The only one he could ever talk to was dead and buried. He had returned to work after the funeral. Xander had mourned and matured. Giles found a kindred spirit in the lad, they had both loved Chloe and often in the weeks after her death would spend evenings together discussing Watcher lore, Xander drained Giles of information about what it was like to be a Watcher eventually convincing him that he would make an excellent investigator.

Xander was a bunch of questions in a body and Giles was the opposite with answers. At the end of the evening Giles closed the door on Xander’s retreating back and fled to Chloe’s room and the vial she left behind. The day came when it was empty and Giles went out on a hunt for more.

Angel and Buffy organised a Wake for Chloe two months after the funeral. Giles was guest of honour, he arrived late and de–tweeded. He smiled at them all and attached himself firmly to Willow’s side. She didn’t mind his attention one bit! He shared childhood stories with the gang and seemed to be in good form, almost out-quipping Xander at times. Buffy went to the bar with Angel to re–fill everyone’s drinks, she looked back at Giles.

"He looks well, doesn’t he, Angel? I have my old Watcher back." Angel stared at Giles and filled his lungs briefly, he knew it was an act.

"Not for long…" he muttered. The book in his breast pocket quaked fearfully at the Watcher–Slayers destructive path. Angel lay his hand gently on the infants back soothing it. "We’ll help him darlin’"

Xander was leaving to train in London to be a Watcher it was Chloe’s last wish and his fervent hope to be a Watcher who would make Giles proud. The gang was there at the airport to see him off. Giles hugged him and wished him well. Xander paced backwards, burning them all into his memory, especially Giles.

"I’ll return by Thanksgiving, in full Tweed," he joked.

He carefully arranged the flowers on Chloe’s grave. The red roses were from Xander, deposited earlier in the day by special messenger. It was kind of him to think of Chloe whilst in the middle of his final exams as a Trainee Watcher. Xander’s letters were full of jokes and snipes at his professors and Giles’ spirits lifted whenever a new letter arrived.

He smiled sadly down at the grave. Chloe hadn’t had Polio as a child so the excuse his father had used to have her educated solely by Watchers was a lie. His father knew all along just how special Chloe was. She was the Watcher–Slayer, a hybrid sworn to silence during the hours of darkness and a “play” of normality during the day.

Chloe had killed her first vampire when she was eleven. At thirty, whilst she showed the first signs of the cancer that was to kill her, she was sent to the Orient by the Council to a temple that proved to be a vampire “Hot Spot”. Chloe walked into an active Hellmouth. The vampires couldn’t believe their luck! Not only an English woman to feast on but a Slayer! She was held captive and tortured for three years, during that time she had three human babies. Their fathers had “turned” them and one fateful night they were let out to feed…

Chloe staked her own children and every undead thing in the temple.

He sighed and gathered the plastic wrappings from the flowers. He plucked one rose from Xander’s bunch and placed it on Jenny’s grave. Chloe wouldn’t mind sharing, then he walked slowly away.

Giles was depressed. He was going out tonight. If Willow were here, she would talk him out of it. But they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Towards the end of the summer term they argued on a daily basis. She trying her best to get him to talk about his feelings and he doing his damnedest to push her away.

God! He needed her now! What he did tonight would answer all his prayers and make his problems disappear. He made sure he had plenty of cash and glanced in the mirror before leaving, he didn’t look like a Watcher. He looked hungry and oblivious to his responsibilities. He wanted to be… Ripper.

It was early in the morning when he staggered into his sitting room. He dropped his coat and kicked off his shoes, stretched his arms over his head and kicked his door shut. He let his arms drop to his sides. He felt good. Nice and warm. He grinned suddenly Ethan might describe him as “well fucked.” He sank down into his sofa and dozed for a while.

The next night was a repeat of the first, he went to the Bronze and partied till dawn, the crowd at that time of day had just one thing on their mind, getting high and remaining so, Ripper eagerly joined in. Slowly and surely Giles slipped away and Ripper’s lust for pleasure and thrills surfaced, but he was no longer in his twenties and soon it stopped being a pleasure and became a necessity. Ripper abandoned his post, leaving Giles to deal with his addiction.

Giles got ready to go out quickly. His movements were jerky and he sniffed constantly. He’d left it too long this time. Cash? Yes. Enough? Perhaps… He left in a hurry.

He was back inside an hour walking calmly round his flat looking for something to sell. He collected all the items he could and put them in a holdall. He looked through his possessions again.

A silver photo frame with picture. He turned it over and shut his eyes on the memories. He opened the back with numb fingers and took out the photographs, laying them face down on the bed. He picked up an earring from the dresser and put it down again. He couldn’t sell that! He surveyed the room one last time and left, closing the door behind him.

He knew he had to stop soon, but his body had other ideas, he craved the oblivion the drugs gave him. His mind could only function in drug induced calm. There were so many demons and plots that he fancied it was a personal vendetta! His sister was dead and now they were coming after him! Where the hell is the vein? He strained to see in the dim light of his room. There…home! He sucked in a tortured breath, in his imagination cards were filed, books were shelved and his desk was clear, for another day. Not so long ago it would have lasted a week, he stowed his kit and tumbled into his bed in dreamless sleep.

His bed was a comfortable mess. Ethan would love it. Ethan would have loved it. His friend had become terribly proper in the last twenty years, not quite so reckless. Nothing less than silk sheets and maid service would do for Ethan now. Maiden service! He laughed and slowly reached over to his nightstand. Time for more. Someone came in downstairs. He hesitated then finished tying the tourniquet. If he was quick he could be done before they came in.

"Giles…" That was Willow. The needle slid easily into his vein and gasped at the relief rush. "Giles, the place is a tip…" She’s coming up the stairs. The drug took him away as she opened the door. Willow came into the room. He sniffed her perfume and turned languidly to face her. He smiled gently and reached out a hand to stroke her arm. She pulled away staring in horror at the state of his room, his fingers dropped from her arm and the tourniquet slipped to the floor.

She stepped back from the bed. "Oh, Giles! What have you done?"

His eyes closed in sleep. He was conscious of her drifting about the room picking up clothes and shaking them. He heard his kettle whistle then much, much later a vacuum being used.

The noise was deafening after all the weeks of quiet. He sat up completely awake and in a foul mood. He got out of bed too quickly and waited while his head caught up. He wrapped his robe round him and ventured downstairs. He reached round Willow and switched the cleaner off.

"Why do you have to make such an infernal racket, woman?" They regarded each other in silence. She turned the cleaner back on and carried on with her vacuuming. He went into the kitchen and sighed.

"You’ve washed up. I had a system going you know. I was growing fond of the mould in this cup! It was the only friend I had!" He was shouting over the noise when she suddenly turned the cleaner off and started to wind the flex round the handle to put it away.

"You have friends, Giles. Not many would like to see you in the state I saw you in earlier. When did you last eat? You look ill." Willow was trying very hard not to scream at him, rage at him. How dare he endanger his life! Didn’t he know that she cared about him?

She watched him as he watched her. There was something about him now. A dangerous sort of something. He turned toward the sink and stared out of the window.

"Go Willow. Leave me be." He felt her arms link round his chest and he took a deep breath.

"No. I won’t leave you. You need help Giles."

He thought desperately, how can I get her to go? She couldn’t want me now, surely? He twisted round in her grasp, the robe opening, and pulled her to him. Kissing her, he slipped her arm from round him and softly kissed up her arm from her wrist to the crook of her elbow.

"Mmmm, Willow, you have such soft skin." He glanced up at her, his eyes a vibrant green.

"C’mon, Willow, come upstairs and I’ll make you feel… wonderful!" He took her by the hand and she followed willingly. In his now tidy room she halted, feeling awkward and shy. He smiled gently at her and reached for her arm taking it in a vice–like grip. He opened the drawer of the nightstand.

He gazed at the soft skin and grinned wickedly. "Soon have this looking like mine…" He bared his forearm for her to see. Her eyes widened in panic and she struggled to free herself, screamed and fled. Giles sank to the floor and couldn’t stop his tears. She wouldn’t come near now. He had frightened her too much.

Willow was crying onto the vampire’s shoulder. It had taken her an hour to tell him all that had happened.

Angel’s expression was hard to define but it had murderous intent in there somewhere. The prophecy volume squirmed against his body, it knew another Watcher–Slayer was near. He marched to Giles’ house broke in and found him passed out on the stairs.

End of Pt 1

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