TITLE THE HIGHGATE TUNNELS
AUTHOR Vivienne
RATING PG-13 ....mild language in this one – yep, Spike again.
DISCLAIMER All BTVS characters and certain other aspects of this story belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, ME and associates.
SPOILERS Diverges from canon somewhere early in season six.
THANKS To Wayland (Clare) for her unstinting beta-ing.
FEEDBACK Feel free!
The Highgate Tunnels
Chapter 17
Charley rummaged in her handbag for Giles’s spare keys. She stamped her feet to keep them warm and wished she hadn’t left her woolly gloves at home. When she put the key in the lock, she had a strong sense that she was being watched. She turned, looking up and down the quiet tree-lined street.
Why would anyone be watching me? There wasn’t anyone around on foot, so Charley peered at the cars. Some of them, parked between the street lamps, were in darkness.
Like that Mini over there, thought Charley,
is there someone inside it? But she couldn’t see. Feeling thoroughly unsettled now, she quickly unlocked the door, went in and shut it behind her with a sigh of relief.
Now that she was inside, Charley left her momentary paranoia outside and gave her attention to switching the hall lights on and the security alarm off. She went down the hall, past the guest bathroom and into the stainless steel and white tile kitchen. This wasn’t the first time Charley had been to Giles’s London home. She was quite used to coming here to bring him a book or a file, and had even on occasion stayed to discuss some work-related topic over coffee. He was friendly, he was courteous – and generous with his support. But he had never revealed more to her than was necessary for the dry, bread-and-butter academic work that they both did. She had always suspected that there was far more to Rupert Giles, and to his ‘work’. Now, as she turned on the heating and filled the kettle, she felt a thrill of excitement run through her because it seemed that, at last, tonight she would find out.
She went through to the lounge, pausing to look down the hall. There were four doors at the far end. Charley presumed that two of them were bedrooms and one a bathroom, but she couldn’t guess what the fourth might be. Giles’s lounge was as minimalist as his kitchen. Neutral, unadorned walls, plain rugs on a polished wooden floor, and a low coffee table surrounded by three white leather sofas created a room curiously lacking in personality. Charley leaned against the radiator, waiting for the warmth to seep through before she took off her coat.
Why do I get the feeling you don’t spend much time in here, Rupert? she wondered.
She was hanging her coat on the peg behind the kitchen door when she heard the front door bang, and the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall.
‘Ah, there you are Charley. Uh, well done,’ Giles unburdened himself of various bags and, unwinding his scarf from his neck, ushered a beautiful red-headed young woman towards her.
‘This is Willow,’ he said, ‘Willow, meet Charley.’
My age, maybe a couple years younger, thought Charley.
So this is the American. What an interesting face she has. She noted the slender figure encased in brown leather jacket, boots and jeans, the lustrous hair and arresting green eyes.
No wonder he likes you, she thought.
Who wouldn’t? The woman held out her hand. Charley took it. A split second later she was fighting to conceal her reaction.
Such power! She caught her breath, swallowing a gasp.
‘Hi Willow,’ she managed, a little shakily.
This woman had more power than Charley knew existed.
And so controlled, she marvelled.
Who is she? ‘Hi Charley,’ said Willow, ‘thanks a bunch for doing all that tunnel stuff, and for bringing it over here, it’s a real big help.’
‘Oh, it was my pleasure,’ said Charley.
A big help with what, exactly? she thought, her patience now near breaking point.
‘Can I get you some coffee?’ she asked, ‘I’ve put the kettle on.’
‘Great, I mean, yes please,’ said Willow, ‘Though I think Giles would most likely prefer tea.’
Charley smiled back at Willow, ‘Oh yes, I’m sure he would.’
Giles had disappeared down the hall. Two of the doors now stood open, Charley noted as she showed Willow into the lounge.
So, separate rooms, okay. In the kitchen, she busied herself putting together a tray of tea, coffee and biscuits. After a moment’s thought, she used china from Giles’s best Spode service and found white linen napkins. As she folded them neatly, placing them on the tray, she worried that Willow would have sensed her own ability when they shook hands.
But it’s so small compared with hers, she thought,
and I’ve buried it so deep. There hadn’t been any reaction on Willow’s part either, she reassured herself.
Willow, she thought,
lovely name. The strain on Willow’s face despite her smile, had been obvious to Charley. So had the deep anxiety that burned behind her friendly eyes.
And yet she still took the trouble to say hello properly, Charley thought,
and to thank me. She felt a surge of warmth for the young woman. She took biscuits from a cupboard and carefully arranged Giles’s favourite Garibaldi, some chocolate digestives and some shortcake on a plate.
So, she wondered,
who is she to Rupert? She rather hoped that his feelings were more paternal than romantic, although it was obvious they were close.
Anyway, she thought,
he’s far too old for her. Charley glanced at the shiny work-station where she’d left her handbag and the file.
Now, she thought,
now I get to find out. Her hands trembling with excitement, she picked up the tray and carried it into the lounge where Giles was telling Willow how he’d put her bags in the spare bedroom. He looked at Charley with a smile.
‘Tea – perfect! Thank you Charley. You did bring those notes?’
‘Yes of course,’ said Charley, ‘They’re in the kitchen.’
She hurried out to get them. When she returned, her anticipation peaking, Giles and Willow were sipping their drinks. The third cup remained empty on the tray. Charley put the file and the memory stick on the table. She reached for the coffee pot.
‘Ah, thank you Charley,’ said Giles, picking up the file, ‘You know, I really appreciate you doing all this.’
Willow nodded her agreement enthusiastically.
‘But look,’ Giles went on, ‘I think we’ve disrupted your evening quite enough. There’s no need for you to stay.’
Charley was horrified. She took her hand off the coffee pot and stood up straight.
‘Oh that’s alright,’ she said, ‘I’m really glad to help. If there’s anything else I can do, I mean I’d be very happy to . . . .’
‘No no, we couldn’t possibly impose any further.’ There was no mistaking the tone in Giles’s voice. It was a dismissal.
She looked at Willow for help, but her eyes were on Giles. Desperately, Charley played for time.
‘Oh, okay. I’ll just use the lavatory, and fetch my things,’ she said.
On the way up the hall she tried hard to think of ways of delaying her departure, but by the time she emerged from the bathroom, she still hadn’t come up with anything remotely workable. Furious and disappointed, it seemed as though there was nothing for it but to fetch her coat and handbag from the kitchen and say her goodbyes.
As she started back down the hall a sound caught her attention. It was coming from outside. Charley went back to investigate. When she reached the front door, the noise resolved itself into a soft, persistent tapping. Charley opened the door.
‘At last,’ said the man on the doorstep, ‘I thought I was going to be knocking all bloody night.’
‘You could have tried knocking a bit louder. Or even rung the doorbell,’ said Charley, pointing at the prominent brass fixture.
‘Well you know how it is, love,’ he said, ‘I don’t like drawing attention to myself.’
Charley took in his white-blond hair and long, black leather coat.
‘Really?’ she said acidly.
The man looked bored. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a long plume of smoke in Charley’s direction.
‘So,’ he said, ‘Are you going to invite me in? Or do we stand here freezing our tits off?’
Cheeky sod, thought Charley,
who does he think he is? She folded her arms in front of her.
‘You’re the guy who phoned me earlier,’ she said.
‘Aw, you recognised my voice,’ he said, ‘How sweet.’
‘What do you want to talk to Mr Giles about?’ said Charley.
His gaze flicked over her, and then suddenly he was right up close.
‘Now girlie, that’s between me and Giles,’ he said softly, looming over her.
His breath was on her face. Charley’s spine tingled.
He’s damned attractive, she thought.
And he’s dangerous, she recognised.
Really dangerous. Coolly, she raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye.
‘You didn’t know the code-word,’ she said.
He stepped back, glaring at her.
‘Code-word? Bloody code-word?’ He threw his cigarette down and ground it under his foot. ‘Have I walked straight into an episode of ‘The Hardy Boys?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘And I suppose you’ll be Nancy bleedin’ Drew.
Charley said nothing. She was not amused.
‘For Christ’s sake woman, it’s not like I’m asking you to show me your knickers, although . . . .,’ he leered.
Charley raised an eyebrow and, stepping backward, started closing the door.
‘No, don’t do that!’ The man was back on the door step. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he went on in a plaintive tone. ‘Please, all you have to say is “Spike, come in”.’
Charley paused. Slowly, the door swung back open. ‘Why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place?’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘You’d better come in’ She turned her back on him and marched down the hall.
She heard the door slam shut, then the flick of his cigarette lighter as he caught up with her.
‘You should put that out,’ said Charley, ‘Mr Giles won’t like it.’
There was a low chuckle from behind her, ‘Oh yeah?’ said the stranger.
‘I hope this is okay,’ said Charley as they entered the sitting room together, ‘He did give me the code-word.’
‘Aha,’ said Giles, looking at the man, ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’
Willow grinned, ‘I didn’t know you were in England!’ She turned to Giles, ‘You didn’t tell me?’
Giles looked sheepish, ‘We have been a little busy, Willow. I’m sure it would’ve come up – well, it has come up.’
‘Will someone please tell me what it is with this bloody code-word?’ The man looked at Charley. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Giles all bloody day and you wouldn’t give me his number because I didn’t know the code-word. I’ve just spent ten minutes arguing with you on the flaming doorstep because I didn’t know the code-word. You finally invite me in, and I still don’t know what the stupid word is!’ He took a final puff of his cigarette before stubbing it out on one of Giles’s best tea-plates.
‘But you gave me the code-word. That’s why I let you in,’ Charley felt somewhat confused.
‘Spike,’ said Giles.
‘What?’ said the man.
‘Spike,’ said Charley.
‘What?’ said the man again.
‘Spike. It’s Spike,’ Willow’s grin had expanded.
‘What, you mean . . . seriously?’ said the man.
‘Yes, the code-word is “Spike”,’ said Giles, coughing slightly. ‘It’s short and . . . .’
‘ . . .to the point,’ finished Willow helpfully.
‘You might have told me,’ said the man.
‘Yes, I should have given it to you, of course. I’m sorry. Been a bit rushed,’ said Giles.
‘You mean Spike is your name?’ said Charley.
‘Yes,’ said Spike, offering his hand, ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,’
‘Charley,’ she said, taking it. His hand was pleasantly cool to the touch, his skin smooth. Spike looked into her eyes. He smiled. She felt her knees wobble.
He knows, she thought.
Oh God, he knows. Who is he? What is he? Spike dropped her hand, took off his coat and threw it over the back of a sofa.
‘So,’ he said, ‘I have news for you. Interesting news.’ He sat down and lit another cigarette.
He looked at Charley. ‘Come and sit with me, love,’ he said, patting the space beside him.
‘Oh, Charley was just leaving,’ said Giles.
Charley saw him flash a warning look in Spike’s direction.
Spike did a double-take. ‘You mean she isn’t . . . you haven’t?’
‘No,’ said Charley, feeling suddenly very fed up with being excluded. She sat down next to Spike. ‘I’ve done piles of research that I don’t know the purpose of, I’ve run around London, I’ve worked late and I even know the damned code-word. But I’m not to be part of it. Am I?’
‘No,’ said Giles decisively, ‘I’m sorry Charley, it’s not possible.’
‘Doesn’t seem fair,’ said Spike, ‘After all her hard work.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said Giles, ‘But Charley isn’t exactly qualified for this sort of thing.’
‘Really?’ said Spike. He crossed one leg over the other and looked at Charley through narrowed eyes. ‘With her talents, hidden though they are, I’d have thought she was eminently qualified for this sort of thing.’
Giles looked startled.
‘You didn’t know? Tut-tut, we are slipping, aren’t we?’ Spike sniggered.
‘Why so hidden, Charley?’ said Willow.
Charley looked at her.
So she knows, too. Of course she does. She must’ve known all along, she thought.
‘It caused a lot of trouble,’ she said in a small voice, ‘In the family.’ She felt exposed, vulnerable.
‘So you stopped,’ Willow’s voice was gentle.
‘Yes,’ said Charley.
‘It’s not easy though, is it?’ Willow went on.
‘No,’ Charley whispered.
‘I think we have a new member of the Scooby gang,’ said Spike.
The what? thought Charley,
Scooby gang? What the hell is that? ‘No, I’m sorry,' Giles shook his head, 'Charley, you aren’t trained in this work, it’s far too dangerous. Out of the question.’
Willow and Spike looked at him. Charley held her breath. Giles sighed, took off his glasses and used a napkin to polish them.
‘It seems I’m outnumbered,’ he said, ‘Very well, but I’m not happy about it.’
Charley smiled at Giles, then at Willow and Spike – her new allies. So, it was going to be dangerous and she might – no, probably would – have to use abilities she had turned her back on. So be it. She felt excited and strangely confident.
‘Spike,’ Willow was talking, the underlying strain surfacing in her tone. ‘You said you had news. Tara?’
‘Tara?’ said Spike, ‘Tara came with you?’
‘Yes,’ said Willow, ‘They took her. This afternoon. They took her away from me. Spike, tell us you have something that will help me get her back.’
‘Who – who’s Tara?’ said Charley.
Willow looked at her, her face full of grief. ‘My wife,’ she said.
Her wife. Tara is Willow’s wife. Slowly, Charley absorbed this piece of new information. For the first time, she noticed Willow’s wedding ring.
How did I miss it? She glanced at Giles. He was looking at Willow with heart-breaking concern. That, together with Willow’s sorrow, brought tears to her eyes.
‘Oh Willow,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Willow,’ said Giles, very gently. ‘I’m not sure Spike will have the answers we need.’
Willow’s head fell forward, she put her hands to her face.
‘We’ll find her,’ he said consolingly.
‘How?’ Willow’s voice was savage.
‘It’s alright, love,’ said Spike, ‘I know exactly where she’ll be.’
For a moment there was silence as the meaning of his words sank in. Then all three looked at him. Spike extinguished his cigarette on the Spode and lit another.
‘Spike,’ said Willow, her voice cracking, ‘Where?’
Spike leaned back into the white leather of the sofa, half-closing his eyes. He exhaled smoke.
‘The Highgate Tunnels,’ he said.
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