Chapter Eighteen

The library doors crashed open with enough force it had to be just Buffy, returning triumphant and pissed with a Slayer and Watcher in tow. Xander didn’t even bother to look up from his place, parked at the end of the library table nearest the stacks, feet propped up on the table, book in his lap, until someone screamed. Must have been Wyndam-Pryce.

But, anyway, he then *did* look up. And it wasn’t Buffy.

Nope, not Buffy at all, no siree bob. No, it was actually, of course, Giles. Giles the evil vampire. And his two delightfully evil vixens, and why the hell was he thinking like this when he should be standing up... oh, wait, he *had* stood up, and was, in fact, now plastered back against the bookcases and staring as the three vampires crossed the library in what seemed to be slow motion, like those guys in Apollo thirteen walking up the gangplank to the shuttle, or was that Armaggedon?

Well, actually, this pretty much *was* armaggedon, so that was probably a more apt metaphor, and the bookshelf was seriously digging into his back, and Will and Oz were over there running for the weapons cage, and wasn’t that a good idea, too bad he was an idiot, because now Giles had reached the other end of the library table, and instead of doing something dorky and librarian-like like walking around it, he just... bounded up onto it, that black trenchcoat billowing out around him, his face... his face was human, and somehow that was a thousand times worse than if it were demon, and his eyes were focused on one thing, and that thing was his prey, which, of course, would be Xander himself, and running, running was really a very very good idea now, too bad he couldn’t actually do it, because hey, the table shook with every step Giles took in those large, heavy-looking boots of his, and every one of those steps was bringing him closer, and in fact, Giles was getting really close now, and oh god... the whole *universe* shook when he leapt down from the table, and landed directly in front of Xander, and... smiled...

Xander made a small, pathetic sound in his throat and his knees gave out, so he sank down into a half crouch, his back still against the bookcase, the vampire looming over him...

And then the doors banged open again.

“Oh, you are *so* dead,” Buffy’s voice said, ringing across the room like, like, like something really, really, really, very much good, and the nearness of salvation was enough, just enough for him to find his legs and run, well, scrabble on all fours, actually, and then run, and he heard Giles curse, but frankly, he wasn’t listening, cause now that he could, he was just gonna run. And run some more. And... well, yeah, that was pretty much the plan.

So, he ran.

previous | title page | next