Hello!

Here's the next chapter of Rebel Waltz! I just want to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far- the feedback is very gratifying and motivational! The story is moving along a little bit here, and there's probably either two or three chapters left at this point. This chapter starts to hit on some of the Buffy/Giles elements I promised. There's also a little bit of Ethan in here, for which we can all thank Rippertish - I was reading something over for her earlier today and for some reason it gave me the Ethan bug. ;)

Disclaimer: Still in effect. Haven't inherited any magical Buffy-owning powers in the past week or two. That's Entertainment is a song by The Jam, from the album 'Sound Affects' released in November 1980.

Rebel Waltz
Chapter 3: That's Entertainment

London and surrounding areas, September 1980

Archie was a collector, in many ways. He could be obsessively single minded about certain luxuries, his attention to detail and relentless interest resulting in some spectacular acquisitions. Rare books, fine cigars, single-malts that were to die for, and a stunning collection of British motorcycles which spanned over five decades. All of these were things that Rupert was learning to appreciate. Well, maybe not so much the cigars. They reminded him too much of his father. The motorcycles, however, had come to be of particular interest to him.

He remembered the first time that Archie had allowed him to ride one of the classic motorbikes. He wasn't allowed to touch anything from a decade earlier than the 1950's, but there were still some fine examples. The rush of the wind in his ears as he rocketed through the countryside had drowned out every shred of anguish and apprehension that lingered at the edge of Rupert's mind, replacing it with simple exhilaration and a feeling of connection to the elements around him. Ever since that day, riding the motorcycles had served as a special form of therapy for the young Giles. Whenever the walls were closing in on him or his past was weighing on his mind, he would ask Archie if he could take out one of the bikes.

On this occasion he found himself zooming down the motorway on a 1959 Triumph Bonneville, watching the familiar sights of London give way to the sprawl of the urban industrial outskirts and gradually fading into countryside. In spite of the fact that helmets were mandated by law, Rupert preferred riding without one. It wasn't that he liked the danger, or had a death wish, or wanted to be rebellious- it was simply because of the feeling of absolute freedom it brought to the experience. He wore an old pair of RAF sunglasses to protect his eyes. It was unseasonably warm for the middle of September; he was dressed in jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a slightly weathered pair of Doctor Martens boots.

Winding his way into open countryside, Rupert let the environment surround him. The resistance of the air against his body made the wind itself feel so tangible you could almost reach out and grab it. The earth and the sky were close at hand, and he could smell the grass and the dirt and the crispness of last night's rain. The sensation of awareness that Rupert had while riding a motorbike was the closest thing he knew to the feeling of magic coursing through his veins, but without the mind crippling side effects. Speeding down country lanes with the sun on his face, his mind was totally clear. And for that moment, he really was free- free of his past, of his worries for the future, free from everyday concerns.

When he returned to London that day, smiling somewhat grimly into the setting sun as he rode along, that was when he knew that he could do it. That he had survived the terrors of his past, and there would be more to his life. And when he returned the keys to Archie, the older man simply gave him a knowing look and a tumbler of Scotch, silently noting the aura of renewal with a raised eyebrow.

"Rupert, the next round of Council exams are coming up end of next month. Don't you think it's about time you sat the entrance test?"

The younger man's green eyes widened, suddenly realizing what the Scotch was for. He took a larger than average gulp, considering his mentor's question. The dreaded Council entrance exam, if passed, conferred official status as a Watcher. He hadn't thought about it more than once or twice in the eight months since he had joined up with Archie, hadn't even known if that was what he wanted. Therefore, Rupert was especially surprised at the lack of dread he felt as he mulled over the idea. Which could only mean one thing…

He was ready.

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London, Spring/Autumn/Winter 1980

He was sometimes haunted at night by dreams of a life that didn't seem to be quite his own. He felt as himself, but the faces and places were not familiar. There was always a sense of urgency, of impending threat, and he would wake in a cold sweat with adrenaline pumping through his veins. The first dream had come seemingly out of nowhere in the early spring, taking Rupert by surprise with its intensity and the way the images twisted something down deep in his core.

The dreams were usually of himself and three others, a boy and two girls. He felt as though he should know them, but when he woke he could never recall their names or the exact details of their faces. The four of them together were like Charlie's Angels, or some type of collect-them-all action set. He himself was the brunette of the group, whereas the boy had even darker hair than himself. One of the girls was a redhead, and the other a petite blonde. They always seemed to be fighting against some evil, with the fierce little blonde at the center of it all.

She was the one who affected Rupert the most. The things that he felt toward her in the dreams were obviously strong, but his emotions seemed confused. In his waking hours after the relatively rare dream occurrences, he wondered what it all meant. The images he recalled made him quite certain that this young blonde girl from his dreams was in fact the Slayer. But what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real- the active Slayer was said to be Japanese, and was by all accounts currently operating in Moscow.

Rupert worried a bit about the ramifications of what was going on in his subconscious. Fearful even of Archie's reaction, he told no one about the dreams. Surely the Council would think him possessed, demented, or possibly conclude that he was having prophecy dreams. Now there was a thought- what if the things he was seeing were the future- his future? This thought would strike him most often just after waking, as his lungs gasped for air and he struggled to regain his foothold in reality.

He tried to let the events of his daily life wipe away the thrilling intoxication of those potent dreams, but could never quite manage to erase the impressions of the girl from his mind- or forget the tantalizing terror that clenched his guts as they faced the myriad nightmare dangers together, always together…

On one or two occasions, the dreams became blatantly erotic. The other two companions would fade away, leaving only her. The time and place were outside of his knowledge, the point in their relationship indeterminate. All he could tell was that one minute they would be talking normally- just like any other day- and the next they would be devouring each other hungrily, lips and tongues melting desperately against each other and hands struggling aggressively for purchase on bare skin. When he awakened he could still feel the silk of her golden hair slipping between his fingers, the ghost of her lips burning a lingering trail along his neck and down his chest.

The images were burnt onto the back of Rupert's eyelids, just waiting to be replayed whenever he shut his eyes. And he knew with a frightful certainty that if he ever actually met her, he would be lost.

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Hackney, London, 31 October 1980

It was bound to happen eventually. The fact that it was Halloween was oddly appropriate, but not particularly significant. In actuality, Rupert was surprised it had been this long. Some people, after all, have a way of turning up like a bad penny. Ethan Rayne was about the worst sort of penny imaginable…

Still, the lack of surprise didn't remove the sting from the encounter.

There had, apparently, been an unusual number of magical incidents in the vicinity of Hackney Central over the past several weeks. Unusual physical manifestations, mysterious blue fires, and a spike in the rate of hospitalization due to psychological trauma. This combination of circumstances certainly suggested a magical catalyst of some sort, and the Council had decided to investigate discreetly. Little did Rupert realize how thoroughly he would rue the day he agreed to take on the assignment, which was meant to consist of simple reconnaissance. Unfortunately for Rupert, things went from 'observe and report' to 'oh bollocks' in about three seconds flat.

He could sense the magic in the area. It was a prickly presence, dark and familiar. Rupert didn't realize just how familiar until he saw the unearthly glow of two dark eyeballs glinting out at him from the recesses of the alleyway. He watched, spellbound, as the wraithlike figure approached. It floated towards him, pushing smoothly away from the dingy alley wall and stepping partially into the reflected light of the street lamp. Face half in shadow, the apparition smirked. "Hello, Ripper."

Rupert said nothing, narrowing his eyes and taking an unconsciously defensive stance. Ethan stepped more fully into the light. He fairly reeked of dark magic. Blood, smoke, pungent herbs, and alcohol. The dark circles under his eyes were a sad mockery of the nasty smile he wore. "What's the matter, mate? Not happy to see me?"

"Ethan. What are you doing here?" Rupert crossed his arms over his chest, regarding his former friend with cold suspicion.

A nasty chuckle erupted from Ethan's throat. "I should think that would be obvious to you of all people, Ripper. After all, why else would you be here? Unless…" The dark haired sorcerer circled Rupert warily, skulking like a cat and studying him with a piercing intensity. "Jesus, Rupert. Don't tell me you've actually gone back to them!"

In a movement that was surprisingly swift, Ethan found himself pinned up against the side of the building with Rupert's forearm pressed across his throat. "Whatever you're up to, Ethan, it stops here and it stops now. I'm not going to say it twice. You have no right to use people's minds as your playthings."

The shorter man gulped for air, still smiling defiantly. "Why not? After all, that's entertainment. Fun is fun. You used to understand that."

Rupert ground Ethan into the wall one more time before pushing away from him, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop limply to his side. "Because it's wrong, Ethan. Just as wrong as what we did to Randall..."

Ethan interrupted. "You have, haven't you? I can't believe it. You're back with the Council, and you think I'm bad? They'll chew you up and spit you out, mate. They'll use you and they'll break you. I can't wait for the day when you come crawling back to me just begging for a little taste of magic to help put you back together again-"

A small noise erupted from Ethan as Rupert's fist connected with his jaw.

"That's never going to happen. Now clear out before I decide to send a field team over here. If I hear of any more unusual activity in this area, Ethan, I won't hesitate to do so."

Holding his jaw with one hand, Ethan Rayne braced himself against the alleyway wall with the other. "Ripper, mate, take my advice and get out while you can. I've looked into your future, remember? One of the many spells you didn't want me to do? That way lies the path of pain. As your friend, I really must protest-"

Rupert spun around, bringing his face close and looking into Ethan's power-drunk eyes. "You are not my friend." He held his gaze for a few moments before spinning on his heel and walking rapidly away from the scene.

Smirking somewhat brokenly due to his rather sore jaw, Ethan Rayne watched his one-time friend's retreating form, eyes boring into Rupert's back as if trying to burn a message there. He spoke to the empty air. "You'll be sorry, old boy. If you thought I could destroy you, just wait until you meet her…"

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Wow, good day for Giles, huh? He got to punch Ethan and kiss Buffy in this chapter, even though that was only a dream… right? Hmm, I wonder! That would be telling, though, wouldn't it? Please review and let me know what you think, or if you have any theories about what else is going to happen! :)