Halfway There, Chapters 43 to 49
Sep. 29th, 2010 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indriSUMMARY: What happened to Giles in Season Seven?
SPOILERS: For almost all of the televised Buffy and Angel. Guaranteed free of spoilers from the comics, as I haven't read them.
RATING: PG13 for adult themes and violence.
WRITTEN: Begun September 2004, recommenced September 2009, largely completed October 2009.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Some dialogue is quoted or closely paraphrased from "Lie to Me" and "Restless" by Joss Whedon, "A New Man" and "Storyteller" by Jane Espenson, "Bring on the Night" by Marti Noxon and Douglas Petrie, "Lies My Parents Told Me" by David Fury and Drew Goddard, and "Dirty Girls" by Drew Goddard. Thanks to my beta readers, peasant_, shapinglight and revdorothyl.
43. Nachos
The exodus from Sunnydale begins the next day. Giles takes a look at the traffic jams out of the city and cancels the flights he had for Kansas City and Des Moines. He won't get to the airport on time. Instead he joins Willow on a trip to the police station to get information on Caleb.
A violent, partying mood takes hold of those left in the town. Giles wanders through around lunchtime, watching the looters breaking into the liquor stores and electronics shops. He lifts a few bottles himself.
He spends the afternoon going through police files with Dawn, trying to keep the more graphic ones out of her way. He has a couple of beers and they share a plate of nachos. Together they work through unsolved murders, crimes of sexual violence against women, reported felonies conducted by members of the clergy, death cults...
"Look at this one!" says Dawn, finally finding a file that looks a little more innocuous. "Disappearing monks! They made me, I -- read about them disappearing!"
Giles wonders again about how the monks made Dawn. Did they stand over her crib, granting her the looks of Snow White and the linguistic skills of Constance Garnett?
He sends Spike and Andrew to the Garlic Capital of the World at Gilroy, to investigate the monks. Andrew's a distracting pest and Spike's able to smell when Giles is properly self-medicating.
Buffy comes home. She's bruised again, and tired again. Last night she didn't sleep -- again. She's had even less chance for a break than Giles has. If only she could have a day or two, to rest her mind. Or a stiff drink.
Instead, she's off to the Bronze to shout at Faith and the Potentials, and back again to shout at everyone else.
Giles realises she won't take a break of her own accord. So when the others decide to throw her out, Giles lets them.
Then the lights go out.
44. Mobile
It's like living in the squat again. No electricity, cold water only, people wandering in and out. A few people he knows really well and a bunch of others he couldn't pick out from a lineup. Pilfered food, sleeping bags everywhere, some surreptitious shagging. No-one's willing to admit that anyone else is in charge. And someone even suggested the bloody parliamentary procedure.
He measures out just enough alcohol to dull things but not enough to overwhelm. He takes it upstairs to sit on the porch roof, which is just about the only place he can get any privacy at the moment. Sitting there, he can see how the whole city's gone dark. There are the silhouettes of the buildings and then, the night sky. He laughs when he realises he's probably the only man left in Sunnydale over the age of thirty-five. Only he, wily Giles, persists.
At three a.m., Fake Ethan (or someone who actually has fingers) calls Giles on his mobile. "I have what you asked for," says Fake Ethan. "Where shall we meet?"
"Outside my old flat," Giles suggests. "Two o'clock."
45. Gin
The morning after Randall died, Giles had headed back to the squat. His memories of that morning are a little confused: there are clear images and snatches of dialogue, but it's hard for him to put them together in chronological order.
He remembers that his arm and shoulder ached terribly. He had trouble closing his fist. The kitchen cupboard smelt of mustard powder as he searched through Stan's stash, looking for painkillers or some forty-proof vodka.
Deirdre had poured them all gin and tonics, as if that would help at six a.m. in the morning. Then she'd sat on the filthy kitchen floor, drinking. She was wearing her black dress, the one with the lace sleeves, which was ripped and barely hanging from her. Her long hair stuck to the stains on the oven door.
She'd said, "We have to call Paul," but maybe that had been earlier, when she was still pouring the drinks. Paul was Randall's brother, whom Deidre had once been engaged to. Paul was a doctor, as all of Randall's family were. Deidre was one of those women specially bred to marry them.
Another time, she turned to Giles and said, with venom, "You killed Randall!"
Philip-the-new-guy had gone back to his flat. Tom was upstairs, packing his and Deidre's stuff. Except that Giles also remembers Philip standing there in the kitchen wearing a dressing-gown while Adrienne spoke in earnest. Tom came down with a suitcase and Deidre had screamed.
And he remembers Ethan, standing away from them all at the sink, running his hands under the tap. He'd burnt his hands extinguishing the spell candles, trying to dispell Eyghon. He was pale from the exhaustion of deliquesecing the corpse.
Giles remembers saying, in no order he can be sure of, "People go missing all the time, in London." "Somebody slap her." " "Eyghon killed Randall; I killed Eyghon." "A demon of that level of power won't remain dead."
It was not his finest hour.
46. Bottle
The power's not yet back on in the morning. He alone, among the members of the household, knows how to conjure hot water. And there's a standard haunting spell used to set off radios and record players that works perfectly well for other small electrical appliances. Behold: the miracle of tea and toast.
"Use up the cereal first," he hears himself saying, "before the milk goes off. I can't stay in all day to power the fridge."
"I can go and look for a generator," Xander offers.
"No, it's OK," says Willow. "I think I got it." There's the sound of the fridge powering up again.
"Serious juice, Willow," says Kennedy the Supportive Girlfriend.
Giles decides to walk to his rendezvous with the First. He takes a knife, just in case, but sees no-one on the way. The town is empty and largely intact. It's a sunny day in late spring, rather beautiful in fact, and it feels like the afterlife, or a town in a dream.
His route takes him past the mall where they defeated the Judge: the carpark's empty now. Down the road, past Party Town Costumes and the alleyway where Spike crashed Giles's Citroen, then on to the first location of the Magic Box. He passes the road to the docks, and another road that leads to UC-Sunnydale. He takes a shortcut through one of the graveyards, where the grass is lush and green and the headstones glitter in the sun. Past the Starbucks, the pig's-blood butcher, and Willy's Bar. Sunnydale's ice rink is to the left and Joyce's old gallery is to the right. Then it's up the hill towards his former home.
Fake Ethan's sitting on the top of the stairs leading up to the flats. A small, brown medicine bottle is next to him.
"Here's what you're after," says Fake Ethan. "First, she'll fall soundly asleep, and then the nerve agent will activate. There's no risk."
Giles takes a seat next to him and picks up the bottle. "You didn't think of anything else, then? This seems a little blunt. None of your usual cruel metaphorical logic."
"You asked for something that would do the job," says Fake Ethan. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?
"Oh no," says Giles. "In fact, I'm thinking of poisoning almost the entire household."
"Really?" asks Fake Ethan, studying Giles's expression.
Giles wonders how he could ever have mistaken this travesty for Ethan. Ethan was sadistic and self-centred, certainly, but where in this facsimile was his genuine pleasure in magic, his artistry or his rare moments of true generosity? If Ethan had been like this, Giles would never have given him more than the time of day.
Giles shrugs. "Well, we have practically an entire club for repentant villains back at the house at the moment." He considers. "I expect that irritates you quite a bit."
"Why?" asks Fake Ethan, "because I'm not a repentant villain?"
"Oh, I don't know," says Giles. "Last time you only turned me into a Fyarl, which is pretty mild for you these days. And not entirely undeserved. And then you hung around that fleabag hotel, waiting for me to turn up."
"I don't understand what you're getting at," says Fake Ethan.
"No," says Giles, "I don't expect you can."
Giles allows him a moment to consider what that would have been like, to have Ethan as part of the rogue's gallery of Revello Drive. It seems unlikely, but how much less so than Anya, or Spike? Then he shuts the thought down, as the possibility has gone.
"Well," says Fake Ethan. "I'd better be going. I still have quite a bit to do. I look forward to hearing the news from Jonestown."
Giles doesn't move from his seat on the steps as the Fake Ethan stands up. But he says, "People do get better, Ethan. Things change and it's often for the good."
Fake Ethan gives him an uncertain look.
"Be seeing you," says Giles.
47. Rug
The houses on either side of the Summers' have been abandoned. The Potentials take them over, glad to be out of the cramped quarters they've been in. Andrew and Dawn go with them, promising to scream very loudly if anything goes wrong.
Giles keeps watch as well, from the back porch of Revello Drive. He hopes he has bought them a day or two free from a direct assault from Caleb. Now he waits for Buffy.
Around two, he goes in to get a nightcap and almost trips over the obviously post-coital Xander and Anya lying under a rug. Xander's snoring heavily, his head pressed against her breast and shoulder.
Anya stirs. "It's the pain meds," she says, leaning up on her elbow, "they always make him snore."
"Couldn't you have found a room?"
"Where?" says Anya. "Willow and Kennedy are in Willow's room and Robin and Faith are in Buffy's. And the basement is damp and unattractive."
He steps into the kitchen to find mugs and glasses. He can hear her dressing behind him.
She comes through and watches him pour himself a cup of tea and a glass of scotch.
She says, "Giles, I've never told you this before, but I was once wished into a world where you and Buffy had never met."
"Oh," says Giles, startled.
"I think you should know that this world is better, for humans."
"Better how?"
"The Apocalypse started six years ago over there."
"Really?" He is genuinely pleased. He tears up a little and tries to hide it by fetching milk from the fridge.
"So," says Anya, "you made a difference! Go you!" And she punches him playfully on the arm.
"You want some of this scotch, don't you?"
"Hell, yes," she says.
48. Toast
The next morning, Faith takes the Potentials on a mission to a sewer tunnel, most likely imperilling all their lives. Buffy still isn't back yet, a fact that's starting to worry Giles despite himself.
He spends the morning sifting through more police records, sewer maps, accounts of incorporeal evils, books on serial killers and mad priests through the ages. He eats as he works, pausing for a moment to savour the simple pleasure of toast.
No wonder the First's psychotic. Existing for millennia watching people eat foods like hot buttered toast.
It's a bit of a disaster when the Potentials return. One is dead, many have been injured, and Faith is unconscious. He helps with the triage of the Potentials, and with Xander he caries Faith upstairs.
But then there's Buffy, returned to them, looking well-rested and carrying a--
"It's a scythe," she says, twirling it experimentally in the confines of Willow's bedroom. It's clearly a polearm, of course, most obviously prefiguring the voulge or the glaive-guisarme, but she seems determined to call it a scythe. He supposes the term's catchier and has all those Reaper connotations.
"Buffy," he says, as she continues to put the Scythe through its paces, "I think I may have found a, a vulnerability in the First, a lead of a sort."
She holds the Scythe still and suddenly turns very attentive.
"I've been thinking about the various manifestations of the First which we've encountered. It's everlasting and indestructible and very cunning but I, I think now it can be defeated."
"Tell me how."
He shakes his head. "I don't know exactly, but I do know that it's limited. It understands anger and hatred and some aspects of loneliness and grief, but it doesn't understand the more generous of our emotions and impulses; it can only ape them. If it did understand, it couldn't be what it is. We need to surprise it with a motivation that would never occur to it."
She puts the Scythe down and embraces him. "Now that sounds more like the Giles I know."
"I'm sorry, Buffy. It's been a terribly long year, even among the terribly long years we've had before."
"Tell me about it," she says.
"Ah," says Giles, "perhaps not quite at this moment."
49. Sodas
The day after next, Buffy and Willow change the world. Buffy shares her power and a generation of Slayers find their new strength. Spike kills all of those Turok-Han after all, with the help of a magical amulet that Angel brought.
The activation of so many Slayers simultaneously will have ramifications both mystical and practical that Giles is certain none of them can foresee, and he's inclined to question Angel's motives, but today is not the day to say so.
When the dust settles, Spike is dead, and Anya is dead, and so are half a dozen Potentials-turned-Slayers, who came all too briefly into their powers. Amanda is one of them.
Now Giles has two dozen wounded superheroes healing super-fast in the back of a school bus: Kennedy, Vi, Chao-Ahn, Rona, Caridad and all the others. They're already starting to demand showers, hot snacks, and cool, refreshing sodas.
His adrenaline high is wearing off and his muscles are starting to ache.
And the Hellmouth is gone. With Buffy, Willow and Xander, he stares into its filled maw. They've been unchained.
The undefeatable has been defeated. Good has triumphed because it is good. Things which he had once thought were as immutable as the sun's rise and set have been changed.
He looks over to where Buffy stands on the lip of the former Hellmouth.
And she smiles.
SPOILERS: For almost all of the televised Buffy and Angel. Guaranteed free of spoilers from the comics, as I haven't read them.
RATING: PG13 for adult themes and violence.
WRITTEN: Begun September 2004, recommenced September 2009, largely completed October 2009.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Some dialogue is quoted or closely paraphrased from "Lie to Me" and "Restless" by Joss Whedon, "A New Man" and "Storyteller" by Jane Espenson, "Bring on the Night" by Marti Noxon and Douglas Petrie, "Lies My Parents Told Me" by David Fury and Drew Goddard, and "Dirty Girls" by Drew Goddard. Thanks to my beta readers, peasant_, shapinglight and revdorothyl.
43. Nachos
The exodus from Sunnydale begins the next day. Giles takes a look at the traffic jams out of the city and cancels the flights he had for Kansas City and Des Moines. He won't get to the airport on time. Instead he joins Willow on a trip to the police station to get information on Caleb.
A violent, partying mood takes hold of those left in the town. Giles wanders through around lunchtime, watching the looters breaking into the liquor stores and electronics shops. He lifts a few bottles himself.
He spends the afternoon going through police files with Dawn, trying to keep the more graphic ones out of her way. He has a couple of beers and they share a plate of nachos. Together they work through unsolved murders, crimes of sexual violence against women, reported felonies conducted by members of the clergy, death cults...
"Look at this one!" says Dawn, finally finding a file that looks a little more innocuous. "Disappearing monks! They made me, I -- read about them disappearing!"
Giles wonders again about how the monks made Dawn. Did they stand over her crib, granting her the looks of Snow White and the linguistic skills of Constance Garnett?
He sends Spike and Andrew to the Garlic Capital of the World at Gilroy, to investigate the monks. Andrew's a distracting pest and Spike's able to smell when Giles is properly self-medicating.
Buffy comes home. She's bruised again, and tired again. Last night she didn't sleep -- again. She's had even less chance for a break than Giles has. If only she could have a day or two, to rest her mind. Or a stiff drink.
Instead, she's off to the Bronze to shout at Faith and the Potentials, and back again to shout at everyone else.
Giles realises she won't take a break of her own accord. So when the others decide to throw her out, Giles lets them.
Then the lights go out.
44. Mobile
It's like living in the squat again. No electricity, cold water only, people wandering in and out. A few people he knows really well and a bunch of others he couldn't pick out from a lineup. Pilfered food, sleeping bags everywhere, some surreptitious shagging. No-one's willing to admit that anyone else is in charge. And someone even suggested the bloody parliamentary procedure.
He measures out just enough alcohol to dull things but not enough to overwhelm. He takes it upstairs to sit on the porch roof, which is just about the only place he can get any privacy at the moment. Sitting there, he can see how the whole city's gone dark. There are the silhouettes of the buildings and then, the night sky. He laughs when he realises he's probably the only man left in Sunnydale over the age of thirty-five. Only he, wily Giles, persists.
At three a.m., Fake Ethan (or someone who actually has fingers) calls Giles on his mobile. "I have what you asked for," says Fake Ethan. "Where shall we meet?"
"Outside my old flat," Giles suggests. "Two o'clock."
45. Gin
The morning after Randall died, Giles had headed back to the squat. His memories of that morning are a little confused: there are clear images and snatches of dialogue, but it's hard for him to put them together in chronological order.
He remembers that his arm and shoulder ached terribly. He had trouble closing his fist. The kitchen cupboard smelt of mustard powder as he searched through Stan's stash, looking for painkillers or some forty-proof vodka.
Deirdre had poured them all gin and tonics, as if that would help at six a.m. in the morning. Then she'd sat on the filthy kitchen floor, drinking. She was wearing her black dress, the one with the lace sleeves, which was ripped and barely hanging from her. Her long hair stuck to the stains on the oven door.
She'd said, "We have to call Paul," but maybe that had been earlier, when she was still pouring the drinks. Paul was Randall's brother, whom Deidre had once been engaged to. Paul was a doctor, as all of Randall's family were. Deidre was one of those women specially bred to marry them.
Another time, she turned to Giles and said, with venom, "You killed Randall!"
Philip-the-new-guy had gone back to his flat. Tom was upstairs, packing his and Deidre's stuff. Except that Giles also remembers Philip standing there in the kitchen wearing a dressing-gown while Adrienne spoke in earnest. Tom came down with a suitcase and Deidre had screamed.
And he remembers Ethan, standing away from them all at the sink, running his hands under the tap. He'd burnt his hands extinguishing the spell candles, trying to dispell Eyghon. He was pale from the exhaustion of deliquesecing the corpse.
Giles remembers saying, in no order he can be sure of, "People go missing all the time, in London." "Somebody slap her." " "Eyghon killed Randall; I killed Eyghon." "A demon of that level of power won't remain dead."
It was not his finest hour.
46. Bottle
The power's not yet back on in the morning. He alone, among the members of the household, knows how to conjure hot water. And there's a standard haunting spell used to set off radios and record players that works perfectly well for other small electrical appliances. Behold: the miracle of tea and toast.
"Use up the cereal first," he hears himself saying, "before the milk goes off. I can't stay in all day to power the fridge."
"I can go and look for a generator," Xander offers.
"No, it's OK," says Willow. "I think I got it." There's the sound of the fridge powering up again.
"Serious juice, Willow," says Kennedy the Supportive Girlfriend.
Giles decides to walk to his rendezvous with the First. He takes a knife, just in case, but sees no-one on the way. The town is empty and largely intact. It's a sunny day in late spring, rather beautiful in fact, and it feels like the afterlife, or a town in a dream.
His route takes him past the mall where they defeated the Judge: the carpark's empty now. Down the road, past Party Town Costumes and the alleyway where Spike crashed Giles's Citroen, then on to the first location of the Magic Box. He passes the road to the docks, and another road that leads to UC-Sunnydale. He takes a shortcut through one of the graveyards, where the grass is lush and green and the headstones glitter in the sun. Past the Starbucks, the pig's-blood butcher, and Willy's Bar. Sunnydale's ice rink is to the left and Joyce's old gallery is to the right. Then it's up the hill towards his former home.
Fake Ethan's sitting on the top of the stairs leading up to the flats. A small, brown medicine bottle is next to him.
"Here's what you're after," says Fake Ethan. "First, she'll fall soundly asleep, and then the nerve agent will activate. There's no risk."
Giles takes a seat next to him and picks up the bottle. "You didn't think of anything else, then? This seems a little blunt. None of your usual cruel metaphorical logic."
"You asked for something that would do the job," says Fake Ethan. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?
"Oh no," says Giles. "In fact, I'm thinking of poisoning almost the entire household."
"Really?" asks Fake Ethan, studying Giles's expression.
Giles wonders how he could ever have mistaken this travesty for Ethan. Ethan was sadistic and self-centred, certainly, but where in this facsimile was his genuine pleasure in magic, his artistry or his rare moments of true generosity? If Ethan had been like this, Giles would never have given him more than the time of day.
Giles shrugs. "Well, we have practically an entire club for repentant villains back at the house at the moment." He considers. "I expect that irritates you quite a bit."
"Why?" asks Fake Ethan, "because I'm not a repentant villain?"
"Oh, I don't know," says Giles. "Last time you only turned me into a Fyarl, which is pretty mild for you these days. And not entirely undeserved. And then you hung around that fleabag hotel, waiting for me to turn up."
"I don't understand what you're getting at," says Fake Ethan.
"No," says Giles, "I don't expect you can."
Giles allows him a moment to consider what that would have been like, to have Ethan as part of the rogue's gallery of Revello Drive. It seems unlikely, but how much less so than Anya, or Spike? Then he shuts the thought down, as the possibility has gone.
"Well," says Fake Ethan. "I'd better be going. I still have quite a bit to do. I look forward to hearing the news from Jonestown."
Giles doesn't move from his seat on the steps as the Fake Ethan stands up. But he says, "People do get better, Ethan. Things change and it's often for the good."
Fake Ethan gives him an uncertain look.
"Be seeing you," says Giles.
47. Rug
The houses on either side of the Summers' have been abandoned. The Potentials take them over, glad to be out of the cramped quarters they've been in. Andrew and Dawn go with them, promising to scream very loudly if anything goes wrong.
Giles keeps watch as well, from the back porch of Revello Drive. He hopes he has bought them a day or two free from a direct assault from Caleb. Now he waits for Buffy.
Around two, he goes in to get a nightcap and almost trips over the obviously post-coital Xander and Anya lying under a rug. Xander's snoring heavily, his head pressed against her breast and shoulder.
Anya stirs. "It's the pain meds," she says, leaning up on her elbow, "they always make him snore."
"Couldn't you have found a room?"
"Where?" says Anya. "Willow and Kennedy are in Willow's room and Robin and Faith are in Buffy's. And the basement is damp and unattractive."
He steps into the kitchen to find mugs and glasses. He can hear her dressing behind him.
She comes through and watches him pour himself a cup of tea and a glass of scotch.
She says, "Giles, I've never told you this before, but I was once wished into a world where you and Buffy had never met."
"Oh," says Giles, startled.
"I think you should know that this world is better, for humans."
"Better how?"
"The Apocalypse started six years ago over there."
"Really?" He is genuinely pleased. He tears up a little and tries to hide it by fetching milk from the fridge.
"So," says Anya, "you made a difference! Go you!" And she punches him playfully on the arm.
"You want some of this scotch, don't you?"
"Hell, yes," she says.
48. Toast
The next morning, Faith takes the Potentials on a mission to a sewer tunnel, most likely imperilling all their lives. Buffy still isn't back yet, a fact that's starting to worry Giles despite himself.
He spends the morning sifting through more police records, sewer maps, accounts of incorporeal evils, books on serial killers and mad priests through the ages. He eats as he works, pausing for a moment to savour the simple pleasure of toast.
No wonder the First's psychotic. Existing for millennia watching people eat foods like hot buttered toast.
It's a bit of a disaster when the Potentials return. One is dead, many have been injured, and Faith is unconscious. He helps with the triage of the Potentials, and with Xander he caries Faith upstairs.
But then there's Buffy, returned to them, looking well-rested and carrying a--
"It's a scythe," she says, twirling it experimentally in the confines of Willow's bedroom. It's clearly a polearm, of course, most obviously prefiguring the voulge or the glaive-guisarme, but she seems determined to call it a scythe. He supposes the term's catchier and has all those Reaper connotations.
"Buffy," he says, as she continues to put the Scythe through its paces, "I think I may have found a, a vulnerability in the First, a lead of a sort."
She holds the Scythe still and suddenly turns very attentive.
"I've been thinking about the various manifestations of the First which we've encountered. It's everlasting and indestructible and very cunning but I, I think now it can be defeated."
"Tell me how."
He shakes his head. "I don't know exactly, but I do know that it's limited. It understands anger and hatred and some aspects of loneliness and grief, but it doesn't understand the more generous of our emotions and impulses; it can only ape them. If it did understand, it couldn't be what it is. We need to surprise it with a motivation that would never occur to it."
She puts the Scythe down and embraces him. "Now that sounds more like the Giles I know."
"I'm sorry, Buffy. It's been a terribly long year, even among the terribly long years we've had before."
"Tell me about it," she says.
"Ah," says Giles, "perhaps not quite at this moment."
49. Sodas
The day after next, Buffy and Willow change the world. Buffy shares her power and a generation of Slayers find their new strength. Spike kills all of those Turok-Han after all, with the help of a magical amulet that Angel brought.
The activation of so many Slayers simultaneously will have ramifications both mystical and practical that Giles is certain none of them can foresee, and he's inclined to question Angel's motives, but today is not the day to say so.
When the dust settles, Spike is dead, and Anya is dead, and so are half a dozen Potentials-turned-Slayers, who came all too briefly into their powers. Amanda is one of them.
Now Giles has two dozen wounded superheroes healing super-fast in the back of a school bus: Kennedy, Vi, Chao-Ahn, Rona, Caridad and all the others. They're already starting to demand showers, hot snacks, and cool, refreshing sodas.
His adrenaline high is wearing off and his muscles are starting to ache.
And the Hellmouth is gone. With Buffy, Willow and Xander, he stares into its filled maw. They've been unchained.
The undefeatable has been defeated. Good has triumphed because it is good. Things which he had once thought were as immutable as the sun's rise and set have been changed.
He looks over to where Buffy stands on the lip of the former Hellmouth.
And she smiles.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-17 09:51 pm (UTC)Wonderful, wonderful stuff.