Title: Grave Doubts
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: It’s Joss’ world, in which many big corporations own vast chunks of real estate. I’m just renting.
Summary: written in response to Wenchie’s Monday Mini Challenge #21: POV: three people think about Giles.

She’s gone for now. Leaving me, as usual to bear the brunt of her actions. Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking. Perhaps She left because She knows I’m going to die.

Certainly Buffy must think so; otherwise she would have finished me off. After all, this would be the perfect chance to end it…Glory’s gone and left me helpless. I’m so weak I can’t lift my head off the cold, hard grating. Right now I’d barely be able to lift a finger to protect myself—so why risk having Her come back when it would be so easy to take me out of the picture and send Her back to the hell dimension She came from?

Hell—why not take me out of the picture for any number of reasons? God knows I’ve given her enough of them. I liked her. I liked Dawn. And they trusted me. My only excuse is that I only did what I had to to stay alive. Is that so bad?

Who am I kidding? I knew what I did was bad. I knew the consequences of my actions. I knew what I should have done…but I’m not a hero. How hypocritical is it that I dedicated my whole life to saving people’s lives only to toss them all to the flames in order to save my own worthless hide? Have I really sunk so low?

Buffy spared my life…do I deserve it? Moot point, really, because unless Glory comes back to face the music, I doubt I’ll survive long enough to regret what I’ve done. But if I die, then so does She.

“I guess we’re stuck with each other, huh, baby,” I say to Her with a bit of satisfaction.

Buffy’s back. No, wait…not Buffy…it’s that friend of hers. The one I travelled out to the desert to save. He’s concerned for me—I can see it in his eyes. He’s come to save me.

“Can you move?” he asks.

“Yeah, a bit,” I answer him. “She could have killed me.” I need to know why she didn’t. I need to know what she thought was redeemable about me. I need to know that I deserve to live.

“No, she couldn’t. Never.” He says, and he seems saddened by this. “Sooner or later Glory will re-emerge and make Buffy pay for that mercy…and the world with her. Buffy even knows that, and still she couldn’t take a human life. She’s a hero, you see.”

Something’s not right. What he’s saying…it’s not what I want to hear. He pulls his glasses out of his pocket and puts them on, and it’s like a curtain descends behind his kind eyes, cutting off his soul.

“She’s not like us,” he says. But I don’t get it. How is he like me?

“Us?” I ask.

And I have my answer. His hand closes over my mouth, pinches my nose shut. I can’t breathe. I look at him. I beg him with my eyes, but he’s detached. I push at him, but I’m far too weak to stand a chance. I want to fight. I want to live.

I want Glory to save me.

And that’s how I know he’s right. No matter what I promised Buffy, I know now it would never be over. Not while Glory has a breath of life in her.

I couldn’t do it myself. Not even Buffy could do it to save the world. I take one last glance at the true saviour of the world and I can’t say I envy him. My job is easy…all I have to do is stop fighting. This time it’s his turn to clean up after Glory. His fight’s just begun.

“You never get even a little tired of hearing yourself speak, do you?”

Now that’s what I like about slayers. They’ve got spirit. Buffy may have placed her loyalties on the losing side, but I can see that my little Faith was right…she’s got attitude. But she needs to be taught to respect her elders.

And there he is—Buffy’s elder. Her Watcher, who’s more like a father to her than her real father is. He’s just like me, I suppose. I’ve got my Faith—a girl I cherish like my own daughter. And he’s got Buffy. Or, at least, he’s got Buffy until the Ascension. I owe it to him, as one father to another, to spell the situation out for him.

“That’s one spunky little girl you’ve raised,” I say to him, letting him know how much I admire that about him. “I’m going to eat her.”

I can’t say I expected him to pick up a sword and run it through my heart, but he did. It looks like I pressed a button. Who’d have thought the timid old librarian had it in him? Certainly not me. And I doubt any of his young friends would have considered him capable of cold-blooded murder.

“Whoa!” I say, staggering back a step or two, the better to show off my newly acquired indestructibleness. “Well now that was a little thoughtless.” I pull the sword out of my chest like it’s little more than a sliver, which gets the fearful reactions of shock and dismay I’d been hoping for.

“Violent outbursts like that…in front of the children? You know, Mr. Giles, they look to you to see how to behave.”

“Get out,” Buffy pipes up from under the protective wing of her big bad daddy.

I’m fine with that. I’ve made my point. I wipe the blade of the sword clean.

“That’s not fear. That’s smart,” I tell them. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. For now. “Some of your deaths will be quick, if that’s worth anything.”

“Well,” I say, “see you all at graduation.” I toss the cleaned sword back to Buffy’s Watcher. It’s his weapon…useless as it may be…and I think it’s been a bit of an eye-opener to everyone here that he’s proven he’s willing to use it.

I feel drowsy. My body wants to slip off into a dreamless sleep, but a nagging fear binds me to the waking world. The others are waiting. Ethan looks impatient, and I don’t want to let him down. But I’m afraid.

I’m afraid I’m not ready for this.

The ink of my tattoo is still fresh—the skin still tender from the needle. The others have done it. Ethan and Ripper have done it many times…but I’m not like them. I’m not brave like they are. I don’t even want to do this. I don’t care about the high. I don’t want to feel the power of Eyghon. I just want to be accepted.

I turn my head as far as I can so I can look at Ripper. He’s the one I trust. He’s smart—much smarter than the others—and he looks out for me. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

He gives me a reassuring nod and a flash of a smile, and I feel better.

Everything will be all right.

END