Chapter 23

All Heck Is Breaking Loose

Ethan watched with an appreciative eye, as Buffy came towards Rupert, grinning. It was obvious to see, from the way she held herself, and carried her self, and moved, that Rupert had put a lot of time into working with her. Training her. Keeping her alive.

She had grumbled when Giles had refused to let her put on what she called music, and what he called 'an infernal racket'. But, aside from that, and a single, pointed look, she had taken it with good grace.

Of course, he mused, as she brought her quarterstaff around, in a sweeping and powerful blow, it was possible that was because she had already been looking forward to her workout. And, as Ethan had pointed out earlier, her chance to 'kick Rupert's arse.'

Janus knew that both Watcher, and Immortal Slayer, would be benefiting from this activity. They were both practically oozing tension. If such a thing were released as a flammable gas, then he would have been prepared to swear that all he'd had to do with the destruction of the High School was that he'd lit a match.

At the thought of being responsible for such a thing, he barely suppressed a chuckle, even though he couldn't keep back the smile that quirked at the corners of his mouth. The last thing that he need was for Rupert to look at him and see the evidence of that thought on his face.

Just as Buffy cut in with a particularly wicked blow towards Rupert's chest, a frantic pounding at the door broke all three of their concentrations.

Buffy stopped, halfway through her strike and step, turning towards the door, as Ethan rose from his seat, and cut across the room.

Just as he reached the door, the pounding sounded again. He knew that if it was something with teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes, then he was going to wind up with a lecture from Ripper on his lack of caution. But there was something about that quick, repeated sound that belayed all hesitation. His intuition was telling him that he'd better get that door open right now, damn it, because if he didn't, then he wouldn't want to face the price which would likely be carved out of his hide.

He opened the door, and was knocked backwards into the library again, as the unannounced, uninvited guest almost threw himself into the library, and spun back, slamming the door and throwing his full weight against it, to hold it.

Finally, he looked up, his breath coming in harsh gasps, which broke the cuss words that were streaming from his mouth.

And fell silent, as he saw who it was that had let him in. In spite of the years Ethan was still recognizable as himself -As was Ripper.

There were maybe a few more grey hairs, a few more lines around eyes that he'd once known as well as his own, and in Ethan's case there was a fresh-old scar, but there was nothing that would make any of them unrecognisable.

And to Giles, it felt as though he'd been whacked upside the head. When he'd spoken with Ethan this morning, about the best course of action to take, the last thing that he'd expected, was someone else from his past to come bursting into his life.

Still, it could easily be a trick. He stepped forward, then saw that Ethan was doing exactly what he'd been going to, even as he spoke the new persons name.

"Phillip Henry?" his voice was half question, and half statement, as he tilted Phillip's head up with a gentle, yet firm hand, and looked, unblinking, into his eyes.

Eyghon had never been able to disguise its true nature for long. If this weren't really Phillip, then Ethan would be able to see the eyes shift.

Finally, after a moment that felt as though it had stretched out for a couple years, rather then a minute or so, Ethan let go, and stepped back, nodding.

"It's him."

"Deirdre," he managed to say, and Ethan shared a significant glance with Ripper, that Buffy couldn't help but notice.

And then the door flung open again, throwing Ethan and Phillip clear across the room.

Giles could feel a drifting, dissociated sort of feeling coming down on him, almost like a drug-induced flashback. It was all that he could do to stay standing, as the power that he'd once revelled in reached out, stoking at his magick, and distancing him from the people that he knew he should be protecting.

There, in the open doorway, stood Deirdre Page, her eyes a shining, silted, reptilian yellow, and her body twisted. Her brow came forward, protruding into a heavy ridge, and her skin was becoming pebbled, almost reptilian. As her lips drew back, pulling into a threatening grin, he could see at least two rows of razor sharp teeth, which were pushing her cheeks out, further distorting her face.

But even with all the heavy changes, there were no signs of a permanent death, unlike the corpses that they'd once summoned Eyghon into, before deciding to up the game, and call the demonic spirit into them selves. There was no sign of greying, or bloating, and what was even more important, was that there was no sign of the body starting to wear down.

The most likely possibility was that she had died, and been revived on a hospital table, which would have meant that while the body had effectively been dead, at the moment it still had a heart to drive it, meaning that it wasn't being consumed by the demon's energy.

Ethan untangled himself from Phillip, and started to rise shakily to his feet, looking towards the open door.

"Fuck," he snarled. In a situation like this, Giles was not going to even think about reprimanding him for his language.

The beast wearing the face of another old friend stepped forward, and grinned openly at Giles.

"Hello Ripper," it spoke, it's voice as distorted by its teeth as its face was. The voice was harsh, as though unused to being used, and it echoed of something that was primeval, and powerful, and old. Something that was old when humanity was still in its infancy.

It went to take another step forward, swaying it's head back and forth, as though in an unconscious mimicry of a snake, as was stopped short, and thrown back, as Buffy sent one serious blow into it's solar plexus, and at the same time slamming her hand down on the arm that it- she – had started to extend.

Even from across the other side of the room Ethan could hear far too human bones snapping, like old firewood. The arm, definitely, and quite likely a few ribs as well.

Eyghon rose, in one smooth movement, and gave one last silent snarl, before it drew back, moving into the shadows.

"You can't hide forever. You all belong to me, and I intend to collect my price," were its parting words, as it was quickly lost from sight.

Once Buffy was certain that it was gone, she turned to glare at the three men herself, freezing them all into place as she growled.

"What the hell is going on here? I want to know, and I wanna know now."

"It doesn't matter what's going on," Giles said to her, as he took his glasses off his face, and began rubbing at them with the corner of his sleeve, as he walked towards his office.

He didn't expect it to be Ethan that stopped him, with a hand on his elbow.

"You don't think that she deserves an explanation, Rupert? Or are you going to try and turn your back on this happening, too?"

His voice was hard, and his words far colder, and harsher then he'd intended.

But at least it was enough to give him pause.

H glared at the hand, which had stopped him short.

"I'm not tuning my bloody back. And what gives you any right to talk to me like that?"

"Where shall I start?" Ethan snapped, as Giles shook his arm free. What had just happened had left all of them feeling less then sure of themselves.

And as quickly as it had come over him, Giles's anger had passed, and all that was in his expression, as he looked at Buffy, who was standing on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, over to Phillip, who hadn't moved from where he'd landed, to Ethan, who was inches from him, was concern.

And he dropped his eyes.

"I'm sorry. Did you want to grab a seat Buffy?" he asked, as he pushed his glasses back on to his nose, and sat himself down, "this could take some time."

Then he looked at Phillip again, "And did you want to help him up and into a chair, Ethan?"

Phillip blinked, clearing his eyes, as he felt Ethan grabbing him under the arm, and helping him to his feet.

"Ethan?" he asked tentatively, "Ethan Rayne?" The second time he said the name, it was more like he was confirming it, to himself, "You. You're the last person that I expected to find. Thought, at first, that it was you, dead -Dead and gone. Just like everyone else seems to be becoming."

As Ethan helped him into a chair, he flicked his eyes up, "And Rupert. Ripper. Knew you, what you were meant to be. Knew you'd help. If I could find you."

Then he doubled forward, burring his head in his arms, and sobbing. It was a bitter, heartbreaking sound that no one wanted to intrude on.

But even as he sobbed, he still spoke," Dee. Had to be Dee. And it…it – she- killed Amber. My Amber. My wife. Would have killed me, too, but I remembered the shield. Wish I didn't, though. I'm not…don't want to be here. Not without anyone…on my own…"

He trailed off, into silence, and again, Buffy looked over at Giles, feeling extremely uneasy.

"You said that this might take a while. So you'd better get talking."

"Before I start, I need to know that you're going to listen, without interruption."

Buffy nodded, "Sure thing."

Giles heaved a sigh, "When I was younger, I attended Oxford University, up until the time I …err…"

"He dropped out," Ethan supplied, with a lot of satisfaction in his voice. As though he were a dog, looking for some treat, he glanced at Giles, who settled for glaring at him.

The he looked back to Buffy, "Yes, as Ethan so nicely puts it, I 'dropped out'. I was twenty-one at the time, and before you ask, no, I'm not going to go into detail about why I did so. Anyway, Ethan and I found our way to London, and met up with a small group of people whom were toying with magick.

"I was rather disillusioned with what was expected of me. Didn't want a thing to do with what my future was meant to be about, I was sick of the Council looking over my shoulder, and I was not getting along with my father. I never had, really, but by this time I felt as though I were well and truly through with him.

"By the time our magick stopped being fun and games, the group consisted of myself, and seven others. Amber Denise, Deirdre Page, Thomas Sutcliff, Phillip here, a young man, Pre-Immortal, named Randall James and of course, Ethan. Magick became a tool, rather then a past time.

"And we, with all the arrogances, and persistence of youth, summoned a demon -One of the ancients, a primeval force, known as the Sleepwalker, Eyghon.

"We were extremely successful, at first. But as we got more used to things, Eyghon began to grow more powerful. And we got relaxed, and complacent. Eventually, we shifted the base power that we used to cast the spell, changing it for something else. But there were several things that we –that I –didn't think, or know, to factor in.

"And things got out of control. Eyghon came through, too powerful -Far too powerful, and we weren't prepared. It took over Randall's mind, and would have twisted his Immortality to its advantage. I was forced to kill him, before the world was made to pay for our stupidity."

Giles had closed his eyes, and rested his head in his hands. He looked tired.

Ethan, standing behind him, rested a hand on his shoulder, offering the sort of comfort that only an old, close friend could. And when he realised that Ripper was through with speaking, he took up the thread of things.

"We thought that that was it. We'd hoped that Eyghon was gone, but it seems that that were only wistful thinking. It must have been simply biding its time. When we were calling on, we had to swear to serve it. And it seems that the Sleepwalker doesn't take too kindly to being betrayed."

Buffy looked at Giles, even as he stared, determinedly, at the palms of his hands, "Giles?" she asked, as he made no move.

She watched, as Ethan lowered his head, and muttered something in his ear, in a low tone of voice. Finally, he broke his repose, looking up, and blinking at Buffy.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Are you going to be okay?"

She was stunned, and a little disillusioned. But the words that Adam had told her last night still rung in her mind, and she couldn't honestly deny them.

I'm telling you, straight, because I've a feeling that people may surprise you.

And besides that, he was still her Watcher. He was still human. Knowing his past didn't change the person that he was today.

Ethan saw all the emotions that she was feeling, as he glanced towards her. It seemed that once again, Giles wasn't going to answer, "Don't be too hard on him, Buffy. He is only human," he said, before answering the question that she'd asked, "He'll be alright. I'll see to that."

She stood, abruptly.

"I really need to main something. I…I guess I'll see you later."

After another ten minutes of dead silence, Giles drew out from Ethan's gentle grasp, and stood, slowly, drawing a few deep breaths.

There was really no choice for it. There was no way that Phillip was in any state to be on his own, and they would surely be a lot safer, if they stayed together.

With a gentle hand on his shoulder, so as not to startle him, and a quick glance towards Ethan, he stirred Phillip.

"Come on, mate. We're going back to mine. You can crash there for the night

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Seconds after sitting down on the couch, Phillip had stretched out, and was asleep.

Giles raised an eyebrow, as he glanced over toward Ethan, who was standing, leaning against the wall of the sitting room, and asked, "Did you want a scotch, or something?"

"You won't catch me saying no."

Giles grabbed the entire bottle, a couple of cups, and headed up stairs, so as not to disturb the sleeping man. Or so he was telling himself.

Ethan followed, only a couple of steps behind him, and settled himself on the floor, as Giles filled the two glasses, and sat himself, cross-legged, just across from Ethan, handed one cup over, and tilted his own glass back, wincing slightly, at the familiar burn.

It felt good to relax a little.

On the way in Ethan had cast a few wards, so that they would be safe for the night.

There was a whole bottle of scotch between the two of them, and the couch was already occupied. There were only two possible ways that tonight could really end. Either they would get through the entire bottle, and not care about the fact that they were both going to coma out on the carpet.

Or they wouldn't.

Only time would tell.

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Buffy came forward, launching a solid kick at the chest of the newborn vampire that had just dragged it's self out of the earth before her.

Originally she had attributed her increased awareness of a vampire's proximity to the number of them that she had been around, but now that she thought about it, she would have to admit that her accuracy had improved after her fight with the Master. After she had been killed for the first time. So, maybe it wasn't so much about the time she'd put in, as it was a latent side effect of being able to sense a whole other type of person.

She grinned as the vampire flew backwards, through the air, and crashed, heavily, into a nearby bush. Heavily enough that, as it went to rise and renew its attack seconds later, the only thing that came at her were several dust particles. When it went down, a half-snapped branch had gone up, into its back, and straight through its heart.

A flare of disappointment, brief, yet sharp. She'd really been spoiling to cause that one pain.

Giles.

Her mother.

Her father, who she'd thought was Hank. When had Hank come in to things, anyway?

Was no one who she'd thought they were?

Was everyone keeping secrets?

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The bottle of scotch was only half-gone when Giles put it down, finality echoing in his actions.

"I do need some sleep, if I'm to be of any use to anyone at all tomorrow," he muttered, as he lay down, fully clothed, under the covers.

Ethan stretched out on the floor, moving, so that he was resting over the warm patch of floor that Rupert had left behind.

"Mind tossing us a pillow down, Ripper?" he asked, not willing to voice anything further, least he wind up having to sleep out in the hallway, or half-way up the stairs.

Instead, Rupert glanced at him, before throwing up the covers with one hand, and rolling over, on to his side, turning his back to Ethan, "Don't be stupid," he sighed, as he shut his eyes, "You mind getting the light, too?"

Ethan stood, and flicked the light off, before standing at the side of the bed, in silence, thinking.

Rupert glared at him. Ethan could see the flash of those green eyes, even in the darkness.

"Bloody hell, Ethan. Make your damn mind up."

He laid himself down in the left side of the bed, and Rupert rested his head back down, again.

There was a part of him that did desperately want to push it. But he didn't want Rupert to feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to give him reason to think that he'd made the wrong choice. Didn't want to provide an excuse for him to take the easy way out.

It had only been last night that Rupert had said that he still loved him, but he knew how he would feel, were he in Rupert's sensible shoes. He'd be uncertain, and hesitant, and questioning himself.

He rolled over, onto his own side; so that his back was to Rupert, and he felt the stiffness with which the other had been holding him self slip away.

Maybe, tonight, with the wards that he'd cast then he would actually be able to get a decent sleep tonight.

"'Night, Ripper," he spoke softly.

"Good night, Ethan."