Title: Revealing Pictures (14/16)
Series: Giles/Ethan Series (Story 1/Part 14)
Author: Adrienne S.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or situations belong to me and no copyright infringement is intended.
Angel looked at Buffy, blankly.
"Well," he said finally. "I didn't see that coming. You sure?"
"Angel, it was like walking in on a porno movie," Buffy said, shuddering. "I could have done without seeing Ethan Rayne's naked butt, believe me."
"Giles is into guys?" Angel blinked. "I thought he and Jenny Calendar...?"
"Apparently, Giles swings both ways." Buffy shuddered again. "And I really don't want to think too much about that. It was bad enough with my mother."
"Your mother." Angel sat down. Being over 240 years old and once the Scourge of Europe, he had seen a lot, but nothing quite prepared him for the soap opera that seemed to surround Buffy's life. "Your mother?"
"I didn't tell you about that?" Buffy bit her lip. Of course she hadn't told Angel about that. She had decided ages ago that it Never Happened. It seemed as if all sorts of things that Never Happened actually did happen and it was making her crazy. "Remember the band candy?"
"Oh, yeah." Angel grinned. He had watched that crazy night with much amusement. It wasn't until later, when he found out what that was all about that his amusement had turned into concern. "Giles gets around."
"Angel, I know what Angelus did." Buffy tried to say it as gently as she could, but the words still came out bluntly.
"Oh." Angel went still. She hated it when he stopped breathing and went still like that.
"Oh, Angel, I am so sorry," She said softly. Angel blinked twice, took a breath and blew it out explosively. Then he turned suddenly and smashed his fist into the wall. A cloud of plaster dust puffed up and Buffy winced. "Angel?"
"How can you?" Angel said, his voice soft and ragged. "How can you say you're sorry to me?"
"To live with that," Buffy whispered. "That must be horrible."
"Buffy, I don't get it." Angel was breathing now. Yes, he was breathing, practically panting. "After what I did... And you know... And you come here and tell me you're sorry for MY pain?"
"I love you." Buffy spoke as clearly as she could.
"I don't understand." Angel looked at her and she flinched from the pain and confusion in his eyes. "Do you really know what I did, Buffy? I forced myself on your Watcher. There was screaming and blood and pain. It was everything Angelus used to love. Except for the begging. Through it all, Giles never once begged for me to stop, never offered to give me the knowledge he carries in his head, not even to save himself. Do you know what he said when I finished? Do you?"
"No," Buffy whispered, now a little frightened.
"He said that I was the lousiest lay he'd ever had." Angel spoke in bitter, savage tones.
"Well, he was probably right." Buffy's tone was equally brittle.
"Yeah, but that's not the point. The point is, he said it just as if I was some pickup from a bar that he wanted to get rid of quickly. He was in a whole hell of a lot of pain, but he still... Dammit, Buffy, how can you even stand to be around me?"
Buffy looked into his anguished eyes, silently pleading for him to listen to her.
"I love you," she said simply. "Do I hate Angelus? Do I hate what Angelus did? Yes, with every fibre of my being. Do I hate you? No. I love you."
--------------------
"May I ask you something?" Ethan pushed away his empty plate and picked up his pint.
"My permission or lack thereof never stopped you before." Giles took a drink.
"You helped Angel," Ethan stated bluntly. "Why?" He watched as Giles carefully put his glass down and ran a finger along the condensation on the table.
"He asked me to. Buffy wanted me to."
"And you'll do whatever Buffy asks."
"I do whatever Buffy needs me to do," Giles corrected. "And there's more to it than that."
"If you say so." Ethan nodded condescendingly. Giles glared halfheartedly at him.
"When he arrived at my flat, I was astounded. Angel has guts, I'll give him that. Not terribly overburdened in the brains department sometimes, but he does have courage," Giles said quietly. "He was afraid of me, Ethan. He cringed in front of me. And I liked that."
Ethan just smiled. It was his cat-smile, full of malice.
"I beat him, Ethan. I beat Angelus at his own game and I survived," Giles continued. "That's something no one has ever done. I can't say as I truly enjoy seeing Angel or that I wouldn't be happier if he had stayed in that dimension, but I can deal with him."
"Because you won."
"Because I won."
"You can't be happy about Buffy seeing him, though."
"I'm not. However, she'll outgrow him eventually. She'll stop being Cathy to his Heathcliff when the thrall of the forbidden stops being enough for her."
"I always thought Cathy was an idiot and Heathcliff was a complete boor."
"Yes, I know." Giles gave a half smile. "So did I."
"Of course, the hands off approach only works if she lives long enough to outgrow him."
"I intend for her to live longer than any Slayer in history."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then Angel's morbid presence and her feelings for him are the least of my worries."
"If they break the curse again?"
"Angel hurt her deeply enough to prevent that, for which I would gladly punish him, if he weren't doing such a damn fine job of that himself. If they do, again, it's the least of my worries. He'll come after me, if only to avenge the humiliation of being bested by a mere mortal."
"I do admire you for the serenity with which you accept the possibility of a psychotic vampire coming after you," Ethan said. "Yet you get all bent out of shape about a few paintings of you at your youthful best."
"I'm British. Stiff upper lip in the face of danger and all that," Giles retorted. "And how did our cultural heritage manage to pass you by?"
"It didn't. I came here even though I was facing your temper, didn't I?"
"So you did. And so far, you haven't done anything reprehensible. Are you feeling all right?"
"Perfectly fine, darling." Ethan raised his hand to signal the barman for another. "I don't have to make merry mischief every moment of every day."
"My god, you have grown up. Rayne, you're a disgrace."
"So are you, Ripper. With a grown up job and everything." Ethan laughed. "As I said earlier, sic transit gloria mundi."
"I don't know. There's still glory to be had, I think," Giles mused. "You've got your art and your sorcerer's reputation. I have my Slayer."
"Which you won't have forever." Ethan went suddenly serious. "I did want to talk to you about that, Ripper."
"Ethan, I know perfectly well that she won't live forever, no matter how much I would like her to. You don't have to keep harping on it."
"I'm not. I just wanted to make clear some things between us," Ethan replied. He waited until the barman took away their plates and empty glasses and set fresh ones in front of them. "I know that you'll never leave her, and I don't want you to. Denying your Calling damn near killed you before and I won't go through that again. But what happens when she dies, Ripper? What happens to you?"
"Most Watchers die very soon after their Slayers," Giles admitted reluctantly.
"Most Watchers have no other emotional ties, correct? The Slayer is their life."
"Correct."
"I want a promise from you. A magician's pact. When she dies, whether it be tomorrow or ten years from now, you will call me. You will call me and you will let me come to you." Ethan leaned over the table, his eyes intense.
"A magician's pact for me to just call you? Isn't that a little extreme?" Giles tried to lighten the intensity.
"No. The Watchers are a tight assed bunch of wankers with all the emotional warmth of their damned stone headquarters in the City. Yet at the death of a girl who is seen as merely a tool of the Light, grown men, who have been prepared for her to die, cannot face her demise. No, I don't think it's a little extreme," Ethan replied. "When this is all over, I want you back. And I want you to promise that you'll let me help you."
"On one condition."
"What?"
"No going behind my back. No setting wheels in motion or doing spells for my own good." Giles was intent, now, too. "I don't react any better to being used than you do."
"I'll get the materials we need and we do the pact tomorrow." Ethan nodded. "Now. Fancy a game of darts?"
-------------------
Snyder got out of his car and slammed the door viciously. He was thankful that his topcoat was long enough to cover his ass. Hopefully, his suit jacket was as well. He had thought that his little problem was taken care of, but he hadn't counted on the vibration of his car. He hadn't felt anything while driving, but when he got out of the car, he felt rather, well, wet. He didn't dare crane his neck to look out here in the parking lot. Not when half the faculty was arriving any minute.
The bizarre engine-catarrh of an ancient Citroen caught his attention and he pursed his lips in annoyance. Of course the librarian didn't have the sense God gave a peanut and call in sick. He would have the gall to show his face at a respectable school, even when everyone knew what sort of man he was. Well, he'd have a good day watching the staff avoid Giles like the plague.
"Morning, Rupert." A blithe voice called across the parking lot.
God, Mitzi was way too cheerful for a Monday morning. She even greeted the British bastard with her normal annoying chirp. Giles, he noted, turned to smile and greet her and the two of them walked into school chatting amiably.
Snyder paused. What was wrong with this picture? Giles, the shy, stuttering librarian, was chatting with Mitzi Johnson. He usually avoided her like she had cooties or something. And Mitzi, who always gave him space, was practically hanging off his arm. This was wrong. Very wrong.
The sense of wrongness continued as he walked towards his office. Giles was still talking to Mitzi, almost flirting, and the other teachers all called greetings to them, as if nothing had happened.
Frank Fanshawe joined the pair, but that was to be expected. Frank and Mitzi had adjoining classrooms and Frank had always liked Giles. But why was Marilyn smiling at Giles as she handed him his messages? Marilyn was his secretary, dammit, and he expected a certain amount of loyalty from his staff.
Marilyn handed him his messages without comment or greeting, and he escaped into his office. There was something weird going on and he intended to find out what, but not until he made sure that he was presentable.
Alone, he finally shed his overcoat and then his suit jacket. Twisting around, he looked to see if the wetness he had felt earlier had seeped through his underwear to his suit trousers.
God, it had. He had a huge wet spot on the seat of his trousers. It looked very much like he had wet himself, which is probably what happened. He sighed in frustration and picked up the phone. He'd get Barb to come and bring him another suit. And those adult diapers she had thoughtfully purchased for him, just in case.
Damn, damn, damn and double damn. He had been so looking forward to today.
--------------------
"Hey, Will." Xander joined Willow as she came up the steps. "Oh, cookies." He reached for the very familiar cookie tin she was carrying, but she moved it out of his reach.
"They're not for you," she said firmly. "They're for Giles."
"Jealous?" Xander teased her. "His boyfriend makes fab cookies, so you do, too?" Willow went scarlet.
"No," she protested. "I just wanted to do something nice, that's all."
"Willow's got a crush..." Xander sing-songed. "Ow." He rubbed his arm where Willow punched him. At least it wasn't Buffy who'd thwacked him.
"Stop it," Willow demanded, even the tips of her ears going red. "Why do you turn everything into some kind of salacious thing?"
"Salacious?" Xander frowned. He hated it when Willow used her superior vocabulary on him.
"It means skanky," Cordelia told him, then turned to Willow. "He's a guy. What's that?"
"Date squares," Willow replied. "I made them for Giles. He likes them."
"How do you know what those big words mean?" Xander demanded of Cordelia, as they went into the building.
"I'm smarter than I look," Cordelia replied, nose in the air. "And it was on the practice test for the SAT."
"Hey, guys." Oz joined them. "Where's Buffy?"
"I'm here, I'm here." Buffy skidded down the hall, practically running to join them. "Am I late?"
"Slept in?" Willow asked, with an amused smile.
"Didn't sleep at all, actually. I am never again doing the junk food thing all weekend. I think those cookies yesterday did me in," Buffy complained, opening her locker and throwing her bag inside. "Squiffy tummy does not make for a happy Buffy."
Xander retrieved his books from his locker and started to march stoically towards his first class.
"Hey, man, where are you going?" Oz called after him.
"Math class."
"You're actually going to math class?" Cordelia caught up with him without seeming to make an effort. "Why?"
"'Cause I'd kinda like to pass," Xander replied.
"Since when?" Buffy, too, had caught up.
"I'm going to class, guys, if that's all right with you," Xander snapped. "See you later." He took off, ignoring the looks that the others gave him.
He slowed as he approached class, not sure if he really wanted to do this. Chem was okay, and English bearable, but he hated math with a passion.
He hated even more how that gentle chide from Giles had hurt. He wanted Giles to be proud of him and, if that meant going to math class, he'd go.
Mr Forrester looked surprised as he walked in, but he nodded to Xander. And, later, when they were working out problems, Forrester quietly slipped a stack of papers on his desk. They contained detailed instructions on how to work these particular problems, a set of practice tests, and a note suggesting he ask Mr Giles for help.
-------------------
The library was, thankfully, empty as he went through the normal morning routine of checking in the books that the students had left in the bin over the weekend. Clucking over the bent pages of one and the highlighter marks all over another, he shelved them neatly and went into the office to look over the Monday morning notices.
The only notice of interest was Margaret Barton's taking over of the library tomorrow afternoon, without any explanation added to the note. Frank had left a note on Saturday morning to ask if he'd bring his weapons by, and the custodian was letting him know that it was time to do the library's floors and clean the carpets.
He had already talked to Frank about the weapons and Frank told him he would be supervising the library for the afternoon. He made a note back to the custodian to let him know that the library would be empty every evening all week.
Once tea was made and his designated sitter for the morning arrived, he braced himself for the onslaught of students that had filled the library on Friday.
The onslaught turned out to be more of a trickle, and none of them paid any more attention to him than they usually did. In fact, it was a typical Monday. The only time anyone except Buffy and her friends showed up was during second period. Buffy, Willow and Xander all had English class then and Miss McNutt insisted firmly on attendance.
He reflected that, were he in Miss McNutt's class, he would attend regularly as well. He liked her, but even he referred to her by title. The idea of calling her 'Joan' was akin to calling the Queen 'Betty'.
Angie Lyons, the art teacher, paid no attention to him as she sat at the table, eating an apple and browsing through one of his books on engravings. He half expected her to make some comment about the contents of the book, but she kept murmuring approvingly.
"Rupert, this is gorgeous," she said once, not looking up. He sauntered over and looked over her shoulder. She was looking at a particularly graphic engraving of William the Bloody, aka Spike, doing what he had become renowned for. Gorgeous?
"I mean, look at the detail. The lines must have taken hours to get right. And such fine work, especially since engraving of this type had been almost entirely supplanted by photography by that time." Angie blinked at him through her thick glasses and smiled. "And, if that's real tea, I'd love a cup, thanks."
-------------------
Snyder straightened his suit jacket and stepped confidently out of his office. He was clean and dry and prepared for anything. He spent a few moments savouring the peace and quiet of the school. It was fifteen minutes to the recess bell and that gave him plenty of time to snoop around.
Naturally, the first place he looked was in the library. Angie Lyons was flipping through pages of heavily illustrated tome, and Giles was standing by the desk, talking to Maria Sanchez.
He smiled to himself. Maria was a pretty senior, smart and just a little shy. So Giles was expanding out his little circle of friends, was he?
"Thanks, Mr Giles," Maria was saying. "I really appreciate it."
"It's no trouble, Maria. Good luck." Giles was smiling at her. "I'd recommend Magdalen or Corpus Christi, rather than Christ Church. They're smaller and the fellows are more likely to have time to help a foreign student."
"Where did you go?"
"Trinity. It's one of the more traditional colleges, full of boring history students," Giles replied. "If you need any other letters of reference, just ask."
"I will." Maria smiled shyly. "Thanks again."
Snyder snorted in disgust. Sanchez was only applying to Oxford University. He knew that all the students who had even a nodding acquaintance with Giles asked him for letters of reference for applying to English universities. As if the best universities in England would think that a high school librarian was a good reference.
Giles had noticed him and was looking at him with a very odd expression. The librarian looked him over fully, eyes sweeping from head to toe, then smiled to himself in a smug self satisfied way. The look was gone in a moment, but that moment made Snyder so uncomfortable that he left immediately.
Roaming the halls during the break, Snyder caught very little gossip about the librarian. There was the usual stuff - weird, stuffy, kinda cute, dishy accent - but nothing about the pictures or about the addition of an extra teacher in the library. It was as if nothing had happened.
Snyder went back into his office to ponder that. It was all very strange.
--------------------
"Date squares?" Giles opened the tin and looked in. "Thank you, Willow. I love date squares."
"I know." Willow beamed. "That's why I made them."
"That was very sweet of you, but totally unnecessary," he added, looking over at Angie, who had gone on to admire the coffee table book on Heironymus Bosch.
"I just wanted you to know how much I...," Willow faltered, after a glare from Buffy. "Well, since Ethan made cookies yesterday, I got inspired."
Giles had the distinct sense that there was something going on, but he wasn't sure what, or whether he wished to pursue it. He decided to ignore it for the time being and simply watched the children arrange themselves around the table. Angie didn't even look up.
With a deep sigh, Xander had taken his math homework and started tackling it with a determination rarely seen. Oz gave him a weird look and plucked out a tattered copy of William James' _Pragmatism_ and started to read. Willow was, as usual, parked in front of the computer and Buffy reluctantly pulled out her chemistry text.
Giles watched them for a moment, then went into the office to brew a cup of tea. Those date squares cried out for tea.