CHAPTER NINE: ENGLAND
Rupert Giles sat at the counter of the local tavern, nursing a beer, savouring the taste. It was one of the few good things about being back in England. The beers here were far better than any American swill that he had tried in his six-year stay. He took a large gulp, trying not to think about home. Home. That's what it was. He'd lived in England for forty years and in California for six, but he knew that California would always be home to him. Lord how he missed them. He missed her.
He sometimes woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming that he'd left, that he'd walked away. Then when he woke up properly, he'd realise that he had. He still couldn't believe he'd left her. He hated himself some days. He hadn't spoken to her since he'd left, even though all he wanted to do was pick up the phone and call her, make certain she was alright.
Anya was keeping him informed, calling him once a week to keep him updated about the Magic Box. He'd ask about the gang, and Anya would go through what everyone was up to, starting with Xander and ending with Buffy.
He was so proud of his Slayer. She seemed to be doing so much better, and part of him rejoiced that he had been right about her pulling her socks up once he had left. It still seemed cruel though. He should have stayed in Sunnydale, but pulled back from her. Throwing her into the deep end of the pool with a suit of armour on hadn't been the best way to deal with it. Shock therapy. It had worked though. So, why did he feel so miserable about it?
"Mind if I sit down?"
Giles looked to his right and held back a groan. He had wondered when he would run into his old friend.
"Ethan," he greeted coolly.
Ethan scowled at Giles and sat down beside him, ordering a drink from the barman before turning his attention back to Giles.
"Good to see you back in the mother country mate," he said with a grin, patting Giles on the back hard just as he took another sip of his drink, causing Giles to almost choke on the liquid.
"Wish I could say the same to you," Giles replied.
"Is that anyway to greet an old friend, Ripper? Especially one that's got some info you might be after," Ethan said. His grin was a mile wide. He loved having information that Giles didn't have. Torturing the man was almost as fun as having Giles back at his side.
"What do you want Ethan?" Giles asked, his tolerance for the older man nearly shot. He was tired and definitely not in the mood to be playing games.
"Just got some info for ya, like I said."
"I'm guessing that this information will come at a price," Giles said.
"Well guessed old chum," Ethan replied, still smiling.
Giles rolled his eyes and stood up, ready to leave. Part of him really didn't care what Ethan had to tell him, while the other part was desperate to know. It wasn't often that Ethan would come to him unless it was for something important.
"Hold on Ripp," Ethan said, grabbing Giles arm to stop him from leaving. "You'll want to hear this. Trust me."
"I wouldn't trust you if my life depended on it," he replied.
He yanked his arm free and went to walk out.
"What if it was your Slayer's life that depended on it?"
That stopped Giles short. He turned around to see Ethan grinning like a Cheshire cat. He walked back to the bar and sat down.
"I'm listening."
"Knew that would get yer attention."
"Just get on with it Ethan," Giles said, his voice low and threatening.
"Alright, alright," Ethan replied, holding his hands up as a signal of peace. "Yer girl's sick, mate."
Giles heart leapt into his throat. He knew he shouldn't be trusting Ethan at all, but hearing about his Slayer made him lose all reason.
"From what?"
"No one's exactly sure what causes the Slayers to go loco…they just do," Ethan said vaguely.
Giles looked at his old friend, his eyes narrowed.
"And why are you telling me this. I thought you hated her," Giles said.
Ethan shrugged and gave a small grin. "She's quite a looker mate."
Giles eyes flashed and he stood up before Ethan knew what was happening. Giles hands were around Ethan's throat before Ethan could even move away from his old friend.
"Don't give me more of a reason to kill you."
He let go and Ethan grabbed at his throat to try and get the feeling back into it. He swallowed hard a few times and sat back down, drinking the rest of his beer in a single gulp.
"Alright, alright, geez Ripp, calm down. She's not a bad kid, she's got spunk. That and…I saw what happened to you when she died. It wasn't fun," Ethan said seriously.
Giles too could remember when he had first come back to England. The first night he had drowned his sorrows in the same tavern. Ethan had come in again and Giles had all but broken down and told Ethan everything. He had restrained himself, but Ethan had guessed what had been wrong with him.
"I'm telling you this cos none of those Council bastards are going to tell you. They're in an uproar cos she's back," Ethan explained.
Giles gave a small laugh. "They weren't too impressed when I told them what had happened."
"They never much liked you," Ethan said with a grin. "Or her. She was too much like you for their tastes."
"She was the first Slayer to quit the Council," Giles said proudly. "Probably the only one to have had three chances at life as well."
"Point is," Ethan continued, "The Council's not about to tell you that you're girl has something pretty serious wrong with 'er. If they let her go, they're solving two problems at once."
Giles looked at his old friend, surprised by the compassion in Ethan's voice. It wasn't often that Ethan had anything other than contempt in his voice. It was strangely eerie.
"What problems? And what do you mean let her go?"
Ethan hesitated but decided to lay it down plainly.
"She's dying Ripp," he said softly.
Giles felt his world collapse around him. He tried to stay calm but Ethan didn't miss the way his flushed cheeks paled and the way his green eyes flashed dangerously.
"And as much as I hate to admit this, cos I really don't feel like being strangled to death…it's your fault."
Giles swallowed hard, trying to process this information with as much dignity as was possible for a man who wanted to destroy everything in sight.
"What's wrong with her?" his voice was tight, small, almost impossible to hear over the din of noise from the rest of the patrons in the bar.
"You're not there, that's what's wrong," Ethan replied.
Giles sighed. "I had to leave. It was for her own good. She knows that."
"She does know that Ripp. Deep inside, she does know. But that's not what's wrong. She's not getting hurt on patrols or anything like that. She's sick Rupes. Physically sick," Ethan explained.
"How is it my fault then?"
Ethan slipped Giles a piece of paper with two names and two dates written down.
"Have a look at these girls diaries. You'll work it out. But, I'm telling you this for yer own good, cos the Council certainly ain't gonna tell you. You need to go home. If you want her to stay alive…you've gotta be there. She's not gonna last the week without you there."
With that, Ethan stood up and left, leaving Giles staring at the slip of paper in his hand. Leila Rado (1804-1805) and Sarah Jacob (1912-1914)
With a heavy heart, he stood up and walked outside, the cool night air hitting him and making him slightly more sober.
For now, he had some reading to do.