tarnished -- part three -- trekker |
Chapter Five | |
Patience and Maturity... and the Lack Thereof |
The sun shimmered through the haze of smoke and lingering smog, rising over the sliver of ocean visible through the buildings like doomsday ascending. Giles sat, again, at the edge of the truck bed, staring out at the red sunrise and bathed in turn by the light. Ethan sat beside him and watched him.
His Slayer had taken charge early that morning, rallying and organizing the troops into scouting parties. She'd left the majority of the girls and almost all of the Watchers and other non-Slayers behind, and so here they were, with nothing to do but wait. Ethan hated waiting. It was dull.
"Isn't there *something* we could be doing?" Ethan asked again, though he knew that the answer would be the same as it had been all the other times.
"Ethan..." Giles said, not moving much or looking away from the red gleam on the distant water, "The ten-year-old is more patient than you."
Ethan glanced over to where Giles' new pet Slayer sat on the asphalt, crosslegged, quietly reading a colorfully-covered paperback.
"Yes, well, I was under the impression I would be able to *do* something once we got here."
"So was she," Giles said.
His latest round of melodramatics with Buffy had been on the topic of the girl, and whether she should be included in the scouting parties, with Buffy against and Giles for. Clearly, Ethan's perception of their relationship as idyllic was rather flawed. As was their relationship, in point of fact.
"I thought *you* were in charge, anyway."
"Nominally," Giles said. "But only nominally. And that's as it should be. Things... things needed to change for a long time. The Slayers need someone in charge who truly understands them."
That, in Ethan's opinion, sounded like a load of new age bull.
"Oh, of course. So, they get a girl who never even graduated from college rather than an adult who spent god knows how many years in schooling and actually has been trained in tactics and history and demonic studies and thus has a clue what he's doing."
Giles still didn't meet his eyes.
"Buffy knows what she's doing, Ethan. Believe me, she does. Leading an army... it's not... it's an art, not a science. No matter how much someone may know, there's a degree to which it can't be taught, there's instinct."
"Ah. And it's 'instinct' that's telling her that because she doesn't like me, and because little Katie looks cute and innocent, we're of no use in this combat?"
Giles sighed. "Just because she didn't see fit to put either of you on a scouting party doesn't mean you've been excluded from the entire war. I'm sure you'll see plenty of blood and gore before this is all through."
Annoyed by the implication that Giles still believed him to be a sadist, Ethan said, "Panic and disorder, love. I'm in it for the panic and disorder."
"Ah, of course," Giles said. He didn't look any more cheerful than Ethan felt.
The truth, though, was after a year of the First Evil, Ethan had lost a bit of his taste even for the panic and disorder. That was why he was here, in a way, though that seemed ironic, given that they were about to face massive amounts of chaos. Still, he was growing tired of the life he'd led. Tired of dodging demons, of tying himself in knots to please them, just to live another day, just to make a handful of money. Maybe he was finally growing up. Maybe he was just getting old. Whatever it was, dancing along the fine line between good and evil had lately seemed more effort than it was worth, and the side of good, dull though it may be, was, in the end, the safer, easier side to settle down on. At the very least, the good guys were far more willing than the bad to fling themselves in front of a bullet for you.
And, of course, the good side had Rupert, who was, himself, not just a small incentive.
Giles' hand rested on his own thigh. Ethan eyed it for a moment, then reached across the gap between them and laid his hand over Giles'. Giles' eyes darted down to focus on their now-joined hands, but he didn't object or pull away. In fact, after a moment, Giles turned his hand over and laced his fingers between Ethan's.
They glanced at each other at the same moment, and Giles smiled, then they both looked away again.
After a while, sitting silently, holding hands, Giles said, "I know this sounds... ridiculously unequal to the situation, but... thank you. For coming."
***
"I'm just saying I don't trust him, is all," Buffy said.
Willow, along with Kennedy and Jenn, was patrolling with her to the south of their freeway base of operations.
"I know, you've said that a hundred times, already," Willow replied. Goddess, this place was creepy. If she wasn't a super-powered witch surrounded by super-humanly strong warrior people, she'd be seriously creeped out.
Actually, she was seriously creeped out.
"But," Willow continued, "The point *I* am trying to make is maybe the reason you don't want him here isn't that you don't trust him, but that you don't like him. Or that you don't like that Giles likes him."
"And *I* am saying that that's beside the point, ok? Because it is! He's dangerous! I don't need to spend the whole time here wondering if one of the guys who's supposedly on my side is going to turn on me!"
"Or maybe," Willow said, not for the first time, "It's really Giles you don't trust."
Buffy made a sound of deep annoyance.
"Willow, for the last time, I trust Giles."
"Buffy! Look around!" Willow waved around at the empty skyscrapers, the dark stoplights, the abandoned street that they walked down the center of. "This is armaggedon! If someone wants to help us, I think we should at least give them a chance!"
"We've got a lot of people on our side already, Will. One more? Probably not going to make a difference. Unless he decides to betray us all just to watch the amusing antics ensue!"
Fortunately, the demons chose that moment to ambush them, sparing Willow a painful death by exasperation.
tarnished -- part three -- trekker |