Title: Ripper (Part 4)
Author: Weezer
Summary: Giles returns to England after Buffy’s death (the one with Glory), but is there still a place for him here?
Spoilers: Mention of Buffy’s death after Glory, her confrontation with Travers when she gets Giles’ job back, and some mention of Ethan, but nothing specific.
Pairing: Eventually G/other
Rating: G/PG (except maybe some bad language)
Feedback: Very Welcome! Especially constructive criticism!
Use: No problem, if you want it, just shoot me an email at Weez2424@aol.com
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine (belong to Joss-the-Magnificent, et al.), and I'm just having fun with them. Some may say too much fun . . .

Author's Link: http://www.geocities.com/weez2424/ASH_addict.html

Giles let the weight of his head pull it back, stretching his neck out. He sighed as he stared up at the gray sky. There was something utterly relaxing about a first piss after too many pints. He actually found a giggle escaping, as he wondered how many times he’d snuck out back to relieve himself in this very alley. He looked around. The alley didn’t look much different than it had back then. He remembered a slew of fights back here. And a slew of women as well. Kind of disgusting to think of it now though—shaggin’ girls in the same place you’d sneak off to take a piss. He shook his head at the things you don’t seem to think much about when you’re young and then zipped up. He really did enjoy this kid, Peter, and he found himself interested in getting at his story. That was, if he ever got through with his own, he chided himself. God, since when had he become such an ole’ blowhard? He giggled again, as he imitated the answer he’d likely have received back in Sunnydale, “Since, like forever.”

Giles zipped up and turned back toward the door. His laugh was cut short by the sight of the two Council blokes blocking the door. Giles felt a familiar smirk crossing his face. Cocky, confident. Did he say he’d suppressed the worse parts of Ripper? Perhaps not all of them. “Let’s make this quick, eh? I have a story to finish.” He relished in seeing how pissed he had made them with just a few words. He was happy to see that his reflexes weren’t too slowed by the pints. Of course it could have just been that these two were particularly inept. The first threw his cigarette down, clearly telegraphing his punch. Giles easily deflected it, and used the man’s weight against him. He pulled the blokes jacket, and yanked his torso into his fist, increasing the impact two fold. He let out a satisfied scoff as the man grunted and doubled over quickly.

“Next?” Giles asked, looking at the one who was still upright. Giles twitched his fingers a bit, eager for this one to make his move. It didn’t take long. Giles almost laughed at the uncertainty and fear in this guys face. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. But finally, the guy made his move. A fairly indecisive one at that, and Giles almost felt disappointed in the lack of challenge these two posed. First, this guy didn’t bother to take a step toward Giles to make sure he his attack would even reach him. Then, as he lashed out, he seemed to realize he was going to come up a bit short, so he leaned forward trying to stretch out his reach at the last moment. Giles just laughed, easily leaning his upper body the inch or two back necessary to make this guy completely miss and fall forward, off balance. Giles took the opportunity to grab the guys’ coat collar and drive his body down into Giles’ rising knee. Giles was enjoying the sound of cracking bone a bit too much, he could practically hear Ethan’s taunts from his youth. “Bloody orgasmic, ain’t it?”

Giles chuckled and cast the bloke off to the side. He didn’t even bother to look back. He just walked toward the door, his path now clear and called back over his shoulder, “You tell Quentin if he has somethin’ to tell me, he can deliver the message himself. I’d enjoy giving him my response personally.” Giles’ Ripperish exit was classic of the days of his youth. The confident strut, the cocky laughter, and the refusal to even further waste his time on these with even a glance to appreciate his work. He definitely had a style about him, a cockiness he knew he’d suppressed in Sunnydale. The occasional times it came out there had so rattled the children’s notions, it was a bit too disturbing and distracting for them. He’d decided to harness Ripper in an attempt to keep distractions to a minimum. He also didn’t think taking the children out of their comfort zones would be wise with the dangers they faced on a nightly basis.

Giles’ laughter was suddenly cut short as he reached the door in time to have it swing out and smack into his face. He suddenly found himself on his ass, his vision inexplicably blurry and the taste of blood on his lips. “I’m here to kick some Council ass.” Peter said.

“Bloody ‘ell!” Giles said, his hand immediately going to the cut that started above his eyebrow and continued to his cheek. He noticed his glasses were no longer there. Then he heard a few chuckles coming from behind him. He shot his head around and even though he couldn’t see the two clearly, he sent a Ripperish glare in their general direction. “Best get goin’ while ya still have the chance.” He smirked, satisfied when he heard the sounds of scrambling feet as the two practically tripped over themselves to escape down the alley.

“Shit, they sure did a number on you,” Peter said as be bent down to steady Giles. “You all right?”

Giles yanked his arm out of the lad’s hand. “I was, ‘till you came along,” Giles said, feeling around for his glasses.

“You look like they were going to make a pot o’ mashers with yer head,” the kid joked.

“They didn’t even touch me, ya berk. You’re the one who did this.” Giles squinted, still searching for his glasses. “Help me find my specs so I can see your ass clear ‘nuff to kick it.”

“Wha-?” Peter mumbled, then remembered the force with which he had kicked open the door. “Ooops,” he chuckled sheepishly. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone for the theatrical entrance.

“Yeah. Ooops,” Giles mimicked him, still pissed. “Now help me find my glasses.”

Peter scanned the area and quickly found what looked to be the remains of his glasses. “Here. These them?” Peter handed Giles one bent metal arm and a single lens.

“Fuck, that was my only pair,” Giles whined, assessing the wreckage that Peter placed in his hand. “Somehow I don’t remember coming in with an eye piece. See the other lens anywhere?” Giles resumed squinting and then gave up, holding the single lens up to his eye so he could see a bit better. The boy burst into a fit of giggles. “What?” Giles whined, growing more annoyed.

“You look like that idiot German soldier. One from that old show on the American Telly,” Peter said.

“Aw, Sod off and help me find the other one. It’s my only pair; maybe I can tape ‘em.”

“Now that’d be a look,” Peter giggled again, then stopped mid-taunt. “Um, something tells me that tape is not going to save this one.” He turned to Giles, holding the broken remains of the other lens in his palm.

“Bugger!”

“Easy there, ole’ fella,” Peter said.

“Oh yes, I forgot. I shouldn’t be using such language in front of a wee one.”

“Oi! Who you calling a wee one?”

“Aw, help me up. I gotta get cleaned up,” Giles said, wiping some more blood from the cut above his eye.

Peter yanked Giles up, a bit rougher than necessary, and led him back into the pub. The bartender was on his way out to meet them, when he saw the state Giles was in. “You all right? Need me to call someone?” Mattie asked.

“No, I’ll be fine. Just need to get myself cleaned up,” Giles said. Mattie handed him the fresh bar towel that was in his hand. “Thanks mate,” Giles said.

“No problem. Never liked those sorts anyway. Should’ve known they were trouble.”

“It’s all right; I handled them easy ‘nuff,” Giles said.

Mattie laughed, taking in Giles’ state. “That what you call ‘handling?’”

Giles reached and winced as he touched the area of Mattie’s focus. “Yeah. I was lucky Peter came when he did. I might have gotten away with my face and my dignity in tact.” Giles turned and stomped off to the bathroom. Giles missed the embarrassed smirk that crossed the lad’s face, but it wasn’t lost on Mattie.

“Aw Peter,” Mattie whined. “What’d ya go and do?”

“I was just goin’ to help, I swear.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say my timing was a bit off,” Peter lowered his head.

Mattie tried to suppress his giggles when he saw how torn up the kid was about his mistake. “It’s all right, Peter. Yer heart was in the right place. I’m sure he knows that.”

Peter raised his eyes slowly, “Ya’ think?”

“Yeah. And he seems like the forgivin’ type,” Mattie wanted to cheer up the lad. “How ‘bout a beer on the house?”

“Really?” Peter asked, his spirits immediately picking up. “Well, maybe I should take a rain check. Something tells me, I’ll be needing to help this guy find his way home. It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re probably right,” Mattie suppressed a giggle and put his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “You really did a good thing out there, you know. Well, tried to anyway. I knew you weren’t all bad.”

“Don’t go saying that too loud,” Peter whispered. They shared a laugh, and then the lad fell silent. “Shit, I don’t even know his name.”

“Giles,” Mattie offered.

“Well, I know that; he owns the Giles farm,” the kid said.

“Yeah, but that’s what he said he goes by too. Just Giles. Although, if memory serves me, I believe he used to go by the name of ‘Ripper’ back when my dad ran the pub.”

“Ripper? No way,” Peter said.

“Yeah. From what I remember, he sure could back up the name. But I think he was a lot like you—not bad all the way through.”

“He sure held his own out back, especially considering the odds. Well, until I showed up, that is,” Peter couldn’t help but grin sheepishly at his own stupidity. “You know anything else about him? Like where he’s been all this time?”

“I heard stories, but I think that’s his stuff to tell or not tell. Besides, I think you might be making a worthwhile mate here, Peter. So I’m going to let you sort that out all on your own. Something tells me you earned his trust out there just now; don’t blow it, ya here?”

“I got ya, Mattie,” Peter said. “So, rain check on the pints?”

“Pints? I don’t remember no ‘s’ on the end of that offer,” he called after Peter as the boy went to retrieve their coats from the booth.

“Well, I sure as hell am not going to drink alone, and I’m thinking the next time I show up here, ole’ Ripper is gonna be needin’ another drink as well.”

Mattie laughed, “Don’t go tellin’ him I told you his name, and it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

Just then Giles returned. His face was already beginning to darken around the point of impact, but he’d managed to clean up the blood and dirt somewhat.

“You all right?” Peter asked, handing him his coat.

Giles looked up, squinting to see what the kid was holding up toward him and if he needed to duck again. All he could tell was it was big and dark. He finally gave up and held the one good lens up to his eye. “Ah, thanks.”

The kid laughed as Giles took the coat. “Don’t mention it, Klink.”

“Don’t press me, Lil’ Petie or I’ll spill about your age,” Giles said.

“Oi! You promised not to rat me out.”

Mattie rolled his eyes. “Oh really Peter. Do you think I don’t know how old you are? I was at your bloody christening for Christ’ sake.” Giles couldn’t help but join in Mattie’s laughter; it was contagious. Men didn’t giggle nearly enough in the States. Giles also didn’t mind seeing the lad turn red. “Don’t worry, Peter, I won’t tell our mum,” Mattie said between giggles, then added, “That I serve you pints, that is. Something tells me she’s likely onto your age by now.” Giles and Mattie looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Peter just muttered under his breath and pouted.

“All right ya giggling idiot, let’s go,” Peter said, leading Giles a bit roughly toward the door.

“Go? Where the ‘ell we off to?” Giles asked.

“Get you some new specs. I am not going to be seen hanging out with some one-eyed, crazy man. Besides, I think I kinda owe ya.” Giles and Peter left, to the backdrop of Mattie's laughter.

As they headed out into the alley, Giles watched Peter scan the area to make sure it was free of suits. “All clear,” he said. “Now don’t walk into anything, and I’ll let go of your arm. Last thing my reputation needs is people seeing me leadin’ around an old blind man.”

“Thanks, I think,” Giles said. “Besides, I should be fine as long as we steer clear of swinging doors.” He giggled again. God, it felt good to laugh, even in spite the throbbing headache. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it. “So where are we off to, really?”

“Like I said, to get you some specs.”

“Specs? Where? I am not headin’ off to London.”

“No. There’s a new eyeglass shop opened up a few months ago. A woman eye doctor, can ya believe it?” Peter said. “And boy is she easy on the eyes.”

Giles chuckled, “You know Peter, there are many women doctors these days.”

“I know, I’m just playing with ya. But she is the first here. And the first eye doctor in town ever. I still can’t figure out why she opened up shop here. Surely can’t be enough business for her. Hey, maybe I can offer to pick fights with people wearing glasses whenever business is a bit slow. Help her out, you know. It’d be the neighborly thing to do.”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Good idea, Peter. But promise me one thing, don’t offer your services until after she’s made me my specs? I’m likely to come out of there seeing triple.” The two laughed their way down to the main street.

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