Ancient History (PG13)
Title Ancient History
Author Brutti ma buoni
Words 380
Rating PG13
Setting Post-series
Prompt Obscure prophecy
A/N This is part of a prequel to Prehistoric, and is now definitely part of the Rulesverse. It's late Rulesverse (call it 2018), so if you don't know the verse the background references may not mean too much. But you don't actually need them to understand this ficlet.
Giles gave one of those dry, unhappy coughs that meant trouble ahead.
The Slayer Council's inner circle looked in his direction. Eyebrows were raised. Sighs were sighed.
Cordelia broke the not-quite-silence. "It's the end of the world, huh?"
"Again," nodded Giles. "The research department has unfortunately unearthed an obscure ancient prophecy-"
At this point the briefing was disrupted by a number of the older, allegedly more mature, Slayers, led by Buffy Summers, starting to pelt him with balled up sheets of paper.
"Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Giles, irritably. "But there is an ancient prophecy. And it is about the end of the world, as they do rather tend to be. There will be a number of signs and portents - and you can all stop groaning right now - and we must track them to find the optimum moment to intervene. Do I hear volunteers?"
Spike's voice broke the sudden silence. "How long, Rupes?"
"I do wish you wouldn’t- Oh, never mind. Couple of weeks, I think. Not more than three, certainly."
"Sweet. Fancy it, Slayer?" Spike quirked a brow at Buffy.
She frowned. "Both of us? But the kids-"
"Babysitter." Spike was definite. "I fancy a mission for just the two of us. Like old times, eh?"
She paused for long enough that the atmosphere in the room started to change to discomfort. Buffy didn’t do missions any more. Everyone knew that. Even with the war heroics, and all, she was pretty much retired from the field now.
But when she looked up, her eyes were gleaming with the old Summers light. "We'll need a mission briefing by sundown. Spike, get packing. Don't forget my body butter. Giles, I'm borrowing your nanny, and I want Faith for my direct control." There was a vampiric cough from the end of the table. "Our control. Sorry. You know she'll love getting back in the field too. Weapons check at 1800."
As she rose from the table and shimmied out of the room with far more grace than she usually managed now, the assembled crowd let out a small, definite sigh of nostalgia. Spike vamped out, just for a second, with visible satisfaction, and followed her.
Buffy Summers: not dead, only resting.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Words 380
Rating PG13
Setting Post-series
Prompt Obscure prophecy
A/N This is part of a prequel to Prehistoric, and is now definitely part of the Rulesverse. It's late Rulesverse (call it 2018), so if you don't know the verse the background references may not mean too much. But you don't actually need them to understand this ficlet.
Giles gave one of those dry, unhappy coughs that meant trouble ahead.
The Slayer Council's inner circle looked in his direction. Eyebrows were raised. Sighs were sighed.
Cordelia broke the not-quite-silence. "It's the end of the world, huh?"
"Again," nodded Giles. "The research department has unfortunately unearthed an obscure ancient prophecy-"
At this point the briefing was disrupted by a number of the older, allegedly more mature, Slayers, led by Buffy Summers, starting to pelt him with balled up sheets of paper.
"Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Giles, irritably. "But there is an ancient prophecy. And it is about the end of the world, as they do rather tend to be. There will be a number of signs and portents - and you can all stop groaning right now - and we must track them to find the optimum moment to intervene. Do I hear volunteers?"
Spike's voice broke the sudden silence. "How long, Rupes?"
"I do wish you wouldn’t- Oh, never mind. Couple of weeks, I think. Not more than three, certainly."
"Sweet. Fancy it, Slayer?" Spike quirked a brow at Buffy.
She frowned. "Both of us? But the kids-"
"Babysitter." Spike was definite. "I fancy a mission for just the two of us. Like old times, eh?"
She paused for long enough that the atmosphere in the room started to change to discomfort. Buffy didn’t do missions any more. Everyone knew that. Even with the war heroics, and all, she was pretty much retired from the field now.
But when she looked up, her eyes were gleaming with the old Summers light. "We'll need a mission briefing by sundown. Spike, get packing. Don't forget my body butter. Giles, I'm borrowing your nanny, and I want Faith for my direct control." There was a vampiric cough from the end of the table. "Our control. Sorry. You know she'll love getting back in the field too. Weapons check at 1800."
As she rose from the table and shimmied out of the room with far more grace than she usually managed now, the assembled crowd let out a small, definite sigh of nostalgia. Spike vamped out, just for a second, with visible satisfaction, and followed her.
Buffy Summers: not dead, only resting.
*