**********

Giles sat down and sighed with relief as the final student left the lecture theatre.

"That didn’t go too badly," he muttered. "After a while I managed to get them concentrating on Watchers not Slayers…although how much of it they actually absorbed remains to be seen."

It went very well. Following the opening salvo they settled down and at least began to show you the respect you deserve.

"There’s a long way to go yet," muttered Giles, scanning the list of student names and realising with a smile that he could match practically every name to a face.

That is so. However they DID listen to what you had to say and that is an important step, as is the fact that you enjoyed teaching very much.

"I did," Giles smiled and stood up. "The only feeling that comes close to the exhilaration of gaining knowledge for oneself is imparting that knowledge to others…others who are willing to learn."

Sharing knowledge IS exhilarating…and we are more familiar with that than most.

"Indeed we are," Giles grinned and picked up the few pieces of paper on the table.

And now our shared knowledge is telling me that we must go and find Ethan Rayne.

"Yes and I think…" Giles broke off and then grimaced. "Damn it!"

Ahhh…you require transportation.

Giles opened his mouth to respond then closed it again as a series of tentative knocks sounded on the door.

"Come in!" He said loudly, raising an eyebrow at the nervous looking young man who peered into the room.

"Mr Giles?" The young man seemed to relax at Giles’ affirmative nod and advanced into the room, holding out an envelope at arm’s length. "This is for you, sir."

"Thank you," Giles took the envelope and regarded the young man appraisingly. "Tell me…could you arrange a car for me?"

"Of course, sir," the youth replied almost eagerly. "Would you like a driver as well?"

"No thank you…I’ll drive myself."

"If you would follow me, sir…there are a couple of things you need to sign."

"Of course," replied Giles, stuffing the envelope into his pocket. "Lay on, MacDuff."

**********

Ethan awoke slowly…and painfully. As awareness returned to him so did the pain and he groaned loudly, every movement causing more and more discomfort. He sucked in a deep breath and tried desperately not to gag at the smell that assailed his nostrils. Bad idea, he thought desperately, very bad idea. He tried twisting his head away, but the stench was everywhere: on his clothes; his skin; in the air that he breathed; he could even taste it in his mouth – a combination of vomit, faeces and what seemed to be rotting flesh.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," came a familiar, amused voice and, with a momentous effort, Ethan opened his eyes, wincing as the light seemed to hurt his eyeballs.

"Wha…?" He managed to croak before his meagre supply of energy dried up and he let his eyelids droop once more.

"Now, there’s a good boy," an approving note crept into his other self’s voice and Ethan shivered in surprise at the hand that gently stroked his hair. "You’ve done well…you’re now in perfect condition for what I need."

"I…I don’t…" Ethan frowned in confusion, panting with the effort of speaking.

"Your body is broken and weak…even now it betrays you," his other self grinned broadly, staring down at the prone form almost eagerly.

Ethan flushed with embarrassment and disgust as he felt the thin trickle of urine on his leg. End this now, he pleaded silently, please…let me die.

"As to your mind," continued the hated and familiar voice, "that belongs to me. It’s taken me a lot of work to get you where I want you and there is one final service you need to perform before I let you die."

**********

Quentin sighed and gently placed the receiver back in its cradle. Muttering under his breath, he sat back and tapped his pen irritably on the desk.

"Am I disturbing you?" Asked Henry, pausing in the doorway.

"No…no, not at all," replied Quentin, tossing his pen down. "I’m just bemoaning certain members of staff who appear to be impossible to get hold of."

"No prizes for guessing who you mean," grinned Henry, entering the office and sitting down. "I’m sure that one of Rupert’s ancestors was the original ‘Wil-o-the-wisp’."

"He certainly makes a habit of disappearing at inopportune moments." Quentin shrugged. "Oh well…anyway, how is your research going?"

"It’s rather interesting actually. Very enlightening." Henry dropped some notes on Quentin’s desk. "I’m not a particularly gullible man. I like to think that I examine the evidence thoroughly before coming to a conclusion."

"Your point being?"

"I’m saying no more. Not until you read that." Henry stood up. "I’ll be at the Museum for the next few days but…Quentin?"

"Yes?" Quentin made no move to pick up the papers.

"If I were you…I wouldn’t take too long."

**********

"Judging by the dust in there," muttered Giles, getting back into the car, "Ethan hasn’t been to the flat in a considerable time."

It did not look as though he had EVER been there. There was a distinct lack of any personal effects.

"He moves around a lot," replied Giles, starting the car and easing it into the traffic. "You could say he used that place as more of a way station whenever he was in London, but I thought it was worth a try."

And now we are going to what you think of as ‘his father’s place’. Why call it that when you are aware that his father is deceased and your memory is quite clear that the house passed to Ethan Rayne?

"Because Ethan never felt at home there. He and his father were always at loggerheads… nothing Ethan did could ever have been good enough for Adam Rayne."

You have an intriguing history with Ethan Rayne. At a difficult time in your life he was your closest friend and it is your deep-rooted respect and appreciation for that friendship which has prevented you from dealing more severely with him in the last few years. You are uncertain, however, what your reaction might be should you discover that Ethan Rayne was responsible for the death of Bernard Hodgkinson.

"Very uncertain," sighed Giles, "but don’t worry, I’m not about to lose my temper and beat him to within an inch of his life. Not only would it not bring Bernard back, but he also wasn’t the type of chap who thirsted for vengeance. If I did that to Ethan, presuming he IS responsible, then you would be able to hear Bernard turning in his grave from the Outer Hebrides."

And even now you are trying to find extenuating circumstances should it be clear that one of your friends was responsible for the death of another. Is that not so? You do not think Ethan Rayne would ordinarily do such a thing therefore either something has happened to him or there is another, external, influence at work

"Or maybe both," Giles moved onto the motorway and put his foot down, the car surging forward as he switched to the outer lane. "At this moment, we can’t rule out anything. It’s been over two years since I last saw Ethan and a lot has changed since then."

Even your friend. There are any number of possibilities and any number of motives for what has happened. It is therefore useless to speculate until we find him.

"Indeed," Giles leaned forward and switched on the radio, giggling softly as he felt the unspoken question from the presence in his mind. "Do I have to buy you sweets to prevent you asking ‘are we there yet’?"

**********

"Strange," commented Daniel, not looking at the man standing before him. "Is the Slayer not of paramount importance?"

"No," the other man shook his head and smiled. "What is one girl, no matter how strong she might be? She is but one…the Council is many. She is in one place…the Council is a world-wide force. It has teams everywhere…watching and interfering. We have nothing to fear from the Slayer but the Council might cause us…inconvenience."

"Therefore, you intend to strike at them first?"

"If you had control, Daniel, what would YOU do?" He looked at Daniel with a hungry, intense expression, his blue eyes gleaming. Daniel frowned slightly; slowly coming to realise that his very life depended upon the answer he gave.

"Cut off the head," replied Daniel softly, "and the body will wither and die."

"Very good!"

"What will you do about that other Watcher? The one who merged with Vulcan’s Bane?"

"Oh yes…that one. He is interesting and he seems to have adapted well, however, like all humans, he DOES have weaknesses."

"Weaknesses?"

"He cares," grinned the other man, "and very shortly he will be nursing a viper in his bosom."

**********

Giles parked in the drive of the large suburban house and switched off the engine. He peered through the windscreen at the dark, unlit edifice that loomed in front of him, memories of a much younger Ethan running through his mind.

You spent a lot of time with Ethan Rayne.

"Yes I did. The magic drew us both in but he was more adept than I - probably because he was willing to give so much of himself to it whereas I always held back."

You were uncomfortable…you foresaw a time when the magic would control you – not the other way around. However, would you have come to that conclusion had your friend, Randall, not died?

"That’s something I’ll never know for sure. His death was most certainly a catalyst; it led me back to the Council. Would I have gone back had he survived? Probably. I was getting disillusioned with the magic but it would have taken me a lot longer to make the break and turn my back on Ethan."

Interesting how one event can have such an impact.

"That’s life," replied Giles, getting out and shutting the car door loudly.

You are making no attempt to hide your approach.

"No, there’s no point. I wouldn’t insult either Ethan’s intelligence or his abilities by trying to sneak in like a thief."

What are your instincts telling you? Do you feel anything?

Giles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on his innermost feelings, taking note of the smallest mental or physical sign.

"I feel apprehensive, which is only to be expected but," Giles frowned and opened his eyes, "also a build up of pressure…like a storm is coming."

That is most intriguing. It is fascinating to see the effect our merging is having upon you. You are more responsive than most.

"What is the most radical effect you’ve ever had on someone?" Asked Giles as he walked to the front door.

That would be Johan Klinsmann, a 17^th century cobbler in Offenburg, Austria. He developed quite remarkable psychic abilities.

"A cobbler?" Giles smiled as he knocked loudly on the door. "Thank heavens for that. I was starting to develop an inferiority complex at the thought of you having merged with such people as Julius Caesar. I’m glad to see that you’ve also merged with ordinary people like me."

There is nothing ordinary about any person I have partnered. Each one is, or has been, unique and perfectly suited for the task at hand.

"And what task did Johan perform?" Asked Giles as he knelt and started to pick the lock on the door.

He was required to be in the right place at the right time. His very presence maintained the balance…unfortunately, his psychic abilities were misinterpreted and he was accused of witchcraft. He underwent trial...torture…and was subsequently burned to death.

Something in the change of tone made Giles pause.

"We’ve glossed over the finer points of this, haven’t we?" He asked quietly. "For example, I know you said that you return to the Sphere when I die but when exactly? Just before I die or just after?"

At the point of death. Not before. At the precise moment of your death, I will be transported back into the Sphere.

"I see," replied Giles, turning back to the lock once more, "so you experienced all of Johan’s suffering?"

Indeed. It is necessary to experience ALL. Each partnership changes me – for the better, I hope. With Julius Caesar I experienced courage, determination and a single-mindedness that was quite exceptional, coupled with an innate sense of justice and…humanity. With Johan I experienced a different kind of courage, an unusual strength of spirit and an acceptance of his fate with quiet dignity.

"And had you been able to return to the Sphere sooner," Giles stood up and pushed the door open, "you wouldn’t have done so, would you?"

No. There was a mutual need. My presence was, I believe, comforting…and I derived great pride and the strength to wait for the next partner by witnessing and experiencing human death.

"In that case," Giles stepped inside the house, "let’s hope that you have a long time to wait for your next experience of death."

I agree. I am having, as one of your young friends would say, way too much fun to wish to return to the Sphere now.

"Good lord," Giles took out a handkerchief and held it in front of his mouth and nose. "The smell is quite disgusting."

It smells of death.

"No…not quite. It smells of decay." Giles hesitantly moved the handkerchief and sniffed. "It’s stronger down here."

Giles desperately struggled not to retch as he drew nearer the kitchen and the smell worsened considerably. Pushing open the kitchen door, the source of the stench immediately became apparent. Vomit, faecal matter and a variety of stains and puddles that Giles didn’t particularly WANT to identify coated the floor and the surfaces. Flies buzzed around angrily, settling briefly on some unknown substance before taking off into the air once more whilst maggots appeared to concentrate their efforts and were all attacking what had once obviously been a sandwich.

"What the…?" Giles paused, his eyes fixed upon the body that lay, almost motionless, on the floor. "Ethan?"

**********

"I see," Quentin placed the reports on his desk. "And the Hellmouths?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir," replied Robin Miller. "What appears to be a world-wide reduction in activity doesn’t seem to have had any effect on them…yet."

"Keep monitoring the situation, Robin. See if you can find any pattern here. You know the type of thing: any link between the types of demon, places, anything at all. I want the teams on full alert…we have to find out what’s going on and quickly."

"I really don’t have the staff to carry out a full analysis."

"And we can’t spare anyone," frowned Quentin. "Wait a minute…use the trainees. Get them working on the more mundane aspects and leave your trained staff free for the important analysis."

"We’ll get started right away," replied Robin, standing up. "I’ll phone London and set the wheels in motion."

"Are you going back tonight?"

"Yes," Robin smiled, "call me a city boy but I feel uncomfortable in the country."

"I like it," replied Quentin. "I like the peace, the slower pace of life."

"You are very welcome to it. Give me the crowds and traffic any day. Now I really should head back…don’t like leaving my staff alone for too long."

"Have a good trip back, Robin…and thank you for this."

"No problem."

Quentin watched as Robin Miller left the office and then he picked up the reports once more. I wonder, he thought, his eyes drawn to the notes Henry had placed on his desk earlier, I wonder if there’s a connection?

**********

"You’re an ass, Newton, you realise that?" Alan scoffed. "A 100%, grade A, complete ass."

"You won’t be saying that later," replied James Newton with a touch of smugness.

"Bloody hell, you’re not talking about his damned personnel file here. I mean, that in itself would be difficult enough to get hold of. You are talking about trying to steal Mr Giles’ PRIVATE file." Alan glanced around at the other students, aware that the look of incredulous disbelief on their faces was mirrored on his own. "You’re a clumsy prat at the best of times…you’ll never do it."

"Would that be a dare by any chance?" James grinned and Alan felt his annoyance growing.

"I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. You want to do it then fine, go ahead but it’s nothing to do with us…we didn’t encourage you or dare you. You get caught and you’re on your own."

"Oh come on! You lot want to know as much as I do! You all want to know if the rumours about him are true…well, here’s your chance to find out."

"Of course we want to know," replied Alan, "but it’s not worth the risk. Are you willing to chance being thrown out?"

"It won’t come to that."

"How do you know? Rupert Giles seems to be the blue eyed boy at the moment. Cross him and you could be chucked out."

"Or disappear…like Mr Montague," interjected Scott quietly. "Just think it over before you do anything stupid."

**********

Giles gently stirred the soup, casting occasional glances towards Ethan who was huddled in an armchair. Not wanting to linger in the kitchen Giles had, after carefully peeling the clothes from Ethan and bathing him, risked a brief expedition back to the kitchen where he rescued a tin of soup, a saucepan, a spoon, a tin opener and a small bowl. Bundling Ethan up in the warmest clothes he could find, Giles had lit the fire and set the saucepan of soup on it to warm.

He appears to be breathing with less difficulty now.

"Yes," murmured Giles, frowning at the saucepan, "but there’s nothing behind his eyes. No acknowledgement, no interest, no life…no Ethan."

Finding your friend has provided yet more questions.

"A LOT of questions," agreed Giles. "The main one being how on earth did he end up in this state? Not to mention that other question of why didn’t I THINK before I put a saucepan on the fire?"

Ah yes. A saucepan with a metal handle…an interesting problem.

"You COULD have reminded me about elementary physics."

It did not occur to me. I was…distracted by your confidence.

"Typical," replied Giles, taking off his jacket, " the immortal blames the poor mortal."

You will not be able to hold the handle for long using your jacket as insulation.

"I don’t need to hold it for long," Giles wrapped the jacket around his hand, grasped the handle and lifted the saucepan, placing it gently on the fireplace’s tile surround. "Tada!"

Amusement rippled through Giles’ mind and he couldn’t help smiling at the almost sarcastic "very good" rejoinder.

"You’re just jealous," continued Giles, placing the small bowl next to the saucepan, "because you didn’t think of it first."

Perhaps I did. Perhaps it was MY thought you acted upon.

"And perhaps," Giles gripped the saucepan handle once more, pouring the soup carefully into the bowl, "neither of us can tell any longer where one ends and the other begins."

We have not quite reached that plateau yet…but we will.

Giles picked up the bowl and the spoon and knelt beside Ethan. Raising a spoonful of soup to Ethan’s lips, Giles found himself holding his breath and mentally willing Ethan to open his mouth.

"Thank goodness he’s eating," said Giles with relief as Ethan swallowed the soup, "and that’s a good sign even if it is more of an automatic reaction than anything else."

You have much faith in the attributes of this ‘soup’. You were very happy to find this in the kitchen. Why is that?

"Chicken soup is similar to aspirin in that respect," Giles smiled, continuing to feed Ethan small mouthfuls of soup. "It’s thought of as a kind of Universal Panacea. When I was a boy, if I felt ill, my mother would give me two aspirin and prepare a bowl of chicken soup. Such was my mother’s complete faith in this combination that I usually felt better shortly after."

Was it the soup or the confidence of your mother that assisted your recovery?

"Probably a bit of both," Giles put down the spoon and the bowl and gently wiped Ethan’s mouth.

There is guilt in you. You blame yourself for his physical condition.

"Surprisingly not as much guilt as there would have been a year ago. Based upon the knowledge I had of the Initiative at that time, handing Ethan over to them was the right decision and, to be frank, I didn’t think they’d be able to hold him for long. Assuming, of course, that the Initiative was responsible for…this." Giles ran a finger along one of Ethan’s scarred hands.

Until he recovers sufficiently to talk…we will not know for certain. The answers to our questions are locked within him.

"He needs looking after…and he can’t stay in this place."

And you obviously do not wish for your friend to be in the care of the Council.

"Definitely not," replied Giles, sitting on the couch. He frowned suddenly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded envelope. "Oh hell, I forgot about this."

As did I.

"You’re certainly a big help," smiled Giles as he opened the envelope, taking out two sheets of paper. He sat back and started to read, the smile slowly slipping from his face.

Most interesting. It is as I predicted and it would appear we are running out of time.

"Indeed," Giles tapped the paper with his finger, "but this coven could not only help us but Ethan as well. I’ll phone Quentin and get the coven’s address."

**********

Henry watched the live television pictures from Mammoth Mountain with a kind of morbid fascination. Three hours into the eruption and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. I know I’ve seen this kind of thing many times, but this one has more meaning, he thought, it’s a portent…a sign of things to come. He sat back in his chair, picked up the copies of his notes and scanned through them. This is like a checklist of disaster, he thought, and I’m ticking them off at a rate of knots that is very worrying. Henry sighed and glanced up at the wooden cross that was hanging on his wall. I’ve never been a VERY religious man but I certainly feel like praying now. Could it be possible? Is Mankind facing the ultimate threat? The ultimate destruction? Is it the Antichrist…or is it something else? Judging by recent events and the things I’ve read in the Council’s library, anything is possible. I need to talk to Rupert…I’m sure he’d throw some light on this. Dratted man is never around when you want him…but I suppose it’s worth a try. Henry bit his lip and, with a feeling that he was wasting his time, he picked up the phone and dialled a number he now knew by heart. After it had been continuously ringing for over a minute, Henry muttered under his breath and slammed the receiver back into the cradle. Bloody man…I don’t know how Quentin puts up with him…he can be damned impossible at times. It looks like I’ll just have to wait. Henry settled back in his chair, his attention once more caught by the pictures of a spectacular volcanic eruption unfolding before his eyes.

**********

"Come on, come on…I know you can hear me."

Ethan huddled into the armchair and tried to ignore the voice that wouldn’t leave him alone, the voice that pestered him constantly.

"You heard everything Rupert Giles said. I know you did. I could feel you listening."

Ethan opened his eyes, flinching at the sight of his other self squatting in front of him with a calculating smirk on his face.

"There!" His other self grinned happily. "I knew you could do it. There’s no point in you hiding in that secret little place in your head because I can drag you out when I need you…remember that."

"I know," whispered Ethan, unable to tear his eyes away from the other’s intense gaze.

"Good. Don’t you dare forget it. Now, listen to me carefully."

"Yes," Ethan nodded, feeling that even acquiescence was beyond his abilities at the moment.

"You will stay in your secret place until I tell you to come out. You will then do exactly what I tell you to do. You will not question…you will not think…you will simply act. You will not listen to anyone else…especially Rupert Giles. You know where he’s taking you?"

"Yes…coven." Ethan frowned and whispered, "can they help me?"

"No," spat his other self vehemently. "They’ll hurt you…just like the Initiative did. That’s why you must stay in your secret place. You’ll be safe there…you’ll come to no harm there. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" Ethan struggled to keep his eyes open. "Tired…so tired."

"Go back," said his other self quietly, gently stroking Ethan’s hair. "Go back to your secret place, your safe place, and await my instructions."

**********

"Earlier," said Daniel as he regarded the other man with interest, "you said you were an ‘emissary’. What did you mean?"

The other smiled, sat on the ground and crossed his legs.

"Exactly what I said."

"Rumour has it that you are either the First…or the Antichrist." Daniel sat opposite, a questioning look on his face.

"Do you fear me?"

"I fear what you are capable of…yes."

"I am not the Antichrist, Daniel," he said softly as he closed his eyes, "nor am I the First."

"Then who are you?" Daniel frowned. "Why did you summon us?"

"You may call me Legatus and, as I stated earlier, I am an emissary." Legatus opened his eyes and grinned. "I am an emissary of the First. I come to prepare the way...no more than that."

"Then the First IS coming."

"Yes, Daniel. Very soon. The conditions are nearly perfect for his arrival."

"Conditions that you have to ensure come about?"

"Indeed," Legatus shrugged. A shame I cannot tell you the whole truth, my friend, he thought, but a part of it will suffice.

"My task requires that I identify where the main threat lies and nullify it, if I can," continued Legatus. "I am not here to enslave or destroy humanity – those decisions are not mine to make."

"And you’ve identified the Council as the main threat." Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You’re going to destroy it all?"

"No," smiled Legatus, "wholesale destruction is not part of my…remit. The ‘indians’ are of no consequence…it is the chiefs who are important."

"And what do you require of us?"

"Some of you I need for your mental strength…others for your physical strength. It will become clear soon. Things are almost ready." Legatus stared intently at Daniel. "You are special. You will be the conduit through which the energy will flow."

"I will be whatever you require, my Lord."

**********

Rachel finished the chapter she was reading and then sat back and stretched. Not a bad day, she thought, much better than usual. Rachel had noticed subtle changes in attitude since Mr Giles’ rather intriguing lecture. Most of the other students had toned down their teasing somewhat and Rachel had been very pleasantly surprised to find that a few had actually started to talk to her like a normal person. Wonders will never cease, she thought, realising that she no longer thought of the other students as pariahs to be avoided at all costs. What is it about Mr Giles? There’s something about him…a feeling…or an attitude? Whatever it is, he seems the kind of man you can trust…and there are very few of those about. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe it’s trust. He’s not underhand and deceptive like Mr Montague. He doesn’t have that slyness about him. Mr Giles seems honest, trustworthy and…strong. Settling back into her chair once more, Rachel yawned and opened her book. Ah well, we’ll see. She glanced up as James Newton strolled into the library. He was trying to appear unobtrusive but his forced nonchalance set alarm bells ringing in her mind. He couldn’t be any more obvious if he put his hands in his pockets and whistled, she thought, peering over the top of her book. She watched as he sat at a computer terminal, smiling to herself as his nervous glance around the room completely ignored her presence. There are distinct advantages to being invisible, she thought, dropping all pretence and watching him openly. The few others in the library seemed to be completely absorbed in their studies, no-one was paying any attention at all but James still looked nervous and concerned. What IS he up to? She frowned as his fingers flew over the keyboard, his face getting closer and closer to the monitor. Within minutes he was so completely engrossed that he was muttering under his breath and, noted Rachel, he was starting to attract the attention of one of the Records Assistants. Hmm, what to do? I could just sit here…let him get caught doing whatever he’s doing. That would be a nice bit of payback for the way he’s treated me. Rachel sighed and put her book down. I can’t do it…not even that idiot deserves to be kicked out of here. Besides, if he’s caught it will reflect upon the rest of us. Satisfied that she had found a good enough reason to convince herself, Rachel stood up and walked casually over to stand behind James. She glanced at the screen and sucked in a breath. Personnel files? What on earth was he playing at? Leaning over his shoulder she quickly minimised the file being displayed on the screen.

"You’ll find what you’re looking for in here," she said, touching a button and opening a reference guide as the Records Assistant walked past.

"What…?" James glanced at Rachel then at the Records Assistant who was watching with more than a little interest. "Oh…yes…thank you. I tend to lose my way easily in these things."

"No problem," replied Rachel, waiting until the Records Assistant moved away before hissing at James. "What ARE you doing?"

"Nothing," protested James, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. He sighed as Rachel glared at him. "Okay, okay…no need to look at me like that. Blimey, you wouldn’t say boo to a goose earlier and now you’re Scary Mary?"

"What are you looking for?" Rachel pulled up a chair and sat down. James shrugged and maximised the file.

"I’m trying to find Mr Giles’ private file…but I can’t get past the damn security. I’ve got his Personnel File but no dice on the other one."

"What do you want to look at that for?"

"To find out if the rumours about him are true."

"What rumours?"

"Jeez…you mean you don’t know? You haven’t heard?"

"No," Rachel looked uncomfortable then her expression hardened. "No-one talks to me…remember?"

"Um…yeah," James flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Go on then," Rachel smiled slightly, "tell me about these rumours."

**********

Giles put the petrol nozzle back into the pump and locked the petrol cap.

"You’re very quiet," he said softly, glancing briefly at Ethan who appeared to be fast asleep in the passenger seat.

I am merely speculating.

"About what?" Giles fished his wallet out of his pocket and walked across to the kiosk.

About possibilities.

"You could be more specific," Giles muttered under his breath, handing over some notes to the bored looking youth behind the counter and receiving a handful of change in return. Stuffing the coins into his pocket, he walked back to the car.

Something is not right. You are feeling it as well. A slight discomfort about the situation.

"Feeling like a puppet on a string," remarked Giles, getting into the car.

Yes. As though we are being deliberately led somewhere specific.

"The question is…" Giles broke off as Ethan started to twitch and fidget, his eyes still closed as he muttered and moaned. "Ethan?"

"Hurts…no…please…no more…"

The words were softly spoken but the obvious pain and despair in his voice cut through Giles like a knife. He reached out to grip Ethan’s shoulder.

"Ethan…it’s Rupert…it’s okay…you’re safe now."

Ethan slowly opened his eyes and stared at Giles with only a brief hint of recognition evident in his gaze.

"Rupert…" Ethan sank back against the seat, his eyes closing and his whole body relaxing as he drifted to sleep once more.

"Right," said Giles as he started the car, "let’s get you some help."

**********

Henry sipped his tea and then yawned. Sleep, he thought, is a nice idea but I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight. Used to sleeping a regular eight hours each night, Henry was starting to feel tired and uncomfortable. He stared with resignation at the television. The sound was turned down low but the live pictures of the eruption continued to flash before his eyes. He sighed and put down his cup. Every time I close my eyes I see it…the end of the world. Surely something will survive? Some reminder? Some acknowledgement of our existence for someone…or something…to find? Or will there be nothing? Will there be a clean slate? Humanity wiped from the face of earth and no trace left behind to mark our passing? Henry smiled slightly. You’re certainly a cheerful soul tonight, Henry Rochester. He reached for the remote control, determined to change channels and try to steer his mind away from its somewhat morbid wanderings. Henry jumped slightly as the shrill ringing of the telephone seemed to echo around the room and, muttering under his breath, he picked up the receiver.

"Yes?" Henry snapped irritably.

"Good evening, Henry," Quentin’s calm voice seemed to carry a touch of amusement. "We ARE cheerful tonight, aren’t we?"

"Sorry," sighed Henry. "I’m just feeling a bit ragged."

"You should learn to relax a bit more…take it in your stride," replied Quentin. "The Council faces prophecies and information denoting end of the world scenarios at least once a month."

"How can you be so unfazed?"

"Oh, I’m not. However, there’s really no point worrying yourself into an early grave. You do what you have to do…you do what you CAN do and hope that its enough."

"I see…and what are you going to do this time?"

"Can you get to Clunewic for eight in the morning?"

"Yes," replied Henry, "I should think so."

"Good. I want to see if Rupert can add anything to your discoveries."

"You finally tracked him down then?"

"He called me," replied Quentin. "He’s going to interview another…um…organisation about some information they’ve uncovered and he’ll meet us here in the morning."

"Good…Rupert and I have a Finance Committee meeting at the Museum tomorrow afternoon…"

"Oh well, I would hate for the possible end of the world to stand in the way of the financial wellbeing of your Museum."

"Now who’s getting a touch impatient?"

"Just be here tomorrow, Henry."

**********

"You mentioned that I will be the conduit," said Daniel as he followed Legatus through a series of underground tunnels.

"That is so," Legatus glanced over his shoulder at Daniel. "You are amongst the last of your kind…such a shame. The Council have much to answer for."

"We were a threat," replied Daniel calmly. "Most demons are driven by instinct whereas we combined our instinct and intelligence."

"Not to mention your mental adaptability."

"The majority of us found little use for that capability. We are, by nature, solitary beings therefore it would be an unusual combination of circumstances for our mental abilities to be utilised."

"Despite your lack of practice, Daniel, I feel that you are well suited for the task ahead."

"Which is?"

"You will absorb the mental energies of others…absorb and then channel them. You will channel them to a specific point WHEN I tell you. Timing is all-important."

"And these ‘others’ are ready?"

"Yes. At this very moment they are preparing themselves…preparing to combine their energies for my use." Legatus grinned. "We will cut off the Council’s head and, as you said earlier, the body will then wither and die."

"It will die with help?" Questioned Daniel. "Is that where your ‘physical’ strength will be of use?"

"Very good, Daniel. You are quite correct. With the Council’s ‘Generals’ gone, all will be chaos and disorder. However, it is important not to let the enemy have time to regroup. The first strike will weaken them…it will dishearten them. Our second strike will destroy them."

"You…you have an army?"

"WE have an army, Daniel. They are answering my summons…they are gathering. They await my orders."

**********

Giles stifled a yawn as he drove along the narrow, country road. He glanced at the peacefully sleeping Ethan and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his chest.

You need to rest. It has been a very long day and you are still recovering from your injuries.

"It’s not far now…then I can rest."

For a few hours, then you have a meeting. I do accept that things are moving quickly and there is barely time to rest but I must insist that should the opportunity arise then you must take advantage of it.

"If you stop nagging me then it’s a deal."

I do not nag…I merely advise.

"Interesting definition."

And my advice is that, should the coven refuse to look after Ethan Rayne, you hand him over to the Council. They have far greater resources at their disposal than you have.

"I’m fully aware of that," replied Giles, turning the car onto a muddy lane, "and I’m also aware that events are conspiring against us and I simply won’t have the time to help him. I still don’t like the idea of leaving him with the Council though."

There may be little choice.

"Indeed…and we’re about to find out," replied Giles, stopping the car outside a large farmhouse. Lights blazed from every window, giving the house the appearance of a comforting haven in the surrounding wilderness.

Our approach was not unobserved.

"So I see," muttered Giles, getting out of the car as the farmhouse door opened and a middle aged lady peered out.

"Mr Giles?" She called cheerfully.

"Yes," replied Giles, looking slightly nonplussed.

"I’m Barbara," she smiled. "Don’t worry…nothing supernatural…Mr Travers phoned to say you were on your way."

"Of course," replied Giles with a grin.

"Do come in."

"Before I do," said Giles, opening the passenger door of the car, "I need to ask for your help with a friend of mine."

"Oh?" Barbara walked over to join Giles and peered into the car. "Blimey! Your friend has been through the mill a bit, hasn’t he?"

"Yes," replied Giles, "and I wish I could tell you more but I found him like this. He’s been either unconscious or asleep and…"

Barbara glanced up as Giles paused.

"And?"

"He’s a powerful sorcerer who serves Chaos."

Barbara looked solemnly at Giles before she suddenly started to giggle.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "I was just waiting for the spooky music to start."

Giles couldn’t help smiling. "But will you help him?"

"We’ll try," Barbara looked at Giles, "but I can promise no more than that."

"I understand…and thank you."

"Bring him on in," replied Barbara, stepping back. "Some of the girls can initiate a cleansing whilst you and I talk. By the way, have you eaten?"

"Uh…no," Giles winced slightly as he lifted Ethan from the car.

"Thought not. We’ve saved some vegetable casserole for you."

**********

"Can I ask you something?" Asked James as he and Rachel left the library.

"If you must," she shrugged, glancing briefly at him before looking away.

"Your…um…training. Was it really as tough as Mr Giles said?"

Rachel sucked in a breath and stopped walking.

"Why do you want to know?" Her tone was sharp and abrupt and James took a step backwards from the angry expression on Rachel’s face.

"I don’t mean to be nosy," he said, holding up his hands, "and if you’d rather not say anything, then fine. It’s just…I wondered if you were…timid…before the training. What I’m trying to say is that surely the physical training would have given you confidence not turned you into…"

"Into the timid and scared girl who wouldn’t say boo to a goose?" Interrupted Rachel, her expression softening somewhat.

"Yes," James nodded, "but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

"It was tough," she admitted, "and the punishments were…hard. Some called them cruel but we HAD to learn…and we had to learn quickly because any one of us could be chosen at any time. I rather enjoyed the physical stuff. I liked learning the martial arts…"

"But?" Prompted James as Rachel paused.

"But," she continued, "it was lonely…VERY lonely. I was cut off from friends and family, the only contacts I had were with other Potentials and trainers and let me tell you, when a group of girls get together, it’s usually nothing but a bitching session. I couldn’t stand it…all the bitching, the backstabbing…so I withdrew from them. I spent evenings studying alone and I loved it. The problem was that, as a Potential, I wasn’t supposed to think. I was supposed to concentrate purely on the physical not the mental, then if I was Chosen, my Watcher would do my thinking for me. So, I was punished more and more…and I ended up withdrawing, not just from the other potentials, but from everyone. Once I started doing that it became habit and that is a very difficult thing to break. Have you ever been pushed so hard that the only place you have any reprieve is inside your own head?"

"No, I haven’t," admitted James. "It’s always been easy for me. I’ve been happy with everything that’s been expected of me because it was what I would have chosen for myself anyway. I’ve spent my life doing something I love. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones."

"The main thing is that you understand what I’m saying…you understand why I’m like this."

"I think I do," replied James. "Training a Potential must be a bit like programming a weapon…but what happens when that weapon isn’t picked for the task? Can it be reprogrammed? Was it easier for you to adjust to becoming a Watcher because you never fully accepted life as a Potential?"

"Quite probably," smiled Rachel. "I love studying, love research. If I can continue to do that, in whatever capacity, then I’ll be very happy."

James paused at the door to the common room and grinned at Rachel.

"Come on…let’s go and tell the others about our spectacular lack of success."

**********

Giles put the empty dish and spoon on the table and smiled happily.

"Thank you," he said, "that was delicious."

"You’re welcome, Mr Giles," replied Barbara with a grin. "I’ll pass your compliments on to the chef."

"Rupert…please."

"Very well, Rupert." Barbara glanced at Jo and Lisa. "That was quite a tale you told."

"And quite an interesting vision you had, young lady," replied Giles, looking at Lisa, who blushed and smiled.

"I get the impression, Rupert," continued Barbara, "that you’re holding back."

"Holding back?"

"You’re not telling us everything. You say you know about this ‘darkness’ that is coming but you don’t reveal HOW you know. There are also a number of other gaps in your story."

That one is very perceptive. Whilst neither of us wish to broadcast our partnership, I feel in this case it would be useful…not to mention essential. This coven seems trustworthy and they appear to value honesty.

"Very well," replied Giles. "What I’m about to tell you is known only to a few in the Council. I must ask for your word that you will keep this amongst yourselves."

"You have it," nodded Barbara.

Lisa muttered her assent and then glanced at the surprisingly reticent Jo. Almost laughing aloud at the rapt expression on Jo’s face, Lisa nudged her with her elbow.

"Oh…um…yes," stuttered Jo. "Absolutely. Anything you say."

Lisa stifled a giggle as Jo looked at her and mouthed "he’s gorgeous". Inclining her head in agreement and winking, Lisa grinned and then turned her attention back to Giles, who was looking more than a touch amused.

"Do go on, Rupert," Barbara allowed a touch of reproval to enter her voice.

"It all started at the Museum," began Giles, "with the discovery of two dead bodies…"

**********

Susan stepped back from the circle and looked around at the others.

"The cleansing ritual is complete," she said loudly, adding under her breath, "much good it’ll do."

Jayne knelt beside the naked Ethan, who was lying prone in the centre of the circle.

"He’s suffered a lot," she said, brushing the hair back from his forehead. "Did his friend say how he came to be like this?"

"No," replied Susan, "he didn’t. But have a care, Jayne, he’s been touched by darkness."

"I know," Jayne smiled slightly, "I can feel it…but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely a lost cause."

"It doesn’t mean he’s Bambi either," remarked Susan. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I’m always careful."

"Yeah, right," Susan rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well as you’re so attached to him, you can put him to bed, okay?"

**********

"Wow," Jo grinned wickedly as Giles finished his story. "So what’s it like during sex? Is it like a threesome or just a voice nagging away in your head and distracting you at the wrong moment?"

"Jo!" Barbara glared at Jo, who looked back at her innocently. Lisa collapsed back on the sofa, giggling helplessly whilst Giles managed to blush and cough at the same time.

"It’s an important question," protested Jo, with a smirk.

"It most certainly is not," replied Barbara sternly. She turned to Giles and shrugged. "I’m sorry, Rupert. As you can see, some of our more youthful members are obsessed with the more physical aspects of relationships."

"Oh…well…that’s…um…fine." Giles, still blushing, ducked his head slightly.

"Oh that is SO cute," grinned Jo.

"Okay, that’s enough," Barbara held up her hand. "I do have a question though, Rupert."

"Yes?"

"Is that sphere important in itself? Does it have any power?"

"Not whilst HE is in here," replied Giles, tapping his head. "Although, for obvious reasons, I would not wish it to fall into the wrong hands. It’s safe. Believe me."

I do not think your home is particularly safe. The sphere is still accessible should anyone want it.

"If they want it bad enough then they’ll find it no matter where I put it," muttered Giles. "However, when all this is over, we can find somewhere…more discreet and much safer."

"I take it you weren’t talking to US then, Rupert?" Barbara raised an eyebrow.

"Uhh…no, sorry."

"Thought not. Now, I understand you have a meeting at Clunewic early tomorrow?"

"Yes, I do."

"You are more than welcome to stay here tonight and drive to Clunewic tomorrow. You must be rather tired."

"That’s very kind," smiled Giles. "Thank you."

"Jo is usually up with the lark so she’ll wake you bright and early." Barbara tried to ignore the wide grin that appeared on Jo’s face. "Lisa, would you show Rupert to his room?"

"May I look in on Ethan first?"

"Please do. The ritual should be over now."

Barbara watched as Lisa led Giles from the room and then she turned to Jo.

"Honestly! How could you?"

"Oh come on," grinned Jo, "like that wasn’t the first thing you thought of."

"No it wasn’t."

"Ah-huh. It would be weird though."

"What would?"

"Having sex with him and knowing that you were being watched by that strange effort in his head."

"You didn’t doubt his story then?"

"No. No, I didn’t," frowned Jo, "which is weird in itself. If someone else I’d just met came to me with that story I’d try and have them sectioned, but for some reason, everything Rupert said seemed to have the ring of truth."

"I agree," replied Barbara. "It’s a strange story but I believe him. It all makes sense and links in with Lisa’s vision. She did say there was something different about the Watcher concerned."

**********

Giles gently pushed open the bedroom door and peered inside. Ethan was firmly tucked up in the large double bed, seemingly fast asleep, whilst a young lady was sitting alongside the bed in a comfortable armchair. She was frowning at the multicoloured, shapeless mass that was hanging limply from her knitting needles and muttering soundlessly.

"Excuse me?" Giles whispered loudly as he entered the room. "I wondered if I might…"

"Oh, of course," she stood up, "I’ll wait outside."

"Thank you…um...?"

"Jayne," she smiled. "Take as long as you need."

"Thank you."

Jayne placed her knitting carefully on the bedside table and, with a final shy smile, she quietly left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

"He’s looking a bit better," muttered Giles as he sat in the armchair.

Indeed. Let us hope that he will soon be able to answer questions.

"It’ll take time."

I sense a reluctance in you. You are now more convinced that Ethan Rayne was involved in the death of Bernard Hodgkinson and yet you are reticent…you do not wish to question him?

"I’m afraid of what I might find."

You also feel that, no matter what, you will eventually have to turn him over to the Council…and a trial by the Council will inevitably lead to execution.

"All they will be interested in is whether he is guilty or not," replied Giles, sitting forward in the chair. "The reasons behind the actions will be lost. If Ethan IS guilty, then I need to know why he did it and what drove him to it."

And if you discover that it WAS due to the Initiative? Will you blame yourself?

"I don’t know," sighed Giles, staring at Ethan’s face. "When did the jokes become serious, Ethan? Where did the fun go? You always loved creating havoc and mischief but you always knew when to stop…you saw the line. Why did you decide to step over it?

You think he can hear you?

"It’s possible," Giles shrugged.

Then you need to give him a reason to fight. A reason to stay alive.

"I think I know what might just do that. Ethan…remember our oath?" Giles held up his left hand and stared at his palm. "The scar has faded, it’s very faint but it’s still there, still visible. You remember the ritual…we bonded…just the two of us. ‘To make our magic stronger’, you said, ‘to give us a better understanding of one another’. The oath we took didn’t just relate to magic though, did it? I wonder if you ever realised that? That oath bound us like brothers. You are my responsibility, Ethan, just as much as I am yours. The final words…the words that completed the ritual. ‘No matter what’. Remember? If you can hear me I want you to concentrate on those words…think about what they mean. I will try and help you…no matter what. I will be here for you…no matter what. Think about it, old friend. No. Matter. What."