beccaelizabeth's dreamwidth journal

Ripper
Fools Journey
2
Higher

Part: 3/7

Rating: I'm aiming for a tone much like Buffy or Angel, which are 15 to 18 rated in the UK.
Pairing(s): Giles and Ethan are in the same story, therefore it is vaguely G/E
Spoilers: Post Chosen, post Not Fade Away. Refers to earlier series canon.
Third in my Fool's Journey series, the rest in memories here or my fic tag. This one should basically make sense as a stand alone.

Summary: Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne. Best mates, worst enemies, sometimes both at once. They've got a lot of history. So even when the Initative took Ethan away, Giles was sure he'd see him again, sooner or later...
Now the late Ethan Rayne is turning out to be twice the trouble, and Giles must be the one to deal with it.



38000 words total, 5180 words this part

Disclaimer: Joss told us to "Write fan fic."
So they're still his toys, but he seems to not mind us playing with them.
No money, no harm.

Thanks to pinkdormouse for beta.

Author's notes and warnings:
Once upon a time, there was to be a series called Ripper.
It would star Giles, and it would be about ghosts.
Well, I'm still waiting.
In the meantime, I figured I'd write it myself.
Since ghosts are a central feature, character death is going to happen throughout the series. But that doesn't always remove them from the story. So sometimes the warning is character death, and sometimes it is more character transformation.

I used Tarot cards as inspiration for the 22 episodes, hence 'Fools Journey'. The Fool is card 0, The Magician 1. Card 2 of the Major Arcana is The High Priestess.

Part 1/7 here
Part 2/7 here


*** *** ***



Giles woke with a start when the stewardess touched him. Time to put the seat up and his seatbelt on. He blinked and looked down, pen and paper still in hand, notes somewhat scant. Out the window the night sky was very little changed, but under them were matching lights, a city far below. It must have been hours. He had a crick in his neck, and his hands were cold, but he had no particular feeling of having rested. Or dreamed, this time. So, no nightmares. Just a piece of lost time.

He recapped the pen and dropped it back in his pocket, rearranged the seat and followed safety precautions.

“Revealing sort of list,” Ethan observed, beside him once again.

“How so?” Giles asked vaguely, reading it over again.

“Aside from your notable dislike of fire and sword?”

Under 'End it' Giles had written a short list of vampire slaying methods. Then he'd crossed some out. With several lines each.

“Swords are difficult to acquire, and a pain to get through security. Fire is unsuitable if I don't want to burn the building down,” Giles replied frostily.

“And we mustn't damage the military torture factory, must we?” Ethan sniped. Then sighed. “You're underestimating it. You think it will still be in there.”

“Ethan... 'it' is made from you. Extra strength and speed, but they've dealt with that before. They held you for years.” Giles sounded pained, but tried to say it gently.

Ethan grinned bitterly. “Ah, but there are some things I won't do.”

Giles raised an eyebrow at that, but the stewardess came back to check him, and talking to a ghost would seem unwise. When she left Ethan followed her.

The plane descended, finally touching down in the USA.

*** *** ***

“You do know we're not in Nevada?” Ethan asked him, arriving soundlessly from behind to surprise him again. This time Giles was drinking coffee from a covered cup, and did not spill any.

“Yes, Ethan, I am very much aware of that.” Giles had the tickets for the next flight in front of him, and pushed them over to where Ethan could see. “We have a slight wait.”

Ethan took a seat opposite him and reached absently for Rupert's paper napkin. He frowned when his hand went right through, and started some complicated pattern of finger tapping instead.

Giles took a bite from his overpriced sandwich and then wiped his hand. He picked up his phone again and scrolled through to the next US number on the list.

Ethan watched as Giles waited, phone against his ear. Rupert's face went stormy, and after a moment he slammed the phone down.

Then picked it up, and fiddled with it, looking slightly sheepish until the screen lit up again. “Dratted things,” he mumbled.

“Something wrong?”

“Voice mail,” Giles said, with sufficient venom for a week of swear words.

“Nobody home?”

“Not a one of them. I thought I could meet a Slayer here. There should be an office. The phone rings, but what picks up? Voice mail.” Giles scrolled through numbers again and shook his head. “Every office in North America.” He sighed. “I'll have to try Los Angeles. God knows they've got enough on their hands without this.” He left the phone on the table, face up, lit and waiting.

“Movie business become Slayer business now?”

Giles blinked, realising how much had changed since Ethan... went away.

“LA had a... mystical event. A portal, or a new Hellmouth. Effectively, the city became a small hell dimension.”

Ethan's eyebrows both went up in shock. “The whole thing? Bloody hell!” Then he looked speculative. “So how did the mundanes explain that?”

“Quite a lot of them actually believed the truth,” Giles replied. Ethan looked triumphant, until Giles finished. “Briefly. When stories of demon armies on the streets were all they had to go on. These days... Americans seem to think it was nerve gas. Some kind of hallucinogenic mixture, that still persists. The more elaborate theories blame everything from pesticides to genetically modified food, talk about mutations to explain the corpses.” Giles picked his sandwich up again, pulled out some salad and ate it. “Of course some people still think the whole thing was faked. I particularly like the contingent who believe it's the most elaborate viral marketing scam ever set loose. Whatever movie gets made from all that... Well, I can't see it getting a rating.” He looked distant, then sighed, and ate a proper bite.

Ethan slumped, looking bitter. “Of course. They keep their faith in their precious science, however badly it is broken.”

Giles shrugged. “Wouldn't help much, either way. They'd still demand military solutions, and we both know how well that would work out. Send in soldiers to get fed on. Or bomb the place from the air, give the fire demons a field day... If there's nothing to be done, they may as well sleep easier, not knowing.”

Ethan looked daggers at him a moment, then slipped the smirk back on. “Yes, I'm sure fear of mysterious gas is so much easier to deal with than knowing exactly how to keep the demons from your door. I bet it sells a lot of gas masks.”

“In designer boxes. Look at them going through customs. Those aren't cameras they're wearing.”

Ethan shook his head and sighed.

Giles finished his food, and had some more coffee.

“Right,” he muttered, and picked up the phone again. “Los Angeles.” He checked the number, then started the call. He listened as it rang. And then his jaw dropped, incredulous, as there too Council voice mail kicked in. “Oh come on, they can't be... They'd surely tell me if there was an apocalypse...” He was aware his voice was not quite so sure as his words. In fact he might have been starting to whine.

Ethan grinned. “Your Slayer retired, you doing ghost research... I seem to recall you were slightly worried you were over the hill...”

“That was years ago,” Giles replied absently.

“Yes,” Ethan drawled, and left Giles to draw his own conclusions.

Rupert glared at him, briefly, then went back to the phone.

“That leaves Riley Finn.” He looked pensive, then pulled out his notepad. “I need to have words with him anyway.”

“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

Giles looked across at Ethan, uncomfortable. “You met him, once. He arrested you.”

“Ah. Him.” Now Ethan looked grim, and stormy. His hands curled to fists on the table. He grinned in a way that had nothing to do with mirth. “I'd quite like to have... words with him myself.” He focused on Giles again, and put amusement back in his expression. “All those little green men who want to know about demons... Should be grateful for some first hand experience.”

“He quit the Initiative,” Giles told him. “Before the base was destroyed. Ethical reasons.”

“Well I'm sure that salved his conscience,” Ethan said. He looked at Giles, serious again. “Rupert, don't waste your time. Maybe you could tell me he's a nice bloke. Maybe he's Mother Teresa in his spare time. He'd still be the one who arrested me 'pending a determination of my status'. Smiling like it was some great joke. Smug bastard.”

Giles looked down at the notepad, flipping pages. “If I recall correctly, I was somewhat smug myself.”

“Came out to see me off,” Ethan agreed. “But if you knew what they were... Well, you're a better liar drunk than I'd credit you for.”

“Riley didn't know either. He really believed...”

“That he was doing the right thing. Mother country and apple pie, I'm sure. Enough of this, Rupert. It hardly matters from here. Just phone the man, if you're going to.”

Giles nodded, and picked up the phone again. Riley's number chosen, he waited while it rang.

This time a human being picked up, though not the one he wanted.

“Hello, I need to talk to Riley Finn,” Giles said, absently writing the name at the top of a page.

Then he paused. “Not there? Yes, it is urgent, actually. A matter of life and death. No, I don't know any passwords. My name is Rupert Giles. Look it up, I'm sure... What? Of course I have clearance, I'm... Revoked?” He made a note and underlined it, preoccupied, while still talking.

“Look, I'm not asking you for any secrets, I just need to talk to... Yes I realise he's busy but... Well when will he be available? You can't say, or you can't tell me?” Giles' mouth set in a tight little line.

“I see. Then you will have to listen. There is a vampire rising tonight... Yes, this is important. Yes, to the US military. He was in the custody of some kind of research base in Nevada... I realise they do not exist, not on paper. They may well not exist in ordinary geography in the very near future. Yes, one vampire.” He listened a moment, then told them, “He was once a sorcerer. When the demon wakes, with access to that much knowledge and power... Well, it could be another Sunnydale.”

There was a pause, and Giles looked momentarily pleased, then got frustrated again.

“I don't know, precisely. Riley arrested him, when he was with the Initiative... Yes, I know that didn't exist either, I was there... Could you please focus on the present danger... No, I told you, no passwords, but this is official word... Of course you've heard about it from the Council, I am the... Not formally, no, but... But I... Damn it!” The phone hit the table again.

Ethan had his head cocked, listening intently. “You know, I'm not sure which is more interesting – how you got cosy enough with those bastards to get some kind of clearance, or how you came to lose it.”

Giles looked up at him and then took his glasses off, closing his eyes while he cleaned them.

“That was not Riley,” Giles said. “That was not anyone, apparently, since they would not so much as give me a name. Due to the ongoing non existence of government bases, demon related initiatives, or apparently vampires, there is in fact no need to tell me anything.” Giles put his glasses back on and opened his eyes.

Ethan was still looking at him sideways.

Giles looked down. He capped his pen and closed the notebook.

“Buffy was dating one of them. And you hated their boss. But you admired them. They were getting the job done.”

“I did not join them, Ethan. I was there when they were destroyed.”

“And after that?”

Giles sighed. “After that... Buffy and Riley broke up. He went back to the army. That was the end of it, for years.” Ethan still stared, and Giles had to look away. He lined the pen up carefully, then said, “Until Los Angeles. After that, everything changed.”

“You've been working with them. A military solution – run by the Watchers Council.”

“We weren't in command,” Giles disagreed. “But we could not stay covert, not after the quarantine. They put a ring of troops around LA so thick it really did keep demons in, and our people with them. We didn't know, then, what had happened to them all. A dozen Slayers and their Watchers... We could not abandon them. And then there were the others, Slayers from all over the country, around the world even. We could get hundreds of them in there if...” Giles' brow furrowed as a thought struck him. “If we emptied...” He opened the notebook again, and went slightly pale. Then he looked up at Ethan and blinked, flipped the book closed and put his hand on it.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at that. “What, now I don't have clearance?”

Giles crossed his arms on the table.

“Rupert, I don't care if LA falls off the face of the earth, with or without Slayers. What were you doing with those... thugs?”

Giles looked down. “Riley was the Council's contact with the army.”

“And you... were his contact with the Council.” Ethan stared at him a moment, then shook his head.

“I asked,” Giles said, in a small voice. He looked up again at Ethan. “When we found out what they were, the Initiative... I asked after you. They said they hadn't any human prisoners. The records were quite clear. No humans at all. Including you.”

“Ah, but I wasn't human. Pending a determination of my status... I wasn't anything.” Ethan looked at Rupert, held his gaze. “I was not in prison. I was not judged guilty without trial. Pending determination of my status, I was not judged at all. I was not tortured, not tested uselessly. I was not any kind of demon they had discovered – yet.” Ethan grinned, a bitter twist that did not reach his eyes. “I was not the answer to their questions. Every set of white coats had their own list. They were not prejudiced, you see. Never tainted with what others had thought of you. It must not matter who you are, or where you come from. Only what you are capable of.” His eyes held a deep darkness. Giles could not look away. “I was a list of null results, a set of negatives. Until yesterday. I must say, it was a very tidy test. The victim must be human for a vampire to be sired, but of course once it has...” Ethan closed his eyes and bit his lip.

Giles could blink now, and looked down, to see Ethan gripping each elbow tightly with opposite hands, leaning just a little through the table.

Then Ethan looked at him and smiled brightly, though this too did not reach his eyes. “So, no, they had no human prisoners. No humans at all. And even if you'd asked for me by name, they probably would not have found me. In all the time I've been in there, I don't think I heard it even once.”

“Ethan...” Giles began, voice anguished.

“Yes. Ethan Rayne. Half a century on this Earth and Janus knows how long off it. Reduce that to some bloody list? Never.”

“Ethan, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I should have...”

“Give it up, Rupert. We've been over this. Even if you had known, it's not like you could have done anything.”

Giles was silent, and could not look at him, for a moment that went on rather too long.

“Not a thing?” Ethan said, just a faint edge of question in it.

Still looking at the table, Giles said, “I was Watcher to the Slayer when they took you... And I've retired. But until some weeks ago... I was Head of the New Watchers Council.”

Ethan's turn to be silent, and slowly Giles turned to face him again.

The mix of raw emotions there was tangled, but it settled into harsh lines and bitter laughter.

“Ethan...”

“Unbelievable,” Ethan interrupted. “I guess the old guard was right.” He got to his feet, backed through the chairs. “You just had to get rid of me, to get ahead with them.” He turned and stalked off.

*** *** ***

Giles was in the air again before Ethan reappeared. The lights of the city were receding into the distance, and the lights below them were becoming more scarce. Heading mostly south now, the sky moved above them steadily, moon and stars marching onwards.

“It's taking too long,” Ethan said.

“Yes,” Giles agreed, turning to face the other man. “But at least we're moving again.”

“I'd get out and push, but it's rather dull out there,” Ethan joked.

Giles just gave him a look.

Ethan smirked. Then looked away and stretched, a movement both elegant and designed to take up as much space as possible.

Giles absently dodged out of the way, even though the ghost's earlier touch had been no more than a slight tingle.

Ethan sighed, then leaned back in his chair.

Giles snorted with brief laughter, then his face fell and he looked away.

Ethan had gone right through, cut off at the shoulders by the chair back.

He sat up again with a slightly chagrined expression, resettling himself in the chair more carefully.

Giles had his eyes closed, still facing the window on his left.

“Are you going to sleep again?”

“I thought perhaps it would be best to conserve my energy,” Giles replied.

“Wonderful. And once again I'm left to eavesdrop on the great unwashed.”

“You don't have to be here,” Giles said, looking at Ethan with half closed eyes.

Ethan stared back at him, face a mask. Then he put the smirk on again. “Yet here is where I choose. So. What shall we talk about?”

“Ethan...”

“A favourite topic. What are you in the mood for? Memory lane, or more reasons to want me gone?”

“I had a very long day, Ethan.”

“Bedtime stories, then.” Ethan's smirk went just a little more lascivious, as did the way he looked at Rupert.

Giles shut his eyes, and settled back.

“Or I could sing you to sleep.”

His eyes snapped open again. “Oh, no. Not here.”

Ethan hummed a few notes, then sat a little straighter and took a breath.

And let it out again in a startled gasp, as he jerked out his seat through the floor, fading rapidly.

“Ethan?” Giles sat up and stared. “Ethan, if you think this is funny...” He reached out vaguely to the other seat, then pulled his hand in and spoke instead. “Ethan Rayne! I summon thee... No, commands never did work...” He blinked, then frowned and started digging in his bag for his large notebook. The one with his meticulous ghost research. He flipped through quickly, then stopped and read through one. He took a breath, then started to chant, quietly, Ethan's name in every sentence. His irritation mixed with entreaty, and he said each line with care but hurriedly. Page completed, Giles looked at the seat, still empty. “Ethan Rayne. Ethan! Please!”

And suddenly the ghost was back again, fading in, standing half through the seat and half way through a scream.

“Aaaah!” Ethan cut himself off, hands held up in fists, and staggered backwards.

Giles mostly lost sight of him again, and popped up in his seat to look at the seats behind.

Which were, of course, occupied, by a pair of very American women, who stopped their chatter to stare up at him. For a moment, Giles, focused on Ethan, did not notice. “Ethan, what...” Then he refocused through him, seeing two sets of eyes now staring at him. Giles attempted a vague smile, and managed a “Pardon me.” He sat again, and hissed, “Ethan!”

The ghost stepped through the seat back with a slight lurch, then collapsed down into the seat. This time the overlap provoked no humour.

Ethan looked wild, shaken and fuming. His fists clenched and unclenched. He locked his gaze on Rupert's like it was a lifeline.

It took him two tries to gather himself enough to speak.

“It... It's awake.”

Giles, though in no doubt, had to check. “The vampire?”

Ethan nodded, then snapped to his feet again. “Get your rest, Ripper. You'll need it.” He turned, and headed off along the aisle.

Giles moved forward just slightly, shifting weight to follow him, then stopped. Sat back. Faced front, and pushed himself back in the seat again.

He sighed, and closed his eyes.

But his grip on the book stayed very tight.

*** *** ***

A feeling of falling woke him, jolting him out of uneasy sleep.

“What...?”

“Relax. Just desert and mountains.”

Some announcement about turbulence came on, and the stewardess started working her way back along the plane to check on everyone.

Giles put his seat belt on, and tried to check his watch, thwarted once again by his hasty departure.

“Nearly there. Look.” Ethan pointed out the window.

Above them the stars glittered still, but they were outshone from below by a garish splash of lights. Distant rainbow colors, a sprawl of city lights, and one tall beam spearing up into the heavens.

“You can see the Luxor already.” Ethan did not sound pleased.

“Las Vegas.” Giles sighed.

“What a waste.” Ethan joined him.

Giles turned to look. Ethan was still staring out of the window.

“I'd have thought you'd like the place.”

“Sin city? Millions of people lining up to try the odds. Chance so carefully controlled, possibilities limited. You know they've all got their own pet magicians? Every major casino. Statues, symbols, even their own pyramid! And what do they use it all for? Making money!”

Giles raised an eyebrow. “You worked for hire.”

“Sometimes.” Ethan shrugged. “Some interesting opportunities come up.”

“And if you happen to get rich in the process...”

“How long have you known me? When precisely would you describe me as rich?”

“You seemed rather well off in Kensington.”

“That was Laura.” Ethan shook his head. “Cocktail parties, coke, and shoulder pads. She only wanted me for my magics. I could have changed her into anything she dreamed of... But she thought of it like scar free surgery.” He sighed. “There's a million like her. Could keep me working a day job for life.” He grimaced and faked a shudder. “Giving people exactly what they think they want, day in, day out. Where's the art in that?”

“Where's the art in poisoning a town so someone can steal babies?”

Ethan grinned. “I gave him exactly what he ordered. A town in chaos. And yet was even one infant sacrificed?”

“You can't be claiming credit for that! Buffy and I...”

“Are a quite formidable team, yes. Especially with you feeling so much like your old self.”

Giles narrowed his eyes. “You... You can't honestly claim that was helpful! Every responsible adult in Sunnydale was acting like a teenager!”

“And Sunnydale teens are noteworthy for their blind irresponsibility, of course.”

Giles stared at Ethan.

Ethan just smirked.

Giles turned away and shook his head.

“You turned Sunnydale upside down, and you made a tidy profit from it.”

“Of course I did. But the world is already upside down. Ripper, they're using forces that can change the very nature of reality, to do some minor relocation on cash.”

“We did the same, on a smaller scale.”

“When we were kids,” Ethan agreed. “I'd think it was about time they grew out of it.”

Giles half laughed and shook his head.

“What?”

“You. Talking about growing up. We worked dark magics for pleasure and gain, and you didn't stop. The only difference is in scale.”

“You think so,” Ethan said. “I suppose you've followed my career?”

“I've seen enough. Costumes and candy. It's like spiking the punch. Entirely juvenile.”

“I change people, Ripper,” Ethan spoke, low and enticing. “I take their hopes and dreams and wishes and I show them where they lead.”

“You twist them into nightmares.”

“Nightmares are dreams that don't stop when it's convenient. People keep looking for a happy ending...”

“And you can't let that happen. Happiness is too mundane.”

“You want to let it end?” Ethan shook his head. “Everything changes.”

“Especially when you give it a push.”

Ethan looked annoyed, but as he drew breath to speak the plane suddenly plunged downwards, leaving Ethan behind.

Giles was grateful for his seatbelt, and clutched at the seat as the plane continued to buck. The announcement about turbulence came on again, but as the plane plunged once more Giles swore. This wasn't normal. This was far from right. He looked out the window.

His jaw dropped. “Bloody hellfire!”

Ethan, shakily, agreed. “Looks like.”

Out in the dark, distance unknown, something was burning. In that huge emptiness there were no points of reference, no sense of scale. But when the next red-gold burst blossomed in the dark, it was some moments before their plane wobbled once again.

“Please, stay in your seats and keep calm,” said the voice of the aeroplane.

All along their side of the machine those with access to a window were not calm at all. Someone started screaming, and soon there was a chorus of it.

In the dark, from the center of the flames, a figure started to emerge. Humanoid, but not human. Horns rose above the twisted face, mouth gaping in a scream or roar. When the next wave of fire came up, it illuminated wings. They flapped, once, and the figure started to rise.

Giles, pale and slightly sick, tried to think of a single thing that he could do that would be any help at all.

Then another explosion, larger than the rest, engulfed the demon, and it fell back into the flames.

“What in God's name was that?” Giles asked, his voice coming out a harsh whisper.

“That, I most devoutly hope, was the demise of the demon Prince Barvain,” Ethan told him, voice shaky and likewise faint.

Giles turned to face him. “Barvain?” He blinked, distant a moment, then went on, “Barvain, from Sunnydale? The one scheduled to rise at sunset...”

“...The last time I was there, yes. As I recall, you turned up to stop him with two teenagers and a bag of stakes.”

Giles blinked, and turned to look out the window again. The plane was leveling off now, no new explosions evident, but in the distance the fire raged.

“I was significantly under equipped.”

The speakers still poured out assurances, some meaningless prattle about turbulence and light shows. The stewardess, professional demeanour firmly in place, started to check the seats. All manner of upset utterances rose up from all sides, but getting slightly quieter now.

“So the Initiative shipped Barvain out here when they took... What's so funny?”

Ethan had started laughing. “You think your commandos could have captured that?”

“They must have done something. Barvain did not rise.”

“And you, of course, gave them credit. I believe your evidence was that 'too clean' look.” Ethan grinned. “Trust me, Ripper, they didn't show. I should know.”

“You were already in the crypt,” Giles said softly, remembering. “You... You're saying you...”

“Dealt with Barvain.” Ethan smiled again, if you could call something that dangerous a smile. His dark eyes sparkled, and for a moment Giles remembered exactly how awed he'd once been at this man's power.

Then his eyes narrowed, and he repeated, “Dealt with. Ethan, do you mean...”

“Cut a deal.” Ethan looked away.

“Exactly what deal, Ethan?” Now Giles sounded dangerous.

Ethan looked back at him, smirk in place. “I told him I'd prepare an army for him.” He waved out the window at the distant flames. “I was thinking British, but US seems to have done the job.”

Giles shook his head and faced forward, face set in disapproving lines. “And at what cost? How many lives...”

“Hey! I'm here precisely because I did not like the cost. That thing in the cell thought different.” Ethan looked pensive, corrected himself. “The thing that was in the cell.”

“You don't think it burned?”

“No.” Ethan looked away, looking distant a moment, then shivered and moved closer to Giles.

Giles flinched out of the way, without thinking. Ethan saw, and something flickered over his face too quick to name.

Then he looked up at Giles, for a moment looking serious. “I'm the unquiet dead, Ripper. My... body... hasn't had a proper burial yet. Or been cremated. I'd know.”

Giles nodded and looked away. After a moment he went looking for a pen. When he sat up again, Ethan was once again elsewhere.

*** *** ***

Giles was out of the plane, the concourse, and most of the airport before he realised he didn't really know what to do next. He ground to a halt, undecided between taxis and car hire. He needed more information.

“Ethan,” he said, looking around. No sign of him, again. “Ethan Rayne?” Giles asked quietly.

Ethan stepped into view from behind him, leaving Giles to wonder quite how long he'd been there. He shook his head, then got right to the point. “Do you know where your... your remains are, right now?”

Ethan frowned, then closed his eyes. “Yes.” He turned slowly in a circle, then opened them again, blinking and looking thoughtful. “No. Possibly? I think... I could go to them. In fact I'm sure of it. There's a... pull. But it doesn't seem to be directional.”

Giles sighed. “Wonderful. Well could you go and come back? Get some... rough idea of its surroundings. Desert or whatever.”

Ethan's expression dropped away, a polite mask there in its place. “I could. I won't. You have another plan?”

Giles opened his mouth to object, then frowned and closed it again. Instead he held up his bag. “I have some hopes for a locater spell, but you know, the greater the range...”

“...The more power it will take. Weren't you tapped out?”

Giles grimaced slightly. “Not... as such.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“I'll just have to be careful. I brought some ritual items that should be of help, although they... currently need a line of sight.”

“So you need somewhere to set up. Somewhere central... With a view of all Las Vegas?”

“You have somewhere in mind?”

Ethan grinned. “If they've finished building it... You should try the Stratosphere. Highest tower in America. The view from the top of that...”

“...Should take in the whole city. Yes, that would help... Although there's the small problem of walls.”

“We'll figure it out. Come on. Get a taxi, they'll know where it is.”

They did, though Giles felt obscurely irritated to have to pay someone to drive straight down the street. Ethan had vanished again, so he couldn't voice his displeasure directly.

He got out and went through his pockets, trying to find some US cash. He'd acquired some on the way here, but for a moment could not recall what pocket it was in. His bag kept falling off his shoulder, and he managed to pull the cross out of his pocket to clatter on the sidewalk.

The driver looked bored, and kept his hand out, until the requisite notes were handed over. Then he pulled away fast.

Giles gave up and just carried his bag in his off hand, put the cross away again, and turned to face the hotel.

He yawned. Fourteen hours in transit, most of it sleeping, yet here he was thinking how good it would be to get to his room.

He stepped forward, heading for the main entrance.

It was just gone midnight here, yet there were still crowds, pushing past each other under neon lights.

Some giggling girls pushed past him, and through the gap made by their passing he saw Ethan again.

The lighting here made him look cadaverous, and for some reason he'd changed his clothes, to unbecoming olive drab.

One step further forward, and Giles realised what was wrong with that.

He grabbed for his pocket as the vampire rushed forwards and grabbed him, one hand on his left wrist and the other round his throat.

“Hello, Ripper,” it said, fangs descended and face in the feeding mask.

“Ethan!” Giles gasped.



*** *** ***

Part 4/7 here