BtVS fic: Foundations
Title: Foundations
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own Giles, or his “enormous squishy frontal lobes”
Summary: I just had to write this little introspective piece about why Giles left Sunnydale the second time.
Notes: My friend told me I have a penchant for putting down a sort of last word. I really do. Unfortunately, I can’t help it when I do an introspective piece. I also hope this isn’t an idea that’s been done to death, I’m kinda new to Giles specific fic. I also wrote this in about one hour. So, tell me what you think.
Feedback: scwlc@yahoo.ca
*******************
October 18, 1961
“In the beginning there were demons. They walked the Earth, they dominated all things. It was not a world of creatures such as exists today. It was a world of demons. In time, they lost their purchase on this reality. They began to slide away. Drawn, perhaps, by the Powers That Be, into the endless darkness and horror that is their dimension. The realm we speak of as Hell.
“As one left our reality, it had the strength left to capture a human, feed off his blood and transform him into the first vampire. That demon created another, and another. And so they walked the Earth. Feeding on some, changing others, spreading like a pestilence across this place that had been designated for the mortal creatures. For Man.
“With the creation of the First however, another was created by the Powers. A girl was chosen to beat back the darkness. She was given the strength and skill to hunt the demons and stop the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.
“As the centuries passed, the Powers saw the need for a guide. This girl, immature and uncontrolled as she was, had no understanding of this calling of hers. Thus it was that the Watchers were created. We have been put upon the Earth to guide the Slayer. We are here to control her wild urges, to harness the power within her as one would harness an ox to a plow. She is the tool, a beast of burden, if you will. We are the mind that guides her and directs her actions. Without us, she would be nothing more than an animal.
“It is not the Slayer who guards the world against darkness, it is her Watcher. It is the Watcher’s Council who maintains the lore and continues the great traditions. We are the army. She is merely the sword we use to cleave our way through the darkness. She is a replaceable weapon, while the Council is the irreplaceable army. Trust in that Rupert.” His father stood and left the boy, aged ten, standing bewildered in the dining room.
*******************
Rupert heard that lecture many more times growing up. It had always left a bad taste in his mouth. The world was a world for Man. The world owed its existence to a bunch of mealy-mouthed old men, mouthing homilies at threats they did not comprehend. How could they declare themselves the army of light when they never bestirred themselves from their ivory tower?
His father had always believed in the righteousness and power of the Council, like his mother before him. Rupert wondered often if the Council realised that they existed solely because of this girl they held in such contempt. It was there in the antiquated speech he heard again and again, they were created because of the Slayer.
As he grew older, the boy turned into a rebellious young man, and he wondered why he had to become a Watcher at all. Surely there were thousands of people capable of beating some sense into some girl’s head. In fact, if she was anything like the girls he knew, it would be far easier to seduce her and trick her into doing one’s bidding. Of course, some of the girls he tricked were gained by methods other than mere guile. But Ethan had assured him that they would be doing the same to him if they had the chance, and all is fair in love and war.
He did meet a slayer one time. She had been taken to the Council’s headquarters for her Cruciamentum. He saw her when she arrived, a proud creature with eyes that took everything in and promised death to any who stood in her way. She frightened him when she looked at him. The thinly veiled violence in her gaze told him she knew what he did, and for the first time in his life Rupert shrank away from a creature of paranormal origin.
He also saw her when she left. Something in that girl had shattered beyond repair. When he asked, he was told it was because she had not been well able to cope with the test. She had died mere weeks later. At the hands of a fledgling vampire apparently.
Not long after that he moved away from home and began to share a flat with his friend Ethan. He heard nothing of slayers, watchers, or his destiny for a long time. The supernatural was another matter entirely. The bacchanals, the parties, the summonings, it was a madhouse of wild activity. It was all fun and games. Then someone lost an eye. And a hand, and a leg, and his life. The fun was over and they went their separate ways. Only Ethan kept going.
After much soul searching he had realised he wanted to be part of this endeavour to save the world from its own vices. So Rupert had returned to London and his father. He took the training offered by the Council of Watchers and became a model member. Near-perfect scores on the tests, and a real gift for research.
When Merrick died he was astounded to learn that he had been chosen to be the Slayer’s new Watcher. He had rushed off to Sunnydale expecting to meet a decorous creature with a civilised veneer covering the bloodthirsty cravings he would have to control as her Watcher. What he found was a girl so completely integrated into society that there seemed to be no outward evidence of this uncontrolled insanity he had come to expect.
She was a normal young woman who had been given an extraordinary set of abilities. It rapidly became evident that she was headstrong and difficult, and the doubts Rupert had about the statements of the Slayer’s inability to understand her calling faded. Perhaps they appeared differently in different girls.
Five years changed his opinions. Five years of seeing her go from a teenager to a huntress of near unmatched ability and back again had him questioning the tales his father had told him as facts. Five years in which she proved over and over that perhaps the Watcher’s Council had begun much as this Slayer and her band of friends had done.
Five years of become less and less needed. In the beginning he was needed for everything, but now . . . Now he was needed for nothing. It all ran contrary to everything he had been raised to believe. Five years earlier he thought he had finally found his one true calling in life. Instead, he had simply contributed to the eventual removal of his purpose.
He remembered what she had said at the aeroport. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving.”
“You’ll do fine,” he’d said, smiling, “You don’t need me for anything anymore. I know you’ll be fine.”
She had raised an eyebrow at him, “Giles, I don’t need you because of the research and stuff. You’re better at it than we are, but that’s not why. I need you because you’re my friend.”
“I consider you to be a friend as well, Buffy.” He smiled weakly at her, then frowned as she shook her head.
“You’re not just a friend. You’ve been like a father to all of us Giles,” suddenly she pulled him to her in a fervent hug, “I love you. Y’know?”
Tears filled his eyes as he returned her enthusiastic embrace, “I do. I love you too Buffy.”
They finally pulled apart, and Buffy handed his carry-on to him, sniffling slightly, “Well, you’d better get going. I know *you* need to do this,” She gave him one of her truly dazzling smiles, and he abruptly realised how good an actress she truly was. Momentarily torn, and missing her odd emphasis, he hesitated too long and she pushed him into the line getting on the plane before he could protest.
Sitting in his seat, two and a half hours into the flight, Rupert found a piece of paper slipped into his pocket. Curious, he opened it, and found two words inscribed on it in Buffy’s loopy script.
He read over them as he pondered his past. His whole life had been built on foundations that seemed to be nearly nonexistent. His calling had vanished when put to examination, and the message had returned repeatedly over the years.
He needed to get away from Sunnydale for Buffy’s sake, it was true. She had come to rely on him overmuch, and she had to learn to depend on herself. His presence only worsened the problem of her withdrawal from the world.
Still, the niggling doubts in his head about staying or going continued to circle around in his mind. Her parting words came to mind, “*You* need to do this,” and with them the two on her note, and he felt unexpectedly guilty. Yes, she needed him to do this, but his official reasons for leaving were no better than the reasons to stay. Rupert wondered when the impetuous child he had met five years before had become so wise. He read her note again.
*Find yourself*
The End
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Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own Giles, or his “enormous squishy frontal lobes”
Summary: I just had to write this little introspective piece about why Giles left Sunnydale the second time.
Notes: My friend told me I have a penchant for putting down a sort of last word. I really do. Unfortunately, I can’t help it when I do an introspective piece. I also hope this isn’t an idea that’s been done to death, I’m kinda new to Giles specific fic. I also wrote this in about one hour. So, tell me what you think.
Feedback: scwlc@yahoo.ca
*******************
October 18, 1961
“In the beginning there were demons. They walked the Earth, they dominated all things. It was not a world of creatures such as exists today. It was a world of demons. In time, they lost their purchase on this reality. They began to slide away. Drawn, perhaps, by the Powers That Be, into the endless darkness and horror that is their dimension. The realm we speak of as Hell.
“As one left our reality, it had the strength left to capture a human, feed off his blood and transform him into the first vampire. That demon created another, and another. And so they walked the Earth. Feeding on some, changing others, spreading like a pestilence across this place that had been designated for the mortal creatures. For Man.
“With the creation of the First however, another was created by the Powers. A girl was chosen to beat back the darkness. She was given the strength and skill to hunt the demons and stop the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.
“As the centuries passed, the Powers saw the need for a guide. This girl, immature and uncontrolled as she was, had no understanding of this calling of hers. Thus it was that the Watchers were created. We have been put upon the Earth to guide the Slayer. We are here to control her wild urges, to harness the power within her as one would harness an ox to a plow. She is the tool, a beast of burden, if you will. We are the mind that guides her and directs her actions. Without us, she would be nothing more than an animal.
“It is not the Slayer who guards the world against darkness, it is her Watcher. It is the Watcher’s Council who maintains the lore and continues the great traditions. We are the army. She is merely the sword we use to cleave our way through the darkness. She is a replaceable weapon, while the Council is the irreplaceable army. Trust in that Rupert.” His father stood and left the boy, aged ten, standing bewildered in the dining room.
*******************
Rupert heard that lecture many more times growing up. It had always left a bad taste in his mouth. The world was a world for Man. The world owed its existence to a bunch of mealy-mouthed old men, mouthing homilies at threats they did not comprehend. How could they declare themselves the army of light when they never bestirred themselves from their ivory tower?
His father had always believed in the righteousness and power of the Council, like his mother before him. Rupert wondered often if the Council realised that they existed solely because of this girl they held in such contempt. It was there in the antiquated speech he heard again and again, they were created because of the Slayer.
As he grew older, the boy turned into a rebellious young man, and he wondered why he had to become a Watcher at all. Surely there were thousands of people capable of beating some sense into some girl’s head. In fact, if she was anything like the girls he knew, it would be far easier to seduce her and trick her into doing one’s bidding. Of course, some of the girls he tricked were gained by methods other than mere guile. But Ethan had assured him that they would be doing the same to him if they had the chance, and all is fair in love and war.
He did meet a slayer one time. She had been taken to the Council’s headquarters for her Cruciamentum. He saw her when she arrived, a proud creature with eyes that took everything in and promised death to any who stood in her way. She frightened him when she looked at him. The thinly veiled violence in her gaze told him she knew what he did, and for the first time in his life Rupert shrank away from a creature of paranormal origin.
He also saw her when she left. Something in that girl had shattered beyond repair. When he asked, he was told it was because she had not been well able to cope with the test. She had died mere weeks later. At the hands of a fledgling vampire apparently.
Not long after that he moved away from home and began to share a flat with his friend Ethan. He heard nothing of slayers, watchers, or his destiny for a long time. The supernatural was another matter entirely. The bacchanals, the parties, the summonings, it was a madhouse of wild activity. It was all fun and games. Then someone lost an eye. And a hand, and a leg, and his life. The fun was over and they went their separate ways. Only Ethan kept going.
After much soul searching he had realised he wanted to be part of this endeavour to save the world from its own vices. So Rupert had returned to London and his father. He took the training offered by the Council of Watchers and became a model member. Near-perfect scores on the tests, and a real gift for research.
When Merrick died he was astounded to learn that he had been chosen to be the Slayer’s new Watcher. He had rushed off to Sunnydale expecting to meet a decorous creature with a civilised veneer covering the bloodthirsty cravings he would have to control as her Watcher. What he found was a girl so completely integrated into society that there seemed to be no outward evidence of this uncontrolled insanity he had come to expect.
She was a normal young woman who had been given an extraordinary set of abilities. It rapidly became evident that she was headstrong and difficult, and the doubts Rupert had about the statements of the Slayer’s inability to understand her calling faded. Perhaps they appeared differently in different girls.
Five years changed his opinions. Five years of seeing her go from a teenager to a huntress of near unmatched ability and back again had him questioning the tales his father had told him as facts. Five years in which she proved over and over that perhaps the Watcher’s Council had begun much as this Slayer and her band of friends had done.
Five years of become less and less needed. In the beginning he was needed for everything, but now . . . Now he was needed for nothing. It all ran contrary to everything he had been raised to believe. Five years earlier he thought he had finally found his one true calling in life. Instead, he had simply contributed to the eventual removal of his purpose.
He remembered what she had said at the aeroport. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving.”
“You’ll do fine,” he’d said, smiling, “You don’t need me for anything anymore. I know you’ll be fine.”
She had raised an eyebrow at him, “Giles, I don’t need you because of the research and stuff. You’re better at it than we are, but that’s not why. I need you because you’re my friend.”
“I consider you to be a friend as well, Buffy.” He smiled weakly at her, then frowned as she shook her head.
“You’re not just a friend. You’ve been like a father to all of us Giles,” suddenly she pulled him to her in a fervent hug, “I love you. Y’know?”
Tears filled his eyes as he returned her enthusiastic embrace, “I do. I love you too Buffy.”
They finally pulled apart, and Buffy handed his carry-on to him, sniffling slightly, “Well, you’d better get going. I know *you* need to do this,” She gave him one of her truly dazzling smiles, and he abruptly realised how good an actress she truly was. Momentarily torn, and missing her odd emphasis, he hesitated too long and she pushed him into the line getting on the plane before he could protest.
Sitting in his seat, two and a half hours into the flight, Rupert found a piece of paper slipped into his pocket. Curious, he opened it, and found two words inscribed on it in Buffy’s loopy script.
He read over them as he pondered his past. His whole life had been built on foundations that seemed to be nearly nonexistent. His calling had vanished when put to examination, and the message had returned repeatedly over the years.
He needed to get away from Sunnydale for Buffy’s sake, it was true. She had come to rely on him overmuch, and she had to learn to depend on herself. His presence only worsened the problem of her withdrawal from the world.
Still, the niggling doubts in his head about staying or going continued to circle around in his mind. Her parting words came to mind, “*You* need to do this,” and with them the two on her note, and he felt unexpectedly guilty. Yes, she needed him to do this, but his official reasons for leaving were no better than the reasons to stay. Rupert wondered when the impetuous child he had met five years before had become so wise. He read her note again.
*Find yourself*
The End
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