Title: Who Needs to Dream? (4/13)
Author: Sandra Pascoe
Disclaimer: Giles doesn't belong to me - I'm only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

< >indicates thoughts

He took a step backwards, folded his arms and watched as the tall, imposing form of the demon gradually coalesced before him.

"Not a bad response time," remarked the hooded man and the demon bowed.

"As thy will, so mote it be."

"Good to see we understand one another. Now," the hooded man paused briefly. "You have a name do you not?"

"You may call me Sceleratus."

"Sceleratus - yes, very apt."

The hooded man rubbed his hands together and Sceleratus' eyes flicked downwards. He noted with surprise the multiple scarring that covered both hands. <So,> he thought, <signs of evident ill treatment. Does this mean he will be sympathetic to me? Grant me my freedom? Or has his heart hardened? Have any feelings of compassion been stamped out?>

"I have questions regarding my predecessor," remarked the hooded man softly. "First of all, were the identities of the victims important?"

"No," replied Sceleratus. "I was told it was WHAT they were that was important, not WHO they were."

"So you were given no specific target?"

"No."

"I have very particular targets in mind. As I said before, you will kill the person I show you and none other." Sceleratus nodded and the hooded man continued. "Now, as to the manner of their deaths - were you given free reign or were you instructed as to method?"

"I was instructed to a certain extent."

"You will use the same basic modus operandi upon the victims I choose. Come here."

The hooded man moved back to the scrying glass, waved a hand over it and muttered softly. Sceleratus stood at his shoulder, watching silently, no flicker of emotion showing on his face. The mirror rippled and darkened to the accompaniment of a short burst of staccato mutterings from the hooded man, before slowly clearing to reveal an image that appeared to solidify on its surface.

"That is your first victim," the hooded man remarked.

Sceleratus leaned forward slightly, studying the image before him. A middle-aged man was in bed, fast asleep. <Not much sport there,> he thought, <but he looks so peaceful, so innocent.>

"I have one other condition," the hooded man continued and Sceleratus turned to face him. "You will allow yourself to be seen."

"To be seen?" Sceleratus looked at the hooded man in surprise. "You wish these 'humans' to see me?"

"Oh yes. Let them get a good long look at you. I want your appearance burned into their minds."

Sceleratus straightened up and bowed.

"It will be as you command."

*********

Giles opened his eyes and gazed blearily at the alarm clock. <3am - why am I awake at 3am?> He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. He glanced towards the curtains, which seemed to be almost shining in the moonlight, his gaze drawn to the ceremonial daggers on the wall that glowed in the half-light. He was waiting. Waiting for that oh-so-familiar voice to sound in his mind - a voice that at the moment was conspicuous by its absence.

"No need for YOU to keep quiet," he muttered. "I can feel your disapproval."

<It has been a tiring day for you. You should be asleep.>

"I don't have one foot in the grave yet," replied Giles with a smile. "I do have a lot to think about though - maybe that's why I can't sleep."

<Perhaps. You were quiet at dinner. You were uncertain of acceptance by your associates yet you did not feel uncomfortable in their company. As the evening progressed you felt considerably more relaxed and peaceful. Are you satisfied with what Quentin Travers has offered?>

"I expected him to push me. I expected him to demand that I return to the Council full-time."

<I believe Quentin Travers is attempting a compromise. He is giving you the freedom he thinks you need, by accepting your work with the Museum, yet, simultaneously, he is gradually drawing you back into the Council with his earlier offer. He is an intriguing person.>

"Yes, he is," Giles chuckled softly. "I had a feeling you'd find him stimulating."

<As do you. Your bitterness at some of his past actions is tinged with a certain admiration.>

"Well, it's never been easy to put one over on Quentin," replied Giles, getting out of bed. He put on his slippers and shrugged into his dressing gown.

<Why do you feel the need for this? You have never shown any previous inclination towards solitary nocturnal wanderings.>

"You make it sound like some disgusting personal habit," grinned Giles as he tied his dressing gown. "I just fancy a walk. Maybe the fresh air will clear my head."

<Maybe it will. At the very least it will allow us to explore the reasons behind your wakefulness tonight.>

"I simply have things to think about," replied Giles as he opened the door and stepped out into the brightly lit corridor.

<It may not merely be that. I told you earlier that you might experience 'changes' due to my presence.>

"You also said there wouldn't be any dramatic change," muttered Giles as he jogged downstairs, waving casually at one of the many security cameras. "In fact, you implied it would be negligible."

<That is quite correct. In my experience the changes that occur have only a small effect upon the human in question. I merely feel, however, that it is wise to explore the possibility of this being the cause of your wakefulness.>

"Very well," muttered Giles as he smiled at the security guard who was sat near the front door. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sir," replied the guard, standing up and permitting himself a brief grin as he took in Giles' night attire. "Nice night for a walk, sir."

"Yes, it is," Giles opened the door and stepped outside, heading off down the gravel drive without a backwards glance.

<You were surprised to see a guard.>

"They never used to have one," Giles slowed his pace, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown.

<The forces of Chaos have grown stronger. It is as well to be careful.>

Giles left the main drive and started walking along the lake path, grateful that the Council had seen fit to install little nightlights along the route. Giles smiled, his footsteps the only sound to break the silence. He felt happy, relaxed, and he was aware of a feeling of contentment sweeping through his mind.

"I see," he muttered with a grin. "You approve of solitary nocturnal wanderings now?"

<There is something to be said for it - but I would suggest that you do not make a habit of it.>

"I only do it here," replied Giles. "There's something untouchable about this place, a feeling of innocence. It's as though evil has never set foot here."

Giles sat on a bench, gazing out across the lake to where the mansion was barely discernible against the night sky. The reflected light from the lamps set along the drive shone indistinctly against the granite facade.

"This darkness that's coming," he said softly. "Tell me precisely what you know or feel."

<As you are aware, my purpose is to ensure there is a balance between light and dark. At this time, I have been called forth and darkness is in ascendance. I have faced the forces of darkness on countless occasions, conversely I have also frequently been called to battle the forces of light. This has happened many times - so it is with a degree of apprehension that I tell you I have never felt such a build up of Chaos before. I feel them coming together - combining. We have to take care. The Council stands with light and I fear we will all be brought to our knees before this is over.>

"How close is it?"

<It is still some way off. They are merely beginning - we do have a little time and we must use it wisely.>

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