__The Right Thing__
By Coast2Coast
Giles spent the morning in a state of unease. The conversation he had had
with Buffy lingered on the edge of his awareness like distant thunder. He
restlessly paced the library for awhile then settled in the chair at his
desk. He held a book open in front of him more out of habit than any other
reason, as he found it impossible to concentrate.
"Giles?"
He swiveled his chair around to face his Slayer. Although it was unusual for her
to visit the library on her lunch hour he realized he had, on some level,
expected her to appear. "What is it, Buffy?"
"I have to show you something."
* - * - * - * - *
The fact that she directed him to drive to the mansion on Crawford Street should have prepared him for what he
would see. Later, he could only imagine that his brain had been trying to
protect him with a futile fog of denial.
He resisted the urge to
smooth down the hair which rose on the nape of his neck as he stepped into
the cool, dim interior of the building. By the time he had reached a point
halfway across the living room he could see the form at the far end of the
room and stopped short. He did not need to draw closer to identify it.
Buffy stood a few feet beyond Giles and was looking at the floor.
"I found him last night, in the woods. I don't think he... He didn't have
any blood on him."
When she remained there, silent, for some time Giles
moved toward her. She was staring at the charred outline of a man's body. "I
left the Claddagh ring Angel gave me here a couple of nights ago,"
she told him. "I was saying goodbye."
Giles eyes slid shut and he let
out a long, pained sigh. Her being was infused with mystical energy. This was
the very room in which the statue of Acathla had stood and an
inter-dimensional portal had been opened. Who knew the history or properties
of the ring Angel had given her?
Giles opened his eyes and stepped
toward the slumped figure. At his approach, the vampire lunged to the extent
of the shackles which bound his wrists and snarled. He then scurried back
against the wall and crouched there, shivering and moaning.
What denizen of hell had effected the return of the vampire? How many people had
Angelus terrorized and tortured? How many thousands had he killed to sustain
his undead existence? Why must their lives be burdened once more with his
presence?
Buffy produced a stake from her jacket pocket and showed it
to Giles. "I'll kill him if you say I should," she assured him.
Giles stiffened in shock. How could she not understand the cruelty of the mercy she
was offering? The last time she had dealt this creature a blow she had fled
from him. She had been gone for three horrible, desolate months of anguish
and dashed hopes. He still felt her absence at times, because the person who
had returned had not been the girl he had known before. What would be the
result of his demand that she destroy him utterly?
"Or... or you can do it, if you want," she offered, misunderstanding the reason for his
silence. She extended her hand to him and he accepted the stake without
thinking. The feel of the rough wood grain against his palm, in his fingers,
shook loose another train of thought.
He could feel the wine bottle slipping from his nerveless fingers, hear it crashing into shards against the
hardwood floor. He could feel the bright, sharp agony that accompanied the
sound of the bones in those same fingers as they were broken, one by
one.
He could see his vivacious, quirky, sultry Jenny lying lifeless
on his bed. Somehow, the smooth, unbroken skin of her neck was
the ultimate insult. She had been nothing more than a prop -
window dressing in a macabre diorama whose sole purpose was to drive
the Watcher insane with rage.
"You want me to become him, then?" Giles queried softly.
"Wh... what?"
He turned his head toward her slowly, his grip tightening then easing on the stake over and over,
convulsively.
"I should kill your lover?"
True, he and Jenny had not had even the one night of passion allowed to Angel and Buffy. Yet his
body ached for the loss of a touch it had never known - and his tongue
remembered every sweet secret her mouth had held.
The bleak emptiness
of his gaze frightened Buffy more than grief or anger would have done.
"I didn't mean... You wouldn't be..." She fell silent again and
Giles counted it a blessing.
If he could believe his Slayer, and he
could see no reason why he shouldn't, the vampire was once again possessed by
a soul in addition to his demon. Perhaps it was a benevolent power that had
gifted them with this burden. There were likely prospects, possibilities
and eventualities he could not fathom. He recalled the recovery of
the Codex, the vampire's dedication to his Slayer, the benefit of two
and a half centuries of experience in the demon world offered freely
and the skilled fighter who came to their aid in battle time and again.
Giles could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth but
was unsure whether it was another sense-memory or if he had bitten himself
in his distraction. The clatter of wood on cement startled him as much as it
did Buffy as the stake skittered across the floor. He had not even been aware
of his own motion as he pitched the weapon away from his grasp.
Giles tipped his head back to assess the iron bracket through which the long chain
that ensnared the vampire was threaded. "I'm not sure that will hold if he
makes a concerted effort to escape. We should find another way of restraining
him," he said, then turned and paced back across the living room and out the front door.
He paused when he reached the car and stood silently in the
bright sunshine. He could feel its warmth on his hair and shoulders but
the cold knot in his gut remained.
Her voice came to him softly, although he could sense she was standing quite near. "I shouldn't have told
you."
He did what was expected of him. He said what he needed to say;
what she needed to hear. "You did the right thing."
* * *