Fic update: 'This Is Going To Be Fun' - Buffy/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who (3/15ish)
Title: This Is Going To Be Fun
Author: Flurblewig
Fandom: Buffyverse/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who
Genre: Comedy drama, with a side order of crackfic :-)
Rating: PG13
Length: This part 2,917 words
Characters: Ethan Rayne, Rupert Giles, Sam Tyler, Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness, Tenth Doctor (so far)
Pairings: None (yet)
Summary: Sam and Rhys have some unexpected encounters and lots of people learn more than they ever wanted to know about the nature of reality...
A/N: Thanks & hugs to my beta desoto_hia873!
Previous parts: 1 / 2
Sam pours himself another generous measure of whisky and swirls it around. 'No. I don't accept that. There has to be a way back.'
Ethan lays back on the bed with his hands tucked under his head. 'If so, I'm afraid I don't know what it is. A return trip was never on my list of priorities.'
Sam leans forward, the mug held out before him like an offering. 'Then put it on there now. You have to help me.'
'I do?' Ethan raises one eyebrow. 'And why is that, exactly?'
'Because you're the only one who can. You're the only one who knows about all of this, the only one who doesn't think I'm insane.' Sam looks down, staring into the whisky. 'You're the only one who believes me.'
'My poor boy. Has it been dreadfully lonely?'
Sam tosses back the whisky in one long swallow that burns his throat. 'Fuck you,' he says, but that fails to diminish Ethan's smirk.
'Now that,' Ethan says, stretching languorously, 'I certainly could imagine putting on my To Do list.'
Sam gets up, all the muscles in his body tense with the need to do something; fight, scream, run, something. He starts pacing, as far as the limited floor space will allow. 'This is all just a big joke to you, isn't it? Well, it isn't to me. This is my life.'
'Ah, Sam. Life is a big joke. Haven't you figured that out yet?'
Sam stops, and rubs his eyes. He can't quite figure out Ethan's tone--can't quite figure out Ethan full stop--but under the top layer of obvious amusement it sounds like there might possibly be something approaching genuine sympathy. It makes his jaw clench.
'I just want to go home,' he says. He knows--and hates--how vulnerable that makes him sound, but he's tired. So very, very tired.
'I'm sorry,' Ethan says, Sam could almost believe that he means it. 'I can't make that happen.'
Sam brings the mug to his lips but then realises it's empty. He sits down again and refills it, spilling some onto the carpet. 'All right. Explain it to me. The time travel thing, how it works, everything. I'll figure it out for myself.' When Ethan says nothing, he looks up. 'Please.'
'Really, Sam. You expect me to give away all my trade secrets? Just because you're pretty and you ask nicely?'
Sam exhales heavily, then puts the mug down. 'No,' he says, pulling out his gun. 'Because otherwise I'll shoot you.'
Ethan just laughs. 'Sam, Sam. I applaud the bravado but really, you're not going to do any such thing.'
'Don't be so sure. I'm more than half convinced that this is just all in my head anyway, and if that's the case I can do whatever the hell I like in my own delusion and it won't make any difference.' He strokes the gun, keeping it trained on Ethan all the time. 'If you're not real, maybe you'll just disappear in a puff of smoke. If you are, maybe you'll die. I don't know, and at this point I'm not really sure I care. Frankly, I'm about ready to take the chance. Are you?'
Ethan doesn't move, but he starts speaking rapidly in a language that Sam doesn't understand. He opens his mouth to speak, but it turns into a yelp as the gun suddenly freezes in his hand; the metal so cold it burns. He drops it and tucks his hand under his armpit, crushing it against his body in an attempt to warm some life back into it. Ethan leans down and picks the gun up.
'Primitive,' he says, turning it over in his hands, 'but effective. Rather like that spell.'
Sam stares at him, his hand beginning to tingle with pins and needle as feeling slowly returns. 'What was that? What the hell just happened?'
Ethan smiles widely. 'Magic, dear boy. Very useful for self-defence.'
Sam makes a tentative fist, clenching and unclenching his hand. 'Magic. Great. Oh, this just gets better and better.'
Ethan twirls the gun, lifting his mug to his lips with the other hand. 'You were the one who pulled your weapon first, I just responded with my own. You should try to be less uptight, Sam. Is this the decade to say 'chill out'? I can't quite remember. But regardless of whether it's appropriate slang, it's definitely good advice. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I've seen what happens to men who get laced too straight, and it isn't pretty.'
'Trust you, right. Didn't you just say you were in prison, before? Somehow, you don't strike me as the greatest role model I've ever met.'
'Technically it wasn't a prison, more of a security facility.'
'For time-travelling wizards?'
'The politically correct term is mage, thank you. But yes, in way. For anything the Initiative were scared enough of, really.'
'The what?'
'Testosterone-fuelled marines hell bent on privatising the demon underworld for the glory and profit of Uncle Sam.'
'The what?'
'Never mind. We should probably work up to demons later.'
Sam laughs. 'No, it's fine, I've got no problem with demons. Why not? Time travel, wizards, magic spells, a hell of a lot more on heaven and earth than dreamed of in philosophy, or whatever the fuck that quote is, I can never remember Shakespeare. Demons, absolutely. Bring 'em on.'
Ethan glances round the room. 'The quote wasn't too bad, but you might want to think about being less free and easy with the invitations. You never know what might be listening.'
'Maybe Gene's a demon,' Sam says. 'Or no, no, Ray. Ray's definitely the demon sort. That would explain a lot, really.' He sees that his whisky has evaporated again, and refills the mug. He looks at Ethan over the top of it. 'Can I have my gun back, please?'
'I think maybe I'd better hold on to it for a while. For safe-keeping.'
'Can you shoot demons?'
'You can, but it doesn't achieve a great deal. Slows them down, sometimes.'
'So how do you know? I mean, that someone's a demon?'
Ethan smiles. 'The biggest give-away is usually that they're trying to eat you. Most demons are obvious, really, in the sense that they look like--well, like you imagine demons would. Fangs, horns, slavering, the whole deal. Some can take human form, though, at least part of the time. Vampires being the obvious example.'
Sam straightens up so fast he nearly falls out of the chair. 'Vampires? There are vampires? Really? The whole Dracula thing?'
'Yes, indeed. Although Dracula himself was a bit of an anomaly, and rather a disappointment. From what I heard, it seems that Buffy made quite short shrift of him, in the end.' He sighs. 'I'd had such high hopes, too.'
Sam peers at him. 'Did you say Buffy? You know somebody who's actually called Buffy?'
'For my sins, yes. Ridiculous name, isn't it? Quite brings the whole calling into disrepute. I did try to convince Ripper to make her change it, but he always was completely impossible where that girl was concerned.' He leans back, and smiles. 'Of course, this time I get to try that much harder to convince him of a lot of things.'
Sam snorts into his Scotch. 'Magic, demons, Dracula, Jack the Ripper, Buffy. Is this what I sound like? No wonder Annie thinks I'm nuts. Maybe you're just more insane than I am.'
Ethan shrugs. 'I've been called sociopathic, but I think labels are so restrictive, don't you?'
'Right, yeah. So, so--' Sam frowns, trying to get back on track. He was sure there had been a track, once. 'Yeah, so--magic, right. That's how you got here, then? That's how you did the time travel thing? Magic?'
'I can't tell you how I got here, Sam.' The smirk flashes again. 'And I'm not being difficult for the sake of it, amusing though that was. I can't tell you because I don't know.'
'What do you mean?'
'I had a contact, and he took care of the practical arrangements.'
'A contact? Who?'
'I didn't particularly concern myself with the specifics, just the results.' He shrugs. 'I'm sure you know the standard advice about gift horses.'
'And you just woke up here?'
'More or less, yes.' Ethan runs a hand down his chest. 'In this wonderfully lithe body that I really did not appreciate fully the first time around. I intend to rectify that error in judgement.'
'So--how did I get here?'
'Honestly? I have no idea. Maybe it was a buy one, get one free deal.'
'But I don't want it. I don't want to be here.'
'Come now, it can't be that bad, can it?' Ethan looks around at the flat. 'Well, not entirely that bad. After all, you get to live your prime again. There must be millions of people who'd give anything for that chance.'
Sam shakes his head. 'But I haven't finished living my prime the first time.' He pats himself on the chest. 'This is the same body I started with. This is me, as I was. I'm 37. In 1973, I was four. Four years old. I've even seen myself.'
Ethan frowns. 'So your consciousness didn't transfer into your previous self? This is your own body? Are you sure?'
'Sure?' Sam laughs. 'I haven't been sure about anything for a long time, but yeah, it feels like my body. Except for the fact that I also have visions of a hospital, a modern hospital, and sometimes I hear things, feel things--things that make me think my body is hooked up to a life support machine in 2006 and all this is--well, I don't know what this is.'
'Now, that is strange.' Ethan gets up off the bed, and bends over Sam. 'Do you mind?' he says, and before Sam can respond he's produced a small knife from somewhere and drawn it across Sam's forearm. Blood wells immediately in a thin red line.
Sam cries out and tries to pulls his arm away, but Ethan holds on fast. He rubs a finger across the cut, then touches it to his tongue. The sight makes Sam's stomach lurch violently, and he pulls harder. Ethan lets him go, and he just about makes it to the toilet in time.
'Sorry,' Ethan calls. 'Bit vampiric, I know, but it's the only immediately reliable test without a lot of chanting and faffing about with ingredients that I'm sure you won't have. Anyway, the good news is that the body you're in is human. How, I don't know, but at least that's something.'
There's a pause, and then he speaks again. His voice sounds different this time. 'Well, hello there. And who might you be?'
'You hurt Sam,' comes the reply. 'You shouldn't have done that.'
Sam freezes, then quickly wipes his mouth and rushes back out. Ethan is standing in the middle of the room, staring at the television. By the side of it stands the little blonde girl, holding her clown doll down by the floor. Sam looks from her to Ethan. 'You can see her?' he asks in a whisper.
'Of course I can,' Ethan says, not taking his eyes from her. 'And I can sense her power, too. So please, young lady, accept my apologies. I assure you I didn't mean to cause any offence. Or any damage to our dear Sam.'
The girl walks towards him, her head on one side. 'You mustn't hurt him,' she says again, and Ethan nods vigorously.
'A simple misunderstanding, no more. I shall be much more careful in future, I promise.'
She turns to Sam, who swallows and holds out his arm. 'It was nothing,' he says. 'A scratch, that's all. I'm fine.'
She looks at him for a long time, then nods. And disappears.
Sam sinks down into the armchair again, squeezes his eyes shut tight and counts to ten. He opens them again to see Ethan settling back down onto the bed.
'Well,' Ethan says, 'wasn't that interesting?'
Sam blows out a long breath. 'I've seen her before, but I thought--I thought I was imagining it. I thought she was just in my head.'
'No, she was real. It appears you have a guardian--well, something. I'm not quite sure what, to be frank. Certainly not an angel. But that was most definitely the manifestation of something extremely powerful, and something that's extremely interested in your well-being. Curiouser and curiouser.'
Sam lets his head drop forward. He needs a moment to think, to get himself together. He's sure it will all make sense if he can wrap his mind around it. He just needs to close his eyes for a minute.
Just for a minute.
*
The door flies in with a crash that makes Sam jump and twist in the chair and somehow end up in a heap on the floor. His eyes are stuck together and his throat seems to have closed up completely. He gets to his knees and coughs, finally managing to prise his eyelids apart a few millimetres. Bloody Gene. Still, at least this time he's not--
Wait. He holds that thought until he can bring his hands up in front of his face, reassuring himself that the wrists are free and empty of metal. Yes, at least he's not handcuffed to the bed, or anything else, this time.
'Don't you ever knock?' he croaks. 'Or you know, maybe I should just get you a key. It'll cost less in the long run to do that than keep replacing the locks.'
'Your door get kicked in a lot then, does it?' says a voice. It isn't Gene's.
Sam cranes his head upwards and sees a tall dark-haired man looking down at him. There's a lit cigarette in his mouth, which he takes out and flicks down at the floor. Sam blinks and just about rolls out of the way before it hits his cheek. 'Hey!'
There's movement from the bed, and Sam sees Ethan--a tousled, apparently naked Ethan, and how the hell did that happen?--roll over. 'Oh,' Ethan says. 'Hello, Ripper.'
Sam quickly looks down at himself, but--thank all that's holy--he's still fully dressed. 'Great,' he says. 'A hangover, a naked wizard and a man called Ripper. When did this become my life?'
He pulls himself into a sitting position, then tries for completely upright. Half-way, he gives it up as a bad job and sinks back down again.
'When you didn't come back,' Ripper says, looking down at Ethan. 'I thought you might need help. I see I was wrong.'
'You were,' Ethan says. 'But I appreciate the thought.' He yawns, stretches and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He seems supremely unconcerned about his nakedness.
Ripper lights another cigarette. 'Those things will kill you,' Sam says, although he doesn't really know why. You'd think he would have learned the pointlessness of that comment from the times he's tried it on Gene.
Ripper gives him a look that's somewhere between amusement and pity. 'I doubt they'll have the chance.'
'Ripper subscribes to the “live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse” philosophy,' Ethan says, smiling. 'Personally, I intend to live until I'm a decrepit old bag of bones aged at least 205, but then life would be boring if we all thought the same, wouldn't it?'
Sam keeps his eyes on Ripper. 'So, are you a wizard--sorry, mage--too?'
'I'm a--' Ripper starts to say something, then clamps his jaw over whatever word was going to come next. Having done that, he doesn't seem entirely sure what to put in its place. 'Friend of his,' he finally finishes, nodding his head towards Ethan.
'Where are my manners?' Ethan says. 'Ripper, meet Sam Tyler. Detective Inspector Sam Tyler. My newest and most exciting project.'
Ripper stiffens. 'I see,' he says to the wall above Ethan's head. 'Magical project, or sexual?'
'I'm not sure, yet. I haven't made my mind up.'
'Hey!' Sam says. 'Sitting right here.'
Ethan gives him a fond smile. 'Yes, but not really looking in any fit state to contribute towards the decision. Leave it all to Uncle Ethan, dear boy.'
Ripper starts pacing the room. 'So, is he a replacement for one of us? The ritual of Eyghon specifies five participants, and if--'
Ethan waves a hand. 'Oh, that. I've gone off that idea. Eyghon is so last week. No, Sam here has an extremely powerful astral contact that I had the brief pleasure of meeting last night, and I think that's going to be a far more profitable area for us to explore.'
Ripper sits down on Sam's armchair, pushing the empty Scotch bottle onto the floor. 'What kind of astral contact?'
'Much as it pains me to admit my shortcomings, I don't know. It took a submissive form--that of the charming young lady who models for the Test Card, strangely enough, complete with clown doll--but was a generating a background level of power that made my teeth vibrate.'
Ripper looks down at Sam. 'It's under his control?'
'No, no, I don't think he has any conscious link at all. But it did manifest in response to a perceived physical threat to him.'
They continue talking, but Sam understands less and less of it with every word. He sinks back down until he's lying flat on the floor again, and closes his eyes. In a minute, he'll get up. He'll get these two out of his flat, get himself together, get things back on track.
In a minute.
Part 4
Author: Flurblewig
Fandom: Buffyverse/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who
Genre: Comedy drama, with a side order of crackfic :-)
Rating: PG13
Length: This part 2,917 words
Characters: Ethan Rayne, Rupert Giles, Sam Tyler, Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness, Tenth Doctor (so far)
Pairings: None (yet)
Summary: Sam and Rhys have some unexpected encounters and lots of people learn more than they ever wanted to know about the nature of reality...
A/N: Thanks & hugs to my beta desoto_hia873!
Previous parts: 1 / 2
Sam pours himself another generous measure of whisky and swirls it around. 'No. I don't accept that. There has to be a way back.'
Ethan lays back on the bed with his hands tucked under his head. 'If so, I'm afraid I don't know what it is. A return trip was never on my list of priorities.'
Sam leans forward, the mug held out before him like an offering. 'Then put it on there now. You have to help me.'
'I do?' Ethan raises one eyebrow. 'And why is that, exactly?'
'Because you're the only one who can. You're the only one who knows about all of this, the only one who doesn't think I'm insane.' Sam looks down, staring into the whisky. 'You're the only one who believes me.'
'My poor boy. Has it been dreadfully lonely?'
Sam tosses back the whisky in one long swallow that burns his throat. 'Fuck you,' he says, but that fails to diminish Ethan's smirk.
'Now that,' Ethan says, stretching languorously, 'I certainly could imagine putting on my To Do list.'
Sam gets up, all the muscles in his body tense with the need to do something; fight, scream, run, something. He starts pacing, as far as the limited floor space will allow. 'This is all just a big joke to you, isn't it? Well, it isn't to me. This is my life.'
'Ah, Sam. Life is a big joke. Haven't you figured that out yet?'
Sam stops, and rubs his eyes. He can't quite figure out Ethan's tone--can't quite figure out Ethan full stop--but under the top layer of obvious amusement it sounds like there might possibly be something approaching genuine sympathy. It makes his jaw clench.
'I just want to go home,' he says. He knows--and hates--how vulnerable that makes him sound, but he's tired. So very, very tired.
'I'm sorry,' Ethan says, Sam could almost believe that he means it. 'I can't make that happen.'
Sam brings the mug to his lips but then realises it's empty. He sits down again and refills it, spilling some onto the carpet. 'All right. Explain it to me. The time travel thing, how it works, everything. I'll figure it out for myself.' When Ethan says nothing, he looks up. 'Please.'
'Really, Sam. You expect me to give away all my trade secrets? Just because you're pretty and you ask nicely?'
Sam exhales heavily, then puts the mug down. 'No,' he says, pulling out his gun. 'Because otherwise I'll shoot you.'
Ethan just laughs. 'Sam, Sam. I applaud the bravado but really, you're not going to do any such thing.'
'Don't be so sure. I'm more than half convinced that this is just all in my head anyway, and if that's the case I can do whatever the hell I like in my own delusion and it won't make any difference.' He strokes the gun, keeping it trained on Ethan all the time. 'If you're not real, maybe you'll just disappear in a puff of smoke. If you are, maybe you'll die. I don't know, and at this point I'm not really sure I care. Frankly, I'm about ready to take the chance. Are you?'
Ethan doesn't move, but he starts speaking rapidly in a language that Sam doesn't understand. He opens his mouth to speak, but it turns into a yelp as the gun suddenly freezes in his hand; the metal so cold it burns. He drops it and tucks his hand under his armpit, crushing it against his body in an attempt to warm some life back into it. Ethan leans down and picks the gun up.
'Primitive,' he says, turning it over in his hands, 'but effective. Rather like that spell.'
Sam stares at him, his hand beginning to tingle with pins and needle as feeling slowly returns. 'What was that? What the hell just happened?'
Ethan smiles widely. 'Magic, dear boy. Very useful for self-defence.'
Sam makes a tentative fist, clenching and unclenching his hand. 'Magic. Great. Oh, this just gets better and better.'
Ethan twirls the gun, lifting his mug to his lips with the other hand. 'You were the one who pulled your weapon first, I just responded with my own. You should try to be less uptight, Sam. Is this the decade to say 'chill out'? I can't quite remember. But regardless of whether it's appropriate slang, it's definitely good advice. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I've seen what happens to men who get laced too straight, and it isn't pretty.'
'Trust you, right. Didn't you just say you were in prison, before? Somehow, you don't strike me as the greatest role model I've ever met.'
'Technically it wasn't a prison, more of a security facility.'
'For time-travelling wizards?'
'The politically correct term is mage, thank you. But yes, in way. For anything the Initiative were scared enough of, really.'
'The what?'
'Testosterone-fuelled marines hell bent on privatising the demon underworld for the glory and profit of Uncle Sam.'
'The what?'
'Never mind. We should probably work up to demons later.'
Sam laughs. 'No, it's fine, I've got no problem with demons. Why not? Time travel, wizards, magic spells, a hell of a lot more on heaven and earth than dreamed of in philosophy, or whatever the fuck that quote is, I can never remember Shakespeare. Demons, absolutely. Bring 'em on.'
Ethan glances round the room. 'The quote wasn't too bad, but you might want to think about being less free and easy with the invitations. You never know what might be listening.'
'Maybe Gene's a demon,' Sam says. 'Or no, no, Ray. Ray's definitely the demon sort. That would explain a lot, really.' He sees that his whisky has evaporated again, and refills the mug. He looks at Ethan over the top of it. 'Can I have my gun back, please?'
'I think maybe I'd better hold on to it for a while. For safe-keeping.'
'Can you shoot demons?'
'You can, but it doesn't achieve a great deal. Slows them down, sometimes.'
'So how do you know? I mean, that someone's a demon?'
Ethan smiles. 'The biggest give-away is usually that they're trying to eat you. Most demons are obvious, really, in the sense that they look like--well, like you imagine demons would. Fangs, horns, slavering, the whole deal. Some can take human form, though, at least part of the time. Vampires being the obvious example.'
Sam straightens up so fast he nearly falls out of the chair. 'Vampires? There are vampires? Really? The whole Dracula thing?'
'Yes, indeed. Although Dracula himself was a bit of an anomaly, and rather a disappointment. From what I heard, it seems that Buffy made quite short shrift of him, in the end.' He sighs. 'I'd had such high hopes, too.'
Sam peers at him. 'Did you say Buffy? You know somebody who's actually called Buffy?'
'For my sins, yes. Ridiculous name, isn't it? Quite brings the whole calling into disrepute. I did try to convince Ripper to make her change it, but he always was completely impossible where that girl was concerned.' He leans back, and smiles. 'Of course, this time I get to try that much harder to convince him of a lot of things.'
Sam snorts into his Scotch. 'Magic, demons, Dracula, Jack the Ripper, Buffy. Is this what I sound like? No wonder Annie thinks I'm nuts. Maybe you're just more insane than I am.'
Ethan shrugs. 'I've been called sociopathic, but I think labels are so restrictive, don't you?'
'Right, yeah. So, so--' Sam frowns, trying to get back on track. He was sure there had been a track, once. 'Yeah, so--magic, right. That's how you got here, then? That's how you did the time travel thing? Magic?'
'I can't tell you how I got here, Sam.' The smirk flashes again. 'And I'm not being difficult for the sake of it, amusing though that was. I can't tell you because I don't know.'
'What do you mean?'
'I had a contact, and he took care of the practical arrangements.'
'A contact? Who?'
'I didn't particularly concern myself with the specifics, just the results.' He shrugs. 'I'm sure you know the standard advice about gift horses.'
'And you just woke up here?'
'More or less, yes.' Ethan runs a hand down his chest. 'In this wonderfully lithe body that I really did not appreciate fully the first time around. I intend to rectify that error in judgement.'
'So--how did I get here?'
'Honestly? I have no idea. Maybe it was a buy one, get one free deal.'
'But I don't want it. I don't want to be here.'
'Come now, it can't be that bad, can it?' Ethan looks around at the flat. 'Well, not entirely that bad. After all, you get to live your prime again. There must be millions of people who'd give anything for that chance.'
Sam shakes his head. 'But I haven't finished living my prime the first time.' He pats himself on the chest. 'This is the same body I started with. This is me, as I was. I'm 37. In 1973, I was four. Four years old. I've even seen myself.'
Ethan frowns. 'So your consciousness didn't transfer into your previous self? This is your own body? Are you sure?'
'Sure?' Sam laughs. 'I haven't been sure about anything for a long time, but yeah, it feels like my body. Except for the fact that I also have visions of a hospital, a modern hospital, and sometimes I hear things, feel things--things that make me think my body is hooked up to a life support machine in 2006 and all this is--well, I don't know what this is.'
'Now, that is strange.' Ethan gets up off the bed, and bends over Sam. 'Do you mind?' he says, and before Sam can respond he's produced a small knife from somewhere and drawn it across Sam's forearm. Blood wells immediately in a thin red line.
Sam cries out and tries to pulls his arm away, but Ethan holds on fast. He rubs a finger across the cut, then touches it to his tongue. The sight makes Sam's stomach lurch violently, and he pulls harder. Ethan lets him go, and he just about makes it to the toilet in time.
'Sorry,' Ethan calls. 'Bit vampiric, I know, but it's the only immediately reliable test without a lot of chanting and faffing about with ingredients that I'm sure you won't have. Anyway, the good news is that the body you're in is human. How, I don't know, but at least that's something.'
There's a pause, and then he speaks again. His voice sounds different this time. 'Well, hello there. And who might you be?'
'You hurt Sam,' comes the reply. 'You shouldn't have done that.'
Sam freezes, then quickly wipes his mouth and rushes back out. Ethan is standing in the middle of the room, staring at the television. By the side of it stands the little blonde girl, holding her clown doll down by the floor. Sam looks from her to Ethan. 'You can see her?' he asks in a whisper.
'Of course I can,' Ethan says, not taking his eyes from her. 'And I can sense her power, too. So please, young lady, accept my apologies. I assure you I didn't mean to cause any offence. Or any damage to our dear Sam.'
The girl walks towards him, her head on one side. 'You mustn't hurt him,' she says again, and Ethan nods vigorously.
'A simple misunderstanding, no more. I shall be much more careful in future, I promise.'
She turns to Sam, who swallows and holds out his arm. 'It was nothing,' he says. 'A scratch, that's all. I'm fine.'
She looks at him for a long time, then nods. And disappears.
Sam sinks down into the armchair again, squeezes his eyes shut tight and counts to ten. He opens them again to see Ethan settling back down onto the bed.
'Well,' Ethan says, 'wasn't that interesting?'
Sam blows out a long breath. 'I've seen her before, but I thought--I thought I was imagining it. I thought she was just in my head.'
'No, she was real. It appears you have a guardian--well, something. I'm not quite sure what, to be frank. Certainly not an angel. But that was most definitely the manifestation of something extremely powerful, and something that's extremely interested in your well-being. Curiouser and curiouser.'
Sam lets his head drop forward. He needs a moment to think, to get himself together. He's sure it will all make sense if he can wrap his mind around it. He just needs to close his eyes for a minute.
Just for a minute.
*
The door flies in with a crash that makes Sam jump and twist in the chair and somehow end up in a heap on the floor. His eyes are stuck together and his throat seems to have closed up completely. He gets to his knees and coughs, finally managing to prise his eyelids apart a few millimetres. Bloody Gene. Still, at least this time he's not--
Wait. He holds that thought until he can bring his hands up in front of his face, reassuring himself that the wrists are free and empty of metal. Yes, at least he's not handcuffed to the bed, or anything else, this time.
'Don't you ever knock?' he croaks. 'Or you know, maybe I should just get you a key. It'll cost less in the long run to do that than keep replacing the locks.'
'Your door get kicked in a lot then, does it?' says a voice. It isn't Gene's.
Sam cranes his head upwards and sees a tall dark-haired man looking down at him. There's a lit cigarette in his mouth, which he takes out and flicks down at the floor. Sam blinks and just about rolls out of the way before it hits his cheek. 'Hey!'
There's movement from the bed, and Sam sees Ethan--a tousled, apparently naked Ethan, and how the hell did that happen?--roll over. 'Oh,' Ethan says. 'Hello, Ripper.'
Sam quickly looks down at himself, but--thank all that's holy--he's still fully dressed. 'Great,' he says. 'A hangover, a naked wizard and a man called Ripper. When did this become my life?'
He pulls himself into a sitting position, then tries for completely upright. Half-way, he gives it up as a bad job and sinks back down again.
'When you didn't come back,' Ripper says, looking down at Ethan. 'I thought you might need help. I see I was wrong.'
'You were,' Ethan says. 'But I appreciate the thought.' He yawns, stretches and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He seems supremely unconcerned about his nakedness.
Ripper lights another cigarette. 'Those things will kill you,' Sam says, although he doesn't really know why. You'd think he would have learned the pointlessness of that comment from the times he's tried it on Gene.
Ripper gives him a look that's somewhere between amusement and pity. 'I doubt they'll have the chance.'
'Ripper subscribes to the “live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse” philosophy,' Ethan says, smiling. 'Personally, I intend to live until I'm a decrepit old bag of bones aged at least 205, but then life would be boring if we all thought the same, wouldn't it?'
Sam keeps his eyes on Ripper. 'So, are you a wizard--sorry, mage--too?'
'I'm a--' Ripper starts to say something, then clamps his jaw over whatever word was going to come next. Having done that, he doesn't seem entirely sure what to put in its place. 'Friend of his,' he finally finishes, nodding his head towards Ethan.
'Where are my manners?' Ethan says. 'Ripper, meet Sam Tyler. Detective Inspector Sam Tyler. My newest and most exciting project.'
Ripper stiffens. 'I see,' he says to the wall above Ethan's head. 'Magical project, or sexual?'
'I'm not sure, yet. I haven't made my mind up.'
'Hey!' Sam says. 'Sitting right here.'
Ethan gives him a fond smile. 'Yes, but not really looking in any fit state to contribute towards the decision. Leave it all to Uncle Ethan, dear boy.'
Ripper starts pacing the room. 'So, is he a replacement for one of us? The ritual of Eyghon specifies five participants, and if--'
Ethan waves a hand. 'Oh, that. I've gone off that idea. Eyghon is so last week. No, Sam here has an extremely powerful astral contact that I had the brief pleasure of meeting last night, and I think that's going to be a far more profitable area for us to explore.'
Ripper sits down on Sam's armchair, pushing the empty Scotch bottle onto the floor. 'What kind of astral contact?'
'Much as it pains me to admit my shortcomings, I don't know. It took a submissive form--that of the charming young lady who models for the Test Card, strangely enough, complete with clown doll--but was a generating a background level of power that made my teeth vibrate.'
Ripper looks down at Sam. 'It's under his control?'
'No, no, I don't think he has any conscious link at all. But it did manifest in response to a perceived physical threat to him.'
They continue talking, but Sam understands less and less of it with every word. He sinks back down until he's lying flat on the floor again, and closes his eyes. In a minute, he'll get up. He'll get these two out of his flat, get himself together, get things back on track.
In a minute.
Part 4