Title: Impassioned 3/6
Author: TweedEmpress
Rating: PG
Pairing: Giles/Jenny
Genre: Angst/Romance
Summary: Reworking of ‘Passion’. Jenny isn’t killed, but Angelus has his eye on another target.
**WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH**
Timeline: Season Two, spoilers up to ‘Passion’
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with BtVS (unfortunately). Some dialogue is lifted from ‘Passion’. Any original characters and ideas are mine.
Distribution: FanFiction.Net, ODD, Mystic Muse, Ms Calendar’s Site
Notes: Huge thanks to my fabulous beta readers Marissa and Luisa. Not only did they correct my occasionally hilarious mistakes, they also provided amazing inspiration. The story wouldn’t be half what it is without them.
Dedication: To everyone on Ms Calendars Group – for keeping the flame alive!

One of the most unusual things about London is that, for the most part, it isn’t really like a city at all. The centre is full of the renowned tourist attractions, the seat of government and the notoriously bad traffic. But outside those few square miles there are any number of what are, basically, self-contained villages compressed together on either side of the Thames, each with their own identity and flavour. This is more the true nature of London. Along with the cabbies who refuse to go south of the river, the distinct East End vs. West End snobbery and the strange tolerance for pigeons.

But Jenny was far less interested in all of this than most other visitors. It was her first time in London, but so far, she had only been to one to one famous landmark. Others she had passed on her way to somewhere else, but this was the only one she had actively sought out.

The British Museum.

She had wandered through the huge, cool rooms, stopped and admired the entrance with its grand staircase and generally absorbed the atmosphere. It was so easy to picture him in this place and the thought struck her that he had managed to transport some of this calm, cultured atmosphere all the way to Sunnydale. There was such a mix in this place: excitable tourists, arty-looking students, harassed-looking parents and studious men and women. Jenny wondered which of these rooms had been Giles’ favourite, which exhibit he had returned to time and again to look over and marvel at. But most days were spent at the British Library, and Jenny was quite sure that she had never seen so many books in one place. It had surprised her just how many texts on the occult they actually had and even one or two titles she had recognized from Giles’ shelves. She suspected that the only reason many of the books had made it into the main body of the Library was that the staff didn’t know what they really were. Ensconced in a reading booth on one of the upper levels, surrounded by the smell of wood and leather and books, Jenny ploughed through an endless succession of volumes but so far had made little headway in her search. And occasionally she would place on the table in front of her the small wooden box that contained the Orb. She usually left it in her hotel room, but she would always feel uneasy – terrified in case it was stolen. For a few hours, she would work ceaselessly, but this wasn’t a form of research that came naturally to her and by lunchtime she was always ready for a break.

After the hushed solemnity of the Library, the small Internet café seemed like something from another world. It was located on one of the bustling side streets in Covent Garden and Jenny glanced out of the window as she seated herself at one of the computers. The mix of high culture and more avant-garde bohemian chic was, Jenny felt, a truer reflection of the city and was her favourite part of it. She took a sip of her latte and, feeling somewhat revived, logged on to her e-mail. Her eyes flicked back to the window again and she watched while a group of Japanese tourists each stepped out in turn to take a group photo. She had just taken a bite of her tortilla wrap (Wow, tastes of nothing. Must remember not to order that again) when she looked back at the screen.

There was an e-mail form her cousin.

A member of her clan and a fellow techno-pagan, Karel had been travelling the world, and especially Europe, since he was fifteen. He was the only person to whom Jenny had confided both the whole the horror of Giles’ death and what she intended to do. Consequently, he was the only person she had asked for help.

Jenny took another sip of coffee and opened the message.

The Bull and Lion. Bermondsey. Be careful.

Be careful? Obviously, Karel wouldn’t be there. She sighed: he could have told her who it was she was supposed to look for. But at least she had something to go on. Jenny glanced over the rest of her mail and then hesitated slightly before going to an online Tarot site. If she was going into the unknown, she may as well get an idea of how it would turn out. She selected The Celtic Cross and then relaxed her mind as she chose her cards, letting the cursor glide over the deck. The cards came up: The Tower – chaos and revolution; Change – alteration and transformation and so on until she had completed the Cross, with the card for destiny. The Ten of Swords: Demise. Rebirth after a period of mourning.

Jenny let out a breath slowly and smiled to herself.

The pub was warm, smoke-filled and the air was imbued with the smell of alcohol. With every step, Jenny’s shoes seemed to stick to the worn carpet. She approached the bar and waited until the barkeeper ambled over to her, polishing a glass. He had the sort of face she imagined would adorn wanted posters in local police stations and his deep-set eyes registered no emotion.

‘I’m, er,’ her voice faltered slightly and she cleared her throat. ‘I’m looking for someone to help me. I was told to come here by my cousin, Karel.’

He stopped polishing the glass and stared at her, his eyes never leaving her face.

‘Can you help me?’

‘No.’

He jerked his head toward a huddled figure sitting at the far end of the bar.

‘Best ask him.’

Jenny took a few steps, peering intently at the figure and then stopped dead.

‘Oh, you have got to be kidding me.’

She moved around the bar, her expression darkening with every step. The man looked up just before she reached him and as recognition crept into his eyes, a mocking smile curved his mouth.

‘Well, well, well – if it isn’t one of the Children of Hell!’ He was slurring his words slightly and one arm flailed, almost knocking over his pint.

‘Hello, Ethan.’

Ethan turned away from her and called over to the barkeeper.

‘Mike, my good man, I believe another drink is in order. And a drink for the, er…’ He gestured toward Jenny. ‘Get her a drink.’

‘I don’t want anything,’ she replied quietly.

‘What? You won’t drink with me? Not even a nice little glass of strychnine?’

His eyes glittered maliciously.

Jenny took a deep breath, determined to keep her temper.

‘Look, Ethan, I don’t particularly want to be here, but I need to talk to you.’

‘No. Oh, no!’ Ethan swung back to face her and nearly slipped off the stool. ‘I’m not making that mistake. Getting mixed up with you lot…’

He stared into the fresh pint that had been placed silently in front of him.

‘That’s what finished old Ripper off. You and your friends bloody killed him, didn’t you? I remember you.’ Ethan glared at her accusingly, his eyes suddenly snapping into focus. ‘During the demon possession… Big fucking deal. People would kill for that sort of experience! But he would sooner have died than let anything happen to you! His precious…something or other. ’Course, that’s what happened in the end, isn’t it? Got himself killed for you, the stupid sod. He’d’ve been better off staying with me.’

Jenny snorted in disgust.

‘Yeah, right. All you ever did was cause trouble. You tried to destroy him, so don’t pretend to me that you actually care abou-’

‘You don’t know anything about it!’

Ethan grabbed hold of her wrist viciously, his face contorted, and Jenny couldn’t help letting out a faint whimper of pain. His raised voice had caused a few heads to turn in their direction, but no one chose to get involved.

‘You-you don’t know anything about what it was like. It was…complicated.’

He released her wrist and passed a hand over his face.

‘Complicated.’

Jenny stared at him, massaging her arm. Ethan had slumped further over the bar, turning in on himself. She glanced around nervously, but the rest of the patrons had gone back to ignoring them. Nevertheless, she didn’t feel inclined to voice all of her information in this place.

‘Ethan … Ethan, will you please just listen to me?’

She moved a little closer to him, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath and the smoke on his clothes. It made her feel slightly ill.

‘I can’t talk here. Please, can we go somewhere else?’

He hadn’t moved, still hunched over the glass.

Jenny took another few steps forward, almost talking directly into his ear.

‘I’m going to bring him back. I’ve already done the first part, but I need help. If you cared about him at all, you’ll help me. Ethan.’

‘Piss off.’

She stared at him helplessly and suddenly felt incredibly tired. For the last few weeks she had survived on adrenaline and determination, but now it was all draining out of her. She was too tired to fight and certainly too tired to stand arguing with a drunk in a grotty pub, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a city she barely knew. Jenny felt tears stinging her eyes and blinked them back furiously: there had to be another way. A way that didn’t include this pathetic excuse for a man slumped in front of her. It may take longer, but she would do it.

After one final, contemptuous glare, Jenny turned and stalked out of the pub.

Try as she might, Jenny had barely been able to keep her eyes closed for most of the night. The hours had dragged by and it had come as a relief when the sky had finally lightened to a cold, damp steely-grey. Jenny gazed at the radiator in disgust and then gave it a kick: she had put the heating on its highest setting, but it was still stone cold. Maybe that was why Giles had always worn so much tweed, she thought as she got dressed: he just couldn’t believe his luck living in a country where warm was actually warm and he was expecting it to end at any moment. Jenny switched off the lamp, plunging the room into momentary darkness, and then opened the curtains. The sky was heavy with rain and seemed to be resting on the rooftops while a slight mist obscured the horizon. End of the world weather, her mother used to call it. She stared out of the window disconsolately, slowly gathering the energy to face another day. A sharp knock on the door grabbed her attention.

She hesitated for a moment before opening it – her shoulders drooped when she saw who it was.

‘How did you find me?’

‘It wasn’t hard.’ Ethan attempted a smile. ‘You’d be surprised, Darling.’

Jenny glared at him wordlessly.

‘Look, can we talk?’

‘I tried to talk last night, you wouldn’t listen.’

‘I’m listening now.’

He looked rough: his face was pale and there were heavy circles under his eyes, but he was sober. And he was looking at her with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Jenny sighed wearily.

‘Okay. You’d better come in.’

‘I, er … Have you had breakfast yet?’

She shook her head.

‘Good. Neither have I. And I think I need to have this conversation on a full stomach.’

Their eyes met and Jenny held his gaze for some moments before turning away.

‘Just give me a minute.’

She let the door close on his face and gathered her things together.

They walked in silence. The air was damp and everything – even the pavements – seemed to be glistening with moisture. Jenny kept shooting suspicious glances out of the corners of her eyes at her companion, not trusting him for a second. Nevertheless, she allowed Ethan to steer her through the streets. They ended up at a café in a quiet street. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was clean and the food was good.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked, holding up a pack of cigarettes. Jenny wrinkled her nose slightly, but shrugged.

Ethan lit one, taking a deep drag and then looked at her through the smoke.

‘I’ll be honest, I don’t really remember most of what you said last night-’

‘I didn’t say much,’ she replied tightly. ‘There wasn’t much point.’

‘No. I, er, I guess not.’

He gave her what he apparently imagined to be a charming smile.

‘Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me the whole thing, hmm?’

Jenny watched as he loaded his fork with a mound of bacon, egg and mushroom and then smiled sweetly.

‘I’ll make it real simple for you, Ethan. Rupert died. And I’m going to bring him back.’

The fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

‘I … I see,’ he said. ‘So, you’re going to … what? Rip his soul out of Heaven? Assuming, of course, that’s where he is.’

‘Oh no. I already have his soul. I captured it in a Thesulan Orb.’ For once in his life, the sorcerer was speechless. Jenny watched him and then smirked slightly.

‘Well? Aren’t you going to say something?’

‘You…you… An Orb… But that’s not possible,’ he finished weakly.

‘Wrong again, Sparky. I translated the surviving text. It was supposed to be for Angel, but…’ Jenny’s eye’s darkened. ‘I wasn’t going to waste it on him after what he did. So, I put Rupert’s soul into the Orb.’

Ethan’s eyes were fixed on her and Jenny was sure that she could detect a flicker of fear in their depths.

‘Have you any idea how dangerous a resurrection spell is? They don’t work properly. Even if you do everything perfectly, there’s always something wrong.’

‘Which is why I’m not going to perform one,’ Jenny broke in smoothly. ‘I researched them, but most of them call for-’

‘Vino de Madre,’ Ethan supplied.

Both felt a slight shudder at the thought.

‘Yes, I-it’s not something I’m prepared to do. The price would be too high and Rupert would probably be the one to pay it.’ She glanced down at her lap. ‘He’d never forgive me.’

‘And so…’

He watched her carefully.

‘And so, I can’t resurrect Rupert’s body. I can’t use a corpse – I need a healthy, living body. I have the spell to put a soul into a body. Now all I need is a spell to take someone’s soul out without killing them. And I need a willing volunteer.’

Ethan stared, dumbstruck, and then began to laugh.

‘Ripper always did know how to pick ‘em!’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

His lips curled sardonically.

‘He always had women throwing themselves at him. He could’ve had anyone he wanted, but he never really seemed that interested. It always took someone rather … extraordinary before he’d make the effort. And I must say, you are spectacular!’

Jenny glowered at him, not certain that she wanted to hear compliments from Ethan Rayne, but quite sure that she didn’t want to listen to his version of Giles’s past.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’ She asked abruptly. ‘I am going to do this – with or without your help.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his eyes raking her face. Ever since Ripper had died… Well, it hadn’t been easy. When Phillip, Deirdre and the others had died, he had been saddened, but that was all. Not that he wanted them dead – it was just that he didn’t feel any connection to them anymore. It had always been different with Ripper. Partly because he had never truly understood him. But, over the years, Ripper was the one he had always missed the most. And whenever their paths had crossed – usually at Ethan’s contrivance, if he was honest – it had always been exciting. No matter how much Ripper tried to deny it, there was still a connection between the two of them. Magic weaves some very strange bonds. But now he was gone and Ethan felt …

He felt lonely.

With Ripper gone, he was the only one left. And it wasn’t as though he had Ripper’s bizarre group of acolytes to mourn him. Ethan stared at the beautiful, dark-haired woman opposite him. He wouldn’t have someone like her willing to do anything for him. At least with Ripper back in the world, he wouldn’t be so alone.

And the Watcher’s soul in another man’s body – that would certainly throw the Council into disarray. That appealed to his sense of Chaos. Who knew what could happen after that?

Once again, that slow smile spread across his face – revealing both his charm and his cruelty.

‘It would seem that you’ve won me over. I am entirely at your disposal.’

‘Trust me, if I could dispose of you altogether, I would.’

Ethan raised an eyebrow, looking at her approvingly. He had been right in his original appraisal: she was spectacular.

‘But you are saying yes, right?’ Jenny asked, her confidence faltering for a moment. ‘You are going to help me?’

He nodded and Jenny let out a breath of relief, rewarding him with a dazzling smile.

‘Just tell me one thing. Why exactly did you come all the way over here?’

She looked at him in surprise, as though the answer was obvious.

‘The Council took a lot of Rupert’s books. And while I was able to track down some of the transliterations of the annals, I couldn’t find all of them: not the ones I really needed, anyway. I figured I’d have more luck looking for them over here. There’s only so much available on the Web about this, and … And can you imagine Rupert with an American accent?’

‘Do you really think you’ll be able to find someone willing to let you remove their soul?’ he asked. ‘I can see the Lonely Hearts ad now: “Wanted – British male to share spell-casting and soul-removal in order to resurrect lost love. Must have own teeth.” They’ll be queuing up, Darling.’

‘This isn’t a joke, Ethan,’ she said softly, her eyes glittering. ‘And if you ever call me “Darling” again, I’ll resurrect a few, more colourful, Gypsy curses. Got it?’

He smirked.

‘Oh, understood, Da- Jenny. This is your show. Whatever you want.’

When breakfast was finally finished, it was nearly midday. Ethan had gone to make some enquiries with assorted contacts. Jenny had wanted to go with him at first, but he had soon dissuaded her. A brief description of some of his associates had daunted even her and so, in the end, they had agreed to meet again the following morning. Jenny indulged in a feeling of triumph at the discovery of this new ally – okay, so it was Ethan Rayne, but even he had to be better than nothing.

The rain had finally set in: not a heavy downpour, but a thin sharp persistent drizzle that found its way down the back of collars and stung the eyes. A combination of the weather and the luxury of not feeling quite so alone made her feel slightly decadent and so Jenny decided to give herself the day off. Instead of making her way across town to the Museum or the Library, she took herself to the Mecca of London shopping.

She went to Harrods. Everything was ludicrously expensive, but it all looked so beautiful. Jenny amused herself for some hours, trying on clothes she could never afford, avoiding offers to try out a new fragrance and generally marvelling at the faintly ridiculous splendour of the place. She started to feel a little more human again and less like some creature on the wrong side of reality. When she finally left the immense store, it was already dark outside but the rain had stopped. The air was moist and chilly, but that didn’t deter anyone from entering into the city’s nightlife, which was already waking up. It was after working hours and everyone was determined to enjoy themselves. Jenny threaded her way through the busy streets in her own little bubble of happiness. Even the long wait on the Underground platform for her train to arrive didn’t dampen her spirits. There was a busker further down the platform – situated defiantly under the “Buskers Will be Fined” sign – and Jenny tapped her foot in time with his guitar.

There was a message waiting for her when she got back to the hotel. Her name was scrawled across the envelope in an untidy, unfamiliar hand. She tore it open before she had even reached her room.

Pack up your things – we’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll call for you at 8 a.m. E.

Jenny offered up a prayer of thanks to Powers for sending her Ethan. He must have found something, a definite lead. She felt too excited to resent the fact that she was grateful to Ethan Rayne.

Ethan breathed out and opened his eyes. The candles flared and extinguished themselves and the room was thick with the pungent aroma of herbs. There was no way to back out now. He had made his choice and offered it to his god. And Janus was a demanding master. There was also the fact that backing out would bring down on his head the wrath of one Jenny Calendar.

He groaned.

A Gypsy. She’d kept that one quiet. It was only a few words of warning from the barkeeper at The Bull that had tipped him off about it. It was just bloody typical that Ripper had passed on his mantle of making Ethan’s life more difficult to his girlfriend. Still, at least he’d get the chance to pay him back for it…

Jenny lay on her side, her body curved across the bed. She stretched out a hand and ran one finger along the cool curve of the glass orb that lay on the pillow next to her. Its contents looked like luminous smoke: green streaked with silver. A smile played over her lips. It would always gather near her fingers whenever she touched it, as though drawn to her living warmth.

‘Soon, my love. Soon. I promise.’

NEXT