The name of the demon was ancient and thus unimportant, but it was well pleased with its shell of flesh and willingly shared knowledge with the intellect that remained. It took great delight in the wealth of festering hatred for a certain Quentin Travers and suggested that perhaps they should visit that mortal first.

Quentin Travers made a hasty exit from the briefing room, with the latest paranormal report clutched to his breast. An evil of biblical proportions had arisen and their last link with the Hellmouth had disappeared. He hurried to his rooms, mopping his brow as he went.

He settled behind his desk rubbing his left arm to rid it of cramp. He walked to his drinks cabinet and lifted the Whisky decanter from the Tantalus and poured himself a half measure. His hand trembled as he lifted the glass to his lips.

"Really Quentin, so early in the day?" Giles peeped out of the interior of a Porter´s chair by the fireplace and lifted an eyebrow in greeting.

Quentin swallowed his drink with a cough and backed away to his desk and the panic button there. He pressed it, then silently opened the top drawer; his stakes were gone. His eyes swivelled to his visitor, who outstretched his hands to the blaze.

"Good of you to leave kindling for the fire Quentin." Giles finally looked at his nemesis and asked, "How the Hell have you been? Destroyed anyone´s lives recently?"

"I´ve been better Rupert." Quentin managed. "How about you? I´ve heard only good things about you…"

A stream of fragrant smoke accompanied the evil chuckle emanating from the chair. "My days of good deeds are long gone, Quentin. My last “good” deed was to stake my sire…" He got gracefully to his feet and stepped lightly to the fire. He stared at the embers. "You should sit down Quentin, you´re having a heart attack."

Quentin sank into his office chair and watched Giles walk toward him, cocking his head as if listening.

"You´re going to die soon…Do you know how long I´ve wished that that would happen? Twenty years. And now it´s going to happen…" He hesitated taking a long drag on his cheroot. "You´ve made me the happiest being…undead."

Giles kept a respectful distance as the body bag was wheeled on a stretcher from the Chairman´s office. He ducked back into the oak panelled room and swiftly drew the heavy tapestry curtains against the sun. He turned the key in the lock and then placed a mental lock over that. Secure in the knowledge he would not be disturbed he opened the Tantalus and waited for nightfall.

He read the rare Watcher diaries and discovered that Buffy had not been the most rebellious of Slayer´s after all. One Slayer, during the reign of Charles the second, had a side line in evening social work; another entertained troops in the Boer War. So, the Council´s accounts of Slayer´s obeying orders were not strictly true.

Giles smiled and purred in his sleep. Buffy´s spirit had surfaced time and again throughout the centuries, he need only wait and Identify that same ´rebel´ streak.

His eyes snapped open. Nightfall. He felt the jagged point of chair leg grazing his chest and widened his eyes in surprise. The gnarled, rheumatic hand that held it steady above his un–beating heart belonged to Ethan Rayne.

"Ethan," Giles breathed. He relaxed into the back of his chair and made no move toward the stake that threatened his existence. His old friend had not worn as well with time as he had. Chaos extracted its price. "Only you could enter here…How are you, Ethan?" Giles smiled pleasantly and reached for the whisky decanter. He pulled up short as the wood pierced his skin. "Um, ´s´cuse me old chap, would you mind?" He glanced at the lethal stake as if it were a minor inconvenience. Ethan eased the pressure but still left the tip touching the vampire. "Drink?" Ethan nodded. As he took the glass from Giles, the vampire flipped the stake from his grasp and tossed it onto the dying blaze. He stoked the embers with the fire iron; leaving it to warm in the grate.

Ethan gulped down his drink, disarmed and suddenly vulnerable in the same room with a vampire with Watcher and mystical knowledge. He and his wits had better not be parted! Giles was speaking to him…

"What are you doing here? Up to some mischief, are you?" Giles teased. Ethan squirmed uncomfortably. "Or did you want something from me?"

Ethan looked into his amber eyes and swallowed his pride. His voice croaked with decay as he spoke for the first time. "I know who you are. I felt you take Ripper away…" his voice cracked with emotion. "Your plan is flawed. You´ll never capture the Slayer´s spirit. Just her image…" Ethan saw the vampire´s expression change. "You´re going to bind her soul to the creature she becomes when you turn her. She´d go mad! Oh, Rupert! Don´t do that to Buffy!"

Giles took the poker from the fire and blew on the end; its colour had changed slightly, hot enough to brand.

Ethan changed tack suddenly on seeing the anger flash in the eternal eyes; all at once, he knew which demon had possessed Giles and he feared for the world if Giles´ plan didn´t succeed. He knelt on the worn rug, adopting a submissive posture.

Giles lifted the poker to Ethan´s shoulder and whispered in his opposite ear; "The legion´s of Hell thank you for your worship, Ethan. You´ve been a loyal servant of Chaos for more than forty years. As you rightly guessed I am one of many expelled from Heaven." Giles hesitated as he lowered the poker to Ethan´s shoulder and watched whilst the old man struggled to get away. "My Will Be Done, this time Ethan!" He lifted the poker and grasping Ethan´s face in his hands, shed tears of happiness at Ethan´s open terror. "Go to your reward…" He snapped Ethan´s head sharply to the left and watched as the body jerked then lay still; a broken puppet.

Giles stood straight and tall in the dead room. He unlocked the door and then strode out into the night. He nodded a greeting to the numerous guards on his way out and was safely outside the perimeter fence when Ethan´s body was discovered.

End of part 4

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