Title: Ripper (Part 5)
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: perhaps, but not sure just yet.
Rating: PG (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 . . .
Alternative source w/o format problems (hopefully) (Click or cut/paste link below)
http://www.geocities.com/weez2424/ASH_addict.html?1045550895667

Enjoy...

Ten minutes later, the two were stumbling, the lad still trying to catch his breath from Giles’ latest recount of a Ripper-plan gone wrong. The kid finally stopped them in front of a storefront and announced that they had arrived. Giles squinted up at the painted wooden sign above the door, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Problem?” Peter asked. “Oh, it’s the whole ‘reading thing’ that has you stumped, eh? Why don’t ya try out your monocle?” This sent the kid off into another fit of giggles.

“Real funny, ya Berk. Just for that, I’m picking out the most expensive frames they got,” Giles said, slapping the lad on the back as he headed in. Peter quickly sobered up and followed him through the door. As they entered, the door knocked a bell that hung above it, just enough to send a light jingling signal that customers had arrived. At the sound, Giles was hit by a wave of nostalgia. Memories of the Magic Box threatened to bring him down, but Giles fought them back, assisted by the distraction of the kid’s voice.

“About that,” Peter said. “Um, you know I’m on a pretty limited income, right?”

“How limited?” Giles teased. He saw Peter’s eyes drop and quickly added, “No worries, Peter. I didn’t really plan on making you pay. Buy me a beer sometime and we’ll call it even. Uh, better yet, add on a promise not to come rushing to my aid in the future. Not without knocking, at least.” Giles found himself giggling again, his bout of nostalgia suppressed for the moment.

Peter just cursed softly, but decided not to push his luck. He had no job to speak of and he had no idea how he’d come up with the money to buy a pair of glasses if Ripper should change his mind. Well, nothing legal anyway.

Giles glanced around the small shop. He started walking toward one the walls filled with frames, trying to resort to the monocle bit as little as possible. The kid’s bit about the monocle was getting old, real fast. “Hey mate,” Peter called, stopping Giles with a hand on his shoulder. “Unless there’s something else you want to tell me, I think you might want to check out the frames on the other side. Of course, those purple frames with the little sparklies are a bit fetching. Kinda Elton John though.” Giles didn’t need the monocle to locate the lad’s ribs, and he smirked with satisfaction as the boy’s giggles were cut off by Giles’ elbow.

“Oh sorry, which side was that?” Giles asked, feigning innocence.

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbled. “Over here.” Peter spun Giles a bit more zealously than necessary, but Giles was still chuckling as he made his way over to the other side of the shop.

“I’ll just go check on the lady doc while you’re over there. Maybe I can get ya a deal on some new specs.”

Giles laughed. “Yeah right. Please do your best not to offend, Peter. This looks like the only game on this side of town, and I’m starting to get a headache from all this squinting.”

“Sure, Rip,” Peter called.

“And what did I tell you about calling me that?” Giles warned, half-heartedly.

“Oh yeah, sure Ripper,” he amended.

Giles just sighed in annoyance. Well, at least it wasn’t G-man. Of course, he had to admit that he missed Xander’s annoying quirks. Hell, he just missed the boy. He cast a glance Peter’s way, suddenly acknowledging the similarities between the two boys. Perhaps that was why he found himself drawn to Peter so quickly. Or perhaps they both just reminded Gules of different parts of himself at that age. He turned back to the wall of frames and continued his search for a new pair of frames, leaning in to reduce the amount of squinting.

Peter called out a hello and rang the bell on the counter. Giles heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice answer.

As they waited, Giles continued to scan the rows of frames. He had gone through three rows already and nothing remotely interested him. Then he realized why he’d been unsuccessful, he was looking for his old frames. Probably not going to find them here, an ocean away in a small shop. Anya had found him his last pair, dragging him around LA for hours during one of their "buying outings" for the Shop. She had insisted that the right look would improve Giles’ ability to negotiate better prices on their supplies. Apparently, she only had time to work on the optical part of his look. He’d spent a pretty penny on those frames, but he had to admit that he did like them. He felt a tinge in his chest at the thought of Anya. He hated the thought of just abandoning her with the store, but her beaming smile when he handed over the keys suggested she was not nearly as upset as he was. Anya, such the rookie human, he thought. She hadn’t yet picked up the human preoccupation with suppressing all emotion. Like a child, untainted by socialization, she was open and often, brutally honest. Her last remark to him, while not laden with spite or anger, carried a sharp bite. “It’s ok if you run away Giles, I will take good care of the store.” Amazing how mere statements of fact, mere honest observations could cut so deep. Giles was pulled back from his memory by the sound of a door opening. He heard a woman’s voice again, this time finding it vaguely familiar.

He heard Peter explain the circumstances of Giles’ need for a pair of glasses. The woman laughed and Giles again tried to place that voice. Before Giles could ponder the matter further, Peter led the woman over to him. She began introducing herself just as Giles turned to put a face with the voice. Naturally, the lack of glasses left her image a bit blurred. Yet, he found the mere outline of her somewhat familiar.

She had begun to introduce herself as well, but as her face fell on Giles, her voice fell silent. Giles still smiled and extended his hand, but he grew increasingly uncomfortable the longer she failed to introduce herself or take his hand.

“Something wrong?” he asked, finally needing to break the silence.

Peter looked from the woman to Ripper and back again. She had suddenly gone white. “Hey, you two know each other?”

The woman still had not moved or completed her introduction, so Giles answered. “Um, I’m not sure. Sorry Miss, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. You see, I’m virtually blind without my glasses.” He tried to play his uneasiness off with humor, hoping that she was merely taken aback by the bruise that now likely colored his face.

“You still got the monocle,” Peter offered, eager to figure out just what the deal was.

“Peter,” Giles sighed. “You’re just looking for another chance to make the fool of me.”

Giles turned his attention back to the woman before him. He extended his hand a bit further as a re-offering. “Rupert Giles,” he introduced himself. “And you were just about to tell me your name.”

He heard her swallow as if gathering the courage to tell him such a simple detail. What on earth could be making her so hesitant? He began to toss horrible possibilities around in his mind—a woman he’d treated none to proper in his youth, an old friend of his mother’s. No that couldn’t be it, Peter’s description made this woman seem younger, closer to Giles’ age. What then?

A shaky voice finally answered, “Martin. Cassandra Martin.”

Giles practically collapsed, teetering a bit off balance. Peter grabbed his coat and steadied him. “Easy there, Rip. You’re not still having ill after effects from that blow to the head, are ya?” Peter sounded genuinely concerned. Of course, Giles shouldn’t have been surprised. If he looked anything like he felt right now, he was probably pale as hell and starting to sweat.

It was his turn to speak. Giles found his throat doing that blasted constricting thing again, trying to keep him from talking. It took another swallow and a few more attempts to speak, and then all he could do was mutter her name in disbelief. “C-Cassie?” Giles squinted, trying to confirm what he already knew from the voice and the name. This was Cassandra Martin. Cassie. The girl who stole his heart at 16, only to have him tear hers apart two years later.

“Yes, Rupert. It’s me,” she whispered. He could practically hear the muscles in her throat tightening up. She sounded so sad, so horrified. God, he wanted to crawl into a corner, to run away, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, all at once. But in the end he just stood there, silent and a bit shaky.

“OK, this is too weird. Is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?” Peter asked.

Neither Giles nor Cassie spoke. Peter watched in awe as they just stared at each other, especially, since he knew Giles could likely see none of the details without his one good lens. Peter studied the emotions that played over Ripper’s face. Initially, when she first said her name, Peter thought he’d seen a glimmer of hope or something else airy, but it was quickly replaced by a look of shame and deep sadness. Peter had no idea what had happened between these two, but he figured his chances with this lady doc were over the minute she'd laid eyes on Ripper.

“O-K,” Peter said slowly trying to deal with an awkward situation in the best way he knew how – avoidance. “Well, let me be the one to get this show on the road. Ripper here, whom you apparently know, has just lost his only pair of glasses in an . . . unfortunate incident at the Pub.”

Peter was interrupted by what Giles found to the be the most startling, yet lovely sound. A short laugh escaped Cassie, and despite his blurred vision, he could tell her hands went immediately to her mouth to hold back any further reactions. He couldn’t help but smile. God, he had loved her laugh.

“Yes, well, I won’t bore you with the details,” Peter continued. “Bottom line is that my mate here needs some new ones. I can’t tell you how difficult it has been navigating these streets, between the constant whining and the bumping into things. Really, you’d be doing me a great service if you could restore his vision. As soon as possible.”

“Well, not quite the way I’d have told the story,” Giles said. “But the key points are there.” He decided against taking too lighthearted a tone, until he knew how Cassie really felt about seeing him. Hell, for all he knew, she was getting ready to kick his ass out on the street.

As her failure to answer dragged on, Giles’ face tightened up again. Finally, Giles spoke. “Um, perhaps we should go, Peter. I’m sure there’s another store somewhere nearby.” Giles turned, afraid to inflict any more pain on Cassie than he’d already managed in their lives. He was stopped by her voice, unfortunately it wasn’t the voice he’d found solace in so often as a youth.

“No.” The word came out cold and harsh, startling him a bit. Giles chastised himself for even entertaining the thought that she might give him anything less than what he deserved. What compassion did she owe him? Cassie continued, her tone not nearly as harsh, but still devoid of any emotion. Giles wasn’t sure which was worse. “That is, there is no other eye glass store open on this side of Bath. Mr. Thompson’s is closed for the month while he’s on vacation. So, if you need glasses, you’ll have to get them here. Or hop on a bus.”

“Uh,” Giles paused, his back still to her. “Perhaps it would be easier, if I just went somewhere else.”

“What?” Peter asked. “What happened to the whole ‘I am not traveling all over town, blind as a bat, just to get a pair of eye glasses’?”

Giles sighed, growing impatient with the boy’s utter lack of observation. Couldn’t he see that this was killing Cassie. That Giles’ presence here was stirring up memories for her that were tearing her apart. He reached instinctively for his glasses, and let out a frustrated sigh when he realized the kid had not only deprived him of his clear vision, but his best hiding place as well. How the hell was he supposed to avoid life now?

Then she spoke. “Listen. This, uh. That is. Aw hell,” she shouted, exasperated. Both men shot their eyes up in shock. Giles moreso, because he knew Cassie never swore, and to Cassie even “hell” was a swear word. “What?” she asked annoyed. “Listen. It’s ridiculous. I am an eye doctor. You need glasses. I am the only show on this side of town. So let me do my damned job and examine your eyes.” The two men watched as she spun on her heals and stormed into back. Giles was stunned, and he could have sworn he heard Peter’s jaw hit the floor. Her shout from the back room startled them both back to life. “Coming? I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Giles gulped and glanced towards Peter, “I’ll um . . . be right back.” He hesitated a moment and then walked slowly toward the back of the shop.

“Hope so,” Peter said. Then mumbled to himself, “The look on her face, I’m not so sure.” Giles’ vision may have been blurred, but his hearing was still fine. He silently agreed with Peter’s afterthought, begging for mercy, however undeserved.

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