Author: Sandra Pascoe

Pairing: None

Rating: FRM - some violent situations and swearing

Archive: Sure - just ask first

Disclaimer: Giles doesn’t belong to me - I’m only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

Spoilers: I don’t think there are any

Setting: Giles is still in England during S6-though its going a tad AU…hehe

Notes: Sequel to "The Summoning". It helps if you’ve read that first. A few odd references in this one - mainly Dr Who. The title comes from the Barry Manilow song of the same name - it’s only available on his recent "Ultimate Manilow" album and is from his film "Copacabana". I’d advise you to listen - it’s a superb and moving song. (The song actually has nothing to do with this fic - but the title fits!)

Dedication: To Jules and Julia - cracking betas - especially Julia who beta’d this whilst recovering from a hospital stay - there’s dedication for you! Also thanks to Ruth for her valuable input.

**********

"And this person sounded like me?" Giles finished his tea and put his empty cup on the table.

"Well…yes," replied Henry, "but a distracted and possibly ill you…if you see what I mean."

"I think there’s little doubt that you’re the target here, Rupert," said Quentin. "The question is…what does this person want? They’ve had ample opportunity to kill you before now."

"I would have thought that was obvious," shrugged Henry. "They want that flibbertigibbet that’s residing in Rupert’s head."

"Possibly," replied Giles, "but my understanding is that upon my death, he returns to the Sphere…until it’s time to choose another."

That is correct. Should you die, then I return to the Sphere…and whilst you still live, I am a part of you. I am not an appendage that can be removed.

"Well let’s look at this from another angle," Quentin picked up his briefcase. "We’ve discovered something, Rupert."

"Oh?" Giles frowned as Quentin handed him a sheaf of papers.

"To summarise…the demon is called Sceleratus and it would seem he used to be human. His name was William Giles." Quentin nodded at Giles’ sharp look. "William disappeared in 1546, leaving behind a wife, Anne, and a son, Edward. Council records note that William was…under suspicion. No one seemed sure which side he was on. Those papers also mention a spell that can send you to wherever this Sceleratus is…but the diary containing the spell appears to be missing."

"Dear God," murmured Giles, dropping the papers on the table and moving across to the bookcase. He took out a large, leather-bound book and flicked through it. "Here we are…William…Rupert…Giles. In 1540 he was assigned a Slayer…no record after 1546."

"So, if you can find this spell," remarked Henry, "I take it you could then…um…whoosh…to where this creature is?"

"Yes," sighed Giles, "but it could take weeks, even months, to find the particular spell we need. We don’t have that time."

There is another way.

"What other way?" Giles frowned as a variety of emotions flooded through him. "And why does it worry you so much?"

Quentin glanced at Henry and held up a finger for silence. Henry nodded and then stared intently at Giles.

It worries me because it could carry a great risk…and because I believe you will want to attempt this.

"Well I won’t know until you tell me."

You share blood with this demon. You are of his line. I can use this blood link to find him.

"And what else?"

He used to be human…he was therefore cursed in some way. The name he uses suggests that. Demons of this sort do not usually reside here…he would be on another plane…another "realm" so to speak.

"Ahhh," Giles smiled slightly. "And you can get me to wherever Sceleratus is?"

It is possible. However, as I said, there are risks. I cannot enter another realm…you can. I can create a bridge to allow you to pass through. Your body would remain grounded here and your mind would travel to confront the demon. We would still be linked…but it would be a tenuous link. I would be unable to assist you…I could only keep the bridge open for your return…you would, in essence, be alone.

"I’ve been alone before," replied Giles. "As long as you can get me there, I can deal with it from then on."

You do not understand. Should you die there…your body here would die as well.

"Yes…I realise that."

What you do not realise is that should you die there…I will be unable to return to the Sphere. I will be trapped between planes. I will be alone…

**********

I KNEW you wouldn’t let me down, Rupert. You start slowly…you can be a bit of plodder…but eventually you get there. And it would seem that I don’t have to do anything as crass as "plant" the spell where you will find it. The Hooded Man giggled. So you’ve arranged your own transportation, Rupert? Good…I wonder if you have any conception of what will happen when you’re there? Jumping dimensions isn’t like catching a number 9 bus, you know. There are rules…laws you cannot break. You can’t win…not this time. Whatever you do…you are bound to fail. You will die alone, Rupert.

**********

"You’re out of your mind!" Quentin stared incredulously at Giles. "You seriously expect me to let you go in there alone? To walk into an obvious trap?"

"There’s no other choice," replied Giles quietly. "This is our only lead…we HAVE to pursue it."

"We could wait…do some more research. Find out MORE about this."

"We don’t have time," Giles sighed. "How many more deaths will there be if I wait?"

"Well YOUR death is practically certain if you don’t," replied Quentin urgently. "This has obviously been well planned. Whoever is behind this WANTS you to go there…it all adds up: the demon being one of your ancestors…making sure we take a good look at him…your friends being targeted. A trail of breadcrumbs has been left and you’re blindly following it."

"Not blindly. I know it’s a trap…the problem is I have no choice but to walk into it with my eyes open. We need information and this is the only way."

"Rupert…look," Quentin took a deep breath. "What if our mystery man has found a way to retrieve Vulcan’s Bane from the void? What then? What of the consequences…for ALL of us?"

That IS a concern…however whilst you live, I am connected to you and this cannot be severed. Should you die our connection would cease and I would be at extreme risk.

"So what do YOU suggest?" Giles turned away from Quentin.

I suggest you stay alive.

Giles couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. "So despite all the risks…you’re willing to do this?"

We are partners. We work together…in everything. We are building trust and faith between us - this will need to be unshakeable. I am willing to do this…as an expression of trust…and of faith in your abilities.

Quentin glanced at Henry. "I think we just lost the argument."

"Actually," replied Henry, "I happen to agree with Rupert. IF this story you two are spinning is true then his friends are being threatened and this is the only lead that anyone has come up with. So unless you plan to lock up every one of Rupert’s friends and acquaintances in an impenetrable bunker whilst you investigate further, I suggest you support his decision and do whatever you can to help."

Giles turned back to face Quentin and Henry, a determined expression on his face.

"We’re going ahead with this."

"Yes," sighed Quentin, "I gathered that. When do you propose to make the attempt?"

Not now. You have had a long day…you are tired and emotional. You need to be rested…you will need all your strength for this. You also need to…let go and move on. Your friend is never far from your thoughts…it is a distraction you do not need.

"Tomorrow? After the funeral?"

"Fine," replied Quentin. "We’ll go to the Retreat after the funeral and you can do it from there."

"In that case," said Henry calmly, "I’m coming with you."

"Oh, liberty hall," snarled Quentin. "We’ll just let anyone in off the street."

"Well, you two have landed quite a story on me," replied Henry. "I want to see this for myself. I want proof of the pudding before I accept what you’re saying."

"Wasn’t the demon proof enough?" Quentin glared at Henry, who looked back with a smile.

"To play Devil’s Advocate for a second…with the technology available today, it is entirely possible that the demon was somehow…fake. I’m not saying it was…but…" Henry shrugged, "in my line of work you have to explore ALL possibilities."

"Henry," smiled Giles, "you’ve believed far more incredulous theories on much flimsier evidence than this."

"Yes, but that was somewhat sterile. Merely carvings on stone…paintings on cave walls. It all seemed so distant…so untouchable. Those theories are not walking, talking or trying to throttle the life out of me." Henry briefly touched his neck. "It makes a big difference."

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"And I AM coming with you tomorrow." Henry glanced at Quentin. "I have no wish to argue with you, but I’ve been attacked once by this ‘demon’. I’m involved in this whether you like it or not and besides…Rupert is a friend and I want to help."

"Help?" Said Quentin incredulously. "You’d be a hindrance not a help."

You will need someone you trust to watch your body whilst you are not in this realm.

"You’ve told Henry all about it, Quentin," replied Giles. "I don’t see how you can keep him out of this. Besides…I’d like him to watch over me when I’m…away."

**********

The Hooded Man stepped back from the scrying glass and clutched the table, steadying himself. Deep breaths…take deep breaths and be thankful that at least it doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. I can wait a day for you, Rupert…hell, I could wait a few weeks if you were so inclined…but no longer than that. I really think I’m beginning to run out of time here. My body weakens whilst my mind remains strong. Will there be an end? Will this deterioration stop…or will it keep going until…until I have nothing left? Even my magic is affected…spells weaken me further but I can’t stop now…not when I’m SO close. It’s so near…I can almost TASTE your death, Rupert. So sleep well tonight. Awake refreshed and ready to face your final day…and it WILL be your last…I can promise you that.

**********

Sceleratus stood up and began to pace up and down, the landscape changing and colours swirling around him. Why now? Have I earned this? Have I satisfied you enough that you allow me a glimpse into my past? IS it my past? I’m presuming it is…but what is it? What does it mean? Sceleratus sighed and stopped pacing. As he did so, the colours ceased their agitated changing and swirling, settling once more into their slow and almost casual meandering through the air around him. He sat down, closing his eyes and concentrating upon the picture that had drifted unexpectedly into his mind. A human female…staring at me with what appears to be affection…even…love? Was I loved? Did I love? And what of the other? The human child that stands next to her…and stares up with such serious eyes…familiar green eyes. What memory is this? What does it mean? Can it be that my release is near? Have my pleas for forgiveness finally been heard? We shall see. Should Rupert Giles find his way here then I will have my answer…one way or another.

**********

Giles stood at the graveside, staring fixedly at the coffin as it was slowly lowered into the grave. He was aware of Henry and Quentin, flanking him on either side, but they seemed inconsequential and unimportant. The soothing presence in his mind was silent and respectful, although Giles was aware of a certain amount of fascination at the proceedings taking place before him. He tried to block out the dull and monotonous tone of the priest; the sounds of impatient shuffling of feet; the bird song that seemed so incredibly out of place and the faint sounds of waves breaking on the nearby beach. Life goes on, thought Giles, it’s no respecter of death…or sadness…or pain. It’s life...and life just IS. Probably a lesson to be learned there, Bernard…if I could be bothered to think about it. I don’t want to think but I’m going to have to. I don’t have a choice. Do any of us? Would you have made different choices, old friend? No…of course you wouldn’t. I can’t get into this…not today. Today, I need to be focussed. No distractions. I know I should say goodbye…but the time isn’t right. There’s too much happening…I’m sure you understand that. When all this is over, I’ll come back…and say goodbye properly. So for now…farewell, Bernard. Aware of eyes on him, Giles looked up to see Bernard’s mother, an elderly, frail-looking lady watching him with more than a hint of concern. He nodded slightly in an attempt at reassurance but it was met with a deeper frown and a flash of the eyes that convinced Giles that, unless he made a quick getaway, he would be facing a rather difficult conversation. With a shock, Giles realised that not only had the priest finished speaking but also that people were starting to drift away…and Mrs Hodgkinson was making her determined way to him. There was an almost guttural groan from Quentin, who stepped forward to try to forestall the surprisingly spry elderly lady. Like King Canute trying to turn back the ocean, thought Giles as he watched Mrs Hodgkinson stop and look up.

"Now Mr Travers," she said, never breaking eye contact with Quentin, "young Rupert is only going to escort me to the car. I’m sure you can spare him for a few moments."

Quentin looked hard at the lady staring impassively up at him before nodding and stepping aside, an unreadable expression on his face. Mrs Hodgkinson moved forward, her thin hand gripping Giles’ arm.

"I haven’t seen much of you recently, Rupert," she said, taking one long lingering look at the grave before they slowly started walking towards the gate.

"I’ve been away for a while, Mrs H," replied Giles. "Business…you know."

"Ah yes…and how is the export business, Rupert?" The barely perceptible emphasis on the word ‘export’ caused warning bells to ring in Giles’ mind.

"Oh as busy as ever," he replied evenly.

"Yes…that’s what Bernard used to say." Mrs Hodgkinson glanced behind and lowered her voice. "He was a worse liar than you."

"Mrs H…" Giles began, his voice trailing off as she gripped his arm tighter.

"Rupert, I never pried. I never asked Bernard for the truth…maybe because I didn’t want to know. But now…" she stopped and looked up at Giles. "Now, Rupert, I’ve just buried my only son and they won’t even tell me how he died. All I get is platitudes…empty words, Rupert, nothing but empty words."

"I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that will help," replied Giles with a touch of despair.

"The truth, Rupert. I don’t know what Bernard was involved in…but I know that you and Mr Travers are part of it. I’m not going to question you about it…I know you can be as stubborn as Bernard when pushed. I just need to know…" She trailed off helplessly and shrugged. Giles nodded as understanding finally came to him. A phrase from the service drifted to mind and he put an arm around Mrs Hodgkinson’s shoulders.

"Bernard fought the good fight, Mrs H. He made a difference. And that’s not a platitude…that’s the simple truth."

"Thank you, Rupert," she smiled slightly and patted his arm. "I needed to hear that."

With a brief nod to Quentin who, together with Henry, had remained at a discreet distance, Mrs Hodgkinson left the graveyard, walking purposefully towards the line of cars parked along the road outside. Giles watched until a middle-aged couple helped her into a car and then he turned to face Quentin and Henry.

"Are you alright, Rupert?" Asked Henry with concern.

"Yes…I’m fine. Let’s get this over with."

They walked to the car in silence. Quentin and Henry getting in the front and Giles settling himself in the back. Giles put on his seatbelt and leaned back, closing his eyes. He felt the car pull away, the gentle motion relaxing and soothing him.

That is better. You are rested and prepared.

"I’m as ready as I’ll ever be," muttered Giles. "Have you located him yet?"

I have not tried. Should I have done so last night, you would not have rested.

"Fair enough."

You have a question.

"Yes," Giles smiled, "I have. Once I’m in that other realm, is there any way I can release you so that you can return to the Sphere?"

That would leave you stranded. That is not an option.

"Is there a way?"

No, there is not. We can only be severed by death.

"Would you tell me…even if there were?"

Of course. Trust and honesty between us are important.

"So, our friend has done his homework."

Indeed, but now is not the time to dwell on that. Now you should be relaxing…and preparing for the task ahead. The funeral helped…it appeared to give you a certain amount of closure.

"A certain amount…yes. It’s not something that you can accept overnight. It takes time."

I understand. It was a peaceful occasion…your memories showed me that it would be; however, actually to experience it was fascinating.

"You sound a bit disappointed though."

I carry many experiences…these have influenced me in ways I cannot begin to understand. I change and adapt as much as you do. I rather think I have developed more of a sense of the dramatic…and for exhilaration and drama a Viking funeral is the pinnacle.

"I think Bernard would have liked that…and I would have paid to see the expressions on certain faces if we’d chosen that method."

"Rupert?" Quentin switched off the engine and turned in his seat.

Giles opened his eyes and raised his head. "Hmm?"

"We’re here."

Giles looked around, his eyes widening at the large number of security guards he could see patrolling the grounds.

"You’ve been busy, Quentin," he said, getting out of the car and instinctively loosening his tie.

"I merely made a few phone calls," replied Quentin as he and Henry clambered out of the car. "I wanted this place locked down and security so tight that not even a mouse could get onto the grounds without us knowing about it."

He is certainly organised and efficient. It is disappointing not to have had the opportunity to examine his mind closely.

"I’m sure he would have liked the opportunity to examine you at close quarters as well," muttered Giles as he followed Quentin and Henry into the house. Snippets of their muted conversation drifted to him and Giles smiled, finding it reassuring that Henry was more interested in questioning Quentin about the history of the house than anything else.

"I thought you’d find this easier in here," said Quentin, nodding to the security guards flanking a large, oak door. He opened the door, ushering Giles into the room he’d slept in days previously.

"This is perfect," replied Giles, taking off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

"I say," said Henry, looking around, "this section of the house appears slightly older than the rest."

"I’ll get you a bloody guidebook later," muttered Quentin, causing a slightly hurt expression to cross Henry’s face.

"Only showing an interest, old man," he said calmly.

"If you two are going to keep this up," interrupted Giles, taking off his tie, "then I’m rather glad my mind is about to trot out of here."

Lie down…you will need to be comfortable. Your body must not be a distraction.

"No last minute change of heart?" Asked Quentin. "You’re sure about this?"

Giles nodded and lay on the bed, shifting around to get comfortable.

"What do you need us to do?" Henry pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed.

"Just watch over me…don’t let anyone come in…no distractions."

Quentin grabbed a chair and sat on the other side of the bed. "That’s it?"

If you are wounded…the wounds will appear on your body here. They could try and soothe your injuries…it may help…it may not…but it will give them something constructive to do.

Giles raised his head and looked at Quentin.

"You could try bathing any wounds I happen to pick up."

"Be careful, Rupert."

Giles nodded and lay back down, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Henry opened his mouth to comment, then frowned and closed it again. Quentin glanced at Henry and motioned for silence. A mouthed "I know" from Henry had Quentin rolling his eyes and briefly wondering how on earth he was going to be able to cope with Henry’s interminable questions over the next few minutes, hours or even days. Quentin glanced down and noted Giles’ shallow breathing and state of complete relaxation. He glanced at Henry.

"Here we go."

**********

Giles sucked in a breath…or tried to…until he realised that he was travelling, disembodied, through what seemed to be a colourful wilderness. He could feel Vulcan’s Bane wrapped around him, shielding and protecting him as it searched restlessly, following the call of blood to wherever it would take them. They were speeding now…faster and faster…colours, lights and darkness whipping past them.

It’s like holding onto the tail of a comet, thought Giles as a flash of amusement pulsed through him.

You are encased in a bubble of thought…of energy. The void cannot harm you.

That’s as maybe, thought Giles, but I thought voids were…well…what their name implies: nothing.

They are. Some are pure darkness…others are brightly lit…but they still consist of nothing. What you see unfolding before you are millions of voids. All interconnecting…separating different worlds…different realms.

Easy to get lost then.

We will not get lost. We have your blood before us…and your blood behind us. We will find our way home.

I’m glad you’re so confident, thought Giles, feeling them start to slow down. You’ve found him?

Yes. We are nearly there. Remember what I told you…you must follow your heart.

Giles suddenly found himself pushed forward, thrust out of his protective bubble. He was falling; dropping like a stone, severed, feeling like a part of himself had been ripped out. He screamed soundlessly until, with a jolt, he could suddenly feel ground underneath him. He lay for a while, panting, eyes firmly closed. God, there’s a trip I don’t want to repeat in a hurry…wait a minute…eyes? I can breathe…I can feel the ground beneath me. He tentatively tried opening his eyes and then scrambled to his feet, looking down.

"Eyes…Feet…I have feet again…thank god for that." He paused and then smiled slightly. "So…this is a representation of me…never mind, at least I have what passes for a body again…even if I am still dressed for a funeral. Good job I took the jacket and tie off earlier."

Giles looked around, noting the swirling colours…the changing landscape…and what appeared to be a tear or rip in the shimmering air. My way out, he thought and then frowned. Oh God…I’m alone…I can’t feel you, he felt the panic start to rise and then, suddenly, he felt it…the softest of touches, the lightest of thoughts. It was tenuous, barely there and Giles latched onto it, cradling and protecting the contact as best he could. Stay with me, he thought, don’t leave me. There was no reply - not that he really expected one and he sighed, tearing his eyes away from the almost beckoning rift before him.

"Okay, William…where are you?"

**********

Sceleratus reared up, his head held high as he sniffed the air. How can he be here already? Why did I not sense him as I did the other human? What trickery is this? No matter. He is here now…I can feel him…the fear…the determination…the familiar stench of humanity. Wait…something is not right. He is protecting something…guarding it from harm. It is within him…merged…linked with him. Fascinating…but unimportant. Sceleratus flexed his claws and stood tall. The important thing is that he dies. His death will buy my freedom…that is the only thing that matters.

**********

The Hooded Man sighed with relief and slumped against the table. You’re there…at last. Finally, after all this time, I have you where I want you. I meant what I said, you know, there IS no escape…not this time. Whatever happens I win. Either you will kill Sceleratus or he will kill you. Simple enough, right? Well not really…because there’s something you don’t know, Rupert. Something that only Sceleratus and my predecessor know. You knew it was a trap…of course it was…but it was much more subtle than you thought. I can’t wait to see your face, Rupert, if you DO manage to kill Sceleratus. I’ll have to be quick though, because once Sceleratus dies, the entire realm, including you, old friend, will be destroyed along with him. His lifeforce powers the realm…he is the reason for its existence. I wonder what will happen? Will your mind implode…leaving Quentin and Henry staring at a corpse? Or will it simply be nullified? Either way it should be quite a spectacle…and something I have no intention of missing. The Hooded Man moved to the centre of the room and sat cross-legged in the middle of the circle. My last spell…each one drains me so much now…this one will be my last. It is too dangerous to travel…I could end up like you, Rupert. I might have to miss the actual moment of your death…but I will see your final few seconds of life…looking out through the eyes of the one who will kill you. Trust me…this is going to hurt me almost as much as it will you.

**********

"Do you think he’s there yet?" Henry whispered, tearing his eyes from Giles’ motionless form and glancing at Quentin.

"There’s no way of knowing," Quentin kept his voice low and then frowned. "What on earth are we whispering for? It’s not like Rupert can hear us."

"You never know…and besides, it seems appropriate," Henry paused and looked down at Giles once more. "He looks asleep, doesn’t he?"

"Let’s just hope he wakes up again."

"And if he doesn’t? What happens then?"

"We find a way of getting Vulcan’s Bane back…and try and discover who’s behind all this. For the Council’s sake as much as Rupert’s."

"So tell me…this ‘Council’ must do other things besides supporting this…Slayer person?"

"We do all manner of things, Henry."

Henry smiled. "Translated that means ‘you’re not a fully paid up member of the Tufty Club so I’m not telling you’. Has anyone ever told you that you can be rather tiresome?"

"Constantly," replied Quentin, staring down at Giles.

Henry sat back, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"You have the look of someone who has flown too close to the sun and been rather burnt, Mr Travers."

"Maybe I have, Henry…maybe I have."

**********

Giles walked steadily in one direction, deliberately keeping the rift directly behind him. He muttered under his breath, cursing the vagaries of the unpredictable landscape which, rather inconveniently, tended to change at the most inappropriate moments. The current grass-covered surface was firm and yet, somehow, spongy. Easy to walk on, he thought as he continually looked around, and why shouldn’t grass be blue? Raising his hand, he trailed his fingers through the colours that twisted all around him, creating bright, glowing lines in the air. He smiled…the smile slipping as he suddenly found himself knee-deep in sand as the grass-covered surface was replaced by what seemed to be a large sandbank.

"Oh, bloody great."

Giles staggered on, sweating and panting, climbing the bank and sliding down the other side. This feels SO odd…not having you here with me. I know I can just about feel you but that small contact isn’t enough. I miss you…and I’m starting to realise just how alone I was before. We’re part of each other now, we belong together…it feels right. I’m aware of the changes within myself…small ones admittedly…and I think you’re changing as well. The question I have, though, is…why did I pick this direction? Instinct, he thought, I merely felt that this was the right way to go. Let’s call this a test…if I’m right and I do find Sceleratus, then I’ll agree that you’ve had an effect and my instincts are sharper. If I’m wrong, Giles stood up and brushed himself off, staring at the demon who watched him impassively. I’m not wrong.