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summer_of_giles2009-06-16 03:39 pm
fairygothmum.livejournal.com) wrote in summer_of_giles2009-06-16 03:39 pm
Entry tags:
10 x 100 Word Drabbles
Fic Type: Gen
10 x 100 Word Drabbles
Rating: FRC
With thanks to Laura for giving this a quick read through. :)
Giles knew he was dreaming. He had lived this nightmare on numerous occasions. His dream never changed. The night Buffy died fighting Glory. He would wake when Buffy jumped. Giles watched his arms reach out to Buffy. Perhaps this time he could save her. Instead, he walked forward and pushed hard.
Giles woke gasping, sweat cooling on his heated skin. The curtains wafted on the breeze coming through the window, the scent of night blooming Jasmine drifting through the air.
Outside a shadow detached itself from the darkness and scurried down the street, its claws skittering loudly on the pavement.
Giles shivered, pulling the blankets tighter. He lay in the darkness, eyes unseeing, replaying the vision again. Words echoed through his mind. Buffy must die to save humanity. She had died, twice. Wasn't it enough? What did the dream mean? Was it playing on his insecurities? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his shattered nerves. He couldn't lose Buffy again. He couldn't watch her die. Shaking his head, he knew he would sleep no more this night. Taking a moment, he looked out into the darkness. The night seemed eerily still, even for Sunnydale.
Dressing quickly, Giles descended the stairs flicking light switches as he went. He needed the safety and comfort the illumination offered. Every dark corner or shadow seemed to beckon him nearer tonight. Setting the tea kettle to boil, he moved to stand in front of his book cabinet. His fingers caressed the aged spines before him. Picking one which focussed on dream based prophecies; Rupert sat down and idly flipped through the pages. Taking a deep breath, he settled against the couch and started to read. The book slipped from his fingers, his eyes closed and the dreams came again.
One foot in rebellion, the other firmly stuck in destiny. He had to escape or be sucked under by traditions.
A girl stood at the side of the stage and watched Ripper play. His guitar felt cool and smooth under his hands. He played the instrument with intent. His fingers danced over the strings in a facsimile of the way they would dance over her skin later. A faceless parade of girls passed through his life in this time. Some were groupies for the band, others drawn to the power of magic. They wanted a taste of what Ethan offered.
A loud whistling woke Giles with a start. The book on his knee fell to the floor with a thud. Giles raced through to his kitchen and removed the bubbling kettle from the heat. He leaned against the work surface and breathed deeply. Had he dozed off again? Checking the time, he realised only ten minutes had passed. Images of Ethan invaded his thoughts, Randall dead on the floor and Eyghon. He needed tea. His customary blend would soothe him, he hoped. Returning to his living room, he placed his tea on the table and took up his book again.
There had to be some reference here to explain his experiences. He could feel it, a niggling sensation just out of reach. Something or someone was influencing his dreams. Rising to his feet again, Rupert gathered his resources. He would not sleep until he had resolved this problem. If necessary he could call out the troops. He wasn't alone. Willow would detect any magical essence present in the air. If it was a demon, Buffy would kill it.
Outside the blackness of night thickened. Claws scratched the bricks near his window and the shadows reached towards the panes of glass.
Time had a sense of fragility in his world, held together as it was by destiny and prophesies. The earth scorched and cracked under his feet. He had to fight this, or lose his grip on reality forever. The shadows would come then. They would lead him to his ultimate downfall.
Dirt covered graves of people he failed along the way, trampled by his own feet. Buffy's headstone stood mockingly before him. The words on the inscription changed before his eyes. "Here lies Buffy Summers, warrior of the people", now read, "I trusted you Giles, you let me down. Again."
He backed away, choking on the bile rising in his throat. "No."
Giles sank to his knees in the soft earth. "I did all I could for you, Buffy. You never listened. I would lay down my life to protect you."
Hands broke through the earth beside him, "Then come with me and protect me now."
Giles struggled to retreat, fighting for survival as the hands grabbed at him. The smell of decaying flesh was rancid in the stale air. He could feel clumps of skin gathering under his nails as he fought off his assailant. Then darkness took him.
Giles fell through the damp earth onto a hard surface below. Groaning, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. Shadows swirled around him, biding their time. They would strike. Giles knew his time was ending. This was one battle he would not win. The shadows rose as one, a mass of churning darkness, a cacophony of voices joined them, providing an eerie soundtrack to the last moments of his life. The voices of friends seemed to cut through him, leaving bloody trails in their wake. As one, the shadows flew at him, burrowing under his skin.
In his room a young Rupert Giles awoke. His father stood beside his bed, "what did you see?" he asked.
"Visions of the future, father. I saw Demons, Vampires and a blonde woman possessing the strength of a hundred men." The little boy replied.
His father nodded once and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Rupert turned on his side and closed his eyes. Within moments, he slept peacefully once again.
Outside the door his father spoke with an older gentleman. "Rupert has the gift of calling. He will be a strong Watcher when his time comes."
10 x 100 Word Drabbles
Rating: FRC
With thanks to Laura for giving this a quick read through. :)
Giles knew he was dreaming. He had lived this nightmare on numerous occasions. His dream never changed. The night Buffy died fighting Glory. He would wake when Buffy jumped. Giles watched his arms reach out to Buffy. Perhaps this time he could save her. Instead, he walked forward and pushed hard.
Giles woke gasping, sweat cooling on his heated skin. The curtains wafted on the breeze coming through the window, the scent of night blooming Jasmine drifting through the air.
Outside a shadow detached itself from the darkness and scurried down the street, its claws skittering loudly on the pavement.
Giles shivered, pulling the blankets tighter. He lay in the darkness, eyes unseeing, replaying the vision again. Words echoed through his mind. Buffy must die to save humanity. She had died, twice. Wasn't it enough? What did the dream mean? Was it playing on his insecurities? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his shattered nerves. He couldn't lose Buffy again. He couldn't watch her die. Shaking his head, he knew he would sleep no more this night. Taking a moment, he looked out into the darkness. The night seemed eerily still, even for Sunnydale.
Dressing quickly, Giles descended the stairs flicking light switches as he went. He needed the safety and comfort the illumination offered. Every dark corner or shadow seemed to beckon him nearer tonight. Setting the tea kettle to boil, he moved to stand in front of his book cabinet. His fingers caressed the aged spines before him. Picking one which focussed on dream based prophecies; Rupert sat down and idly flipped through the pages. Taking a deep breath, he settled against the couch and started to read. The book slipped from his fingers, his eyes closed and the dreams came again.
One foot in rebellion, the other firmly stuck in destiny. He had to escape or be sucked under by traditions.
A girl stood at the side of the stage and watched Ripper play. His guitar felt cool and smooth under his hands. He played the instrument with intent. His fingers danced over the strings in a facsimile of the way they would dance over her skin later. A faceless parade of girls passed through his life in this time. Some were groupies for the band, others drawn to the power of magic. They wanted a taste of what Ethan offered.
A loud whistling woke Giles with a start. The book on his knee fell to the floor with a thud. Giles raced through to his kitchen and removed the bubbling kettle from the heat. He leaned against the work surface and breathed deeply. Had he dozed off again? Checking the time, he realised only ten minutes had passed. Images of Ethan invaded his thoughts, Randall dead on the floor and Eyghon. He needed tea. His customary blend would soothe him, he hoped. Returning to his living room, he placed his tea on the table and took up his book again.
There had to be some reference here to explain his experiences. He could feel it, a niggling sensation just out of reach. Something or someone was influencing his dreams. Rising to his feet again, Rupert gathered his resources. He would not sleep until he had resolved this problem. If necessary he could call out the troops. He wasn't alone. Willow would detect any magical essence present in the air. If it was a demon, Buffy would kill it.
Outside the blackness of night thickened. Claws scratched the bricks near his window and the shadows reached towards the panes of glass.
Time had a sense of fragility in his world, held together as it was by destiny and prophesies. The earth scorched and cracked under his feet. He had to fight this, or lose his grip on reality forever. The shadows would come then. They would lead him to his ultimate downfall.
Dirt covered graves of people he failed along the way, trampled by his own feet. Buffy's headstone stood mockingly before him. The words on the inscription changed before his eyes. "Here lies Buffy Summers, warrior of the people", now read, "I trusted you Giles, you let me down. Again."
He backed away, choking on the bile rising in his throat. "No."
Giles sank to his knees in the soft earth. "I did all I could for you, Buffy. You never listened. I would lay down my life to protect you."
Hands broke through the earth beside him, "Then come with me and protect me now."
Giles struggled to retreat, fighting for survival as the hands grabbed at him. The smell of decaying flesh was rancid in the stale air. He could feel clumps of skin gathering under his nails as he fought off his assailant. Then darkness took him.
Giles fell through the damp earth onto a hard surface below. Groaning, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. Shadows swirled around him, biding their time. They would strike. Giles knew his time was ending. This was one battle he would not win. The shadows rose as one, a mass of churning darkness, a cacophony of voices joined them, providing an eerie soundtrack to the last moments of his life. The voices of friends seemed to cut through him, leaving bloody trails in their wake. As one, the shadows flew at him, burrowing under his skin.
In his room a young Rupert Giles awoke. His father stood beside his bed, "what did you see?" he asked.
"Visions of the future, father. I saw Demons, Vampires and a blonde woman possessing the strength of a hundred men." The little boy replied.
His father nodded once and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Rupert turned on his side and closed his eyes. Within moments, he slept peacefully once again.
Outside the door his father spoke with an older gentleman. "Rupert has the gift of calling. He will be a strong Watcher when his time comes."