Come Undone - Teen - Willow, Spike, Illyria - 8/13
Title: Come Undone
Author: claudia6913
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Hellmouth is closed, LA is no longer in danger. What is a Witch and a vampire with a soul to do? *Two Years Post Not Fade Away*
Disclaimer: I own nothing of these characters, only the words in between. Those characters belong to Joss and co.
Distribution: Just ask.
A/N: This began as a drabble challenge from Lilbreck and then...I don't know. It grew and changed and formed into something wholly different. Thanks Lilbreck for the challenge and thanks to Emmy and Falcons for hooking me on GotR!
Chapter 8
Numb. She could not feel anything. Not the floor beneath her, not the skin that covered her, not the seat she sat on, and not the paper she held in her hands. Her eyes read it repeatedly, each time wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was reading it wrong. Her mind was playing tricks on her, punishing her for being out of touch with Giles for so long. Or perhaps she was asleep and dreaming. A nightmare for sure, but one she couldn't seem to wake up from no matter how many times she silently yelled at herself to do so.
Finally, her fingers could no longer hold the paper, and it fell from her hands. Willow watched as it floated down to the floor, lying upside down and turned to the side. The words were hidden from her. And, as if it had been a spell, the world came crashing down around her and she could feel everything. All of the pain came over her at once and she shook with the power of it. Tears were soon flowing in a steady stream down her face.
Willow did not want to believe what the note said. She convinced herself it had been a forgery, or mailed on accident. Someone had seen it sitting somewhere and mailed it before it was time. Giles could not be dead; he could not be gone. He was Giles. He was the closest thing Willow ever had to a father, her own having been absent for most of her life.
Getting up, Willow wiped her eyes, willing the tears away and went to her phone. Grabbing the address book she kept next to it and flipping through it, she dialed Giles' number at the Watchers Council. She paced as it rang and rang. Silently, Willow begged Giles to pick up, to be there. Then the answering machine clicked on and she listened.
"You have reached the office of Rupert Giles, former head of the Watchers Council. We regret to inform you that he is no longer with us. Mr. Giles passed away last Monday. If you need assistance..."
Willow let the phone drop, not hearing the rest of the message.
"No," Willow said softly into the empty room. The words “passed away” and “no longer with us” filtered through her mind in that monotonal male voice that was on the recorder. It seemed so impersonal, so impassive, as if the person who recorded the message had not known Giles in life, only knew him in death, and only then as words on paper he read dutifully into the machine when asked.
Picking up the fallen receiver, Willow hung up and dialed the number she had for Giles' home. Again, she waited and paced as it rang, seemingly forever. When the familiar click of the machine picked up, Willow sighed and slumped into the chair. She listened as Giles' voice came across, crisp and clear.
"Yes, you have reached the home of Rupert Giles. I am not at home at this time. If it is a dire emergency, may I suggest you call my office at 555-0565, or leave a message. That's it then...where's the button? Oh, right. Blasted machine."
The answering machine beeped, and Willow spoke softly to the voice of Giles. "You kept it. I don't know why I didn't think you would. It took you forever to set it. I remember you called me to come over and help you with it."
Remembering the day, Willow closed her eyes. It had been shortly before Kennedy had been killed. There was nothing special about that day. No apocalypse, no patrol, just a day. One of the more normal ones that were starting to be more frequent now that they had closed the Hellmouth. Giles had called her for no particular reason, just to see how she was doing. She could not remember now who had brought up the subject of an answering machine, but next thing she knew, they were at a store looking at various models. Needless to say, Giles was overwhelmed with the selection, commenting on how it would just be easier to hire someone to answer his phone then it would be to have one of the machines do it for him. Just their same old argument about technology. Finally, they had picked one out. An older model that did not have all the flashing lights and pretty buttons. Giles really did not need one that could hold three different mailboxes and record fifty messages at a time. It came with the standard small tape. Easy, simple, and still too technical for Giles to operate. Willow had helped him set it up, showed him what each button did and how to check for messages.
Giles being Giles, he had written out exactly what he wanted to say and hit play...twice. It had clicked, whirred, beeped, and then stopped. He went through his little speech but it had not recorded. After about three more tries, Willow had stepped in, smiling and shaking her head. She had made some offhand comment that he would be nowhere if it were not for her. He had agreed and gave her a small squeeze on her shoulder. They had laughed after the message had finally been recorded. She was sure he still did not know about the little blurb on the end of his speech.
Just a week later, Kennedy had been killed while on patrol and Willow had left. She could not remember now if she had spoken to Giles at all. They had seen each other at the coroner's office, but after that...she could not remember. It was all a blur. City after city, town after town...all trying to run from death.
"I'm so sorry," Willow said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I should've talked to you, told you what I was doing, or at least why. I just...goddess, Giles, I couldn’t. I don't think I knew at the time. Please forgive me. Please, Giles."
Willow did not hear as the tape clicked, signaling the end of the recording. She cried into the phone, pleading for him to understand and to help her. Nevertheless, no comforting voice came through the phone line murmuring soothing words. No shoulder was there for her to lean on. No strong arms were there to wrap around her. There was nothing but the dial tone and her wails.
Author: claudia6913
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Hellmouth is closed, LA is no longer in danger. What is a Witch and a vampire with a soul to do? *Two Years Post Not Fade Away*
Disclaimer: I own nothing of these characters, only the words in between. Those characters belong to Joss and co.
Distribution: Just ask.
A/N: This began as a drabble challenge from Lilbreck and then...I don't know. It grew and changed and formed into something wholly different. Thanks Lilbreck for the challenge and thanks to Emmy and Falcons for hooking me on GotR!
Chapter 8
Numb. She could not feel anything. Not the floor beneath her, not the skin that covered her, not the seat she sat on, and not the paper she held in her hands. Her eyes read it repeatedly, each time wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was reading it wrong. Her mind was playing tricks on her, punishing her for being out of touch with Giles for so long. Or perhaps she was asleep and dreaming. A nightmare for sure, but one she couldn't seem to wake up from no matter how many times she silently yelled at herself to do so.
Finally, her fingers could no longer hold the paper, and it fell from her hands. Willow watched as it floated down to the floor, lying upside down and turned to the side. The words were hidden from her. And, as if it had been a spell, the world came crashing down around her and she could feel everything. All of the pain came over her at once and she shook with the power of it. Tears were soon flowing in a steady stream down her face.
Willow did not want to believe what the note said. She convinced herself it had been a forgery, or mailed on accident. Someone had seen it sitting somewhere and mailed it before it was time. Giles could not be dead; he could not be gone. He was Giles. He was the closest thing Willow ever had to a father, her own having been absent for most of her life.
Getting up, Willow wiped her eyes, willing the tears away and went to her phone. Grabbing the address book she kept next to it and flipping through it, she dialed Giles' number at the Watchers Council. She paced as it rang and rang. Silently, Willow begged Giles to pick up, to be there. Then the answering machine clicked on and she listened.
"You have reached the office of Rupert Giles, former head of the Watchers Council. We regret to inform you that he is no longer with us. Mr. Giles passed away last Monday. If you need assistance..."
Willow let the phone drop, not hearing the rest of the message.
"No," Willow said softly into the empty room. The words “passed away” and “no longer with us” filtered through her mind in that monotonal male voice that was on the recorder. It seemed so impersonal, so impassive, as if the person who recorded the message had not known Giles in life, only knew him in death, and only then as words on paper he read dutifully into the machine when asked.
Picking up the fallen receiver, Willow hung up and dialed the number she had for Giles' home. Again, she waited and paced as it rang, seemingly forever. When the familiar click of the machine picked up, Willow sighed and slumped into the chair. She listened as Giles' voice came across, crisp and clear.
"Yes, you have reached the home of Rupert Giles. I am not at home at this time. If it is a dire emergency, may I suggest you call my office at 555-0565, or leave a message. That's it then...where's the button? Oh, right. Blasted machine."
The answering machine beeped, and Willow spoke softly to the voice of Giles. "You kept it. I don't know why I didn't think you would. It took you forever to set it. I remember you called me to come over and help you with it."
Remembering the day, Willow closed her eyes. It had been shortly before Kennedy had been killed. There was nothing special about that day. No apocalypse, no patrol, just a day. One of the more normal ones that were starting to be more frequent now that they had closed the Hellmouth. Giles had called her for no particular reason, just to see how she was doing. She could not remember now who had brought up the subject of an answering machine, but next thing she knew, they were at a store looking at various models. Needless to say, Giles was overwhelmed with the selection, commenting on how it would just be easier to hire someone to answer his phone then it would be to have one of the machines do it for him. Just their same old argument about technology. Finally, they had picked one out. An older model that did not have all the flashing lights and pretty buttons. Giles really did not need one that could hold three different mailboxes and record fifty messages at a time. It came with the standard small tape. Easy, simple, and still too technical for Giles to operate. Willow had helped him set it up, showed him what each button did and how to check for messages.
Giles being Giles, he had written out exactly what he wanted to say and hit play...twice. It had clicked, whirred, beeped, and then stopped. He went through his little speech but it had not recorded. After about three more tries, Willow had stepped in, smiling and shaking her head. She had made some offhand comment that he would be nowhere if it were not for her. He had agreed and gave her a small squeeze on her shoulder. They had laughed after the message had finally been recorded. She was sure he still did not know about the little blurb on the end of his speech.
Just a week later, Kennedy had been killed while on patrol and Willow had left. She could not remember now if she had spoken to Giles at all. They had seen each other at the coroner's office, but after that...she could not remember. It was all a blur. City after city, town after town...all trying to run from death.
"I'm so sorry," Willow said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I should've talked to you, told you what I was doing, or at least why. I just...goddess, Giles, I couldn’t. I don't think I knew at the time. Please forgive me. Please, Giles."
Willow did not hear as the tape clicked, signaling the end of the recording. She cried into the phone, pleading for him to understand and to help her. Nevertheless, no comforting voice came through the phone line murmuring soothing words. No shoulder was there for her to lean on. No strong arms were there to wrap around her. There was nothing but the dial tone and her wails.