Title: Who Needs to Dream? (6/13)
Author: Sandra Pascoe
Disclaimer: Giles doesn't belong to me - I'm only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

< >indicates thoughts

"Well let's see what we have so far," Giles sat up and began counting off points on his fingers. "First, the roar. You said there was sorrow in it - as though the demon was in torment. That would fit with the expression in his eyes - he almost appeared to be begging for something. Would it also explain the handprint on his shoulder?"

<Possibly. Traditionally there are many such marks of ownership. Handprints have been used in any number of cultures and therefore it is a logical extrapolation that the demon was either instructed - or acting under orders from a third party.>

Giles nodded and took a deep breath. "Now - Bernard's room. Would you agree that the blood visible on the broken crockery would indicate that it was smashed to the ground AFTER he was killed?"

There was a flash of enthusiastic approval in his mind. <Yes,> came the voice, <which indicates that it was done deliberately to attract attention.>

"And," continued Giles, "this creature seemed to be able to appear and disappear at will. He could have vanished from inside the room, instead he chose to draw attention to himself - but why?"

<There are a number of possibilities, however, due to the connection you felt, I believe he was being used as bait. Why and for what is unknown. We must examine all the evidence closely - the smallest detail could provide the key.>

Giles glanced up as the door opened and Quentin Travers slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind him. Giles' eyes widened slightly. Quentin looked haggard and almost unkempt. His tie was askew; his shirt untucked in places and his hair was unbrushed. For someone as fastidious as Quentin, there was one obvious conclusion to be drawn: <he cares,> thought Giles, <and this has hit him hard.> Quentin dropped a folder on the desk and sat down.

"When do you leave, Rupert?"

"Well, I was supposed to be leaving this morning," Giles frowned slightly. "I gather the Council will be undertaking an internal investigation?"

"Oh lord, yes," replied Quentin. "We can't trust anyone else with this and we DO have a very efficient team."

"And I would be more of a hindrance than a help if I stayed. You'll keep me up to date on the investigation?"

"Of course. Any insights you can provide could prove invaluable." Quentin opened the folder in front of him. "The Doctor has now completed his Post Mortem. Cause of death was strangulation."

"Strangled? He was strangled first?"

Quentin nodded. "All the other 'injuries' occurred after death."

"That could be significant."

"Indeed. I've ordered immediate research into killings of that nature - see if we can find a match. We also got some rather good pictures from the security cameras, so the team are going through the database to see whether we have any records of this particular demon."

"May I have copies?"

Quentin nodded. "I'll make sure you get copies of everything before you leave. The funeral is arranged for Friday at St Enodoc Church. I trust you'll be there?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

"Good. I'll talk to you more then." Quentin sighed and stood up. "Now I have to go and do something that I usually left to Bernard - and to be frank, I'm dreading it."

"Oh?"

"I have to go and tell Bernard's mother that she's lost her only son."

**********

Sceleratus sat down next to his previously abandoned chains and sighed loudly. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying desperately to grasp the memories that floated agonisingly just beyond his reach. <I was human once - I know that - so why are the memories hidden from me? What purpose does it serve to keep me ignorant of my roots, of myself? I want to know who I am. What did I do to deserve this punishment? I know I made a mistake - but what?> Sceleratus opened his eyes and lifted his head. <And this Rupert Giles - why does he seem familiar? What is so different about him? He appears average - average features - except his eyes. I KNOW those eyes. I know that piercing gaze. Well I will have my answer soon enough. He will talk before I kill him. I will make him talk.>

**********

Giles squinted against the bright, morning sun as he got into his car and drove towards the Museum. Winding down the window and turning the radio on, he stifled a yawn.

<Maybe you should not work today. You have had your sleep interrupted for two consecutive nights. Last night you were restless - continually waking. It is not good for you.>

"Yes, thank you, mother," replied Giles. "You know why I kept waking."

<You were thinking of your friend.>

"Yes, I was. I'll miss him."

<But you are not ready to let him go yet. Is that what will happen at the funeral tomorrow? Is that the time for letting go and moving on?>

"You've never been to a funeral?"

<Not one that had significance for my 'partner'.>

"Well I think funerals have different meanings for different people. To most, it is a time to remember - to say goodbye. Once you can do that, you can slowly move on. You don't forget, but as time goes on, it becomes less painful to remember."

<So it is a symbolic farewell?>

"Yes, I believe it is, in a way but as I said, funerals have different meanings for different people." Giles drove into the car park and stopped the car, leaning back with a sigh.

<You are tired and emotional. As such, your judgement and research abilities may well suffer. I can help. If we are to solve this mystery then you need to be able to concentrate - close your eyes.>

Giles did as instructed and immediately felt a series of soft ripples in his mind. <Rather like an internal head massage,> he thought with a smile. There was a sudden rap on the window and Giles eyes snapped open. He turned and saw Henry peering at him, an expression of gentle concern on his face.

<We will continue this later.>

"Mmmmm," muttered Giles, getting out of the car.

"Are you alright, old chap?" Henry looked closely at Giles and frowned. "You look rather tired."

Giles grabbed his case and locked the car.

"It's been a rough couple of days but I'm fine - really."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Giles shook his head. "No, not really. I recently lost a very good friend."

"Sorry to hear that, old man."

They walked slowly across the car park, Henry glancing continuously at a distracted Giles. <This might explain his recent behaviour,> he thought. <He's not ill as Nicholas thought; he's reacting to the loss of a friend.>

"I'll need tomorrow off, Henry," said Giles as they reached the doors. "It' s the funeral."

"Of course, Rupert - and if there's anything you need then please let me know."

**********

<How much time do you need, Rupert? How many clues? You should hurry or you won't have any friends left.> The Hooded Man stared intently at the scrying glass, watching as Giles and Henry entered the Museum. He absently scratched his hand and then glanced down at the scarred flesh. <You did this to me. You and that Slayer of yours. Maybe once I've finished with you it'll be her turn. The question is, though, when she learns of your death will she actually give a damn? Will she mourn the loss of a good researcher - or a good friend?> The Hooded Man chuckled. <We will find out soon enough and, forgive the pun, but this is going to slay you, Rupert.>

**********

Quentin glanced at the young, eager-looking man sat opposite him and raised an eyebrow.

"Summarise this," he said; pointing to the small pile of papers the young man had placed on the desk. "I'm not ploughing through all that, Charles, in order to find one sentence of relevance."

Charles Grant contrived to look rather hurt and then launched into a breathless explanation.

"As I said, we've found a match as regards the, uh, modus operandi. That match is Jack The Ripper. The Ripper's victims were all strangled first and then mutilated. Now, three of the Ripper's victims, Annie Chapman, Catherine Eddowes and Mary Kelly, had their intestines removed and placed near the body. The particular one that matches our, um, case is the murder of Catherine Eddowes."

"And the link between the Ripper murders and Bernard's death is?" Quentin raised an eyebrow as Charles' face fell.

"We don't know - we haven't been able to find one."

"I see," Quentin sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk. "I'll give you access to the sealed records - you'll find more information about the Ripper and his victims there."

"Sealed records?" Charles sat forward eagerly. "But, a Watcher was involved?"

"Indeed. And the information goes no further than this investigation - understood?"

"Of course, sir," nodded Charles eagerly. "How involved WAS this Watcher?"

"Very involved," replied Quentin. "If I remember right - we had him executed."

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