Disclaimer: I don't own Giles or any of the characters that you recoginze from BtVS. I am just taking them off the shelf, dusting them off, and letting them play with some of the people from my shelf. I promise to put everything back where I found it when I am done.

Author's Note: If you haven't read my other story Yellow, it is the sequel to this one. Yes I know I am odd, but I wrote that one first. Thanks to MeriBeth, Adrian, Kate, and Jazz who all did some beta work on this. Please read Yellow and That Christmas Thing!

Series Info: This is the first story in the Secret Demons Series. All the storys are posted on my website. Yellow is the second story and is posted in full. That Christmas Thing is the thrid in the series and is being written at the same time as this story

Distribution:  As far as I know, Fanfiction.net, Bookish, Majiks World of Fan Fic, and Hello World: Fan Fiction is Fun.  Mailing lists: GilesRulesBaby and WatcherGirls. Anyone else, ask first, please!

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Feedback is requested: I need fuel for the fire!


English Demons – Chapter 1: Unhappy Returns
by Annabelle

It had been nearly two months since he last stepped through the door of Winbourne, his family’s estate.  He set down his bags in the front hallway and looked around for a moment.  Everything was exactly how he had left it.  Nothing was out of place.

It was strange coming back to this place, like walking into another life.  No one back in Sunnydale knew about this place or the wealth that his family had.  There no servants here but that was only because he had dismissed them before heading to the states.  He would have let them go earlier but most of the them had been working for his family for years and he found it hard to tell them that they would no longer have jobs here when he needed to move to California.  There of course, was still the estate manager, William Henderson, and the caretaker, Thomas Hoyle.  They were old friends of the family and were very good at what they did.

Rupert Giles moved to the living room with its wood panel walls and antique furniture, which was covered in large white cloths to keep the dust from catching.  He could picture what everything looked like without the covers on from memory.  Turning to one of the side tables he removed the protective sheet, folded it neatly, and placed on a nearby chair.

“Hello,” he said sadly to a picture frame that was sitting on the table.  “It is good to see you again.”  He picked up the picture and studied it.  The frame was old and worn from being held so many times and the photo was not in much better condition.  The picture was just one of many things that he had to leave behind in England when he went to California, but it was the one thing he wished that he could take with him more than anything else.

“Hullo there Mr. Giles, I didn’t expect you for another couple o’ hours,” an old scratchy voice from the entrance to the living room.

Turning around to the door Rupert smiled.  “Hello Mr. Hoyle.  I took a cab from the airport instead of waiting for the train.”

“Anxious to get home were ya?”

He nodded, “Yes, and it was a very long flight.  I had thoughts about staying in London for the night but it is better being here.”

Hoyle shuffled around the room as fast as his old body would allow him to, which at his age was something of a bit faster than a snail’s pace.  But Hoyle was still good with his hands and kept the yard and gardens well groomed.  Rupert swore that the man had to be as old as his father would have been, if not older, but the fresh air seemed to keep him in good health.

After pulling off another of the coverings, Hoyle sat down and folded the sheet.  “It’ll be good to have a Giles living here again.  It does get a bit lonely from time to time here.  Although mind you I do have my work to keep me busy,” his old kind eyes sparkled as he spoke.  “And o’ course my niece Virginia is always coming by every day for a visit so’s she can tell me ‘ow ‘er ‘usband think’s she’s daft for letting me work ‘ere still.”

Rupert put the picture down and turned to look at Hoyle. “Well we can’t break tradition now can we?”

“No,” Hoyle shook his head.  “We most certainly can’t.”  The old man closed his eyes for a moment.  “Will you be going up to the Watcher’s Council tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” Rupert felt as if a heavy weight had been put on his chest.  “I have to go give my debriefing and then I suppose I will be reassigned to something dull like prophecy deciphering.”

“Sounds like fun,” Hoyle stood up and started to hobble out of the room again.  “Well I am going to watch some telly and then go to sleep.  Good night Mr. Giles.”

“Good night Mr. Hoyle.”  Rupert stayed in the room a bit longer.  He took one last look around and decided take the picture to his room.  No one else would mind.  Picking it up and his bags he headed up the stairs and went to bed.


“Please wait in here sir,” said the young man, whose name Giles did not catch.  “Mr. Travers will be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you,” he muttered as he sat down in the old winged-backed chair.  The room was quite plain and simple; a typical English sitting room.  Giles felt sick just being there and knowing that he was waiting to speak with the person that he hated the most made it worse.

“Ah, Rupert,” Quinten Travers’ voice came from a door on the other side of the room.  “It is good to see you again.”

“Well, as this is on my terms,” Giles hide the smile he felt forming on his lips, “I will say that is good to see you as well.”

“Your flight home was acceptable, I trust,” the older watcher sat down in the other chair that faced the one that Giles was seated in.  He stretched out his legs a bit, careful not to hit the table in front of him.

“It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Quinten nodded.  He was about to say something more when the door to the room opened.

In walked a young woman dressed in a suit jacket and matching skirt.  The maroon color of the suit off set her dark hair and eyes that seemed to become darker when she looked at Rupert.  Taking in a deep breath she marched forward carrying a tea set that she set on the small wooden table that was between the two gentlemen.

Giles watched in dismay as she started to make the tea.  “Stop,” he told her but she merely looked at him like he was out of his mind and started to put tea bags in each cup.  “Don’t do this Evelyn,” he looked into her eyes and reached out a hand to cover hers.

Evelyn pulled her hand back and glared at him for a moment.  Then she picked up the teapot and started to pour the water in one of the teacups.  She did not look at him and let her hair fall over her face.

“You are not his bloody servant,” Giles raised his voice this time and grabbed the teacup from her.

She watched as the water fell to the floor.  Then she slammed the teapot down on the tray and stormed out of the room.  Giles watched her leave and got up from his chair to follow her.

“Let her go Rupert,” Quinten’s voice stopped him at the door.

“Why the hell should I listen to you,” Giles hissed at him.  “I come back to find that you have been making my daughter wait on you for the last six years.  You are so lucky that you gave her the day off the last time I was here.  If I found out sooner I would have-”

“Would have what?” the older voice interrupted him.  “You would have stopped me from having tea with my goddaughter every day at two o’clock?”

“What?” Giles was in total shock.

Quinten poured himself some of tea. “Everyday at two o’clock Evelyn comes here and has tea with me.  I knew you were coming today so I figured that it would be nice for all of us to have tea together.”  He waited for Giles to say something but the other man was still in a state of disbelief.  “I do believe that you just set yourself back in building your relationship with your daughter.”

“Thank you so much for pointing that out,” Giles growled but he sat back down.  “However may I remind you that it was your idea and the Council’s that my daughter be sent away from me in the first place.”  His voice was dripping with animosity, “That unlike you, I did not get to spend the last five years getting to know her.  If I had I would have warned her about you.”

“Rupert I am surprised that you would think that I would do anything but look out for Evelyn’s best interests.” Quinten slipped his tea slowly.  “I am very fond of her.”

Giles scoffed at him, “I bloody well bet you are.  Using her for you own means.  Making her into your little pet project.  Turning her against her own father and you knew that was going to happen.  I bet you are bloody damn fond of her.”

“Turning her against you was never my intent, or the Council’s,” Quinten looked straight into Giles’ eyes.  “Evelyn is an adult.  She understands that you did what you did because you had to.  She has a great respect for the Council and the rules that go with being a Watcher.”

“You call that understanding,” Giles stood up again and started to pace the room.  “God if I could only, if I could just make her see.”

“What would you do,” Quinten set his cup down and gave Giles a serious look.  “Would you try to turn her against us?  Tell her what we have done to her?  She won’t believe you for a minute and even if she did it would shatter her world and she would hate you for it.”

Giles glared at Quinten Travers for a moment.  Then he shook his head and sat back down.  He began a dull report of what had happened when he went back to Sunnydale.  He talked for what seemed to be hours, going over everything.  Finally he handed his Watcher’s diaries and formally resigned his position as Buffy Summers’ Watcher.


The young woman had changed into sweats and was beating a punch bag with all the force that she could muster.  Her rhythm started to be come faster and beads of sweat dripped down her forehead.  The ponytail that rested on the nape of her neck bounced up and down with each movement and became a source of amusement for a male onlooker.

“Evie Rosie,” the male said with merriment, “you punch that thing any harder and you will put a hole in it.”

She did not look over at him and started to kick the bag.  Alternating between her legs she attacked the bag with pure concentration.  Her body was moving in a blur that made it seem like it was one with the sack.

“Come on now Evie girl,” the man tried again, “what did the bag ever do to you?”  But she still paid him no heed.

“She won’t talk now,” another male voice came from the other side of the room.

“Says who James?” the first man sneered.

The other man crossed the room, he had a long sword in his hand. “I do Peter.”

“Well if you are so smart,” Peter gestured to the girl, “you deal with her.”

James bowed his head a little at Peter.  Then he faced the girl and raised the sword to her, “Evelyn.”

Evelyn turned from the bag and looked at him for half a moment.  Without warning he started to attack her.  She jumped back and did a back flip that knocked the weapon from his hand.  Then she dashed to the right wall of the room where the swords were hanging.  She grabbed one and faced James.

The spar began, and both blocked and made blows with ease and skill.  It was like watching an elegant dance.  He would strike she would parry, their bodies moved in with perfect sync with each other.  She countered his thrust and then would make a cut of her own.  Then she stepped up her attack.  He started to lose ground trying to block her powerful assault and slowly inched toward the far wall.  Suddenly she gave a strong swing and managed to push him to the ground.  Holding her sword tip to his throat she kneeled over him.

“Bravo!” Peter shouted from the sideline.  “Good show Evie Rosie!  I knew you could do it.  Rotten luck there James.  You should have parried when she thrust not blocked.”

“Peter,” James grunted from underneath the foot that Evelyn had on his chest, “do shut up.”

Evelyn laughed, “He is right, you were using average swordsmanship.”

“Yes but what demon was I,” James replied.

Evelyn bent closer to him and let her hair fall on his face. “A Wepwant demon.  They usually just reach average swordsmanship but they aren’t very skilled so I would have to say that you were cheating.”  She dug the sword a little deeper in his neck but managed not break his skin.

“Ow!”  James tried to push her off.  “So I was cheating, no need for you to draw blood!”

“You two really need to find a different game to play,” Peter scolded them.  He reached out his hand and Evelyn handed him her sword.

“If he didn’t cheat,” Evelyn defended herself.  Then she shoved off James making him gasp for air as she pressed her knee into his chest a little harder.

Peter shook his head and helped James up. “Really Evie dear it is not nice to knock a fellow when he is down.”

“Yeah,” James coughed a little.

“Don’t get me started on you,” Peter released his grip on James and watched the other man falter a bit.  “You were the one who started this whole thing.  If she doesn’t want to talk now, she won’t, so let’s fight her.  Yeah fight when she is completely pissed off and see if she will take your head off.”

Evelyn did not pay attention to either of them.  She took a sip from a water bottle that she had brought with her into the training room.  Sitting down in a chair she slowly dabbed beads of sweat from her face with a towel that Peter must have brought in with him.  She watched James walk toward her and she held out the water for him.  He pushed it away and reached for the towel.  Holding out of his grasp of a minute she looked at his face and searched for something.  The way she flung the towel at him and the grunt she made while she slumped back into the chair told him that she had not found what she was looking for.

“Alright enough of that now,” Peter warned them both.  Then he turned to his female friend and gave her a concerned look. “Evelyn Rose Giles what the hell is going on?”  She gave him dirty look and he softened toward her.  “Evie, James and I just want to make sure you are okay.”

James nodded, “You have been upset all afternoon.  What is going on Evie?”

“Piffle!” Evie yelled at both of them.  “Like you bloody well don’t know what is going on.”  The blank looks they gave her made her angrier, “My father is back from Sunnydale, that’s what’s going on!”  Then she got up and turned on her heel.  She tore out of the room with the same speed she had used when she left Quinten and Rupert in the sitting room. 

Hot tears were coming down her face and blurring her vision.  She did not notice the person coming toward her and ran right into him.  She looked up and started to apologize but stopped, scrunched up her face and fairly hissed at the other human.  They stood toe to toe facing each other each looking for something different in the other’s eyes.  Then Evelyn raised her hand and slapped Rupert Giles across the face.

get this gear!