Fic - "Gifts" - Chapter 6

[green-maia.livejournal.com]

Title: Gifts
Author: Maia
Rating: G for the first few chapters; later chapters will be PG-13 for violence
Warnings: Multiple character deaths in later chapters
Characters: Dawn, William, Buffy, Giles, Xander, Willow, several original characters.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: Everything except the original characters belongs to Joss

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5




This chapter was first posted on my LJ here.


Thank you to gillo for beta-reading and excellent suggestions!


Note on this chapter:
The film which Giles remembers having been made to watch on Xander's birthday is Star Trek III: The Search for Spock; the line "My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned" is spoken by Sarek.








Gifts
Chapter 6

“Buffy, do stop pacing.”

“She said she would call today. Why doesn’t she call?”

“It’s only mid-afternoon in New York.”

“But she only left two days ago! She’s still on British time! She should have called by now!”

Giles wondered how Buffy would have dealt with having a daughter who ran away and did not contact her family for three agonizing months. He doubted that she would have done well in Joyce’s place. Or his own. But this was probably not the time to point that out. “You could call her...again.”

“I did. Her cell phone is off. Anything could have happened to her!”

“Dawn is a very capable young woman. I find it far more likely that she is expressing her irritation with you than that she is in any kind of trouble.”

“Maybe I should call the New York Slayers and – “

“Buffy.”

“I know, I know, I’m being over-protective again.”

“Quite. Would you like more tea?”

“You really think I need more caffeine?”

“Tea is soothing.”

Buffy snorted. “Okay, then.”


*


She started to follow him into the kitchen, then stopped and asked, “What’s that?”

Giles followed her gaze to the oddly-shaped rock on his desk. “That was found in Antarctica on the Watchers’ Council expedition.”

“What is it?”

“We don’t know.”

Buffy looked alarmed. “That’s never good.”

“Unknown objects found in Antarctica are far less likely to be dangerous than unknown objects found on Hellmouths.”

“Yeah, but still...aren’t you guys supposed to give us the heads-up when you find stuff like that?”

“To quote from our charter, only if it is ‘relevant’.”

Buffy was suddenly in her role as head of the Slayers’ Council. “I would like to be informed regardless of whether you believe it to be relevant.”

“As you inform us of all your activities?”

“We tell you what we’re doing. Mostly.”

Giles just looked at her. “As you did in Sydney?”

“That was an anomaly.”

Giles raised his eyebrows.

“I know, I know. Trying to control Slayers is like herding cats.”

“Really. I cannot imagine what you mean.”

Buffy picked up a cushion off the couch and threw it at him.

Giles ducked, and went into the kitchen to make more tea.


*


Buffy leaned against the kitchen counter. “Giles...do you think I was wrong?”

“About?”

“Dawn.”

Please do not put me in the middle of this. “I understand both of your points of view.”

“And you’re not going to budge from Switzerland.”

“No.”

“I just want to make sure she’s okay!”

“She is an adult, Buffy.”

“Adults need help sometimes.”

Giles winced at the bitterness in her voice.

A line from one of the films that they had all been made to watch on Xander’s birthday a few years back flashed through his mind, ‘My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned.’

From childhood he had prized clarity of understanding; from childhood he had been trained to separate truth from illusion; from childhood he had trusted his own observations. Sometimes he had ignored the discerning eye in the back of his mind; sometimes he had outright rebelled against it - but always he had known that he could not cry ignorance; he erred only when he surrendered to his own desires. Always, he had trusted that if he took care to question his biases and put aside his own preferences, his judgments would be accurate.

It had been painful to realize how clouded his judgment had been where Buffy was concerned. There had been horror in the gradual recognition, five years ago this summer, that Dawn’s insistence that Buffy needed professional help was correct. And he had failed to see it.

“Giles, the water is boiling.”

He came back to himself.

“You were all lost-in-thought-y,” Buffy said.

“Yes...Buffy,” he began carefully, “I have told you...that I have recognized...that my judgments...where you are concerned...have at times...been...wrong.”

“Yeah. We’ve been through all that. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Yes. But I do wonder if perhaps your...over-protectiveness...with Dawn does not have something to do with your having been...under-protected.”

“Duh!”

Giles felt a stab of irritation.

Buffy sighed. “But knowing why you’re doing something doesn’t make it easier to stop doing it.”

Giles’ annoyance disappeared. “No. It certainly doesn’t.”

“And Dawn’s...”

“...as much a daughter as a sister to you. I do understand.”

“And rationality goes out the window.”

(‘My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned.’) He nodded.

Giles finished making the tea and they returned to the living room and sat down.


*


“So do you have a theory on the rock thing-y?” Buffy asked.

“Well...it is rather...unlikely...”

“Why do I have a feeling that it has something to do with your whole tracking-down-all-the-lost-texts -that-are-of-no-interest-to-anyone-except-historians project?”

“Our discovery in Egypt was unprecedented!”

“Yeah, yeah. You went to the previously-undisclosed-locations to get the copies of all the texts the First destroyed so you could create a new library and make
copies-of-the-copies to seal away in new undisclosed locations and you wound up finding a fragment of a text that no one knew existed that referred to other texts that no one knew existed and ever since then it’s been Watcher Fun With Archaeology. And you’ve spent a ton of time and money and haven’t discovered anything that is actually useful.”

“Our Allocations Committee doesn’t see it that way.”

“Your Allocations Committee doesn’t live in reality.

“And yours does?”

Buffy laughed. “Okay, no Allocations Committee lives in reality. But anyway – what’s up with the rock and the lost texts?”

“One of the re-discovered Sumerian texts refers to an even more ancient record it calls The Song of the Origin. It describes it as having been ‘woven in stone, broken in fire, hidden in ice,’ and – “

“- and you think this thing is it?”

“A part of it. Possibly. Jason believes – “

“Jason Margrave? He’s one of your recruits, isn’t he? The one who’s going to the Columbia Journalism school in the fall, like Dawn?”

“Yes. Very bright young man. He believes that this rock may be a fragment of The Song of the Origin.”

“But you think that's - 'unlikely'?”

“Well, yes. It seems highly improbable. Jason is still working on translating the Sumerian text. As yet we are working with only fragments of information.”

“What’s The Song of the Origin supposed to be about?”

“Even that we do not know. Jason is hoping the complete translation of the Sumerian text will tell us. But it may not. It is frustrating, because one of the few texts destroyed by the First which we have not been able to obtain copies of might have cast light on the subject.”

“Something that refers to The Song of the Origin?”

“Something that may refer to it.”

“Huh?”

“You know of the schism in the Watchers’ Council during the English Civil War?”

“You’ve mentioned it.”

“During that time, both sides feared that texts would be lost forever, and both sides devised ways to hide copies. One of the texts we have recently discovered is a catalog of those hidden copies. Apparently, copies were given secretly to the Hallows family for safe-keeping, but the record of the transaction was lost during the war. I’ve found other previously-lost records that indicate that the Hallows family kept the texts and passed them down through the generations, to safeguard them from any future political turmoil.”

“Where are they now, then?”

“Arthur Hallows was a close childhood friend of an uncle of mine. As a young man, though, he developed some rather...idiosyncratic...ideas. He believed that killing vampires was evil, and he became a pacifist.”

“A PACIFIST about VAMPIRES?”

“Yes. Quite. I do believe his intentions were good. He declared himself a Conscientious Objector and left the Council. He was widely reviled – ‘idealistic idiot’ was the kindest thing Quentin Travers ever said about him. And his father disowned him. But he stuck to his principles.”

“Guess I gotta give him points for guts.”

“Yes, he was courageous, though misguided.”

“And you think he has the records?”

“I think he may have had them. But he was killed by the First.”

“Did he have any kids?”

Giles was surprised by Buffy’s interest. But then, she was trying to distract herself from Dawn’s failure to call. “That’s the odd thing. I kept track of him over the years, and while I know that he was married to an American woman – she died a year ago – I don’t recall hearing that they ever had children. But in my attempts to track down the lost texts, I’ve found records that indicate that Arthur and his wife had a son in 1977.”

“So you think the son has the records?”

“Possibly. I’m attempting to locate him. Most of what he would have is redundant. But the catalog does mention one text of which all other copies are lost – and the title of that text is Key to the Origin.”

“'The Origin' meaning Song of the Origin?”

“We’re not sure.”

“Does any of this have any possibility of being useful?”

“Buffy, it is possible that The Song of the Origin might answer many questions about the origins of demons on earth!”

“And this matters in 2008 why?”

Giles sighed. Buffy would never be interested in knowledge for the sake of knowledge. Very well.

Buffy grinned. “I’m not criticizing, really!"

Her phone rang then.

She dove for it, answered it, and then scowled. “It’s another text message.” She read the message and said, “It is from Dawn. She says I should check my e-mail.”

“You may use my computer if you like.”

“Thanks.”

Giles took the teacups into the kitchen to wash, to give her privacy.


*


She was at the computer for a long time. He did not wish to interrupt, so he scrubbed the sink, which did not need it. Then he cleaned out the fridge. Then he scrubbed the stovetop.

“Giles.” He looked up. Buffy was leaning against the doorjamb. She was white as a ghost.

“Buffy! What’s wrong? Is Dawn alright?”

“She’s...fine,” she said distantly. “I have to go.”

“Are you alright?”

“I – I have to go.”

“What has happened? What is it?”

“I have to go. Now.”

She turned and headed towards the door.

“Buffy – your handbag.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She took it without seeing it.

“Buffy. What is wrong?”

“Nothing. I have to go.”

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No. Thanks. I have to go.”

“Buffy! Do you even have a stake?”

“A spike?”

“A stake.”

“Yeah. I have a stake. Thanks for the tea. G’night.”

“Buffy, please tell me what is going on.”

“I have to go.” And she left.

Giles wondered if he should go after her and decided against it. Even in a state such as this, she was capable of defending herself. He had seen it before.

But he was shaken. It was rare for Buffy to be so dazed. He wondered what information could possibly have been in Dawn’s e-mail that had so stunned her sister.

It was only 9 o’clock in the evening. He made himself some more tea, picked up a book, and tried to read. He couldn’t concentrate.

His flat had been painted that spring, and some of his books were still in boxes. Arranging them back on shelves might be a good way to occupy his mind.

At the bottom of a box he found a volume he had not looked at in a long time: his father’s unofficial journal of his time as Watcher for a Slayer named Rachel. It had only been for a short time – like so many Slayers, Rachel had been killed less than a year after she was called.

Giles picked up the book and opened it. His father’s small precise handwriting filled the pages. He began to read.

....Rachel walks in a world that I can see but never enter. It is not because I am a part of her world that I can guide her, but because I am outside of it, able to observe it as a whole....

....Rachel has come to trust me. It pains me to recognize that she is ignorant of my inevitable betrayal....

....Her name means “lamb.” Ironic, since that is what a Slayer is, in the end: a sacrificial lamb...

Mount Moriah approaches. And I know, to my grief, that the world is Isaac, and Rachel is the ram.....


“And rationality goes out the window,” Buffy had said. Yes – and no. He loved her as a daughter. But he was sworn to protect the world above all else.


*


The phone rang. He picked it up. It was Jason. He glanced at the clock. Irritating Americans, calling after 10 p.m.

Jason, though, was oblivious to the time. “Giles – I’ve translated fourteen more lines – I’m e-mailing you an encrypted attachment. And, Giles..."

Giles listened. Jason’s voice seemed to get farther and farther away.

“Giles?”

“Thank you, Jason,” he said.

He put down the phone. He went to the computer and logged onto his e-mail. He downloaded the attachment. It took a long time. He read the translation. He read the translation again. He read the translation a third time.

He logged out of his e-mail. He turned the computer off. He took his teacup into the kitchen and washed it.

He got ready for bed.

He went to his bedroom and got into bed. He turned out the light. He stared into the dark.


“We are NOT talking about this.”

“Yes we bloody well are!”

“Tell me to kill my sister.”

“She’s not your sister.”

“She’s more than that. She’s me.”

“I’ve sworn to protect this sorry world. And sometimes that means saying and doing things that other people can’t. They shouldn’t have to.

“You’re a killer!”


He wondered who the ram would be this time.








*












Chapter 7