The Gauntlet; Buffy/Angel; PG13
Sep. 1st, 2009 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriTitle: A New Beginning
Co-author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
auberus
Fandom: Buffy/Angel
Genres: Alternate Universe
AU: The Gauntlet
Rating: PG13
Characters: Ripper, Ethan Rayne, Will Barstow (Spike), Willow Rosenberg
Word Count: 2148
Summary: Setting up a magic shop in New York takes more than paperwork.
The Gauntlet: A New Beginning
New York City, December 1997
"Tony says you have business for me?"
It was only four in the afternoon, but the shadows were already lengthening in the chill mid-winter afternoon, and inside the Red Letter, it was as dark as if night had already fallen. Ostensibly a bar and a pool hall, the Red Letter was actually an office for one of New York City's more noteworthy gangsters. Will Barstow had carved out an empire for himself in the shadowy area where the human underworld met the real one, and anyone who wanted to live in that particular world did so on his sufferance - and with his permission.
He was also rumoured to have a hand in a more typical array of the illegal activities that most gangsters took part in - money laundering, extortion, racketeering, drugs, prostitution and so on. Looking around the interior of the Red Letter, Ethan believed it.
The place's patrons were for the most part typical New York City toughs, indistinguishable from those who served the more mundane gang bosses, big men with hard eyes, sporting gold chains and the occasional prison tattoo. The few women in the room had eyes even harder than those of the men, though they were by and large a good-looking bunch. The room itself was blue with smoke despite its high ceiling and large size, and the pool tables at the far end were visible only through a sort of haze, the features of the men clustered around them blurred and indistinct.
But Ethan could see Will Barstow. He'd heard the man was blond, but blond didn't cover it - he'd bleached his hair platinum white, and it shone in the lights hanging above the pool table he was bent over. He made his shot and straightened, and Ethan was for some reason surprised to see that he was a short man, maybe five foot seven at best, and slender with it. He'd expected Barstow to be larger, somehow. He glanced over at Ripper.
"See him? There, at the pool table." The deferential attitudes of the larger men around Barstow made Ethan certain of his identification. Ripper nodded, and they both started forward, only to have their way blocked by one of the toughs.
"The tables are reserved," the man grunted, looking at Ethan and Ripper down a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. Ethan was about to teach him a brief but effective lesson - he hated it when people looked down their noses at him - but Ripper's hand on his arm reminded him that caution was necessary. Barstow was rumoured to have disposed of several mages who'd thought they could take him out.
"We have business with Mr. Barstow."
Ethan smirked. Ripper usually scorned the cultured accent he'd grown up using, but he wasn't above reverting to it when he thought it would do him some good. Improbably, Barstow's head came up at the mention of his name, looking straight at them.
"I'll see if he's got time for you," the heavy said, and walked over to presumably check with his boss. No one else moved to block them, but Ethan got the feeling that moving towards Barstow would be a bad idea, and a painful one. Broken-nose, after a few moments' conversation with Barstow, lifted a meaty paw to wave them over. Without that, Ethan doubted they'd have made it across the room unmolested. Barstow turned away as they approached, handing his pool cue to one of his goons and going to a door on the back wall that Ethan hadn't noticed before. He opened it and went inside; Broken-nose gestured to indicate that they were to follow Barstow.
The door led to an actual office, though the room looked as if it got little use. It was clean, but the desk was plain and bare, the chairs plastic and utilitarian. Barstow, eschewing formality, had propped a hip on the corner of the desk and when they entered was applying lighter to cigarette. The cigarette caught; Barstow took a long drag, and looked up at Ethan and Ripper, exhaling a long cloud of smoke.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" The accent was pure North London. "Tony says you have business for me?"
He was young, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, but his eyes were glacier-cold, and made those of the men and women in the bar look soft. They were a deep, brilliant blue, with dark lashes as long and thick as a girl's, but their beauty in no way diminished the threat in them. Those eyes suited his face - he was impossibly good-looking, saved from prettiness only by the clear danger in his features, and by the scar that sliced his left eyebrow into three. His black jeans and tight black t-shirt emphasized a slim, muscular body, one without the top-heaviness that came from weight-lifting in the prison yard. The ankle-length black leather duster he wore was a little too big for him, but he wore it like it was a badge of honour.
It had been a long time since a human had made such a deep impression on Ethan, and he found himself reaching outward with his magic, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Will Barstow.
"None of that, now," Barstow said sharply, and Ethan stopped abruptly, flushing, while Ripper glared at him.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, truly embarrassed at having been caught. Barstow, fortunately, grinned.
"No harm, no foul," he said easily, and held out his cigarettes. Ripper took one; Ethan shook his head. He'd given them up years ago; some of the spells in his particular discipline required a good bit of lung capacity. "Suit yourself," Barstow said amiably enough. "Now, what do the two of you need from me?"
"We'd like to set up shop," Ripper said. "Selling magical supplies, mostly, with the odd artifact or three thrown in for variety. We hear you're the man to talk to; that you can... facilitate things." They'd also heard that anyone who tried to set up shop without Barstow's permission never lasted longer than a week - and that they tended to meet unpleasant fates.
Barstow smiled easily, as if he weren't extorting them. "That I can. There's a small fee, of course - I'll take ten percent of your profits - but it's nothing you won't be able to handle."
"Five," Ripper countered.
"Ten." The smile was gone. "Or you can go somewhere else."
"Ten it is," Ripper said, hiding the grimace that wanted to cross his face. He really didn't like being forced into this, but he had other concerns that precluded having his life cut short over something as trivial as a percentage of future profits.
Barstow smiled again, and Ethan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "It's a bargain, then." Barstow held out one pale hand, first to Ripper and then to Ethan. His palm was unexpectedly callused, and there was a carefully restrained strength in his grip that was downright impressive.
"Done." Ripper nodded, accepting the offered hand, sealing the agreement. He had no doubts Barstow would hold up his end of the bargin, if his reputation was enough to go by. "We have a place picked out, once the paperwork is dealt with."
"Oh?" Barstow lifted his scarred eyebrow. "I could probably assist in expediting said paperwork, if you like." His smile was absolutely charming and clearly practiced. "No extra charge."
Ripper glanced over at Ethan raising an eyebrow in silent question. It would be useful to have a source of steady income sooner rather than later, but he wasn't about to mention that aloud in front of Barstow. Too much of a risk, letting him know there was a weakness to exploit.
Ethan shrugged, signaling his own indifference to the matter. Money was easy enough to come by, especially if he failed to adhere to Ripper's slightly more stringent standards as to the means by which it was acquired. Barstow watched the interplay with cool, neutral blue eyes.
"We would appreciate it." Ripper gave Barstow a small smile, glad enough to leave the expediting of paperwork to someone else for now. He had enough to worry about otherwise. He reached into his pocket, fishing out a business card that he held out, one of those he'd had printed up once they settled into a flat in the city. Just a pair of names and a phone number, black text on white. No need for anything more ostentatious.
Barstow pulled out a thick wallet and slipped Ripper's card into it. It was a dismissal, and their leaving was almost as unremarked as their entrance.
~ ~~ ~
"Willow." Ripper crouched next to the couch the teenager was napping on, reaching out to touch her shoulder. He was careful to stay out of the way when she flailed, waiting for her to blink back to consciousness. "You should have gone back to your room if you were tired," he said quietly, once her eyes had focused on his face.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep." Willow sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I was doing my math homework," she added, glancing over his shoulder at the paper spread out on the low table behind him before returning her gaze to his. "Did you get what you needed to open the shop?"
"Ethan and I talked to the people we needed to talk to. There's still some work to be done before we can finish renovating the space downstairs to meet our requirements." He moved off the floor to the couch beside her; after a moment, she curled up against his side. "Did you finish your math work before you took your impromptu nap?"
"Most of it, I think." Willow reached for the papers and the book underneath them, checking her work against the problems on the page. "I still have four more of these to finish, and then you can check them over for me. Or Ethan can." She bit her lip, looking up at him a moment. "It wasn't a lot of trouble, was it?"
"It was...interesting," Ethan said, shrugging. "Nothing you need to worry about, though. We've got our very own caretaker, now." He crossed to the liquor cabinet, then glanced at Ripper. "Would you like anything?"
"Scotch." Ripper looked down at Willow, who shrugged, already focusing on her math again. "Perhaps you could even pour a bit of wine for Willow." She shouldn't have too much, but nor should she be left out of the celebratory drink altogether.
Willow bit her lip before nodding in agreement, watching Ethan from under her lashes a moment. "Just a little. I'm glad you got the shop." She smiled, the expression lighting her face a moment. "Maybe I won't be stuck doing my work up here all day once it's set up?"
Ethan poured two glasses of scotch, then turned to Willow. "White or red, luv?" he asked, dropping a few ice cubes into his own glass and handing the other to Ripper.
"White." Willow fiddled with her pencil a moment, looking back at her work. "It's sweeter."
"Because the only white we have is a dessert wine." Ripper nodded his thanks for the scotch. "And perhaps you may, but not until after the holidays." Not with the mad rush of customers that even small, esoteric stores could be subject to at this time of year.
Ethan poured the requested glass of wine and handed it to Willow before taking a seat himself.
"Why wait?" he asked Ripper. "She could do her homework and help customers at the same time. All the experts say that you should take a break while working on homework anyway," he finished, lifting an interrogative eyebrow.
"Mmm." Ripper glanced at Willow again, though it wasn't her presence in the shop that he had reservations about. It was her ability to get any schoolwork done in between customers. Though perhaps. "There is a back room behind the counter."
Smiling again, Willow took a sip of the wine, carefully. "I could work on my school work when there isn't a rush, and when you need someone else to help, I can work at the cash register." She paused, biting her lower lip a moment. "At least, I can do that until I learn enough about magic and the supplies that I can actually answer questions."
"I think that might work." Ripper gave her a proud little smile, glad to see her openly displaying her intelligence. It had taken some effort to coax her into doing so. "And you wouldn't have to wait for Ethan or I to finish up at the shop to look over your work."
"That's settled, then," Ethan said, satisfied, and held up his glass for a toast. "Let's drink to success, shall we?"
"To success," Willow echoed, raising her glass as Ripper did the same, tipping his glass against hers with a soft clink.
"Success."
Crossposted:
Archive of Our Own, LiveJournal, my website
Co-author:
auberusFandom: Buffy/Angel
Genres: Alternate Universe
AU: The Gauntlet
Rating: PG13
Characters: Ripper, Ethan Rayne, Will Barstow (Spike), Willow Rosenberg
Word Count: 2148
Summary: Setting up a magic shop in New York takes more than paperwork.
New York City, December 1997
"Tony says you have business for me?"
It was only four in the afternoon, but the shadows were already lengthening in the chill mid-winter afternoon, and inside the Red Letter, it was as dark as if night had already fallen. Ostensibly a bar and a pool hall, the Red Letter was actually an office for one of New York City's more noteworthy gangsters. Will Barstow had carved out an empire for himself in the shadowy area where the human underworld met the real one, and anyone who wanted to live in that particular world did so on his sufferance - and with his permission.
He was also rumoured to have a hand in a more typical array of the illegal activities that most gangsters took part in - money laundering, extortion, racketeering, drugs, prostitution and so on. Looking around the interior of the Red Letter, Ethan believed it.
The place's patrons were for the most part typical New York City toughs, indistinguishable from those who served the more mundane gang bosses, big men with hard eyes, sporting gold chains and the occasional prison tattoo. The few women in the room had eyes even harder than those of the men, though they were by and large a good-looking bunch. The room itself was blue with smoke despite its high ceiling and large size, and the pool tables at the far end were visible only through a sort of haze, the features of the men clustered around them blurred and indistinct.
But Ethan could see Will Barstow. He'd heard the man was blond, but blond didn't cover it - he'd bleached his hair platinum white, and it shone in the lights hanging above the pool table he was bent over. He made his shot and straightened, and Ethan was for some reason surprised to see that he was a short man, maybe five foot seven at best, and slender with it. He'd expected Barstow to be larger, somehow. He glanced over at Ripper.
"See him? There, at the pool table." The deferential attitudes of the larger men around Barstow made Ethan certain of his identification. Ripper nodded, and they both started forward, only to have their way blocked by one of the toughs.
"The tables are reserved," the man grunted, looking at Ethan and Ripper down a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. Ethan was about to teach him a brief but effective lesson - he hated it when people looked down their noses at him - but Ripper's hand on his arm reminded him that caution was necessary. Barstow was rumoured to have disposed of several mages who'd thought they could take him out.
"We have business with Mr. Barstow."
Ethan smirked. Ripper usually scorned the cultured accent he'd grown up using, but he wasn't above reverting to it when he thought it would do him some good. Improbably, Barstow's head came up at the mention of his name, looking straight at them.
"I'll see if he's got time for you," the heavy said, and walked over to presumably check with his boss. No one else moved to block them, but Ethan got the feeling that moving towards Barstow would be a bad idea, and a painful one. Broken-nose, after a few moments' conversation with Barstow, lifted a meaty paw to wave them over. Without that, Ethan doubted they'd have made it across the room unmolested. Barstow turned away as they approached, handing his pool cue to one of his goons and going to a door on the back wall that Ethan hadn't noticed before. He opened it and went inside; Broken-nose gestured to indicate that they were to follow Barstow.
The door led to an actual office, though the room looked as if it got little use. It was clean, but the desk was plain and bare, the chairs plastic and utilitarian. Barstow, eschewing formality, had propped a hip on the corner of the desk and when they entered was applying lighter to cigarette. The cigarette caught; Barstow took a long drag, and looked up at Ethan and Ripper, exhaling a long cloud of smoke.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" The accent was pure North London. "Tony says you have business for me?"
He was young, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, but his eyes were glacier-cold, and made those of the men and women in the bar look soft. They were a deep, brilliant blue, with dark lashes as long and thick as a girl's, but their beauty in no way diminished the threat in them. Those eyes suited his face - he was impossibly good-looking, saved from prettiness only by the clear danger in his features, and by the scar that sliced his left eyebrow into three. His black jeans and tight black t-shirt emphasized a slim, muscular body, one without the top-heaviness that came from weight-lifting in the prison yard. The ankle-length black leather duster he wore was a little too big for him, but he wore it like it was a badge of honour.
It had been a long time since a human had made such a deep impression on Ethan, and he found himself reaching outward with his magic, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Will Barstow.
"None of that, now," Barstow said sharply, and Ethan stopped abruptly, flushing, while Ripper glared at him.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, truly embarrassed at having been caught. Barstow, fortunately, grinned.
"No harm, no foul," he said easily, and held out his cigarettes. Ripper took one; Ethan shook his head. He'd given them up years ago; some of the spells in his particular discipline required a good bit of lung capacity. "Suit yourself," Barstow said amiably enough. "Now, what do the two of you need from me?"
"We'd like to set up shop," Ripper said. "Selling magical supplies, mostly, with the odd artifact or three thrown in for variety. We hear you're the man to talk to; that you can... facilitate things." They'd also heard that anyone who tried to set up shop without Barstow's permission never lasted longer than a week - and that they tended to meet unpleasant fates.
Barstow smiled easily, as if he weren't extorting them. "That I can. There's a small fee, of course - I'll take ten percent of your profits - but it's nothing you won't be able to handle."
"Five," Ripper countered.
"Ten." The smile was gone. "Or you can go somewhere else."
"Ten it is," Ripper said, hiding the grimace that wanted to cross his face. He really didn't like being forced into this, but he had other concerns that precluded having his life cut short over something as trivial as a percentage of future profits.
Barstow smiled again, and Ethan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "It's a bargain, then." Barstow held out one pale hand, first to Ripper and then to Ethan. His palm was unexpectedly callused, and there was a carefully restrained strength in his grip that was downright impressive.
"Done." Ripper nodded, accepting the offered hand, sealing the agreement. He had no doubts Barstow would hold up his end of the bargin, if his reputation was enough to go by. "We have a place picked out, once the paperwork is dealt with."
"Oh?" Barstow lifted his scarred eyebrow. "I could probably assist in expediting said paperwork, if you like." His smile was absolutely charming and clearly practiced. "No extra charge."
Ripper glanced over at Ethan raising an eyebrow in silent question. It would be useful to have a source of steady income sooner rather than later, but he wasn't about to mention that aloud in front of Barstow. Too much of a risk, letting him know there was a weakness to exploit.
Ethan shrugged, signaling his own indifference to the matter. Money was easy enough to come by, especially if he failed to adhere to Ripper's slightly more stringent standards as to the means by which it was acquired. Barstow watched the interplay with cool, neutral blue eyes.
"We would appreciate it." Ripper gave Barstow a small smile, glad enough to leave the expediting of paperwork to someone else for now. He had enough to worry about otherwise. He reached into his pocket, fishing out a business card that he held out, one of those he'd had printed up once they settled into a flat in the city. Just a pair of names and a phone number, black text on white. No need for anything more ostentatious.
Barstow pulled out a thick wallet and slipped Ripper's card into it. It was a dismissal, and their leaving was almost as unremarked as their entrance.
~ ~~ ~
"Willow." Ripper crouched next to the couch the teenager was napping on, reaching out to touch her shoulder. He was careful to stay out of the way when she flailed, waiting for her to blink back to consciousness. "You should have gone back to your room if you were tired," he said quietly, once her eyes had focused on his face.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep." Willow sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I was doing my math homework," she added, glancing over his shoulder at the paper spread out on the low table behind him before returning her gaze to his. "Did you get what you needed to open the shop?"
"Ethan and I talked to the people we needed to talk to. There's still some work to be done before we can finish renovating the space downstairs to meet our requirements." He moved off the floor to the couch beside her; after a moment, she curled up against his side. "Did you finish your math work before you took your impromptu nap?"
"Most of it, I think." Willow reached for the papers and the book underneath them, checking her work against the problems on the page. "I still have four more of these to finish, and then you can check them over for me. Or Ethan can." She bit her lip, looking up at him a moment. "It wasn't a lot of trouble, was it?"
"It was...interesting," Ethan said, shrugging. "Nothing you need to worry about, though. We've got our very own caretaker, now." He crossed to the liquor cabinet, then glanced at Ripper. "Would you like anything?"
"Scotch." Ripper looked down at Willow, who shrugged, already focusing on her math again. "Perhaps you could even pour a bit of wine for Willow." She shouldn't have too much, but nor should she be left out of the celebratory drink altogether.
Willow bit her lip before nodding in agreement, watching Ethan from under her lashes a moment. "Just a little. I'm glad you got the shop." She smiled, the expression lighting her face a moment. "Maybe I won't be stuck doing my work up here all day once it's set up?"
Ethan poured two glasses of scotch, then turned to Willow. "White or red, luv?" he asked, dropping a few ice cubes into his own glass and handing the other to Ripper.
"White." Willow fiddled with her pencil a moment, looking back at her work. "It's sweeter."
"Because the only white we have is a dessert wine." Ripper nodded his thanks for the scotch. "And perhaps you may, but not until after the holidays." Not with the mad rush of customers that even small, esoteric stores could be subject to at this time of year.
Ethan poured the requested glass of wine and handed it to Willow before taking a seat himself.
"Why wait?" he asked Ripper. "She could do her homework and help customers at the same time. All the experts say that you should take a break while working on homework anyway," he finished, lifting an interrogative eyebrow.
"Mmm." Ripper glanced at Willow again, though it wasn't her presence in the shop that he had reservations about. It was her ability to get any schoolwork done in between customers. Though perhaps. "There is a back room behind the counter."
Smiling again, Willow took a sip of the wine, carefully. "I could work on my school work when there isn't a rush, and when you need someone else to help, I can work at the cash register." She paused, biting her lower lip a moment. "At least, I can do that until I learn enough about magic and the supplies that I can actually answer questions."
"I think that might work." Ripper gave her a proud little smile, glad to see her openly displaying her intelligence. It had taken some effort to coax her into doing so. "And you wouldn't have to wait for Ethan or I to finish up at the shop to look over your work."
"That's settled, then," Ethan said, satisfied, and held up his glass for a toast. "Let's drink to success, shall we?"
"To success," Willow echoed, raising her glass as Ripper did the same, tipping his glass against hers with a soft clink.
"Success."
Crossposted:
Archive of Our Own, LiveJournal, my website