blairprovence | FIC The Futility of Grand Gestures (10/10) (BUFFY)

Title: The Futility of Grand Gestures
Author: blairprovence
Rating:  PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s):  Buffy, Giles
Warnings:  Season 3, Serious Angst
Disclaimer:  All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
Summary:   Buffy would do absolutely anything for the people she loves. That's a good thing, right?
Author Notes:   Completed at long last for my scheduled day on summer_of_giles 2008. Apologies to my flist for the mass posting. Set after the events of Graduation, Part 1.


Part 1
Previous Part

He wasn’t really frightened, not at first.

It wasn’t the first time in one hundred and fifty years that he’d awakened to find himself bound and captive. Darla had made something of a hobby of it for over two years in the late 1890s. He had never figured out how she’d managed to truss him up like a turkey without waking him, but it hadn’t mattered much. Bondage could be fun.

Ripper was something of a shock, though.

He hadn’t known that Giles had been fatally injured during the fight at graduation, as he’d left almost directly after the explosion that had killed the Mayor, wary of sunlight’s return after the eclipse. He had managed to use the tunnels to get to the hospital to try and see Buffy, but the chaotic aftermath of the attack had blocked him from her room. He had retired back to the mansion to brood over the events of the past few days and consider the question that held paramount importance.

Would Buffy ever forgive him for draining her?

He hadn’t known as he’d dropped off to sleep that the answer to that question wouldn’t matter much at all.

He awakened, bound, mute and helpless, to a nightmare.

Willow and Oz were the first to die, and it was then that Angel really began to understand that Angelus had nothing on Ripper when it came to bloody mayhem.

Ripper brought them to Angel’s ersatz prison to kill them. He dragged Willow in by the arm – she hung like a limp doll in his strong grip, her eyes unfocused. Oz followed them at a run, clearly desperate and much the worse for wear. He took in Angel’s situation with a swift glance before attacking Ripper with bare hands, his expression of fatalistic hopelessness implying he had no actual expectation of success. Ripper backhanded him across the room, where Oz crashed into the wall at just the wrong angle and did not rise again.

Willow had no reaction, even as Ripper’s fangs sank into her neck. After she slumped lifelessly, Ripper swept her up into his arms, offered Angel a mocking bow, and danced her into the hallway.

Joyce was next, following the vampire into the room under her own power, but clearly terrified. When she saw Angel, her face went blank. Ripper curled a possessive arm about her shoulders and murmured, “See, Joyce, I told you he would be punished,” in a voice of sweet concern. She didn’t react, even when Ripper kissed her, and didn’t seem to notice Angel’s frantic soundless repetitions of I’m sorry.

Ripper led Joyce away, down the hall toward the furnished bedrooms. Angel tried not to think about what that meant.

Xander arrived late the same day, by himself, carrying a sword that Angel recognized from Giles’s collection in the library book cage.

The sight of the boy gave Angel sudden hope. He jerked his chin toward the chains and ropes, to indicate Here, cut here! But Xander stood stock still in the middle of the room, glaring at him, and Angel began to wonder what exactly the young man had planned to do with that sword.

Ripper appeared silently behind him, and Angel yelled soundlessly for Xander to run. The boy turned to face his former friend. The sword clattered to the floor.

“Oh, god, Giles,” Xander said, anguished.

“Hello, my boy,” Ripper said kindly, sounding just like Rupert Giles. He reached out to hug Xander, smirking at Angel over the boy’s shaking shoulders. “Are you all right?”

Xander froze, then pushed out of Ripper’s embrace. “You’re a vampire!”

“Yes,” Ripper agreed equably. “But I didn’t ask to be. Never mind that. Were you injured in the fight?” He reached out to gently trace the bruise under Xander’s right eye, cupping the boy’s face in his hands.

Xander, obviously exhausted and thinking none-too-clearly, closed his eyes and accepted the caress. “’M fine,” he muttered. “’Cept I can’t get hold of Willow.”

“You won’t, I’m afraid. I’m all that’s left. Well, and Buffy.”

Angel felt an instant rush of relief at this evidence that Buffy was still among the living. He hadn’t been at all sure that Ripper hadn’t managed to kill her in her hospital bed.

Xander’s reaction could not have been more different.

“Fuck Buffy. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t…oh, Giles, dammit-“

“Shh, it’s all right, Xander. I’m here. I won’t leave you.” He pulled Xander into another embrace. Xander bowed his head, resting his forehead against Ripper’s chest.

“You promise?” he asked plaintively, voice muffled by tears.

“I promise,” Ripper replied, shooting Angel a triumphant glance as he led the young man from the room. “My dear boy. Just let me help.”

***

Angel was in despair and near to giving up by the time Buffy arrived. He had had no luck attempting to escape. The ropes and chains bit into his skin painfully – there was no give in them at all. Ripper certainly understood the demonly art of perfect restraints. He could have given Darla lessons.

The advent of the privacy curtain had confused Angel, but Ripper hadn’t bothered to explain when he’d left it. But the moment he heard Buffy’s voice he knew that it was simply part of another game.

If only he could speak!

She looked…smaller when he finally got a glimpse of her after the curtain had burned. Smaller, and not in any shape to engage in the fight of her life. So he tried to tell her to run, but, of course, she didn’t listen.

The fight was swift and brutal, and she escaped certain death by inches more than once. Ripper seemed to be toying with her. Angel almost couldn’t bear to watch.

And then a miracle happened.

Buffy won.

She WON!

The relief he felt was immense, even as he witnessed her overwhelming grief, kneeling in the ashes of her Watcher.

“Buffy, let me out of here,” he said. “Please, let me help you.”

She didn’t seem to hear him.

Bootsteps in the corridor made him redouble his efforts to get her attention. “Buffy, you need to let me go right now! Buffy, someone’s coming! BUFFY!”

It was Spike. Spike? What was Spike doing in Sunnydale? What was Spike doing helping Buffy? Spike, who had apparently been the one to stake Joyce...

“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Angel told her frantically. “You’ve got to let me help you. You can’t trust Spike.”

Buffy stood up and finally turned to face him, holding herself stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes. “This is my choice,” she told him. “Better Spike than the Watchers, anyway.”

What?

“Please stay away from the next Slayer.”

She couldn’t mean what it sounded like she meant.

Spike smirked at Angel as he trailed after her down the hallway, and Angel realized that she did.

“Buffy, no! NO! Don’t you dare, Spike. Don’t you DARE! SPIKE!! I’ll KILL you! Do you hear me? I’ll KILL YOU!”

He redoubled his frantic efforts to escape, which only resulted in the chair falling over backward and him bashing his head hard against the stone floor.

A confused length of time later, Spike reappeared to kneel down in front of him. The other vampire was smiling faintly, wiping at the corner of his mouth. Angel blinked muzzily at him.

“I’d say that was only…ohhh, fifty percent Slayer, at best. Way too many drugs in there – and not the good kind. You always have to ruin the good vintages for other people, don’t you, Angel?”

“I’m going to kill you,” he told Spike hoarsely. “It’s going to hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt.”

“Ooh, big plans,” came another voice, and Angel jerked his pounding head around to see the Xander vampire leaning indolently on one of the swords. “I think he’s all talk, Spike.”

“And no action,” Spike agreed, smirking as he stood. “This is a good look for you, Angel.”

Light footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the room.

The hope Angel felt when he heard them mingled with underlying shame at the idea that he could ever wish that Buffy had been turned into a vampire, knowing how she would feel about it.

But there was the curse, and that could give them an eternity together.

He tried to school his expression into impassivity, but the sardonic smirk on Spike’s face implied he hadn’t been successful. Angel shook it off, listening hard as the steps drew nearer, impatient for the first glimpse of the woman he loved.

Two small hands slid sinuously into the crooks of the other two vampires’ arms, but it wasn’t Buffy’s slight form that appeared between them.

“Ooh!” Willow said, eyes lighting up as she caught sight of him bound by the ropes and chains. “A puppy! Can I play?”

END

AUTHOR NOTES: I thought about changing the name of this story to “Everybody Dies!” as a sort of tribute for House and Doctor Who fans, but I then thought that would be something of a spoiler.

I didn’t start out to write a horrible relentless downer of a tale. The initial idea had something to do with the way quiet, knowledgeable, competent people become vital to organizations in ways that aren’t necessarily apparent or valued until they’re gone and everything comes crashing down. And I combined that initial conceit with the idea that the scariest villain Buffy could ever face would be one as smart as Giles with none of his heart or compassion. It just seemed logical that by four days into vampirehood, he’d have cut an unparalleled swath of destruction.

And, despite the schadenfreude of the epilogue, I actually did like Angel - once he left for his own show. But the resumed romance of B/A circa season 3 drove me up a wall, especially for the lack of consideration both Angel and Buffy showed Giles in pursuing it.

Thanks for reading! Have some ice cream – you’ll feel better!

Current Mood: exhausted
Current Location: bed
Current Music: silence

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nutterbudgie.livejournal.com

Wow. Everybody did die, and it is still a hopeful? ending. Thanks for finishing this! I agree, vampGiles would make Angelus look like teenage angst. I think I'll have a cuppa now, soothing would be good. And the ending was a total surprise!

From:

His face said, "It's been a long day and now there's you..."

FIC The Futility of Grand Gestures (10/10) (BUFFY)

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