Walking After You
(#3 in The Stolen Series)
by GylzGirl
Disclaimer: Joss, Fox, UPN and lots of folks with nicer clothes than me own Buffy and her friends. But they're also meanies so the gang came over to play in my yard for awhile.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: B/G, W/W
Timeline: This has been well and truly Jossed but I'm proceeding along my original plan anyway. This takes place late in Buffy's Freshman year. It splits off from the canon timeline probably after Wild at Heart (Oz is gone but Riley is a non-issue and I don't acknowledge the whole Initiative storyline because I didn't care for it.) for BtVS and post-Parting Gifts, Angel-wise.
Author's Notes: This would have been finished ages ago but I kept losing sections and having to rewrite them. Now with some distance, I'm glad I lost the first versions :) Thanks to Karen, stoic and brave beta reader. Title and lyrics from Walking After You by the Foo Fighters. There will be more of this series. Goddess knows when, but there you go :-).
**************
Buffy found herself standing in the English countryside at a crossroads represented on the crudely drawn map she held in her hands. Wesley had made it for her only the day before and now she was here, half a world away, breathing where even the air reminded her of Giles. She inhaled deeply and started down the road that, according to Wesley, led to the Giles family's estate.
It had been a long day. The early hours of the morning had seen her land at Heathrow Airport. A dizzying maze of trains, buses and cabs had led her into the late afternoon and set her on the stone and dirt path that she walked upon now. As she neared the tall wrought iron gate at the end of the path and looked through the bars into the estate there, she found herself double and even triple checking Wesley's paper.
Tall trees and perfectly manicured hedges filled the grounds. The path under her feet continued to wind under the gate and through the foliage up a slight rise in the landscape to the front door of a house the likes of which she'd only ever seen on television. It was a massive, four story, sprawling building. It didn't have the trappings of a castle but was obviously more than a hundred years old and bespoke of wealth by its state of preservation.
It wasn't as though she thought Giles came from a blue collar background. His former membership in the Watcher's Council, let alone his father being the leader of it, seemed to eliminate that possibility. Still, it was the most impressive proof of all he had given up to live in a one bedroom, one bathroom condo in another country to protect a seemingly ungrateful Slayer.
Buffy blinked away tears. Maybe it wasn't the Council after all. Maybe he had simply gotten sick of her. She knew that if she had all this to go back to, and the only thing keeping her from it was a person who rarely showed their appreciation of her or the lov...affection they felt for her, she would certainly consider leaving.
She took a deep breath. No. No matter what else, she knew that she knew her Giles. Why would he leave just as things between them seemed to be getting... interesting? If he wanted to leave, he would come to her. And if he hadn't thought he could come to her, then he would just have to educate her to that fact face to face. "As soon as I find his face," she muttered under her breath.
She turned at the sound of a car approaching behind her. A limousine with tinted windows had just turned toward her direction from the crossroads. She sprinted for cover behind some of the trees on the outer perimeter of the fence, peeking between their trunks as the car drove up to the gate. The window rolled down and she saw a uniformed driver speak into an intercom box on a brick pillar near the fence. The gate clicked and then opened wide enough to allow the car to drive past.
Not wanting to reveal herself until she had more of an idea what the situation she had herself in was exactly, she backed off from the trees and jumped over the fence. As soon as her feet touched down on the other side, she ran along the hedges, trying to keep sight of the car as it pulled to a stop just outside of the front door.
The driver got out of the car and moved to the rear passenger door. Buffy crouched behind a bush and peered around the side of it. She wondered if it was Giles' father in the car and if he'd look very much like her Watcher. She found herself holding her breath when she realized that the man who had just exited the car was in fact Quentin Travers. For the first time since she arrived in England, she was glad she hadn't brought her crossbow with her. Her current vantage point might have very well proved too tempting with her favorite flying fatality launcher in hand.
Travers ascended the front steps and knocked. A dignified looking man in a nice suit greeted him and allowed him admittance. The driver leaned against the hood of the car and unfolded a newspaper to read.
Sighing, Buffy settled on the ground behind the bush. Making sure she still had a clear line of sight to the front door and the driver, she pulled a slightly abused granola bar from her jacket pocket, tore open the wrapper, and began the process of waiting.
******
Rupert Giles pushed his grandmother's wheelchair along an uneven stone-paved path behind the mansion. He stopped to open a gate to let them through to another section of the grounds. It was overgrown with ivy and wildflowers but enough wooden and metal equipment peaked out from beneath the greenery to identify it as a training course. Giles continued to assist Juliana along the path toward a wooden structure that stood before three great mounds of dirt.
Once there, he parked her chair, putting the brakes on. "All right here?"
"Of course dear." She handed him a key. He took it from her and began to walk toward the wood rail that stood just before the mounds. Adjacent to the rail was a narrow cabinet. He used the key to unlock it and pulled from its confines a large white rectangle with a human silhouette printed on it. Locking the door again and pocketing the key, he made his way to the rail. With great effort, he pried apart a rain-rusted clip on the rail just enough to pinch the thin edge of the target and hold it in place.
On his way back to his grandmother, Giles noted with a smile that Juliana had already retrieved the rifle he'd brought from the satchel on the back of her chair and was making sure it was properly loaded and in good firing condition.
"Everything in good order Colonel?"
She arched an eyebrow at him before handing over the firearm. "Just mind yourself there young man. Stop making fun of your old Gran and show me what you're made of."
He bent to take the gun and gave her a kiss on the cheek before he straightened and moved away a few feet to line himself up with his target. He took a deep breath, raising the rifle and nestling the weapons' butt against his shoulder. As he slowly squeezed the trigger, his thoughts momentarily drifted off to the fact that he'd never once shown Buffy how to use a real gun. The crossbow had been the extent of their projectile weapons training. There was still so much he could have shown her. The shell took a half circle out of the lower left corner of the rectangle but came nowhere close to the human-shaped form.
"Concentrate on your target boy. You're not going to hit anything doing it that way. Well, certainly not what you're aiming at."
Giles turned a mock angry eye toward his Grandmother, who was grinning ear to ear. "I'll have you know I hold several medals in marksmanship."
"Yes my love, and all of them silver."
"Well, silver is much more practical in our line of work anyway." He again leveled the rifle at the silhouette in the distance.
"Are you going to make excuses all afternoon or are you going to fire?" He took a calming breath and began to squeeze the trigger. "How is Buffy with firearms?"
Giles pulled the trigger and missed the target by several yards. He put the rifle down on the ground and sighed. "I give up."
"Always so stubborn my love."
"All right, all right. You win Gran. I do love Buffy. But it doesn't matter now. I can't ever see her again, and I know she didn't feel that way toward me. And even if she had before, I'm sure she was so hurt by my leaving that she wouldn't feel that way anymore." Juliana smiled at her grandson. "What is it now you wicked woman?" he said, grinning at her.
"You said you know Buffy didn't love you in return and then began dreaming up consequences to your leaving in case she did happen to love you, which means in fact you don't know at all. You assumed she couldn't love you, and then pussyfooted around until now you don't know if your chance may be gone."
"That I do know Gran. I've lost her forever."
She patted his hand. "While there's life, there's hope my darling. Wait and see, wait and see."
******
Wesley sat next to Willow on a bench in Weatherly Park. "So, any word from Xander?"
She shrugged and itched a finger under the blonde wig she wore. "Not really. I mean, it's not like he isn't speaking to me outright. He's just being all Mr. Mopey."
"He's still upset with you?"
"A little. He'll get over it. He's just really worried right now. And I think he wishes that he could have been the one Slayerized instead of me."
"Ah."
"Oh not that he's jealous I don't think. Just that, he's always kinda felt like he would be really good at being a superhero if it wasn't for the average strength, good chance at being killed part of it. And I know he'd rather it was him in danger than me. He worries."
Wesley smiled. "So you've said."
She smiled back. "Sorry. I don't think I'm thinking straight right now. My head itches like this wig is made of poison ivy and I don't know how Buffy walks in these pants, let alone fights."
"Well, not that you don't look becoming as a blonde but I at least prefer you as you are." Willow blushed a little and tilted her head shyly. "Unfortunately, it is best to convince anyone coming across the Slayer of Sunnydale that it is in fact Buffy. It will keep her excursion hidden longer, and also, when you go back to just being Willow, no one will be after you for having been the Slayer."
"I hadn't thought of that really."
"And as for fighting in tight pants, you'll be surprised at how easy it can be. And it's practical as well. If your enemy can't get their hold of the loose material, they have at least one less maneuver they can try against you."
"You've fought in tight pants before?" She grinned.
Now it was his turn to bow his head a little. "Um...well... yes."
"I guess you'll have to show me how sometime."
His eyes met hers, sizing up the dare, trying to ascertain how serious she was. He smiled slowly and with more confidence than she had ever seen in him, simply replied. "It's a date."
******
Keeping an eye on the house, Buffy nibbled on her granola treat. She was trying to think positively. Even though Wes had said it was unlikely that Giles would go to his parents, she couldn't help picturing him in there. She liked the idea that he was simply a few feet away and all she had to do was wait for Travers to leave before they would be reunited and she could get everything sorted out between them.
Even she had to smile at her own naive stupidity then. Since when was anything between them uncomplicated enough to sort out in a few minutes? Especially when their last few days together had been so clearly veering from the safe familiar terrain of their normal relationship and into something more mature and intimate. They had both realized it was happening, both taking things easy to see if the other would speak up and put a halt to the natural progression. But neither one had. If anything, it had gone further, becoming an outright flirtation. Then all of this happened.
Buffy crumpled the snack wrapper in her hand and put it in her pocket. No. Now wasn't the time to doubt herself. The last phone call with Giles, her own instincts, everything pointed to his disappearance being involuntary. She had to believe in that the same way that she believed she would be with him again soon.
The door to the mansion opened and Quentin Travers stepped out. The driver quickly folded his newspaper away and went to open the back door for him. The two exchanged a few words, though Buffy wasn't close enough to make them out, and then Travers got into the vehicle.
As the driver got in and started the motor up, Buffy's heart began to beat faster. She was so close now. Giles very well might be just behind that door. The car started back down the path it had come from and Buffy had to restrain herself from bounding out of her hiding spot and running up to the porch. All of it would be for nothing if Travers knew she was there.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car had passed the gates, left the grounds, and driven off into the distance to where Buffy could just barely make it out. Taking a calming breath, Buffy stood up behind the bush and walked confidently to the front door. She wrapped her comparatively small hand around the large knocker there and rapped twice. She could hear echoing footsteps approaching from within and smoothed down her hair and her jacket front.
The door opened and the same dignified man she saw earlier stood before her, his expression impassive. She took a deep breath and smiled. "Hi. I'm here to see Mr. and Mrs. Giles. My name is Buffy Summers."
Recognition registered on his face, "The Slayer?"
She nodded. "That's me."
He stood back, holding the door open for her. "Right this way Miss."
Buffy was a little leery that it could be so easy, but the promise that Giles could be inside drew her forward into the house.
******
Giles stood in his Grandmother's drawing room. When they'd returned from the firing range, he had taken Juliana upstairs and helped her to bed for her afternoon nap. He had come to this room to lose himself in one of the many volumes that lined the shelves. Quiet moments led to an uninterrupted stream of thoughts about Buffy. And that was almost more than he could bear right now. His finger trailed along the leather spines until he found something interesting.
He took the book from the shelf and blew a thin layer of dust from the cover. Of the many volumes authored by his great-grandfather, this was one he had always passed over in his youth. In fact, he couldn't ever remember reading it. He had read his ancestor's journals and supernatural texts. He had never seemed to find the time to read his one and only fictional novel.
Giles sat, opening the book to the front page. He read the dedication out loud. "To my beloved Amelia. When the night becomes too dark, I come home to your golden hair and emerald eyes and all is well." He exhaled. He knew it had been written about his great-grandmother a good 90 years before he was born, but it might as well have been written about Buffy. It seemed that even this progenitor was as eager to drive his thoughts back to Buffy as his grandmother was. Giving himself up to whatever his ancestor had to communicate to him through this story, he turned the page and began to read.
******
Willow sighed and jumped up to sit on the graveyard wall. "You know, somehow when Buffy's doing this, it seems so much more exciting."
Wesley leaned against the wall beside her. "You're not having a good time?"
She looked at him questioningly. "Patrol is about having a good time?"
"Well... no not really. I just meant, you're not enjoying the company?"
"OH! No! No Wes it's not that. I'm having a lot of fun just talking to you. Really! I just... thought I'd be slaying something as a Slayer. That's all I meant."
"Ah, feeling a little restless?"
"Yeah, something like that I guess."
"Well I can understand that. With the power comes the instincts. And the instincts are especially active in places such as... well this." He gestured to the cemetery before them. "But I'm happy to be here with you Willow. I tried to patrol with Buffy, but unless Giles was invited along, I wasn't wanted either."
"That didn't have anything to do with you Wesley, you know that don't you? It wasn't because you were a bad Watcher or anything, it was just because... well Buffy and Giles are... sort of their own little unit. Two heads, one heart kind of thing. You should be on the sidelines when it's just the two of them in battle. It's like choreography. They know each other so well. I mean, Xander and I have been a part of that at times... but not like the way those two move with each other."
"I never stood a chance eh?"
She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "No one ever could have. And I'm sorta glad. Now I get my very own Watcher and I get to break him in personally."
He arched an eyebrow. "Virgin terrain?"
She flushed pink. "Uh... Wesley."
"Yes?"
"Behind you!"
******
The butler entered the sitting room where a woman sat doing needlepoint in a high-backed antique-looking chair. "My Lady. May I present Miss Summers. The Slayer." Instantly, the woman put her craftwork to the side, stood up and walked toward them.
Buffy could tell right away that this could only be Giles' mother. Her hair was a steel gray and Buffy guessed it was probably quite a dark colored brown when she was younger. The few shallow lines on her face seemed to center around her mouth and the corners of her eyes, telling of a face aged with laughter. Knowing the kind of life this woman must have seen with both husband and son in the slaying game, she imagined she must have a very good disposition. She could already feel herself liking her.
"Miss Summers?" The woman smiled warmly.
Buffy returned it. "Buffy please."
She nodded. "Buffy then. I am honored to meet you." She took Buffy's hand in hers.
"Are you Giles' Mom?"
"I am."
Buffy smiled. "Then I'm the one who's honored Mrs...uh Lady Giles." She and Giles really were going to have to have a long talk.
"Sarah."
"Sarah," Buffy said.
"Did you bring our Rupert with you?"
With that one question, Buffy felt as though all the air in her lungs had suddenly evaporated. "You...you mean he isn't here? He hasn't been here?"
"No dear."
Tears pricked at Buffy's eyes. "Oh."
Sarah Giles put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders and led her toward the divan. "Charles," she looked to the butler. "Fetch my husband please."
"But, His Lordship asked that he not be..."
"Charles, this is the Slayer. No amount of Council paperwork is as important as the girl the Council exists to support! Now tell him to come down at once!"
"Right away My Lady."
Buffy forced a weak smile and looked into Sarah's warm brown eyes. "Giles is a lot like you, you know?"
"I'd like to think so," she said as Giles' grin broke out on her face.
"No I mean it. Your son is wonderful, do you know that? He's taken such good care of me."
"I'm very proud to hear that Buffy."
"Sarah, what's going on?" A male voice drifted into the room before its owner appeared. "Charles was muttering something about..." He stopped when he saw Buffy. "Miss Summers?"
Both women stood. Sarah moved to her husband's side. "Buffy, this is Rupert's father. Oliver Giles."
"Hi." The way Giles always avoided speaking of his father, she had really expected him to be a very stern, older version of her Watcher. She wasn't expecting the kind-faced man that stood before her. Because it wasn't how she pictured him, she felt even more trepidation about taking this man into her confidence.
"Please sit down."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll stand thanks."
"Can we get you some tea? Something to eat? You've come such a long way."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't come that long way to sit down for a snack. I came for Giles."
Oliver sat with a sigh of disappointment. "He ran off on you, did he?"
"Oliver!" Mrs. Giles left no doubt that had she been within striking distance he would have been sporting a slapped arm.
Buffy was indignant. "Only because he was forced to."
"I don't understand. Are you trying to tell me Rupert was... abducted?"
"You mean, you didn't order him to abandon me?"
"Certainly not. Watchers are only removed from their Slayer in cases of gross misconduct. And no matter what my son may have done in the past, there are certain things I would never believe about him."
"Gross misconduct meaning?"
"Well, placing one's Slayer in unnecessary harm. Forcing unwanted romantic feelings upon her..."
"So you really didn't take him away?"
"Of course not."
"Lord Giles?" Boy did that sound wrong. "I need you to answer me something truthfully."
"Yes?"
"Were you aware that the Slayer test had been reinstated?"
A look of horror came across the elder Giles' face. "I would never have sanctioned that."
Finally, Buffy sat beside Mrs. Giles. "Then I think we need to have a little talk about a friend of yours. Quentin Travers."
******
Willow grabbed Wes by the arms and shoved him behind her as three large male vampires loomed into view. Before he could say a word, Willow had a stake secured in her hands and had leapt into the fray. Wesley too procured a stake from his pocket, ready to back her up should the need arise. Until she needed him though, he didn't want to distract her by getting in the way. He decided to do as his title instructed, and watch.
He may not have been welcome on patrol with Buffy, but that didn't mean he'd never seen her fight. He had. He'd seen Faith fight as well. Patrolling with Buffy may have shown Willow the moves, and Faith may have loaned her the power, but she was unique. Buffy's fighting style spoke of her training. Perfectly executed moves that married Giles' endless hours of instruction with her own innate agility. Faith was a barroom brawler with a little finesse thrown in. Willow fought as though she'd been ambushed in an ally and she was sparring for her life.
Within seconds, she had staked one vampire. Using the surprise of the other two against them, she jumped on one, taking him to the ground and struggling for an opening to stake him. When she could, she spared a kick to the vampire still standing. Trying to keep him away until she was ready to take him on.
A hard knee to the stomach allowed Willow the room to flip her opponent off of her. She pushed up into a backbend and flipped up until she was over the vampire she'd been fighting with. Before he could get his bearings, she had driven the stake through his heart.
She stood, but before Wesley could warn her, the remaining vampire had grasped her by the hair. As he pulled, the wig she wore came off in his hand. As Willow scrambled to get out of his grasp, he made another grab at her, this time getting a firm grip of her natural red locks. He closed his grip, his fingernails slicing a deep gash into her forehead. Expecting her to struggle, he was thrown off when she simply dropped all her weight down. Her hair slid through his fingers until she landed on her bottom on the ground. When she did, she lay back and stabbed the stake into the vampire's ankle. She did a backwards somersault through his legs to get out of his way as he fell down.
She jumped to her feet, standing over him. He made a swipe for her legs, which she deftly dodged, presenting him with a kick to the face for his trouble. When he started to crawl away, she kicked him in the back until he flattened out. Then she dropped to a kneel on top of him and quickly brought the stake down. She stood as he crumbled into dust.
Breathing heavily from the exertion, she looked up to make sure that Wesley was unharmed. He stood safely a few feet away, picking leaves out of her discarded wig. His eyes met hers and she shrugged. As she made her way over to him, she reached up and began removing the bobby pins from her hair.
Wesley smirked at her. "No witty banter?"
"With one you get witty banter. With three, you stake and ask questions later." She brought her hand up the bleeding cut on her forehead. "Ow."
"Yes, well, I have to say you were magnificent. Let's go back to Giles' and I'll get that cut cleaned up."
He put his arm around her shoulders and offered her a handkerchief to hold to the wound. She smiled up at him. "Magnificent huh?"
"Entirely. And we'll work on your banter later."
******
Juliana wheeled herself into the drawing room. Giles looked up at her arrival and put his book away. "Did you have a nice nap?"
She smiled at him. "I sleep too much. One day soon I'm going to lay down and I won't wake up and I'll wonder why I slept so much of my remaining days away."
He frowned. "Don't say things like that. You're perfectly healthy. Aren't you?"
"Yes my love, I am. So my doctor says at least. But I'm also 90 years old. It's not a wild exaggeration."
He rose and walked behind her chair. Leaning down he wrapped his arms around her. "I don't like to think about it."
She smiled and patted his arm with her hand. "I wouldn't think you'd be uncomfortable at the thought of a natural death."
"When it's my Gran I am. And death is death. It means never seeing that person again. And the thought of never being able to see you again is not something I enjoy."
"All right. I didn't mean to upset you. We'll speak of something else."
He kissed her cheek. "Thank you." He let go and sat in the chair closest to her.
"Tell me more about your Buffy then."
He couldn't help a grin. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire."
"Now indulge me boy. My eyes are too bad for romance novels. I have to get my thrills where I can."
He broke out laughing, as she had hoped he would. "What you're asking for would be more of a romance pamphlet. There have always been ambiguously hopeful glances, and touches, and... moments. And lately, it seemed as though it was surely heading into more. But that's over now."
"Only until you find a way to solve this problem of Travers."
"I don't think there is a way to solve it. And even if I did, who am I kidding? This whole mess is a sign Gran."
"What nonsense!"
"I'm too old for her for a start."
"Don't be foolish Rupert. You're hardly ready for the rest home yet. And you know, my father was quite a bit older than my mother when they married. And even older when they had me."
He smiled. He'd wondered why she hadn't mentioned the book he'd been reading. Now he knew. "Yes, but it didn't hurt that your father was something akin to a god. No Watcher in his right mind would have objected to his daughter marrying him. And, I'm sure your mother was no less awestruck."
"Yes, my father was very handsome even the day he died. But, you are more so my dear. And you are no less a god in many people's eyes."
Giles was quite pink now, and trying not to laugh. "I think you'll find no shrines to my deification on any of the 7 continents."
"No? Whatever Travers may have done, I still hear things from Watcher's circles. Buffy is one of the oldest Slayers of record. And none that lived to be her age had half of her battle experience. You have become the brilliant Watcher your father and I always knew you would be. There are so many in the academy who wish to model themselves after you."
He shook his head. "I'm no role model."
"Rupert, won't you just call your father?"
"Gran... I can't risk it. I'm sorry." He sighed and stood up.
"All right Dear. Calm yourself. We won't speak of it any further today."
"Thank you."
"But I make no promises about tomorrow." They exchanged smiles. "So, tell me what you've been doing with yourself, outside of your Watcherly duties, since being a librarian."
He leaned against the wall. "I took a good long while off... perhaps too long. And then..."
"Yes?"
"I had a sort of recurring thing at a local coffee house."
"Doing?"
"Well, singing...and playing guitar."
Her eyes lit up at that. "You've started playing again?"
He smiled at her. "I never really stopped. But recently I've been doing it a lot more."
"Did you bring your guitar with you?" He nodded. She smiled at him. "Well my child, are you going to make me beg you?"
He walked to the stairs. "I'll be right back."
******
Oliver Giles sat heavily, letting what Buffy had told him sink in. "I find this all very hard to accept."
Buffy looked to Mrs. Giles, who seemed as disturbed by the situation as she herself was. "I am telling you this as the Slayer. I'm risking a lot by doing it. Maybe even my life. I've come to you because I don't feel like I have any other choice. But I'm trusting you based on the honor of your son. Now, as I said, I can't prove that Travers made Giles leave, but I've told you what he's done to the both of us in the past, and the evidence I based my conclusion on. Do you believe me?"
Oliver exhaled. "I understand that you believe what you've just told me to be true, however I need to investigate this further. In the meantime, you must keep out of sight."
"Thanks. But I have to find Giles."
"It may not be safe."
"With all due respect Sir, I'm the Slayer. Safe wasn't in the contract. Please, do you know where Giles would go?"
He looked to his wife who nodded in return. "I can't be completely sure, because he hasn't contacted me at all, but rather than come here, he would likely go to my mother's. Rupert and his Grandmother have always enjoyed a closeness that I never could seem to achieve with my son."
Buffy smiled understandingly. "Well Giles can be... stubborn."
"You don't say," he grinned in return.
"Wonder where he gets that from," Sarah said as she held her husband's gaze.
"Can you give me directions?"
"I can have Charles take you there."
Buffy stood. "No. Thanks but no. I'd feel safer getting there on my own."
Oliver nodded. "I understand. Sarah, can you draw her a map? I need to find out just what Travers has been up to."
"Certainly." Sarah rose and placed her hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I'll get you directions, a map and a torch. I'll have Charles see if any of the bicycles in the shed are still serviceable. And we'll make a stop in the kitchen before you go so that you can collect some food to take with you."
On their way out the door, Oliver's voice stopped them. "Buffy, if you find Rupert at my mother's, tell him to stay put, and you stay with him. It's out of the way and you'll both be safe there."
"And if he's not there?"
"Then unless my mother knows where he's gone, you stay there and get hold of me. We'll find Rupert somehow but not by putting you in danger to do it."
She nodded. "Okay. And thanks."
Sarah escorted her out of the room. Oliver ran a hand back through his hair and exhaled. After a moment of silence, he walked to the phone, picked it up and began to dial. "Yes, this is Oliver Giles. I need to speak with Quentin Travers. It's urgent."
******
"Wes, I'm fine. I've got Slayer healing now remember? Won't even be a scratch by tomorrow."
"Yes and your Slayer healing will have a much easier time of it if you'd just let me clean and bandage this cut properly."
Finally Willow quieted and Wesley gently swabbed the antiseptic over the angry red gash. His warm hand trailed behind on the uninjured skin below the cut, soothing with its contact. He carefully applied the bandage and met her eyes.
"Okay, confess. You only made such a fuss so that you could cuddle my forehead." She was joking.
Wes was serious. He smiled warmly, one finger tracing down the length of her nose. "Shh, don't tell anybody."
She gulped, aware that she couldn't seem to take her eyes from his but also couldn't think of anything to say to break the moment's intensity. At least, nothing that wouldn't add to the intensity.
Just then, the phone rang. Wesley smiled, stroking her cheek with the back of his finger as he walked to the desk to answer it. Willow exhaled in relief.
"Hello?" He paused. "No, no this isn't Rupert Giles, this is his brother."
Willow looked up questioningly. She couldn't imagine who he could be talking to that would require that particular fib.
"What?" Wesley seemed to stop breathing for a moment. "Yes. Yes I see. Th-thank you." He hung up the phone and turned to face Willow with a somber expression.
"What?"
He moved to her slowly, sitting beside her on the sofa. Gently, he took her hands in his own. "Willow."
"Was it Buffy? Did something happen to Giles? Did Buffy get hurt? Wes you're scaring me to death! What is it?"
"Willow, that was the hospital..."
"Oh God, Xander! Is-is he okay? We should get down there. He's allergic to penicillin and..."
"It's not Xander, Willow."
"Then?" Confusion swam in her deep green eyes.
"It's Faith. She's...passed on."
"What?"
"Faith's dead Willow."
The redhead paused to take that information in. Then her eyes met Wesley's again. "No."
"I'm afraid so Love," he said quietly. "There's no one to give the power back to anymore. You are now a real Slayer."
Willow Rosenburg, hacker goddess, dean's list student, Wicca prodigy and the latest inheritor of the title "Chosen One" promptly passed out in her Watcher's arms.
******
Giles settled in a large chair opposite his grandmother. "I've only just learnt this song so it may not be very good yet." He took a few seconds to make sure the strings were in tune, then began a brush strum and closed his eyes.
"Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds, dreaming aloud. Things just won't do without you, matter of fact. I'm on your back.
"If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you.
"If you'd accept surrender, give up some more. Weren't you adored? I cannot be without you, matter of fact. I'm on your back.
"If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. Another heart is cracked in two. I'm on your back..."
A knock on the door interrupted the private performance and Giles leaned the guitar against the chair. He rose and walked to the door. As he opened it, his breath caught at the sight of his Slayer, smiling at him on the other side.
The End
(#3 in The Stolen Series)
by GylzGirl
Disclaimer: Joss, Fox, UPN and lots of folks with nicer clothes than me own Buffy and her friends. But they're also meanies so the gang came over to play in my yard for awhile.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: B/G, W/W
Timeline: This has been well and truly Jossed but I'm proceeding along my original plan anyway. This takes place late in Buffy's Freshman year. It splits off from the canon timeline probably after Wild at Heart (Oz is gone but Riley is a non-issue and I don't acknowledge the whole Initiative storyline because I didn't care for it.) for BtVS and post-Parting Gifts, Angel-wise.
Author's Notes: This would have been finished ages ago but I kept losing sections and having to rewrite them. Now with some distance, I'm glad I lost the first versions :) Thanks to Karen, stoic and brave beta reader. Title and lyrics from Walking After You by the Foo Fighters. There will be more of this series. Goddess knows when, but there you go :-).
**************
Buffy found herself standing in the English countryside at a crossroads represented on the crudely drawn map she held in her hands. Wesley had made it for her only the day before and now she was here, half a world away, breathing where even the air reminded her of Giles. She inhaled deeply and started down the road that, according to Wesley, led to the Giles family's estate.
It had been a long day. The early hours of the morning had seen her land at Heathrow Airport. A dizzying maze of trains, buses and cabs had led her into the late afternoon and set her on the stone and dirt path that she walked upon now. As she neared the tall wrought iron gate at the end of the path and looked through the bars into the estate there, she found herself double and even triple checking Wesley's paper.
Tall trees and perfectly manicured hedges filled the grounds. The path under her feet continued to wind under the gate and through the foliage up a slight rise in the landscape to the front door of a house the likes of which she'd only ever seen on television. It was a massive, four story, sprawling building. It didn't have the trappings of a castle but was obviously more than a hundred years old and bespoke of wealth by its state of preservation.
It wasn't as though she thought Giles came from a blue collar background. His former membership in the Watcher's Council, let alone his father being the leader of it, seemed to eliminate that possibility. Still, it was the most impressive proof of all he had given up to live in a one bedroom, one bathroom condo in another country to protect a seemingly ungrateful Slayer.
Buffy blinked away tears. Maybe it wasn't the Council after all. Maybe he had simply gotten sick of her. She knew that if she had all this to go back to, and the only thing keeping her from it was a person who rarely showed their appreciation of her or the lov...affection they felt for her, she would certainly consider leaving.
She took a deep breath. No. No matter what else, she knew that she knew her Giles. Why would he leave just as things between them seemed to be getting... interesting? If he wanted to leave, he would come to her. And if he hadn't thought he could come to her, then he would just have to educate her to that fact face to face. "As soon as I find his face," she muttered under her breath.
She turned at the sound of a car approaching behind her. A limousine with tinted windows had just turned toward her direction from the crossroads. She sprinted for cover behind some of the trees on the outer perimeter of the fence, peeking between their trunks as the car drove up to the gate. The window rolled down and she saw a uniformed driver speak into an intercom box on a brick pillar near the fence. The gate clicked and then opened wide enough to allow the car to drive past.
Not wanting to reveal herself until she had more of an idea what the situation she had herself in was exactly, she backed off from the trees and jumped over the fence. As soon as her feet touched down on the other side, she ran along the hedges, trying to keep sight of the car as it pulled to a stop just outside of the front door.
The driver got out of the car and moved to the rear passenger door. Buffy crouched behind a bush and peered around the side of it. She wondered if it was Giles' father in the car and if he'd look very much like her Watcher. She found herself holding her breath when she realized that the man who had just exited the car was in fact Quentin Travers. For the first time since she arrived in England, she was glad she hadn't brought her crossbow with her. Her current vantage point might have very well proved too tempting with her favorite flying fatality launcher in hand.
Travers ascended the front steps and knocked. A dignified looking man in a nice suit greeted him and allowed him admittance. The driver leaned against the hood of the car and unfolded a newspaper to read.
Sighing, Buffy settled on the ground behind the bush. Making sure she still had a clear line of sight to the front door and the driver, she pulled a slightly abused granola bar from her jacket pocket, tore open the wrapper, and began the process of waiting.
******
Rupert Giles pushed his grandmother's wheelchair along an uneven stone-paved path behind the mansion. He stopped to open a gate to let them through to another section of the grounds. It was overgrown with ivy and wildflowers but enough wooden and metal equipment peaked out from beneath the greenery to identify it as a training course. Giles continued to assist Juliana along the path toward a wooden structure that stood before three great mounds of dirt.
Once there, he parked her chair, putting the brakes on. "All right here?"
"Of course dear." She handed him a key. He took it from her and began to walk toward the wood rail that stood just before the mounds. Adjacent to the rail was a narrow cabinet. He used the key to unlock it and pulled from its confines a large white rectangle with a human silhouette printed on it. Locking the door again and pocketing the key, he made his way to the rail. With great effort, he pried apart a rain-rusted clip on the rail just enough to pinch the thin edge of the target and hold it in place.
On his way back to his grandmother, Giles noted with a smile that Juliana had already retrieved the rifle he'd brought from the satchel on the back of her chair and was making sure it was properly loaded and in good firing condition.
"Everything in good order Colonel?"
She arched an eyebrow at him before handing over the firearm. "Just mind yourself there young man. Stop making fun of your old Gran and show me what you're made of."
He bent to take the gun and gave her a kiss on the cheek before he straightened and moved away a few feet to line himself up with his target. He took a deep breath, raising the rifle and nestling the weapons' butt against his shoulder. As he slowly squeezed the trigger, his thoughts momentarily drifted off to the fact that he'd never once shown Buffy how to use a real gun. The crossbow had been the extent of their projectile weapons training. There was still so much he could have shown her. The shell took a half circle out of the lower left corner of the rectangle but came nowhere close to the human-shaped form.
"Concentrate on your target boy. You're not going to hit anything doing it that way. Well, certainly not what you're aiming at."
Giles turned a mock angry eye toward his Grandmother, who was grinning ear to ear. "I'll have you know I hold several medals in marksmanship."
"Yes my love, and all of them silver."
"Well, silver is much more practical in our line of work anyway." He again leveled the rifle at the silhouette in the distance.
"Are you going to make excuses all afternoon or are you going to fire?" He took a calming breath and began to squeeze the trigger. "How is Buffy with firearms?"
Giles pulled the trigger and missed the target by several yards. He put the rifle down on the ground and sighed. "I give up."
"Always so stubborn my love."
"All right, all right. You win Gran. I do love Buffy. But it doesn't matter now. I can't ever see her again, and I know she didn't feel that way toward me. And even if she had before, I'm sure she was so hurt by my leaving that she wouldn't feel that way anymore." Juliana smiled at her grandson. "What is it now you wicked woman?" he said, grinning at her.
"You said you know Buffy didn't love you in return and then began dreaming up consequences to your leaving in case she did happen to love you, which means in fact you don't know at all. You assumed she couldn't love you, and then pussyfooted around until now you don't know if your chance may be gone."
"That I do know Gran. I've lost her forever."
She patted his hand. "While there's life, there's hope my darling. Wait and see, wait and see."
******
Wesley sat next to Willow on a bench in Weatherly Park. "So, any word from Xander?"
She shrugged and itched a finger under the blonde wig she wore. "Not really. I mean, it's not like he isn't speaking to me outright. He's just being all Mr. Mopey."
"He's still upset with you?"
"A little. He'll get over it. He's just really worried right now. And I think he wishes that he could have been the one Slayerized instead of me."
"Ah."
"Oh not that he's jealous I don't think. Just that, he's always kinda felt like he would be really good at being a superhero if it wasn't for the average strength, good chance at being killed part of it. And I know he'd rather it was him in danger than me. He worries."
Wesley smiled. "So you've said."
She smiled back. "Sorry. I don't think I'm thinking straight right now. My head itches like this wig is made of poison ivy and I don't know how Buffy walks in these pants, let alone fights."
"Well, not that you don't look becoming as a blonde but I at least prefer you as you are." Willow blushed a little and tilted her head shyly. "Unfortunately, it is best to convince anyone coming across the Slayer of Sunnydale that it is in fact Buffy. It will keep her excursion hidden longer, and also, when you go back to just being Willow, no one will be after you for having been the Slayer."
"I hadn't thought of that really."
"And as for fighting in tight pants, you'll be surprised at how easy it can be. And it's practical as well. If your enemy can't get their hold of the loose material, they have at least one less maneuver they can try against you."
"You've fought in tight pants before?" She grinned.
Now it was his turn to bow his head a little. "Um...well... yes."
"I guess you'll have to show me how sometime."
His eyes met hers, sizing up the dare, trying to ascertain how serious she was. He smiled slowly and with more confidence than she had ever seen in him, simply replied. "It's a date."
******
Keeping an eye on the house, Buffy nibbled on her granola treat. She was trying to think positively. Even though Wes had said it was unlikely that Giles would go to his parents, she couldn't help picturing him in there. She liked the idea that he was simply a few feet away and all she had to do was wait for Travers to leave before they would be reunited and she could get everything sorted out between them.
Even she had to smile at her own naive stupidity then. Since when was anything between them uncomplicated enough to sort out in a few minutes? Especially when their last few days together had been so clearly veering from the safe familiar terrain of their normal relationship and into something more mature and intimate. They had both realized it was happening, both taking things easy to see if the other would speak up and put a halt to the natural progression. But neither one had. If anything, it had gone further, becoming an outright flirtation. Then all of this happened.
Buffy crumpled the snack wrapper in her hand and put it in her pocket. No. Now wasn't the time to doubt herself. The last phone call with Giles, her own instincts, everything pointed to his disappearance being involuntary. She had to believe in that the same way that she believed she would be with him again soon.
The door to the mansion opened and Quentin Travers stepped out. The driver quickly folded his newspaper away and went to open the back door for him. The two exchanged a few words, though Buffy wasn't close enough to make them out, and then Travers got into the vehicle.
As the driver got in and started the motor up, Buffy's heart began to beat faster. She was so close now. Giles very well might be just behind that door. The car started back down the path it had come from and Buffy had to restrain herself from bounding out of her hiding spot and running up to the porch. All of it would be for nothing if Travers knew she was there.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car had passed the gates, left the grounds, and driven off into the distance to where Buffy could just barely make it out. Taking a calming breath, Buffy stood up behind the bush and walked confidently to the front door. She wrapped her comparatively small hand around the large knocker there and rapped twice. She could hear echoing footsteps approaching from within and smoothed down her hair and her jacket front.
The door opened and the same dignified man she saw earlier stood before her, his expression impassive. She took a deep breath and smiled. "Hi. I'm here to see Mr. and Mrs. Giles. My name is Buffy Summers."
Recognition registered on his face, "The Slayer?"
She nodded. "That's me."
He stood back, holding the door open for her. "Right this way Miss."
Buffy was a little leery that it could be so easy, but the promise that Giles could be inside drew her forward into the house.
******
Giles stood in his Grandmother's drawing room. When they'd returned from the firing range, he had taken Juliana upstairs and helped her to bed for her afternoon nap. He had come to this room to lose himself in one of the many volumes that lined the shelves. Quiet moments led to an uninterrupted stream of thoughts about Buffy. And that was almost more than he could bear right now. His finger trailed along the leather spines until he found something interesting.
He took the book from the shelf and blew a thin layer of dust from the cover. Of the many volumes authored by his great-grandfather, this was one he had always passed over in his youth. In fact, he couldn't ever remember reading it. He had read his ancestor's journals and supernatural texts. He had never seemed to find the time to read his one and only fictional novel.
Giles sat, opening the book to the front page. He read the dedication out loud. "To my beloved Amelia. When the night becomes too dark, I come home to your golden hair and emerald eyes and all is well." He exhaled. He knew it had been written about his great-grandmother a good 90 years before he was born, but it might as well have been written about Buffy. It seemed that even this progenitor was as eager to drive his thoughts back to Buffy as his grandmother was. Giving himself up to whatever his ancestor had to communicate to him through this story, he turned the page and began to read.
******
Willow sighed and jumped up to sit on the graveyard wall. "You know, somehow when Buffy's doing this, it seems so much more exciting."
Wesley leaned against the wall beside her. "You're not having a good time?"
She looked at him questioningly. "Patrol is about having a good time?"
"Well... no not really. I just meant, you're not enjoying the company?"
"OH! No! No Wes it's not that. I'm having a lot of fun just talking to you. Really! I just... thought I'd be slaying something as a Slayer. That's all I meant."
"Ah, feeling a little restless?"
"Yeah, something like that I guess."
"Well I can understand that. With the power comes the instincts. And the instincts are especially active in places such as... well this." He gestured to the cemetery before them. "But I'm happy to be here with you Willow. I tried to patrol with Buffy, but unless Giles was invited along, I wasn't wanted either."
"That didn't have anything to do with you Wesley, you know that don't you? It wasn't because you were a bad Watcher or anything, it was just because... well Buffy and Giles are... sort of their own little unit. Two heads, one heart kind of thing. You should be on the sidelines when it's just the two of them in battle. It's like choreography. They know each other so well. I mean, Xander and I have been a part of that at times... but not like the way those two move with each other."
"I never stood a chance eh?"
She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "No one ever could have. And I'm sorta glad. Now I get my very own Watcher and I get to break him in personally."
He arched an eyebrow. "Virgin terrain?"
She flushed pink. "Uh... Wesley."
"Yes?"
"Behind you!"
******
The butler entered the sitting room where a woman sat doing needlepoint in a high-backed antique-looking chair. "My Lady. May I present Miss Summers. The Slayer." Instantly, the woman put her craftwork to the side, stood up and walked toward them.
Buffy could tell right away that this could only be Giles' mother. Her hair was a steel gray and Buffy guessed it was probably quite a dark colored brown when she was younger. The few shallow lines on her face seemed to center around her mouth and the corners of her eyes, telling of a face aged with laughter. Knowing the kind of life this woman must have seen with both husband and son in the slaying game, she imagined she must have a very good disposition. She could already feel herself liking her.
"Miss Summers?" The woman smiled warmly.
Buffy returned it. "Buffy please."
She nodded. "Buffy then. I am honored to meet you." She took Buffy's hand in hers.
"Are you Giles' Mom?"
"I am."
Buffy smiled. "Then I'm the one who's honored Mrs...uh Lady Giles." She and Giles really were going to have to have a long talk.
"Sarah."
"Sarah," Buffy said.
"Did you bring our Rupert with you?"
With that one question, Buffy felt as though all the air in her lungs had suddenly evaporated. "You...you mean he isn't here? He hasn't been here?"
"No dear."
Tears pricked at Buffy's eyes. "Oh."
Sarah Giles put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders and led her toward the divan. "Charles," she looked to the butler. "Fetch my husband please."
"But, His Lordship asked that he not be..."
"Charles, this is the Slayer. No amount of Council paperwork is as important as the girl the Council exists to support! Now tell him to come down at once!"
"Right away My Lady."
Buffy forced a weak smile and looked into Sarah's warm brown eyes. "Giles is a lot like you, you know?"
"I'd like to think so," she said as Giles' grin broke out on her face.
"No I mean it. Your son is wonderful, do you know that? He's taken such good care of me."
"I'm very proud to hear that Buffy."
"Sarah, what's going on?" A male voice drifted into the room before its owner appeared. "Charles was muttering something about..." He stopped when he saw Buffy. "Miss Summers?"
Both women stood. Sarah moved to her husband's side. "Buffy, this is Rupert's father. Oliver Giles."
"Hi." The way Giles always avoided speaking of his father, she had really expected him to be a very stern, older version of her Watcher. She wasn't expecting the kind-faced man that stood before her. Because it wasn't how she pictured him, she felt even more trepidation about taking this man into her confidence.
"Please sit down."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll stand thanks."
"Can we get you some tea? Something to eat? You've come such a long way."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't come that long way to sit down for a snack. I came for Giles."
Oliver sat with a sigh of disappointment. "He ran off on you, did he?"
"Oliver!" Mrs. Giles left no doubt that had she been within striking distance he would have been sporting a slapped arm.
Buffy was indignant. "Only because he was forced to."
"I don't understand. Are you trying to tell me Rupert was... abducted?"
"You mean, you didn't order him to abandon me?"
"Certainly not. Watchers are only removed from their Slayer in cases of gross misconduct. And no matter what my son may have done in the past, there are certain things I would never believe about him."
"Gross misconduct meaning?"
"Well, placing one's Slayer in unnecessary harm. Forcing unwanted romantic feelings upon her..."
"So you really didn't take him away?"
"Of course not."
"Lord Giles?" Boy did that sound wrong. "I need you to answer me something truthfully."
"Yes?"
"Were you aware that the Slayer test had been reinstated?"
A look of horror came across the elder Giles' face. "I would never have sanctioned that."
Finally, Buffy sat beside Mrs. Giles. "Then I think we need to have a little talk about a friend of yours. Quentin Travers."
******
Willow grabbed Wes by the arms and shoved him behind her as three large male vampires loomed into view. Before he could say a word, Willow had a stake secured in her hands and had leapt into the fray. Wesley too procured a stake from his pocket, ready to back her up should the need arise. Until she needed him though, he didn't want to distract her by getting in the way. He decided to do as his title instructed, and watch.
He may not have been welcome on patrol with Buffy, but that didn't mean he'd never seen her fight. He had. He'd seen Faith fight as well. Patrolling with Buffy may have shown Willow the moves, and Faith may have loaned her the power, but she was unique. Buffy's fighting style spoke of her training. Perfectly executed moves that married Giles' endless hours of instruction with her own innate agility. Faith was a barroom brawler with a little finesse thrown in. Willow fought as though she'd been ambushed in an ally and she was sparring for her life.
Within seconds, she had staked one vampire. Using the surprise of the other two against them, she jumped on one, taking him to the ground and struggling for an opening to stake him. When she could, she spared a kick to the vampire still standing. Trying to keep him away until she was ready to take him on.
A hard knee to the stomach allowed Willow the room to flip her opponent off of her. She pushed up into a backbend and flipped up until she was over the vampire she'd been fighting with. Before he could get his bearings, she had driven the stake through his heart.
She stood, but before Wesley could warn her, the remaining vampire had grasped her by the hair. As he pulled, the wig she wore came off in his hand. As Willow scrambled to get out of his grasp, he made another grab at her, this time getting a firm grip of her natural red locks. He closed his grip, his fingernails slicing a deep gash into her forehead. Expecting her to struggle, he was thrown off when she simply dropped all her weight down. Her hair slid through his fingers until she landed on her bottom on the ground. When she did, she lay back and stabbed the stake into the vampire's ankle. She did a backwards somersault through his legs to get out of his way as he fell down.
She jumped to her feet, standing over him. He made a swipe for her legs, which she deftly dodged, presenting him with a kick to the face for his trouble. When he started to crawl away, she kicked him in the back until he flattened out. Then she dropped to a kneel on top of him and quickly brought the stake down. She stood as he crumbled into dust.
Breathing heavily from the exertion, she looked up to make sure that Wesley was unharmed. He stood safely a few feet away, picking leaves out of her discarded wig. His eyes met hers and she shrugged. As she made her way over to him, she reached up and began removing the bobby pins from her hair.
Wesley smirked at her. "No witty banter?"
"With one you get witty banter. With three, you stake and ask questions later." She brought her hand up the bleeding cut on her forehead. "Ow."
"Yes, well, I have to say you were magnificent. Let's go back to Giles' and I'll get that cut cleaned up."
He put his arm around her shoulders and offered her a handkerchief to hold to the wound. She smiled up at him. "Magnificent huh?"
"Entirely. And we'll work on your banter later."
******
Juliana wheeled herself into the drawing room. Giles looked up at her arrival and put his book away. "Did you have a nice nap?"
She smiled at him. "I sleep too much. One day soon I'm going to lay down and I won't wake up and I'll wonder why I slept so much of my remaining days away."
He frowned. "Don't say things like that. You're perfectly healthy. Aren't you?"
"Yes my love, I am. So my doctor says at least. But I'm also 90 years old. It's not a wild exaggeration."
He rose and walked behind her chair. Leaning down he wrapped his arms around her. "I don't like to think about it."
She smiled and patted his arm with her hand. "I wouldn't think you'd be uncomfortable at the thought of a natural death."
"When it's my Gran I am. And death is death. It means never seeing that person again. And the thought of never being able to see you again is not something I enjoy."
"All right. I didn't mean to upset you. We'll speak of something else."
He kissed her cheek. "Thank you." He let go and sat in the chair closest to her.
"Tell me more about your Buffy then."
He couldn't help a grin. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire."
"Now indulge me boy. My eyes are too bad for romance novels. I have to get my thrills where I can."
He broke out laughing, as she had hoped he would. "What you're asking for would be more of a romance pamphlet. There have always been ambiguously hopeful glances, and touches, and... moments. And lately, it seemed as though it was surely heading into more. But that's over now."
"Only until you find a way to solve this problem of Travers."
"I don't think there is a way to solve it. And even if I did, who am I kidding? This whole mess is a sign Gran."
"What nonsense!"
"I'm too old for her for a start."
"Don't be foolish Rupert. You're hardly ready for the rest home yet. And you know, my father was quite a bit older than my mother when they married. And even older when they had me."
He smiled. He'd wondered why she hadn't mentioned the book he'd been reading. Now he knew. "Yes, but it didn't hurt that your father was something akin to a god. No Watcher in his right mind would have objected to his daughter marrying him. And, I'm sure your mother was no less awestruck."
"Yes, my father was very handsome even the day he died. But, you are more so my dear. And you are no less a god in many people's eyes."
Giles was quite pink now, and trying not to laugh. "I think you'll find no shrines to my deification on any of the 7 continents."
"No? Whatever Travers may have done, I still hear things from Watcher's circles. Buffy is one of the oldest Slayers of record. And none that lived to be her age had half of her battle experience. You have become the brilliant Watcher your father and I always knew you would be. There are so many in the academy who wish to model themselves after you."
He shook his head. "I'm no role model."
"Rupert, won't you just call your father?"
"Gran... I can't risk it. I'm sorry." He sighed and stood up.
"All right Dear. Calm yourself. We won't speak of it any further today."
"Thank you."
"But I make no promises about tomorrow." They exchanged smiles. "So, tell me what you've been doing with yourself, outside of your Watcherly duties, since being a librarian."
He leaned against the wall. "I took a good long while off... perhaps too long. And then..."
"Yes?"
"I had a sort of recurring thing at a local coffee house."
"Doing?"
"Well, singing...and playing guitar."
Her eyes lit up at that. "You've started playing again?"
He smiled at her. "I never really stopped. But recently I've been doing it a lot more."
"Did you bring your guitar with you?" He nodded. She smiled at him. "Well my child, are you going to make me beg you?"
He walked to the stairs. "I'll be right back."
******
Oliver Giles sat heavily, letting what Buffy had told him sink in. "I find this all very hard to accept."
Buffy looked to Mrs. Giles, who seemed as disturbed by the situation as she herself was. "I am telling you this as the Slayer. I'm risking a lot by doing it. Maybe even my life. I've come to you because I don't feel like I have any other choice. But I'm trusting you based on the honor of your son. Now, as I said, I can't prove that Travers made Giles leave, but I've told you what he's done to the both of us in the past, and the evidence I based my conclusion on. Do you believe me?"
Oliver exhaled. "I understand that you believe what you've just told me to be true, however I need to investigate this further. In the meantime, you must keep out of sight."
"Thanks. But I have to find Giles."
"It may not be safe."
"With all due respect Sir, I'm the Slayer. Safe wasn't in the contract. Please, do you know where Giles would go?"
He looked to his wife who nodded in return. "I can't be completely sure, because he hasn't contacted me at all, but rather than come here, he would likely go to my mother's. Rupert and his Grandmother have always enjoyed a closeness that I never could seem to achieve with my son."
Buffy smiled understandingly. "Well Giles can be... stubborn."
"You don't say," he grinned in return.
"Wonder where he gets that from," Sarah said as she held her husband's gaze.
"Can you give me directions?"
"I can have Charles take you there."
Buffy stood. "No. Thanks but no. I'd feel safer getting there on my own."
Oliver nodded. "I understand. Sarah, can you draw her a map? I need to find out just what Travers has been up to."
"Certainly." Sarah rose and placed her hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I'll get you directions, a map and a torch. I'll have Charles see if any of the bicycles in the shed are still serviceable. And we'll make a stop in the kitchen before you go so that you can collect some food to take with you."
On their way out the door, Oliver's voice stopped them. "Buffy, if you find Rupert at my mother's, tell him to stay put, and you stay with him. It's out of the way and you'll both be safe there."
"And if he's not there?"
"Then unless my mother knows where he's gone, you stay there and get hold of me. We'll find Rupert somehow but not by putting you in danger to do it."
She nodded. "Okay. And thanks."
Sarah escorted her out of the room. Oliver ran a hand back through his hair and exhaled. After a moment of silence, he walked to the phone, picked it up and began to dial. "Yes, this is Oliver Giles. I need to speak with Quentin Travers. It's urgent."
******
"Wes, I'm fine. I've got Slayer healing now remember? Won't even be a scratch by tomorrow."
"Yes and your Slayer healing will have a much easier time of it if you'd just let me clean and bandage this cut properly."
Finally Willow quieted and Wesley gently swabbed the antiseptic over the angry red gash. His warm hand trailed behind on the uninjured skin below the cut, soothing with its contact. He carefully applied the bandage and met her eyes.
"Okay, confess. You only made such a fuss so that you could cuddle my forehead." She was joking.
Wes was serious. He smiled warmly, one finger tracing down the length of her nose. "Shh, don't tell anybody."
She gulped, aware that she couldn't seem to take her eyes from his but also couldn't think of anything to say to break the moment's intensity. At least, nothing that wouldn't add to the intensity.
Just then, the phone rang. Wesley smiled, stroking her cheek with the back of his finger as he walked to the desk to answer it. Willow exhaled in relief.
"Hello?" He paused. "No, no this isn't Rupert Giles, this is his brother."
Willow looked up questioningly. She couldn't imagine who he could be talking to that would require that particular fib.
"What?" Wesley seemed to stop breathing for a moment. "Yes. Yes I see. Th-thank you." He hung up the phone and turned to face Willow with a somber expression.
"What?"
He moved to her slowly, sitting beside her on the sofa. Gently, he took her hands in his own. "Willow."
"Was it Buffy? Did something happen to Giles? Did Buffy get hurt? Wes you're scaring me to death! What is it?"
"Willow, that was the hospital..."
"Oh God, Xander! Is-is he okay? We should get down there. He's allergic to penicillin and..."
"It's not Xander, Willow."
"Then?" Confusion swam in her deep green eyes.
"It's Faith. She's...passed on."
"What?"
"Faith's dead Willow."
The redhead paused to take that information in. Then her eyes met Wesley's again. "No."
"I'm afraid so Love," he said quietly. "There's no one to give the power back to anymore. You are now a real Slayer."
Willow Rosenburg, hacker goddess, dean's list student, Wicca prodigy and the latest inheritor of the title "Chosen One" promptly passed out in her Watcher's arms.
******
Giles settled in a large chair opposite his grandmother. "I've only just learnt this song so it may not be very good yet." He took a few seconds to make sure the strings were in tune, then began a brush strum and closed his eyes.
"Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds, dreaming aloud. Things just won't do without you, matter of fact. I'm on your back.
"If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you.
"If you'd accept surrender, give up some more. Weren't you adored? I cannot be without you, matter of fact. I'm on your back.
"If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you. Another heart is cracked in two. I'm on your back..."
A knock on the door interrupted the private performance and Giles leaned the guitar against the chair. He rose and walked to the door. As he opened it, his breath caught at the sight of his Slayer, smiling at him on the other side.
The End