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And just to clarify/fanwank a few issues, this is set around early 1997, Bath suddenly has a small forest (which has shifted counties) somewhere in the city, and ? well, you'll find out about the rest soon enough, I expect!
The gaudy flashing lights of cheap bars and the sounds of drunken laughter contrasted greatly with the beautiful countryside, full of trees and rivers and flowers; the kind of inspiring beauty that can only be found in nature, which has the power to turn even ordinary people into poets and artists, if only for a second. Rupert Giles thought that his flat was perhaps the focal point of the whole of Bath, dividing the town into the two halves that felt so very different. He sighed, looking out of his kitchen window at two young males staggering through the streets, both with a non-descript bottle in one hand. They paused only to start kissing roughly, one pushing the other against the brick wall behind him, enjoying the taste and smell of cheap lager and sweat and tobacco, letting his bottle drop to the floor and smash as he grabbed at his partner's shirt. Three girls smothered abundantly in make-up and dressed in less-than-sensible heels cackled manically as they stumbled past the teenagers, whistling and cheering. Giles lifted the cosy from his teapot, and placing a solitary finger on the lid, poured the liquid into a mug, the remnants from the last cup providing a weak source of milk. He removed the strainer from the top of the cup, and emptied it out of the window. The rubbish bags had already been left by his suitcase, ready to be taken out of the door.
Giles flicked his wrist to note the time as he walked into the front room. A copy of his accepted resignation letter to the British Museum lay next to his passport and wallet on an otherwise empty table. A fruit bowl, or the latest mystical compendium or encyclopaedia, or even some fresh flowers might once have adorned the table, but such homely touches were now long thrown out or packed away. I shall have to leave in an hour, he mused. The dimmed lighting meant that Giles could observe the moonlight drifting amongst the leaves of the trees and suggestively lighting a path down towards the woods, where he knew a small stream lay at the bottom of the slope.
I suppose I could. For old times sakes. As he contemplated taking a final look at the clearing in the Forest of Dean where he had spent so many long hours training and fighting, Giles lifted a large black overcoat from the hooks by the door, one of the few furnishings he had decided to keep in the flat for his occasional ventures back home. Quietly locking the door, Giles walked pensively towards the woods.
It was not until he had sat lonely on a log besides the stream for several minutes that Giles considered his surroundings. The sound of trickling water captured his ears, but there were no other noises. No owls hooting, no crickets chirping. Giles turned about expectantly, dreading the idea there was someone intruding in his private space, especially someone from the Council.
"Show yourself." Giles called hesitantly. As a figure emerged from the shadowy crevasses behind a large oak tree, Giles saw a face he had not planned on seeing for many years, and had hoped he never would have to. His immediate reaction was to raise his hands above his head, recalling a once well-used Latin phrase, but before he had even spoken, the man waved his wand arm, placing Giles' hands by his sides.
"You could not take me even if you had a wand."
"I beg to differ," stated Giles more defiantly than he felt, "You've had this coming, Severus."
"You are angry and confused. Your powers are no more potent or dangerous than the uncontrollable bursts of magic from a child."
"You have a nerve coming here. I-"
"Now is not the time for recalling our ? happy days as school friends," Snape sneered ironically, "You need to listen. I have precious little time."
"Why should I? You're a ... you're a Death Eater." Giles spat. "The Council's team will be here in minutes. This whole area is protected by my intrusion spells."
"And yet I thought you had given up magic, Rupert?" Snape asked, fake curiosity laced in his voice. "You snapped your wand, went to live with Muggles. After that little incident with ? Ethan Rayne ?" Snape raised his eyebrows. A nasty silence echoed around the clearing. "Just so we're clear. Now I have your attention, there are urgent matters I need to attend to. Dumbledore told you of his designs for Potter?"
"I-I spoke with him last year, yes. I tried to contact him sooner, but you -" Giles stopped. The hatred edged in his face looked like cracks in stonework. Snape continued obliviously.
"Then you'll know what he intended to happen, in the end. But if Dumbledore's plan succeeds, the Dark Lord will still exist, even after the boy's death, albeit in a mortal body. But I, sadly, do not have as much faith in Potter's abilities. This is why I'm here."
"You're-"
Snape interrupted again. "You are leaving for California tonight, yes?"
Giles nodded confusedly.
"So there is a Slayer without a Watcher in Sunnydale."
"Death Eaters?" asked Giles sharply.
"Not as far as I'm aware. Though we both know that it was no accident. The Dark Lord has many ? supporters, in one form or another."
"So?" Giles enquired, still confused.
"I was the one who suggested to the Council you become Buffy Summer's Watcher. If Potter fails, if I cannot defeat the Dark Lord, then all magical resistance will fall. There will be no-one to protect the Muggles from the vampires, the demons. That's why I picked you. I need someone from our world to keep fighting. Someone who would not be noticed by the Dark Lord."
"Defeat You-Know-Who? But that means-" Giles broke off again, pausing to look at Snape, who remained, as always, as pale and expressionless as a pebble. Snape turned abruptly, his cloak flapping as he did so, and wandered back under the darkness of the trees. "I will contact you once more, if we succeed." Snape declared.
"G-good luck Severus" called Giles. But he wasn't sure if Snape had heard him or not, the only sign of his departure being a small crack in the air as he disapparated, and a shimmering silver light emanating from what looked like a four-legged animal galloping into the distance.
Preparing For The End
The gaudy flashing lights of cheap bars and the sounds of drunken laughter contrasted greatly with the beautiful countryside, full of trees and rivers and flowers; the kind of inspiring beauty that can only be found in nature, which has the power to turn even ordinary people into poets and artists, if only for a second. Rupert Giles thought that his flat was perhaps the focal point of the whole of Bath, dividing the town into the two halves that felt so very different. He sighed, looking out of his kitchen window at two young males staggering through the streets, both with a non-descript bottle in one hand. They paused only to start kissing roughly, one pushing the other against the brick wall behind him, enjoying the taste and smell of cheap lager and sweat and tobacco, letting his bottle drop to the floor and smash as he grabbed at his partner's shirt. Three girls smothered abundantly in make-up and dressed in less-than-sensible heels cackled manically as they stumbled past the teenagers, whistling and cheering. Giles lifted the cosy from his teapot, and placing a solitary finger on the lid, poured the liquid into a mug, the remnants from the last cup providing a weak source of milk. He removed the strainer from the top of the cup, and emptied it out of the window. The rubbish bags had already been left by his suitcase, ready to be taken out of the door.
Giles flicked his wrist to note the time as he walked into the front room. A copy of his accepted resignation letter to the British Museum lay next to his passport and wallet on an otherwise empty table. A fruit bowl, or the latest mystical compendium or encyclopaedia, or even some fresh flowers might once have adorned the table, but such homely touches were now long thrown out or packed away. I shall have to leave in an hour, he mused. The dimmed lighting meant that Giles could observe the moonlight drifting amongst the leaves of the trees and suggestively lighting a path down towards the woods, where he knew a small stream lay at the bottom of the slope.
I suppose I could. For old times sakes. As he contemplated taking a final look at the clearing in the Forest of Dean where he had spent so many long hours training and fighting, Giles lifted a large black overcoat from the hooks by the door, one of the few furnishings he had decided to keep in the flat for his occasional ventures back home. Quietly locking the door, Giles walked pensively towards the woods.
It was not until he had sat lonely on a log besides the stream for several minutes that Giles considered his surroundings. The sound of trickling water captured his ears, but there were no other noises. No owls hooting, no crickets chirping. Giles turned about expectantly, dreading the idea there was someone intruding in his private space, especially someone from the Council.
"Show yourself." Giles called hesitantly. As a figure emerged from the shadowy crevasses behind a large oak tree, Giles saw a face he had not planned on seeing for many years, and had hoped he never would have to. His immediate reaction was to raise his hands above his head, recalling a once well-used Latin phrase, but before he had even spoken, the man waved his wand arm, placing Giles' hands by his sides.
"You could not take me even if you had a wand."
"I beg to differ," stated Giles more defiantly than he felt, "You've had this coming, Severus."
"You are angry and confused. Your powers are no more potent or dangerous than the uncontrollable bursts of magic from a child."
"You have a nerve coming here. I-"
"Now is not the time for recalling our ? happy days as school friends," Snape sneered ironically, "You need to listen. I have precious little time."
"Why should I? You're a ... you're a Death Eater." Giles spat. "The Council's team will be here in minutes. This whole area is protected by my intrusion spells."
"And yet I thought you had given up magic, Rupert?" Snape asked, fake curiosity laced in his voice. "You snapped your wand, went to live with Muggles. After that little incident with ? Ethan Rayne ?" Snape raised his eyebrows. A nasty silence echoed around the clearing. "Just so we're clear. Now I have your attention, there are urgent matters I need to attend to. Dumbledore told you of his designs for Potter?"
"I-I spoke with him last year, yes. I tried to contact him sooner, but you -" Giles stopped. The hatred edged in his face looked like cracks in stonework. Snape continued obliviously.
"Then you'll know what he intended to happen, in the end. But if Dumbledore's plan succeeds, the Dark Lord will still exist, even after the boy's death, albeit in a mortal body. But I, sadly, do not have as much faith in Potter's abilities. This is why I'm here."
"You're-"
Snape interrupted again. "You are leaving for California tonight, yes?"
Giles nodded confusedly.
"So there is a Slayer without a Watcher in Sunnydale."
"Death Eaters?" asked Giles sharply.
"Not as far as I'm aware. Though we both know that it was no accident. The Dark Lord has many ? supporters, in one form or another."
"So?" Giles enquired, still confused.
"I was the one who suggested to the Council you become Buffy Summer's Watcher. If Potter fails, if I cannot defeat the Dark Lord, then all magical resistance will fall. There will be no-one to protect the Muggles from the vampires, the demons. That's why I picked you. I need someone from our world to keep fighting. Someone who would not be noticed by the Dark Lord."
"Defeat You-Know-Who? But that means-" Giles broke off again, pausing to look at Snape, who remained, as always, as pale and expressionless as a pebble. Snape turned abruptly, his cloak flapping as he did so, and wandered back under the darkness of the trees. "I will contact you once more, if we succeed." Snape declared.
"G-good luck Severus" called Giles. But he wasn't sure if Snape had heard him or not, the only sign of his departure being a small crack in the air as he disapparated, and a shimmering silver light emanating from what looked like a four-legged animal galloping into the distance.