Sandra Pascoe - Who Needs to Dream? 09

Title: Who Needs to Dream? (9/13)
Author: Sandra Pascoe
Disclaimer: Giles doesn't belong to me - I'm only borrowing him. Can I keep him, please?

< >indicates thoughts

"Mr Travers?" Nicholas frowned and spoke louder into the phone. "Mr Travers, can you hear me?"

A burst of static greeted his question and he sighed. <Why is it that, in the X files,> he thought, <they can get a signal anywhere - and over here it 's almost impossible?>

"Nicholas? Is that you?" The voice was slightly muffled but its owner was unmistakable.

"Yes - can you hear me now?"

"Yes, I can hear you."

"Good, um, I just wanted to tell you that, as you expected, Rupert has brought up the subject of his working hours. I'm meeting with him next week to discuss it."

"Good, good," came the reply. "The Museum will be fully compensated so you will be flexible."

"I understand, but we DO need this work done. We can't have it lying on Rupert's desk for when he's got the time to look at it."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Well," Nicholas took a deep breath. "We were thinking about an assistant - and you will admit that the Museum have been VERY co-operative with you so far."

"And you want us to pay this assistant's salary?" Interrupted Travers evenly.

"It seems only fair," replied Nicholas, trying to keep his voice level.

"In that case, WE will employ someone. Send me a report of the kind of qualifications and experience this person should have and we'll take it from there."

**********

"Very good," the Hooded Man patted Sceleratus on the shoulder. "You showed admirable restraint and followed my instructions well."

"I did not complete my task."

"I think the point has been made." The Hooded Man looked at the wound on Sceleratus' chin. "I thought that, whilst you were in this realm, you were impervious to harm?"

"I am impervious if I am alert - prepared for the threat. In this instance, I was not."

"Having too much fun killing a human to notice Rupert come in?"

"Death is not.fun."

"You enjoy it. Oh maybe not before or after, but." the Hooded Man grinned, "DURING, you feed off it. You enjoy killing and yet you feel such guilt afterwards, such disgust. You are more human than you might think."

"You know who I was? You know what I did?" Sceleratus stepped forward. "Tell me please."

"Oh no, no, no, no." The Hooded Man waggled his finger. "We can't have that. I wonder how much of what you were still resides in you today? How much of the Human condition is alive and kicking within that demonic frame of yours?"

"I am no longer human. No part of me is human."

"Whatever you say," replied the Hooded Man, gently patting Sceleratus on the shoulder once more. "Now return to your realm and wait for Rupert Giles."

"When I have killed him, then will I be free?"

"It's a very good possibility."

"Then I will be content with that."

**********

"No permanent damage," said Giles quietly as his fingers gently explored Henry's neck, "but you're going to have some lovely bruises."

Henry groaned and looked up from his slumped position on the couch. He swallowed and then winced.

"Don't try to speak, Henry. Just relax."

"No," croaked Henry. "I need to know. What was that.thing?"

"It was a demon," said Giles succinctly.

"And its name is Sceleratus," said Quentin as he entered the lounge, tossing his briefcase onto a chair.

"Good evening, Quentin," remarked Giles, "do make yourself at home."

"The door was open, Rupert," replied Quentin disapprovingly.

"Um, a demon?" Asked Henry, glancing between Giles and Quentin. "Oh come on, you can't be." He paused and looked closely at the two men standing in front of him. "Good grief - you're both serious."

"Deadly serious. It's already killed one of my friends - and for a few moments I thought I'd lost another."

"Another attack so soon?" Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

Henry sighed and slumped back again. "I trust one of you is rushing towards an explanation because all this 'Secret Squirrel' talk is decidedly tiresome."

"I don't do explanations," remarked Quentin, sitting down.

"Well you're going to have to," said Giles, looking hard at Quentin, "and whilst you do that, I'll make us a pot of tea."

Quentin sighed. "Well as the Museum employees have all been cleared by security then I suppose there's no harm."

"Security?" Henry raised an eyebrow. "What have you got yourself into, Rupert?"

"You're about to find that out," Giles smiled slightly as Henry looked expectantly at Quentin and, as he left the room he heard Quentin clear his throat and start to talk.

"Into each generation."

**********

<Ahh the three wise monkeys. Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil. I wonder which one is which? I take it you come bearing news, Mr Travers? Well it's about time. I'm starting to lose my patience.> The Hooded Man stepped away from the scrying glass and coughed suddenly. He frowned at the metallic taste in his mouth and rummaged in his pockets, finally producing a clean, white handkerchief. He spat into it, staring down at the blood that dotted the material. <Sorcerer, heal thyself,> he thought and then sighed, <I wish it were that easy. They knew what they were doing - did you, Rupert? Did you have any idea? It doesn't really matter - but if I'm going to die then I'm taking you with me.>

**********

"And this person sounded like me?" Giles finished his tea and put his empty cup on the table.

"Well, yes," replied Henry, "but a distracted and possibly ill you - if you see what I mean."

"I think there's little doubt that you're the target here, Rupert," said Quentin. "The question is - what does this person want? They've had ample opportunity to kill you before now."

"I would have thought that was obvious," shrugged Henry. "They want that flibbertigibbet that's residing in Rupert's head."

"Possibly," replied Giles, "but my understanding is that upon my death, he returns to the Sphere until it's time to choose another."

"Well let's look at this from another angle," Quentin picked up his briefcase. "We've discovered something, Rupert."

"Oh?" Giles frowned as Quentin handed him a sheaf of papers.

"To summarise - the demon is called Sceleratus and it would seem he used to be human. His name was William Giles." Quentin nodded at Giles' sharp look. "William disappeared in 1546, leaving behind a wife, Anne, and a son, Edward. Council records note that William was.under suspicion. No one seemed sure which side he was on. Those papers also mention a spell that can send you to wherever this Sceleratus is - but the diary containing the spell appears to be missing."

"Dear God," murmured Giles, dropping the papers on the table and moving across to the bookcase. He took out a large, leather-bound book and flicked through it. "Here we are - William Rupert Giles. In 1540 he was assigned a Slayer - no record after 1546."

"So, if you can find this spell," remarked Henry, "I take it you could then, um, 'whoosh' to where this creature is?"

"Yes," sighed Giles, "but it could take weeks, even months, to find the particular spell we need. We don't have that time."