Back Before Dawn
by Annakovsky
Part 6/11
See part 1 for disclaimer, rating, etc.
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Giles: 3:36 pm, Tuesday, February 18, 2003
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I was making tea when Buffy came to find me, looking tired, with Willow trailing behind her looking different in a way I couldn't define. Buffy had a quick conversation with me about the Potential I'd found most recently, then went to gather the girls for a training session. She's nearly always brief and business-like when we talk these days – I think she's still angry with me for leaving her to go to England. Buffy doesn't forgive easily.
Willow lingered, though, looking at me thoughtfully.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked her.
"Sure," she said. She took the mug I handed her gratefully, settling on one of the stools at the counter. "Hey Giles, whatever happened with you and Olivia?" she asked. Well, where on earth had that come from?
"Olivia?" I asked. "Nothing, really. We rather drifted apart – things in my life were a bit too, ah, dangerous for her liking, I suppose."
"But didn't you ever think of asking her to move here? Settling down, maybe?"
"Well… I suppose I may have thought about it once or twice. She was going to come visit shortly after Joyce died… but then Glory became such a threat I told her not to. And after Buffy died… well, I wasn't thinking much about Olivia, I suppose. I don't blame her for not wanting to be around that any longer."
"Oh, Giles."
"All in the past. What on earth makes you think of it now?"
"Oh, nothing, I was just… thinking about stuff, is all. Um, also, I kind of need to do some research. Do we have any books here on vengeance demons?"
"Well, there's not much left of my library, but you might try checking Black's Dictionary of the Demonic and Otherworldly. Asking Anya would probably be a much more efficient way of gathering information on that subject, however."
"I know, but no one knows where she is."
"Really? Well, sometimes she does seem to need a break from the house. Not that one blames her. She'll probably return in the next day or so."
"Well, I guess I'll stick with the books until she gets back. Also, I was wondering if I could look at your Watcher Diaries?"
"Whatever for?"
"Um… I just wanted to look at all the stuff that's happened in the last two years, see if I pick up any patterns that may, um, be related, uh, to the First. You know."
"Well, I don't know if you'll find anything, but you're welcome to look. Do you also think that vengeance demons may be related to the First?"
"Huh? Um… well, maybe. I just want to, sort of, check on their powers, that sort of thing. See if maybe they could help us combat the First. I think."
"Well, good luck to you. I suppose any avenues of thought are worth pursuing at this point."
"Thanks, Giles." We chatted for a bit longer before she headed off to check on the books.
For some reason the way Willow looked today made me think of the old days when the children and I spent all our time holed up in the high school library. At the time it seemed like they were always going through an unfortunate amount of pain, between the monsters and their romantic heartaches, but looking back on it now, those days seem almost idyllic. Never say that seven years on a Hellmouth won't warp your perception of reality. But they were always such a cheerful group, despite all their brushes with death. I believe they used to think me something of a stick-in-the-mud, but I rather enjoyed their high spirits. Made me feel young myself.
I don't feel young anymore. My joints ache more often than I'd like to admit, and a night out patrolling hurts like the devil the next morning. And the world weighs heavily on me. No wife, no children, and the ones in whom I invested so much, loved as my own, are grown and have no use for me. I shouldn't have left them, I suppose, but I couldn't have stayed either. Perhaps I would have lost them even if I had stayed – we all seem to be on a course of self-destruction, and I don't see how we can stop it. This apocalypse may very well be the one that takes. In the past we always seemed to overcome evil by working together as a group, but I can't imagine that happening now. We may all live in one house, but we are alone, alone, alone.
I was so happy to have Buffy back, alive again, but perhaps there are worse things than death. Perhaps Slayers die young for a reason, so the darkness doesn't overtake them. Buffy seems to lose more of her humanity every week. I wish I could talk to her, help her, but she clearly doesn't respect my judgment any longer. Perhaps that is deserved. But I worry very much about her, about the way she treats the others, and especially about her relationship with Spike. She cannot see clearly where he is concerned, and it endangers us all.
I want so much to solve things for the children, make their lives better, let them rest. Ironic, since I left to force them to solve things for themselves, isn't it? And now it it's too late for me to help them – I have abdicated that role in their lives. And even if they still relied on me, their pain seems to be fixed, immutable. Perhaps death is all we have to look forward to in the end.
Until then, life must go on. And speaking of life, I believe my laundry is finished. I hope Spike isn't in the basement at the moment, as it irks me to see him in this household. And I must say, the soul hasn't made him any less exasperating.
by Annakovsky
Part 6/11
See part 1 for disclaimer, rating, etc.
*
*
********************************************
Giles: 3:36 pm, Tuesday, February 18, 2003
********************************************
*
*
I was making tea when Buffy came to find me, looking tired, with Willow trailing behind her looking different in a way I couldn't define. Buffy had a quick conversation with me about the Potential I'd found most recently, then went to gather the girls for a training session. She's nearly always brief and business-like when we talk these days – I think she's still angry with me for leaving her to go to England. Buffy doesn't forgive easily.
Willow lingered, though, looking at me thoughtfully.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked her.
"Sure," she said. She took the mug I handed her gratefully, settling on one of the stools at the counter. "Hey Giles, whatever happened with you and Olivia?" she asked. Well, where on earth had that come from?
"Olivia?" I asked. "Nothing, really. We rather drifted apart – things in my life were a bit too, ah, dangerous for her liking, I suppose."
"But didn't you ever think of asking her to move here? Settling down, maybe?"
"Well… I suppose I may have thought about it once or twice. She was going to come visit shortly after Joyce died… but then Glory became such a threat I told her not to. And after Buffy died… well, I wasn't thinking much about Olivia, I suppose. I don't blame her for not wanting to be around that any longer."
"Oh, Giles."
"All in the past. What on earth makes you think of it now?"
"Oh, nothing, I was just… thinking about stuff, is all. Um, also, I kind of need to do some research. Do we have any books here on vengeance demons?"
"Well, there's not much left of my library, but you might try checking Black's Dictionary of the Demonic and Otherworldly. Asking Anya would probably be a much more efficient way of gathering information on that subject, however."
"I know, but no one knows where she is."
"Really? Well, sometimes she does seem to need a break from the house. Not that one blames her. She'll probably return in the next day or so."
"Well, I guess I'll stick with the books until she gets back. Also, I was wondering if I could look at your Watcher Diaries?"
"Whatever for?"
"Um… I just wanted to look at all the stuff that's happened in the last two years, see if I pick up any patterns that may, um, be related, uh, to the First. You know."
"Well, I don't know if you'll find anything, but you're welcome to look. Do you also think that vengeance demons may be related to the First?"
"Huh? Um… well, maybe. I just want to, sort of, check on their powers, that sort of thing. See if maybe they could help us combat the First. I think."
"Well, good luck to you. I suppose any avenues of thought are worth pursuing at this point."
"Thanks, Giles." We chatted for a bit longer before she headed off to check on the books.
For some reason the way Willow looked today made me think of the old days when the children and I spent all our time holed up in the high school library. At the time it seemed like they were always going through an unfortunate amount of pain, between the monsters and their romantic heartaches, but looking back on it now, those days seem almost idyllic. Never say that seven years on a Hellmouth won't warp your perception of reality. But they were always such a cheerful group, despite all their brushes with death. I believe they used to think me something of a stick-in-the-mud, but I rather enjoyed their high spirits. Made me feel young myself.
I don't feel young anymore. My joints ache more often than I'd like to admit, and a night out patrolling hurts like the devil the next morning. And the world weighs heavily on me. No wife, no children, and the ones in whom I invested so much, loved as my own, are grown and have no use for me. I shouldn't have left them, I suppose, but I couldn't have stayed either. Perhaps I would have lost them even if I had stayed – we all seem to be on a course of self-destruction, and I don't see how we can stop it. This apocalypse may very well be the one that takes. In the past we always seemed to overcome evil by working together as a group, but I can't imagine that happening now. We may all live in one house, but we are alone, alone, alone.
I was so happy to have Buffy back, alive again, but perhaps there are worse things than death. Perhaps Slayers die young for a reason, so the darkness doesn't overtake them. Buffy seems to lose more of her humanity every week. I wish I could talk to her, help her, but she clearly doesn't respect my judgment any longer. Perhaps that is deserved. But I worry very much about her, about the way she treats the others, and especially about her relationship with Spike. She cannot see clearly where he is concerned, and it endangers us all.
I want so much to solve things for the children, make their lives better, let them rest. Ironic, since I left to force them to solve things for themselves, isn't it? And now it it's too late for me to help them – I have abdicated that role in their lives. And even if they still relied on me, their pain seems to be fixed, immutable. Perhaps death is all we have to look forward to in the end.
Until then, life must go on. And speaking of life, I believe my laundry is finished. I hope Spike isn't in the basement at the moment, as it irks me to see him in this household. And I must say, the soul hasn't made him any less exasperating.