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Fic: Without the Lion
Nov. 16th, 2013 10:31 pmTitle: Without the Lion
Fandom: BtVS
Rating: R, Mature
Characters: Giles, Willow
Concrit: Please, in comments
Summary: Given that libraries have been shown to not be safe, you'd think Willow would study somewhere else.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but they will be ... once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha!
Warning: Death of a major character
Note: I thought I didn't get Willow/Giles, and it was from Giles' PoV – why would he be attracted to someone so much younger? Which just goes to show I'm getting older I guess. I thought I didn't get Willow/Giles and then I read Trekker's Nothing Like a Prayer.
Note: Gabrielle suggested I read over at Hairy Eyeball which is what got me on this Willow/Giles kick.
Nominated in the Best Angst category at the Willowy Goodness awards.
Waking was a shudder rolling through her body, a ghost walking over her grave. Willow had sat up, her arms already halfway into a stretch, before she saw him: Giles sitting on the other side of the table as if he were a late study buddy who'd just shown up. Had they been up researching again? They were in the library, which was right for Giles, but it wasn't. Why wasn't it right? Oh, right, wrong library. Not only that, wrong Giles? He was wearing a leather jacket and below that a black shirt, silk maybe, and his hair was ruffled or unkempt or something. She hoped she was wrong as she asked. “Ripper?”
He frowned at her word but didn't move otherwise. Something in his eyes seemed disappointed. Anyway it couldn't be Ripper. He'd always been moving. He'd never have sat still for this long. It was creepy, how he was just sitting there, doing nothing. “What are you doing here?” He still didn't move. He looked as if he were waiting for her to work something out. He was wearing Ripper's leather jacket, but his shirt was black and silk and … oh.
He wasn't trying to hide it. That was bad, right? If he were trying to hide it, he could lure her into a trap but maybe this was already a trap. They were in the library over at the university. How had he gotten in? Oh yeah, public space. But, yeah, public space. There had to be people around, but that'd be people who didn't know about vampires, who'd be useless in a fight, who'd most likely just get killed. It was up to her. She'd have to save them all. “So, um, liking the college library? A lot bigger than the old high-school one, huh, but I guess you're used to that what with your two Ph. D.'s and all.” He still hadn't moved even when she'd slid her hand into her backpack. That was good. He must not have noticed. When she pulled out the cross, he batted it out of her hand, hissing as it burned his skin. Willow felt the confirmation tearing through her heart. Please, not Giles.
She ran. Maybe she could get out and warn Buffy but oh, poor Buffy. Killing Giles, that would be right up there in big badness with killing Angel. Willow darted between the stacks, heading for the back staircase. As she ran out into the open study area, she pulled up short, squeaking in surprise. Damn, she's just told Giles were she was but there was a body, a guy. His throat was torn out. She heard something behind her and dashed around the table toward the door. It was locked. The doorknob barely moved in her hand. Then she stopped and let it go. Giles was behind her. She didn't know how, but she knew.
When she turned he was just standing there, fifteen feet away, between the tables, as if he were waiting for her. “Giles, you don't need to do this. We can to the spell. We can put your soul back.”
“And why would I want that?” His voice was the same as it had always been, stuffy and British and detached in that scholarly way. It was worse, hearing Giles' voice coming from this monster. It was worse than seeing him, although she hadn't seen the new face yet.
She could tell him Giles wouldn't have wanted to become a monster, but he already knew that. He knew everything that Giles knew. “Don't … don't you need to get out of Sunnydale? I mean, once Buffy knows ...” She left the threat hanging.
He actually smiled at that, as if she'd said something delightful. “Buffy isn't paying attention. Besides, she'll be taken care of soon enough.”
Willow felt her head shaking from side-to-side. No, not Buffy. He couldn't. Buffy always came through, somehow. Although this, killing Giles, this would hurt her. Willow found herself speaking even though she knew words wouldn't help. “This isn't you Giles. You're not a killer.”
He rested one hand against the boy's bloody throat. “Without the lion, the antelope forgets how to run.”
Giles took a step toward her. Willow chanted quickly. “Involvo.” Books flew off the shelves heading straight for Giles.
He raised an arm, pointed toward Willow, and chanted his own spell. “Devolvo.” How had he done that? The last time she'd seen him do a spell, he'd had to read it. Willow put her arms up, trying to shield, as the books rained down on her.
After the books stopped pounding down on her, Willow looked up. He grinned at her. “Did you honestly think I wouldn't prepare first?” Sweeping his hands out from the center, Giles chanted, “averro.” The books moved off to each side, leaving a clear space around Willow. Giles took three steps forward.
Oh God, there was nowhere to run.
“You misunderstand me, Willow. You're not the prey.”
Not the prey? That didn't make sense. He was hunting her, wasn't he?
“You're the predator or you will be. Do you think I've forgotten what a delightfully terrible predator you can be?”
Predator? Did he mean magic, but she'd never, not really … Oh. “But that was vamp-me and not me-me.” Oh.
She saw a pencil, on the desk, next to the body. Willow muttered the chant as quietly as she could, hoping Giles wouldn't notice. The pencil rose and flew at him, closer, closer, almost there. He turned and ripped the pencil out of the air. “Magic won't save you.”
And suddenly he was there and his hands were on her and they were falling to the floor. Giles was below, which didn't make sense, and she could feel his legs wrapping around her. She squirmed to get away until she felt his cock hard below her. She let out a shriek. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
He had the nerve to chuckle at that. “Don't worry, my dear. Your virtue is safe with me, for as long as you want it to be that is.” He thrust his hand out to the side and crushed the pencil. “I'm merely making sure you can't dust me.”
“Giles, please. Don't.”
The shards of the pencil fell to the floor. He brushed the hair away from her neck. “But you're the one, Willow, the only one. I might get close enough to kill Buffy, but I might not. You, on the other hand, you're still her sweet, innocent Willow. She trusts you.”
And then she did see his new face and his fangs felt like razors at her throat.