FIC :: F4 (3/?5) --- Repost as no sign of Post#1

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

TITLE: Fables, Fortunes, Foes and Friends (3/? probably 5) 
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: Certain characters in this part belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, without whose inspiration etc.
SUMMARY: It's got Buffy and Willow in it; it's also got Giles Doing Exposition (hence minimal smut -- this is the Plot, in order to avoid the "PWP" certificate)
SPOILERS: None since it bears no resembance to aired
AUTHOR'S NOTES: All nice feedback welcome. Chocolate cookies also accepted. Have fun -- only a couple more of these to suffer

  
Fables, Fortunes, Foes and Friends - - Part 3



"Well," Willow said, lounging back on the immense pile of cushions, "the shrimp was excellent; the salmon omelette extremely pleasant, and the watercress salad . " Buffy nodded, enthusiastically.

"But the ice-cream sundaes - "

Buffy said something, through a (large) mouthful of Bavarian Cherry and Chocolate, which didn't quite come out distinctly enough to be comprehensible.

She was just clearing her palate (the polite way of putting it, given that she also spent the time spooning extra helpings of the Cherry and Chocolate, the Arctic Mint, and the Rum and Coffee onto her plate) when the curtain over the door was moved aside and Rupert Giles stepped into the simulated Arabian tent.

"Giles - what's - " Buffy began, then looked behind him: "Where's Ethan ?"

"I'm not sure and I'm not asking," Giles replied. "What took him away looked unpleasant, unsympathetic, extremely large, and a cross between a baboonand a bull-mastiff. I must look it up when I get back to my books."
"So - do we get to go home now ?" Willow asked. "Only there's a very interesting documentary on PBS . "

"Yes, and no," Giles said, and paused.

"Yes and no," Buffy commented: "Hearing contradiction here, Giles. Do we go or do I stomp more monster butt ?"

"Don't be no negative, Rupert," Scriptator said. "I'm sorry, I know I'm interrupting, but - well, this is my world: it follows that here, at least, Iknow everything that happens.

"So, in no especial order: yes, you can go home; yes, Giles here can, but not yet; no, you do not have to stomp more monster butt; and no, Mister Rayne will not be troubling you for the remainder of whatever time to choose tospend here, nor will he for a space of time on your Earth. I feel his talents could well be employed in one or two of my scenarios before I allow him to leave me.

"And now that you're reassured - Rupert, give them the short version, and then I think you and I have work to get back to."

 

"Work ?" Buffy asked, when they were alone again. "You're working for him ?"

"Not exactly," Giles said. "He's working, I'm helping."

Buffy opened her mouth again, then closed it, and waited. Willow also keptsilent, sensing that this was something Giles had to be let tell at his own rate.

"Scriptator is a Demi-Urge - something well below a deity-class power, but more powerful than a mere demon. He has some power in our world, but only in his own sphere - which is the creation of fantasies. He makes up stories, and then .projects them into people's minds - nightmares, day-dreams, random thoughts. He's one of a series of powers which help the creative process.

"But he doesn't get feedback the way you or I would. Other powers are either too self-centred or too uninterested to tell him what they think, and his audience's reactions tend to be biased by how well they did in the fantasy: they dream they die, they tend to criticise; they marry their dream, they tend to adulate - and then want it to happen for real.

"So he needed independent minds. Ethan persuaded him that, with my broad knowledge of legends and the like I would be an ideal critic. He also suggested that you two would make good test-subjects. The idea, I gather, was to get all of us out of the way, so that Ethan could have what he thinks of as fun with Sunnydale."
"So why can't you go home ?" Buffy demanded to know.

"Because I still have about fifty story-lines to read. Oh, but don't worry, Scriptator can put us back seconds after we left. So you can go back now, and to you I'll arrive almost at once."
"No," Buffy declared firmly. "I am not leaving you somewhere where Ethan Rayne is. We all go back at once. Tell Mister Script-writer that."

 

"How about a holiday ?" Scriptator suggested. "I have an almost infinite selection of scenarios to offer: Pharonic Egypt, all slave-boys and rubbing oils; or a star-ship full of brave boys . you could be Captain and First Officer and see what there is beyond infinity. Or how about living in a world where your slightest whim . "
"I'm sorry," Willow said: "We're pretty well fantasied out, thanks to all you've put us through."

"Then - "

"Wait," Buffy said: "If you can affect people in our world - which Giles says you can - why can't we go and look in on the real world - maybe get someclues, ready for when you put us back only a second or two after we left."

Scriptator looked a little nonplussed for a moment. "I suppose you could -except you couldn't," he added, "because I couldn't let you learn anythingyou could make use of."

"And, besides," Giles put in, "you would be invisible to the real world - you couldn't interact with it."

"Not exactly," Scriptator said, unaware of quite how keenly both Slayer andWitch now looked for loopholes in any limitation that was put on them, "they could probably evoke one or two senses: say be heard, but not seen, or seen, but not heard; perhaps be able to touch someone in a vague way."

"Let's do it - assuming you can guarantee Giles won't some to harm, and Ethan Rayne won't be allowed any sort of freedom."

Scriptator waved a hand, in one of the expansive gestures he seemed to use,and a mirror on the far side of the tent sprang to life. It showed a bleak arctic wasteland, under a steel-grey sky, with wind and driving snow. There were tall shaggy things gathered round a thin, blue-with-cold figure.

"I have a constant need for volunteers to be characters in my stories, and I need good recruiters. Your Ethan Rayne tried to persuade me to do something: now he can try to persuade others to work for me."

 

 

Arrangements were made: Slayer and Witch enjoyed a night (or its equivalent) sleeping in the sumptuous comfort of the tent, waited on (almost) hand and foot by a selection of Scriptator's servitors. And, in and among, Buffy exercised with some of Scriptator's warriors, and Willow roamed her way through some of his volumes, consulting now and then with Giles, whilst the demi-urge himself busied himself with maintaining and fine-tuning some of hison-going creations: a marquess's dream of kingship in a pocket-realm in a fantasy universe; a low-tech agricultural reverie for the captain of a starship, far from home; the illusion of a Bowl triumph for a quarterback who, in truth, would never quite achieve his potential, because of his other, non-curricular, habits.

 

"You'll be all right, Giles ?"

Rupert Giles nodded, wresting his attention away from the book he was studying. He had thirty-four situations to analyse and then . well, it could have been worse: this Scriptator bloke did at least know the importance of a good cup of tea and the proper way to serve fruit scones . 

"We'll see you in . well, a few hours . " Buffy didn't want to be too specific: the plans she had made might well involve a little extra time, if they came off.

"Look after yourself," Willow told Giles, kissing him gently on the forehead. Her plans were something she was keeping to herself: not least because they involved testing the limits of Scriptator's powers.

 

"And you two young ladies are sure that this is where you want to go ?" Scriptator checked: "You do understand that time will be about six months further ahead than you are."

"Oh, yes," Buffy said: "Exactly right."

"Then . " and a cloud shot with silvery sprinkles appeared, "step this way."

"If I could step that way . " Giles muttered, but left the rest of the punch-line alone. Neither Buffy nor Willow would have understood it, and he didn't want to know whether Scriptator knew that joke.

 

End of Bit 3