Men of MysteryRating:
Response to my own challenge. BTVS/Sherlock Holmes crossover. Giles-centric. Ethan Rayne is causing trouble again and performs a spell that threatens to send the world into chaos.Disclaimer:
BtVS belongs to Whedon and Co. and Sherlock Holmes belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and no profit was made.Author Note:
This fic is the result of a challenge that I had posted to tth several months ago. Since there were no takers I decided to try to write it myself. But I have extreme doubts in my ability to write it for two reasons; I am not familiar with the canon of Sherlock Holmes and I have never written a Giles-centric story before. So feedback is crucial. But if anyone is willing to take this monster off my hands feel free to email me. Currently this story has not been beta read. I will post the beta version later.PART 1: Chapter 1The Watcher's Journal of Rupert Giles
Entry: January 2, 2002
I feel compelled to continue these journals despite my status or rather lack there of among the Watcher’s Council either out of mere habit or a greater sense of responsibility to pass on my knowledge to others in the hope that they may avoid the same mistakes that I have suffered. But I have a strong suspicion that the real reason I continue to write in these journals lies in a deep need to vent thoughts and emotions that sometimes threaten to overwhelm me and subsequently preserve my own sanity.
I found myself once again back in my homeland after I have left my slayer to fend for herself over the Hellmouth. I didn't quite know what to do with myself after spending so many years as a Watcher. I found myself unemployed, living off my meager savings as I wondered aimless about the streets of london, trying fruitlessly to reconnect myself with the world again.
The Council had long ago kicked me off their payroll but I still had ties there and I spent most of my time visiting old acquaintances and researching. My reception was met with mix emotions simply due to the fact that very few Watchers had the honor to actually be assigned a slayer and none in the history of the Council had voluntary left the service of one unless it was under dire injury or death. In short the Slayer was a life time commitment. The mere fact that I had made the conscious decision to leave my slayer while I was mentally and physically sound made me the odd ball of the bunch. But in my defense I would like to point out that none of the Watchers that preceded me ever had a slayer that lived so long under their watchful eye.
My slayer was no longer a mere child of fifteen. Buffy had grown into a beautiful, strong and capable woman and I honestly had nothing else to teach her. She grew up and like most children she needed to learn to stand on her own two feet and as long as I remained in Sunnydale Buffy would always lean on me and I simply didn’t had the will power to deny her.
As a rule I made it a point to avoid the old circles of my youth due to my somewhat dubious past. However despite my best efforts I had the misfortune to run in to the last person I expected or wanted to see, Ethan Rayne. He was an old acquaintance of mine from a dark time in my past when I was experimenting with drugs, dark magic and other avenues of depravity.
It was completely accidental of course. I was on my way to the local neighborhood pub to meet a old chum of mine from Oxford when I spotted his familiar face slipping out of the alley. My past run ins with Ethan told me that he was up to no good, likely mischief of the most sinister variety. I have learned during my past dealings with Ethan that it was best to follow him now than beat the information out of him later. I had always enjoyed blooding Ethan up but it was rather time consuming.
I trailed him for almost half a hour down to the docks. By the time I caught up with Ethan he had already begun enchanting a spell as he wrote imaginary symbols in the air in front of him. The hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise as strong magic filled the air and a sense of dread began to creep into my chest. I had a strong urge to confront him right than and there but interrupting a spell without any knowledge of its nature was often more disastrous than its original intent. So I hid among the shipping crates and drew closer in hopes to learn more. I did not recognize the spell but I did manage to catch a few phrases which made little sense out of context.
Then suddenly Ethan’s voice grew louder as he made a sharp cutting gesture with his hand. The air rippled then ripped and a long jagged portal opened up in front of him. My first inclination was that Ethan had summoned some sort of demon but my eyes widen in surprise as I watched the chaos mage step through the portal and disappear into the pulsing blue light beyond. Years ago I had learned to listen to my instincts and right now they were telling me that whatever Ethan was planning was bad and that this was my only chance to stop him. So with a sigh of resignation I jumped through portal after him.
I came out the other end somewhat disoriented and when I finally regained my senses I found myself confused. Ethan was no where in sight and when I had step through the portal I had expected to travel to some unknown secret location or dimension. But it appeared that I haven’t traveled at all. I was still at the docks surrounded by crates and boxes… yet something was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what exactly was wrong. It was just too quiet and dark. I squinted at the street light and suddenly it clicked. It wasn’t a street light at all but an old fashion gas lamp, the kind that was used in London during the mid 1800’s. My head swung around, scanning my surroundings. The building seemed to mimic the architecture of that period and I began to feel dizzy. Good lord I haven’t traveled in terms of space but in time.
The potential of Ethan’s mischief suddenly took a more sinister turn. There was no telling how much damage the chaos mage could create in the past and the potential for disaster grew exponentially. Temporal magic was highly dangerous for a number of reasons but mainly due to the danger of creating a paradox. Fear and anger washed over me at once. The bloody fool was playing a dangerous game, one that could potentially destroy us all.
Ethan had always been reckless to the point of becoming dangerous and during our friendship I watched him sink deeper into the dark magic and the occult. After the incident with Eyghon I had finally had enough and left him before my soul became irreparable tainted and our friendship soon dissolved. But for Ethan it was never enough and he became addicted to the rush of power and chaos. I had watched my friend become dark and to my utter regret I did nothing to stop his spiraling descent into evil. Yet I had always maintain the delusion that he was merely a harmless prankster, a deviant, gray rather than dark. I would never had imagine he was capable of such evil. Perhaps that had to do with my familiarity with him and the fact I once knew him before he went insane with power.
I mentally ran down the list of temporal time traveling spells that may required the language and ingredient that I saw Ethan used. But my knowledge was somewhat limited. My field of study was demonology not mysticism and my knowledge on subject was woefully inadequate. It quickly became clear that I would need help if I had any hope of stopping Ethan.
But where to turn? I felt myself somewhat paralyzed to take immediate action. Just my mere presence placed me in danger of inadvertently changing the past. Any move I made would have to be carefully considered for unforeseeable consequences. I had two options left to me. One was to try to track Ethan down myself and stop him before he could do any irreversible damage to the timeline but that was not likely to happen since I had no ideal what he was up to. The second was to seek help from the Council which increased my chances of exposure and changing history.
Both options were risky but the best I could hope for was to mitigate any problems as I come across them. In the end I chose the Council simply because they had the resources that I needed to stop Ethan. With that decision made I begun to make my way north to Westminster where the Watcher’s Council was currently located.
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