Title: A Country Ride
Author: nothorse
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2570
Warnings: Mentions of non-consensual bondage, nudity, strong language and mind control.
Character: Giles, Faith
Spoilers: Season 8 - No Future for you.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money.

Ooof. Almost manged to get it in before midnight. So I'll have to virtually relocate to the British Isles to keep the deadline.

A Country Ride

Giles gets an eye full
Faith is taken for a ride

Faith didn't need more than one bookshelf, and the one she had held only the assortment of books that kept her sane in Stockton. Thus the box of Belgian chocolate seafood was immediately visible. She smirked and consciously refrained from looking around, sure that Giles would be lurking somewhere. She opened the box and found the expected note. On heavy cardstock, in clean handwriting was the expected message:

Ms. Faith,
We're needed!

"You don't get tired of that crap, do you, G?" Faith popped one of the chocolates in her mouth waiting for Giles to pop up somewhere.

"I really don't, Faith. My advanced age leaves me little other amusement." Giles had come in behind her and tried in vain to snag himself one of the chocolates.

"So what's the fun this time? Homicidal slayer? Homicidal Demon? Mage on apocalypse detail?" She held out the chocolate box, ending the snag contest.

"It's missing slayers, three of them. All have been approached, all of them refused association and preferred to stay on their own." Giles helped himself to another seashell. "They also seemed to have stayed completely unmolested by the supernatural. Until they went missing three weeks ago."

"Three weeks? Any chance they're not already feeding worms?" Faith asked.

"They are still on the grid," said Giles.

"Willow's still talking to you? Or do you have a back door to the grid?"

"Willow. And Xander. And I suspect not without Buffy's knowledge. But that's neither here nor there. We have three slayers, alive but incommunicado and incidentally pretty much in the same spot."

"So we know where they are?"

"Roughly, yes. It's the summer retreat of one William Richardson, real estate magnate, self-made man and owner of Witstead Castle. He's reasonably well off,"

"That's upper-crust for filthy rich, right?"

"Well, yes. In a few generations the family may be respectable."

"So are we sure they're held against their will?" asked Faith. "He could have hired them as muscle."

"I don't think so. And even if he did, we'd have to do something. Slayers as 'muscle', as you phrased it, aren't acceptable."

Faith sighed. "This is gonna turn out to be another take-down, right? I've had hopes."

"I'm sorry. I'm still hoping for foul play, and yes, I realize how this sounds. But we'll have to be prepared for everything. We will probably have to dust off 'Hope Lyonne'. First, though, we'll have to do some reconnaissance."

--*--

"Now that's fucked up beyond measure." Faith put down the binoculars. They were crouched down on a small hill providing one of the few points where one could see into the grounds of the castle and park.

"I mean I get hiring muscle. Easy. I get capturing and torturing and trophy hunting and whatever. But this?" Faith was puzzled. "Or do you think the girls are into it? There's people who are into that stuff, right?"

"There are." Giles took a last look. "And the girls look unforced at first glance. Well, unforced but for the bonds and straps and things. But three slayers all having the same predilection? I think that might be overstraining coincidence. We'll have to get back and"

"Research." Faith completed the sentence. "Yeah. Let's you hit the books."

"I fear the books will not be helpful in this case," said Giles on the hike back to the car. "But I do have some acquaintances left from my misspent youth and they might prove to know something. I just need to stock up on the Tylenol and fruit juice."

At Faith's puzzled glance he shrugged. "For the inevitable terrible hangover."

--*--

Giles was nursing a slowly cooling cup of tea and tried to reconstruct most of the pertinent information of the previous night, when the door to his flat banged open.

"So did your old buds come through?" screamed Faith as she came through the door.

Giles winced. "Would you terribly mind not screaming so loud? And to answer your questions, yes, they did. I will have to do some follow-up, but I have at least a good idea what's going on now."

"OK," Faith whispered. "I'll be nice. Had your Tylenol breakfast yet?"

"Yes, I did, thank you. It just takes some time to work, I think."

Giles motioned for her to sit down.

"Circumstances notwithstanding, I'm just now trying to sort out the complete information. The first and most important thing is that we shouldn't actually have noticed what was going on at the estate."

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed over his eyes.

"Remember Roden?" He continued. "It seems he had some lucrative side-contracts. For starters the whole Witstead estate is under a 'nothing-to-see-here' enchantment. Whatever happens, non-invited persons will not notice, and invited persons will forget anything unusual, barring intervention by someone like me."

Rafael, who had been on the fringes of the old Ripper crowd, had been quite forthcoming after Giles had removed the blocks on his memory. Giles was pretty sure he had remembered to enable the blocks again, but the later parts of the night were still a bit hazy.

"And that didn't mess with us why?" asked Faith.

"Slayer and Watcher. Both of us are under a variety of mystical safeties. Intentional in my case, because the council could not afford to have watchers susceptible to mind enchantments. Slayer resistance might account for you. I'll have to research that. Later."

Giles tried to sip from his empty teacup. When he winced in preparation to get up, Faith took pity on him and volunteered.

"Can't watch you stagger around like the geezer you are. Anything to eat with the tea?"

"I think I'll pass on solid food for the moment," Giles said. "Thank you."

"So," Faith said, after putting down the tea. "Anything beyond the 'for starters'?"

Giles frowned.

"Roden," said Faith. "You said he did the 'nothing-to-see-here' thing for starters . So, what more?"

Giles put the cup down and rubbed his face again. "He also devised an ingenious method for controlling the girls. And maybe even his staff."

"Yeah?"

"It's a manner of possession. But instead of summoning a demon to possess the victim, an artificial personality is created and then imposed on the person. The bad news is that nobody is immune, thus in spite of being unaffected by the 'notice me not', we'd be perfectly susceptible to this."

"And the good news?"

"It's still a possession, thus we will be able to devise a counter-talisman. Thus we can be sure to be unaffected." A glint entered Giles' eyes. "Miss Faith, I think we should pay our respects to Mister Richardson. A visit, a carriage ride and a picnic. Witstead Castle is supposedly very beautiful in summer, and Lady Hope Lyonne is probably very bored right now."

"That sounds just perfect, Giles." The airy tone left Faith's voice. "Let's get cracking."

--*--

It took a few more days, but Giles was finally able to arrange everything. After spreading discretely that Hope Lyonne was interested in more rarefied leisure activities, she was invited to a country picnic at Witstead Castle, chaperoned by an old friend of family.

Giles couldn't help but be fascinated by the intricate spellwork. Up close it was far more powerful than before. While they were driving up to the castle, he did see a carriage standing ready, but could not perceive anything out of the ordinary, even though he knew what was going on from their prior surveillance. The knowledge was still there, in an abstract intellectual way, but he could not bring it to bear on the situation. He raised an eyebrow at Faith while he helped her out of the car, but she also gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Richardson was waiting for them, greeting them with effusive friendliness and perfect courtesy.

Once they were seated in the carriage and had entered the castle grounds, the spell slowly lifted and the true nature of the draft animals faded into their consciousness.

Three girls ran between the traces, wearing just a harness, some kind of hooved boots and a bridle. Their hair was shorn into a mane-like mohawk and between their buttocks hung a very realistic horse's tail. They ran without effort, the weight of the carriage seemingly irrelevant.

Faith gasped as the mental fog lifted, but quickly schooled her face into a gleeful, almost cruel smile. "Sweet," was all she said.

"Aren't they just?" Richardson sported the face of a proud owner. "It took a while to get them that perfect. But I love them. The subtle shades of light on their flanks, the play of their muscles, they're the perfect pets."

Faith just nodded, for all intents and purposes seemingly entranced by the view.

"I sincerely hope to find fellow aficionados," Richardson continued, "I would love to get a small racing circle going, and maybe a decent hunt. I even have some ideas for hounds."

Faith smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I can imagine."

"If you're amenable, maybe I could persuade my stable master to give you a quick tour, while we prepare the picnic? And after the picnic, maybe a ride?"

"Sounds good to me," said Faith.

"Perfect. Then we'll take that small detour." Richardson tapped the driver. "We'll take a detour to the stables."

--*--

"I wonder," said Giles as they continued on their way "how complex the enchantment on the carriage is. The girls"

"The ponies," interrupted Richardson.

"Very well, the ponies don't seem to be pulling a large weight, which is rather against the laws of physics."

Richardson chuckled, then laughed out loud.

"There's no enchantment on the carriage. The ponies are pulling the full weight. These ponies are very special. They are -" and he lowered his voice, "slayers. Supernaturally strong and in their natural state quite aggressive. Yes, there is an enchantment, but it is on the ponies. It makes them docile and eager to please. Give them a carrot and they'll love you the whole day. Just like the council used to do, right Mister Giles?"

A soft click drew Giles' attention to the muzzle of a gun directed at his head by the coachman.

"Rupert Giles, the last Watcher. And out of favour with the current bitch in charge." Richardson's voice took a snide tone. "Did you really think the same bullshit worked twice? I knew Roden and I've heard about the Savidge girl. But I have to thank you. Delivering another pony to me. I've been looking forward to driving four-in-hand. Looks so much better."

A short stinging pain in his neck made Giles flinch.

"Don't move," said Richardson immediately and Giles found himself frozen. He had the distinct feeling he could override that with a bit of effort, but saw no sense in it in the current situation.

"It's not a permanent patch," said Richardson. "It just makes you completely amenable to all my commands. I don't know yet what I shall do with you. Maybe let you continue to care and feed your slayers. An elderly, slightly simple and illiterate stable hand. Does that sound right?"

Richardson smiled cruelly.

"I'm sure you'll be conscientious in your tasks, if they get explained to you often enough. But first I want to try out my new pony. It should be already prepared and saddled. I just love slayers. Ponies strong enough to actually ride. A thing of beauty. I wonder if I should send some flowers to the witch."

Giles was glad the spell stopped him from rolling his eyes at the prattle.

--*--

When they arrived at the stables, Faith was in the courtyard, nude but for a bridle. She was tied with two lines to the bridle just as a horse and as docilely she let herself be tacked up. Judging by the slight shine on her skin, they had washed her and applied some body lotion or maybe sunscreen. Giles tried to avert his eyes, but as he was commanded to admire her, he did. Fortunately they hadn't shaved her head yet. Giles didn't think he would survive the aftermath if they had.

There was slight shiver in her chest whenever the groom touched her, which gave Giles hope. He was still confident, he could break the spell, but the insidious calm he felt kindled some doubt whether he could be fast enough.

Richardson had handed him a broom and with a malicious smirk told him to sweep up the yard. Giles started where he was and swept lazily keeping close to the armed coachman who was watching the scene with a lecherous grin.

Finally Faith was ready. She wore the bridle, the same kind of hooved boots the other girls wore and a harness-saddle contraption that rested its weight on a wide, tightly cinched belt on her hips. The groom finally unfastened the lines and led her to Richardson by the reins attached to the bit in her mouth.

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful." Richardson walked around Faith, letting his hand glide softly along her body. "Harry, you outdid yourself. This is the best pony yet. I think I'm in love with her." He chuckled.

"Now let's see how she rides." Richardson took the reins and led Faith to a mounting block. With a quick step, he sat in the saddle. Faith hadn't even moved except for a quick little shuffle to regain her balance. Richardson squeezed his thighs a bit to urge her to move.

And Faith moved. She bent forward to keep Richardson on her back and started at a dead run for the groom. Giles noticed the coachman going for his gun, and with an effort of will he yanked up the broom and drove it into the man's sternum. Faith meanwhile had reached the groom who hadn't even realized yet that something was wrong. She backhanded him into the stable door, where he crumpled unconscious. Richardson desperately yanked on the reins and tried to keep his balance, when Faith threw herself back. His head crashed into the hard dirt with a very final crunch. Faith scrabbled to get herself free of the body, and ripped the stirrups of the harness.

Giles entered the stable at a dead run, looking for more staff. A surprised shout drew his attention and before the stable master could react, Giles laid into him. Faith entered a second later and some thuds told him she was busy.

When Giles finally let the battered stable master fall senseless onto the floor, Faith came in. She had undone the bridle and unselfconsciously presented her back to Giles.

"Some help with the straps here, G?" she asked.

"Of course, Miss Faith." Giles had regained his composure. "Although they are quite fetching."

"Lech." Faith said, but her voice held a smile again.

When he was done, she walked out. "There's a security station in the office. Check if they have raised an alarm. I'll get the girls."

"Don't you want to get dressed first?"

"Nah, you've seen me and I want the girls in here, so we can get them back to human."

"As you wish," said Giles. "I'll check security and arrange for the extraction."

The End

"So you thought the leather looked fetching, did you?"
"I may be British, but I'm not blind."
"Think you can keep up with a spirited filly?"
"Try me."