The Summer After. 6/6.
Title: The Summer After.
Author: elisi.
Summary: A few weeks post-NFA Giles meets some old acquaintances. But where do their loyalties lie these days? And what exactly do they want with Giles?
Rating: PG.
Feedback: If you read the whole thing, I'd be delighted to know!
Notes: This is obviously the last chapter, but there is also a one-shot Prequel that I'll post sometime next week. Oh and a very silly standalone.
Previous chapters here.
Chapter 6
Giles sat forward nervously, but Angel ignored him completely and addressed Illyria. “What do you know of Watchers and their function?”
“They train the Slayers. They study demons and magic.”
“That’s correct. But they have another purpose as well. It is their duty to chronicle all that happens to the Slayer in their charge, as well as other important stuff - apocalypses or extraordinary incidents and people. They probably have several books about myself and Spike, as we are the only souled vampires in existence.”
Illyria quizzically turned her head to look at Giles, who uttered a garbled confirmation. As a matter of fact Andrew was currently editing the latest one, having begged for two months before Giles finally gave in.
When she turned back to Angel, the vampire continued. “This here is Rupert Giles, the Head Watcher. We wish for him to write down the life story of the man you... cared about. We will make sure that he will impart the... singularity of this man to all Slayers and Watchers, so as long as The Council exists, no Watcher will be honoured above your Wesley.”
Giles inhaled sharply at this announcement, but the blue entity across from him appeared to almost smile.
“Your ‘surprise’ pleases me. This will be a fitting tribute for Wesley. I... thank you!” And she inclined her head briefly toward Angel.
Giles watched as Angel cast Spike a happy look and they smiled at each other. After the initial surprise, he felt equal measures of relief and disbelief. This was their great scheme? Write an account of Wesley’s life? He had understood that his former colleague was dead after Spike’s earlier statement, but...
“You want me to do what?” he asked, his incredulity obviously showing in his voice, because all three demons turned to look at him.
“Seems pretty straightforward to me!” Spike remarked.
“Em, well, yes - but...” Giles faltered with three pairs of scornful eyes on him.
“You’ll have to cancel all your appointments and other plans of course, but otherwise I can’t see it bein’ too hard,” the blond continued.
“But... Wesley?” Giles felt unable to come to terms with what they were asking - the young man he remembered did not seem more than a footnote in Slayer-history. What could he possibly have done to warrant such devotion?
Angel obviously guessed what he was thinking. “Do you remember when Willow was captured by the Mayor? Wesley was against the trading her for the box we stole - he saw that it was crazy to value her life above thousands. And you knew that he was right - that you should look at the bigger picture. That was Wesley’s gift - he, more than anyone I’ve known, always saw the bigger picture! And what’s more, he acted on it - no matter the pain it would cause himself or others. That is the man we want the world to know.”
Giles fell silent. He did recall what had happened then - and two years later. His arguments with Buffy over Dawn’s life. What he had been prepared to do and what he had been forced to do. Spike knew all of this and still somehow thought that Wesley had been the truer Watcher...
He was shaken out of his thoughts when Illyria spoke again. “Will you tell him about Connor?”
A slow nod. “Yes.”
It was now Spike’s turn to look incredulous. “You can’t do that! Seriously - the poor kid will drown in Watchers wanting to study ‘the miracle-kid’. If they believe you, that is. It was a bit of a curve ball for me, and considering my life so far, that’s saying something! I’m glad you told me, don’t get me wrong, but if I hadn’t seen him myself...”
Angel folded his hands on the table in front of him, his face determined. “Giles will be the only one to know... that particular part can be put with all the other top-secret stuff I’m sure they’ve got stashed away somewhere. I just...” He looked up, a strangely helpless look on his face. “I just want there to be some sort of record. God knows how long we’ll last...”
His voice drifted off and he briefly closed his eyes. Then, pulling himself out of the deep seated tiredness that had momentarily overwhelmed him, he finished - voice calm, but determined. “I want someone to know - just in case.”
Spike slowly nodded and ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide emotions Giles couldn’t guess at. “Can’t blame you there. If it was me...” his voice trailed off and for a moment he looked into the distance, eyes lost.
Giles began to suspect that he was dreaming. It seemed like every time he found out one thing, another mystery popped up. He sighed, and decided that he might as well ask. “So who’s Connor?”
The answer almost made him pinch his arm.
“My son.”
Giles nearly laughed, but seeing the proud, stubborn look in Angel’s eyes made the laughter die in his throat.
After a few seconds he turned to Spike. “I think I need another whisky!”
Spike, shaken out of whatever thoughts he’d been entertaining, nodded and waved to the barmaid, and soon a drink appeared on the table.
As Giles nursed his scotch, he half-listened to Spike and Angel’s quiet discussion of where to go next. It would seem they had no place to stay, having only arrived in London that evening.
The events of the last few hours were continually playing themselves out in his mind - later revelations casting light on earlier puzzles. And he realised that he would indeed do what they had asked him to. He was already planning out details and wondering what Wesley’s father would have to say. Also he was becoming curious - what had Wesley done to earn the admiration of the cold, unemotional demon-god across the table. How - and when - had Angel fathered a son? And what had they done at Wolfram & Hart that had cost so many lives?
He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. “For the purposes of recording this... life story, it would probably be best if you stayed at the Council Headquarters.”
Two heads turned to him, their faces questioning.
“At The Council?” Spike asked, laughter and disbelief mingling in his voice. “You sure about that Rupert?”
Giles tried to ignore the way the vampire still managed to annoy him, even when he wasn’t trying, and answered as calmly as he could. “We have extensive guest accommodation - I think you will find it quite sufficient.”
But for reasons he couldn’t understand, they didn’t appear very keen. Spike shot Angel a look, and the older vampire, after a moment’s hesitation, asked, “You mean we can just walk in?”
Suddenly illuminated, Giles answered. “Well, Willow set up a mystical barrier, but a small incantation should be all that’s needed to let you pass through.”
Angel looked incredulous. “You mean it’s that easy? No shamans? No supernatural alarms? No mind readers? Not even an empath demon or a Seer? Please tell me that at least you have security cameras.”
Noticing the look on Giles’ face, Spike chuckled. “You were at Wolfram & Hart too long, mate! Not everyone is as paranoid as evil lawyers.”
Angel shook his head. “I spent four years breaking in and trying not to get captured before I took over the place. They were thorough and rightly so! You,” he jabbed a finger in Giles’ direction, “are the Head of The Council of Watchers, with countless Slayers at your disposal. Don’t you think there are a good few demons out there who’d like to see you and your organisation gone?”
Giles was speechless - being lectured on security by Angel was something he’d never envisaged.
“Not to mention the fact that the three of us are amongst the most wanted fugitives of the demon world. The Council would be under siege within days.”
Shaking his head, Angel continued. “We have contacts in town. We’ll find somewhere to stay, and tomorrow I’ll call in a few favours and get your place made thoroughly secure! We’ll see you then. Spike, Illyria?”
And in one swift motion the three of them were gone, leaving Giles alone at the table. It happened so quickly that it was almost as though they’d ‘gone poof’ as Willow would have said. Demons indeed. He had forgotten that and tonight had been a timely reminder. The two vampires were not ‘tame’ as he had sometimes thought to himself with a chuckle - a little humble, a little outside the Scoobies tight circle. There had always been a feeling that they didn’t really fit, and therefore were more expendable - and more willing.
But tonight... tonight they had talked down to him, the way elders have always addressed their juniors. Spike’s ‘Rupert’ had not held any of the cheekiness that it had previously, when the vampire had behaved like a rebellious youth. Now it was merely a way of addressing him - with a bit of contempt added for good measure.
Giles finished the drink, but didn’t get up although he could see that the place was closing. The vampires were extracting their darts from the board - the game seemed to have involved seeing how many darts would fit in the bullseye - and the barmaid was wiping down the tables. She left his until last, and when she took his glass ventured a question. “’Scuse me, but what with Spike now bein’ a Champion - does this mean that he’s saved the world and stuff like that?”
Giles nodded hesitantly. “Em, yes... several times actually. Angel too, I should add!”
This caused obvious delight. “Ooooh, fancy that! Do you think I should get a little sign up or something - y’know like the blue plaques they have on houses where famous people were born?”
Giles felt unable to come up with a reply, but she had already left, busy planning a way of making her pub famous.
They had saved - or at least helped save - the world... he didn’t even know how many times. They had lost their lives, their friends, their home and now there was a price on their heads - but... they were still fighting. They had come all the way back to England to honour a dead friend and a demon god travelled with them because she saw them as something resembling equals.
And with a shock he suddenly realised that Buffy had been right that night. That she had seen a different person to everyone else, when she looked at Spike - someone Giles had only found out existed tonight. As for Angel... He had been very surprised to learn that Angel had taken over Wolfram & Hart, but now he could see the ruthlessness that had probably always been there, but that only Angelus had drawn on in the past. Although it also proved what he had always suspected - that Angel was not so different from Angelus as Buffy wanted to think. He knew next to nothing about what had happened to Angel since he'd left Sunnydale, and Spike's decision to stay with Angel was even more puzzling. What was their purpose? What kept them fighting? So many questions, and hopefully he'd get some answers soon. They were players - but what was the game?
Champions indeed, he thought, as he made his way out of the pub and saw that morning was near. He remembered standing by a crater one bright day and wondering out loud, “I don't understand. Who did this?” And Buffy had answered, a note of quiet fondness and pride in her voice: “Spike.”
I should have known then, he mused. Hopefully I’ll not be so dim in the future!
The End
Author: elisi.
Summary: A few weeks post-NFA Giles meets some old acquaintances. But where do their loyalties lie these days? And what exactly do they want with Giles?
Rating: PG.
Feedback: If you read the whole thing, I'd be delighted to know!
Notes: This is obviously the last chapter, but there is also a one-shot Prequel that I'll post sometime next week. Oh and a very silly standalone.
Previous chapters here.
Chapter 6
Giles sat forward nervously, but Angel ignored him completely and addressed Illyria. “What do you know of Watchers and their function?”
“They train the Slayers. They study demons and magic.”
“That’s correct. But they have another purpose as well. It is their duty to chronicle all that happens to the Slayer in their charge, as well as other important stuff - apocalypses or extraordinary incidents and people. They probably have several books about myself and Spike, as we are the only souled vampires in existence.”
Illyria quizzically turned her head to look at Giles, who uttered a garbled confirmation. As a matter of fact Andrew was currently editing the latest one, having begged for two months before Giles finally gave in.
When she turned back to Angel, the vampire continued. “This here is Rupert Giles, the Head Watcher. We wish for him to write down the life story of the man you... cared about. We will make sure that he will impart the... singularity of this man to all Slayers and Watchers, so as long as The Council exists, no Watcher will be honoured above your Wesley.”
Giles inhaled sharply at this announcement, but the blue entity across from him appeared to almost smile.
“Your ‘surprise’ pleases me. This will be a fitting tribute for Wesley. I... thank you!” And she inclined her head briefly toward Angel.
Giles watched as Angel cast Spike a happy look and they smiled at each other. After the initial surprise, he felt equal measures of relief and disbelief. This was their great scheme? Write an account of Wesley’s life? He had understood that his former colleague was dead after Spike’s earlier statement, but...
“You want me to do what?” he asked, his incredulity obviously showing in his voice, because all three demons turned to look at him.
“Seems pretty straightforward to me!” Spike remarked.
“Em, well, yes - but...” Giles faltered with three pairs of scornful eyes on him.
“You’ll have to cancel all your appointments and other plans of course, but otherwise I can’t see it bein’ too hard,” the blond continued.
“But... Wesley?” Giles felt unable to come to terms with what they were asking - the young man he remembered did not seem more than a footnote in Slayer-history. What could he possibly have done to warrant such devotion?
Angel obviously guessed what he was thinking. “Do you remember when Willow was captured by the Mayor? Wesley was against the trading her for the box we stole - he saw that it was crazy to value her life above thousands. And you knew that he was right - that you should look at the bigger picture. That was Wesley’s gift - he, more than anyone I’ve known, always saw the bigger picture! And what’s more, he acted on it - no matter the pain it would cause himself or others. That is the man we want the world to know.”
Giles fell silent. He did recall what had happened then - and two years later. His arguments with Buffy over Dawn’s life. What he had been prepared to do and what he had been forced to do. Spike knew all of this and still somehow thought that Wesley had been the truer Watcher...
He was shaken out of his thoughts when Illyria spoke again. “Will you tell him about Connor?”
A slow nod. “Yes.”
It was now Spike’s turn to look incredulous. “You can’t do that! Seriously - the poor kid will drown in Watchers wanting to study ‘the miracle-kid’. If they believe you, that is. It was a bit of a curve ball for me, and considering my life so far, that’s saying something! I’m glad you told me, don’t get me wrong, but if I hadn’t seen him myself...”
Angel folded his hands on the table in front of him, his face determined. “Giles will be the only one to know... that particular part can be put with all the other top-secret stuff I’m sure they’ve got stashed away somewhere. I just...” He looked up, a strangely helpless look on his face. “I just want there to be some sort of record. God knows how long we’ll last...”
His voice drifted off and he briefly closed his eyes. Then, pulling himself out of the deep seated tiredness that had momentarily overwhelmed him, he finished - voice calm, but determined. “I want someone to know - just in case.”
Spike slowly nodded and ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide emotions Giles couldn’t guess at. “Can’t blame you there. If it was me...” his voice trailed off and for a moment he looked into the distance, eyes lost.
Giles began to suspect that he was dreaming. It seemed like every time he found out one thing, another mystery popped up. He sighed, and decided that he might as well ask. “So who’s Connor?”
The answer almost made him pinch his arm.
“My son.”
Giles nearly laughed, but seeing the proud, stubborn look in Angel’s eyes made the laughter die in his throat.
After a few seconds he turned to Spike. “I think I need another whisky!”
Spike, shaken out of whatever thoughts he’d been entertaining, nodded and waved to the barmaid, and soon a drink appeared on the table.
As Giles nursed his scotch, he half-listened to Spike and Angel’s quiet discussion of where to go next. It would seem they had no place to stay, having only arrived in London that evening.
The events of the last few hours were continually playing themselves out in his mind - later revelations casting light on earlier puzzles. And he realised that he would indeed do what they had asked him to. He was already planning out details and wondering what Wesley’s father would have to say. Also he was becoming curious - what had Wesley done to earn the admiration of the cold, unemotional demon-god across the table. How - and when - had Angel fathered a son? And what had they done at Wolfram & Hart that had cost so many lives?
He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. “For the purposes of recording this... life story, it would probably be best if you stayed at the Council Headquarters.”
Two heads turned to him, their faces questioning.
“At The Council?” Spike asked, laughter and disbelief mingling in his voice. “You sure about that Rupert?”
Giles tried to ignore the way the vampire still managed to annoy him, even when he wasn’t trying, and answered as calmly as he could. “We have extensive guest accommodation - I think you will find it quite sufficient.”
But for reasons he couldn’t understand, they didn’t appear very keen. Spike shot Angel a look, and the older vampire, after a moment’s hesitation, asked, “You mean we can just walk in?”
Suddenly illuminated, Giles answered. “Well, Willow set up a mystical barrier, but a small incantation should be all that’s needed to let you pass through.”
Angel looked incredulous. “You mean it’s that easy? No shamans? No supernatural alarms? No mind readers? Not even an empath demon or a Seer? Please tell me that at least you have security cameras.”
Noticing the look on Giles’ face, Spike chuckled. “You were at Wolfram & Hart too long, mate! Not everyone is as paranoid as evil lawyers.”
Angel shook his head. “I spent four years breaking in and trying not to get captured before I took over the place. They were thorough and rightly so! You,” he jabbed a finger in Giles’ direction, “are the Head of The Council of Watchers, with countless Slayers at your disposal. Don’t you think there are a good few demons out there who’d like to see you and your organisation gone?”
Giles was speechless - being lectured on security by Angel was something he’d never envisaged.
“Not to mention the fact that the three of us are amongst the most wanted fugitives of the demon world. The Council would be under siege within days.”
Shaking his head, Angel continued. “We have contacts in town. We’ll find somewhere to stay, and tomorrow I’ll call in a few favours and get your place made thoroughly secure! We’ll see you then. Spike, Illyria?”
And in one swift motion the three of them were gone, leaving Giles alone at the table. It happened so quickly that it was almost as though they’d ‘gone poof’ as Willow would have said. Demons indeed. He had forgotten that and tonight had been a timely reminder. The two vampires were not ‘tame’ as he had sometimes thought to himself with a chuckle - a little humble, a little outside the Scoobies tight circle. There had always been a feeling that they didn’t really fit, and therefore were more expendable - and more willing.
But tonight... tonight they had talked down to him, the way elders have always addressed their juniors. Spike’s ‘Rupert’ had not held any of the cheekiness that it had previously, when the vampire had behaved like a rebellious youth. Now it was merely a way of addressing him - with a bit of contempt added for good measure.
Giles finished the drink, but didn’t get up although he could see that the place was closing. The vampires were extracting their darts from the board - the game seemed to have involved seeing how many darts would fit in the bullseye - and the barmaid was wiping down the tables. She left his until last, and when she took his glass ventured a question. “’Scuse me, but what with Spike now bein’ a Champion - does this mean that he’s saved the world and stuff like that?”
Giles nodded hesitantly. “Em, yes... several times actually. Angel too, I should add!”
This caused obvious delight. “Ooooh, fancy that! Do you think I should get a little sign up or something - y’know like the blue plaques they have on houses where famous people were born?”
Giles felt unable to come up with a reply, but she had already left, busy planning a way of making her pub famous.
They had saved - or at least helped save - the world... he didn’t even know how many times. They had lost their lives, their friends, their home and now there was a price on their heads - but... they were still fighting. They had come all the way back to England to honour a dead friend and a demon god travelled with them because she saw them as something resembling equals.
And with a shock he suddenly realised that Buffy had been right that night. That she had seen a different person to everyone else, when she looked at Spike - someone Giles had only found out existed tonight. As for Angel... He had been very surprised to learn that Angel had taken over Wolfram & Hart, but now he could see the ruthlessness that had probably always been there, but that only Angelus had drawn on in the past. Although it also proved what he had always suspected - that Angel was not so different from Angelus as Buffy wanted to think. He knew next to nothing about what had happened to Angel since he'd left Sunnydale, and Spike's decision to stay with Angel was even more puzzling. What was their purpose? What kept them fighting? So many questions, and hopefully he'd get some answers soon. They were players - but what was the game?
Champions indeed, he thought, as he made his way out of the pub and saw that morning was near. He remembered standing by a crater one bright day and wondering out loud, “I don't understand. Who did this?” And Buffy had answered, a note of quiet fondness and pride in her voice: “Spike.”
I should have known then, he mused. Hopefully I’ll not be so dim in the future!
The End