punch_kicker15: (Borders G/W/E icon)
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Title: The Borders of Night Start to Give
Author: punch_kicker15
Rating: R
Characters/Relationships: Willow/Giles
Summary: A prophecy leads Giles to practice dark magic once again. This sets him down a dark path, and Willow may be the only one who can help. AU in which Willow’s magic training started earlier than in canon.
Word count: 47,533
Notes: Thanks to scratchingpost1 for generously offering a plot bunny that ate my brain, gilescandy and dragonyphoenix for looking over a very rough first draft and offering helpful suggestions and encouragement. Thanks also to the mods (red_b_rackham and traycer_ and other participants at het_bigbang for all of the help and hand-holding throughout. And special thanks to angelus2hot for some amazing art she created for this story.




Chapter Nine

Willow

Willow stood atop a crypt, watching for vampires. It felt strange to be up here by herself, instead of patrolling with everyone else below.

Xander--

Across the graveyard, Xander stumbled, bumped smack into a grave marker. "Ow! Will--" he yelped.

She felt his pain and frustration with her for a second before pushing it away. She couldn’t function if she couldn’t filter other people’s emotions.

Two vamps coming up on your left. And remember, you don't need to talk out loud. I can hear you think.

Xander turned, a bit shaky on his feet, and brandished his stake. One of the vampires took off running. The other took a running leap at Xander. Xander pushed the stake in the vampire's chest, but he must have missed by an inch or two, because the vampire remained stubbornly un-dusty.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Watching from above was excruciating.

Giles! Help Xander! He's 30 feet away, behind the grave marker with the angel on it.

Giles jumped, but rounded the corner and drove a stake in the vampire's back.

Willow spotted a lone vampire shuffling up behind Anya.

Anya! Behind you!

"Ack!" Anya froze for a second, then turned and faced the vampire with her stake.

The vamp looked behind her, where Spike and Tara were approaching, and ran away.

Willow surveyed the graveyard. A few more vampires were retreating into a nest below a mausoleum. Buffy would have followed them down to finish them off.

But Giles was doubled over in exhaustion, and Xander was leaning against a grave marker like it was holding him up. They weren't in any kind of shape to head into the nest.

She looked over the graveyard for any stragglers, but didn’t find any. She started climbing down the crypt, trying to figure out what had gone wrong tonight.

Her telepathy had worked so well with Spike in the battle with Glory. It didn't seem any different than talking on the phone with Spike. But everyone else seemed freaked by the whole experience. She'd have to find a way to make it more comfortable for everyone else.

***

Giles

Giles watched as tiny points of light illuminated every section of his dimensional map. He’d done three different locator spells for Buffy’s soul, and all of them had the same results. Buffy’s soul truly was everywhere and nowhere.

He wished he could think of some other way. But their current situation seemed dire.

Patrol had been a disaster. One vampire dusted, several near misses, dozens of not-so-near misses. Incorporating Willow's telepathy was an excellent idea, in theory. In practice, it was unnerving having her barking orders in his head. (And then there was always the potentially humiliating prospect of her reading something he hadn’t meant to project to her.)

This wasn't a particularly vicious group of vampires. Buffy would have barely broken a sweat handling them. If there had been any kind of serious threat tonight, he and everyone else would be dead.

Beljoxa’s Eye had confirmed what the prophecies were saying: "the enemy like no other" was preparing to strike and that two Slayers, one dark and one light, would join forces to save the world.

It was possible that some other mishap might bring another Slayer into the world. Perhaps she and Faith would combine forces. But Giles felt in his gut that the prophecies referred to Buffy. For an enemy and a threat like no other, he needed the greatest Slayer who had ever lived.

He needed to resurrect her.

It violated the laws of nature. It would require harnessing frightening amounts of dark magic. It could possibly kill him and everyone else in Sunnydale. It might be the one of the worst things he’d ever do. But it seemed to be least terrible of his options.

I don't know how to live in this world, if these are the choices.

He couldn't do it alone. He sent out a small flare of magic on the air.

***

Ethan

Ethan was enjoying a lovely glass of Sangria in Acapulco when he felt a light mist against his skin, a nearly imperceptible shift in magic. He'd recognize Rupert's signal anywhere. Ethan briefly considered waiting a day or two, just to prove that he wasn't some lapdog that would come running anytime Rupert whistled for him.

But Rupert might change his mind in that time. Rupert had never tried to contact him in all the years after Randall.

It was no use pretending. He was Ripper's, forever. Even if Ripper might never be his again. He teleported to the Sunnydale flat.

He looked beaten and exhausted. The Hellgod must have taken a toll on him.

"I need an Urn of Osiris and a lot of borrowed power, as fast as possible."

"Well, hello to you, too. Really, your manners have deteriorated since you started working for the Slay--"

Rupert glowered at him. Ethan suddenly understood. "She died? Well, she made a good run of it. Took a Hellgod to take her out. Better than the ones that die in that idiotic Crucia-whatever ritual."

"Shut. Up."

There was menace behind those two words, but Ripper hadn’t laid hands on him. Suddenly the implications hit Ethan. Rupert wanted to do magic again. The Urn meant a resurrection--dark, powerful magic. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of sharing dark magic, once again.

"So I take it you won't be overly particular about the source of the power? It doesn't need to be white magic from virginal little witches who live in pristine mountain villages?"

He shook his head.

Ethan sat down at the table, as close as he dared. "Speaking of virginal little witches, why aren't you asking yours for help?"

"She's the first line of defense if something goes wrong. And I can't involve her in something so dark."

Ethan wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. "Oh, I understand now. You have needs that she just can't fill for you. There are things that you want that are just too dirty for her--"

Rupert glared at him, a look that told Ethan that he'd better not continue in this vein, or Rupert might have second thoughts about asking him for help.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready. The power shouldn't take me longer than a week. We'll see about the Urn."

Ethan teleported back home. There was no time to waste. The sooner he got the power and the Urn, the sooner he could get Ripper--the real Ripper--back.

***

Giles

Giles waited for Ethan in the secluded section of forest where they'd buried Buffy. He had dug into the grave, found what was left of Buffy. He refused to let himself feel anything. He needed all of his resolve for what was coming next.

He set a tarp out beside the grave. Moving the body to it would be a delicate operation.

Ethan materialized a few feet away. "Let me get that for you, Ripper." The body floated out of the grave, then landed gently onto the tarp.

As usual, Giles was torn between admiration for the grace and ease of Ethan's spellcasting, and irritation with Ethan's need to show off. "Give me the magic."

"No hug first? Fine, have your way with me." Ethan unbuttoned his shirt. Giles put his hand on Ethan's chest and pulled magic away. The magic pulsed through him, dark and intense. The wave swept over him, making him feel strong and energized and more alive than he'd felt in years.

Ethan grinned at him. "Shall we get started?"

"We are not doing anything together. I'll do the spell. You'll stay a safe distance away, well out of sight if all goes as planned. If it doesn't, you'll warn Willow."

"You'd have a better chance of it working if you let me help."

"Absolutely not."

"Your funeral. Either way, it's bound to be entertaining." He tossed the Urn to Giles and stalked off into the woods.

***

Ethan

Ethan watched Ripper mix the spell ingredients.

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us." Ripper dabbed his face with the mixture, then poured some on the ground. "Before time and after, before knowing and nothing, accept our offering. Know our prayer."

Ethan felt Osiris's presence for a second, and watched Ripper as Osiris tested him. He seemed unfazed by the wounds Osiris had opened up. "Osiris! Here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!"

It looked like large insects had burrowed under his skin, and were pushing outward. He seemed to falter for a moment, but continued with the ritual: "Osiris! Let her cross over!"

The beings under his skin began to move and merge into one being. Ethan watched in fascination as the being moved up his chest and his throat until a snake emerged out of his mouth. It slithered away, over the Slayer's body, and disappeared.

Magic burned against Ethan's skin. Rupert was caught in it, but was still persisting: "Osiris! Release her!"

Orange energy surrounded the Slayer's corpse. Then flesh and skin began to heal. When she was whole again, she started breathing.

Rupert had done it. He'd brought her back from the dead. Things were finally getting interesting.

Unfortunately, Ethan had a few contracts to fulfill in the next few weeks, for people who wouldn’t think twice about killing him if the deal fell through.

When he got back, he’d see where the magic had taken Ripper.

Chapter 10

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