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summer_of_giles2007-06-25 06:39 pm
sonneta.livejournal.com) wrote in summer_of_giles2007-06-25 06:39 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Thrice (Gen, PG-13)
Title: Thrice
Author: Sonneta
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Setting: Future, Post-"Chosen" (no comics canon).
Warning: Character death. Angsty.
It was a clear, bright day. Too bright. The sunlight made everything with edges look sharp. Giles edged away from the crosses and rectangles, fearing that they would scrape his limbs.
Finally, he came to the grave. Buffy’s final resting place. He bent, and laid a bunch of brightly-colored irises on the ground. Roses might be customary, but Giles hadn’t been able to stomach them in years. Besides, Buffy at her best had been bright and colorful, too.
He took off the light jacket he was wearing (he really had no need of it under the midday sun), and placed it on the ground next to Buffy’s stone so he could sit for a while.
For a moment, he reflected on all of the various demons and darkness she had fought over the years. He half-smiled, thinking of how Death itself had taken three tries to finally defeat her.
The first time she died, she was but a child. Young, brash, independent. Hurling accusations at him. Giles, I’m sixteen. I don’t wanna die.
He tucked his head down, realizing she had done just that. Well, no, she hadn’t technically died- or else CPR wouldn’t have worked- but it had been close enough for a new Slayer to be called.
Thank the Powers for Xander, for his insistence on going after her with Angel. Giles supposed he should have done it himself, but the truth was that he had still been smarting from that punch she gave him. She had been saved- that was probably all that mattered, in the end.
Giles sat back, looking up towards the clear sky. The second time she died… that was still hard to think about. His whole world had come crashing down. He had realized that, no matter how he might have tried to distance himself, she was his reason for living. She was his job, so to speak, but it was more than that. She was his charge, she was entrusted to him. She was his calling, his mission. His life was spent working so that hers might continue, so she might have the tools she needed to continue to fight.
So he had gone through a sort of identity crisis when she had died. He didn’t know what to do. He tried training the Buffybot, but there was little to be instilled in a computer. He still remembered the ‘Bot insisting that “a Slayer needs her Watcher,” and himself arguing he hadn’t done nearly enough.
He squinted, shaking his head to clear it of those bad memories. Buffy had returned, that time. Willow had brought her back.
The third time she died, it hadn’t been a demon or a matter of saving the world. She had been undone by her own planning. She had found a nest of vampires in the old part of town. Since they were all living together, she thought she would kill them all in one fell swoop. She used one of Giles’s old tricks- Molotov cocktail. But, as the fire started going, she realized that there was a human inside the building, screaming for help. So, like the hero she was, she ran into the fire. She had saved the young girl, throwing her clear of the building just before the roof came crashing in.
He vaguely remembered something— it seemed like a dream. Buffy, saying something about being a fireman? Well, she had definitely acted as one in her final moments.
His Buffy. In his opinion, she had died much too young, but he knew that in the history of Slayers, she had outlived all those before. And now, maybe, since there were more of them, they might start living longer still. Buffy had brought that chance about, the chance for Slayers to work together instead of alone.
Buffy Summers. She had saved the world, and then died saving one soul. Always the heroine.
Author: Sonneta
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Setting: Future, Post-"Chosen" (no comics canon).
Warning: Character death. Angsty.
It was a clear, bright day. Too bright. The sunlight made everything with edges look sharp. Giles edged away from the crosses and rectangles, fearing that they would scrape his limbs.
Finally, he came to the grave. Buffy’s final resting place. He bent, and laid a bunch of brightly-colored irises on the ground. Roses might be customary, but Giles hadn’t been able to stomach them in years. Besides, Buffy at her best had been bright and colorful, too.
He took off the light jacket he was wearing (he really had no need of it under the midday sun), and placed it on the ground next to Buffy’s stone so he could sit for a while.
For a moment, he reflected on all of the various demons and darkness she had fought over the years. He half-smiled, thinking of how Death itself had taken three tries to finally defeat her.
The first time she died, she was but a child. Young, brash, independent. Hurling accusations at him. Giles, I’m sixteen. I don’t wanna die.
He tucked his head down, realizing she had done just that. Well, no, she hadn’t technically died- or else CPR wouldn’t have worked- but it had been close enough for a new Slayer to be called.
Thank the Powers for Xander, for his insistence on going after her with Angel. Giles supposed he should have done it himself, but the truth was that he had still been smarting from that punch she gave him. She had been saved- that was probably all that mattered, in the end.
Giles sat back, looking up towards the clear sky. The second time she died… that was still hard to think about. His whole world had come crashing down. He had realized that, no matter how he might have tried to distance himself, she was his reason for living. She was his job, so to speak, but it was more than that. She was his charge, she was entrusted to him. She was his calling, his mission. His life was spent working so that hers might continue, so she might have the tools she needed to continue to fight.
So he had gone through a sort of identity crisis when she had died. He didn’t know what to do. He tried training the Buffybot, but there was little to be instilled in a computer. He still remembered the ‘Bot insisting that “a Slayer needs her Watcher,” and himself arguing he hadn’t done nearly enough.
He squinted, shaking his head to clear it of those bad memories. Buffy had returned, that time. Willow had brought her back.
The third time she died, it hadn’t been a demon or a matter of saving the world. She had been undone by her own planning. She had found a nest of vampires in the old part of town. Since they were all living together, she thought she would kill them all in one fell swoop. She used one of Giles’s old tricks- Molotov cocktail. But, as the fire started going, she realized that there was a human inside the building, screaming for help. So, like the hero she was, she ran into the fire. She had saved the young girl, throwing her clear of the building just before the roof came crashing in.
He vaguely remembered something— it seemed like a dream. Buffy, saying something about being a fireman? Well, she had definitely acted as one in her final moments.
His Buffy. In his opinion, she had died much too young, but he knew that in the history of Slayers, she had outlived all those before. And now, maybe, since there were more of them, they might start living longer still. Buffy had brought that chance about, the chance for Slayers to work together instead of alone.
Buffy Summers. She had saved the world, and then died saving one soul. Always the heroine.