Dispatches from the War: Epitaph 4: At the Core (PG)
Epitaph Four: At The Core
October 2016
Rated PG
Starring: Buffy, Giles, Willow, Xander
For: lisianpeia, who asked for some Rulesverse core four
“Well,” said Giles, stiffly. “This is nice.”
His inner critic went instantly to cringe mode. Nice? This is a post-war debriefing session. People died for this. And even leaving aside the grief and loss, this is a meeting. In a control room you recently swore needed exorcising to remove the spirit of your endless wartime service over that bloody phone link. His inner critic then had to admit that the recent Faith- homecoming-and-sex incident in the room had probably done the exorcism part already. (Giles hated it when parts of his brain started debating. So uncivilised.)
It was, in fact, nice. Because it was almost like the old days. The three people he had once loved most in the world (in a paternal, non-touchy-feely manner, obviously) were all present. There was a big table with a pile of books, and Willow was sitting at a computer. Okay, there were also a dozen or more additional infernal machines in the room, but Giles ignored them. Willow-with-computer was within his personal comfort zone of technology, and that was as far as he was prepared to bend.
It was nice that they were talking. It was nicer that no one was trying to kill anyone, and until Giles had had that thought just now no one had apparently even been thinking about past attempts by one of their number. Damn. He tried not to catch Willow’s eye, in case she sensed his transgression. She still scared him. But then, she often had in the good old days. And he was working on forgiveness.
Still, it was nice to be with the three of them. He’d barely noticed the - in retrospect rather blatant - manoeuvrings that had left them alone. Cordelia’s mournful flouncing over the red-inked balance sheets had covered the retreat of much of the senior council, before the lady herself grabbed her laptop and swanned out with a valedictory command, “You four? Talk!”
They were all looking at him. Giles realised that he’d left his ‘nice’ hanging indefinitely in the air, and the others all seemed to be expecting something. Possibly some exposition. But he wasn’t in the mood for formality. This wasn’t a lecture to student Slayers. It was a reuinion of warriors.
“Are you all all right? I mean, really all right?” No, he wasn’t their father, or even their leader, but he couldn’t pretend not to be concerned.
“Me? I’m exhausted,” Buffy confessed. “Totally jelly-legs. Leg. I’m the unfittest Slayer ever, and that is not a badge I wear with pride, okay?”
“Oh my God,” said Xander, over-eager to bond, and covering the "legs" slip. “You too? I need to sleep for months before I’m human again.”
“Years,” Willow chimed in. “I have grey hairs now.” They looked at her fiery head of hair. She blushed. “Not all on my... Never mind. Giles doesn’t need to hear that.”
“No, indeed.” Giles was relieved she'd stopped, and even more so that she was laughing. “Welcome to middle age, I’m afraid.” Their looks of outrage were almost lethal, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was too much like the good old days. Cheerily: “Well, you’re exhausted today. But it’s all downhill now. Just wait for the back pain.”
Xander raised his hand. “Already with me, thanks. Lumbar regions not so happy these days.”
“Oh. Crap.” Willow didn’t even pretend to be facing the future with dignity.
“It’s okay,” said Xander, bearing up bravely. “I have plans for when the back gives out. This new permanent supply and logistics section we just okayed over my wife’s not quite dead body? That’s part of my new job, I hope. I just haven’t told Cordy yet. But you can see it, can’t you?”
Xander, with endless practical problems to resolve? This, they could see. Maybe someone could even convince him to get out of the field, given time. Though he added, "But I'm not quitting my region yet. Those guys still need a lot of work. Also, I happen to like Rabat."
“I think I have some field years in me still,” Buffy said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t realise how much I missed it till I was, you know, killing things again. I need to find a good squad and get back out there. Maybe back to California, if they'll have me.”
Willow looked down at her hands for quite a while, as the brief jollity slipped out of the room. Giles wondered what was so interesting about her pale, unvarnished nails. He'd forgotten what she was like, without the magicks. Then he noticed that Buffy and Xander were staring at Willow too. She might not have the power, but Willow could still command attention.
She gave a little twisting half-smile, and said quietly, "I think we're going back to Australia. Maybe Perth this time. We need a little space and some thinking time. Cuz… well, Talia's pregnant."
In all honesty, none of the Scoobies knew Talia well. She was the small, smiling presence at Oz's elbow, or behind Willow's shoulder. While the war raged, she'd kept the castle running in a quiet way. Giles had had a few chats with her, shared some biscuits, heard a little about her Russian mother and Greek father, liked her quite a bit in a mild fashion. Buffy and Xander had known her a total of a couple of weeks, spread over four years. They'd hardly seen more of Oz, though old friendship and occasional emails formed a shaky rope bridge across the gulf of fifteen years since they'd actually known him.
So this was weird - intimate friendship and personal news, buffered by swathes of not-knowing. Weirder still that Willow was so quiet about it.
Giles tried a hearty, "Congratulations!" It sounded false. Xander hugged Willow close. "You're gonna be a great mom. You are." The reassurance in his voice was slightly too much for the occasion.
Buffy waited. Then found words. "You'll have a place. Don't be scared. Having kids isn't about blood. It's about love."
Something passed between the women then, something Giles couldn't catch (though he guessed it was about the great unspoken question of Buffy's children). Buffy's words had evidently been the right ones.
Willow nodded. "Okay. Okay, it's gonna be good. Little baby wolf, maybe, or however it works. Kind of a surprise. But we'll get there. With a little help from our…"
Friends never got said. Maybe they weren't hers, quite, any more. That's what was in Willow's face.
Giles considered saying nothing. People move on. They had other friends now. They had support networks and lovers and an army, for pity's sake. No one was one girl in all the world, or one Watcher trying to help her survive. Not any more. And this quiet, sweet-faced woman had tried to kill him more than once.
But she was still Willow. Their Willow. Without her, it wasn't the same. And if it had to be him who said it, he was prepared to do so, with emphasis this time. "This is nice. Being here, the four of us together. We should do it more often."
It wouldn't be easy. California, Western Australia, North Africa and Scotland… Earth's four corners, near as damnit. But they should be together more.
They were friends. They'd make it work.
*
Here endeth the war.
October 2016
Rated PG
Starring: Buffy, Giles, Willow, Xander
For: lisianpeia, who asked for some Rulesverse core four
“Well,” said Giles, stiffly. “This is nice.”
His inner critic went instantly to cringe mode. Nice? This is a post-war debriefing session. People died for this. And even leaving aside the grief and loss, this is a meeting. In a control room you recently swore needed exorcising to remove the spirit of your endless wartime service over that bloody phone link. His inner critic then had to admit that the recent Faith- homecoming-and-sex incident in the room had probably done the exorcism part already. (Giles hated it when parts of his brain started debating. So uncivilised.)
It was, in fact, nice. Because it was almost like the old days. The three people he had once loved most in the world (in a paternal, non-touchy-feely manner, obviously) were all present. There was a big table with a pile of books, and Willow was sitting at a computer. Okay, there were also a dozen or more additional infernal machines in the room, but Giles ignored them. Willow-with-computer was within his personal comfort zone of technology, and that was as far as he was prepared to bend.
It was nice that they were talking. It was nicer that no one was trying to kill anyone, and until Giles had had that thought just now no one had apparently even been thinking about past attempts by one of their number. Damn. He tried not to catch Willow’s eye, in case she sensed his transgression. She still scared him. But then, she often had in the good old days. And he was working on forgiveness.
Still, it was nice to be with the three of them. He’d barely noticed the - in retrospect rather blatant - manoeuvrings that had left them alone. Cordelia’s mournful flouncing over the red-inked balance sheets had covered the retreat of much of the senior council, before the lady herself grabbed her laptop and swanned out with a valedictory command, “You four? Talk!”
They were all looking at him. Giles realised that he’d left his ‘nice’ hanging indefinitely in the air, and the others all seemed to be expecting something. Possibly some exposition. But he wasn’t in the mood for formality. This wasn’t a lecture to student Slayers. It was a reuinion of warriors.
“Are you all all right? I mean, really all right?” No, he wasn’t their father, or even their leader, but he couldn’t pretend not to be concerned.
“Me? I’m exhausted,” Buffy confessed. “Totally jelly-legs. Leg. I’m the unfittest Slayer ever, and that is not a badge I wear with pride, okay?”
“Oh my God,” said Xander, over-eager to bond, and covering the "legs" slip. “You too? I need to sleep for months before I’m human again.”
“Years,” Willow chimed in. “I have grey hairs now.” They looked at her fiery head of hair. She blushed. “Not all on my... Never mind. Giles doesn’t need to hear that.”
“No, indeed.” Giles was relieved she'd stopped, and even more so that she was laughing. “Welcome to middle age, I’m afraid.” Their looks of outrage were almost lethal, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was too much like the good old days. Cheerily: “Well, you’re exhausted today. But it’s all downhill now. Just wait for the back pain.”
Xander raised his hand. “Already with me, thanks. Lumbar regions not so happy these days.”
“Oh. Crap.” Willow didn’t even pretend to be facing the future with dignity.
“It’s okay,” said Xander, bearing up bravely. “I have plans for when the back gives out. This new permanent supply and logistics section we just okayed over my wife’s not quite dead body? That’s part of my new job, I hope. I just haven’t told Cordy yet. But you can see it, can’t you?”
Xander, with endless practical problems to resolve? This, they could see. Maybe someone could even convince him to get out of the field, given time. Though he added, "But I'm not quitting my region yet. Those guys still need a lot of work. Also, I happen to like Rabat."
“I think I have some field years in me still,” Buffy said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t realise how much I missed it till I was, you know, killing things again. I need to find a good squad and get back out there. Maybe back to California, if they'll have me.”
Willow looked down at her hands for quite a while, as the brief jollity slipped out of the room. Giles wondered what was so interesting about her pale, unvarnished nails. He'd forgotten what she was like, without the magicks. Then he noticed that Buffy and Xander were staring at Willow too. She might not have the power, but Willow could still command attention.
She gave a little twisting half-smile, and said quietly, "I think we're going back to Australia. Maybe Perth this time. We need a little space and some thinking time. Cuz… well, Talia's pregnant."
In all honesty, none of the Scoobies knew Talia well. She was the small, smiling presence at Oz's elbow, or behind Willow's shoulder. While the war raged, she'd kept the castle running in a quiet way. Giles had had a few chats with her, shared some biscuits, heard a little about her Russian mother and Greek father, liked her quite a bit in a mild fashion. Buffy and Xander had known her a total of a couple of weeks, spread over four years. They'd hardly seen more of Oz, though old friendship and occasional emails formed a shaky rope bridge across the gulf of fifteen years since they'd actually known him.
So this was weird - intimate friendship and personal news, buffered by swathes of not-knowing. Weirder still that Willow was so quiet about it.
Giles tried a hearty, "Congratulations!" It sounded false. Xander hugged Willow close. "You're gonna be a great mom. You are." The reassurance in his voice was slightly too much for the occasion.
Buffy waited. Then found words. "You'll have a place. Don't be scared. Having kids isn't about blood. It's about love."
Something passed between the women then, something Giles couldn't catch (though he guessed it was about the great unspoken question of Buffy's children). Buffy's words had evidently been the right ones.
Willow nodded. "Okay. Okay, it's gonna be good. Little baby wolf, maybe, or however it works. Kind of a surprise. But we'll get there. With a little help from our…"
Friends never got said. Maybe they weren't hers, quite, any more. That's what was in Willow's face.
Giles considered saying nothing. People move on. They had other friends now. They had support networks and lovers and an army, for pity's sake. No one was one girl in all the world, or one Watcher trying to help her survive. Not any more. And this quiet, sweet-faced woman had tried to kill him more than once.
But she was still Willow. Their Willow. Without her, it wasn't the same. And if it had to be him who said it, he was prepared to do so, with emphasis this time. "This is nice. Being here, the four of us together. We should do it more often."
It wouldn't be easy. California, Western Australia, North Africa and Scotland… Earth's four corners, near as damnit. But they should be together more.
They were friends. They'd make it work.
*
Here endeth the war.