Chapter Six
'Shall I divine your next move?'
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AN: A little stylistic change for this chapter.
The strands of Fate are woven through time and space. She weaves her grand tapestry to a design nobody knows, not even to the best of Farseers, who at best can only see a minute part of her grand tapestry.
But even a minute overview can still tell a lot, especially to the best of Farseers.
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Behold a strand of time where the Mon-keigh spirit girl races towards her trusted Librarian, hopeful that he might have answers where she has none. Unfortunately for her just bad news and lots of questions awaits.
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Back at the library Giles was busy re-indexing the library card catalog. It was a job that he had long put off on the account of, well, the usual Sunnydale hijinks always happening, but it was also a job that he felt was long overdue. And since Halloween was the quietest time of the year this offered an excellent opportunity too good to miss.
He was so engrossed in his cataloguing that he didn't notice the screaming and the sirens going on outside in the distance. It was only when a wailing police car passed by real close to the Library that he finally noticed. Then, before he could get up and look to see what was going on Willow entered the library.
Running through the walls that is.
"Jeez!" Giles exclaimed loudly as he jumped up and spilled a stack of cards all over the place. There went at least an hour's worth of work.
"Hi," Willow said sheepishly as she came to a stop in front of his desk. She then proceeded to tell him what had happened. And what was happening outside. Which of course led to the only possible follow up. Him reaching for stacks and stacks of old books, placing them in front of her, then he went inside the cage to get even more books and papers. The even older ones.
After some searching Giles found what he was looking for, a stack of really old papers in the back, covered in dust. Blowing the dust off he emerged from the cage.
"I don't even know what I'm looking for," she said staring in dejection at the books in front of her, "plus I can't turn a single page."
"Well, alright, l-let's, let's, let's review," Giles said as he put the papers on the table, "Um, so everybody became, uh, whatever they were masquerading as?"
"Right," Willow nodded, "Xander was an Eldar Farseer and Buffy was an 18th-century girl."
"Right," Giles nodded, then he looked at Willow, "A-and, uh, your, your costume?"
"I'm a ghost!" she said like it was supposed to be obvious.
"Yes," Giles said somewhat incredulously, "Um... w, uh, uh, uh, the ghost of what, exactly?"
Seeing that Giles was referring to her general nakedness below and above her skirt Willow immediately covered up her midriff.
"Well, this is nothing," she said defensively, "You should see what Cordelia was wearing. A, a, a unitard with cat things, like ears and stuff. And heels!"
"Good heavens," Giles exclaimed horrified, "Uh, sh-sh-she became an actual feline?"
"No!," she said shaking her head, "She was the same old Cordelia. Just in a cat costume."
"So she didn't change?" Giles said surprised.
"No," Willow said, then her eyes lit up, "Hold on... Partytown. She told us she got her outfit from Partytown."
"A-a-and everyone who changed, they, they, they, they acquired their costumes where?" Giles asked.
"We all got ours at a new place. Ethan's!" Willow said, causing Giles' eyes to grow big as saucers, "Do you think there's a connection?"
"Maybe we should ask ourselves, how can there n-n-not be one?" Giles countered, then his eyes narrowed, "Ethan? Good God. Tell me, t-this Ethan, did he speak English?"
"Well, he wasn't from Mexico if that's what you're asking," Willow said a little puzzled, causing Giles to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.
"A-allow me to rephrase the, uh, um, question," Giles said, "Did he speak the Queens English or your miserable Colonial dialect?"
"He, uh, English English, like you do," Willow replied.
"That's it, w-we're going," Giles said and grabbed his coat, "Damn you, Ethan! What are you up too!"
"You know him?" Willow asked as Giles stormed out of the library and she gave chase.
"Unfortunately, yes," Giles said grim.
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In another strand of time the ensouled Mon-keigh daemon with a soul (the very idea alone!) had left the safety of the building he was in to come looking for the useless noble.
How foolish off him. Not the least reason of which was because his love for her would ultimately doom them both, cause his downfall and irreparably break her heart.
Then again love is a passion that the Eldar also share, feel extremely passionate about. So it is to be expected.
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"You sure this is a good idea?" Cordelia said for the umpteenth time as she tottered behind Angel as they both walked through the streets.
Of course Angel didn't respond. As he hadn't for the umpteenth times before. His mind was focused on only one thing.
Buffy!
From what he had gathered from Cordelia she had changed completely into an 18th century noblewoman. There was really nothing of Buffy Summers inside left. Which was swell. Really swell!
Out of all the costumes she could have picked she chose the most useless one. What the hell was she thinking?
Still, it could have been worse, he thought with a shudder. At least she was still human.
Pausing momentarily Angel tried to get a bearing of where she had gone, a smell, anything.
Which was hard because with the magic change her smell had also changed. She might as just as well been a completely different person physically altogether. On the plus side though, personal hygiene had been almost completely negligent in the 18th century, with even nobles stinking up to high heaven like the lowest commoner. That's why they preferred to douse themselves in strong perfumes.
Back at Buffy's home he hadn't gotten a chance to smell Buffy as she was now. But there had been a lingering smell of perfume. A perfume he hadn't smelled for more then two centuries. This faint smell was now his only clue looking for Buffy.
And Xander as well.
Normally he would be worried that his rival in regards to Buffy had gone off with her. Of course he was never much of a rival to begin with. That much had already been established long ago.
Which in a way was bad because Xander was a good kid who deserved better. And he did save Buffy's life after the Master had tried to kill her.
No, Xander the rival was no worry.
Xander the alien however…..
From what little he could gather from Cordelia Xander had become some alien warrior, giving her, as she said it, the creeps? With also a penchant for giving orders and playing with alien dice. Wicked with the sword though. So she was probably safe in his company from others.
The thing is though, why would an alien warrior want to drag the most useless human in Sunnydale right now along? Why burden himself with her? Unless he had some nefarious purpose? With her….
Especially since he strongly doubted it had to be because somehow Xander's puppy love had carried over into this new character what if it really was something more nefarious?
No, he had to find Buffy, just to be safe.
Meanwhile as he tried to get a bearing behind him Cordelia came to a stop.
"Can you at least wait a minute so I can take these shoes off? These heels are killing me!"
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Behold another strand, of the Mon-keigh turned mutant, Drusilla, a mild psyker by the standards of the 41st millennium. But for a human she has reasonable powers of prophetic abilities. Nothing like an Eldar Farseer, who can see many strands of time and is both cursed and blessed with the ability to select which strand to take for the most favorable outcome.
No, this particular mutant can only see forward down a single strand. She can see what will happen and she can chose to act upon that. Or not. But she cannot fully see what the consequences of her actions will be. It's a flawed form of vision and the only one that human psykers seem capable off. It's what probably leads them down the many ruinous paths that they take.
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Sitting by a table Drusilla was playing with her tarot cards. For now the voices were strangely silent, even Miss Edith gone. This was not something that Drusilla had grown to like. The voices were her friends, her constant companions. Them suddenly being absent was like sudden silence after having heard a symphony orchestra for most of your life. Extremely disconcerting to most people and especially to the likes of Drusilla, who was already quite mad as a hatter to begin with.
With Spike gone outside and his remaining minions generally both fearful and avoidant of Drusilla she sought comfort in her tarot cards. Maybe they could tell her what the voices were now unwilling to tell her.
Having shuffled her deck Drusilla began to draw seven cards and put them on the table in a semi-circle. Putting away the rest of her deck she turned over the first card
The Queen of Wands, representing the past.
The queen has charisma, passion, she draws others to her like moths to a flame.
The next card, representing the present, the Knight of Swords.
The knight represents a time of rapid change, also a person too smart for his own good. A person who likes to run his mouth off to too many people at once.
On to the next card representing influences, the Moon.
The moon represents visions and illusions, mental breakthroughs, creativity, powerful magic.
For a moment Drusilla halted and looked to the outside. Yes, even in here she could tell that something was going on outside. Something powerful. Like Miss Edith had foretold. Then she returned her attention to her cards and overturned the next one, representing obstacles.
Knight of Wands. Again a sign that things were changing, and changing rapidly.
Slowly she overturned her fifth card, the one representing expectations.
Ten of Swords. Murder. A time of ending. Of ideas, of mindsets, and sometimes people.
There were only two cards left, representing best course of action and likely outcomes. She overturned the sixth card.
The Lovers. A difficult card to interpret. Some said it was about what it said it was. About lovers, people in love, or at least one person in love, with someone or something.
There was also a different interpretation for the Lovers. About it being about choice. A choice that has to be made. Between two potential lovers. Or ideas.
Finally she came to the last card and turned it over.
The Hanged Man, hanging upside down from a tree by his foot. A card of many meanings. Some said it referred to traitors, who in ancient times were hung upside down by one foot. Another that it referred to a child, upside down in the womb, ready to be born yet still hanging by its umbilical cord. Comparisons were drawn to the myth of Odin who sacrificed himself for knowledge, hanging upside down from the World Tree for nine days.
This was a card about suspension though, not life or death. About one thing having ended and the next thing not yet having begun yet, about being stuck in a waiting room. Things will continue on in a moment, but for now they float, timelessly.
Looking at the cards Drusilla tried to make sense of it all. What were they trying to tell her?
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Yes, the Mon-keigh psyker did have strong predictive psychic abilities. To bad for her she could only see the strand that was ahead of her, not the many choices that her foreknowledge might take her.
Still, it didn't do to well to underestimate this limited human psychic ability. After all, it had served them well in the past to derail many a carefully laid out plan of the Eldar. Just because you could not see the many paths that an Eldar Farseer could take didn't mean you still couldn't see the path that a Farseer finally would take.
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Strand of time, Buffy's place, now deserted.
But not for long.
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CRASH!
As the brick came through the front window it was soon followed by three little monsters, followed by two more, who immediately began to ransack the place.
Standing outside Spike lit another cigarette and took a deep draught. From inside the house came various noises of stuff breaking but he ignored that. The Slayer, or whatever she was now wasn't here. He didn't have to go inside to know that. Of course that would have been kinda hard as he wasn't able to go inside without an invitation.
Luckily the minions, victims of whatever magic had struck this place, where under no such compunctions, as many of them weren't even monsters that really existed in this world, thus the normal paranormal rules that existed didn't even apply to them.
Was this night awesome or not?
Never in his entire life had he a seen a town gripped in the kind of mayhem that it currently was. He had seen towns and cities gripped in horror after he, Angelus and the girls had torn it apart, he had seen towns and cities gripped in war, like Beijing during the Boxer Rebellion. This was different though.
Usually in the old days it took at least some time to get things to fall apart, at least a few days. This however happened overnight!
This night was so awesome!
It hadn't taken him much effort to gather up a mob of minions. Many of these humans turned into monsters may now have the chops, but they still lacked the balls. Especially the little kids turned monsters. One thing all demons did however, no matter if they were native or Halloween created, was that they instinctively recognized who had the biggest set of stones and either fought, buggered off or submitted themselves accordingly.
And Spike very much had the biggest pair of stones in all of Sunnydale. That much was clear.
There was more ransacking coming from inside the Slayer's home, but Spike was already losing interest. While it was fun wrecking her home out of spite, if he didn't find her and kill her tonight all he had accomplished was just delivering a minor nuisance. Like flipping her off from a distance.
She had to be around here somewhere. And she had to be changed. Because if there was one thing he had learned from the Slayer it was that she wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while people were getting slaughtered all over town. And if she was changed she had to be changed for the better.
Better for him that is, meaning easier to kill. Cause if she had changed for the worst he'd met her by now. And so far there had been only three of the people who had changed that he had avoided like the proverbial plague. Even though he had to admit they were fucking cool in their own right.
"Alright, you buggers," Spike yelled as he threw away his cigarette, "Playtime's over. Common, we've got ourselves a Slayer to kill."
Then Spike walked away with his little minions in tow.
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Yes, this particular little Mon-keigh mutant called Spike could be very troublesome. Very troublesome indeed. But also a great pawn to be used in the future.
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We come to our final strand of time, as the little human spirit girl and her Librarian finally reach Ethan's place.
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Well, he had to hand it to him, Giles thought as he looked around Ethan's Costume Shop, whoever he was this Ethan had managed to clean out his stocks. Very few costumes were left.
Which explained why there were so many bloody monster freaks about in Sunnydale right now.
Yeah, now that he'd seen his handiwork it had all the hallmarks of a classic Ethan Rayne move.
Or prank.
Or both.
Knowing him it was probably both.
But why come here?
Surely Ethan knew that he was here, overseeing the Slayer here at the Hellmouth. He wasn't that stupid. Ethan was, thirst for senseless mayhem aside, very thorough.
"Hello! Anyone home?" Willow called out behind him.
"Don't bother, Willow," Giles said, "It would appear that this, um, uh, Ethan's long gone."
"Are you sure?" Willow asked.
"Oh, I think if this Ethan fellow was still around we'd met him by now," Giles said confidently, "He's gone alright. The question is….., where?"
Willow wanted to say something, but then she saw something, a curtain not completely closed. Putting her hand through the curtain she tried to open it but to no avail as her hand slipped just right through it.
Sticking her head through she saw that she was looking into the backroom.
"Giles…," Willow called out, causing Giles to turn around and come towards her, pulling open the curtain.
The backroom of the shop looked nothing like the backroom of a shop. Instead of a supply room it looked more like voodoo grand central at rush hour. Burning candles and magic paraphernalia were everywhere.
"Is this…..?" Willow said.
"Yes, I'm afraid," Giles said as he felt a strong sinking feeling in his gut, "This is w-where the sp-pell was wrought."
"Then we can end it, right?" Willow asked hopeful.
"If w-we can f-find the, uh, focal point," Giles said nervously, "And knowing Ethan….."
On a small table, surrounded by candles there was an empty circle. Like something should have been there. The two of them came closer until they stood next to the table.
"It's gone, isn't?" Willow asked as she saw the look of disappointment on Giles' face.
"Yes," Giles nodded, "Damn y-you Ethan! Where did you take it? H-he could be anywhere right now."
As Giles raged impotently Willow turned around slowly.
"Uh, Giles," she said softly.
"What, Willow?" Giles asked as he looked at Willow.
"I don't think he left at all, Giles," Willow said with a look of pure horror and pointed to a section of the wall behind him.
There, hanging from spikes nailed through his arms and legs hung the dead body of Ethan Rayne, bloodied from too many wounds to count, many of them charred as if from poked with a very hot object, with a gaping wound in his side that seemed clearly the direct cause of his death. And a strange eight pointed star carved in his forehead.
As soon as she saw the eight pointed star Willow began to gasp.
"Ohmigod!" she said horrified and took a step backwards, through the table that is.
"What? You recognize that symbol?" Giles asked, "You have to t-tell me. Who ever killed Ethan t-took the focal point. Without it w-we can't….."
Suddenly the backdoor opened, the one for deliveries, and in came Angel and Cordelia.
"Buffy!" Angel said worried, "Is she here?"
"She's not at her home?" Willow asked.
"Newsflash! We just came from there," Cordelia butted in, "the Princess of Uselessness skipped bail on us."
"Didn't Xander try to stop her or something?" Willow asked.
"I think he took her with him," Angel said, "Whatever he's after, he took her here, I can smell her perfume."
"Xander came here?" Giles said shocked, then he took off his glasses and pulled forth a polishing cloth as he turned towards Willow, "Willow, that costume that Xander was wearing, what exactly was it?"
Before she could answer there was a whooshing sound.
Actually, there were three whooshing sounds.
As they looked aside in the doorway to the shop stood Jonathan and two other kids that Willow vaguely remembered from school. And they were wearing brown robes.
And had active lightsabers.
They were Jedi Knights.
"God, it's the nerd brigade," Cordelia sighed in disgust.
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Yes, the strands of time can be woven in many unexpected ways. But they cannot be kept at bay indeterminately. A choice has to be made and then the chosen strand gets woven into the tapestry of time.
As he walked through the streets of the Terran town of Sunnydale Cop'lann felt heavy in his heart. The choice had been made.
Some said that making the actual choice to select the right course of action was the hardest part of being a Farseer. Those people were usually not Farseers.
No, the hardest part was having made your choice and then hoping that everything went ahead as predicted.
Just as planned!
At least that's what they secretly hoped as Fate could still be a fickle mistress, even to the best of Farseers!
With the useless noble/girl still in his wake Cop'lann made for his final destination. He had lots of work still left to do. But as he now had control of the glowing idol of this dimension's Chaos God he knew that at least now he had given himself enough time.
Time to hope his plan would work out, 'just as planned!'.
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AN: Told you I was going AU.