Chapter Two.

Deserts, Demons and Parasites

Gods, this was harrowing. I really didn't think this chapter would be as hard to write as it turned out to be. After all, I'd already put Giles through hell; it was only after I'd dug a little deeper into my research that I realised getting him through the aftermath of that experience was going to have to be equally traumatic. At the start of this chapter, what little progress towards recovery he might have been making has been shattered by the situation he finds himself in. His mental state is - as Buffy says - a little fragile; he is clearly suffering from symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is commonly characterised by recurring and intrusive thoughts and images, avoidance behaviour, and disordered arousal. (That's mood swings, irritability, or difficulty sleeping, in case you were wondering!). He is equally struggling with his sense of self worth - never an easy thing for victims of abuse to come to terms with (displaced guilt is a common symptom in such cases, the victim often needing to believe there has to be something wrong with them, in order to rationalise their experiences). In his case, the struggle is constantly underpinned by the physical changes he can neither escape, nor deny; his tenure among the nobility of hell may only be a technicality - but he is a demon, and desperately uncertain of what that actually means.

And then there is the little matter of a dead child ...

Extreme situations generate extreme solutions; history records soldiers who have shot their comrades and mothers who have killed their own children in order to prevent them from being taken by the enemy. It can certainly be argued that a merciful death is preferable to one prolonged by rape and torture, but that doesn't make it an easy choice, or any easier to live with afterwards. In Malador, Giles was forced to make exactly that choice, driven to it by unbearable circumstance. No matter what he did, the fate of Marie Ann would have haunted him; he chose mercy over conscience, a peaceful release over pain and torment - and will probably carry the weight of that choice for the rest of his life. When he chose to end Ben's life it was a measured, rational decision, based on what he believed to be a necessity for the greater good. That didn't make it easy, but, as Buffy says, Ben was business.

Marie Ann was personal.

His sense of guilt and his struggle against despondency clearly conspire against him; Sky's initial suspicion that they've arrested Angela's murderer is supported by his behaviour under questioning. Everyone else in the Station is convinced of it; the behaviour of the arresting officers is driven by outrage and horror. Not that that's much excuse for unprofessional brutality, but then anger isn't a rational emotion either. Fortunately for Giles - and the story - Sky has sufficient doubts to question her initial interpretation of events; when Buffy arrives she's prepared to bend the rules a little in the hope it may lead to a breakthrough in the case. Which it does, of course, although not at all in the way she was expecting.

I know I've played a little fast and lose with police procedure and the pursuit of justice in this. I wouldn't dream of second guessing actual procedures - although I should point out that the words Sky quotes concerning the ethics behind the police oath is entirely genuine. And I should thank my meticulous editor for pulling me up on some essential differences between British and American policing ...

The Zamaroth are just scavengers, the demon equivalent of rats - big, nasty rats, but nothing to get too excited about. They'll have been attracted by the evils going on in town - Harry Dandon is the real demon in this story, and there are too many Harry Dandons in the real world for this to be an entirely comfortable revelation. All too often, children are abused by people who are close to them; people to whom they've been entrusted, that are supposed to be taking care of them. That's a betrayal of the worst kind - and it causes damage that can last a lifetime.

And as Martin Wilson so rightly says: it's the demons we can't see that corrupt the world.

Which brings me, rather neatly, to the Aslewaugh.

I'm not entirely sure where the idea for the Tyrant bugs came from. There were some vague ideas in my head about new arrivals having to partake in pit fighting in the prison, and Giles being forced to demonstrate his demon nature in order to defend himself - and then I started to wonder what he might be fighting, and why he'd even bother, given his current state of mind ...

... and I realised that it wasn't a matter of brutal entertainment, but something far more sinister and deadly.

So I invented the Aslewaugh and re-wrote history. Just a little bit. The idea that the madness of Roman Emperors was the result of a demonic infestation - along with the terrors of the Inquisition (which nobody expects, I have to say!) - has a certain satisfaction to it, even if it lessens the true horrors in the world. The environment of a high security prison is, indeed, a perfect place for the bugs to nest - plenty to eat, and a place of safety.

At least until the Prince of Malador drops by ...

The appetites of the Aslewaugh (it's pronounced ass-lew-ah, by the way) are entirely deliberate. Their mindless and unquestionable judgement provides Giles with his personal epiphany; a revelation that finally turns his journey around and starts him back on the path to life - and light. They also give him an opportunity to exorcise some of the pent up rage and indignation which has been gnawing at him ever since Salamiel's assault. The helpless victim can finally fight back - and fight he does, demonstrating just how dangerous a Grigori can be. His old nickname takes on a whole new significance in the process.

So the Watcher saves his soul (and an entire prison population along with it) while the Slayer saves a lost child. The police have to admit (grudgingly) that they were wrong and the real villain of the piece ends up behind bars.

Incidentally, Buffy's rationale for not pursuing a very justified complaint against the police is not why Giles lets the matter drop; although doing so might well have exposed both him and the Slayer to far too much public scrutiny; his reasons are much more immediate than that. They're not really about accepting sacrifice either, although there is a little of that in there. It's much more about forgiveness and comprehending empathy; he'll get chance to explain that to Buffy in part three, although she struggles to understand it. It's probably safe to say that being gifted with angel fire is good for the soul.

Oh - and that reference to the Book of Enoch? It's genuine - although I didn't actually stumble over it until I started working on part three. I quote the relevant passages here. I'm not entirely convinced of the theory that the Grigori were corrupted 'by the daughter's of men'. Sounds like a justification of patriarchal power to me. But if they were the fathers of the Nephilim, and they were, in turn, the fathers of the gods - then it could be said that Giles is now related (not so distantly) to Hercules. And it raises some interesting questions about Sky's pregnancy. But we'll get back to that ...