Erika, I lack the words and the skill to tell you in how many ways you rock my world.

Oh, me too. Catching up here has been fine. I'm grinning with so much good stuff--and not all of it fic.

When You Are Tired of London

Part Seven: Faith’s Day

James wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew it wasn’t good. All of the girls he’d met the night before were convinced he was Rupert, and none of them remembered his arrival. Dawn knew that Buffy and the others had gone to London on some sort of case, but she couldn’t recall what exactly. Every time he tried to explain who he was, the memory seemed to slip away.

Rupert would know what to do. Best, then, to think like Rupert. Of course, Rupert wouldn’t need to ask directions to his own office.

“Excuse me, Mr. Giles?” said one such girl. “I’ve been reviewing ‘Formgander’s Compendium,’ like you suggested, and I’m afraid I can’t find any of the information on Medeival German Necromancy for the test.”

“Uhm, yes,” said James, tired of attempting to explain that he was, indeed, not Giles. “That would be on, uhm, page 76.”

“Really? But that part’s all in Sumerian!”

“Oh. Well, maybe there’s a translation.”

“I don’t see how you can expect to quiz us on things that aren’t even in a language we’re studying this semester.”

“Right, right. I’m a terrible headmaster. I’ll go flog myself, right quick.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Uhm, now where is my office again.?”

James followed the bewildered girl’s instructions to Giles’ office and, upon finding it, began to tear through his books for some clue as to what was happening. Unfortunately, it seems that it wasn’t just page 76 of “Formgander’s Compendium” that was written in Sumerian. Everything seemed to be in languages he didn’t comprehend. Even those evidently in English mostly eluded him. He foraged through the bookshelf and then, finding nothing, rummaged through the desk. He didn’t find anything useful written down. He did, however, find a bottle of Lagavulin 16.

“Old Rupert did always have good taste,” he thought, as he took a sip.

It was then that he heard a knock at the door, and the extremely attractive girl—“What was her name again? Faith, that was it.”—popped her head in.

“Hey chief,” she said, casually. “Just checking in. You OK?”

James took another sip of Scotch.

“Peachy. Drink?”

He passed the bottle to Faith, who looked at him warily, but took a sip anyway.

“It’s just,” she said, hesitantly, “you’ve been acting like a spaz all day. I mean, it’s OK and all, but we’ve gotta think of the neighbors.”

“Oh, quite.” Said James, very lost.

“Geez, G-Man. That was a joke. Seriously, what’s up?”

James spent a moment appraising her, and then took another sip before speaking.

“Faith, how long have we known each other?”

“Huh? Ages now. Ever since I first came to Sunnydale.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. And why did you come to England with me?”

“After Sunnydale sunk? Well, it was either that or back to jail. You know all this, Giles. You and the council holdovers said you’d get my record wiped if I stayed and helped out here.” She took another drink. “You’re starting to scare me here, G-Man. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing at…” he looked up at her. “Have I ever told you what a beautiful woman you are, Faith?”

“OK. Now you’re creeping me out.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m having a rather bad day.”

“Dude. Is the world ending? Cause if it’s not, whatever else is cake.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I was out of…”

“Well,” said Faith. “Can’t say I’ve never thought about it. You know, the whole, Watcher/Slayer thing.” She rose from her chair and slid onto the desk in front of him.

“Yes…Slayer…what’s a… never mind.” He reached a hand up to her shoulder, and pulled her close for a kiss. Their lips pressed against each other for a moment, and soon she had slid down from the desk and was straddling him on the chair.

“You…are the most…incredible….” He started to say, but Faith kissed him again. Her hand caressed his leg, and then ran up his neck, to his throat.

Suddenly, he realized her fingers were wrapped around his throat, and she was standing, hoisting him one-handed up above her head.

“So tell me, lover boy,” she said. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Giles?”

V!Giles, and Buffy's had a bad dream

Buffy sat up, rubbing her eyes. Dawn blinked at her sleepily. "A dream?"

"What kind of dream?" Giles asked, frowning. "The usual sort or something more?"

"I was dreaming about the guys back at the convent. Glory was there."

Dawn squeaked in alarm, but Giles continued to look serious. "Did it seem like something prophetic or just the usual sort of nightmare projection of your worries?"

"It wasn't just a nightmare, but it didn't seem like one of the Slayer dreams, either. More like--something that's already happened. I heard Tara's voice, she was calling for help." Buffy licked her lips. "She said they were losing."

"If Glory has arrived, I imagine Willow would try the spell to get Tara's mind back. I have never been certain of everything that Tara is capable of, perhaps she did find a way to contact you."

"So you think this is real? That Glory's there and they're in trouble?"

Giles checked his watch. "It's not quite dawn. We can't go back yet, regardless."

Dawn sat up. "But--if Glory's there, she could--Mom's there!"

Giles was unmoved. "Spike, Xander, and Willow are there, they'll defend Joyce."

Buffy got to her feet. "I couldn't take her. The guys may not even be able to slow her down."

He gave her a much more adamant version of his usual Watcher look. "What was the point of all this, the running, coming to this dimension? It was to protect Dawn from Glory, to save the world. Surely you didn't think Glory would shrug it off, that after everything she's done she'd just accept that her Key was out of reach. I admit I'm surprised she was able to follow us to the convent, but I knew she wasn't going to sit idly by and let herself be trapped." The cold look faded a little. "I don't like thinking about anything happening to the others, either. But our first priority has always been to stop Glory from opening her portal."

Dawn looked at her own watch. "Dawn's less than an hour from now. Didn't you say she had to be in Sunnydale for her spell to work? She'd never make it in time, we could--"

"I am not going to risk it," Giles said firmly. "You are not stepping back into our own world one second before 6:17 AM. Glory might have some way to open her portal with just you, I can't imagine she doesn't have an emergency back-up plan of some sort. We are not going back."

Dawn looked at Buffy anxiously. "I saw bodies, Giles," Buffy whispered. "Lots of bodies. And Tara was really scared. Spike was laying into Glory, but he wasn't doing enough damage. She was starting to get up." She saw regret was briefly over Giles' face, but it was swiftly replaced by acceptance.

"The possibility is quite real that someone we--that someone could get seriously hurt whom we don't want to be hurt." His brave, resigned smile looked very human. "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

Yowsa!

Victor, go get 'em, baybee, this is wonderful.

I was waiting for Faith to bounce him off a wall. Nice!

Buffy looked away, knowing very, very well that he was right. She'd risked everything to keep Dawn from harm, dragged her unwell mother out of the comfort of her own home, disrupted everyone's lives, demanded obedience to her demands that Dawn's safety come first--and gotten it.

Maybe those monks had put that in her, that blind focus on Dawn's safety before everything else. Whatever the source, she simply couldn't bring herself to risk opening the portal before the deadline, risk Glory getting her hands on the Key after everything they'd done. The writers of the Slayer Handbook would approve. The girl who knew that the Slayer was stronger with friends and family, though, screamed in her mind, "But they're dying! They're covering your ass and they're dying for it! As least give Glory a target that's not so fragile!"

She couldn't stay here, not while knowing her mother and Willow and Xander and Anya and those nice nuns and, heck, even Spike were holding the line for her and losing. But she couldn't go back, she couldn't take Dawn back there yet--

"Goose, corn, fox," she whispered.

Dawn blinked. "Huh?"

"There's a game. You've got a goose, some corn, and a fox, and you have to get them across a river. But you can only carry one thing at a time in the boat. The fox will eat the goose and the goose will eat the corn if they're left alone together."

"So?"

Buffy turned to Giles. "Please, let me trust you just one more time."

He tilted his head at her in that painfully familiar way. "Excuse me?"

"I can go back there, if I leave Dawn here with you."

He smiled suddenly, proudly. "Instead of the goose alone with the fox, Dawn should be the corn?"

She nodded. "Let me trust you to keep her safe. Despite whatever your brain is currently telling you is a good idea, please be my Watcher again for just a few more minutes, instead of something I'm supposed to kill."

The look he gave her was dispassionate and assessing. "And you would believe me why?"

"I would if you promised."

"I'm not Spike. He was raised on tales of chivalry and noble quests."

"No," Buffy nodded. "You're not Spike. You're Giles. And if you promised, I'd believe you."

"You shouldn't," he said softly. "You can't. Not now."

"I know. But I would. Please? For just a little while?"

He'd only ever lied to her when she'd insisted. He would keep things from her, try to change the subject, try not to say anything at all, but he'd always told her the truth. He studied her for several moments, his thoughts locked behind remote, unhuman eyes. Then he smiled, and the man who'd wielded chainsaws in her behalf with such disturbing glee was back.

"I promise. I'll keep Dawn safe while you're gone, and we'll come back just as soon as sun clears the horizon and it's too late for any of Glory's plans to work."

Buffy ran to hug him, but not long enough for the lack of heartbeat to register or for the chill in his skin to feel like anything more than someone who had been out in the cold. "Thank you. Now, where do we open the portal so I can get home?"

“Old Rupert did always have good taste,” he thought, as he took a sip.

One wee thing...

No one would say that about Johnny Walker Red. That's just a step above Monarch.

Oh, and Victor? Is it ok if I feel a little sorry for James?

No one would say that about Johnny Walker Red. That's just a step above Monarch.

I would take Plei's word on the Scotchness of it all. What was Giles' tipple, anyway? Is that known (in terms of canon)?

I was waiting for Faith to bounce him off a wall. Nice!

Heh. I couldn't resist, really.

No one would say that about Johnny Walker Red. That's just a step above Monarch.

Fair point, although--ahem--I used to drink it. Suggestions for better?

Oh, and Victor? Is it ok if I feel a little sorry for James?

Oh, certainly. James is being put through the wringer here.