Title: The Message
Author: LadyForASH
Rating: FRT
Summary: This was written for lostgirlslair on LJ for the Watcherlove ficathon. She wanted a book, a bell, and a candle.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I own nothing and make no profit.

The bell above the Magic Box's door rang. Giles was standing behind the counter paging through a book. At the sound, he looked up and craned his neck towards the door, about to smile in greeting at whatever customer had just walked in. Instead, he frowned. "Wesley? Whatever are you doing here?" He shut his book and quickly hid it in the locked drawer underneath the counter.

Wesley was dressed as prim and proper as ever. His pocket of his suit jacket was starched so tight that one could never even press a pen down inside. Not even a kerchief could peek out.

"I don't suppose I could bother you for a cup of tea, could I?" Wesley actually looked a bit peaked. He slumped down in one of the chairs next to the big sitting table. Giles merely nodded and turned to quickly put on the tea pot.

"Is there something wrong?" Giles asked, suddenly a little concerned. Not that he truly cared about Angel or anyone in L.A. Except maybe for Cordelia. She'd gotten under his skin a time or two, but he also found her endearing towards the end.

Wesley was still slumped in the chair. His face was in his hands and his fingers rubbed at his eyes vigorously. He was clean shaven. Wesley wondered what Giles would have thought of him if he'd come to Sunnydale dressed as he usually was now in L.A. Jeans, leather jacket, gel free hair, and scruffy. But in this situation, Wesley didn't want to appear casual. Giles could be quite stuffy, and even if he had now lived in the States for quite some time, he was still British. Giles would probably frown upon Wesley in such a casual state, and refuse to listen. So Wesley played the part. He had to. This was life and death.

Giles watched Wesley from under his eyelids as he prepared the tea. He shook his head with a frown. Wesley had been away from Britain for a couple of years now, but he still dressed... well, stuffy, as Buffy would say. Giles wore a suit to work, but normally he was now more relaxed. It was freer. It was more himself. And the kids seemed more comfortable with him. Hell, he was more comfortable with himself out of the tweed. Would Wesley ever learn to just be himself? Giles cleared his throat and shook his head again. The sad thing was, Giles reflected, this Wesley sitting slumped before him in that chair probably was the real Wesley. And that was a sad realization.

The tea began its whistle on the hot plate, so Giles busied himself with the tea cups once more, along with a cup of cream, sugar, and honey. Everything one needed with tea, complete with some biscuits.

"Thank you," Wesley said softly. Giles nodded and placed the tea tray on the table and then sank beside the other Watcher on the couch. They both sipped from their respective tea cups, Wesley gathering his thoughts, and Giles curious but patiently waiting for the other man to disclose whatever it was that brought him here in such a state.

Giles was on his second cup of tea when Wesley finally pulled the small book out of his pocket. He didn't touch the cover, however. Instead, Wesley held the book inside a white handkerchief, and then gingerly laid it on the table next to the tea service. Before saying anything, Wesley then pulled a small votive candle out of his other pocket and a book of matches. He lit the candle and wafted the smoke over and around the book. All this time both men remained quiet, although Giles now sat perched on the edge of the sofa, his eyes glancing between Wesley and the book.

Wesley swallowed nervously and then cleared his throat several times before meeting Giles' gaze. "This book was written by Alexis Danskoff."

Giles almost reared back from his seat. "The Dark Watcher? Are you certain?"

"Yes," Wesley said with a stiff nod. "I am certain." Wesley held up a hand to silence the other Watcher, stifling any further questions. "Angel found it, completely by accident. He stole it out of an office at Wolfram and Hart."

Giles quickly stood up. "Why did you bring it here? Why handle it at all? You should burn it!" For Rupert Giles to tell someone to burn a book, there obviously was Hell on Earth with the book in question.

Wesley paused, almost unable to meet his eyes with the other man's. "It whispered your name," Wesley finally said. He swallowed and looked up at Giles. "I was preparing to burn it, when it whispered your name. It said... `Only Rupert Giles can help.' So... I don't know, I had to bring it to you. I felt compelled. As if every human life lay in the balance, and if I didn't do its bidding... life as we know it would be over."

Giles gaped at him. Then he moved back behind the counter to the sink and threw out his tea. His head was spinning.

Little was known about Alexis Danskoff, the Dark Watcher. The Council refused to teach about him. His diary, which now sat in this very magic store with Giles and Wesley, was forbidden reading. Legend said that anyone that cracked open the book would immediately be sucked into its pages and live there in an eternity of suffering.

"I haven't opened it, obviously," Wesley continued. "I have a feeling that only you can... have access. The book speaks to me in whispers, but I can't decipher all its meaning. I just have this... knowledge... that you are its keeper. That me bringing it to you was foretold and meant to be. It's an evil diary, yet... in your hands... I think it may not be all that we've been taught or heard."

Giles took out a bottle of Scotch and poured himself and Wesley a stiff drink. Damn with the tea, he thought.

"Here," Giles thrusted the drink at Wesley and then sat back down next to him on the couch. His eyes glanced at the book. He studied it for a long moment. "I don't hear anything."

Wesley sipped from his drink and frowned. "It's quiet now. But..."

"You really think that I should open it?" Giles' frown deepened. He never did anything without profound research. Giles was rarely impulsive, especially when evil and prophecy was involved. But there was something in the air... something with the book, something between him and Wesley... something compelled him to...

Wesley leaned closer to Giles and reached out and gently touched his shoulder. Giles turned from the book, his face angling to meet Wesley's gaze, surprised by the almost loving touch.

The younger watcher opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed his dry mouth. He licked his lips. Giles' eyes watched every movement, transfixed.

"Open it," Wesley said softly. "Its destiny. You know it, and I know it. We were born for this very moment." Then Wesley moved closer and met the other Watcher's lips in a kiss.

Giles didn't move. He scarcely breathed. But soon he participated in the kiss, giving as much as receiving.

They both parted with heavy breaths. Giles cleared his throat as Wesley leaned back, flustered and suddenly shy and awkward.

"Well then..." Giles took a deep breath and set his drink down on the table. How he had managed to not spill it yet was beyond him. He wiped his hands on his pants before reaching out slowly towards the book. As his fingers brushed the black leather cover, the candle flickered out. After a brief pause, Giles opened the book.

There was a rushing sound. A screeching wind whipped through the Magic Box. Shelves crashed over on their sides. Products and books flew everywhere. It was a visceral carnage of magic supplies. The two men threw their arms over their head to protect themselves.

Finally, all was quiet. Giles slowly lowered his arms, thankful he still had arms. He was material, and not some spirit now captured in a book.

Looking down, he saw the first two pages of the book, now lying open on the table. On the left side was a picture of Ethan Rayne. On the right side of the page was one word in bold.

Gotcha!

END