My Father

Giles was on his way to see Ethan and he was thinking about his father. Wondering whether his father would understand. He usually did. Still, it felt like betrayal.

Those ‘lost’ years Giles had, when his father was at a loss as to what to do for, or to him. To bring him back. Giles felt unsure, himself, at this late date, as to why he was such the proverbial angry young man. Fear, he thought was the best guess. Afraid of being drawn into Watcher tradition of his family. Fear of failing at it; fear of succeeding at it and have it be his whole life, like it was that of his father.

As in the way of most parents, Giles’ own put a lot of the blame of what was wrong with their child on the people he associated with. Some evil strong-minded magician led their little lamb astray. And they were right, at least, in the fact that Ethan was a magician. Well, a neophyte one, then. But there was a lot of mutual leading off the beaten track between them.

It wasn’t until there was blood, real human blood, on his hands that Giles turned away from the life he started with Ethan. He’d promised when he came home that he wouldn’t see Ethan again. He hadn't much, up until now, and never voluntarily.

But Giles was going to need some help on a mission. Someone acquainted with demon haunts and demon gossip. Ethan would do nicely. Giles hoped his father, should he be in a position to notice, would approve.