Rules'verse Fic: Bringing it Home (Spike/Buffy, Faith/Giles)
I am all shopped out, but reasonably successfully and I may have bought myself a nice top with one of the xmas-gift-buying discount vouchers. Memo to self: Oxford Street, Saturday, 3pm. Avoid. Even if you *really* want to go to Waitrose. Anyway, I managed to work on a Rulesverse fic too. More angst, less fluff for this one.
Title: Bringing it Home
Pairing/Characters: Faith/Giles, Spike/Buffy in the background, Dawn
Summary: Bad news comes to the Slayer Council.
Rating: PG13, for language
Words c2000
A/N: This fic is closely related to the final section of Heroic Couplets and is set in March-April 2013. Folks becoming lost in the twists of the Rulesverse are referred to the spiffy Rulesverse timeline.
Faith was on duty when the call came in from California. It was probably best that way. Vi would have cried, and Nonie didn’t need that. Not like it was her fault, she was just the unlucky one making the call.
Kennedy would have- Actually, Kennedy would have been better than Faith at taking this news. Efficient and clear; without a strong emotional tie to Buffy. Yeah, she would have been better. Serious injury to squad leader and squad member, check. Squad in need of reinforcements, check. Temporary leader appointed, sure. Shaky Slayer Support Operative/deputy-team-leader given a reassuring morale boost by phone, yep.
Faith was doing all those things, of course. But she was doing them with maybe ten percent of her brain. Autopilot was awesome, she noted with another 0.01% while dealing with Nonie’s gulping sobs.
Shit. Gotta think. Shit. I can’t believe you got caught after all these years, B. Shit. You only went back to fieldwork six months ago. Shit. Maybe you weren’t ready. Shit. That’s my fault, my call. Fuck.. After a while, the swearing in Faith’s head got a little dull. She stood up to do something heroic, or efficient or-
Then things went grey round the edges, and she barely made it to the bathroom in time. Spewing all over the Chief Slayer quarters would have just been unhelpful.
*
After she threw up, Faith sat for a while in the bathroom, on the clean but nonetheless not comfortable tile. The tile was cool; cold, in fact. That small discomfort slowly penetrated the shocked fog in her brain, propelling her to action.
She knew what had to happen next. Even in the shock, there was a list forming in her head, the efficient habit she’d been acquiring as Chief Slayer. Assignments to be juggled, so that the Hellbeast could be tackled by a strong squad of the emergency fieldwork team. It had a taste for humans, maybe even a taste for Slayers, now. It could attack the most experienced and cause irrevocable damage. That was a max power situation; definitely time for Stevie’s team, though they’d hate the long trip from Timbuktu.
But first... Faith knocked at the door to R&D.
You had to knock. Not that Vi and Erik ran a tight ship. Compared with the tight-assed training quarters, all military precision and hard edges, this was a light and funky space, weirdly contrasting with the basic granite of the castle.
Thing was, the research could be messy - and the development could be explosive. Opening the door was always an adventure. Hence, knocking.
But today, the back office was virtually empty. Only a slim woman, long brown hair tied back away from her face as she pored over a stack of demonic dictionaries and calendars, trying to decipher the maddening two-inch-square of parchment that had been bugging her for the past month.
Faith took two breaths, trying to control her voice before-
“Hey Dawn. I- We just got word from California. It’s Buffy.”
*
She spent the day breaking the news. Telling Giles was bad. Really, really bad. Faith had spent years working with the junior Slayers, and the Scoobies. She was nearly, almost, getting okay at dealing with their emotions. Not great, of course. But she could pass the tissues and maybe pat shoulders in an emergency, and she almost never said something that made things a whole lot worse any more.
But when she’d done that, she’d go home to Giles, and all that messy emotion would be left behind. They’d talk about the whatever-it-was, get it out of their heads, and then it would be done.
Not this time. Giles was in their apartment, Mike on the floor with some blocks and a plastic cow and that damn furry caterpillar he took everywhere, and that so wasn’t the point right now. Kat was on vacation. Faith’d forgotten to do anything about childcare, and now the castle was in ferment she couldn’t exactly palm the kid off on a passing Slayer as usual. So, Mike would have to be coped with.
She took the coward parent’s route and flipped the TV on. Pocoyo; could be worse. Mike’s eyes instantly slid away from the creative play towards the idiot box, just like she’d hoped. Just once, okay? Just this once, we need the electric babysitter.
But that meant Giles already knew there was a problem. He was starting to stand up, which was going to be the wrong thing, so Faith slipped onto the couch with him.
“Nonie called.” Right then, he knew it was Buffy. Faith could see him freeze, waiting for the pain. “That Hellbeast in Rancho Cucamonga, they caught up with it. But it was in a bad spot, and the squad got split up. Buffy and Kali went up against it alone.
“They’re alive.” That was the first thing, and maybe the important one. No, definitely the important one. But...
“But they’re bad, G. Nonie said they should live, though they’re operating on Kali right now for internal injuries.”
“Just tell me.” He was desperate. Faith hadn’t been meaning to spin out the pain, but she just hadn’t wanted to say, “Buffy... the beast got a good few bites at her. G, it got her right leg.”
There was a very long silence. Giles’s face was blank, except for furious blinking. Mike looked over from the TV, unnerved by his parents’ unaccustomed quiet. Giles reached down for his son, sat the sturdy little body on his lap, and continued to be silent.
When he spoke, it was quiet, rusty. Old. “She was a great warrior; beautifully poised and balanced. I’ve never seen a better in terms of movement. But always adaptable. She’s alive. She’ll come through this. “
He paused and appealed for comfort from Faith. “Won’t she?”
What can I possibly say? No choice at all.
“Hell, yeah. If anyone can come back, it’s B. Literally, more than once.” But what is a great warrior when she can’t fight? What would I do if... Shit. No, not going there. Not wanting Giles to see her face, Faith dragged him into a hug, bundling Mike into the family huddle too. While they were all together, the outside world couldn’t touch them.
Neither would have broken the hug, if it hadn’t been for Mike, who gave them less than a minute before he wriggled indignantly at being deprived of more mind-numbing entertainment.
They’d cope. So would Buffy. But their little world had been deeply shaken all the same.
*
The cellphone rang that night. Faith didn’t want to answer. Not on duty. Night calls rarely meant good news; and right now she didn’t want to face bad news. But Giles couldn’t leave a ringing phone, and he was more wiped than she.
So, out of bed and onto the chilly flagstones, hoping to catch the ring before it fully woke Giles. “Hey, this is Faith.”
“Faith.” Oh no. Can’t deal with this. “It’s Spike.”
“Yeah, I got that. How’s... things?”
Spike actually managed a laugh, or at least an audible exhalation. “Bin better.” Long pause. “Look, Faith, I know it’s the arse end of night there, but any chance you could get the Watcher on the line?”
“Uh, I guess. He’s sleeping, but-”
“Buffy’s awake.”
I should say something now. Right? But no time. “She needs to talk to Rupert.”
No arguing with that. Faith took the phone into their bedroom, where Giles was rapidly shrugging off the bleariness of sleep. She mouthed “Spike” as she handed the receiver over, and Giles struggled to get into a sitting position while keeping reasonably well covered against the chill.
“Spike?
“Oh!
“Buffy, I’m so glad to hear your voice. What a ghastly thing to happen to you, my dear.”
He sounded a little stuffy, a little like the Giles of old, but warm, reassuring, strong and supportive all the same. Father, mentor, friend - doing everything he could to ease this horrible day.
Faith couldn’t walk away from this, much though she wanted to. She got back into bed, and wrapped herself round Giles as he listened, counselled and consoled for hours. Never tell Buffy about tonight, she vowed, and wiped away his silent tears while he talked.
*
Driving back to the castle, a month on from that very bad day, it was easy to pretend things were better. For sure, less raw. No one was sobbing in the castle bathrooms these days. But now here was Buffy, tense and silent, and look, no leg. Just a full stop, mid-thigh, and a jeans leg pinned out of the way.
Here was Spike, subdued. Not fighting to take the wheel, for the first time ever in Faith’s acquaintance. The girls seemed okay, though Annie had surreptitiously kicked Buffy’s chair before Spike hauled it into the trunk. Faith hadn’t said anything, but a silent exchange of glances with Spike suggested it wasn’t the first time there’d been such hostile moments.
After four hours of driving, and with light snores from the backseat the only sound in the vehicle, Faith tried: “B... I’m real sorr-”
“Don’t.” Buffy stared straight ahead. “I’m okay if I don’t talk about it. But too much ‘sorry’ gets me sobbing, and I guess you’d rather not have that?”
“Hell no. I mean, if it helps, sure...” Faith could feel her reluctance colouring her voice, but the offer had to be made.
“No. Doesn’t help at all.” Buffy was bleak.
“Guess not.” They sat in silence for another twenty miles.
“I don’t want to face Giles.”
“What?” Faith took her eyes off the - fortunately empty - road for a moment. “B, you can’t not see him!”
But it was okay, Buffy was shaking her head. “No, of course I’m gonna. I mean, I want to see him, he’s been so great these last weeks. But I feel... like this isn’t how a Slayer should be. And he’s still my Watcher, you know, deep down.”
“Yeah, but B, this isn’t the old days. The Council’s not like it used to be.”
Buffy gave a brief, dry chuckle. “No, guess not. Don’t suppose the Council had a disability allowance. They probably killed off crippled Slayers to get the next two-legged Chosen One started.”
Giles’s research suggested that was exactly what had happened. Most recently in 1987, in fact. That one wasn’t research so much as bad old memories, but Buffy absolutely did not need to hear that. So Faith went with, “Yeah, they probably did. And they probably thought there wasn’t much choice. Which is why our way’s better. With the big Choice, and all that. Don’t forget it.”
Spike spoke from the back seat, where he had evidently not been dozing with his daughters. “Damn right. Listen to the wise boss, Slayer. This is why we needed to get you home. Bunch of old hands like us, we’ll soon get your head right.”
Buffy half smiled, wry but genuine. Talk lapsed, and as they covered the last hours of the journey she even relaxed enough to sleep.
Faith focused on the road, and on sending good thoughts to Giles. She’s coming home, G. We’re all gonna get through this. And hoped against hope that she was right.
***
Title: Bringing it Home
Pairing/Characters: Faith/Giles, Spike/Buffy in the background, Dawn
Summary: Bad news comes to the Slayer Council.
Rating: PG13, for language
Words c2000
A/N: This fic is closely related to the final section of Heroic Couplets and is set in March-April 2013. Folks becoming lost in the twists of the Rulesverse are referred to the spiffy Rulesverse timeline.
Faith was on duty when the call came in from California. It was probably best that way. Vi would have cried, and Nonie didn’t need that. Not like it was her fault, she was just the unlucky one making the call.
Kennedy would have- Actually, Kennedy would have been better than Faith at taking this news. Efficient and clear; without a strong emotional tie to Buffy. Yeah, she would have been better. Serious injury to squad leader and squad member, check. Squad in need of reinforcements, check. Temporary leader appointed, sure. Shaky Slayer Support Operative/deputy-team-leader given a reassuring morale boost by phone, yep.
Faith was doing all those things, of course. But she was doing them with maybe ten percent of her brain. Autopilot was awesome, she noted with another 0.01% while dealing with Nonie’s gulping sobs.
Shit. Gotta think. Shit. I can’t believe you got caught after all these years, B. Shit. You only went back to fieldwork six months ago. Shit. Maybe you weren’t ready. Shit. That’s my fault, my call. Fuck.. After a while, the swearing in Faith’s head got a little dull. She stood up to do something heroic, or efficient or-
Then things went grey round the edges, and she barely made it to the bathroom in time. Spewing all over the Chief Slayer quarters would have just been unhelpful.
*
After she threw up, Faith sat for a while in the bathroom, on the clean but nonetheless not comfortable tile. The tile was cool; cold, in fact. That small discomfort slowly penetrated the shocked fog in her brain, propelling her to action.
She knew what had to happen next. Even in the shock, there was a list forming in her head, the efficient habit she’d been acquiring as Chief Slayer. Assignments to be juggled, so that the Hellbeast could be tackled by a strong squad of the emergency fieldwork team. It had a taste for humans, maybe even a taste for Slayers, now. It could attack the most experienced and cause irrevocable damage. That was a max power situation; definitely time for Stevie’s team, though they’d hate the long trip from Timbuktu.
But first... Faith knocked at the door to R&D.
You had to knock. Not that Vi and Erik ran a tight ship. Compared with the tight-assed training quarters, all military precision and hard edges, this was a light and funky space, weirdly contrasting with the basic granite of the castle.
Thing was, the research could be messy - and the development could be explosive. Opening the door was always an adventure. Hence, knocking.
But today, the back office was virtually empty. Only a slim woman, long brown hair tied back away from her face as she pored over a stack of demonic dictionaries and calendars, trying to decipher the maddening two-inch-square of parchment that had been bugging her for the past month.
Faith took two breaths, trying to control her voice before-
“Hey Dawn. I- We just got word from California. It’s Buffy.”
*
She spent the day breaking the news. Telling Giles was bad. Really, really bad. Faith had spent years working with the junior Slayers, and the Scoobies. She was nearly, almost, getting okay at dealing with their emotions. Not great, of course. But she could pass the tissues and maybe pat shoulders in an emergency, and she almost never said something that made things a whole lot worse any more.
But when she’d done that, she’d go home to Giles, and all that messy emotion would be left behind. They’d talk about the whatever-it-was, get it out of their heads, and then it would be done.
Not this time. Giles was in their apartment, Mike on the floor with some blocks and a plastic cow and that damn furry caterpillar he took everywhere, and that so wasn’t the point right now. Kat was on vacation. Faith’d forgotten to do anything about childcare, and now the castle was in ferment she couldn’t exactly palm the kid off on a passing Slayer as usual. So, Mike would have to be coped with.
She took the coward parent’s route and flipped the TV on. Pocoyo; could be worse. Mike’s eyes instantly slid away from the creative play towards the idiot box, just like she’d hoped. Just once, okay? Just this once, we need the electric babysitter.
But that meant Giles already knew there was a problem. He was starting to stand up, which was going to be the wrong thing, so Faith slipped onto the couch with him.
“Nonie called.” Right then, he knew it was Buffy. Faith could see him freeze, waiting for the pain. “That Hellbeast in Rancho Cucamonga, they caught up with it. But it was in a bad spot, and the squad got split up. Buffy and Kali went up against it alone.
“They’re alive.” That was the first thing, and maybe the important one. No, definitely the important one. But...
“But they’re bad, G. Nonie said they should live, though they’re operating on Kali right now for internal injuries.”
“Just tell me.” He was desperate. Faith hadn’t been meaning to spin out the pain, but she just hadn’t wanted to say, “Buffy... the beast got a good few bites at her. G, it got her right leg.”
There was a very long silence. Giles’s face was blank, except for furious blinking. Mike looked over from the TV, unnerved by his parents’ unaccustomed quiet. Giles reached down for his son, sat the sturdy little body on his lap, and continued to be silent.
When he spoke, it was quiet, rusty. Old. “She was a great warrior; beautifully poised and balanced. I’ve never seen a better in terms of movement. But always adaptable. She’s alive. She’ll come through this. “
He paused and appealed for comfort from Faith. “Won’t she?”
What can I possibly say? No choice at all.
“Hell, yeah. If anyone can come back, it’s B. Literally, more than once.” But what is a great warrior when she can’t fight? What would I do if... Shit. No, not going there. Not wanting Giles to see her face, Faith dragged him into a hug, bundling Mike into the family huddle too. While they were all together, the outside world couldn’t touch them.
Neither would have broken the hug, if it hadn’t been for Mike, who gave them less than a minute before he wriggled indignantly at being deprived of more mind-numbing entertainment.
They’d cope. So would Buffy. But their little world had been deeply shaken all the same.
*
The cellphone rang that night. Faith didn’t want to answer. Not on duty. Night calls rarely meant good news; and right now she didn’t want to face bad news. But Giles couldn’t leave a ringing phone, and he was more wiped than she.
So, out of bed and onto the chilly flagstones, hoping to catch the ring before it fully woke Giles. “Hey, this is Faith.”
“Faith.” Oh no. Can’t deal with this. “It’s Spike.”
“Yeah, I got that. How’s... things?”
Spike actually managed a laugh, or at least an audible exhalation. “Bin better.” Long pause. “Look, Faith, I know it’s the arse end of night there, but any chance you could get the Watcher on the line?”
“Uh, I guess. He’s sleeping, but-”
“Buffy’s awake.”
I should say something now. Right? But no time. “She needs to talk to Rupert.”
No arguing with that. Faith took the phone into their bedroom, where Giles was rapidly shrugging off the bleariness of sleep. She mouthed “Spike” as she handed the receiver over, and Giles struggled to get into a sitting position while keeping reasonably well covered against the chill.
“Spike?
“Oh!
“Buffy, I’m so glad to hear your voice. What a ghastly thing to happen to you, my dear.”
He sounded a little stuffy, a little like the Giles of old, but warm, reassuring, strong and supportive all the same. Father, mentor, friend - doing everything he could to ease this horrible day.
Faith couldn’t walk away from this, much though she wanted to. She got back into bed, and wrapped herself round Giles as he listened, counselled and consoled for hours. Never tell Buffy about tonight, she vowed, and wiped away his silent tears while he talked.
*
Driving back to the castle, a month on from that very bad day, it was easy to pretend things were better. For sure, less raw. No one was sobbing in the castle bathrooms these days. But now here was Buffy, tense and silent, and look, no leg. Just a full stop, mid-thigh, and a jeans leg pinned out of the way.
Here was Spike, subdued. Not fighting to take the wheel, for the first time ever in Faith’s acquaintance. The girls seemed okay, though Annie had surreptitiously kicked Buffy’s chair before Spike hauled it into the trunk. Faith hadn’t said anything, but a silent exchange of glances with Spike suggested it wasn’t the first time there’d been such hostile moments.
After four hours of driving, and with light snores from the backseat the only sound in the vehicle, Faith tried: “B... I’m real sorr-”
“Don’t.” Buffy stared straight ahead. “I’m okay if I don’t talk about it. But too much ‘sorry’ gets me sobbing, and I guess you’d rather not have that?”
“Hell no. I mean, if it helps, sure...” Faith could feel her reluctance colouring her voice, but the offer had to be made.
“No. Doesn’t help at all.” Buffy was bleak.
“Guess not.” They sat in silence for another twenty miles.
“I don’t want to face Giles.”
“What?” Faith took her eyes off the - fortunately empty - road for a moment. “B, you can’t not see him!”
But it was okay, Buffy was shaking her head. “No, of course I’m gonna. I mean, I want to see him, he’s been so great these last weeks. But I feel... like this isn’t how a Slayer should be. And he’s still my Watcher, you know, deep down.”
“Yeah, but B, this isn’t the old days. The Council’s not like it used to be.”
Buffy gave a brief, dry chuckle. “No, guess not. Don’t suppose the Council had a disability allowance. They probably killed off crippled Slayers to get the next two-legged Chosen One started.”
Giles’s research suggested that was exactly what had happened. Most recently in 1987, in fact. That one wasn’t research so much as bad old memories, but Buffy absolutely did not need to hear that. So Faith went with, “Yeah, they probably did. And they probably thought there wasn’t much choice. Which is why our way’s better. With the big Choice, and all that. Don’t forget it.”
Spike spoke from the back seat, where he had evidently not been dozing with his daughters. “Damn right. Listen to the wise boss, Slayer. This is why we needed to get you home. Bunch of old hands like us, we’ll soon get your head right.”
Buffy half smiled, wry but genuine. Talk lapsed, and as they covered the last hours of the journey she even relaxed enough to sleep.
Faith focused on the road, and on sending good thoughts to Giles. She’s coming home, G. We’re all gonna get through this. And hoped against hope that she was right.
***