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summer_of_giles2011-07-20 10:56 pm
il_mio_capitano) wrote in summer_of_giles2011-07-20 10:56 pm
FIC: And All The King's Men (G/Core4) PG/FRT
Title: And All The King's Men
Author: il_mio_capitano
Characters: Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow. Post Chosen
Length: 4000 and change
Rating: PG13
Gratitude: My deepest thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
littleotter73 for the last minute proof read and sanity check. All errors remain my responsibility. PM me anything glaring.
Final note: Phew. Made it!
It was not the sort of motel that cared what sort of school bus you drove and how many young women were in your party. If you paid in cash you could have all the privacy and rooms you wanted and despite the looks, the Sunnydale survivors were grateful for the sleazy out of the way accommodation. The party had giggled and split into roommates, thrilled to have some privacy and bathrooms even if Willow had had to run a little magic over most of the showers.
Xander pushed the two single beds in their room together as Giles opened the door to Buffy and Willow.
“We have foraged and returned,” declared Buffy, thrusting pizza boxes at Giles. “Who says men are the hunters? It’s a jungle out there.”
“What’s with the creepy manager anyway?” asked Willow as she dropped the ice-cream into the bathroom, “he was all leering yesterday, now he seems terrified of us.”
“He thinks Giles and I are the Russian mafia and you girls are bound for the sex-trade.” Xander closed the greasy, tobacco stained curtains and turned. “What? Don’t blame me,” He pointed, “blame him, I was told to ‘just look threatening’ in the eye patch.”
“I may have implied we were not to be trifled with.” Giles switched on the bedside lights causing one of the bulbs to blow immediately, “It seemed prudent for the group to be left alone for a while.”
“Solid plan,” agreed Buffy slipping out of her coat.
“I ordered everyone’s favourite from the library days,” said Willow fixing the lights with a wisp of magic. The three younger friends sprawled onto the joined beds and started to open the boxes. Giles fumbled in his pocket for something to clean his glasses with.
“Shouldn’t someone check on the others?” he asked.
“Nah, Faith has got mother hen duty,” said Xander. “Sit down, relax. Junk food and just the four of us. I’m getting library flashbacks, only less bed, more books.”
Giles slipped off his shoes and perched on the side of the bed to inspect his food. Buffy was already pulling a face next to him.
“Whoa,” she said, “I didn’t order this. It’s got anchovies. I hate anchovies. They are well known to be Evil.”
“Wrongly made up junk food. It’s getting more and more like old times,” quipped Xander, casually picking an olive from Willow’s pizza.
“Must be the seafood special,” commiserated Willow. “Want me to change it?”
“No. That’s OK. Someone could swap me theirs?” She propped herself up on one elbow and turned to her left. “Giles, the first duty of a Watcher is to lay down his life for his Slayer?”
“Yes, but not from congestive heart failure. It looks like a small fishing harbour has been dumped on that.”
“You’re British. You eat all sorts of gross things. Please?”
Giles reluctantly took the new pizza. “Did you bring any cutlery?”
“It really isn’t that sort of town. Relax, Giles. Stop looking around for napkins and possibly the wine waiter.”
“I have to sleep in this bed after we’ve dripped cheese on it.”
Buffy inspected the bed covers with some disdain. “I’d say that could only be an improvement.”
Giles could only nod and finally he gave in and stretched out across the bed too. It creaked alarmingly as he did so.
Willow helped herself to an olive from Xander’s box. “So Giles, Robin said you had some serious moves with a sword.”
Giles shook his head. “He was the much better fighter. I was terrified I’d let you down actually.”
“Nah,” said Buffy casually. “You know your weapons. As long as you stay conscious you do great.”
“Thank you, I think.” Giles looked a little self-conscious. “So let’s harden our arteries as a reward”. He dropped his focus to separating a slice of his pizza with its cheesy umbilical strings. Some of it looked like squid. Some of it possibly moved.
“Poor Giles,” laughed Willow. “Everything is trying to kill you, even the food. Is that like an occupational hazard as a Watcher?”
“Things still seem to want to kill me even though I’m no longer a Watcher. It does seem to have been an above average occurrence.”
Xander stopped dead as he was about to take a bite. “Was that a yes?” He was rewarded with a mile glare.
“This is good salami,” said Buffy munching happily. Giles narrowed his eyes and she smiled back brightly.
“When was your first time?” asked Willow with her customary directness. Xander exaggerated choking on a piece of crust. “Xander! Gutter brain. I mean when was the first time something freaky tried to kill you Giles?”
“Well,” he began in slow contemplation, waiting till he had their full attention, “Buffy insisted on driving me one time...”
“Idiot.” Buffy flicked a slice of red pepper at him playfully. It slid under the bed but no-body wanted to break out the weapons to explore that particular hellhole.
“Come on, when did the demon world first come crashing into your life?” persisted Willow.
“Oh. That was a long time ago. It isn’t interesting.”
“But how long ago?” It was clear Willow wasn’t going to drop the question, “You know everything about us. We were only fifteen when the big badness came for us.” She smiled. “Though at least we got a free librarian in the deal.”
“He was ten,” said Buffy. “That is right isn’t it? Your dad told you you were to be a Watcher when you were ten?”
“True, but that was more annoying than frightening. I guess I was probably nine when I first feared for my life.”
Willow became animated. “Ooh, story time. Come on Giles. Spill.” She and Xander got comfy and looked at him eagerly and though Buffy continued to enjoy eating his pizza, her eyes were playful and encouraging. Giles considered the moment; he was in a filthy motel room that had been decorated in an era when orange was considered an exotic colour of seduction. His life had been turned on its head in the last six months but his friendships with these three people had become incredibly important to him. Maybe it was time to open up a little.
“Are we sitting comfortably?” he smiled to a private joke, “Very well. The summer after I was nine I was sent away to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in Derbyshire. They weren’t real relations you understand, just friends of my father. Uncle Charles had been a Colonel in the British Army and was about a hundred years old to me. Aunt Clara suffered from her nerves and consequently never left her suite of rooms. I suppose they were only in their sixties really. They had money from somewhere and an ornate house in the country with its own grounds. I was sent there for the school holidays.”
“Sounds idyllic,” said Willow dreamily.
Giles snorted. “It really wasn’t. It was beautiful I suppose but at the time I resented it tremendously. All I knew was that I was dumped in a big house in Derbyshire when I’d much sooner been at home and playing with the older kids in London. We played a lot of war games in those days, films and comics and stuff were full of heroic tales of battles fought in Europe and Africa. Some of London still hadn’t been rebuilt from the Blitz and it was a paradise to me. I was small for my age but our gang let me run messages and to scout the enemy. I was a fearless climber and could shimmy up most bomb ruins to act as lookout. At my Uncle’s house there was no-one else. No other children and I was forbidden to leave the grounds and even to explore certain parts of the garden.
“I was bored rigid from the off. Aunt Clara was the nervous sort and Uncle Charles made it clear he didn’t want me around. Although he was a retired colonel, somehow I never associated him with the glorious war stories of my comics. He was prone to anger very quickly and having me around the house seemed to aggravate him greatly. He actually beat me one time for ‘stealing his apples’ as he put it. Not quite the spirit of hospitality I thought.”
“How awful,” sympathised Willow.
“Yes, well,” Giles took a moment to chew some octopus, “I’m afraid I took it to be a Declaration of War. I quickly grew to loathe him and I was happy to say he hated me too. I used to sneak out at night and pick all the apples and fruit and dump them down the coal bunker.” Giles smiled at the memory. “He knew it was me, but he could never catch me doing it.”
“Such a juvenile delinquent,” said Buffy with a hint of approval.
“Just a shot hop to stealing cars and black magic badness,” agreed Xander.
“Yes, I suppose that was what he thought too,” Giles admitted. “Anyway, one night on one of my sorties something very bad happened and, dear Lord, I swear this pizza just winked at me.”
Willow giggled. Xander groaned and passed him a slice of his. “Just get on with the story,” he encouraged
“Thank you. Well, at the back of the house there was a particularly good looking apple tree which I had resolved to climb, largely because Uncle Charles had declared the area off limits. He gave some excuse that it was near the old Well and dangerous, but I thought he was just being petty. I had planned my usual commando style raid and at midnight I snuck out through my bedroom window and climbed the two storeys down to the gravel. It was an old house with elaborate masonry and drainage systems; tasteless from an aesthetic viewpoint but practical for an adventurous nine year old.
“It was a very dark night with no moon, but I had my junior soldier compass and torch and was fearless. I went stealthy round to the back gardens, all the time pretending I was in occupied France leading a sabotage unit. It was all rather silly of course, until I was jolted back to reality when a ‘real’ soldier materialised through the walls of the Well and pointed his revolver at me.
“I say a ‘real’ soldier but he wasn’t dressed quite right. He was recognisably a Captain in the British Army, I could see the three stars on his cuff but he belonged to another era. My encyclopaedic knowledge of war comics told me that he was dressed for the Great War, and he seemed very solid now, as did his firearm.
“ ‘Halt. Are you spying here?’ he demanded. I was shocked he could speak, I knew it wasn’t right and that he didn’t belong there. I think it took me some minutes to stutter out a reply.
“ ‘No, no, Captain, sir I’m not.’
“ ‘You’re English? What the devil are you doing here?’
“That was a strange question. I may have thought Derbyshire was the pits of the Earth, but it was still England.
“ ‘I’m staying here with my Uncle Charles.’
“He lowered his revolver slightly and said uncertainly, ‘Young Charles? Charles Townsend? I’m home?’ It was clear he was as baffled as I was. ‘What regiment are you from?’
“ ‘I’m only nine sir.’
“ ‘Really? Stalking about like that? Took you for a professional soldier.’ My heart and my head rather swelled at that. ‘What outfit are you going to join up with when you’re older?’
“ ‘I going to be a fighter pilot,’ I said proudly.
“ ‘Royal Flying Corps eh? Don’t think that’s a good idea. Absolute death sentence. You’d do better learning to stay alive and fight with men you can trust in a proper regiment.’
“Perhaps he could see my disappointment because he added, ‘Still, it’s up to you. I suppose as a flyboy you’ll be a real Rip with the ladies. Cigarette?’ he casually offered me a packet of woodbines.
“ ‘No thank you, Captain,’
“ ‘They’ll make a man of you,’ he encouraged.
“ ‘My mother doesn’t like them.’ Oh god. It sounded priggish even to my ears. I thought he would mock me the way the boys back at home sometimes did, but he just laughed.
“ ‘Good for you young Rip. Stick to your principles I say.’ He stopped rather abruptly as if he’d heard something and holstered his revolver quickly. ‘I have to get back to my men now. They are depending on me. Look after yourself.’ And with that he turned and walked back to the Well and I swear, through it, and was gone.”
“Wow,” said Willow, “pretty scary”.
“Oh no,” explained Giles, “that was the easy bit. I was rooted to the spot wondering what to do when rough hands grabbed me and a very bright light was shone into my eyes.
“ ‘Gottcha!’ shouted Uncle Charles. ‘I thought I saw lights over here. Come snivelling out to make mischief will you? I’ll teach you a lesson my lad.’
“I pulled myself free from his grip.
“ ‘No, I saw lights too,’ I lied. ‘It was the Captain I was talking to the Captain.’
“ ‘What?’
“ ‘He was here. He said he was home but he had to get back to his men. And then he disappeared.’
“I rather expected him to give me the beating of my life, but for some reason, Uncle Charles didn’t find disappearing soldiers as preposterous as it sounded.
“ ‘Where did he disappear? Show me.’
“I pointed towards the old well. He yanked on my arm and marched me closer. I thought my shoulder would pop.
“ ‘In there you say? Really? Got a head for heights boy? Of course you have, been up thieving from every tree in my estate.’ He produced a coil of rope and secured it to the old bucket support beam, the other end he tied around my waist. ‘Climb down and let’s see what’s there. You’re small and light, I’ve got the rope secure, you’ll be safe. Quick now. Tell me what you find down there.’
“I wanted to object but things were happening so quickly I couldn’t. He picked me up and pushed me over the edge of the well. It was dark and slimy and I really didn’t want to be there but I let him lower me down, my knees bruising at the walls and the thick rope nearly cutting me in two. Eventually I hit the bottom and the water level was mercifully only two feet high. The air was putrid and I wanted to be sick. There were culverts either side to me, I had to duck but there was something in one of them. I crawled through, breathing heavily and switched on my little torch.”
Giles pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. When he went to pull his glasses to clean then, Buffy stayed his arm.
“And? And? Then what happened?” she demanded.
“Oh I found my Captain. Well I found what was left of him. The water and the rats had accounted for the flesh, and even the uniform was dropping to rags I could make out the same three stars on the cuff of the tunic. I remember the skull looked at me in some surprise as if it had long since despaired of seeing company. I reached out a shaking hand and felt gingerly inside the tunic, closing around a wallet.
“ ‘Anything boy?’
“ ‘I’m not sure,’ I cried upwards. ‘Still looking.’
“In the wallet there were photographs and papers. He was Captain Michael Townsend, older brother to my Uncle Charles. There was a picture of them proudly wearing the uniforms of His Majesty’s Expedition Force in France dated 1916. There was another photograph of his girl and a cutting from The Times announcing his engagement to Miss Clara Browne. She was Aunt Clara now I could tell. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Charles had everything that was rightfully Michael’s.
“His gun holster rode on the hip, free of the water’s damage. I unclipped the rusty catch with and pulled the revolver free. I needed both hands to hold it. It was heavy and dangerous and I knew it had been used in the trenches in France. It has probably killed lots of people because in War that’s what happens, but for him to die here was different. I understood completely what had happened. And I knew what I had to do, because I was his soldier. Captain Michael needed me to do this, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
Giles shifted positions. His back against the headboard, his legs crossed. His three friends looked at him anxiously for the next part of the story. Willow’s last pizza slice had gotten cold from neglect.
“ ‘I’m coming up,’ I shouted and pushed the revolver down my shirt. It was cold and heavy and about the size of my chest. It pulled on the buttons as I grabbed the rope taut.
“ ‘Did you find anything boy?’
“I didn’t answer but steadily climbed as he pulled me up. ‘Is it Michael? Pray god tell me he is found.’ I stopped a little at that because I didn’t expect him to start admitting his crime. I opted to keep my mouth shout and resumed climbing upwards for all I was worth. ‘He went missing from his last leave in 1916. They branded him a deserter for it. Terrible scandal for the family to bear.’ Uncle Charles’ voice became weak with emotion. ‘We had a devil of a job to have him declared dead after the war. Tell me what you’ve found boy.’
“I couldn’t listen to his excuses any longer. ‘You know already,’ I hissed. The rope started to shake violently as soon as I said the words.
“ ‘The support is giving way,’ he claimed. ‘Climb down again until I can get it more secure.’ I knew to do so would condemn me to the same grave as his brother. The revolver was difficult to carry and cutting into my chest. I carried on climbing upwards.
“ ‘Stop boy. I can’t hold you any longer.’
“The rope went slack and then dropped around me to the bottom. I still had too much climb to make. I tried to brace myself on the cylindrical walls but they were too slippery. ‘Michael,’ I shouted, ‘Captain Michael help me. He did it. He killed you to inherit everything.’
“I thought I heard a voice say ‘you’ll not hurt young Rip’ but I lost control and fell backwards. Maybe it was just fancy. I do remember a terrible scream from above as I landed heavily at the bottom and into darkness.
“The first of many concussions.” Giles said wryly and hunched his knees up. “Everything is hazy after that. They found me the next morning when my aunt raised the alarm and a search was made. Gruff voices and arms pulled me clear of the well and into the daylight. I saw that the support beam for the rope had given clean away, so perhaps Uncle Charles had not lied about that. I explained to them about the body at the bottom of the Well and backed up my claim with the revolver. The men turned their attention to its recovery and I was left with Uncle Charles.
“His body had been moved to one side and lay under a blanket. He’d suffered a heart attack they said, brought on from the exertion of trying to rescue me. I lifted the blanket to see his contorted face. His hair was completely white and standing on its ends. They couldn’t close his eyes for some reason.”
Willow moved up the bed and rubbed his sleeve. “Poor Giles.”
“Wow,” said Xander, “Trust the Watcher to have better grizzly stories than most.”
“Sorry.” Giles swept his hair through both hands. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. My father was very upset at the time and I think he blamed me for Uncle Charles’ death. Nothing was ever said but ... he blamed me. I was shipped away from the house very quickly. I don’t remember the details now.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” reasoned Buffy. “You were just a frightened kid. Hell, he murdered his own brother and he’d have killed you too. You were a hero.”
Giles shrugged. “Not really, I didn’t understand everything.” He looked at Buffy. “I do sometimes make mistakes.”
Xander jumped up. “I’m getting the ice-cream from the bathroom.” He stopped and gestured shyly. “Anyone want to come with?”
Willow was picking at the loose threads on Giles’ sweater. “Did you ever go back to that house?” she asked.
“Once. Some six years later when Aunt Clara died. She’d never really recovered from the death of her husband apparently, though the discovery of Michael’s body evidently upset her greatly too. The house was to be sold, and I had to help my father go through the family papers for the lawyers. I got to read all Colonel Charles Parker’s military papers. He was a hero in both wars.”
“Making up for past murders,” said Buffy.
Giles shook his head. “Oh he had a VC. A gallantry medal; awarded for plucking two medical orderlies out of barbed wire under intense shelling and sporadic sniper fire on Christmas Day 1916. There were letters from grateful mothers and his commanding officer wrote it was ‘the most un-military foolhardy, bravest thing’ he’d ever seen. Charles had said it was the seasonal thing to do. It’s a pity I only knew him as a bitter, spiteful old man.
“It was decided Michael had fallen down the well by accident on the last night of his home leave, having spent the holiday with his girl. She seemed to be the last person who saw him. Everyone was happy that his honour was restored and he was no longer tarnished a deserter. I think that’s what he wanted, what he needed in order to rest.”
“And revenge surely?” said Buffy, always practical.
“No. I think he was simply protecting me. He didn’t know what had happened until I obligingly spelt it out for him.”
Xander returned with the tubs and spoons. “Have you seen the size of the roaches in there? It’s not natural for them to get that large I tell you.” The group divided the ice-cream and to Giles’ intense relief, spoons were provided.
Buffy took the opportunity to scoot a little nearer to her Watcher. “Are you OK? It wasn’t your fault. You can’t be responsible for everything, Giles.”
“Well, I think that might actually be an occupational hazard.”
“No. From now on, we’re all in this together. Understood?”
Giles smiled his agreement. “Why is it that here in this sleazy motel with hundreds of slayers around the world to worry about, I feel quite good about things?”
“Ice-cream rush?” suggested Xander.
“Friendship,” corrected Buffy.
“There is one final part for the story before we go do battle with Xander’s roaches,” said Giles putting on his shoes. “They buried the brothers next to each other in the local churchyard which was traditional. Captain Michael’s date of death was presumed to have occurred on the last day of his leave. It was on the headstone as 25 December 1916.”
"But then that means...." said Xander.
"Oh," said Buffy and Willow together.
Author: il_mio_capitano
Characters: Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow. Post Chosen
Length: 4000 and change
Rating: PG13
Gratitude: My deepest thanks to
littleotter73 for the last minute proof read and sanity check. All errors remain my responsibility. PM me anything glaring.Final note: Phew. Made it!
It was not the sort of motel that cared what sort of school bus you drove and how many young women were in your party. If you paid in cash you could have all the privacy and rooms you wanted and despite the looks, the Sunnydale survivors were grateful for the sleazy out of the way accommodation. The party had giggled and split into roommates, thrilled to have some privacy and bathrooms even if Willow had had to run a little magic over most of the showers.
Xander pushed the two single beds in their room together as Giles opened the door to Buffy and Willow.
“We have foraged and returned,” declared Buffy, thrusting pizza boxes at Giles. “Who says men are the hunters? It’s a jungle out there.”
“What’s with the creepy manager anyway?” asked Willow as she dropped the ice-cream into the bathroom, “he was all leering yesterday, now he seems terrified of us.”
“He thinks Giles and I are the Russian mafia and you girls are bound for the sex-trade.” Xander closed the greasy, tobacco stained curtains and turned. “What? Don’t blame me,” He pointed, “blame him, I was told to ‘just look threatening’ in the eye patch.”
“I may have implied we were not to be trifled with.” Giles switched on the bedside lights causing one of the bulbs to blow immediately, “It seemed prudent for the group to be left alone for a while.”
“Solid plan,” agreed Buffy slipping out of her coat.
“I ordered everyone’s favourite from the library days,” said Willow fixing the lights with a wisp of magic. The three younger friends sprawled onto the joined beds and started to open the boxes. Giles fumbled in his pocket for something to clean his glasses with.
“Shouldn’t someone check on the others?” he asked.
“Nah, Faith has got mother hen duty,” said Xander. “Sit down, relax. Junk food and just the four of us. I’m getting library flashbacks, only less bed, more books.”
Giles slipped off his shoes and perched on the side of the bed to inspect his food. Buffy was already pulling a face next to him.
“Whoa,” she said, “I didn’t order this. It’s got anchovies. I hate anchovies. They are well known to be Evil.”
“Wrongly made up junk food. It’s getting more and more like old times,” quipped Xander, casually picking an olive from Willow’s pizza.
“Must be the seafood special,” commiserated Willow. “Want me to change it?”
“No. That’s OK. Someone could swap me theirs?” She propped herself up on one elbow and turned to her left. “Giles, the first duty of a Watcher is to lay down his life for his Slayer?”
“Yes, but not from congestive heart failure. It looks like a small fishing harbour has been dumped on that.”
“You’re British. You eat all sorts of gross things. Please?”
Giles reluctantly took the new pizza. “Did you bring any cutlery?”
“It really isn’t that sort of town. Relax, Giles. Stop looking around for napkins and possibly the wine waiter.”
“I have to sleep in this bed after we’ve dripped cheese on it.”
Buffy inspected the bed covers with some disdain. “I’d say that could only be an improvement.”
Giles could only nod and finally he gave in and stretched out across the bed too. It creaked alarmingly as he did so.
Willow helped herself to an olive from Xander’s box. “So Giles, Robin said you had some serious moves with a sword.”
Giles shook his head. “He was the much better fighter. I was terrified I’d let you down actually.”
“Nah,” said Buffy casually. “You know your weapons. As long as you stay conscious you do great.”
“Thank you, I think.” Giles looked a little self-conscious. “So let’s harden our arteries as a reward”. He dropped his focus to separating a slice of his pizza with its cheesy umbilical strings. Some of it looked like squid. Some of it possibly moved.
“Poor Giles,” laughed Willow. “Everything is trying to kill you, even the food. Is that like an occupational hazard as a Watcher?”
“Things still seem to want to kill me even though I’m no longer a Watcher. It does seem to have been an above average occurrence.”
Xander stopped dead as he was about to take a bite. “Was that a yes?” He was rewarded with a mile glare.
“This is good salami,” said Buffy munching happily. Giles narrowed his eyes and she smiled back brightly.
“When was your first time?” asked Willow with her customary directness. Xander exaggerated choking on a piece of crust. “Xander! Gutter brain. I mean when was the first time something freaky tried to kill you Giles?”
“Well,” he began in slow contemplation, waiting till he had their full attention, “Buffy insisted on driving me one time...”
“Idiot.” Buffy flicked a slice of red pepper at him playfully. It slid under the bed but no-body wanted to break out the weapons to explore that particular hellhole.
“Come on, when did the demon world first come crashing into your life?” persisted Willow.
“Oh. That was a long time ago. It isn’t interesting.”
“But how long ago?” It was clear Willow wasn’t going to drop the question, “You know everything about us. We were only fifteen when the big badness came for us.” She smiled. “Though at least we got a free librarian in the deal.”
“He was ten,” said Buffy. “That is right isn’t it? Your dad told you you were to be a Watcher when you were ten?”
“True, but that was more annoying than frightening. I guess I was probably nine when I first feared for my life.”
Willow became animated. “Ooh, story time. Come on Giles. Spill.” She and Xander got comfy and looked at him eagerly and though Buffy continued to enjoy eating his pizza, her eyes were playful and encouraging. Giles considered the moment; he was in a filthy motel room that had been decorated in an era when orange was considered an exotic colour of seduction. His life had been turned on its head in the last six months but his friendships with these three people had become incredibly important to him. Maybe it was time to open up a little.
“Are we sitting comfortably?” he smiled to a private joke, “Very well. The summer after I was nine I was sent away to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in Derbyshire. They weren’t real relations you understand, just friends of my father. Uncle Charles had been a Colonel in the British Army and was about a hundred years old to me. Aunt Clara suffered from her nerves and consequently never left her suite of rooms. I suppose they were only in their sixties really. They had money from somewhere and an ornate house in the country with its own grounds. I was sent there for the school holidays.”
“Sounds idyllic,” said Willow dreamily.
Giles snorted. “It really wasn’t. It was beautiful I suppose but at the time I resented it tremendously. All I knew was that I was dumped in a big house in Derbyshire when I’d much sooner been at home and playing with the older kids in London. We played a lot of war games in those days, films and comics and stuff were full of heroic tales of battles fought in Europe and Africa. Some of London still hadn’t been rebuilt from the Blitz and it was a paradise to me. I was small for my age but our gang let me run messages and to scout the enemy. I was a fearless climber and could shimmy up most bomb ruins to act as lookout. At my Uncle’s house there was no-one else. No other children and I was forbidden to leave the grounds and even to explore certain parts of the garden.
“I was bored rigid from the off. Aunt Clara was the nervous sort and Uncle Charles made it clear he didn’t want me around. Although he was a retired colonel, somehow I never associated him with the glorious war stories of my comics. He was prone to anger very quickly and having me around the house seemed to aggravate him greatly. He actually beat me one time for ‘stealing his apples’ as he put it. Not quite the spirit of hospitality I thought.”
“How awful,” sympathised Willow.
“Yes, well,” Giles took a moment to chew some octopus, “I’m afraid I took it to be a Declaration of War. I quickly grew to loathe him and I was happy to say he hated me too. I used to sneak out at night and pick all the apples and fruit and dump them down the coal bunker.” Giles smiled at the memory. “He knew it was me, but he could never catch me doing it.”
“Such a juvenile delinquent,” said Buffy with a hint of approval.
“Just a shot hop to stealing cars and black magic badness,” agreed Xander.
“Yes, I suppose that was what he thought too,” Giles admitted. “Anyway, one night on one of my sorties something very bad happened and, dear Lord, I swear this pizza just winked at me.”
Willow giggled. Xander groaned and passed him a slice of his. “Just get on with the story,” he encouraged
“Thank you. Well, at the back of the house there was a particularly good looking apple tree which I had resolved to climb, largely because Uncle Charles had declared the area off limits. He gave some excuse that it was near the old Well and dangerous, but I thought he was just being petty. I had planned my usual commando style raid and at midnight I snuck out through my bedroom window and climbed the two storeys down to the gravel. It was an old house with elaborate masonry and drainage systems; tasteless from an aesthetic viewpoint but practical for an adventurous nine year old.
“It was a very dark night with no moon, but I had my junior soldier compass and torch and was fearless. I went stealthy round to the back gardens, all the time pretending I was in occupied France leading a sabotage unit. It was all rather silly of course, until I was jolted back to reality when a ‘real’ soldier materialised through the walls of the Well and pointed his revolver at me.
“I say a ‘real’ soldier but he wasn’t dressed quite right. He was recognisably a Captain in the British Army, I could see the three stars on his cuff but he belonged to another era. My encyclopaedic knowledge of war comics told me that he was dressed for the Great War, and he seemed very solid now, as did his firearm.
“ ‘Halt. Are you spying here?’ he demanded. I was shocked he could speak, I knew it wasn’t right and that he didn’t belong there. I think it took me some minutes to stutter out a reply.
“ ‘No, no, Captain, sir I’m not.’
“ ‘You’re English? What the devil are you doing here?’
“That was a strange question. I may have thought Derbyshire was the pits of the Earth, but it was still England.
“ ‘I’m staying here with my Uncle Charles.’
“He lowered his revolver slightly and said uncertainly, ‘Young Charles? Charles Townsend? I’m home?’ It was clear he was as baffled as I was. ‘What regiment are you from?’
“ ‘I’m only nine sir.’
“ ‘Really? Stalking about like that? Took you for a professional soldier.’ My heart and my head rather swelled at that. ‘What outfit are you going to join up with when you’re older?’
“ ‘I going to be a fighter pilot,’ I said proudly.
“ ‘Royal Flying Corps eh? Don’t think that’s a good idea. Absolute death sentence. You’d do better learning to stay alive and fight with men you can trust in a proper regiment.’
“Perhaps he could see my disappointment because he added, ‘Still, it’s up to you. I suppose as a flyboy you’ll be a real Rip with the ladies. Cigarette?’ he casually offered me a packet of woodbines.
“ ‘No thank you, Captain,’
“ ‘They’ll make a man of you,’ he encouraged.
“ ‘My mother doesn’t like them.’ Oh god. It sounded priggish even to my ears. I thought he would mock me the way the boys back at home sometimes did, but he just laughed.
“ ‘Good for you young Rip. Stick to your principles I say.’ He stopped rather abruptly as if he’d heard something and holstered his revolver quickly. ‘I have to get back to my men now. They are depending on me. Look after yourself.’ And with that he turned and walked back to the Well and I swear, through it, and was gone.”
“Wow,” said Willow, “pretty scary”.
“Oh no,” explained Giles, “that was the easy bit. I was rooted to the spot wondering what to do when rough hands grabbed me and a very bright light was shone into my eyes.
“ ‘Gottcha!’ shouted Uncle Charles. ‘I thought I saw lights over here. Come snivelling out to make mischief will you? I’ll teach you a lesson my lad.’
“I pulled myself free from his grip.
“ ‘No, I saw lights too,’ I lied. ‘It was the Captain I was talking to the Captain.’
“ ‘What?’
“ ‘He was here. He said he was home but he had to get back to his men. And then he disappeared.’
“I rather expected him to give me the beating of my life, but for some reason, Uncle Charles didn’t find disappearing soldiers as preposterous as it sounded.
“ ‘Where did he disappear? Show me.’
“I pointed towards the old well. He yanked on my arm and marched me closer. I thought my shoulder would pop.
“ ‘In there you say? Really? Got a head for heights boy? Of course you have, been up thieving from every tree in my estate.’ He produced a coil of rope and secured it to the old bucket support beam, the other end he tied around my waist. ‘Climb down and let’s see what’s there. You’re small and light, I’ve got the rope secure, you’ll be safe. Quick now. Tell me what you find down there.’
“I wanted to object but things were happening so quickly I couldn’t. He picked me up and pushed me over the edge of the well. It was dark and slimy and I really didn’t want to be there but I let him lower me down, my knees bruising at the walls and the thick rope nearly cutting me in two. Eventually I hit the bottom and the water level was mercifully only two feet high. The air was putrid and I wanted to be sick. There were culverts either side to me, I had to duck but there was something in one of them. I crawled through, breathing heavily and switched on my little torch.”
Giles pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. When he went to pull his glasses to clean then, Buffy stayed his arm.
“And? And? Then what happened?” she demanded.
“Oh I found my Captain. Well I found what was left of him. The water and the rats had accounted for the flesh, and even the uniform was dropping to rags I could make out the same three stars on the cuff of the tunic. I remember the skull looked at me in some surprise as if it had long since despaired of seeing company. I reached out a shaking hand and felt gingerly inside the tunic, closing around a wallet.
“ ‘Anything boy?’
“ ‘I’m not sure,’ I cried upwards. ‘Still looking.’
“In the wallet there were photographs and papers. He was Captain Michael Townsend, older brother to my Uncle Charles. There was a picture of them proudly wearing the uniforms of His Majesty’s Expedition Force in France dated 1916. There was another photograph of his girl and a cutting from The Times announcing his engagement to Miss Clara Browne. She was Aunt Clara now I could tell. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Charles had everything that was rightfully Michael’s.
“His gun holster rode on the hip, free of the water’s damage. I unclipped the rusty catch with and pulled the revolver free. I needed both hands to hold it. It was heavy and dangerous and I knew it had been used in the trenches in France. It has probably killed lots of people because in War that’s what happens, but for him to die here was different. I understood completely what had happened. And I knew what I had to do, because I was his soldier. Captain Michael needed me to do this, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
Giles shifted positions. His back against the headboard, his legs crossed. His three friends looked at him anxiously for the next part of the story. Willow’s last pizza slice had gotten cold from neglect.
“ ‘I’m coming up,’ I shouted and pushed the revolver down my shirt. It was cold and heavy and about the size of my chest. It pulled on the buttons as I grabbed the rope taut.
“ ‘Did you find anything boy?’
“I didn’t answer but steadily climbed as he pulled me up. ‘Is it Michael? Pray god tell me he is found.’ I stopped a little at that because I didn’t expect him to start admitting his crime. I opted to keep my mouth shout and resumed climbing upwards for all I was worth. ‘He went missing from his last leave in 1916. They branded him a deserter for it. Terrible scandal for the family to bear.’ Uncle Charles’ voice became weak with emotion. ‘We had a devil of a job to have him declared dead after the war. Tell me what you’ve found boy.’
“I couldn’t listen to his excuses any longer. ‘You know already,’ I hissed. The rope started to shake violently as soon as I said the words.
“ ‘The support is giving way,’ he claimed. ‘Climb down again until I can get it more secure.’ I knew to do so would condemn me to the same grave as his brother. The revolver was difficult to carry and cutting into my chest. I carried on climbing upwards.
“ ‘Stop boy. I can’t hold you any longer.’
“The rope went slack and then dropped around me to the bottom. I still had too much climb to make. I tried to brace myself on the cylindrical walls but they were too slippery. ‘Michael,’ I shouted, ‘Captain Michael help me. He did it. He killed you to inherit everything.’
“I thought I heard a voice say ‘you’ll not hurt young Rip’ but I lost control and fell backwards. Maybe it was just fancy. I do remember a terrible scream from above as I landed heavily at the bottom and into darkness.
“The first of many concussions.” Giles said wryly and hunched his knees up. “Everything is hazy after that. They found me the next morning when my aunt raised the alarm and a search was made. Gruff voices and arms pulled me clear of the well and into the daylight. I saw that the support beam for the rope had given clean away, so perhaps Uncle Charles had not lied about that. I explained to them about the body at the bottom of the Well and backed up my claim with the revolver. The men turned their attention to its recovery and I was left with Uncle Charles.
“His body had been moved to one side and lay under a blanket. He’d suffered a heart attack they said, brought on from the exertion of trying to rescue me. I lifted the blanket to see his contorted face. His hair was completely white and standing on its ends. They couldn’t close his eyes for some reason.”
Willow moved up the bed and rubbed his sleeve. “Poor Giles.”
“Wow,” said Xander, “Trust the Watcher to have better grizzly stories than most.”
“Sorry.” Giles swept his hair through both hands. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. My father was very upset at the time and I think he blamed me for Uncle Charles’ death. Nothing was ever said but ... he blamed me. I was shipped away from the house very quickly. I don’t remember the details now.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” reasoned Buffy. “You were just a frightened kid. Hell, he murdered his own brother and he’d have killed you too. You were a hero.”
Giles shrugged. “Not really, I didn’t understand everything.” He looked at Buffy. “I do sometimes make mistakes.”
Xander jumped up. “I’m getting the ice-cream from the bathroom.” He stopped and gestured shyly. “Anyone want to come with?”
Willow was picking at the loose threads on Giles’ sweater. “Did you ever go back to that house?” she asked.
“Once. Some six years later when Aunt Clara died. She’d never really recovered from the death of her husband apparently, though the discovery of Michael’s body evidently upset her greatly too. The house was to be sold, and I had to help my father go through the family papers for the lawyers. I got to read all Colonel Charles Parker’s military papers. He was a hero in both wars.”
“Making up for past murders,” said Buffy.
Giles shook his head. “Oh he had a VC. A gallantry medal; awarded for plucking two medical orderlies out of barbed wire under intense shelling and sporadic sniper fire on Christmas Day 1916. There were letters from grateful mothers and his commanding officer wrote it was ‘the most un-military foolhardy, bravest thing’ he’d ever seen. Charles had said it was the seasonal thing to do. It’s a pity I only knew him as a bitter, spiteful old man.
“It was decided Michael had fallen down the well by accident on the last night of his home leave, having spent the holiday with his girl. She seemed to be the last person who saw him. Everyone was happy that his honour was restored and he was no longer tarnished a deserter. I think that’s what he wanted, what he needed in order to rest.”
“And revenge surely?” said Buffy, always practical.
“No. I think he was simply protecting me. He didn’t know what had happened until I obligingly spelt it out for him.”
Xander returned with the tubs and spoons. “Have you seen the size of the roaches in there? It’s not natural for them to get that large I tell you.” The group divided the ice-cream and to Giles’ intense relief, spoons were provided.
Buffy took the opportunity to scoot a little nearer to her Watcher. “Are you OK? It wasn’t your fault. You can’t be responsible for everything, Giles.”
“Well, I think that might actually be an occupational hazard.”
“No. From now on, we’re all in this together. Understood?”
Giles smiled his agreement. “Why is it that here in this sleazy motel with hundreds of slayers around the world to worry about, I feel quite good about things?”
“Ice-cream rush?” suggested Xander.
“Friendship,” corrected Buffy.
“There is one final part for the story before we go do battle with Xander’s roaches,” said Giles putting on his shoes. “They buried the brothers next to each other in the local churchyard which was traditional. Captain Michael’s date of death was presumed to have occurred on the last day of his leave. It was on the headstone as 25 December 1916.”
"But then that means...." said Xander.
"Oh," said Buffy and Willow together.