!fanfic! BtVS Giles/Xander WIP: Pursuit, Part Six
The story's about to actually get going now, and this chapter is rather depressing. I did mean for it to be more romantic, honest :P Anyway, regardless of that, there's Ethan-y goodness in this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. Comments, as usual, are most welcome :D
Previous Parts at this link or at this link if Memories isn't working.
Pursuit
Part Six
Note to self: do not drink that much ever again.
I’ve been throwing out empty bottles all morning, and throwing up their contents all afternoon. It’s official - I am a total idiot.
Getting drunk and maudlin about my life was not the answer; getting some cash together is a much better plan of action. I’m kinda starting to wonder if this ‘new life’ is a good idea, but it’d be crazy to go back now.
And I’m an idiot, but not crazy.
Oh great, and now I’m hallucinating too. I thought I just saw one of my fingers actually disappear…
“You haven’t found him yet, then?” Ethan asks as he materialises in Rupert’s hotel.
“Impressive entrance,” Rupert observes, though his tone is flat, almost lifeless.
“Ever the showman,” Ethan agrees, winding his way through the collection of books coating the floor. “You always were a terrible housekeeper,” he teases.
But when Rupert looks up at him, his expression is sullen. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, eyes that are brimming with unshed tears of frustration. Ethan turns serious at the sight of the man he once knew: furious and desperate in the worst possible way.
After Rupert describes the situation, Ethan paces the room. He observes the volumes strewn all over the place and steals a caring glance at Rupert, who rests his head in his hands.
“Most of these won’t be of any use,” he concludes, at which point Rupert looks up, enraged. But his fury’s pointless - unless Ethan’s looking for a beating, which isn’t completely improbable - so he calms himself again.
“So what do I do?” He asks, almost amused by his own helplessness.
Ethan holds out a hand to him. “I take you to my place.”
Rupert raises an eyebrow.
“Oh behave yourself, Ripper,” Ethan chuckles, “Don’t you trust me?”
Rupert raises his other eyebrow too.
Ethan just grins at that. “My place. Where the books are more suited to this genre of magic. Where research might actually be effective.”
He keeps his hand outstretched.
Rupert’s eyebrows sink back to their rightful place, and he shifts his glance to Ethan’s hand. He doesn’t trust Ethan, not one tiny bit, but he’ll do anything to find Xander. He reaches out.
"He's still untraceable on the map?" Ethan questions, rubbing his temples.
"Yes." Rupert’s reply is as sullen as ever.
"Strange...” Ethan muses aloud. “If the spell had been cast correctly, I'd have been able to find him with this enchantment."
At that Rupert perks up slightly and cocks his head to one side.
"So his spell went wrong?" He asks.
Ethan suddenly leaps from his chair and rushes to the bookshelves. He unearths a half-rotten tome, so neglected that Rupert spares it a caring glance. He rifles through the most legible of the pages quickly, runs his finger down a certain passage with haste.
"Oh fuck," he exclaims. He looks up; his eyes are darker than coal. "You're not going to like this," he says with sigh.
Xander sits at the cheap motel table, contemplating how badly it was made. His inner-carpenter - the only remnant of his former life he wants intact - pictures the wood being shaped. He can see clearly the joins and how they should have been made. He even pictures a burly, drunk carpenter putting it together the wrong way and selling it off to the Happy Clam Motel at a discount price.
Maybe he could become a carpenter here. If the standard of the motel furniture is anything to go by, this town certainly needs a professional. Xander stands and clears the table. He crouches down, observing it from underneath.
“Good God…” He sighs quietly. It really is atrocious.
He reaches out to check the strength of the join, but his hand doesn’t grip it. His hand, in fact, doesn’t seem to be moving. Xander, suddenly panicked, sits up to see why his arm is suddenly so numb.
It’s gone.
“What the-” He begins to speak. He looks at his empty sleeve, feels his shoulder and the weird, tender skin where his arm should start. But it’s not there, it’s not starting.
It’s gone.
Xander stands up and feels his head spin. “Fuck…” He exclaims, collapsing onto the bed. His head throbs and he clenches his jaw, riding out the waves of pain as they hit him. Then, as suddenly as it occurred, the throbbing stops. Xander sits upright on the bed, puts his head in his hands.
Hands. Two of them.
He reaches up to his shoulder again, amazed that his arm is suddenly back where it should be. He feels his muscles from shoulder to fingertips. It’s certainly back, and completely solid. Xander shakes his head so hard it makes him lie down once more. He’s gotta be hallucinating again, because your arm doesn’t just vanish like that.
Unless you’ve been messing with magic. Says a voice in his head.
“No,” Xander disagrees out loud. That spell worked perfectly - he’s certain it did. It’s got to be his mind playing tricks on him.
“I’m not vanishing,” he confirms.
He put a hand in front of his face, waving it around. It remains solid.
“See,” he convinces himself, “I’m not.”
He puts the hand back down to his side, and feels it suddenly go numb. He freezes, afraid to look at it, afraid to even move it.
I’m not vanishing.
“I’m not.”
Why didn’t I watch him? Why didn’t I follow him as soon as he deserted Anya? I could have stopped all this from happening. If I’d paid more attention, I could have saved him there and then.
Ethan’s working on a spell to find him, but we may already be too late. I might be too late to apologise for trying too hard to help him. It’s my fault entirely. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have cast the damned spell.
He tried to make himself untraceable. And now, if I don't find him, he could fade away completely…
*cue suspense music* :)
Preview Part Seven:
Previous Parts at this link or at this link if Memories isn't working.
Pursuit
Part Six
Note to self: do not drink that much ever again.
I’ve been throwing out empty bottles all morning, and throwing up their contents all afternoon. It’s official - I am a total idiot.
Getting drunk and maudlin about my life was not the answer; getting some cash together is a much better plan of action. I’m kinda starting to wonder if this ‘new life’ is a good idea, but it’d be crazy to go back now.
And I’m an idiot, but not crazy.
Oh great, and now I’m hallucinating too. I thought I just saw one of my fingers actually disappear…
“You haven’t found him yet, then?” Ethan asks as he materialises in Rupert’s hotel.
“Impressive entrance,” Rupert observes, though his tone is flat, almost lifeless.
“Ever the showman,” Ethan agrees, winding his way through the collection of books coating the floor. “You always were a terrible housekeeper,” he teases.
But when Rupert looks up at him, his expression is sullen. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, eyes that are brimming with unshed tears of frustration. Ethan turns serious at the sight of the man he once knew: furious and desperate in the worst possible way.
After Rupert describes the situation, Ethan paces the room. He observes the volumes strewn all over the place and steals a caring glance at Rupert, who rests his head in his hands.
“Most of these won’t be of any use,” he concludes, at which point Rupert looks up, enraged. But his fury’s pointless - unless Ethan’s looking for a beating, which isn’t completely improbable - so he calms himself again.
“So what do I do?” He asks, almost amused by his own helplessness.
Ethan holds out a hand to him. “I take you to my place.”
Rupert raises an eyebrow.
“Oh behave yourself, Ripper,” Ethan chuckles, “Don’t you trust me?”
Rupert raises his other eyebrow too.
Ethan just grins at that. “My place. Where the books are more suited to this genre of magic. Where research might actually be effective.”
He keeps his hand outstretched.
Rupert’s eyebrows sink back to their rightful place, and he shifts his glance to Ethan’s hand. He doesn’t trust Ethan, not one tiny bit, but he’ll do anything to find Xander. He reaches out.
"He's still untraceable on the map?" Ethan questions, rubbing his temples.
"Yes." Rupert’s reply is as sullen as ever.
"Strange...” Ethan muses aloud. “If the spell had been cast correctly, I'd have been able to find him with this enchantment."
At that Rupert perks up slightly and cocks his head to one side.
"So his spell went wrong?" He asks.
Ethan suddenly leaps from his chair and rushes to the bookshelves. He unearths a half-rotten tome, so neglected that Rupert spares it a caring glance. He rifles through the most legible of the pages quickly, runs his finger down a certain passage with haste.
"Oh fuck," he exclaims. He looks up; his eyes are darker than coal. "You're not going to like this," he says with sigh.
Xander sits at the cheap motel table, contemplating how badly it was made. His inner-carpenter - the only remnant of his former life he wants intact - pictures the wood being shaped. He can see clearly the joins and how they should have been made. He even pictures a burly, drunk carpenter putting it together the wrong way and selling it off to the Happy Clam Motel at a discount price.
Maybe he could become a carpenter here. If the standard of the motel furniture is anything to go by, this town certainly needs a professional. Xander stands and clears the table. He crouches down, observing it from underneath.
“Good God…” He sighs quietly. It really is atrocious.
He reaches out to check the strength of the join, but his hand doesn’t grip it. His hand, in fact, doesn’t seem to be moving. Xander, suddenly panicked, sits up to see why his arm is suddenly so numb.
It’s gone.
“What the-” He begins to speak. He looks at his empty sleeve, feels his shoulder and the weird, tender skin where his arm should start. But it’s not there, it’s not starting.
It’s gone.
Xander stands up and feels his head spin. “Fuck…” He exclaims, collapsing onto the bed. His head throbs and he clenches his jaw, riding out the waves of pain as they hit him. Then, as suddenly as it occurred, the throbbing stops. Xander sits upright on the bed, puts his head in his hands.
Hands. Two of them.
He reaches up to his shoulder again, amazed that his arm is suddenly back where it should be. He feels his muscles from shoulder to fingertips. It’s certainly back, and completely solid. Xander shakes his head so hard it makes him lie down once more. He’s gotta be hallucinating again, because your arm doesn’t just vanish like that.
Unless you’ve been messing with magic. Says a voice in his head.
“No,” Xander disagrees out loud. That spell worked perfectly - he’s certain it did. It’s got to be his mind playing tricks on him.
“I’m not vanishing,” he confirms.
He put a hand in front of his face, waving it around. It remains solid.
“See,” he convinces himself, “I’m not.”
He puts the hand back down to his side, and feels it suddenly go numb. He freezes, afraid to look at it, afraid to even move it.
I’m not vanishing.
“I’m not.”
Why didn’t I watch him? Why didn’t I follow him as soon as he deserted Anya? I could have stopped all this from happening. If I’d paid more attention, I could have saved him there and then.
Ethan’s working on a spell to find him, but we may already be too late. I might be too late to apologise for trying too hard to help him. It’s my fault entirely. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have cast the damned spell.
He tried to make himself untraceable. And now, if I don't find him, he could fade away completely…
*cue suspense music* :)
Preview Part Seven:
