A Noble Cause
Title: A Noble Cause
Rating: PG
Words: About 1000.
Characters: Giles, Andrew, Xander. Implied Buffy/Giles.
Timeline: Mid season 7.
Prompt: for brutti_ma_buoni at genfic_minis , who asked for: Giles in a relationship, season seven or postseries, and unexpected confidences.
Summary: Apocalypse tomorrow. In the meantime, cookies.
(Really, there are cookies.)
Notes: I haven't seen season seven in some time. I watched a few episodes the other day to refresh my memory, and this takes place sometimes around 12, 13. Mid-season, anyways. I haven't written Andrew before, but this idea sort of popped up and I grabbed onto it. Also, tacked on a lovely generic title.
And I know 'no fluff' was requested... I think this is slightly soft around the edges. My apologies for that x3
Their lives had become Hell. They faced the evil from which all evil once sprang. Everything they'd fought against, they'd fought against because of the First. And now, for that same reason, they risked losing everything they'd fought for. The sorry world that unwittingly takes shelter beneath their wing, the unwitting sheep to their tiring shepherd.
(And it really is just them, now, isn't it? Flying solo. At least Giles had always had the Council, for better or for worse. The feeling of dread he felt at seeing such an ancient institution obliterated scared him more than he let on.)
On one level they faced the First; the physical plane was where they met the Turok-han. The vampire of all vampires. Another upgrade from their usual fare. What Dawn had called a Super-size, if he recalled correctly. Certainly not the term one wants to hear when discussing evil.
From another view it might seem epic. The war to end all wars, fought over the mouth of Hell by a handful of ordinary people, and a few extraordinary ones. Like watching a shipwreck in slow motion.
With any luck, there would be no atrocious music when they went down.
Positive thinking, Rupert.
Which was growing exceedingly difficult with Andrew prattling on behind him.
“... and I think it all depends on the motivation. If I give you a cookie because you're my friend, it's a good thing. If I give you a poison cookie - which I wouldn't. But I could. Because I heard they make rat poison that tastes like chocolate. And if I did that, it would be a bad thing. You still get a cookie, but BAM!”
Despite himself, Giles jumped in his seat, then turned and glared at the boy.
“Dead,” concluded Andrew, shaking his head in a disturbingly sinuous motion. Looking away, the Watcher noticed the absence of the room's third occupant.
“Where's Xander gone?”
“Stealing some of Dawn's cookies. For a noble cause, mind you.”
“Naturally,” Giles muttered.
“What's your motivation?”
Turning back to the open book before him, he only gave the boy an uninterested 'Hm'.
Andrew, seemingly mistaking the dismissive sound for attention, repeated himself.
“Why do you do it?”
Fully aware of the perils of conversing with Andrew, Giles hesitantly ventured, “It?”
“All this. You know, fighting the good fight, sometimes the bad fight. Being one of the heroes. Like, Buffy has to do it, right? Slayers don't have a choice. But you do.”
“Oh?”
“Or are Watchers called too?”
“Not quite.”
“Do you do it for our children?”
Giles looked at the young man in time to see a horrified expression take root on his face.
“I-I mean not our kids. Obviously. Of course. Doesn't work that way. Trust me on-and Buffy would so kick my ass, because you guys are, y'know... And she's always looking for excuses to do that. Anya, too. And Dawn. But I don't mind it if she does-” Andrew stopped, taking in a deep breath like some beached whale.
Giles almost pitied the boy for a moment. “For the next generation, you mean?”
“You watch Star Trek?” Andrew seemed to brighten suddenly. At the ensuing silence, he frowned. “Didn't you-oh. Right. Well, is that why you do it?”
Giles wasn't entirely certain he wanted to discuss his motivation with anybody, let alone Andrew. “I try to avoid, er, examining the driving factors behind my actions.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“Reflection has a time and a place-”
“But why?”
Giles narrowed his eyes.
“You're trying to repent for your past sins, aren't you?”
Pointedly turning back to his book, the Watcher tried to find the spot he'd left off. Right. The spirit of the Disciple manifests in- the next phrase was unfamiliar. It looked like Greek, but a Cyrillic letter sat dead center of the word. Giles tapped a finger on the offending letter, deep creases settling on his forehead.
“I do it for Johnathan.”
Andrew was staring at the floor, or maybe at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs like six year old. Giles started to say something, but stopped. Andrew probably didn't want to hear 'Well, that's nice', and the Watcher had no better words at that moment.
“I know I'm not special. Maybe I used to be evil, like Willow, and Anya. But I'm normal now. And I try to help. I want to.”
“Of course.”
“I'm good now. Like, permanently. Just so you know.”
Giles nodded a bit stiffly, twisting back in the chair with a hand on his neck. The mocking word on the page did little to soothe the dull ache, and he sat there for a moment, willing it to make sense. Suddenly, he frowned, remembering something the boy had said.
“Andrew?”
“Yuh-huh?”
“You said Buffy would-well, er... How did you know about Buffy and I?” Giles half-turned, taking care not to twist his neck, and looked expectantly at the boy. Andrew smiled smugly, although he was glancing at the door with alarming frequency.
“Well, I-I have eyes.”
Giles removed his glasses, and looked at Andrew again, one brow raised. “Really?”
It took about six seconds for Andrew's smile to collapse on itself. “Okay, so Dawn told me-”
“Dawn?”
“But I swear I haven't told anybody else!”
“Dawn told... you?”
“She said nobody would believe me if I said anything anyways. Which I haven't, by the way.”
Resting his head on one hand, the Watcher nodded. He was surprised, but pleasantly so. Somebody else knew. Even if that somebody happened to be two somebodies who happened to be Dawn and Andrew.
“I think it's kind of romantic. I mean, staying together in the face of evil.”
“How did Dawn find out?”
“She said Xander and Willow were talking about it.”
With a frown, Giles decided he'd have to find out just how long the cat had been out of the bag, so to speak. Granted, there were far more pressing issues to be dealt with: grand evils, latest apocalypse, end of humanity, and -
“Cookies?”
Xander put the plastic container on the edge of Giles's desk, notably devoid of at least half its contents. As soon as he released it, Andrew swooped in and gathered a handful of biscuits. Xander shouted something at him through a mouthful of cookie.
Hiding a smile, Giles reached out and snagged the last treat.
Shortbread.
Things were certainly looking up.
Rating: PG
Words: About 1000.
Characters: Giles, Andrew, Xander. Implied Buffy/Giles.
Timeline: Mid season 7.
Prompt: for brutti_ma_buoni at genfic_minis , who asked for: Giles in a relationship, season seven or postseries, and unexpected confidences.
Summary: Apocalypse tomorrow. In the meantime, cookies.
(Really, there are cookies.)
Notes: I haven't seen season seven in some time. I watched a few episodes the other day to refresh my memory, and this takes place sometimes around 12, 13. Mid-season, anyways. I haven't written Andrew before, but this idea sort of popped up and I grabbed onto it. Also, tacked on a lovely generic title.
And I know 'no fluff' was requested... I think this is slightly soft around the edges. My apologies for that x3
Their lives had become Hell. They faced the evil from which all evil once sprang. Everything they'd fought against, they'd fought against because of the First. And now, for that same reason, they risked losing everything they'd fought for. The sorry world that unwittingly takes shelter beneath their wing, the unwitting sheep to their tiring shepherd.
(And it really is just them, now, isn't it? Flying solo. At least Giles had always had the Council, for better or for worse. The feeling of dread he felt at seeing such an ancient institution obliterated scared him more than he let on.)
On one level they faced the First; the physical plane was where they met the Turok-han. The vampire of all vampires. Another upgrade from their usual fare. What Dawn had called a Super-size, if he recalled correctly. Certainly not the term one wants to hear when discussing evil.
From another view it might seem epic. The war to end all wars, fought over the mouth of Hell by a handful of ordinary people, and a few extraordinary ones. Like watching a shipwreck in slow motion.
With any luck, there would be no atrocious music when they went down.
Positive thinking, Rupert.
Which was growing exceedingly difficult with Andrew prattling on behind him.
“... and I think it all depends on the motivation. If I give you a cookie because you're my friend, it's a good thing. If I give you a poison cookie - which I wouldn't. But I could. Because I heard they make rat poison that tastes like chocolate. And if I did that, it would be a bad thing. You still get a cookie, but BAM!”
Despite himself, Giles jumped in his seat, then turned and glared at the boy.
“Dead,” concluded Andrew, shaking his head in a disturbingly sinuous motion. Looking away, the Watcher noticed the absence of the room's third occupant.
“Where's Xander gone?”
“Stealing some of Dawn's cookies. For a noble cause, mind you.”
“Naturally,” Giles muttered.
“What's your motivation?”
Turning back to the open book before him, he only gave the boy an uninterested 'Hm'.
Andrew, seemingly mistaking the dismissive sound for attention, repeated himself.
“Why do you do it?”
Fully aware of the perils of conversing with Andrew, Giles hesitantly ventured, “It?”
“All this. You know, fighting the good fight, sometimes the bad fight. Being one of the heroes. Like, Buffy has to do it, right? Slayers don't have a choice. But you do.”
“Oh?”
“Or are Watchers called too?”
“Not quite.”
“Do you do it for our children?”
Giles looked at the young man in time to see a horrified expression take root on his face.
“I-I mean not our kids. Obviously. Of course. Doesn't work that way. Trust me on-and Buffy would so kick my ass, because you guys are, y'know... And she's always looking for excuses to do that. Anya, too. And Dawn. But I don't mind it if she does-” Andrew stopped, taking in a deep breath like some beached whale.
Giles almost pitied the boy for a moment. “For the next generation, you mean?”
“You watch Star Trek?” Andrew seemed to brighten suddenly. At the ensuing silence, he frowned. “Didn't you-oh. Right. Well, is that why you do it?”
Giles wasn't entirely certain he wanted to discuss his motivation with anybody, let alone Andrew. “I try to avoid, er, examining the driving factors behind my actions.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“Reflection has a time and a place-”
“But why?”
Giles narrowed his eyes.
“You're trying to repent for your past sins, aren't you?”
Pointedly turning back to his book, the Watcher tried to find the spot he'd left off. Right. The spirit of the Disciple manifests in- the next phrase was unfamiliar. It looked like Greek, but a Cyrillic letter sat dead center of the word. Giles tapped a finger on the offending letter, deep creases settling on his forehead.
“I do it for Johnathan.”
Andrew was staring at the floor, or maybe at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs like six year old. Giles started to say something, but stopped. Andrew probably didn't want to hear 'Well, that's nice', and the Watcher had no better words at that moment.
“I know I'm not special. Maybe I used to be evil, like Willow, and Anya. But I'm normal now. And I try to help. I want to.”
“Of course.”
“I'm good now. Like, permanently. Just so you know.”
Giles nodded a bit stiffly, twisting back in the chair with a hand on his neck. The mocking word on the page did little to soothe the dull ache, and he sat there for a moment, willing it to make sense. Suddenly, he frowned, remembering something the boy had said.
“Andrew?”
“Yuh-huh?”
“You said Buffy would-well, er... How did you know about Buffy and I?” Giles half-turned, taking care not to twist his neck, and looked expectantly at the boy. Andrew smiled smugly, although he was glancing at the door with alarming frequency.
“Well, I-I have eyes.”
Giles removed his glasses, and looked at Andrew again, one brow raised. “Really?”
It took about six seconds for Andrew's smile to collapse on itself. “Okay, so Dawn told me-”
“Dawn?”
“But I swear I haven't told anybody else!”
“Dawn told... you?”
“She said nobody would believe me if I said anything anyways. Which I haven't, by the way.”
Resting his head on one hand, the Watcher nodded. He was surprised, but pleasantly so. Somebody else knew. Even if that somebody happened to be two somebodies who happened to be Dawn and Andrew.
“I think it's kind of romantic. I mean, staying together in the face of evil.”
“How did Dawn find out?”
“She said Xander and Willow were talking about it.”
With a frown, Giles decided he'd have to find out just how long the cat had been out of the bag, so to speak. Granted, there were far more pressing issues to be dealt with: grand evils, latest apocalypse, end of humanity, and -
“Cookies?”
Xander put the plastic container on the edge of Giles's desk, notably devoid of at least half its contents. As soon as he released it, Andrew swooped in and gathered a handful of biscuits. Xander shouted something at him through a mouthful of cookie.
Hiding a smile, Giles reached out and snagged the last treat.
Shortbread.
Things were certainly looking up.