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This was decidedly not how Rupert Giles wanted to spend his Christmas. He had had plans to cook himself a nice warm meal - plans that were rudely interrupted - and he had plans to read a novel in peace - a novel that turned into research into the First Evil. But the First was dealt with now. The First was dealt with now, and it was snowing in Sunnydale, California.
Currently, Rupert Giles was sitting in his living room with his reheated Christmas dinner. He felt dreadfully American, eating dinner in front of the television with his plate in his lap, but he did not have any energy left for reading or doing anything else than sitting and starting into the space in front of him, really. Ergo, television.
His mind wandered to Buffy and her Christmas dinner. He was sure it was nice, and had caught on to the fact that Buffy had wanted to invite him. He was glad she hadn’t, however. He didn’t have it in him to face Joyce, not so recently after the Band Candy fiasco. The only consolation in that department was that Joyce seemed just as bashful around him, and around Jenny.
He did mourn Jenny’s presence. He’d have loved to spend his Christmas with her, but she had insisted on taking a trip up to LA. Some tradition she had with old friends from school, apparently. He didn’t question it. He didn’t ask to come either. It felt rude, and like he would be intruding. That was the last thing he wanted.
He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of his doorbell ringing. He frowned, and placed his plate on the coffee table. “One moment!” He called out. He fixed his appearance for a short moment, before opening the door. He only had time to furrow his brow and open his mouth - perhaps to question the stranger standing before him - before he heard something shatter. A dark fog emerged from whatever was dropped, making Giles cough aggressively. He gripped the doorframe. By the time the fog cleared, whatever had thrown the vial - because it was a vial, he could now see - was gone. At least… Giles thought he was gone. He didn’t see anyone standing there. Funny.
A soft laugh escaped him, and he gripped the doorframe tighter. How could someone have thrown the vial when there was no one there? That was just ridiculous. He laughed a little louder, before his hand slipped down and he fell to his knees. He heard a crunch. Funny. So funny. Everything was fuzzy and hilarious, really. It even looked like this mystery person had returned. This made sense. They were reaching for him? Maybe they were also laughing. Whatever they meant to do, Rupert couldn’t tell, because what reached for them - what he would later learn was a boot - smashed into his face, and all he saw was black.
Buffy felt bad about not inviting Giles to Christmas. All day during Christmas she’d thought about him eating his dinner alone in his sad British apartment while pushing carrots back and forth over her plate. She decided she’d make it up to him. Second Christmas. Box day. That was what they called it in England, right?
She woke up and got out of bed with a new pep in her step, excited to make it up to her Watcher. She took a nice warm shower, brushed her hair and got dressed. Once she got downstairs, Mom was already making breakfast. She snagged a pancake off a plate and covered it in syrup whilst laying it flat on her hand. She then folded it in half like a taco, and took a sideways bite.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Mom asked, brow raised from behind the stove.
“I was gonna go bring Giles some leftovers from last night? If that’s okay?” She said sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure he spent Christmas with his books and burnt dinner.”
Something between guilt, pity and embarrassment came over Mom’s face. Buffy once again decided not to question it. Adults were always so weird, with their mushy complicated feelings, like they didn’t understand they were supposed to be the grown-ups. Buffy’s life was complicated enough without having to decipher Mom’s facial expressions like some sort of math problem.
“That’s very sweet of you, Buffy.” Mom finally said. “I’ll put some in a tupperware for you while you get your stuff, okay?”
Buffy beamed and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks.” She smiled. “You’re the best.”
“What was that?” Mom raised a brow, voice teasing.
Buffy snickered and hurried off again. “You heard me!” She grabbed her coat and bag from the door and pulled them both on. When she got back to the kitchen, she could see Mom filling up a plastic container with mashed potatoes and chicken. She pressed the lid on tightly and held the box out to Buffy, who slipped it in her bag. She snagged another pancake and ate it in the same, totally practical way. “Bye, Mom!”
She barely heard the “Bye, honey!” in return before she was out the door, walking hurriedly towards Giles’s house. She wasn’t allowed to start driving lessons any time soon, and the wreck Mom’s car had turned into had definitely made that rule even stronger. So she walked. She held the strap of her bag where it was swung over her shoulder and decided that sometimes Slayer strength and endurance made her glad for her cosmic destiny.
She made it to Giles’s house in - what felt like - no time, and knocked on the door. As soon as her fist hit the wood, the door moved somewhat open. She tensed and slowly pushed the door all the way open. “Giles?” She called, stepping into the apartment. The tv was on, which she hadn’t expected, and there was a half-empty plate sitting on Giles’s coffee table. All very un-Giles-ly things that made her think she’d knocked on the wrong apartment door. Maybe there was another stuffy librarian with fancy plates and bookshelves on bookshelves in the building.
She took another step forward and heard a crunch beneath her foot. She glanced down and lifted her boot to see that she’d stepped on a pair of glasses. Giles’s glasses. She stepped back and picked them up. There was a speck of blood on the glass that she hadn’t stepped on. She made her way into the apartment and approached the phone. She moved to pick it up, then realised she had no idea who to call. Conveniently, though, Giles was old and old people had an address book.
She picked up the book beside the phone on his desk and flipped through. As she flipped through it, a piece of paper fluttered out. A sticky note. It read. ‘Amelia Thompson (call only for emergencies, Rupert)’, with a phone number beneath it. Giles had mentioned that Ms. Calendar was visiting friends in Los Angeles - a few years ago Buffy would have been jealous - and she didn’t know anyone else that called him Rupert. So, she dialed the number on the paper and held the phone to her ear.
After a few rings, someone picked up. “Hello?” The voice on the other line called. “Ehm. Hello.” Buffy greeted, suddenly unsure what to say. “Is Miss- Is Jenny there?”
“Who’s asking?” The woman questioned. She had some kind of accent, but Buffy didn’t know which one. “Ehm- I’m her friend.” Buffy said.
“And do you have a name, friend?”
“Buffy. Buffy Summers. She’ll know.” Buffy said.
“Fine. Hold tight.”
After a few moments of waiting and rustling on the other line, a new voice came to the phone. Ms. Calendar’s voice.
“Is Rupert alright?” Were the first words from her mouth, clear and to the point.
“I- I don’t know.” Buffy stammered. “I went to his apartment and he’s not here and then I stepped on his glasses.”
“Is there any blood? Any sign of a struggle?” Ms. Calendar asked, sounding way too calm for the situation.
“Ehm.” Buffy laid the phone down with the horn pointed up. She inspected the ground for a few moments and inhaled deeply, before returning to the desk. “No. No blood. No struggle signs except for his glasses.”
“Okay…” Ms. Calendar paused for a long moment, making Buffy think she’d hung up. She opened her mouth to ask if she was still there, but was interrupted by a loud crash against the front door. She jumped and whirled around to face the door, immediately alert. “Hello?” She grabbed the letter opener on Giles’s desk. “Who’s there?”
The door opened and the person opening it fell inside. That ruled out vampires, at least. Whoever it was was in a bad way. They were in just a white shirt after a night of snow, and their face was beat bloody. Split lip, split brow and maybe even a split skull too by the looks of them. And then they pushed themself into a sitting position and groaned, and Buffy let both phone and letteropener clatter out of her hands. Because that wasn’t just some sad loser or random messed up neighbor, no. It was Giles.
She ran over to him, placing her arm under his to help him stand. “Careful.” She said, pulling him into the desk chair.
His (bloody) brow furrowed and his (bloody) lips pulled apart to talk. “Buffy…? What are you doing here?”
“I- Well- That’s none of your buiness.” She crossed her arms in a huff and stepped towards his kitchen. “Where’s your freezer?” Her eyes wandered over the many cabinets.
“Top door on the left.” His voice came out croaky and laboured, and Buffy tried to activate crisis brain. Worrying about that kind of stuff wasn’t going to help Giles, so she didn’t. She pulled a bag of frozen edamames - whatever the hell that was - out of the freezer from between several plastic boxes and grabbed the towel currently hanging off the wall. She carefully wrapped the bag in the towel, then returned to Giles in his chair. “Here.” She moved to press the bag to his face, then paused. She didn’t even know where to press it. In the end, she just handed it to him instead.
He pressed the bag of edamames to his temple and furrowed his brow at her. “Buffy, I-” He was interrupted by a series of violent coughs escaping his lips, and he turned his head to cover his mouth with his elbow. When he pulls back, there’s spots of some black nasty goo on his armpit that definitely weren’t there before.
“Giles… What is that? What happened to you that you’re all… black and white and red all over.” She sits on his desk, legs crossed, and frowns down at him.
“I… There were demons outside my apartment last night.” Last night? How long had he been gone? “They drugged me with… something. I don’t quite know what.” He says. “I awoke in a cave of some sorts. They asked me questions, I didn’t answer them. They weren’t best pleased as you can tell.” His voices stays level and calm, just like it always is, though it comes out a little nasally. “A few hours ago they simply… Let me leave. I managed to make my way here, but every five minutes or so I cough, as you saw. I… I believe they’ve inflicted some sort of curse on me.”
Buffy frowned and looked him over again. “Do you know what curse? What does it do?”
“I… I don’t remember the name of it, exactly, but it… it is deadly, Buffy.”
She froze. Deadly. Her Watcher was in danger of death. Again. She hopped off the desk and moved into the kitchen to find a towel to clean his face with, anything to distract her from that reality - and from the thin purposeful scars that decorated his arms. Another danger of death that had been her fault.
She returned after a few moments with a wet towel and bent down to clean his face. He winced just a little, and she somewhat smugly thought ‘how do you like it’, before she remembered the situation at hand. Death. She put the towel down after most of the dried blood was gone from his face. “Do… Is it… Can you fix it?”
“I should be able to, but not by myself…” He sat up a little straighter. “I just need to call Jenny…”
Buffy jumped up. “Oh my god, Ms. Calendar.” She picked up the phone before Giles could get to it and put it to her ear. “Ms. Calendar? Are y0u still there?”
“Jenny!” Someone on the other line called, in the distance. “Kid’s back!” Ther wa’s more rustling and then Ms. Calendar was back on the phone. “Buffy? Are you okay?”
She paused for a m0ment to process Ms. Calendar’s concern for her. Considering the way Buffy had treated her in January, she was happily surprised, but she pushed that thought away for later.
“I’m… I…” She stammered, not really sure how to explain what had just played out.
“What happened?” Ms. Calendar asked, her voice maybe the most patient Buffy has ever heard it.
“Ehm. Giles came back. But he’s bleeding and cursed.”
“Is he there? Can you put him on the phone?”
Buffy looked to Giles and held the phone to him. “She wants to talk to you.”
Giles took the phone and put it against his ear. “Hello, Jenny.”
Jenny felt kind of dumb for thinking she could just take a short vacation to LA, and everyone in Sunnydale would be fine. She didn’t completely think that at all, but she was sure Rupert and Buffy could hold down the fort at least for this one week. She desperately needed this one week. Between the band candy incident and Angel’s surprise reappearance, she needed a break from Sunnydale. It was Christmas. She was allowed to have a peaceful Christmas.
But no. Rupert had been kidnapped and subsequently cursed. They’d talked on the phone the day before, but he’d been dancing around specifics. Buffy had continuously pestered him to go to hospital too. In the end, he’d just told her he’d call back the next day. She’d been waiting by the phone all day, to the annoyance of Tommy. It wasn’t exactly the way Christmas was intended. They were supposed to drink, talk, drink, eat, drink and then hook up depending on the year. This year was a no, as Tommy had a new girlfriend and Jenny had Rupert.
Jenny finally stepped away from the phone to pick up some coffees for herself and Tommy. She tugged her coat on and walked out of the apartment. She walked down the street to her trusty coffee shop, the one she’d always visited when she’d still lived in LA. It was still open and still thriving, and the owners still knew her too, even after her two years in Sunnydale. They greeted her with a warm smile and a nod as she ordered a black coffee and an americano, along with two pieces of cake. She did owe Tommy a big apology for rotting on the couch next to the phone all day.
She took a seat at one of the tables for two and waited for her food and drinks to be ready. She glanced at the digital clock on the wall and sighed. It wasn’t even noon yet and she’d done nothing but hang around from seven in the morning. Why hadn’t Rupert called yet? He was always so punctual, and always awake so early. He should have called by now.
Maybe something had been wrong? Maybe he’d had to undergo surgery at the hospital. Maybe he was comatose. Again. She drummed her fingers on the wood, happy to hear an accented “Jenny!” being called. She stood and took her tray of coffee and bag of baked goods. “Thank you!” She nodded and smiled at her old acquaintance, and headed back to Tommy’s place.
When she stepped in, she could hear Tommy talking. She hurried in and dropped their coffees and pastries on the counter. She took her coat off and threw it onto the couch, then hurried over to Tommy, who was on the phone. She insistantly held her hand out as she heard Tommy talk.
“Yes. Yes. She just got home, actually. Very eager to talk to you.”
Jenny groaned and rolled her eyes, then snagged the phone from her friend’s hand. “Rupert?” She asked.
Tommy walked off, snagging a coffee and piece of cake before disappearing into her room. Jenny flipped her off when she grinned brightly.
“Jenny.” Rupert’s voice was soft and relieved, but there was still a raspy edge there. “Is everything alright? Your friend was not very talkative.”
“Everything’s fine, England. I was just getting us some coffee.Don’t you worry.” She swung her legs over the backrest of the couch, sliding onto it from behind. “Are you okay, though? I’m kind of surprised you didn’t call earlier.”
“Ah.” He paused, and Jenny could almost picture his blushing cheeks. It made her smile. “The hospital wanted to keep me for observation due to my head injury being so recently after the… glove incident. No alarm clocks allowed in Sunnydale Memorial, I’m afraid. I’ve just woken up.”
“How’s it feel to get a full night’s sleep? Must be a first of you.”
He laughed in that soft and slightly bashful way of his. It made Jenny’s smile widen. “Yes. Yes, it… Well, I suppose I was overdue for a good night’s rest.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She said. She left a pause there, thinking. “What didn’t you want to say yesterday?”
Rupert was quiet too, for a few seconds. “This curse. It’s… It’s lethal, as I said. There’s a known cure for it, but it’s… I need your help to get it.”
“Okay. Of course, anything. What do I do?” She grabbed the notepad and pen off Tommy’s coffee table. She’d give it back to her later. Probably.
“This curse… Only a particular type of magic can undo it.” Rupert was quiet for a few moments. “Magic cast by a specific type of caster.”
Jenny swallowed a sigh. He was clearly dancing around it. “What type of caster, Rupert?”
She could hear him breathe in deeply, then exhale in a deep sigh. It sounded ever so slightly laboured, reminding her of their dire circumstance and the time constraints they were under.
“A chaos mage.” Rupert replied finally, quietly.
“A chaos mage.” She repeated. “Rupert, I’m not a chaos mage.”
“I know.” He said. “But we know one. And if my intel is correct, he’s currently in LA.”
“He. You don’t mean…” Frustration was building in her voice already. They’d just gotten rid of the pest that was Ethan Rayne, and now Rupert wanted her to invite the man back to Sunnydale. Drive him, even.
“I don’t know an alternative.” He said quietly.
“What am I supposed to tell him, Rupert? I hate you and everything you stand for but come with me cause you need to cast a spell for us? He hates you, and he hates me and to be honest? The feeling is mutual. Why would he come with me?”
She could hear Rupert inhale deeply again. “He… If you tell him my life is in true danger, I think… I hope he will come. Mention the curse. It’s a variation off the Tussiro Curse. He’ll probably be familiar with it.”
“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” Jenny scribbled the name of the curse down on the notepad, beneath ‘eggs, flour and butter’. Tommy was just going to have to make a new list for her groceries.
“No. Not in the slightest.” He sighed, and she could picture the furrow of his brow and the pursing of his lips when she closed her eyes. “But I don’t see another option.”
Jenny laid the pen back down on the notepad. “Okay.” She said. “So where is he in LA? It’s a big city.”
“I… I don’t know.” Rupert admitted, and her shoulders sagged at that. Great. “He most likely runs another magic shop, though.” He said. “Knowing him, he mostly likely tried to get a place with some sort of mystical energy. Think big spiritual events, magical nexuses, leylines, et cetera. I would cross reference those places for you, but I’ve been placed on strict bedrest.”
She snickered. “I’m sure you love that.”
“Yes. It’s incredible.” He said, his voice dry and emotionless. “But I’m afraid I’m under the watchful eye of my Slayer, so there is no getting out from under it.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to do on my computer.” She said. “I can probably borrow Tommy’s.”
“Ah. That should be good, then. Do call me if you find something? I’d like to be informed, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course I’ll call you, England. You’re really sick, you’ll be lucky if I don’t call you every two hours.”
“Of course.” That audible smile was back, and it warmed Jenny’s face.
“I’ll talk to you in a couple hours, okay? Don’t wanna make Tommy’s phone bill even higher.”
“Ah, yes. Do tell her my thanks? I understand it must not be pleasant during the holiday season to have you constantly on the phone with me instead of continuing your traditions.”
“Will do. See you, Rupert.”
“Goodbye, Jenny.” She placed the horn back in its rightful spot and took a deep breath. Right. Big spiritual events, magical nexuses, leylines. Time to hit the net. She stood up, grabbed her now lukewarm coffee, and got to work.
Jenny spent the next day pouring over maps and charts and phonebooks to find Ethan Rayne’s magic shop. Eventually, after spending hours upon hours of cross referencing and researching, she found a quaint and new magic shop on top of the crossing of three leylines. That, and once she dove back into old records, it showed that the place had mysteriously burned now in the 1910s. Perfect ground for rituals, especially for Chaos magic.
She jotted the address down in Tommy’s notebook and stood. She grabbed her jacket and tugged it on, then started to pack her bag. Wallet, keys, her paper with the address on. And, of course, a sharp hilted dagger and a pointed piece of wood. Self defense was important. She hung her bag off her shoulder, and fixed her hair in the mirror one last time. She wasn’t giving Ethan Rayne any free ammunition.
“Toms! I’m going!” She called.
“Yeah, yeah, have fun with your scavenger hunt, Cal. Call me if you’re not coming back tonight.”
“I will. See you, thanks for the help!”
She hurried down the steps of the complex. Ethan’s shop was all the way on the other side of LA, so Jenny had her work cut out for her. She walked towards the nearest subway station and bounded down the steps. Rupert had no time to lose. She scanned her ticket and made her way onto the subway.
She managed to find a spot, between an elderly woman and her dog, and a young man busy chatting with his friend in the next seat. She took out Tommy’s notebook again - with a pen - and flipped to an empty page. She tapped the paper with the back of the pen, then uncapped it. She started writing.
Ethan Rayne.
Even though I hate your guts, I
She stopped and crossed her first line out. Probably not persuasive. Rupert needed persuasive.
Ethan Rayne. Even though I hate your guts, I
Rupert is seriously hurt. He needs your help to get better.
She paused her writing, the image of Ethan Rayne’s smug little grin appearing in front of her eyes. She should be more clinical, maybe.
Ethan Rayne. Even though I hate your guts, I
Rupert is seriously hurt. He needs your help to get better.
Rupert was cursed. He needs the magic of a Chaos mage to be healed. He asked me to get you.
That was clinical enough, right? It was clear cut too. They didn’t need Ethan Rayne specifically. They needed a Chaos mage. Hopefully that would tame the man’s smugness just a little bit. Jenny wasn’t counting on it.
She hesitates for a second, the tip of her ballpoint pen hovering over the page. Should she mention specifics? Rupert had told her he was coughing up black bile. He’d told her the name of the curse too. She frowned. He had told her to make it clear to Ethan what might happen if he didn’t help them.
Ethan Rayne. Even though I hate your guts, I
Rupert is seriously hurt. He needs your help to get better.
Rupert was cursed. He needs the magic of a Chaos mage to be healed. He asked me to get you.
If you don’t come with me, he will die.
That should be enough, right? If she really had to, she’d bring up the specifics of the curse. Now she had down what she’d say to him. That was the biggest issue. She flipped to the next blank page and took a breath. She hadn’t practiced non-technical magic in a long time, but going up against a mage that summoned demons and created entirely new sets of memories for people was no joke.
She wrote down a few protective incantations and sketched out a few runes, trying to remind herself how to use them. She’d been taught this as a child, but had never been too good at it. She remembered her aunt's voice, mocking her for needing computers to do magic. She sighed and finished sketching a few protective runes. She tore the page out of the notebook and slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket.
She took a deep breath and murmured some soft incantations under her breath. She felt a warm glow in the pocket. Clearly, her magical talent had grown somewhat since she was sixteen years old and under her aunt’s tutelage. It made her smell, just a little smug.
The subway slowed to a stop and Jenny stood to get out. She walked through the little gates again, up the stairs, until she was back in the light of the sun. She walked past a coffee shop and cursed herself for not grabbing a coffee at her trusty place. Nevertheless, she stepped inside and ordered an americano. Luckily for her, it was quiet, and she took it with her just a minute or two later.
She sipped her coffee - after supplementing it with extra sugar - and walked down the pavement towards The Gate, Ethan Rayne’s new shop. After a few more turns and crossings, she could see the cursive letters on the window. There were one or two customers in there, perusing shelves and smelling candles. She approached the door, her eyes skimming over the simple cursive sign that said Open. She pushed the door open and stepped in.
The first thing that caught her attention was the display of coins near the register. Flipped several ways, back and front facing up. It made sense. She remembered Rupert telling her about Halloween last year. Ethan had used the god Janus to cast a curse over Sunnydale. Chaos and Janus weren’t all that different either. Neither worshippers were benevolent. Ethan clearly wanted to stay friendly with the two-faced god.
She walked past a young woman smelling different candles, furrowing her brow at some of their names, and a man looking between different kinds of religious jewelry, comparing a printed photo in his hand. She didn’t see Ethan anywhere in sight. There was a blonde girl - probably around 17 - behind the check out counter, inspecting her nails and occasionally filing them down. She looked up when Jenny approached and put the file down on the counter. “Can I help you?”
Jenny raised a brow. “Yes, ehm- I’m looking for Ethan? Ethan Rayne. This is his shop, right?” It had to be. The coins, the name of the shop, and all of the leyline information. She had no clue where else the shop would even be.
The girl raised a brow. “He’s not here. I can take a message for you, if you want.”
“That’s- That’s okay. Do you know when he’s gonna be back?” She impatiently drummed the bottom of her now empty coffee cup on the counter.
“Well, he’s off for the holidays, so. Could be a while.” She shrugged.
“Do you have a phone number for him here? Or an address? It’s just- We’re old friends.” She said. “He… We met about ten years or so, I did a semester abroad, so.”
“Oh…” The girl paused. “I’m not really supposed to give personal info out like that but I’m pretty sure if you’re friends it’s okay.” She jotted down a phone number and held it out to Jenny. “Here.”
Jenny took the paper, satisfied. “Great! Thank you.” She moved to the exit and the girl behind the counter paused. “Aren’t you gonna buy anything?”
“I- Well.” She grabbed a ring from the slight display in front of the register and put it on the counter. “How much is this?”
“Five dollars plus tax.” She said. She rang Jenny up and Jenny begrudgingly handed her six dollars. “You can keep the rest.”
She snagged the ring off the counter and headed out the shop. She watched the man pick out a necklace and leant over to him. “I wouldn’t do that. That one curses you with a forever cold.” She then headed out of the store with her head held high.
Once she got home, she got back behind Tommy’s computer. She put the phone number beside her computer and carefully copied it down into her document. She then closed her eyes and focused. She let her fingers relax on the keyboard and let her intuition guide their movements. When her fingers slowed and she opened her eyes, an address sat neatly in the line below the number. She grinned and copied the address down on the piece of paper with the number on it, then left the apartment again.
She headed for the address, continuously going over her ‘script’ for her conversation with the man. When she arrived to the building, it was simple. It was three stories, with a basic white exterior. She rang the doorbell to apartment 5A. That was what her spell had told her.
She waited for a few moments, then the intercom crackled to life. “What?” A distinctly British voice came out of the speaker. Perfect. Her magic had yet to fail her.
“I need to talk to you. Let me in.” She said. She didn’t want to have the death and curses talk on the pavement. It felt like a bad idea.
“Who’s asking?” He sounded annoyed, though that flair to his voice was still present.
“Jenny. Jenny Calendar.” She said, playing her frustration down. She needed to get inside.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“It’s about Rupert.” She interjected. Surely that would get to him, right?
There was a quiet there, and she groaned. Clearly, he’d hung up on her. She turned to walk away, when she heard a creaking noise behind her. The door carefully swung open. Jenny stepped inside and followed the signs in the building to find apartment 5A. She knocked on the door after seeing no doorbell. If it was a little aggressive, sue her. The clock was ticking.
The door swung open, revealing Ethan Rayne. It had only been a month or two since she’d last seen him, but the smug grin on his face made her want to practice her right hook on him.
“Ah.” He said, leaning on the doorframe. “That Jenny Calendar. I remember now.” He stepped back, away from her, and gestured for her to come in. She gave him a huff and a glare, but crossed his doorstep.
“So. What’s Ripper gotten himself into now?” Ethan shut the door behind her and leaned back against it, crossing one leg over the other.
“He…” She paused to take a deep breath. She didn’t have time to shout at him. “Rupert was cursed. Badly.” She took a step towards him. “He sent me to get you because the only thing to undo a curse like this is Chaos magic. He thought you were the best guy to call.”
Ethan raised a brow, that infuriating grin still dancing on his lips. “Really? He needs my help? Why hasn’t he come to ask me himself?”
“Did you listen to a word of what I just said? He’s cursed. He can’t come here. Besides, I was already in LA anyway.”
Ethan’s smile grew just slightly. “Already here? For Christmas no less.” He laughed softly. “Trouble in paradise?”
“That’s none of your business.” She said, eyes hard and angry.
He tilted his head. “And why would I help him?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. If it were up to me you would fuck off back to England forever. But Rupert seems convinced that you would. So you are coming with me so Rupert stops hacking up black goo every five minutes.”
Ethan’s wolfish grin faltered and his brow creased slightly. “Black… Are you certain?”
“Yes I’m ‘certain’.” She all but spits. “You will come with me or Rupert will die.”
Ethan’s relaxed posture steeled and stood up straight, away from the door. “Alright…” He uttered. “What kind of curse is it?”
“I’m not telling you that.” She watched him pull his coat on. He stopped mid-movement to stare at her. “You should tell me, so I know what to bring with me.”
“Fine. It’s the Tussiro Curse.”
Ethan slowly started to pick up his things again, and a faint smile came over his face.
She adjusted her own jacket. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. It’s just… I didn’t expect him to trust me with something like that.”
“Don’t get so giddy about this. You’re only coming because we have no other option.”
Ethan smiled again, like he was in on something she wasn’t. “I know.” He nodded. He piled a few spellbooks and charms into a crossbody bag that looked remarkably expensive, and slung it over his shoulder. “Shall we, then?”
After being dragged to Ripper’s new girlfriend’s friend’s flat and then to the woman’s car, Ethan was finally sat in the passenger seat. He’d placed his bag of things in the back seat of the tiny thing, and had then moved the passenger side chair as far back as he could. Did Ripper usually sit in this seat? He couldn’t. Ethan barely had enough room for his legs, and Ripper was an inch or two taller.
Once he was semi-laid down in the seat, the woman - ‘Jenny’, she’d said - started up her car. It was quiet for a long while, until Jenny finally cleared her throat, once they hit the highway. “So.” She said, before going quiet again.
“So?” Ethan raised a brow at her, leaning back to study her face as she watched the road.
“I hate the quiet.” She said.
Ethan raised a brow, then moved a hand towards the buttons on her car. “You could just turn on the-” He withdrew his hand when she batted it away aggressively. “I see what Ripper sees in you.” He commented, watching her brow furrow.
“Too bad for you. We’re very happy together.”
“Is that why you were spending Christmas very far away from his precious Sunnydale?”
“I have traditions.” She countered.
“He didn’t want to accompany you?” Ethan purred, grinning at her frustrated expressions. She was just as easily to rile up as Ripper himself.
“Well, no. But I don’t see how that’s your business.”
Ethan leaned back even further. “Oh… I see. Didn’t want to leave his gaggle of teenagers, did he?” He tuts and shakes his head. “You know, if you ask me, that’s wholly unacceptable. Girlfriend first, Watcher second, that’s what I’ve always said.”
Jenny glared at him for a moment, before returning her gaze to traffic. “What are you trying to say?”
“Oh, nothing. But if it was me, I would’ve left Sunnydale no problem. I just think it’s unfair to you, is all.”
“It’s none of your business.” Jenny said. “Our relationship is not something you get to have an opinion on.”
“Why not? Aren’t I here because of your relationship? You’re the one who came to collect me, after all.”
Jenny groaned. “You know what. I changed my mind. Shut up.” She pressed a button and turned the radio on.
Giles was laid down on his couch with a bucket beside him to catch the bile continuously coming from his throat. He was surrounded by most of the kids, who of course all were free during the Christmas season. He had started to feel feverish too, which had resulted in Buffy hurrying to the kitchen to grab a towel. She’d run it under the cold tap and then pressed it against his head without wringing it out first, resulting in what little hair he had left near his forehead growing soaked with water.
Currently, Xander was sitting in a chair next to him, pretending to read. Xander had barely left his side ever since Buffy had called around their whole friend group. He’d even stayed the night a few times. It was a touching if not confusing gesture, but Giles really wasn’t in a position to refuse help. He’d be embarrassed about this later.
The doorbell rang, and he carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. Willow stood to get the door, tugging it open. “Miss Calendar!” She stepped aside to let Jenny inside, and behind her… followed Ethan. Good. She’d managed it, then.
“Woah.” Buffy stood and approached him. “What the hell is he doing here?” She stepped in between Ethan and the rest.
“You didn’t tell her?” Ethan looked to Giles, raising a brow to him.
“I… Well. No. It slipped my mind.”
Buffy whirled on him, her brow furrowed. “Why is he here, Giles?”
“The spell to heal me requires a chaos mage.” He explained. “That’s why Ethan is here.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Jenny interjected. “What do you need for the spell?”
Ethan looked at Giles with a slight grimace, which caused a mix of emotion with him. There was some care hidden behind those eyes, not to mention the fact that Ethan had actually come to help him.
“I need space on the floor. The rest I brought with me.” He put his bag down on the ground. Buffy was quick to be by his side to help him stand. When he was up, Faith and Xander pushed the couch aside to make space. Ethan started placing candles in a circle. “Slayer. Put him in the middle.” He instructed. Buffy grumbled, clearly peeved at having to follow Ethan Rayne’s orders of all people, but carefully placed Giles down in the centre of the circle.
“Okay…” Ethan lit the candles around him. “Buffy, was it?” He said. “Come here.” He pulled a small knife from his hip.
Xander stood alert again. “Woah woah woah. What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s for the spell, boy. I need her blood.”
Buffy frowned at him, and hesitantly offered her palm. “Why do you need my blood?”
“Well.” He glanced to Giles, then back to the girl. “A Slayer’s blood is very potent.” Giles’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly with relief. Ethan was sticking to the lie he’d told Jenny, and Jenny had told him. Good. That was good.
“Okay. Fine.” She held her palm still and Ethan carefully cut a line across the young Slayer’s palm. “Hold your hand above that candle.” He gestured to the candle in the front of the triangle he’d created. A few drops of blood dripped onto the flame, and it turned a bright blue. “Good.”
He turned towards Jenny. “Your turn.”
Jenny furrowed her brow. He knew she realised something was not adding up, but she offered her palm to Ethan anyway. “Careful.” She didn’t even flinch when he cut across her palm. “That candle.” He pointed, and Jenny’s blood dripped down atop of. The flame turned just as blue as Buffy’s candle had.
Finally he stepped towards the last candle himself and sliced his own palm open, dripping onto the last candle. “There.” He held the knife out to Giles. “You know what to do.”
Giles sighed and sliced his own palm open, then dripped blood on every single candle. They started to burn brightly, and Ethan started murmuring incantations. He could feel his head clearing and was about to speak, once Ethan was finished.
However, as the candles snuffed themselves out, he started coughing violently again. Buffy’s eyes widened and she ran to grab the bucket he’d used to cough into. She ran into the now dissolved magical circle and put it down beside him, as he hacked up the remaining black ichor from his throat. After he was finished, he inhaled deeply, and felt Jenny’s arm around him.
“Take it easy, Rupert.” She soothed. She looked up, and met Xander’s eye. “Get him some water.” Xander nodded and scurried off. Giles had always suspected the boy was a little bit intimidated by her, especially after valentines day, and this proved his theory. Jenny carefully helped him sit up. “You’re okay. Take a breath.” And he did, leaning into Jenny’s arms.
The kids had slowly filtered out of Rupert’s apartment, leaving him alone with Jenny. Well, almost alone. Ethan Rayne was still in his home, lounging about the kitchen like he owned the place. He had been, anyway. Right now, he was having a one on one conversation with Rupert in his bedroom while Jenny was sitting downstairs. She hated this.
She didn’t deserve this. She definitely didn’t. She stood up and walked up the stairs, ready to barge in there. This man was trying to convince her to leave Rupert for him just six hours ago. And now he was having a one on one talk with the man. Maybe he was telling Rupert to leave her too. She couldn’t have that. She’d worked too hard for that. It was time to kick Ethan Rayne out of Rupert’s home.
As she approached the room, she moved for the handle, but heard them talking. She really didn’t mean to eves drop - really! - but she heard them mention her name, and stilled.
“-talk about Jenny.” Rupert’s voice was stern, but it had an edge that she thought was reserved for her.
“You lied to her about the spell, Ripper. I think it’s only fair to talk about her. I know you love to shove your past into deep dark corners, but this is lying. Remember how that ended last time?”
She could hear Rupert sigh. “This is not life threatening demons, Ethan. It’s just… Personal. She doesn’t have to know.”
“I think she should. It’s a part of you, no matter how much you try to will it away.”
“You should go back to LA, Ethan.”
Jenny heard some shuffling, and made her way downstairs. Rupert had lied to her, about the spell. He’d lied. She moved for his walls of books, and went searching for the curse. She’d find out the truth the hard way.
Ethan finally walked out of the apartment, and a weight lifted off of Giles’s shoulders. fFinally, he could relax and let his guard down. He walked down stairs to find books scattered across the floor, and Jenny reading a book on the floor. He smiled fondly. “Did you get bored?”
Jenny looked up at him, her brow furrowed. Her eyes were soft, but serious. “We should talk.” She patted the carpet next to her. “Sit.”
He frowned, and sat down beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“I overhead you. Talking to Ethan.” She started. Her voice was still soft and gentle. His heart thundered in his chest. He didn't know what to say. If she'd heard… “I looked into the curse myself.” She put the book in his lap instead.
“You don't need a Chaos mage for the counter curse.” Jenny said. Rupert's mind was going a mile a minute. If he didn't feel his exhaustion and pain in his bones, he'd try to stand and leave her. But he owed her more. “It says so right there.” She pointed at the passage in his lap. “The ritual requires the blood of first love, new love and unconditional love.” She read off.
“I… Jenny, I… I know I should have told you. I understand if you… if you no longer wish to be with me.”
“Slow down, England.” She took his hand, and squeezed gently. “I just… I want to know why you wouldn't tell me.”
“I…” He rested his hands in his lap. “I didn't want you to think of me any differently.” He uttered. “I don't think I could stomach it if you hated me, Jenny.”
“Rupert.” She took his face in her hand and tilted his head towards her. He saw nothing but sympathy and concern in her eyes. It made his own well up. “Stop thinking so hard. It's okay.”
He leaned into her palm as she ran her thumbs over his cheeks. “I don't care, okay? I love you. I don't… I don't like that it was him. It makes me worry about you. And I don't like that you didn't think you could tell me. But I don't care.”
He reached his hand over hers. “You… You truly don't?” He asked, hesitant.
“No, Rupert. Honestly…” She lowered her hands and smiled slightly. “I ehm. I'm the same. Bisexual.”
Rupert smiled fondly, a soft pink spreading over his face. More relief sagged down his shoulders. He was safe. He could be his true self around Jenny. She didn't hate him, she wasn't even *angry*.
“My ehm- Tommy and I. We used to go out when we were in college.” Jenny said. “Usually we hook up for Christmas, but she's dating someone new, and I have you.”
"…I see." He smiled slightly. “You do have me.”
“Yeah.” She wiped his tear with her thumb. “So… You and Ethan Rayne.”
He laughed softly. “Yes. Ethan Rayne and I. We… We were together for a few years, until… Well, you know the story.”
She nodded. “I do.” She took the book from his lap and shut it. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… I'm better than I was a few hours ago. And I'm… I'm glad you know. I don't think I would have told you.”
“I’m glad you did.” She leaned into his shoulder. “And I'm glad you're not dying anymore.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yes. So am I.”
She carefully stood up and offered her hand. “You should get some rest.”
He took her hand and stood. “Join me?” He asked.
She smiled and followed him up the stairs.