The Apocalypse Stone, Buffy/Giles, part 5
anonymous
September 3 2011, 05:37:14 UTC
"Kinda been there, done that. I got mad about that first prophecy. Wanted to go to the dance, instead got signed up by fate to die. But I coped. This is-- this is peanuts compared to dying. I got this."
Buffy was hoping that saying it confidently enough would make it completely true. Though it was true in a deep way. She'd get through this. She trusted Giles all the way down. He would get the ritual done, they'd save the world, and afterwards the only one going all weird about it would be her. Giles would repress like a pro and give her the space she needed to un-weird herself. And that was how it was going to go.
There was a little smile on Giles's face, though. "You have put things in perspective, rather," he murmured, and she felt a little better. He sighed. "I need to set it aside. All these things don't matter."
Buffy stood up and gave him a hand up for no good reason other than to remind him and her both that she was the Slayer and she could lever a hundred-eighty pound guy up off the floor with no trouble. And he was a Watcher and he didn't mind that she could do that or throw him around in training. It was the way they did things.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be."
Giles held onto her hand and they stepped into the pentagram together.
"I'm going to start the ritual now. We have all the time we want. It does not end until we complete it. Or interrupt it by leaving the pentagram."
Buffy nodded and released his hand. She sat in the center of the pentagram, on the folded blanket. Giles picked up the box of matches and struck one. He lit the red candle first and chanted something in a strange and ugly language while he did it. Red, white, blue, green. The apocalypse stone was where a black candle would be. Giles went to that point last, still chanting, and blew out the match. He fell silent. The room receded away from them. They were inside a pentagram, watched by things not of the earth. Buffy knew that with senses she couldn't name, Slayer senses, the deep things. Giles existed in that plane too, she knew now, as she did, every day while walking in daylight. They had been touched.
Last, Giles lit several incense cones and set them in the brass bowl. The smoke curled up from the bowl. It was an odd scent, partly bitter, partly sweet. The scent of deep magic.
The mage-man blew out the match and dropped it into the brass bowl. Then he came and sat behind her, with his legs stretched out on either side. He put his arms around her waist. Buffy leaned back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and they sat like that for a few minutes, not talking. Buffy rested her hands on his where they were clasped against her stomach. Strong hands, not tanned, a little gold-brown hair on the backs on his fingers. He was wearing the ring on his pinky finger that he usually wore, the one with his family name on it. He was nuzzling her a little bit while she did this, rubbing his cheek against her hair, nothing more daring than that. Buffy stroked the back of his hand and thought about what it would feel like when he kissed her. When he touched her.
Giles was doing something with her barrette. Taking it off, apparently. It came free and he lifted her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed her. Buffy held her breath. Warm lips, warm kisses, so strange after Angel's chilly touch. Buffy breathed out, a long sigh. So gentle, Giles was, so patient, melting them both one touch at a time.
He let her go and shifted himself so they were face-to-face. He took her face in his hands and leaned in to her. His lips touched hers once, nothing more than a brush. And then again, lingering this time. Buffy's lips parted under his.
Buffy was hoping that saying it confidently enough would make it completely true. Though it was true in a deep way. She'd get through this. She trusted Giles all the way down. He would get the ritual done, they'd save the world, and afterwards the only one going all weird about it would be her. Giles would repress like a pro and give her the space she needed to un-weird herself. And that was how it was going to go.
There was a little smile on Giles's face, though. "You have put things in perspective, rather," he murmured, and she felt a little better. He sighed. "I need to set it aside. All these things don't matter."
Buffy stood up and gave him a hand up for no good reason other than to remind him and her both that she was the Slayer and she could lever a hundred-eighty pound guy up off the floor with no trouble. And he was a Watcher and he didn't mind that she could do that or throw him around in training. It was the way they did things.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be."
Giles held onto her hand and they stepped into the pentagram together.
"I'm going to start the ritual now. We have all the time we want. It does not end until we complete it. Or interrupt it by leaving the pentagram."
Buffy nodded and released his hand. She sat in the center of the pentagram, on the folded blanket. Giles picked up the box of matches and struck one. He lit the red candle first and chanted something in a strange and ugly language while he did it. Red, white, blue, green. The apocalypse stone was where a black candle would be. Giles went to that point last, still chanting, and blew out the match. He fell silent. The room receded away from them. They were inside a pentagram, watched by things not of the earth. Buffy knew that with senses she couldn't name, Slayer senses, the deep things. Giles existed in that plane too, she knew now, as she did, every day while walking in daylight. They had been touched.
Last, Giles lit several incense cones and set them in the brass bowl. The smoke curled up from the bowl. It was an odd scent, partly bitter, partly sweet. The scent of deep magic.
The mage-man blew out the match and dropped it into the brass bowl. Then he came and sat behind her, with his legs stretched out on either side. He put his arms around her waist. Buffy leaned back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and they sat like that for a few minutes, not talking. Buffy rested her hands on his where they were clasped against her stomach. Strong hands, not tanned, a little gold-brown hair on the backs on his fingers. He was wearing the ring on his pinky finger that he usually wore, the one with his family name on it. He was nuzzling her a little bit while she did this, rubbing his cheek against her hair, nothing more daring than that. Buffy stroked the back of his hand and thought about what it would feel like when he kissed her. When he touched her.
Giles was doing something with her barrette. Taking it off, apparently. It came free and he lifted her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed her. Buffy held her breath. Warm lips, warm kisses, so strange after Angel's chilly touch. Buffy breathed out, a long sigh. So gentle, Giles was, so patient, melting them both one touch at a time.
He let her go and shifted himself so they were face-to-face. He took her face in his hands and leaned in to her. His lips touched hers once, nothing more than a brush. And then again, lingering this time. Buffy's lips parted under his.
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