The Prodigal Son

Chapter one: The Winds Change

I own nothing blah blah blah… okay on with the story

            A bright, crisp November day, Saturday the 24th to be precise, it was nothing special.  Indeed, nothing out of the ordinary, it proved to be quite a routine day for one Rupert Giles, of Sunnydale California. Routine was something in which he took great comfort these days, no surprises just the ordinary humdrum is a much hoped for relief, as anyone who works in close proximity with teenagers will agree. Yet, this day had one secret, one trick to play on the unsuspecting librarian, a phone call.

~ ~ ~ ~

Giles had sequestered himself in his study for a day of translating and categorizing a dozen or so of his newly acquired Etruscan parchments and tablets, most dating back around the 4th century B.C. In fact, so engrossed was he in his academic toil, that he barely registered that the desk phone was ringing incessantly demanding that he answer it. Regretfully, he tore his gaze from his labor of love and glanced at the clock, 8:45 it read.

'hmm I should answer, it might be Buffy. She might need some help with a new kind of demon or something or other. So much for my uneventful day' he sighed, raised his hand and answered the phone.

"Hello"

"Rupert old boy! How've you been managing up in Sunnydale?"

Giles blinked. Hearing the voice of Quinton Travers on the other end was not what he had expected.

"Rupert…Giles you still there old boy?"

"Ahem yes… yes Quinton I'm here, didn't expect I'd be hearing from you anytime soon…actually I never expected to hear from you."

" Come now Rupert can't a chap look in on an old friend once in a while?"

Quinton was never a man to beat about the bush with pleasantries nor was he one to stall, something must be brewing back in merry old England or else he wouldn't have taken the time to personally call.

" Oh undoubtedly, however, in your case I'd say no. Either you've gone daft, your drunk (especially to be calling at 4:45am London time) or you've got some trouble to dump on Buffy and I, and knowing you as I do 'old friend' I'd settle on the latter. So out with it and no games today please Quinton."

Quinton sighed "Well Rupert your right…and your wrong."

Silence.

Giles was about to prod him to explain his latest riddle when Quinton finally spoke again.

"Yes, in a manor of speaking I have good news, however…I'm sure this good news will cause you a great deal of trouble and vexation if I dare say and…"

Impatient Giles cut him off. "Will you get to the bloody point man!"

Quinton heaved another sigh. " Rupert he's coming back"

Immediately Giles' mind kicked into red alert. "What! Who Quinton? Who is coming back? Is it Doyle? Is it…"

"It's William, Rupert"

"William?!"

"Yes William…your son William."

" I haven't forgotten my own son Quinton…It's just…unforeseen. He wasn't due to return home till June of next year, that is if he wasn't attending University there…" He trailed off.

Silence hung between them for several seconds or perhaps it was minutes, he couldn't tell.

"Quinton…"

 He spoke slowly, fearful of the forthcoming response. His gut clenched, his hands poured sweat, his study seem to shrink and blur as it closed in around him. Every sound, every whisper, every vibration magnified ten fold. His heart thundered in his chest, his every breath his lungs drew was a tempest as he awaited news that his instincts insisted could be nothing but horrendous.

"…what happened."

"I am sorry Rupert, but I must regretfully inform you that William Randal Giles has been expelled from St. George's Academy and Conservatory of the Arts."

"Wha…what! How could…I mean… why…BLOODY HELL!" Giles was flabbergasted beyond coherent thought. It just wasn't plausible; his William would never…

"Calm down Rupert"

"I am calm dammit! How in God's name did this happen Quinton!"

" Rupert this is an issue of a sensitive nature and I will only briefly touch upon it tonight as that was not my purpose in calling. I rang you up tonight to inform you that early tomorrow you will receive you son's effects, in addition to a copy of his academic record and transcripts…And that International flight 101 flying non-stop from England will be carrying your son. Its arrival time is 6:15pm at gate E on the North Satellite."

" Oh Lord… I suppose I'll have to arrange for him to finish out his junior year at Sunnydale High, or at least until I can find a suitable replacement for St. George…"

" Rupert I'll contact you on Monday and we can discuss everything."

"Oh, yes of course…was there a hearing of the Academic Board regarding the circumstances of his expulsion."

"Uhmm…No, there was no hearing by the Board, no Dean reviewed his case I handled it personally myself…as I mentioned the situation is sensitive, everything was done quietly and quickly. Rupert go slow with the lad when he arrives…what I mean to say is that its been a little over 4 years now and, well, to be frank with you he doesn't want to go back."

"Oh…I see" By now Giles was furiously cleaning his classes.

"Listen he needs a father right now, he needs you Rupert but I can guarantee he won't be willing. I can also guarantee he's not the same boy you sent to my Academy."

" Well yes, that was the dashed point now wasn't it, for him to grow and mature in ways he never could in the restrictive public school environment he was in."

" All I ask is that you're prepared. Did you catch all the flight info?"

"Yes, yes, International 101 6:15 gate E North Satellite."

" Right then, I'll ring you up on Monday evening a give you all the gory details."

"Goodnight Quinton."

"Goodnight Rupert."

Yet, for Rupert Giles the night would be a whirl of phone calls and arrangements. Dear Lord a son whom he had barely spoken to in years was arriving home tomorrow oh what to do.

~ ~ ~ ~

Quinton Travers hung up his phone.

" So you're fix'n ta tell him everything then mate."

The Speaker was a young man garbed head to toe in black; most would think him gothic except for his sharply contrasting platinum head. Quinton swiveled his chair to gaze at his smirking audience member.

"In regards to your little fall from grace, yes, I will tell him everything…after all he is your father he does deserve to know the truth."

The boy just rolled his eyes in disdain. " Hardly…look if you mean to tell him what I know…"

"No, that is for you to tell him when…" Noticing the boy's glare amended "or if you choose; however, watch your back over there. It may still seem to be that sleepy town from your past, but Sunnydale is no mere town; it has a dangerous undertow and I would hate for you to be sucked in."

The boy gave a silent nod of agreement.

"Well" he said rising from his chair " I won't keep you…may we meet again and in different circumstances."

"Perhaps, if I can escape this Hell hole your sending me to."

Now it was Quinton's turn to glare

"I'm sending you home, remember that."

" Yeah whatever mate." And with that the youth turned on his heal and exited.

 Quinton reclined once more in his chair. Rupert was going to receive the shock of his life tomorrow.

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Okay that's chapter one, oh and just to drop a hint St. George's is run by the Watchers Council and it is where Giles and Quinton attended, met and where subsequently recruited by the Council…..Everyone is human except Buffy is still the slayer and obviously Giles her watcher. London time is about 8 hrs ahead of LA time