Title: Who Needs to Dream? (3/13)
Author: Sandra Pascoe
Disclaimer: Giles doesn't belong to me - I'm only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

< >indicates thoughts

Giles placed the sheet of paper on Quentin's desk and sat back in his chair.

"I see," he said quietly. "Well, it's beginning to make more sense now."

"It's not entirely what you think," replied Quentin. "That prophecy was really the only clue we had. We didn't know if Alistair Butler had found all the pieces of Vulcan's Bane - and if he had, how were we to know he'd keep them at the Museum? We weren't even sure about our interpretation of the prophecy, but as it appeared that the future of the Council was at stake, we had to do what we thought necessary."

"And you never thought to tell me?"

"Telling you might have clouded the issue. You might have walked away from this and we couldn't afford that. Rupert, I WILL do what I consider is right for the survival and growth of the Council - and if that means stepping on a few toes or putting certain people in the line of fire, then I will not hesitate."

"I never doubted it for a second," replied Giles, calmly sipping a cup a tea. "I just needed to know precisely how involved you were in all this."

"I understand that, but we do have more important things to discuss."

"I wondered when we'd get to that," Giles smiled slightly and put his cup down. "And the whole reason for this meeting is for you to discover as much as possible about Vulcan's Bane and the effect its had on me. Not to mention how you can turn it to the Council's advantage."

"Well of course we need to know!" Quentin snapped irritably. "Like it or not you are a part of this Council and there are larger concerns here, not just your hurt feelings."

"These 'larger concerns' are one of the reasons I agreed to this meeting." Giles put down his cup and leaned forward. "Quentin, I am still discovering what Vulcan's Bane does or can do. We are still exploring one another but he IS here to fight against the forces of Chaos and evil. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really," Giles grinned. "I get the impression you need me - and him. And to be brutally honest, we need the Council."

"Oh?" Quentin raised an eyebrow.

"There's some kind of darkness coming, Quentin. He doesn't know what it is but it IS coming." Giles paused, his head slightly to one side. <I believe the darkness could be connected to the Council,> came the voice in his mind. <It would make sense as regards the prophecy. Does it not say 'the tower will fall'?>

Quentin watched with interest as Giles appeared to be listening to something. His eyes had lost their focus as though he were concentrating intently. <Fascinating,> thought Quentin, <quite fascinating.>

"I take it you had nothing to do with this prophecy?" Giles muttered softly, not noticing the slight frown on Quentin's face.

<Not directly. However, my presence whilst in the sphere can have unusual effects upon those who come into contact with it. It can open the mind, allowing access to those areas that are underdeveloped or blocked off in the human brain. It is entirely possible that a human who was close to the Sphere developed precognitive abilities.>

"What about after merging? Do you have those effects then?"

<To a much lesser degree. You may find your instincts are sharper.you might feel your intuitive abilities increase. However it will merely be a slight enhancement of abilities you already possess. You will feel no dramatic changes.>

"Interesting," muttered Giles, glancing up and flushing slightly when he caught Quentin's eyes. "I, um, I prefer conversing with him aloud. I'm still learning to 'think' in the right way."

"I found it quite fascinating," replied Quentin with a smile. "What did he say?"

"He said that the coming darkness could be connected to the Council. The prophecy after all stated the possibility of the 'tower' falling."

"That doesn't give us much to go on," remarked Quentin. "It could mean anything."

Quentin paused and stared intently at Giles, noting the determined look in his eyes, the sense of purpose that emanated from him. <Purpose,> thought Quentin, <that's what was missing from him. Purpose and a sense of his own worth. I hope this helps him find it.>

"Very well," Quentin nodded. "We'll start researching - see if we can turn up anything. In the meantime, I have a question."

"Just the one?" Giles remarked in surprise.

"For the moment, yes. I need to know what happened to Gerald - whether he still poses a threat."

"Let's just say he's indisposed. He no longer poses a threat."

"Do I have your word on that? He's a dangerous man."

"You have OUR word." Giles deliberately allowed a touch of steel to enter his voice.

"Then it appears I will have to accept it." Quentin sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. "And now we come to you."

"Me?" Giles raised an eyebrow.

"Another reason for this meeting is to discuss your role in the Council."

<Do not interrupt,> came the voice just as Giles started to open his mouth. He closed it again and sighed. <Let him speak. Your role in the Council is a grey area that has been bothering you. It makes sense to hear what they are prepared to offer. And remember - they DO have extensive facilities that could be of considerable use.>

"With Gerald's disappearance, the Council is in confusion," continued Quentin. "He had bribed and influenced a number of staff, including a few Board Members. The important thing though is that he was held in high esteem and great regard by many of our younger Watchers, who listened to his views not only on how the Council should be run but also on the role of the Slayer and her Watcher."

<Gerald Montague believed the Slayer was a weapon that should be controlled by the Council. The Watcher would train the weapon - use it when instructed to do so - at targets of the Council's choosing.> The voice paused and then added: <he did not understand the nature of the Slayer nor that of her Watcher. For Gerald Montague, it was all about power.>

"Thanks," muttered Giles under his breath before saying aloud: "So where do I come in?"

"I would like you to spend some time with the trainees. Talk to them - tell them of your experiences. Most of them have never seen a Slayer, never met an 'active' Watcher." Quentin shrugged. "I suppose what I am trying to say is that I want you to play an active role in training them."

"I see," replied Giles evenly.

"It's not a full-time position, Rupert," continued Quentin. "A couple of days a week in London - I'm sure you can arrange that with the Museum."

"In return, I want top level security clearance and access to ALL of the Council's libraries and records." Giles spoke firmly, leaving Quentin with the impression that he would up and leave if he didn't get what he wanted.

"On one condition," Quentin matched Giles' tone. "You will share with us any information concerning the Council or the Slayer that your, um, 'partner ' should reveal or discover."

"Fair enough," nodded Giles, feeling a sense of satisfaction and anticipation from Vulcan's Bane.

Quentin stood up and held out his hand.

"The prodigal son returns," he smiled. "Welcome home, Rupert."

************

The hooded man waved a hand over the scrying glass and the images that seemed to float on the mirrored surface slowly faded from view. <Ah, decisions, decisions,> he mused. <Which of you will die first?> A soft giggle came from beneath the hood and he held up a finger. <Eanie, meeny, miny, moe - catch a Watcher by his toe - when he squeals let him go - eanie, meeny, miny, moe. Perfect. You'll do nicely.> A sudden surge of pain swept through him and he doubled over, clutching his stomach, wincing and panting. <Oh shit, not now - please not now.> He stumbled across the cellar, his fingers scrabbling and fumbling with a drawer. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of pain, the drawer opened and he grabbed the syringe and small bottle that nestled inside. With shaking hands, he filled the syringe, quickly pushing up his sleeve and jabbing it into his arm. There was the familiar burning sensation as the fluid entered him and then, seconds later, he felt the pain receding. <Thank God this still works,> he thought, taking deep breaths, <but for how long? No - don't think of it. Think about him - think about revenge.> He smiled and straightened up, taking out the syringe and replacing it in the drawer. He pushed his sleeve down and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat from his face. <That's better.> Pulling the hood forwards, he moved to the chalk circle and raised his arms above his head, palms facing up.

"You are summoned to this Realm. Come - do the bidding of your Master."

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