Author: Ripper's Girl
Warnings: Contains Giles very adult thoughts about an underage Willow. Non-consensual but sensual.
Description: In the aftermath of S2, Giles deals with the shambles his life has become. Willow is the one light in the darkness.
Notice: No profit will be gained from this story. These are Joss's toys, I just like to play with them.
Rupert Giles was in hell.
Not literally, of course. An actual hell dimension would have been preferable to his particular situation. At least the pain wouldn't be emotional. At least he would stand a chance of escaping hell.
So much had changed in the past few months, adjusting to it all nearly took his breath away. The Judge had come to town and with him, he brought chaos. Spike and Drusilla were still a threat. Then, Angel had turned against them all, returning to the fold and embracing the vampire he'd been. Watching the vampire inflict petty little cruelties on his Slayer had almost been too much to bear.
Then, Rupert had discovered what true pain was.
Jenny Calendar didn't exist. Not really. She'd been sent by the Gypsies to “watch” Buffy. Jenny had lied to him, to all of them. Even after all of it, Rupert had still loved her. She touched a place inside him that no one ever had. Years of learning how to keep his emotions in check had been no defense against Jenny Calendar. She would always hold a place in his heart. It still infuriated him though.
When he'd purchased her headstone, he couldn't even put her true name on it.
Things had gotten worse from there. Kendra had been entrusted to his care and she'd died on his watch. Watchers were supposed to outlive their Slayers, this had been drilled into him by the Council, yet it still seemed unnatural for someone so young and beautiful to die such a brutal death.
But Rupert wasn't done yet, more horrors lay in store. Angel had taken him and tortured him for hours. The time seemed to bleed together. He felt like he'd been held at the mansion for days. Rupert had crawled deep within himself, seeking the safety of his own mind. But even that wasn't sacred. Drusilla had used her powers to infiltrate his thoughts and debase the memory of the woman he loved.
Rupert felt for Buffy, he really did. Despite the fact that the love of her life had tortured him and killed his love. He empathized with her plight. Buffy had somehow managed to send Angel to hell and close the portal, saving them all. But the cost was far too high. Joyce Summers had found out her daughter's secret and couldn't accept it. His Slayer couldn't go home and had fled from them.
Now Rupert was left to guard the Hellmouth with the help of four teenagers. While they were a plucky group who'd seen much in their short lives, they were no Slayers. The biggest burden of all had come to rest on Willow's slender shoulders.
After Xander had taken him from the mansion, Rupert was a shell of the man he'd been. The torture had left him raw and exposed, not just physically but emotionally. Giles hid himself in the sanctity of his own apartment, ironically a place Angel had violated by putting Jenny's body in his bed. Yet, he felt strangely secure here, surrounded by his books and his Scotch.
Rupert hadn't been much help in those early days. Willow had been forced to do the lion's share of both the researching and the Slaying. While she didn't possess the preternatural strength or skill of the Slayer, she was clever and resourceful.
She'd taken to lying traps for vamps in a few of their favorite feeding grounds. She disguised an open grave with a thin layer of netting and dirt and filled the empty hole with sharp stakes, buried in the ground. Acting as bait, she lured vampires into the pit.
When he'd felt more like himself, he'd ventured into the library. The hallways were empty, shuttered. Willow hadn't judged him for retreating into himself, hadn't maligned him for shirking his duties. She'd smiled at him quietly, handed over the Codex, and brewed him a pot of tea.
Lovely girl, that Willow.
Rupert should have stopped there. He should have appreciated his clever protégé , admired her intelligence and never thought more about her. He should have remembered the fact that she was only seventeen. Rupert should have focused on the fact that she was naïve and desperate for male attention.
But something changed between them that summer.
Perhaps it was because Buffy was so notably absent. The Slayer certainly seemed the fill every room she was in, with her witty banter and bright smile. He often thought of her as the daughter he'd never had. Possibly that fact had kept him in check, kept him on the straight and narrow. Or perhaps it was because Xander and his vapid girlfriend were so entranced with one another. They never stayed along, eager be alone. More like they wanted to make out as they ostensibly “patrolled” the graveyards. Even Willow's boyfriend, Oz, was rarely seen. His band was on the road, touring up and down the California coast.
Rupert was alone with Willow far too often.
It was in those humid days of summer that his thoughts of sweet, young Willow turned from an almost fatherly affection to something decadent, forbidden.
It was unseasonably warm. Every day had been over the hundred degree mark. Senior citizens and children were ordered to not go out in the heat of the day. Grocery stores were running out of ice cream and popsicles. Most people spent their time at the pool or in air conditioned malls and movie theaters.
In order to save money, Snyder had shut off air conditioning in the building, except for his office, of course. School librarian was a year round position, although he had generous vacation time in the summer. Rupert was required to take inventory all of the books in the school's collection this summer. He was also supposed to do all of the ordering of textbooks for everyone's classes. While it took a backseat to his Watcher duties, being a librarian was a substantial time commitment.
Willow was seated at the big oak table, scrolling through websites on the occult.
Rupert was trying his level best to focus on the algebra textbook in his hands and not the fact that she was wearing practically nothing, owing to the heat and her own comfort in him. Willow didn't see him as a sexual being, she wasn't self conscious about her body with him.
She was in a black tank top with thin straps. Her hair was gathered up on top of her head in a bun, leaving the pale expanse of her neck revealed. She wore a pair of jeans riddled with holes, giving enticing glimpses of pale skin. His hands tightened on the spine of the book. Christ.
She was completely oblivious to his sexual need. How often had she seen him turn from her, a book placed strategically over his lap? How often had he “accidentally” brushed against her? Hadn't she seen his eyes run over her?
“Giles, did you know that there's a spell to make artificial sunshine? I could make it for Buffy.” She was silent for a moment, reality encroaching on her enthusiasm. “When she comes back, of course.”
He cleared his throat, trying to remain calm. “She'll be back.” Rupert knew Buffy was only taking a break, just as he had done. The demands of their callings sometimes made it necessary to escape, but only for a time.
“I know. That's why I'm going to try this out, Giles.” She started copying down ingredients.”
“I told you to call me Rupert.” It irritated him that she put distance between them by using his last name.
“Rupert,” she corrected.
“Don't you think that's a bit, er, sophisticated for someone at your level?” She was a neophyte witch and a spell of that magnitude could be dangerous.
“You always worry too much. I'll be fine.”
Rupert remembered that false sense of confidence, the need for more. It's what propelled him to seek out blood dens and offer up his virgin neck to a sleek brunette vampire. It's what lured him to take Eyghon deep inside himself. In many ways, Willow was his youthful doppelganger.
“Are we patrolling tonight?”
“Um, yes. Indeed.” He tried to quiet the voice inside, the voice that must belong to a perverted old man. The voice that insisted he could probably talk her into some supper and maybe talk her into coming back to his apartment with him. He wondered if he could talk into her his bed. I'm turning into Humbert Humbert. “We need to do a pass through Shady Acres. There've been some reports of PCP gangs in the press.”
“Why is PCP slang for vampires in this town?” Willow marveled. She had a sports bottle with her, which she flipped open and sucked on, dribbling water down her chin.
Was she trying to unman him? He turned away, clearing his throat. “I suspect the populace would be more alarmed to learn there are vampires.”
Willow giggled. “Can you imagine them forming neighborhood watches? Parading up and down Main St. with crosses?”
Rupert smiled ruefully. “I think Sunnydale would empty out overnight.”
“Not Cordy's father. He never walks away from real estate.” She frowned. “Speaking of, should I invite Xand and Cordy tonight? Oz is in L.A.”
“No!” At her look, his expression softened. “I mean, that won't be necessary. We're not looking for trouble, merely fighting off any that comes to our attention. We'll just patrol Shady Acres tonight, there's no reason to involve the two of them.” Truthfully, he wanted her all to himself. If he were a good man, he'd insist that the boy and his selfish girlfriend come along – if only to keep his hormones in check. A scrupulous man wouldn't have a lust potion tucked away in his back pocket.
She didn't question him. Willow trusted him. “Okay. Well, I'm going to the magic shop to look for supplies. I'll see you around eight, okay?”
“Right. Eight.” He watched her walk away, his gaze feverish.
Rupert could stand it no longer. He was prepared to steal what she wouldn't give to him.
They'd dispatched three vampires between the two of them. Of course, their attempts were a far cry from the lethal grace a Slayer possessed, but the vampires were still dead.
Willow wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a little chilly in the night wind. “Are you hungry?”
And so it begins. “Starving,” Rupert replied. “Why don't you come home with me and I'll make us a bite to eat?”
Willow beamed at him. “Sounds good.” She put her small hand in his. “I miss Buffy but I'm glad I got to know you better this summer.”
At his home, he sat her at the table and began making two omelets on the griddle. Of course, he was going through the motions. He couldn't taste food, not anymore. He couldn't even think. Willow was his obsession.
Rupert dusted her mushroom omelet with the red lust powder, which promptly blended in to the variety of spices he'd used. He set her toast on the side of the plate and poured her a cup of tea.
They ate in what Willow must have presumed was companionable silence. Inwardly, he was a morass of conflicting emotion: lust, eagerness, guilt, pain. As each bite of food disappeared between her lips, his tension grew. Any moment now she would be his.
Willow pressed a hand to her forehead. “I feel so strange.”
His cock got hard at the words. “How so?”
“I don't know…warm, ache-y.” Willow twisted in her seat. “Do you think I'm coming down with something?”
“Perhaps,” Rupert said, laying a hand on her brow. “You do feel hot. Very hot.” He cupped her face, his thumb seeking entrance to her rosebud mouth.
Willow opened, taking the tip in. She looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Suck,” Rupert asked, groaning as she obeyed him. He wanted her to suck much more than his finger. Much more.
When he removed his thumb her mouth was slack and wet. “What's happening to me?”
Rupert kissed her, entering her with a ferocity that terrified even him. When he pulled away her eyes were dilated. Her body was all too eager for him. “Forgive me, Willow, but I need this. I need you.” He kissed her forehead. “Don't you worry; when I'm through I'll take your memory of this. It won't harm you.”
With that pronouncement, Rupert gently removed her clothing and carried her to his bed.
What a world class cock up.
Even now, a year later, Rupert could feel Willow 's touch. Her warm little hands curled in his hair, the velvet brush of her lips against his, the softness of her hair around him -- the silken heat of her sex.
He remembered every second of his one night with Willow.
Carrying this burden was torture. He deserved no less though. In fact, he deserved worse. Anyone mentioning a hell dimension would not be accused of being too harsh. Touching her was at once the very worst and the very best thing that he had ever done.
Rupert had even the acted the part of the gentleman after the night. Although, he was the very worst sort of villain for defiling the sweet girl with his lust. Yet, he cherished the memory. Something miraculous had happened that night. He'd been doomed to want to repeat it every night of his life.
With a muttered curse, Rupert drained his glass of Scotch. Even the heady euphoria induced by alcohol didn't dilute the memories. No, it threatened the delicate hold he had on his own leash. It took every ounce of his formidable restraint not to go to her, confess what he'd done and beg for a shot at winning her heart.
But Willow had a handsome young man, why would she want an old fool? He wasn't convinced that the boy was the better the choice, though. Oz had put her through hell this past year after he'd learned that she'd been carrying on with Xander. Rupert hadn't been surprised. She'd always loved that boy far too much. Certainly, much more than he deserved. It was hard to not be jealous. Although, it was only a matter of time before the young men her age finally noticed her. While her beauty wasn't the California standard tanned, toned, and blond ideal, she was stunning in her own way. Personally, he preferred her understated beauty.
Whether Willow realized it or not, Oz was pulling away from her, little by little. He was becoming more involved with his music and his friends. He was spending less and less time with her. It was the way young men ended relationships, a gradual slipping away. It usually forced the young woman involved to take matters into her own hands. Men were quite a pathetic lot.
Willow knew nothing of his obsession though. Rupert had gone to great lengths to shield her from it. Her memory had been wiped clean. He'd carefully bathed the evidence of their union from her tender young body. Rupert had made sure that every interaction he had with her was appropriate.
It was exhausting.
His fears had come to pass. Willow was alone once more.
She had bloody awful taste in men. She'd fallen for Xander at the tender age of five, when they'd been in kindergarten together. Xander who had been really been in love with Buffy since the first moment he saw her. The poor sod was probably still waiting for his Slayer to notice him. Rupert knew the day would never come. Then, Willow had fallen hard for Malcolm, a demon. Although, the demon had at least appreciated her on some level or another. That relationship ended in death. Her doomed affair with Oz was slowly killing her. It was only natural that he would seek out his own kind. The beast within him craved the violence and loss of control.
She was a broken shambles. Unlike Buffy who preferred to keep her pain to herself, Willow needed to express it. Rupert couldn't let her go on about it for fear that he would offer more than his moral support. The urge to take her in his arms and comfort her was nearly overwhelming…and he knew it wouldn't stop there.
Buffy had brought Willow to his house after she'd been “out of control”. Apparently, Willow had been drinking at the Bronze. Buffy had confided that she'd been “a little mean”, too.
Willow had slumped down on the couch, looking fragile. Her big eyes were tear-filled. “Giles, I feel so off lately. It's like I'm not even here.”
“There is nothing to apologize for, love.” The endearment had rolled off his tongue without though. He turned a little crimson. “Are you sure you couldn't do with a spot of rest? Perhaps that would help clear your mind.”
“I don't sleep. Not anymore.” She took in a quivering breath. “Not without him there beside me. My room just feels so empty.”
Rupert's heart hurt for her. He'd felt the same way after Jenny's death. While they hadn't consummated their relationship, but he felt an emptiness in his life, a big hole where she'd been. The only person who could ever fill it was Willow.
Willow looked up at him with suddenly bashful eyes. “If it is okay with you, can I stay here tonight? Spike is at Xander's and this place is homey. I can't help but think about last summer. Do you remember? Would it be weird if I just hung out?”
It was more than he'd hoped for. He wanted to give her what comfort he could. Since she'd gone off to university, she hadn't spent as much time with him. He longed for those long days spent in the library, just the two of them. They used to spend all night together, engaged in research. While they did, there was a free flow of ideas between them, each sparking the other person's mind. Like electricity.
And then, after she was tired, she would sometimes fall asleep at her computer, her dear face relaxed and peaceful. It was one of his favorite things to do, watch her sleep.
Rupert longed for that once more. “Yes, of course you may stay.” As soon as the words left his mouth, part of him wanted to take them back. It would be a special kind of hell to watch her pine for her lost love, but he owed it to her to heal her heart anyway he could.
They hours passed by in companionable silence. Rupert had to admit that he was happy she was here. They'd made dinner together, a beef stroganoff. It was a comforting dish that Rupert knew she liked. They watched a program on PBS about tigers and about several tribes in Africa that had worshiped them. Then, they had an animated discussion afterwards on animal possession. They both agreed they'd rather be possessed by tigers than hyenas.
Afterwards, he'd had a glass of wine and Willow had settled for coffee. He swirled the content of his red wine, but found no solution or absolution in its crimson depths.
She'd taken a shower. Rupert had listened to music while she bathed, determined not to think of her in the other room, naked and wet. She immerged from the bathroom, scrubbed and clean and dressed in one of Buffy's spare outfits.
Rupert had made her bed on the couch and even tucked her in. He permitted himself the small intimacy of kissing her forehead before he shut off the light. It was a far cry from the contact he craved but it felt good to touch her once more.
Three sleepless hours later, she appeared in his doorway. The moonlight filtered through the room, adding a sheen to her porcelain skin.
“It's the full moon tonight,” she commented. “Oz is probably chained up somewhere.”
“Yes, I bet he is,” Rupert said uncomfortably, pulling up the blankets on the bed. His chest was bare. He usually slept in a pair of sweat pants – or sometimes less. Thankfully, he had pants on this night.
“Giles, I had the strangest dream, about the two of us.”
He cleaned his glasses on the sheet. “A-about you and Oz?” He set them on his nose. The glasses had become his armor.
“No, about you and me.”
Rupert was silent for a moment. “What sort of dream?”
Willow watched him with the most unusual expression. Her stare was almost accusatory. “You know what kind.”
He wasn't ready to give up quite yet. “Still, why don't you tell me.”
“I know what you did to me. Last year.”
The color leeched from his face. “H-How? When?”
Willow lowered her eyes. “Two days ago. I did a spell to explore my subconscious mind. I wanted to see if I'd unconsciously done something to Oz, b-but I found out that you—”
“Molested you,” Rupert said quietly. “I understand if you wish to call the authorities or perhaps ring up your mother or-”
“Giles, I wouldn't have stayed her, if that's what I wanted to do.” She stepped into the room and perched on the end of his bed. “I know why you did it. You feel empty, because of Jenny. You needed warmth and comfort.”
“I needed you.”
“Come on, Giles. Be honest. I was convenient.” She turned her face away. “I was playing with magics and flirting with you all summer. I mean, the outfits I wore—“ She broke off. “But that doesn't matter. I don't agree with wiping it from my memory, but I know why you did. I even came here, hoping you'd try something again.”
“Willow , it wasn't like that. Yes, I was going through a rough patch. I missed Jenny terribly, but I had also fallen for you. I think I might l—”
“You don't have to lie. I understand. But I want you to do something for me.”
“I need comfort, too. I don't know if Buffy told you this, but Oz slept with Veruca. He didn't want me anymore. I-I wasn't…exciting anymore. I need to feel like I'm wanted. I just want sex. Not love.”
“But, Willow , I do l—”
She put her fingers against his mouth. “Shh, no more talking. Let's just use each other.” With that, she brought her lips to his.
When it was over, Willow left. She'd calmly put herself to rights and walked away without a backward glance.
Rupert showered and dressed methodically, but he was still so cold. He wrapped himself in a blanket and stared at the window sightlessly.
Rupert Giles found himself in hell, once more. Funny, he didn't think it would be so cold.
Back to Ripper's Girl's Stories