More or Less: Let Go: (A Buffy in England Chapter)
She looked out to see the view of a misty Sloane Square down below. Violins were playing along with a guitar. A woman's sultry but then operatic voice sounded confident and sexy, but then pleading. She sang about wanting a reason to be a woman. Buffy turned the I-pod with its super annoying non-buttons off. She had enough of women sounding like that. She heard the one in her dreams enough. Were she and Faith women now? Someone should have CCed her that email. She'd like to say that she didn't feel like a woman because she had lost a year, forgetting herself in that other dimension but…
The dark was fading. Buffy could see a grey glow in the sky out of the window of the prime London flat. Prime London flat? She was thinking in English now. Well, she always thought in English, but it was England-y English now. What was he doing to her? Sure, she could blame Olivia for convincing her to take the job she got for her at Chloe, which was only the most fashionable boutique in this dimension. Or she could blame Giles for practically shoving this guy down her throat as if he wished he could perform a love spell on them. (Ew, not a good metaphor.) But, Buffy had to blame her latest crisis on him. Not that this was any kind of a crisis. In fact, everything would be in a state of complete non-crisis if only…
"You're having those nightmares still," a soft male English voice said.
Buffy felt her hands ball into fists, but they were already open when she turned to him. She saw her new lover with the dark yet not-tortured good looks. At least he was too new to be having all these feelings about. So, she had to keep them in check and she was.
"God, Reg," she said, "I really must be losing my touch. I didn't hear you coming."
Why did she lie? Maybe it was because he looked so naturally hot with his naturally fit bare chest and his natural no-product dark naturally longish hair. Maybe she lied because he was so natural, human, alive, or at least she thought he was.
"Liar," he smiled naturally, "And you learned how to work the I-pod. I guess 'Portishead' didn't help soothe the nightmares."
There was no sneer or sad far away look in his eye because she had this need to lie. He pressed his chest into the back of her silk white robe.
"I think it's good music for non-sleeping bed activities," she felt her smile lose its muscle, "And all I learned about the I-pod was to make it pause; like my life. I-pods also look so tiny but they hold everything and they are ahead of me, like my life."
"You could never lose your ability to know what's what around you. It wouldn't matter if you lost all your Slayer strength. You'd still be bloody brilliant, and you would still want to fight," he said.
"Yep, that's me a big ol' fighter," she said shutting her eyes with the back of her head against his shoulder.
"That's why I'm here, hiding out, playing shop girl in London while Faith, who has no Slayer power, is playing Slayer on an open Hellmouth with my family, who I'm too chicken to face. I'm a big fat hero. "
"Are you quite done?" he asked.
He crossed the room and put his glasses on. She would have been freaked out that he looked or sounded too much like some Young Giles, but he had too much of a natural smile.
"I wish I could be. That's the problem," she said.
"You're lying again," he said, "The last thing you want is to be done being The Slayer. That's why you've had us researching everything to see if The First has returned, and why you've had us turn over every stone to try to figure out what or who brought you back here. You want a clear purpose, a clear perfect purpose because you don't want to be lost like you were when your friends selfishly brought you back. You want to protect them from that and yourself, and your sister. You want to protect the world from all of that because you think you have to be perfect in order for it to keep spinning."
"You're really a big doody-head or a demon, aren't you? Just tell me. I'll still sleep with you. That's what I do," she said.
"You do far more than that," he said.
"Not lately."
"You've slain all of London's new up and coming dangerous vampires," he reminded with his sharp green-eyes.
"Please, the most dangerous thing about that Amy Wienhouse look-a-like leader was her hair," Buffy said.
"Come off it. She was at least as dangerous as Amy herself. Maybe even more so. She could threaten and stay fully conscious at the same time," he said.
"Oh, keep telling me threats in sleep aren't dangerous. These dreams, Faith asks me to die—I think they mean she's in some sort of trouble. That I'm hurting her by not going back to Sunnyd--"
"Maybe the dreams mean for you to stay away from Sunnydale. Maybe Faith will be the one to hurt you if you go back," he said in his light but serious tone.
"No!" Buffy said, "Faith would never be evil again. I'm sure of it. Do you really think I would let Dawn-- Why do you think I have you and Giles giving me constant reports about Faith's non-evilness?"
"Because you're sure about it?" he gave her that young Daniel Day-Lewis raised eyebrow.
I'm not saying there is anything wrong with Faith," he told her, "I'm merely suggesting that the two of you aren't meant for the same path. Clearly the Sunnydale Hellmouth is her responsibility now since she reopened it. It's clear you were meant for a new place. When you are ready we can move Dawn here and--"
"With Spike," Buffy said, "Faith reopened the Hellmouth with Spike, or for him. It was part of the whole sacrificing-her-Slayer-power thing for him. I still don't get it. Can you explain it ag—"
"Is that what this is really about—Spike? Or the fact that Faith is with him? "
"It's about balance," Buffy said, "I can't let something happen to Faith just so I can have a perfect life, not after all she's done to help me. I know her and I know these dreams. She has to be falling apart over there since I'm coming together he--She gave up her power and even though she has Spike and some new fighter she'll—something will happen if I don' t help her; I know it. "
"So, it is the fact that you feel that if one Slayer is up the other has to be down," he said, "The two can never rise to the top. Well, that theory is a bit Darwinist for my taste. If you say: 'There can be only one.' And start hatching a plan to cut Faith's head off I'm going to get concerned," he smiled.
"No, I've out-grown that," Buffy smiled sadly, the joke making her think of Xander. Reg would like Xander if she could just get him to move to America; no she was going too fast. She had to stay balanced. That was always her problem with relationships.
"I don't suppose you'll suggest we help her by cutting Spike's head off to return her to full power. With my understanding of the situation I don't think it will work but—"
"Wow," Buffy smiled happily, "That's the first time I've heard you get jealous."
"Being jealous says nothing about how much you care for another person. It just shows how insecure you are," he frowned, "Giles also told me not to mention to you that Angel has been in Sunnydale helping Faith too. So, I am either very secure or insecure since I decided to mention it."
Buffy realized Reg had disappointed himself that was the only time he didn't look happy. Finally, a guy who realized jealousy was immature. Wait. Angel in Sunnydale helping Faith? Spike was going to be jealous much with that. Unless Spike and Faith had already broken up. Wait. Did that mean that Angel—No! Buffy had lost a year and some of her life, but she had not reverted back to high school. She wasn't a kid or a confused young adult anymore. She was almost the oldest living Slayer ever.
"Well, a woman could get used to that kind of jealousy from a guy. I've outgrown any guys who can't say anything all English and classy about their jealousy," Buffy said.
"That's actually a quote from an American sociologist, Margaret Mead," he said smiling again.
"And she was a lover of yours back in 1942, right?" Buffy asked putting her arms around him.
He liked when she acted neurotic yet happy. It wasn't so hard to do when he was too good to be true.
"That would be difficult since my mother wasn't born until 1954. Do you want me to say it all again?"
She let him pull her back to the bed. She nodded. She never got tired of him saying it.
"My name is Reginald Kingsley Henry. I'm not a demon or a vampire or even a powerful evil entity posing as Reginald Kingsley Henry. I'm a very solid very human man. My mother is Charlotte Kingsley, who teaches post-graduate women's studies at Oxford. My father, Phillip Henry was a professor of Ancient Greek History, but he's been gone about ten years now—"
"Don't say the sad parts," she said rolling on top of him and kissing him.
She often played his story in her head when she knew she should be thinking about a thousand other things. She was too old to be thinking about a boy—a man--- like this, so it was her new secret. Like the huge one of being back in this dimension wasn't enough for her.
"I am 31 years-old ," he continued, "I grew up listening to 'Duran Duran' and watching 'Marmalade Atkins', and the brilliant masterpiece films of John Hughes, just like you."
"Ah see, I was too young for 'Duran Duran' the first time, anyway, and—and I have no idea what 'Marmalade Atkins' is," Buffy said as she laid her new boy down on his really grown-up bed.
Could it be he was an actual grown-up?
"I suppose Marmalade was only popular here. Pity. You missed out. It was about a very headstrong little girl that used to do things like make samurai swords to wreak havoc with," he said
"Did she get spanked?" she asked as he smoothed his hands over her ass as she laid straight over him.
"If she did it would only be part of her greater plan to get one over on her Masters. She was quite a clever brat. I had such a crush on her. I think she was my first wet dream," he said grabbing her ass.
"Still there's something about you I just don't get," she laughed as she rolled off of him and by his side, "and it's not because you're so British and yet you can say 'wet dream' without batting an eye…."
He pulled her on top of him again and kissed her gently.
"I'll help you get it. It's what Watchers were supposed to do for Slayers and I almost was one after all. Maybe that's why you can't trust me. My mother never approved either. She finally understood when I organized a whole group in the academy that never stopped supporting Uncle Rupert."
He had been kissing her after every sentence and had slipped off her robe.
"There it is! That's it. That's what's wrong with you," she teased as she pulled away from him, "Calling Giles 'Uncle Rupert' mentioning Giles while we're-- Couldn't you have just been a demon?"
"I suppose I could turn myself into one if it would relax you, but this is easier," he kissed her and pounced on her.
He pushed himself inside of her, but he did it with such ease it felt more like sliding.
"Just let me make you feel good until I can't anymore, that's all I ask. I promise that no one has to suffer when you feel good," he whispered looking and feeling just right.
Buffy didn't know how long she had been gripping and rocking with his rhythm. Faith was right about some things. Human guys that weren't on government steroids could have good stamina. Still she knew not to squeeze too much out of him. Buffy let a little wave go through her and then she readied for another. She never thought she could have such a good time keeping back a tsunami. Suddenly he changed the tide on her though and she was gasping. Those green eyes caught hers and were calm even when his voice shook.
"You deserve to feel good forever, but let me do it for a little while. Then, you can worry about the rest of it. Just forget it for now, Buffy. Let go," her lover whispered.
And Buffy did what her lover told her to do. Not that she could remember what he was telling her to forget because now there was nothing but him and her and their rhythm and how she could open herself up to feel it to the core. She heard a low steady hum that sounded like it was underground and then it broke through to the surface with a cry. It was her. Trembling and shuttering and powerful. She tightened full-force around him. She didn't feel any resistance from him, but even if she had she couldn't stop herself.
"Oh, god," she whimpered.
She felt like she had been emptied of everything black and heavy; turned inside out and shaken of any grit. She had felt like this in her life before. Only that time had been disgusting and wrong. That time she had used someone; someone not human who couldn't be hurt by her. Now, this, him, this was…
"Oh, god!"
If she had done anything to harm him, this poor guy that thought he knew who she really was, what she really was she would…she would just.
"Oh, sweet girl, don't cry," he whispered smiling, and then he frowned and pulled away from her, out of her.
Oh no. Buffy had done something wrong. She had--
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked in all seriousness.
"Isn't that my line?" she sniffed.
"You're joking, right? That was so bloody brilliant I thought I'd explode."
"Then why didn't you? Unless my exploding was too much for you. I understand. I—"
"Too much for me?" he laughed, "I was waiting for more, but I guess I just don't have what it takes to make love to a crying woman."
He was literally kissing her tears away now and he sounded so sincere. He looked it in his face, like it was taking all his will not to be inside of her again. She could fix that. She pounced on him, impaling herself so he was deep in her
"Guess you are one of those nice men-- real men I've read about. Well, I hope you can make love to a moaning woman."
"Oh, god," it was his turn to shutter as she bore down on him, "Oh, I lov—Buffy! Buffy! Look--"
Suddenly, Buffy face planted on the bed. She almost laughed and started thinking about her lack of grace when she realized she couldn't feel Reg under her anymore. It didn't feel like he had vanished she felt like he had been ripped away like a band-aide. Had she pounced him off the bed?
"Reg, I—"she began sheepishly, "Reg!"
Buffy saw a dark haired woman who seemed to form out of shadows. The figure looked so unreal and out of place and came up so suddenly that Buffy blinked thinking that the woman was a trick of light and blinking would make her turn back into furniture. Instead the woman turned into a more solid brunette. Was it Faith? Was Buffy dreaming again? She must be.
"It can't be you. Your time, it's over. You've given your gifts. You are not the one," she said.
The woman stood over Reg as he lay wordlessly on the ground. Buffy would really think she was Faith except Faith didn't wear blue gossamer robes and her voice never sounded so calm and soft. Faith's voice totally lacked the eerie calm affect this woman's had; it also lacked the Italian accent this woman's had too. Buffy had no idea what this calm soft voice was saying, and the Italian accent didn't have anything to do with her lack of understanding. The woman raised her hand and Reg's unconscious body rose with it.
"Okay," Buffy said, "So, this isn't a dream, and yet here's another brunette messing with my life, my boyfriend, but at least you're not Faith for a change."
"The oldest living Slayer must be the one to bring about the ending of all things into the world," the woman said.
"The only thing I'm bringing an ending to is your breaking and entering into my boyfriend's apartment and you'll pay for the assault thing too," Buffy said and then she swung and hit nothing but air.
When Buffy got closer to her she realized the woman looked nothing like Faith. She was much too jagged looking. She kind of had a crazy Helen Bonham Carter thing going on and she was floating. Faith never did that. That was more of a Willow thing.
"The oldest living Slayer needs you to die," the woman said as Buffy's fist went through her.
"Believe me, that's the last thing I need to do for myself. I've done it a bunch already and it never helps. It makes dating so hard. But, I guess I should thank you to giving my new boyfriend his first lesson on just how hard dating Buffy Summers can be. When he comes to we'll have something to talk about," Buffy said.
"If only you were more into talking with these male creatures," the non-corporeal witch said in her Italian accent, "then the coven wouldn't have to resort to murder."
She said it so casually and differently than her self-important Lord-of-the-Ring-like way that Buffy took a moment to realize what she was saying.
"Reg!" Buffy screamed as she ran to her lover's body.
"No!" It just wasn't true. It couldn't be. Not like this. What was this? Whatever it was she was wrong about it; Reg wasn't dead. She cradled him in her arms and he wasn't moving and his face had that horrible strained yet blank look, but he wasn't dead.
"You—"Buffy went to charge the cold nasty woman form that wasn't really there, but she fell through it and was now on the floor retching.
No, this was wrong. She had just been making love. Something had to be happening that wasn't this.
"I am sorry, Ms. Summers. I'll have to kill you too," the Italian accent said, "and this is the only way to make sure you stay dead."
As the witch looked into Buffy's eyes and then seemed to be blowing some dust into them, Buffy thought about Dawn's Italian phase when she went around saying "Chio' Francesco Renoldi" and making pizza sandwiches all the time. Buffy would finally call Dawn and they would take a trip to Rome with Reg and that would make up for everything. Why hadn't she thought of that before?
"On behalf of the Tremere Coven we are very sorry. You were the backbone of allowing all the necessary beings to arrive at their destinies, but your role; it's over. We've waited far too long for this prophecy for Her to come into power and we can't have you screwing it up. We already have had big enough worry with The Rhoshobi clan."
Buffy was the dark, or she was falling with darkness all around her. She saw…no, it couldn't be. Not again! What was happening to her?
"She's in a mystically bound shock," Charlotte stated to Giles as he resisted the urge to hold Buffy after he placed her on the bed.
"It'll be all right," he heard his own voice say; "She's been through this before."
"I can guarantee she hasn't. This magic is the work of an unearthly powerful. I'm afraid she doesn't have much time."
Charlotte's tone seemed so cold as she had just covered her dead son and she looked into the eyes of the catatonic Buffy. Giles's Buffy, cursed with black scales over her eyes. He didn't have time to think that Charlotte was far from the woman he remembered with these over-controlled emotions, this scrubbed clean middle-aged face and tasteful clothes. He didn't have time to wish that she was the young angry crazed punk rock witch he had known. Because as much as the old Charl might seemingly help the dire situation Giles knew that she would only end up dooming it; as Giles was no longer his old self.
"And you are in no position to go into Buffy's mind to bring her out of this shock. I understand," Giles tried to sound understanding as he did understand--but Buffy-- she needed help. She couldn't die, not again. Certainly not like this.
I'll do it, of course. All I need is for you to do the simple spell of putting me into Buffy's mind and I will--"
"Simple?" Charlotte let out a crazed laugh and then said plainly, "That would be a wonderful plan if you wanted Buffy to awake to two men she cared for dead. You have no experience in ordinary mystical mind melding let alone--"
"Do you think I'm one of your students or wayward cases that sees you as The Matriarch of mysticism? I know who you are; I've experienced what you're capable of. And the very last thing I need now is a lecture about magic from you. Buffy's life is in danger. You will do this for me one way —"
"Do you really think you could say or do anything to me now that could push me to throw you to your death if I wasn't already in the process of doing it, Ripper?" she laughed at him like he was a stupid git.
"You know I'm sorry for your loss, but are you going to be so selfish as to let—"
"Oh, yes, me selfish. I'm not the one that lied to my innocent hero of a child to selfishly make up for my past mistakes. You came back into my son's life and brought your Slayer. Both of you were past your time and should have stayed go--"
Giles pushed the distinguished professor and underground Magic Master in the casual pant suit up against the wall in her dead son's apartment.
"You know I don't think I could say or do anything that could push you to save Buffy," he said lowly, "I know I can. I was always the only one that could really get to you."
"You made sure you got to everyone, Ripper, and you used me to do it. Now, get the bloody hell away from me unless you want to die like the buggering bastard you are," she said.
He could feel her power even though she used none of it. He could feel it in her body as he was gripping her shoulders. She was like a beast baring her teeth still camouflaged in a slightly plump 50 year-old woman's form. Giles did not back down. This is what she responded to.
"There's my Charl. My time may be past like yours but that doesn't mean we can't be who we were. We will use your power to save Buffy. Now. And then you'll have the satisfaction of my death."
"You never did understand what satisfied me," she said as Giles felt himself being propelled across the room and threw a hard structure.
Charlotte had tears in her eyes. It was something Giles had never seen before. He wanted to get up to comfort her, to say something. Maybe that was what she needed to be able to do this spell to save Buffy. Before he went to rise he felt a piece of glass in his hand. When he went to remove it he saw it had come from a broken frame with a picture of Reginald at age 6 or so. He was wearing glasses and a guitar strapped to his front. Phillip was next to him with a full head of shaggy hair, while Charlotte smiled proudly with long dark hair. Giles remembered the photo. He had taken it. It was the year before he decided to join The Watcher's Counsel. The year before Buffy was born. They thought they were all old and settled then. They weren't either. Oh God. Reginald was dead. Little Reggie; who he showed how to play football, who he bought Clash albums for. When he left England Reggie had been grown for sometime and he only got back in touch with him when his father died. It was decided Phillip was Reggie's father long ago.
"You always were such a man, Ripper even when you were rebelling against it all," Charlotte continued as she stood over him in her green eyes, grey bob and sensible dress.
You think you satisfied me because you pushed me to power. As if I didn't always have more of it than you ever did! It wasn't how you pushed me. It was that I had something to push. The rest of them were just there for the chaos, but you always gave something back. Too much, really. I was glad when Ethan stole you away. You gave me everything and you didn't even know it, and now you've taken it. Reginald is dead. My son is dead and nothing I can ever do to you or anything will satisfy me ever again!"
"You told me I wasn't—I couldn't be—"Giles stammered as he lay on the floor in a shock that had nothing to do with being thrown through a bookshelf.
"I told you Phillip was the best suited to be Reggie's father, but he always had your will. Your smile. But, we both know that his father could be anyone from those days, anything from those days, with what I did." Charlotte said.
She had so much guilt in her eyes and when she tried to restrain it she looked almost pouty and girlish. This was a look from her Giles knew well.
"We all did it," Giles said, "Charl; we can save both Reginald and Buffy, if you just—if we just act quickly. Reginald may not be able to be brought back with less of a price if he isn't fully hu—I mean he may be part-- We always knew there was a chance."
"You're suggesting I end my 31 years of abstinence from black magic to try to resurrect my son? Put him through that pain and risk for my own selfish wishes? Have him discover he could be revived because he is not fully human due to the fact that his mother was in an orgy with a chaos god?"
She was smiling at him as if they were both in on a miserable cruel joke but it ended up that the joke was being played on them. She was kneeling beside him now and taking glass out of his hand. This was also a version of her he was familiar with. Sad and tender. Though, he had forgotten it completely. She was the only one he ever allowed to take care of him after his brawls, wasn't she?
"I would do it if he were mine. I know he may have a rough go of it. I know the world may even go off kilter. I am a selfish man. I never dreamed of bringing Buffy back the first time. I chastised Willow, but when I realized I could get her out of that other dimension without The First coming back—Oh, God! What have I done? They urged me to assist them to bring her back to this dimension and now--- I thought they would reveal what her purpose was to her as they wouldn't reveal it to me. Then, she came to me, traveled all the way here from Sunnydale. Those bloody Powers just left her bereft again. I should have told her straight off all that I knew. But, she wanted to rest. She wanted to stay with me and I was so angry at what the world made me put her through. I wasn't going to let it hurt her anymore. "
He now put his head in the most powerful Wicca's lap saying these things, confessing them, or maybe she had pulled him in. Maybe she would kill him. Maybe he was the father of her son. Maybe no matter what he did or said Buffy was doomed where he should be.
"You were always so humanly selfish. That was why I always hoped you were the man who gave me my son," she said and it made him look up at her with surprise.
"Phillip was the best suited as I said. He could help raise Reggie. He didn't have that bloody traveling job with the patriarchy after all. The Watcher's Council," Charlotte spat half-heartedly, "Reginald got involved with them just to spite me. By the way, you aren't the only selfish human in the room. I've already tried to bring him back with every kind of magic before you arrived and I attempted to rescue Buffy. I failed, Rip."
"Why didn't you just tell m-- No. You are the most powerful Wicca in the free world. How could you fail?" he demanded as he shot himself out of her arms, his voice giving out to rasp.
"If only there was just the free world. Rupert, this is the work of a god-witch," Charlotte said.
"No," Giles stood now barely remembering his desire to wallow in regret in the lap of the great witch.
"You must be wrong. A god-witch would never interfere with this earthly dimension. Even of they had something to gain the cost would be too—"
"Do you doubt me?" she said.
"Why would a god-witch do this to our—to our children?"
"I truly don't know," she said, "But we know they don't kill without purpose and they made sure to kill Reggie, but they went to a great deal of trouble to kill Buffy. A god-witch has put Buffy in the depths of her psyche to destroy her soul. To make sure she is truly dead. It's beyond all my power, Rupert. There's no human witch that has ever touched power to rival the dark gods or the light ones for that matter-- if the light even exists."
"Yes! Yes, there is! Willow, she described her experience to me when she made all the Potentials Slayers. It sounded as if she touched the powers of the gods, the white gods."
"I suppose that there's nothing I can say to you to tell you how doubtful that is. If it is true, however, and Ms. Rosenberg can get into Buffy's mind to save her soul I can assure you she will die in the process. Knowing Ms. Rosenberg I'm sure she'd be up for it. The question is are you? Will you tell her and sacrifice another child?"
"Please, Charl. Please," Giles begged, "There has to be a way. There must be something we can do. I can do. Just tell me."
"The only way that it could be possibly safe would be if someone were to accompany Ms. Rosenberg into Buffy's mind," she said looking past him.
"I—"
"It most certainly could not be you or I," she cut him off sharply; "It would have to be someone with whom Buffy shared darkness with. It's a shame she couldn't know you like I did, but then if you knew each other like that I suppose you wouldn't have such a self-sacrificing love for her. We really have made a mess of things, haven't we? Being the extremists we are. We used to be so reckless and now we tried putting our children under glass and now we have the same results as our anarchy from years past."
Giles was now back at Buffy's bed-side staring into her eyes that gave him nothing but blackness as he listened to Charl's lecture. He realized he deserved far more than this motherly punishment from her. But Buffy, what did she deserve?
"May I use your mobile," Giles asked after he took his out of his pocket and realized it was smashed beyond use.
"Ripper, you can't know a person like that who knows themselves as well as Buffy in the face of such darkness. If you do, they can't also be old enough to know what they were consenting to, and I don't mean legal age. You can't be so selfish as to put another young human soul in danger. I know I am not," Charlotte said coolly.
"You don't have to worry. Even I have my limits. Luckily, the soul in question doesn't, unless he's changed," Giles felt himself fretting like the old man he was again.
"How much can we really change?" Charl sighed in grief.
TBC...