Chapter 2 -- the Standing Stones
The Coven had not convened a full meeting since shortly after Giles had brought Willow back to England. They tended to be insular by nature and, while one or two or even a whole handful of them could frequently be found together socially, these sort of meetings were rare. When they did gather, it was more often to celebrate the Sabats and Esbats than to make any sort of decisions or plans. Everyone was inclined to agree that they had met far too often for that purpose in the past year, but there was nothing for it. When any one member called for a council, then all members had to come if they possibly could, physically or astrally. It was the way it had always been.
Giles had been packing when he had gotten the phone-call from Cassandra. "Your plane doesn't leave for several hours yet, Rupert. That should give you plenty of time to put in an appearance at the Standing Stones, hmm?"
He would rather not have gone, but she was right that there was more than enough time. Besides which, a council had been called for. He could not have avoided it. Even if he had been out of the country, he would have been expected to put in an astral appearance. So he had hastily finished packing and called for a taxi.
The Standing Stones were not what the name implied. It was not one of the stone circles scattered all about Great Britain, but rather a dwelling. It was, ostensibly, a summer home for Cuchulain and Tinne, the Coven's High Priest and Priestess. It resembled nothing so much as a medieval castle, which was hardly surprising since that was exactly what it had started out as, built on what was one of the holiest sites on Britain, although only members of the Coven knew that. The site had once been a home to a stone circle, and the name had stuck in spite of the fact that no trace remained.
It had been added to and improved over the years, but it did not seem to have changed in the slightest. At least, not from the outside. The inside was large out of all proportion to the outside dimensions. It had plumbing and electricity and Internet access, guest rooms, several large, ornate dining halls, three kitchens, meeting halls, enough spare rooms that every member of the Coven could have lived there without things getting cramped, a massive library that made the New York Public Library seem downright tiny by comparison. No modern amenity or convenience was lacking, and it was well-staffed as well with literally dozens of maids and butlers. Several members of the Coven lived there full time.
The trip to the Standing Stones was spent by Giles in brooding silence. Cassandra had obviously made some sense or other out of the vision that had prompted him to book the first flight to the States. That she felt it important enough to call for a council was ominous beyond words. The closer the cab got to the Standing Stones, the more his sinking feeling grew. It was downright oppressive by the time the massive stone structure came into sight.
A butler paid the cab-fare and carried his bags inside, promising that there would be a car waiting to take him to the airport when the meeting was over. Of course, he had no idea what the meeting was about, only that there was to be one. No one who worked at the Standing Stones asked too many questions or displayed too much curiosity. It was an important trait, the main one to get them hired in the first place, and they were well-paid for their disinterest.
As he approached the front entrance, he noticed a young girl, no more than ten, sitting on the ground cradling something in her arms. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a fox, its fur matted with blood. It should have been alarmed to find itself in a strange human's arms, but it seemed quite at-ease. He smiled when a slight breeze carried the sound of the girl's singing to his ears.
"Make a new friend, did you, Morgaine?" he asked gently, smiling.
"He was hurt. I fixed him." She smiled proudly up at him.
"Let's have a look, shall we?" he offered, kneeling next to her and gingerly reaching for the fox.
It glared at him, but made no move to escape or attack as he gently touched its side. Morgaine had that effect on even the wildest of wild animals. The healing itself, he noted, was imperfect. There was still some scar-tissue present, but no open wounds or other signs to indicate that the creature had recently come close to bleeding to death. Morgaine was growing quite skilled, not that he would have expected less from Skye's daughter. Healing ran in that family the way blue eyes or freckles ran in some, and Morgaine showed more promise than any member of her family had in generations.
She smiled, pleased by his approving expression. "You're one of the first to arrive," she told him absently, hugging the fox to her chest. "Do you think mum will let me keep her?"
"I think that's something you're going to have to ask her," Giles replied with a smile. "She's a wild animal, though, Morgaine. Surely she would be happier in the wild?" he suggested gently.
Morgaine's smile faded slightly, but she nodded. Gently kissing the fox on the tip of its nose, she set it down and watched as it slowly wandered off towards a large wooded area nearby. She watched it go with a philosophic shrug, wiping her hands on her jeans and picking up the book she had abandoned in favor of the wounded animal.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?" Giles laughed when he saw the cover.
She shrugged. "It's a good book, Mister Giles. Not very accurate, but still good."
Giles smiled faintly. "I see. So long as it's good. Who's your favorite character, hmm?"
"Hermione Granger. Her parents were muggles, but she's still pretty cool."
Giles smiled and nodded, pretending he knew what a 'muggle' was. "I'm sure she's quite… cool. What powers does she have?"
"Brain-power, mostly." Morgaine shrugged. "She studies a lot and does her best. She always scores top marks."
"Well, good on her." Giles smiled and nodded.
Morgaine started to speak again, but the alarm on her watch went off. "Bugger," she muttered.
"Morgaine!" Giles gasped. "Language, please…"
She shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Mister Giles. Got to go do my homework now." She scowled and pulled herself to her feet.
"Pretend you're Hermione," he suggested, smiling.
"I know. I like doing my school-work, but the book was just getting to an interesting part." She shrugged. "Oh, well. Fluffy can wait, but I have an algebra test tomorrow." Grabbing her book, she skipped off, humming to herself.
"Little young for algebra, isn't she?" Giles asked Tinne as she emerged from the Standing Stones to greet him.
"She's a bright girl. Skye has her in some sort of accelerated program." Tinne shrugged. "I remember when she couldn't even pronounce algebra."
Giles smiled and nodded, adding wryly, "Hell, I remember when her mother was too young to pronounce algebra properly."
Tinne nodded, smiling. "We're getting old, old friend… Cassandra would like a word with you before the meeting. She's in the library."
Giles nodded. "Thanks, Tinne. I'll see you at the meeting." He started into the castle.
"Non-magical folk," Tinne called after him.
"Hmm?"
"Muggles, Rupert. It refers to non-magical folk."
He smiled and nodded. Tinne was a mind-reader and, while she never intruded unless the need was dire, it was nearly impossible for her to tune out surface thoughts. "Thanks. And, um… Fluffy?"
"Twelve-foot tall dog with three heads."
Giles blinked. "I see."
Tinne grinned. "See you at the meeting. Should I have a late lunch sent to you in the library?"
"Oh, I'd be grateful. I'm afraid, in my rush, I quite forgot to eat lunch or breakfast."
"Yes, well, the last thing we need is you passing out over the Atlantic ocean. I'll have a tray sent."
Giles smiled and nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'll see you in council."
***
The library was enormous and incredibly well-stocked. Three levels high, every wall was dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. No windows, only a handful of doors, and ladders everywhere. A large fireplace was set into the east wall, surrounded by a cluster of chairs and couches. The lower level contained other chairs, couches, and several tables, distributed more or less at random. Giles had always found the room incredibly cozy.
He spotted Cassandra easily, standing in front of the roaring fire with a book in her hands.
"The best lack all convictions, while the worst are full of passionate intensity," she announced as she became aware of his presence. She turned and smiled at him, snapping the book she was holding shut.
"I'm sorry. Is that meant to be somehow significant?" he inquired with a sigh.
Normally it did not bother him when Cassandra was cryptic. Today, it was just short of infuriating, perhaps because Sunnydale was somehow involved. Which, of course, meant that Buffy was somehow involved. He wanted answers.
"Yeats, Rupert. He's a poet."
"I know who Yeats is, Cassandra. I did go to University…"
"More accurately, you were enrolled but did not attend," she corrected.
"Didn't keep me from picking up more than one degree," he pointed out in a tight voice.
He was annoyed with her for pointing it out. She was right, of course, but that was quite beside the point. In the early days, when he had been young, angry, and rebellious, he had not gone to many classes. But later he had applied himself with conviction, more than managing to make up for lost time. Still, this was the second time today that she had chosen to bring up that particular period of his past. Why?
When Cassandra did not respond, he sighed and continued. "What does Yeats have to do with… anything?"
"The blood-dimmed tide. The Beast that slouches towards Bethlehem, its hour come 'round at last. I thought those turns of phrase sounded familiar…" She opened the book again and handed it to him. "Poem's called 'The Second Coming'."
Giles slipped on his glasses and read. Once he began the poem, it was almost instantly familiar to him.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Giles closed the book and looked up at her. "The Second Coming, hmm?" He shook his head. "Cassandra, you aren't Christian," he pointed out. "I would think that makes it rather difficult to subscribe to a belief in the Second Coming of Christ."
"I don't see any mention of any such person in that poem, Ripper. What I see is two-thousand years of stony sleep about to end. Did you know there was an earthquake in Sunnydale this morning?"
He blinked and shook his head. "No. I didn't."
"There was." She shrugged. "Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top. When the bough shakes, the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all."
Giles blinked. "Has anyone ever told you that you are patently insane?"
Cassandra nodded easily. "Quite frequently, as a matter of fact. All seers are insane. It's how it works. You honestly think a person can be privy to things I'm privy to and avoid getting driven insane by them? You honestly think that any sane person ever ends up on the receiving end of a vision?"
She had a point, he supposed, and she had never been wrong in the past, even if she was quite mad. "You're sitting here telling me that the Second Coming is at hand?"
"No. I'm, um… standing here telling you."
"Right." Giles blinked and nodded cautiously. "Have I mentioned that you aren't Christian and therefore not really entitled to believe in the Second Coming of Christ?"
She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration for a moment. "Not his Second Coming," she informed him through clenched teeth.
"Whose, then?"
She shook her head. "The earth grows restless. An ancient evil is awakening in Sunnydale."
"There is always an ancient evil awakening in Sunnydale, Cassandra," he pointed out. "What makes this one special?"
"No bloody clue." She shook her head in frustration. "But that does not change that it is special and that you are quite badly needed to help combat it."
Giles sighed. "I bought the plane ticket already."
"I know."
He smiled faintly and nodded. "Of course you do."
She walked over to a nearby table, piled high with volumes of poetry that she had been searching earlier. Picking up a decanter of brandy, she waggled it in his direction. "Offer you a drink before the meeting starts?"
"A drink would be nice. Some insight would be better."
"Perhaps both are yet attainable," she suggested, handing him a glass and returning to the fireplace.
"Tell me what you know?" he requested, joining her. "What have you seen?"
"Irises in a patch of roses… I don't know why or what that's meant to signify…"
"There were irises in my rose-garden this morning. Indigenous to Costa Rica. I had… assumed that Willow had something to do with it. We had a… she used to like to bring exotic flowers to us."
"They are not her doing." Cassandra shook her head. "Tea leaves. Ask her about the tea leaves."
"What about them? I don't understand."
"Nor do I. Nor… nor… can I." She turned to face him and touched two fingers to his chest, over his heart. "The battle-ground is… this… this conflict you walk into… different, so different. Not like anything you've faced before, with her or without her. I… it's not mine to… to know or to… say, but…" She closed her eyes and continued in a harsh voice and uneven. "Always before, you have drawn strength from one another, but… This may be different. You may be forced to fight some of the coming battles alone. You, her, Willow…" She shook her head abruptly. "I'm sorry, Rupert. I can't say more."
He nodded his understanding. She had struggled to say that much and even if it made no sense, he was grateful to her for it. "Here." He offered her the glass in his hand. "You look like you could use this more."
She nodded gratefully and drained it in a single gulp. "Come on. The others have all arrived. It will not be a long council."
He nodded and followed her to the meeting hall.
***
"And ancient evil is awakening in Sunnydale," Cassandra told the others simply when silence had fallen.
"Another one?" Phoenix sighed and, for all the sarcasm in her tone, there was no denying the concern there.
"It's always Sunnydale," Skye murmured, and no one bothered contradicting her. "They have an Apocalypse a week, just lately. And, for the most part, they still manage just fine all the same. Why should this time be any different?"
"Because this time it is." Cassandra shrugged. "More is needed. The Slayer's power is insufficient."
"What about Willow's power?" Cuchulain asked gently. "Combined with that of the Slayer--"
"Insufficient," Cassandra interrupted. "No, she is powerful. She is Power itself, but that is not enough."
"Then what hope have we in all of this?" Tinne inquired in a low voice. She glanced thoughtfully at Cassandra for a moment before turning her gaze to Giles. "You go?"
He nodded. "Yes, Tinne. My plane leaves in a few hours."
"You… are powerful, Rupert," Tinne conceded, "but not so powerful as Willow. There is no real reason to suspect that you will succeed where she fails."
Giles nodded. "I know. But… these are my friends, people I care about. I can't just leave them to some unknowable evil."
"It's a huge risk," Skye pointed out.
"And unwise besides," Phoenix agreed.
Cassandra's whisper was clearly heard throughout the room. "Power takes many forms."
Tinne considered for a moment, then nodded. "It does indeed, and what one man is strong in another shall be weak in." She smiled at Giles. "You have power, more than you know. Something tells me that it will stand you in good stead in the coming days."
Cuchulain nodded. "She's right. There are more fields of battle than the battlefield and sometimes kind words may serve where the blade or the spell does not." He nodded again, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, I think you may yet succeed where Willow and your Slayer alone could not."
Giles smiled anxiously, hoping they were right. Not that it would have mattered. Knowing that Buffy and the others were in danger, that they needed him, he could not have done anything else.
"You will be in our prayers," Tinne assured him. "And if there is any way we may be of service--"
"There is not," Cassandra told her bluntly. "This is his fight, not ours."
Tinne blinked, but nodded. "As you say, Cassandra."
Giles inhaled deeply and rose. "I should be off, then, if I'm to catch my flight."
"Stay safe, friend," Tinne said quietly.
Giles nodded and turned to leave, smiling and nodding to each of the well-wishes he received as he made his way from the room. He was surprised when Coll, a quiet young man who had been initiated into the Coven only a few weeks before Tara's death, followed him from the room.
"Hello, Coll." Giles smiled curiously at him.
"Mister Giles."
"Rupert, hmm? We're all friends here."
"Yeah." He nodded a little uneasily. "Um, look, Rupert… Sunnydale, right now… not a safe place."
Giles nodded. "Sunnydale has never been a safe place, Coll. I'm quite used to that."
He nodded again. "Yeah. Well… things are stirring there."
"So Cassandra informs me."
"I can feel the land screaming. Something's poisoning it. Things are changing, like a metamorphosis. Nothing pretty like a butterfly is going to be popping out this time, though. It's going to be ugly and incredibly hungry and it's going to have teeth."
Giles nodded slowly. Willow had made a comment shortly before her departure about the Hell-mouth having teeth. Coll would know, too. The young man had a level of sympathy for the earth that was greater than any Giles had ever seen.
"Life from death," Cassandra agreed, joining them in the hall and gently resting her hand on Coll's shoulder. "Born and baptized in blood."
"Comforting," Giles remarked, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them even though they were not dirty.
"Mmm… Fight it with what it does not understand, Rupert," Cassandra advised gently. "And your car's here."
"Is it?" he asked.
"Well, it will be by the time you get to the drive," Cassandra assured him with a faint smile, patting his shoulder. "Have a nice flight."
"Easy for you to say," he laughed, shaking his head and starting for the door.