Fic: RFJ 0: Before You 3/6
Aug. 4th, 2005 06:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethFools Journey
0
Before You
Part: 3/6
Rating: I'm aiming for a tone much like Buffy or Angel, which are 15 to 18 rated in the UK.
Pairing(s): None. Yet.
Spoilers: Post Chosen, post Not Fade Away. Deals with the fallout.
Summary: Rupert Giles, Head of the Watchers Council, and ghosts.
Disclaimer: Joss told us to "Write fan fic."
So they're still his toys, but he seems to not mind us playing with them.
No money, no harm.
Thanks to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
pinkdormouse for beta.Author's notes and warnings:
Once upon a time, there was to be a series called Ripper.
It would star Giles, and it would be about ghosts.
Well, I'm still waiting.
In the meantime, I figured I'd write it myself.
Since ghosts are a central feature, character death is going to happen throughout the series. But that doesn't always remove them from the story. So sometimes the warning is character death, and sometimes it is more character transformation.
This episode is 0 because it is the setup, a transitional episode getting all the characters in the right place. Also because I used Tarot cards as inspiration for the 22 episodes, hence 'Fools Journey', and the Fool is card 0.
Part One here
Part Two here
Giles span round, dagger in hand, then froze.
“Wesley.”
“I thought you were resting?” Roger said, “After our... very trying journey.”
“Journey?” Giles asked. He shifted back until both Wyndam-Pryce men were visible, and got a better grip on his bag.
“Yes, back from Los Angeles. Where I rescued Wesley,” Roger informed him, chin up and shoulders back.
“Really Father? Is that the official story? And here I was thinking you'd resurrected me.”
“Wesley! I, ah, realise you have been through hell, but it wasn't the kind you had to die to get into.” Roger attempted a smile and glanced over at Giles, who still had the knife ready.
“Actually I've been through heaven, but that wouldn't have occurred to you, Father. You're always so surprised when I qualify for anything.”
Wesley stepped into the room, glaring at his father. Giles moved further back, and kept the knife raised. The movement caught Wesley's eye, and he froze. He pulled his hands out of his pockets slowly, spread them, and backed away.
“I hope you won't need to use that, Mr Giles. I have no intention of harming you. But by all means, keep it to hand. As a Watcher I am very aware of the many ways a revivification can go wrong. I'm not sure I trust me yet either.”
“Don't be absurd,” Roger corrected him, “You're perfectly all right. I did all the necessary research myself, and the materials have been in the family for generations.”
“You don't mean the scrolls?” Wes asked, dismayed. His hands dropped a bit as he turned back to his father. “When I tried to use them you reckoned we'd end up with zombie birds!”
“If you used them we certainly would! There is a vast difference between childish experimentation and mature experience!”
“Even experienced mages wouldn't get involved in this! Especially...” Wesley's voice, so far very rough, cracked entirely at that last. He cleared his throat, and rubbed at it. With his shirt collar pushed out the way Giles could see a long scar there, looking livid enough to be fresh. “Excuse me.” Wesley whispered, “I think I need some water. May I?” He gestured for the door.
Roger told him, “Yes, go on. Plenty of fluids, and something light to eat. Be careful, you haven't had food for...”
“Months, yes.” Wes was still watching Giles for permission. He was, after all, the one with the weapon.
Giles nodded. “Fine. But don't try to leave. The Slayers outside have very specific instructions. And they apply to everybody,” Giles added, looking at the elder Wyndam-Pryce.
“You're talking about my Slayers? Am I to understand you're using them to keep me under house arrest?”
“A sensible precaution. I understand. Excuse me,” Wesley whispered uncomfortably, and left, presumably for the kitchen.
“Not so much house arrest as quarantine, Roger. One that also applies to me. All we know about the situation here is that many Watchers working with you are out sick, or missing, and you've been behaving oddly. And now there's someone here who looks like Wesley, who was last reported as dying in the first wave of the assault on Los Angeles.”
“He doesn't just look like Wesley, he is Wesley. This isn't some bodge job by an amateur, Rupert. I prepared very carefully.”
“Even so, it was an act of utter irresponsibility! There are uncounted beings on the outer planes who are just waiting for an opportunity like this. When a dead body opens its eyes there's no telling what is behind them!”
“Which is why the first thing they saw was a drawn sword. Believe me, I took every precaution. You saw my Slayers, and the wards. Nothing would have gone out of here without my approval.”
“Even if it was partially Wesley? You've risked so much to get him back – your career, your good name, and probably your soul...”
“It was a greater risk to leave him there with them! He followed that vampire into hell, and nothing I could do to stop him. That damned company – Wolfram and Hart – you know the kind of contracts they have on their people. They'd put Wesley to work for them forever, and you know the kind of damage an ex-Watcher can do! I couldn't talk him out of risking it, but when it all fell apart I had a chance... Just the one chance... To save him.” What began as his usual bluster wound down to a glimpse of his pain. But just a glimpse. He closed his eyes and visibly pulled himself together again. “Of course, he says he was in heaven. He would say that. Never wants to admit his own mistakes,” he said, without apparent irony.
“I understand,” Giles replied quietly. “Loss of life is hard enough, without the complications of souls... But Roger, traditionally one prays for the departed. Whatever has happened to them, the greater danger is in bringing them back.”
“You really think so, hmm? So what made the difference when it was your girl?”
“Excuse me?”
“What was your excuse, when you brought your Slayer back?”
“I didn't... Buffy died, yes, when the Master drowned her, but it was Xander who...”
“I'm not talking about that. Three years ago, your Slayer was dead. Now she's dancing the night away in Rome. Courtesy of the last known Urn of Osiris. Purchased for your Magic Box, from that internet place, E Bay.” Roger paused, gauging his reaction. “I told you. I did my research. Not a lot of people do, these days. They get remembered.”
“I was not involved in that. Anya, my business partner, she was quite enthusiastic about computers. She also handled a lot of the ordering.”
“Ah, Anyanka. The demon. Is that why you hired her? Do your dirty work for you?” Roger asked.
“Nothing of the sort! And she was not a demon when I hired her. Just someone with contacts and expertise who needed a job. Far better for it to be with me than anywhere else on the Hellmouth.”
“So it was all her idea then? She worked the ritual alone?”
“Why do you believe there was a ritual? Buffy...”
“Has been the subject of resurrection magic. I sent one of my people to confirm it. A simple scrying spell. The signs are quite clear, once you know to look for them.”
Giles pursed his lips and thought fast. With evidence, denial wouldn't put him off. “So. You know. Anya acquired the Urn, and it was used for Buffy.” And since Anya was dead, that admission wouldn't harm her. In that spirit he added, “Spike had become... very attached to Buffy. When she died he was devastated.”
“And as a vampire he would have no moral qualms, no soul,” Roger supplied. “Which is exactly why Osiris would not have answered him. Try again, Giles. Who else will you malign to cover your involvement? The young witch who died? She can't defend herself either.”
“I'm not trying to cover anything, I was not involved! I was on my way back to England, I hadn't a clue what they were planning.”
“So, negligent and ignorant. And when you left – why was that? Because your Slayer was dead? That wasn't known to the Council. We thought Buffy was still the active Slayer. With you as her assigned Watcher. If you left before she was raised, tell me, how long had she been gone? More than a month, just to find that Urn. Two? Three? What was your salary at the time?”
“For goodness sake, that's hardly the most important issue,” Giles told him.
“No? So, not enough money to worry about, was it? How much is that then? Shall I take it off the bill when I pay mine back?”
“You'll pay it back?”
“Of course, I simply needed the money quickly. Retrieving Wesley was difficult enough to arrange, once the opportunity arose I had to take it immediately. I just couldn't liquidate my assets fast enough.” Wyndam-Pryce said this like it should be obvious.
“But the other irregularities – employees who can't be accounted for, people who were fired without the paperwork being filed...” Giles asked.
“Nothing to do with money. Some of my staff objected to my priorities. When they saw what I was doing... well, not everyone was willing to wait for a transfer. But I didn't think their employment history should be blemished because of my actions. I was going to look for other positions for them with the Council.”
“Or let them come back when you were done?”
“That wouldn't be very wise. They obviously had no respect for me.” Roger sighed. “I was aware that the actions I took would not be approved by Council policy. As you must have been. I couldn't expect that everyone who had worked so hard trying to rebuild the Council properly would support me. That was why I gave my staff a few days off once I was ready. Everyone who actually disagreed was already off on holiday, or out sick if they hadn't any holiday left. But I didn't want the rest caught up in this.”
“Or trying to stop you?”
“Or trying to stop me. The simplest measures I could take to prevent that was to keep them out of the way.” Roger shrugged and continued. “Most of them knew nothing anyway. The responsibility lies entirely with me. I was ready for the repercussions, should I fail. But now that I have succeeded, there is no need for any negative response.”
“Which is why you tried to cover this up?” Giles asked skeptically, “Called it a rescue and expected Wesley to agree?”
“That wasn't for me. Wesley will take his place with the Council one day. As will his children, and their children. The Wyndam-Pryce family have been Watchers since the time of Llywelyn the Last. That can't end here. But there are those who would never accept him if they thought he was some kind of revenant. Whatever tests he went through, there would be rumours. Every time he failed it would be attributed to some flaw in his recovery. How could he carry out his duties in the midst of that kind of prejudice?” Wyndam-Pryce appealed to Giles, “You must understand, you're still covering for your Slayer.”
“I concealed Buffy's death to protect her sister, and Sunnydale.”
“And that is still why you're still hiding it from the Council?”
“As it seems you were. You've had this information for some time, yet you only mention it today. I wonder why that is?”
Roger shook his head. “I did not investigate for some kind of tawdry blackmail attempt. This was not about leverage on you. I needed to know about the girl before I tried the scrolls. Once I found out about her, I knew it was possible. I knew I could do it. And I knew it could be done with no ill effects.”
“If you believed that you really should have asked me,” Giles corrected him. “I'm afraid there were a great many ill effects, for both the caster and for Buffy.”
“She seemed perfectly normal to me. Are you saying there was something wrong? Is that why you left her..?”
“I never would have left her if there were something wrong.” Except for her own good. Which he had believed it had been. Not that he intended to drag Buffy's emotional trauma out for the edification of Wyndam-Pryce. “But the consequences were far reaching.” Possibly including the First's unprecedented direct action, but that part he still intended to conceal, to protect Buffy from any misguided counterattacks.
Then he remembered, “They started with the night after Buffy's return. There was a demon, perhaps from outside or perhaps created by the spell. It possessed or attacked everyone involved, and it tried to kill Buffy.”
“Wesley...” Roger headed for the kitchen quickly, grabbing a sword from the hatstand on the way through the hall.
Giles followed him, knife in hand.
They seemed somewhat overly dramatic when they arrived to find Wesley eating a sandwich. He paused with the food halfway to his mouth.
“Father? Is there something in particular wrong?”
“What were the signs of this entity?” Wyndam-Pryce asked Giles.
“I'm afraid that wasn't quite clear. I heard about it mostly from Dawn. She was telling me about the time she breathed fire.”
“No fire here. Just pickles. So I suppose you might still want to stay well back.” Wesley informed them, then took another bite.
“Wesley! This is a serious situation. The last documented revivification resulted in a demon trying to... reverse the process.”
“So, I might just be here for a quick visit. Shall we get the usual round of arguments out of the way? I can talk about my career, and you can tell me what a failure it is. You've ample evidence now.” Wes finished his sandwich and reached for his glass of water. He seemed entirely unruffled at the prospect of impending death, and resentful of the man who had brought him back.
Behaviour that was all too familiar. Giles needed to talk to him privately, soon.
“It seems our most urgent need is for information. Roger, I'm going to need a full report from you. All your methods, of course, and a record of any observations you made during and after the casting.”
“Of course. I have the preparatory work assembled already.”
“If you could write that up now, I'll call HQ, and possibly Dawn for more details.”
“Right then. Shall we move to the office? Or should one of us stay with Wesley?”
“I am capable of looking after myself, you know,” Wes interjected.
“Don't give me that, boy, you've been dead once already.”
“Oh here we go!”
“Actually, I haven't had time for lunch yet,” Giles interrupted. “I was rather hoping...”
“Of course, of course. Help yourself,” Roger told him. He looked between Giles and Wesley with a frown, then smoothed his expression to neutrality. “I'll just, ah, get to that report then. Shouldn't take long.” He exited, casually leaving the sword propped by the door.
Giles heard him pick another one out of the stand in the hall. He smiled at Wesley.
“So, the pickles are good?”
“Mother makes them. And the cheese is local too. Bread could do with toasting, if your throat is up to it.” Wesley's voice was still far from smooth.
Giles asked about the scar. “That, ah, on your neck – that looks recent.” He went over to start the toaster, moving carefully to keep Wesley in sight.
Wes helpfully moved around to put the table between them again, and stayed far away from the sword. “It feels it too. So do all the rest.”
“You're in pain?”
“Not as such, no. Just... rather sore. You know they say that as you are dying your whole life flashes before your eyes? Not for me. The present moment had my full attention.” He looked distant, and sad. Then he blinked and refocused on Giles. “I got the whole thing on the way back. Birth through death, all over again. And the more... memorable moments seem to have left their mark.”
“That sounds... extremely uncomfortable. In more ways than one.” Giles considered the consequences of such a review of just the last decade of his own life, and winced. “If you think you need a doctor...”
“No, I don't think so. Though I imagine I'll get several, before the Council is through with me. Are you going to phone them?”
“In a moment. Wes, I wanted to say...” Giles moved over to the table and sat down, trying to think exactly how this needed to be phrased. “Actually, I wanted to say hello, first. And welcome back. I realise I haven't been very welcoming yet...”
“But you don't know for sure what you'd be welcoming. I understand. Please, run every possible test. We'll all feel better,” he assured Giles.
“It, ah, was actually feelings I wanted to talk to you about,” Giles segued awkwardly.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Mr Giles, I realise I've been living in Los Angeles, but I am still British at heart. I rather expect to be offered tea, not therapy.”
“Tea I would be rather better at.” Giles grinned, and then decided that was a good idea. He got up to put the kettle on. “The other thing though... What you've been through... I thought it might help to remind you that you're not alone.”
“I am very much aware of that. Angel, Cordelia, Spike, Fred – my colleagues don't seem to be very good at staying dead or gone. And the consequences are often... messy.”
“Oh. Yes? Well. Actually, I meant...” He filled the kettle and tried to think. “I meant to say...” Could you just go up to a man and say excuse me, you seem suicidal or insane, assuming you aren't actually a demon. Want to talk about it? “We've lost so many Watchers lately. It would be good to get one back. It, ah, would be better if they stayed.” Much better - don't kill yourself, we're running out of men. Damn but this was awkward. Wesley was right, British men should stick to tea. Giles left the water to boil and didn't look at Wes.
“Don't worry. I can, and will, look after myself,” Wes assured him.
“Good, good,” Giles said. He stared at the toaster and waited, Wes still across the room. The silence stretched, until the bread popping up made Giles jump. But he couldn't think of what else he could say. He buttered toast, and felt at sea.
Wesley joined him when the kettle steamed, to make the tea.
“The strangest thing is how nothing seems particularly strange,” Wes observed quietly. “I'm standing in the house where I grew up, using a teapot I can remember my mother buying, and everything is utterly normal. And then I remember, it shouldn't be. I shouldn't be here.” He set the kettle back down carefully and got two cups. “I imagine a ghost would feel like this, going through the motions again long after their death.” Then he went to the refrigerator for milk. “It feels rather like those dreams one has, when one is back in school, with an unexpected test. I keep waiting to wake up.” Milk in hand, he turned again, and faced Giles. “But I am awake. I am here. And I am going to adapt.” He went back to pour the milk. “So it isn't that I don't want to be alive. I just... haven't quite realised that I am.” He set the bottle down next to the second cup, picked up the teapot, and went back to the table to sit down.
“I understand,” Giles replied. And discovered he did, quite exactly. From the last time he was at The Magic Box. “When one is dying... When one accepts death... You let go. Let go of life. You feel it slip away. And you take comfort in the fact that it keeps on going without you.” He put down the cheese knife, and found the pickle jar. “But then, unbelievably, the battle is over, and you're still there. Bruised every way you can be, but still there. And you have to catch up again. Pick up the pieces. However insubstantial they might seem. Or immense.” He picked up the cup, and his assembled lunch, and went to the table to join Wesley.
“Did... Buffy have particular trouble with that?”
“Buffy is a very strong young woman. She found her return challenging, of course, but she rose to it in the end. Her friends helped,” Giles realised that, to the best of anyone's knowledge, every friend Wesley had was dead in Los Angeles. He moved on quickly. “And her family...” The parts of it that weren't dead or estranged. Which meant Dawn. Who was... a mixed blessing.
Wesley glanced at the hallway, where the elder Wyndam-Pryce could be heard typing laboriously in his study, and raised an eyebrow.
Perhaps not a good example either.
“Of course the new situation with the Slayers has changed things considerably. Buffy isn't needed for every routine thing. And whatever happens, teams of Slayers are available as backup.” He took a bite of cheese and went on absently, “The added strain on the Council is considerable, especially with our recent losses. The new Slayers need guidance, information, support, even basic translation. Getting back to work would keep your mind occupied...” He realised he was turning this into his standard recruitment speech and stumbled to a halt again. All things considered it was a bit premature.
Out of topics, he crunched into his toast and picked up the teapot instead. He gestured with it to Wesley, who pushed his cup forward, then poured for both of them.
“You're quite right you know,” Wesley said.
Giles looked at him, relieved.
“You are better at tea,” Wes finished, deadpan. He took a sip, then grinned, just enough.
After the necessary hard stare, so did Giles.
“So,” Wes reminded him, “You were going to phone Council HQ. And Dawn?”
“And Willow, I think. She has the most relevant expertise.”
“She's back from Tibet?”
“Nepal, actually, or rather the astral plane. We left messages after LA but she only got them last month. Time passes differently in other realms.”
“Yes.” Wes went distant again.
Giles got out his phone and dialled his own desk, where the reliable Ms Wayland picked up. “Hello? Yes. I've seen Wyndam-Pryce. The money went to Los Angeles. He brought Wesley back. We're going to need a team to confirm... all the details.”
Several phone calls later Giles noticed that the sound of typing had stopped. Wesley was finishing the tea, and seemed alright, so Giles went to check on Roger Wyndam-Pryce.
He was sitting at his desk, sideways on to the door with a view out the front windows. The curtains had been pulled back and the sinking sun lit every corner of the room with red tinted gold. Roger had his reading glasses on, and was peering at a typed page. As Giles stepped into the room he could see he was also fiddling with a bottle of whiteout.
Roger glanced up. “Nearly finished. Just, ah...” He slid the bottle the other side of the typewriter. “Checking for accuracy.”
Giles nodded. He paused, then picked up a previous topic. “After the casting – did you experience any, ah, anomalous feelings?”
“Afterwards? No. The spell was, ah, intense, of course. Greater magics. Always testing. But afterwards there was just the expected energy drain.”
“No... euphoria? Feelings of omnipotence?” Roger gave him a look and Giles hastened to explain. “I ask for a specific reason. As I said, the raising had an adverse effect on the caster. Initial symptoms were relatively innocuous, but looking back, I think their emotional reactions were a bad sign. Overconfidence and, and disproportionate glee.”
Roger took his glasses off. “So, you are saying, if I felt some joy at my son being alive, that would be a sign. Of what? Possession?”
“Well it would certainly be uncharacteristic,” Wesley remarked from the doorway. Both Watchers turned to face him. He smiled pleasantly. “I'm going back up to my room. Rest and relaxation. If anything happens, you'll probably hear the screams,” he remarked casually, turning and heading for the stairs.
Roger watched him go. “Talking of anomalous behaviour...” Then he blinked and focused on Giles. “Not that there's anything wrong with him,” he asserted. “Probably just been at the bottle. He never could handle his drink.”
Giles stayed focused on Roger.
“I understand why you would want this. Getting your child back... When I first saw Buffy, it was...”
“She's your Slayer, Giles. Hardly the same.”
Giles frowned. By Council policy it shouldn't be, but then they'd fired him for having 'a father's love' for her.
Not the current issue.
“Your reasons, I can understand. But what you did? You took an enormous risk. Not just with Wesley, and yourself, but with the whole world. The forces involved...”
“I understand the forces involved! Probably better than you, Rupert. I was a Watcher when you were still in school.”
“Which is why I'm doubly astounded that you could do such a thing. All of our training, our experience – you've seen the consequences...”
“I've seen them alive and well. If you could do it, I shouldn't have any problems.”
“Arrogance. Overconfidence. Exactly what led the last caster into dark magic.”
“Odd to hear you lecture me on dark magic. I'm not the one who ruined his career calling up demons.”
“Ruined my..? Where did you hear that version?”
“It was common knowledge. They only let you back in as a favour to your father. Good man, that. Solid. Shame he died so young,” Roger observed. “He never got to see you be a proper Watcher.”
Giles clenched a fist, and tried to be calm. Such opinions should be old news by now.
“Of course he didn't have to see what you did with the chance,” Roger continued. “Discarding traditions and putting your Slayer in charge. We should have known then what kind of leader you would be.”
“I know your opinions of me, and of our policies,” Giles replied, in a calm voice a smart man would call dangerous. Wyndam-Pryce of course would need clearer warning. “I am attempting to keep my personal opinions of you from influencing my judgement here. I have given you only facts. Channelling magics of this sort puts the caster in insidious, ongoing danger, however successful the spell itself seems.” He took a breath. “And someone will have to be able to watch out for danger signs. Someone on the Council you will trust. You won't listen to me. Fine. Give me a name and we'll explain the whole situation to him. It should be someone you work with, but not a subordinate. It might be awkward for someone you give orders to point out... incipient megalomania, for example.”
Roger looked at him curiously. “Who Watches the Watcher, hmmm? The rest of the Council, generally.”
“If they know precisely what to watch out for. I am considering... restricting information, in this case.”
Now Roger looked calculating. “Ah. I see.” He paused, and nodded. “I see. You can't let it get out.”
“Not for the reasons you might think. Nothing personal. If the rest of the Council want to believe that I raised the dead, that wouldn't bother me. The problem is if they think we did that and got away with it.”
“And will I? Get away with it?”
“If Wesley is indeed intact, there will be others who will think you did. As you believed about Buffy.” Giles moved closer and spoke intently. “The Wyndam-Pryces got off light, as far as family losses go. Did you know, I am the last Giles? Even my cousins were killed. Every Watcher family – every last one of them – lost somebody. Do you think they just don't care enough to want them back? They know the risks. They do their duty.” Roger bridled at that, but Giles overrode him. “They protect the world, whatever the personal cost. I've heard your reasons. I can understand, but not accept them. I thought Buffy was in hell and I had to decide to leave her there. There is no sufficient excuse for opening the doors to the kind of consequences you have invited.”
“I knew what I was doing. I accounted for every risk!”
“Because you are a Watcher, so you know enough to do that. Yes. Now apply that reasoning to the rest of the organisation.” He paused and let it sink in. “You are a respected leader. And you actively oppose me politically. Any action I take to reprimand you will be read as purely partisan. And any punishment I devise will still seem quite acceptable to some. If Wesley lives.”
Roger’s hand twitched towards a weapon, then stopped, as he realised the other man had position on him. His face hardened.
Giles let the moment stretch as long as he dared, then added, “I have every hope Wesley will live.”
Roger marginally relaxed again.
“So... So the only way to avoid anarchy is...”
“If we go with your self-serving little lie. Wesley was brought back from Los Angeles. That is all a Watcher needs to know, to keep an eye on him. And you. But once they're sure you aren't possessed, they'll drop their guard. And what might go bad in you has nothing to do with possession. Just pride.” Giles paused again. “So, choose someone. If there's anyone who already knows the truth, choose one of them. Your office, especially former employees, will be the greatest security risk anyway. You've shown incredibly poor judgement in every aspect of this. If I had a free hand in this I'd fire you.”
“You can't. I have as much support in the Council as you do. Move like that without explanation and I'd have more.”
“Especially after a daring, and successful, rescue attempt. Just the thing to capture the imaginations of the younger generation. Which, I'm sure, never crossed your mind when you set up the story. How many have you told it to?”
“Just those involved in transport. Going to Los Angeles... I had to be there in person. Too many things could go wrong. But I had to give some explanation... Mr Giles, I truly did not mean this as... as some kind of PR stunt. I did this for Wesley...”
“Yes. And so do I,” said Giles.
The investigation team finally arrived from London just after dark, which caused some understandable confusion, and dampness. Holy water having cleared up half the problem, the other half remained. The Slayers on the gate had been ordered to let no one in or out, and they followed their orders with commendable precision and enthusiasm. Unfortunately HQ hadn't sent along anyone they recognised, so they wouldn't acknowledge the counterorder. Since the original problem was HQ's inability to contact anyone in their chain of command, it seemed for a while they'd have to wait for Wesley's mother to arrive from Australia.
Then Willow arrived with Faith. Every Slayer recognised them.
After that things became very busy, but not for Giles. Since between them Faith and Willow could handle a small apocalypse, and since it was very late in a very long day, Giles decided to leave things in their capable hands and go home.
He did not take the helicopter.
He did take a copy of the Wyndam-Pryce report, leaving the original with Willow. She and Roger would have to cook up something to satisfy the official investigation, but the true story would remain on file under lock and key. Giles wanted to know what he was classifying before he put it away. So he read on the train. He had to admit, even when setting out to do a very stupid thing, Wyndam-Pryce did it thoroughly. Giles skimmed the sections about Buffy – he was rather familiar with the contents already – but the sections on retrieving Wesley's remains would do for both the 'rescue' story and a scathing report on the weaknesses in the LA quarantine. By the time he arrived in Bath he was fuming, and he had a page long list of urgent concerns to forward to Finn.
But he put them all away as the train pulled in, and by the time he reached his flat he was thinking of only sleep.
He managed to get at least an hour in before the phone rang.
“Sir, there's been an incident.”
“With Wyndam-Pryce?”
“No sir. I don't have the status on that. This is about a Slayer, Vi. She saw you earlier today? She's been arrested. By the police. They're saying she killed a man.”
***
Part Four here
Part Five here
Part Six here
completed, 30890 words
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 03:03 pm (UTC)Julia, having to get a houskeeping post up this morning.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 05:49 pm (UTC)but theres the thing with deadlines
and the thing where the four act story sprouted an extra act
and the thing where I don't play well with others
that would all get in the way of writing for television
but if he wants some plot outlines, I've got a season of them
no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-04 06:52 pm (UTC)Wonderful stuff!
no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 08:01 pm (UTC)*bows*
Marvelous
Date: 2005-08-05 12:59 am (UTC)Thank you Becca, for writing this.
Onjel
Re: Marvelous
Date: 2005-08-07 08:01 pm (UTC)Doing the Numfar dance
Date: 2005-08-05 03:11 pm (UTC)Great job on everyone's voices, becca--there wasn't a single word uttered by any of the three men that didn't sound absolutely pitch-perfect to me.
Re: Doing the Numfar dance
Date: 2005-08-07 08:02 pm (UTC)so I'm so glad it is plausible
the resurrection scrolls seemed like a gun on the mantelpiece to me
so
glad everyone likes the voices
:)
Wow!!
Date: 2005-08-06 09:06 pm (UTC)Ah, I'm loving the parallels to Buffy,(partially Wesley, heaven, the danger of revivificatios spells, etc.), but with the sad touch added by Wes' own experiences: “Actually I've been through heaven, but that wouldn't have occurred to you, Father. You're always so surprised when I qualify for anything.”
Little bit of grrrr that Giles put the blame for Buffy on Anya and Spike, but I can understand his decision to shield the living with the dead. Still - he doesn't lie, does he. Just ... misdirects.
Lots of grrrrr for Roger, too. Not accepting his own share of mistakes and just digging at everyone else. He's such a ... steamroller. Just tries to drive right over anyone that doesn't fit his plans.
Love your Wesley! “No fire here. Just pickles. So I suppose you might still want to stay well back.” **giggle** Expecting tea, not therapy. **sigh**
Loved the Giles thoughts "Excuse me, you seem suicidal or insane, assuming you aren't actually a demon. Want to talk about it?" and "don't kill yourself, we're running out of men". It's so Giles, but also tells you what he's dealing with.
The final scene with Gile and Roger W-P was wonderful - just wonderful!
Lola
Re: Wow!!
Date: 2005-08-09 09:17 am (UTC)lies would be harder to back out of. misdirection also has all sorts of collaborating detail out in the world. works better.
grrrr is always the reaction Roger should inspire, even when he has done something that appears to express caring for Wes. He just does it all with that attitude on.
Glad you like Wes. I was trying to get him sort of no sleep for months, which has a lot of canon precedent to work with.
Giles thoughts are fun.
and that last confrontation I almost didn't realise was needed, but I got the two of them in the room together and Giles went all grrrrr. And then I realised why. So it worked out pretty well.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 05:28 am (UTC)Wendy
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 09:17 am (UTC)thanksyou :)