The Void of Absence

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Giles runs into more evidence that he needs to try harder not to be an anti-demon bigot.
Word Count: 725
Rating: Teen
Warning: Matter-of-fact, not in-depth mention of the abuse and Xander's PTSD from Last Man's Dead.

          Giles resists the urge to swear.  He’s attempting to be a better role model for the children, but it feels like he’s barely gone to sleep, and the phone’s ringing.  He manages to make his way downstairs, fumbling with his glasses.  “Hello?”
          “Hello, Giles?  Is Xander there?”  It’s Sullivan, and she sounds rather worried.  And for good reason.  The boy might be half-devil, but he keeps his word, and from what Buffy had said he’d become attached to the little girl.  He wouldn’t just abandon her, or a job.
          “I’m afraid he is not.”  He keeps the panicking to a controlled minimum.  “He left for the safehouse some time ago.”
          “You had better not be lying,” she warns, and Giles sighs.
          “I might be a little prejudiced, but I am not a monster.  I wouldn’t lie about that.”  Though admittedly, he feels less and less certain about that the more he interacts with the boy.  He might not act human, but there is something so very human about his heart.  “I will endeavor to find a useful spell, but I don’t feel like we will manage to find him.”
          “You think the cult took him.”  Sullivan sounds resigned, presumably because the thought had also crossed her mind.  “Supposedly they couldn’t see him do the thing he does with the shadows.”
          “Mara are primarily a mental opponent, in Buddhist tradition, and based on the research I’ve done on Pashran an immature one could not cover the entire distance.”  He will soon have spent more time casting spells than he’s done in some twenty-odd years.
          “So…one of them probably sensed him, mentally, and snatched him up along the way.”  She’s not bad, as a detective.
          And then an idea occurs to him.  Fae were famous for being protectors of children (when they weren’t abducting them to live a Peter Pan life, of course).  Even teenagers probably count.  “I may have an idea of how to proceed, but I’m not sure if they will agree to help.”  Or whether they’ll want to be caught up in the conflict again.
          “I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but you’re more alike than you know.”  Sullivan sounds resigned.  “The girl woke up and wants to know what’s going on.  She got really attached.  I’ll go tell her there’s nothing to worry about; we don’t need them showing weakness during the court case.”
          “I have some calls of my own to make.”  No need to wake the children, not yet.
          “You do that,” she responds. 
          He’s barely hung up before there’s another call, and he seizes it only to discover it’s Sullivan again, not the boy.  “I know how they might have got him, and I really didn’t want to tell you of all people because of your attitude toward him, but it might be relevant…”
          “Officer Sullivan, please.”  They’ll get nowhere with hysterics.
          He can feel the glare through the phone, her accusations of being insensitive.  “Abuse.  There’s probably a long history of it in his past.”
          There are very few times that he feels directly humbled.  This is one of them.  “I never dreamed…”  He has a sudden new appreciation for the boy’s self-control.  This had been happening for so many years, and only about a year ago (he admits to the eavesdropping) had he taken his devil form for the first time, most likely due to an incident that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  His friend, Willow, had come looking for him, and he had fled.  Rather than despising the world or hating humanity, he had chosen to help them. 
          “You should have.  You were a high school librarian.”  Yes, he really should have, but he hadn’t felt like looking.  “I think they were already affecting him on our way here.  I’m not sure if familiarity with his psyche made him easier to find…”  Point already taken, Miss Sullivan. 
          “Most likely.”  He’ll have to decide on a worthwhile apology for the boy.  He will not be able to simply stop treating him with annoyance; their personalities are too different, despite Sullivan’s assertion.  But he can manage to temper that with respect, a certain fondness.  Words will be too small.  A gesture of some kind.  “You were right.  I plan on changing what I can.”
          “It’s something I suppose.”  From there, she’s gone, actually gone.