Almost Time: Rupert Giles {BtVS, PG}
Title: Almost Time
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Character: Rupert Giles (gen)
Summary: Events are about to unfold that not even the Slayer herself could stop, and Giles is bound by fate to record it.
Notes: For secondalto in genfic_minis, who prompted 'diaries, trenchcoat, tea'. 734 words.
The diary had been bound more than three centuries before Giles had been born. The stark grey of it was, despite its unappealing shade, utterly beautiful and it shone with a luxury few could afford at the time of its construction. The cover was inlaid with twists of silver and gold and the spine had been treated similarly. There were no words printed either externally or internally, nor any stamps to signify a particular creator. Its blankness was deliberate; the Watchers Council of the time had deigned it imprudent to mark such an important diary and no one since had dare defame it.
It's almost time.
Giles turned it over in his weary hands. He had supposed this moment would come for a long time; indeed, he had suspected it within a year of meeting Buffy and her remarkable friends. It soon became clear that he was not the only one to hold these beliefs when the Council began bearing down upon him so hard, firing him at the first possible moment, but not even they could hold back a tide this swift and ancient.
It's almost time.
It was not an oft-stated fact that the Council was not as cohesive a group as they had people believe. It had aged well across millennia, and nothing could stay in one piece of that long no matter how many promises of power were thrown in the rebel's pockets. There were always those who had turned from the accepted way of things and for the most part they were dealt with efficiently.
Not always. Giles had found himself among their rebellious ranks a long time ago and they had told him of the prophecy eschewed by the core of the Council.
He slipped off his trench coat now that the California heat had sunk back through his skin. England had been a welcome escape but he had never intended to stay. He had known he would need to retrieve this book from the archives the moment Buffy had jumped, and oh, what an odd thought that was to have as he watched his slayer and his friend fall forever through the air. He had planned his flight home by the time she hit the ground.
It's almost time.
The others had delayed him. He had to make sure that they would follow fate down its winding path. Willow's magic was strong and Giles was sure he had left the necessary books and difficult ingredients in plain sight, but the youngsters had become good at hiding their intentions. Not good enough when Giles was watching so carefully, and now he returned to Buffy alive if not entirely well. His own plans - the plans of generations before him - were falling into place, soft and smooth, like expensive ink on a fresh sheet of paper.
"Giles? We made you some tea," Willow said. Xander and Anya stood side-by-side behind her, anxious eyes fixed on him. Tea as the great peacemaker: Giles had taught them well. "Please don't be angry at us."
He should be, he knew. He should be furious. They had dabbled in the darkest of arts and there would be consequences which he would have to let them feel. There were events now set in motion that not even the slayer herself could hold back. Yet he was part of it now, more than they knew, and anger would be disastrously misplaced. He smiled and held the warm cup in his fingers, leaning back from the diary which was now propped open on a smooth blank page. "Thank you."
They would know, soon enough, what Giles had known for too long. He watched their backs as they retreated and then set aside the steaming drink.
It's almost time, Olivia had said on one of her final visits, her bright eyes alight with excitment. The signs are already in place. Buffy will die again, and she will rot, but not forever. And when she rises, the old ways we follow will rot in her place. Things are going to change. The world is going to be saved.
Things were going to change, Giles knew, and it would be his job to record the swiftly passing events for the generations of slayers freed. It was why this diary had been created back when the first portents of this prophecy had begun.
Giles picked up the pen.
It's almost time, he wrote, and let history unfold.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Character: Rupert Giles (gen)
Summary: Events are about to unfold that not even the Slayer herself could stop, and Giles is bound by fate to record it.
Notes: For secondalto in genfic_minis, who prompted 'diaries, trenchcoat, tea'. 734 words.
The diary had been bound more than three centuries before Giles had been born. The stark grey of it was, despite its unappealing shade, utterly beautiful and it shone with a luxury few could afford at the time of its construction. The cover was inlaid with twists of silver and gold and the spine had been treated similarly. There were no words printed either externally or internally, nor any stamps to signify a particular creator. Its blankness was deliberate; the Watchers Council of the time had deigned it imprudent to mark such an important diary and no one since had dare defame it.
It's almost time.
Giles turned it over in his weary hands. He had supposed this moment would come for a long time; indeed, he had suspected it within a year of meeting Buffy and her remarkable friends. It soon became clear that he was not the only one to hold these beliefs when the Council began bearing down upon him so hard, firing him at the first possible moment, but not even they could hold back a tide this swift and ancient.
It's almost time.
It was not an oft-stated fact that the Council was not as cohesive a group as they had people believe. It had aged well across millennia, and nothing could stay in one piece of that long no matter how many promises of power were thrown in the rebel's pockets. There were always those who had turned from the accepted way of things and for the most part they were dealt with efficiently.
Not always. Giles had found himself among their rebellious ranks a long time ago and they had told him of the prophecy eschewed by the core of the Council.
He slipped off his trench coat now that the California heat had sunk back through his skin. England had been a welcome escape but he had never intended to stay. He had known he would need to retrieve this book from the archives the moment Buffy had jumped, and oh, what an odd thought that was to have as he watched his slayer and his friend fall forever through the air. He had planned his flight home by the time she hit the ground.
It's almost time.
The others had delayed him. He had to make sure that they would follow fate down its winding path. Willow's magic was strong and Giles was sure he had left the necessary books and difficult ingredients in plain sight, but the youngsters had become good at hiding their intentions. Not good enough when Giles was watching so carefully, and now he returned to Buffy alive if not entirely well. His own plans - the plans of generations before him - were falling into place, soft and smooth, like expensive ink on a fresh sheet of paper.
"Giles? We made you some tea," Willow said. Xander and Anya stood side-by-side behind her, anxious eyes fixed on him. Tea as the great peacemaker: Giles had taught them well. "Please don't be angry at us."
He should be, he knew. He should be furious. They had dabbled in the darkest of arts and there would be consequences which he would have to let them feel. There were events now set in motion that not even the slayer herself could hold back. Yet he was part of it now, more than they knew, and anger would be disastrously misplaced. He smiled and held the warm cup in his fingers, leaning back from the diary which was now propped open on a smooth blank page. "Thank you."
They would know, soon enough, what Giles had known for too long. He watched their backs as they retreated and then set aside the steaming drink.
It's almost time, Olivia had said on one of her final visits, her bright eyes alight with excitment. The signs are already in place. Buffy will die again, and she will rot, but not forever. And when she rises, the old ways we follow will rot in her place. Things are going to change. The world is going to be saved.
Things were going to change, Giles knew, and it would be his job to record the swiftly passing events for the generations of slayers freed. It was why this diary had been created back when the first portents of this prophecy had begun.
Giles picked up the pen.
It's almost time, he wrote, and let history unfold.