Title: Strange Attractors 2/6
Author: K.V. Wylie
Disclaimer: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS, has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. This is purely for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended

"Chaos breeds life. Order breeds habit."
  Henry Adams

Ira remained standing after Ethan's departure, his mind racing. When the door opened again, he glanced over suspiciously, but it was Giles. "Rupert, your dental appointment is in twenty minutes."

"I thought I would check in on the way and see if you had any…company," Giles said, taking in Ira's tense posture.

"Mr. Rayne left." Ira said.

"Damn. How long ago?"

"You're too late to catch him. What does he want?"

"To make my life hell. Or possibly to kill me."

"He claims not."

"Don't believe him," Giles said, after giving Ira a second look. "What exactly did he say?"

"That he broke into our house last night to look at me."

"To threaten you. He's a sorcerer with no scruples."

"You were once in a relationship with him."

"*I* was once a sorcerer with no scruples."

"Rupert, after your dental appointment, which is in seventeen minutes, would you please make our home secure from the means of entry Mr. Rayne possesses?"

"Ira, I would need to cast a spell."

"All right," Ira said reluctantly.

"No, not all right. I don't care about the house. The spell needs to be around you."

"I care about our house," Ira said softly. "I will be fine. I have walked across the paths of witches and warlocks before."

"Ira, normally I admire your resolve, but Ethan is capable of some rather horrid things."

"He is the serpent in the garden," Ira said. "Rupert, we'll talk tonight. I have a class and you have--"

"Stop going at me about that."

"--to cast a spell," Ira finished. He sat down. "Rupert, I'll be fine."

"You don't know who you're dealing with. Let me put a ward around you."

"No," Ira said quietly, but with that inflexibility Giles wasn't always sure he could live with.

"What else did he say?"

"Tonight, Rupert."

Giles made a sound of frustration and left. He hated these games. Ethan was devil enough for him, but Ira was being more obstinate than normal. He had half a mind to leave the two of them to it.

If that didn't have such a potential for outcomes he might not be able to fix.

He scanned the parking lot for Ethan as he got in his car, though he suspected the latter would be giving him a wide berth at the moment. Ethan had his habits. After the first contact, he laid low. Giles could follow Ethan's magical traces, or he could let him have his hole.

Giles took the second choice and went to his appointment. As he pulled into the parking lot of United Memorial Temple, he felt a nudge of guilt. Ethan wasn't the only liar this morning and there was no dental appointment. Only a Rabbi waiting for him inside.

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Rabbi Benjamin Hilkin was a young man, not yet forty, but he'd lived in Israel, travelled on foot through regions inhospitable even for mosquitos, and fathered four active children. He was in a good position to think he'd seen and heard it all.

Rupert Giles surprised him.

Benjamin knew Ira Rosenberg. The latter was a devout Jew, if somewhat Orthodox in spots for most of the congregation. Benjamin knew of Giles, for nothing that happened in this town or any of the neighbouring ones escaped notice. And he'd once been in the Rosenberg/Giles house and seen the crucifixes on the wall.

So when Giles had come to Benjamin two months ago and stated he wished to convert to Judaism, Benjamin was startled indeed. His first question had been more involuntary than he wished.

"For the love of God, why?"

Benjamin was a Reform Jew, and had overseen conversions before. Usually people became a proselyte upon marrying a Jewish person, and Benjamin had no problem with that as long as the convert knew what he or she was getting into. Though Ira and Giles were the first same-sex couple he'd personally dealt with, he had no qualms on that point either.

But Rupert Giles came with a combination of particulars Benjamin hadn't encountered before: Giles had already thoroughly studied the preparatory books, he could read Hebrew, and he'd come without his partner's knowledge.

To Benjamin's question, Giles had replied, "It's a matter of faith and nothing to do with Ira."

"You live with the man," Benjamin had said.

"I know where I live," Giles had replied with a glint of humour that intrigued Benjamin. And the Rabbi, curious where this might go, had agreed to help, though he reserved judgement as to whether or not Giles would be successful.

Usually, Benjamin would start the meeting by asking how home study had gone, though with Rupert Giles, the question was a given. Giles' mind was fierce and keen-edged, a contrast to his outward, absent-minded-professor manner.

Today, though, Benjamin started out by asking, "Have you spoken to Ira about your desire to convert?"

Giles sighed. "No."

"Why not, Rupert? He needs to know. He should know. The two of you should be going through this together."

"If there was an easy answer to that," Giles started, and trailed off.

Benjamin waited, adjusting knick-knacks on his desk while he did so.

"Have you ever known something was right, without knowing the reasons?"

"I'm supposed to ask the questions," Benjamin said gently.

"It was a rhetorical question," Giles said, and the other man stifled a smile.

"This is my own journey, Benjamin. I started it many years ago, before I knew Ira."

"This journey is towards what?"

"Meaning," Giles said, for lack of something better. "Truth. There's something more, and I've been trying to find the way to it."

"You don't strike me as a man who operates much on instinct," Benjamin pointed out.

"You didn't know me many years ago," Giles returned evenly.

"I'm getting to know you now, and I know you're the one who put crucifixes up on your walls."

"That was not due to faith in a Christian god. For a long time, I didn't believe in such an entity at all."

Benjamin frowned. "Those crosses are hardly decorative."

"They ward off evil spirits."

"Only if you have faith."

"No, only if the evil spirits do," Giles said, putting Benjamin at a loss.

The Rabbi changed tactics. "Well, pull them down. Put them away. And I want to see you in here Friday night for services. If you want me to take your wish to convert seriously, you're going to have to start visibly keeping the Sabbath."

"I do keep it."

"Visibly, Rupert," Benjamin said. "To the Jewish people, what you do in public matters as much as what you do in your home. Appearances count. If you want to be a Jew, start acting like one."

"Ira tells me that the Sabbath services aren't well attended," Giles said, with another gleam of that ironic humour Benjamin was beginning to know well. Fortunately, it mirrored his own.

"If you're into counting the number of occupied seats, go to an Orthodox temple. They won't accept you for conversion however."

"What you're saying is, I have to start acting more Jewish than the Jews. I have to attend services when other Jews don't."

"Yes," Benjamin said. "I'll also expect to see you Saturday morning *and* Saturday night."

"For Christsakes," Giles started.

"You'll have to give *that* up too," Benjamin said, finally allowing the smile to cross his face. He finished with his knick-knacks and sat back in his chair. "I can't argue that you haven't done your reading, but you've spent much of your life following Eastern philosophies. Why change now, Rupert? Why commit? You have a practicing Jew in the house with you. You can worship with him; no one can stop you from that. You don't need to become a proselyte or give up your Buddha or Saviour."

"No, I don't," Giles agreed, and Benjamin, not expecting such a prompt agreement, was taken aback.

"Which leaves us still returning to...why," Benjamin said.

"Yes," Giles murmured.

"Perhaps the journey's enough," Benjamin offered. "At any rate, I'm willing to go along with you on it. It's been a long time since I had a student such as yourself."

"I hope that's a compliment."

Benjamin smiled again. "I'll see you Friday."

Giles stood. "What do you want me to read before our next appointment?"

"I want you to write," Benjamin answered. "An essay, on what you think it means to be Jewish."

"You want me to research that?" Giles asked in some confusion.

"No, Rupert. I doubt there's anything you could quote to me that I haven't already read. I want to know what it means to you alone. And don't get Ira to help you either. I already know what he thinks on the subject." Benjamin laughed. "He doesn't think I'm Jewish enough, and *I'm* the Rabbi!"

Giles looked taken aback. Then, softly, he said, "I'll let you in on something. We've been here over a year, and Ira has yet to unpack his tefillin." Over his shoulder as he left, he added, "You didn't hear that from me."

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Giles returned to the university. After a discrete look-in on Ira (everything normal there - Ira was at the front of his class and his students were squirming at the back), Giles took out a book on Quantum physics from the school's library. He drove home slowly, but wherever Ethan was, he was quiet.

The ward took the rest of the afternoon for Giles wanted to be certain he covered every window, door, and possible entrance. He finished just as Ira returned, which was the sort of coincidence he distrusted. Because of the timing, he eyed Ira thoroughly before greeting him.

"Rupert?" Ira asked in concern.

"Just checking."

"Mr. Rayne did not make any more appearances," Ira said.

"The kickers in his spells come after he hightails it," Giles said. He nudged Ira to the couch. "I need to know what he said. No holding back."

Ira raised an eyebrow, but obligingly answered, "First he tried to gain my trust by a self- accusing admission. Then he tried to convince me that I was possessed of power. After that, he implied you had not been honest with me, and that he and I were...compatible. He also seems to know my daughter. He must have been in Sunnydale."

"He's made his way through there a few times, leaving destruction in his wake." Giles sat down beside Ira. "How have I not been honest with you? Because I didn't tell you about him?"

"He said you should have told me I have magical ability."

"You?" Giles asked, startled. "Do you?"

"No, I don't," Ira said. "That is why I called him the serpent in the garden. He is a purveyor of nightmares."

"I once believed in some of those dreams," Giles admitted.

"In my youth, so did I," Ira said. "Now answer me. Why did he call you Ripper? The name has a nasty implication."

"Not in my case," Giles said, but he took a moment to answer. "I used to, uh...because of my diet, I suppose..."

"Rupert?"

"I had gas."

Ira laughed so hard, the couch vibrated.

They stayed inside for the rest of the evening, even though they had tentative plans to meet friends for dinner. The protection spell around the house zapped Giles and made him feel lethargic. Ira also sensed the invisible barrier, on some level he wasn't really able to pin down.

As they were getting ready for bed, Ira asked, "Can you disperse the, ah, hex?"

"It will ease up," Giles assured him. He took a breath and said quickly, "Ira, I've been meeting with Rabbi Hilkin to discuss conversion. I'm going to shul with you on Friday."

"What?"

"And Saturday too."

"Conversion? Rupert! Why didn't you talk to me first? How many times have you met with him?"

"It's a personal decision, Ira."

"It is a serious decision. You don't have to do this because you live with me. When has this ever been an issue between us?"

"This is nothing to do with 'us'," Giles said. "It's mine alone."

Ira shook his head in wonder. "And Benjamin accepted you as a candidate? Without speaking to me?"

Giles sighed. "I knew you'd do this. I knew you'd make this about yourself. Ira, give me some credit. It has to do with me, with faith."

"Faith," Ira echoed. "Rupert, you don't know too many Jews. Faith isn't foremost in most of our minds. Being Jewish is in the way we're raised, in our customs and culture and history. It's social. It's racial. Many of us don't set foot in a synagogue, except for Yom Kipper. If you're searching for God..." He trailed off. "I've never been quite sure if you believe in a god."

"Ira, I may not convert, but I have a sense I'm on the right path towards something. Let me be. You owe me, anyway. I've put up with enough of your weird crap."

"Would that 'crap' be Jewish rituals and celebrations?" Ira shook his head. "Rupert, I don't know what you're looking for, but you won't find it in Judaism. My beliefs are very important to me and I just don't see you as a Jew."

"You mean, *your* version of a Jew."

Ira took a breath. "Any version. I can't support you in this."

"I told you and you expressed your opinion. End of discussion," Giles said bluntly.

After a few minutes, Ira said, "You know that if you do convert, you'll have to be circumcised."

Giles flicked him a look.

Ira gave up, picked up a book from his bedside table, then put it down and picked up a gold pen that was lying by a lamp. He regarded it curiously for a few moments, set it back down, turned out his light, and closed his eyes.

He woke later to the feeling of a weight pressing down on his chest. He tried to rise up, and found he couldn't. Ira called for Rupert, but something icily cold invaded his mouth. Choking, he jerked away. The cold thing left him, then a rough, wet tongue explored his cheek.

There was nothing above him, just darkness. No, it was too black. A shadow loomed over Ira and shifted on his chest.

He put all his strength into shoving hard. A bed coil protested underneath him. The shadow jumped and landed again. An odor of garlic and cinnamon washed over him.

"RUP–!" His yell was cut off by another frigid kiss. Fingers burrowed under his clothes, scratching and tearing at his skin until he thought he was being torn to shreds.

Ira lashed out. His arms went through empty air as the thing jumped and landed again. It continued its jagged caresses until it reached his sex organs. When Ira felt its touch there, he abruptly stilled.

He heard what sounded like a satisfied laugh. The thing on him moved and a puff of cool air wafted over his genitals. Then they were engulfed by the gross, wet mouth.

Praying the entity didn't have sharp teeth, Ira slapped the bed beside him and yelled, "RUPERT!"

A light came on. Ira bolted upright.

There was nothing on him.

"Ira?" Giles asked, blinking. He'd wakened at Ira's call and turned on a lamp. "What is it?"

"There was...something!" Ira tried to get out of bed, got tangled in the covers, and fell over the side.

Giles rushed around the bed and pulled him up. "Do you mean something was here?"

"It was..." Ira glanced down at himself, pulled up his shirt, and looked again. "There was a, I don't know, on top of me, clawing at me."

"There are no marks," Giles said.

"I felt a weight on my chest, then it ripped at me."

Giles pushed Ira gently down into a sitting position. "On your chest?" he repeated worriedly. He felt for the other man's pulse. "Do you still feel it now?"

"It left when you turned on the light."

"Perhaps a bad dream," Giles suggested. He began dressing quickly.

"What are you doing?" Ira asked.

"Get some clothes on," Giles said. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Rupert, some kind of demon was in here. It's not my heart."

"Ira, I'm damn good at protection spells, so let's just make sure about your heart."

"Rupert–"

"I'm not going to argue with you. You're going to emergency in your pyjamas if you don't get dressed, and we're leaving now!"

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Giles leant against the wall of the busy hospital corridor and rubbed his eyes. The hospital staff had taken Ira in right away after Giles told them about the chest pressure, but left him in a hallway for four hours while waiting for an X-Ray machine to free up. An ECG monitor request took another hour to fulfill. They hadn't seen a doctor yet and no one else was allowed to tell them what the X-Ray showed. It was now five-thirty in the morning, and Giles was ready to call up the Canadian Parliament in Ottawa, wake *them* up, and complain loudly about the state of health care in the country.

His tired thoughts were interrupted by a nurse. "You can go in," he said. "We're going to let the monitor run for a couple of hours, and then he'll probably be able to go home."

"Does that mean everything's all right?"

"I'm not officially allowed to tell you," the nurse replied with a smile. "Unofficially, anyone who can complain for as long as he can is fine."

"Sorry about that," Giles murmured. "He can be a real son of a bitch."

Hesitantly, he went into the patient area of the emergency ward, and checked behind curtains until he found Ira. The latter was in a bed enclosed by bed rails, and hooked to a beeping monitor and an I.V. drip. The look on his face was definitely sour.

"You're lucky," Giles ventured. "A man a few beds down has two monitors and three I.V.'s."

"Rupert, they will not let me use the bathroom. I had to use a urinal! Then they took my clothes."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Giles said. He found a chair and drew it up to the head of Ira's bed. "Your clothes are on a shelf under your crib. Are the rails up because you tried to escape?"

Ira glared at him.

Another nurse chose that moment to pop in behind the curtain and ask brightly, "Are you still awake, Mr. Rosenberg? Would you like a Valium to help you sleep?"

"Yes," Giles said. "Give him a double."

"No," Ira started.

Giles interrupted him again. "You'll like it, Ira. Trust me. I've had a lot of Valium and I can vouch for it."

"*No*," Ira insisted.

"If you change your mind, just ring the bell," she said. She went to the next bed and they heard her offer the sedative to whoever was there.

"I like her job," Giles said. "She goes around and gives people drugs."

Ira sighed.

"She had a point," Giles said. "We're going to be here another two hours. We might as well sleep it through." He tried to get comfortable in his chair.

"Rupert, there was something on me."

"Then it was in the house before I threw the spell, and is still trapped there."

"Trapped?"

"May I remind you that you're the one who wanted the ward around the house? A wall works from both directions."

Ira mumbled something.

"Don't worry," Giles said. "From what you told me, it sounds like a low-grade incubus. Easily banished. Either Ethan conjured it up when he broke in, or he attached it to you when he was in your office, and you carried it in."

"He didn't touch me."

"He doesn't have to. He can transfer a personal entity through an object. He and I used to ensnare spirits in bits of glass and earrings."

"Or in a pen?"

Giles glanced over. "A pen would work."

"I found a gold pen in my office this afternoon. I was using it and inadvertently brought it home. Before I went to sleep, I was looking at it and wondering which of my students it might belong to," Ira said.

"When we get home, I'll get rid of it," Giles said.

"If we get home," Ira complained.

"Ira, stop being a bastard and let these people do what they need to do. I'd feel better knowing you were all right."

A woman in a white lab coat came in behind the curtains. "Mr. Rosenberg?"

"Pouting behind the rails," Giles said.

She smiled. "I'm Dr. Bujold. I was just looking at your X-Ray, and I don't see any problems. Would you describe your chest pain to me?"

"I'm not in pain," Ira said.

"He woke up feeling a weight on his chest. The feeling went away when he stood up," Giles told her.

She nodded as she checked the monitor's readout. "This looks good as well. Your vitals are fine. Did you eat anything spicy before you went to bed?"

Ira shook his head.

"Any history of heart problems in your family?"

Ira replied in the negative as she pressed the end of a stethoscope to his chest.

"It could be indigestion, heart palpitations, or you pulled a muscle," Dr. Bujold said. "I want you to stay here for observation for a couple of hours and, if the monitor shows nothing, you can go home. If you feel any more discomfort, let us know."

"Thank you," Giles said. After she left, he tried to find a spot on the edge of the bed to lay his head.

Ira waited until Giles closed his eyes before asking, "Tell me about Mr. Rayne. How long were you with him?"

"The first, second, or third time?"

"When was the last time?"

"Before you and I started going out, but it was just one night. We'd been drinking. The second time was for a couple of months. The first...the first lasted for years."

"He claims he's been waiting for you to 'take your due', Rupert. Why would you be with a man who wishes you ill?"

Giles shrugged. "I used to think I had the upper hand."

Ira fell quiet. Giles was on the edge of sleep when he heard Ira ask, "Why would he say I had magical ability?"

Giles sighed and opened his eyes. "I don't know." He regarded Ira. "Ethan does what's best for Ethan. He'll throw in a crumb of truth to make the rest of his story sound plausible."

"He said sorcery runs in families."

"It does. I inherited my ability from my grandmother."

"Not your father? Does this run through the mother's side?"

"If my father ever cast a spell in his life, he kept it to himself." Giles half-smiled. "You're going to like the Freudian aspect of this; you're much like my father."

Ira raised an eyebrow. "From whom you were estranged."

"I wasn't the son he wanted."

"Yet, he prevented you from going to jail twenty-three years ago?" Ira said questioningly.

"Family honour was important to him. What else did Ethan say?"

"He claims you and he have a bond which I am dissolving. I cause things to happen of which I am not aware."

Giles didn't reply. Finally, Ira said, "Rupert."

"The Shabbat candles."

Ira stiffened. "No."

"You stood near them, they went out. You walked away, the flames came back."

"That happened once, Rupert."

"Four times," Giles corrected. "It could have been the candles we bought or a phantom draft. Or Ethan sensed something when he came into our bedroom. If you do have a talent for it, Ira, what does it matter? It's not a sickness. It's like having a talent for music. It doesn't mean you have to sing if you don't want to." He stretched tiredly. "As for the bond he was talking about, we performed a linking ceremony once. The aftereffects do tend to hang around."

"Am I affecting this...link?"

"Yes," Giles said. "Because I fell in love with you. If you want to call that magical..." Giles checked his watch. "This two hours on the monitor will probably translate to seven. We should get some sleep if we can. Will you take that Valium now?"

"No." Ira closed his eyes. "Read to me, Rupert."

Giles glanced around and found a brochure. "Head Injury Patients: Instructions After Leaving the Hospital. Why have I never seen this one before?"

"Rupert," Ira admonished.

Stretching out as best as he could in the chair, Giles closed his eyes and said, "What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield. And what is else not to be overcome? That glory never shall his wrath or might extort from me. To bow and sue for grace with suppliant knee, and deifie his power who from the terror of this arm so late doubted his empire, that were low indeed. That were an ignominy and shame beneath this downfall."

"Paradise Lost?"

"Satan's speech after being thrown in Chaos."

"Apt," Ira murmured, "but something else, please."

"All commandments of the divine law are addressed to man's will, to his capacity to act. The original Hebrew term, emanah, that is usually translated as faith means merely trust, confidence or firm reliance on pledge and promise. Whenever the text refers to eternal verities, it does not use the term believe, but understand and know. Faith is a wish to know God."

Giles waited. A few moments later, Ira said, "Whose writing is that?"

"Moses Mendelssohn. We were speaking about faith earlier."

"We'll have to agree that our definitions of the word are different." Ira paused, and added, "His grandson was Felix Mendelssohn, the famous composer, who was baptized a Christian." He touched Giles' arm. "Not Mendelssohn either, Rupert."

"You're a pain in the–"

"Yes," Ira agreed. "But with your memory, we're never without a library."

"I'm in the mood for Milton," Giles persisted.

Ira gave in. "All right. We were at Satan's first speech."

Giles propped an arm on the side of the bed, rested his cheek on his hand, and continued. "Since through experience of this great event, in arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, we may with more successful hope resolve to wage, by force or guile, eternal war irreconcilable."

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