FIC: Postponed Daybreak -- or whatever (2/12)

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Okay -- Lump 2

 
TITLE: Daybreak Postponed (2/12)
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this part belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy -- etc etc as in part (0/12). Some ideas have been borrowed for elsewhere to illuminate this story: they did once belong to Other Companies (and still do, I imagine), but since they are by way of being generic concepts, Idon't think anything's awry.
SUMMARY: THis is the BBC, From London, and Here is the News -- and a telephone call. Minimal smoochies, but Xander is in the room so maybe they're shy
ARCHIVING:: All enquiries welcomed
SPOILERS: None 
AUTHOR'S NOTES: All nice feedback welcome. 
 

DAYBREAK HAS BEEN POSTPONED

By Soren Nyrond

Part Two - The News

"This is the BBC News Headlines at -.  

"A statement is awaited at any moment from a government spokesman as to themysterious events reported from the Midlands. Confused reports have been coming in - 

"We're going straight over to Martin Hollinshead, outside the Home Office in Queen Anne's Gate - Martin - "

"Thank you, Justin. The Senior Press Officer has just read a statement concerning the recent events. As you know, since early yesterday evening all contact has been lost with the county of Bowland, straddling the Pennine Mountains. The Home Office say that the Ministry of Defence and the Royal Observatories have confirmed that a solar flare has ionised the atmosphere preventing radio and telephone communications in the area, and adverse weather conditions have led to roads in the area becoming impassable. The Army are sending teams from the Catterick and Lancaster barracks to re-open the main roads, and the Air Force have helicopters on stand-by to respond to anycrises. Beyond that, the impression given is that we will know much more when daylight returns, but emphasis is being placed in the need for people to remain calm and await developments. This is Martin Hollinshead, at the Home Office, returning you to the studio."

 

"I never knew that you could hear the radio via . a computer," Giles said.

Willow was just about to explain, enthusiastically, when she noticed that Giles was repetitively polishing her spectacles. Clearly, however innocuousthe news announcer had made it sound, Giles was still very worried.

"What is it, Giles ?" Buffy had, clearly, also noticed.

"Yeah, G-man - is there something special about Bowland ?" Xander could also sense that something was wrong. 

"It's the Council, isn't it ?" Anya asked, directly.

Giles' head whipped round: "How did you -- ?"

"Eleven thousand years as a vengeance demon - you travel a bit," she said. "Either that, or you get exorcised. The Council's been in Bowland, since - oh - "

"Seventeen eighty-seven," Giles said: "First at Vikescroft and more recently at Ravenslaut Hall, in Nytdale. Which is right in the middle of where Willow's map shows."

"Well, we won't know more until . they said tomorrow," Buffy said: "When's that in real time ?"

"By which, I take it, you are referring to the time in California ?" Giles retorted, although with a smile. "All right - come back this afternoon."

 

 



"What do you mean, no way to tell - surely they had newscasters and - "

"They - in this case the British Government, the Watchers' Council, or both, can easily keep a thing like this out of the news, Buffy." Giles could see that she was having trouble with that idea. "How do you imagine people on the East Coast or in New England would react if an area half the size ofCalifornia just vanished ?"

"All right - yes - I get the point : people would panic. But this is nothing like that size, Giles."

"But it is, in proportion between the whole USA and the whole of England. Anyway, the Argus System appears inoperable and the ordinary telephone lines don't connect. There's nothing for it - I must go to Nytdale at once."

"I'm coming," Buffy said: "It was my dream, and you'll need me if anything's happened."

Willow and Xander protested their willingness to join the expedition, but Giles was immovable.

"None of you have the necessary passports, and all of you would need your parents' permission. And you each have your responsibilities: Buffy has Slayer-patrols and study, Willow has study and . study, and Xander has his joband Anya."

"Ah, yes, well - the job's a bust - "

"Again ?" Willow said, before she managed to shut herself up

"- and Anya's got her 'female problem' - whatever that means - and doesn't want to see me."

For a moment all four of them (for a variety of reasons) were silent, thinking things through.

 

The telephone bell interrupted the mental tableau.

"Hello, Rupert Giles."

"Giles, is that #ow# you ?"

"Cordelia ?"

"Sort of, just about, if you ignore the #ouch# - Wesley, can't you get me acold cloth without it sounding like the Niagara Falls ? - sorry, Giles it's #ouwee# - I have to find another way -- or rather the PTB do - "

"Cordelia, calm down and just speak slowly. You sound to be in pain."

"Giles !" Cordelia's voice dripped acid. It was suddenly replaced by the far more rational tones of Giles' former colleague, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.

"I'm afraid that the concomitant of Cordelia's prescient visions is a splitting headache - not to mention a vile temper -- "

There was a second interruption and then Cordelia was back: "Giles, I just saw you getting torn apart, by some sort of demon. Only the worst part was, Buffy wasn't there. Has something happened to her - I mean, not that I'mnot concerned about things happening to you, but it obviously hasn't or you wouldn't be there to talk to me - "

"Cordelia," Giles said, before he drowned, "where was this ?"

"How would I know ? Nowhere I've been, or recognised."

"What did it look like ?" Giles pressed.

"Big room, lots of wood - stone, too, I think. Oh, and one of those big brass eagles."

"Eagles ? Do you mean a lectern - a platform or easel to rest books on, from which someone can read ? Such as in a cathedral ?"

"Giles ! I do read Home Beautiful ! Yes, one of those thingies."

Giles' expression could only have been described as grim.