Title: Ripper (Part 6)
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...

“Sit down.” Cassie’s voice was still short.

Giles couldn’t help but let out a grunt of pain as Cassie slid a chair up harshly into his legs, causing his knees to buckle at the impact, giving him no choice but to sit down. Suddenly, Giles found himself annoyed. He wasn’t sure why, he certainly had no place to be annoyed. Of course, sometimes it was just easier to get pissed. “There, I’m sitting. Happy?” he snapped.

“No. I’m not. Haven’t been for a while. But that’s not your fault, is it? Oh wait, that’s right. It is,” Cassie said, emphasizing her point by pulling her chair roughly over to the table.

All of Giles' wind abandoned him in one breath. He knew she hadn’t punched him in the gut, because even with blurred vision he could see she was still sitting on the other side of the table from him, partially hidden by some eye-testing machine. But the impact of her words might as well have been a blow to the stomach. He clenched his fists and tried to recover. “Uh,” his voice came out meek. Hollow, like the deep dark hole he wanted to crawl into. Giles could only manage a whisper. “Perhaps, I should just go.”

“It’s a bit late for that. You’re already here. Let’s just get this over with and then neither of us will have to deal with this any longer.”

Giles clenched his jaw and blinked, long and slowly, in an attempt to keep it together. The sound of the pain in her voice was killing him. But not as much as the sound of hatred. God, how much more selfish could he get? He had ruined her life, got her only brother killed, and now Giles is hurt because she has the audacity to still hate him? He was ready to get up and storm out, if only to save her from any further dealings with him, but her voice startled him again. “Lean forward,” she ordered.

Her voice was so different now. It lacked the soft, exposed honesty and love which he usually associated with Cassie. The soft voice that he couldn't help but obey, and which she used to get him to do the most uncharacteristic things – sign, write poetry, act all daft and love struck. This voice was no less commanding though, it had acclimated itself to the hardened edge fairly effectively.

“Look straight ahead, and keep your eyes open.” He silently complied. “Your friend said you had an impact with your head?”

Giles was prevented from nodding his silent answer by the chin rest. He was forced to speak. “Yes,” he said softly, the shame dripping from his own mouth.

“And your lenses were broken?” she asked.

“One was,” he answered.

“Then I’ll have to check to make sure there aren’t any shards of glass in your eye.” As Cassie proceeded with the exam, he noticed her slowly becoming a little less angry. She was probably just slipping into that professional mode, being nice to the patient out of habit. Even though her voice had lost some of its venom, the venom had not been replaced with any friendlier emotion. It made for a very business-like, empty tone.

“Again, stare straight ahead into the light and don’t move.” Giles felt a hand on the back of his head, pulling his face sharply against the head rest. It was a bit rougher than necessary, likely wanting to get the point across that she was not enjoying having to touch him.

He leaned in as instructed and prayed for this all to be over quickly. Giles desperately wanted to flee this discomfort zone. To bury himself in several more pints until he could act like this had never happened, like none of it had ever happened. He did his best to stare at the light, but felt his eyes beginning to water with the urge to blink. “Have your eyes been irritated since the injury?” she asked.

"No. Not so's I’ve noticed.” He could sense movement and the light seemed to change the angle at which it shone into his eye. Finally, her inspection was over and the light was switched off. Giles had to wait a bit for the residual spots of color to dissipate.

“No damage, as far as I can see,” she said. She seemed to make a note on some pad of paper. “You have any idea what your last prescription was?”

“No.”

“When was your last exam?”

“Several years ago,” he said.

“Great," she said annoyed. "That means we have to do all the tests.”

“If you’d rather, we could just get my prescription and I can do the rest elsewhere,” Giles offered.

She seemed to think for a moment. “Good idea. Although the thought of shooting air into your eyes did seem appealing.”

Giles desperately found himself wanting to laugh, but was too terrified to give in to the urge. Without the benefit of seeing her facial expressions, he had no way to be certain she was even joking. She apparently seemed to sense this. “You can laugh, you know. I was only partially serious.”

“Yes,” he forced a half-hearted chuckle out. “Well, I’m sure Peter is climbing the walls out there, so the quicker this is over with, the better it will likely be for your shop.”

“Fine. Come over here, and I’ll do the vision test.”

Giles got up and stumbled toward the other chair, clumsily helping himself up into it. He settled back in and waited. He sensed Cassie pulling down a shade of some kind against the wall in front of him. She turned on a light and then returned to his side. He squinted and, as he suspected, could barely make out the shapes of what were likely bold letters. “Lean back,” she said, as she pulled a mechanical arm around, positioning it right front of his face. She had him lean forward so he could press the rounded disks to his cheeks. “Now,” she said. “You’ve probably been through this before, but tell me what is clearer. A,” she clicked something and the lens in the right side got clearer, “or B?”

“B,” he answered.

“Good,” she said.

She repeated the steps and after a while Giles couldn’t be sure what he’d answered yes to. He had found himself intoxicated by the nearness to her. The power she'd held over him had hardly waned in 20 years. She continued the test for about 15 minutes. Finally done, she pulled the machine away. Giles was a bit afraid of just what his prescription would be like after that. He was not about to tell her though. Hell, he’d go to another eye doctor and pay for a second pair if he had to.

She got up for a moment, and he heard a shade snap up. The room was suddenly filled with light. “Well, your friend was right. You are blind as a bat. God, Rupert, the years have sure taken their toll on you.” Giles thought he heard a tinge of sorrow in her voice at that, or perhaps just hoped he had. He silently scolded himself for latching on to any hope that she still care about his well-being.

“Yes.” He settled on a one-word answer. Of course, she really had no idea just how much of a toll the last decade had taken on him.

“Well, let’s pick out some frames and we can get you on your way.”

They returned to find Peter juggling three particularly expensive frames. “Peter!” Giles scolded. That was apparently not the right approach, because all three pairs went crashing to the ground. “I’ll cover any damage,” Giles muttered, horrified as he dropped to his knees to help Peter pick up the frames. Peter was red with shame and apologizing profusely. The last thing he wanted was to get Ripper in more trouble with this woman.

Cassie held her hands out, annoyed, waiting for Peter and Giles to place all of the frames in her hand. Once they did, her face softened. “It’s all right, boys,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re all plastic frames and they’re all fine. Actually,” she said, inspecting the particular pair in her right hand. “These might actually be a good place to start for you, Rupert.”

She’d used his name. Giles heart leapt for a moment, but then quickly reigned itself in, chastising itself.

“See, there you go, Rip. I was actually helping,” Peter said.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was,” Giles said. “For all I know, I’m going to come out looking like a complete prat.”

“Don’t worry, Rupert. As much as I’d like to send you out looking like a fool, this is a new store and you’d be a walking advertisement. I really don’t need to be scaring away business when I’ve only just started.”

“Yay me,” Giles muttered.

“What’s that?” Cassie asked.

He hadn’t even realized he’d reverted to the Sunnydale colloquialism. Giles heart sunk as the image of Buffy flashed through his mind. Yet another young woman whose life he had managed to destroy. “Um, nothing. Just something I picked up in the States.”

“The States?” Peter asked, excited. “Cool. How long did you live there?”

“Hmm?” Giles mentally smacked himself for his slip. The last thing he wanted to do right now, was key the kid on to a whole new story line he could start digging at. Especially one with an ending that Giles had traveled an ocean to forget. “A bit. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“You’re not getting out of it that easy, Rip. I’ll be wanting details,” Peter said.

“Peter, please. I would really rather just get this over with. And my time in the States is not something I wish to discuss right now.”

“But later?” the kid asked hopefully.

“Please!” The plea came out shorter and harsher than Giles had intended. He sensed both Cassie and Peter tense up. Suddenly, Giles felt his chest tightening up. The walls of the shop, while he could barely see them, began to close in. The sudden need to be outdoors grabbed him and shook him. He needed to be free. Away from Cassie, from Peter, from anyone. “I – I," he choked. "I can’t do this. Cassie, I trust your judgment. Please just pick out the frames, set me up with some glasses, and send them out to the house. I’ll … I’ll have someone drop a check off for you.” He started for the door.

“Hey Rip,” he could hear the boy’s voice wavering. He was truly upset. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Giles stopped as he held the door open. He tried to turn around, to face them, but he couldn’t. The tears were already welling up in his eyes and he just wanted to run. He called back, “It’s all right, Peter. I just—I need to go.” He stepped out of the door and before closing it, said softly, “I’m sorry Cassie. So sorry.” His apology hung in the air long after he fled down the street.

TBC...
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