Title: Of Demons and Souls, Chapter Nine: Echoes of the past
Author: AriellaGiselle
Spoilers: a small reference to "Homecoming" (Buffy: S3)
*****
"I'm going patrolling," Buffy announced. The Slayerettes looked up from the ancient volumes spread over the table to gawk at her.
"You say that like it's something new," Anya murmured, wincing at the sudden pain of Xander's foot coming down hard on hers. "What?"
"Nothing, Ahn," Xander said, turning the page in his assigned book.
"Spike, you wouldn't want to come with, would you?" Buffy asked. "I suppose I could use the company."
"Sure, Slayer. Why not?" the blonde vampire said easily.
Willow spoke up, "Why not make it a family outing? I mean, Dawn's at home with your mom, and the rest of us are bored to tears with Giles' musty old books." Willow reddened and smiled at Giles. "Sorry, Giles. No offense to the books."
Giles returned the smile and shook his head.
"I'm going home. Patrolling isn't sparking anything for me," Anya chimed in.
"As Oz once said, 'As Anya goes, so goes my nation'," Xander remarked.
"I don't think he said 'Anya', Xand," Buffy said.
"Patrolling?" Tara reminded the bantering group.
"Yeah, so, we going?" Buffy asked. Everyone nodded, save for Giles.
He stood, taking his glasses off and polishing them with his handkerchief and said, "I think I shall retire for the evening. I have a few phone calls to make before the morning, and I wish to get them over with."
"Okay, ramblers, let's get rambling," Buffy said around a toothy smile.
Xander groaned, "No references to crazy vampire movies, please!"
*****
Charlie Borden sighed, staring at the papers in his hands. He loved his job and the power that came with it. Someone once told him that he was nothing but a white boy on a power trip, but that he was good at what he did because of the hunger for said power. He had decided long ago that the fool hadn't known what he was talking about, but now he wasn't so sure of himself. His arrogant, smug attitude had somewhat dulled with age; now he was unconvinced, unsure, and terrified at the prospect of a powerless future.
He turned his attention back to his work, struggling with his own peace of mind.
The official documents declared the Agency and its charter null and void, arranging for all of its agents to be reassigned, and its leader to be allowed to retire with full pension and benefits, if he so chose. All he had to do was sign them. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he picked up the pen and set it lightly on the paper. He registered the movement and flung the pen against the wall.
"No!" he whispered, "No, I won't do it."
He jumped up, knocking his chair to the floor, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.
*****
"I think we're alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone aro-ound," Claire sang softly. Eberts smiled and pulled her into his arms. She continued humming the soft tune as she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him. "I never would've guessed..."
"Me neither, Claire. Me neither," he replied gently, stroking her hair in slow measured moves.
The annoying clang of the bell over the door broke them from their reverie, drawing their attention to the one person they had no intention of ever seeing again.
"Sir. What are you doing here? Last time you had almost gotten killed. I figured our luck would have gotten better," Claire spat.
"I came to speak to Eberts."
"Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it, sir. Go home. Enjoy your retirement. I dare say you've earned it," Albert said, almost pleading with his former boss.
"Claire, can we have a moment?" The Official ignored the pleas from his ex-lackey.
She stared at him for a moment before turning her face to gaze questioningly at the man still holding her in his arms. He closed his eyes and nodded, placing a loving, gentle kiss on the top of her head.
After she left, sauntering slowly to the training room, The Official broke the tense silence, "Claire, huh? Never would've guessed."
"That's the general consensus. What do you want, sir?" Eberts said in the most exasperated tone he could muster.
"I refuse to sign the Omega papers. I won't do it."
"You have to. You've already lost your assistant, your Invisible Man, your top agent, and your Keeper. You don't have much left to loose."
"I have my pride, my sense of honor."
"What pride? This from the man who squeezed every penny out of his budget, who never let his top agents have a decent vacation. You did kill them, sir. They won't be forgiving. And neither will Claire."
"I know, but..."
"No! You don't know!" Eberts interrupted, " You couldn't possibly know how Claire slaved over her equipment for you! How Robert cursed your very existence! How I tried to keep my temper cool every time you told me to shut up!" He let out all his pent up frustrations in one fell swoop, sending them out like poisoned arrows, sailing true to their destination.
He continued, quieter, calmer than before, "Please, I beg you, sir. Go home. Tend your gardens. Check on old friends that have retired already. Live out a simple life, without the worry of money or invisible agents. Go, please."
"I can't. The Agency was my life. I'm not giving up."
Over the Official's shoulder, through his tirade of why he couldn't let the Agency go, Eberts could see the door open and Buffy slip in. She stopped, staring in wonder at the man now yelling at Eberts.
"Um, excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt this week's edition of the McNeil-Lerher Top-Secret Update, but I need my jacket and my friends in one sane piece to help me fight my battles. So, if you'll stop being a pain in our ass, and do as Albert suggests, life will get much easier for all of us." She broke her stone cold gaze and walked to the table to grab her jacket. As she slung it over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the soft, worn-in leather, she turned back to the Official. "Oh, it wasn't an option or a request. It was an order. Someone like you should understand orders, I guess." She shot him a freezing glance and a kind, warm one to Eberts and jogged out the door.
The two men stood in silence for a few seconds before Buffy stuck her head back in. "Albert, I need you and Claire in the cemetery in twenty minutes. We caught word of a new big bad, and we're going to need some help. I'm going home to grab some weapons. Help yourselves to the stuff in the back. But you knew that." She smiled again and ran off down the dark streets.
*****
Giles picked up the phone, hearing the dialtone as if from far away, and quickly set it down again. His eyes closed under the weight of his own turmoil. Angel needed to know about Darien and Bobby, in case they decided to make their way down to LA, but Giles didn't want to be the one to make the call.
His responsibility was slowly, surely crushing him like an archaic form of torture; A man who shared his name, albeit not the same part of the name, was killed in such a manner in 1692. Giles Corey had been strong, proclaiming, "More weight!" moments before he died. Rupert Giles had to be just as strong, and that did not mean shirking his duties off on his Slayer.
He wasn't sure why he thought of this phone call as his duty, lord knows he shouldn't have, but he did, all the same.
Once again picking up the phone, he dialed the number and listened to the ringing, half praying that no one would answer.
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless!" a cheery voice came over the line.
"Cordelia? This is Giles. Is Angel in?"
"Giles! It's great to hear from you! Um, yeah, I think Angel's here. Is something wrong? You sound kind of tense." The sympathetic tone of her bubbly voice softened his heart and made him smile.
"No, Cordelia, everything and everyone is fine. I'm just calling to inform Angel of a couple of details about a recent... well, I suppose you could call it case, although, that's rather your term, is it not?"
She laughed, "Yeah, it is. Hang on for a moment. He's probably up brooding in his room. You know Angel."
"Yeah, I do," Giles whispered as he heard the line click over to the soft strains of the most vile elevator music he'd ever heard.
Within a few moments, his salvation from the horrid tunes came... in the voice of a man he once hated. A man -- had he been human -- he would've been proud to call son.
"Angel."
"Giles."
The silence was typical: strained, tense, horribly uncomfortable.
"Am I supposed to guess?" Angel inquired.
"Um, no, I'm just phoning to tell you about two new vampires that have become our acquaintances."
"What? Is everyone okay? That's why you usually call; someone's hurt or dead."
"No, Darien and Bobby wouldn't dare hurt us. They are too devoted to Willow and Spike. But Willow more so."
"Darien and who?"
"Bobby. I'll start at the beginning..."
*****
end part nine
Author: AriellaGiselle
Spoilers: a small reference to "Homecoming" (Buffy: S3)
*****
"I'm going patrolling," Buffy announced. The Slayerettes looked up from the ancient volumes spread over the table to gawk at her.
"You say that like it's something new," Anya murmured, wincing at the sudden pain of Xander's foot coming down hard on hers. "What?"
"Nothing, Ahn," Xander said, turning the page in his assigned book.
"Spike, you wouldn't want to come with, would you?" Buffy asked. "I suppose I could use the company."
"Sure, Slayer. Why not?" the blonde vampire said easily.
Willow spoke up, "Why not make it a family outing? I mean, Dawn's at home with your mom, and the rest of us are bored to tears with Giles' musty old books." Willow reddened and smiled at Giles. "Sorry, Giles. No offense to the books."
Giles returned the smile and shook his head.
"I'm going home. Patrolling isn't sparking anything for me," Anya chimed in.
"As Oz once said, 'As Anya goes, so goes my nation'," Xander remarked.
"I don't think he said 'Anya', Xand," Buffy said.
"Patrolling?" Tara reminded the bantering group.
"Yeah, so, we going?" Buffy asked. Everyone nodded, save for Giles.
He stood, taking his glasses off and polishing them with his handkerchief and said, "I think I shall retire for the evening. I have a few phone calls to make before the morning, and I wish to get them over with."
"Okay, ramblers, let's get rambling," Buffy said around a toothy smile.
Xander groaned, "No references to crazy vampire movies, please!"
*****
Charlie Borden sighed, staring at the papers in his hands. He loved his job and the power that came with it. Someone once told him that he was nothing but a white boy on a power trip, but that he was good at what he did because of the hunger for said power. He had decided long ago that the fool hadn't known what he was talking about, but now he wasn't so sure of himself. His arrogant, smug attitude had somewhat dulled with age; now he was unconvinced, unsure, and terrified at the prospect of a powerless future.
He turned his attention back to his work, struggling with his own peace of mind.
The official documents declared the Agency and its charter null and void, arranging for all of its agents to be reassigned, and its leader to be allowed to retire with full pension and benefits, if he so chose. All he had to do was sign them. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he picked up the pen and set it lightly on the paper. He registered the movement and flung the pen against the wall.
"No!" he whispered, "No, I won't do it."
He jumped up, knocking his chair to the floor, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.
*****
"I think we're alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone aro-ound," Claire sang softly. Eberts smiled and pulled her into his arms. She continued humming the soft tune as she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him. "I never would've guessed..."
"Me neither, Claire. Me neither," he replied gently, stroking her hair in slow measured moves.
The annoying clang of the bell over the door broke them from their reverie, drawing their attention to the one person they had no intention of ever seeing again.
"Sir. What are you doing here? Last time you had almost gotten killed. I figured our luck would have gotten better," Claire spat.
"I came to speak to Eberts."
"Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it, sir. Go home. Enjoy your retirement. I dare say you've earned it," Albert said, almost pleading with his former boss.
"Claire, can we have a moment?" The Official ignored the pleas from his ex-lackey.
She stared at him for a moment before turning her face to gaze questioningly at the man still holding her in his arms. He closed his eyes and nodded, placing a loving, gentle kiss on the top of her head.
After she left, sauntering slowly to the training room, The Official broke the tense silence, "Claire, huh? Never would've guessed."
"That's the general consensus. What do you want, sir?" Eberts said in the most exasperated tone he could muster.
"I refuse to sign the Omega papers. I won't do it."
"You have to. You've already lost your assistant, your Invisible Man, your top agent, and your Keeper. You don't have much left to loose."
"I have my pride, my sense of honor."
"What pride? This from the man who squeezed every penny out of his budget, who never let his top agents have a decent vacation. You did kill them, sir. They won't be forgiving. And neither will Claire."
"I know, but..."
"No! You don't know!" Eberts interrupted, " You couldn't possibly know how Claire slaved over her equipment for you! How Robert cursed your very existence! How I tried to keep my temper cool every time you told me to shut up!" He let out all his pent up frustrations in one fell swoop, sending them out like poisoned arrows, sailing true to their destination.
He continued, quieter, calmer than before, "Please, I beg you, sir. Go home. Tend your gardens. Check on old friends that have retired already. Live out a simple life, without the worry of money or invisible agents. Go, please."
"I can't. The Agency was my life. I'm not giving up."
Over the Official's shoulder, through his tirade of why he couldn't let the Agency go, Eberts could see the door open and Buffy slip in. She stopped, staring in wonder at the man now yelling at Eberts.
"Um, excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt this week's edition of the McNeil-Lerher Top-Secret Update, but I need my jacket and my friends in one sane piece to help me fight my battles. So, if you'll stop being a pain in our ass, and do as Albert suggests, life will get much easier for all of us." She broke her stone cold gaze and walked to the table to grab her jacket. As she slung it over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the soft, worn-in leather, she turned back to the Official. "Oh, it wasn't an option or a request. It was an order. Someone like you should understand orders, I guess." She shot him a freezing glance and a kind, warm one to Eberts and jogged out the door.
The two men stood in silence for a few seconds before Buffy stuck her head back in. "Albert, I need you and Claire in the cemetery in twenty minutes. We caught word of a new big bad, and we're going to need some help. I'm going home to grab some weapons. Help yourselves to the stuff in the back. But you knew that." She smiled again and ran off down the dark streets.
*****
Giles picked up the phone, hearing the dialtone as if from far away, and quickly set it down again. His eyes closed under the weight of his own turmoil. Angel needed to know about Darien and Bobby, in case they decided to make their way down to LA, but Giles didn't want to be the one to make the call.
His responsibility was slowly, surely crushing him like an archaic form of torture; A man who shared his name, albeit not the same part of the name, was killed in such a manner in 1692. Giles Corey had been strong, proclaiming, "More weight!" moments before he died. Rupert Giles had to be just as strong, and that did not mean shirking his duties off on his Slayer.
He wasn't sure why he thought of this phone call as his duty, lord knows he shouldn't have, but he did, all the same.
Once again picking up the phone, he dialed the number and listened to the ringing, half praying that no one would answer.
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless!" a cheery voice came over the line.
"Cordelia? This is Giles. Is Angel in?"
"Giles! It's great to hear from you! Um, yeah, I think Angel's here. Is something wrong? You sound kind of tense." The sympathetic tone of her bubbly voice softened his heart and made him smile.
"No, Cordelia, everything and everyone is fine. I'm just calling to inform Angel of a couple of details about a recent... well, I suppose you could call it case, although, that's rather your term, is it not?"
She laughed, "Yeah, it is. Hang on for a moment. He's probably up brooding in his room. You know Angel."
"Yeah, I do," Giles whispered as he heard the line click over to the soft strains of the most vile elevator music he'd ever heard.
Within a few moments, his salvation from the horrid tunes came... in the voice of a man he once hated. A man -- had he been human -- he would've been proud to call son.
"Angel."
"Giles."
The silence was typical: strained, tense, horribly uncomfortable.
"Am I supposed to guess?" Angel inquired.
"Um, no, I'm just phoning to tell you about two new vampires that have become our acquaintances."
"What? Is everyone okay? That's why you usually call; someone's hurt or dead."
"No, Darien and Bobby wouldn't dare hurt us. They are too devoted to Willow and Spike. But Willow more so."
"Darien and who?"
"Bobby. I'll start at the beginning..."
*****
end part nine
