summer_of_giles | Jul. 10th, 2019

This is my first time participating. Thanks so much for welcoming me to this awesome community.

Pairing: Rupert Giles/Willow Rosenberg

Length: 2000+ words

Rating: Teen at worst.

The library is a liminal space. So much more than a place to work, but not quite a home, either. It’s a place to strategize, a place to train, a place to learn. It may not often serve its original purpose to the swarms of high schoolers it was intended for, but it has experienced just as much and more as a meeting place for a small group of them, give or take a few adults at various levels of exasperation. It has felt affection; passionate, drawn-out kisses pushed against the circulation desk, and stolen, guilty kisses between the bookshelves. Loved ones leaning on each other for support and dressing each other’s wounds. It’s seen anger; spats between friends, violence between sworn enemies. Tears have fallen on the tile floor, tears of betrayal, of confusion, of grief. This place has known death, and will know more before its role ends. The ceiling has been shattered, bookshelves toppled, and one day, the floor will open up and reveal a mouth to hell itself.
Tonight, however, amidst papers spread out on desks and piles of books haphazardly deposited on chairs and floor, the library contains only two souls. A weary-looking man seated at the center table leans back from being hunched over a large volume, removing his glasses and running a hand through his hair, which is just beginning to grey at the temples. He replaces his glasses and blinks hard, trying to keep from nodding off. He reaches for a pale green mug beside him and closes his eyes as the warm liquid hits his throat.

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