WDWG - Chapter 22: England
Buffy woke up alone and was immediately aware that something wasn't right. Since the desert, she and Giles had woken up tangled in each other's arms every morning and if one of them needed to get up, they had let the other know. Getting out of bed she put on the robe with the hotel logo and went looking for her lover.
She found him sitting on the couch in the darkened common room head down, shoulders slumped, his body occasionally tensing in an involuntary shudder. Quietly, she strode over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder as she took a seat beside him. He was cradling his injured hand and she slowly reached for it, her worried eyes inspecting the knuckles. Even though it was dark in the room she could see that his hand was swollen and bruised.
"Did you take anything for it?" She asked softly, brushing his hair back.
He shook his head no and ground out, "Not in a while."
"I'll get some pain meds and ice, okay?" He nodded his assent and leaned back into the sofa as she left him.
He had to admit that he'd probably broken a finger or two that evening, being pretty damn angry and pounding the brick wall with most of his force several times. Adrenaline and champagne made for good pain killers, but they had worn off about the time he and Buffy left Hank's place. Not wanting to upset his fiancée, he managed to hide the pain fairly well by finishing his packing and claiming exhaustion, but once she fell asleep, he quietly got up and headed to the sofa where he knocked back a couple shots of bourbon from the mini bar and some Advil to help ease the pain. All would have been well if he hadn't fallen asleep and rolled over striking his hand against the coffee table.
Buffy returned bearing a glass of water, a bag of ice, and some more Advil. Setting them down on the table, she reached over and turned on the small lamp, shedding some light on the subject. She handed him the medicine and the glass of water, and, once he was done, took a closer look at his hand. "You told me it looked worse than it was, Giles, but I'm guessing your ring and middle fingers are broken. I'm going to feel for breaks, okay?"
Nodding again, the Watcher shook when another wave of pain took over his body as she lightly prodded his damaged fingers and hand.
"I don't feel any clear breaks, but that doesn't mean there aren't fractures either in the fingers or the knuckles, and of course the swelling has me at a disadvantage too. We should probably get you to a hospital to get x-rays and an expert opinion."
"If we do then we're likely to miss our flight. I'll have someone look at it in England."
"But sweetie, you're in pain and if something needs to be set..."
"It can wait another 24 hours or so, love. I'll be fine. We'll get the swelling down with the anti-inflamatories and ice, and then we can splint the fingers together."
"We should probably put you in a sling to keep it elevated and protected in the airport."
"Buffy, don't fuss. I can manage." He dismissed.
"Like you're managing now shaking with pain on the sofa?"
"I was alright earlier, I just accidentally bumped my hand against the table. Trust me, it's not nearly as bad as when Angelus broke..." Giles trailed off. There was another subject they'd never really addressed.
She looked away at the realization of his suffering at the hands of her demon ex-lover. "I'm sorry, that was my fault."
"No. No, love. It's long past and it wasn't your fault. I had the information he needed and he was going to try and get it one way or another. You stopped him from destroying the world. It was what you had to do."
She smiled sadly, "Remember when we talked about guilt? Well, that's one of mine I'm going to hold on to for a while, so don't argue. Now, let's get some ice on that hand."
He knew better than to push her to talk about an issue. "What time is it?"
"Just after seven. I was going to take that run, but..."
"No, go ahead. If the pain killers and ice do their thing, I am going to head back to bed for a couple hours. I don't know how much I will be able to sleep on the plane."
When the swelling went down some, Buffy taped his fingers together and kissed his forehead. "I'm just going to be in the gym, I'll have my cell if you need me. And if not, I'll be back up in a couple hours."
XxXxXxXx
When she finished her workout, the Slayer returned to their room to find the injured Watcher passed out on the bed with his hand elevated on a couple pillows. His face looked more at peace and she guessed the pain meds were doing their thing. Figuring he needed the sleep, she resisted the urge to kiss him and went to take a shower.
When she was done, she found him sitting up in bed watching the news on the TV. "How's the hand?" She asked taking a seat next to him. "Honestly."
Giles gave her a chagrined smile, "It hurts, but I'll be fine. Luckily we're mostly packed. I want to shower as well, and then we should find some lunch and head to the airport."
"Before my run, I walked over to the drug store and bought you a sling. It's in the bathroom. I'll help you with it when you're done."
XxXxXxXx
Much to Giles' consternation, he was forced into the uncomfortable contraption, and while he resented it, he had to admit that elevating the hand did make it feel a lot better. However, being tremendously left-handed, it didn't allow for even the smallest use of his dominant hand and eating lunch had been an exercise in profound patience resulting in a few moments where he thought he might blow up. Signing the receipt to pay for lunch was another obstacle he didn't care for at all, and he was seconds away from chucking the pen across the room. The signature resembled that of a three-year-old's doodle and Buffy giggled when she saw it causing Giles to sigh. Looking at it some more he pulled out of his irritation and observed with a hint of mirth in his eyes, "I bet if your mother were here, she could sell it as art to some pretentious sod under the title 'Pain Upon Payment.'" Which caused a few more giggles on both their parts and they left the restaurant in fairly good spirits.
The couple made arrangements to have the rental company retrieve the car because Giles couldn't manage and Buffy refused to drive in the city. The concierge hired a limo for them and they arrived at LAX in luxury and with plenty of time to spare. Once inside the terminal Buffy headed over to the queue to check in.
"Sweetheart, we're over here." Giles called, pointing to the First Class check-in for British Airways with a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
Buffy stood in disbelief before giving her fiancé a questioning look. He nodded, his eyes shining with mischief and when she finally joined him after getting over her initial shock, they headed to the counter together. As soon as they were checked in, the pair passed through security and headed towards the lounge to relax and wait for boarding. The Slayer was unusually silent for someone who hadn't traveled much and her posture was closed off. Giles gave her a thoughtful look, but refrained from comment. Making their way through the terminal, he stopped in front of a book store asking, "Do you mind?"
"No, I could use some reading material and a word search or something." She said walking past him into the store.
The Watcher sighed as she went by. Something was bothering her and he wasn't sure quite what it was, but he followed her silently into the store. He found his way to the fiction section and picked out a copy Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, wanting to read it so he could discuss it with Dawn over email and the phone over the next couple of months. Having a slight problem holding onto both the very thick tome and the handle to his rolling carry-on suitcase, Giles dropped the book. "Bugger!" Exasperated, he picked it up, managed to get the balance just right, and headed over to the cashier where he found Buffy paying for her romance novel and fashion magazine.
"Go ahead and add that book, too, please." She told the cashier.
As they left the store, Giles looked at his future wife as they headed towards the First Class lounge and asked, "Buffy, please, what have I done that bothers you so?"
"Nothing." She hesitated a moment, her lips twitching in a self deprecating smile. "Alright, something. We'll talk about it where it's more private."
The couple entered the British Airways lounge, ordered drinks, found a private spot, and sat down in the oversized comfy chairs opposite one another. When their beverages arrived, Giles made eye contact and started, "Alright, we're settled and you haven't initiated any conversation since we arrived thirty minutes ago. Please talk to me."
"I don't really know what to think, Giles. Last night you complained about the Cristal Champagne my father ordered and today we are jet setting like we're Posh and Becks. Care to explain?"
The Englishman pulled off his glasses. Unable to clean them, he opted for twisting them in his fingers and biting the end before placing them on the table beside the wingback chair he was sitting in. "I thought we might enjoy some comfort after everything. I certainly don't want to sit in cattle class. Lord knows I've done that enough and I'm tired of folding my legs up for a ten plus hour flight. Really, love, it's not an issue. Besides, I am bringing you home and I want to do it in style. Why does this have you so upset?"
"The suite, the ring, the limo, first class to London? How are you managing this? None of that is cheap. Ok, so maybe the Council paid for the hotel. Are they... we... whatever paying for the flight too?"
"Ahh. I see. The Council pays for business class and I paid to upgrade us. I am not a man without means, my love. I've earned my own money and have invested it wisely over the years, some of it with Anya's help. There is also family money that I dip into on occasion, like the year I was unemployed and the time I helped you out with the house." Reaching over to take her hand in a reassuring manner, he continued, "I'm sorry we haven't had time to discuss these matters. If you have questions, just ask. I will always be honest with you."
"I've just never seen you be... extravagant before, that's all. I mean... I guess I am just learning who you really are. I've only seen glimpses here and there."
Giles shifted uncomfortably in his seat, letting go of her hand, "Does it worry you? We've talked about the important things over the years, Buffy. You know about my family, where I come from, and parts of my past I'm not particularly proud of. I've lived comfortably, but I don't need much, and as a Watcher there wasn't time for anything else anyway. I've never really had anyone to dote on and I have every intention of spoiling you rotten at every possible opportunity. I'm a little vexed by this notion that you believe you are only learning who I really am now."
"It's me, I guess. I mean, you had the Gilesmobile for so long and then you buy the Tramp which was its exact opposite. Kinda paradox-y, you know? And there are many examples of that since I've known you." She eyed him seriously wanting to know more about what made him tick, "So, when you were in England these last couple years, what did you spend money on?"
Giles chuckled, feeling a little relief, "I do like cars and I have two at home. One is a Land Rover for everyday use and the other is a silly car, but it suits me. A Morgan Roadster Sport in British racing green. It's not an over-indulgence like an Aston Martin, but it's fun. I also have a motorcycle, but I've had that for years. Let's see, I had a new stable built because the old one needed modernizing and it would cost more to refurbish it than to build a new one. And I bought a couple more horses to keep Otto company."
"You like things that go fast." She said thoughtfully, trying to puzzle together this new aspect of Giles with the picture of the steady Watcher she already knew and adored.
"I like to feel the wind in my hair, the freedom that comes with that. It's as if for those few moments, there isn't anything else, just peace."
Buffy contemplated what he said, "Were you free?"
Giles closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the back of his chair. He understood her question, "No. Leaving you did not set me free, Buffy. Nor did I ever think it would." He opened his eyes, watching her. She looked down quietly, and he stood to move over to her, sitting down on his haunches before her. Placing his fingers under her chin, he lifted it to gaze into the stormy pools he knew so well. "I have never regretted being your Watcher these last seven years, trying though it's been at times." He smiled softly before continuing, "But please understand, when I went back to the Council after the whole dreadful Eyghon affair, I fully accepted my position. No regrets. When I was Chosen for you, I was immensely proud. Scared out of my mind, but it was validation that I had a purpose, a destiny. And it's become so much more than that. I was probably as insufferable as Wesley when we first met: eager and full of ideals. Everything American was so bright and brash and I wasn't on solid footing for a long time. Hence the reasons for the changes over the years. But, I have never been so free as I have been this past week with you. Free to be who I am and so much more than just a Watcher."
Tracing her fingers over his cheek and trying to hold back the tears, the retired Slayer softly spoke, "You were never like Wesley! But the sacred duty stuff did get old quickly. Sometimes I forget how hard it's been for you and how much our lives have paralleled. Neither of us wanting to accept what we were Chosen for, running away, playing with darkness, finally accepting fate, and trying our damnedest to live life. It's why you've allowed me to be Buffy and not just the Slayer, isn't it?"
He smiled, "Yes. You can't be one without the other. Merrick had pointed it out in his diary and it was a lesson I learned very quickly. It was the one thing Travers and his cronies couldn't understand."
"I'm damned lucky to have had The Powers choose you for me!" She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, then on the cheek and then she took his mouth with a deep longing. When she broke the kiss, she nuzzled his cheek with her nose, "Can I tell you how not pleased I am that you're injured? Now we can't join the Mile High Club." She teased.
"You... are such a naughty little minx! Let's save it for the Council's private jet. We'll have more room and it'll be infinitely more private."
"Oh! Look who's naughty now!"
XxXxXxXx
The flight was long, but made easier by the seats that folded out into beds, complimentary pajamas, flight attendants who waited on them hand and foot, and good food. Despite her two hour run that morning Buffy started to get restless about halfway through the flight, unable to concentrate on her book, the word search, or any of the in-flight movies that were offered. She was temporarily distracted when Giles' hand started to throb and she took care of him until the pain killers kicked in and he dozed off. Giving up on pacing the First Class cabin, she asked one of the flight attendants to change her seat into a bed, meditated, and finally fell asleep.
When they arrived at Heathrow, they sped through customs as was the norm for First Class passengers. Buffy thought the airport was a modern day Tower of Babel, every direction she turned she heard a different language. As they entered the meet and greet area Giles spotted his and Buffy's names on a card held by a chauffeur, and he approached warily, asking the man a question in Latin. The driver responded in kind with the correct answer and Giles relaxed.
"Let me take your bags, Sir, we are this way."
Buffy pulled him back for a second, "Were you expecting someone to meet us?"
"Yes and no. Alan is Uncle Sebastian's driver. Seems we are to head to his estate first. I suspected this might happen, but I wasn't entirely sure. My uncle's been wrapped up lately and I left him a message with our flight information, but never heard back from him."
Estate?
They followed the chauffeur to the black Bentley with dark tinted windows and Alan held the door as she got in. Before Giles bent down to enter, the chauffeur said, "His Lordship wishes you to know that he will not be home until evening, but your usual chambers have been made up, Sir Rupert. Dinner shall be at 6:30 sharp, but formal attire is not required this evening."
Lordship? Sir Rupert? Buffy's eyes went wide. Formal attire. Oh Shit!