fandomtownies | Giles walked past the porter, out of the gate into the sunshine...

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Giles walked past the porter, out of the gate into the sunshine...

...and not onto St. Michael's Street, like he should have.

He turned to his right. No Cornmarket Street. Giles whirled to look left. He should have been able to see the Radcliffe Camera in the distance.

Oxford was gone.

Giles slowly turned completely around, really looking at what was around him, trying desperately to assimilate what he was seeing while standing on what appeared to be an open street corner.

"Dear Lord..." he breathed.

His hands fell against his sides, and he heard and felt the crinkle of paper in his jacket pocket. Funny, he'd just got it back from the cleaners. There shouldn't be anything in the pockets. He reached in and pulled out a thick vellum envelope. He opened it.

Mr. Giles,

While we of the Upper Council have deemed your service meritorious and deserving of the retirement you requested, we are loathe to part with a person of your experience and knowledge. As per your petition, we have arranged for a dimensional transfer. However, we would ask that you keep a casual eye on the goings on in regards to our interests.

No signiture or complimentary closing. Just the seal of the Upper Council. Sanguine, a crow sable.

Inside was a map with what looked to be a bookstore circled in red, an obscene amount of cash, and some keys.

Giles sighed and paused a moment to clean his glasses. Well, he'd asked for it. He might as well go see what awaited him.

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Orlin wwas happily walking down the street, and almost walked into somebody that had definately not been there. Cool, it didnt only happen to him.

"Hi there. I'm Orlin, welcome!"

"Err, um, ah.. Hello." Giles belatedly noticed the man's hand sticking out. As it didn't have any talons, it seemed rude not to shake it.

"Giles. Rupert Giles. How do you do." His brow wrinkled. "Could you possibly direct me to Minotaur Lane? Oh, and might you please tell me," he paused, fully aware of how ridiculous he was about to sound, "exactly where am I?"

"Well, you would be in Fandom Town, Giles. Nice place, I only arrived here last week." He smiled, the thought never occuring to him that it might be rude to call some one he didn't know by their last name, but since he did it to everyone else that had two names, he didn't even think about it.

"Although you do seem to be doing better then me so far. You arrived with clothing." Orlin the gestured to some random direction, "Minotaur is in that direction." He said pleasantly.

Zero, on her way to Jeff, God of Biscuits for her morning pastry, saw a new face and decided to be friendly. "Hello. Are you new in town?"

The neon hair didn't throw him. In fact, he'd had a quite dashing shade of pea-green hair himself in 1972. It was the friendliness. It reminded him unnervingly of his arrival in Sunnydale. Maybe it was the demons. Or maybe it was just Californians. Maybe it was demonic Californians.

Giles shook his head, clearing it to address the now-slightly-puzzled young lady before him.

"Ah, yes, yes I am. I, ah, seem to be the new propriator of the," he fumbled with the paperwork in his hands, "used and rare book store."

"You seem to be? Swerval! Hopefully you'll be able to make a go of it. I understand the old guy didn't want to, y'know, sell books. You've come at a good time, the gremlin and vampire populations are both down. I'm Zero, Zero Hopeless-Savage."

Giles pauses mid-lecture at Zero's statement.

"Gremlin? Vampire?! Oh, dear Lord." He removes his glasses and vigorously polishes them as he resumes his anti-sorcerer tirade to Cordelia.

"Well. Yeah." Seeing that she is clearly going to be ignored in favor of lecturing poor Cordy Chase, Zero heads off to Jeff's. She needs danish.

Cordy only has one class on Tuesdays, so she had decided to go for a walk around Fandom that morning. She'd been here about a month now, but had barely given herself the time to explore the town.

She turned the corner and saw Giles there. And she stopped in her tracks. And briefly considered running away.

"Giles?"

Giles had been turning to gesture towards where--Arlin? no, Orlin--had told him Minotaur Lane was as he spoke to the young lady with the psychadelic hair. As he turned, he was shocked to discover one of his former charges.

This would not normally have upset him, but Sunnydale had been a small town, Cordelia had once been its homecoming queen, and even during an apocolypse news gets around.

Cordelia had died a little over a year ago.

The blood drained from his face, and he took an involuntary step back.

Cordelia noticed Giles' hesitation, and a look of confusion passed over her face. "Um...Giles? Hey, I know I wasn't always the nicest kid, but no need to run screaming," she said, attempting a grin, but to be honest, Giles expression was terrifying her.

Giles tried to pull himself together. You're in a different dimension. You're in a different dimension. You may lose your mind, but by God, you'll do it in this different dimension! If there could be a dimension with no shrimp, there could be a dimension where Cordelia Chase didn't die, lying comatose in a Los Angeles hospital bed. And if Cordelia is alive... Some things fell together in the back of his head, but he wrenched them apart again. Sweet Mother of God I am in no way ready for her.

He removed his glasses and wiped a hand down his face. "C-Cordelia!" he stammered, trying desperately to sound bright and chipper. "So sorry, but I'm a bit flummoxed. Just arrived in, er, town. How are you, and what are you doing, er, here?"

Cordelia smiled, suddenly remembering Giles wiping a hand down his face on numerous other occassions. It was nice to have familiarity in Fandom.

"I'm good," she said. "Getting used to going to High School again. That's a bit odd. I've been in Fandom for about a month now. I - I came from L.A., around the year 2000. There were some bad things and I went to a sorcerer, and I woke up here to find myself enrolled as a sophomore at Fandom High."

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

Giles nearly deflated with relief. "Ah! Wonderful! I-I mean, not wonderful that the situation merited a visit to a sorcerer, but..." he paused as the statement sunk in and the teacher and mentor in him took over.

"A sorecerer! What are you doing consorting with a sorcerer? I thought I'd warned you that sorcerers are amoral creatures playing willy-nilly with the balance of magical energies in a variety of planes of existance..."

[OOC:He's going to drone on for a while unless you cut him off, Cordy...]

Cordy listened patiently for awhile, then started getting frustrated, then started to find the urge to laugh kept growing and growing...

"Giles...GILES! Stop. I know sorcerers are bad. But he didn't kill me or anything. I didn't know what else to do. The only problem is he was supposed to send me back in time, but sent me forward instead. And to another dimension. Anyway, it's over now, no use in a lecture."

Giles blinked hard and replaced his glasses.

"Well, all right then. As long as you learned your lesson." He paused, a little unsure of how to proceed. A breeze ruffled the pages in his hand, reminding him of his new ~~assignment~~ establishment.

"I seem to have acquired a used and rare book store. Would you care to come with me to see it?"

(no subject)

upforachase.livejournal.com - 2006-02-07 19:14 (UTC) - Expand

He certainly didn't miss the angel, not remotely. He had other reasons that he didn't have to tell anyone ~~because he's evil, yo!~~ for going into the book shop and soaking up the lingering presence of his now absent friend.

Standing in the vacant shop, he never anticpated ever being interrupted.

Giles and Cordelia walked down Minotaur Ln. chatting amicably. Well, Cordelia chatted, Giles mostly listened. And bit his tongue on several occasions. Drat these possible intertemporal paradoxes.

When they reached the shop, Giles was rather comforted by the sight of the older building with what appeared to be an apartment on the second floor. It rather reminded him of his grandfather's bakery. He fished the key out of the envelope and opened the door.

The inside was bare. Not a single book to be found. The outlay of cash in the envelope was now explained. The shelves seemed to go on forever, though, and Giles found himself looking forward to planning what to fill them with.

Belatedly, he noticed a tall man standing in the middle of the shop. At least Giles was fairly sure it was a man.

"May I help you, sir?"

He cuts quite a figure in the empty room. His well-tailored suit hanging elegantly, trousers breaking supply over gleaming snake-skin shoes. Long, dark hair hangs softly around his face, his eyes concealed by dark and fashionable Foster Grants. He turns slowly, his reverie so very rudely interrupted. "I sicerely doubt it, pet. Simply nostalgia." he says softly.

The words from the Upper Council's letter briefly swam before his eyes.

...we would ask that you keep a casual eye on the goings on in regards to our interests.

Great bleeding red alert claxons were going off in the retired Watcher's head. The gentleman was simply too handsome, too suave, too well dressed--in short, too good to be true. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he didn't have nearly enough information. Yet.

To cover, he tilted his head and took a step forward. It was no accident that the motion placed Giles between the person before him and Cordelia behind him. Then he put on his most disarming smile and assumed his most charming, non-threatening, English demeanor.

"Ah. So sorry. But, you see, I am at something of a loss. I'm the new proprietor here, Rupert Giles. And you are...?"

His chin tips down, and then back up. Even without seeing his eyes it's clear he's giving the man a thorough once over.

"Of course you are, Mr. Giles. You may call me Crowley. I was, shall we say, close with the previous occupant. Might i ask if you'll be expecting me to honor his terms regarding the Shop?"

Cordelia eyes Crowley with some suspicion. She had never met him, but had heard a few things from living in Fandom for the last month.

Giles blinked.

"Terms?"

He turns and gestures broadly to the space around him. "That this is a safe haven from my work. That in here I can't do the voodoo that I do so well."

He chuckles softly, the raspy hiss distinctly inhuman. Turning back to them, he grins charming...but cold.

"Or will it now be open for business, as they say?"

Cordy isn't accustomed to listening quietly and staying out of the way.

"Who are you? And is this voodoo that you refer to metaphorical?"