‘Where’s the milk?’
Giles and Anya were making breakfast. The kitchen in the flat was by no means large, yet after months of working around each other in The Magic Box they shared the space with ease. Sharing tangible items effectively came a little less naturally.
‘In the fridge,’ said Anya.
Giles retrieved the carton and placed it back on the counter where he had previously left it.
‘I prefer to to leave the milk out.’
‘Why?’
‘The day has barely begun, if I am to spend it explaining my every action it will prove to be an extremely long one.’
Anya wasn’t fazed.
‘You’re very uptight first thing in the morning,’ she accused.
‘I am usually alone first thing in the morning.’
‘Yes, and it has made you a weird habit slave.’
Giles raised his eyebrows, but wasn’t offended by Anya’s breezy slander.
‘Of course, given all that has occurred during the course of my life, not having anyone dropping cornflakes all over the place o-on a regular basis is what pushed me over the edge.’
Anya hurriedly swept the offending bits of cereal up with her hands. Giles watched her with a smile that she returned when she looked back at him.
‘Did Carlyle go out for breakfast?’
‘Yes he did,’ confirmed Giles. ‘Sensible chap.’
‘Is he?’
Giles put the piece of toast that was halfway to his mouth back on his plate.
‘I don’t know,’ Giles was serious now, his expression concerned. ‘Before…um…last time…’
Silence.
‘You can talk about yourself,’ encouraged Anya. ‘I won’t be bored.’
‘How gracious.’
The moment had passed, whatever Giles was about to confide went unsaid. Anya waited expectantly for a few seconds then realised that Giles had returned to his normal state of repression and turned her attention to the radio, twisting the dial until the intense analysis of The Today Programme was replaced by the poppy sentiment of Westlife.
‘And suddenly I’m no longer hungry.’
********************
Later the same day, Carlyle refused to return to his house with Giles to pick up the rest of the books.
‘It’ll be dark soon, I don’t venture forth after sunset.’
This had been said calmly, yet the firm resolution in Carlyle’s voice indicated quite clearly that this was a statement of fact, not a topic for discussion. Giles had been unsure how to respond, but Anya spoke first.
‘Good, if we’re alone you can tell me what Giles was like in college.’
Giles frowned at the prospect.
‘As long as you bear in mind that ninety-nine per cent of what he’ll tell you is almost certainly not going to be true, all will be well.
‘Oh now that’s a bit harsh,’ objected Carlyle. ‘It’s more like ninety-five.’
‘Right, I’ll be back soon.’
********************
It was Giles’ confident statement that turned out to be untrue. Seduced partly by the quality of some of the books that Carlyle owned and more frequently fascinated by the sheer inaccurate awfulness of most of them, hours had flown by as Giles selected the texts that would be most useful (and one or two that would serve no other purpose than amusement.)
Now it was dark, and had been for some time, as Giles finally pulled up outside his building. Carrying the first of several boxes, he paused for a moment and looked up to his window. Anya and Carlyle were up there, an old friend and a new one together in a clash of his former and current lives that Giles had not anticipated would occur. A flat that he’d expected to return to alone was now full, it was unexpected, it was great.
On entering the flat Giles discovered that it was even more full than he had thought. A smartly dressed woman was standing in the centre of the lounge, while two equally well-attired men stood on either side of the sofa, as if guarding its occupants. On the sofa itself, were Anya, Carlyle and Andrew. All eyes turned to him. Never call the shot until you’re certain what the situation is, excellent advice passed on decades ago during his training to become a Watcher.
‘Hello,’ Giles said neutrally.
‘Alec!’ cried Carlyle, getting up. ‘So glad you’re back, these good people are looking for Rupert Giles, I explained that we simply rent this place from him. Then I couldn’t for the life of me remember where it was he moved to. Florida wasn’t it?’
‘California, I believe-’ replied Giles, flashing a fleeting apologetic smile to the woman. ‘H-haven’t seen him in years.’
‘Told you he wouldn’t come back,’ the man nearest the window addressed his colleagues with a curious intonation placing great emphasis on certain words. ‘She survived, he’ll be with her. They’ll build it wherever they are. And this wouldn’t have happened if we had a photo.’
There are no photos, thought Giles with satisfaction. Only a few documents existed to prove that he lived at all - possessions, property, debts, payments and all other paper trails went through The Council, or at least they had done.
At length the woman made up her mind. ‘You may be right. We are sorry to have disturbed you.’
‘Not a problem.’
Giles and Carlyle stepped back and began to usher their unexpected guests out. The woman turned to them, suspicion written all over her face.
‘So you all live here together?’
‘That’s right.’
She looked across to Anya and Andrew then back to the two men stood before her. Giles sensed her unease, these people needed to be got rid of now. He draped his arm around Carlyle’s shoulders.
‘We’re a family, perhaps a somewhat unorthodox one but…’
‘These kids are the closest we’ll ever get to having children of our own,’ finished Carlyle smoothly, as he reached up and threaded his fingers through the ones hanging down over his left shoulder.
Watching the woman very closely, Giles saw a brief flicker of disgust cross her features.
‘Quite. We shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.’
She gazed coldly at their joined hands, Giles’ heart sank as her lips twisted into a smile of triumph.
‘That’s a nice ring you’ve got there…’
She pushed Carlyle away and grabbed Giles’ wrist with a strength that told him she wasn’t mortal.
‘…Watcher,’ she spat.
Giles didn’t hesitate, he drove his forehead into the vampire’s face and kicked his knee into her stomach as she started to fall. He was reaching into his jacket pocket for a stake when one of the other vamps, now looking like the demons they were, leapt at him, their combined weight smashing the coffee table on impact as they both crashed down on to it. A long, jagged splinter of wood sunk deep into the attacker’s chest and he imploded in a cloud of dust. Two left, not good odds at all, lengthened further when Carlyle was knocked down and stayed down.
Grabbing a piece of the ex-table, Giles jumped to his feet intent on putting it to deadly use. Blows were exchanged, some finding their target, others being blocked, debris accumulated making it easy to stumble. A lounge was not the best place for a fight, there was no room to push assailants away, no respite, just continual motion and danger. One of the vampires skidded on a cushion; Anya pushed him and then Andrew thrust a stake into his back before his face hit the carpet. The female vampire turned slightly to see what had happened to her vanquished companion and that moment of inattentiveness proved to be all Giles needed to gain the upper-hand and turn her to dust. He then dropped his improvised weapon and doubled-over, hands on his knees, to get his breath back. The fight had stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Giles looking up at Anya.
‘No,’ she pouted. ‘I didn’t think this would happen here. Why can’t we ever end up somewhere that’s safe?’
‘Good question,’ said Giles as he straightened up, voice momentarily strained as various muscles protested. ‘Of course this place would be safe i-if some monumental fool hadn’t taken it upon themselves to say ‘come in.’’
He glared at Carlyle who was now sat on the very edge of the sofa, arms wrapped around himself for comfort.
‘I appreciate that you have been out of the game for a long time, but for God’s sake Carlyle we learned not to let strangers into our homes when we were children.’
‘I didn’t say it. I didn’t.’
Giles looked puzzled.
‘What made you call me ‘Alec’ anyway?’
‘Alec Guinness. For some reason I was thinking about Star Wars.’
‘I can well imagine why that film is on your mind,’ said Giles quietly, angered beyond shouting. He turned to Andrew, who was holding two pieces of an extremely broken lamp, trying without success to get them to fit back together.
‘Why are you here and what the hell did you just do?’
********************
Andrew was a survivor, he’d fought The First and the terror that final confrontation had created inside him and won. He forced himself to meet Mr Giles’ forbidding gaze and felt the fear caused by the hostility behind those intelligent eyes.
‘I asked you for an explanation.’
Andrew swallowed nervously, he could do this: he was a survivor.
‘When we stopped at that first town I got another bus to my Dad’s…’
And discovered that his Dad hadn’t even kept a room for him, that he was happy with his new wife and baby daughter and didn’t want his misfit son hanging around.
‘…it was awesome but I didn’t want to settle down…’
Dad gave me a sweaty roll of bills and told me to go make a man of myself.
‘…then I hooked up with the gang to fight the good fight.’
What was the point of going to Cleveland, they’d only treat him like a loser? Besides after a bit of searching and a lot of hacking the internet gave him the address he wanted.
‘They’re just great, but they’ve kind of got it all covered, y’know?’
Mr Giles made no attempt to answer, just stayed perfectly still leant up against the wall. A small patch of blood was soaking through his shirt across his right bicep and a thin steam of it was running down the fingers of the same hand from a cut across his knuckles. Andrew decided not to draw attention to this, privately thinking how cool Mr Giles looked, pale, bleeding and not caring at all.
‘Then I figured I should come here. Help you.’
‘Help me by inviting vampires into my home.’
Carlyle was on his knees helping Anya clean up the mess. ‘Actually, Nunc I’d have probably done the same.’
‘What?’
‘They had identification, said they were from some law firm or the other. It was all very convincing - a most elaborate and well conceived charade. Never crossed my mind they weren’t what they claimed to be until…’
Mr Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘Anya, what would you have done?’
‘I wouldn’t have said ‘come in ’. They had me fooled,’ she admitted. ‘But I never say ‘come in.’’
‘Mr Giles…’
‘Just Giles will do.’
Andrew wiped his hand across his mouth to stop himself from grinning. He'd never felt comfortable calling the man Giles, but now that they were practically comrades in arms he would be okay with it.
‘I’m sorry and I’ll fix your stuff or pay you for it or something,’ he was starting to babble, but he was getting desperate. ‘Don’t send me away!’
There was a pause, a long horrible pause. Andrew was suddenly very afraid that he was going to cry and wasn’t sure why, only that he’d travelled thousands of miles in the last week, spent all day on a plane and had come to the one place he thought he might fit in, and if he was rejected here too he didn’t know what he’d do next. Finally Giles put his glasses back on and looked at Andrew, for the first time, with concern rather than contempt.
‘I won’t. We’ll talk again tomorrow,’ he suddenly sounded very tired. ‘Let’s get all this tidied up and get some sleep. Will you be all right on the sofa?’
‘No problems,’ said Andrew, trying not to sound too happy.
Nothing much more was said as they set the room straight. Andrew was offered some food, but said no. Jet lag was kicking in and his body didn’t know what time it was, definitely not time to eat though. The others drifted into the kitchen, which was separated from the lounge by a large archway instead of a door, then wandered back empty handed having discovered that the attack had left them too on edge to be hungry.
At length, and with a little difficulty, Giles, gave Andrew a pillow and a sleeping bag. He’d now clearly noticed the effects of the fight and was keeping his right hand cradled protectively against his chest.
‘I’m sure you won’t be too uncomfortable.’
‘I’ll be fine Mr Gi…Giles.’
Giles hesitated in the doorway.
‘Why are you really here?’
Andrew the survivor, took the first step towards creating a new life for himself.
‘I want to be a Watcher like you.’
‘Does that mean you want to be a Watcher, or that you want to be the kind of Watcher that I am?’
‘Both, I think.’
Giles looked amused.
‘Thinking is a good start.’
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