BETRAYAL AND DEFIANCE

Also, I just had to resurrect the character of Ashton Cunningham for this fic. He’s one of my favorite original characters that I’ve created so far, and besides, it was a comment he made in one of my fics that inspired me to write this…so I figured he might as well get to play a pretty good part! (Though, as far as I know, this fic is in no way connected to the other one…in fact, they even conflict a bit.)

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He tried to steel himself as he took a deep breath and opened the door. Having only seen the arena on brief tours and then, of course, on the video replays, it was strange to be looking at things from this perspective.

The room itself was unimposing. More or less round, it spanned about ten meters at its widest and was completely devoid of any furniture or other objects that could somehow be utilized in the deadly games that took place within. There were two doors; one on either end. One was the one from which Rupert Giles had just entered, and the other one…He felt his stomach churn at the thought. Perhaps he’d faced a demon or two in his past, but usually without warning and certainly never with his magic bound—something he’d had done soon after he’d vowed to give up magic forever—and only a wooden stake for protection.

Still, it was a part of his training—and certainly a necessary one—as a Watcher if he was ever to be given a post in the field. That was what Rupert truly wanted, he knew. After years of fighting it, he’d finally come to the conclusion that he had to obey the persistent Calling which had edged his consciousness. It refused to be denied no matter how much he tried to sully himself with darkness and render himself unworthy, redesigning himself into the formidable and dangerous Ripper. But then events had gone too far, a friend had died…had been killed…and he had found himself at the Council’s doorstep, begging for admittance. At first they tried to deny the rogue appellate, but the tests had revealed his Calling was true and, bound by the ancient ways, they were forced to allow his request for training and eventual placement.

The training had been long and, at times, tedious, but Rupert gave it his full attention and had flourished. Still, he knew that his past marked him as shameful and would ensure he never rose to administration or was assigned to the active Slayer. The best he could hope for would be to either be buried deep in the Council’s bowels to aide in the endless cycle of research or, if lucky, perhaps to be assigned to one of the field squads. The latter was dangerous, and generally the members of the more elite squads didn’t live long as they battled against the various demons and vampire infestations that the Slayer simply could not deal with. At least would give him purpose, allow him to make the difference that he very much craved.

That’s what today was about. He’d asked to be trained in the martial arts and the various weapons that had proven themselves effective through the centuries of being used in the fight against evil. Eagerly he’d soaked up as much as the instructors could teach and then had continued on his own, sneaking into the practice rooms late at night, learning techniques that were either so advanced or arcane that they were no longer taught. Secretly, some of the younger and less experienced trainees had joined him, hoping to learn from him and pick up some of his knowledge as well. Rupert had welcomed all comers, knowing that they were the Council’s future, and quite frankly, he would probably need all the friends he could find. Nevertheless, he understood when they ignored him during the day and were careful not to be caught associating with him as they snuck through the darkness.

Still, it had all been practice. Today, it wouldn’t be. Today, he was in the arena and in a matter of minutes, an actual vampire would be sharing it with him. The Council would be watching and, assuming he survived, would decide if he had what it took to continue his training in that area.

Chairman Thomas looked down from above, through the glass that covered the viewing balcony, and Rupert thought he detected a slight sneer as the man asked if he was ready. A physically imposing man, Chairman Thomas had prematurely white hair and fine, handsome features that made him a very intimidating character. Gripping his stake tighter and assuming his stance, Rupert gave his response in a clear voice that belied his nervousness.

Quickly he scanned the balcony, finding the two other faces of those who would observe. The rest of the Council administration and those who wanted to view the battle later would be relying on the videotapes. The balcony was small, and it was considered safest to keep physical presence down to a minimum.

On the Chairman’s right was his aide, Quentin Travers. Rupert knew almost nothing about the man, save his reputation as a virtual lap dog. Then on the Chairman’s left…Rupert felt surprise and very carefully kept himself from grinning at the slight relief that swept through him. One of the observers was always a fellow trainee. Today, the one who had drawn that lot was apparently Ashton Cunningham. Ashton was in his early twenties—nearly a full decade younger—but was one of the few who had actually befriended him. Rupert had kept their association quiet, not wanting his own stigma to wipe off on Ashton, but had often found himself grateful for the friendship.

“Begin.” The Chairman’s booming voice seemed to fill the chamber and Rupert immediately cast his eyes on the door as the cold metal slid up. Then the wooden barrier behind it burst open.

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Outwardly, the Chairman watched with unimpassioned disinterest even as the other two observers in the booth immediately moved forward in their chairs with bated breath. Inwardly, however, he was seething.

This test should never have been allowed. This abomination of a Watcher should have never been allowed. Dressed as Rupert was in the tight black fighting clothes of a trainee the Chairman could see the stain of evil that the man himself had placed on his forearm—a demon’s mark of all things. Gregory Thomas might not be able to explain away the fact that Rupert’s Calling was true, but irregardless, he knew that allowing such a man to sully the entire Council with his presence was not something that would be tolerated if he had any say in the matter.

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Down on the arena floor, the adrenaline rush was incredible as Rupert got his first look at the creature hurdling toward him, mad with the bloodlust and in full game face as the door slid shut behind it once more. For a small eternity he found himself frozen in place. Suddenly his mind cleared and he shifted his crouch to hold the stake out in front and just off to the side directly in the vampire’s path. An immediate kill might not be very stylistic, but it wouldn’t look bad to have ended it so quickly either.

The vampire was freshly risen and obviously in search of its first meal—which, it seemed, was all but being served up on a platter in the small arena. The creature could feel the warmth and smell the blood pumping fast just beneath the fragile living skin. Somehow though, even through the hunger, it managed to recognize the stake in the man’s hand as something dangerous. At the last second, the vampire feinted and dodged to the side as it pulled up snarling. Somewhere in the back of its mind it wanted to curse, but in its newness to the world, it couldn’t find the words.

A deadly calm had settled over his mind, but Rupert could still feel the sweat that seemed to drench him as he spun around to keep the vampire in front of him. It was a large male, imposing, strong, and still dressed in the poor suit that he’d been buried in.

It wasn’t the vampires bulk or snarling visage that caught his attention; instead he found himself focused on the patches sewn on the elbows of its jacket. Rupert knew vampires had once been actual people, but that was an academic understanding of the situation. The actual evidence of it pained him as another incident came to mind. Randall had been his friend, but in the end it had been the demon Eyghon who had worn his face when Rupert and the others had been forced to kill him, all for a stupid game.

In the end, it was that anger of that thought which fortified him as he faced off with the vampire in front of him. It wasn’t a person—it was a demon, invading the body of something that had once been human; somebody’s friend, father, husband perhaps. Its kind had devastated so many, feeding off the living to prolong an existence it didn’t deserve to have in the first place.

The vampire had grown bolder, circling him slowly and snuffling at the air as it smelled his sweat and blood. Rupert knew that if he let it, it would eventually attack with strength and overpower him unless he acted soon. It was time to perform.

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In the balcony, Ashton had to remind himself to breathe. He was quickly beginning to realize that the battles were nothing like watching the tapes—and that was from the relative safety of six meters above the area floor. The younger Watcher couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for Rupert.

Looking over, he could see Quentin was having similar difficulties containing his anticipation. The man gave himself away as he licked his lips and grabbed the railing with white knuckles.

Ashton himself didn’t know if he’d ever find the courage to apply for a field rating, but he was quite certain Quentin never would. The man was a power-hungry, out-of-shape toady who had an ambition for upper administration. Even so, it seemed he couldn’t help being caught up in the excitement of it, either.

Chairman Thomas was another matter. His only visible sign of outward emotion was a slight frown. Still, Ashton forced himself to shrug it off. Considering how many such events the Chairman had witnessed, a little aloofness was certainly forgivable.

Returning his attention to the scene below him, Ashton felt himself growing increasingly uneasy. Since the initial feint, the two combatants in the arena had resorted to simply circling one another, looking for an easy opening but neither finding one. The longer this drew out, the more chance the vampire would have, Ashton realized. Also, time was important in such trials and would soon begin to count against his friend.

Then a change seemed to come over the man and Ashton felt his heart leap into his throat as Rupert suddenly leapt up from his half crouch, stake aimed straight for its target.

The vampire, however new it might be to its current existence, still had the instincts and reaction time of a demon. It threw up an arm and sought to bat the Watcher to the ground where it could pounce on him.

Fortunately, Rupert had seen the tactic coming and cut off his attack less than a meter away as he came to an abrupt standstill. There was a breathless second and then he spun and kicked out, to capture the legs of his assailant and bring it to the ground as he fell with it, grunting at the feel of the hard floor as his weight smacked against it. The vampire had managed to take most of the impact of it, though, and between that and the surprise of his attack, Rupert was able to momentarily gain the upper hand as he scrambled to pull himself up.

Ashton cheered him on wildly in his mind, riveted as his friend rose above the vampire, straddling one of the beast’s massive legs and raised the stake in preparation for the down stroke that would end it and see Rupert with a victory.

“Come on, kill the sonofabitch,” he whispered, not even noticing that he’d said it aloud, waiting as the milliseconds seemed to draw on for hours. Something was wrong, however; the final stroke never came.

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Suddenly, Rupert found himself nearly frozen in place. It was as if the air had thickened to the consistency of treacle and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself to finish the final action that would leave him alone in the arena with only a cloud of dust to speak of the creature which had occupied it with him.

His movement continued, his slowed world silent, save for the sound of the blood rushing through his body and pounding in his ears. But he was slow—too slow. The vampire quickly recovered and howled its rage as it shot up a hand to grab Rupert’s left wrist and roll the bones sharply.

In an instant, the world righted itself and the Watcher found himself able to move once more as his stake clattered harmlessly to the ground where the vampire flicked it away with its free hand. Quickly, it threw him to the ground as it rolled them over, allowing it to crouch over him.

“Shit!” The word was wrenched from his mouth without Rupert even registering it, as his eyes grew wide with horror at the shape of the beast looming above him. It was in a surreal world that he felt a vague sensation as the vampire continued to grind the bones in his wrist, the awesome terror of the moment allowing the pain to go by unnoticed.

The test was over, and he had failed. His voice was shrill and high-pitched as he called out to the balcony, thankful that he could remember the correct word. “Yield!”

Nothing happened.

“Yield! I said ‘yield,’” he called again helplessly, panic raising his voice even higher.

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Quentin heard the safety word and immediately reached for the button that would open the ceiling, bathing the chamber of the arena in sunlight, allowing Rupert the chance to escape with his life. His fingers only made it part way, however, before a strong hand gripped his shoulder so tightly he jumped.

“Don’t,” Chairman Thomas ordered, his voice hard and low. “If you value your career, you won’t touch a thing.”

“But sir!” he protested. “He’ll die.”

“Yes.”

The Chairman allowed himself a small smile as he said the words that would seal the fate of one Rupert Giles, thereby ridding the Council of the disgrace he brought to it, cleansing it of the infection.

His fingers still caressed the smooth stone, warm now that it had expended its magic. Gregory Thomas had paid a great deal for it, but it appeared to have done its job, making the expense well worth it. Now it was time to simply relax and enjoy the show.

The tapes, he knew, would show nothing that could implicate him. They were soundless and his bit of magic certainly wouldn’t be detected; instead Rupert’s pause in staking the vampire would be seen as a hesitation. In addition, no one would ever need to know that the Watcher had called out the safety. Others would shake their heads in sorrow that Rupert had forgotten or delayed too long, but they’d understand. By ancient tradition the test couldn’t end except by victory or forfeit with the call of ‘yield’—the applicant had to be allowed to finish the test on his own terms, ensuring that he’d had every opportunity to subdue his opponent.

The only other possible worry was the presence of the others in the room with him. Quentin Travers, he knew, had been well chosen. The man craved power and career above all else, making him very useful. In the end, he’d do what he was told.

Then there was the trainee. He hadn’t known any of the current group personally, but the Chairman had carefully culled through the records before choosing Ashton Cunningham. The young man was known to be quiet and eager to please; he also had a lot to lose. For Ashton, his Calling had been a blessing indeed, raising him from a situation of near-abject poverty to one that offered security and prestige. Chairman Thomas was certain that even if Ashton tried to interfere, he wouldn’t want to risk being released from the Council and thrown back to the life from which he’d come.

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Somehow, Rupert managed to bring up his knee and force it hard into the vampire’s groin, winning his arm back as the creature released him in the shock of its own pain.

Quickly he scrambled to his knees before the vampire was on him again. He made it to his feet before a strong hand grabbed his ankle and sought to bring him down once more.

Frantically, his eyes scanned the arena for the stake, but when he located it, he practically groaned as he realized the chances of making it that far across the room were not likely. The adrenaline made his head swim as he tried unsuccessfully to kick away the hand and called out once more. “Help me you sodding fuckwits! I said, I YIELD.”

Managing to get his leg free from the fingers by stepping down on them solidly with his other foot, Rupert started to make a mad dash for the stake. At the same time he cast another futile glance upward, waiting for the crack of sunlight that didn’t come.

That’s when it hit him with a sinking feeling. It wasn’t just a malfunction, or they’d have spoken to him over the microphones in the arena. Instead, they were going to watch him die. All of them, even Ashton, whom he’d assumed—wrongly, it now seemed—to be one of his only true friends in the Council. His only chance now was the slim hope that he might be able to save himself.

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Ashton, meanwhile tore his attention away from the horrifying display in the arena, as the words of the exchange between the other two sharing the glassed in balcony with him became clear and caused him to stare at them in shock, not understanding. “Wha-What the hell are you doing?” he asked incredulously. They HAD to push the button that would activate the gears and open the ceiling. To do otherwise…it was unthinkable! He knew Rupert was unpopular, but the thought that someone—the Chairman no less—might actually want to kill him!

“Relax, my boy,” the Chairman told him calmly. “Just sit back and enjoy it, will you? It’ll be over soon.”

“I-I-I…You goddamned bloody ASSHOLE!” Ashton roared, as he sprang from his seat and tried to leap around to the other side of the balcony where the controls were.

The Chairman’s calm demeanor dropped then and there as he himself rose up and threw his own considerable bulk solidly in the way. “No! SIT DOWN!”

Quentin darted his eyes uneasily back and forth between the battle in the arena and the new one appearing in front of him. His own stomach churned as he watched the proceedings down below, but at the same time, he didn’t dare disobey Chairman Thomas, a senior Council member. Chances were, if he performed well today and kept the secret of what had happened here, he’d be able to use it to his advantage later.

“NO!” Ashton shouted back. “That’s a man’s life!” He ducked and almost made it past the Chairman before he was blocked again.

The Chairman knew immediately that he’d made a mistake in his choice for the third chair. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to fix that now. Instead, he’d just have to make sure the rest of the plan continued to work out, safe from interference, and then deal with Ashton later.

Meanwhile, Ashton’s mind screamed at him to do something. He reached out desperately for anything he could use to his benefit, knowing that hand-to-hand was definitely not his strong point. He’d always been short and not particularly good with the standard martial arts, doing much better when he had some sort of weapon to aide him. By a twist of luck he found the stool he’d just abandoned and snatched its light metal frame quickly, swinging it around to smash it into the Chairman’s knees, dropping him to the ground and allowing him to push his way past.

Shoving aside his pain, Chairman Thomas managed to bellow out, “Quentin, you idiot! Whatever you do, stop him!”

Quentin glanced at the angry man advancing on him and nervously looked around the room as he stood, his mind warring between obeying the Chairman’s orders or finding the nearest exit and running like hell.

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Unfortunately, he never made it to the stake before the creature grabbed him again in its embrace. The bile rose in him hard and fast as Rupert felt his head jerked roughly to the side, exposing the throbbing vein in his neck.

Desperately, he reached up and clawed at whatever he could reach. Scraping at an eye, he won a howl of pain. The vampire was distracted from biting him, but regrettably didn’t release his grip.

Instead, the creature decided it would be better to knock some of the fight out of his feisty prey before trying again. It grabbed a handful of the black t-shirt and, forcing Rupert forward, it drove him into the wall hard, face first.

There was a sickening crunch as he felt the bone and cartilage of his nose give way from the force of it. Immediately, the blood from the broken vessels started to leak out and he could taste it on his lips even as it began to run down his throat from the nasal passages. The pressure of it made his head throb, but fortunately the adrenaline and shock kept most of the pain at bay.

Rupert didn’t have much time to recover though before the vampire angrily renewed his attack. It picked him up bodily and threw him against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs as the Watcher felt and heard the cracking of his own ribs.

This time when the vampire loomed over him, he didn’t move or bother to fight back, knowing it would be pointless and only lead to further abuse. Rupert’s sole thought as he painfully drew the air back into his lungs was that he hoped the creature would make it quick and not decide to play with him further.

The vampire kicked him, and when his only response was to groan and curl his knees to his chest, it grinned; at last, it would get to eat.

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Quentin moved to block Ashton and managed to throw a punch, connecting only with air. He didn’t have long to recover and try again though before the same stool that had felled the Chairman flew up under his chin with a crack.

In classic comic book fashion, the man’s eyes rolled back towards the ceiling before his body went limp and he fell to the floor where he stood.

Ashton didn’t know how to use the controls, but decided it looked fairly simple. He began to hit the buttons he predicted would work, even as the Chairman’s hand curled viselike around his ankle and threatened to pull him down to the ground. When he saw the crack of sunlight appear in the room from above, he breathed a sigh of relief and let himself be pulled backward, even as he prayed it wasn’t too late.

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Rupert kept waiting for the feel of the teeth in his neck as the pain of his injuries came crashing down on him, causing him to shake in shock and false chills, but it never came. He looked up just as a bright glare filled the room.

At the same time, the vampire began to howl as it immediately began to smoke and then eventually burst into flames. It ran around the room frantically seeking escape, but finding none until eventually its fire enshrouded form collapsed and gave way to a pile of dust and the eerie silence that resulted when its cries were ended.

Less than a minute later the metal doors slid up as they were designed to do after vampire termination was ensured and Rupert felt the relief when those who had been watching the video loop outside rushed in to aide him, confirming that the nightmare was indeed over.

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?” a Council medic asked inanely.

It was so tempting just to give into the urge to doze off, but Rupert knew that was very good sign of a concussion and should probably be fought. The pain from his facial injuries was now hitting him full force and the cracked ribs made breathing painful.

Before he even bothered to answer the medic’s questions, he spoke out. His voice was distorted, the hard sounds of the consonants dulled, by the damage to his face and shallow ragged breaths, but he managed. “M-magic. Someone…in the balcony used magic and…and then wouldn’t respond to the safety…trace it…trace it while it’s still fresh…b-before…”

There were several shocked faces, but among them was that of one of the more experienced Scryers. It was an unbelievable thought, but if what the Watcher was saying was true, then it did indeed need to be investigated immediately. Quickly, he pulled together a few others and they ran up the stairs to the balcony, curious to see what they would find.

By the time someone found him with the news, Rupert was in the infirmary with taped ribs, heavy painkillers and a bandage on his nose, though the Council surgeon would need to do some reconstruction as soon as they got him past the concussion and could risk anesthesia. Of course, there was the chance it might not ever heal quite properly…still, considering other possible outcomes, Rupert Giles felt that he’d gotten off lucky.

The stone used to perform the spell had indeed been found on the Councilman and both Ashton and Quentin Travers were happy to implicate him in ignoring the safety protocol, though apparently there was some question about Quentin’s own personal involvement in what had happened. Still, it was enough to at least take care of the Chairman; though, given his position in the Council the repercussions from it weren’t likely to be small. Punishment would be severe, but would be dealt with quietly, inside the Council’s own walls.

Rupert sighed, knowing, though, the whole incident would only serve as another black mark against him, making him even more of an outcast than before. At least they’d agreed to let him perform the field accreditation test again, although it would be a while before he felt healed enough to do so.

Ashton’s apparent role in it amazed him. He’d thought the man would stand up for him if ever pushed, but he had no idea that he would do so to that extent. It also rather surprised him that Ashton had had it in him to resort to physical means to do so. The younger Watcher might be downright deadly with a quarterstaff in practice but had always seemed so squeamish about violence elsewhere. Rupert knew he owed his friend a debt of gratitude and hoped that someday he’d be able to maybe pay it back…someday when he didn’t feel as if a bloody train had decided to roll over him, he realized with a groan.

Just then he heard a noise outside his room, and both he and the man telling him the latest news looked up.

“Um, Rupert? Rupert Giles?” a woman asked him hesitantly as she entered with caution. He knew her as a fellow Watcher trainee—American and slightly further along in her training, but still in many of the same lessons—and was sure she knew exactly who he was, but he nodded anyway.

“The security team wanted to bring you a visitor, if that’s okay? Chairman Thomas wanted to speak with you and Chairman Scolaskis thought it would be a good idea.”

That got his attention. Rupert hadn’t seen the other Chairman for quite some time, but he knew the man had been one of his staunch advocates when he’d petitioned for readmission to the Council. He nodded, and then winced as he forced himself to sit up. Thank God they’d let him remain fully clothed, the bandages held firm with wraps under his shirt. He didn’t think he could handle that particular little indignation in front of the man who’d nearly killed him.

The Chairman looked him up and down with disdain, his white hair and strong aristocratic face emphasizing his cold tone. “The Council really is going to hell, you know. I was only doing my duty…to preserve it. Save it from the infection of one like you—a dark sorcerer, a caller of demons. You polluted yourself, and now you pollute us…”

As the man continued, Rupert let the angry words wash over him as he stared the Chairman straight in the eyes. He’d known the Council was filled with bureaucracy and secrecy, but he was just now beginning to understand the possibilities and it scared him. However, it also strengthened his resolve to succeed in its ranks just to spite those like Gregory Thomas. Rupert knew his past wouldn’t define who he could become, and quite frankly, considering what the Chairman had just shown him, it seemed that such things as youthful demon raising weren’t necessary to make someone unfit for the role of Watcher.

The Chairman’s next words confirmed that thought as they chilled him at the same time. “I’m not the only one, you know. There are others like me who want to see the Council of Watchers remain pure and unsullied. If you stay, they will finish this. I’d remember that if I were you.”

He could taste the metallic blood that still trickled from his injury and down his throat, collecting in his stomach and making him nauseous. Defiantly, he cleared his throat and spat the bloody phlegm in the other man’s face. Chairman Thomas stepped back in disgust, prevented from lifting a hand by the restraints that held his arms firmly behind his back.

Forcing his speech to remain clear, Rupert Giles responded in a voice that was ice cold and deadly. “I won’t forget it.” It was one lesson he knew he never would.

END: 04/20/04