tessarin (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} tessarin) wrote,@ 2008-02-26 19:42:00 |
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| Entry tags: | btvs_fic, faith, giles |
BVTSFIC- Gifts from Charing Cross Road - 15 1/2
Title: Gifts from Charing Cross Road
Author tessarin
Rating: 15
Character: Faith, Giles, OC
Summary: Faith and Giles return to London to search for an ancient Codex amongst London's bookstores.
Warnings; Language
Disclaimer: Buffy the vampire slayer is owned by Fox. All characters bar original characters are copyrighted by Fox and Mutant Enemy.
Author's Note: This fic is the sequel to 'Remembrance' and takes place immediately after the earlier fic and before the events in 'Running On'. Thanks to w00hoofor the beta and to empressvesica.
Gifts from Charing Cross Road
The fire roared like an untamed beast, timbers cracking and twisting under its assault. The wind caught the flames fanning them higher, wafting burning thatch and embers into the tinder dry garden, new fires springing immediately into life wherever they touched ground.
"Rupert, get back," shouted his father, his arms going around his son just as the timbers finally gave with a groan and the roof collapsed inwards. A great gust of heat and flames washed outwards before the walls of the ancient Sussex cottage collapsed in on themselves. The fire momentarily stalled before the flames roared free
"Come on, Rupert. Pull yourself together, boy. Stiff upper lip and all that."
"Yes, Father," he sniffed in reply.
"There's a good chap. Now remember what I told you about how this is one of the costs we bear, one of the consequences of our sacred duty. Take a look at those flames, Rupert."
"See how they destroy all that we have worked for? Books, gifts, home these are transitory things in our great struggle against the darkness. Remember what caused this, Rupert, the monsters and other demons that lurk in the shadows of our world. Hold it close and remember so that you might draw strength from it when you become a Watcher."
"Yes, Father," replied Rupert.
"Now brush yourself down and do throw that away. You have no use for it now," replied his Father gesturing at the burnt fragment of book cover in his son's hand. "We need to get back to your mother." His father's hand exerted gentle pressure on his back guiding him forwards. Forwards towards a future already mapped out, chosen for him whilst his childhood was consumed in flames behind him.
The boy trailed disconsolately after his father, his dressing gown soot stained, a small burnt piece of paper the picture of a lantern jawed man barely visible on the fragment dropping unnoticed from his hand.
**********
Faith was bored.
No correction! Make that she was fucking bored, ready to scream or climb the walls bored.
There was nothing to do, nothing to slay. Her iPod's charge had run down a while ago and the damn charger was stuck somewhere down the throat of a Gablok demon leaving her practically alone in the carriage, the only sounds the high pitched whoosh of the train as it rushed across the northern French countryside, the bass track being provided by the gentle snoring of Giles as he slept, propped up against the window a copy of some Brit papers funnies, red rocket ships and ray guns by the look of it on his lap.
She didn't want to wake him, she wasn't sure what they would even talk about and to be honest, and she was still a little on edge about what had happened in Cambrai. The problem was she couldn't just get up and go somewhere. Sure, she could wander up and down the length of the train again and scope out any potential talent, not that there was much, just a load of fake Tweedy's that Giles had called Euro something or others. Even Faith had managed to pick up the disdainful undercurrent in Giles' voice. But that was out after Giles had asked her to stop doing it because the guards had complained she was scaring the other passengers.
Although how the fuck that was possible she didn't know. I mean she was scary; she knew it. But she didn't look it right? Besides although she would never admit it to his face, the fact that Giles had asked her and done that glasses thing, well, that kinda made her want to not do it.
So here she was sat, in first class no less, with her boots propped up on the seats opposite despite all of Giles' best efforts. She grinned to herself as she glanced over at the Englishman. He had fallen asleep a little over thirty minutes after their departure from Brussels. Not that she blamed him; the drive back from the cemetery had been a hard one. Not helped by the fact that she hadn't known what the hell to say to him. Every time she had opened her mouth to say something, to thank him, it had just dried up. He would give her a wry smile and then turn his eyes back to the road. In the end she had given up and just pretended to sleep.
Shit, she was an ungrateful bitch. But it was not like she wasn't making progress. Giles probably felt honored that he was the first guy to reach out to her who she had not tried to kill in return. Both the previous attempts at the "Save Faith" routine had involved violence, and if she was being honest, rather large amounts of violence.
Well, that wasn't exactly true, Robin had tried to help and maybe he had, in his own ham fisted way. She hadn't tried to kill him. No they had just screamed at each other like normal people before she had packed her bags and headed off to New York.
So she settled for chewing her lip and occasionally looking out the window at the French countryside. In the end, she couldn't take it anymore and sauntered her way up to the dining car to see if there was anything to scavenge, but it was empty apart from the waiter, a disheveled middle-aged man with a comb over. She ignored his worried look when he caught sight of her and instead settled down at a table.
"Mademoiselle is aware that the dining car is closed and last service was at vingt-trois heure," said the waiter gliding up to her side with a white cloth over his arm.
"You got any coffee or anything still going?" she asked, giving the waiter a tired smile. The waiter seemed to take that as his cue to chill a little and smile back.
"I'll check. I cannot promise but I think we may have something," he replied hurrying away.
Faith smelt the coffee before it arrived , its rich aroma perking her awake as the waiter set the cup down on her table and then started to pour thick black gold into her cup, just the delicious aroma reviving her spirits. She took a sip.
"Everything is to Mademoiselle’s satisfaction?"
"Yeah it’s wicked." Faith grinned at the waiter who visibly preened.
"Hey not to be a killjoy but is there any chance of getting this to go? It's just my buddy is kinda zoned out at the moment," asked Faith.
"Of course,” replied the waiter turning to leave.
"Hey thanks," replied Faith figuring what the hell she might as well let go with the Hail Mary," I don't suppose you have any of those pastries things do you?"
******
Giles was awake by the time she got back. His folded newspaper with its funnies perched on top sat on the small window table. His eyes still looked red and bleary through the lenses of his glasses and he was still obviously suffering from a serious lack of sleep. Somehow despite this he managed to give her the look.
"Hey, it's just food. 'Sides, I was all nice and asked."
She somehow managed to put his croissant down without emptying the pair of jumbo cups containing steaming coffee all over her instead managing to maintain her delicate balancing act and deposit them on the small window table.
"Dare I ask?"
"Actually the dude was kinda cool, but he'll walk funny for a while." Faith smirked plopping into her seat before starting to nibble at the edge of the pastry. The contents were still slightly warm from their quick brush with the microwave but at least they were something and she tore pieces off, tossing them into her mouth whilst she watched Giles.
He sipped briefly at the coffee in the cup, a look of distaste flashing across his face before taking a larger sip and settling down with a sigh.
"Thank you," said Giles, taking a quick look out of the window.
"We're through the tunnel, in case you're wondering," said Faith, a light smile playing on her lips.
"Good. It shouldn't be long now then," replied Giles, taking a quick glance at his watch.
"So, never took you for a fan of the funnies…" asked Faith gesturing. She grinned openly as for a moment Giles was all English Flustered Guy.
"Funnies?" he asked.
"Comics, cartoons, you know, funnies! I thought you only read boring stuff by dead people in dead languages," she teased.
"No, I do occasionally read the funnies, as you put it. Actually, if you must know it's part of my Sunday ritual. Tea, toast and reading the Sunday papers," replied Giles rather with an exaggerated sniffle.
"Hey, not saying there's anything wrong." Faith grinned over at Giles her cheeks dimpling she reached out and started to flick through the discarded comic section.
"So, you got a place to crash?" asked Faith unable to stop the yawn that escaped her, eyes just glazing across the mix of black and white shorts and full color strips.
"Yes, we managed to identify a number of safe places that were not comprised by the Bringers," replied Giles.
"Cool." Faith replied, thankful that at least they would have a place to crash when they arrived. She hadn't really fancied the idea of slumming it at the airport terminal; she still had kinks in her back from the trip out.
"So have you given any more thought to my proposal?" asked Giles.
"I don't know Giles. I don't think me and council fit, you know?" replied Faith.
"That's only part…," started Giles before he grinned and shook his head ruefully.
"What?"
"It can wait. It's been a long day and whilst I'm sure you're not feeling the effects, I certainly am," he replied.
"Suit your self, not like my answers going to be any different anyway," shrugged Faith.
Giles just smiled that insufferable smile of his, before another sip of the coffee wiped it from his face.
*******
"Where to guv?" The cabbie asked. He still regarded Faith warily and she thought with good reason; he hadn't taken the hint when he tried to relieve Faith of the heavy canvas bag which contained her weaponry.
"Forty Charing Cross road, please," replied Giles as he climbed into the back of the black cab gesturing for Faith to join him.
Faith settled down into the wide seat next to Giles ignoring the look he gave her when she propped her feet on the single seat opposite. She could literally feel the hum of the city around her, the energy and vibrancy, the crowds all called out to her. She could feel other tugs there as well, not as strong as in Sunnydale, but certainly stronger than she had felt in either New York or Boston.
There were Vamps here in the old home of the Council, lurking in the shadows and probably running a little wild since the mass decapitation conducted by the agents of the First. Well, she was too out of it tonight to patrol but tomorrow…Then the things that went bump in the night would know there was a new….she wondered what the correct term was, maybe she should ask Giles. She glanced across at him, but he was busy jotting notes in his journal so she settled for looking at the crowds and gawping at the sights instead.
"Hey, Giles who's the dude on the pigeon roost?" she asked, earning her a scowl from Giles and a horrified look from the cabbie.
Score one for the Colonial.
"Nel…," replied Giles before sighing as he caught a glimpse of her teasing smirk.
"Quite, now you've had your fun," huffed Giles so peeved at this mocking that she couldn't help the throaty laugh that escaped. Still the square looked pretty packed, even at this time of night and the cab had to ease its way around the traffic.
Yeah, this was going to be a wicked cool place to patrol.
The cab eased its way out of the square; Giles pointing out a statue of some French chick who he said was a slayer. A queen even, but Faith couldn't get a good look before the cab pulled a sharp left filtering into another road. Damn place was heaving as the cab whisked past a number of theatres before turning right and coming to a stop.
"Eight quid," said the cabbie pointing to his meter.
Faith picked up on the pained intake of breath from Giles who handed over a note and waited for his change by the window as she stepped out onto the pavement and took in her first true breath of London air.
Kinda nice she thought although it was sorta disappointing there was no fog or horse drawn cabs or anything. She tried to remember what Giles had called them, something to do with vegetables.
Faith glanced around at the mixture of book stores and tourist traps that lined the road. Her eyes lit up when she spotted a club a short way down the street, its doors heaving and the heavy thrum of base spilling out from within.
"Is this the place? 'Cause I gotta say, Giles, you picked a prime spot," grinned Faith.
Giles glanced over at the club with a wry grin.
"Yes, there's a Slayer safe house. This area used to be quite a hive of supernatural activity before the Council's proximity drove them away," replied Giles.
Giles led the way towards a small store, its window filled with books and a large board that proclaimed that they brought and sold second hand books, and gently pressed the bell.
Faith could hear the raucous conversations of the crowd queuing outside the night club and from the clusters gathered around a couple of cafes down the side street.
She felt and returned the frank stares of various club goers and part of her yearned to follow them into the club and grab one of them for the quick release of a good fuck.
"Faith, are you coming?" asked Giles interrupting her.
Well, it could wait. There would be other nights. She grinned and sauntered over to her Watcher, letting everyone get a good lingering view on what they would be missing.
"This is Marcus," said Giles introducing her to a tall, hook-nosed guy with wire rimmed glasses who regarded her in such frank appraisal that it brought even Faith up short. The guy had to be old enough to be Giles' father. Leaning on an ornate wooden cane, his blue eyes seemed to strip Faith bare and spit her out again. Normally such appraisal was a turn on. This just left her feeling like she needed to take a long shower, like now.
"Is this the one you were telling me about?" he asked his voice surprisingly strong and mellow.
"Yes, this is Faith," replied Giles before asking, "Is it still okay to use the 4th floor flat?"
"Certainly, the old Council may be gone and heavens knows we didn't part on the best of terms, but it is their property. I guess that makes it yours now doesn't it?" replied Marcus.
"Thank you, Marcus. I wouldn't have asked, but I needed somewhere discreet whilst I conduct that business we discussed," replied Giles with a meaningful look in the shop owner’s direction.
Faith shot Giles a 'what the hell' look, as this was the first time she had heard anything about it. In fact, Giles had not mentioned anything of the sort other than killing a few days before catching a flight back to the US.
"So, Miss Lehane, how does it feel to be fighting for the right side?" asked Marcus with a slight teasing smile. Giles shot her a warning glance so she ignored the desire to grab the old coot's cane and shove it up…
Instead, she just shrugged and fixed Marcus with a glare.
"'Course you always find evil lurking in all sorts of places."
Marcus laughed, a hacking cough that turned into a cackle rising from cracked lips.
"You were right about this one, Giles. She'll do fine," he replied with a sideways glance at Giles, who was watching her, beaming with pride.
"So you gonna get out the way? 'Cause I really need to catch some zees and a tired Slayer is a cranky Slayer," she smirked at the pair.
"And we don't want that, do we?" cackled Marcus, standing aside and beckoning her through, "After you, Miss Lehane."
Faith slid through the doorway expecting at any second to feel the grope of Marcus' hand on her ass, but it didn't come and instead she found herself in the cluttered entrance to the second hand book store. Shelves stretched right up to the ceiling, all filled with old stuffy books, paperbacks with torn covers mixed in with weighty tomes all with that faint musky smell that was as freaking familiar to her as the aroma of sweating bodies.
A pile of books that threatened to defy the laws of gravity reached up like a modern tower of Babel towards the ceiling. Faith could see other shelves all groaning under the accumulated weight of Watcher’s not getting any.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" grinned Giles, squeezing in beside her as Marcus closed, and then locked and bolted, the door behind them.
"Yeah, I'm sure there's plenty of insomnia cures in here," she deadpanned, earning her an exasperated huff from Giles.
"This way," offered Marcus leading them deeper into the small store. He strained as he lifted up part of the counter, prompting Giles to lend a hand, before he pushed his way through a swing door which led into a storage area that looked even closer to bursting than the store itself.
"Oh Foucault's Compendium," gasped Giles, reverently picking up a small dusty book perched on top of one the many haphazard piles, "May I?"
"Please do, take it as some light reading matter," replied Marcus, opening another door revealing a steep set of stairs that led up.
"There are more storerooms on the floor above this, then a bathroom, kitchen, living room etcetera. The top floor has a study and a couple of bedrooms; there's access to the roof should you need it," replied Marcus looking pointedly at Faith.
"Thank you, Marcus," replied Giles.
"Thanks," replied Faith, shooting past Giles and using the rope banister to haul herself up.
She could hear the puffing ascent of Giles as he clambered up the stairs, pausing every so often to catch a breath. Thanks to her Slayer enhanced hearing she was also able to pick up on his mutterings.
"Thank you so much for waiting," groaned Giles with only a hint of sarcasm as he finally made the landing where Faith waited for him, hunched on her haunches.
"No sweat, figured you needed the workout after all those pastries," grinned Faith, standing aside a little so that Giles could stagger past her into the small fourth floor hallway.
"Quite," grumbled Giles setting his bag down and doing a quick survey of the three rooms.
"Looks like this one will do for you," he grinned smothering a snort of amusement that only caused Faith to glare at him harder.
She pushed the door gently open with the toe of her boot and sighed, shooting Giles a pained look of acceptance.
It was pink, with Care Bears and fairies decorating the wall. A dresser sat off to one side whilst the other was home to a well made bed. All of them nestled in a room which could only have been a fraction larger than her old cell. But it was a bed and it did look pretty comfy. In fact the confined conditions made it feel kinda homey.
"Fine, but one word…," she glared at Giles who held up his hand whilst he regained control of his breathing.
"I promise, not a word," replied Giles, "Do you want a night cap or anything before turning in."
"Nah, I'm ready to hit the sack as is," replied Faith.
"Well, see you in the morning, Faith," smiled Giles over his shoulder as he headed into his room.
*******
"Vi!" screamed Faith.
She heard Vi's answering scream as the claw ripped through her stomach. She wanted to turn away as her Second's eyes clouded with pain. She didn't want to watch it again, but she was held rigid and could only watch helplessly as her second's body toppled to the ground.
The panic was taking over again, so dark, just the sound of her panicked breathing and that of the rest of her team as they raced through the New York sewers.
She lunged to one side, shoulder jarring into something heavy and something fragile falling, smashing.
"Faith," her name worked its way through her fuzzed brain.
"It's alright; every thing is alright, Faith."
She could feel a gentle hand on her shoulder brushing away her hair.
"Just a nightmare," said Giles with a gentle smile as her eyes finally forced their way open.
She pulled herself away, unaware of the look of pain that briefly flashed across Giles' face as she regarded him like a cornered animal before she finally managed to figure out where she was.
"Cup of tea?" he asked, drawing a half sob, half laugh from her in response.
"Yeah, thanks," she replied, rubbing her eyes and scrambling out of bed and padding after Giles.
"Thankfully, there is a kettle in the study, so we don't have the trek down to the kitchen," said Giles, leading the way across the dark hallway.
The small room was dark and the light bulb hanging from the ceiling only provided faint illumination enough for Faith to see the narrow room contained a simple desk under a couple of shelves, both desk and shelves piled high with books like the rest of the shop. Heavy tomes with leather bindings and old tattered masters mixed in with slim pamphlets and ring bound journals. The rest of the room was filled with a filing cabinet and a pair of chairs. An old stained kettle along with a pair of scuzzy mugs rested on the top of one of the piles of books.
"Heavens," muttered Giles in complaint as he picked up one of the mugs revealing an old tea stain on the dusty embossed cover.
"Problem?" asked Faith.
"No, unless you count the abuse of books as one," replied Giles doing his best to ignore Faith's tired roll of her eyes.
"So this business, do you need a hand with that?"
Giles paused, his preparation of the tea momentarily forgotten as he regarded her owlishly. He put the kettle down, pausing only to flick on its switch whilst he regarded her.
"Maybe. Although it’s not really your thing," he ventured as the kettle boiled behind them.
"What not hitting something?" smirked Faith.
"I hope not and really, Faith, you must realise you're useful for more than hitting things. Although I must confess you're rather good at it," he replied earning him a tired smile from Faith.
"So shoot," said Faith watching as the kettle finished boiling and Giles finished dunking his tea bags in the mug, the slight look of distaste on his face proving to her that despite all his time in the states Tweedy hadn't gone native.
"Actually I'm trying to find a copy of the Codex Oraculum," explained Giles.
"Shit, a book. You sure you wouldn't rather have me hit something?" grumbled Faith
"There you go," said Giles depositing a warm mug of tea into her hands as she sat rigid on a hard backed chair near the window, the sounds of the city, more muted now than earlier, still filtering up from the streets below.
He sat down in the large scuffed chair opposite her, taking a sip of his own tea.
She watched him as he drank, disheveled from obviously tumbling out of bed to deal with her fucking weakness. She wondered when he would get round to asking, what way the question would come, and how he would react when she told him to fucking mind his own business.
But it didn't come; she could tell by the creases at the corner of his mouth and eyes that he knew she was expecting him to ask.
Instead, he just continued to drink his tea and watch her.
"So you known the perv long?" she asked her timing just right, causing Giles to splutter tea everywhere.
"If you mean Marcus, yes a while. In fact, he was one of my tutors during my studies to become a Watcher," replied Giles.
"I figured it was something like that. He looked old enough," replied Faith.
"Yes, in fact, he was somewhat taken with you," explained Giles in between sips.
"Yeah, I figured that I could feel him scoping me out and not in the usual way," replied Faith.
"Actually he knows that you're a Slayer. That's where his interest arises rather than for more obvious reasons," said Giles setting his mug down, "You see you're the first Slayer he has met since he lost his own Slayer during the war."
"Oh," replied Faith with a guilty start, "so sorry about the perv…"
"Oh don't be, Marcus is a hopeless lothario," laughed Giles.
"Great," grinned Faith shaking her head.
Giles turned his attention for a moment to studying the books lining the shelves leaving Faith alone with her thoughts.
"Oh my," exclaimed Giles reaching up and retrieving a slim volume from between two old journals, "I haven't seen one of these for years."
"Looks cool," she ventured drawn by the flashes of color as Giles turned the pages.
"Oh yes, absolutely. As I said, I have not seen one seen one for many years, unfortunately my copies were lost in a house fire, sad as Father had got one signed," replied Giles.
Faith sipped her tea and watched Giles quietly over the rim of her mug a childlike grin on his face suffusing his features as he continued to leaf through the pages.
