Title: More Conversations With Dead People
Author's Name: The Library Girl
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: FRM
Pairing: None; Just Rupert
Warnings: Angsty! Very, very Angsty.
Season: During season seven.
Spoilers: For Becoming and the Dark Age.
Summary: While Rupert traveled the world saving Slayers, do you really think the First didn't notice?
Disclaimer: This is where I put the statement saying that I do not own Buffy, Giles (Heh! I wish!), Sunnydale, or anything relating
to the show. No one is paying me to do this and if you feel the sudden urge to send me gifts, you might want to talk
to someone about that. Joss Whedon owns all things Buffy and has not given me permission to use these characters
as I have so if you have problems with the story, please send the pretzel bombs to me, not him.
Author's Notes: Thanks need to be given, and here is where they go. Thanks to Joss for creating characters so fun to watch and
to borrow for a bit. Thanks to Tony Head for making Giles so amazing. I tried to fight it, but he was just too
remarkable not to fall in love with. Big thank yous to my other half and best friend Ann for all the love and
support. I could never write without her help and I would never want to try. I appreciate all her work. Thank
you to Jess and Michelle for listening and helping me put this is readable form.
More Conversations With Dead People
Rupert sat up, gasping and blinking, the blankets feeling heavy against his skin. Something had pulled him from sleep and his mind was now racing to catch up. The room was cold and he shivered, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
He reached out to his nightstand for his glasses, only to feel the hard cold cover of a book under his fingers. He turned, seeing the harsh red numbers of an alarm clock telling him that it was a quarter past two. He frowned. The display on his clock was green. He leaned over, his fingers groping for his bedside lamp, but he couldn't find it.
Panic surged through him and he took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. As he let the breath out, he realized that the room smelled wrong. He took another breath, analyzing what he was smelling. It was sterile, the odor one of generic cleaning supplies. His fist closed around the blanket draped over his legs and he noticed that it had a rough, woven feel, very unlike the soft Chenille comforter on his own bed.
And then it all came rushing back. He was in a hotel bed in Prague. His body relaxed as he remembered that he had come here on a tip from the coven to find a potential Slayer. He sighed, remembering how the night had ended. He'd been too late, arriving after the Bringers; just in time to call the local authorities and identify the bodies.
He pushed the covers off and stood, needing some water and to use the facilities. He crossed the room on instinct and by touch, narrowly avoiding tripping over a desk chair. When he reached the vanity just outside of the bathroom, he turned on the light, squinting against the sudden brightness. He used the toilet and was just coming out to pour some water when he felt that he wasn't alone.
He turned, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he saw Jenny sitting on the side of his bed. He stood, feeling numb and terrified at the same time.
"Hello, Rupert," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Did you miss me?"
He turned away, reaching for the glass with trembling fingers. It wasn't Jenny and the best thing he could do was ignore it.
"Oh, come on," she said. "The least you owe me is a hello. You did let me die after all."
She's not real. It's not Jenny. He kept repeating these thoughts to himself while pouring the water.
"You could have saved me but you chose that child over me. How could you do that? Did you sleep with her? Did she feel good in your arms? Were you with her while he was breaking my neck?"
Rupert closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and translating Sumerian phrases in his head. She wasn't real. She wasn't Jenny.
"Rupert, buddy, I'm here to tell you that I'm impressed."
The voice came from right behind him and he jumped, barely feeling the glass slip from his fingers as his eyes flew open. He distantly heard it hit the sink as he turned to find himself facing Angelus. He gasped, backing up and bumping into the vanity behind him. Rupert could feel his whole body trembling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Angel took a step forward.
"So, how are you holding up?"
"Never better," Rupert responded, his voice steadier than he felt. He took a step forward. "Especially as you are not really here."
He walked right through the apparition, back towards the bed. He could feel the First turn and follow him and he wondered how something non corporeal could have such presence. Rupert sat on the bed and frowned as he realized that he'd left the vanity light on; he could still see the imaginary Angel as it crossed the room to stand next to him.
"Now that was just rude. But then rude always was your style, Watcher. That's why it was such a pleasure for me to torture you. Yeah, I needed the information, but I enjoyed getting it." Angel was pacing back and forth in front of him now. "Do you know how satisfying it was to hear the snap, to feel the bones splinter, as I broke your fingers?"
Rupert gripped the edge of the bed, fighting off the tremors that ran through him. He wasn't going to give the First the satisfaction of knowing it was getting to him.
"What, nothing to say?" Angel moved to stand in front of him, leaning down. "I'll bet I could make you scream. That really was most of the fun. Hearing you beg for mercy."
Rupert stood up, walking back through Angel, fully intent on turning off the light and attempting to go back to sleep.
"Why, Rupert?"
The voice stopped him cold and he froze in the act of reaching for the switch. He slowly turned, knowing it was a mistake.
"I expected great things from you," his father said, standing across the room from him and shaking his head. "You had a destiny and what did you do? You threw it all away. First on those friends of yours. Raising demons? Our whole family was disgraced because of you."
Rupert closed his eyes again. He really was too tired to deal with this. It wasn't his father. He knew that. And yet, those familiar words, the condemnation with just a look.
"I thought you'd changed," his father continued. "You were given a chance to redeem yourself; you had a Slayer. Then you let her die. Not just once, but twice. And now this? Running all over the world and for what? Do you really think you can do anything except to bring further shame on our family?"
Rupert swallowed, trying desperately to ignore the words. It wasn't his father. It shouldn't hurt like this. He kept his eyes shut, trying to think of something to block out the verbal blows being aimed at him.
"Mr. Giles?"
He couldn't stop his eyes from flying open at the sound of the new voice and he instantly wished he'd kept them closed.
"Why didn't you get here sooner?"
The girl standing in front of him was covered in blood, a gaping wound in her chest. But he could easily recognize her as the girl he'd been sent here to save. He swallowed hard.
"You were supposed to save me. I was counting on you. But you let me die. Just like everyone else."
"No, I…" Rupert cut off his protest. This wasn't Felicia and any response from him was only going to make it worse.
He turned away, reaching for the light switch again.
"I told her not to count on you."
Gods, not this. He turned again, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself.
"I knew that trusting you with anything was a mistake," Herbert Crawford said, crossing the room to stand a few feet from Rupert. "You were a screw up when we were in school together and you're still one. To think that I had to count on you to save my Potential. They tried to tell me you'd changed, but someone as useless as you could never be the hero, now could he?"
Rupert tried not to look at the man whose body he'd had to identify tonight, the man who had been his friend at Oxford. He knew this was just a trick, but the words stung. He swallowed hard, trying to force himself to turn away.
"But I trusted you anyway." Felicia was back, blood trickling slowly down her body. "When those Bringers came in, when they killed Mr. Crawford, I was hiding under the bed. I knew if I just waited, you would come. But you didn't. When they were cutting into me, I was screaming. Why weren't you there?"
Rupert stepped back, bumping against the wall, needing to put space between himself and the accusing eyes of this girl.
"You let me die, just like you let your own Slayer die, like you let all those other girls die, again and again. We all trusted you."
"Just like I trusted you."
Seeing Felicia morph into Buffy should have broken the reality of the moment and yet he still felt his blood go cold.
"I trusted you to protect me and you let me die. You stole my childhood and you let Willow pull me out of heaven. I'm a shell, broken. And you did it. I hate you, Giles. Why do you think it is that I can't even look at you? That I prefer the company of vampires to you? I'm this dark and empty thing and it's all your fault."
Rupert shook his head, stepping forward. He hadn't failed Buffy. He'd given her the freedom she'd needed.
"Buffy, I…I never meant for any of this to…" He caught himself, turning away, blinking the tears from his eyes. "You aren't Buffy."
"No, but I'm someone who trusted you as much as she did."
Rupert froze. He knew what he would find if he turned and he forced himself not to look. He was too tired for this, too emotionally drained.
"What, not even a greeting for your old mate?" Randall's voice was as cold as ice and Rupert shivered against it. "You think you could give me that. I did die because of you. You knew exactly what we were dealing with. Why didn't you warn me? I didn't know what could happen. But you did. And you let me play with Eyghon anyway."
"No, you knew…" Rupert turned around and his voice stuck in his throat as he took in Randall's appearance. He was grey in color, his eyes glittering in the light. There was a large gash across his neck where… Rupert swallowed hard.
"I trusted you to keep me safe, Ripper. You promised you'd never let anything happen to me. And then you were the one who cut off my head."
"I had to," Rupert defended. "Eyghon already had you. If I hadn't…you were already dead by that point."
"Actually, I wasn't," Randall said, taking a step forward. "You could have saved me the same way your little red witch saved your girlfriend. But you killed me instead. I felt that blade go through my neck and I died wondering how you could do that to me."
"No…I read that…no." Rupert was shaking now, gasping for breath. "You…we couldn't have. It was my only choice."
"I would have saved you," Randall said quietly. "But you were too selfish to try. Just kill Randall and move on."
"No…I…you know it wasn't like that."
"And what was it like? Tell me."
The change to a female voice startled him and he looked up, shocked to see Drusilla standing a few feet from him.
"What was it like to kill him? Did you feel the blade cut through his neck? Was there a lot of blood? Did you like it?" She was smiling that crazy, mocking grin at him and he stepped back, feeling dizzy and disoriented.
"Tell me a bedtime story of blood and betrayal," she said, her voice taking on a sing song rhythm. "Tell me about the Watcher who murdered his friend."
"I didn't…" Rupert stopped, swallowing hard. This wasn't Drusilla. This was just the First, playing with his mind.
"Oh, I'm playing with your mind, yes," Drusilla said, laughing. "But it's just me. Would you like me to be your girlfriend again? I do like the way you kiss."
Rupert froze again as a stray thought flickered by. What if…but no…it couldn't…
"Are you going to tell us how to wake up Acathala or do I get to keep playing?" Drusilla asked, smiling in delight.
"But I…no. I'm in Prague."
"No, dearest. You're in your head with me."
Rupert felt the strength leave his legs and he slid down the wall. No, it couldn't be true. The last five years couldn't all be a dream. He couldn't still be in the mansion, could he?
Drusilla had come to crouch in front of him. Now she tilted her head and smiled.
"Did you have a lovely dream of pain and death?"
Rupert was shaking violently and waves of nausea were washing over him. He looked around, not sure where he was. Was this the mansion? A hotel? Hell?
"Oh, Hell is a lot nicer than this," Drusilla said with a smile. "But don't worry, you'll find out. With all the people you've betrayed and killed, you have a spot reserved there."
"I…but…" His mind was spinning, trying to grasp what was happening.
He slumped against the wall, trying to find something real to hold on to. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them, he jumped, slamming his head into the wall behind him.
"Shhh…I'll never leave you, Rupert," Jenny said, a pleasant smile on her face.
"No…this…this happened five years ago…you aren't…" He was shaking so hard that he could barely catch his breath.
"Did you tell Angel about the ritual?" Jenny asked, leaning forward.
Oh God, this couldn't be happening. He was in Prague. This wasn't real.
"Is he close to figuring it out?" Jenny asked.
"You are…you can't be Jenny. You aren't even Drusilla." He had to hold onto that. The last five years couldn't have been a dream.
"Tell me what to do," Jenny said, tipping her head and smiling at him. "It's all right. We'll be together... finally. We'll have everything we never got to have... Never got to feel... Just tell me what to do."
"You aren't Jenny," he gasped, closing his eyes. "Anything I tell you, you'll use against Buffy."
"Can't fool you even for a minute, can we?" Rupert opened his eyes to see Angel looming over him. "Just tell me what I need to know and you can go home."
"I…you…this isn't…"
Rupert closed his eyes again, fighting to know what was real. He pushed himself to a standing position, opening his eyes and ignoring the vampire in front of him. He stumbled forward to the bed, grabbing for the phone. For one, desperate moment he couldn't remember the right prefixes, then with trembling fingers he entered his phone card information followed by Buffy's home number.
"Slayer Central, how can I help you?" Xander's cheerful voice came over the line, flooding Rupert with relief.
"Xander?" he gasped.
"Giles? Is that you?"
"Xander, I'm…yes…but…" He took a deep breath, centering his thoughts. "I know this is an odd question, but what year is it?"
"I'm sorry? Did you just ask what year it was?"
"I did. I know it's strange, but I need to know."
"And what pretty dream are you having now?" Drusilla asked, walking to stand next to him. "Is there blood? Are you killing someone else?"
"Giles, am I crazy or do I hear a woman with you?"
"It must be a crossed line," Rupert replied. "The year?"
"It's 2001. Giles, are you okay?"
"I'm sure I will be," Rupert replied, relief flooding through him.
"Blood and betrayal, the things you're best at," Drusilla chanted, looking down at him.
"Giles, I know I hear a woman. What the heck is going on?"
"It's…it's nothing Xander." Rupert closed his eyes, concentrating on Xander's voice. "Everyone is well there?"
"We're good. I've had to replace a few more windows, but you know how it is when Bringers come to visit. They don't knock and they won't even wipe their feet." His voice was calm and full of humor and Rupert grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
"Well, I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle." Rupert could hear his voice trembling; he hoped Xander couldn't.
"Of course it's not. For I am Xander, king of the carpenters." He paused. "Giles, seriously, are you all right?"
"I'm…" He took a breath, calming himself. "I will be fine."
"You'll tell me what I want to know and maybe I won't kill you." Angel said, leaning in closer.
"Giles, what the heck is that?"
"It's nothing, Xander." Rupert was drawing in slow breaths, feeling his shaking subside. "Just a figment of my imagination."
"That I can hear?" Xander paused. "Oh wait…if I can…Giles, is the First with you?"
"It is." Rupert was calm now, centering all of his thoughts on Xander and the home in California.
"You have to…well, get out of there."
"Why? It can't actually hurt me." Funny that he was able to be so logical, now that he had something real to hold on to.
"Is that why you needed to know what year it was?" Xander asked quietly.
"It was. It…well, we can discuss it further when I get back. For now, all I can say is thank you." Rupert couldn't remember meaning the words more.
"Do you need me to stay on the line with you?"
Rupert looked around the room seeing no one.
"No, I think it's gone. But thank you again."
"Hey, no problem, big guy." There was a slight pause and when Xander spoke again, his voice was softer. "Call me back if you need anything."
"I will. I do appreciate it."
"That's what I'm here for. Take care of yourself, Giles."
"I will. And you do the same."
He hung up the phone and yawned, feeling years older and completely exhausted. He crossed the room, turning out the light and returning to the bed. As he settled under the covers, he sighed, knowing sleep wasn't too far off.
"Don't think you've won, dearest," Drusilla's voice ghosted from the darkness. "I'll be back again tomorrow night. And the night after that. I have forever to play this game."
Rupert swallowed hard, stifling a shiver as he forced his eyes closed again. Maybe sleep wasn't so close after all.
The End.