Week 9: A Cup of Comfort
Sep. 8th, 2006 11:09 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tamingthemuseTitle: A Cup of Comfort
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Buffy Season 7
Rating: G
Prompt: Crazy Glue
Words: 980
A/N: Thank you to my beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spiralleds for bouncing ideas and not worrying when this resembled none of them As Giles is narrating, British Spelling is in effect.
He escaped with a mug of tea to the back porch. Since his last visit, someone had procured a box of Twinings assorted. He luxuriated in the gentle scent of the Earl Grey he was sipping. Of course, there were no teacups, but he'd managed to find a serviceable mug, even if it looked cracked. The Potentials were out on patrol, and he finally had a moment of solitude.
The Potentials, a nomenclature that he did not favour, but had been unable to suggest an alternative, continued to arrive at 1630 Ravello. At times he felt as if he had called down one of the Biblical plagues upon his Slayer, but truly he knew of no other place where the new girls could both be protected and learn to protect themselves. This fight was not going to be won by traditional methods, and Buffy was the least traditional Slayer with whom the Council had ever dealt.
In addition, it provided him an acceptable reason to keep checking in on her. He would not repeat the errors of last year, even if he had to submit to the indignities of cartoon pillowcases.
He'd come out here for a few moments respite. A warm cuppa, and blessed silence. He leaned against the railing, then quickly stepped back as it groaned ominously.
A dry chuckle sounded from the dark corner. He turned to see that Xander was sitting with his back against the house whittling a stake.
"Don't worry; I saw one of the girls using it as a balance beam earlier. It should be fine for leaning."
He merely nodded an acknowledgment; then moved forward once more. He and Xander had not spoken about last spring, and he had no wish to commence that conversation now. He was aware that he owed an explanation, but had none to offer. And, with this new crisis, he did not even have the energy to contemplate how he had used Xander. How he'd reverted back to the Council paradigm of seeing people as assets, as tools and placing them as carefully as chess pieces.
The fact that he had needed to use them against each other...That was another bitter irony whose taste lingered. He had forgotten that in leaving his Slayer, he was leaving them all. Had he really believed it was for the best? Or had he only wanted a quick escape, to avoid watching the unbearable? And he only had to watch, they were the ones living it. Willow dealing with her desire for power. Xander adjusting to adulthood. And Buffy, so disengaged. Some might call it growing pains, but he'd left them on a Hellmouth un-mentored. He'd seen them grow through so much, in fact looking at the Potentials now, it was hard to remember when his children had been as innocent.
"It's strange, isn't it? When did I get to be old?"
He had to turn to ensure that it had been Xander speaking, and not merely his own thoughts. But there he sat, as he always had. Xander was never the one to whom they turned, but somehow was there whenever needed, and often underfoot when not as well.
"When did we all?" His fingers traced the odd pattern on the deep green mug. He hadn't been surprised that Xander had broken the silence. He did wonder what Xander would wish to discuss.
"I've been meaning to thank you."
Of all the potential comments, that had not even made the radar screen. What had he ever done to earn this young man's gratitude?
"This, being a Scooby, it's made all the difference. Not only was it my introduction to wood working 101," said Xander.
Giles dropped his head forward as he chuckled at that comment. How many stakes had Xander whittled over the years?
"But I've been a part of something bigger. I know that while you're there, everyone thinks high school is life and death, but you showed us it wasn't and that we could do something about the real life and death matters. The fact you trusted us, well, it means a lot. I'm not a Slayer--" Another chuckle, this time from Harris. "Most of these girls won't be either, but it doesn't mean we're not something. And you showed us that being something was enough."
Those comments, that naively generous interpretation of his behaviour, it stung like a rapier's blade. What were the other influences in Xander's life like if Giles' off-handed and secondary concern merited such warmth? What could he say in response?
"I mean, I'm watching Andrew and, scary thought that it is, I could have been him. You made sure I wasn't. So, it's my turn to try and guide. That's why you're drinking out a mosaic now."
Giles tilted his head in query. What did their annoying 'guest-age' as he called himself have to do with anything?
"I knew he must have built model Enterprises, all of them, so as the dishes get dropped, he's on crazy glue duty. He hasn't done a bad job and it's cheaper then buying new sets every week. Maybe if he learns to build something worthwhile--"
Giles concluded that thought. "You can turn him from the dark side. And I can't believe I just said that."
"Looks like the influence has been mutual. Glad to know you're able to learn from us wacky kids." There was a smile in his voice, a leavening of tone to the normal banter.
Giles felt something settle firmly into a gap, an emptiness in him, as if it was being glued into place. He was still part of their lives, still welcomed. He felt a warmth bloom in him which was not caused by his tea. He looked down at the mug. Some things, once they're broken, can be made stronger. It looked like family was one of them.
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Buffy Season 7
Rating: G
Prompt: Crazy Glue
Words: 980
A/N: Thank you to my beta
spiralleds for bouncing ideas and not worrying when this resembled none of them As Giles is narrating, British Spelling is in effect.He escaped with a mug of tea to the back porch. Since his last visit, someone had procured a box of Twinings assorted. He luxuriated in the gentle scent of the Earl Grey he was sipping. Of course, there were no teacups, but he'd managed to find a serviceable mug, even if it looked cracked. The Potentials were out on patrol, and he finally had a moment of solitude.
The Potentials, a nomenclature that he did not favour, but had been unable to suggest an alternative, continued to arrive at 1630 Ravello. At times he felt as if he had called down one of the Biblical plagues upon his Slayer, but truly he knew of no other place where the new girls could both be protected and learn to protect themselves. This fight was not going to be won by traditional methods, and Buffy was the least traditional Slayer with whom the Council had ever dealt.
In addition, it provided him an acceptable reason to keep checking in on her. He would not repeat the errors of last year, even if he had to submit to the indignities of cartoon pillowcases.
He'd come out here for a few moments respite. A warm cuppa, and blessed silence. He leaned against the railing, then quickly stepped back as it groaned ominously.
A dry chuckle sounded from the dark corner. He turned to see that Xander was sitting with his back against the house whittling a stake.
"Don't worry; I saw one of the girls using it as a balance beam earlier. It should be fine for leaning."
He merely nodded an acknowledgment; then moved forward once more. He and Xander had not spoken about last spring, and he had no wish to commence that conversation now. He was aware that he owed an explanation, but had none to offer. And, with this new crisis, he did not even have the energy to contemplate how he had used Xander. How he'd reverted back to the Council paradigm of seeing people as assets, as tools and placing them as carefully as chess pieces.
The fact that he had needed to use them against each other...That was another bitter irony whose taste lingered. He had forgotten that in leaving his Slayer, he was leaving them all. Had he really believed it was for the best? Or had he only wanted a quick escape, to avoid watching the unbearable? And he only had to watch, they were the ones living it. Willow dealing with her desire for power. Xander adjusting to adulthood. And Buffy, so disengaged. Some might call it growing pains, but he'd left them on a Hellmouth un-mentored. He'd seen them grow through so much, in fact looking at the Potentials now, it was hard to remember when his children had been as innocent.
"It's strange, isn't it? When did I get to be old?"
He had to turn to ensure that it had been Xander speaking, and not merely his own thoughts. But there he sat, as he always had. Xander was never the one to whom they turned, but somehow was there whenever needed, and often underfoot when not as well.
"When did we all?" His fingers traced the odd pattern on the deep green mug. He hadn't been surprised that Xander had broken the silence. He did wonder what Xander would wish to discuss.
"I've been meaning to thank you."
Of all the potential comments, that had not even made the radar screen. What had he ever done to earn this young man's gratitude?
"This, being a Scooby, it's made all the difference. Not only was it my introduction to wood working 101," said Xander.
Giles dropped his head forward as he chuckled at that comment. How many stakes had Xander whittled over the years?
"But I've been a part of something bigger. I know that while you're there, everyone thinks high school is life and death, but you showed us it wasn't and that we could do something about the real life and death matters. The fact you trusted us, well, it means a lot. I'm not a Slayer--" Another chuckle, this time from Harris. "Most of these girls won't be either, but it doesn't mean we're not something. And you showed us that being something was enough."
Those comments, that naively generous interpretation of his behaviour, it stung like a rapier's blade. What were the other influences in Xander's life like if Giles' off-handed and secondary concern merited such warmth? What could he say in response?
"I mean, I'm watching Andrew and, scary thought that it is, I could have been him. You made sure I wasn't. So, it's my turn to try and guide. That's why you're drinking out a mosaic now."
Giles tilted his head in query. What did their annoying 'guest-age' as he called himself have to do with anything?
"I knew he must have built model Enterprises, all of them, so as the dishes get dropped, he's on crazy glue duty. He hasn't done a bad job and it's cheaper then buying new sets every week. Maybe if he learns to build something worthwhile--"
Giles concluded that thought. "You can turn him from the dark side. And I can't believe I just said that."
"Looks like the influence has been mutual. Glad to know you're able to learn from us wacky kids." There was a smile in his voice, a leavening of tone to the normal banter.
Giles felt something settle firmly into a gap, an emptiness in him, as if it was being glued into place. He was still part of their lives, still welcomed. He felt a warmth bloom in him which was not caused by his tea. He looked down at the mug. Some things, once they're broken, can be made stronger. It looked like family was one of them.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 05:43 pm (UTC)