The disclaimer was stolen by gnomes.
Rupert Giles, Watcher, High School Librarian, Englishman and secret rock god was pacing his flat trying to figure out how exactly he had ended up with a vampire in his basement. One that he despised, no less.
Xander's punch had knocked Angel off of Buffy, and his follow-up kick had driven the vampire into a gravestone. Giles had lowered his crossbow, the two of them were too close for him to take a shot, and turned to Buffy. She was kneeling on the ground, looking like her heart had been torn out, and he realized that she was in no state to try and deal with this at this time. He knew that her makeshift therapy sessions with young Mr. Osborne had been going well, but something like this was still a terrible blow to her mind.
Giles was drawn out of his rumination as he dodged a flying axe, and re-focused his attention on the fight. He was mildly surprised to see Xander not only had the upper hand, but was quite easily keeping it. Six months ago, these two had clashed with Xander managing to hang on to consciousness for all of ten seconds, but apparently the addition of a summer of training and the channeled spirit of a Primal made all of the difference. Well, that and the trip through Hell didn't seem to have done the vampire any good.
A brutal uppercut staggered Angel, and the follow-up left jab-right hook dropped him to the ground where he lay, unmoving. Xander's eyes glowed gold as he snarled and pulled a stake from his jacket. As he stepped toward the fallen vampire, he was stopped by Buffy's scream.
"NO!"
While Buffy certainly had mixed feelings about seeing her ex who had gone crazy and she had sent to hell, she also knew that she needed to talk to him. She tried to stand, but found that her legs still wouldn't support her.
Xander bared his teeth at the blond slayer before stepping back towards the downed vampire. Buffy knew that neither she nor Giles could possibly stop him in time, even if Giles were the least bit inclined to do so. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the man she had loved die again.
"Step back Boy-Toy. I ain't 'zactly sure what's goin' on, but 'till I am, ain't no-one getting dusted, ya feel me?"
Buffy's eyes shot open to see Faith standing between Xander and the fallen vampire. The brunette was breathing hard, like she had just finished a hard run, and was staring down Xander. He tried to step around her, but Faith stepped with him. Xander's nostril's flared, and he canted his head to the side, sniffing. Faith held steady, and relaxed a hair when he dropped the stake.
"Ok, now does someone want to tell me what's goin' o-MPH!" Faith was cut off as Xander tackled her away with a yipping growl.
Giles sighed and walked over to check Angel, with some distaste. He held a cross in case the vampire was faking, but when he didn't even twitch, he pulled out a set of shackles and was binding him when Joyce ran into the clearing, puffing and panting.
"M-mom?" Buffy's voice broke as her mother didn't even break stride and wrapped her in a huge hug. The younger blond lost what control she had left and started sobbing into her mother's shoulder.
Joyce comforted her daughter, reassuring her that all was well, and she was there, and had started to get her calmed down when they faintly heard Faith.
"Dammit Boy-Toy, not the place! I may be into some kinky shit, but no graveyards for me. Why can't you be like this at home? I said NOT NOW!"
There was an unusual noise, and a few minutes later Faith, looking quite disheveled, strode back into the clearing with Xander following along behind her, holding his nose. She was grumbling something before stopping in the clearing and looking around at the scene.
"WELL? Is ANYONE goin' to tell me what th' FUCK is going on?"
A quick explanation had ensued, and resulted in Joyce taking Buffy home to cry into a pint of Rocky Road, and Xander lugging the unconscious Angel into his trunk, dropping the vampire, Giles and Faith off at Giles' place, and heading home himself.
Xander was heading back to his car after dragging Angel to Giles' basement when he noticed that Faith was leaning against the driver's side door, glaring at him.
He opened his mouth to apologize only to find it filled with her tongue. She had grabbed his lapels and swung him around to pin him to the car while giving his tonsils a firm cleaning before letting go with a glare.
Xander's mouth moved without purpose as his brain tried to find a gear.
"I am friggin' TIRED of this game, X! You like me, I like you, but every time I try to get close and get pelvic, you run off like a scared rabbit! What the FUCK! Am I not good enough for you? Is that it, I'm just some halfway house trash good enough to fight and die?"
"NO! That's not it." Xander's brain was still looking for traction, but his gut instinct was always to validate a woman's self-worth. And eat twinkies, but that's neither here nor there.
"Look, Faith, you're hotter than a forest fire, and I'd say you were worth ten of me if I didn't feel I was shortchanging you. I'm, well, I'm trying to deal with a lot of things now, and I don't think I'd be a very good boyfriend."
Faith slammed her hand onto the roof of the car, not quite hard enough to leave a dent. "I don't WANT a boyfriend, X, I want to get LAID. I haven't got any since before I left Boston, and not only does Slaying bring on the H&H, but you are such a friggin' tease! Especially tonight! Shit, Laughing boy, I would have jumped you right back if we hadn't been in one of the few places I hate! Fuck!"
Xander took a deep breath, and prayed that he didn't stick his foot in his mouth. "Look, Faith, I know what you want, but I'm just not wired for keeping things casual. And you deserve a boyfriend, someone who sees you as more that just an easy lay. You're awesome, and you should have some guy who deserves you because he sees that, and who treats you like that."
Faith punched him in the shoulder hard enough that his hand went numb for a minute. "YOU'RE THAT GUY, YOU DICK! You treat me better than any guy I've ever met! Fuck! Whatever, X, just go. I can't deal with this right now."
Faith stormed back into Giles' house, leaving a confused and worried Xander to drive home, thinking about what he should do.
Faith had slammed the door to the flat to find that Giles had heated a frozen pizza and poured her a tall glass of coke. Grabbing a slice and stuffing it into her mouth, she chased it with a long gulp of soda, then put the glass down and looked at the Brit. He nodded and looked over to the bottle on the table, labeled Johnny Walker. Before Faith could drop innuendo, as Giles knew she inevitably would, he poured himself a glass.
"No, I am not trying to get you drunk. One drink won't hurt, and you certainly seem like you could use one after tonight. Not to mention I need one if I am to explain the history behind the vampire in the basement."
Faith shrugged and continued to devour the pizza as Giles told her the story of Angelus, the gypsy curse, his time in Sunnydale, losing his soul, Alcatha, Jenny, and finally Buffy sending Angel to hell. At the end of the tale, the bottle was significantly lighter, all the pizza was gone, and Faith was more than a little amazed by the goings on in Sunnydale.
"What are we going to do with Fang anyhow? Why didn't we just straight up stake his ass? Half the shit you've said tonight is true, he's earned it. Fuck, I've got the creepies just knowing he's down there. Hell, how could B get close to this guy? Every vamp I've every dusted there was like a buzzing in the back of my head, telling me to get aggressive, and not in the naked way, y'know?"
Giles sighed. "It's a complicated question, Faith. If that is, in fact, Angelus, then I will take great pleasure in giving him some holy water tattoos before ushering him into the back yard to get a tan. If, however, that is instead Angel, then he deserves a chance. So long as it's out of town, and far, far away from Buffy. As for getting close, not all Slayers are quite the same. There is a grimoire, a book, kept at the center of operations for the Watcher's council, which details known powers for the many slayers throughout the centuries. There are some inconsistencies, some translation errors, and the odd outright lie, but while all Slayers have speed, strength, endurance and senses beyond that of a normal person, it is variable how far beyond, and what else comes with them. For instance, there was a Slayer some three hundred years ago who was able to pray for fire to consume her foes, and it would. She was drowned as a witch by superstitious villagers, possibly encouraged by local vampires, but I digress."
"…huh?"
Giles polished his glasses as he tried to translate from English to American Teenager. "All Slayers have the ability to sense Vampires, but the strength of this gift varies between Slayers. After Buffy first became the Slayer, she went through a rather traumatic time, not unlike you. Her first Watcher, Merrick, died, her high school burned down as part of collateral damage, and she was institutionalized."
"Instawhat?"
"She was put in a psychiatric hospital for evaluation for several months. She had half convinced herself to ignore what had happened, pretend she wasn't the Slayer. When she first met me, she was horrified at the thought of fighting the darkness again. I suspect, though I cannot know for certain, that she had suppressed her ability to sense the undead, and now can't get it back."
"Her slaydar's busted? Ouch. I guess that can explain how she did the horizontal with Fang down there."
Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably "Yes, quite. I've hung crosses on the inside of the basement door and windows, as well as locking and barricading it. He's as secure in there as we can make him. The spare room is made up, and it's been a long day."
"Yeah, I don't think he'll try nothing anyhow. X-man put him down hard." Faith stood and stretched. "Y'know G? You're pretty cool. For an old Brit." She smirked.
"And with that validation, my life is complete."
Faith left in the morning, likely to hunt down Xander to either continue shouting at him, or possibly something else. With no-one in the house to distract him, Giles was pacing, and fretting.
A knock on his door pulled him out of his reverie. He opened the door to come face to face with a bespectacled man of middle years wearing a well tailored, if somewhat outdated, suit.
"Pardon me, are you Rupert Giles?" the man asked with a west London accent.
"Um, ah, yes. Could I help you?"
"Quemadmoeum gladis nemeinum occidit, occidentis telum est." Giles' eyes grew wide at that statement, and he stared a moment before responding.
"Bene qui latuit, bene vixit."
The stranger nodded. "Wonderful. Now that we've got the rubbish out of the way, d'you mind if I come in?"
"Of course." Giles stood aside as the other man walked in. After he had shut the door, the man turned back to him.
"Elliott Marston. The council sent me, though you should ring Mapperley to verify that."
"I was intending to check your credentials, but why so immediate?"
"Because there's a rogue watcher headed here, with murder on the mind. You should make sure it's not me."
A/N: Sorry for the drama and angst, or as I call it, character development. I promise the next chapter with be more action oriented, but part of my idea for this story is that, hey, these are kids here who are fighting the evils of the world. Sometimes they'll screw up, or implode, or just not know what to do, and then they'll fall apart. If you don't like it, tell me. If you send flames, I'll use them to decorate my yard.
Oh, and for those who were wondering, yes, Faith did snap Xander out of it by swatting his nose like he was a misbehaving puppy.
The next no-prize goes to whomever guesses who Elliott Marston resembles.
Quemadmoeum gladis nemeinum occidit, occidentis telum est. - A sword is never a killer, it's a tool in the killer's hands. (Seneca)
Bene qui latuit, bene vixit. - One who lives well, lives unnoticed. (Ovid)