Fic: RFJ 2: Higher, part 6/7

[beccaelizabeth]

Ripper
Fools Journey
2
Higher

Part: 6/7

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, 7300 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
Part 4/7 here
Part 5/7 here

*** *** ***



Rupert stepped out into the Excalibur's mall under the watchful eyes of at least three security guards. One took up station near the door back into the main hotel, and the other two walked along at a leisurely pace, about six feet behind him.

“Ethan Rayne!” Giles said, whispering but emphatic. “Ethan, would you please just...”

“Alright, already, I'm here. What happened? Did you find it?”

Ethan looked a little more faded than before, a little less solid. It might have been the lighting. Vegas loved the bright lights.

“Yes, I found it. And hotel security found me. Why didn't you tell me there's no magic allowed in the casino?”

“Ah. That. Sorry.” Ethan attempted a grin. “I did try, but...” He shrugged, faded for a moment, then came back. “So... did they let you keep the box?”

“No they did not! Not the box, not the knife, not even the bloody stakes. And the damn vampire saw me. Laughed at me. If it is still here, it's only to catch me at a disadvantage.”

“While security looks on? Not on his own. He'll be long gone.” Ethan said.

“Damn it all... This is just... Bloody useless!” He threw up his hands, fuming.

“Look on the bright side,” Ethan offered, “There's plenty of weapons here.” He waved at the window displays. “Looks like a dozen different Excaliburs. And you won't even have to pull it out of a stone.”

“Ethan, that's a costume shop. I very much doubt there's even one sword there worth the name.”

Ethan shrugged. “Shouldn't matter. Some candles, some magic, we can make it real. At least for one night.” He smirked, then stopped, staring at the next window. “Of course, so could the thing...”

Giles followed his gaze, and swore. “Silver. Under his shirt.” He stared at the display, a classic knight in shining armour. “He bought a breastplate. Damn it!”

“So... stakes weren't much of a loss then.”

“No.” Giles sighed. His expression, already stormy, hardened. “Right then. By the sword.”

*** *** ***

This time Giles followed Ethan's instructions without quibbling. Until they got to the sacrifice.

“More wine should be fine. If Janus doesn't like the vintage I'm sure we can send for something more to his taste.”

“Not for this. Not true transformation. If you want the image of a sword then wine makes a fine offering. But the truth of it, the essence – that requires you give of yours.”

“My essence is rather more than blood.”

“Yes. But blood is its symbol.”

Giles shook his head. “Ethan, you should have said. There has to be a proper sword shop somewhere around here. I could try asking at the desk...”

“Ripper, that thing could be at the desk! Along with any 'friends' it made today. The sun set hours ago! You can't go out of here unarmed again.”

“Searching an entire city takes time,” Giles said defensively. “And this spell of yours...”

“Is nearly complete! Just give the offering.”

“I gave already today.” Giles rubbed his face, corrected himself. “Yesterday... Before I got home.” He sighed. “I lost more blood than I like then. And Janus... seemed very pleased to take it.” He remembered the feeling of breaking the last spell, the hesitation that had left him for a moment unsure if the deity would let them leave. “I've called quite enough attention to myself. I would rather not have called on him again any time soon, let alone this soon.”

“Rupert, I call on him all the time. Yes, you get his attention – but how is that a bad thing?”

“He's the two faced god of Chaos, Ethan! And I do not worship him!”

“It's just one more spell, Rupert. You'll be fine.”

“I'll be wiped out! The man I worked with yesterday was still in hospital when I left! He could barely keep his eyes open! And I'm running on... adrenaline and... stubborn pride.” Giles sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and yawned like he'd been wanting to all day.

“So get something to eat first,” Ethan told him, exasperated.

Giles decided that was not a bad idea. He looked around for the room service menu, but it remained stubbornly hidden. “I suppose I'll have the steak again. And wine. A bottle of their most expensive red.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

Rupert glared at him.

After a moment Ethan threw up his arms. “Fine! I'll go talk with him. Janus! Hear me!” He faded rapidly.

Giles sat up, vaguely alarmed. “Ethan? I'm not sure that's...”

Ethan reappeared, noticeably still more faded, standing next to the table where the sword lay surrounded by candles. He spoke to it in Latin, then held his hand over the hilt.

He stood there a long moment, then frowned. He shook his head.

“It... didn't work?”

“Not completely.” Ethan sighed, rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Rupert, I can't promise you Janus won't take you. You're right, he is Chaos. And he doesn't always smile.” He looked across at Giles, face serious for once. “What I can tell you is, if you can risk this, if you're willing to sacrifice... You will have a weapon that no demon can stop. A holy sword, Rupert. Blessed by a deity who has no love for vampires.”

“Two faced creatures, with a liking for blood, who upset the natural order? No, I'm sure he doesn't.”

Ethan looked frustrated, then swallowed it down and tried again. “Rupert...” He stopped, closed his eyes, then started again. “Rupert, if you walk away from this, you lose a little pride.” He opened his eyes, looked directly at Giles. “I lose my soul. Everything I have left... If it gets away from you, or worse... I'm damned. Do you really think I'd lead you wrong with that at stake?”

Giles looked down, shamefaced. Then he blinked. He answered, “Not deliberately.”

Now it was Ethan's turn to look away.

Giles stood up, came over to the table. He looked down at the sword, already looking almost real in the dim light. He looked across at Ethan, arms crossed and fingers digging in to his elbows.

“I'll need a knife.”

Ethan looked back at him, weighed how serious he was. He shook his head. “Just make the offering. Janus will take it.”

Giles reached out, held his hand over the hilt. “I'm getting tired of having blood on my hands,” he said, very quietly.

“It's different when it's your own,” Ethan offered, equally quiet.

Their eyes met, and Giles dropped his hand to the sword hilt. He gathered his power, and spoke.

“Janus, tonight, let my blade be true.”

The pain from his hand was sharp, but he barely noticed in the flood of power. His own magic flowed into the blade, suddenly surrounded there by brilliance he could only assume was of Janus. He gasped, and the candles flared up.

He picked up the sword.

Clumsy costume frippery was suddenly transformed into a thing of deadly grace, balanced like an extension of his arm. The blade gleamed with more than just candlelight. He raised it up, and it seemed of itself a tongue of fire.

“Excalibur!” Ethan exclaimed, delighted.

Giles swung it tentatively, and it parted the air with a sound that was almost musical.

“Oh for goodness sake...” Giles said, swinging it a couple more times.

“What? So Excalibur is a singing sword.”

“But really... it's... it's like a bloody lightsaber!”

“And this is a problem?” Ethan asked. “Wait, since when do you know what lightsabers are?”

“Oh, Andrew had some idiotic talking Yoda, and a little blue plastic thing that made noises. Said it was training him to fight.” He swung the sword again, listening to the notes it made. “Really... This is ridiculous. Anything in the room is going to hear me coming!”

Ethan raised an eyebrow and swallowed his first response. “Just try cutting something,” he told him.

Giles looked around, then got out one of the baseball bats. He took a few moments to prop it up at a useful angle, stood back, then swung.

The sword went through so smoothly he barely felt it.

The bat stayed in one piece for a moment, then the top section slid slowly down.

Giles found he was grinning, in that way only familiar to those who had known him in the 70s, or the unfortunate few demons who had caught him on a very bad day.

He turned the bat around, and swung again. The second cut was just as easy.

“I could get used to this,” he observed.

A third swing and the bat was reduced to a long and very pointed stake. He counted himself an expert swordsman, yet accuracy like that was more than he would expect on his best day.

He picked the new stake up in his right hand. It seemed to weigh more than the sword.

“I could definitely get used to this... Ethan, I've never heard of anything like this. So simple...” He shook his head. Then he narrowed his eyes and looked up at the other man. “Where's the catch?”

Ethan shrugged nonchalantly. “You know. Just working with Janus. Most people won't risk it.”

“You assured me the risk was...”

“Minimal. Truly. Just this once.” Ethan smiled a little bitterly. “Janus is almost as offended at what happened to his priest as we are. Right now, we get a little more grace than usual.”

“Until he changes his mind again.” Giles shook his head, then dropped the new stake in his shoulder bag. He gathered up the spare pieces then sliced them until he had a small stack of passable stakes dropped in with it.

He found himself reluctant to let go of the sword. He held it up to look at it, shining brightly.

“My knight in leather armour,” Ethan said softly.

Giles looked over at him, then put the sword back on the table. He let go of it, then turned his hand to check the wound. It was thin as a paper cut, and though it stung it was barely seeping. He let out a breath, and his shoulders relaxed just a bit. Then he yawned, suddenly exhausted. He stumbled back to the bed, then stretched out there, face sinking into the pillow.

Ethan chuckled, in a way that managed to sound quite wicked.

Giles rolled over to face him.

Ethan was looking him over with a heated gaze.

Giles shook his head. “How you see me.”

“I just... appreciate more sides of you,” Ethan smirked.

Giles looked at him. “You see things in me... Things that were never there, Ethan. Then... resent me for not measuring up.” He sighed, tired in too many ways.

Ethan looked at him seriously, the smile changing to something more private. “You sell yourself short, Rupert. It's all there. You buried it in tweed for years... But here you are again. Leather jacket, sword and knives, and working magic again. With me, even. It took twenty five years, but here you are. The man I fell for.”

Giles looked away. “You fell for Ripper.”

“Who do you think I'm talking to?”

Giles looked back at him, expecting the mocking smirk, but still that softer smile was in place.

“You never really got it. Too busy beating yourself up.” At that, the smirk twisted again, but it soon smoothed out. Ethan moved closer, up beside the bed. “You think about Eyghon, and you call yourself a killer.”

“We killed him,” Giles whispered, somehow reluctant to interrupt, but never able to let that point lie.

“We chanted him to sleep, sat next to him, and dreamed together, for an hour or four.” Ethan's voice was low now, and he was standing almost in arm's reach. “And when it came time to all wake up... It wouldn't end.”

“A nightmare.”

“A demon in a friend's face, Cliffe thrown across the room, and fire... fire everywhere.” Ethan looked distant for a moment, rubbing the side of his chest, where Rupert knew the burn scars were. “Everyone else ran. But I couldn't. That thing had me by the neck.” His hand went higher a moment, then dropped back down, to his side. He focused on Rupert again. “And then you were there.”

“I... I tried... The exorcism...”

“Didn't work. Neither did the knife. I tried, but it paid me back in kind.” Ethan's other hand ghosted over the claw marks, then dropped too. He looked at Ripper intently. “But then you had the sword.”

Giles flinched, and looked away, but Ethan came and sat beside him on the bed. “You can't see past Randall dying. Do you want to know what I saw?”

Ethan waited, until Giles faced him again.

“You saw me run away.”

Ethan smiled bitterly at that, dropped his gaze a moment. “Yeah. Later. But first...” He looked up, dark eyes intense. “You saved me.”

Something in Giles ached. Somehow he wanted to deny it, say every complication, point out all the ways Ethan was anything but saved.

But right then Ethan looked at him the same way he had before, that way that had something of worship in it, and more that was just about the two of them, and all they'd been together.

“My dashing hero, my knight in leather armour, my Ripper. Right then, I saw you. And ever since, whatever you've tried to hide behind. You can call it your dark side, but I call it salvation.”

Ethan was very close now. Giles didn't back away.

But he couldn't stay silent either.

“Ethan... Yes, I saved you. You think I didn't see that?” He closed his eyes. “It was all I could see. What I did... I did it for you.”

The silence lasted a very long moment, and when Ethan spoke again he was far away, and bitter.

“So they were right again, your Council friends. I was the one that wrecked you.”

Giles opened his eyes, sat up again.

“No... Not... Nothing so simple. I just... You talk about that night like I was some shining champion. You just ignore... You won't see the other face of it.”

Ethan turned at that, eyebrow raised. “You say that to me?”

Giles nodded. He pushed himself upright. “You tell me Ripper was real, that I made it real, however false the costume was to start. But then you mock the tweed... Which, I'll admit, was not my most... daring fashion choice.” He attempted a grin, then got serious again. “But I put more work into it than I ever did anything else in my life. You mock my calling, Ethan. My sacred duty.”

“Sacred to who, or what? Your Council of old men?”

“To life. To... protect all life. It isn't flashy, it doesn't come with miraculous powers or prayers to turn the world upside down, but it is sacred, just the same.” He stared at Ethan, and this time it was not Giles who dropped his gaze. “I can wear leather... It's the closest thing to armour I can afford. A sword is still a useful tool, knives even more so. And I use magic... When I have to. If that makes me Ripper... I can live with that. But I am still a Watcher. Not in a suit, tweed or otherwise. In my blood. It's what I'll always be.”

“Watchers stand by and take notes, wait for their one girl to save them, while the world keeps going to hell just the same as always.” Ethan looked at him. “You're more than that. You always have been.”

Giles looked away. “Watchers always have been... The best of us, anyway.” He stood up, carefully, then went over to the table. “And as for going to hell... You always seemed eager to hurry it along.” He picked up the sword, again feeling the sting and the rush as the magic filled it. He held it up straight as the strength of it filled him. “I will give my life to prevent it.” He smiled, then turned and very carefully slid on the sheath. Somewhat to his surprise, it stayed in one piece, so he put them in the bag that way.

As he let go of the hilt again, exhaustion hit him quicker and harder than before. He sagged back on the bed and missed Ethan's first reply.

“Ripper? Rupert? Are you all right?”

“Possibly not,” Giles replied absently. Things went a little fuzzy for a moment, and he reached up to take his glasses off to clean them. Then he saw the line of dark red in his hand. Couldn't get that on them. He wiped it on his shirt, which stung rather. He reached for his glasses again, then decided to just lean back a moment.

“Come on, Ripper, it wasn't all that much of a spell... You've done more. Several times a night.”

“When I was twenty, maybe. At fifty... it takes a little longer to recover.” He was well aware of the entendre, and quite expected one of Ethan's smart remarks. What he got instead was Ethan looking actually concerned. That worried him rather. He must look rough.

Ethan looked away and paced.

Giles sighed. “I'm in no shape for this. I had a desk job. I've been pushing paper around all year.” He grimaced. “And the paper won.”

“You're the only one here, Ripper.” Ethan's voice again held that edge of desperation.

Giles sat up straight, and when that didn't make things hazy he stood. He went over and, unthinking, reached out to put a hand on Ethan's shoulder.

It went straight through, of course, with an odd combination of chill tingles and warmth from his cut.

But Ethan stilled and looked steadier.

“I'm not walking away from this,” Rupert assured him.

Ethan nodded, took a deep breath and let his arms uncross.

“I don't know where to go next,” Giles added with some frustrated irony, “But I'm not walking away.”

“That my cue again?” Ethan sighed. He looked very much less than pleased at the prospect.

“Right now we haven't even a hint. If you can get so much as a glimpse... I know it's dangerous, but...”

“...It's my neck on the line either way. Yes.” Ethan visibly pulled himself together, standing straighter and assuming a strained sort of smirk. “Right. One snapshot... I'll be right back.”

He faded out, and Giles found himself holding his breath. But he could let it out again almost immediately as the ghost returned at once.

“Somewhere dark... A corridor I think. And he's surrounded by women. Probably why he didn't notice me.”

“Wonderful. Well that really narrows it down.”

Ethan still looked distant, concentrating. “They looked familiar. They all looked familiar. I can't have shagged all of them before, I'd surely remember...” He paused, and something on the table caught his eye. “Oh bloody hell... Costumes. They were all wearing...”

Giles turned and grabbed the leaflet, the one for the adult revue, 'Bite'. He unfolded it quickly.

“He wouldn't... Would he? It would be so... So obvious!” Ethan complained.

Giles held the leaflet up, now a mini poster. Ethan's face fell.

“He didn't?” Giles asked.

“He really did. He's backstage at the vampire stripper show.”

Giles turned and grabbed the shoulder bag, scanned the room quickly and grabbed whatever else looked remotely helpful.

“Make the costumes flesh and blood... Of course...”

“So bloody trite! Practically a rerun!” Ethan complained.

Giles pulled his new watch from the shopping bag and checked the leaflet again.

“Ten thirty... Damn it, they're nearly starting.”

“Don't worry. He'll wait for his audience.”

“But will they?” Giles gestured at the girls. He checked the room one last time, then headed for the door.

Ethan swore, and followed him.

*** *** ***

Getting in was ridiculously easy. Giles kept his cut hand in his pocket, and his jacket pushed closed. Blood didn't show up too badly on the dark green shirt anyway. But the sword stuck out of his bag, and even if it did look like a cheap souvenir Giles had expected to have to make some excuse for it. But the man selling tickets merely looked bored, took his cash, and told him to have a nice day.

Any hopes he had for help from hotel security evaporated about then.

When he got inside the lighting was dim enough that once again the ghost beside him glowed faintly, as if spotlit. Up on the stage the dancers gyrated to some rock track Giles didn't bother to identify. One glance showed him the vampire Ethan was not among them.

“I'll find it,” the ghost promised, then faded again.

This time Giles saw him fade in again across the room, next to a table half full of seated men.

One of them wore red. Giles moved back along the wall, and recognised the profile.

The vampire lifted his head and sniffed.

Giles curled his cut hand to a fist, well aware that wouldn't help against a vampire's sense of smell. He pulled a stake out of the bag with his right hand, and started to cross the room.

The ghost pointed urgently at the stage, and Giles turned to see some of the dancers descending from the stage. He brought his stake up and backed away.

“Vampire hunter! Cool!” A slurred voice from beside him called out loudly. “Hey, buddy, got a spare? I'd like to stake one of them myself. You know?” The drunk laughed heartily at his own joke.

Giles swore quietly, and turned to shush him.

Sat beside him at the table was a tall blonde woman, quite stunningly attractive.

Until her face changed.

“What the hell...?” The drunk lurched back, knocking Giles aside.

The blonde stood, and darted across between tables to Ethan.

The other vampire stood up, and grinned. He mouthed something, then took the blonde by the arm and strolled up to the nearest dancer.

The ghost reappeared beside him, and reported grimly what he'd said. “Showtime.”

Giles turned, and tried to get through the crowd.

A dancer grabbed his arm, and he whirled, stake raised.

She let go of him immediately and shrank back, shrieking. He could see her fangs – tidy and pointed, the classic costume shop set. He swore again and ignored her, pushing forwards.

The blonde vampire had her dancer pulled tight to her, face buried in her neck. The men at the table nearest to her urged her on, hooting happily.

Until she dropped the corpse between them as a centerpiece. Then the more sober of them started to look ill.

The most drunk reached out to paw at the dead girl.

Giles tried to ignore them and get to the stage.

A man at the next table caught his arm. “What's going on? Did they change the show? I didn't miss a rehearsal. Oh god, did I miss a rehearsal?”

“They're vampires you pillock – the real thing. Get out of my way!”

But now the man looked stony, and stood up, convinced he was talking to a madman.

Giles punched him in the jaw and moved on before he could recover.

The next dancer to reach him wasn't wearing false teeth. “What's the hurry?” she leered, posing provocatively and reaching for him.

He raised the stake, then hesitated. She could just be...

Hungry anticipation filled her, and her face changed to the feeding mask. She was dust before her fangs fully descended.

Now some people started screaming.

Ethan looked around, saw Ripper and the mounting chaos in his wake, and smiled happily.

Giles pushed forwards again, but men from the next table stood up and started arguing in his path. He dodged around, keeping his eyes on Ethan.

The vampire reached the stage, and unhurriedly climbed up.

There were two dancers there, now draped around a man in a sleeveless leather coat. They looked like the cover of one of Andrew's comic books, all curves and bits of string. Giles would have said they had about as much to do with real vampires as they did with leprechauns. But now they raised their faces from his chest, and whatever beauty they'd had was lost. Yellow eyed monsters, they stepped away from the bemused 'Vampire Lord' to greet Ethan.

He kissed them both, then went to meet the man at center stage.

Giles broke through to the front of the stage, stake held ready. The two dancers came forward to meet him, jumped down and circled. He pulled a second stake from the bag and circled to keep them both in view.

So he didn't see the blonde, come up behind him through the crowd. She pushed him forwards, tripped him, left him sprawled on the floor.

The other two turned him over, got a grip on his arms and pulled him until he could see the stage.

Ethan stood at the front edge, his arm around the shoulder of the other man. He was pushing back, trying to break the grip, but with only human strength not getting anywhere.

Giles struggled, tried to kick, but the blonde dropped down across his legs and lounged there.

Ethan, on stage, smiled darkly. He moved around behind the other man, wrapped his arm now around his chest, and ran a hand up his well muscled arm. He turned to look him over, taking in the chiseled features, then bent his head to the man's neck and licked.

Behind him on the stage the ghost appeared, looking furious. The rock music overwhelmed most voices, but Giles heard Ethan clearly.

“Not like this, you stupid bastard!”

He reached forwards, knowing it was futile, and tried to grab the vampire.

There was a flash of light, and the ghost staggered back with a muffled scream. He faded away again.

The vampire raised his head and grinned triumphantly, then changed to his feeding face, and bit down.

Giles struggled against the three women, having momentary flashbacks to Dracula's lair. But this was worse. He watched the man on stage be drained and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Then the vampire stopped, raised his wrist, slit it with one thumbnail, and gave it to the man to drink.

“No!” Ethan called out from beside him. Giles saw him stagger forwards, one hand clutching the arm he'd grabbed with. The sleeve looked ragged, and the man more faded than before.

On the stage the actor dropped, probably dead, and waiting now to rise again.

Giles pushed furiously at the vampires holding him. He'd lost the stake on his left, made slippery as it was by the wound there. Now the vampire on that side raised his hand, still leaking blood, and licked along the palm. The blonde on his legs ran one hand up to cup him, and the girl on his right played with his chest. Another dancer was coming towards them, bottle of vodka in her hand.

He shuddered, and tried to call his magic to him. There wasn't much left to call.

Then the dark skinned woman with the drink raised the bottle and broke it around a vampire's head. Soaked in alcohol, she staggered back, letting go of him.

“Light it!” Giles yelled at his rescuer, but she didn't need telling. Already the vamp was going up in smoke, though she made it far enough between tables to spread the flames first.

Left hand suddenly free, Giles grabbed for his bag, and the sword hilt there. Magic met him in a rush, and the glittering power of the blessing in it. He pulled it free and had the blonde vamp dusted in one smooth movement. The vamp on his right reared backwards and turned to run, but Giles cut the legs out from under her. Grotesque, but effective. He rolled up onto his knees and finished her, trying to ignore the screams.

Now the auditorium was emptying, fast. The other dancers were gone, dust or running, he didn't know. The fire was spreading, and the smoke reached the alarms. Suddenly he was trying to see through rain, as the sprinkler system kicked in.

“This way!” one of the Ethans called, and Giles followed him. Up the stage steps and across to the darkness backstage.

*** *** ***

Somebody cut the music. The piercing wail of the fire alarm continued, and the distant sounds of panic. They faded as Giles worked his way further back, until the alarm sounded alone.

The darkness never quite became total. There was a fire exit backstage, as well as a dimly outlined door that presumably led deeper into the performer's territory. Giles hesitated a moment, then his Ethan appeared, glowing in the darkness. He wasn't near the way out. So, back through the dark Giles went.

He kicked the door open and swung through, though the ghost shook his head and beckoned he should hurry. This kind of hunt had never been one of Ethan's skills, but he'd never been lacking when it came time to hide. The vampire would have the same devious strengths.

There were props back here, and costumes, cast off bits of this and that. Some were thrown hastily at railings. Others were in boxes, stacked against the wall. It was a hunter's nightmare, full of camouflage for even a flamboyant man.

Giles edged forwards slowly, stretching out his senses, trying to get some warning.

Ethan's ghost was impatient, off at the end of the corridor. Giles followed slowly. Now was no time to rush in. The sprinklers were on back here as well, and the floor was slippery.

Ethan looked at him, frustrated, and called quietly, “Come on!”

Then the vampire stepped out beside the ghost and threw a punch.

Ethan looked purely shocked when it connected, with another flash of light.

He was thrown back through the wall, gasping in pain.

Giles advanced quicker, sword held ready before him, right hand now holding the bat stake. He readied it despite the likelihood of armour. Ethan's might not be the only vampire back here.

The vampire stood there waiting for him, then dashed off around the corner when he reached striking distance. The sword sang through the space it had just vacated, and Giles swore again. “Vampire! I thought you wanted to see me!” he called out. “I thought I had an invitation!”

“Oh, you have. You are very welcome to stay.” The voice, familiar but for a slight hiss the fangs caused, came from just around the corner.

Giles paused, drew himself up ready, then stepped around, scanning the new area.

He got a brief glimpse of boxes before he had to block the pike falling towards him. Sword swung up in reflex, knocked it aside easily. Then he had to jump back to dodge the pile of props that followed it. In the corridor again, waiting as things thudded to the floor, then cautiously sticking his head around the corner.

The demon smiled, golden eyes reflective like a cat's in the dark. Then he vanished between the careful stacks of a store room.

Giles stepped carefully over the random junk, and followed it.

There was smoke in here too, somehow, and so there was a steady stream of water from the ceiling. The sprinklers and his glasses interacted badly. It finally reached the point where he had to admit he'd see better without them. He pulled them off and dropped them in his bag, now reduced to looking for movement, details blurred to shadows.

There was plenty of movement, even though the vampire was still not in sight. Bits of costume sagged under the weight of water and slithered off the shelves. Random bits of scenery glittered and shone, and a unicycle's one wheel turned slowly, as if just bumped on the way past. Alternating light and shadow fell as scarce fluorescent strips were blocked by intervening shelves. Splashes of red showed up on every shelf, and there was gold everywhere, sequins or stars, glittering and keeping him on edge in expectation of eyes. Every time he brought the sword around, the blade singing quietly as the indoor rain hit it. He was ever more aware of the magic within it, of what it was meant for. He found himself wanting to cut his way through this costume forest.

A barely heard rattle alerted him, and he looked down to see ball bearings on the floor. Little silver spheres, still rolling out from the gap to the next aisle. Giles wanted to hurry, but instead he had to skate his feet along the floor, watching his footing carefully.

So he didn't see the boxes fall.

The first he knew was when the weight of them hit his back, shoulders, and arm. They knocked him flat. The bag full of stakes ended up somewhere beneath the junk. Worse, the sword was knocked from his hand. It skittered off, under the shelving, just out of reach.

And now the exhaustion hit him with a weight worse than a box. It dragged him down and greyed out the edges of his vision. He gasped, and tried to struggle, but he couldn't get the energy to move. His eyes unwillingly sank closed.

“Ah, Ripper. Such a disappointment. But I suppose pride goeth before a fall, and all that.” The voice was several feet away, but getting closer. Slowly. There were little noises on the way, as of metal being carefully kicked aside.

“You should know,” Ethan spoke again. “Just look at you. I thought we'd learned already – it's always trouble if we stay and gloat.”

“Can't run out before the job is done. You know very well, I'm not done with him yet. I'll never be done with Ripper.”

Now Ethan was conversing with himself, and Giles, fighting total fatigue, tried to get his eyes open to make sense of it.

“He and I will turn this world red. We'll make of it a bloody ruin.”

“Oh, of course. You'll be the terror of the nations. The nightmare nasty. The baddest bad guy that ever tried badness.” Ethan's mockery was filled with contempt.

The other answered, stung despite himself. “You, of all people, think to mock that? You know what I can be.”

“Oh, yes. A vampire. Very frightening.”

“I could tear you to shreds, little spectre. I will, when Ripper wakes up to see it.”

Giles had his eyes half open, but hastily narrowed them to slits, before the vampire turned back to look.

“I know he said he tended to get knocked on the head a lot... But it's very inconvenient.” The vampire grumbled, and nudged at him with one foot. Getting no reaction, he bent down and pulled the stake from his hand. Giles couldn't muster the strength for even token resistance, much less a surprise attack.

He heard a distant clatter as the bat struck the floor somewhere. Then the boxes, one by one, went the same way.

Now nothing weighed Giles down except the draining effect of the sword's loss. Unfortunately, that was entirely enough. He tried to reach for the blade, but he could barely even twitch.

The vampire moved again, going to crouch beside him.

“It is a bit pathetic.” Ethan's voice again, and for a moment Giles thought it must be the vampire, though the agreement in the tone seemed strange. Then the ghost moved into view, and kept on talking. “But not half as pathetic as what's left of me.”

The vampire, frowning, stood again and turned to face the taunting spirit.

Giles breathed deep and even, and started to use every trick he knew to draw on his energy reserves, such as they were by now.

“There's nothing pathetic about it. I could destroy the world without him, if I wanted. But with him... Watching him, as he tears out the throats of every ageing suit or little green man...”

“Making him the kind of monster who'll tear throats. You think that will really be him?”

“Everything he hates, set free at last.”

“And all the rest thrown out. You may as well shack up with any vampire – with that primped up goth boy on the stage out there. They'll be just as much a monster when they wake.”

“Ripper's a better monster than any of them, even now.”

“Yeah, right now, he is. But not if you go killing him.”

“I'll make him immortal!”

“You'll make him a cheap copy of himself. An empty mask. Just like you.”

“Like hell. I am Ethan Rayne.”

“You're Hostile Two Oh Eight. You're what they were looking for in there. They finally stripped away so much they found it. Tell me, what does it feel like, knowing that they made you?”

“Satisfyingly ironic, thank you. They made the very thing they feared, then died by it. Every last one of them will die – even if they weren't there when the base went up. I had time to look around. I've got their records. They really were working for the Council, you know.”

“With them. Apparently they disagreed about who was in charge.”

“Says your Watcher friend? What else did he say? Did he tell you why they did it?”

“Something about a fyarl, remember?”

“Not that – the vampire. The final test. Did he tell you why it was then?”

There was a pause. Giles wasn't sure which one it was spoke next.

“Because they needed the space. Because the Council is off hunting monsters, and the bloody US Army needed boxes to put them in.”

Giles felt suddenly sick. He bit his lip, and tried to concentrate on moving again. This time his arm started to stretch, out towards the sword, where it was wedged.

“So the little green men and the white coats were promised new toys. Decided you weren't worth the space.”

“You weren't. I am something better.”

“No, you're really not. You're just an evil thing.”

Now the vampire was incredulous. “Since when do we have any room to criticise on that basis? For that matter, since when do you even draw that line?”

“Since what moved into you stays so firmly on one side of it. You don't get it, do you? What you've lost?”

“All my inhibitions... Surprise though it is that I had any left.”

“You lost your choices, vampire. You lost your spark. Whatever claim we ever had to brilliance, innovation, creativity...”

“Oh I've still got it, never fear. Six billion people on this planet. I'll find a different, and creative, end for each of them.”

Giles had his arm out at full stretch, and still the sword was just out of reach. He'd have to move the rest of him. He gathered his strength for the task.

“Yes. You'll end them all,” the ghost mocked. “Do you even hear yourself? Since when are we about endings?”

“Every end will be a new beginning. They'll be reborn. I'll change them all.”

“And all into the same thing. One giant heap of carrion, and all becoming vampires. Nasty little puppets of the dark.”

“Carrion was a problem for you, if I recall. Another thing I've lost, my squeamishness.” The vampire laughed. “Give it up, ghost. I know what this is about. Envy.”

“You think I'm jealous?” Now it was the ghost's turn to laugh.

“I'll do what you never could manage. I'll change the world, forever.”

The ghost still laughed, and the vampire got increasingly annoyed.

“Do you really think I can't?”

“Oh, I know you can. Blood and darkness and all that. You're a pretty, efficient, little evil puppet.”

“I'm nobody's puppet! I do this only because I can.”

“You do it because you can't not. It is instinct, little puppet, little dupe. It is the blood it gave you, making all the decisions. You think I'm jealous? I pity you. The moment you understand, you're going to envy me with every last drop of your being. You know why? Because I was better than you.”

“Oh yes, you were practically a saint,” the vampire mocked in return. “I've no interest in sainthood any more.”

“But much interest in the reverse. To exemplify evil, to be the thing the darkness looks down to. But you never will be. You'll always be in my shadow.”

“You were nothing. You were human! You pulled back before you ever did any real damage.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

Giles edged forwards, just an inch, then froze as something scraped, frantically hoping the vampire hadn't noticed.

The ghost was louder now, not shouting, more orating as from a stage.

“That's what makes it meaningful, you see. I could have chosen anything, been anyone, changed my mind at any time. Every time I chose the darkness, it was because I wanted it.”

“You think I don't?”

“I know it. You haven't got that in you any more. You don't even remember what it was like to care. Not about anything, not even this world conquest. You think you've got the fire, but you're just ashes that haven't stopped moving yet. I'm the spirit of Ethan Rayne. I'm the passion. I'm even the hate. You think you can still feel that, without love? Shadows without light. Doesn't work.”

“Love? Is that what this is about? Bloody hell, you're trying to save Ripper. A bit late for that turn around, don't you think?”

Now the vampire turned again, back at Rupert's side. He used his foot to roll him over, and Giles went with it, getting that bit closer to the sword.

“Save him? When he put us in that cell? When I spent years hating him?”

“Trying to hate. You never quite got it pure. Don't worry though, I've managed.” The vampire crouched down, eyes gold and glittering. It brushed one clawed hand over Rupert's chest. He tried not to shudder.

“You're an empty echo. You'll never have your freedom. You'll never be free of me! Every other demon will laugh at you, because they know, you'll never be the kind of bastard I was!”

The vampire grinned, looked back at the ghost.

Giles hitched himself up, just that tiny bit more, and his fingers brushed against the sword hilt.

“Maybe not,” the vampire conceded. “But I will never be alone.”

With that, it turned, and saw Giles reaching for the blade. Its eyes widened, and it reached up for his throat.

Then it reared back, coming to its feet in surprise.

Ethan, the ghost, had put his hands over the vampire's eyes, reaching right through its head to claw at them. And now both of them were burning, whatever spell the demon found to armour itself flaring around them.

The twin screams of agony gave Giles that last jolt. He reached up, closed his hand around the sword hilt, and rolled to his feet.

The vampire lurched away from the ghost, light crackling around them, and got free just in time to look, wide eyed, as Ripper swung the sword.

His head did not fall. It didn't have the time. The ashes formed, as with a shriek to match the alarms, the demon was forced out of the borrowed flesh, and the vampire was dust. It fell, dark rain, mixing with the water.

Giles was left facing Ethan, both wide eyed and panting.

“Ripper,” Ethan said softly, everything showing in his eyes.

“Ethan,” he replied, and went to him, sword trailing and right arm reaching out for him.

But the ghost faded away.

Giles dropped to his knees. “Ethan?” he asked. “Ethan Rayne.” He drew a breath, and tried to remember the summoning ritual. Any ritual. All that came to mind was, “Ethan! Please!”

Nothing happened.

Rupert's shoulders shook. Water poured over his face, over the floor, where the ashes already washed away.

He dropped the sword.

Then he fell forwards, and let the darkness take him.




*** *** ***

Part 7/7 here

Comments

and leaving it there for the day... *evil grin*

[beccaelizabeth]

like it?

Re: and leaving it there for the day... *evil grin*

[melannen.livejournal.com]

Evil!

Why didn't I listen to my better nature and wait until the whole thing was up? *Wails*

Re: and leaving it there for the day... *evil grin*

[beccaelizabeth]

*evil LOL*

Re: and leaving it there for the day... *evil grin*

[beccaelizabeth]

last part is up now
http://beccaelizabeth.livejournal.com/774835.html

[anne_d]

Auuugh! Want the rest of the story!

I'm going to have to read it all over, when it's all posted.

[beccaelizabeth]

:-)
you can read it over again if you want, but last part is up now
http://beccaelizabeth.livejournal.com/774835.html

[anne_d]

If something is really good, I read it fast and then go back and reread it slowly.

If it isn't good, I read fast, and sometimes read the ending and give up.

Yours is really, really good, so I'm going to read the whole thing over again and savor it.

*Goes off to read last part*

[beccaelizabeth]

:-) :-) :-)