cornerofmadness

I think there'll be more drabbles later but here's a drabble series that I could see me easily cobbling into a full length story.

Giles - Pre - Sunnydale
Watching, somehow that term made his job seem much kinkier than it was. Much of the time it was pure tedium, a penance for what he had done with Ethan and Eyghon. He had tried to escape the family legacy and failed miserably. Sadly, he was actually good at what he did and sometimes he could immerse himself in the museum where he was a curator and pretend he was just a normal man. He could indulge in nights like this, sitting in the pub, playing darts, pretending his dreams hadn’t died. Watching, no, it was more like slow suicide.

GILES Pre-Sunnydale

A shadow fell over Giles as he reached for his pint of Newcastle Brown. He looked up at Nuala. She still had the fire a good Watcher needed. Giles had lost his taste for watching. "Here to play darts?"

She shook her head. "I’ve been looking all over for you. You’ve been selected, Rupert, you lucky dog."

He plucked off his glasses. What are you on about?"

"You’ve made the final cut for the Slayer’s Watcher. Merrick’s been slain." Nuala handed him a piece of paper. "You’ll report there tomorrow for testing. It’s down to you or Travers. Isn’t it exciting?"

Giles - Pre Sunnydale

He was melting under his tweed. California, this was no fit place for watching, his body argued. His mind disagreed. What could make for better watching than a hellmouth? For the first time, he felt on fire for his calling. He finally felt the passion his job needed for him to do it well. He felt a little homesick, of course and he had no idea really how to handle teenagers. That didn’t matter. He felt confident. He couldn’t wait to meet his Slayer. His father would finally be proud of him. He had earned the ripest of plum jobs.

Giles - Welcome to the Hellmouth

He sat in his living room listening to Pink Floyd as scotch burned down his throat. Watching wasn’t supposed to be like this. His Slayer...she didn’t need a Watcher, she needed a leash and a whip. She was mouthy, vain, flighty and a whole list of other things that if he thought about it, he’d be packing his bags and catching the first plane back across the pond. Three times today alone he had thought about finding the opening to the hellmouth and tossing Buffy in. Still, she made him feel more alive and younger than he’d been in years.