All the Difference, Chapter 3 of ?
All the Difference
Written for Summer_of_Giles
Beta'd by Mr. Jay
FRT
Chapter word count: 1300
Pairings in the fic: Giles/Jenny, Giles/Xander, Giles/Ethan, Willow/Tara, Willow/Kennedy, references to Anya/Xander
Disclaimer: Giles and the other inhabitants of the Buffyverse belong to Joss and ME, not to me. I make no money, I have no rights.
Sorry to get only one chapter up today. The original plot had a small whole in it that bugged me more and more as I worked on this. This morning a whole new (better I hope) direction for the plot occurred to me, and I'm reworking everything I've written. Those of you paying attention will also notice that there has been some tweaking of the pairings for this fic. There will be either 6 or 7 chapters in total. My next posting day is July 2.
Inspired (this chapter especially) by reading Antennapedia's wonderful Watcher's Child stories.
Chapter Three
Giles felt mildly better now that he had showered and dressed, but he was still rather concerned about encountering the children. They were strangers to him, but would expect him to be their father. He hoped he would be able to have a cup of tea or two before he had to face them. He wouldn’t even think about the fact that Xander was dead in this world. Xander was alive where it mattered most - in the reality that was Giles’ home. The reality to which he would soon, he hoped, return.
Giles stepped into the kitchen and stopped, unable to believe who was sitting there, calmly as you please, drinking tea at the kitchen table.
“Hullo, Ripper,” Ethan said with a sly grin. He picked up the teapot and began to fill a second cup. “I hear you’re not yourself this morning.”
Giles crossed the kitchen in three rapid paces, brushed aside a chair, and pulled the kitchen table away from Ethan and to the side. Oblivious to the clattering and shattering of the tea things, Giles grabbed Ethan by his shirtfront and pulled him bodily from the chair until his face was just inches away from Giles’ own.
“You!” Giles said. “You bloody, sodding pillock!”
“I’m not complaining,” Ethan said, “because I always did like it when you played rough, but what’s brought on this delightful little episode of unprovoked violence?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. This is why you were on my doorstep two days ago. You’re conspiring with yourself. Of course you are. No one else would work with you. Where’s Jenny. Where are the children? So help me God, if you’ve so much as touched them you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
“Rupert! What on earth?” Jenny yelled. Giles turned his head to see her standing, seemingly unharmed in the kitchen doorway. Willow stood behind her, and both women looked alarmed.
“Did he hurt you? Are the children alright?” Giles demanded.
“Of course he didn’t hurt us. What are you thinking, English?” Jenny said. “Let Ethan go.”
“But -” Before Giles could respond, Jenny stepped forward and pried his hands off Ethan’s shirt. Pushing Giles away, she tried to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from Ethan’s clothes. Ethan directed a pleased smirk at Giles.
“What sort of world do you come from, where a man would violently attack his best friend for no reason at all?” Jenny demanded as she straightened Ethan’s collar.
“I’m sure Ethan has his own, twisted reasons,” Giles said, “but we haven’t been friends for a very long time.”
“I didn’t mean Ethan, Rupert,” Jenny said. “I meant you.”
This was not the reaction Giles was expecting. Ethan’s smirk became even wider, as he flicked invisible specks of lint off his shoulders. Giles glanced from Jenny to Willow and back, but it was clear from their faces that both women felt he was in the wrong.
Giles turned to Jenny “Hasn’t it occurred to you that Ethan is most likely responsible for my presence in this world and for your husband’s banishment to mine.”
Jenny stared coldly at Giles “Why would Ethan do something like that?”
“I have no earthly idea,” Giles said. “Possibly for the same reason that he turned me into a Firal demon and tried to get Buffy to kill me.”
“He never did that.” Willow said, indignantly, hands on her hips.
“Then maybe for the same reason that he distributed cursed chocolate to all of Sunnydale so that the mayor could sacrifice babies to a demon,” Giles said.
“He never did that, either,” Willow said.
“Oh, and I suppose he didn’t tattoo Buffy to try to lure the demon Eighon to attack her instead of him.”
“No,” said Jenny, “he didn’t.”
“And he didn’t cast a spell which made all the children in Sunnydale turn into whatever they had dressed up as for Halloween, and nearly got Buffy killed,” Giles said.
“No,” said Jenny and Willow together.
“That’s not altogether true,” Ethan said.
“No,” Willow said. “You couldn’t have done those terrible things.”
“Oh, no, not the others. Really, they sound far too fatiguing. But I did plan to cast the spell for Halloween. I thought it would be a grand joke that my old friend would appreciate, and would serve Janus at the same time. But when Jenny insisted that you celebrate Halloween in true American style, the two of you came to my shop for costumes. You applied some rather forceful persuasion until I admitted my plans. Then you made me come to your house and help distribute candy instead. I was quite put out at the time.”
Ethan reached for his teacup, which was teetering on the edge of the table, the only object that had not been flung to the floor by Giles’ violent rearrangement of the furniture. He took a sip before continuing. “I hadn’t realized you were foolish enough to live on a hellmouth, Rupert. I hadn’t the faintest suspicion that Buffy was the slayer, or I would never have rented her a costume. I’m not an idiot. So really, it all worked out for the best. When Eighon resurfaced, Buffy was glad to help rescue her watcher’s old friend. I doubt she’d have been so generous to the man who, as you say, nearly got her killed.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Giles smiled fiercely at the memory. “Neither was I.”
“Here,” said Jenny, handing Giles a broom and dustpan. “Make sure you get every little piece. The children are often barefoot in here. We’ll be outside with Tara, Dawn and the children when you’re done.”
“Tara?” Giles said. “Tara’s here? She wasn’t killed by Warren?”
“Warren who?” Willow demanded, sounding very much as if she needed the information for a pre-emptive strike.
Giles glanced at Jenny, standing there with her arms folded. Setting aside the dustpan for the moment, he began to sweep. “I’m not sure I ever knew Warren’s surname name,” he said. “Andrew would know, of course.”
“Of course,” Ethan said. “Andrew who?”
Giles glared at him. “Andrew Wells.”
“And who is Andrew Wells?” Jenny asked.
“Ah.” Giles bent over to sweep beneath the table. “You might know him as the boy who summoned the flying monkeys during Sunnydale High School’s performance of Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “It’s a story he recounts with entirely unwarranted frequency and pride.”
“Oh,” Willow said. “Tucker’s brother.”
“Tucker Wells?” Jenny said. “He was in one of my classes. I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“I envy you,” Giles said. He stooped and swept the broken china into the dustpan. Then tipped it into the kitchen dustbin.
“I’d like a chance to see Tara again before I go,” he said. “But then I really would like to return home. If the spellbooks from the Sunnydale High School Library are here, I believe I can find the necessary spell quite quickly. If you will help me, Jenny and Willow, and Tara as well, we should have ample magic to send me home.”
“I’m hurt that you’re excluding me from the party, Ripper,” Ethan said. “I’d just love to help.”
“I don’t need any help from you,” Giles said.
“I rather think you do,” Ethan said. “For instance, I can help you by pointing out that there’s rather large shard of teacup there in the corner near the stove. You were so very vehement earlier about not wanting any harm to come to the children.”
Giles grimaced, but went to sweep up the last shard.
“Ethan’s spell work is very good," Willow said. "You should let him help us.”
Giles got a rag from beneath the sink and began to wipe up the tea that was still spread across the floor. “I wouldn’t let that man cast a spell within 100 miles of me if my life depended on it,” he said. “You lot may trust him but I don’t, and I never will.”
Written for Summer_of_Giles
Beta'd by Mr. Jay
FRT
Chapter word count: 1300
Pairings in the fic: Giles/Jenny, Giles/Xander, Giles/Ethan, Willow/Tara, Willow/Kennedy, references to Anya/Xander
Disclaimer: Giles and the other inhabitants of the Buffyverse belong to Joss and ME, not to me. I make no money, I have no rights.
Sorry to get only one chapter up today. The original plot had a small whole in it that bugged me more and more as I worked on this. This morning a whole new (better I hope) direction for the plot occurred to me, and I'm reworking everything I've written. Those of you paying attention will also notice that there has been some tweaking of the pairings for this fic. There will be either 6 or 7 chapters in total. My next posting day is July 2.
Inspired (this chapter especially) by reading Antennapedia's wonderful Watcher's Child stories.
Chapter Three
Giles felt mildly better now that he had showered and dressed, but he was still rather concerned about encountering the children. They were strangers to him, but would expect him to be their father. He hoped he would be able to have a cup of tea or two before he had to face them. He wouldn’t even think about the fact that Xander was dead in this world. Xander was alive where it mattered most - in the reality that was Giles’ home. The reality to which he would soon, he hoped, return.
Giles stepped into the kitchen and stopped, unable to believe who was sitting there, calmly as you please, drinking tea at the kitchen table.
“Hullo, Ripper,” Ethan said with a sly grin. He picked up the teapot and began to fill a second cup. “I hear you’re not yourself this morning.”
Giles crossed the kitchen in three rapid paces, brushed aside a chair, and pulled the kitchen table away from Ethan and to the side. Oblivious to the clattering and shattering of the tea things, Giles grabbed Ethan by his shirtfront and pulled him bodily from the chair until his face was just inches away from Giles’ own.
“You!” Giles said. “You bloody, sodding pillock!”
“I’m not complaining,” Ethan said, “because I always did like it when you played rough, but what’s brought on this delightful little episode of unprovoked violence?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. This is why you were on my doorstep two days ago. You’re conspiring with yourself. Of course you are. No one else would work with you. Where’s Jenny. Where are the children? So help me God, if you’ve so much as touched them you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
“Rupert! What on earth?” Jenny yelled. Giles turned his head to see her standing, seemingly unharmed in the kitchen doorway. Willow stood behind her, and both women looked alarmed.
“Did he hurt you? Are the children alright?” Giles demanded.
“Of course he didn’t hurt us. What are you thinking, English?” Jenny said. “Let Ethan go.”
“But -” Before Giles could respond, Jenny stepped forward and pried his hands off Ethan’s shirt. Pushing Giles away, she tried to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from Ethan’s clothes. Ethan directed a pleased smirk at Giles.
“What sort of world do you come from, where a man would violently attack his best friend for no reason at all?” Jenny demanded as she straightened Ethan’s collar.
“I’m sure Ethan has his own, twisted reasons,” Giles said, “but we haven’t been friends for a very long time.”
“I didn’t mean Ethan, Rupert,” Jenny said. “I meant you.”
This was not the reaction Giles was expecting. Ethan’s smirk became even wider, as he flicked invisible specks of lint off his shoulders. Giles glanced from Jenny to Willow and back, but it was clear from their faces that both women felt he was in the wrong.
Giles turned to Jenny “Hasn’t it occurred to you that Ethan is most likely responsible for my presence in this world and for your husband’s banishment to mine.”
Jenny stared coldly at Giles “Why would Ethan do something like that?”
“I have no earthly idea,” Giles said. “Possibly for the same reason that he turned me into a Firal demon and tried to get Buffy to kill me.”
“He never did that.” Willow said, indignantly, hands on her hips.
“Then maybe for the same reason that he distributed cursed chocolate to all of Sunnydale so that the mayor could sacrifice babies to a demon,” Giles said.
“He never did that, either,” Willow said.
“Oh, and I suppose he didn’t tattoo Buffy to try to lure the demon Eighon to attack her instead of him.”
“No,” said Jenny, “he didn’t.”
“And he didn’t cast a spell which made all the children in Sunnydale turn into whatever they had dressed up as for Halloween, and nearly got Buffy killed,” Giles said.
“No,” said Jenny and Willow together.
“That’s not altogether true,” Ethan said.
“No,” Willow said. “You couldn’t have done those terrible things.”
“Oh, no, not the others. Really, they sound far too fatiguing. But I did plan to cast the spell for Halloween. I thought it would be a grand joke that my old friend would appreciate, and would serve Janus at the same time. But when Jenny insisted that you celebrate Halloween in true American style, the two of you came to my shop for costumes. You applied some rather forceful persuasion until I admitted my plans. Then you made me come to your house and help distribute candy instead. I was quite put out at the time.”
Ethan reached for his teacup, which was teetering on the edge of the table, the only object that had not been flung to the floor by Giles’ violent rearrangement of the furniture. He took a sip before continuing. “I hadn’t realized you were foolish enough to live on a hellmouth, Rupert. I hadn’t the faintest suspicion that Buffy was the slayer, or I would never have rented her a costume. I’m not an idiot. So really, it all worked out for the best. When Eighon resurfaced, Buffy was glad to help rescue her watcher’s old friend. I doubt she’d have been so generous to the man who, as you say, nearly got her killed.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Giles smiled fiercely at the memory. “Neither was I.”
“Here,” said Jenny, handing Giles a broom and dustpan. “Make sure you get every little piece. The children are often barefoot in here. We’ll be outside with Tara, Dawn and the children when you’re done.”
“Tara?” Giles said. “Tara’s here? She wasn’t killed by Warren?”
“Warren who?” Willow demanded, sounding very much as if she needed the information for a pre-emptive strike.
Giles glanced at Jenny, standing there with her arms folded. Setting aside the dustpan for the moment, he began to sweep. “I’m not sure I ever knew Warren’s surname name,” he said. “Andrew would know, of course.”
“Of course,” Ethan said. “Andrew who?”
Giles glared at him. “Andrew Wells.”
“And who is Andrew Wells?” Jenny asked.
“Ah.” Giles bent over to sweep beneath the table. “You might know him as the boy who summoned the flying monkeys during Sunnydale High School’s performance of Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “It’s a story he recounts with entirely unwarranted frequency and pride.”
“Oh,” Willow said. “Tucker’s brother.”
“Tucker Wells?” Jenny said. “He was in one of my classes. I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“I envy you,” Giles said. He stooped and swept the broken china into the dustpan. Then tipped it into the kitchen dustbin.
“I’d like a chance to see Tara again before I go,” he said. “But then I really would like to return home. If the spellbooks from the Sunnydale High School Library are here, I believe I can find the necessary spell quite quickly. If you will help me, Jenny and Willow, and Tara as well, we should have ample magic to send me home.”
“I’m hurt that you’re excluding me from the party, Ripper,” Ethan said. “I’d just love to help.”
“I don’t need any help from you,” Giles said.
“I rather think you do,” Ethan said. “For instance, I can help you by pointing out that there’s rather large shard of teacup there in the corner near the stove. You were so very vehement earlier about not wanting any harm to come to the children.”
Giles grimaced, but went to sweep up the last shard.
“Ethan’s spell work is very good," Willow said. "You should let him help us.”
Giles got a rag from beneath the sink and began to wipe up the tea that was still spread across the floor. “I wouldn’t let that man cast a spell within 100 miles of me if my life depended on it,” he said. “You lot may trust him but I don’t, and I never will.”