FIC: Broken English - Part 7 - (Giles/Ethan) - R
Ethan-ficathon Masterlist
After a long wait, here it is, the next part. Expect the next update on Friday or Saturday.
TITLE: Broken English Part 7
PAIRING: Giles/Ethan
RATING: will eventually be R
SPOILERS: Set after 8x04 The Long Way Home (comics); set in Germany, btw
PROMPT: a vacation or roadtrip, magic, slash
WRITTEN FOR: spikendru
PREVIOUS PARTS: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Luckily, this isn't one of those frightful American movies where cars explode at the drop of a hat. As soon as the the demon and its followers are gone, Giles will dig out his new cell phone, the one Andrew insisted on, and call 112.
“Oh, and, Michael?” A half-smoked cigarette is flicked into Giles’s field of vision. It lands on his legs and slowly starts to smolder its way through the wool of his suit.
“Yes?”
“Torch the car.”
Part 7
"Uh, what about the hitch-hiker?"
"What about him?" With a jarring laugh, that reminds Giles of a cracked bell, the woman departs.
Da-dum.
Giles listens to the soft crunch-crunch of her feet on the frozen ground and forces his heartbeat to fall into step.
Da-dum. Da-dum.
Giles exhales. Slowly. Silently. Purges the used air from his lungs. Draws in fresh oxygen. Tries to ignore his throbbing ankle.
Meanwhile, his thoughts are racing.
Where Is the Master? Is he with the woman? Only one pair of feet can be heard moving away, on the other hand the sulphuric smell is gone now.
Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.
The young man, Michael, is circling the car’s carcass, presumably to look for a jerry can or the tank cover. The whiteness of his sneakers makes his movements easy to track. The question is: how thorough an arsonist is he?
And once he’s started the fire, will he stay and gloat? Or walk away, too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions? Giles is willing to bet on the latter.
Picking a moment when both sneakers are facing away from him, Giles snatches up the woman’s glowing cigarette butt and stubs it out in a heap of moist earth.
How much time, once the fire starts? A minute? Less than that. The flames will follow gravity and literally pour into the car. And then? The car may not explode, but it will definitely burn, hot and fast. In fact, thanks to the plastic and fabric fittings the inside will burn faster than the rest, and spike the black smoke with poisonous fumes.
Elemental magic has never been Giles’s strong suit, but he knows he can hold the flames at arm’s length - for a minute, possibly two. Just long enough to crawl out of the car. If he concentrates on nothing else.
But. What about Ethan?
Damn him!
Damn him for waltzing back into Giles’s life like this, and for all that stupid talk about spies and defectors, and life and death, and for making him drive the sodding car into the sodding ditch! Damn him for not moving! Damn him.
Only a few minutes have passed since the crash, but to Giles it feels like he’s stared at Ethan’s sagging, motionless form for a lifetime. Long enough to acknowledge that there’s no way in hell he’d leave Ethan behind. Not if there’s a chance that the old fool is still alive.
Maybe, if they were still fighting on different sides, soldiers, facing each other across a metaphorical battle field...
No, not even then. Not anymore. The mere thought of Ethan being consumed by flames is a painful knot in his gut. From that pain, a telepathic shout bursts free:
- Ethan! -
Outside, liquid gurgles and splashes. Apparently, Michael found a way to force open the tank cover.
If only Giles had a fraction of Willow’s or even Ethan’s raw magical power; he’d simply snap Ethan’s seatbelt with a flick of his wrist and levitate them both out of the wreck. In fact, with Willow’s kind of power he could teleport them both to safety.
The distinctive stench of benzene wafts into the wreck. Michael can be heard repeatedly thumbing a cheap disposable cigarette lighter.
- Goddammit, ETHAN. Wake up! -
A soft groan cuts through Giles’s urgency. “Rupert?”
The lighter sounds cease.
Movement, and then Ethan’s voice, unsteady but lucid: “Ouw! What the hell... did you... put in my drink?”
“Fuck!” Self-loathing seeps from Michael’s voice, but he redoubles his efforts. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Three more tries, and with an almost gentle whoosh the petrol catches fire. Almost at once, heat springs up like a hungry beast and tentacle-like flames snake towards the wreck.
And then, of course, like in a big budget action movie, everything happens at once:
The flames yap and snap at Giles’s hastily erected barrier, like greedy wolves testing the strength of a cage.
- Ethan, I need your power. All of it. Right now! -
- Why Rupert, I thought you’d never ask... -
Giles reaches out, with his hand and mind, finds Ethan’s hand open and ready for his, and finds a well of power: rich and leathery and a little smoky, like a well-matured Chardonnay....
... and while their hands glow green...
... Michael’s white sneakers break into a run, away from the wreck and towards the other car...
... where a car door slams shut, and ..
... for a split second, Giles is in two places at once, glimpsing well-manicured fingers caress the leather of the briefcase before they home in on the the two brass spring locks....
... Ethan’s grip on Giles’s hand tightens, and...
... the two locks spring open, and the briefcase’s lid is lifted to reveal 100.000 Euros, a loaded gun, and - oh, yes - a little surprise from Andrew:
A great ball of fire erupts from the car and colours the night blood red, followed closely by a shockwave of heat and a loud blast, as the other car explodes in a magical fireball of epic proportions...
... power surges,
.. a young man’s body is hurled into the air and slammed against the trunk of a tree...
... enough power for Giles to...
Teleport.
TBC
After a long wait, here it is, the next part. Expect the next update on Friday or Saturday.
TITLE: Broken English Part 7
PAIRING: Giles/Ethan
RATING: will eventually be R
SPOILERS: Set after 8x04 The Long Way Home (comics); set in Germany, btw
PROMPT: a vacation or roadtrip, magic, slash
WRITTEN FOR: spikendru
PREVIOUS PARTS: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Luckily, this isn't one of those frightful American movies where cars explode at the drop of a hat. As soon as the the demon and its followers are gone, Giles will dig out his new cell phone, the one Andrew insisted on, and call 112.
“Oh, and, Michael?” A half-smoked cigarette is flicked into Giles’s field of vision. It lands on his legs and slowly starts to smolder its way through the wool of his suit.
“Yes?”
“Torch the car.”
Part 7
"Uh, what about the hitch-hiker?"
"What about him?" With a jarring laugh, that reminds Giles of a cracked bell, the woman departs.
Da-dum.
Giles listens to the soft crunch-crunch of her feet on the frozen ground and forces his heartbeat to fall into step.
Da-dum. Da-dum.
Giles exhales. Slowly. Silently. Purges the used air from his lungs. Draws in fresh oxygen. Tries to ignore his throbbing ankle.
Meanwhile, his thoughts are racing.
Where Is the Master? Is he with the woman? Only one pair of feet can be heard moving away, on the other hand the sulphuric smell is gone now.
Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.
The young man, Michael, is circling the car’s carcass, presumably to look for a jerry can or the tank cover. The whiteness of his sneakers makes his movements easy to track. The question is: how thorough an arsonist is he?
And once he’s started the fire, will he stay and gloat? Or walk away, too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions? Giles is willing to bet on the latter.
Picking a moment when both sneakers are facing away from him, Giles snatches up the woman’s glowing cigarette butt and stubs it out in a heap of moist earth.
How much time, once the fire starts? A minute? Less than that. The flames will follow gravity and literally pour into the car. And then? The car may not explode, but it will definitely burn, hot and fast. In fact, thanks to the plastic and fabric fittings the inside will burn faster than the rest, and spike the black smoke with poisonous fumes.
Elemental magic has never been Giles’s strong suit, but he knows he can hold the flames at arm’s length - for a minute, possibly two. Just long enough to crawl out of the car. If he concentrates on nothing else.
But. What about Ethan?
Damn him!
Damn him for waltzing back into Giles’s life like this, and for all that stupid talk about spies and defectors, and life and death, and for making him drive the sodding car into the sodding ditch! Damn him for not moving! Damn him.
Only a few minutes have passed since the crash, but to Giles it feels like he’s stared at Ethan’s sagging, motionless form for a lifetime. Long enough to acknowledge that there’s no way in hell he’d leave Ethan behind. Not if there’s a chance that the old fool is still alive.
Maybe, if they were still fighting on different sides, soldiers, facing each other across a metaphorical battle field...
No, not even then. Not anymore. The mere thought of Ethan being consumed by flames is a painful knot in his gut. From that pain, a telepathic shout bursts free:
- Ethan! -
Outside, liquid gurgles and splashes. Apparently, Michael found a way to force open the tank cover.
If only Giles had a fraction of Willow’s or even Ethan’s raw magical power; he’d simply snap Ethan’s seatbelt with a flick of his wrist and levitate them both out of the wreck. In fact, with Willow’s kind of power he could teleport them both to safety.
The distinctive stench of benzene wafts into the wreck. Michael can be heard repeatedly thumbing a cheap disposable cigarette lighter.
- Goddammit, ETHAN. Wake up! -
A soft groan cuts through Giles’s urgency. “Rupert?”
The lighter sounds cease.
Movement, and then Ethan’s voice, unsteady but lucid: “Ouw! What the hell... did you... put in my drink?”
“Fuck!” Self-loathing seeps from Michael’s voice, but he redoubles his efforts. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Three more tries, and with an almost gentle whoosh the petrol catches fire. Almost at once, heat springs up like a hungry beast and tentacle-like flames snake towards the wreck.
And then, of course, like in a big budget action movie, everything happens at once:
The flames yap and snap at Giles’s hastily erected barrier, like greedy wolves testing the strength of a cage.
- Ethan, I need your power. All of it. Right now! -
- Why Rupert, I thought you’d never ask... -
Giles reaches out, with his hand and mind, finds Ethan’s hand open and ready for his, and finds a well of power: rich and leathery and a little smoky, like a well-matured Chardonnay....
... and while their hands glow green...
... Michael’s white sneakers break into a run, away from the wreck and towards the other car...
... where a car door slams shut, and ..
... for a split second, Giles is in two places at once, glimpsing well-manicured fingers caress the leather of the briefcase before they home in on the the two brass spring locks....
... Ethan’s grip on Giles’s hand tightens, and...
... the two locks spring open, and the briefcase’s lid is lifted to reveal 100.000 Euros, a loaded gun, and - oh, yes - a little surprise from Andrew:
A great ball of fire erupts from the car and colours the night blood red, followed closely by a shockwave of heat and a loud blast, as the other car explodes in a magical fireball of epic proportions...
... power surges,
.. a young man’s body is hurled into the air and slammed against the trunk of a tree...
... enough power for Giles to...
Teleport.
TBC