madimpossibledreamer | Past Indiscretions

Main Points:
Buffy/Babylon 5 AU (same as The Ushari): Agents of Chaos AU
Chapter Summary: Halloween is not as quiet as Giles hoped.
Word Count: 795
Rating: Teen

        Giles ignores what he senses for all of thirteen minutes before he sighs, sets down the book, and polishes his glasses. He had been desperately trying to pretend that he’d somehow been mistaken, that his words to Buffy about the forces of evil taking the night off were not being proven incorrect and that he didn’t have to step in. Unfortunately, none of it is going away. It seems to be getting stronger, in fact. And even yet more regrettably, what he senses is very, very familiar.
        He would like, very much, to go back to his book and pretend this has nothing to do with him. Unfortunately, he can’t bring himself to do that. If he goes all “Laughing Magician” with it, as his charges would say if they had actual taste in comics, he’ll probably fall on the wrong side of the Watcher’s Council, but he’s hardly going to just stand by and let someone—probably Ethan—wreck havoc. It’s hardly as if they’re going to step in themselves.
        He’d been berating himself about some of the things he’d kept as a memento of those days, the weak part of him that even now craves the power of the magic. Now, though—well, the grimoire won’t be of much use, but some of the other things, very much so.
        He ties the Gordian knot around the door handle as he leaves, hoping that if this is a ploy to get to some of his books, they will at the very least not be sensible enough to use a sword.
        If this were the old days, he’d hardly need a dowsing implement to find the magic’s source. Then again, if this were the old days, he’d be right there beside the man. He’d quite hoped he’d have seen the last of Ethan, but chaos magic stunts to get his attention are just the sort of thing the man would do.
        As he walks, he finds himself having to duck out of sight more often than he would on an average night on the Hellmouth. With any luck, he can deal with this without bothering his Slayer. It’s impossible to tell what spell, exactly, was used, but it’s just the sort of thing Ethan would try, a chaotic, Halloween-filled night, with all the imagination used for all the wrong things.
        The dowsing rod yanks his arm suddenly, and he stumbles for a moment before catching up to the new, urgent pace. That can only mean that a new, more powerful spell has been cast. He tries not to be taken off guard, because he’s not sure what he’ll find on the other end—hopefully Ethan hasn’t been so terribly unwise as to summon an Ancient or something else along those lines—but he fails when the dowsing rod is slapped out of his hand. He’s partway through calling on the aid of Isis when a young woman interrupts him. One he knows well.
        “I, um. I’m guessing you’re not actually Phaedrus?” Which means—oh. Oh dear.
        “Ah—no. And you’re…not exactly Miss Rosenberg, I take it.” He resists the urge to take off his glasses and polish them. Now, of all times, he needs to see.
        “Not the way you know me, no. A spell turned us all into our costumes. I think.” She frowns and fiddles with her puffy witch’s sleeves. “I’d say you should probably talk to Tsandar, but they’re kind of…busy.” She gestures into the area of the street where a Gojira barely taller than the houses is fighting a similarly sized Ghidorah. Slightly further down the street is a humanoid cat with glowing golden circuitry, kneeling, and his Slayer, standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder. The futuristic necklace at her throat seems to be circulating electricity. He recognizes the costumes, at least. Which just adds to his feelings of guilt. They’ve been caught up in this, somehow.
        “Busy being absolute wackjobs,” Miss Chase adds, sounding gratified to see him—which is a first, to be sure.
        “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to be stepped on by a Kaiju today?” Miss Rosenberg’s tone is all innocence, and she merely smiles at the glare. If he needed any more confirmation that a spell was at work, he just got it. Willow had yet to find her confidence in such a manner.
        “They got their costumes cheap. Which, in this town, is a trap if I’ve ever heard one,” Miss Chase continues, deciding to ignore the possibility of banter. “Some place called Ethan’s.”
        With Willow watching him so closely, he doesn’t quite dare sigh or close his eyes in consternation, though he’s certainly feeling it. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for directions?” is what he asks instead.