rupert opened his eyes again, but looked down at the table still. The glowing gold eyes on the box there looked back up at him.

“There's some things that need saying...” Ethan reached for him again.

“That thing is still out there, Ethan.” Giles looked up, eyes pleading. “It is out there... Feeding... And I... I'm going to have to...” His eyes closed again, and he looked away, swallowing hard. When he spoke again his voice was back under control. “I'm going to need a stake.”

He looked down, picked up the shirt, then wrinkled his nose as yesterday's conflicts rose up to meet him.

“Besides,” he said, turning, “What difference would it make?” He threw the shirt at the bed, and it sailed straight through Ethan.




*** *** ***

Part 5/7 here

Comments

[shannoscubie.livejournal.com]

Wow, what a ride! And there's more!

*bounces happily*

[beccaelizabeth]

:-)

[(Anonymous)]

waits ever so patiently *twiddle*

[beccaelizabeth]

no more waiting necessary by now :-)

[agilesreader.livejournal.com]

More!!!

[beccaelizabeth]

all posted :-)

[julia-here.livejournal.com]

Great job of laying out the issues between Giles and Ethan, past, present, and vampire.

Julia, and YAY a chapter to read with dinner!

[beccaelizabeth]

thanksyou :-)