ashthedrabble | Two more Challenge 14 responses.

These two actually follow the same 'confrontation' and are set only moments apart.

Title: The Monster Under the Bed (Part of the Days of Blood and Wine series)
Author: Always_jbj
Prompt: Confrontation
Characters: Giles
Word count: 200
Rating: G

Please Note: This series is interwoven with my Spuffy fic Duty Bound and for this reason there are some installments where for the purpose of continuity the text or part thereof is taken directly from Duty Bound

Days of Blood and Wine series can be read in chronological order HERE or from the Prompts table HERE

The Monster Under the Bed

There wasn’t a great deal in this world that had the ability to scare him; not since his tenth birthday when his father had sat him down and explained ‘the family business’ to him.

He could list on one hand those things that filled his heart with terror and would drive him gasping, drenched in sweat, from slumber. Losing someone he loved was highest on his list, especially if the method of loss was—unnatural. Becoming the very thing he’d spent more than half his life battling was not far below that. Both of these fears he confronted on a daily basis. Every time he sent Buffy on a mission he risked losing the slayer who’d come to mean so much more to him than a mere charge; she was the daughter that, with Jenny’s loss, he firmly believed he’d never have. Every time he accompanied his slayer, or simply stepped foot out of doors after dark he faced the other.

Now he drew a deep, calming breath, his fingers trembling as he made last minute adjustments to the strings. His heart hammered in his chest as he walked towards the stage and prepared to confront his last remaining fear.

Title: Somewhere South of Heaven (Part of the Days of Blood and Wine series)
Author: Always_jbj
Prompt: Confrontation
Characters: Giles/Ethan
Word count: 500
Rating: G

Please Note: This series is interwoven with my Spuffy fic Duty Bound and for this reason there are some installments where for the purpose of continuity the text or part thereof is taken directly from Duty Bound

Days of Blood and Wine series can be read in chronological order HERE or from the Prompts table HERE

Somewhere South of Heaven

Smoke hung thickly in the air, lending a surreal quality, which was both comforting and protective, to the night. Whatever happened here this night wasn’t real… wasn’t him… it didn’t belong to the life he had carved for himself here in this foreign land—a land that, strangely, felt more like home of late than did his own native soil. The respect, admiration and, dare he say, affection he had earned in his tenure here remained unthreatened; his anonymity preserved by the dim lighting, beer fumes and stale, stagnant air of the seedy little club. With his newly-realised cloak of obscurity bolstering his confidence he stepped forward, taking his place on the rickety stool. He squinted slightly in compensation for the ever-present glasses his ego had declined tonight; their absence was a dual-edged sword as he glanced surreptitiously around him. The expected blurriness combined with the smoke that saturated the room, furthering the illusion of remoteness and creating a safe barrier between himself and the room’s less than hospitable patrons, while at the same time the vulnerability that came with the lack of vision—of control—dredged up early memories, long buried and forgotten. Memories of a small boy, teased and tormented in the playground for his clumsiness, disadvantaged by his lack of size as the larger lads descended on him like a pack of hungry vultures.

With a frustrated shake of his head he shrugged off the horror of childhood traumas long since outgrown and applied himself to the here and now. One hand idly caressed the smooth, silken body of the instrument as he automatically checked strings and tension, a task he’d performed countless times over the years and the simple, familiar routine drove away the last vestiges of nervousness as he gave himself over to the joy and freedom of the music.

As his set came to an end, the last chords resonating in the air around him, he lifted his head. Gazing once more around the smoke-filled room, his eyes came to rest on the lone figure in the back corner. His heart leapt as the figure came into focus with unprecedented clarity despite the weariness of overstrained eyes and the murky gloom that separated them. Brown eyes gleamed proudly and a gentle, supportive smile curved soft, lush lips. With a slight incline of his head the listener signalled his approval of a job well done. The too-familiar face with its sharp cheekbones and fine, almost beautiful features was unmarred by the ravages of time; it displayed none of the lines that mapped its journey through this life—lines that he knew now marked the once-beloved face. Giles blinked, clearing his vision. As the phantom dissolved he sighed and made his way down from the tiny stage. A deep sense of sorrow engulfed him for a moment, before his lips twisted fractionally into a poignant smile as a voice echoed in his head. ‘Good show, old man.’

“Thank you, Ethan,” he whispered to the ether.