Dead Saves, part one

[gilascave]

Dead Saves

Rupert Giles was not at all certain that even a single part of his plan was going to work properly. Of course it didn't matter -- he had no choice but to try it. Not trying was as good as lying down in the middle of the highway and letting trucks -- large, evil trucks of doom -- run him over.

But at least he still had his sense of humour, he told himself wryly. It was the only thing he had, beyond a cardkey, held very tightly in one hand. It was actually in a small bag, the ties for which were looped four times around his wrist and knotted on. He was holding the bag and card in his hand because he was not about to take any more risk than he had to. If he lost it -- highway, trucks.

He glanced around the edge of the building and studied the road. It was empty, as expected, not even any vehicles lining the street. No one parked here overnight, though he might have appreciated a bit more cover as he made his way. Hiding behind cars might help -- or make him look even more suspicious. But it didn't matter, there were no cars, and there was no one walking down the street. It was, as he'd hoped -- planned for - the perfect time.

Rupert took a deep breath and walked around the corner of the building he'd been crouched behind all day, waiting for this moment. He walked calmly, as though he had every right to be here. As though no one were searching for him.

As though there weren't a price on his head.

He made it twenty paces down the sidewalk before he glanced behind him. No reason for it -- there was nothing behind him. he told himself to relax, to slow down, to stop looking. Don't do anything suspicious.

Don't break into a run. Dear god, but he wanted to. Wanted to sprint down this street to the laboratory, find his safe haven -- if only somewhat safe, somewhat temporary haven. He knew there would be nothing worse to call attention to himself, however, so he didn't. His heart pounded and he whispered silently to himself to try to distract himself from looking over his shoulder again.

There was a noise, and he tensed, fighting to keep from whirling towards it. He walked another step, and heard it again -- this time identifying it as the wind rattling trash cans, in one of the alleyways dotting the long street.

He kept walking.

There was almost no visibility, now, except in either direction along the street. The university buildings were taller than almost every other building in town, and they seemed to leap up into the sky around him. If he hadn't known exactly where he was going, the uniformity of the building fronts would have disoriented him and he'd had been convinced several times over by now that he was irrevocably lost.

Fortunately, he did know, and he was able to walk right up to the building he wanted. No one was around -- still, thankfully -- and he slipped up the stairs to the main doors. The one on the left was cracked open, very slightly, as he'd been promised. He pulled the door open and stepped quickly inside, letting his ears guide him into the darkened foyer.

He could risk no light, so he stepped carefully ahead nine paces, and to the side exactly four. He held out his hand and felt the wall. Touching it as lightly as he could, he began walking forward, guiding himself around one corner and then up a flight of stairs by touch alone.

When he reached the second floor, he paused. So far, everything had gone according to plan. It would be the first time in his entire life that a plan went completely and utterly as it had been intended. Before now, he would have simply been killed, if caught.

Once he reached the lab and began his spell, he risked much more.
Rupert took another deep breath and reminded himself there was no way he could stop now. He stepped forward and began counting steps again, turned right and counted more.

Finally he stopped, and reached out, hands shaking. If he'd counted wrong, if he'd somehow mistaken this building for the one next to it, he would be setting off alarms as soon as he opened this door. He told himself that was impossible -- unlikely. The front had been open as promised. The stairs and doorways exactly as he'd memorised. No one had been in or around the building.

He couldn't stop now, just because he was afraid.

Feeling teh wall beside the door, he found the cardkey reader. Unwinding the ties from his wrist, he opened the bag and removed the card. Swiping the card quickly, he waited for the soft beep then found the doorknob, and turned it. Pushing the door, he heard...nothing. No alarm. No locked door, for that matter, he realised, as he hurried inside the lab. He pressed the door closed behind him and found the counter with his left hand. There was a small flashlight, which he turned on. It shone blue, prepared for him to see but reduce the chance of being seen through the windows.

He looked around only cursorily, seeing the usual chairs, counters, and equipment. The item he was looking for had been set on a desk near the front of the room -- he spied it and hurried over.

There had to be something wrong. So far everything had worked. He was here, he had seen no one, as far as he could tell no one knew he was here. For all he knew, he had hours before he'd be discovered. Of course he didn't need hours, he needed approximately two minutes. He walked towards the desk, not bothering to try to calm himself down any longer. If everything was going to go to hell, this would be the time. Let him get almost there, almost set the spell, and crash in on him....

He might as well see how far he could get, before fate laughed at him.

Rupert set the flashlight on the desk, shining it away from the windows and door, but letting its light fall onto the small coder. He picked it up and saw that it was attached, by cables, to a small computer. The computer was on, only the monitor turned off. Again, exactly as promised. He found the power button on the front of the monitor and pushed it; the monitor hummed, then flared to life with a rush of light.

Startled, Rupert moved forward, hoping to shield its light with his body. He'd known, of course, that this was just another risky moment in his plan. But by now, all he had to do was start typing and hit 'run program' and it would be over.

He didn't bother sitting down at the computer. Pulling the keyboard over, he typed quickly, checking himself for errors as he typed. He couldn't risk even the slightest wrong letter. Weeks spent memorising the right symbols, he typed them in now -- phonographic representations of sounds, so that the computer would speak the words exactly -- absolutely exactly -- as they must be read. If he got one wrong, the spell wouldn't work, or it would only work partway.

If it didn't work, they'd be on him in an instant. The flare of magic would alert them to his presence, and if he wasn't gone in the instant after the spell was cast, they would have him.

He finished typing, and looked at it on the screen on last time. It looked right. He read it again, telling himself he had time. he couldn't risk being wrong, not when he had the time to check it.

It still looked right. This was it, then. Rupert's hand hovered over the 'enter' button, and he wished he could spare a prayer. There was no one left to pray to, so he simply hit the enter key and waited.

The computer began reading the words aloud. Casting the spell, the coder speaking it as naturally as a human might. A dangerous tool, one that should have been under much tighter lock and key, had anyone realised what it was. But the grad student who had built it had been clever enough to keep it disguised as something else, and the program on the computer had been kept hidden until now.

The computer finished speaking, and for a moment nothing happened. Rupert felt his heart drop, and looked at the screen wondering where he'd gone wrong. Then without warning, a portal swirled to life in front of him.

Without hesitation, he leapt. Over the desk, feet first into the portal. Behind him, as he felt the portal twisting him in two, he heard the crashing as the demons entered the room.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Wesley was reading, sitting back on the sofa and pretending he cared about the magazine. He'd had to buy an entire year's subscription to get the one in which Fred's article had appeared, and he was determined to get some use out of it. Knowledge was, at least, never wasted, even if you hadn't any immediate use for it. But as far as he could tell, half of the articles in this journal were written by people trying to impress their deans with yet another published paper.

Deans who were not, themselves, at all knowledgeable about the field of theoretical physics.

He sighed, and considered pointing Fred towards some of the better journals, more suited to her area of expertise. There were even journals which would think nothing of the phrases 'come back from' and 'lived for five years in' when speaking of alternate dimensions. The problem of course was that Fred was back to not speaking to him. He'd come to realise she had only spoken to him at all, last month, because she's had no other access to the weaponry or spell she'd wanted.

Perhaps a simple letter or email, though, giving her the information. Surely she wouldn't disregard it, simply because it came from him?

He smiled. Of course she would. That was, in fact, the whole point.

Wesley stood up, tossing the journal down and wondering if he wanted to bother canceling his subscription and getting the remainder of his money back. Probably not -- he might find some use for it, as a red herring if nothing else for Lilah. Let her think he was on to something, pick out an article that better belonged in the Journal of Irreproducible Results. If nothing else, it might be worth a laugh.

The portal that appeared above his dining room table surprised him.

He ran to grab a crossbow, turned around just in time to aim it at the figure that crashed through. It fell onto his table, rolled, and fell on the floor. Wesley came forward only enough to see round the table, training the quarrel on the figure -- the person. HUman person, he realised, as it struggled to rise. Male human, he added, as it stood up.

Rupert Giles, he said to himself, as the man got his feet and stared at Wesley with a slightly bewildered, but mostly relieved expression.

Wesley didn't lower the crossbow. "Why are you naked?"