Feast of All Saints Ficlet
Nov. 1st, 2005 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alixtiiA follow-up (sorta) to my All Hallows Eve ficlet for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cadence_k. Dawn/Giles, 308 words. Prayer from the Book of Common Prayer, here.
Richmond, England—November 1, 2019
Giles stood in front of the giant Sunnydale cenotaph. Even when he was gone, the giant monument would remain, the first thing one noticed upon entering the Watcher’s Cemetary. They had lost many people in Sunnydale. Anya. Joyce.
Jenny.
He had taken the train into London that morning, stopped at the Council Headquarters to take care of some business, then took the Tube out to the suburbs. He had come alone; Dawn wouldn’t understand the significance of the day. But while you could take the Watcher out of the Church of England, you couldn’t take the Anglican out of the Watcher.
He continued through the cemetery, stopping at each of the graves of fallen warriors. Kendra. Xander and Willow. Buffy.
The second time Buffy had died, she had gone to Heaven. Not the Judeo-Christian construct, or at least he supposed not, but it was right that she had been rewarded for her service. Now that she was dead once again, having died one more time to protect someone she loved, he refused to believe that she could be anywhere else. They all deserved an afterlife of eternal rewards. It had been his job to make sure that they didn’t have to endanger their souls to be heroes. His job, and now Dawn’s as well.
“Grant us grace so to follow your blessed Saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those unspeakable joys, which thou hast prepared for them that unfeignedly love thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” He felt strange, saying the old Christian prayer, but it felt right somehow.
“Amen.”
Giles turned in shock to see Dawn standing behind him. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly.
Dawn’s smile was sad as she stepped towards him, took his hand in hers. “I know you better than that, Rupert.”
Go to:
"Feast of All Souls"
cadence_k. Dawn/Giles, 308 words. Prayer from the Book of Common Prayer, here.Richmond, England—November 1, 2019
Giles stood in front of the giant Sunnydale cenotaph. Even when he was gone, the giant monument would remain, the first thing one noticed upon entering the Watcher’s Cemetary. They had lost many people in Sunnydale. Anya. Joyce.
Jenny.
He had taken the train into London that morning, stopped at the Council Headquarters to take care of some business, then took the Tube out to the suburbs. He had come alone; Dawn wouldn’t understand the significance of the day. But while you could take the Watcher out of the Church of England, you couldn’t take the Anglican out of the Watcher.
He continued through the cemetery, stopping at each of the graves of fallen warriors. Kendra. Xander and Willow. Buffy.
The second time Buffy had died, she had gone to Heaven. Not the Judeo-Christian construct, or at least he supposed not, but it was right that she had been rewarded for her service. Now that she was dead once again, having died one more time to protect someone she loved, he refused to believe that she could be anywhere else. They all deserved an afterlife of eternal rewards. It had been his job to make sure that they didn’t have to endanger their souls to be heroes. His job, and now Dawn’s as well.
“Grant us grace so to follow your blessed Saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those unspeakable joys, which thou hast prepared for them that unfeignedly love thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” He felt strange, saying the old Christian prayer, but it felt right somehow.
“Amen.”
Giles turned in shock to see Dawn standing behind him. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly.
Dawn’s smile was sad as she stepped towards him, took his hand in hers. “I know you better than that, Rupert.”
Go to:
"Feast of All Souls"
