The Space Between
Title: The Space Between
Author: Froxyn
Rating: FRT
Author’s Note: Written for ficlet_las in response to Challenge #3. The prompt was "[character] is stuck in an elevator with a person he/she hates."
"This needs to be examined by a doctor." Giles stated softly, lowering the blood-stained cloth from Buffy’s forehead.
"It’ll be fine." Buffy mumbled, refusing to meet Giles’ eyes.
"Your, uh...your powers are still suppressed, Buffy. This isn’t something that will be healed by morning."
Buffy finally lifted her head, only to glare at him. "And whose fault’s that?"
"Mine." He admitted, his eyes glistening. "Buffy, I’m sorry...I - "
"How could you do that to me? I could’ve been killed! My mom could’ve been killed!"
Just as Giles opened his mouth to respond, Buffy shifted in the chair. She could've been uncomfortable or she could've been trying to turn away from him, either way her movement caused her to cry out in pain. He moved quickly and lifted her into his arms, careful not to place too much pressure on her injured arm. Buffy clenched her eyes shut and, after a slight hesitation, rested her head against his shoulder.
Giles' fear for Buffy came out...not in words, but in his actions. The way he held her protectively and comfortingly, the urgency in his steps as he ran from the library, down the hallways, and out the door towards his decrepit Citroen. There was no doubt that he was scared because she was hurt. And it didn't matter that she'd been injured before, numerous times. It didn't matter because in the past she'd always had her Slayer healing to rely on.
This time was different.
As Giles came to a stop at the passenger side of his car, Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. His breathing was a bit erratic and his skin felt a bit flushed. He carefully shifted her weight and fumbled in his pocket for his car keys.
When Buffy heard his soft curse, she realized just how scared his was.
Normally, him being this scared would concern her. But, nothing about her birthday had been normal. And even though he was so scared, she was still angry...so very angry.
She wanted to scream at him, demand him to put her down, yell at him to get out of her life. But, she couldn’t...because she was scared too. And as much as she hated to admit it right now...he was the closest thing to a father figure she had.
So, instead of yelling or screaming, she closed her eyes again and bit her lip against the pain that the jostling was causing. She whimpered softly as Giles placed her in the passenger seat. There was a gentle stroke of his fingertips down her cheek and then the door closed.
In just a few seconds, she heard Giles climb in behind the steering wheel. When the car protested ignition before eventually giving in to a sputtering start, Buffy wondered if the Citroen still had enough life in her to get them to the hospital quickly.
She hoped so.
* * *
Three hours later, Giles waited just outside the door to Buffy’s hospital room while the doctor examined her. He paced back and forth, his hands busily polishing his glasses. Glancing at his watch, he decided that the doctor had been in there long enough. Needing answers...and needing to know that Buffy was going to be okay...he reached for the doorknob.
At that moment, the door swung open and the doctor stepped out of the room. Startled, Giles took a step back. The doctor gave him an understanding smile and tucked Buffy’s file under his arm.
"Hello...I’m Doctor Harlow. You brought her in, right?"
Giles nodded and slipped his glasses back on. "Yes, yes I did. Is she...will she be alright?"
"She’s going to need rest, but she doesn’t have a concussion and we were able to avoid suturing her wounds. She has a few deep bruises, but there doesn’t appear to be any broken bones. She’ll be black and blue...and sore...for a while. But, she was lucky."
Giles exhaled a deep sigh of relief and swallowed thickly. "Thank you! May I...would it be alright if I...went in to see her?"
The doctor glanced over his shoulder and looked through the window in the door to Buffy’s room, smiling as he watched Joyce Summers stroke her daughter’s hair. "A few minutes shouldn’t hurt anything. Just don’t stay too long, okay?"
"Of course." Giles answered quickly.
As Giles moved around him, Doctor Harlow reached out and gently touched Giles’ shoulder. Giles met the doctor’s eyes expectantly.
"She said that the guy who did this ran away when you got there."
Giles took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Yes...he did."
"She’s lucky you showed up when you did."
With that being said, Doctor Harlow gently squeezed Giles’ shoulder before turning and walking away. Giles stood there for a moment longer, allowing the doctor’s statement to sink into his thoughts.
"She shouldn’t have been there at all." He whispered to himself.
He took a steadying breath and then pushed the door open. As he stepped into the room, two sets of eyes looked over at him. Giles moved towards the bed, ignoring Joyce’s glare as he did.
"Doctor Harlow said that you’ll be just fine with some rest..." He began, well aware of how awkward that sounded.
"Yeah..." Buffy replied tiredly.
"Buffy - " He started, stopping when Buffy slowly shook her head.
"I don’t want to do this right now."
He tilted his head slightly and hoped that he was able to hide his disappointment. When she continued, he realized that he had failed in that as well.
"Giles, I really don’t want to do this now. I just want to rest...that’s what the doctor said. And I can’t rest if you’re standing there...watching me."
"Of course." Giles lowered his eyes and gave a small, but understanding, nod. "Of course, Buffy. I’ll come by in - "
"No...I can’t talk to you here, either. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m home."
There was so much that he wanted to say, but he knew that this was neither the time nor the place. So, instead of saying he was sorry or telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere, he whispered a ‘good night’ and a wish for a speedy recovery.
And then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
As the door softly closed behind him, Joyce exhaled deeply and sat down in the chair next to Buffy's bed.
"I think was expecting more of an argument..." She stated, reaching over to stroke her daughter's hair.
Buffy gently shook her head and closed her eyes. "He’s worried, but he knows I need time to work through this."
"Do you think he’ll leave Sunnydale now? Considering he’s not your Watcher anymore..."
A tear slipped from the corner of Buffy’s left eye, but she didn't give her mother an answer.
* * *
After spending another hour sitting in one of the waiting rooms on Buffy's floor, Giles finally got up and walked over to the elevators. He pushed the call button and stood there, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched the numbers light up in descending order starting from ‘6’. When the ‘3’ lit up and the bell dinged, the doors opened and he stepped inside.
The doors had just started to close when he realized that he wasn’t alone.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Quentin Travers raised an eyebrow as if he were surprised at Giles’ animosity towards him. "I’m here on Council business...which is no longer any of your business."
Giles’ eyes darkened as he glared at Travers. "If you’re here for Buffy, you’ll have to go through me to get to her."
Travers snorted. "If I were here for Miss Summers, I would have Miss Summers. You can’t stop the Council, Rupert."
Giles took a step towards Travers and stared into his eyes. "Maybe not. But, I can stop you."
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, causing both Travers and Giles to lose their footing. Giles steadied himself quickly with a slap of his palm against the elevator wall. The only thing that kept Travers from falling to the floor was the fact that he stumbled into the corner of the lift.
Giles looked at the line of numbers above the door and gritted his teeth.
None of them were lit, which meant...
"We’re between floors." Giles mumbled under his breath.
Quentin’s eyes widened. "Between floors?"
Travers lunged across the small space and pressed the button marked ‘G’ repeatedly. Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It’s stuck, Quentin."
Quentin’s eyes darted to Giles. Giles could easily read the concern in Travers’ eyes. Giles shook his head and leaned against the wall.
* * *
For twenty minutes, the only sound that could be heard was an ominous creak coming from above the elevator. Giles stood there, arms crossed over his chest and obviously deep in thought. He had attempted to call for help, but the contents of the emergency phone box consisted of a cable with a frayed end and no handset. Travers watched him for a while and then cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"The Cruciamentum is a necessity, Rupert."
Giles slowly turned his eyes towards Travers. "Do shut up, Quentin."
"It’s imperative for a Slayer - "
"It’s an archaic ritual that is brutal in its very nature!" Giles interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger. "She could have died...her mother could have died...all because it’s imperative for a Slayer to hone her resourcefulness."
"Your feelings for her have clouded your ability to properly train her." Travers stated, narrowing his eyes at Giles. "She doesn’t respect you, her calling, or the Council. You care too much for her, Rupert."
"And you don’t care enough." Giles took a step forward and pointed his finger at Quentin’s chest. "She’s just a tool to you, to the Council. You don’t respect her, how can you expect her to respect you?"
"Are you suggesting that I have to earn her respect?" Travers’ jaw clenched and released. "She works for us, Rupert. She does as we say because we are the Council. She should have been taught to respect us."
"She is the chosen one, Quentin. She is - "
"I know the speech." Travers interrupted coldly.
"No. No, you know the words in the speech, but you don’t truly understand what they mean. You have never been on the front lines with a Slayer. You’ve never seen her risk her life time after time, night after night to keep this world from utter destruction. You, Quentin Travers, are a bureaucrat...plain and simple."
Quentin’s nostrils flared. "I can have your green card revoked in two seconds, Rupert. You’d do well to remember that."
Giles didn’t move, but the flicker of frustration in his eyes showed Quentin that he’d struck a nerve.
"The bottom line is...you failed. Miss Summers passed the Cruciamentum, but you did not."
"So you mentioned earlier. But, I happen to disagree with you."
"Oh?" Quentin scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"My Slayer is still alive. She defeated Kralik without her powers...and without my assistance. I taught her to access the situation and look for alternative means of success." A humourless grin tugged at the corner of Giles’ mouth. "How well do you think you would have fared?"
"I wouldn’t have had to fare at all." Quentin countered with a sneer. "The Slayer faces the vampire. The Watcher - "
"Sits in front of a roaring fire in his fireplace, reading a book and wondering how much longer he has to wait." Giles interjected angrily.
"It’s the way it has always been, Rupert. Council tradition is not to be taken lightly. You committed a serious offence and you should consider yourself rather fortunate that you are merely unemployed. I pulled a few strings to sway the board members to fire you instead of..."
Quentin trailed off, but Giles knew exactly what he was insinuating. When Giles took a step back, Quentin offered a smug smile.
Giles glanced up at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. "It might have been safer for you if you hadn’t pulled a few strings."
Quentin’s smile faltered. "It’s not wise to threaten a member of the Council, Rupert."
Giles moved to his left, his eyes trained on the small door in the ceiling of the lift. "Why exactly are you here, Quentin?"
"As I stated before, I’m here on Council business." Quentin replied sharply.
"Yes, well..." Giles squinted, tilting his head to the side as if he were listening for something. "Your Council business is going to get both of us killed if you don’t tell me exactly why you are here."
"Excuse me?"
"How’s your magick?" Giles asked quickly, loosening his tie further and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.
Quentin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "My magick?"
Giles met Quentin’s eyes. "You did meet your proficiency quotas at the Academy, yes?"
"I...wasn’t in that curriculum. My goal was to be exactly where I am. I never entertained the thought of working in the field."
"Bureaucrat from the beginning..." Giles muttered before gesturing to the corner of the lift that was furthest from him. "Just...stand over there and stay out of the way."
Quentin moved quickly, pushing himself into the corner and lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "What is it?"
"I’m not quite sure. But, it’s hunting..." Giles stated quietly, moving to the other side of the lift.
"Hunting us?" Quentin asked, his eyes trained on the ceiling.
Giles raised an eyebrow as another loud creak sounded right above Quentin’s head. "You, apparently."
Quentin’s eyes snapped to Giles’. "What, precisely, do you mean?"
"Precisely?" Giles asked, annoyance seeping into his tone as he pointed at the ceiling. "There is something out there that is tracking your movements within this lift. The signature attached to it is rooted in malevolence."
"Signature? As in magick?"
"Precisely. And it’s a very strong signature." Giles replied before quickly continuing. "I have no interest in being torn apart by a malevolent being due to whatever you are involved in. If I have to save you in order to find my way back to my flat, then so be it. However, I cannot save either one of us if you refuse to tell me what the hell you’re doing in Sunnydale Hospital!"
Quentin shook his head, darting his eyes from the ceiling to Giles and then back to the ceiling. "It’s Council - "
"You don’t have much time before whatever is out there, most probably a demon considering the fact that a vampire would have already ripped your throat out, figures out the best way to peel the roof of this bloody elevator open. I find it extremely hard to believe that you would literally give your life to protect the Council."
Quentin swallowed with some difficulty and then took a deep breath. "I’ve been instructed to speak with Miss Summers."
Giles furrowed his brow. "Buffy has no interest in speaking with you. In fact, I clearly recall her threatening you if you were still here when her strength returns."
"She’ll agree to speak with me...because we need to speak about you and the ramifications of your refusal to leave when her new Watcher arrives."
"Ramifications?"
"Should you interfere in any way with her training, you will be deported...immediately and with no further warnings. Her new Watcher will report on your behaviour as well as Miss Summers’. Should you not comply - "
"You intended to use the bond I share with Buffy against her." Giles interrupted, anger flashing in his eyes. "To control her? To keep her ‘in line’?"
"To keep her mind on the task at hand." Quentin corrected. "She’s here to eventually close the Hellmouth. A task that she hasn’t been very successful at thus far."
Giles’ left hand clenched into a fist. "When we get out of this lift, you’ll leave Sunnydale. You’ll not talk to Buffy any further and you’ll not threaten me with deportation again."
"Rupert, the Council - "
"Has nothing to do with this, Travers. This reeks of you and your control issues." Giles growled. "I can read you like a bloody book and all of this, every single aspect of this situation, was all your doing."
Quentin’s eyes widened. Giles took a step forward and glared down at him.
"I may have failed the Cruciamentum in your eyes, but you botched the entire exercise. Hobson and Blair are dead because of you...and Kralik should have been staked as soon as he was captured."
"Kralik was needed for this exercise..." Quentin started.
"Kralik was insane. He was criminally insane as a human and losing his soul did nothing to rectify that trait. According to the guidelines set for the Cruciamentum by the Head of Council centuries ago...he should not have been used." Giles’ eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Quentin. "You failed."
Any response Quentin had thought of giving was interrupted by a loud thud on the roof of the lift. His mouth dropped open, fear etched in his eyes, as he hurried to the opposite side of the elevator. He gasped loudly when the small hatch in the ceiling was lifted open.
Giles looked up just as a young man ducked his head inside the lift.
"Hey...you guys okay?" He asked cheerfully.
"Indeed, we are." Giles replied, forcing a smile onto his face.
After all, it wasn’t this fellow’s fault that he’d been trapped in a confined space with a person he really had no interest in ever seeing again.
"Good. Sorry it took so long to get to you, the doors on the second floor were jammed up real tight. But, it shouldn’t be much longer...just have to go up and reset the grid."
Quentin stared at the repairman in disbelief. Giles nodded at the young man and leaned back against the wall.
"Your assistance is very much appreciated."
The repairman grinned at him. "English, huh? I’ve got an uncle who lives in England now...sends me pound notes for my birthday. You know how hard it is to have English money exchanged in Sunnydale?"
Giles smiled. "Yes, I do."
"Okay...be back in a few minutes." The man suddenly disappeared, and then reappeared just as quickly. "Don’t go anywhere, okay?"
Giles chuckled and the man was gone again.
Quentin turned his stare to Giles.
"There’s nothing out there."
Giles shook his head slowly. "No, there’s not."
"No malevolent being tracking me."
Giles turned his head and met Quentin’s eyes. He didn’t bother to even attempt to hide his anger and disgust towards his former supervisor.
"No more discussions, no more threats. Leave Sunnydale, Quentin. It’s not Buffy’s strength returning that you have to worry about right now."
Quentin looked back up at the open hatch and swallowed thickly. He said nothing, but gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
Giles crossed his arms over his chest and silently stared at Quentin. Travers would never admit it, but Giles knew that he had instilled a level of fear in the other man that would keep Quentin looking over his shoulder for more than a few days.
He was proud of himself for successfully assuring that Travers would leave Sunnydale, as well as letting both him and Buffy be. But, he also felt a sense of disappointment.
It shouldn’t have come to this. He should’ve put a stop to the Cruciamentum before it had even started. And as a result, he couldn’t explain his accomplishment to Buffy...not right now, at any rate.
But, standing there in that elevator with an eerily quiet Quentin Travers as the lift shuddered gently and began to slowly descend, he promised himself that he would.
As soon as he had earned her forgiveness.
Forgiveness was paramount, but it would take a lot of hard work. And one thing Rupert Giles wasn’t afraid of was a lot of hard work.
His smile grew as the elevator doors slid open and Quentin rushed through them. He stepped out of the elevator and looked over towards the glass front doors of the hospital.
It had been an extremely long night, but the sun was beginning to rise.
"You okay?"
He looked to his left, surprised to find Buffy leaning against the wall next to the other elevator. She looked tired, so very tired...but so very determined, as well.
"You should be resting." Giles admonished gently.
"Yeah, well...heard the nurses talking about someone stuck in an elevator and got worried that it might be a vampire attack." She offered him a slight smile and glanced towards the hospital entry doors. "Then I saw it was Travers and didn’t really care if it was a vampire attack."
Giles gave a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, hopefully he’ll give you no more trouble. At least for a while."
Buffy nodded and then sighed, dropping her gaze to his right cheek. "Pretty ugly bruise you’ve got there..."
He reached up and pressed his fingertips against the swollen flesh. "Yours are worse."
"Kralik could’ve killed you, you know..."
"I was more worried about you." He gestured towards the ceiling, in a vague direction to her room three floors above. "And...Joyce, of course."
"Mom’s really mad at you right now." Buffy stated matter-of-factly.
"I’m sure she is. And I’m just as sure that she has every right to be angry with me." Giles replied, remorse tinging his words.
"I’m really mad at you, too." Before he could respond, she shrugged a shoulder and gave a deep sigh. "But, not as mad as I was earlier. So, that’s gotta be a pretty good sigh, huh?"
"I’m sorry?" He asked, his eyes widening slightly.
"You were serious, right? I mean...about not leaving Sunnydale?"
"I’m going nowhere, Buffy." He stated without hesitation.
"Then...can we talk tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course." He answered quickly.
"Good." She stood there for a moment, watching him.
And then she smiled and turned, slipping back into the elevator that hadn’t been stuck between floors. She pushed the button and then caught Giles’ eyes.
"See you tomorrow."
Giles nodded, the corners of his mouth slightly curving upwards as the doors slid shut. As he turned and made his way to the doors, he exhaled a deep breath and smiled inwardly. It was a new day...with a new beginning.
And the space between he and Buffy suddenly didn't feel nearly as immense as it had just a few hours earlier.
~ End
Author: Froxyn
Rating: FRT
Author’s Note: Written for ficlet_las in response to Challenge #3. The prompt was "[character] is stuck in an elevator with a person he/she hates."
"This needs to be examined by a doctor." Giles stated softly, lowering the blood-stained cloth from Buffy’s forehead.
"It’ll be fine." Buffy mumbled, refusing to meet Giles’ eyes.
"Your, uh...your powers are still suppressed, Buffy. This isn’t something that will be healed by morning."
Buffy finally lifted her head, only to glare at him. "And whose fault’s that?"
"Mine." He admitted, his eyes glistening. "Buffy, I’m sorry...I - "
"How could you do that to me? I could’ve been killed! My mom could’ve been killed!"
Just as Giles opened his mouth to respond, Buffy shifted in the chair. She could've been uncomfortable or she could've been trying to turn away from him, either way her movement caused her to cry out in pain. He moved quickly and lifted her into his arms, careful not to place too much pressure on her injured arm. Buffy clenched her eyes shut and, after a slight hesitation, rested her head against his shoulder.
Giles' fear for Buffy came out...not in words, but in his actions. The way he held her protectively and comfortingly, the urgency in his steps as he ran from the library, down the hallways, and out the door towards his decrepit Citroen. There was no doubt that he was scared because she was hurt. And it didn't matter that she'd been injured before, numerous times. It didn't matter because in the past she'd always had her Slayer healing to rely on.
This time was different.
As Giles came to a stop at the passenger side of his car, Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. His breathing was a bit erratic and his skin felt a bit flushed. He carefully shifted her weight and fumbled in his pocket for his car keys.
When Buffy heard his soft curse, she realized just how scared his was.
Normally, him being this scared would concern her. But, nothing about her birthday had been normal. And even though he was so scared, she was still angry...so very angry.
She wanted to scream at him, demand him to put her down, yell at him to get out of her life. But, she couldn’t...because she was scared too. And as much as she hated to admit it right now...he was the closest thing to a father figure she had.
So, instead of yelling or screaming, she closed her eyes again and bit her lip against the pain that the jostling was causing. She whimpered softly as Giles placed her in the passenger seat. There was a gentle stroke of his fingertips down her cheek and then the door closed.
In just a few seconds, she heard Giles climb in behind the steering wheel. When the car protested ignition before eventually giving in to a sputtering start, Buffy wondered if the Citroen still had enough life in her to get them to the hospital quickly.
She hoped so.
* * *
Three hours later, Giles waited just outside the door to Buffy’s hospital room while the doctor examined her. He paced back and forth, his hands busily polishing his glasses. Glancing at his watch, he decided that the doctor had been in there long enough. Needing answers...and needing to know that Buffy was going to be okay...he reached for the doorknob.
At that moment, the door swung open and the doctor stepped out of the room. Startled, Giles took a step back. The doctor gave him an understanding smile and tucked Buffy’s file under his arm.
"Hello...I’m Doctor Harlow. You brought her in, right?"
Giles nodded and slipped his glasses back on. "Yes, yes I did. Is she...will she be alright?"
"She’s going to need rest, but she doesn’t have a concussion and we were able to avoid suturing her wounds. She has a few deep bruises, but there doesn’t appear to be any broken bones. She’ll be black and blue...and sore...for a while. But, she was lucky."
Giles exhaled a deep sigh of relief and swallowed thickly. "Thank you! May I...would it be alright if I...went in to see her?"
The doctor glanced over his shoulder and looked through the window in the door to Buffy’s room, smiling as he watched Joyce Summers stroke her daughter’s hair. "A few minutes shouldn’t hurt anything. Just don’t stay too long, okay?"
"Of course." Giles answered quickly.
As Giles moved around him, Doctor Harlow reached out and gently touched Giles’ shoulder. Giles met the doctor’s eyes expectantly.
"She said that the guy who did this ran away when you got there."
Giles took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Yes...he did."
"She’s lucky you showed up when you did."
With that being said, Doctor Harlow gently squeezed Giles’ shoulder before turning and walking away. Giles stood there for a moment longer, allowing the doctor’s statement to sink into his thoughts.
"She shouldn’t have been there at all." He whispered to himself.
He took a steadying breath and then pushed the door open. As he stepped into the room, two sets of eyes looked over at him. Giles moved towards the bed, ignoring Joyce’s glare as he did.
"Doctor Harlow said that you’ll be just fine with some rest..." He began, well aware of how awkward that sounded.
"Yeah..." Buffy replied tiredly.
"Buffy - " He started, stopping when Buffy slowly shook her head.
"I don’t want to do this right now."
He tilted his head slightly and hoped that he was able to hide his disappointment. When she continued, he realized that he had failed in that as well.
"Giles, I really don’t want to do this now. I just want to rest...that’s what the doctor said. And I can’t rest if you’re standing there...watching me."
"Of course." Giles lowered his eyes and gave a small, but understanding, nod. "Of course, Buffy. I’ll come by in - "
"No...I can’t talk to you here, either. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m home."
There was so much that he wanted to say, but he knew that this was neither the time nor the place. So, instead of saying he was sorry or telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere, he whispered a ‘good night’ and a wish for a speedy recovery.
And then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
As the door softly closed behind him, Joyce exhaled deeply and sat down in the chair next to Buffy's bed.
"I think was expecting more of an argument..." She stated, reaching over to stroke her daughter's hair.
Buffy gently shook her head and closed her eyes. "He’s worried, but he knows I need time to work through this."
"Do you think he’ll leave Sunnydale now? Considering he’s not your Watcher anymore..."
A tear slipped from the corner of Buffy’s left eye, but she didn't give her mother an answer.
* * *
After spending another hour sitting in one of the waiting rooms on Buffy's floor, Giles finally got up and walked over to the elevators. He pushed the call button and stood there, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched the numbers light up in descending order starting from ‘6’. When the ‘3’ lit up and the bell dinged, the doors opened and he stepped inside.
The doors had just started to close when he realized that he wasn’t alone.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Quentin Travers raised an eyebrow as if he were surprised at Giles’ animosity towards him. "I’m here on Council business...which is no longer any of your business."
Giles’ eyes darkened as he glared at Travers. "If you’re here for Buffy, you’ll have to go through me to get to her."
Travers snorted. "If I were here for Miss Summers, I would have Miss Summers. You can’t stop the Council, Rupert."
Giles took a step towards Travers and stared into his eyes. "Maybe not. But, I can stop you."
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, causing both Travers and Giles to lose their footing. Giles steadied himself quickly with a slap of his palm against the elevator wall. The only thing that kept Travers from falling to the floor was the fact that he stumbled into the corner of the lift.
Giles looked at the line of numbers above the door and gritted his teeth.
None of them were lit, which meant...
"We’re between floors." Giles mumbled under his breath.
Quentin’s eyes widened. "Between floors?"
Travers lunged across the small space and pressed the button marked ‘G’ repeatedly. Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It’s stuck, Quentin."
Quentin’s eyes darted to Giles. Giles could easily read the concern in Travers’ eyes. Giles shook his head and leaned against the wall.
* * *
For twenty minutes, the only sound that could be heard was an ominous creak coming from above the elevator. Giles stood there, arms crossed over his chest and obviously deep in thought. He had attempted to call for help, but the contents of the emergency phone box consisted of a cable with a frayed end and no handset. Travers watched him for a while and then cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"The Cruciamentum is a necessity, Rupert."
Giles slowly turned his eyes towards Travers. "Do shut up, Quentin."
"It’s imperative for a Slayer - "
"It’s an archaic ritual that is brutal in its very nature!" Giles interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger. "She could have died...her mother could have died...all because it’s imperative for a Slayer to hone her resourcefulness."
"Your feelings for her have clouded your ability to properly train her." Travers stated, narrowing his eyes at Giles. "She doesn’t respect you, her calling, or the Council. You care too much for her, Rupert."
"And you don’t care enough." Giles took a step forward and pointed his finger at Quentin’s chest. "She’s just a tool to you, to the Council. You don’t respect her, how can you expect her to respect you?"
"Are you suggesting that I have to earn her respect?" Travers’ jaw clenched and released. "She works for us, Rupert. She does as we say because we are the Council. She should have been taught to respect us."
"She is the chosen one, Quentin. She is - "
"I know the speech." Travers interrupted coldly.
"No. No, you know the words in the speech, but you don’t truly understand what they mean. You have never been on the front lines with a Slayer. You’ve never seen her risk her life time after time, night after night to keep this world from utter destruction. You, Quentin Travers, are a bureaucrat...plain and simple."
Quentin’s nostrils flared. "I can have your green card revoked in two seconds, Rupert. You’d do well to remember that."
Giles didn’t move, but the flicker of frustration in his eyes showed Quentin that he’d struck a nerve.
"The bottom line is...you failed. Miss Summers passed the Cruciamentum, but you did not."
"So you mentioned earlier. But, I happen to disagree with you."
"Oh?" Quentin scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"My Slayer is still alive. She defeated Kralik without her powers...and without my assistance. I taught her to access the situation and look for alternative means of success." A humourless grin tugged at the corner of Giles’ mouth. "How well do you think you would have fared?"
"I wouldn’t have had to fare at all." Quentin countered with a sneer. "The Slayer faces the vampire. The Watcher - "
"Sits in front of a roaring fire in his fireplace, reading a book and wondering how much longer he has to wait." Giles interjected angrily.
"It’s the way it has always been, Rupert. Council tradition is not to be taken lightly. You committed a serious offence and you should consider yourself rather fortunate that you are merely unemployed. I pulled a few strings to sway the board members to fire you instead of..."
Quentin trailed off, but Giles knew exactly what he was insinuating. When Giles took a step back, Quentin offered a smug smile.
Giles glanced up at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. "It might have been safer for you if you hadn’t pulled a few strings."
Quentin’s smile faltered. "It’s not wise to threaten a member of the Council, Rupert."
Giles moved to his left, his eyes trained on the small door in the ceiling of the lift. "Why exactly are you here, Quentin?"
"As I stated before, I’m here on Council business." Quentin replied sharply.
"Yes, well..." Giles squinted, tilting his head to the side as if he were listening for something. "Your Council business is going to get both of us killed if you don’t tell me exactly why you are here."
"Excuse me?"
"How’s your magick?" Giles asked quickly, loosening his tie further and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.
Quentin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "My magick?"
Giles met Quentin’s eyes. "You did meet your proficiency quotas at the Academy, yes?"
"I...wasn’t in that curriculum. My goal was to be exactly where I am. I never entertained the thought of working in the field."
"Bureaucrat from the beginning..." Giles muttered before gesturing to the corner of the lift that was furthest from him. "Just...stand over there and stay out of the way."
Quentin moved quickly, pushing himself into the corner and lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "What is it?"
"I’m not quite sure. But, it’s hunting..." Giles stated quietly, moving to the other side of the lift.
"Hunting us?" Quentin asked, his eyes trained on the ceiling.
Giles raised an eyebrow as another loud creak sounded right above Quentin’s head. "You, apparently."
Quentin’s eyes snapped to Giles’. "What, precisely, do you mean?"
"Precisely?" Giles asked, annoyance seeping into his tone as he pointed at the ceiling. "There is something out there that is tracking your movements within this lift. The signature attached to it is rooted in malevolence."
"Signature? As in magick?"
"Precisely. And it’s a very strong signature." Giles replied before quickly continuing. "I have no interest in being torn apart by a malevolent being due to whatever you are involved in. If I have to save you in order to find my way back to my flat, then so be it. However, I cannot save either one of us if you refuse to tell me what the hell you’re doing in Sunnydale Hospital!"
Quentin shook his head, darting his eyes from the ceiling to Giles and then back to the ceiling. "It’s Council - "
"You don’t have much time before whatever is out there, most probably a demon considering the fact that a vampire would have already ripped your throat out, figures out the best way to peel the roof of this bloody elevator open. I find it extremely hard to believe that you would literally give your life to protect the Council."
Quentin swallowed with some difficulty and then took a deep breath. "I’ve been instructed to speak with Miss Summers."
Giles furrowed his brow. "Buffy has no interest in speaking with you. In fact, I clearly recall her threatening you if you were still here when her strength returns."
"She’ll agree to speak with me...because we need to speak about you and the ramifications of your refusal to leave when her new Watcher arrives."
"Ramifications?"
"Should you interfere in any way with her training, you will be deported...immediately and with no further warnings. Her new Watcher will report on your behaviour as well as Miss Summers’. Should you not comply - "
"You intended to use the bond I share with Buffy against her." Giles interrupted, anger flashing in his eyes. "To control her? To keep her ‘in line’?"
"To keep her mind on the task at hand." Quentin corrected. "She’s here to eventually close the Hellmouth. A task that she hasn’t been very successful at thus far."
Giles’ left hand clenched into a fist. "When we get out of this lift, you’ll leave Sunnydale. You’ll not talk to Buffy any further and you’ll not threaten me with deportation again."
"Rupert, the Council - "
"Has nothing to do with this, Travers. This reeks of you and your control issues." Giles growled. "I can read you like a bloody book and all of this, every single aspect of this situation, was all your doing."
Quentin’s eyes widened. Giles took a step forward and glared down at him.
"I may have failed the Cruciamentum in your eyes, but you botched the entire exercise. Hobson and Blair are dead because of you...and Kralik should have been staked as soon as he was captured."
"Kralik was needed for this exercise..." Quentin started.
"Kralik was insane. He was criminally insane as a human and losing his soul did nothing to rectify that trait. According to the guidelines set for the Cruciamentum by the Head of Council centuries ago...he should not have been used." Giles’ eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Quentin. "You failed."
Any response Quentin had thought of giving was interrupted by a loud thud on the roof of the lift. His mouth dropped open, fear etched in his eyes, as he hurried to the opposite side of the elevator. He gasped loudly when the small hatch in the ceiling was lifted open.
Giles looked up just as a young man ducked his head inside the lift.
"Hey...you guys okay?" He asked cheerfully.
"Indeed, we are." Giles replied, forcing a smile onto his face.
After all, it wasn’t this fellow’s fault that he’d been trapped in a confined space with a person he really had no interest in ever seeing again.
"Good. Sorry it took so long to get to you, the doors on the second floor were jammed up real tight. But, it shouldn’t be much longer...just have to go up and reset the grid."
Quentin stared at the repairman in disbelief. Giles nodded at the young man and leaned back against the wall.
"Your assistance is very much appreciated."
The repairman grinned at him. "English, huh? I’ve got an uncle who lives in England now...sends me pound notes for my birthday. You know how hard it is to have English money exchanged in Sunnydale?"
Giles smiled. "Yes, I do."
"Okay...be back in a few minutes." The man suddenly disappeared, and then reappeared just as quickly. "Don’t go anywhere, okay?"
Giles chuckled and the man was gone again.
Quentin turned his stare to Giles.
"There’s nothing out there."
Giles shook his head slowly. "No, there’s not."
"No malevolent being tracking me."
Giles turned his head and met Quentin’s eyes. He didn’t bother to even attempt to hide his anger and disgust towards his former supervisor.
"No more discussions, no more threats. Leave Sunnydale, Quentin. It’s not Buffy’s strength returning that you have to worry about right now."
Quentin looked back up at the open hatch and swallowed thickly. He said nothing, but gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
Giles crossed his arms over his chest and silently stared at Quentin. Travers would never admit it, but Giles knew that he had instilled a level of fear in the other man that would keep Quentin looking over his shoulder for more than a few days.
He was proud of himself for successfully assuring that Travers would leave Sunnydale, as well as letting both him and Buffy be. But, he also felt a sense of disappointment.
It shouldn’t have come to this. He should’ve put a stop to the Cruciamentum before it had even started. And as a result, he couldn’t explain his accomplishment to Buffy...not right now, at any rate.
But, standing there in that elevator with an eerily quiet Quentin Travers as the lift shuddered gently and began to slowly descend, he promised himself that he would.
As soon as he had earned her forgiveness.
Forgiveness was paramount, but it would take a lot of hard work. And one thing Rupert Giles wasn’t afraid of was a lot of hard work.
His smile grew as the elevator doors slid open and Quentin rushed through them. He stepped out of the elevator and looked over towards the glass front doors of the hospital.
It had been an extremely long night, but the sun was beginning to rise.
"You okay?"
He looked to his left, surprised to find Buffy leaning against the wall next to the other elevator. She looked tired, so very tired...but so very determined, as well.
"You should be resting." Giles admonished gently.
"Yeah, well...heard the nurses talking about someone stuck in an elevator and got worried that it might be a vampire attack." She offered him a slight smile and glanced towards the hospital entry doors. "Then I saw it was Travers and didn’t really care if it was a vampire attack."
Giles gave a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, hopefully he’ll give you no more trouble. At least for a while."
Buffy nodded and then sighed, dropping her gaze to his right cheek. "Pretty ugly bruise you’ve got there..."
He reached up and pressed his fingertips against the swollen flesh. "Yours are worse."
"Kralik could’ve killed you, you know..."
"I was more worried about you." He gestured towards the ceiling, in a vague direction to her room three floors above. "And...Joyce, of course."
"Mom’s really mad at you right now." Buffy stated matter-of-factly.
"I’m sure she is. And I’m just as sure that she has every right to be angry with me." Giles replied, remorse tinging his words.
"I’m really mad at you, too." Before he could respond, she shrugged a shoulder and gave a deep sigh. "But, not as mad as I was earlier. So, that’s gotta be a pretty good sigh, huh?"
"I’m sorry?" He asked, his eyes widening slightly.
"You were serious, right? I mean...about not leaving Sunnydale?"
"I’m going nowhere, Buffy." He stated without hesitation.
"Then...can we talk tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course." He answered quickly.
"Good." She stood there for a moment, watching him.
And then she smiled and turned, slipping back into the elevator that hadn’t been stuck between floors. She pushed the button and then caught Giles’ eyes.
"See you tomorrow."
Giles nodded, the corners of his mouth slightly curving upwards as the doors slid shut. As he turned and made his way to the doors, he exhaled a deep breath and smiled inwardly. It was a new day...with a new beginning.
And the space between he and Buffy suddenly didn't feel nearly as immense as it had just a few hours earlier.
~ End