Watch the World Die:
Chapter One
by GylzGirl
Disc: Joss, aah, savior of the universe. Fox.
Rating: PG (violence, a little language)
Timeline: Third season, between Revelations and Lover's Walk. That's right, I defy you Joss! Wait {tremble} I didn't mean it oh Joss. Please don't smite me!
Author's Notes: Thanks to Kazza and Meawan for their patience. Title comes from an Everclear lyric that I couldn't get out of my head but it's not a songfic.
Written: Fall 1998
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Rupert Giles stood by the long oak library table, removing his glasses and securing his head gear. He proudly watched his two Slayers sparring with the full-staffs, and waited for a natural lull in their rhythm. "Good! Buffy!" He plunged in between them. Faith backed up as he and Buffy went at it. Buffy was having a slightly harder time with the bulkier staff then she had when Giles had introduced the quarterstaff to her, but she still managed to just barely parry each of his blows. "Good job! Faith!"
Buffy moved back to catch her breath as the black-haired Slayer moved in on the Watcher. Where Buffy's style was to take things easy at first to learn her attacker's style, then use that information to defeat them, Faith was more instinctual, more visceral. She came on aggressively and kept it up. Quick forceful blows drove Giles farther back across the library until he was able to angle his staff just right and sweep in under her jabbing assault. With a wave of his staff, he managed to knock her off of her feet.
"Buffy!" The blonde was on him in a flash, not about to let her Watcher get cocky. She imitated his own move and within seconds, he landed beside Faith on the floor. He sat up grumbling. Faith smiled at him sympathetically and offered him her water bottle.
"You always were better at projectile weapons Rupert," a commanding voice with a English accent spoke. Three sets of eyes drifted to the doorway to appraise the tall burly stranger that stood there. He wore a finely tailored suit of tweed. He was a bit heavy set with a handsome, if slightly pudgy, face, half-hidden by the salt-and-pepper beard that matched his hair.
Giles rose slowly and smoothed his clothes down. "Hello Father," he said rather quietly. The two girls both adjusted their gaze to fall on the younger Giles, their jaws slightly agape.
"Well Lad, how are you?"
"Fine," Rupert said with a tight smile.
The elder man's smile was beginning to fade, picking up the slightest twinge of a scowl. "Aren't you even going to invite me in Boy? It's not like I'm some damned vampire."
Giles' eyes remained downcast. "Yes of course. Sorry. Do come in."
The man's grin returned with almost theatrical brightness. "Thank you. Well, these two beautiful ladies must be Buffy and Faith." He sat down at the table. "It's an honor to meet such legends."
Faith beamed under the compliment. Buffy smiled at that, but she was also watching her Watcher. He was not happy to see this man here. He had spoken of his Father to her, rarely and not with much fondness. Giles was being polite, and she decided she would follow his lead. However, she decided something else too, she didn't like this man.
"Rupert, aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Yes of course." He raised his eyes and looked at the girls. "Buffy, Faith this is Warrick Giles." Rupert lowered his gaze again. "My father."
"Hey," Buffy said in a neutral, vaguely disinterested tone.
Faith finally picked up on the uncomfortable vibes radiating from Buffy and Giles. She smiled, deciding to cheer them both up. "Hey there Papa G." She moved forward and shook his hand, Slayer-hard. Warrick struggled not to wince. Buffy struggled not to laugh. Rupert couldn't repress a smile.
Warrick Giles cast a disapproving glance at his son. "Yes, well, my son and I have a lot to catch up on girls. Perhaps you could give us some time to get reacquainted?"
"Sure, come on B, we got patrol."
Buffy looked to Giles, reluctant to leave her Watcher to his father's company. He nodded her on, fondly. "Right. We'll be back for check-in in an hour." Her last sentence emphasized for the older man's benefit. Just so he knew she'd be back soon enough to see if *her* Giles been upset. He'd had enough emotional trauma over the past year. She'd be damned if she'd let this man add to it.
The Slayers disappeared through the swinging double doors. As the sound of their footsteps echoed further down the hall, the father turned to his son. "Two Slayers and you make them check in on the hour? Sounds a bit *overprotective* to me."
Though he knew his father well enough to know he'd never admit it, the man was gloating, relishing throwing the same word the 21 year old Rupert had used to dismiss his father when he left university, back in his face. "I'm sure it might to you, but then you don't live on a Hellmouth. You haven't had to deal with a recent surge in demonic activity that warrants extra precautions. You don't have two flesh and blood young girls counting on you to care whether or not they live or die." Giles calmed himself down a bit, but continued. "They're all just numbers to you, aren't they? Another one dies, you just tick them off, move on to the next. Even Rebecca was no different to you was she?" Warrick glared at his son. "Not really. I don't think Mr. Zabuto would agree with that philosophy Father. Nor do I."
"Zabuto?" He scoffed. "He locked himself away in a monastery in Tibet after Kendra died...under your care." His father was never one to resist a painful dig. "And what will you do when your Slayers go the way Rebecca and Kendra did? Will you weep and wail? Lose control as you did when that gypsy you'd taken up with was killed?"
"Very possibly. That's sort of the peril of being human Father. Sometimes you have to risk looking foolish, acting foolish, in order to remain feeling."
His Father stood, meeting his son eye-to-eye with their equal height. "Sometimes I think you're too soft to be entrusted with any Slayer, let alone two Rupert."
Rupert stared his father back down, a cold hatred smoldering in his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why you advocate the Slaying of vampires at all, sharing as many emotional traits with them as you do."
The older man looked away, his back now to his son. "You really think I feel nothing, don't you?"
"You proved that to me when I was ten, and you've only kept on proving it ever since. Now why did you come here? What is it you want of me?"
"Perhaps I just missed you. It has been three years after all."
Giles barked a laugh. "I'll ask you once more. What is it you want from me?"
Warrick sighed, then turned back to his son. "We're facing a crisis of epic proportions. If we don't stop it, not only will your two precious Slayers fall, but there will be none to replace them, ever."
Giles read the blunt honesty in his father's weary features and sank into the chair. "Tell me."
Chapter One
by GylzGirl
Disc: Joss, aah, savior of the universe. Fox.
Rating: PG (violence, a little language)
Timeline: Third season, between Revelations and Lover's Walk. That's right, I defy you Joss! Wait {tremble} I didn't mean it oh Joss. Please don't smite me!
Author's Notes: Thanks to Kazza and Meawan for their patience. Title comes from an Everclear lyric that I couldn't get out of my head but it's not a songfic.
Written: Fall 1998
------------------------------------------------------------
Rupert Giles stood by the long oak library table, removing his glasses and securing his head gear. He proudly watched his two Slayers sparring with the full-staffs, and waited for a natural lull in their rhythm. "Good! Buffy!" He plunged in between them. Faith backed up as he and Buffy went at it. Buffy was having a slightly harder time with the bulkier staff then she had when Giles had introduced the quarterstaff to her, but she still managed to just barely parry each of his blows. "Good job! Faith!"
Buffy moved back to catch her breath as the black-haired Slayer moved in on the Watcher. Where Buffy's style was to take things easy at first to learn her attacker's style, then use that information to defeat them, Faith was more instinctual, more visceral. She came on aggressively and kept it up. Quick forceful blows drove Giles farther back across the library until he was able to angle his staff just right and sweep in under her jabbing assault. With a wave of his staff, he managed to knock her off of her feet.
"Buffy!" The blonde was on him in a flash, not about to let her Watcher get cocky. She imitated his own move and within seconds, he landed beside Faith on the floor. He sat up grumbling. Faith smiled at him sympathetically and offered him her water bottle.
"You always were better at projectile weapons Rupert," a commanding voice with a English accent spoke. Three sets of eyes drifted to the doorway to appraise the tall burly stranger that stood there. He wore a finely tailored suit of tweed. He was a bit heavy set with a handsome, if slightly pudgy, face, half-hidden by the salt-and-pepper beard that matched his hair.
Giles rose slowly and smoothed his clothes down. "Hello Father," he said rather quietly. The two girls both adjusted their gaze to fall on the younger Giles, their jaws slightly agape.
"Well Lad, how are you?"
"Fine," Rupert said with a tight smile.
The elder man's smile was beginning to fade, picking up the slightest twinge of a scowl. "Aren't you even going to invite me in Boy? It's not like I'm some damned vampire."
Giles' eyes remained downcast. "Yes of course. Sorry. Do come in."
The man's grin returned with almost theatrical brightness. "Thank you. Well, these two beautiful ladies must be Buffy and Faith." He sat down at the table. "It's an honor to meet such legends."
Faith beamed under the compliment. Buffy smiled at that, but she was also watching her Watcher. He was not happy to see this man here. He had spoken of his Father to her, rarely and not with much fondness. Giles was being polite, and she decided she would follow his lead. However, she decided something else too, she didn't like this man.
"Rupert, aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Yes of course." He raised his eyes and looked at the girls. "Buffy, Faith this is Warrick Giles." Rupert lowered his gaze again. "My father."
"Hey," Buffy said in a neutral, vaguely disinterested tone.
Faith finally picked up on the uncomfortable vibes radiating from Buffy and Giles. She smiled, deciding to cheer them both up. "Hey there Papa G." She moved forward and shook his hand, Slayer-hard. Warrick struggled not to wince. Buffy struggled not to laugh. Rupert couldn't repress a smile.
Warrick Giles cast a disapproving glance at his son. "Yes, well, my son and I have a lot to catch up on girls. Perhaps you could give us some time to get reacquainted?"
"Sure, come on B, we got patrol."
Buffy looked to Giles, reluctant to leave her Watcher to his father's company. He nodded her on, fondly. "Right. We'll be back for check-in in an hour." Her last sentence emphasized for the older man's benefit. Just so he knew she'd be back soon enough to see if *her* Giles been upset. He'd had enough emotional trauma over the past year. She'd be damned if she'd let this man add to it.
The Slayers disappeared through the swinging double doors. As the sound of their footsteps echoed further down the hall, the father turned to his son. "Two Slayers and you make them check in on the hour? Sounds a bit *overprotective* to me."
Though he knew his father well enough to know he'd never admit it, the man was gloating, relishing throwing the same word the 21 year old Rupert had used to dismiss his father when he left university, back in his face. "I'm sure it might to you, but then you don't live on a Hellmouth. You haven't had to deal with a recent surge in demonic activity that warrants extra precautions. You don't have two flesh and blood young girls counting on you to care whether or not they live or die." Giles calmed himself down a bit, but continued. "They're all just numbers to you, aren't they? Another one dies, you just tick them off, move on to the next. Even Rebecca was no different to you was she?" Warrick glared at his son. "Not really. I don't think Mr. Zabuto would agree with that philosophy Father. Nor do I."
"Zabuto?" He scoffed. "He locked himself away in a monastery in Tibet after Kendra died...under your care." His father was never one to resist a painful dig. "And what will you do when your Slayers go the way Rebecca and Kendra did? Will you weep and wail? Lose control as you did when that gypsy you'd taken up with was killed?"
"Very possibly. That's sort of the peril of being human Father. Sometimes you have to risk looking foolish, acting foolish, in order to remain feeling."
His Father stood, meeting his son eye-to-eye with their equal height. "Sometimes I think you're too soft to be entrusted with any Slayer, let alone two Rupert."
Rupert stared his father back down, a cold hatred smoldering in his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why you advocate the Slaying of vampires at all, sharing as many emotional traits with them as you do."
The older man looked away, his back now to his son. "You really think I feel nothing, don't you?"
"You proved that to me when I was ten, and you've only kept on proving it ever since. Now why did you come here? What is it you want of me?"
"Perhaps I just missed you. It has been three years after all."
Giles barked a laugh. "I'll ask you once more. What is it you want from me?"
Warrick sighed, then turned back to his son. "We're facing a crisis of epic proportions. If we don't stop it, not only will your two precious Slayers fall, but there will be none to replace them, ever."
Giles read the blunt honesty in his father's weary features and sank into the chair. "Tell me."