FIC: BTVS: Dirty Creatures
Title: Dirty Creatures
Author: Daisee Chain
Fandom: Buffy
Fan Rating: Adult
Spoilers: All through season 7, through The Chain season 8
Warnings: Excessive violence, profuse profanity
Characters/Pairing: Giles/Ethan, Thomas, Phillip, Deirdre, Randall, OC
Summary: Grumpy old men often have very fond memories of their own youth. But this is Giles we're talking about here, and old acquaintances are not always best renewed.
Author's notes:
Written for the Drunken! Giles fest 2010, to the prompt Giles/Ethan, sometimes drinking Absinthe summons real green faeries.
Thanks to K for the beta, and to marguerite-26 for the GSD, without which this would still be less than a drabble.
Still happy to consider any and all concrit.
Wiltshire, 2007
"You see," and here he stopped to belch loudly, "what any good fairytale needs is a beginninun... uh... a began... a start, right, and and the mid bits, and the bit what finishes it off!"
Giles grabbed the bottle from him. "Whish bit'r you ag'n?"
"Ah. That'd be telling."
Giles' head lolled and he blinked. "Ishn't tha' what your s'posed be doing?"
"Course, course." The bottle was handed back over, up-ended, and more green liquid drizzled into the paper-thin carved-jade cup.
Giles frowned. "Get-" He hiccuped. "On with it then." He tipped his glass upside down and frowned. "A smile iz ju' a frown, tha's upside down," he sang sadly. "Like a clown. Thash upside down." His head wobbled. "Like an upside down clown."
"That'd be a smile then, 'cause clowns always wear frowns an' if you turn 'em up t'other way they'd be all smiling."
Giles nodded sagely and began to sing softly. "Send in the clowns, where are the clowns?"
"No!" The bottle hit the floor with a thump. "No clowns! That's what you have me for."
Giles giggled.
"I mean... no. I meant no clowns. This is a fairy tale. Not a clown tale."
"Pin the tail on the clown?"
"Shut it, you. You wanna' hear this fairy story or not?"
Giles' face was the picture of solemnity, marred only slightly by an unfocussed gaze and a tendency to topple sideways down the wall against which he was sitting.
"Right. Well, it begins like this. Once upon a time, there were six idiots. One beautiful princess, and five butt-ugly morons."
Giles' forehead wrinkled as he thought. "That's," he held up his fingers and counted off, "11 people."
"What? No! Six people in total. One of the six was the princess. The other five are idiots."
"Thought you said there were six idiots."
"The princess is an idiot too."
"Ah."
"Anyway. There were these six idiots."
**************************************
London, 1975
"Where we going tonight then?"
"New place. Underground."
"Is it safe?"
Ethan gave him a look. "Why the bloody hell would we be going if it was safe?"
Rupert laughed it off, throwing in a growl to cover up his embarrassment, and grabbed Thom's smoke from him so he could light up his own with it. "So who's playing?" He bent his head over the two cigs, avoiding Ethan's gaze, then handed Thom back his own cig. Thom took it and inhaled without saying a word.
"Dunno. Some tin pot group no one's ever heard of. Why? You going for the music?"
Rupert's head snapped up and he took a stride bringing him nose to nose with Rupert. "Course I'm bloody going for the music. If all I wanted was to hang out with demons I'd just go back to bloody school, wouldn't I?"
It was Ethan's turn to laugh this time, and the group visibly relaxed as the momentary tension between the two evaporated as quickly as it rose. Everyone had high hopes for tonight. Ethan had promised new territory, new demons, new music, and new games. So far, he'd always made good on his word.
"Right then," Deirdre said, clambering off Phillip's lap and planting Doc Martens on the grime covering someone's old silk rug, "We gonna rock this fucking casbah or what?"
"You know," Randall said as he pulled on his leather jacket, "that'd make a good line for a song."
"Practise with the band later." Ethan said as he exited their squat. "All work and no play makes Randall a dull boy."
It didn't take them long to get to the club. They never used the Underground these days, preferring instead to take a random car off the side of the road. While the others piled in and squabbled over seats, and Rupert hot wired the ignition, Phil popped the hood, took off the oil cap, pointed a finger at the oil and shot it full of magic juice. Didn't do the car any harm. In fact, when they read through the police reports after a jaunt, they often laughed about how the owners kept complaining that the engines were running better. The cops thought they had a gang of joy-riding petrol-heads with engineering skills tearing up London suburbs, repairing old bangers. They were still scratching their heads though, over how many of the beat up old cars were found outside abandoned warehouses and empty fields.
When they couldn't immediately find somewhere to park, Ethan muttered something and a car a few feet up just vanished into thin air. Rupert grunted, and pulled the car carelessly up to the pavement, ignoring the screeching sound as he clipped the car in the space behind. He didn't bother straightening the car, and the all piled out again leaving it abandoned. Then they ran through the traffic, laughing at all the angry drivers that had to break to avoid hitting them.
The club itself turned out to be actually under the ground, in an old basement. There was a scuffle at the entrance as some punks tried to get in. As lenient as the place might be toward their more 'unusual' customers, they apparently weren't going to let in anyone with a safety-pin through their nose. Green skin, forked tongues, or horns were fine though, and with the ozone whiff of all the glamours they'd been sampling still clinging to them, Ethan and his friends sailed right past the bouncers. By the time they got inside, Ethan was laughing his head off.
"What's so funny?" Rupert asked.
"Those punks."
"What about them?" Randall asked absently as he surveyed the scene.
"They're about to head round the corner and try somewhere else."
"So?"
"So," Ethan leaned closer to Giles and yelled above the music, "They might have had it subliminally suggested to them that the cops we passed on the way here would be fun to pick a fight with." His grin threatened to split open his face.
"Jesus. You're fucked in the head, you know that right?" Thom shook his head and shoved his way through the throng to try and get some drinks.
Ethan rolled his eyes and reached for the back of Thom's jacket. "Not like that, mate. Don't be a bloody pillock." Then he yanked Thom back toward him, and lifted his other hand and muttered something. Instantly, the crowd in front of them parted leaving a corridor of access to the bar.
Deirdre smiled. "Sweet," she laughed before she marched straight up to the counter, leaned across it and grabbed the barman by his t-shirt. "Oi! You! Drinks. Now."
The barman opened his mouth to say something, caught sight of her friends coming up behind her and thought better of it, though the look he shot her told her clearly what he thought of her tactics.
"And make it something good." She added. "Don't want any of that flat beer crap." She let him go and he staggered back, before stomping down to the other end of the bar and through a door that virtually disappeared into the black-painted wall.
The others clustered behind her and grouped themselves so they could lean on the bar or each other. Another imperious wave of his hand and another muttered breath, and Ethan cleared them a path so they had a decent view of the stage, such as it was. The band, a bunch of oddly costumed freaks, were only about three inches off the main floor and had to keep dodging missiles thrown at them. They played doggedly on, ignoring the jeers, and changed to something the crowd liked better, with an edgy beat. Some of the demons on the dance floor nodded their heads in time, others jumped up and down, and someone went down when a tail whipped round in appreciation of the warbly synth harmonies and caught a dancer behind the knees. Phil grunted, which was as close as he ever got to laughing.
"Who's she then?"
They all looked up to see who had got Deirdre's attention. There was smaller stage, set in a corner, further off the floor than the main set. Seated on the tiny stage was a beautiful women in a very tiny skirt and torn t-shirt. She looked around the room with a bored expression. When her gaze lighted on their little gathering, she leaned over to say something to one of the pale men standing beside her, before she continuing her examination of the club's occupants. When she failed to do anything interesting, they gave up watching her and went back to watching the band.
Thom caught a movement behind the bar and turned to see the bartender coming back with a bottle and several glasses. He knocked Deirdre on the shoulder and she glanced around to see what was up. They looked at each other. Thom cocked his head. "What the fuck's this then?"
The bartender looked dully at him. "Absinthe," was all he said.
Ethan spun round and grabbed the bottle, holding it up to the dim light.
Thom looked confused. "I thought that shit was illegal?"
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Since when has that bothered you?"
Thom's face went neutral. "Doesn't," he said carefully. "I was just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat." Thom was eyeing the bottle thoughtfully.
Ethan shrugged. "Yeah, but this cat's got eight lives left, plus a few to spare if I play my cards right. Not to mention you lot. By my count that makes at least 53 lives we've got to play with."
"You're not planning on using all of them tonight are you?" Deirdre wrapped herself around Ethan and nipped his earlobe.
He shuddered and looked away from the bottle, down at her face. "Deirdre, be a love and go play the slut with Randall, won't you?"
The others glanced between themselves and a unanimous, silent, decision was made to stay out of this, whatever the hell 'this' might be.
After a second, Deirdre disentangled herself from Ethan, pulled back and punched him hard in the side of the head. He stumbled but didn't fall. She glared at him, but he just smiled sweetly, fluttered his eyelashes, and turned his attention back to the bottle. When it became clear he wasn't going to retaliate she grabbed Phil by the arm and dragged him over to the dance floor, where she proceeded to writhe around him out of all time to the music. Phil glanced over at the rest of the gang still standing by the bar. Thom raised his eyebrow, Rupert shrugged, and Randall went strangely blank, so after a minute Phil gave in to temptation and gyrated to whatever time Deirdre was keeping.
Thom watched them for a minute before his eye was caught by an attractive nymph leaning against a wooden pole. "See you later gents." He sauntered over to try his luck. Randall took off to find the mens room, leaving Ethan and Rupert alone with the alcohol.
Rupert leaned toward Ethan. "What was all that about?"
"Eh?" Ethan didn't even look at him; he was still intently studying the bottle.
"With Deirdre?"
"What?" Ethan seemed momentarily confused, before lighting on understanding. "Oh that. Deirdre's just a little upset that I won't come out to play."
"You and she-"
"Sometimes," Ethan shrugged. "Who doesn't? But that's not what she's upset about tonight."
"Then what?"
"She wants to raise a little hell. I gave her part of what she wanted but not the rest."
"Not sure I follow."
Ethan detached his attention from the bottle and fixed it firmly on Rupert. "She wants a bar brawl. She wants to see fists and fur flying in this place before the night's out."
Rupert looked over at Deirdre who was now practically straddling Phil on the floor. "Can't say as I blame you."
Ethan laughed, and the sound of it was so unpleasant that Rupert tore his attention away from Deirdre's bare midriff. "What?"
"Didn't say I didn't want the same thing, old boy. It's just that Deirdre and I... well let's just say we don't have a meeting of the minds over our methods." He blinked rapidly and his glance flicked quickly up and down Rupert. "But never mind about her. Shall we sample the local delicacy?"
Rupert frowned as Ethan set the bottle down by the glasses and poured out the drink. "I always thought Absinthe was the same green as those sodding awful fake cherries." He picked up the shot Ethan held over to him and held the glass up to the light. "You sure this is Absinthe?"
"Absolutely. This is the real stuff. Not the cheap vodka they pour food colouring into and sell you as Absinthe. This, my man, has class. It has style. It has-"
"Fuck me!" Rupert gasped.
Ethan shook his head and blinked. "Pardon?"
"I thought it would be harsh and syrupy. But this... this is beautiful! It's so subtle I almost can't taste it at first, and then there was this note of-"
"Rupert. Am I to understand that you just threw back a glass of fine absinthe as if you were drinking cheap beer?"
Rupert's face darkened. "So? You suddenly following rules now?"
Ethan said nothing for a few seconds, then he laughed raucously and slapped Rupert on the shoulder sending him tottering against the bar. "Rupert, my man, you are always full of surprises."
Rupert's smile had an edge in it. "You have no fucking idea." He picked up the bottle and poured himself another. "And stop calling me 'your man'. I'm not your fucking man."
Ethan smiled strangely, but all he said was, "We'll see."
"Oi!"
They both turned to see the bartender leaning against the counter, muscled arms flexing and a scowl on his face. "It's not free. You have to pay for that, you wankers."
"Ah." Rupert smiled at him. "Antipodean?"
"Not any more." The bartender snarled at him. "Tonight I'm just Anti-thieving. Pay up." He nodded at the bottle.
Rupert patted his pockets and pulled out his pack of fags and his matchbook. "Sorry. Didn't bring any with me." He lit up a smoke.
Just as it looked like the bartender was going to launch himself over the bar at them, Ethan plonked a small bag in front of him. "Here. I think you'll find that'll about cover it."
The bartender looked suspiciously at it. "Could be a bomb."
Ethan rolled his eyes, and gave Rupert a look of supreme suffering. "If it was a bomb d'you think I'd still be in here with it?"
The bartender sniffed and cautiously pulled the bag over. He yanked at the drawstring and the top of the bag opened enough for him to peer inside. His eyes widened and he looked sharply back at Ethan.
Ethan nodded. "A little gesture of thanks." He hefted the bottle. "For being such a sport." He raised an eyebrow.
The barman's eyes narrowed in understanding, and he nodded as he took the bag away and pocketed it. Then he got on with serving the other customers, who were still avoiding the air around Ethan and Rupert.
Rupert noted with interest that nothing from the bag made it into the till. "What was in the bag?"
Ethan leaned over and said in his ear, "Gold."
"Oh yeah? Were'd you get from then?"
Ethan just smiled and sipped his absinthe rather than answer.
*************************************************
Giles pouted. "You shaying we were idiots?'
"What do you think?"
Sighing, Giles lifted his glass in accord. "True." He stared at the chintz wallpaper. He was certain the print of those little green creatures with wings had been beetles this afternoon. Now they were flitting in and out of the cherry-blossom pattern and tittering and pointing at him. He peered cross-eyed at the bottom of his glass. "I should know better th'n drink thish stuff."
"With your track record you'd think so, wouldn't you?"
"Not sure I wanna hear resht of this story. 'lready know how it ends," Giles sniffed.
"You certain?"
Giles looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe my version of events is different."
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Giles' tilted his head. "Go on then. Might as well hear your perspep... perspex... side of things."
"Thank you. Where were we?"
"Idiots drinking abshinth inna undergroun' club."
"Ah yes. So two of the princes were making merry, quaffing and generally enjoying being at the top of the food chain. But in the best tradition of these sorts of stories, we all know that couldn't last."
******************************************
"Good stuff this."
"Yes it is, Rupert." Ethan took the bottle from him. "It also cost a packet, so perhaps you could ease up on it just a trifle?"
Rupert knocked back another shot and grinned dopily at him. A look of confusion passed over his face. He peered at someone on the dance floor. "Ethan?"
"Hmm? Yes?"
"Is that... a fairy dancing over there?"
"Probably."
Rupert looked around in alarm at the other customers as their true nature resolved itself in his vision. The bartender's skin was now an intriguing shade of olive.
Ethan looked up as Rupert towered over him. "What?"
"What the bloody hell have you done, Ethan?"
Ethan held up a placating hand. "Now, now, Rupert. Everyone said they wanted to go somewhere different. And here we are! Isn't it ripping?"
"Grand! Is this a bloody... Is this a-"
"Fairy dell? Yes." He leaned out of Rupert's reach. "Now, now. Just a bit of harmless fun."
"For who?"
"Good evening, gentlemen."
Rupert turned to find the tall, winged man he'd seen on the dance floor literally hovering over them.
"My name is Ab," it said politely, "and you can think of me as the manager of this establishment. Can I help you?"
Ethan waved a hand airily at it. "No. We're fine."
"I'm afraid you're not actually. You shouldn't be here. This is a private club."
"Well, we're very private people, love." Ethan flashed the fairy a smile, which looked down its nose at him.
"You're not suitably dressed."
"Not a problem!" Ethan waved an arm in front of himself and was instantly transformed, wearing something that was clearly more at home in a ballroom competition than a nightclub. It was pink. And had sequins. "Presto chango!"
The fairy pinched the bridge of its green-skinned nose. "Very droll, sir. Very droll. But I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."
"Where?" Rupert's tone was civil but his hands were bunched into fists at his sides.
Some of the bystanders noticed the disturbance, stopped standing by and began hovering menacingly. A few of them bared pointed teeth.
"Look," said the fairy in an exasperated tone, "this is for your own good. You can't stay here. But if you'll just come with me I can give you safe passage out of here." It held up a long-fingered hand and instantly several patrons that had been edging toward the intruders stopped in their tracks, although they didn't look any happier.
"Oh but we don't want to go anywhere, do we, Rupe?" Ethan bared his own teeth in a distorted smile. "Looks like the party's just getting going. Where do we drop our keys then?"
"Ethan," Rupert hissed, "quit playing around."
"Your friend is right to exercise caution. You're only digging your own grave right now."
At that Ethan just laughed. "Mine's been dug for years, mate. Got my headstone and everything. Sold my soul for the company's gold and all that."
The hoverer looked pained. Breathing deeply and slowly it said through gritted teeth, "Now, gentlemen. You and your friends will be leaving now."
Ethan batted his eyelashes, went and stood right under the thing and said, "No."
The fairy above them turned it's head to look at the tiny stage in the corner, where previously there had been the beautiful woman. Now, she was a stunningly beautiful fairy clad in a white satin dress, adorned with diamonds. She nodded at the 'manager, who turned its attention back to Ethan and Rupert, before sighing heavily.
For a minute no one said anything. Then all hell broke loose.
At some invisible signal from the manager, the small group of creatures surrounding Rupert and Ethan surged forward. Ethan yelled something, there was a giant thunderclap, and a small ball of fire shot out from him, went straight through Rupert without injuring him, expanding as it moved until it was a ring of fire burning through the crowd immediately around them before fading out to nothing. The creatures just outside the burning zone screamed in fury and rushed them.
Rupert took out the first two using his fists and feet. "Thanks a fucking lot, Ethan! Now look what you've done!"
"Give me a break!" Ethan busily dodged blows. "First time I've tried that one!"
"And you chose now to test it out?"
Never... Oh just fuck off, will you?" Ethan slapped aside a small flying fury which went spinning dizzily off toward the ceiling, smacking the manager fairy in the head and knocking him out. "Never thought I'd need it." He picked up the empty absinthe bottle and smashed it over the head of whatever it was that was trying to beat up Rupert. The thing collapsed on the floor, causing Rupert to jump sharply out of the way to avoid its spiked head piercing his feet.
"Cheers." Rupert examined the body on the floor. "Don't think I'm familiar with these."
"It's not a bloody field trip."
Rupert looked as though he'd been slapped. "No. Course not. Where are the others?"
"Making the most of things!" When Rupert looked around blankly, Ethan took hold of his shoulders and spun him to face the dance floor, laughing.
If it was possible, there was even more mayhem in front of the stage. Assorted random creatures, all with green wings, were busy kicking, punching, biting, and beating the crap out of anything else that moved. In the thick of things, Deirdre was whooping and putting Doc Martens into anything at knee height or lower, while Phil, Randall and Thom took care of anything taller. Occasionally Deirdre would disappear for a second, there would be a brief glimpse of her arm and elbow swinging down in a fast arc, and she would pop up again with a maniacal grin and sweat dripping off her face. The others were already showing signs of wearing out.
There was a shape in the air and Rupert screamed at Ethan to duck, before throwing another attacker over the bar, sending it colliding into the bottles lined up in front of the mirror. He staggered and fell to all fours as something large and wooden connected with his back. Struggling to his feet and clutching his kidneys he leant on the bar, only to find himself trapped there by the crowd. The corridor of protection had disappeared.
But then, so had Ethan.
*****************************************
"I remember that," Giles scowled. "Right in the middle of the fight and suddenly 'poof'." He dropped his glass and splayed his hands up in front of him. "Gone. Vanished."
"Not exactly."
Giles blinked owlishly at him. "Weren't there any more."
"Wasn't gone either."
"Eh?"
*******************************************
Rupert managed to get away from the bar by elbowing something in its face and possibly kidney-punching something else. It wasn't clear whether that particular creature had kidneys, but the move seemed to work so he didn't stick around to ask. Through a combination of shoving, scrambling on the floor and clambering over equipment and previously non-existent furniture he managed to make his way to where he'd last seen the rest of the gang, only to find they were now on the other side of the hall. "Bugger," he panted.
Something grabbed his elbow and he turned and caught them with a windmill punch - only to watch Ethan stagger back from the blow.
Ethan shook his head and glared at Rupert. "Was that absolutely necessary?"
"Yes."
"Oh come on now. What kind of thank you is that?"
"You knew this was going to happen!'
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Listen, old boy. Everyone said they wanted a bit of excitement. And now here we are! Exciting, isn't it?"
"Ethan."
"What?"
"You really are a tosser."
Ethan just laughed and shoved the nearest brawler back into the fray. "Oh come on, Rupert. You can't say it isn't entertaining."
"Yes," Rupert said through gritted teeth, as he wrestled with something with far too many teeth and wings, "I can." Finally he managed to get the thing in a choke hold, twisted its head, dropped it to the floor and kicked it away.
Ethan's eyes widened. "Well, well. You've been holding out on us, Rupert."
Rupert didn't answer. He was too busy dodging a chair flung at his head. And then another. "That makes three chairs! Where are they getting the damn things from?" His voice was strained from yelling over the chaos. "There wasn't any furniture when we arrived!"
"They're conj-" Ethan swivelled sharply sideways to avoid another incoming missile. "They're conjuring them of course!" He yelled.
Rupert rolled his eyes, ducked a punch, then threw one of his own, hitting his opponent right between the eyes - all five of them. "We have to get out of here!"
"Things do seem to be a bit out hand, don't they?"
"A bit? Are you insane? Never mind. Don't answer that." Rupert shook his head. Ethan tugged on his arm, attempting to tow him along in his wake and Rupert nearly wrenched both their arms out of socket trying to head in the other direction. "Let's get the others."
"They're big boys and girls. Well... girl. They can look after themselves."
"But-"
Ethan spun to face him. "Look mate, we don't have much time to get out of here. Trust me. They'll be fine."
"Why don't I believe a word you're saying?"
"Because I'm untrustworthy?" Ethan bobbed back and forth, trying to get a view of something in the crowd behind Rupert. Whatever he saw alarmed him enough to grab Rupert's arm and fling them both headlong toward the exit. "We don't have time for this! Let's just go!"
Rupert threw himself into the retreat and they both ducked and weaved as fast as they could toward the door, only to find their path blocked by what could only be a troll. They shuddered to a halt, gasping for breath, wide-eyed, and looked at each other.
"Now what?" Rupert propped his hands on his thighs as he tried to draw oxygen.
"No idea." Ethan, equally out of breath sounded non-plussed for the first time all evening.
"Right. Let me handle this." Rupert stepped up to the troll and looked it in the eye. "We've been sent to test the emergency exit."
The troll raised an eyebrow but otherwise gave no indication he was listening.
"And it works like this," Rupert said, as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a packet of cigs and the matches. He lit one up with the other, pocketed the box of smokes again, took a deep drag, used the lit match to set fire to the whole packet and threw them and the cigarette at the troll's face.
Ethan watched, eyes wide, as the troll promptly had a screaming fit and staggered off into the crowd, where it added to the chaos by flailing around, knocking people out with its fists. Rupert took a second to be certain it wasn't coming back their way. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the woman in the white satin dress, standing in the centre of the melee. There was a circle around her filled with nothing but air. She was glowering straight at Rupert, lips pinched.
"What the..."
She moved in their direction.
Rupert grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and shoved him bodily against the emergency door so that he fell on the latch. The door opened behind him, and they both fell through, tumbling out onto the cold morning of an alleyway, where they were greeted with the smells of damp concrete, urine, and uncollected rubbish.
"Nice work with the bouncer there, mate."
"Trolls," Rupert said in a voice of ice. "Highly flammable. Incredibly stupid. Terrified of fire."
"Well, well, Rupe. You really have been holding out on us. Where did you manage to pick up so much intel on the netherworld?"
"Never mind about that," Rupert said roughly, as he threw Ethan against the wall opposite and held him there, one hand in his hair, the other in a fist hovering inches in front of his nose. "You fucking pillock! You could have gotten us all killed!"
Ethan bit his lip. "Yeah. Feels good, doesn't it? Makes you feel ali-"
Rupert shoving his tongue down Ethan's mouth was a pretty effective silencer. Then neither of them said anything for a while as they frantically searched underneath t-shirts and jeans, rough-brick wall scratching Ethan's back. Rupert made sure it scraped him up as much as possible.
It took a while for either of them to get back enough breath to say anything.
Ethan moved away first, staggering around as he pulled up his jeans and buttoned them, then picked his t-shirt up off the bin and threw it back over his head. He looked down his nose at the small ribbon of crimson dripping down the front of the white cotton. Tentatively he poked out his tongue and felt around the puncture wound in his bottom lip. He grinned. "Really, Rupert. You do know how to wound a man."
"Shut up." Rupert had an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the streetlight as he squinted at Ethan. "You're going to pay for this."
"Oh I know, I know."
Rupert squinted at him suspiciously and grunted.
"Look, you want something less...destructive right?"
"Yeah," Rupert groaned as he propped himself up against the wall and inspected the bruises on his arms and hands. "Something a bit quieter'd be a favourite."
"Then, Rupert, my man, I think I know just the thing." He put his arm around Rupert's shoulder.
"I told you before. I'm not your man." He shrugged off Ethan's arm, before patting his pockets. He gave up looking when Ethan conjured a lit smoke out of thin air, raised an eyebrow, but accepted it anyway. "So what d'you have in mind?"
"Oh, just a quiet little spell I've been hearing about. Supposed to be a bit of a rush."
Rupert harumphed. "I'll think about it."
"Oi! You two fairies! What you up to?" Deirdre was running toward them up the alleyway, with the other three men close behind. She skipped the last few steps and flung her arms around Ethan, ignoring his wince. "Cheers doll. That was fucking brilliant." She skipped away from him again and spun in a circle, arms out to catch the cool morning air, before stopping suddenly and putting her hands on her hips. "So. Where are we off to now gents? Anyone know anywhere interesting?"
There was a collective groan, and Thom threw his hands up in the air. Phil just shook his head.
Deirdre eyed them all. "What?"
Ethan put his arm around her shoulders and started subtly walking her out of the alley toward the brightly lit streets and road sweeper doing its daily rounds. "Deirdre, my sweet, you really must learn to pace yourself." He cast a glance back at the others and flicked his eyes heavenward before returning his attention to her. "For our sake at least. You know we don't have your energy."
"Yeah," she nodded. "You're a bunch of fucking pansies all right."
Behind her Thom grimaced then looked at the other three. He sidled up to them and murmured, "All those in favour of calling it a night, er, day?"
All four raised their hands. As soon as Ethan and Deirdre were far enough ahead, they shot back through the unlocked club exit and made their way quietly across the debris and sleeping monsters, till they emerged, blinking, from the club door, next to the Green Park tube. They were momentarily confused when they registered all the ambulances gathered out front, but once Phil clocked the cops taking notes, they sauntered away as fast as discretely possible.
******************************************
Giles reached for the bottle. "'s none left."
"Pity."
"But I though' you said all fairy stories had to have a happy ending?"
"No I didn't. Just said they have to have endings."
"Then what makesh tha' one a fairy tale?"
Ab looked at him as if he were in remedial class. "I'm here, aren't I? And I'm telling a tale, right? Ergo, fairy tale. You haven't gotten any smarter over the years, have you?"
Giles groaned. "Pillock."
"Watcher," Ab shot back.
Giles raised a brow. "Touche."
Ab fell silent.
"What?"
"I really am sorry."
"Fer what?"
"Eyghon.""
Giles snorted. "No' your fault. If Ethan hadn't-"
"Got the spell from me."
Giles said nothing.
Ab stared at the bottle. "She wasn't going to let you out, you see. You'd trespassed." He shot Giles a look of regret. "It was our territory. Our club. And then you lot just waltzed right in the front door without anyone having called you."
"How in hell were we s'posed know tha'?"
"All the mythical creatures jumping up and down to the music should have been a bit of a give away."
"Not til we were alr'dy inside!"
"Ah, but that's the thing, Rupert. How did you get inside? You can only find the place if you know where it is, and only The Folk should have been able to get past security."
Giles clutched his head. "Bloody glamours. Ethan made us practice all af'rnoon."
Ab nodded. "Exactly." He picked at the glitter he was shedding on the floor, letting it float in the moonlight dancing on the black and white tiles. "So there you all were, raising hell, wailing on Fae, when it should have been the other way round. Unseelie court don't take kindly to intruders. Not sure when Ethan realised he was in over his head, or if he ever did. The boy's a bit touched."
"Agen' of chaos."
Ab raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really."
"Huh. That explains that then. Never could figure out how he knew where to find us."
"Still don' un'erstand. Why'd you give Ethan the text for Eyghon?"
"She made him an offer he could've refused but didn't want to."
Giles' head wobbled again, and his face screwed up as he tried to work that out.
Ab sighed, and waved a hand over Giles. "You're amusing when you're drunk, but it gets tiresome."
Giles sat up straight as the alcohol in him vanished. He blinked. "Ethan. He did a deal without knowing what he was buying. Why would he do that?"
"As I said. She made him an offer. And she made it clear to him the alternative was exceedingly unpleasant."
"He sold us out."
"He bought your lives back from her."
"Only for a short while!"
"For a damn sight longer than you would have had if he hadn't accepted. And two of you made it out completely."
"That's a matter of perspective," Giles snapped. He shook his head and sighed. "Why'd she do it?"
Ab shrugged. "Why does she do anything? It amused her, I think. In the end it was for nothing though. You only lost Randall before getting back control. At least, that's what it looked like from our perspective. She got bored and found someone else to play with."
"Vicious bitch."
Ab nodded. "That's our Queen all right. And I'll tell you something else."
"What?"
"She doesn't like competition."
Giles' breath caught. "What's that mean?"
"It means, Ripper, my man," Ab said as his face morphed into Ethan's' and back again, "that you've helped unleash an army of beautiful, super-powered women, any one of whom alone might be a threat to our gracious monarch. She is not best pleased with you, Ripper. Not best pleased at all."
"Buffy?"
"Yup."
"Faith?"
"Your girls are in danger, Rupert."
"And you kept me here drinking all night!" Giles tried to stagger to his feet.
"I didn't keep you anywhere, Rupert. You were the one looking for solace in the bottom of a bottle. You were the one with a yen to revisit your youth. You summoned me, remember? Not the other way around."
"Wish I hadn't."
"Be careful what you wish for indeed." Ab stood. "See, the thing about fairy tales, the true traditional kind, is that there's never a happy ever after. In fact," he took his coat off the hook on the wall, folded his wings back against his back and threw the coat over his shoulders, "in real fairy tales, the heroes usually meet a very grisly end." He tapped the empty bottle with his shoe, and it fell over. "I still feel a little guilty over that whole Eyghon incident, so I'll give you as much protection from my kin for as long as I can. But your girls are planning on going into the underground, and if they do, I can't guarantee you'll be safe." He opened the door. "Well, it's been fun, but next time, do us both a favour and stick to your scotch, okay?"
He turned to look at Giles, still sitting thunderstruck on the floor. "Oh yes. The end of that story goes like this. It took a while, but the six idiots got what was coming to them in the end. And everyone in Faerie lived happily ever after."
The door shut behind him, and the jade cup vanished. When Giles glanced at the wallpaper, it was once again devoid of anything but cherry blossom. But the bottle clinked when he kicked it. He grunted and kicked it in fury. The bottle bounced off the radiator and shattered on the tiles, leaving behind hundreds of glittering green fragments.
Giles put his head in his hands and cried till the sun came up.
Author: Daisee Chain
Fandom: Buffy
Fan Rating: Adult
Spoilers: All through season 7, through The Chain season 8
Warnings: Excessive violence, profuse profanity
Characters/Pairing: Giles/Ethan, Thomas, Phillip, Deirdre, Randall, OC
Summary: Grumpy old men often have very fond memories of their own youth. But this is Giles we're talking about here, and old acquaintances are not always best renewed.
Author's notes:
Written for the Drunken! Giles fest 2010, to the prompt Giles/Ethan, sometimes drinking Absinthe summons real green faeries.
Thanks to K for the beta, and to marguerite-26 for the GSD, without which this would still be less than a drabble.
Still happy to consider any and all concrit.
Wiltshire, 2007
"You see," and here he stopped to belch loudly, "what any good fairytale needs is a beginninun... uh... a began... a start, right, and and the mid bits, and the bit what finishes it off!"
Giles grabbed the bottle from him. "Whish bit'r you ag'n?"
"Ah. That'd be telling."
Giles' head lolled and he blinked. "Ishn't tha' what your s'posed be doing?"
"Course, course." The bottle was handed back over, up-ended, and more green liquid drizzled into the paper-thin carved-jade cup.
Giles frowned. "Get-" He hiccuped. "On with it then." He tipped his glass upside down and frowned. "A smile iz ju' a frown, tha's upside down," he sang sadly. "Like a clown. Thash upside down." His head wobbled. "Like an upside down clown."
"That'd be a smile then, 'cause clowns always wear frowns an' if you turn 'em up t'other way they'd be all smiling."
Giles nodded sagely and began to sing softly. "Send in the clowns, where are the clowns?"
"No!" The bottle hit the floor with a thump. "No clowns! That's what you have me for."
Giles giggled.
"I mean... no. I meant no clowns. This is a fairy tale. Not a clown tale."
"Pin the tail on the clown?"
"Shut it, you. You wanna' hear this fairy story or not?"
Giles' face was the picture of solemnity, marred only slightly by an unfocussed gaze and a tendency to topple sideways down the wall against which he was sitting.
"Right. Well, it begins like this. Once upon a time, there were six idiots. One beautiful princess, and five butt-ugly morons."
Giles' forehead wrinkled as he thought. "That's," he held up his fingers and counted off, "11 people."
"What? No! Six people in total. One of the six was the princess. The other five are idiots."
"Thought you said there were six idiots."
"The princess is an idiot too."
"Ah."
"Anyway. There were these six idiots."
**************************************
London, 1975
"Where we going tonight then?"
"New place. Underground."
"Is it safe?"
Ethan gave him a look. "Why the bloody hell would we be going if it was safe?"
Rupert laughed it off, throwing in a growl to cover up his embarrassment, and grabbed Thom's smoke from him so he could light up his own with it. "So who's playing?" He bent his head over the two cigs, avoiding Ethan's gaze, then handed Thom back his own cig. Thom took it and inhaled without saying a word.
"Dunno. Some tin pot group no one's ever heard of. Why? You going for the music?"
Rupert's head snapped up and he took a stride bringing him nose to nose with Rupert. "Course I'm bloody going for the music. If all I wanted was to hang out with demons I'd just go back to bloody school, wouldn't I?"
It was Ethan's turn to laugh this time, and the group visibly relaxed as the momentary tension between the two evaporated as quickly as it rose. Everyone had high hopes for tonight. Ethan had promised new territory, new demons, new music, and new games. So far, he'd always made good on his word.
"Right then," Deirdre said, clambering off Phillip's lap and planting Doc Martens on the grime covering someone's old silk rug, "We gonna rock this fucking casbah or what?"
"You know," Randall said as he pulled on his leather jacket, "that'd make a good line for a song."
"Practise with the band later." Ethan said as he exited their squat. "All work and no play makes Randall a dull boy."
It didn't take them long to get to the club. They never used the Underground these days, preferring instead to take a random car off the side of the road. While the others piled in and squabbled over seats, and Rupert hot wired the ignition, Phil popped the hood, took off the oil cap, pointed a finger at the oil and shot it full of magic juice. Didn't do the car any harm. In fact, when they read through the police reports after a jaunt, they often laughed about how the owners kept complaining that the engines were running better. The cops thought they had a gang of joy-riding petrol-heads with engineering skills tearing up London suburbs, repairing old bangers. They were still scratching their heads though, over how many of the beat up old cars were found outside abandoned warehouses and empty fields.
When they couldn't immediately find somewhere to park, Ethan muttered something and a car a few feet up just vanished into thin air. Rupert grunted, and pulled the car carelessly up to the pavement, ignoring the screeching sound as he clipped the car in the space behind. He didn't bother straightening the car, and the all piled out again leaving it abandoned. Then they ran through the traffic, laughing at all the angry drivers that had to break to avoid hitting them.
The club itself turned out to be actually under the ground, in an old basement. There was a scuffle at the entrance as some punks tried to get in. As lenient as the place might be toward their more 'unusual' customers, they apparently weren't going to let in anyone with a safety-pin through their nose. Green skin, forked tongues, or horns were fine though, and with the ozone whiff of all the glamours they'd been sampling still clinging to them, Ethan and his friends sailed right past the bouncers. By the time they got inside, Ethan was laughing his head off.
"What's so funny?" Rupert asked.
"Those punks."
"What about them?" Randall asked absently as he surveyed the scene.
"They're about to head round the corner and try somewhere else."
"So?"
"So," Ethan leaned closer to Giles and yelled above the music, "They might have had it subliminally suggested to them that the cops we passed on the way here would be fun to pick a fight with." His grin threatened to split open his face.
"Jesus. You're fucked in the head, you know that right?" Thom shook his head and shoved his way through the throng to try and get some drinks.
Ethan rolled his eyes and reached for the back of Thom's jacket. "Not like that, mate. Don't be a bloody pillock." Then he yanked Thom back toward him, and lifted his other hand and muttered something. Instantly, the crowd in front of them parted leaving a corridor of access to the bar.
Deirdre smiled. "Sweet," she laughed before she marched straight up to the counter, leaned across it and grabbed the barman by his t-shirt. "Oi! You! Drinks. Now."
The barman opened his mouth to say something, caught sight of her friends coming up behind her and thought better of it, though the look he shot her told her clearly what he thought of her tactics.
"And make it something good." She added. "Don't want any of that flat beer crap." She let him go and he staggered back, before stomping down to the other end of the bar and through a door that virtually disappeared into the black-painted wall.
The others clustered behind her and grouped themselves so they could lean on the bar or each other. Another imperious wave of his hand and another muttered breath, and Ethan cleared them a path so they had a decent view of the stage, such as it was. The band, a bunch of oddly costumed freaks, were only about three inches off the main floor and had to keep dodging missiles thrown at them. They played doggedly on, ignoring the jeers, and changed to something the crowd liked better, with an edgy beat. Some of the demons on the dance floor nodded their heads in time, others jumped up and down, and someone went down when a tail whipped round in appreciation of the warbly synth harmonies and caught a dancer behind the knees. Phil grunted, which was as close as he ever got to laughing.
"Who's she then?"
They all looked up to see who had got Deirdre's attention. There was smaller stage, set in a corner, further off the floor than the main set. Seated on the tiny stage was a beautiful women in a very tiny skirt and torn t-shirt. She looked around the room with a bored expression. When her gaze lighted on their little gathering, she leaned over to say something to one of the pale men standing beside her, before she continuing her examination of the club's occupants. When she failed to do anything interesting, they gave up watching her and went back to watching the band.
Thom caught a movement behind the bar and turned to see the bartender coming back with a bottle and several glasses. He knocked Deirdre on the shoulder and she glanced around to see what was up. They looked at each other. Thom cocked his head. "What the fuck's this then?"
The bartender looked dully at him. "Absinthe," was all he said.
Ethan spun round and grabbed the bottle, holding it up to the dim light.
Thom looked confused. "I thought that shit was illegal?"
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Since when has that bothered you?"
Thom's face went neutral. "Doesn't," he said carefully. "I was just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat." Thom was eyeing the bottle thoughtfully.
Ethan shrugged. "Yeah, but this cat's got eight lives left, plus a few to spare if I play my cards right. Not to mention you lot. By my count that makes at least 53 lives we've got to play with."
"You're not planning on using all of them tonight are you?" Deirdre wrapped herself around Ethan and nipped his earlobe.
He shuddered and looked away from the bottle, down at her face. "Deirdre, be a love and go play the slut with Randall, won't you?"
The others glanced between themselves and a unanimous, silent, decision was made to stay out of this, whatever the hell 'this' might be.
After a second, Deirdre disentangled herself from Ethan, pulled back and punched him hard in the side of the head. He stumbled but didn't fall. She glared at him, but he just smiled sweetly, fluttered his eyelashes, and turned his attention back to the bottle. When it became clear he wasn't going to retaliate she grabbed Phil by the arm and dragged him over to the dance floor, where she proceeded to writhe around him out of all time to the music. Phil glanced over at the rest of the gang still standing by the bar. Thom raised his eyebrow, Rupert shrugged, and Randall went strangely blank, so after a minute Phil gave in to temptation and gyrated to whatever time Deirdre was keeping.
Thom watched them for a minute before his eye was caught by an attractive nymph leaning against a wooden pole. "See you later gents." He sauntered over to try his luck. Randall took off to find the mens room, leaving Ethan and Rupert alone with the alcohol.
Rupert leaned toward Ethan. "What was all that about?"
"Eh?" Ethan didn't even look at him; he was still intently studying the bottle.
"With Deirdre?"
"What?" Ethan seemed momentarily confused, before lighting on understanding. "Oh that. Deirdre's just a little upset that I won't come out to play."
"You and she-"
"Sometimes," Ethan shrugged. "Who doesn't? But that's not what she's upset about tonight."
"Then what?"
"She wants to raise a little hell. I gave her part of what she wanted but not the rest."
"Not sure I follow."
Ethan detached his attention from the bottle and fixed it firmly on Rupert. "She wants a bar brawl. She wants to see fists and fur flying in this place before the night's out."
Rupert looked over at Deirdre who was now practically straddling Phil on the floor. "Can't say as I blame you."
Ethan laughed, and the sound of it was so unpleasant that Rupert tore his attention away from Deirdre's bare midriff. "What?"
"Didn't say I didn't want the same thing, old boy. It's just that Deirdre and I... well let's just say we don't have a meeting of the minds over our methods." He blinked rapidly and his glance flicked quickly up and down Rupert. "But never mind about her. Shall we sample the local delicacy?"
Rupert frowned as Ethan set the bottle down by the glasses and poured out the drink. "I always thought Absinthe was the same green as those sodding awful fake cherries." He picked up the shot Ethan held over to him and held the glass up to the light. "You sure this is Absinthe?"
"Absolutely. This is the real stuff. Not the cheap vodka they pour food colouring into and sell you as Absinthe. This, my man, has class. It has style. It has-"
"Fuck me!" Rupert gasped.
Ethan shook his head and blinked. "Pardon?"
"I thought it would be harsh and syrupy. But this... this is beautiful! It's so subtle I almost can't taste it at first, and then there was this note of-"
"Rupert. Am I to understand that you just threw back a glass of fine absinthe as if you were drinking cheap beer?"
Rupert's face darkened. "So? You suddenly following rules now?"
Ethan said nothing for a few seconds, then he laughed raucously and slapped Rupert on the shoulder sending him tottering against the bar. "Rupert, my man, you are always full of surprises."
Rupert's smile had an edge in it. "You have no fucking idea." He picked up the bottle and poured himself another. "And stop calling me 'your man'. I'm not your fucking man."
Ethan smiled strangely, but all he said was, "We'll see."
"Oi!"
They both turned to see the bartender leaning against the counter, muscled arms flexing and a scowl on his face. "It's not free. You have to pay for that, you wankers."
"Ah." Rupert smiled at him. "Antipodean?"
"Not any more." The bartender snarled at him. "Tonight I'm just Anti-thieving. Pay up." He nodded at the bottle.
Rupert patted his pockets and pulled out his pack of fags and his matchbook. "Sorry. Didn't bring any with me." He lit up a smoke.
Just as it looked like the bartender was going to launch himself over the bar at them, Ethan plonked a small bag in front of him. "Here. I think you'll find that'll about cover it."
The bartender looked suspiciously at it. "Could be a bomb."
Ethan rolled his eyes, and gave Rupert a look of supreme suffering. "If it was a bomb d'you think I'd still be in here with it?"
The bartender sniffed and cautiously pulled the bag over. He yanked at the drawstring and the top of the bag opened enough for him to peer inside. His eyes widened and he looked sharply back at Ethan.
Ethan nodded. "A little gesture of thanks." He hefted the bottle. "For being such a sport." He raised an eyebrow.
The barman's eyes narrowed in understanding, and he nodded as he took the bag away and pocketed it. Then he got on with serving the other customers, who were still avoiding the air around Ethan and Rupert.
Rupert noted with interest that nothing from the bag made it into the till. "What was in the bag?"
Ethan leaned over and said in his ear, "Gold."
"Oh yeah? Were'd you get from then?"
Ethan just smiled and sipped his absinthe rather than answer.
*************************************************
Giles pouted. "You shaying we were idiots?'
"What do you think?"
Sighing, Giles lifted his glass in accord. "True." He stared at the chintz wallpaper. He was certain the print of those little green creatures with wings had been beetles this afternoon. Now they were flitting in and out of the cherry-blossom pattern and tittering and pointing at him. He peered cross-eyed at the bottom of his glass. "I should know better th'n drink thish stuff."
"With your track record you'd think so, wouldn't you?"
"Not sure I wanna hear resht of this story. 'lready know how it ends," Giles sniffed.
"You certain?"
Giles looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe my version of events is different."
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Giles' tilted his head. "Go on then. Might as well hear your perspep... perspex... side of things."
"Thank you. Where were we?"
"Idiots drinking abshinth inna undergroun' club."
"Ah yes. So two of the princes were making merry, quaffing and generally enjoying being at the top of the food chain. But in the best tradition of these sorts of stories, we all know that couldn't last."
******************************************
"Good stuff this."
"Yes it is, Rupert." Ethan took the bottle from him. "It also cost a packet, so perhaps you could ease up on it just a trifle?"
Rupert knocked back another shot and grinned dopily at him. A look of confusion passed over his face. He peered at someone on the dance floor. "Ethan?"
"Hmm? Yes?"
"Is that... a fairy dancing over there?"
"Probably."
Rupert looked around in alarm at the other customers as their true nature resolved itself in his vision. The bartender's skin was now an intriguing shade of olive.
Ethan looked up as Rupert towered over him. "What?"
"What the bloody hell have you done, Ethan?"
Ethan held up a placating hand. "Now, now, Rupert. Everyone said they wanted to go somewhere different. And here we are! Isn't it ripping?"
"Grand! Is this a bloody... Is this a-"
"Fairy dell? Yes." He leaned out of Rupert's reach. "Now, now. Just a bit of harmless fun."
"For who?"
"Good evening, gentlemen."
Rupert turned to find the tall, winged man he'd seen on the dance floor literally hovering over them.
"My name is Ab," it said politely, "and you can think of me as the manager of this establishment. Can I help you?"
Ethan waved a hand airily at it. "No. We're fine."
"I'm afraid you're not actually. You shouldn't be here. This is a private club."
"Well, we're very private people, love." Ethan flashed the fairy a smile, which looked down its nose at him.
"You're not suitably dressed."
"Not a problem!" Ethan waved an arm in front of himself and was instantly transformed, wearing something that was clearly more at home in a ballroom competition than a nightclub. It was pink. And had sequins. "Presto chango!"
The fairy pinched the bridge of its green-skinned nose. "Very droll, sir. Very droll. But I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."
"Where?" Rupert's tone was civil but his hands were bunched into fists at his sides.
Some of the bystanders noticed the disturbance, stopped standing by and began hovering menacingly. A few of them bared pointed teeth.
"Look," said the fairy in an exasperated tone, "this is for your own good. You can't stay here. But if you'll just come with me I can give you safe passage out of here." It held up a long-fingered hand and instantly several patrons that had been edging toward the intruders stopped in their tracks, although they didn't look any happier.
"Oh but we don't want to go anywhere, do we, Rupe?" Ethan bared his own teeth in a distorted smile. "Looks like the party's just getting going. Where do we drop our keys then?"
"Ethan," Rupert hissed, "quit playing around."
"Your friend is right to exercise caution. You're only digging your own grave right now."
At that Ethan just laughed. "Mine's been dug for years, mate. Got my headstone and everything. Sold my soul for the company's gold and all that."
The hoverer looked pained. Breathing deeply and slowly it said through gritted teeth, "Now, gentlemen. You and your friends will be leaving now."
Ethan batted his eyelashes, went and stood right under the thing and said, "No."
The fairy above them turned it's head to look at the tiny stage in the corner, where previously there had been the beautiful woman. Now, she was a stunningly beautiful fairy clad in a white satin dress, adorned with diamonds. She nodded at the 'manager, who turned its attention back to Ethan and Rupert, before sighing heavily.
For a minute no one said anything. Then all hell broke loose.
At some invisible signal from the manager, the small group of creatures surrounding Rupert and Ethan surged forward. Ethan yelled something, there was a giant thunderclap, and a small ball of fire shot out from him, went straight through Rupert without injuring him, expanding as it moved until it was a ring of fire burning through the crowd immediately around them before fading out to nothing. The creatures just outside the burning zone screamed in fury and rushed them.
Rupert took out the first two using his fists and feet. "Thanks a fucking lot, Ethan! Now look what you've done!"
"Give me a break!" Ethan busily dodged blows. "First time I've tried that one!"
"And you chose now to test it out?"
Never... Oh just fuck off, will you?" Ethan slapped aside a small flying fury which went spinning dizzily off toward the ceiling, smacking the manager fairy in the head and knocking him out. "Never thought I'd need it." He picked up the empty absinthe bottle and smashed it over the head of whatever it was that was trying to beat up Rupert. The thing collapsed on the floor, causing Rupert to jump sharply out of the way to avoid its spiked head piercing his feet.
"Cheers." Rupert examined the body on the floor. "Don't think I'm familiar with these."
"It's not a bloody field trip."
Rupert looked as though he'd been slapped. "No. Course not. Where are the others?"
"Making the most of things!" When Rupert looked around blankly, Ethan took hold of his shoulders and spun him to face the dance floor, laughing.
If it was possible, there was even more mayhem in front of the stage. Assorted random creatures, all with green wings, were busy kicking, punching, biting, and beating the crap out of anything else that moved. In the thick of things, Deirdre was whooping and putting Doc Martens into anything at knee height or lower, while Phil, Randall and Thom took care of anything taller. Occasionally Deirdre would disappear for a second, there would be a brief glimpse of her arm and elbow swinging down in a fast arc, and she would pop up again with a maniacal grin and sweat dripping off her face. The others were already showing signs of wearing out.
There was a shape in the air and Rupert screamed at Ethan to duck, before throwing another attacker over the bar, sending it colliding into the bottles lined up in front of the mirror. He staggered and fell to all fours as something large and wooden connected with his back. Struggling to his feet and clutching his kidneys he leant on the bar, only to find himself trapped there by the crowd. The corridor of protection had disappeared.
But then, so had Ethan.
*****************************************
"I remember that," Giles scowled. "Right in the middle of the fight and suddenly 'poof'." He dropped his glass and splayed his hands up in front of him. "Gone. Vanished."
"Not exactly."
Giles blinked owlishly at him. "Weren't there any more."
"Wasn't gone either."
"Eh?"
*******************************************
Rupert managed to get away from the bar by elbowing something in its face and possibly kidney-punching something else. It wasn't clear whether that particular creature had kidneys, but the move seemed to work so he didn't stick around to ask. Through a combination of shoving, scrambling on the floor and clambering over equipment and previously non-existent furniture he managed to make his way to where he'd last seen the rest of the gang, only to find they were now on the other side of the hall. "Bugger," he panted.
Something grabbed his elbow and he turned and caught them with a windmill punch - only to watch Ethan stagger back from the blow.
Ethan shook his head and glared at Rupert. "Was that absolutely necessary?"
"Yes."
"Oh come on now. What kind of thank you is that?"
"You knew this was going to happen!'
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Listen, old boy. Everyone said they wanted a bit of excitement. And now here we are! Exciting, isn't it?"
"Ethan."
"What?"
"You really are a tosser."
Ethan just laughed and shoved the nearest brawler back into the fray. "Oh come on, Rupert. You can't say it isn't entertaining."
"Yes," Rupert said through gritted teeth, as he wrestled with something with far too many teeth and wings, "I can." Finally he managed to get the thing in a choke hold, twisted its head, dropped it to the floor and kicked it away.
Ethan's eyes widened. "Well, well. You've been holding out on us, Rupert."
Rupert didn't answer. He was too busy dodging a chair flung at his head. And then another. "That makes three chairs! Where are they getting the damn things from?" His voice was strained from yelling over the chaos. "There wasn't any furniture when we arrived!"
"They're conj-" Ethan swivelled sharply sideways to avoid another incoming missile. "They're conjuring them of course!" He yelled.
Rupert rolled his eyes, ducked a punch, then threw one of his own, hitting his opponent right between the eyes - all five of them. "We have to get out of here!"
"Things do seem to be a bit out hand, don't they?"
"A bit? Are you insane? Never mind. Don't answer that." Rupert shook his head. Ethan tugged on his arm, attempting to tow him along in his wake and Rupert nearly wrenched both their arms out of socket trying to head in the other direction. "Let's get the others."
"They're big boys and girls. Well... girl. They can look after themselves."
"But-"
Ethan spun to face him. "Look mate, we don't have much time to get out of here. Trust me. They'll be fine."
"Why don't I believe a word you're saying?"
"Because I'm untrustworthy?" Ethan bobbed back and forth, trying to get a view of something in the crowd behind Rupert. Whatever he saw alarmed him enough to grab Rupert's arm and fling them both headlong toward the exit. "We don't have time for this! Let's just go!"
Rupert threw himself into the retreat and they both ducked and weaved as fast as they could toward the door, only to find their path blocked by what could only be a troll. They shuddered to a halt, gasping for breath, wide-eyed, and looked at each other.
"Now what?" Rupert propped his hands on his thighs as he tried to draw oxygen.
"No idea." Ethan, equally out of breath sounded non-plussed for the first time all evening.
"Right. Let me handle this." Rupert stepped up to the troll and looked it in the eye. "We've been sent to test the emergency exit."
The troll raised an eyebrow but otherwise gave no indication he was listening.
"And it works like this," Rupert said, as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a packet of cigs and the matches. He lit one up with the other, pocketed the box of smokes again, took a deep drag, used the lit match to set fire to the whole packet and threw them and the cigarette at the troll's face.
Ethan watched, eyes wide, as the troll promptly had a screaming fit and staggered off into the crowd, where it added to the chaos by flailing around, knocking people out with its fists. Rupert took a second to be certain it wasn't coming back their way. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the woman in the white satin dress, standing in the centre of the melee. There was a circle around her filled with nothing but air. She was glowering straight at Rupert, lips pinched.
"What the..."
She moved in their direction.
Rupert grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and shoved him bodily against the emergency door so that he fell on the latch. The door opened behind him, and they both fell through, tumbling out onto the cold morning of an alleyway, where they were greeted with the smells of damp concrete, urine, and uncollected rubbish.
"Nice work with the bouncer there, mate."
"Trolls," Rupert said in a voice of ice. "Highly flammable. Incredibly stupid. Terrified of fire."
"Well, well, Rupe. You really have been holding out on us. Where did you manage to pick up so much intel on the netherworld?"
"Never mind about that," Rupert said roughly, as he threw Ethan against the wall opposite and held him there, one hand in his hair, the other in a fist hovering inches in front of his nose. "You fucking pillock! You could have gotten us all killed!"
Ethan bit his lip. "Yeah. Feels good, doesn't it? Makes you feel ali-"
Rupert shoving his tongue down Ethan's mouth was a pretty effective silencer. Then neither of them said anything for a while as they frantically searched underneath t-shirts and jeans, rough-brick wall scratching Ethan's back. Rupert made sure it scraped him up as much as possible.
It took a while for either of them to get back enough breath to say anything.
Ethan moved away first, staggering around as he pulled up his jeans and buttoned them, then picked his t-shirt up off the bin and threw it back over his head. He looked down his nose at the small ribbon of crimson dripping down the front of the white cotton. Tentatively he poked out his tongue and felt around the puncture wound in his bottom lip. He grinned. "Really, Rupert. You do know how to wound a man."
"Shut up." Rupert had an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the streetlight as he squinted at Ethan. "You're going to pay for this."
"Oh I know, I know."
Rupert squinted at him suspiciously and grunted.
"Look, you want something less...destructive right?"
"Yeah," Rupert groaned as he propped himself up against the wall and inspected the bruises on his arms and hands. "Something a bit quieter'd be a favourite."
"Then, Rupert, my man, I think I know just the thing." He put his arm around Rupert's shoulder.
"I told you before. I'm not your man." He shrugged off Ethan's arm, before patting his pockets. He gave up looking when Ethan conjured a lit smoke out of thin air, raised an eyebrow, but accepted it anyway. "So what d'you have in mind?"
"Oh, just a quiet little spell I've been hearing about. Supposed to be a bit of a rush."
Rupert harumphed. "I'll think about it."
"Oi! You two fairies! What you up to?" Deirdre was running toward them up the alleyway, with the other three men close behind. She skipped the last few steps and flung her arms around Ethan, ignoring his wince. "Cheers doll. That was fucking brilliant." She skipped away from him again and spun in a circle, arms out to catch the cool morning air, before stopping suddenly and putting her hands on her hips. "So. Where are we off to now gents? Anyone know anywhere interesting?"
There was a collective groan, and Thom threw his hands up in the air. Phil just shook his head.
Deirdre eyed them all. "What?"
Ethan put his arm around her shoulders and started subtly walking her out of the alley toward the brightly lit streets and road sweeper doing its daily rounds. "Deirdre, my sweet, you really must learn to pace yourself." He cast a glance back at the others and flicked his eyes heavenward before returning his attention to her. "For our sake at least. You know we don't have your energy."
"Yeah," she nodded. "You're a bunch of fucking pansies all right."
Behind her Thom grimaced then looked at the other three. He sidled up to them and murmured, "All those in favour of calling it a night, er, day?"
All four raised their hands. As soon as Ethan and Deirdre were far enough ahead, they shot back through the unlocked club exit and made their way quietly across the debris and sleeping monsters, till they emerged, blinking, from the club door, next to the Green Park tube. They were momentarily confused when they registered all the ambulances gathered out front, but once Phil clocked the cops taking notes, they sauntered away as fast as discretely possible.
******************************************
Giles reached for the bottle. "'s none left."
"Pity."
"But I though' you said all fairy stories had to have a happy ending?"
"No I didn't. Just said they have to have endings."
"Then what makesh tha' one a fairy tale?"
Ab looked at him as if he were in remedial class. "I'm here, aren't I? And I'm telling a tale, right? Ergo, fairy tale. You haven't gotten any smarter over the years, have you?"
Giles groaned. "Pillock."
"Watcher," Ab shot back.
Giles raised a brow. "Touche."
Ab fell silent.
"What?"
"I really am sorry."
"Fer what?"
"Eyghon.""
Giles snorted. "No' your fault. If Ethan hadn't-"
"Got the spell from me."
Giles said nothing.
Ab stared at the bottle. "She wasn't going to let you out, you see. You'd trespassed." He shot Giles a look of regret. "It was our territory. Our club. And then you lot just waltzed right in the front door without anyone having called you."
"How in hell were we s'posed know tha'?"
"All the mythical creatures jumping up and down to the music should have been a bit of a give away."
"Not til we were alr'dy inside!"
"Ah, but that's the thing, Rupert. How did you get inside? You can only find the place if you know where it is, and only The Folk should have been able to get past security."
Giles clutched his head. "Bloody glamours. Ethan made us practice all af'rnoon."
Ab nodded. "Exactly." He picked at the glitter he was shedding on the floor, letting it float in the moonlight dancing on the black and white tiles. "So there you all were, raising hell, wailing on Fae, when it should have been the other way round. Unseelie court don't take kindly to intruders. Not sure when Ethan realised he was in over his head, or if he ever did. The boy's a bit touched."
"Agen' of chaos."
Ab raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really."
"Huh. That explains that then. Never could figure out how he knew where to find us."
"Still don' un'erstand. Why'd you give Ethan the text for Eyghon?"
"She made him an offer he could've refused but didn't want to."
Giles' head wobbled again, and his face screwed up as he tried to work that out.
Ab sighed, and waved a hand over Giles. "You're amusing when you're drunk, but it gets tiresome."
Giles sat up straight as the alcohol in him vanished. He blinked. "Ethan. He did a deal without knowing what he was buying. Why would he do that?"
"As I said. She made him an offer. And she made it clear to him the alternative was exceedingly unpleasant."
"He sold us out."
"He bought your lives back from her."
"Only for a short while!"
"For a damn sight longer than you would have had if he hadn't accepted. And two of you made it out completely."
"That's a matter of perspective," Giles snapped. He shook his head and sighed. "Why'd she do it?"
Ab shrugged. "Why does she do anything? It amused her, I think. In the end it was for nothing though. You only lost Randall before getting back control. At least, that's what it looked like from our perspective. She got bored and found someone else to play with."
"Vicious bitch."
Ab nodded. "That's our Queen all right. And I'll tell you something else."
"What?"
"She doesn't like competition."
Giles' breath caught. "What's that mean?"
"It means, Ripper, my man," Ab said as his face morphed into Ethan's' and back again, "that you've helped unleash an army of beautiful, super-powered women, any one of whom alone might be a threat to our gracious monarch. She is not best pleased with you, Ripper. Not best pleased at all."
"Buffy?"
"Yup."
"Faith?"
"Your girls are in danger, Rupert."
"And you kept me here drinking all night!" Giles tried to stagger to his feet.
"I didn't keep you anywhere, Rupert. You were the one looking for solace in the bottom of a bottle. You were the one with a yen to revisit your youth. You summoned me, remember? Not the other way around."
"Wish I hadn't."
"Be careful what you wish for indeed." Ab stood. "See, the thing about fairy tales, the true traditional kind, is that there's never a happy ever after. In fact," he took his coat off the hook on the wall, folded his wings back against his back and threw the coat over his shoulders, "in real fairy tales, the heroes usually meet a very grisly end." He tapped the empty bottle with his shoe, and it fell over. "I still feel a little guilty over that whole Eyghon incident, so I'll give you as much protection from my kin for as long as I can. But your girls are planning on going into the underground, and if they do, I can't guarantee you'll be safe." He opened the door. "Well, it's been fun, but next time, do us both a favour and stick to your scotch, okay?"
He turned to look at Giles, still sitting thunderstruck on the floor. "Oh yes. The end of that story goes like this. It took a while, but the six idiots got what was coming to them in the end. And everyone in Faerie lived happily ever after."
The door shut behind him, and the jade cup vanished. When Giles glanced at the wallpaper, it was once again devoid of anything but cherry blossom. But the bottle clinked when he kicked it. He grunted and kicked it in fury. The bottle bounced off the radiator and shattered on the tiles, leaving behind hundreds of glittering green fragments.
Giles put his head in his hands and cried till the sun came up.