Chapter 18: Exacerbate Dream

Giles sat at his family table, James was across from him digging into a plateful of food that their mother had just set down, momentarily oblivious to his elder brother's presence. The kitchen was bright and elegantly decorated for a wizarding house, which tended to be chaotic with all the magic that scurried around as though a whirlwind. But for Rupert's sake, magic had been kept down to a minimum.

James' return during the summer months always made that much more difficult, he was practically bubbling over with all the things he'd learned. It wasn't unusual for Rupert to wake up and have been the victim of some concoction that James had created while in school. The young soon-to-be-Watcher usually took this all in stride, but in his opinion James had taken it too far this morning. Which explained the boys' silence during the dinner.

Of course, earlier it hadn't been silent, there had been loud words torn angrily from each boy, Rupert threatening with the defense tactics he'd learned inside the Watcher's Council and James brandishing his wand out in front of him, not caring what the consequences would be. It had taken both their mother and father to separate the two teenagers.

Arlene had threatened to take away certain privileges if the two didn't act at least civil to each other. That had translated to Rupert and James that they'd completely ignore the others presence. She was now taking a seat next to her husband, brushing aside curly waves of chocolate hair that had fallen into her face while she'd been serving dinner.

With a smile, Edward took her hand and squeezed it conveying the thought that the boys would soon be back on speaking terms. Giles who was staring at his mother's relief now wished he'd told them both how much they had meant to him. Edward for taking in a boy who was not his own and raising him as though he were and Arlene for always seeming to understand his heartache.

It all appeared to be such a typical family dinner, with the two children at odds and the mother and father doing their best not to go crazy waiting for them to reconcile, that Giles feared that his presence, his elder self would soon shatter the illusion.

"Rupert," Edward said, cutting into Giles reverie, and causing both the younger and elder versions of himself to turn towards him. But Giles gasped in a cold breath, when the younger Rupert's face came into view.

Gone were the hazel eyes, the brown/green mixture he had inherited from his mother, and in its place glowed red slits of malice. His nose had also flattened, becoming only a bump against his boyish features and he breathed through two holes that were anything but human.

"Yes Dad?" the transformed Rupert answered, before his hand snatched out, grasping James' throat and crushing the life out of him.

"No," Giles barked, leaping out of his seat at the table and trying to pry the fingers of his demonic self from James' throat. But his own passed through the flesh as though he were only a specter, a ghost caught out of time.

His younger brother's struggles stopped as Demonic Rupert crushed his windpipe with a quick jerk. "We killed your brother," the voice hissed, his but eternally changed. With a burst of strength that Giles himself had never possessed, his younger self tossed James across the table and flung him at Edward and Arlene.

The force of James hitting them sent Giles' parents flying into the wall, their heads cracking ominously in the dinning room. "We killed your parents."

Giles backed away from his younger image, not yet catching the words that hissed out of the demonic boy. "No, I wasn't here when they died. I would have prevented it."

Suddenly Harry shimmered into existence behind the demonic Rupert. "You aided in it," he accused sharply.

"This isn't real, this is a hallucination caused by an excessive amount of alcohol," Giles muttered to himself as the demonic Rupert walked over to Harry.

"He will be mine or he will die," the younger Rupert said, petting the back of Harry's dark hair, as though to smooth down the recalcitrant locks.

Giles blinked, truth coalescing in his shocked mind. "I know who you are," he said flatly, calmly. "You're inside of me."

"You truly are brilliant," Harry said, both awed and sarcastic at the same time.

Giles took a menacing step towards his demonic younger self. "This isn't where you belong, this isn't your body."

"Not my choice, Watcher. You've managed to keep me trapped for the time being, but that won't keep me from controlling Potter forever," young Rupert, possessed by Voldemort, said. He reached down and cupped Harry's chin. "Such a beautiful child."

"If you must prance around in my mind, be so kind as to adopt your own form," Giles said, the anger still heavy in his voice. "I'm afraid mines taken."

Voldemort looked down at his hands, hands that resembled Giles' yet younger. "But you aren't using it. Not the way you should Rupert Giles."

The bright and tasteful dinning room around them shimmered and morphed into a university dormitory, old and musty furniture adorned it's shabby carpet and scrapped walls. The smell of aged beer and stale smoke permeated the air. In the background Behind Blue Eyes played in crushing tones, but went unnoticed by the three occupants of the tiny dorm room. And Giles found himself once again alone amongst his past.

Ethan Rayne lay on the shabby carpet, his face a mask of ecstacy as the demon, Eyghon, was channeled through a younger Rupert, if slightly older then the one who had sat at the family dinning table, brought them the incredible high of his magic. This Rupert lay on the couch, his face drug-slackened, his mouth cracked open and a trace of drool lining down his mouth. On the floor next to him was Deirdre her back bowed by the sheer pleasure of the rush.

"Is this where you kill him?" Harry asked, suddenly at his side.

"That's far away from here," Giles answered. "And I'm being used."

Harry shook his head, his eyes glowing red. "The time is irrelevant."

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"Hey," Buffy said, peaking her head into Uncle Rupert's bedroom.

Harry looked up from one of his uncle's text on mystical mind merging. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see Buffy right now, not after her harsh words earlier. Not that they hadn't been spot on, but it was hard to see his uncle like this and know that it was his fault let alone having the Slayer point it out to him.

"Yes?" he questioned, feeling his pride pricked by her interruption. Part of him hated the fact that she was so in control when he knew that she cared for Uncle Rupert just as much as he did, part of him was relieved that for once he didn't feel as though he had to take the lead. Whenever it came to Buffy, he felt both threatened and inspired.

An abashed look crossed momentarily over her pretty face but it only lasted a moment before her features softened into understanding. "Can we talk?"

Closing the book, he set it aside on the bed stand. "I'm sure that's plausible."

A smile twitched the right corner of her mouth. "Sometimes you sound so much like him."

"I don't know anything about him," Harry countered heatedly.

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between them and Buffy's shifting eyes settled on Uncle Rupert's silent form. He recognized the pain that crossed over her eyes there, knew what it was like to want to protect those around you but being helpless to stop the course of their actions.

"We'll get Giles back," Buffy broke into his reverie. "I promise."

Harry didn't respond to this. How could he explain to her what it was like to have Voldemort in your mind, to know that his power could overcome yours and be totally incapacitated by it. The logistics of the spell weren't readily handy, but Harry wondered who held the reigns in Uncle Rupert's mind. If Voldemort could hurt him bodyless, as he had many others. It hadn't been hard for him to take control of the weakened and broken before and Harry's only hope was the knowledge that his uncle's mind was like steel and impenetrable.

"I was way harsh earlier," Buffy erupted as though the words had been brimming inside her. "I had no right to judge you're actions when God knows I've dug my own."

She was trying to apologize to him! That was something he hadn't quite counted on. She was usually so unrepentant of her behavior, sound in her instincts. And again he felt that mixture of envy and awe fill him. "No matter how hard I try the people around me wind up getting hurt or worse," he admitted. "I didn't want this for him."

"This gig we've got is so...wrong. And it's hard and we make mistakes," Buffy tried to sooth, to explain.

Harry frowned at her words, feeling them pierce his heart. His mistakes had cost the life of his godfather, Cedric had died because he hadn't been prepared for Voldemort, hadn't heeded the warnings that his teachers and elders had given him. His own parents had been murdered because of the wrongness of his 'gig'.

"I don't think I want this life anymore," Harry admitted. "Things were so much simpler when I was just an average boy. When I first found out I was a wizard, there was a sense of freedom. I wasn't bound by my uncle and aunt's abuse anymore. I could leave their influence, become part of something bright and fantastic." He shook his head, wondering how six short years had changed his view of magic. "But now, I feel I'm at an impasse. I've learned things about myself that I don't want to believe in."

"Harry, this isn't your fault. Not really. Voldemort is the bad ass here, not you," Buffy said, quick to back him up.

"But I must become him to destroy him," he said quietly, mournfully. Knowing that it was this fact that had caused him to lash out so ruthlessly at Uncle Rupert. His uncle had made a mistake in choosing his friends and activities, but he had killed his friend to save his and the lives of many others. Harry's own self-disgust at even contemplating murdering Voldemort had been placed on Uncle Rupert unfairly.

"Huh?"

"There's a prophecy about Voldemort and I. The reason he tried to kill me as a baby, why my parents were murdered, the reason my godfather died, and why Uncle Rupert lays there now," he elucidated. "One prophecy that has killed so many in his pursuit to avoid it. He doesn't even know the whole of it. He just knows that I am the one that has the power to kill him. One of us must die for the other to survive. And I have to kill him."

Buffy unexpectedly rolled her eyes. "Prophecies. If I never hear another prophecy in my life I'll do a happy dance for Xander."

"How can you say that? You died, Buffy. You knew what was to come and you still walked into a death trap," Harry countered. "I can't face Voldemort knowing that I have to be murdered or murderer. I can't kill a man who is still essentially human."

"Harry, I did die, and I can't explain to you how that felt, how it still feels," she paused as the words halted in her emotion filled throat. "But I didn't stay dead. Xander, Lupin, and Angel were there for me, they brought me back. You have to let Hermione and Ron and Giles and all of us help you. Because if you don't, that prophecy will come true and Voldemort will be the one living the life of the living.."

"But you can't kill him for me," Harry said snidely.

Buffy shook her head. "Why do you think I hit Giles? No one else could have gone down to face the Master. I'm the Chosen One and in the end I had to accept that. Just as you have to accept your Chosen Oneyness."

That drew a smirk from Harry. "Personally I prefer 'the Boy who Lived'."

"Go with what works for ya," Buffy agreed with sudden cheer.

"Do you really think he'll be okay?" he asked as his concern returned.

"It's Giles, he has to be."

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"Yes, let's do keep reliving the past," Giles muttered as he was now gazing at a ten-year-old version of himself.

Little Rupert sat at his desk, the sunlight from his window warming his back. He had his bottom lip clenched between his teeth and was working bent-backed over his desk. James sat on the floor with a variety of wizarding candies stretched out before him. He was currently trying to grab a Chocolate Frog before it escaped out of its wrapper. Downstairs he could hear his father arguing with two men in suits that had come to the house. Edward had quickly shooed both Rupert and James up into the elder brother's room.

As he stamped his way up to his room pulling a four-year-old James with him, Rupert had heard his mother whisper something about the Council in a tight voice to his father. Rupert hadn't known exactly who those men were, but his mother had looked frightened by their presence. Rupert had already decided that he didn't like them.

Giles remembered this day as though it had happened yesterday, this was the moment in time that he had learned of his destiny. That his dreams and hopes for the future were not his own. Strangely, he wanted to shield Little Rupert from it, although well aware that Edward would be slowly coming up the stairs to reveal the truth to his adoptive son.

The door creaked open and Edward stepped in, looking commanding in his wizarding robe and yet weighed down at the same time. Giles wished he could let his adoptive-father know that the young boy sitting at the desk would have a hard life, but he would be alright. James leapt from his crouch on the floor and flung himself into Edward's arms and Little Rupert momentarily glanced away from his work to glance at his father, moving his head enough to show the airplane he'd been drawing.

Edward hugged James and then sat him down on the floor. "Mummy wants you to go help her with some cookies she set out, okay James?"

"What about, Rup?" James asked, using the nickname that James had used for him alone.

"Rupert and I need to have a talk," Edward explained, patting James' rear as he scrambled out the door.

Giles wanted to run away from this scene. He had relived it a number of times in his dreams, thought about it during those hard days of studying, when he'd returned to the Council with his tail between his legs. He didn't need to see it play so lively in front of him.

He closed his eyes as Edward took the picture from Little Rupert. "What's this Rupert?"

"I'm going to be a pilot," Little Rupert informed happily.

He could see the sad smile flit over Edwards face now, knew how difficult it was for him to tell the horrid truth.

"Rupert?"

Giles opened his eyes and found the scene changed. Ethan stood before him, his Cheshire cat grin stretching his long features, while he gazed adoringly at himself in a floor length mirror fluffing fingers through his hair. He was young, perhaps twenty-two, his hair full and lush falling to his shoulders, his eyes blue and measuring in that way Ethan had always looked upon everything, puzzling out what could be gained from the object of his scrutiny.

"Ripper, mate, you can't be serious," Ethan said on a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder at Giles.

It took a moment for Giles to realize that Ethan was actually speaking to him and not the phantoms of memory. Half embarrassed, he cocked his head imploringly to Ethan. "Hmm?" Strangely amiable to his old friend.

"Aren't you dying for a little?" Ethan asked.

Giles found his patience straining. "Ethan do stop your infernal prattle."

"Mate, look in the mirror," his old friend said and stepped away.

As he stepped into the mirror it wasn't his own visage that displayed on the reflective glass but that of a snake-human hybrid. It's red eyes glowering at him. "Power," it whispered.

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"I'm with Lupin on this one," Buffy said as the strange group sat inside Giles' living room. "If this Pettigrew creep knows anything about Voldemort and why he wants to take over Harry so much, I want to know about it."

"But to release him from the petrification spell would allow him to change into his animagus form," Hermione countered intelligently. "From what I've read there's no other way to stop that from occurring."

"Professor?" Harry asked, for the first time stepping away from Giles' room and taking part in the investigation in how to exercise the dark wizard from the Watcher.

Dumbledores' glittering eyes regarded the boy solemnly for a moment but shook his head. "It is a great point that an animagus can change from and in to the form he has chosen at will. The better, he is at it the higher his proficiency."

"What do you think, Ms Calendar?" Willow asked, reaching to the coffee table that wads laden with pizza and soda she grabbed a Root Beer.

Ms. Calendar shrugged lackadaisically, appearing to be both prompt and relaxed on the situation. "There are a number of spells in stopping such a transformation for certain demons, but for humans, I'd have to research that."

"That's a start," Buffy agreed. "Will, why don't you help Ms. Calendar in that. You're both super-computer and two screens work twice as fast."

Willow swallowed her soda. "Gotcha."

"There's also the scare-the-funny-cloak-off-of-him approach," Xander said, folding his pizza in half and snatching half the slice into his mouth. When he realized that everyone was staring at him blankly he looked at them wide-eyed. "What?" he mumbled over cheesy goodness.

"No offense, mate, but what in the bloody hell are you talking about?" Ron uttered what was bound to be in everyone else's mind.

"Ron," Hermione scolded but with a gentler tone then she had in previous years.

Buffy laughed. "Yeah Xand, not everybody understands Xanderese."

Smiling self-consciously, he downed the rest of his pizza with a Mountain Dew. "If he's too afraid to go Puff-the-Magic-Rat, he won't try the magic abbra kadabra."

"And what would be scary enough to make him think that it wasn't safe," Lupin interjected in a tone that sounded as though his patience was running thin.

"Angel," Buffy said simultaneously with Xander and Willow.

That made Lupin's tired face lighten. "Of course."

"Do you think he will help us?" Harry asked dubiously.

Willow's smile was strangely both shy and sly as she gazed on Buffy. "I think if Buffy asked him he would."

"'I think if Buffy asked him he would,'" Xander mocked in a high pitched tone. "And if Buffy asked him to impale himself on a stake would he?" At both Buffy and Willow's glaring eyes he sighed. "Purely for the sake of the world."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "I feel I am quite lost in this world."

"You aren't alone in that, Professor," Hermione said curiously.

"So I'll stop by the house and ask Angel," Buffy said, screwing up her will. She was supposed to stay away from him, but fate seemed hellbent, or was it hellmouthed, on getting them together. "How long to reverse the petrification?"

"Seconds," Harry answered.

"That's one good thing," Buffy said with a sigh of resignation. "Okay, I'm off. Watch me go."

Despite Willow's affirmations that Angel would do anything for her, she felt hesitation grip her as she approached the door to his apartment. It wasn't quite sunset and the air if not chilly was brisk with the coming of fall. Their previous meetings had been full of tension, not only with their physical attraction, but with Buffy's own death-issues. She had thrown the fact that he was a vampire in the face of his very human soul and she wasn't sure how likely he was to forgive that. Of course, when he'd held her in his arms as she'd cried after destroying the Master she had felt so much tenderness from him that it had nearly frightened her as much as the Master's return.

Screwing up her Slayer reserve, she rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. It wasn't long before the door pushed opened and a tired-eyed, shirtless, Angel stood back in the shadows of the house, avoiding the last minutes of sunshine. The flesh around his eternally youthful eyes widened as he saw her. "Buffy?"

"Uh, hi," she stuttered out. Wonderful dialogue, maybe later you can drool on his shoes, she chastised herself.

"Did you want to....I mean was there something you needed?" Angel asked, his own apprehension showing in his words.

"Ah, you actually," she said without thinking and then, realizing her implication blushed as she tried to backpedal. "Which is to say, I need your body....your person." She groaned in frustration. "I need you to scare a rat."

"Uh-huh," Angel uttered, keeping his sentences to a minimum as usual. "Why don't you come in while I get a shirt."

Buffy stepped in watching the play of the tatoo on his muscular back. "Yeah, okay."

He walked over to his bedroom and pulled a white cotton t-shirt from his closet. "What's the problem?" he asked as he looped the shirt around his arms and over his head, hiding his sculpted chest from view.

She quickly turned from her examination of him and pretended to study a statue he had cased in glass. "Huh?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, but I don't think the Slayer would need me for pest control," he said, walking to the entry of his bedroom in which Buffy's enigmatic statue stood next to and leaned against the frame.

She looked up at him chagrined. "It's Giles. The lord of the wizards has put himself into Giles body. We captured one of his lackeys, who can turn into a rat, who might have the 411 we need. We want you to frighten him into talking."

His head drooped for a moment then he turned away from her completely. "Maybe you should be discussing this with Harry?"

"Harry? I've already talked to Harry about this," Buffy said, inexplicably feeling defensive.

"And he was okay with it?" Angel asked incredulously.

Buffy hissed a sharp breath out in frustration. "What is with you?"

"Nothing," Angel said on a defense of his own. "I just thought this was something that you and Harry could work together on."

Buffy wondered exactly what type of blood the butcher had been giving Angel. "Why do you keep bringing up Harry? Of course I would work with him he's Giles'..." but she broke off as realization abruptly dawned. "You're jealous."

"No I'm not," Angel disagreed.

"Yes you are," she insisted. "Childish much."

"I wouldn't get jealous of a kid," Angel said.

Now Buffy felt as though she'd like to hit him. "Is it because I rode his broomstick...and now that I've said that, I notice how wrong that sounds. And speaking of kids, he's my age. Am I just a kid?"

"Let's go scare your rat or did you forget about Giles," Angel accused, deftly diverting Buffy to the matter at hand. He made his way to the door but Buffy stopped him with a hand on his bicep. "What?" His eyes looked down at her slim finger so powerful and yet so delicate.

"Sun."

"Oh, yeah."

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"I have ran out of truth and I am lost," the words echoed in Giles' dream world.

"I remember those words," Giles said aloud.

He was now standing in a tunnel, bright and white, in it's fathomless distance he saw Harry waving him forward to join him. Ethan grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards his nephew. "Come on Ripper"

"What lies at the end?" he felt fatigued, as though he'd been fighting a war.

"Peace," Harry said, an eerie benevolent smile stretching his face until it broke the lines of his cheeks.

"Rup, you were never this barmy before, don't start now," a new voice entered the conversation.

Giles pulled his grip away from Ethan and turned towards that voice. He wasn't as tall as Giles, perhaps a handspan shorter, with black hair that was eternally and helplessly mused, his eyes were a mixture of brown and green. He wasn't the boy he remembered nor the young man he had met on his wedding day, but a man aged by time.

"James."