Title: The Right Key
Fic
Prompt - "Key"
Author:
Dancyer McCoy
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: Joss'
people, not mine
Summary: What secrets are locked in Quinton
Travers' old desk? Giles just needs to find the right key.
Beta:
quoshara
Originally
posted on LJ community sunnydsurvivor
The
Righy Key
by
Dancyer McCoy
Quinton Travers desk was made of solid English oak and was almost two hundred years old. In spite of the explosion that had destroyed Council Headquarters, the looters and clean-up crews, the desk remained. Not totally intact, no, but still it remained. And it remained locked. Despite all efforts and several locksmiths, it refused to budge, to give up its secrets. Stubborn. Rather like its late owner.
Rupert Giles leaned against the workshop wall and stared at the desk in annoyance. Short of taking an axe to the thing he'd just about run out of ideas. But he didn't want to completely destroy the desk. There was no telling how it was protected. Quinton had always kept 'important papers' in the locked drawers. 'Important papers' meant anything Travers thought important at the moment. Giles was hoping it contained some of the missing prophecy manuscripts, Watcher diaries, Council histories, something, anything, to help rebuild the new Council's library. That library currently consisted, primarily, of his personal collection. While it was a good collection, it was a very basic one, good enough for a Watcher in the field but not for a whole organization. Robson had donated a number of his volumes and there had been a few, relatively undamaged, books in the basement vaults of the old headquarters so they had a good start. Neither of them; however, had any of the more ancient tomes.
"Mr. Giles, the priestess from the Devon Coven is here," a voice called down the stairs.
"Yes, alright. I'll be right there." Giles frowned at the desk again. Perhaps one of the Devon witches could figure out how to open it. He'd have to ask. As he walked up the stairs he wished, once again, that Willow where here instead of Cleveland.
The desk sat alone for awhile, temporarily forgotten.
"Giles? Giles, are you down here?" Dawn Summers entered the workroom carrying the tattered manuscript she had been translating and looked around. "Guess not." She looked at the desk Giles had been working on for the past week.
I wonder if he got it opened. She grasped one of the drawer handles and yanked hard. The drawer practically flew from the desk and landed with a loud crash. "Yipes! I guess he did." She lifted two of the books and read their titles. "Tiberius Manifesto, the Pergamum Codex … Hmm, these titles sound vaguely familiar. Must be something Giles mentioned." The drawer was too heavy for her to lift so she left it sitting on the floor. She still needed to find Giles about the manuscript she was translating.