TITLE: The Fine Art of Blackmail
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: After the events of The Family Business, Giles and Buffy have their daughter back and are running the Council, but will Wolfram and Hart use Giles’ past sins to destroy the life they’ve built?
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
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--------------------------------------------------- Part 2: Hard Time He didn’t sleep well that night, or truly any night that followed. He supposed he could sleep all he liked in prison. He would rather make the most of the time he had left. Whenever sleep eluded him, he would watch Buffy’s peaceful slumber, would lightly trace his fingers across the curves of her cheekbones, careful not to wake her. Sometimes she would turn into his caress, and in her sleep she would pull herself into his arms, and he would hold her in a desperate and tight embrace, kissing her forehead and trying not to imagine what the rest of his life would be like without her. He wanted to confess everything to her. There were moments when they would first climb into bed or when they would first sit down on the couch after putting the children to sleep, that he would say her name, and she would look at him expectantly. He never got any further than that. He would smile and shake his head and say it was nothing. Tomorrow. He always promised himself that he would tell her tomorrow. Until he finally decided that there was no point in telling her until he absolutely had to, no point in upsetting her, no point when there was nothing she could do to stop it. Better that their last days together be happy rather than filled with arguments and high emotions. It was a lie, a lie that didn’t even convince him. He was a coward, as plain and simple as that. He would hear her voice in his head, repeating the warning she had given him in India, the words that had finally dropped the gun from his hand and temporarily spared Longsworth’s life: You do this, and you’ll be exactly what Longsworth thinks you are. You’ll be a killer, and you won’t be the man I love anymore. The memory of those words would stop his confession before it could ever leave his lips. When she knew the truth of what he had done, would she forgive him or abandon him? Eventually his time simply ran out. No more time to wrestle with his conscience, no more chances to almost confess to her and then back out, no more time, period. Five days pass very quickly for the condemned. They came for him while he was on a site survey with Xander. The construction crews were laying the foundation for what would become the new Council headquarters. Not half a world away, but right at the mouth of Hell, where it could be of the most use to the Slayer. The rubble of the high school had already been cleared away and in its place Giles would build his vision of the Council: a Council of Watchers who would stand beside their slayers, who would be the hand of magic, the shield to the Slayer’s sword. The twins were at his side, wearing their tiny hardhats, although the small group was only viewing the construction site at a distance, Xander pointing out where the various secret passageways had already been poured. Giles didn’t see the officers until they were standing on the rise beside them. Xander smiled and called out a friendly greeting, thinking perhaps that Buffy had sent them. Giles knew better. They were friends of Buffy’s; that much was certain. He had seen them at various police functions. But they were there on business. “Mr. Giles?” the first asked as he approached. Giles remember sharing a drink with the man after a ceremony honoring Buffy and April for their work on a particularly difficult case. “Yes.” “I’m sorry. I… I have a warrant.” The officer wore a grim expression as one hand reached behind his back, presumably for handcuffs. “Please,” Giles pleaded softly. “Not in front of my children.” He turned his head slightly in Xander’s direction, not meeting his young friend’s eyes, but rather staring at his work boots. “Xander, could you take them to the Magic Box for me? See if Anya will watch them until Marianne can come for them. Anya should have her pager number.” “Giles, what’s going on? Should I get Buffy?” The alarm in his voice was unsettling the children. Robin wiggled her hand into her father’s, and Alex dropped the stick he’d been using to dig in the dirt, looking back and forth between his father and his uncle with interest. “No, she knows already, I’m sure. Just take the twins, please.” He forced a reassuring smile for his children, and they went willingly with their Uncle Xander. Giles watched them until they were out of sight, and then faced the two officers waiting patiently beside him. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” *** He waited alone in the bare interrogation room. He had asked for his lawyer, and he had asked for his wife. So far they had brought him neither. They had kindly brought him a cup of coffee, though, and a tape recorder on which they had played that fateful conversation with the Council’s black ops. He was expecting it, however, and so it had failed to rattle him. When he had again asked for his lawyer, they had assured him that he had been sent for, and then they had left him alone. Giles’ eyes sometimes drifted up to the one-way mirror that stretched the breadth of one wall. He wondered who might be watching him, if maybe Buffy was standing on the other side of the glass, what she might see now when she looked at him. He wondered what she would tell their children. Coward that he was, he had neatly avoided that unpleasant duty by putting off his confession until it was too late. Would she tell them the truth? Would she tell them their father was a murderer? Or would she gloss over the exact details: their father had to go away for a while, but they could visit him sometimes like they did Faith? He heard the lock click and the door open. His heart dropped when he saw it was only Xander. “She wouldn’t come,” Giles guessed. Xander paused for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “She’s pretty mad. I think she just needs to cool off. I’m sure she’ll come tomorrow.” He sat on the opposite side of the table. Giles bowed his head. “I’ve lost her.” He voice was flat, resigned, defeated. “No, don’t be silly,” Xander insisted. “You just have to give her a little time to deal.” Giles gave his friend a grateful, if doubtful, smile. They sat in silence as they waited for the lawyer to arrive. There was really nothing to say. Giles could feel the shift in their friendship, the awkwardness between them now as Xander tried to reconcile this new information with everything else he knew about the watcher. Buffy, at least, had known about Ben. But Xander had probably never guessed that his friend and mentor had the capacity to be a cold-blooded killer when given the right circumstances. Xander had never seen him in the factory, beating on Angelus with the flaming baseball bat and consumed by a single minded rage. Nor had he witnessed the cool and detached manner in which Giles had smothered Ben. The lawyer arrived. The meeting was brief. Giles was advised to remain silent and was promised that his case would be given top priority. Such were the advantages that money could buy. Xander offered to play peacemaker with Buffy in order to hopefully convince her to come to the hearing the next day. The lawyer seemed to think that if a judge and jury could see a loving and supportive family sitting in the front row, Giles would present as a more sympathetic defendant. Afterwards, he was taken to spend the night in lockup. Not a terribly daunting prospect in and of itself; he and Ethan had earned an overnight stay on more than one occasion in their youth. No, what was unbearable was the long walk leading him there. Giles was well-known to the police force of Sunnydale, both as Buffy’s husband and as the previous owner of the Magic Box, now newly minted billionaire. This would likely feed the gossip mill for months. He heard the whispers as he approached each small group, the other officers quieting mid-word and following him with their eyes as he passed by. He ducked his head and understood now why people on the news were always holding their jackets over their faces. He felt terribly exposed with so many pairs of eyes drilling into him, shame burning his cheeks. He curled his hands tighter to his body, self-conscious of the handcuffs and wishing that his guards would walk him to his cell a little faster. After the iron bars had locked behind him, there was very little for him to do, and pacing back and forth across the narrow confines of his cell grew tiresome rather quickly. So he simply lay down on the single cot and surprised himself by immediately falling asleep. He slept the hard, deep sleep of one who had spent the last five nights tossing and turning. Now that the dreaded event had actually arrived, his worry and anticipation disappeared, leaving in their place a calm acceptance. Whatever happened now was out of his control. A hearing was scheduled before the judge the next day. The lawyer heading up his case brought him a clean suit to change into, and they walked into the courtroom together, Giles’ eyes immediately scanning the gallery for familiar faces. Xander and Anya were there, as was Willow. Beyond that, the audience was mostly comprised of court reporters, a cluster of law students, and an assortment of curious gawkers. Giles wondered if he’d made the news. But the one face he was truly looking for was absent: Buffy. She was still angry, and obviously even Xander had failed to persuade her to make an appearance. Lilah Morgan sat at the prosecutor’s table, although it was a local lawyer that actually argued the state’s case. The judge came to a decision quickly. The evidence warranted a trial, and Giles would be held over without bail. That part caught him off guard, as he had hoped to return home for the duration of the trial, had hoped to be given that extra time to somehow work things through with Buffy. Now his only chance would be if she deigned to visit him, currently a highly unlikely possibility. Giles glanced over at the prosecution’s table and noticed that Lilah was smiling back at him smugly, her eyes measuring his reaction to the judge’s denial of bail. Wolfram and Hart, it seemed, were responsible for the motion convincing the court that Giles was a flight risk. He schooled his face into a neutral expression, although his heart was sinking with the knowledge that he would most likely never see his home again, or, unless some miracle lifted Buffy’s anger, his wife and children. He folded his hands in his lap and became so lost in his maudlin thoughts that he didn’t even notice the hearing was over until the bailiff had tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that it was time to go. Xander called his name, and he turned, the bailiff kindly giving him a moment to speak with his friends. “I brought you some books,” Xander said. “You know, something to do. Figured you might be bored. The guard said he’d take them in to you.” Giles smiled slightly, his mind still brooding on his previous darker thoughts, but he was making an effort to be upbeat, for their sakes. “Thank you, Xander. That was very thoughtful of you. I was just thinking that it would be nice to have something to read.” “I put some of your favorite tea in the box too,” Anya piped in eagerly. “And a whole carton of cigarettes. Because you can trade them for things. They do it all the time in the movies.” That did wrest a soft chuckle from him, and he reached out his hand to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. His eyes fell on Willow next. She was fidgeting with her hands and her head was bowed. One tear fell from her cheek, and he suspected there were more where that had come from. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. Taking them all in a glance, he tried to reassure them. “I’ll be fine. Honestly.” The bailiff cleared his throat, and Giles took the hint. He followed the man out of the courtroom and was quickly returned to his holding cell beneath the courthouse. Lilah was waiting for him in the corridor, leaning against the bars of the opposite cell. She crossed her arms as she saw him approach, that same smug smile plastered across her face as she watched them remove the handcuffs and lock him behind the bars. He waited until they were alone to say anything. “I believe it’s against the law for you to be here. Opposing counsel are required to go through my lawyer.” She strolled across the corridor, stopping a few inches from the bars. Her fingers idly walked up and down one length as she spoke. “It’s not too late. The trial hasn’t started yet. Tell me where the ring is, and I can get the whole thing dismissed.” “You’ve already given them the tape. You’ve already opened Pandora’s box, as it were.” “And I’m saying we can still close it.” Her voice became lower, more intense, her fingers now curling around the iron bars tightly. “Where is it?” “I don’t know,” he answered quite honestly. She took a few steps backwards. “Maybe this will jog your memory,” she offered out casually. “Wolfram and Hart made arrangements for your stay here with State Corrections.” He raised one eyebrow coolly, not rising to the bait. “Your cell is impervious to magic. The handcuffs they use for you too. We’re aware that you can wield a sizeable amount of magical power when you choose to, and we’ve prepared for it.” “So?” Giles replied with feigned apathy. “So: no popping out to pay a visit to the wife and kiddies. No spell to watch them from a distance. Nothing that would defeat the purpose of your being here. You’re going to serve your time same as anyone else who didn’t have an education in the black arts.” “I expected nothing less.” He could see that she was growing irritated at her failure to rile him. Her jaw twitched slightly as she watched him, as she tried to find something to push him into revealing the location of the coveted ring. She was getting warmer. “You were claustrophobic for a while, weren’t you, Mr. Giles? How’s that going for you now? Any better?” He had made great strides in the nine months since being trapped by Willow’s spell. He hadn’t had a panic attack since the summer, drove the minivan without problem, and slept as well as he had before his ordeal, which was to say sometimes well and sometimes not and sometimes facedown in a stack of books. But if he were to be honest with himself, it was still there below the surface, a fear he could not completely shake, could only bury deep and try to control. Lilah’s mention of it seemed to rattle the cage of the claustrophobia he kept locked away. He was beginning to feel it awaken. “You may change your mind about our deal,” she speculated. “You’re going to be in here a long time, and I imagine that for someone with your condition, this cell is going to feel a little smaller everyday. I just hope, for your sake, you have a change of heart while we can still do something to help you.” He knew his neutral expression had faltered. She seemed pleased at the effect her words had on him and left. He was alone. He curled his hands around the bars that locked him in. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to test Lilah’s claim. Why did the waiter’s warnings that the plate was hot always prompt Buffy to touch it and see how hot? In the same way, Giles closed his eyes and tested the magic barrier that had supposedly been erected around him. He got a nasty jolt for his trouble and ended on his butt on the floor. It appeared that, in this, Lilah was telling the truth. He stood up and scanned the room with his eyes. It felt like it was shrinking, like he could reach out both hands and touch each wall. He sat on the edge of his cot, rubbing his sweating palms across his knees and taking slow, calming breaths. His heart was already pounding, his hands shaking. If he wasn’t careful, he would have another panic attack right here. It’s not like before, he reminded himself. You can move. You can talk and read and walk circles in this little room if you like. It’s not dark or silent or endless. His eyes landed on the box Xander had brought for him. The guard must have left it while they were at the hearing. He reached over and dragged it closer. Xander had mentioned books, and that was exactly what Giles needed right now. *** The trial passed quickly. His friends couldn’t afford to be there everyday, but they took turns, and there was always someone sitting in the front row directly behind him, someone to talk with during the breaks, someone to bring him books or magazines or drawings from his children with which he could pass the time in the evenings while he was alone in his cell. Xander would crack jokes and make sarcastic comments about the prosecuting lawyers and the possibility of inbreeding among the jurors. He could usually coax a genuine smile from Giles, and once he’d even elicited a brief fit of giggles when he’d told the story of the site inspector whom Alex had pummeled with water balloons when the unsuspecting man had made a wrong turn, ending in Giles’ office instead of Xander’s. Marianne, even, had blasted the man with her Supersoaker 3000, thinking at first that he was Xander. They would be lucky if the inspector didn’t report half a dozen violations to fine them for. Giles’ giggles attracted the attention of one of his lawyers, who frowned and scolded the two of them, insisting that a murder trial was hardly the place for jokes. When it was Willow in the front row, the conversation would be more subdued. She would involve him in some slayer-related discussion, asking him to clarify specific points of demon lore or to help with tricky translations. She did the research for Buffy now, took the reports from his slayer after her patrols and followed up with the appropriate study. Giles suspected that Willow was only keeping him occupied with her questions, that she had already worked out the answers on her own. Anya would give him the baby to hold during the breaks, and the girl was always trying to pull his glasses off his face, usually poking his eyes with her chubby little fingers in the process. His lawyer would smile at the scene, hopeful that the vision of Giles holding a happy baby would sway the jurors in their favor. Even if it wasn’t his child or his wife. His wife and his children never came. John came sometimes in the late afternoons, after school had let out. Poor John had no clue why his friend was sitting trial for murder; he hadn’t the slightest inkling about watchers and slayers and demons and magic. He taught second grade, had sat on the back porch with Giles while their wives talked cop talk in the kitchen, and had sometimes babysat the twins when Marianne needed to go out of town. This was outside of his experience, and yet he came sometimes to offer his quiet support. April came twice. She didn’t mention Buffy, but she did inform him that he was the hottest piece of gossip at the station and was on the news most every night. She teased that she was going to sell the shirt he’d left at their house on Ebay. Then she gave him the inside scoop on each of the lawyers acting as opposing counsel. Buffy never came. Never sent a letter. Never picked up the phone when he called. Never brought their children to see him. The trial lasted over a month, and if that weren’t enough time to cool her anger, then there was no hope that it ever would. When the last day came, and each side made its closing arguments, the courtroom was full, his friends all sitting in the front row and the rest of the gallery packed with people who had been following the trial on the news. He had held onto the tiniest bit of hope that she would come, but he felt the familiar pang of disappointment when he saw that she had not. They waited for the verdict in a side conference room. Six lawyers he had working in his defense, and not one of them seemed very upbeat. His friends tried harder to fake optimism, but Giles soon saved them the trouble. “Look, we all know what the verdict will be. Let’s not spend however long it takes the jury to deliberate sitting in here worrying about it.” Anya suggested Monopoly. He wasn’t sure what his lawyers had expected, but that was not it. They watched with incredulous fascination as the six friends played board games. The baby sat on his knee, her hands constantly reaching for the game tokens, and she finally started crying when he wouldn’t let her have any. Willow took the infant- she’d already gone bankrupt- and walked the length of the conference room until the baby had fallen asleep in her arms. April and Xander were soon out of the game, too, leaving just Anya, Giles, and John. The game turned cutthroat. Anya considered herself the epitome of capitalist superiority and losing at Monopoly would be like failing the board exams for the title. John had taught the second grade for over twenty-five years and was no slouch at playing games. Giles just felt the need to win at something today. Anya landed on Boardwalk, where Giles had already placed a hotel. She would have to mortgage all her utilities to pay him and was well on her way to Chapter 11. John, on the other hand, controlled more than half the board. But winning didn’t appear to be in the cards for Giles today. That was the moment the bailiff came in to inform them that the jury had returned with their verdict. The game would have to be a draw. Anya offered him one of her playing cards. “Want my ‘Get out of jail free’ card?” “Anya!” Xander scolded, not finding her joke very amusing. Giles, however, laughed and took it. He could have a dark sense of humor sometimes. They filed back in the courtroom, the rest of the audience already present and waiting, the jury sitting in their box, and Lilah making a small slashing motion across her throat as she met his eyes. The deal was off; he had passed the point of no return. Giles stood at polite attention, his entourage of lawyers standing to either side of him, as the foreman read the verdict. He was prepared for it, but even so, hearing the word ‘guilty’ was a blow for any man. He heard Willow burst into tears behind him and, appropriately enough, the baby joined her. He was escorted back to his cell to await sentencing the next day. Three consecutive terms. That’s what he got. Transferred to the LA prison where he would spend the rest of his life, he said goodbye to his friends, thanked his lawyers for their efforts, and was escorted from the courtroom for the last time. *** Xander and Anya were the first to visit him in LA. The baby was asleep in her mother’s arms. Giles sat at the small wooden table, separated from them by thick glass. Xander lifted the telephone receiver, and Giles followed. “Hey, gettin’ settled in?” Xander asked. “I’ve managed to unpack, yes,” Giles answered with a ghost of a smile. He had exactly one box of belongings. “Gotta say, better than the tweed,” Xander commented, gesturing with one hand to the plain gray prison jumper Giles wore. “Although I liked the suits you wore at the Magic Box better. Classy.” “Yes, well, I don’t have to launder these, so there’s an upside.” Anya tugged on Xander’s sleeve, and the two of them had a brief conversation Giles couldn’t hear. Finally, Xander put the receiver back to his mouth. “Anya wants me to ask if you’ve seen Faith.” “They don’t as a rule mingle the men with the women.” “That’s what I tried to tell her.” They chatted for a short while about inconsequential things. Giles didn’t ask about Buffy, nor did they volunteer any information. If she had forgiven him, she would have been there. Anya took the receiver and talked with him for a short while. She mentioned what Xander hadn’t: that the twins had been asking for their father, that they missed him. Robin slept in one of his shirts, though it hung nearly to the ground on her. Alex carried his father’s pocket watch around in his front pocket and often asked where the hands would be when it was time for Daddy to come home. Giles swallowed and bowed his head. He missed his children more than he thought possible. Xander and Anya had brought him a small care package, and the guard delivered it to him on the other side of the glass. A few more books, more tea, some chocolate, and pictures from the twins’ fourth birthday party. He looked through the photos while his visitors were still there, and Xander filled in the details for each one. There were some photos of Buffy as well, helping the children to unwrap their gifts and blow out their candles. She was smiling, but it didn’t hide the deeper sadness he saw in her eyes. He had hurt her, disappointed her, made a mistake that would cost them their future together. He didn’t blame her for hating him. All too soon his allotted time ran out, and it was time to say goodbye. Xander and Anya left, and he was returned to his cell. He had already hung a few of the children’s drawings on the walls. It made the place seem less barren. He added a couple of the photos beside them, and then sat down on the cot, staring across at his collage. He sighed before flopping down on the bed, still holding one of the photos in his hands. He traced his fingers across the images of son and daughter, lingered briefly over that of Buffy, and then pressed the photo to his heart. Giles had never felt so homesick. As he stared up at the ceiling, he had to remind himself that this was his home now. *** Giles’ heart was pounding, his breathing rapid and shallow. He sat bolt upright, disoriented in the darkness and sure that the room was closing in on him, that he could reach out in the darkness and touch all four walls of his prison. The darkness was suffocating, achingly familiar, and triggering the beginnings of a panic attack. He needed light. “Guard,” he called softly, his voice failing him as he fought to control his breathing. He swallowed, about to try again, only louder this time. “Giles?” Buffy’s voice, coming from right beside him, her arms sliding around his waist and up his chest, encouraging him to lie back down on the bed. “Shhh… It’s okay.” His hands covered hers, and then slowly traced a path up her arms, reassuring himself of her presence. “Buffy?” “Yeah?” He clasped her tightly to his chest, clutching her like a lifeline. “What are you doing here?” he whispered against her hair, his throat tight with emotion. She squirmed in his embrace, adjusting herself into a more comfortable position. “I kinda live here.” “What?” he gasped, still not understanding, sleep still muddling his thoughts. He felt her laugh against his chest. “You’ve been waking up with me for more than four years. Shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.” He released her with one hand, unwilling to let go with the other, and with his free hand explored his surroundings. His fingers found the headboard, the edge of the mattress, knocked against the nightstand. He turned his head, and the faint green glow of the numbers on the clock radio threw a tiny circle of light into the otherwise pitch dark room. “I’m home, in my bed,” he concluded, still baffled by the reality of it. “Yeah, you are.” Buffy kissed his cheek. “If you were in anyone else’s, I might have to do some serious ass kicking.” “But it seemed so real,” he insisted, still afraid to believe that it had only been a nightmare. “What day is it?” “Thursday.” She paused. “Do you want me to get Robin’s nightlight? Just for tonight maybe. You’re still shaking.” “No, I… I… Thursday?” He thought back to when it had all started, before his conviction, before the trial, before his arrest. Thursday had been the day Lilah Morgan had first come to him, blackmailed him with the tapes, and demanded the return of the Ring of Gorlois. It was still that same night. He still had five days left before her deadline. Holding Buffy in his arms, he knew the first thing he needed to do with that time. “Buffy,” he murmured softly, still remembering the pain of her abandonment from his dream, not entirely certain that he wasn’t just dooming himself to repeat it. “There’s something I need to tell you.” ***
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