[buffywantswillow]FIC: The Last Death (3/?)

[Jessica Cioffi <cioffi@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: Dor(i)an is mine ... all mine! Bwah hah hah ha ... ahem ...
uhm, we all know that the most popular folk aren't mine and belong to
Joss and ME, no, not me me ... Mutant Enemy.

Title: The Last Death (3/?)
Author: Still me, not Mutant Enemy me, me me, Jessie

Rating: PG maybe PG-13. Yo no se.
Warning: Still not being beta read .... but it's being written and sent
to you nice folk. Awww.
Spoilers: None of which I am aware, but I don't wanna promise anything,
so ... all's fair in this game of fiction.
Feedback: Yessirree Bob, and even if your name's not Bob ... yessirree
(Enter Name Here).
Archive: You wan' it? You got it! Toyota! Just lemme know where.

THE LAST DEATH (3/?)

... At 31, Giles received his first Slayer. His first, and for a long
time, he believed, his last.

____________________________________________________________________________________

"Giles?" Willow looked at him with udder confusion on her face.

"I'm sorry, but, in order to explain Dorian, I need to explain
myself." Giles looked at his shoes. He had gotten so used to being a
mortal Watcher, and then just a mortal, that he nearly forgot his own
past.

"So, what you are saying is, you were, at one time, immortal."
Buffy recapped Giles' story in one, swift sentence. Her eyes searched
his for the truth without letting on how disappointed she was in his
keeping such a big secret from her.

"Yes."

"and Dorian?" Buffy asked.

"Dorian," Dorian continued from the hallway, "was given a gift by
the Council. One, for the record, that she didn't ask for."

"Dorian was always the recipient of various gifts." Buffy thought
she saw Giles wink at his guest. "Even before the Council ... " He
realized he was telling too much too quickly. Giles quietly said as he
got up from the couch, "I was prefacing your story with, well, my own."

Willow and Buffy looked at each other trying to put people, place
and time together. Willow slowly moved toward Giles. "You know? Dorian
could tell us her story, and you could tell us your story, then what we
don't get, you can fill in for us."

"It's just right now, we have a lot to digest, Giles. It might be
better to get it all in at once." Buffy finished Willow's sentiment as
she joined her friend at the foot of the couch.

Dorian nodded. "Giles, I need your help. And if your friends don't
know about me, they'll try to stop you from what I am asking you to do.
I can't have that. It must happen ... and soon." Her eyes blue eyes
pleaded with Giles'.

"The floor," Giles said with defeat, "is yours." His eyes held a
sorrow that Buffy had never seen before.

"Keep your mind clear, for what I am about to tell you is not only
the story of someone you love, but the stories of two people who loved
deeply and offered to sacrifice everything for one another. You will
find my story familiar. Slayers, Watchers ... and others." Dorian
began. She turned to Giles with a familiar smile and said, "It seems I
am, once again, an emissary."
____________________________________________________________________________________

Giles' Slayer appeared before him in a compact fourteen year old
body. He was surprised to have been given one so young. He was
surprised a Slayer was recognized so early. But mostly he was surprised
when, as he offered her his hand in greeting, she landed him on his
backside.

"Well, yes," Giles said, rising from the floor, "you must be the
Slayer."

"If I must," the girl said through a smile. She had a small gap in
her two front teeth, just below the dip of her upper lip. "Yancy. Since
you are going to be closest to me, you can call me Yan."

Giles stepped back when the teen thrust her hand forward. While he
knew a handshake was a friendly greeting, he had already greeted the
floor from such an offering. He squinted as he looked into her eyes,
trying to figure the child out.

Extending his hand, "Yes, well. Yan, " he said with a tilt of his
head, "I hope that I might live up to your expectations. I am, most
humbly, looking forward to being your Watcher." Giles extended his arm
to welcome her into the training den.

"Now what, Watcher?" Yancy asked, looking at the arsenal, the
training ropes and the pads on the walls.

"Before we begin, you may call me Giles," Giles stated
matter-of-factly.

"Okay," she grinned, "Giles." She walked with confidence. She went
over to the wall, ran her fingers along the soft padding and, quickly
and deftly, punched it, leaving stuffing to fall out of the gaping
hole. "What am I supposed to learn from you?"

"Patience, for one. Control ..." Giles began but, noticing Yancy
concentrating like a cat readying to pounce, abruptly ended. He turned
towards the door to see what had gotten his Slayer's attention.

In the doorway stood a girl close to Yancy's age. Her arms were
curled in front of her, clutching a large book. Her head was bent
toward the ground, as though in meditation. The sun shone to her back
and hid her face. Her brown hair, glowing a bright golden, fell in
long, loose curls around her face like the branches of a willow tree.
Her lips seemed to be moving, but no sound came from her. Just as
silently as she made her entrance, she bent her body downward, placed
the book along the threshold of the den, stood up and turned to leave.

"Young miss," Giles addressed her. "That book does not belong to
me. Perhaps you have come to the wrong place. For whom is the book
intended?"

She turned around, her body facing Giles, but her head still
positioned for the floor. "I - I - it's for you." Her white hand lifted
and a thin finger pointed toward the Slayer. "I have not been brought
to the wrong place. Please, accept it. Use it. Learn from it," she
raised her head, looked into the Slayer's eyes and said, "your life will
soon depend on it."

Yancy was drawn into the stranger's eyes. The deep blue seemed to
have no end. They nearly glowed as though rich with an unknown power.
All fear of the stranger was put to rest and Yancy felt something she
hadn't felt for years -- comfort. A wind-like 'thank you' involuntarily
blew from the Slayer's mouth.

"Who," Giles interrupted the moment, "brought you to us and to what
name do you answer?"

"The first, I cannot name. I don't exactly know how," she explained,
turning her eyes once again to the floor. "My name is not important. I
am only a messenger. Once I leave here, I will once again be, as I was
before. This I am sure."

"What, young messenger, were you before?" Giles was growing more
intrigued with every soft word that escaped the stranger's mouth.

The messenger's body shook with a sigh. "I do not recall, but I look
forward to knowing. I must leave now. I apologize for the questions
with which I have left you." She turned and quickly left. The only
sounds of her departure were the words she left hanging in the air.

Slayer and Watcher turned their attention downward. The gift, the
book, was large and dusty, as though it had been buried for centuries.
The edges of the pages were yellow, curved and appeared to be brittle
like it was immersed in water and left to dry in the sun. The golden
clasp which held it shut glittered in the early morning light. Giles,
with his charge now standing beside him, squinted his eyes in an effort
to read the golden letters that decorated the dingy cover.

--------------E8F07046CD74A0D3F5C83FD6
Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

<!doctype html public "-//w3c//dtd html 4.0 transitional//en">
<html>
<body text="#000000" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" link="#FF0000" vlink="#800080" alink="#0000FF">
<font color="#000000">Disclaimer:&nbsp; Dor(i)an is mine ... all mine!
Bwah hah hah ha ... ahem ... uhm, we all know that the most popular folk
aren't mine and belong to Joss and ME, no, not me me ... Mutant Enemy.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">Title:&nbsp; The Last Death (3/?)</font>
<br><font color="#000000">Author: Still me, not Mutant Enemy me, me me,
Jessie</font>
<p><font color="#000000">Rating: PG maybe PG-13.&nbsp; Yo no se.</font>
<br><font color="#000000">Warning: Still not being beta read .... but it's
being written and sent to you nice folk. Awww.</font>
<br><font color="#000000">Spoilers: None of which I am aware, but I don't
wanna promise anything, so ... all's fair in this game of fiction.</font>
<br><font color="#000000">Feedback:&nbsp; Yessirree Bob, and even if your
name's not Bob ... yessirree (Enter Name Here).</font>
<br><font color="#000000">Archive:&nbsp; You wan' it? You got it! Toyota!&nbsp;
Just lemme know where.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">THE LAST DEATH (3/?)</font>
<p><font color="#000000">... At 31, Giles received his first Slayer.&nbsp;
His first, and for a long time, he believed, his last.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">____________________________________________________________________________________</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Giles?" Willow looked at him
with udder confusion on her face.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "I'm sorry, but, in order to
explain Dorian, I need to explain myself."&nbsp; Giles looked at his shoes.&nbsp;
He had gotten so used to being a mortal Watcher, and then just a mortal,
that he nearly forgot his own past.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "So, what you are saying is,
you were, at one time, immortal."&nbsp; Buffy recapped Giles' story in
one, swift sentence.&nbsp; Her eyes searched his for the truth without
letting on how disappointed she was in his keeping such a big secret from
her.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Yes."</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "and Dorian?" Buffy asked.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Dorian," Dorian continued
from the hallway, "was given a gift by the Council. One, for the record,
that she didn't ask for."</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Dorian was always the recipient
of various gifts."&nbsp; Buffy thought she saw Giles wink at his guest.&nbsp;
"Even before the Council ... " He realized he was telling too much too
quickly.&nbsp; Giles quietly said as he got up from the couch, "I was prefacing
your story with, well, my own."</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Willow and Buffy looked at
each other trying to put people, place and time together.&nbsp; Willow
slowly moved toward Giles. "You know?&nbsp; Dorian could tell us her story,
and you could tell us your story, then what we don't get, you can fill
in for us."</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "It's just right now, we have
a lot to digest, Giles.&nbsp; It might be better to get it all in at once."&nbsp;
Buffy finished Willow's sentiment as she joined her friend at the foot
of the couch.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Dorian nodded. "Giles, I need
your help. And if your friends don't know about me, they'll try to stop
you from what I am asking you to do.&nbsp; I can't have that.&nbsp; It
must happen ... and soon."&nbsp; Her eyes blue eyes pleaded with Giles'.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "The floor," Giles said with
defeat, "is yours."&nbsp; His eyes held a sorrow that Buffy had never seen
before.</font>
<p><font color="#000000">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Keep your mind clear, for
what I am about to tell you is not only the story of someone you love,
but the stories of two people who loved deeply and offered to sacrifice
everything for one another. You will find my story familiar. Slayers, Watchers
... and others." Dorian began.&nbsp; She turned to Giles with a familiar
smile and said, "It seems I am, once again, an emissary."</font>
<br><font color="#000000">____________________________________________________________________________________</font>
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Giles' Slayer appeared before him in a compact fourteen
year old body.&nbsp; He was surprised to have been given one so young.&nbsp;
He was surprised a Slayer was recognized so early.&nbsp; But mostly he
was surprised when, as he offered her his hand in greeting, she landed
him on his backside.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Well, yes," Giles said, rising from the floor, "you
must be the Slayer."
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "If I must," the girl said through a smile.&nbsp;
She had a small gap in her two front teeth, just below the dip of her upper
lip. "Yancy. Since you are going to be closest to me, you can call me Yan."
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Giles stepped back when the teen thrust her hand
forward.&nbsp; While he knew a handshake was a friendly greeting, he had
already greeted the floor from such an offering.&nbsp; He squinted as he
looked into her eyes, trying to figure the child out.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Extending his hand, "Yes, well. Yan, " he said with
a tilt of his head, "I hope that I might live up to your expectations.&nbsp;
I am, most humbly, looking forward to being your Watcher."&nbsp; Giles
extended his arm to welcome her into the training den.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Now what, Watcher?" Yancy asked, looking at the
arsenal, the training ropes and the pads on the walls.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Before we begin, you may call me Giles,"&nbsp; Giles
stated matter-of-factly.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Okay," she grinned, "Giles."&nbsp; She walked with
confidence. She went over to the wall, ran her fingers along the soft padding
and, quickly and deftly, punched it, leaving stuffing to fall out of the
gaping hole.&nbsp; "What am I supposed to learn from you?"
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Patience, for one. Control&nbsp; ..." Giles began
but, noticing Yancy concentrating like a cat readying to pounce, abruptly
ended.&nbsp; He turned towards the door to see what had gotten his Slayer's
attention.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; In the doorway stood a girl close to Yancy's age.
Her arms were curled in front of her, clutching a large book.&nbsp; Her
head was bent toward the ground, as though in meditation.&nbsp; The sun
shone to her back and hid her face.&nbsp; Her brown hair, glowing a bright
golden, fell in long, loose curls around her face like the branches of
a willow tree.&nbsp; Her lips seemed to be moving, but no sound came from
her. Just as silently as she made her entrance, she bent her body downward,
placed the book along the threshold of the den, stood up and turned to
leave.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Young miss," Giles addressed her. "That book does
not belong to me.&nbsp; Perhaps you have come to the wrong place.&nbsp;
For whom is the book intended?"
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She turned around, her body facing Giles, but her
head still positioned for the floor. "I - I - it's for you."&nbsp; Her
white hand lifted and a thin finger pointed toward the Slayer.&nbsp; "I
have not been brought to the wrong place.&nbsp; Please, accept it.&nbsp;
Use it.&nbsp; Learn from it,"&nbsp; she raised her head, looked into the
Slayer's eyes and said, "your life will soon depend on it."
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Yancy was drawn into the stranger's eyes.&nbsp; The
deep blue seemed to have no end.&nbsp; They nearly glowed as though rich
with an unknown power.&nbsp; All fear of the stranger was put to rest and
Yancy felt something she hadn't felt for years -- comfort.&nbsp; A wind-like
'thank you' involuntarily blew from the Slayer's mouth.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Who," Giles interrupted the moment, "brought you
to us and to what name do you answer?"
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "The first, I cannot name. I don't exactly know how,"
she explained, turning her eyes once again to the floor.&nbsp; "My name
is not important.&nbsp; I am only a messenger.&nbsp; Once I leave here,
I will once again be, as I was before.&nbsp; This I am sure."
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "What, young messenger, were you before?"&nbsp; Giles
was growing more intrigued with every soft word that escaped the stranger's
mouth.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp; The messenger's body shook with a sigh.&nbsp; "I do not
recall, but I look forward to knowing.&nbsp; I must leave now.&nbsp; I
apologize for the questions with which I have left you."&nbsp;&nbsp; She
turned and quickly left.&nbsp; The only sounds of her departure were the
words she left hanging in the air.
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Slayer and Watcher turned their attention downward.&nbsp;
The gift, the book, was large and dusty, as though it had been buried for
centuries.&nbsp; The edges of the pages were yellow, curved and appeared
to be brittle like it was immersed in water and left to dry in the sun.
The golden clasp which held it shut glittered in the early morning light.&nbsp;
Giles, with his charge now standing beside him, squinted his eyes in an
effort to read the golden letters that decorated the dingy cover.
</body>
</html>

--------------E8F07046CD74A0D3F5C83FD6--

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tel;work:714/628-7377
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url:http://www.chapman.edu/holocaust/
org:The Barry and Phyllis Rodgers Center for Holocaust Education;Department of History
version:2.1
email;internet:cioffi@xxxxxxxxxxx
title:Assistant to the Director
adr;quoted-printable:;;One University Drive=0D=0A;Orange ;CA;92866;
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