Destiny Fled, Destiny Found

by GylzGirl

Disclaimers: Joss and co. own the characters that they came up with, the others are my babies. They're just here to mingle and no harm is intended.
Rating: This part...um, say TV-MA to avoid trouble. It's really just language and violence but I'd rather be overcautious here.
Feedback: Live it, Love it, Gobble it up! NO FLAMES! Flamers get Frank'N'Furter sent to their abode to be transduced (Yes TRANS and not SED 8o) ).
Author's Note: This is not the way I had originally intended to go with this story but as other fics pushed their way ahead of it and due to it's length, I believe this is the best way to go at this time. This is story one of a series: Dark Places of the Soul. The series will definitely cover Giles' departure from Oxford thru to when he returned to fulfill his duty. Other than that, we'll have to see what happens. Without further ado (fingers crossed, deep breath, here goes!).

"Perhaps in time, the so called Dark Ages will be thought of as including our own."
~ G.C. Lichtenburg ~



London, England 1975



The train from Oxford finally pulled to a stop in London station. It was late afternoon and the usual band of middle class commuters began to disembark. Stepping off of the train and into the midst of this bourgeoisie swarm was a rather out of place looking, twenty-one year old man named Rupert Giles. Tall, with slightly longish blonde hair, the dashingly handsome youth zigzagged through the crowd, navigating to the terminal. He wore black doc martens, tight faded blue jeans, a white Bay City Rollers T-shirt and a well broken in black leather jacket. He carried in his hand a beat-up black guitar case and slung across his back was a large green canvas duffel.

As he entered the glass doors of the terminal, his jade eyes scanned it's interior. The crowd was thinning out a little inside. He began to feel conspicuous as he mentally noted that he seemed to be the youngest one here. Giles breathed a sigh and plunged further into the building. As he rounded the corner he smiled. On a nearby bench sat a guy approximately his age, long, straight, mouse-brown hair, blue denim shirt and pants, and a guitar sitting across his lap. He was lightly strumming a tune that Giles thought was vaguely familiar. Giles headed for the opposite end of the boy's bench and strained to hear his song above the din of the station.

The boy finished up the song Giles was still struggling to place. He looked Giles' direction, a small smile coming to his lips at Giles' puzzled expression. "Song of the Siren by Tim Buckley," he finally said.

Giles smiled back, nodding. "Of course. Thanks man, that would've driven me batty all day."

The boy glanced down at Giles' case. "You know how to play that thing mate, or is it just for decoration?"

Giles grinned widely, reached down, unsnapped the case and pulled the guitar into his lap. He untucked a pick from behind it's strings. "See if you can catch on," he said as he began to strum.

The boy listened to the song for a few seconds then recognized it as Lyin' Eyes by The Eagles. He smiled and began to play the rhythm part. The two young men were so engrossed in their performance that they didn't even notice when a small crowd of kids about their age began to gather at the impromptu concert. They were only made aware of their presence when they finished the song and were startled by a round of applause. Giles looked up a bit sheepishly. The group threw change and small bills into their open cases, then dispersed.

After a few seconds, they looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Hey wow, our first gig and I don't even know your name. I feel so cheap and used."

The grin on Giles' face grew wider. He extended his hand over the guitar. "Rupert Giles."

The boy shook his hand and made a sour face. "Randall. Boy, I thought Randall was bad enough but Rupert? You must have some strange family."

Giles released a small laugh. "You have no idea how strange. That's kinda why I'm here actually. Running away from the family...business. You can call me Giles if you prefer, a lot of people seem to."

"Giles, yeah that's lots better. It's kinda rugged and sea-captainy. Rupert is just so..."

"I know. What can I say? My mother was into Gothic romantic literature." Giles shrugged.

"New to the city, eh? Where you staying?"

"Don't know yet. Do you know of anyplace cheap? It doesn't have to be hygienic, just cheap. I have a limited amount of money and I have to make it last as long as possible."

Randall regarded him a moment. "Why don't you come down to the pub with me? I'm meeting my mates there."

"That'd be great, but I gotta find a place before dark." Giles loved the night life just like any other young person but he didn't relish the idea of trying to find accommodations at 3 am knowing how well vampires adored the big city after dark.

"It's not a problem. You can crash at my flat till you find one of your own."

"You sure? I don't want to be a nuisance."

"Course I'm sure. Man, most nights a week my mates are kipped down on my floor, sofa, wherever they happen to pass out. And every single one of them has a home to go to."

Giles thought for a minute. While he didn't want to be a burden to his new friend he was also far too practical to refuse the offer. "Thanks mate, you're really helping me out here. Thanks a lot."

"Not at all. Kids have to look out for each other, sure as hell ain't no one else gonna do it. Grab your axe and we'll head down to the pub.

Giles smiled, put his guitar back in the case, grabbed his bag and followed Randall from the terminal.

The Colney Hatch Pub was smoky and loud. 'Just a typical pub,' Giles' judged from his worldly experience of the two he'd gone to (one time each) back at Oxford. He followed Randall to the back of the establishment where he saw he was headed for a table with four young people already at it. Randall strolled up to the edge of the table. Giles appeared at his side.

Randall turned to Giles. "This is Thomas Sutcliffe." Randall gestured at a man about 24 years old with chin-length, shaggy blonde hair. He wore black rimmed glasses with amber-tinted lenses and a single strand of white pooka shells around his neck. He waved to Giles in acknowledgment then reached a finger to his temple and scratched at the native-American design headband that rested there.

Randall pointed to the boy next to Thomas. "Phillip Henry." He looked around Thomas' age, had long, straight, black hair which he wore in a ponytail and a black goatee. He nodded at Giles while he took a drag off what Giles thought was a cigarette until it's sweet aroma hit his nostrils revealing that it was not tobacco.

Next, he gestured at the only girl at the table. "Deirdre Page." She had straight, waist-length, golden hair and brown eyes. She looked to be about Giles' age and she was very, very pretty. She smiled at him and Giles smiled back 'like a huge idiot,' he thought to himself.

Randall finally reached the table's last occupant. "And this is Ethan Rayne." This one was different. Sharp features, short dark hair, a crocodile's smile. He looked like he was Giles' age but somehow seemed...older. Giles sensed right away that if there was a leader to this little group, than this Ethan fellow was it.

"Hello there," Ethan said, smiling and extending his hand.

Giles took it. "Hello." 'Maybe I'm just imagining things. He certainly seems nice enough. I'm just nervous, yeah that's it, just nervous. Pull yourself together man.'

Randall put his hand on Giles' shoulder. "This is Rupert Giles."

"Rupert?" Ethan said.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Just call him Giles." Randall amended.

"Oh well, that's a bit better." Ethan smiled.

"Why don't you have a seat." Deirdre said as she slid the chair next to her out for him.

"Thanks. Nice to meet you all." He grinned at her as he sat. She blushed and looked away. Giles felt his knees go a little weak.

A waitress happened by and Randall ordered a pint for everyone. Giles shifted a little uneasily, reaching into his front pants pocket and feeling the small wad of bills there that had to last him who knew how long.

Deirdre caught the action and leaned close enough to whisper in Giles' ear. "It's all right, Love. Rand will get the tab. His family's rich and he just loves to spend their money."

"Are you sure?" Giles whispered back.

"Yeah, we all go out few times a week. He insists on paying, every time. He loves being the generous benefactor. He's a real sweetheart that way."

"You're very beautiful." Giles said out of nowhere.

Deirdre pulled back, a little surprised. She wore a big smile as their drinks arrived.

After about a half hour, everyone had started to relax around each other. "Isn't this great," Ethan said, "It's like you've always been part of the group."

Giles got a big, slightly tipsy smile on his face. He raised his mug to Ethan. "Thanks mate. Cheers."

Ethan raised his mug as well and they met over the table with a clink. "Welcome home old boy." Ethan stared intensely over the rim of his mug as he drank, appraising Giles. He had meant what he said. He was beginning to believe Giles was always meant to be with them. Ethan could sense power, always had been able to, and in this boy he sensed a great deal of power. With his help, their magicks could be truly awesome. He continued to watch what had been going on for the past thirty minutes. As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, Giles would whisper into Deirdre's ear, then she would giggle and take a quick drink. Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and produced a little black tarot deck.

As he was about to put them out on the table, he noticed in his peripheral vision a big guy stumbling towards them. The same one he'd seen eyeing Deirdre all night. He tucked the tarot back into his pocket, took another swig of his ale and decided to sit, wait and watch the fun.

A big meaty hand placed itself firmly on Deirdre's arm. Everyone just sort of stared at it for a moment. "I wanna dance," the slurred voice of the hand's owner declared.

Deirdre turned and faced him. "So go dance, you drunken git. Get your bloody hand off of me."

He pulled her to her feet. "I said I wanna dance, bitch."

At that, Rupert Giles was on his feet. The guy was a good six inches taller than Giles but he gave him a forceful shove to the chest. Normally, that may not have budged him, but as intoxicated as he was, he lost his balance and windmilled backwards a few feet before regaining it. "Get the bloody hell away from her right now or I'll smash your face in!"

The big man snorted with laughter. "You? You little pissant." He charged forward. Giles waited until he could smell the alcohol on his breath, then released a right hook to the face. The big man's nose popped in a gush of blood.

Giles turned him to face him, barely containing his laughter at the mask of shock the brute wore. "Now, I want you to apologize to the lady like a good boy."

He looked to Deirdre over Giles' shoulder. "Ma'am ...Miss...I'm sorry. Very sorry. It'll never happen again."

Giles grabbed him by the throat. "That's right. It won't. If you ever touch her again...if you talk to her or even look at her," Giles got nose to nose with him, "I'll rip your fucking head off." Then Giles smiled coldly. "Are we clear?"

"Yes. Yes sir." The man's eyes went wide and he began to sweat.

"Right." Giles released him. "Go on then. Piss off." The man didn't have to be told twice, he was out the door before Giles could even reclaim his seat.

Giles glanced around at his friend's surprised faces. He began to feel a little uncomfortable. "I'm sorry about that but my Mum didn't raise me to tolerate that kind of behavior towards a lady."

"Lady? Does he mean me?" Deirdre's brown eyes bathed him in adoration.

"Well I guess we could all take a lesson from you," Ethan said in a tone Giles couldn't decide was or wasn't being sarcastic.

"I didn't mean any offense by that."

"Oh, none taken. Wow, what a display. Now I'm even more convinced Rupert doesn't suit you." He downed the rest of his drink in one big gulp. "Ripper!" He said, setting the mug down with a bang. "Ripper Giles."

"Yeah, Ripper," Deirdre echoed. Giles blushed.

Randall waved for refills, and once all their glasses were once more full, he stood and raised his. "To the Ripper."

The rest also stood, bringing their mugs together, "The Ripper!"

Giles finally stood and touched his mug to the others'. "All right, Ripper it is." Ethan looked into Giles' eyes and knew he had found the power he needed.