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Chapter 9 – Cruel Emergencies Part One

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy and never will, enough said.

AN: This is the first part two a two part arc, the first being an attempt to keep you up on the Giles/Lydia relationship. A full chapter dedicated to them, the second part being what happens after Isaiah arrives in the Magic Box.

Sunnydale Airport

Giles hopped into the rental car. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He had barely been able to get a car. There was a massive crowd at the airport. Thousands of people were trying to fly out of Sunnydale, others tried to rent a car and drive. Before he could close the door, a large fist connected to his face.

“Give me the car and I’ll let you live,” a heavyset black man wearing a du-rag snarled at him.

“Stay away from me,” Giles kicked the man’s face as he tried to force his way into the car.

“Giles, look over there at the crowd,” Lydia pointed towards the airport’s entrance. A stampede of frantic people headed towards the car. All the flights were booked out of Sunnydale, and the rental agencies had run out of rental cars to give out.

The crowd attacked each other, trying to prevent each other off from taking any cars out of Sunnydale. Giles cringed as an elderly woman was tackled to the ground as she got into a car. Her attacker was a long haired hippie, crazed as he banged her head against the window. She screamed and tried to push him away, but he grabbed her by the legs and dragged her out. Lydia gasped in horror as the hippie reached for the old woman’s face and snapped her neck.

The crowd surrounded the car that Giles had paid for and pounded on the windows.

“Get off the bloody thing,” Giles shouted. He fumbled with the keys as he shoved them into the ignition. A large, obese woman wearing a yellow summer dress climbed onto the hood and pounded on it and screamed.

Giles stared up at her in horror. “Get off the fucking hood, you daft cow,” Giles screamed at her.

“Get out of the car,” she said.

Giles looked over at Lydia. “Forgive me for this.” Giles flicked on the car’s cigarette lighter and wrenched it out, and reached out of the sunroof of the Chevy Impala. He burned the woman on the forehead with the scorching hot lighter. She screamed and fell off. Lydia turned the car on and Giles slid down on the seat and revved the Impalas engine at 4000 RPMs and slammed the transmission into drive, shooting the car forward.


The crowd chased him, but Giles accelerated the car as hard as he could. He sped the car through the street, turned on I-70 and drove towards Magic Box as fast as he could.


“Call Xander. If he doesn’t pick up, call the Magic Box,” Giles fumbled around in his pocket for a second and pulled out a silver Nokia and tossed it at her, keeping his eyes on the road. The Impala was the only car heading south on I-70, towards Sunnydale, the other side was packed with cars trying to pile out of the town.

Cars crashed into each other, front and rear bumpers mangled as hundreds of cars left Sunnydale and headed towards Nevada.

“I wonder what’s causing them to leave like this?” Lydia asked.

“I don’t know. It couldn’t be just Isaiah. Sunnydale is used to its fair share of terror. Something else must be causing them to uproar like this.”

“It reminds me of Dawn of the Dead. They’ll do anything to get out of here, and we’re going into the danger.” Lydia paged down the contact list on the phone until she found Xander’s name and pushed the green button to call him. The phone rang for a couple of times, but there was no answer, instead sending Lydia to Xander’s voicemail. “He’s not answering.”

“Call the Magic Box. Anya should definitely pick up. She loves to talk,” Giles said. He throttled the car a little more, sending the car flaring into fifth gear.

Lydia called the Magic Box next, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “The number you have just dialed has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again.” A message interrupted after the first ring.

“The phone’s disconnected,” Lydia said. She ended the call and placed the phone on the center console.

A blue Mazda RX-7 raced north on I-70 fishtailed, sending it crashing into the guardrail that separated the northbound from the southbound lanes. The RX-7 flipped over the guardrail into the air. Giles stared at it in wonder and eased the brakes on the Impala.

“Hang on, Lydia,” Giles said. He slammed on the brakes and spun sideways, as the RX-7 crashed next to them, landing upside down on the freeway. Blue gas leaked from the sides of the hood. Giles placed their car in park and stepped out. He sprinted as hard as his body would let him. He reached the RX-7 and tried to pry the door open, but it was jammed shut.

Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he stared into the heavily tinted windows to check for signs of life, but the dark glass prevented him from seeing. He pulled his foot back and sent it towards the window, cracking it.

“Rupert, get away from the car, it’s leaking nitrous. The car’s going to blow up,” Lydia screamed, as she ran towards him.

Giles kicked the window again and shattered it. He looked inside at the driver, but his rescue efforts were useless, the driver had crushed his skull in the crash. Seeing he was too late, Giles turned and ran towards Lydia. They hopped back in the Impala and Giles revved the engine and brought it down into drive, and straightened the car out on the road.

As he was pulled away, the blue Mazda exploded in a blue-green ball of fire, hurling car fragments scattering everywhere. Afraid of being caught by a fragment, Giles throttled the car hard, surging the silver Chevy forward.

They didn’t speak for a bit.

Lydia, tired of the awkward silence, reached forward and grabbed the black knob for the car radio. The local Sunnydale station KISS FM blared.

“This is Megan Nicholson from KISS FM. Police are searching for a serial killer in Sunnydale believed to have perpetrated sixteen murders last night. All sixteen victims were found dismembered, decapitated and eviscerated. Luigi Ferdanin a man known for his generous donations to cancer charities, and the owner of Luigi’s Pizzeria at the mall was found decapitated, with his head left in a pizza oven. There was also a double homicide at the hospital, people savagely beaten to death. Warren Meers, a sophomore at Dutton Technical Institution was found decapitated with glass. Please beware if you’re still in Sunnydale. I know many citizens have evacuated, but for those who are still in town, please take care. Now, here’s the Chief of Police, Captain Damme.”

“Thank you, Megan. Whoever the criminal is, he’s no ordinary killer. He has no feelings, no concern for the fellow man. Stay away from alleys and people who look like they don’t belong. Please remain in your homes, stay safe, or evacuate.”

“Thank you, Captain. We’ll be temporarily going off air due to a shortage of staff, but we’ll be back after things smooth over here in bright Sunny D.”

Giles glanced at Lydia, who had tears welling in her eyes. “We’ll be alright,” he said. He took her hand and held it gently for a second. “We’re going to drive over to the Magic Box to see if we can find the rest of the gang. Then, we’ll stop Isaiah before he can do any more damage.”

Lydia nodded.

“Are you ready for this? You haven’t had much field time,” Giles said.

“I have to help. It’s the right thing to do. Even if it means dying in the process, a real Watcher doesn’t stop in the face of evil,” Lydia said.

Giles looked at her for a second, losing himself in the blue depths of her eyes. He let out a shaky breath, “I love Buffy. She’s like a daughter to me. I watched her grow over the last six years. She’s the daughter I never had,” Giles said. His eyes welled up with tears and glazed over with bottled-up emotion. “I have to save her… I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t do what was necessary. She needed me this year, and I deserted her. I have to save her from herself…”

Touched by his affection, she reached over and touched his arm, giving him the unspoken support he needed.

After a few seconds she spoke, “Rupert, you’re here now. That’s what counts. You’re a good man, and a good father,” Lydia said. She leaned over the center … and kissed his cheek.

Giles blushed for a second, and realized he had to turn on the next intersection. He slowed the car down to about 35 mph and turned into I-565, the intersection that led to Sunnydale. The Magic Box was twenty miles away, and Giles would make it in time, even if it was the last thing he did.

Deep lines creased his forehead. Buffy’s welfare was not his only worry. He was getting too emotionally attached to Lydia. After losing Jenny, he hadn’t wanted another woman to get close. He feared the hurt that would come of it. He’d avoided almost every woman who he could have been intimate with. Yes, there had been a few friends with benefits, but never anyone serious, and there was never any relationship that lasted too long. The emotions he was beginning to feel were scaring him.

When he was the Ripper, he never had allowed anyone to get emotionally attached. There was lust in his youthful days, but never anything remotely close to love. He had closed himself off to the idea of it; it nauseated him. He needed to be stone hard, unbreakable, so nothing could interfere with his search for power.

A few years later, he’d become a few fledged Watcher. He’d been in charge of Buffy, and at first, he honestly couldn’t stand her. She had been fifteen, and materialistic. She hadn’t wanted any part of her Calling. She just wanted a normal life. Watching her grow and mature in her high school years, he realized that his relationship with her had become unorthodox. They had gone from a Watcher to his Slayer, to father to daughter. Then Buffy died. He couldn’t bear losing another loved one, so like a coward, he ran away, fearing the pain of losing another person he loved.


He was a middle-aged man. He had experienced the devastating losses of three of the people he cared about.


Jenny, Joyce, and Buffy.


Now, there was Lydia, a woman he had only known for a short amount of time. She had an inner strength that intrigued him. He felt entranced by her charms. She was beautiful in an old-fashioned sort of way. She was far from plain looking, but she was attractive in a traditional way. Middle length hair wrapped into a French twist, no make up to make herself look prettier and deep blue eyes hidden behind plain looking glasses.

He didn’t love her, far from it, but, it sickened him to think of her dead. To think of her, dying in the arms of a vampire, as the fiend fed off her and drained her blood.

It actually scared him to think about it.

That was the scary part.

“Let me get you a hotel room where you’ll be safe,” Giles said. He turned into Sunnydale Inn, slowly pressed on the brake, bringing the car to a stop.

“No, Rupert. I have my duty to the Council, and you have yours. I’m not hiding away in a posh hotel while you risk your neck to stop Isaiah,” she said. She waved her hands about in frustration at the thought of being tucked away while Rupert did all the field work.

“There is no bloody Council. They’re all dead except us and maybe a few wet-behind-the-ears juniors from the academy,” he snapped. He stepped outside the car, and slammed the door.

Lydia opened the passenger door and followed Giles to the front of the car.

“We knew the risks before entered the Council. We could die just as easily as the Slayer, yet that doesn’t matter as long as we die for a cause… a purpose. My purpose is to help you, Rupert, and maybe a little more…” She trailed off, her lips ghosted over his.

“Don’t do this to me, Lydia,” Giles begged. Painful emotions were raw in his smoky eyes, a combination of sadness and lust in their blue depths.

“Don’t do what?” she asked. Her kisses trailed down to his jaw, then to his neck. “If I die, at least I’ll know I had this,” She nipped softly at his earlobe.

It was hard for him to not take her right now on top of the car hood. She leaned in and kissed him, and he grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against him.

After a few seconds, he stepped away from her.

“Promise me this. Stay at the hotel tonight while I assess the situation with the two Slayers. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we can finish this conversation. As much as I’d love to be with you, Lydia, there is much work to be done if we’re to save Buffy from Isaiah.”

“Do you need me to do anything while I’m at the hotel?” Lydia asked, her skin flushed and nipples hardened against her bra, the only visible evidence of her arousal.

“I’ve heard you are exceptional at magic. Do a locator spell on Buffy as well as Isaiah. Give me a call on my cell phone and give me the status on the situation.” Giles popped the trunk and pulled out Lydia’s suitcases, and between the two of them, they brought all the bags in the car and into the hotel.

Lydia checked into the hotel and ignored the stares from the pimply adolescent clerk.

“Do you need help with your bags, ma’am?” he asked and smiled so widely, she thought the strain itself would cause his pimples to explode.

“Yes, thank you.”

Giles, deliberately ignored the boy’s instant infatuation, walked up to Lydia and kissed her lips chastely. Giving her a curt nod, he exited the hotel doors. He rushed over to his car, and hopped in, thrust the keys into the ignition and pulled out of the hotel driveway.

“Let’s get on with it,” he said.





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