Halfway There, Chapter 1
Sep. 14th, 2010 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indriSUMMARY: What happened to Giles in Season Seven?
SPOILERS: For almost all of the televised Buffy and Angel. Guaranteed free of spoilers from the comics, as I haven't read them.
RATING: PG13 for adult themes and violence.
WRITTEN: Begun September 2004, recommenced September 2009, largely completed October 2009.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Some dialogue is quoted or closely paraphrased from "Lie to Me" and "Restless" by Joss Whedon, "Bring on the Night" by Marti Noxon and Douglas Petrie, "Storyteller" by Jane Espenson, "Lies My Parents Told Me" by David Fury and Drew Goddard, and "Dirty Girls" by Drew Goddard. Thanks to my beta readers, peasant_, shapinglight and revdorothyl.
This chapter has previously been published. All the others are new.
1. Newspaper
Molly and Annabelle are waiting for him back at the flat. He has to telephone through first, standing at the booth they can see from the second-storey window. One of them -- he can't tell which -- gives a tentative wave but they don't pull back the bolts until he's called his name through the door: "It's Mr Giles."
The girls look behind him, down the hall, as he enters. "No-one new today," he says, thinking of Robson's charge lying dead back in Bloomsbury. "I think we'll be leaving for America a little earlier than planned."
The rented room's so small that the cord of his bedside phone can reach the kitchenette. He makes himself some tea when the airline puts him on hold. Through a doorway he watches the girls repack their bags, while he tries not to think about how close the axe came to his head. "You'll have to travel light," he tells them. "Onboard luggage only."
Molly looks confused: she's never been out of England, or gone on a plane.
"No suitcases," Annabelle explains. "Just a largish backpack and a handbag."
"Yes, three tickets," says Giles, "as soon as possible to New York. If you wear your bulkiest clothes you won't have to pack them."
The taxi comes at 4 a.m., its headlights blinding. The air is chill, despite a thick layer of cloud, and the girls are shivering as they climb in. "Heathrow," he says, and when the driver asks he has to invent some story about an international youth group for girls.
Heathrow is just starting to waken as they arrive. Molly runs around, looking at anything and everything, and both of the girls want breakfast. He makes the mistake of buying them a bacon sandwich each and is thanked by a frosty glare from Annabelle. Molly eats one and he has the other while Annabelle spends two of his pounds on runny-looking scrambled egg and toast. The whole time he has to keep his eye out for Bringers amongst the queues and crowds.
Past security, he feels a little better, and lets the girls wander around a little as they wait for their flights. Molly is delighted to discover that there are whole stores devoted to hair ornaments for teenagers. Annabelle goes to buy a book as soon as the newsagent's opens; he approves.
That's when he sees the newspaper headlines: there's been a bombing.
He grabs Annabelle's arm. "Fetch Molly," he says.
He buys a copy of The Independent, The Telegraph and even The Sun. They all say the same thing: yesterday afternoon, a savage attack, perpetrators unknown. Neither the Real IRA nor Al Qaida have claimed responsibility, although someone representing anti-WTO groups said something vague on a website. Giles knows it won't be any of those organisations, because the building destroyed is the Council of Watchers HQ.
The papers are unsure of the casualties. "Dozens," one says. "Many feared dead," says another. He checks the time until boarding -- fifteen minutes -- and dares to make a call. He calls Nigel Pradhani first, because he has a mobile, but doesn't get through. Then he rings Alan McEwan, who doesn't pick up. Louise Wells, Fiona Black...
Molly is tugging on his sleeve. "I think they've called our number," she says.
Finally, he rings Penny Jones-Walters in New York. Penny says, "I haven't heard. I don't know. I think I got a call from Lydia but her voice was very weak on the machine. I'll keep Kennedy safe, Rupert, if I can."
"They killed Brian Robson," Giles tells her.
"Last call!" says Molly. "They're saying last call!"
Somehow he gets them onto the plane and persuades them to stow their backpacks. He has to show Molly how to use the seat-belt and then she fiddles with the fold-out table while the plane taxis towards take off. "You have to keep the table up!" snarls Annabelle.
They're children, Giles thinks. They're fifteen.
He doesn't sleep on the flight. He doesn't want to and he's not sure he could. While it's doubtful that Bringers could be smuggled on board, the First could have other agents. Still, he lets the girls sleep fitfully when they can, uncomfortable in their economy-class seats. He only wakes them when a steward starts coming around with lunch.
JFK is a nightmare as always, but they get through it after an hour. He hires a car for the trip to Westchester and then goes to ring Penny's mobile.
There's no answer on the phone.
He looks at his two charges and wonders what to do. An airport hotel, then, before tomorrow's flight to LA? Or should he try to move them to an earlier flight and ring Buffy?
Behind him, the phone starts to ring. Without letting the girls out of his sight, he picks up the phone.
"Hey, who is this?" asks a voice. It's young, female, American and scared.
"This is Mr Giles," he says. "Did Mrs--"
"Where the fuck are you?"
"JFK. We'll be in terminal 3, near the Delta check-in desk."
"I'll be there. Unless, you know, they bust me for driving too fast."
"Are you all right to drive?" he asks, but she's hung up.
"Change of plan!" he announces brightly to Annabelle and Molly. "Kennedy's going to meet us here."
He spends the next twenty minutes at the Avis counter, trying to cancel the car. Then he goes to beg for an earlier flight to LA. After much pleading, he gets a flight for late in the afternoon, but they'll have to change planes in Dallas Fort-Worth.
There's a Starbucks in Terminal Three which the girls want to visit. He lets them buy frappuccinos.
When he spots a dark-haired young woman striding towards the check-in desk, he runs to intercept her. "Ladies, now!"
"What?" she says, clearly confused.
He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his English idioms. "Restroom. You need to get changed. There's blood all over you."
She looks down at herself. "Some splashes."
"We're on a plane in forty-five minutes. You need to wash up. Don't dump your clothes in the bin -- trash-can -- just put them in as dirty laundry in your bag. And Kennedy--"
"Yeah?"
"Well done. You made it."
She nods slowly and then heads to the restroom.
She comes out twenty minutes later looking freshly-scrubbed and with her make-up re-applied. She's now wearing a denim jacket. There's an awkward set of introductions.
"You're English SITs, then?"
Molly and Annabelle look at each other uncertainly.
"Slayers-in-training?"
"More like slayers-before-training," Molly says. "We only just found out."
"So do you know how to use any weapons? Giles, these things tore Jonesy apart."
"Mr Giles..."
"Tore apart?" whispers Molly.
"Yeah, they had these mucho big curved knives--"
"How did you escape?" Giles asks.
"We got to the car," she says. "I was backing out of the drive. She had a crossbow but they stabbed her and then pulled her out of the window. I just floored it and ran. Then you called her cell."
"Do we get crossbows?" Molly asks.
"No," Giles snaps. "You do not get crossbows."
"Is that other girl in London dead?" asks Annabelle.
"Yes," Giles says. "Nora is dead. Brian Robson is dead. Penny Jones-Walters is dead. At least half of the bloody Council died yesterday. Now will you pay attention!"
They all look at him silently. Then Kennedy says, "You know, we were all paying attention."
No-one wants a second frappuccino when he offers.
They can't really talk during the flight to Dallas because the plane is packed. The two English girls stare hollow-eyed at episodes of Frasier while Kennedy flips almost vengefully through the Skymall catalogue.
"I'm sorry about your Watcher," Giles offers quietly. "I'm sure you did what you could."
"Yeah," says Kennedy. "Me too."
The seat-belt sign goes on as they approach Dallas and the plane hits some turbulence. There's a storm over the city, they're told, and the landing will be delayed.
The holding pattern lasts for half-an-hour.
Down in the airport, Giles discovers that their flight to LAX has been cancelled due to poor weather. Unending queues of people are trying to rebook their flights. It takes him two hours to reach the head of the queue and get new tickets for that night.
They eat in a Chili's. Annabelle has to have salad "without chicken" while the others share fajitas. The food's a little too hot for Molly and she has to drink half a gallon of water to go with it. Then she spends the next couple of hours popping in and out of the loo. Giles gets nervous whenever she stays in there too long and sometimes sends Kennedy in to check. It would have been easier if Penny had made it.
He spends more time on the phone, fruitlessly trying to get through to the few people he still thinks of as friends in the Council. Then he flicks wearily through the US papers, to see if they have any more details. It's made the front page of some, because of the alleged terrorist link. All he learns is that the building was totally destroyed.
He finally thinks to call the Coven. Rosalind answers the phone. She says, yes, it is every bit as bad as he thinks. They'll send him the obituaries as they are printed.
The flight to LA is delayed, first for one hour and then for a second. The girls slump together in their chairs. Shortly after the fourth delay is announced, the airline admits they've had to postpone it until morning.
It's one a.m. The re-scheduled flight is at six. Giles considers the effort of finding a motel, checking in and then checking out again before the flight. "We'll be safer waiting in here," he tells the SITs.
They push some chairs together so that the English girls can get some kip, but neither he nor Kennedy feel able to sleep. He has some indigestion from the fajitas. He'd kill for a coffee, but all the places are shut and he can't stand the sludge from the vending machines.
They don't turn off the terminal lights overnight, or the televisions that hang from the ceilings. He hears regular weather updates twice an hour while asinine anchormen talk about sport.
"Are we going to stay in LA?" Kennedy asks him. "Or are we going to Sunnydale?"
"Sunnydale," he says. "I presume Penny told you about the current Slayer?"
The young woman shrugs. "Sure. In a what-not-to-do kind of way."
"Buffy's been the Slayer for seven years," he says, quietly.
"That's a long time," says Kennedy. "Me? I'm planning on living even longer than that." She looks out towards the terminal's vast glass windows.
They finally board the plane at five-forty-five. No-one's had any breakfast because the Starbucks and Chick-fil-A don't open until six. Molly and Annabelle collapse with jetlag as soon as their heads hit the headrests. Even Giles allows himself some sleep, but only once he's assured himself that Kennedy knows how to keep a lookout.
LAX is a little easier than JFK, if only because this time they're flying domestic. He forces them all to buy bagels and donuts on their way out. Molly stares at them. "Is all food circular in America? Like pizza?"
Kennedy just rolls her eyes.
None of them smell particularly good at this point, so he gets them to roll down the hire car windows. "Just another hour," he says, "and we'll be there."
"Whatever," Kennedy says. "I just want a shower." The other girls agree.
This time it's Kennedy who at last manages to sleep. The English girls are too excited, looking out at the freeway as if concrete hoardings and blue sky were unbelievably exotic. "The cars are all so huge!" says Annabelle.
"And the lorries!" says Molly.
"Yes, well," Giles tells them. "You'll find that America is different in a lot of ways."
"Is it like the cop shows?" Molly asks.
"Not very," he says. "Far more demons."
SPOILERS: For almost all of the televised Buffy and Angel. Guaranteed free of spoilers from the comics, as I haven't read them.
RATING: PG13 for adult themes and violence.
WRITTEN: Begun September 2004, recommenced September 2009, largely completed October 2009.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Some dialogue is quoted or closely paraphrased from "Lie to Me" and "Restless" by Joss Whedon, "Bring on the Night" by Marti Noxon and Douglas Petrie, "Storyteller" by Jane Espenson, "Lies My Parents Told Me" by David Fury and Drew Goddard, and "Dirty Girls" by Drew Goddard. Thanks to my beta readers, peasant_, shapinglight and revdorothyl.
This chapter has previously been published. All the others are new.
1. Newspaper
Molly and Annabelle are waiting for him back at the flat. He has to telephone through first, standing at the booth they can see from the second-storey window. One of them -- he can't tell which -- gives a tentative wave but they don't pull back the bolts until he's called his name through the door: "It's Mr Giles."
The girls look behind him, down the hall, as he enters. "No-one new today," he says, thinking of Robson's charge lying dead back in Bloomsbury. "I think we'll be leaving for America a little earlier than planned."
The rented room's so small that the cord of his bedside phone can reach the kitchenette. He makes himself some tea when the airline puts him on hold. Through a doorway he watches the girls repack their bags, while he tries not to think about how close the axe came to his head. "You'll have to travel light," he tells them. "Onboard luggage only."
Molly looks confused: she's never been out of England, or gone on a plane.
"No suitcases," Annabelle explains. "Just a largish backpack and a handbag."
"Yes, three tickets," says Giles, "as soon as possible to New York. If you wear your bulkiest clothes you won't have to pack them."
The taxi comes at 4 a.m., its headlights blinding. The air is chill, despite a thick layer of cloud, and the girls are shivering as they climb in. "Heathrow," he says, and when the driver asks he has to invent some story about an international youth group for girls.
Heathrow is just starting to waken as they arrive. Molly runs around, looking at anything and everything, and both of the girls want breakfast. He makes the mistake of buying them a bacon sandwich each and is thanked by a frosty glare from Annabelle. Molly eats one and he has the other while Annabelle spends two of his pounds on runny-looking scrambled egg and toast. The whole time he has to keep his eye out for Bringers amongst the queues and crowds.
Past security, he feels a little better, and lets the girls wander around a little as they wait for their flights. Molly is delighted to discover that there are whole stores devoted to hair ornaments for teenagers. Annabelle goes to buy a book as soon as the newsagent's opens; he approves.
That's when he sees the newspaper headlines: there's been a bombing.
He grabs Annabelle's arm. "Fetch Molly," he says.
He buys a copy of The Independent, The Telegraph and even The Sun. They all say the same thing: yesterday afternoon, a savage attack, perpetrators unknown. Neither the Real IRA nor Al Qaida have claimed responsibility, although someone representing anti-WTO groups said something vague on a website. Giles knows it won't be any of those organisations, because the building destroyed is the Council of Watchers HQ.
The papers are unsure of the casualties. "Dozens," one says. "Many feared dead," says another. He checks the time until boarding -- fifteen minutes -- and dares to make a call. He calls Nigel Pradhani first, because he has a mobile, but doesn't get through. Then he rings Alan McEwan, who doesn't pick up. Louise Wells, Fiona Black...
Molly is tugging on his sleeve. "I think they've called our number," she says.
Finally, he rings Penny Jones-Walters in New York. Penny says, "I haven't heard. I don't know. I think I got a call from Lydia but her voice was very weak on the machine. I'll keep Kennedy safe, Rupert, if I can."
"They killed Brian Robson," Giles tells her.
"Last call!" says Molly. "They're saying last call!"
Somehow he gets them onto the plane and persuades them to stow their backpacks. He has to show Molly how to use the seat-belt and then she fiddles with the fold-out table while the plane taxis towards take off. "You have to keep the table up!" snarls Annabelle.
They're children, Giles thinks. They're fifteen.
He doesn't sleep on the flight. He doesn't want to and he's not sure he could. While it's doubtful that Bringers could be smuggled on board, the First could have other agents. Still, he lets the girls sleep fitfully when they can, uncomfortable in their economy-class seats. He only wakes them when a steward starts coming around with lunch.
JFK is a nightmare as always, but they get through it after an hour. He hires a car for the trip to Westchester and then goes to ring Penny's mobile.
There's no answer on the phone.
He looks at his two charges and wonders what to do. An airport hotel, then, before tomorrow's flight to LA? Or should he try to move them to an earlier flight and ring Buffy?
Behind him, the phone starts to ring. Without letting the girls out of his sight, he picks up the phone.
"Hey, who is this?" asks a voice. It's young, female, American and scared.
"This is Mr Giles," he says. "Did Mrs--"
"Where the fuck are you?"
"JFK. We'll be in terminal 3, near the Delta check-in desk."
"I'll be there. Unless, you know, they bust me for driving too fast."
"Are you all right to drive?" he asks, but she's hung up.
"Change of plan!" he announces brightly to Annabelle and Molly. "Kennedy's going to meet us here."
He spends the next twenty minutes at the Avis counter, trying to cancel the car. Then he goes to beg for an earlier flight to LA. After much pleading, he gets a flight for late in the afternoon, but they'll have to change planes in Dallas Fort-Worth.
There's a Starbucks in Terminal Three which the girls want to visit. He lets them buy frappuccinos.
When he spots a dark-haired young woman striding towards the check-in desk, he runs to intercept her. "Ladies, now!"
"What?" she says, clearly confused.
He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his English idioms. "Restroom. You need to get changed. There's blood all over you."
She looks down at herself. "Some splashes."
"We're on a plane in forty-five minutes. You need to wash up. Don't dump your clothes in the bin -- trash-can -- just put them in as dirty laundry in your bag. And Kennedy--"
"Yeah?"
"Well done. You made it."
She nods slowly and then heads to the restroom.
She comes out twenty minutes later looking freshly-scrubbed and with her make-up re-applied. She's now wearing a denim jacket. There's an awkward set of introductions.
"You're English SITs, then?"
Molly and Annabelle look at each other uncertainly.
"Slayers-in-training?"
"More like slayers-before-training," Molly says. "We only just found out."
"So do you know how to use any weapons? Giles, these things tore Jonesy apart."
"Mr Giles..."
"Tore apart?" whispers Molly.
"Yeah, they had these mucho big curved knives--"
"How did you escape?" Giles asks.
"We got to the car," she says. "I was backing out of the drive. She had a crossbow but they stabbed her and then pulled her out of the window. I just floored it and ran. Then you called her cell."
"Do we get crossbows?" Molly asks.
"No," Giles snaps. "You do not get crossbows."
"Is that other girl in London dead?" asks Annabelle.
"Yes," Giles says. "Nora is dead. Brian Robson is dead. Penny Jones-Walters is dead. At least half of the bloody Council died yesterday. Now will you pay attention!"
They all look at him silently. Then Kennedy says, "You know, we were all paying attention."
No-one wants a second frappuccino when he offers.
They can't really talk during the flight to Dallas because the plane is packed. The two English girls stare hollow-eyed at episodes of Frasier while Kennedy flips almost vengefully through the Skymall catalogue.
"I'm sorry about your Watcher," Giles offers quietly. "I'm sure you did what you could."
"Yeah," says Kennedy. "Me too."
The seat-belt sign goes on as they approach Dallas and the plane hits some turbulence. There's a storm over the city, they're told, and the landing will be delayed.
The holding pattern lasts for half-an-hour.
Down in the airport, Giles discovers that their flight to LAX has been cancelled due to poor weather. Unending queues of people are trying to rebook their flights. It takes him two hours to reach the head of the queue and get new tickets for that night.
They eat in a Chili's. Annabelle has to have salad "without chicken" while the others share fajitas. The food's a little too hot for Molly and she has to drink half a gallon of water to go with it. Then she spends the next couple of hours popping in and out of the loo. Giles gets nervous whenever she stays in there too long and sometimes sends Kennedy in to check. It would have been easier if Penny had made it.
He spends more time on the phone, fruitlessly trying to get through to the few people he still thinks of as friends in the Council. Then he flicks wearily through the US papers, to see if they have any more details. It's made the front page of some, because of the alleged terrorist link. All he learns is that the building was totally destroyed.
He finally thinks to call the Coven. Rosalind answers the phone. She says, yes, it is every bit as bad as he thinks. They'll send him the obituaries as they are printed.
The flight to LA is delayed, first for one hour and then for a second. The girls slump together in their chairs. Shortly after the fourth delay is announced, the airline admits they've had to postpone it until morning.
It's one a.m. The re-scheduled flight is at six. Giles considers the effort of finding a motel, checking in and then checking out again before the flight. "We'll be safer waiting in here," he tells the SITs.
They push some chairs together so that the English girls can get some kip, but neither he nor Kennedy feel able to sleep. He has some indigestion from the fajitas. He'd kill for a coffee, but all the places are shut and he can't stand the sludge from the vending machines.
They don't turn off the terminal lights overnight, or the televisions that hang from the ceilings. He hears regular weather updates twice an hour while asinine anchormen talk about sport.
"Are we going to stay in LA?" Kennedy asks him. "Or are we going to Sunnydale?"
"Sunnydale," he says. "I presume Penny told you about the current Slayer?"
The young woman shrugs. "Sure. In a what-not-to-do kind of way."
"Buffy's been the Slayer for seven years," he says, quietly.
"That's a long time," says Kennedy. "Me? I'm planning on living even longer than that." She looks out towards the terminal's vast glass windows.
They finally board the plane at five-forty-five. No-one's had any breakfast because the Starbucks and Chick-fil-A don't open until six. Molly and Annabelle collapse with jetlag as soon as their heads hit the headrests. Even Giles allows himself some sleep, but only once he's assured himself that Kennedy knows how to keep a lookout.
LAX is a little easier than JFK, if only because this time they're flying domestic. He forces them all to buy bagels and donuts on their way out. Molly stares at them. "Is all food circular in America? Like pizza?"
Kennedy just rolls her eyes.
None of them smell particularly good at this point, so he gets them to roll down the hire car windows. "Just another hour," he says, "and we'll be there."
"Whatever," Kennedy says. "I just want a shower." The other girls agree.
This time it's Kennedy who at last manages to sleep. The English girls are too excited, looking out at the freeway as if concrete hoardings and blue sky were unbelievably exotic. "The cars are all so huge!" says Annabelle.
"And the lorries!" says Molly.
"Yes, well," Giles tells them. "You'll find that America is different in a lot of ways."
"Is it like the cop shows?" Molly asks.
"Not very," he says. "Far more demons."
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Date: 2010-09-29 08:26 pm (UTC)