Feedback: Always nice, but please! No flames. My tender ego couldn’t handle it
Distribution: Sure, but let me know first.
Spoilers: Oh my, yes. Everything before “The Gift” is noted, explained and revealed in detail.
Rating: G, but mucho angst.
Pairing: W/T
Disclaimer: Praise be to Joss. He owns it all and I’m just messing about.
Summary: Willow and Tara through Giles’ eyes.
Notes: Thoughts are in italics, the letter itself is contained within asterisks.

He stood before his shop, the Magic Box, carrying the huge Underwood typewriter under his arm. It had been two weeks since she died and, if nothing else, Giles Rupert was British to the core and raised on the concept of “Keeping A Stiff Upper Lip”. It was time to tidy up his life and settle a few outstanding matters.

The hand-lettered sign on the door said “Closed - Death in the Family” and he considered how very appropriate it was. In most ways, she had been the center of his universe for more than five years. He had grown to regard Buffy Summers as someone more than simply the Slayer, humanity’s guardian against supernatural evil. He loved her as a daughter and it was his fondest hope that she saw him as more than simply her Watcher.

The shop was hot and musty. Still, he had been sitting around his small apartment for too long now. Placing the huge typewriter on the large circular table in the rear of the shop, he regarded it fondly. Others might have thrown it away and gone to those trendy computer things, but not he. There was a lot to be said about holding on to the things that really mattered. Too much was changing too fast...

Best not think about it.

Anya had some letterhead printed up when the shop first opened. He pulled some down and grimaced at the lurid colors she had selected. It will have to do, he thought. He wasn’t in the mood to go shopping for paper.

Winding a sheet into the machine’s carriage, he began typing.

*Dear Sirs and Madams:

It is with the most profound regret that I inform you the Slayer, Buffy Ann Summers, was killed in the line of duty this past fortnight. During a battle with the Hell God Glorificus, the Slayer voluntarily gave her own life to close a portal to Glorificus’ home universe. I must also tell you that the Slayer did not die in vain: during that battle, Glorificus also died, the exact details of which remain somewhat confused. The Slayer’s death was in accordance with the very highest traditions of her Calling. She was also my friend and I shall miss her very, very much.*

His eyes glittered as he wrote the last. Leaning back, he tried to shut out the images of Buffy’s dead body lying at his feet. His heart ached more and more with each image. After a few seconds he tried to keep going.

*I do not know if a new Slayer has been activated or if the line now proceeds through the rogue Slayer, Faith. Unfortunately, as you know, Faith is still incarcerated by the State of California for her criminal actions. If in fact Faith is indeed the current Chosen One, I would recommend the Council extend its not-inconsiderable influence to securing her early release from prison and assign a Watcher to her of considerable moral and physical strength. More now than ever, this sorry World needs its Slayer.*

He didn’t really care who the new Slayer was or who her Watcher would be. For him there would be no other Slayers. There was only Buffy.

*As for me, I am, by this letter, notifying you of my intention to retire from active duty with the Council. As you know, in times past, Watchers usually died with their Slayers. Indeed, my predecessor, Mr. Merrick, died defending the Slayer. That I did not as well I shall always count as one of the great failings of my life. We need heroes, not watchers.*

He did not want to think about the very last time he spoke of heroes to anyone. Buffy, for all her strength and purpose, never could have done what needed to be done. Even living with the memories of a mortally wounded Ben struggling while Giles smothered him was a price he was willing to pay. Still, he wished he could rid himself of the image of Ben’s panicked, bulging eyes staring up at him...

*Instead of watching (and Watching), I shall be using my free time to pursue some new interests of mine. I have made the leap into trade! I know many of you believe that a gentleman should never involve himself in business, but it has given me a new view of the world. I even have an employee, a most redoubtable young woman named Anya, who is starting a new life and depends upon me for a living. Perhaps it is my need to be depended on at work here, but whatever it might be, I cannot leave Sunnydale just now. Still, I might very well return home to England at some point in the future, if only for a time. Who can say?*

Keep them guessing, he smiled to himself. Watchers liked to say that fighting the supernatural was “like trying to hit a will-o-the-wisp with a stick whilst blindfolded.” The Council, on the other hand, liked to play the “All Seeing, All Knowing” game, so from time to time those actually doing the hard work liked to remind the Home Office about the uncertainty they knew so well.

*Furthermore, the Slayer’s sister, Dawn, is now without mother or sister. She is in a very fragile state at the moment and needs someone to care for her, at least until suitable arrangements can be made, I assume with her long-absent father. Until then, it is my intention to care for the child as best as I can. The world owes the Slayer a huge debt, and the very least we can do is watch after those she had to leave behind. *

Bloody Council! he thought. He would have been very surprised indeed if even one of those great dolts had given a thought to Dawn. Even now, all she did was lie awake all night weeping. Should Mister – Giles unconsciously sneered at the word – Summers ever drag himself away from his little love nest, he would learn the real reason Giles was called “Ripper” in his younger days.

Now to the crux of the matter...

*I of course, have other reasons. I believe I mentioned in past reports the two witches, Miss Willow Rosenberg and Miss Tara Maclay. That they both possess extraordinary powers is clear. I might go so far to say that, individually, they are the strongest witches on Earth at the present time.

He could hear them as they read his letter. Some would mumble into their tea about how Rupert Giles has finally gone off his poor head. “Could see it coming”, they would say. “All that mucking about with the Dark Arts when he was a young man”, they would whine.

*In my greener days, I might have enjoyed the impact such a revelation is undoubtedly having on the staid proceedings. You can thus imagine my enthusiasm when I tell you the awesome power I mentioned exists because they love each other. Their love allows them to combine their powers to the point were I can say without contradiction that they are the most powerful source of mystical power I can find on record. To put it bluntly, when they are united, their power is without equal or precedence.*

He could imagine the Council elders choking on their tea reading that! They would be so upset the Fates or the Gods or the Goddesses have chosen to place such power in the hands of two young women who love each other. “Deviants!” they would say. Ethan would be so proud. Still, one important point to make:

*Given the Council’s behavior of late regarding the - *

No, not “the”. He x’ed the word out and started again.

*Given the Council’s behavior of late regarding my Slayer, there may be some among you who might arrive at the idea of abducting one or both Miss Rosenberg and Miss Maclay for what I have heard called “study.” Let me make this perfectly clear. To attempt this would be a mistake on a monumental level. Miss Rosenberg was able to actually injure Glorificus. Indeed, without Miss Rosenberg’s intervention, it is doubtful that the Slayer could have successfully closed the portal. Therefore, any attempt to “study” either Miss Rosenberg or Miss Maclay would be catastrophic for both the Council as a body and each of you as individuals. You have been warned.*

There. At least his conscience was clear should those idiots attempt something along the lines of what they tried to do with Faith. Still, given their massive collective ego, he supposed he should not be too surprised if he heard some day that the entire Council had been buried under a storm of knives!

Time to finish this.

*As you undoubtedly remember, I have some little knowledge of the Mystic Arts, and it is my intention to stay and offer my services to Miss Rosenberg and Miss Maclay as a teacher and a friend, whichever way they will have me. You see, even if they were not the two greatest witches of the modern era, I would still wish to try to get to know them as a friend. Their love is an incandescent beacon, and it warms me that there are a few who know the real reason we fight to save this world. Gender is unimportant, race irrelevant. All that really matters is love. With the passing of the child of, if not my body, then at the very least of my heart, I very much need to know that right now. I leave it to you, ladies and gentlemen of the Council, to worry about the rest.

Yours sincerely,

Rupert Giles, PhD*

He ripped out the last sheet and signed it. Folding it neatly, he slipped the letter into an envelope and put it into his inside breast pocket.

Stepping onto the street, he looked at the sign. He considered returning after mailing the letter and re-opening, but his heart caught when he considered the death in his family. No, he thought, not yet. And then he shuffled away, shoulders bowed, a man trying against all odds to keep his family together.

The End