What I Did On My Summer Vacation: Part Two: Giles's Story
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
"It was the stones," Deirdre said finally.

She and Giles had spent nearly an hour unraveling the threads that tangled them in confusion. The revelation that it was the year 1778 had first stunned and then intrigued Giles. Certainly in a year when he had finally taken up his duties as a Watcher, had encountered vampires, witches, giant bugs and alarming technopagans, and had cast spells for the first time, a trip through time was not quite as alarming.

"I quite agree. There are legends of fairy hills, where people fall asleep and wake a few hundred years later. I'm not sure I've ever heard of anyone moving *backwards* in time before."

"Well, I would say that it did happen tonight." Deirdre stopped within sight of the monastery. "The question then, is, how do we get you back?"

"I don't know," Giles said heavily. "Return to the stones? But I would think people wander through them every day, and not all of them go missing."

"But it was a holy night tonight. Perhaps the door opens briefly... but if you step through again, will you go back farther? Or return to your own time?" She sighed in frustration. "I wish I knew what to do! Henry was the one who guided me. I've missed him dreadfully."

"How did he... die?"

"As you'd expect," she said shortly. "One of the demons found him and murdered him." In the hard words was a wealth of pain. "I hate them!" she said fiercely. "They maim everything they touch, polluting and desecrating what they cannot simply tear limb from limb. I wish...."

"You wish that you were not the Slayer, that you did not have to know that such things existed, that it was not your duty to fight every creature that threatens what you know and love," Giles said quietly.

"Aye." Tears stood in her eyes. "I want to marry and have children and grow old... Liam can't understand why I refused him, and I dare not explain. But how can I put him in danger?"

Giles was at an awkward loss for words. Before his helpless silence dragged and became obvious, Deirdre took a deep breath and favored him with a strained smile. "Well, it cannot be helped, then. I am the Slayer. It is my duty and my fate, and no tears will change it. I will do what I must. Come, we must get you inside, even if few vampires are out tonight. They loathe Midsummer's violently. The shortest night of the year offends their sensibilities. Father Ambros will make you welcome, and Brother Rugh will make sure that you took no lasting harm."

They walked along a few more steps before Deirdre spoke again. "Aine will dearly love to speak with you. He is fiercely hungry for knowledge of the outside world." Deirdre sighed again, with regret. "'Tis irony that he should best find freedom within cloistered walls. He should be in Dublin or Oxford. But even if the entire village gave up their savings, we would have not a tenth of what he would need to study in such places." She smiled fondly. "Aine is Liam's brother, and a dearer, kinder boy I've never known. If you feel he is plaguing you unduly, tell him to go away. Curiosity will be the death of him someday."

By that point they had reached the small gate that connected the monastery with the outside world. Deirdre rang the bell that hung beside the wooden door, and within a few moments, it opened to reveal a tall, gaunt looking man. "Brother Rugh!" Deirdre exclaimed in relief. "Just the one we needed! I found this traveler in the dance. Perhaps thieves set on him. Regardless, he is dazed and in need of shelter."

"My good man." The tall monk had a surprisingly mellow voice. He came around Giles' other side and supported him. "Come with me."

Within short order, Giles found himself examined and pronounced in fit health. A bowl of hearty broth and a hunk of brown bread took the edge off his hunger. Deirdre bid him a good night and returned to her family's home, promising to return the next day. Giles was given a bunk in an empty cell. Weary with the day's events, he immediately fell into a deep sleep.

The sleep was broken a few hours later by a mild commotion. Giles stumbled out of his cell, putting his glasses on and looking blearily about. "What's the matter?"

"There is a band of travelers outside seeking shelter from the night," Brother Rugh told him. "Five men and one woman. From their speech, I would say they are aristocrats and French."

"But why the commotion?" Giles' question was answered by Father Ambros' quiet declaration.

"She is a female and she may very well be as ungodly as the rest of the French. But she is still a traveler in seek of shelter. Brother Fegin, let them in."

One by one, the sumptuously caped and shod men filed in through the narrow door. Without exception, they were young and Adonis-like. Following them was a woman whose velvet hood shielded her face. She stepped into the circle of torchlight and moved unerringly to the abbot.

"Thank you most kindly for your hospitality. We are grateful that you allowed us to rest our weary bones in your house. And if there is any way that we can repay you, I would seek most strenuously to discover it."

Even before the woman lowered her hood to reveal sleekly styled blond hair and a delicate face, Giles recognized the voice. "Dear Lord. Darla!"


* * *
"Vampires have been drawn here since before my birth," Deirdre explained. She had returned the monastery as soon as the sun rose, dragging Giles away before he had even had a chance to reach the communal dining room for a morning meal. To compensate, she had brought fresh-baked bread and sweet butter. The morning had dawned with a glory to hurt the eyes, cloudless and shining. Giles and Deirdre occupied the monastery garden, sitting on wooden benches and letting the sunlight pour over them.

"The stones," Giles hazarded a guess.

Deirdre nodded. "Aye. They seek to harness the power there for themselves. And, as we discovered last night, they might very well be a portal between different times. Imagine if a vampire had that kind of power."

"If it is all the same to you, I'd rather not." Giles shuddered. "We must prevent them from controlling it."

"I've been trying," Deirdre said impatiently.

"But you are only one, even though you are the Slayer," Giles put his hand on her shoulder in comfort. "No, we must find a way to keep the power from their hands -- permanently. Speaking of which, we have some visitors in the monastery today. One of whom I recognized. Her name is Darla, and I doubt we shall see her out in the sunlight."

"Are you sure she was a vampire?" Deirdre asked urgently. Giles' words shattered Deirdre's peace, as his sleep had been shattered by Darla's appearance the night before.

"Believe me, I know her quite well. She nearly tore my throat out once," Giles shuddered in memory, rubbing the area in question.

With a frustrated sound, Deirdre pushed to her feet and began pacing amidst the rows of cabbages and potatoes. "What incredible gall! To take rooms in a house of God! They will die for it," Deirdre muttered darkly.

"Darla is very old and very powerful," Giles warned her. "And I would assume that her traveling companions are her progeny, willing to defend her to their deaths, if need be."

"And I'm willing to defend me and mine --" Deirdre focused her gaze over Giles shoulder and cut herself off quickly. "Aine! So you do know the way out of the scriptorium!"

"Once in awhile, Brother Colm pushes me out for my own good," a humorous voice returned. "I was told that you were in the garden with the visitor from England, and so I thought I'd come beg an introduction."

Despite the brilliant sunlight, Giles felt very, very cold. The voice was warm and husky with laughter and love. And most unmistakable.

Deirdre led the young man in a monk's robe to where Giles sat. Dark hair, long enough to nearly be considered shaggy, covered the untonsured head, declaring him to be a novice, rather than a monk. And the face...

"Giles, please meet my childhood playmate Aine. He has yet to forgive his mother for naming him Aingeal, so woe befall anyone who calls him by his full name."

"Or you could simply call me by the name I shall be known by when I take my vows. Brother Angelus, at your service, sir." The man who would be the vampire Giles knew as Angel bowed, with a courtly grace that would have been amusing in his monk's robes if Giles was capable of amusement.

"I'm... ah, pleased, of course... do forgive me." Giles rose, swaying on his feet. "If you will excuse me..."

"Are you ill?" Deirdre asked. "You've gone white. Shall I call Brother Rugh?" She took one arm to support him, while Angel... Aine... Angelus took the other.

"No, I... merely need to rest for a moment. I think I shall... yes..."

Without thinking, Giles found his way to the chapel. He was not a religious man by habit or inclination. His knowledge of the world's darkest creatures tended to make him look at Christianity's God of Love and Hope with a rather jaundiced eye. But the chapel had silence and peace, things he desperately needed.

One monk knelt on the stone floor, telling his beads. Giles ignored him, sinking down onto the front pew, staring without seeing at the flicking light of the Presence. What should he do? What *could* he do? He could tell Deirdre what he knew, all of it. That her Aine was destined to become a vampire. And she would, without a doubt, destroy Darla or die trying. They would be striking a blow to the dark ones to do it, to rescue one soul from the demons.

And Buffy would die in 1997 at the hands of the Vessel, without Angel's cross to save her. She would die when the Three set upon her, without Angel to defend her. She might have walked blindly into the Master's trap, without the Codex to lend its dubious guidance, from Angel's hand.

Or would she? It was all very confusing. Giles knew what *would* happen, should events go forward as planned. But if he changed them, if he revealed his foreknowledge, could he alter history?

"Mr. Giles. Deirdre told me I could find you here."

It was the abbot, Father Ambros. Giles turned to face him. "I... can I be of service?"

"Perhaps I can." With a nod, the abbot indicated that the watching monk should leave. When they were alone, Father Ambros moved forward. He genuflected and sat beside Giles on the pew. "You should know that Deirdre has long since confided in me about her calling," he began calmly.

"I... see."

"She has told me of many fantastic things. Not the least being about a man who came through the stones to aid her."

"Deirdre is... talkative."

"Deirdre is very lonely, and very alone," the abbot said quietly. "When Henry was killed, she had no one but me to guide her. And, simple man that I am, could only offer support and love." Father Ambros spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Henry was my friend. Although he came here to guide Deirdre, he became a part of our community, despite being English. He is sorely missed."

For long moments, the hissing of the flames in the candles was the only sound. "Father Ambros... if I felt that I could stop a tragedy from occurring, if I thought I could change fate...."

The father leaned forward, watching the face of the crucifix before them. "God gave men -- and women -- free will, to exercise as they see fit."

Such simple faith. And so easily betrayed. Giles turned once to look back at the face of the suffering Christ on the Cross behind him. "It's Angel... Angelus. Darla will take him. Soon, if I'm any judge."

The hiss of indrawn breath was loud in the chapel's silence. "Don't tell Deirdre," Father Ambros said finally, wearily. "She's like to act before thinking. If she dies... then we are all in terrible danger."

"But... if she *could* kill Darla, if we stop her from turning Angel --"

"Then she's like to die at the hands of the others," Father Ambros said. "I know the girl. Before Henry died, she accepted it as her duty to kill the creatures who came here, who threatened her home, her family, her friends. But since Henry's death... it is a bitterness that has grown stronger in her. Hatred blinds her, blunts her. I love her dearly," the abbot said emphatically. "I baptized her as an infant, watched her grown into a strong and beautiful woman, hoped that I would preside at her marriage to her beloved. But if she is to fulfill her destiny, she must not let rash emotion destroy her."

"But the consequences could, literally, be deadly," Giles argued. "Worse. There's another girl, another Slayer, whose fate it was -- is -- to prevent Hell on Earth. If I act now to prevent one demon from rising, I might destroy any chance she would have of succeeding."

Father Ambros rose, putting one hand on Giles' shoulder. "I cannot advise you. All I can tell you is follow your conscience -- and forgive yourself for whichever decision you make. Come. We must find a way to prevent anyone from using the power of the stones for evil."

Giles got to his feet before the words registered. "We?"

"Of course." The abbot smiled. "Surely between a Watcher, a Slayer and a man of God, we shall prevail?"

"I'm afraid I do not share your optimism," Giles said heavily. He paused, torn. "I led one Slayer into her destiny blindly. I cannot do the same to another."

"As you will," the abbot said quietly. "But might I suggest you wait until we have bound the stones? We shall need her full attention for that."

It was still early. The sun was barely above the horizon. They had until nightfall to deal with the vampires who had made their unholy lair in a holy place. Giles nodded. "I will."


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