Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, and all the rest of that crap. I don't own canon. It is created, and owned by Joss Whedon, ME, and the imaginations of the viewers.
I do not own the idea, that is a challenge by gidgetgirl on the Chocolate Covered Strawberry Archive.
A/N: This will most likely remind people of gidgetgirl's 'There Be Dragons' Danni story. I have read it, it is an influence, and believe me I know the risks of copying that. However – I do believe myself able to stay away from it. So there ya go, gidget will inform any reviewers if I cross the line, probably a ,'Alice, what the hell do you think you are doing?' reaction, so keep the eyes out. Could be amusing. *grin*Oh, and if you haven't read gidgetgirl's thing, go read it. She's in my fave authors list. As if there's a list she's not on.
For the rest – I hope this is confusing as hell, because it damn well should be.
*
"Rupert, what are you doing?" Olivia yawned sleepily, and opened her eyes. Giles pulled on a pair of discarded track pants, and walked into the living room. With a sigh, Olivia rolled her eyes and kicked the covers off her own side of the bed.
"Rupert, what's going on?" she asked, buttoning up one of his shirts as she wandered out. He bent over the laptop, tapping keys intently, then scowled in irritation.
"Blasted machine," he muttered. "Never liked it. Why did I buy it?" Olivia smiled wryly, and folded her arms across the front of her crisp, blue shirt.
"You didn't. I did," she reminded him, adding, "Come on, Rupert. Don't keep me in the dark."
"I don't know," he turned around to face her, his hands clenched on his lap. She met his eyes with concern, when Rupert was this tense it was worrying. Whatever had set this off was big. He sighed, seeing the apprehension dawn in her sympathetic brown eyes, and explained.
"I was asleep. Dreaming, and I saw people I haven't thought about in twenty years. I saw them so vividly..." he broke off at her sceptical expression. "It's not just a bloody dream, Olivia. When I was younger," his words were measured carefully, a pause between each sentence. "I dabbled in some..." he considered the adjective, and settled on, "Some highly dangerous magic, with a crowd of people that also experimented. I had just dropped out of university to go to the Watcher's Academy for two years, and.. well.. I suppose we were all high on life, really."
"And what happened?" she said gently, sitting down on the arm of their squashy wheat-coloured sofa, adjusting a throw cushion as she did so. He ran his hands through his hair distractedly, standing it on end.
"We did everything and anything we could. Raised demons, incantations, we got caught up in it all. Seeing their faces in a dream would normally mean nothing but-"Giles broke off, rubbing his temples with his hand, concentrating. "It's happened before. Something from that time... Came back. And there's only one person I know who would have a connection with a dream starting up again."
"Who?" she prompted. He looked up, his eyes steely.
"Ethan Rayne."
*
He uncapped the bottle, slamming the dirty fridge door shut with his foot as he did so, and took a slug, dropping into one of the brown, threadbare armchairs that stood either side of the fake fireplace, glancing back at the bed, the rumpled sheets thrown back. Somehow, it didn't look quite as tempting some nights at three in the morning as others, he decided ruefully.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window, and grimaced. His blue eyes were bloodshot, and creased with tiredness, his thick dark hair greying, and peppered with silver threads. He took another swig from the beer bottle, and stared, unseeing at a mark on the wall.
Why now? He'd often seen a few of them, playing in his nightmares, when he was drunk, alone, awake in the early hours of the morning, but normally when he was maudlin and thinking back to those times anyway. A heady whirl of sex, black magic and darkness. He scratched, irritated at the mark on his arm. He could still hear the pompous teacher in his head, and see the symbol clearly defined in black ink on the page.
'Symbol of Rothka, the power wielding entity. Known as a 'gift giver'. Used to mark the vessel in ceremonies to raise him, in the hope he will grant the desires of the candidates, although in most cases, death is the result.'
Seven years ago he'd done it, a circle of losers that wanted a new way out that didn't cost fifty quid and came in a plastic baggie. He'd asked for a new life. The demon had laughed, and taken one of the others, a slim Chinese girl, still in university. Pretty, too. She'd screamed as her skin sizzled, he remembered.
Not many of them left. Picked off by pissed off entities through the years. Some had gone straight, hiding tattoos and marks under stiff collars, pretending to be normal. Not him though. Having tasted the power of the darkness, Ethan recklessly clung to it.
Shaking his head, he went back to swigging the beer, and flicked on the TV, slumping back in his armchair.
*
The woman scurried away from the door, her face a mask of fear. "It's happening again," she hissed frantically, clutching a scrumpled tissue to her chest.
"It's all right, Lavinia," Maud said firmly, patting her hand. "We knew it would." She glanced towards the shadows of another door, her expression questioning.
A slight figure stepped forward, tiny, and slender, with a crop of white hair, and bright blue eyes, her face grave. She nodded slowly, looking around the group of assembled women, her presence seemingly reassuring to them all, a few breathing sighs of relief.
"Unfortunately, I think the time has come," she said gently. "Hannah, dear, you, Maud, and, yes," she looked toward the woman in her early thirties comforting Lavinia, "You, Sienna. She responded well to you the first few times, you three will have to go and sort it out this time. Strengthen the web around her, and use more crystals if you have to. We cannot let it inside the house," she added grimly.
The three nodded briefly, and hurried off to the girl's room while the old woman sank into a chair by the fire, her face pensive. She had fought for a long time, and never yet found anything too difficult to conquer, and now she had. It felt as if she had disappointed herself.
"Yes, it is time," she muttered to herself, patting the hand that held hers, and smiling up at the tear-streaked Lavinia kindly, "Time to place a call to Mr Giles."
"Firmness," whispered Maud, her hands clasped around the others' tightening. She looked from one to the other, and began the chant, her eyes now fixed upon the figure in the bed, screaming, a frantic, chilling scream as she curled tighter, the crystals poised around the bed burning with a white light so bright it hurt to look at.
"Tess, dear," said Hannah in the sort of voice people use to reason with small children, "Don't you think you should come down now?"
The stiff body hung in mid air, her eyes wide, and terrified.
Don't let them get meA/N: See more of Tess next chapter, who are 'they', and why is the eldest woman calling Giles? If you don't know who the women are, I left a huge hunk of 'clue' in the first chapter, Maud's line. Find out all.. scratch that.. Find out some next chapter.
Review please!
