The Mercy Seat (part 16)
Wow, I'm up to part 16 already? And to think, there's only three chapters of this up on other sites (a fact that will change tonight....) Maybe I'm hoarding this one up too much for the general posting. Well, that just means I end up with long chapters!
Anyway,
Previous parts may be found here
Rupert Giles had never been much of a number cruncher. Being a field watcher, the most he'd ever really had to deal with when it came to numbers was the odd calculation of dates using ancient calendars, which admittedly he'd always had difficulty with. And while the new council enjoyed remarkable success in locating surviving trainers and fighters, and in recruiting new librarians and researchers, they had not yet managed to find a single suitable accountant or statistician. The combination of interest in the static logic of numbers and knowledge of the occult was extremely rare, and the statisticians that had been under the old council's employ had all been killed when their London based headquarters had been destroyed. He'd considered going to a numerologist, but remembered his father's complaints: they were always much too concerned with the mystical and prophetic implications of the numbers, rather than the numbers themselves.
So Giles found himself in the unenviable position of attempting to sift through the numbers on his own. Willow and Dawn had jokingly supplied him with an abacus, only to be appalled when he actually put it to use. Willow had eventually volunteered to maintain a database and spreadsheet for him on the council's network, which he was currently attempting to access.
"Damn and blast!"
Giles gave the monitor a solid whack with his open palm. It didn't help his limited computer literacy in any way, but it did make him feel somewhat better. Normally, he would be calmly reviewing the Immortal's journals, lovingly handwritten with an old fashioned quill and inkpot, over a cup of steaming English Breakfast while Willow made the numbers dance. But Willow was asleep, and Giles was loathe to wake her unless Xander himself made an appearance, or she'd been out a good couple of hours. The witch had the tendency to run herself to the absolute end of her endurance this year, and deserved her rest.
He clicked angrily at the icons on the monitor, no longer concerned with which might be the file he was looking for. If he opened every file on the "desktop", he'd be bound to stumble upon the one he required.
A complex graph covered in jagged, brightly colored lines and marked with red Xs and green circles sprung into existence. Giles let out his breath. A graph. He could read that, at the very least.
The dizzying image charted the level of disruptive demonic activity in specified areas across the globe. Cleveland topped the chart, of course, with a dark orange rising slope, showing a steady increase of activity from September to May, with a sharp drop-off into a trough over the summer. It was exactly as Giles expected, having viewed similar graphs in his training days with the old council. Beneath Cleveland lay London, Berlin, New York, and Los Angeles, with Rome trailing a bit further behind. Los Angeles and Rome, he suspected, would have shown somewhat higher on the chart prior to the defeat of Wolfram and Hart and the Immortal.
The circles and Xs, he noted, indicated the arrival of and death of a slayer, respectively. He glanced at those placements before moving to close the file. While informative in a purely scholarly manner, this was not the data that he had been looking for. He needed concrete evidence for Buffy, to ensure that she took the threat Xander presented seriously.
He removed his glasses and shook his head. He was getting senile in his old age. Buffy was not the only slayer who required warning. It was entirely possible that the combination of Willow's spell and the residual hellmouth energy would have transferred Xander to Cleveland, rather than London. He had to notify Faith and Wood as well. He rubbed at his eyes and dialed up the long distance codes from memory. It would only be six pm in Ohio; he should have plenty of time to contact the couple before their evening patrol. He replaced his glasses and scanned the graph again while the phone clicked and rang.
He blinked.
He cradled the phone against his shoulder, removed his glasses again, and cleaned them. He held them up to the light to check for smudges, then slid them back on. He blinked again, then cursed.
The graph remained unchanged.
It couldn't be accurate.
He re-read the legends. The x-axis represented months, May 2003 through the current date. The y- axis showed the average number of demonic related attacks on humanity, in tens. The lines swooped and crossed each other on the screen. Xs and Os marked the beginnings of sharp declines and inclines in demonic activity.
Respectively.
A click, followed by a buzz, reminded Giles that he had a phone to his ear. A formal, somewhat stilted female voice came on the line.
"Your party is not answering. Please check the number and try again."
Giles pulled the phone from his ear and shuddered as he hung up. Willow had to have noticed these trends when she was processing the data and putting this graph together, yet she had not said a single word about it. Why would she keep this a secret?
And why wasn't the Cleveland branch answering? If they were out, surely the voicemail would have--
The chirp of an interoffice call interrupted his thoughts. He punched the speaker button absently and did his best to keep his whirling confusion out of his voice.
"Yes?"
"Giles?" Andrew's voice was tense and excited. "He's here! Xander's HERE!"
"Thank you, Andrew."
Giles placed his hands on his desk and took a moment to just breathe. He then pulled the tranquilizer gun from the shelf. Whether or not his theory regarding the man's actions prior to last May was correct, Xander presented a danger to the people present in the council headquarters. Giles had no intentions of allowing that danger to become a reality, as much for Xander's sake as for that of his charges in the building. He knew the man was not in his right mind, and would deeply regret any violent actions taken once he had fully recovered.
Giles strode purposefully to the door and down the hallway to the lobby where Andrew's desk stood. He briefly considered waking Willow and Buffy before going to meet Xander, but discarded the idea. He would take responsibility for this onto himself alone. The girls were not ready to have to face their friend in such a condition. They had been through enough already.
Xander stood just in front of Dawn, to the right of the front door of the lobby. He was barefoot, with a long sleeved, button down dress shirt Giles recognized of having belonged to Dawn's last boyfriend. A large, white bandage was visible just under the collar on his right shoulder. Andrew perched cheerfully at his desk, his arms folded across the raised edge. He was grinning at Xander, and Xander was staring warily back.
That in itself was no indication of his mental state, Giles decided. Xander pretty much always regarded Andrew with such a guarded look. Pretty much everyone in the council did.
"Giles will be right down!" Andrew, never at a stand still, began gesturing wildly. Xander took a small step backwards, herding Dawn further behind him, but Andrew seemed to take no notice. "When did you get back? Was it awful? You look pretty good, you know, considering. Very post-apocalyptic."
"Andrew," Giles called, holding the tranquilizer gun just behind him.
"Giles! Look! Xander's back!"
"Yes. I see."
Xander turned to face Giles, still keeping Dawn behind him. Dawn gripped Xander's arm, a look of concern on her face. She was watching Xander alone, and clutching some sort of staff in her other hand. Though it was apparent that Xander was trying to act as some sort of protector, Dawn's posture indicated that she was only humoring him. Giles nodded slightly. Xander had apparently not taken any serious action against the younger girl, which fit in well with the profile he had been compiling regarding the man's current state.
Xander took a step towards Giles, his face relaxing into an expression of relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but only gasped softly as the watcher drew his gun and fired.
The dart struck Xander in his uninjured shoulder. He didn't so much as glance at it, choosing instead to stare into Giles' eyes.
Giles held his gaze. "I'm sorry,."
"Giles!" Dawn pushed her way past Xander as he crumpled silently to the floor. Giles ignored the look of anger on the girl's face and set the gun carefully on top of Andrew's desk.
"Dawn, go wake Willow and Buffy." Giles stepped forward to kneel by his friend's side. "Andrew, notify the others and prepare the holding cell. We're going to need to work quickly--I'm not certain how long the sedative will last."
"Giles, what the hell--"
"I will explain LATER, Dawn. Go get your sister."
Dawn leveled her very best glare at Giles, then turned to look sadly at Xander. "You'd damned well better have a really good explanation for this."
"I am aware."
Giles gently rolled Xander over onto his back, careful not to put too much pressure on the bandaged area. The man looked haggard, worn, and gaunt. He had been too thin before entering into the Immortal's portal; now it looked as though he might break under the slightest strain. Giles swallowed softly.
The expression on Xander's face when he'd realized what Giles had done had harbored no anger or violence. It had been a look of pure shock and fear. It would stay with Giles for the rest of his life.
"I'm so very sorry, Xander." Giles rocked back on his heels, ignoring the protests of his knees. "For everything."
<--{16}-->
In related news, yes, I actually have started on a mock-up of that map. If the map thing confuses you, let me know. I'm not certain how to fix it, or if it needs to be fixed.
In unrelated news, I've figured out generally what I want to ultimately accomplish on Fanon Fodder, so, yay, updates may come a little faster on that front!
Anyway,
Previous parts may be found here
Rupert Giles had never been much of a number cruncher. Being a field watcher, the most he'd ever really had to deal with when it came to numbers was the odd calculation of dates using ancient calendars, which admittedly he'd always had difficulty with. And while the new council enjoyed remarkable success in locating surviving trainers and fighters, and in recruiting new librarians and researchers, they had not yet managed to find a single suitable accountant or statistician. The combination of interest in the static logic of numbers and knowledge of the occult was extremely rare, and the statisticians that had been under the old council's employ had all been killed when their London based headquarters had been destroyed. He'd considered going to a numerologist, but remembered his father's complaints: they were always much too concerned with the mystical and prophetic implications of the numbers, rather than the numbers themselves.
So Giles found himself in the unenviable position of attempting to sift through the numbers on his own. Willow and Dawn had jokingly supplied him with an abacus, only to be appalled when he actually put it to use. Willow had eventually volunteered to maintain a database and spreadsheet for him on the council's network, which he was currently attempting to access.
"Damn and blast!"
Giles gave the monitor a solid whack with his open palm. It didn't help his limited computer literacy in any way, but it did make him feel somewhat better. Normally, he would be calmly reviewing the Immortal's journals, lovingly handwritten with an old fashioned quill and inkpot, over a cup of steaming English Breakfast while Willow made the numbers dance. But Willow was asleep, and Giles was loathe to wake her unless Xander himself made an appearance, or she'd been out a good couple of hours. The witch had the tendency to run herself to the absolute end of her endurance this year, and deserved her rest.
He clicked angrily at the icons on the monitor, no longer concerned with which might be the file he was looking for. If he opened every file on the "desktop", he'd be bound to stumble upon the one he required.
A complex graph covered in jagged, brightly colored lines and marked with red Xs and green circles sprung into existence. Giles let out his breath. A graph. He could read that, at the very least.
The dizzying image charted the level of disruptive demonic activity in specified areas across the globe. Cleveland topped the chart, of course, with a dark orange rising slope, showing a steady increase of activity from September to May, with a sharp drop-off into a trough over the summer. It was exactly as Giles expected, having viewed similar graphs in his training days with the old council. Beneath Cleveland lay London, Berlin, New York, and Los Angeles, with Rome trailing a bit further behind. Los Angeles and Rome, he suspected, would have shown somewhat higher on the chart prior to the defeat of Wolfram and Hart and the Immortal.
The circles and Xs, he noted, indicated the arrival of and death of a slayer, respectively. He glanced at those placements before moving to close the file. While informative in a purely scholarly manner, this was not the data that he had been looking for. He needed concrete evidence for Buffy, to ensure that she took the threat Xander presented seriously.
He removed his glasses and shook his head. He was getting senile in his old age. Buffy was not the only slayer who required warning. It was entirely possible that the combination of Willow's spell and the residual hellmouth energy would have transferred Xander to Cleveland, rather than London. He had to notify Faith and Wood as well. He rubbed at his eyes and dialed up the long distance codes from memory. It would only be six pm in Ohio; he should have plenty of time to contact the couple before their evening patrol. He replaced his glasses and scanned the graph again while the phone clicked and rang.
He blinked.
He cradled the phone against his shoulder, removed his glasses again, and cleaned them. He held them up to the light to check for smudges, then slid them back on. He blinked again, then cursed.
The graph remained unchanged.
It couldn't be accurate.
He re-read the legends. The x-axis represented months, May 2003 through the current date. The y- axis showed the average number of demonic related attacks on humanity, in tens. The lines swooped and crossed each other on the screen. Xs and Os marked the beginnings of sharp declines and inclines in demonic activity.
Respectively.
A click, followed by a buzz, reminded Giles that he had a phone to his ear. A formal, somewhat stilted female voice came on the line.
"Your party is not answering. Please check the number and try again."
Giles pulled the phone from his ear and shuddered as he hung up. Willow had to have noticed these trends when she was processing the data and putting this graph together, yet she had not said a single word about it. Why would she keep this a secret?
And why wasn't the Cleveland branch answering? If they were out, surely the voicemail would have--
The chirp of an interoffice call interrupted his thoughts. He punched the speaker button absently and did his best to keep his whirling confusion out of his voice.
"Yes?"
"Giles?" Andrew's voice was tense and excited. "He's here! Xander's HERE!"
"Thank you, Andrew."
Giles placed his hands on his desk and took a moment to just breathe. He then pulled the tranquilizer gun from the shelf. Whether or not his theory regarding the man's actions prior to last May was correct, Xander presented a danger to the people present in the council headquarters. Giles had no intentions of allowing that danger to become a reality, as much for Xander's sake as for that of his charges in the building. He knew the man was not in his right mind, and would deeply regret any violent actions taken once he had fully recovered.
Giles strode purposefully to the door and down the hallway to the lobby where Andrew's desk stood. He briefly considered waking Willow and Buffy before going to meet Xander, but discarded the idea. He would take responsibility for this onto himself alone. The girls were not ready to have to face their friend in such a condition. They had been through enough already.
Xander stood just in front of Dawn, to the right of the front door of the lobby. He was barefoot, with a long sleeved, button down dress shirt Giles recognized of having belonged to Dawn's last boyfriend. A large, white bandage was visible just under the collar on his right shoulder. Andrew perched cheerfully at his desk, his arms folded across the raised edge. He was grinning at Xander, and Xander was staring warily back.
That in itself was no indication of his mental state, Giles decided. Xander pretty much always regarded Andrew with such a guarded look. Pretty much everyone in the council did.
"Giles will be right down!" Andrew, never at a stand still, began gesturing wildly. Xander took a small step backwards, herding Dawn further behind him, but Andrew seemed to take no notice. "When did you get back? Was it awful? You look pretty good, you know, considering. Very post-apocalyptic."
"Andrew," Giles called, holding the tranquilizer gun just behind him.
"Giles! Look! Xander's back!"
"Yes. I see."
Xander turned to face Giles, still keeping Dawn behind him. Dawn gripped Xander's arm, a look of concern on her face. She was watching Xander alone, and clutching some sort of staff in her other hand. Though it was apparent that Xander was trying to act as some sort of protector, Dawn's posture indicated that she was only humoring him. Giles nodded slightly. Xander had apparently not taken any serious action against the younger girl, which fit in well with the profile he had been compiling regarding the man's current state.
Xander took a step towards Giles, his face relaxing into an expression of relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but only gasped softly as the watcher drew his gun and fired.
The dart struck Xander in his uninjured shoulder. He didn't so much as glance at it, choosing instead to stare into Giles' eyes.
Giles held his gaze. "I'm sorry,."
"Giles!" Dawn pushed her way past Xander as he crumpled silently to the floor. Giles ignored the look of anger on the girl's face and set the gun carefully on top of Andrew's desk.
"Dawn, go wake Willow and Buffy." Giles stepped forward to kneel by his friend's side. "Andrew, notify the others and prepare the holding cell. We're going to need to work quickly--I'm not certain how long the sedative will last."
"Giles, what the hell--"
"I will explain LATER, Dawn. Go get your sister."
Dawn leveled her very best glare at Giles, then turned to look sadly at Xander. "You'd damned well better have a really good explanation for this."
"I am aware."
Giles gently rolled Xander over onto his back, careful not to put too much pressure on the bandaged area. The man looked haggard, worn, and gaunt. He had been too thin before entering into the Immortal's portal; now it looked as though he might break under the slightest strain. Giles swallowed softly.
The expression on Xander's face when he'd realized what Giles had done had harbored no anger or violence. It had been a look of pure shock and fear. It would stay with Giles for the rest of his life.
"I'm so very sorry, Xander." Giles rocked back on his heels, ignoring the protests of his knees. "For everything."
<--{16}-->
In related news, yes, I actually have started on a mock-up of that map. If the map thing confuses you, let me know. I'm not certain how to fix it, or if it needs to be fixed.
In unrelated news, I've figured out generally what I want to ultimately accomplish on Fanon Fodder, so, yay, updates may come a little faster on that front!