TITLE: The Fine Art of Blackmail
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: After the events of The Family Business, Giles and Buffy have their daughter back and are running the Council, but will Wolfram and Hart use Giles’ past sins to destroy the life they’ve built?
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
. Feedback always welcome.MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- Part 4: Deal with the Devil Willow shouldered her way through the smoky bar. A live jazz band was playing on the small stage, and the place was packed. The bartender had pointed her towards a corner booth, but getting there was another matter entirely. She’d been leered at, propositioned, knocked into, both on purpose and by accident, and had half a glass of beer spilled on her. The whole place reeked of cigarette smoke and a thicker undercurrent of something less legal. Seedy deals were being hashed in dark corners, but she didn’t want to think about any of that. There was only one person in the whole place she was at all interested in and one deal she cared anything about: the deal she intended to make with him. She reached his booth, but he had his back to her and didn’t see her approach. The woman seated across from him did, but didn’t seem to feel it worth mentioning. They were holding hands across the table, leaning towards each other to be heard over the band, and the woman was smiling coyly at whatever he had just said to her. Willow tapped her on the shoulder and ordered firmly, “Get lost.” The man noticed her then, and he didn’t look too happy to see her. “Bloody hell, what are you doing here?” “You know her?” the woman asked. It was perhaps the oldest cliché in the book, but it was what came immediately to Willow’s mind. “Know me? I’m his girlfriend. Who the hell are you?” “Not interested,” the woman answered, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the booth. “Wait!” he called out after her, trying to follow, but Willow blocked his path, and the woman disappeared back into the crowd too quickly. He sighed and sank down in his seat. He motioned to the now vacant space opposite him. “And how do you know your little game didn’t just break up a happy relationship of two years? Maybe I was about to propose to her.” Willow rolled her eyes and sat down. “You just met her in a chat room last night. I was there.” He shrugged in acknowledgement of that fact. “But it might have blossomed into something more if you hadn’t so rudely interrupted.” Ethan Rayne slugged back the last of his drink, and then waved to a passing waiter for a refill. “Ripper send you?” “Giles doesn’t know I’m here.” He smirked. “I can’t imagine that he’d approve.” She sighed sadly. “No, he really, really wouldn’t.” Ethan motioned between her and the waiter, and Willow soon found a full glass of something sitting in front of her. He raised his own. “A toast. To hell with authority and rules and a hard day’s work. There’s a world of pleasure out there for the tasting, and you, my dear, have just taken the first step.” She pushed the glass towards him and crinkled her nose. “Like I would ever have a drink with you. I’m not that dumb. Last time Giles went out drinking with you, you turned him into a demon.” “I turned him back, didn’t I?” He downed his own drink in one go and waved to the waiter for another. Willow suspected he was drunk. “Was only trying to get him into the Initiative, so he could see for himself what I was talking about. I thought it was rather clever of me. But Ripper was never one for ‘the ends justify the means’ though, was he?” “You helped kidnap their babies. Why would I trust you?” He pushed the drink back to her side of the table. “Because you need something from me. Need something badly enough to track me down on your computer and traipse to the other side of the continent to find me. Have the drink already. It’ll make it easier to ask me.” Against her better judgment, she picked the glass up. He couldn’t have slipped anything in it; she’d watched the waiter deliver it to the table. She took a sip and grimaced. It was hard liquor like she’d never had, and it burned the back of her throat. Ethan was laughing at her, however, and so she forced herself to take another larger swallow, just to prove to him that she could. The booth was one of those “U”-shaped ones with a single curving bench around the table. He quickly slid the length of it until he was sitting on her side of the table, right beside her, without a sliver of personal space between them. “I know why you came,” he told her. “You do?” she squeaked. She was thinking she had better finish off her drink. Liquid courage. He leaned in close and murmured it in her ear as if it was a secret, his eyes scanning the bar for eavesdroppers. “You want me to free you.” Okay, now he had lost her. “Huh?” “Your magic is in chains, luv. It’s pounding on the walls, shaking the bars of its cage, screaming to be let out. Can’t you hear it?” She stared at him, open-mouthed, her heart pounding furiously. Part of her was saying, Yes, yes, I feel it everyday. Please, I just want to be free. She shook her head, as if to deny her own thoughts. “H-how… how did you know?” “You fairly reek of Ripper’s magic. Your chains are fashioned from it. He would have done the same to me after Randall, ’cept he swore off the magic.” Ethan indicated to the waiter that she needed another drink. Willow didn’t remember finishing the first one. “I can break his spell. For the right price, of course.” She straightened her shoulders and elbowed him out of her personal space. “That’s not why I came,” she told him firmly. He arched one eyebrow. “No?” “No. Giles will break the spell himself when he thinks I deserve it.” Ethan snorted in derision. “So he fancies himself the Magic Police now, does he? You really think he’s ever going to lift that spell off you? I’m sure he believes he’s only protecting you from yourself. He’s a noble bastard that way.” He slid back around to his side of the booth and leaned back casually, with his arms resting on the back of the booth. “No, I’m your only chance, Red. Won’t cost you much.” He paused dramatically. “Just your soul.” Her eyes widened, and he burst into loud gales of laughter. After a moment, he regained control of himself, wiping tears from his eyes while still chuckling silently. He shook his head. “Just kidding,” he assured her. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Christ, you should have seen the look on your face. Bloody priceless.” She glared at him, beginning to regret her decision to ever seek him out. Somehow the plan had seemed so perfect in her head. She hadn’t factored in the actually having to deal with Ethan part of it, though. “I told you. I didn’t come here to get my magic back.” “Pity. I remember you had the makings of a pretty impressive witch. I sensed it briefly that Halloween. Actually, I had the perfect costume in mind for you, but you had your heart set on hiding yourself under that ghost’s sheet.” He was beginning to look bored with the turn in their conversation, his eyes wandering over the crowd and seeking out a more entertaining diversion. “So, what do you want then?” “Giles is in trouble.” She had his attention again. He leaned forward eagerly. “Really? Oh, this I have to hear. Do tell.” Willow chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to decide how much to tell him. He needed to understand the plan, but giving him too much information would only add him to the list of people who could blackmail Giles. That would definitely not be good. Because while Willow would need Ethan if her plan were to succeed, she knew she couldn’t trust him. “There’s this law firm, Wolfram and Hart, and they’re causing problems.” He nodded. “I’ve heard of them. Met a few people who’ve done freelance work for them. What’s their truck with dear old Ripper?” “Giles is head of the Council now, and he’s worth billions.” She hoped he’d buy that as the extent of Giles’ trouble. She wasn’t about to tell him the rest of the story. “So they’re gouging him?” “Yeah.” “What they got on him?” Willow dropped her eyes to her lap and started nervously twisting her fingers. She was such a terrible liar. “What makes you think they got something on him?” She was cursing herself. Her voice had surely just given everything away. “Well, if he’s paying them hush money, they have to have something.” A long pause. Willow couldn’t bring herself to look up. He would see everything in her eyes. Ethan continued, “Is it about Randall? About the things he did in his Ripper days?” She nodded enthusiastically, relieved that he had just given her a way to avoid revealing the truth. “I have a plan to get them off his back, but none of us can do it. They know all of us. We need someone they wouldn’t recognize.” “So you naturally thought of me? I’m flattered. But what makes you think I care if Ripper’s in trouble? What makes you think I’ll fall in line with your little crew of do-gooders?” “Because Giles was your friend.” He saluted her with his glass before finishing it off and slamming it down on the table. “You got the past tense in that statement right.” He stood, dropped money on the table, and started walking away from her, pushing his way through the crowd towards the exit. She bolted to her feet, her eyes wide with alarm, and chased him. She was surprised to find that her legs were a little wobbly and her head a little swimmy from just that one drink. God, she was a lightweight. “Wait!” He didn’t slow down, and she tried to keep him in her sight as she struggled to forge a path through the crowd. If he got away from her, she didn’t know what she’d do. She wouldn’t be able to find him again before Giles’ five days were up, not if Ethan knew she was looking for him, not if he decided to disappear. And without Ethan, Willow didn’t have a clue how to help Giles. “Oh God,” she moaned at the very thought of losing. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Like the Red Sea before Moses, the crowd parted for those magic words. Someone just in front of her loudly warned the others, “Make way! She’s gonna ralph!” Willow hurried to the exit and caught up with Ethan just outside. “He misses you.” “Does he?” Ethan didn’t break stride, turning onto Decatur Street and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He offered her one absently, and she made a disgusted face before shaking her head. He shrugged and lit up. “He said you were one of the biggest mistakes of his life,” she told him. Ethan laughed and blew out a smoke ring. Willow had to admit to being a little impressed. Even Spike couldn’t do that. “I suppose he believes his life would have never strayed from his perfectly chosen path if it weren’t for me. Truth is no one was twisting his arm to play hoodlum.” “That’s not what I meant. After Randall, after all of it. He said one of his biggest mistakes was letting your friendship go. He told me he always regretted that and wished he could change things between you.” She couldn’t read his expression. He looked thoughtful, serious, more than she’d ever imagined Ethan Rayne could look. For several moments, he seemed to contemplate her words in silence. Suddenly he stopped, pulled his fist back, spun, and punched the man walking directly behind them. The man hit the ground, unconscious, his long trench coat spread out on the ground to either side of him. Ethan immediately started shaking his hand out, as if the punch had hurt him more than the man he’d knocked out cold. “What was that for?” Willow gasped. Ethan bent over and retrieved something from the man’s pockets. People were rubbernecking the scene on all sides, but no one stopped or tried to get involved. Ethan handed her a small, flowery drawstring purse. “This yours?” Willow patted her coat pocket, surprised to find her little money purse was indeed missing. “Yeah.” “Pickpockets,” he informed her flatly. “As much as New Orleans would like to claim itself the vampire headquarters of the world, you’re more likely to lose your money here than your life.” He slung one arm around her shoulders and started them walking again, urging her into a quicker pace. His eyes were vigilant for the night life around them. “I should walk you back to your hotel at least.” “See?” she said brightly. “You can be a good guy sometimes.” “How do you know I’m not walking you back to your hotel so I can take advantage of you in private?” She frowned. “Ok, I don’t, but… but you know what I think, Ethan?” “No, but I’m fairly certain you’re about to tell me anyway.” “I think you just like people to think you’re a bad guy. I think underneath, you’re kinda good.” “I’m neither. I’m gray. Gray’s less comfortable than black or white, because you don’t know how to classify it, don’t know what to expect. It’s unpredictable. I love unpredictable. Without balance, without Chaos, this world would be frightfully dull.” He squeezed her shoulder and looked down on her, giving her a wink. “I could teach you if you liked. Let me break Ripper’s spell, and we’d have fun, you and I. I could show you whole new facets of your magic; all the things stuffy old Rupert has deemed off-limits.” “No, I’ve already done the bad girl thing, and believe me when I say that I’m way over it.” “You’ve done dark. You’ve done light. But you haven’t done gray. Chaos is an entirely different experience, gives you a new perspective on life. You might enjoy it, if you gave it a chance.” “No, thank you.” “Suit yourself.” Ethan fell silent as they turned onto St. Anne and strolled towards her hotel. Passersby might have mistaken them for a couple, him with his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, casually smoking a cigarette, and her leaning ever so slightly towards him, comfortably matching his gait. No one would have guessed that they were looking at a powerful sorcerer, servant of Chaos, and an ex-witch who had been the fall of the Watcher’s Council. *** Day two of Giles’ five day countdown began with another Scooby meeting at the Magic Box. Buffy stayed home from work. Xander and Giles, each being their own bosses, didn’t need to make excuses for their absences. Anya complained about her store being commandeered once again for meetings and research, saying that she would be grateful when the Council Headquarters were finished and everyone could meet there instead. Not to mention that she had big plans for Buffy’s old training room once she was relocated to her new slayer gym. Willow was the only one absent. She claimed to be near a breakthrough on getting past Wolfram and Hart’s firewall, and so everyone felt it best to leave her to work at home. Buffy had suggested leaving the twins with Marianne, but Giles felt the need to be near them as much as possible in these last few days. He researched while Robin perched on his lap, intently coloring outside the lines of her coloring book. Alex was on a quest to find his hidden birthday presents, sure that they were somewhere in the store. Zoey was lying on a blanket near the corner, intently trying to make her arms and legs work together in some sort of crawling motion. A little after noon, a woman in formal business attire strolled through the front door. Anya greeted her as she did every new customer, “Thank you for coming to the Magic Box. Please buy something.” But Buffy noticed how Giles immediately snapped to attention. He rose, holding Robin against one hip, and met the woman halfway. Buffy guessed that she might have something to do with this whole mess. Plus, the expensive suit, the perfect manicure, and the smug, superior smile. Oh, yeah, definite lawyer. “I’m surprised to see you still here,” she said. “I thought you’d take advantage of the time we gave you to hightail it out of town.” Robin stuck her thumb in her mouth and buried her face against her father’s shoulder, seeming to sense his discomfort with this stranger. “You’re not getting the Ring of Gorlois,” he told her. “But you know where it is?” “Not exactly.” Buffy stood as well and placed herself at her husband’s side. “You got a lotta guts, lady, to show your face here, where it’s likely to get punched by a pissed off slayer.” “Buffy,” Giles chided sharply. The woman pursed her lips as her eyes scanned over Buffy. She faced Giles again and met his eyes. “So, you told her?” Buffy crossed her arms. “About Longsworth and Sulla?” she answered for Giles. “He didn’t have to. I already knew. About your blackmail? Yeah, we all know. And we’re currently trying to figure out a way to screw Wolfram and Hart over.” The woman nodded approvingly. “You have spunk, girl. I think I see why Angel had a thing for you.” She offered out her hand. “Lilah Morgan. Pleased to meet you, Buffy.” Buffy merely narrowed her eyes and glared. Lilah shrugged and withdrew her hand. “Let’s talk, woman to woman.” “Or woman to scum, as the case may be,” Buffy threw in bitterly. Unfazed, Lilah took a deep breath and plowed ahead, “I’m thinking you might be a little more practical about this. You want to keep your husband out of jail, don’t you? Being a single mom’s no picnic. But you already knew that, seeing as your mom was pretty much one. All we want is the ring. Call Angel, get it for us, and your man walks.” “Get out,” Giles ordered, and Buffy flinched at the anger in his words. Lilah walked backwards a few steps, holding out three fingers, reminding them all that they had three days left. Robin lifted her head from her father’s shoulder and echoed with three fingers of her own, reminding them all that she was three years old. Alex darted out from behind the register and ran up to the Wolfram and Hart lawyer. He tugged on her skirt to gain her attention, and Buffy winced. “Fingerpaints!” Alex announced proudly, holding up his multi-colored, dripping hands, which had left rainbow smears down Lilah’s skirt. Buffy thought it seemed like such a sad fate for such a nice designer skirt, even if it did happen to be adorning an evil lawyer. Lilah placed her hand on the top of Alex’s head and forced him back a step. “Cute kid,” she said with disdain. She turned and walked out of the shop, but a giggling Alex made sure she left with a colorful handprint on her butt. “Alex!” Buffy scolded after the door had closed, calling him over and hauling him by one elbow over to where she could clean him off with napkins. “Don’t yell at him,” Anya begged. “It was my idea. I put the fingerpaint on his hands and told him to go get it on the lady.” Buffy glared at the ex-demon as she cleaned off her son. “I can’t wait ’til Zoey’s older. We’re gonna buy her fingerpaints and sand art and a musical bear that only plays one song… What song was that, Giles?” “‘This Old Man,’” he groaned as he sat back down and resumed his reading. “Yes, Zoey will definitely require one of those, preferably one that needs no batteries and lacks any kind of an off switch.” “Yeah,” Buffy seconded. “And… and drums!” She was definitely getting into the spirit of this now, remembering over three years of Uncle Xander and Aunt Anya’s thoughtful gifts. “Zoey’s getting like a whole drum set as soon as she can hold the sticks.” Anya’s forehead crinkled up into a puzzled expression. “But we already got Alex drums for his birthday.” “What!” Buffy cried, jumping to her feet. “Hey!” Xander cut in, trying to divert attention from this particular topic of conversation. “Aren’t we forgetting something? Giles in trouble? Evil lawyer just paid us a visit? Come on, people! Priorities!” But Anya continued, still seemingly confused by Buffy’s irritation. “Xander said drums were the traditional present for a fourth birthday. Was he wrong?” “Bang! Bang!” Alex shouted gleefully. “Yes, well he can play with them when he visits you,” Giles insisted, putting to rest the argument before it could go any farther. “Xander is right about one thing, however: we should return to work.” They all resumed their research, trying not to let Lilah’s visit and her reminder of their rapidly approaching deadline diminish their hopes. *** Willow paced beside the security gate, constantly checking her watch and scanning the line. Airport security had already pulled her aside for a more thorough check, since she did look pretty suspicious and nervous. Ethan had less than ten minutes to get through security before they wouldn’t let him board his flight. She hoped he remembered that he needed to arrive plenty early. What if he didn’t come? He had claimed he needed to go back to his hotel for his stuff, but what if that was just what he had told her so he could bail out? She couldn’t believe she’d let him out of her sight. Then again, she didn’t have much of a choice about that. They wouldn’t be able to sit together on the plane, wouldn’t be able to be seen together any more than absolutely necessary for fear that Wolfram and Hart would realize that Ethan was acting as a double agent. After being so considerately walked back to her hotel room, Willow had spent the majority of an hour convincing and begging Ethan until he had finally agreed to the plan, persuaded not so much by the idea of helping his old friend as much as by the prospect of playing havoc with a bunch of control-freak lawyers. Willow would just have to be satisfied with that for the time being. It was probably as close as one ever got to trust where Ethan Rayne was concerned. She sighed in relief when she saw him queue up at the end of the line. He gave her a peppy little wave, and she rolled her eyes before walking off to find her gate. She didn’t see him again on the plane, nor when they disembarked. They took separate taxis when they landed in LA, and they arrived at the same building by different routes. She met him in front of the door to Cordelia’s apartment, and he was late, again. She waited at the door, fervently hoping that no one from Angel Investigations would choose that moment to drop by. “Miss me?” he whispered beside her ear, making her jump, and she let out a little squeal before clamping a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t heard him approach from behind. She glared, and he smiled, entirely too pleased by his little games. “So this is it?” Ethan asked, tracing his eyes over the lines of Cordelia’s door. “Yeah. Wesley said… you know, when I called him, pretending that Giles wanted to know… Anyway, he said Cordelia had the ring.” Ethan jiggled the door handle and scoffed, “I thought you said this would be difficult? I don’t sense wards or spells of any kind, and this lock is so pathetic, even you could pick it.” He pulled something from his pocket and squatted down in front of the handle, sticking a thin piece of metal in the keyhole and fiddling with it for a moment before standing and repeating the procedure on the deadbolt. He turned the handle and opened the door wide. “I hope the ring is in a safe or something. Give me some sort of challenge, at least.” The door slammed back in his face. He heard the lock click and the deadbolt slide home. His expression radiated complete bewilderment. “Bloody hell! I thought you said no one was home?” Willow feigned ignorance. “They’re not. I doublechecked. Hmm… This is weird.” She wasn’t sure what possessed her to withhold this bit of information, except that she liked seeing Ethan rattled. He had sure enjoyed rattling her. She suspected that he had decided to help her from the moment he had started walking her back to her hotel last night, but had made her go through with the arguing and begging just for the hell of it. Well, if Ethan wanted to play, she could needle him right back. Turnabout and all that. “Hello?” he called out tentatively before again disengaging the locks. He threw open the door and waited a moment. “Hello?” he called again, sticking his head in to verify that the apartment was indeed vacant. He pulled his head out just in time, a mere fraction of a second before the slamming door would have knocked him unconscious. Click. Thud. Both locks firmly engaged. “Well, quite the conundrum, I suppose.” He looked at her sideways. “You, however, are transparent as glass. You don’t find this the least bit odd.” She shrugged, letting him off the hook. “Cordelia has a ghost living… or ummm… not living, I guess…just staying, a ghost staying in her apartment.” He nodded, uttering the first few words of an incantation she recognized. She jumped forward and covered his mouth with her hand, preventing him from finishing. “No! Don’t hurt him. He’s a good ghost. Just unlock the door again, and I’ll get us inside.” She fished something out of her purse as he unlocked the door for the third time. The door swung open, and she held a picture just inside the threshold. “Friends of Cordelia and Wesley. Giles sent us.” Half a lie, but what was Dennis going to do? Call Giles and doublecheck? It was a picture from high school, when Cordelia had been dating Xander and the whole group had been sitting on blankets in a park. The picture was old, but Willow didn’t think she and Cordelia had changed that much, as to be unrecognizable to her ghostly roommate. She held up a second picture, just in case: Wesley had visited more than a month ago, to work with Giles on Council-related things, and had the misfortune of sleeping through the twins coming down for breakfast. Each child had later blamed the other, but the fact remained that someone had drawn on Wesley’s face with permanent marker. And Buffy had insisted on pictures before anyone let Wesley know what had been done to him. The picture was of a smiling Buffy and Willow on either side of a rather silly looking and completely clueless Wesley. Giles had snapped the picture. The photos were enough to buy them entrance. “Thanks, Phantom Dennis,” Willow said, as the door gently closed behind them. “Yes, thank you for not slamming the door in my face this time,” Ethan tacked on bitterly. Willow scowled and shook her finger in his direction. “Be nice!” They split up and started searching the apartment for the ring. Willow found a lot more of Wesley’s things than she had expected. She knew the two were dating, but it seemed like he had practically moved in. Cordelia had even given him an entire drawer of her dresser and half her closet. Things must really be serious between the two of them for Queen C, Cordelia Chase, to voluntarily part with half her closet space. Willow smiled at the memory of their visit to Caritas after returning from India, and how the sight of Wesley holding a newborn Alex might have been the very thing that had rekindled Cordelia’s crush and resulted in a shared laundry hamper and matching bathrobes nearly four years later. She turned just in time to catch Ethan rummaging through Cordelia’s bras and underwear. “Hey!” He sighed and rolled his eyes at her indignation. “Isn’t this where most women keep their valuables? Beneath their knickers? Fitting, I suppose.” Willow flopped down on Cordelia’s bed, feeling defeated. “It’s no use. I thought you’d be able to find it, like sensing magic or something. I guess Wesley’s right: it’s hidden somewhere no one can find it. He said a thief would need supernatural help to get their hands on it.” “He said what?” Willow continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Guess your magic isn’t going to be good enough to get it. We need-” “To ask for a little supernatural help,” Ethan finished. He looked up at the ceiling and then each wall. “Dennis, we’re looking for a little bauble, a ring about so big…” He held his fingers slightly apart. “Haven’t happened to see it, have you?” They heard a loud thump, like someone pounding on the wall once. Willow perked up, jumping off the bed. She exchanged a hopeful look with her accomplice. “Could you give it to us?” Two thumps. Ethan nodded, understanding. “She asked you to guard it for them, didn’t she? Make sure no one who happened to sneak into the apartment could nab it?” One loud thump answered him. “But we’re good thieves,” Willow protested. “We’re only trying to keep the ring from Wolfram and Hart, only we can’t tell Wesley or Cordelia or anyone here, ’cause then the lawyers might know what we’re planning. You understand, right?” Thump. Willow smiled. “So you’ll give us the ring?” Thump. Thump. She pouted and crossed her arms. “I thought you were a good ghost,” she muttered. “I could make you solid,” Ethan announced. “For a short time, anyway. A day or two maybe. That must be worth something.” Silence. “All this time, living with Cordelia… You’d be able to talk with her, touch her, go out, see the world… And really, in the larger scheme of things, you’re still helping to protect the ring by giving it to us. So you’re not technically breaking your promise to keep it safe.” He waited, his eyes scanning over the apartment, as if searching for Dennis’ technical location. “What do you say? We have a deal?” A long pause, followed by one loud thump. Willow jumped up, her hands raised in victory. Dennis floated the ring to them from wherever he had it hidden and placed it in Willow’s waiting hand. The ring was thick, heavy, gold, tarnished and bearing an insignia she didn’t recognize. Both the insignia and the etchings along the band had accumulated years of dirt in their grooves. That such an unimpressive piece of jewelry should have inspired such battles over its possession… she thought it needed a good polish. Ethan performed the spell as promised. Willow averted her eyes as soon as she realized becoming solid didn’t automatically include clothing. Dennis seemed too preoccupied with his new visible status to notice. “Thank you,” he said to Ethan, still staring at solid hands, wiggling solid fingers in front of his face. He touched his throat as soon as he’d spoken, awed by his own voice. “It’ll wear off eventually, and you’ll find yourself back here. Until then… enjoy yourself.” Dennis nodded, and Willow overcame her embarrassment enough to step forward and give this ghost a tentative hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for helping. And you might want to borrow some of Wesley’s clothes,” she whispered in his ear as she pulled away. Dennis looked down, noticing his nakedness for the first time. “Oh!” He darted into Cordelia’s room, and the two thieves took that as their cue to leave. “Won’t Cordelia figure out what we did,” Willow asked as they walked down the apartment hallway, “when she comes home and finds her roommate not so ghostly?” “You really think Dennis will wait around for her to get home? Or you think he might take a walk around the block, go shopping, get a milkshake? We’ll have time to make a clean getaway yet.” “I guess you’re right.” Ethan stumbled just as they reached the stairway, and Willow caught him quickly, holding him steady. He breathed heavily for a moment, leaning against her. “That spell took a little more out of me than I expected,” he admitted sheepishly. She helped him down the stairs, allowing him to lean against her for balance. They reached the bottom, and she eyed him skeptically. “You gonna be okay?” “Sure. Little nap, and I’ll be good as new. So the plan for tomorrow… I’m to keep Ms. Morgan occupied and without alibi while you wreak havoc wearing her face?” He scowled. “You get the fun part.” “Well, I can’t keep her occupied. She’d be all suspicious. She knows me. You can string her along and promise her whatever evil things she wants. I have absolute faith in your ability to lie and string people along, Ethan.” “You wound me.” They parted as they stepped outside, walking in opposite directions. Willow was inside the taxi before she put her hand in her pocket to feel for the ring. It was gone. She swiveled quickly to look out the back window for Ethan, but he, too, was gone. She groaned and laid her head back against the seat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Trusting Ethan, letting him know about the ring, taking him with her to get the ring, and most of all: falling for his stumbling, “I’m so weak and wobbly, let me lean on you just a little” routine. He’d picked her pocket. She was back to square one. Well, more like square negative five. Because not only did she have no idea how to free Giles from Wolfram and Hart’s blackmail without the ring, but she now only had three more days left in which to do it, and not only that, but she’d just lost the very thing Giles had been willing to sacrifice his freedom to protect. Ethan Rayne had the Ring of Gorlois. *** Giles suggested researching in the park. Tensions were high with everyone working side by side in the Magic Box and no one seeming to make any progress. Buffy was riding everyone hard, pushing for a breakthrough, and Xander and Anya’s tempers were beginning to fray under her constant nagging. So he took his family to the park and left Anya and Xander to do whatever research they liked at the shop. Buffy’s mood only darkened, as she sat on a blanket, a book open across her lap, and watched Giles push his son and daughter on the swing set, each child wanting him to push them higher than their twin on the neighboring swing. The children eventually tired of the swing set, and jumped off mid-swing, racing over to beg their mother to join them on the merry-go-round. Giles followed a moment later, smiling down on her. “Come on, Buffy. Take a break. It’s a beautiful day today.” “In a minute.” The children had already raced over to the merry-go-round, taking turns pushing each other until one of their parents could come and make it spin really fast. Buffy glared at him, his good mood only increasing her anger. “Do you even care?” He sat beside her. “Of course I care.” “You don’t seem to be trying very hard to fix it.” He gently closed the book that lay across her lap. “We won’t find the answer in a book or through hours of research. This isn’t a demon to kill or a prophecy to stop. We’re fighting the truth, Buffy. I did the things they’re accusing me of, and they have the proof of it. Spending the next three days buried in books and snapping at Anya and Xander for things they have no control over… Well, it will simply be a waste of those three days.” He stood and offered out his hand. “Come on, take a break, use that slayer strength to spin us on the merry-go-round until we’re dizzy.” “You’re going to ride the merry-go-round with them?” “Sure, why not.” She reluctantly followed him across the playground to join their children. She tried to smile and laugh with them as the twins begged her to make it go faster, but all she could think about were the stack of books waiting for her on her blanket, the plan that hadn’t yet formed, and how Giles seemed to be okay with just giving up. *** Ethan stood in front of the hotel mirror, holding the ring in one hand as he studied his reflection. He knew about the Ring of Gorlois. He’d done a little reading on the subject after Willow had told him that’s what they were after. He would have helped her with her plan. He truly would have. Except he didn’t like the role she had assigned him. He wanted to be the one who played with the toys. He thought about Willow, about the awesome power he felt humming just below the surface of Ripper’s spell, about how he yearned to mold that power, to introduce her to the mysteries of Chaos, to create and to teach. Ripper seemed to fancy the roles of teacher, mentor, father figure, and Ethan had to admit to feeling his age. He wanted to leave a legacy, a mark, something that would outlive him and prove that he had existed, that he had made an impression on this world. Ethan wanted a student, a protégé, someone to come after. He wanted Willow. He was still thinking of her when he slipped the ring on his finger, and he watched his reflection change into hers. He touched his face, and then the short, bobbed, red locks. They felt real. His eyes were green, and the smile was hers. “Well, well, the real thing.” The voice was hers too, but different, sounding as it must in her own head. He laughed, a girlish giggle which only made him laugh harder. He took the ring off, and the illusion was gone. He thought about his old friend, wondering if Ripper would thank him for saving his neck, or if he wouldn’t hate him for doing this favor, for reminding him that they had been friends once and placing him in the position of owing Ethan anything. Probably the latter. Ripper’s precious sense of honor demanded that favors be repaid. And Ethan smiled at the knowledge that Ripper would owe him big time for this. Maybe enough to lift the spell from Willow. Maybe even enough to turn his head should Ethan decide to visit her on occasion. Ethan slipped the ring back on his finger and smiled as his features transformed into that of his old friend. It was Ripper’s dangerous grin that reflected back to him from the glass. Ah, what glorious mischief could he stir wearing Giles’ face? Would Buffy know, he wondered? Would she kiss him? Would she take him into her bed, thinking he was her watcher? And what would Ripper do, besides kill him of course, after learning that Ethan had known her touch, her taste, her passion? He laughed. Games enough for another time, for when he had tired of this town and had gone as far as he could with Willow, when he was ready to leave and never come back. That would be a game he could never recover from. But first things first. First, he had to save Giles and keep him in the game long enough for Ethan to have his fun later. He pulled out the directions Willow had given him: a little hand drawn map to Wolfram and Hart’s offices and a small snapshot of Lilah Morgan. *** Buffy abandoned her research at the dining table and joined Giles and the twins on the back porch. Alex and Robin were running through the backyard with bubble wands of various sizes and shapes, trailing a sea of bubbles in their wake and then chasing each soapy sphere and popping them before they could touch the ground. Buffy sat down next to her watcher and passed him a cup of tea. “If I remember right,” she commented casually, “those were supposed to be birthday presents.” Giles ducked his head, looking guilty. “I know. They were just little ones, and Alex was rather persistent in begging to open a gift early.” “Hmm… Ice cream on the way back from the park. Now early birthday presents. You’re spoiling them rotten, you know.” “I know that,” he agreed quietly. “That’s usually my job. You’re usually Mr. Time Out, No Snacks Before Dinner, Brush Your Teeth and Straight to Bed Guy.” The twins raced back over to the porch to refill their wands. Giles held out the bottle of bubble formula for them each to dip their various wands in, and they dripped some of the slimy liquid down his arm in their enthusiasm. “Look!” Robin demanded, climbing in her mother’s lap. “Mine biggest!” Alex disagreed, and the children had a brief contest to see who could blow the biggest bubbles. Robin’s kept popping before they could float from her wand, and she began to grow frustrated. “You blow, Muffy,” she said, holding out the wand for Buffy to try. Buffy blew slowly and continuously until the bubble was as big as Robin’s head. Alex seemed impressed, but quickly changed the game to who could blow the most bubbles. The children refilled their wands and sloshed more bubble mix down Giles’ arms before scampering off to fill the air with as many bubbles as they could. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried off his arms. Buffy watched him for a moment before finally voicing the thing that had been on her mind all day. “You know, this isn’t the last week you’ll spend with them,” she echoed back the words he had said to her earlier, when she’d been planning their birthday party. “You don’t know that,” he replied solemnly, echoing her response from then back to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and wrapped one arm around his waist. “I hate that you’ve already given up. Fight for us, Giles. Fight to stay with us.” “What do you want me to do, Buffy?” His voice was quiet, resigned. “I can’t give in to their demands. I can’t change what I did. I can’t stoop to their level just to secure my freedom.” “Why not? Stoop, Giles. Please? For me?” She turned pleading eyes up to meet his, and he smiled as he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Would you really want that? Would you want me to use my magic, money, influence, to change things to my liking? When there’s a chance innocent people could be caught in the middle, could be hurt just to save me from my own mistakes? I wouldn’t be any better than the people we’re fighting. I wouldn’t be a fit father for Alex or Robin. I wouldn’t be worthy of calling myself your husband. I’d rather own up to what I did and go to jail for it than sell my honor to buy even one more day with you.” She closed her eyes and rested her head back against his shoulder. “But if we find a non-evil way to beat Wolfram and Hart, one where no one gets hurt, you’d do it, right?” “Yes.” “Then let’s just pretend that’s what’ll happen. Maybe Willow will find something we can use against the lawyers or something… Let’s just pretend that we have forever, okay?” “Okay.” He draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her in closer to his side. “So no more spoiling. No more early birthday presents. You have to be the stompy foot, Giles, ’cause I suck at it. And when I say I want to take them to Disneyworld for their birthdays, you have to rein me in and tell me I’m going overboard.” “About that…” She groaned. “No. See, you’re supposed to be the level head with all this birthday madness.” “I was just going to suggest that perhaps we could celebrate early, tomorrow or the next day. Nothing extravagant. Just cake, balloons, presents.” She shrugged off his touch and stood. “See!” She turned to face him, hands on her hips. “You’ve already stopped pretending.” “I’m sorry.” He dropped his head. “I just want to be there. Let’s have the party early. Please, Buffy.” She stepped forward, bent slightly, and took his face in both her hands, tilting his chin up to meet her gaze. “You will be there. It’s not going to happen, but even if it did… You’ll always be in their lives,” she promised him. “Birthdays, Christmas, all of it. You’re their father, and we’d come to visit all the time.” “Thank you.” She heard the rough emotion in his voice, saw the sheen of tears he refused to let fall. “I needed to hear that.” “It’s not going to happen, though,” she insisted stubbornly, and then leaned down to kiss him. She heard twin giggles behind her and straightened. Alex started in on his new favorite song. “Mommy ’n Daddy sittin’ tree, k-i-s-s…” Buffy groaned. She was going to pummel whoever had taught him that song. She suspected that it was his Uncle Xander. Tickling quickly ended Alex’s chorus, but Robin simply picked up where he had left off. Buffy only had the one set of hands, but Giles was thankfully able to take over the task of tickling Robin, and they were spared the second verse. *** Ethan groaned as he came to and struggled against the ropes which fastened his wrists behind him and tied him securely to the chair he sat in. Bound and gagged, and still in the lawyer’s office, sitting in the chair before her desk like some unwilling client. He didn’t know how she had seen through him so quickly. He had been a good enough actor to play the role of simpering librarian, begging to cut a deal with Wolfram and Hart. Maybe it had been the begging that had given him away. Maybe Giles did let a bit of old Ripper out now and then with people who weren’t Chaos worshippers. Lilah had the ring, and Ethan had a headache. He should have gotten out of town while he had the chance. This would teach him to play philanthropist. Never again. Chaos and mischief and trouble was all he would look to involve himself in from here on out. No more helping, no more favors. Just as soon as he got himself out of this mess. *** Willow paced the length of her office at the homeless shelter in LA. No one thought anything of her stopping in for a visit; she did that on occasion, making sure things were running smoothly, still atoning for her involvement with Sabrina. If locking herself in the office and not talking to anyone was unusual, well, no one mentioned it. She couldn’t stop pacing, holding the cordless phone in her hand, just staring at the keypad. There was something physically wrong with her fingers, because they refused to push the buttons. She had messed everything up, and she didn’t know how to tell Buffy and Giles. There would be yelling, and Giles would take off his glasses and rub his eyes and sigh in that way that said, “I’m so disappointed in you,” which would be almost worse than Buffy’s yelling. A knock on the window startled her so badly she dropped the phone. “Ethan!” He had come back and there was still a chance now, a chance to put everything right, to stick it to Wolfram and Hart, and save Giles, and earn back her place with the Scoobies. She crossed to the window, almost bouncing on her feet with her excitement. “See! I knew you were a good guy, deep down,” she said as she unlocked the window. “I knew you wouldn’t bail out on me.” She leaned out to help him in, but he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her out instead, his grip bruising on her arms. Her eyes widened, and she struggled. “You’re not Ethan.” “Good guess.” The man wearing Ethan’s face held something to her nose, and although she tried not to breathe it in and tried to fight against him, in the end, she couldn’t help but black out. *** Xander and family had come and gone. The children were tucked in their respective beds. Giles and Buffy were curled up, side by side, on the couch. Buffy had been trying to reach Willow all evening, but no one was home. Research was getting them nowhere, and she hoped that Willow, at least, was making better progress with her attempts to hack into Wolfram and Hart’s computer system. She was rapidly becoming their last hope. “Can’t we give them the ring?” Buffy asked. He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “No.” “I mean, deactivate it or something with magic, so it’s no good to them, but give them the ring.” “They’ll ask for something else. They’ll keep asking.” Buffy snuggled closer. “I hate lawyers.” “The evil ones are tiresome, at any rate.” She drew small circles on his chest as she said it timidly, “Maybe Lilah was right, though.” “Hmm…? Right about what?” “Maybe we should go somewhere, you, me, the children. We could run off somewhere, some country where they don’t have… you know, where they wouldn’t give you back.” “Where they don’t have extradition?” “Yeah, that. We could live happily ever after somewhere that’s not here.” “And who would guard the Hellmouth? Sunnydale? Your friends? We have a higher duty, obligations.” “And how am I supposed to do that without my watcher?” She sat up straight and twisted on the couch to look him in the eye. “I was beginning to think that maybe… with your magic shielding me on patrol, that maybe I might get to see our kids grow up, you know? You’re breaking up the team here, Giles. I won’t make it very long on my own. We both know that.” “You could ask Wesley to be your watcher.” “Yeah, ’cause we worked so well together the last time.” “He’s changed since then. You’ve changed.” She leaned forward and laid her head against his chest, resuming her previous position snuggled up against his side. “Please, let’s start over somewhere else. There’s evil to fight all over the world, right? Riley ran off to fight demons in Belize. Belize sounds nice, don’t you think? Warm, tropical. Wesley and Angel and everyone could take care of the Council stuff here.” “We’d be fugitives. You’d never be able to come back here, something the demon population would likely catch onto rather quickly. What about Dawn? Your job? April and John and their new grandson? Xander and Anya and our goddaughter? Willow? And I think you’d most likely perish without a mall or Starbucks close at hand.” She giggled slightly, and he pressed her tighter against him. “You know we can’t.” “I know. But let’s just pretend we could.” “I thought we were pretending that everything was going to turn out all right and Willow was going to save the day?” “That, too. But let’s also pretend that we can run away to some exotic location with palm trees and room service and drinks with little umbrellas.” He frowned. “Are we running away or going on vacation?” The doorbell rang and ended their conversation for the time being. Marianne was standing on their doorstep, and Buffy smiled back at her watcher as she let in their babysitter. “Time for patrol,” she told him. *** Willow woke up to find Ethan Rayne staring at her. She remembered that he had also been staring at her just before she passed out, and she attempted to scoot backwards from him, which was when she figured out that she was all tied up to the chair she was sitting in. That’s also when she figured out that he was all tied up, too, except he was also gagged. She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her attention to the woman crossing from behind her. The woman took a seat behind the desk and glanced at her computer screen for a moment, before finally noticing Willow glaring at her. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” Willow scowled at the woman. There was a time when she would have considered herself to have a pretty bad ass scowl, but she didn’t feel so scary now without her magic. She felt like just plain, old Willow trying to puff herself up like a blowfish. “You better let us go before the Slayer comes here to kick your ass.” The woman laughed. “My, my, it seems there’s no shortage of spunky women in your group.” She got up out of her chair and walked around the desk, sitting on the edge facing Willow. “Trust me on this one: when the Slayer comes, it’s not my ass she’ll be kicking.” Willow nodded in Ethan’s direction. “Well, she’ll probably kick his ass, too.” Ethan made a muffled noise of indignation. “But there’ll be plenty to go around, lady, if you don’t let us go like right now.” “Lilah. Lilah Morgan. Seems only right we should be properly introduced, seeing as you’re going to be tied up in my office for a while. I am really sorry about the rope. It’s only until they can spare someone from security to come babysit the pair of you.” She gave Ethan an apologetic shrug. “And sorry about the gag. That’s only until someone from spellcasting can come ward my office. Can’t have you zapping in goblins and orcs and what have you. I just had my office redecorated.” “Oh, you can leave him gagged,” Willow assured her. Ethan threw her a betrayed glare, and Willow merely turned up the voltage on her scowl and aimed it in his direction. “Mr. Steals the Ring Outta My Pocket and Then Lets It Fall into Enemy Hands. Yeah, you! This is all your fault!” Lilah laughed. “Dissention in the ranks? In his defense, since he can’t speak for himself at the moment, it would have ended this way no matter what. We were keeping close watch over all the members of Angel Investigations, which meant we had staked out Cordelia’s apartment. We saw you both go in, and we followed you both out. Only questions were which one of you had the ring and did anyone else know what you were up to?” She leaned forward, getting into Ethan’s face as she taunted him. “God, the whole department is still laughing at how you waltzed right in here with the ring, like we wouldn’t recognize it.” He averted his eyes, his cheeks flaming red, with embarrassment or anger, Willow wasn’t sure which. Lilah shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t offer someone a ride home in the car you just stole from them.” “What are you going to do with us?” Lilah returned her attention to Willow. “Nothing. This has never been about you or your friends. You’re all simply a means to an end. This has always been about Angel.” She pushed off from the edge of her desk and started pacing lazy circles around the office, picking up pictures and knick-knacks, glancing absently at them, and then setting them back down again. Willow twisted her head and followed her with her eyes as she talked. “Wolfram and Hart have prophecies which outline the final apocalypse. Angel’s a player, only neither side’s managed to draft him yet. We want him to play for our team. And the prophecies tell us that the watcher and slayer will determine his allegiance. The senior partners hope to turn Angel dark, to change him back into the glorious killing machine he once was. And they think they can use the watcher and slayer to do that. “So we needed the ring, but we’d prefer that they not know we have it just yet. It actually works out better this way, with the pair of you giving us the ring instead of the watcher trading it for his freedom. It allows us to continue with the original plan. But it also means that the two of you will just have to stay here as our guests until this whole thing plays out to its natural and gruesome conclusion.” Willow didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you going to do?” Lilah stopped her casual pacing and perched on the edge of the desk once more. She leaned forward and whispered it to Willow as if it were a secret, smiling proudly as if the plan were her idea. “When we’re finished, your friends will hate Angel, but more importantly, he’ll hate himself.” *** The children were in bed, and they had said goodnight to Marianne, Buffy seeing her safely home as she always did after dark. Patrol had been routine. A few fledgling vampires and an unidentified grave robbing demon that would require some research before the next night’s patrol. Giles stretched and padded out to the kitchen for an icepack. He rarely took a beating on patrols anymore, as he no longer fought beside his slayer on the front lines. Whenever a fight would break out, he would retreat to a safe vantage point from which he could offer Buffy his magic as armor. Cloaked in his power, her own injuries would heal faster than with slayer metabolism alone, sometimes so quickly that she was unmarked by battle’s end. Her slayer instincts were more attuned to her enemy, her reflexes sharper, even her strength bolstered by his magic. Giles couldn’t understand how the Council could have given up such a powerful weapon, how they could have sent their slayers out to fight alone, knowing how much more formidable they were when paired with their watcher. Except that he made himself a target by doing so, and some of the wiser vampires had figured out that in order to stand a chance against the Slayer, they first had to eliminate her Watcher. Buffy had never let any get close enough to pose a threat, but Giles imagined that in years past, slayers had lost their watchers on a regular basis. And there was the answer to his question: the Council had abandoned their slayers to save themselves. He placed the icepack against his sore shoulder and closed the freezer door. Though he rarely took a beating on patrol anymore, during tonight’s training session his slayer had given him enough bruises to make up for it. The last days’ events had left her filled with anger and frustration, which she had inadvertently taken out on him. Giles turned around and jumped, dropping the icepack. “Angel!” “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He motioned with one hand to the back door. “Door was unlocked. And I still had an invite.” Giles bent over and retrieved the icepack. He didn’t look in Angel’s eyes as he said it, but his voice was sincere. “You are welcome here. You gave me back my daughter. I’ll never forget that.” Their eyes met briefly before Angel turned his head to look out into the dining room. “Buffy’s upstairs,” Giles informed him, answering the unspoken question. “That’s okay. I really came to speak with you. There’s something I need to show you.” Giles nodded and set the icepack down on the counter, heading out of the kitchen. “I’ll just let Buffy know.” “No, no time. It’ll just take a minute.” Angel took his hand and led him out the back door, propelling him onto the back porch ahead of him. “What is-” Giles felt the blow to the back of his skull, and it sent him stumbling to his knees. He turned, his arm instinctively coming up to shield his head, but the vampire struck another blow across his jaw, and Giles landed on his back, the world rapidly growing dark. Angel was smiling down on him, the same smile that still occasionally gave him nightmares so many years later. Giles blinked, only his eyes didn’t open again, and his thoughts slipped away from him. The last thing he heard was Angel’s mocking voice, “Lookie, lookie, watcher gets another concussion.” *** Buffy trudged down the stairs, tired and disheartened. “One more glass of water and a goodnight kiss from Daddy, and they swear they’ll go right back to sleep,” she muttered as she pulled two kiddy glasses out of the cupboard and filled them halfway with water. She wasn’t sure how the twins managed to hear them come in from patrol every night, but they always woke up and always needed their parents to tuck them in once more before they would settle back to sleep. She saw his icepack sitting on the counter, and she stuck it back in the freezer. “Giles? You’re wanted upstairs.” Only silence answered her. “Giles?” she called louder. Then she noticed that the back door was open. “Giles?” She walked out onto the back porch, expecting to see him sitting there. It was where he went whenever he was feeling closed in, whenever he needed open space, and he often forgot to close the door if he was feeling especially claustrophobic. In the last two days, with the threat of jail hanging over his head, he seemed to crave open space like he had during those first few weeks after Willow’s spell had trapped him. But he wasn’t sitting on the back porch. “Giles?” She walked down the first few steps, her eyes scanning the backyard for some sign of a struggle. Fear was beginning to tighten her stomach and speed her heart rate. She dashed back inside and grabbed for the phone. ***
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