Chapter 5

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It took some doing but she finally tracked down enough rumors to find out where an R. Giles might be found. The building wasn’t promising on the wrong side of town and a run down place in a row of other run down brownstones that might have been nice at one time but now suffered from a lack of give a damn. She looked it over from across the street first, trying to take measure of it, and then moved over to stand in front of the door. She didn’t know anything about a young Giles but reasoned he had to be the same as he was in her time. Born in tweed diapers, that’s what the joke was, right?

She knocked.

There was thudding inside, cursing, someone moving closer to the door. She listened to their progress and wasn’t surprised when the door swung open. The early morning sunlight wasn’t something she liked seeing but when it struck the very rock hard abs of the male in front of her she couldn’t help but find it wildly appealing. She stared at that first, her eyes drifting up from the waistband of loose cotton pants up the body to finally look at the face that, so happened, had a scowl on it. The blood shot eyes told his story. The scowl added to it.

“What do you want?”

It was the man from the night before but neither remembered the brief confrontation. She’d had other things on her mind and he’d been drunk.

“I’m looking for Giles, um, Rupert.”

A flicker of recognition, barely a hint of it on his face and in his eyes. He knew what she was talking about. His first name was foreign on her tongue but if she wanted to find him this was the route. He was the only person she trusted to help her get back to the right time and that was the only lead she had. Going to the Council was pretty much out of the question. They’d probably treat this like the Inquisition and she didn’t want that.

“Who’re you?” Came the nasty reply.

“Faith.”

“Faith who?”

“Seriously? You wanna go back to bed, probably dealing with a massive hangover, and I just want to talk to him so if you could pull your head out and let me know if he’s here or not that’d be great.”

He looked at her, surprised, another flicker of recognition in his eyes. The attitude seemed familiar but no one dared question him, at least no one that knew him well. It certainly made it easier to run his gang but it also often left him with a desire for a challenge. He knew that about himself and as the stakes traveled higher and higher for him in his night time games the would be Watcher knew it could only ever end in disaster. It was like a train wreck as devastating in scope and yet he was unable to stray from his path.

“No one calls me Rupert. Or Giles,” though that had a ring to it. “The name’s Ripper.”

“Oh. My. God.” Now that she looked she saw the similarities. She’d heard something about Ripper but not much and certainly not enough to put the pieces together last night. He was devastatingly handsome and Faith could not help but wonder that the owner of those abs was the same tweedy librarian she’d first met. What a difference a decade or two could make! Her eyes raised up to his own as she struggled to deal with the discrepancies. 

“I need your help.” Easier to get straight to the point rather than beating around the bush. “And you’re the only one I know who can help me.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“You will. I’m from the future.”

Oh, great. Fave shades of fantastic. She was at his door in the seventies speaking that phrase. She didn’t expect him probably take her seriously. All she needed to complete the idiocy was a silver lame suit and some sort of fake ray gun. The look on his face spoke of this reluctance and she half expected him to slam the door in her face. But he didn’t do that. In fact she thought she saw something else in him, hard to place.

“Prove it.”

“Ummm…” She didn’t know much about Ripper, precious little. “You’re supposed to be a Watcher. Your dad was, I think, and your granddad.”

“Grandmother.” He corrected, sternly, his facial expression deepening in its displeasure.

“Ok. But the point is that you should be a Watcher. And you’re not. This is what you did to get away from being a Watcher.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I’m a Slayer.”

“You’re joking. You?” She didn’t look like any Slayer he’d ever imagined. She was beautiful, tough.

“Yeah. Me. In the flesh.”

He finally relented and opened the door to allow her into his flat. He shared it with the others but they were all crashed or elsewhere. He led her through the house and she marveled at the sights she saw. It was unkempt, untidy, and looked like it might fall down from the inside but he was there and it didn’t appear to bother him. She shrugged and kept walking. When they got into his room, she assumed it was his room, the blond was still lying in his bed, barely covered by the sheet. It was obvious what happened there the night before but it was also very evident that Giles has slept on the couch by the way it had a pillow and blanket and still appeared rumpled.

Unceremoniously, he woke her. “Time to fly away, dove.”

She was not awake enough to be annoyed or had simply expected it. To Faith’s utter amazement she simply left without another sound. She looked around at the mattress on the floor and the sunlight working its way through the cracks in the boarded up window and thought his room could not look any more clichéd of a rebel badass if he tried. Except, maybe, if he had painted his walls black but that would be work and she doubted he gave that much of a shit about it.

“Have a seat.”

“Where?” She looked around. There weren’t any chairs and the couch was still done up like a makeshift bed. He picked up the covers and tossed them onto the mattress.

“I thought you were rich.” She’d heard that somewhere, right?

“My parents are rich. They cut me off when I decided not to give my life to some poor girl with a suicide mission in life.”

“Can’s say I blame you there as one of those girls with a suicide mission. I wouldn’t be me if given the chance.”

“You’d give it up?”

“Probably. Don’t get me wrong…I like being a Slayer. There’s just something about having the strength to stand up to those bastards that gets me off. When that adrenaline hits and all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears and you get this surge of power going there’s nothing like it. It’s just,” a faraway look crossed her eyes, “nothing like it.”

“Prove it to me.”

“What?”

“You want my help. You claim to be a Slayer. Prove it to me.”

“Right now?”

“Don’t be daft. When the sun sets, of course.”

“If I prove it you promise to help me get back to my time?”

A charming, roguishly handsome smile. “Maybe…”