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In Loco Parentis, Part 6...
Dec. 22nd, 2022 01:27 pmBuffy's death creates some strange camaraderie.
“That is, and I never thought I’d say this, perversely comforting, Spike. Might I have a cigarette, please?”
“ It’s what I do, isn’t it? And you asked for that like you were gonna start pouring tea service in a minute…lighten up. Being bad, even cheating death, is supposed to be *fun*.or don’t you remember?”
Caught between nostalgia and diplomacy even in grief and the surreal situation, Giles said “Um…” and found himself hunting for words, as indeed, he’d been all day in one form or another. He dragged deeply on the proffered cigarette and almost enjoyed that the pain in his lungs was worse than he remembered.He coughed, but the smoke somehow dirtying the bright California spring sky matched his mood and satisfied nearly as much as the nicotine hitting his bloodstream.
“Good job they don’t call your lot ‘Speakers’ then. Don’t suppose you could have saved the Slayer with sage wisdom like “Um.”
And Rupert Giles, experienced Watcher and lifelong student of the occult, saw something he’d never expect on a vampire’s face: discomfiture, maybe a little embarrassment.
“Look, Giles, mate…what happened with Buffy? Well, when I said it was your fault…I didn’t mean it. I mean, I’d kind of like it to be your fault, cause I could risk the biggest brain-freeze ever and also get some blood, well, on the hoof, right? Weak and tea-soaked as it would be likely to be.”
“And I was so touched that you were using my name,” Giles replied. “What’s a brainfreeze?”
“Oh, The Nibblet had one of her ice cream things at my crypt and ate so fast, it gave her the biggest headache I’ve seen without a chip. Afterward, she called it that.”
“Ah. Poetic. Clearly, it’s Hank’s fault.”
“Really? So, you’d let me…”
“No, although I swear to Christ, I don’t know why….Dawn perked up a bit when she saw him.”
“That is, and I never thought I’d say this, perversely comforting, Spike. Might I have a cigarette, please?”
“ It’s what I do, isn’t it? And you asked for that like you were gonna start pouring tea service in a minute…lighten up. Being bad, even cheating death, is supposed to be *fun*.or don’t you remember?”
Caught between nostalgia and diplomacy even in grief and the surreal situation, Giles said “Um…” and found himself hunting for words, as indeed, he’d been all day in one form or another. He dragged deeply on the proffered cigarette and almost enjoyed that the pain in his lungs was worse than he remembered.He coughed, but the smoke somehow dirtying the bright California spring sky matched his mood and satisfied nearly as much as the nicotine hitting his bloodstream.
“Good job they don’t call your lot ‘Speakers’ then. Don’t suppose you could have saved the Slayer with sage wisdom like “Um.”
And Rupert Giles, experienced Watcher and lifelong student of the occult, saw something he’d never expect on a vampire’s face: discomfiture, maybe a little embarrassment.
“Look, Giles, mate…what happened with Buffy? Well, when I said it was your fault…I didn’t mean it. I mean, I’d kind of like it to be your fault, cause I could risk the biggest brain-freeze ever and also get some blood, well, on the hoof, right? Weak and tea-soaked as it would be likely to be.”
“And I was so touched that you were using my name,” Giles replied. “What’s a brainfreeze?”
“Oh, The Nibblet had one of her ice cream things at my crypt and ate so fast, it gave her the biggest headache I’ve seen without a chip. Afterward, she called it that.”
“Ah. Poetic. Clearly, it’s Hank’s fault.”
“Really? So, you’d let me…”
“No, although I swear to Christ, I don’t know why….Dawn perked up a bit when she saw him.”
