Title: Who Needs to Dream? (5/13)
Author: Sandra Pascoe
Disclaimer: Giles doesn't belong to me - I'm only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

< >indicates thoughts

Bernard's eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around in alarm. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood singing in his ears. <What the hell woke me up?> He sniffed the air. <What's that? Smells like - sulphur - something burning.> He turned, fumbling for the lamp on the bedside table. Bernard flicked a switch, bathing the room in light and, as he turned back, he felt a large hand grip his throat. The hand was cold, clammy and he could feel claws - immense claws - digging into his neck. He was pushed back onto the pillows, a demonic face looming over him: expressionless and calm. Bernard struggled to draw breath and he fought, scratched, gouged and kicked at any part of his captor he could get near. The hand never once loosened its grip and Bernard's frantic efforts to escape lessened - his lungs felt as though they were going to explode out of his chest, spots danced in front of his eyes as his captor's impassive face faded from view. Darkness surrounded him, icy tendrils clutching his heart and Bernard's body slumped as he let Death finally claim him.

Sceleratus slowly released his grip on Bernard's neck and stepped back, gazing down at the body before him. <One more on my conscience,> he thought, <one more death to be counted against me.> Sceleratus picked up the body and laid it on the floor almost reverently. Kneeling down, he extended a razor sharp claw and deftly drew it across the corpse's throat. Nodding in satisfaction at the precision of the laceration, he cut through the pyjama jacket and pushed it aside, exposing the chest and stomach. Without hesitation, he sliced deeply into the abdomen and, in one movement, thrust a hand inside the wound, feeling around almost eagerly. Using his claws, he cut through tissue and veins, pulling a large section of intestine free and holding it up triumphantly. <So,> he thought, <you want these humans to see me. Very well - as thy wish, so mote it be.> He placed the i ntestines carefully just above the right shoulder of the body and then clinically removed a smaller section and placed it between the left arm and the body. Sceleratus stood, blood running down his arm and dripping onto the floor. He looked around the room, eyes settling upon the tea service on the dressing table. <That should make a nice, loud noise,> he thought, walking across and, with a sweep of his arm, sending it crashing to the floor. Sceleratus threw back his head and roared loudly, exultantly, the sound echoing off the walls. <Now - come to me.>

**********

Giles snapped out of his reverie as a piercing roar seemed to vibrate through the air, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. All movement ceased and Giles felt himself go cold, a shiver running up his spine and the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Lights flashed on in the mansion, the shrill whine of the alarm system replacing the last echoes of the roar.

"Do I want to know what caused that?" Asked Giles as he jumped to his feet and started running back along the lake path.

<Probably not. It was most intriguing. There was triumph and exultation but with an underlying note of sorrow - such sorrow as I have rarely heard. There is one thing we can be sure of: whatever caused this, there can be no doubt that it is a tormented being.>

"Nothing human," Giles remarked as his feet crunched along the gravel drive.

<Indeed. Nothing human.>

Giles slowed as he reached the house, gently opening the front door and slipping inside. The first thing he noticed was that the guard was issing - the second thing was the now almost deafening whine of the alarm system. He frowned and closed the door.

"I can't hear a damn thing over this racket!"

<Then use your other senses - use your instincts. Concentrate.>

*********

Sceleratus listened to the commotion in the corridor outside and chuckled softly. Raised, concerned voices competed against the incessant and invasive alarm. <Time to emerge,> he thought, casting one last glance towards the bloodied body on the floor before dramatically flinging the door open. He stepped into the corridor, relishing the panic and terror that his appearance caused. Some took to their heels; others stood still - watching with expressions of slack-jawed shock - <which is to be expected,> thought Sceleratus. Shots were fired and his flesh rippled as the bullets passed through, embedding themselves in the door behind him. He shook his head almost reproachfully at the shaking guard. <You cannot kill me here,> he thought, <not in this realm.> He chuckled and stepped forward, catching the eyes of a man walking along the corridor towards him. Confusion ripped through Sceleratus as the man looked back impassively. <Something - something behind his eyes. He is different - not like these others.> He stepped forward, a questioning look in his eyes. <Are you my death? Are you my freedom?>

Giles didn't move as the demon stepped towards him. He no longer heard the alarm - didn't see the people around him. All that existed was himself and the demon before him. He felt a connection - some kind of recognition.

"Is it you he knows?" He muttered softly.

<I believe he recognises something. However, I feel that he is your destiny.>

"Destiny?"

<There comes a time when decisions create ripples into the past and into the future. The decision you make, the road you choose, as regards this demon will have consequences - important consequences. >

"And the right decision is?"

<There is no right or wrong. You will make your decision. The time is not now. You will know - you will follow your heart.>

Giles sighed as, with an almost pleading look, the demon shimmered and slowly vanished.

"Seems you were right," he muttered. "The time is not now."

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

"Why did you summon me back?" Sceleratus advanced angrily on the Hooded Man.

"Patience," replied the Hooded Man calmly, holding up a hand. "I still have work for you."

"Ahhh, so," Sceleratus nodded, "that human IS my death."

"Oh no," chuckled the Hooded Man, "you are HIS."

"He is different. He is not like you - not like ordinary humans."

"He used to be - until he allowed that parasite in. But no matter, they will be separated soon enough."

"There is strength in him - there is purpose. He was unafraid. I am unsure if I could defeat him."

"You will defeat him. If all goes according to plan, he will come to your Realm and you will kill him."

"Plan? So that human's death was incidental? You were merely." Sceleratus stopped, struggling for the right words.

"Merely issuing a gilt-edged invitation: 'The presence of Rupert Giles - and guest - is requested.' " the Hooded Man chuckled softly.

"He may not accept - and I may not be able to defeat him."

The Hooded Man pointed a finger at Sceleratus. "If you still doubt then think on this: the only one who can give you your freedom is me. Remember that."

"I remember - human."

"Oh such disdain, such hatred in your voice. And from someone who used to be human himself."

Sceleratus' eyes flashed at the mocking tone.

"What do you know of this?"

"A great deal. A lot more than you do it seems. Let's just say it's one of the reasons I selected you for this." The Hooded Man giggled, "in fact, it' s the main reason. It all ties in so neatly: you, him, it. Tell me - do you remember your previous life at all?"

"Only - only in dreams."

The Hooded Man waved a hand. "Then return to your Realm - and dream of what might have been."

**********

Giles sat quietly in Quentin's office, gazing out of the window at the sunlit sky. Hours had passed since he'd found himself staring down in shocked disbelief at Bernard's corpse whilst all around him Council staff had swung quietly into action. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, they had efficiently photographed, inspected and questioned until, finally, with reverence and respect, the body was carefully removed. There was silence in Giles' mind. Ever since his realisation that it was Bernard who had been brutally murdered, he had felt and heard nothing from Vulcan's Bane. Sensing his need to be alone with his thoughts, it had withdrawn, giving him the privacy he needed. <Grief is such a solitary thing,> thought Giles. <We are touched in different ways by those around us and on so many levels that each one holds a special place in memory, in thought, in heart. Loss makes you feel as though those special places have been ripped out - leaving you with such a feeling of emptiness.> Giles smiled slightly as recalled the words said to him by Bernard many years previously: "Don't judge a man by his words - judge him instead by the tears that mark his passing." <I can't shed tears for you, Bernard - not yet. To do that would mean I accept this - and I don't - not by a long chalk. So, forgive me, my friend, but you'll have to wait a bit longer.>

"So," muttered Giles, tearing his gaze away from the window, "how do I call you back?"

<It is merely a question of intent.>

"Thank you," murmured Giles, feeling the soft touches on his mind once. "I' m glad you're back."

<Technically, I have not been anywhere. I simply withdrew.>

"I didn't ask you to."

<No, but you needed me to. You wished to be alone with your thoughts.>

"Not any more," sighed Giles. "I'm tired of always grieving alone."

<Neither of us is alone. Not anymore. However, think on this. When you die and I return to the Sphere, I take your knowledge, your experiences and your memories with me. That includes your memories of your friends. Therefore, through us, they will never be forgotten. I realise it does not bring him back, but it may provide some comfort.>

"At the moment, I need answers rather than comfort."

<In order to find answers, we need to ask the right questions. There are features of note, which, individually, seem almost insignificant. However, put together, they start to form an intriguing picture.>

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