Part 1 of The Undiscovered Soul series
Harlem Rain
by: Miss Witch
Rated PG
Summary: The events that led up to Giles decision to leave Sunnydale.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing of the Buffyverse and don't pretend to. I also make no claims to the songs used in this series. The only thing I can lay claim to is my unhealthy obsession with ASH and Richie Sambora. (Just two of the many)
Spoilers: Season 6 in general. Bargaining, specifically for this part. And, well, if you don't know that Buffy was brought back from the dead by now… Where are you living, under a rock?
Distribution: If you've had my permission before, knock yourself out. If you don't have my permission, you've just to ask.
Feedback: I just changed email addresses. C'mon, send me some feedback to try it out!!
Author's Note: This is a several part series that describes my version of events before and after Buffy's resurrection in Season 6. Each part is inspired by a different song off the Richie Sambora album "Undiscovered Soul" The lyrics to the song that inspired each part can be found at the end of the each story.
As always, I owe thanks to Kristin, who beta'd this not once, but twice, in the same day for me.
A special thanks goes to Ewie, who was gracious enough to help me crank the angst up a notch.
"You want another?"
Giles looked up at the bartender standing in front of him. Nodding, he waved his hand at the empty glass in front of him. Silently, he watched the bartender refill his glass with amber liquid. The minute he'd finished pouring, Giles snatched up the glass and drained it in two gulps.
"Gimme another." he ordered. The bartender, who hadn't moved from the spot, obeyed instantly. Over the past month, Giles had become a regular customer, and the bartender knew that he came in for one reason, and one reason only. To get well and truly drunk. Which he'd done with more and more frequency as the summer had worn on.
Tonight, the guy had shown up all rumpled and battered. The bartender had noticed him massaging some nasty looking bruises on his neck. [What did this guy do before he came in to get wasted?] he wondered.
"Another." Giles ordered. The bartender shook his head.
"I'm cuttin' ya off, man." he said. "Go home. Sleep it off." the man ordered. He turned and put the scotch back on the shelf. "Better yet, find the lady that's givin' you this heartache and take her to bed." he suggested, wiping down the counter with a rag.
"I can't." Giles snorted derisively. "She's dead." The bartender's hand grew still at the flat, hopeless tone in his voice.
"I'm sorry, man." he said softly. "But drinking yourself to death isn't going to bring her back." Giles nodded drunkenly, his body weaving in place.
"I know. " The bartender placed a mug of coffee in front of him.
"You wanna talk about it?" Giles shook his head, ignoring the coffee. He wanted to keep the drunken numbness for as long as possible. Sometimes, if he was drunk enough, he could forget that Buffy was dead, forget that he had to go on without her. But those times only lasted for a moment, and then he experienced the pain of losing Buffy all over again.
"She was my life." Giles told the man, stumbling off his stool and tossing some money on the bar. He turned to walk away, but tripped over his own feet. The bartender rushed out from behind the counter and helped Giles up from the floor and back onto the stool.
"At least let me call you a cab, man." the bartender implored. "You're gonna get yourself killed."
Giles shook his head.
"I couldn't get that lucky." he slurred. Before the bartender could stop him, Giles stumbled out of the bar and onto the street.
Outside, a hard and steady rain was falling. A rare occurrence in Sunnydale, but known to happen on occasion. Giles raised his face to the sky and stood for a moment, letting the rain wash over him. The cold downpour served to sober him enough to determine which direction his apartment was in.
As he walked, Giles replayed the events that had led to Buffy's death over and over in his mind. Questioning his every move, every word, he searched for the one thing he could've changed that would've kept her alive. Something that would've given her another option other than jumping from that tower. Giles knew he'd missed something, missed that one critical step that would've saved her.
The stagger home didn't take Giles very long, and much to his dismay, he arrived safely and without harm.
Unlocking his front door, he lurched inside and slammed it shut behind him. He fumbled with the locks for a few minutes before deciding the door was "locked enough." Giles didn't bother with the lights as he moved through the living area. He made his way up the steps and, without undressing, collapsed onto his bed in an alcohol-induced sleep.
Giles groaned as sunlight penetrated his consciousness. He rolled over, and carefully opening one eye, squinted at the clock. He'd overslept again, something that had become a regular occurrence. Slowly, mindful of the pounding of his head, Giles sat up, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. Giles cradled his head in his hands.
He'd dreamt of Buffy, as he had every night since her death. The dreams weren't always the same. Sometimes he saved her in the dreams. In others, he killed Dawn and watched Buffy walk away from him. There was also a sprinkling of dreams where Buffy would come to him and berate him for letting her die. But more often than not, he simply watched her fall from the tower over and over again.
For a moment, Giles' only concern was keeping the contents of his stomach inside his body and not on the floor. He had vague memories of the night before, of drinking at the bar and staggering home. But the truth was, it didn't matter. It didn't matter where he'd been or what he'd done, because it was all the same.
Giles stood slowly and hobbled down the stairs to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his worn face in the mirror. He wondered, as he'd done every morning for the past 3 months if the memory of carrying Buffy's battered body away from Glory's tower would ever fade. If he'd ever stop feeling her cool, limp body pressed against his as he'd wept over her, knowing that there was no hope, no way that life could be forced back into her shattered body.
Giles' hands gripped the sides of the sink, and he closed his eyes in pain as the emotions washed over him. He refused to cry again. He'd wept inconsolably when she'd died. The week after Buffy's death, he'd left the apartment only for her funeral. Other than that, he'd locked himself away, weeping until he'd exhausted himself. But, it wouldn't bring her back, and he refused to give in again. [Oh, and drinking yourself to death is so much better.] the voice in his head mocked. Giles threw more cold water on his face, then snatched up a towel to dry it off.
He stumbled out to the kitchen where he made a pot of strong coffee before taking a shower. He was going to need it.
The day passed with it's usual painful slowness. Anya had, of course, commented on his late arrival to the Magic Shop. He'd snapped back that it was his shop and he'd arrive whenever he damn well pleased. She still wasn't speaking to him. Anya was already upset with him for vacillating over whether or not he was going back to England. Snapping at her only added fuel to her anger.
Giles knew that they were all walking on eggshells around him, and it made him want to scream. Tara never quite looked him in the eyes, and every time Willow spoke to him, she used the same soft tone that one would use with a child. And more often that not, Xander merely managed to say the completely wrong thing. All of them avoided mentioning Buffy around him like the plague.
And now, now he was forced to train that damned robot that looked so much like Buffy. The color of it's eyes, the way the sun shone on it's hair, even the way it gave him that bright smile. It was like Buffy was alive again. Until the damned thing opened it's mouth.
"That was splendid." he panted, as the robot hit his padded hands rapidly in turn. The robot stopped, and waited for further orders. "Now, try it again. Only this time, remember your breathing." Giles told the machine. The robot looked momentarily confused. Then taking a deep breath, she puffed out her cheeks, exhaling as she punched Giles' hands.
Shaking his head, Giles stopped the Buffybot again.
"No, uh, that's good, but," Giles paused, trying to phrase the instructions in a way it would understand. "think of the breath as chi. Air as a, a life source." While he spoke, Anya leaned against the doorjamb, watch as the robot cocked her head.
"I don't require oxygen to live." it informed Giles, wide eyed.
"Of course, strictly speaking, but…" he started to explain. Anya hesitantly entered the room.
"Um, maybe you should stick to the standard drill." Anya suggested. "You know, you don't want her to blow another gasket." Anya stood next to Giles and stared at the Buffybot.
"I'm testing her responses after her injury." Giles said defensively. "I see no harm in imparting a little Eastern philosophy." Anya looked at him doubtfully.
"Well, I just think that, the concept of chi might be a little, you know, hard for her to grasp." she said. Giles dropped his arms in frustration. He set his hands on his hips as Anya continued. "You know, she's not the descendant of a long line of mystical warriors. She's the descendant of a toaster oven." she pointed out to Giles.
"Yes, well, I appreciate your input, Anya, but I think Buffybot has responded nicely to our sessions." Giles told her defensively. The Buffybot smiled happily at the praise. Giles lifted his hands back into the air, and the robot prepared to resume her practice. Anya shrugged and turned away.
"You're the boss." she muttered. "Still."
Annoyed, Giles dropped his hands and watched Anya stalk out. The Buffybot watched Giles in bewilderment.
"Would you like to test me again?" she asked. Giles looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.
"No, perhaps we should call it a day. Your responses are fine." he told her. Taking off the padded gloves, he dropped them on the table and picked up a bottle of water. He took a long drink before turning back and realizing that the robot was watching his every move, waiting for instruction. "Perhaps Anya's right. Perhaps I am trying to teach you as if you were.." Giles trailed off into silence.
"Human?" the Buffybot asked eagerly. Giles nodded uncomfortably.
"Yes." he admitted. The robot smiled up at him, so much like Buffy that Giles' heart hurt.
"I like your teachings." it told him brightly. "Every Slayer needs her Watcher." Snorting derisively, Giles stared down at his water bottle.
"I'm not so sure about that." he said, more to himself than the Buffybot.
"What do you mean?" the Buffybot demanded, frowning. Giles shook his head.
"Nothing." he muttered, wiping his face with the towel. He looked over at the robot and sighed before looking away again. He twisted the towel between his hands. "I just can't help but wonder if…" Giles voice trailed off, and he had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. "if she would have been better off without me." Giles looked up at the robot. "Buffy, that is." He explained. The Buffybot shook her head.
"I don't think that's true. You were very helpful to her." it assured him brightly. Giles laughed sardonically.
"Right. Yes, I was a perfect Watcher. I did what any good Watcher would do. Got my Slayer killed in the line of duty." he said. The disgust he felt for himself was evident in his voice. [I might as well have thrown her from that tower myself.] he thought.
"That wasn't your fault." the Buffybot defended. Giles smiled wryly to himself.
"Of course not. That's how all Slayer/Watcher relationships end, isn't it?" he said softly. Picking up his glasses from the table, Giles put them on and faced the machine wearing his Slayer's face. "She's gone. I did my job." he said, his voice flat and calm. Befuddled, the Buffybot frowned at him.
"Well, then why are you still here?" it asked. Giles looked at the Buffybot sadly. [That's an excellent question.] he thought. [Why am I still here?] Shaking his head, Giles turned and left the training room, leaving the very confused robot behind.
Candles sat at the corners of the pentagram, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Giles looked around one last time to make sure that everything was in it's place. It was a very dangerous spell he was about to perform, and a very long time since he'd last undertaken it. Giles sighed heavily, knowing that one wrong move, wrong ingredient or word could lead to his own death. But he also knew he couldn't go on like this any longer.
Giles settled onto the floor in the center of the pentagram. Taking a deep breath, he lit a wooden match and held it over the herb filled brazier in front of him.
"Osiris, God of the Dead, I humble myself before thee. I beg thee for safe passage through the Underworld so that I may find my beloved. As Isis searched for you, I search for her. Osiris, grant me my plea!"
Yelling the last sentence, Giles dropped the match into the brazier and the herbs exploded into a small ball of flame. As smoke rose from the flames, it began to curl around Giles, crisscrossing and overlapping. To anyone watching, it would've looked like Giles was being mummified. Finally, there was a blinding flash of light, and when Giles was able to open his eyes, he found that he was no longer in his apartment.
The first thing Giles noticed about his surrounding was how soft the light was. Everything seemed to be illuminated by a soft glow that had no definable source. There were no sharp edges to anything and, to Giles, it was almost as if everything was slightly out of focus. Giles quickly checked to see if he was still wearing his glasses, on the off chance that it was merely him. But his glasses were still on his face, and Giles realized that while objects seemed out of focus, they weren't. Instead, it was like a fog surrounded everything.
Around him, people milled about, talking, laughing and carrying on with their personal business. No one seemed to notice that he had just appeared out of no where.
"Mr. Giles?" Giles whirled at the soft question. For a moment, Giles simply stared.
"Joyce." he whispered, swallowing hard. Joyce Summers stood before him. Dressed in white, she smiled sadly at him. "I'm looking for Buffy." he managed finally. Joyce nodded.
"She's coming. You should have told her." Joyce said softly. "She deserved to know before this." Giles stared open-mouthed at Buffy's mother.
"Wh- what are you talking about?" he stuttered in confusion. Joyce shook her head and looked over her shoulder. Without another word, she smiled at Giles and faded into the soft mist. "Joyce?" he called.
"Giles!" Giles closed his eyes, afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him. "Giles." Buffy's voice was softer, but more insistent. Opening his eyes, Giles stared down at the spirit of his Slayer.
"Buffy." he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He reached out to touch her, but much to his dismay, he found that his hand passed through her. Buffy noticed this and closed her eyes in relief.
"Oh thank God you're not dead." she said. "I was so worried when I sensed your presence here." Opening her eyes, Buffy studied Giles face. "Why are you here if you're not dead?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips. Giles couldn't help but smile. [Still the same Buffy.]
"Yes, I am." she said, reading his thoughts. "Now answer the question." Giles shrugged.
"I had to know." he said softly, staring down at his feet. "I had to know that you weren't trapped in a hell dimension." Buffy smiled gently.
"Nope. The Slayer's moved on to her proper reward." she told him. Giles took off his glasses and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Yes, you have." he choked out. Buffy cocked her head and gasped.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered angrily. Giles' head snapped up and he looked at her in surprise. He'd just been thinking how glad he was that she'd earned peace because he loved her so. "Why didn't you tell me that you loved me?" Giles shrugged helplessly.
"I didn't want to burden you." he said. The excuse sounded lame to his own ears. Buffy shook her head.
"No, you were afraid of losing me." she corrected gently. Buffy could easily feel the turmoil inside of Giles, the love for her tangled with hate for himself. "You wouldn't have." Buffy told him. "Because I loved you too." Pain lanced through Giles' heart.
[She loved me.] he thought. The joy of this realization was quickly eclipsed by the knowledge that it was too late for them.
Buffy desperately wished that she could touch Giles, ease his pain in some way. She wondered if she'd only increased his torment. Buffy waited for a moment, allowing him time to pull himself together. Suddenly, she gasped as he appeared to flicker in and out of view.
"Giles?" Buffy asked in concern.
"My times almost up." Giles reassured her. "I have to go back." Buffy nodded. Reaching out, she placed her hand against his cheek. Giles felt a tingling sensation where her hand passed through him.
"It wasn't your fault." she assured him. "Don't blame yourself, please." Giles looked down on her face lovingly. She was beginning to fade from sight as he spirit was called back to his body.
"I love you, Buffy." he said. Buffy watched him go sadly.
"I love you too, Giles." Her voice was a mere whisper to Giles' ears as he suddenly found himself back in his apartment. The herbs had burned themselves out. Giles stood and lifted his arms to the ceiling.
"Oh great Osiris. I thank you for my safe passage through the Underworld." Giles dropped his arms to his sides, and the candles extinguished.
For a moment, Giles stood motionless, simply looking around the apartment. Everything was the same as it had been before the spell, but felt completely different.
[Buffy was in Heaven.] he thought with joy. [She loves me.] Slowly, as the reality of everything he'd lost sank in, Giles stumbled to the couch as the first sob escaped from his throat. [She loved me,] he thought, [and she's gone forever now.] Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he wept, not for Buffy, but for himself. For what could've been and would never be now.
Giles found that he couldn't stop crying, as if every ounce of emotion he'd held inside was bound and determined to be released. Giles sat and let the tears flow, and for once, he didn't feel weak because of it.
A long time later, after all of his emotions had been spent, Giles rose from the couch. With slow, heavy steps he climbed the stairs to his loft. For a moment, Giles stared around him as if he'd never been in his own bedroom before. Walking over to balustrade at the edge of the loft, Giles looked down on his apartment. Reminders of Buffy surrounded him, he realized. Not just pictures, although there were plenty of them. There wasn't anything in the apartment that didn't have a memory of Buffy attached to it.
The kitchen where they'd made Thanksgiving dinner together. The couch had seen many nights of research and it was where Buffy had asked him to be her Watcher again. Giles smiled as he remembered Buffy mocking Spike as he was chained in the bathtub. Even the door. Giles would never forget opening the door and finding her standing there the summer she'd run away.
Pushing away from the railing, Giles came to a decision. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his suitcase from underneath his bed and began to pack.
Harlem Rain
R.Sambora
The old man down on the corner
is downing in his pain
I can see the sorrow in his eyes
his tears, the leave a stain
The streets have left him broken
he's in the final phase
It's been a long hard road
from his glory days.
There's a tattoo of his sweetheart
fading on his arm
he talks of painful tragedy
how he lost his lucky charm
his memory is clouded
from the thunder in this vein
he's vanishing, vanishing gone
in the Harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
another shattered soul
in the lost and found
one more night
on the street of pain
getting washed away by the Harlem rain.
On desperation avenue
the devil takes his toll
where the pushers and the poverty
slowly claim your soul
when you reached the realization
that you just can't break the chain, no
you're vanishing, vanishing gone
in the Harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
another shattered soul
in the lost and found
one more night
on the street of pain
getting washed away by the Harlem rain (Harlem rain).
In your search for tender mercy
no one seemed to care
the faith that used to be your crutch
is now your cross to bear
You last yourself so long ago
you don't know who to blame
you're vanishing, vanishing gone
vanishing, vanishing gone
vanishing, vanishing gone
in the Harlem rain.