d.s.hildreth
Rating: PG
Content: This story is based on Season Four of Buffy and Angel. There are no major spoilers, but Faith does reappear.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation and whoever else has a legal claim to them. No copyright infringement intended.
Feedback: Welcomed, as always.
It was raining, the kind of rain that soaks through to the bone in a matter of minutes. It pelted angrily against his skin burning him. His eyes could no longer see through the enveloping fog. A flash of light and thunderous cannonade his eyes shot open as his fingers fumbled in the early dawn's light to reach the source of the sound. Rupert Giles flipped the duvet covering him over placing his feet on the dark carpet below his bed. He sat rubbed his worn face and scratched his head. The stubble on his face rushed briskly across his hands. It had been a hard few days and he hadn't had a chance to shower let alone shave. He stood and felt his way down the stairs casually bumping into the corner of his desk as he reached the first floor on his way to the bathroom. Shower. Hot Shower he thought to himself. But the morning's promise was broken with the harsh sounds of his front door hitting the wall and the clamor of weaponry. Giles tried to react but they were too quick for him.
* * * *
White light. Hot white light the kind that blurs images, melts flesh. Her eyes burned. She choked on acid tears. Somewhere engulfed in the light a figure hung. Arms out stretched. White against a black wall. Rain pouring down. Blood rain mixing with the light. She moved almost gliding toward the figure. As she looked up she became consumed in his eyes. Hazel eyes. Eyes that held a world of tortures. She knew those eyes. Her mouth formed his name, but the sound could not escape. She was shaking.
"Faith, you alright? Wake up."
"Giles?" The words had finally escaped her throat. She was soaking wet and shivered as the vampire's hand touched her shoulder. She struggled a moment to get her bearings. "Angel?"
"Right here. It's okay. It was just a dream. I'm here." He wrapped his arms around her. It had been several months since she had come back to Los Angeles looking for redemption or whatever it was she was running from. He had been there for her once again. He had hoped his first attempt at helping her would have spared her the latest bit of misery, but it had not. She was torn and confused. She wanted to believe that there was good, but she had seen so much bad. She lived Bad. He knew these things. He was bad, an evil so abhorrent that his name struck fear in humans and demons alike. Angelus, the one with the angelic face, but that was all that was angelic about him until the curse.
* * * *
He felt nauseous. Bile filled his throat and his head hurt. He opened his eyes but saw nothing but the cold blackness. Was it day or night? He wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure where he was. All he knew he was, for the moment, alone and this comforted him in a strange way. He strained to move, trying to upright himself, but could not. He lay against the cold floor blanketed in the darkness thinking. He had recognized them. They were council people. They handled the "wet work" as he once told Buffy though he wasn't sure she really understood what that meant. She would soon enough though. If he were right then it would only be a matter of time before they contacted her. They would probably draw her out by using him. They would tell her something like "if you want to see your watcher again alive then follow these directions . . ." She would recognize it as a trap naturally, and take precautions. They knew this too, but that was all considered in their plan.
What exactly was their plan? He knew it would probably leave him dead, very dead. He had seen some of the Council's tortures in his time. The thought of this sent a shiver down his spine.
* * * *
Blackness, she was sinking in blackness. It covered her. She stood motionless
slayer senses on alert. She felt a shiver and with it came a sound. It was low
at first a kind of a tap tap and then it began to rise. Thump, thump. Thump,
thump. Thump, Thump. It was a heart. The sound filled the room; it became part
of her. With every beat her own heart followed, her blood pulsed. She thought
she'd be deafened and then the light came. Slowly at first creeping along the
bottom of the room then in a flash it filled the room. It too pulsed with the
heartbeat. She called a name. The only name she could - Angel. But there was
no answer just a scream, her scream. The light dissipated and she saw a figure
lying on the ground face down, arms outstretched. She approached carefully with
some concern. When she reached the spot where the body lay it was gone all that
remained was the chalk outline as if some murder investigation had been conducted.
She looked around and saw another figure hanging on the wall. Blood poured over
him mixed with rain. His face was barely recognizable, but she knew him; it
was Giles.
"Buffy are you alright?" Willow stood over her friend.
"Giles! Oh God, Giles"
"Buffy you are having a dream; it's me Willow. Giles isn't here. Wake up."
"Gi.. Willow? What's the matter?"
"Buffy, you were having a dream err nightmare I guess. You were screaming."
"Will, oh God. It was Giles. I think he was dead. I don't know; it was
all so real and I couldn't save him."
"You don't suppose it was a prophecy thing do you? Oh, sorry . . . It was
probably just a nightmare, right?"
"I don't know Will, but I am going over there now."
Buffy showered and dressed quickly while Willow got herself together. Willow
thought she would call Giles while Buffy was getting dressed just to ease her
own mind, but he didn't answer. She told herself there were a million reasons
why he wouldn't answer the phone at 7:00 am, but none really convinced her.
She told Buffy that she had called and there was no answer and suggested he
was out jogging. They both thought there was some logical explanation, at least
that's what they told themselves all the way to Giles' apartment.
* * * *
Quentin Travers paced. His plan was coming together. It was his job to ensure the survival of the Watchers' Council and he wasn't going to forget that nor would he forget firing one Rupert Giles, nor would he forget Faith the rogue slayer nor Buffy's insolence. They would be dealt with and he would make sure of that. Travers had no intention of doing the "wet" work, but he would watch and with the prospect of that a small smile creased into the sides of his mouth.
Rupert Giles had always bothered him. He was a rebel, a loose cannon by American standards. He dabbled in black magic opening arenas where he shouldn't have been. Rupert Giles came from a proud family of Watchers yet had turned his back on tradition to run with a common crowd; he threw his family's pride and duty away to be common and that was something Travers could not approve of, ever. If Travers had his way Rupert Giles would be confined to his duties on cataloging at the British Museum and not rewarded with the care of a slayer, the slayer. But it was not up to Travers and he would never forget that. The council elders told Travers he had to take the young Giles back and so he did. But he never thought the council would vote to give him the care of the slayer, but they had. He would not forget that either. And now he could see to it that Rupert Giles would not forget any of this either at least for the remaining moments of his life.
Quentin Travers descended the narrow staircase that lead to the
internment area below the old stone castle. The rank smell of mildew and salt
air filled his lungs as he struggled to hold back the bile that was creeping
up his throat. He would not allow his weakness to claim him, not now. His problems
would soon be over and two new slayers would be born.
* * * *
Rupert Giles lay still in the darkness thinking. He always thought too much,
but he had to believe Buffy would realize this was a trap. He told himself over
and over she would figure it out and not get caught. He had plenty of time to
think of the whys and with that came the who - Travers. The name pushed out
of his lips and then there was light. Blinding light engulfing a sole figure.
It shown and then moved toward him.
"Travers."
"Hello Mr. Giles. How was your flight?" Travers smirk as the last
question left his lips.
"The preflight entertainment was a little lacking, but otherwise the flight
was what I expected." Rupert Giles held his head high.
Travers snickered. "Ah I see that Ripper has made a comeback, good. I shall
enjoy defeating you both. I will you know."
Giles stood the corners of his mouth formed a menacing grin. A grin that Travers
knew all too well. Ripper was there and he would make the torture more interesting
for Travers, yes. But Rupert Giles knew that Ripper would also make it easier
for him to take care of Travers once and for all if he got the chance. If?
Travers walked around the now standing Rupert Giles. Circling his prey as it were. Giles knew he might not get another chance, but he also knew that Travers was teasing him, taunting him, begging him to make the move. And so he did. With a quick flash and all of the strength he could manage, Rupert Giles squared his shoulders and lurched forward. That's when it hit him, a sudden stun, a thousand volts burned his flesh, and he was out. His hot flesh burning on the cold floor.