Halfway There, Chapters 7 to 9
Sep. 16th, 2010 07:26 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.
7. Sofa
In LAX, Vi picks at her airport breakfast. David's flight back to London has just left.
"Will my parents be OK?" she asks.
"They should have nothing to fear now you're no longer with them. It's the mystical line you belong to that they wish to eradicate, not the strictly genealogical."
"I should have asked him to write me," she says.
Later that morning at Revello Drive, he plonks down his luggage and tries to get some sleep on the sofa, but Buffy wants to talk. "Will's gone through the files you brought but she didn't find anything. What do we know about the Turok-Han, Giles? How do we kill it?"
Willow stops by an hour later. "I do the meditation, Giles, but I can't get calm. It's eating me up inside, Giles."
Dawn comes by at lunchtime. "Move over," she says. "It's Oprah."
Lydia rings at two. He asks, "Are you still in hospital?" but she doesn't answer his question.
"I have a partial list of missing SITs," she says instead. "They're in Paraguay, Egypt, Israel, Brazil..."
"No," says Giles, "no. Look, which are the closest? I should start with those."
"Ciudad Juarez," she says. "Then Austin, Madison, Phoenix, Honolulu."
He jots down the names and addresses.
Lydia says, "Roger came to visit me this morning. He doesn't want something this important in the hands of 'a cowboy'. He's asked me not to provide you with any more information or money."
"I see."
"I will route funds to you via our Vietnamese and Portuguese stations as he won't be monitoring those as closely. I'll dictate what I know now."
Giles waves at Dawn and passes the phone to her. She writes into a notebook as he picks up his bag.
"When will you be back?" Willow asks, but he shakes his head.
The first useful flight he can get from LAX is to Austin, not Cuidad Juarez or its near neighbour, El Paso. He has forty minutes before the flight and three hours in the air. He can allow himself a drink.
The sports bar is decorated with fake snow and tinsel. A rosy-cheeked Santa figurine stands on the counter, clutching an oval ball. Two giant television screens are replaying "Great Games of the Year."
A man sits at one of the tables, with a glass of beer in one hand and a copy of the LA Times in the other. He looks up as Giles approaches.
"Hello, Rupert," says Ethan Rayne.
8. Bulb
"So what's your excuse this time?" Giles asks. "Are you setting up a shop? Going into manufacturing? Here to give me a warning?"
"The last one," says Ethan.
"Well, if it's 'From beneath you it devours', I've already heard it."
Ethan looks nonplussed. "I might know more," he says. "Fancy a beer?"
Giles shakes his head in exasperation. "Not after the last time. Look, whatever it is you're doing here, I don't have time for it. Just clear off."
"And what if I don't, Rupert? Are you going to thrash me in full view of airport security?"
"Much as I'd like to, no. But why don't we go and talk to Security, Ethan? Is your passport valid? Aren't you a missing US military prisoner?"
"Funny story, that," says Ethan. His face falls: "Not really."
"I am going," says Giles, "to sit over there and have a quiet drink. If I see you do anything more untoward than turning the page of your newspaper, I will call for the Slayer and the most powerful witch in the Western Hemisphere and then I will get on my plane and leave them to it."
"And you used to do your own dirty work."
"Oh, piss off." He turns back towards the bar.
Ethan rustles his paper. "Still no lead on the London bombing," he says. "It's on page twelve."
Giles takes a seat in the opposite corner of the bar. He drinks his beer and stares at Rayne. Ethan feigns nonchalance and takes exaggerated interest in the sports section. Tosser.
Half an hour later, Giles leaves for his flight.
Austin is in the middle of a downpour when he arrives. The Avis attendant says she can't hire him a car as the one he hired in Seattle hasn't been returned, so he hires a Hertz.
It's rush hour and dusk. Giles crawls along in the traffic, looking for the on-ramp for the Interstate. He puts the radio on and it's playing "Hotel California".
The buildings fade into darkness as night arrives. He can see the cat's eyes, the traffic signs, and the neon lights of Walgreens and motels. Traffic starts to speed up.
The address is somewhere not quite in Austin and not quite in the next town over. It's an apartment complex, two turns from the Interstate, and he realises as he arrives that he has no idea of the socioeconomic meaning of such a home. But then he hears gunfire.
He runs out into the darkness and the rain, feeling his clothes soaking from the outside in. He runs towards the gunfire, because that's his duty and his calling.
The apartment stairwell is lit only by a swinging bulb a couple of stories above. Giles trips over the body of a Bringer and hears glass crunch underfoot. There's the sound of a struggle from above and the scent of blood.
He gets halfway up the first flight before another shot is fired: the sound is deafening. On the landing he can see two Bringers tearing a gun from a young woman: they start to pull out their knives. He rugby tackles one, smashes the Bringer's head against a wall, but that doesn't seem to do much. He tries an uppercut, and the pain in hand makes him cry out. So instead he launches himself up the stairs, towards the gun. The Bringers grab the girl by the ankles.
He has the good sense not to fire an unfamiliar weapon in a confined space. He reaches down to hand it to the girl.
She holds it in both her hands as she is dragged down the stairs towards a fallen knife. She fires and a Bringer crumples.
The next moment is one that Giles cannot, for a moment, understand. There is an explosion from above, an explosion from below, and the loud retort of the girl's gun being fired close by. The shadows swing sickeningly with the bulb.
Giles wipes some sweat from his brow and his injured hand comes away dark. There's a man with a shotgun coming up the stairs. The last Bringer has fallen, but so has the girl. And someone is coming down the stairs behind him. Giles sways, wondering if he has been hit.
9. Trolley
For the second time in --- three? --- nights, Giles finds himself lifting the body of a girl into the back of his car. He's bound her wounds, but she's still bleeding heavily, the blood washing from her in the rain. Her father is shaking. The neighbour with the shotgun says, "It must have ricocheted."
At the hospital, attendants put her on a trolley and wheel her inside. Her father slaps Giles on the shoulder and tries to thank him with the sheer gratitude in his eyes. "They say she has a good chance. She wouldn't have one without you."
Giles knows that the girl is not yet a Slayer; she has no Slayer healing powers. She'll be in surgery and then on life support, unguarded except by her father, in the middle of a public hospital. The Bringers will still come, but Giles cannot stay to protect her. There are others with better chances.
"I do what I can," Giles says.
The back of the rent-a-car is soaked with blood. Giles doesn't bother to return it and leaves it abandoned in the Austin-Bergstrom carpark. He changes out of his wet and blood-stained clothes.
Lydia doesn't answer when he rings. Instead, a furious woman with a Glasgow accent picks up the phone. "Is it you that rings her day and night? Do you not think she needs her rest? She's in hospital, you eedjit. What's so important? She canna come to the phone, she's having her operation. And I'll be taking the phone away from her so she can rest."
Dawn has some news, but it's not good. The Watcher in Cuidad Juarez has been confirmed dead and his SIT is missing. He should move on to the girl in Wisconsin. So he books a late-night flight to Chicago and an early-morning flight from there to Madison.
O'Hare's a ghost town by the time he arrives. The souvenir shops and cafes are closed. He ties his luggage to his ankle and lies down on a row of seats to sleep. The edges of the chairs dig into his hip and shoulder.
He doesn't dream.
Ethan is there when he wakes up. It's five a.m. and the airport is otherwise deserted. Ethan's sitting on the next row of chairs, finishing off a bacon and egg sandwich. The smell makes Giles ravenous; he can't remember when he last ate.
"You look terrible," Ethan says. "You look old."
"Are you passing my movements on to the Bringers?"
"No need," said Ethan. "There's more than enough Bringers to go around."
"So you do know more."
Ethan sighs. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"
Giles closes his eyes and lies back on the uncomfortable chairs. "Because if the First wins, the world truly will be in chaos, and then you won't have nearly as much fun."
"Unlikely allies," Ethan says, "united against a common foe."
"I remember how well that worked with Eyghon."
"You mean, the second time," says Ethan. "We worked quite well together, back in the day."
Giles sits up and pokes in his bag. "Did you do anything to this while I was asleep?"
"No," says Ethan.
Giles roams O'Hare until he finds a grill restaurant that's just opening and will make him a ham and cheese sandwich. Then he has to dash across the airport to get to his departure gate on time.
The snow in Madison is quite different from the snow in Seattle: it's thicker and more settled. The morning is clear and bright, and the sunlight sparkles off the snow.
He drives the quiet streets. Central Madison seems to be composed mostly of lakes. The house he wants is in the western suburbs, on a street of wooden homes, which all look insubstantial to his British eyes. The porches are hung with Christmas lights and the doors are hung with wreaths.
He slows down as he approaches number eighty-two. Two police cars are parked outside. There's blood-stained snow on the front lawn and two officers are carrying someone out of the house in a body-bag. Neighbours are peering through lace and chintz curtains.
Giles drives on past.
Madison airport is quite small. It has a snack bar and a souvenir shop and that's about it. The payphone's broken. As he waits for the next flight back to Chicago, he finds himself staring at a shelf full of Badger t-shirts and a pile of discounted cheese-hats.
Ethan is waiting for him back in O'Hare. "I knew you wouldn't be long," he says. Giles resists the urge to deck him, but his hand aches pleasantly at the thought.
"You know, Madison isn't that far from Chicago," Ethan says. "It would have been faster to drive."
Giles finds a phone and calls Lydia while Ethan pokes around a nearby magazine and book shop.
"She's in recovery," a nurse tells him (not the Glaswegian one, thank God). "She can't come to the phone but I'll tell her you called."
Althenea takes his call at the Coven. He explains the situation and asks for their help. "I don't know how much more information I'll get from the Council," he says. She promises to use all their resources.
Dawn says Phoenix is next. At least that's an airline hub, so it shouldn't be hard getting flights.
"And an Olivia called. She said you had her number. She sounded kind of upset."
Giles calls Olivia, trying to keep his voice low enough that Ethan can't overhear.
"Rupert!" Olivia says. "Where are you?"
"Chicago. I'm in transit."
"Are you OK? Should I be worried?"
"Not always," he says, "and -- Sunday, I was going to meet you Sunday. Shopping and the gallery."
"I drive down and there's post piled up and you've left your front door unlocked. You've taken a bag but not a suitcase and the milk's gone off in the fridge. I know you have emergencies you've got to get to, but you didn't ring."
"I was busy," he says. He knows how pathetic an answer that is. "Olivia, many of the people I care about are in grave danger right now. Some of them have died. I didn't call you because I knew you'd be safe." He grimaces. "I don't even know what day of the week it is."
"It's Wednesday. We were going to stay with my parents, remember?"
"After all the trouble you took to persuade them to meet me."
"Rupert," she says, softly, "is there anything I can do?"
"Stay safe," he says, "just stay safe. Be the person I don't have to worry about."
He hears her sigh. "I have to be one of the people you ring, Rupert."
Giles books his next flight. He goes back to the grill bar for some lunch. Halfway through, Ethan joins him.
"Eventually," says Ethan, "I will run out of patience and leave, and then you'll never know if I could have helped you."
"How?" asks Giles. "What exactly is it that you think you can bring to this? What can you do that Buffy, Willow and I can't?"
"Is she really as powerful a witch as they say?"
"Yes."
"Bitch," says Ethan.
"She came this close to destroying the world last May," Giles says, holding his thumb and finger together to indicate something very small indeed.
"I can't compete with that level of power," Ethan says, "but I have my contacts. I can ask around, find out what others know."
Giles is sceptical. "You have friends of friends, perhaps, of the Ultimate Evil?"
"I know people who know people," Ethan says, "who know people who aren't people. And when I find something, I'll come and find you."
"Can you give me any proof your intentions are even halfway worthwhile?"
Ethan thinks for a moment, then says, "Beljoxa's Eye. Look that up, back in Sunnydale. And Rupert?"
"Yes?"
"You really should get a mobile phone."
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.
7. Sofa
In LAX, Vi picks at her airport breakfast. David's flight back to London has just left.
"Will my parents be OK?" she asks.
"They should have nothing to fear now you're no longer with them. It's the mystical line you belong to that they wish to eradicate, not the strictly genealogical."
"I should have asked him to write me," she says.
Later that morning at Revello Drive, he plonks down his luggage and tries to get some sleep on the sofa, but Buffy wants to talk. "Will's gone through the files you brought but she didn't find anything. What do we know about the Turok-Han, Giles? How do we kill it?"
Willow stops by an hour later. "I do the meditation, Giles, but I can't get calm. It's eating me up inside, Giles."
Dawn comes by at lunchtime. "Move over," she says. "It's Oprah."
Lydia rings at two. He asks, "Are you still in hospital?" but she doesn't answer his question.
"I have a partial list of missing SITs," she says instead. "They're in Paraguay, Egypt, Israel, Brazil..."
"No," says Giles, "no. Look, which are the closest? I should start with those."
"Ciudad Juarez," she says. "Then Austin, Madison, Phoenix, Honolulu."
He jots down the names and addresses.
Lydia says, "Roger came to visit me this morning. He doesn't want something this important in the hands of 'a cowboy'. He's asked me not to provide you with any more information or money."
"I see."
"I will route funds to you via our Vietnamese and Portuguese stations as he won't be monitoring those as closely. I'll dictate what I know now."
Giles waves at Dawn and passes the phone to her. She writes into a notebook as he picks up his bag.
"When will you be back?" Willow asks, but he shakes his head.
The first useful flight he can get from LAX is to Austin, not Cuidad Juarez or its near neighbour, El Paso. He has forty minutes before the flight and three hours in the air. He can allow himself a drink.
The sports bar is decorated with fake snow and tinsel. A rosy-cheeked Santa figurine stands on the counter, clutching an oval ball. Two giant television screens are replaying "Great Games of the Year."
A man sits at one of the tables, with a glass of beer in one hand and a copy of the LA Times in the other. He looks up as Giles approaches.
"Hello, Rupert," says Ethan Rayne.
8. Bulb
"So what's your excuse this time?" Giles asks. "Are you setting up a shop? Going into manufacturing? Here to give me a warning?"
"The last one," says Ethan.
"Well, if it's 'From beneath you it devours', I've already heard it."
Ethan looks nonplussed. "I might know more," he says. "Fancy a beer?"
Giles shakes his head in exasperation. "Not after the last time. Look, whatever it is you're doing here, I don't have time for it. Just clear off."
"And what if I don't, Rupert? Are you going to thrash me in full view of airport security?"
"Much as I'd like to, no. But why don't we go and talk to Security, Ethan? Is your passport valid? Aren't you a missing US military prisoner?"
"Funny story, that," says Ethan. His face falls: "Not really."
"I am going," says Giles, "to sit over there and have a quiet drink. If I see you do anything more untoward than turning the page of your newspaper, I will call for the Slayer and the most powerful witch in the Western Hemisphere and then I will get on my plane and leave them to it."
"And you used to do your own dirty work."
"Oh, piss off." He turns back towards the bar.
Ethan rustles his paper. "Still no lead on the London bombing," he says. "It's on page twelve."
Giles takes a seat in the opposite corner of the bar. He drinks his beer and stares at Rayne. Ethan feigns nonchalance and takes exaggerated interest in the sports section. Tosser.
Half an hour later, Giles leaves for his flight.
Austin is in the middle of a downpour when he arrives. The Avis attendant says she can't hire him a car as the one he hired in Seattle hasn't been returned, so he hires a Hertz.
It's rush hour and dusk. Giles crawls along in the traffic, looking for the on-ramp for the Interstate. He puts the radio on and it's playing "Hotel California".
The buildings fade into darkness as night arrives. He can see the cat's eyes, the traffic signs, and the neon lights of Walgreens and motels. Traffic starts to speed up.
The address is somewhere not quite in Austin and not quite in the next town over. It's an apartment complex, two turns from the Interstate, and he realises as he arrives that he has no idea of the socioeconomic meaning of such a home. But then he hears gunfire.
He runs out into the darkness and the rain, feeling his clothes soaking from the outside in. He runs towards the gunfire, because that's his duty and his calling.
The apartment stairwell is lit only by a swinging bulb a couple of stories above. Giles trips over the body of a Bringer and hears glass crunch underfoot. There's the sound of a struggle from above and the scent of blood.
He gets halfway up the first flight before another shot is fired: the sound is deafening. On the landing he can see two Bringers tearing a gun from a young woman: they start to pull out their knives. He rugby tackles one, smashes the Bringer's head against a wall, but that doesn't seem to do much. He tries an uppercut, and the pain in hand makes him cry out. So instead he launches himself up the stairs, towards the gun. The Bringers grab the girl by the ankles.
He has the good sense not to fire an unfamiliar weapon in a confined space. He reaches down to hand it to the girl.
She holds it in both her hands as she is dragged down the stairs towards a fallen knife. She fires and a Bringer crumples.
The next moment is one that Giles cannot, for a moment, understand. There is an explosion from above, an explosion from below, and the loud retort of the girl's gun being fired close by. The shadows swing sickeningly with the bulb.
Giles wipes some sweat from his brow and his injured hand comes away dark. There's a man with a shotgun coming up the stairs. The last Bringer has fallen, but so has the girl. And someone is coming down the stairs behind him. Giles sways, wondering if he has been hit.
9. Trolley
For the second time in --- three? --- nights, Giles finds himself lifting the body of a girl into the back of his car. He's bound her wounds, but she's still bleeding heavily, the blood washing from her in the rain. Her father is shaking. The neighbour with the shotgun says, "It must have ricocheted."
At the hospital, attendants put her on a trolley and wheel her inside. Her father slaps Giles on the shoulder and tries to thank him with the sheer gratitude in his eyes. "They say she has a good chance. She wouldn't have one without you."
Giles knows that the girl is not yet a Slayer; she has no Slayer healing powers. She'll be in surgery and then on life support, unguarded except by her father, in the middle of a public hospital. The Bringers will still come, but Giles cannot stay to protect her. There are others with better chances.
"I do what I can," Giles says.
The back of the rent-a-car is soaked with blood. Giles doesn't bother to return it and leaves it abandoned in the Austin-Bergstrom carpark. He changes out of his wet and blood-stained clothes.
Lydia doesn't answer when he rings. Instead, a furious woman with a Glasgow accent picks up the phone. "Is it you that rings her day and night? Do you not think she needs her rest? She's in hospital, you eedjit. What's so important? She canna come to the phone, she's having her operation. And I'll be taking the phone away from her so she can rest."
Dawn has some news, but it's not good. The Watcher in Cuidad Juarez has been confirmed dead and his SIT is missing. He should move on to the girl in Wisconsin. So he books a late-night flight to Chicago and an early-morning flight from there to Madison.
O'Hare's a ghost town by the time he arrives. The souvenir shops and cafes are closed. He ties his luggage to his ankle and lies down on a row of seats to sleep. The edges of the chairs dig into his hip and shoulder.
He doesn't dream.
Ethan is there when he wakes up. It's five a.m. and the airport is otherwise deserted. Ethan's sitting on the next row of chairs, finishing off a bacon and egg sandwich. The smell makes Giles ravenous; he can't remember when he last ate.
"You look terrible," Ethan says. "You look old."
"Are you passing my movements on to the Bringers?"
"No need," said Ethan. "There's more than enough Bringers to go around."
"So you do know more."
Ethan sighs. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"
Giles closes his eyes and lies back on the uncomfortable chairs. "Because if the First wins, the world truly will be in chaos, and then you won't have nearly as much fun."
"Unlikely allies," Ethan says, "united against a common foe."
"I remember how well that worked with Eyghon."
"You mean, the second time," says Ethan. "We worked quite well together, back in the day."
Giles sits up and pokes in his bag. "Did you do anything to this while I was asleep?"
"No," says Ethan.
Giles roams O'Hare until he finds a grill restaurant that's just opening and will make him a ham and cheese sandwich. Then he has to dash across the airport to get to his departure gate on time.
The snow in Madison is quite different from the snow in Seattle: it's thicker and more settled. The morning is clear and bright, and the sunlight sparkles off the snow.
He drives the quiet streets. Central Madison seems to be composed mostly of lakes. The house he wants is in the western suburbs, on a street of wooden homes, which all look insubstantial to his British eyes. The porches are hung with Christmas lights and the doors are hung with wreaths.
He slows down as he approaches number eighty-two. Two police cars are parked outside. There's blood-stained snow on the front lawn and two officers are carrying someone out of the house in a body-bag. Neighbours are peering through lace and chintz curtains.
Giles drives on past.
Madison airport is quite small. It has a snack bar and a souvenir shop and that's about it. The payphone's broken. As he waits for the next flight back to Chicago, he finds himself staring at a shelf full of Badger t-shirts and a pile of discounted cheese-hats.
Ethan is waiting for him back in O'Hare. "I knew you wouldn't be long," he says. Giles resists the urge to deck him, but his hand aches pleasantly at the thought.
"You know, Madison isn't that far from Chicago," Ethan says. "It would have been faster to drive."
Giles finds a phone and calls Lydia while Ethan pokes around a nearby magazine and book shop.
"She's in recovery," a nurse tells him (not the Glaswegian one, thank God). "She can't come to the phone but I'll tell her you called."
Althenea takes his call at the Coven. He explains the situation and asks for their help. "I don't know how much more information I'll get from the Council," he says. She promises to use all their resources.
Dawn says Phoenix is next. At least that's an airline hub, so it shouldn't be hard getting flights.
"And an Olivia called. She said you had her number. She sounded kind of upset."
Giles calls Olivia, trying to keep his voice low enough that Ethan can't overhear.
"Rupert!" Olivia says. "Where are you?"
"Chicago. I'm in transit."
"Are you OK? Should I be worried?"
"Not always," he says, "and -- Sunday, I was going to meet you Sunday. Shopping and the gallery."
"I drive down and there's post piled up and you've left your front door unlocked. You've taken a bag but not a suitcase and the milk's gone off in the fridge. I know you have emergencies you've got to get to, but you didn't ring."
"I was busy," he says. He knows how pathetic an answer that is. "Olivia, many of the people I care about are in grave danger right now. Some of them have died. I didn't call you because I knew you'd be safe." He grimaces. "I don't even know what day of the week it is."
"It's Wednesday. We were going to stay with my parents, remember?"
"After all the trouble you took to persuade them to meet me."
"Rupert," she says, softly, "is there anything I can do?"
"Stay safe," he says, "just stay safe. Be the person I don't have to worry about."
He hears her sigh. "I have to be one of the people you ring, Rupert."
Giles books his next flight. He goes back to the grill bar for some lunch. Halfway through, Ethan joins him.
"Eventually," says Ethan, "I will run out of patience and leave, and then you'll never know if I could have helped you."
"How?" asks Giles. "What exactly is it that you think you can bring to this? What can you do that Buffy, Willow and I can't?"
"Is she really as powerful a witch as they say?"
"Yes."
"Bitch," says Ethan.
"She came this close to destroying the world last May," Giles says, holding his thumb and finger together to indicate something very small indeed.
"I can't compete with that level of power," Ethan says, "but I have my contacts. I can ask around, find out what others know."
Giles is sceptical. "You have friends of friends, perhaps, of the Ultimate Evil?"
"I know people who know people," Ethan says, "who know people who aren't people. And when I find something, I'll come and find you."
"Can you give me any proof your intentions are even halfway worthwhile?"
Ethan thinks for a moment, then says, "Beljoxa's Eye. Look that up, back in Sunnydale. And Rupert?"
"Yes?"
"You really should get a mobile phone."
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Date: 2010-09-30 11:51 am (UTC)Anyway, can't wait to see more!