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avreliaTitle: Scythe Matters
Author: Avrelia F
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during End of Days .
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladygaladriel04 who asked for Willow/Giles or Spike/Giles, no violence or nonconsensual sex. I know, you wanted them to get it on, I wanted it too, Giles was ready, but Willow freaked out… Silly girl!
Content: Willow and Giles research the scythe. Mmm, research… ;-)
Disclaimer: All characters in this fic belong to ME, also I used several lines from the episode.
Gratitude: I am very grateful tojanedavitt for the beta-reading of this story, to swmbo and marguerite_26, for this flashlicathon, because it is FUN, and for all my friends, because they made me think I can write in English. (Yes, it is your fault, people!)
Scythe Matters
“So it’s true. Scythe matters.” Willow pushes Giles playfully, as she and Buffy exchange understanding looks and burst out giggling.
“Why does she always make these racy jokes in front of me?” Giles wonders, but his trained mind is used to disregarding irrelevant details distracting from the big picture, and he is trying to concentrate on inspecting the weapon, “And ignoring that, I’d just like to point out that this is really quite ingenious.”
The girls are serious again, discussing the possible implications of finding the scythe. He still thinks about them as girls, but they are women, grown up too fast and gone through too much – and yet able to laugh at the silliest joke possible. Scythe matters… What would Willow know about scythes – or sizes. She’s hardly seen much of any of them. He prefers not to dwell on what Buffy might know on the subject. There isn’t much time to lose though and, soon after the conversation, Giles and Willow are busy researching the mysterious weapon.
Quiet and privacy have become an unaffordable luxury in the last months, but right now, in Willow’s room, the two of them are enjoying some semblance of it. It feels like the calm before the storm, like an island of sanity in the midst of, well, insanity. He remembers the previous summer – back in England, before all of his old life had gone to hell - with some kind of nostalgia. With a small effort his thoughts return to the present – the apocalypse at hand and the scythe-research. They haven’t found anything useful so far. And how come that thing wasn’t ever mentioned anywhere in the Council’s archives? Or was it? One never can be absolutely sure about it. But even if it was, there is no use thinking about it now. They have to find another way.
“Tapping into magicks might help with that.”
“Maybe. But, I mean, if Caleb is scared of this thing… it must be pretty dangerous and tapping into that…”
She looks so young when she is saying it, as if she’s retreated into her high school persona. He misses the beautiful confident girl she could be, he misses the mischievous grin, and the sparks in her eyes – and he feels like an old fool thinking it. Here. Now. At all. That summer – she looked eerily old. Burnt out, hollowed by grief and horror. Yet so powerful. It pains him now even more, to see her like this. Like she’s buried herself in the safe past.
“Willow, you cannot hide all your life. I’ve told you before, magic isn’t something external, it is a part of you, your power…”
“Blah-blah-blah…” She glances tiredly at him from the computer screen, then returns to reading.
“You are avoiding the problem again!”
“I don’t want to add to our problems, why don’t you get it, Giles! I can’t control it – whether it’s part of me or not!” She snaps out of her diligent research mode – alert and wary, and – hurt?
She is terribly scared of herself, he thinks, and this realization makes Giles both irritated and moved.
“Willow, you can control yourself. You can do whatever you want…”
“Unless I want to destroy the world, right?” she finishes bitterly.
“What I mean is…”
She glares at him angrily, “Spare me the lecturing, ok?”
“But you still…”
“What you mean is that I may be a useful weapon in the upcoming battle. ‘Willow, magic is bad, do this spell now.’” She is mimicking his expression, “And then oops! Poor little Willow got addicted to magic in the line of duty. Bad, bad Willow!”
“You were never addicted to magic, and I’ve never said you were. It is nonsense you tell yourself to avoid responsibility – as well as this ‘poor little Willow’ routine. Where did you get it?”
She looks incensed. He was thinking about sparks, but there is a real, angry fire in her now. “She is adorable,” unexpectedly comes to mind. He is strangely enjoying this conversation.
“What do you mean?” She doesn’t seem that young now.
“The magic is just a tool. You like the power that comes with it, the power to make shortcuts, to shape the world to your fancy.”
“Takes one to know one, then.” Willow sounds deadly. “Aren’t we all just tools for you – me, Buffy, everyone else – pawns that you and your Council move for the most efficient world-saving. Some days, I’m kind of grateful that the Watchers’ Council is dead and isn’t ‘helping’ us.”
This strikes Giles more than he is able to admit. True, they weren’t… For a moment, he cannot breathe. But Willow apparently sees something changed in him. She comes closer and touches his arm gently.
“I am sorry, Giles. I shouldn’t have said that.”
The girl looks genuinely concerned, and he cannot help but smile.
“I am sorry, too; I pushed you too hard.”
“Maybe not.” She smiles back, tentatively. “I understand.”
They stand close and anger and bitterness subsides, transforming into yearning to return to that peace they seem to have with each other. Willow glances up to at his face, blushes, and Giles finds it perfectly natural to kiss her. He lightly brushes his lips against hers and Willow meets him enthusiastically, gently presses her lips to his, nibbling, touching the tip of her tongue to his, and he feels lost – and found – in her kiss. She tastes like honey and twilight, and he has no idea where it comes from. The kiss is not nearly enough, and their hands are busy exploring, and the fire that Giles mourned half an hour ago is here, it surrounds them, and he welcomes the flames. Life begins to make perfect sense – or no sense whatsoever. Until Willow pulls back, panting, panic on her face:
“Hey! I am gay - I have a girlfriend – I can control my… - we need to research – scythe…”
And she runs out of the room. He sits down on the bed – her bed where she and her girlfriend… Power. Control. “Oh, yes, scythe.” At this moment, scythe is really important.
I hope it doesn't completely suck, and you like it.
Author: Avrelia F
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during End of Days .
Written for
ladygaladriel04 who asked for Willow/Giles or Spike/Giles, no violence or nonconsensual sex. I know, you wanted them to get it on, I wanted it too, Giles was ready, but Willow freaked out… Silly girl! Content: Willow and Giles research the scythe. Mmm, research… ;-)
Disclaimer: All characters in this fic belong to ME, also I used several lines from the episode.
Gratitude: I am very grateful to
janedavitt for the beta-reading of this story, to swmbo and marguerite_26, for this flashlicathon, because it is FUN, and for all my friends, because they made me think I can write in English. (Yes, it is your fault, people!)Scythe Matters
“So it’s true. Scythe matters.” Willow pushes Giles playfully, as she and Buffy exchange understanding looks and burst out giggling.
“Why does she always make these racy jokes in front of me?” Giles wonders, but his trained mind is used to disregarding irrelevant details distracting from the big picture, and he is trying to concentrate on inspecting the weapon, “And ignoring that, I’d just like to point out that this is really quite ingenious.”
The girls are serious again, discussing the possible implications of finding the scythe. He still thinks about them as girls, but they are women, grown up too fast and gone through too much – and yet able to laugh at the silliest joke possible. Scythe matters… What would Willow know about scythes – or sizes. She’s hardly seen much of any of them. He prefers not to dwell on what Buffy might know on the subject. There isn’t much time to lose though and, soon after the conversation, Giles and Willow are busy researching the mysterious weapon.
Quiet and privacy have become an unaffordable luxury in the last months, but right now, in Willow’s room, the two of them are enjoying some semblance of it. It feels like the calm before the storm, like an island of sanity in the midst of, well, insanity. He remembers the previous summer – back in England, before all of his old life had gone to hell - with some kind of nostalgia. With a small effort his thoughts return to the present – the apocalypse at hand and the scythe-research. They haven’t found anything useful so far. And how come that thing wasn’t ever mentioned anywhere in the Council’s archives? Or was it? One never can be absolutely sure about it. But even if it was, there is no use thinking about it now. They have to find another way.
“Tapping into magicks might help with that.”
“Maybe. But, I mean, if Caleb is scared of this thing… it must be pretty dangerous and tapping into that…”
She looks so young when she is saying it, as if she’s retreated into her high school persona. He misses the beautiful confident girl she could be, he misses the mischievous grin, and the sparks in her eyes – and he feels like an old fool thinking it. Here. Now. At all. That summer – she looked eerily old. Burnt out, hollowed by grief and horror. Yet so powerful. It pains him now even more, to see her like this. Like she’s buried herself in the safe past.
“Willow, you cannot hide all your life. I’ve told you before, magic isn’t something external, it is a part of you, your power…”
“Blah-blah-blah…” She glances tiredly at him from the computer screen, then returns to reading.
“You are avoiding the problem again!”
“I don’t want to add to our problems, why don’t you get it, Giles! I can’t control it – whether it’s part of me or not!” She snaps out of her diligent research mode – alert and wary, and – hurt?
She is terribly scared of herself, he thinks, and this realization makes Giles both irritated and moved.
“Willow, you can control yourself. You can do whatever you want…”
“Unless I want to destroy the world, right?” she finishes bitterly.
“What I mean is…”
She glares at him angrily, “Spare me the lecturing, ok?”
“But you still…”
“What you mean is that I may be a useful weapon in the upcoming battle. ‘Willow, magic is bad, do this spell now.’” She is mimicking his expression, “And then oops! Poor little Willow got addicted to magic in the line of duty. Bad, bad Willow!”
“You were never addicted to magic, and I’ve never said you were. It is nonsense you tell yourself to avoid responsibility – as well as this ‘poor little Willow’ routine. Where did you get it?”
She looks incensed. He was thinking about sparks, but there is a real, angry fire in her now. “She is adorable,” unexpectedly comes to mind. He is strangely enjoying this conversation.
“What do you mean?” She doesn’t seem that young now.
“The magic is just a tool. You like the power that comes with it, the power to make shortcuts, to shape the world to your fancy.”
“Takes one to know one, then.” Willow sounds deadly. “Aren’t we all just tools for you – me, Buffy, everyone else – pawns that you and your Council move for the most efficient world-saving. Some days, I’m kind of grateful that the Watchers’ Council is dead and isn’t ‘helping’ us.”
This strikes Giles more than he is able to admit. True, they weren’t… For a moment, he cannot breathe. But Willow apparently sees something changed in him. She comes closer and touches his arm gently.
“I am sorry, Giles. I shouldn’t have said that.”
The girl looks genuinely concerned, and he cannot help but smile.
“I am sorry, too; I pushed you too hard.”
“Maybe not.” She smiles back, tentatively. “I understand.”
They stand close and anger and bitterness subsides, transforming into yearning to return to that peace they seem to have with each other. Willow glances up to at his face, blushes, and Giles finds it perfectly natural to kiss her. He lightly brushes his lips against hers and Willow meets him enthusiastically, gently presses her lips to his, nibbling, touching the tip of her tongue to his, and he feels lost – and found – in her kiss. She tastes like honey and twilight, and he has no idea where it comes from. The kiss is not nearly enough, and their hands are busy exploring, and the fire that Giles mourned half an hour ago is here, it surrounds them, and he welcomes the flames. Life begins to make perfect sense – or no sense whatsoever. Until Willow pulls back, panting, panic on her face:
“Hey! I am gay - I have a girlfriend – I can control my… - we need to research – scythe…”
And she runs out of the room. He sits down on the bed – her bed where she and her girlfriend… Power. Control. “Oh, yes, scythe.” At this moment, scythe is really important.
I hope it doesn't completely suck, and you like it.
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-29 11:37 am (UTC)I love their bickering and fight at the beginning but the end is just beautiful.
he feels lost – and found – in her kiss. She tastes like honey and twilight
Wow, that was really really gorgeous! Makes my little heart go pitte-pat!
Thanks so much for this! *hugs*
Make sure to stop by and check yours out, should be up later today if you are still around or able to check later!
*hugs again*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 12:44 pm (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-13 07:11 am (UTC)And I love, love, love the story you wrote for me. I am still sleepy, and will have to read it again, but the best thing – it is only the beginning! Wee!