AUTHOR NOTES - Hi all! From shirrey's feedback, some of my threads are getting a little lost in the time between chapters, so I'm going to introduce a 'previously...' part for areas that may have been missed and have importance in the chapter about to happen. Let me know if they work / are helpful!
Previously ....
The man watched her for a few more seconds, then strode into the campsite fully, standing behind her.
“My name is Rupert Giles, and I’m a watcher. And you are Elizabeth Summers, a fugitive wanted in 4 states… and the slayer” he softly spoke to her, with eyes full of wonderment and recognition.
Elizabeth finally turned around and looked at the man, in complete confusion and asked thickly around a mouth full of bread. “What’s a slayer?”
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“The current mayor, Mr Robert Flutie - he’s proving to be a bit squeaky clean. I usually like that but not in a political sense. Anyway, I need to see if there’s any dodgy information I can get on him to help my campaign. He’s a very friendly gentleman but most monsters are. Can you follow him, see what you find out?”
Wilkins handed Angelus a sack of bills as he explained his next work.
Angelus doesn’t even count the money before pocketing it.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 14
1893
The rain beat down heavily on the forest ground, the force of each drop splashing upwards after they landed, turning the ground into a mess of mud and wet grass. The sound was louder, harsher against the walls of the small run down cabin that was almost hidden amongst the trees. Some of the drops managed to find their way through cracks in the roof, allowing their rhythmic pops to bounce off of the surfaces inside the dimly lit building. Elizabeth was sitting on the floor in front of the dusty fireplace, where a modest flame warmed the room. With a small pot of stew in her hands, her attention was on the older man sitting on a chair next to the fireplace, reading out loud from a large, worn book. “Wait, so hang on - I got my powers - and now I have to fight monsters and I don’t get a say in it? Why should I listen to you?” Giles rolled his eyes at the young girl, briefly closing the book in front of him. “You are very powerful, Elizabeth. I can’t force you to do anything - of course you have a choice, currently the world doesn’t know you exist and therefore forces such as the Watchers Council cannot intervene, however a lot of people will die if you do not do what only you are able to.” Elizabeth listened, taking it in, still trying to grasp the concepts being introduced to her. “The watchers council?” she asked. “Back in England, there is a group of people called The Watchers Council. They keep information and records on Slayers throughout history, as well as priceless information on all manner of demons and how to fight them. They take part in fighting monsters themselves, but they’re only human so they cannot achieve what you can. They are responsible for finding and training every slayer that exists.” “But they don’t know about me” Elizabeth clarified, spooning more of the stew into her mouth after her question. “They do not.” Giles confirmed. His own stew sat on the broken table next to him, completely forgotten. “How do you know all of this?” she asked through her full mouth. Giles grimaced a little at her lack of table manners. “Because, I was training to become a Watcher myself, many years ago.” Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously at that revelation. “But you haven’t told them about me yet?” Giles, understanding her wary tone, responded quickly to calm her concerns. “I have no intention of telling them unless you want them to be told. Truthfully though, I am not in contact with them anymore.” “How come?” Giles hesitated. Trying to decide what was best to reveal at this particular moment, wanting to be honest with the girl where he could be, but also being very aware that her age and naivety could cause problems if she knew too much and she may not react well to certain aspects of his past. “There was an incident. I had a group of friends, we were all in training to join the council but we were also young...reckless… we found the dark arts fascinating.” His eyes seemed further away as he started to explain, Elizabeth noted the tightening of the lines on his face, wondering what information lay behind his expression. “Dark arts?” “Magic” Giles responded simply, finding the girl's incessant quick questions both irritating and an adorable child-like quality he was glad she was able to retain. “Huh” she said, briefly surprised but with acceptance. She justified to herself that at this point nothing should be a shock anymore. “We played around with some dangerous stuff and foolishly, one of our group … died. Her father was quite high up in the council, we’d heard stories of just what the council was capable of so, we hopped on a ship to the new world. I am sure I can never return.” He hadn’t spoken about Diedre in years, still carrying the shame and guilt in him since those days, but he wanted to be as truthful as he could be under the circumstances. Elizabeth slowly nodded, seemingly to herself. He expected her to be shocked or upset that he was instrumental in someone’s death but she seemed to be taking the news oddly well. After a few moments of silence, Elizabeth’s enquiring nature showed it’s head again. “So... where are your friends?” “Long gone” he responded, feeling no need to elaborate and wishing not to dwell on the past any further. Elizabeth waited a beat to see if he would continue, but when he remained silent she decided to change the topic slightly. “So why did you find me?” Giles paused slightly, hesitating in his response. “I’d heard rumours of vampires being hunted, I was curious. Seeing you in action… I felt my expertise could help you.” Despite her reservations, Elizabeth shrugged and smiled at him. “Well, I’m under a roof and I’m warm and I have some food so, I’m not going to argue with that, bring on the expertise!” she let out a small laugh. Giles smiled warmly in response, finding the girl charming in her own right. They sat in silence as she finished her stew. Giles quietly watched her from afar, a million of his own questions pinging around his head that he knew should remain silent. “Have you been by yourself long?” he asked gently. His curiosity getting the better of him. “A few months.” she replied simply, not looking at him. Her emotional armour restitching itself around her after her guard was briefly discarded. “Where are your parents?” he followed up, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, not wanting her to know that he knew her parents quite well. She shrugged “A few states away” she commented, not giving much information and continuing to look away from the man, her eyes staring deeper into the fire. “Don’t you want to be with them?” he pressed slightly. Realising again that she is just a young girl, her faraway expression far too familiar to him. “I can’t” she said, in an almost whisper, while tears briefly formed in her eyes. His own eyes misted at her response. --------------- Sunnydale Church was a tall, white structure, far cleaner than the town it resided in. It’s colour almost blinded in the early morning light, bathing potential visitors with it’s shining symbols of the Almighty. As a place of worship, and supporter of the poor and weak, it was open to everyone in need. Literally everyone. Angelus had snuck into the building right before dawn, keeping himself hidden at the back of the building, keeping his eyes on the front of the church. He had done some research on Mr. Flutie and he seemed to be quite the common church visitor, passing through its door each morning to take confession. Angelus had already noted the priest take position in the right side of the confessional, as the front door opened to Mr Flutie calmly walking towards the confessionals' left door. Sneaking alongside the wall (avoiding pressing against any of the crosses adorning it), he waited for the door to close behind Mr Flutie before quickly reaching into the right door and immediately breaking the priest's neck with one unfortunately audible snap. “Father, what was that?” Mr Flutie’s melodic and kind voice asked in concern from the other side of the screen. Angelus silently cursed and then attempted to force a surprisingly convincing American accent. “Uh, my chair squeaked. It needs to be seen to. I’m sorry my child, please go on.” Angelus held the dead body to him to ensure that the weight of it didn’t push open the door, on the off chance the church had any more early rising visitors. “Well, father it’s been one day since my last confession, and boy… yesterday was hard” “The lord can be forgiving, my child, as long as you repent” Angelus commented, wanting to hurry the man up. “Well, Mrs Randall came in, to talk about an issue with her farm, and she sat down across from me and I… well, I saw a flash of her calf and, and I looked longer than I should have. I’m a married man, father! It is so shameful of me to be distracted by sins of the flesh but Mrs Randall is quite fair… oh it’s no excuse! I am so sorry father.” Angelus rolled his eyes to himself and briefly wondered if all of his murderous past really warranted this level of boring punishment. “Now, my child, the wandering eye is unfortunate but you know you made a mistake, you did not act upon it, you’re pure of heart. God understands that. Uh… is that all you want to confess?” Flutie croaked out a quiet “No” and Angelus paused, hoping Flutie would continue. “I bought from the grocers and… he gave me more change than he should have, and I didn’t correct him! I’m such a monster.” Angelus stopped himself from banging his head against the screen. “I’m sure if you donate the difference to the church collection box, God will forgive you.” “Wow Father, that’s a wonderful idea! Thank you so much! I better be going, lots of mayoring to do today! Thanks again” Flutie, free of guilt, walked out of the left side of the confessional and quickly exited the building, after dropping a few coins into the collection box. Angelus, though frustrated at learning absolutely nothing, checked out the door to ensure no one else was in the church, before heaving the body out into the open. He found rope in the storage room and hoisted the already dead priest by his neck, tying him from one of the main beams in the ceiling. He knew anymore bite attacks may attract more attention than he wanted, so faking a suicide was the only logical thing he could come up with for why the town priest was suddenly dead. Angelus was mad at himself for making such a risky move that resulted in basically no new information - other than Flutie really being as squeaky clean as everyone claimed. Checking his handy work was convincing enough, Angelus headed down to the basement to hide until the sun went down. --------------------- After about an hour's ride (Donnie always rode a little fast for Tara or her father’s liking), he and Willow had pulled up outside Giles’s home. “I’m goin’ to head into town, mind if I just pop back in a couple of hours?” he asked. Willow nodded, gingerly jumping down from the horse in an attempt at bravery and only mildly fumbled her landing. She smiled and waved at Donnie as he rode off, and turned towards Giles’s front door. She knocked, and waited a moment. Hearing a coughing sound behind the door and a brief pause, Giles opened the door slowly. He looked rougher than Willow remembered from last time. His hair was a little unkempt, the small start of a beard was forming, and he had a paler complexion than her previous visit. “Are you alright, Professor?” she asked gently. “Oh, yes. Hello, Willow! Just been feeling a little under the weather.” He gestured for her to follow him in, and Willow noticed the place was a little less tidy as well. Some dishes had piled up, some rubbish was lying around, it seemed like Giles was having a bad time. “Is that all it is?” she probed, worrying about this man who seemingly lived alone. “Yes - yes it is. Sorry, I normally visit with my niece who helps me uh, organise my medicines better but she hasn’t popped by lately.” he dismissed the concern. “Do you mean Tara Maclay?” she asked, picking up on the ‘niece’ part. “Yes - do you know Tara?” Giles responded, slightly suspicious of Willow’s knowledge. “Yes, I’m actually staying at the Maclay ranch.” she offered. Giles nodded in understanding, remembering Elizabeth filling him in after she had rescued the redhead from the storm. He frowned at the memory of Elizabeth but decided to ignore it. “Oh that’s lovely, if you could ask Tara to pop by soon I would appreciate it” Giles asked, trying not to sound desperate. Willow nodded politely, trying to drum up the courage to say what she needed to. She had decided to visit the professor because she was stuck. Her research, despite being more eye opening closer to Sunnydale, hadn’t resulted in any definitive results and she knew she would get nowhere without taking a risk. From reading the professor's own work, she had a hunch that this risk was a calculated one - no one could write like he did without some form of belief in the subject matter. Still, it’s definitely a dangerous subject to discuss and she was concerned it would go awry. “So what brings you here, Miss Rosenberg?” Giles asked, kind of wishing this meeting wouldn’t be a long one. “I need to talk to you about something, if you can spare the time” she responded, trying to prepare him for a large revelation. “Of course, you can tell me anything” Giles affirmed. “Well… you know I’ve been researching the occult, and the attacks here?” she led. “Yes, you’re quite knowledgeable on the folklore of the supernatural, our correspondence has been very entertaining” he responded, trying to keep to his professor persona he had previously expressed. “Well, I feel I need to be completely truthful with you. I don’t just do this work out of fascination. As you know I’m writing a book, but it’s not intended to be fiction… I am writing a book in the hopes to prove that these supernatural elements do in fact exist. The truth is, I believe in demons, and vampires, and magic and more. I believe these attacks are not the work of human people. And I believe that something dangerous is happening in the town.” Willow let out a breath as she finished her piece, feeling relieved to have finally said these feelings out loud, although she was still terrified of what the admission would result in. Giles looked at Willow for a moment, trying to read her expression for any more deception, and found none. Willow waited for Giles to look aghast, angry, or even laugh, but his response shocked her beyond belief. “I can’t say it’ll be a bestseller, but I also can’t say you’re wrong”. ---------------------- Tara had spent minutes staring into space after Willow’s departure, letting the exchange sink in. She had been terrified of confronting Willow with what had happened, but she had never imagined her feelings would be returned, let alone acted upon. She could still feel the energy of it all coursing through her veins, warming her from the inside out. It was captivating. She knew they needed to talk, and that things could potentially get very difficult, but she found herself feeling a form of joy she had never touched before. She continued her chores, wanting to do something with her hands while her mind wandered, and she started to sing to herself without even realising it. Dylan walked into the stable with one of Alex’s horses and caught his daughter's performance. “You’re in a better mood than you have been lately. Finally lettin’ go of what Wilkin’s told ya?” Dylan hoped out loud. Tara’s face fell from her slight smile as she turned to face him. “Just because I’m in a cheerier mood doesn’t erase what happened, Daddy. It’s all rather...horrifying. Every time a horse passes the ranch I want to run and hide.” Dylan felt immediately foolish for even asking. “I know, I’m sorry. Just glad to see you in higher spirits, that’s all” Tara simply nodded, and seemed to only then notice the stallion Dylan was leading. “Is Coal okay?” she asked, gesturing to the horse. “Ah one of his horseshoes is loose. Think you can keep him calm while I have a look?” Dylan asked. Tara nodded and moved to the horse's head, brushing Coal slowly along his flank and humming near him. He immediately calmed from the magic coursing through her tones, keeping himself still as Dylan lifted his back left foot. “Ah that’s it, one of the nails came out. Easy fix, don’t need to visit the blacksmith, thank Christ”. Dylan went to the tooling station in the corner of the stable and pulled out a hammer and a nail, returning with a small stool that he sat on, placing the horse's bent leg between his own so he could replace the nail. Tara continued to hum for the horse, needing him to keep still. “Speaking of not being able to afford the black smith, how is paying back Mr Wilkins going?” Tara enquired. Dylan’s shoulders sagged slightly in shame. “You shouldn’t worry about that.” he responded, trying to dismiss the discussion. “Considering I was almost payment, I think worrying about it is the least I can do” she responded, in a rare form of anger for her nature. Coal seemed to react to this emotional shift and he started to snort and shake his head. Tara went back to smoothing his flank and calmed him back down, and soon the horse was still again. “Maybe I can help, Daddy. A lot of local businesses know about my way with animals, maybe I can pop by some, see if they want my help, means I can help us pay him back faster.” she offered. “You’ve never charged for that before” Dylan said, finishing with the nail and allowing Coal to put his foot back down, his shoe as good as new. “I never needed to, but maybe it’s about time. I even have some medicinal herbs I can try selling to the doctor too. It’s okay to get help from us, Daddy. We all live here too.” She walked towards her father and hugged him, wanting him to understand that she still loved him despite this mishap, and that she wanted to help where she could. Although it pained him to accept it, he knew she was right and he didn’t want her to go through another scare, so he hugged her back without argument. “Your mom would be so proud of you” he whispered as he held her, a lone tear falling down his cheek. -------------- 1878 The hour was so late it could be considered early, as Rupert walked quietly towards his tent, across the camp grounds. Most of the camp seemed to be asleep or minding their own business, but before he could reach his bed, a woman quietly called out. “You dirty stop out, where have you been?” He turned to see Meredith, sat on a log next to a campfire, holding a sleeping Tara to her chest, clearly tuckered out from a recent feed. Despite her question, Meredith was smiling at him with a twinkle in her eye. Rupert sighed to himself and then sat next to the mother, smiling as he did so. “Why precisely should I tell you? You’re not my mother, you know” he commented, with a slight look at the sleeping baby. “Well mother or not, I care about you, so tell me… how was your date?” she nudged him with her shoulder slightly, trying not to wiggle too much with the child in her arms. “It was… strange. Miss Calendar is a challenging woman. She has all this money, this high society life, but she wants to go to the roughest saloons and watch fights.” Rupert used a dismissive tone, waving his hand nonchalantly. Meredith saw right through it. “You’re falling in love with her”. She smiled at him sadly as she said it. “Don’t be absurd. I’m just spending time with her to find opportunities to learn about her father’s affairs that we can exploit. She’s fair, and entertaining, but there’s nothing more to it than that.” Rupert denied. “Uh huh. You can’t lie to me, Rupert. I know that look, we all do. At least this time the girl is actually available”. Rupert looked at her painfully. “How is she doing?” he said, embracing the subject despite himself. “She’s hard to read. Hank’s been downing moonshine like his life depends on it. She doesn’t smile when he’s around… but that baby girl? Joyce’s smile lights up lookin’ at lil Beth” Rupert nodded sadly to himself. “Do you know? If she’s… you know” Meredith asked, lowering her voice further. Rupert looked at her confused “Do I know what?” he asked. “Is she yours?” Meredith looked him deep in the eyes as she said it. “How did you - “ Rupert started to ask, but Meredith held up her hand to cut him off. “You’ve loved her since the first day you came to us. She’s clearly felt something too, and since she got pregnant the pair of you can barely stand to be in the same space, or even look at each other. Have you even held the baby?” Meredith pushed. “Does everyone know?” Rupert asked, alarmed. “No. I’ve never heard it discussed, I just put two and two together.” Meredith tried to assure him. “Have you told Dylan?” Rupert asked. “Oh, you know he’s not one for gossip. I’ve kept it to myself”. “Thank you. I don’t know if… I mean, how would we know?” he asked, simply. His eyes landed on the Summers tent. “I don’t know, Rupert. I’m sorry.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek softly to console him. After a silent moment, Rupert timidly asked “Can I hold Tara?”. “Of course” Meredith smiled and gingerly handed Tara over to him, realising he wanted to feel closeness to a child, even if it wasn’t his own. He breathed in the baby’s scent, and held her close in his arms, rocking slightly. Her face formed a small frown and she wriggled a little at the exchange, but quickly settled. Softly, keeping his voice low, he began to sing to the child, as his eyes misted at the thought of all he was missing out on. “Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Din, don, din. Din, don, din.” Meredith watched him and silently thanked her daughter for giving Rupert the peace to have this moment. END OF CHAPTER 14
_________________ - I am a poster girl with no poster, I am 32 flavours and then some -
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