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tamingthemuseTitle: And If My Love Had Never Let Me Go 13/?
Fandom: BtVS, The Unwritten
Prompt: 410 - Caveat Lector
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Trekker wrote a series called In Another Life where Rupert went back to the Council but never broke up with Ethan. In the chapter “The Dark Age, Postscript”, Ethan is drawn into a universe where his and Rupert's relationship had ended. It was such a fascinating idea I couldn't help but play with it. This is a remix of that chapter.
As Giles and his dark-haired friend – Calendar? What kind of a name was that? – worked with Tommy to determine how they could use the map and doorknob to find this Ethan guy. Savoy, keeping an eye on the blonde, on Buffy, wasn’t quite sure why they had to find Ethan since the guy was laying right there in the hospital bed, but that wasn’t his most urgent concern. Willow, the little redhead, in her babblings, had called Buffy a vampire Slayer. Savoy wasn’t sure what that was but, as a vampire, he was definitely worried.
“That’s it,” Giles shouted. He then glanced over at Ethan, looking guilty as if he were afraid he’d woken the guy, but Ethan, in a coma, looked half dead. Savoy didn’t think anything was going to wake him ever again.
“Fine,” Buffy said. “We’ll go, find Ethan, and figure out what this spell is.”
“Excuse me, but what’s this spell you’re talking about?” Lizzy didn’t seem to be tracking any of this better than he was, although she had the excuse that she’d just seen the decapitated corpse of the closest thing she had to a father.
The Calendar woman replied. “We can’t reverse the spell unless we know what it is. That’s how magic works.”
“In your dimension,” Lizzie said.
“Do you have a spell that can restore him?” Giles looked both hopeful and threatening, as if he were about to throttle them for not speaking up sooner.
“No,” Tom replied. “We’ve got defensive hexes, wardings, protective charms, but no healing spells.”
“Well, perhaps we should get going then, while Ethan still has time.”
“We?” Buffy asked as she stared at Giles. “I thought you would be staying with Ethan.”
Giles looked over at Ethan. “There’s nothing I can do for him here.”
Tom threw the map down onto the floor. “You’re in a hurry? Fine, let’s go.”
They stepped into the map and fell out onto a parking lot. “I don’t see … anyone,” Lizzie said.
“We decided not to come out in the motel room, not enough space,” Xander replied.
“There it is,” Giles said. “Room 235.” He raced over without waiting for backup, but then again, the others followed after just as fast or, in Buffy’s case, even quicker. She was first to the door.
Lizzie rushed ahead with the others, while Tom and Savoy came along behind quickly but not as fast as. By the time they’d reached the door, the chintzy motel room was packed full of people, all but Lizzie having a double in this world. A Buffy, this world’s Buffy, held onto an Ethan, one with short hair so not the counterpart of the Ethan still in a coma back in the hospital. It looked like she’d been punching Ethan which suggested she might be a vampire killer in this world as well. Great, his life just kept getting better and better. The Xanders and Willows were staring at each other in astonishment. Giles and the longer-haired Ethan were hugging. It looked like they’d never let each other go.
Buffy, the one he’d met, grabbed the punching arm of the other Buffy. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s Ethan,” the second Buffy said as if that explained why she’d been beating on him.
“Yeah, and Ethan’s our friend,” the first Buffy replied.
“Ethan? A friend?” That came from Xander, this world’s Xander, who was surprisingly difficult to distinguish from the other one. At least the second Willow had shorter hair. “What kind of a Hell world do you come from if Ethan’s a friend?”
“Oh Gods, Rupert.” They all stopped and turned to stare at the pain in those words. Ethan’s voice held a world of hurt. Giles, the one not hugging Ethan, the clean-shaven Giles, looked as if he wanted to toss the other Giles aside and grab Ethan for his own.
Giles, the bearded Giles, brushed Ethan’s hair back. “I’m here. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
“It’s not alright,” the clean-shaven Giles said. “The spell, it’s from Caveat Lector.”
Giles, the bearded one, half-fell at the words. Ethan, the one whom Buffy hadn’t been beating on, shifted to hold him up. “But that’s …” the bearded Giles couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.
“We know,” Ethan said. He held Giles gently.
“Could someone explain for those of us not in the know?” the longer-haired Willow asked.
“It’s Latin,” the shorter-haired Willow replied.
“Let the reader beware, I know,” the other Willow interrupted. “So what?”
“The book contains some of the darkest spells out there.” Savoy was fairly certain this was the Xander from this universe and not the one who’d come through the portal with him. “No cure.”
“No cure? But there has to be. We always find a way.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to stop you from punching …” Buffy had been turning as she spoke. “Where’d he go?” The shorter-haired Ethan had vanished.
“He’s good at that, at vanishing,” one of the Xanders replied.
Ethan, the one in Giles’ arms, staggered. It looked like he would have fallen if Giles hadn’t held him up. Giles helped him to the bed. Ethan sat carefully as if holding himself up by force of will. “It’s okay, dearheart. I’ve had you all these years. I don’t believe I’ve ever fully appreciated what a treasure our love is, not until I saw a world without it.” Ethan fell backward onto the bed.
The bearded Giles threw himself down next to Ethan, half kneeling on the floor, half hanging onto the bed. “No!”
The other Giles, the clean-shaven one, fell against the wall and leaned there as if he couldn’t hold himself up. His whispered “No!” was so quiet that Savoy thought no one else had heard it. He then pushed himself off the wall and practically threw himself across the room. He took one of Ethan’s hands into his. The bearded Giles glanced up but quickly turned back to Ethan. The clean-shaven Giles felt for a pulse. “He’s alive.” The words, as delicate as a prayer rising to the vaulted ceiling of a church, turned into a death knell. “But there’s not much time.”
Fandom: BtVS, The Unwritten
Prompt: 410 - Caveat Lector
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Trekker wrote a series called In Another Life where Rupert went back to the Council but never broke up with Ethan. In the chapter “The Dark Age, Postscript”, Ethan is drawn into a universe where his and Rupert's relationship had ended. It was such a fascinating idea I couldn't help but play with it. This is a remix of that chapter.
From IALverse to Whedonverse
As Giles and his dark-haired friend – Calendar? What kind of a name was that? – worked with Tommy to determine how they could use the map and doorknob to find this Ethan guy. Savoy, keeping an eye on the blonde, on Buffy, wasn’t quite sure why they had to find Ethan since the guy was laying right there in the hospital bed, but that wasn’t his most urgent concern. Willow, the little redhead, in her babblings, had called Buffy a vampire Slayer. Savoy wasn’t sure what that was but, as a vampire, he was definitely worried.
“That’s it,” Giles shouted. He then glanced over at Ethan, looking guilty as if he were afraid he’d woken the guy, but Ethan, in a coma, looked half dead. Savoy didn’t think anything was going to wake him ever again.
“Fine,” Buffy said. “We’ll go, find Ethan, and figure out what this spell is.”
“Excuse me, but what’s this spell you’re talking about?” Lizzy didn’t seem to be tracking any of this better than he was, although she had the excuse that she’d just seen the decapitated corpse of the closest thing she had to a father.
The Calendar woman replied. “We can’t reverse the spell unless we know what it is. That’s how magic works.”
“In your dimension,” Lizzie said.
“Do you have a spell that can restore him?” Giles looked both hopeful and threatening, as if he were about to throttle them for not speaking up sooner.
“No,” Tom replied. “We’ve got defensive hexes, wardings, protective charms, but no healing spells.”
“Well, perhaps we should get going then, while Ethan still has time.”
“We?” Buffy asked as she stared at Giles. “I thought you would be staying with Ethan.”
Giles looked over at Ethan. “There’s nothing I can do for him here.”
Tom threw the map down onto the floor. “You’re in a hurry? Fine, let’s go.”
They stepped into the map and fell out onto a parking lot. “I don’t see … anyone,” Lizzie said.
“We decided not to come out in the motel room, not enough space,” Xander replied.
“There it is,” Giles said. “Room 235.” He raced over without waiting for backup, but then again, the others followed after just as fast or, in Buffy’s case, even quicker. She was first to the door.
Lizzie rushed ahead with the others, while Tom and Savoy came along behind quickly but not as fast as. By the time they’d reached the door, the chintzy motel room was packed full of people, all but Lizzie having a double in this world. A Buffy, this world’s Buffy, held onto an Ethan, one with short hair so not the counterpart of the Ethan still in a coma back in the hospital. It looked like she’d been punching Ethan which suggested she might be a vampire killer in this world as well. Great, his life just kept getting better and better. The Xanders and Willows were staring at each other in astonishment. Giles and the longer-haired Ethan were hugging. It looked like they’d never let each other go.
Buffy, the one he’d met, grabbed the punching arm of the other Buffy. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s Ethan,” the second Buffy said as if that explained why she’d been beating on him.
“Yeah, and Ethan’s our friend,” the first Buffy replied.
“Ethan? A friend?” That came from Xander, this world’s Xander, who was surprisingly difficult to distinguish from the other one. At least the second Willow had shorter hair. “What kind of a Hell world do you come from if Ethan’s a friend?”
“Oh Gods, Rupert.” They all stopped and turned to stare at the pain in those words. Ethan’s voice held a world of hurt. Giles, the one not hugging Ethan, the clean-shaven Giles, looked as if he wanted to toss the other Giles aside and grab Ethan for his own.
Giles, the bearded Giles, brushed Ethan’s hair back. “I’m here. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
“It’s not alright,” the clean-shaven Giles said. “The spell, it’s from Caveat Lector.”
Giles, the bearded one, half-fell at the words. Ethan, the one whom Buffy hadn’t been beating on, shifted to hold him up. “But that’s …” the bearded Giles couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.
“We know,” Ethan said. He held Giles gently.
“Could someone explain for those of us not in the know?” the longer-haired Willow asked.
“It’s Latin,” the shorter-haired Willow replied.
“Let the reader beware, I know,” the other Willow interrupted. “So what?”
“The book contains some of the darkest spells out there.” Savoy was fairly certain this was the Xander from this universe and not the one who’d come through the portal with him. “No cure.”
“No cure? But there has to be. We always find a way.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to stop you from punching …” Buffy had been turning as she spoke. “Where’d he go?” The shorter-haired Ethan had vanished.
“He’s good at that, at vanishing,” one of the Xanders replied.
Ethan, the one in Giles’ arms, staggered. It looked like he would have fallen if Giles hadn’t held him up. Giles helped him to the bed. Ethan sat carefully as if holding himself up by force of will. “It’s okay, dearheart. I’ve had you all these years. I don’t believe I’ve ever fully appreciated what a treasure our love is, not until I saw a world without it.” Ethan fell backward onto the bed.
The bearded Giles threw himself down next to Ethan, half kneeling on the floor, half hanging onto the bed. “No!”
The other Giles, the clean-shaven one, fell against the wall and leaned there as if he couldn’t hold himself up. His whispered “No!” was so quiet that Savoy thought no one else had heard it. He then pushed himself off the wall and practically threw himself across the room. He took one of Ethan’s hands into his. The bearded Giles glanced up but quickly turned back to Ethan. The clean-shaven Giles felt for a pulse. “He’s alive.” The words, as delicate as a prayer rising to the vaulted ceiling of a church, turned into a death knell. “But there’s not much time.”
