Fic: Shadows and Darkness (Giles only, FRT) by Fairygothmum

[fairygothmum.livejournal.com]

Okay, let's see if LJ can post this without messing it up this time. :::sigh:::

Title: Shadows and Darkness

Rating: FRT

Author: Fairygothmum

Pairing: Giles only, stand alone, gen fic.

Warnings: Mention of Becoming and Bad girls. This story takes place directly after the events of Bad Girls. It’s kind of angsty.

A/N: It all belongs to Joss. I borrow Rupert on occasion, I promise to return him only slightly ruffled when I’m done. Thanks, as always, to my best friend and partner in crime, Laura, for all her help and support. Without her and our IM chat when we talked about how Rupert coped with the aftermath of Becoming, this story would not exist. Thanks also to my long-suffering husband and kids who never complain (much) when the stories take over.

Title: Shadows and Darkness

Rating: FRT

Author: Fairygothmum

Pairing: Giles only, stand alone, gen fic.

Warnings: Mention of Becoming and Bad girls. This story takes place directly after the events of Bad Girls. It’s kind of angsty.

A/N: It all belongs to Joss. I borrow Rupert on occasion, I promise to return him only slightly ruffled when I’m done. Thanks, as always, to my best friend and partner in crime, Laura, for all her help and support. Without her and our IM chat when we talked about how Rupert coped with the aftermath of Becoming, this story would not exist. Thanks also to my long-suffering husband and kids who never complain (much) when the stories take over.

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Rupert leaned against the wall of the warehouse trying to control his shaking. It wasn't as if he'd never fought for his life before, this time was no different, it wasn’t about asking for help, or appearing weak in front of the others. It was a matter of survival, to admit his fears was to admit that he wasn’t the strong foundation of the group. If he crumbled, they all did and falling wasn’t an option here.

Rupert berated himself, he’d been in difficult situations before and he wouldn’t fall apart this time. He could cope with the ropes, the vampires and the almost certain impending death. Focussing his anger on the ineptitude of Wesley helped him through. He didn’t doubt that Buffy would show up to rescue them eventually. He could snark with the best of them and thus show Wesley that he wasn’t the total failure the Watchers’ Council believed him to be.

He knew he would have found a way through this had it not been for one thing. He hadn’t counted on his Slayer bringing that particular vampire to the warehouse to rescue them. Angel would be his downfall again.

Rupert felt the bile rising. Now the battle with The Eliminati and Balthazar was over and the adrenaline was leaving his system he wasn’t sure he could fight the feelings any more. The panic manifested itself every time he saw Angel. Usually he could maintain a modicum of control, but this time there had been more. The ropes and being taken from the library by another group of vampires had played the memories of Angelus in front of his eyes like a bad movie. He’d lived and breathed those memories more times than he cared to remember. He had awoken screaming in the dead of night from an endless parade of nightmares; Jenny dead on his bed, Xander and Willow mutilated or turned. Angelus whispering in his ear, telling him everything he planned to do to Buffy, to Willow before he killed her, sparing no gory detail. Endless nights the panic had him believing Xander had never rescued him and he was still in the mansion. The oblivion found at the bottom of a Whiskey bottle was his only saviour on those nights. Drinking himself unconscious was a better option than fighting back from the brink of madness as questions rolled around his head, trying to decipher the truth hidden amongst the lies.

The others had departed hours ago leaving Rupert with the clean up yet again. Wesley had followed soon afterwards stating that he needed to report to the Council. Rupert let him leave, neither wanting nor needing his company. The shaking finally getting the better of him, Rupert slumped to the ground, the cold dampness of the warehouse wall seeping through the cotton of his shirt and chilling him further.

He closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the wall. Pain; if he focussed on the pain he could stop the darkness overtaking him. Rupert’s heart began to pound in his ears, beating a solo tattoo, pain, panic, darkness creeping closer, breathless, chest heaving and the voices whispering into his ear again. Rupert clenched his fists until his nails dug into the palms of his hands; blood trickled down between his fingers and slowly dripped onto the dirty floor. The smell of blood mixed with dirt dragged him deeper as the waves of panic began to build and the tide of despair pulled him under once again.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Rupert was assaulted by images of Angelus and the torture he had inflicted. His fingers ached anew as the memories surfaced, the crunch of the bones snapping brought tears to his eyes and still he thumped his head back upon the wall, again and again. His chest burned, his muscles were aflame and once more the crushing darkness pressed down upon him, intent upon consuming him. He swallowed hard against the rising tide of nausea, his gasping breathes choking him as his stomach threatened to rebel.

A hand on his shoulder and a voice calling to him through the darkness had Rupert scooting further along the wall. He would not allow Drusilla to play her mind games this time. The hand gripped tighter, the voice a little louder. Rupert shook his head, “No.” He begged.

Eyes still closed Rupert sank deeper within his own mind trying to find the last of his strength. If he could hold on to one tiny shred of reality he could fight this from the inside. He thumped his head back against the wall again, the pain keeping him anchored to a trace of this existence. The voice called to him, more urgently this time.

“Open your eyes.” The voice instructed.

Rupert shook his head again. To look upon his captor would mean certain defeat and Rupert would not allow himself to be a target in her game of cat and mouse.

“Mr Giles.”

He felt a hand firmly grasp his chin. Warmth against his chilled skin, Drusilla had never been warm.

Somewhere within the recesses of Rupert’s mind a small seed of hope began to form, Drusilla had never called him Mr Giles. His mind warred with him. Was this real or was it another one of her tricks to entice him to talk?

“Mr Giles. Open your eyes.” The voice became more insistent and the hand on his chin gently turned his face around.

Rupert fought to free himself from the hand’s grip. He had almost convinced himself that this was just another of Drusilla’s tricks, a way of making him hope for an end to his torment. Raising his arms, Rupert began to fight back, blindly clawing at his captor and all the while refusing to open his eyes. In his mind, the panic and darkness continued to swirl around him, so tangible he could taste it. He kicked out, his foot connecting with something solid and sending a wave of pain up his leg. Rupert kicked out again, the pain giving him something else to focus upon.

“Calm down, Mr Giles. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Somewhere deep within the rational part of Rupert’s mind the voice sounded familiar and completely unconnected to Drusilla. However, the darkness still held him within its terrifying grip and he continued to fight against it.

Rupert kicked out again, however he was unprepared for someone to land heavily on top of him, forcing the air out of his lungs. A soft curse resounded close to his ear. “Mr Giles, you must stop this. Get a grip on yourself.”

The shock of the weight landing on him forced Rupert’s eyes open. There sprawled on top of him, desperately trying to parry his blows was none other than Wesley. Rupert felt the fight leave him instantly. He buried his face in his hands as wracking sobs shook his frame and tears tracked slowly down his cheeks.

Wesley shifted and seated himself on the ground next to Rupert. Taking a deep breath he slowly placed his hand upon Rupert’s shoulder, “Mr Giles, what happened? When I left you were cleaning up. Did more vampires arrive?”

Rupert’s breath caught in his throat as he stifled a sob and shook his head.

“Then what has you in such a state?” Concern laced Wesley’s voice.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Rupert whispered.

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

Rupert wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before running them through his hair. Taking a deep breath he slowly turned his head to look at his fellow Watcher. “You wouldn’t understand what I go through every time I see that vampire.”

“Which vampire?”

“Angel.” Rupert replied in a barely audible voice.

“Angelus? But your report said …”

“I know what my report said, Wesley. I did write the damn thing.” Rupert bit out. “My report did not include the hours I spent as Angelus’s captive.”

“You left vital information out of your report to the Council?” Wesley asked, incredulously.

Rupert snorted, “not everything goes in the report or Watcher’s Journals.”

Wesley watched Rupert out of the corner of his eye. After a few minutes of silence, he could stand it no longer, “What did Angelus do to you?”

Closing his eyes, Rupert found the floodgates opening again. He needed to tell someone and like it or not, it seemed as though Wesley was going to be that person. “Angel tortured me for hours, for fun. He tied my hands so tightly behind my back that the ropes cut through my wrists almost to the bone. He snapped my fingers one by one and took delight in hearing me scream. He threatened to break my kneecaps. As it was he stopped short and only hit them a few times with a poker. He burned me with cigarettes, punched me, blackened my eyes and almost dislocated my hip.”

A horrified Wesley looked on, “I never realised.”

“Why would you? I purposely didn’t include any of it in my report.”

“Why ever not, surely the council should have been made aware?”

Rupert shook his head, “What good would it have accomplished? Buffy had banished Angel to a hell dimension and then she disappeared.”

Rupert’s hands trembled as he took another shaky breath, “The physical injuries were the least of my worries. The worst of it was Drusilla and her mind games.” Rupert paused, his gaze focussed inwards again, “I still wake up screaming most nights. I dream I’m back in the mansion, that Xander didn’t rescue me because Angelus had killed him and Willow. I dream that everything I’ve lived through since that time doesn’t really exist.”

Rupert turned to face Wesley, his eyes penetrating into the younger Watcher’s own, “Do you know how it feels to question your own existence every day?” Without giving the younger man time to respond, Rupert continued, “Do you know what it’s like to suddenly find yourself daydreaming and not know whether this is your reality or a manufactured memory?”

Wesley shook his head.

“I hope you never find out.” Rupert gripped his knees in an effort to still the trembling of his hands.

Wesley looked down at his own hands. He desperately wanted to offer some form of comfort to this man, to tell him that he wasn’t the only one who was broken but anything he could think of sounded shallow to his own ears.

Finally Wesley settled on the one secret he had held close for years, “My father …. he, he was abusive most of the time I was at home. Nothing I ever did was good enough, my grades never high enough. He thought I was lazy; I didn’t study as often or as hard as I should have. My father beat me with his belt every time I took a report card home. I came to dread school holidays. Being bullied at school by the older boys was a far better option. The bruises they inflicted faded over time. I can still hear my father’s voice in my head telling me how much of a failure I am every time I make a mistake. This is one of the reasons why I wanted to make a success of being Watcher to the Slayer.”

“Wesley, you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better, Rup …. Mr Giles. I’ve never told anyone any of this before. I came to Sunnydale to prove that I wasn’t entirely worthless and look how it’s turned out. I’m as much of a failure here as I was in England.”

Rupert huffed softly, “You’re a pillock, Wesley but you’re not a complete failure. You need to learn to work with Buffy; stop quoting rule books at her and you’ll be fine.”

Turning to face Rupert, Wesley spoke again, “Perhaps we could try working together instead of against each other?”

One corner of Rupert’s mouth turned up in a half smile, “I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Smiling, Wesley stood up and reaching out a hand, he pulled Rupert to his feet. “I think it’s time we both went home.”

Rupert nodded.

As the two Watchers made their way out of the warehouse a thought crossed Rupert’s mind, “Why did you come back?”

Wesley looked sheepishly at the elder Watcher, “Ah, I realised I must have dropped my wallet during the fracas. I didn’t know you were still here.”

Rupert rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck and stretched his shoulders, “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did come back. I never thought I’d say this, but thank you Wesley. Talking to you has helped a little.”

“I’m sure things will get better in time.” Wesley tried his best to reassure Rupert.

Rupert nodded in reply, determined to let Wesley still retain some of his innocence. Deep inside, Rupert knew this life would never let him escape and he'd be fighting battles, both real and mental until he died. Sighing heavily he followed Wesley out into the night.