Night had fallen, but offered no respite from the stifling heat, to Buffy and Giles accustomed, as they were, to the frigid temperature of a freezing London winter it was almost intolerable.
Firmly in the grip of the hatred spread by The Khatojanan, the citizens of the new city of Sunnydale were in the process of pulling it apart. Cars were being overturned, shops looted and the air was echoing with the sound of alarms, screams and gunfire. The two people who could stop it all, restoring life and peace to the nascent community were stood, unnoticed in a doorway, watching the descent into anarchy.
‘Are you quite sure? E-even if you hone?’
‘Yes,’ replied Buffy, not for the first time. ‘It doesn’t work, I can’t tell whose died and turned into an evil angel and whose just having a really bad day.’
As if to emphasize her point a gang of teenaged boys ran by, looking wildly elated. Whether that was due to fatal demonic possession or the sheer thrill of the chaos around them could not be determined by their appearance alone.
‘I hate that this didn’t occur to anyone back in London.’
‘For there to be no visual indication whatsoever is extremely rare. And now quite a problem.’
‘Problem?’ Echoed a familiar, carping voice. ‘Surely not with all these shiny, happy people depending on you.’
Spike sauntered up to Buffy and Giles.
‘What’s wrong, Slayer? Out of your depth?’
The leer was quickly wiped from his face when he felt the point of a stake against his chest.
‘Get on side or get gone,’ said Buffy. ‘Get in my way, you die.’
‘Alright sweetheart, no need to come on so strong.’
‘Decide and do it now.’
Spike didn’t hesitate, there was no way he’d pass up the opportunity to spend time with Buffy. She may be less loved-up and more angry-enough-to-dust-him than he’d like, but she’d come round - she always did.
‘Reckon I’ll stick about, ‘sides this could go all the way. You’ll need someone to watch your back,’ Spike asserted, talking as if Giles weren’t there.
Another scream tore the air apart, spurring Buffy into action.
‘We need answers fast. Giles, where are they coming from?’
‘You gonna search the whole city, won’t be anything left by the time you’ve finished.’
‘Shut up Spike!’ Chorused Buffy and Giles.
Giles looked blank for a second.
‘Up high,’ he said after a few moments thought.
‘Need a little more’
‘On all the illustrations of them The Khatojanan, have w-wings. Stretching from the top of their spines almost down to the floor. If, and presumably they do, they use them as their primary mode of of transportation then they’ll need to be somewhere above street level. Physics dictates that a creature with so so large a wingspan would need to use the effects of gravity to take off.’
Giles noticed that he’d lost his audience along the way. He made an illustrative gesture with his hand.
‘They need to fall, then fly.’
The three of them turned and looked in the same direction. A few blocks away, looming over the centre of town was Freedom Plaza. It was going to be a prize winning designed tower and the showpiece building of the business district. Currently it was an eight storey skeleton of scaffolding on top of a hill at the edge of an enormous construction site. The first floor looked finished, the second was somewhere in-between, it had floors and walls, but floor to ceiling gaps instead of windows and the pipes, wires and cables that latticed its internal structure had yet to be concealed. The other floors consisted merely of girders, totally exposed to the elements.
‘Right, I’m going to go and check it out,’ Buffy’s confidence faded almost immediately. ‘How will I know who to use the Scythe on?’
‘Do a Reveal,’ suggested Spike. ‘Dru used them a lot, say a few words, get her mojo working and then bickety-boom: anyone who wasn’t what they seemed was sportin’ a fetching red glow. She used to say it was Christmas pretty.’
‘Can you do it?’
Spike curled his lip.
‘Nah, magics and all that. Not my territory, ducks.’
Buffy mouthed the word ‘ducks’ to herself, then decided to let that one go.
‘I wasn’t asking you,’ she said, looking at Giles. ‘Tell me you know how to do this.’
Giles flicked his gaze from the vampire whose lips were parted in amusement as he prepared to laugh at his inability to help, to Buffy, whose faith in him was absolute. What the hell, he couldn’t think of another answer and could effortlessly recall the words. It was worth a try.
‘Yes,’ he replied cautiously. ‘Given some candles and a little peace.’
‘Then find a shop and make some space,’ Buffy commanded. ‘Meet me at the tower. Spike go with him.’
Her last remark was automatically greeted with comments of stubborn rebellion from both her listeners.
‘Said I’d watch your back,’ argued Spike. ‘If your old man can’t be left on his own it isn‘t my problem.’
‘You’re in the way, Spike,’ threatened Buffy.
He backed down, though had to have the last word. For once abandoning his usual line in acidic banter and speaking with seemingly genuine concern.
‘This is a mistake. Watchers and Slayers don’t belong together, you start taking your eye off the ball tryin’ to protect him and it’ll get you killed.’
*********************
‘…which means it can’t last. It’s any port in a storm isn’t it? All psyched, adrenalin flowing, suddenly you start to look good. Six months down the line, bored as hell you ain’t going to be such a catch…’
Giles wasn’t listening to a word that Spike was saying. The vampire had begun his bitter monologue as soon as Buffy had quickly embraced Giles then run off towards Freedom Plaza. The constant flow of invective had continued unabated whilst they’d found a hardware place that had been comprehensibly looted but still had some candles, which Giles had arranged in a strategic formation on a hastily cleared patch of floor.
Spike was nominally keeping an eye out for trouble, however the street was relatively quiet: passers-by were too wrapped up in their own personal missions of violence and destruction to pay any attention to what could be happening in an already ruined store. He was concentrating on trying to get a rise out of Giles, in the hope of triggering the temper that the Watcher wasn’t as nearly in control of as he believed himself to be, then Spike would be justified in beating him senseless, and would feel a lot better about the day.
‘…Then there’s the whole age thing. Lie to yourself all you like about that, we all know it’s not right - so Freudian it makes my teeth itch…’
Giles would never admit to it, but he was glad that Spike was with him. Hugely irritating though he undoubtedly was, when it came to fighting Spike was very nearly Buffy’s equal. Assessing his own skills, Giles was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that the time when he’d presented formidable oppostiton to assailants had passed.
‘…to the amusement of all your friends and family - assuming you’ve got a family. I bet even she can’t answer that. She doesn’t really know who you are, does she? I wonder what nasty little secrets you’ve been hiding all these years…’
Lighting the candles, Giles blocked everything else out and focussed on the incantation, the flame and the power.
Nothing happened.
‘I knew you’d cock it up,’ observed Spike with satisfaction. ‘Thought you were the bloke for magics.’
‘I was.’
That gave Spike fresh ammunition and he was off again.
‘Was,’ he repeated with scorn. ‘Everythin’ is history with you. You were the man who could raise demons, you were the man who could ‘ave been of some use to the Slayer. It’s all in the past, you can’t offer her a future…’
Finally provoked into anger by Spike’s diatribe, Giles repeated the incantation. Allowing the rage he was feeling to fuel the spell, abandoning the caution that had made him get it wrong the first time, he gave free reign to a strength that had long been suppressed. A wave of magical energy spiralled up from between the candles with a discordant roar, the flames burnt brighter and higher, before being extinguished with a flash when silence returned.
Leaning heavily against some shelves, Giles, allowed his knees to buckle, threw his glasses down and sat with his hands over his face, shoulders shaking.
Spike approached him warily. Magic always made him feel uncomfortable.
‘You with me, Rupes?’
‘It still is the most extraordinary high,’ laughed Giles. Looking back at Spike with eyes that were entirely black.
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