TITLE:  Attachments (For lack of a better title)
AUTHOR:  Tevye
SPOILERS:  Bad Girls
SUMMARY:  A conversation between Giles and Wesley.  I'm going to steal
A.C.'s term and call it a drabble.  Yes I know it's not exactly B/G, but
it has it's moments, and all my B/G stories become long.
RATING:  Nice safe PG
FEEDBACK:  This me begging.  < Beg, Beg, Beg, Beg, Beg >   and Pleading
< Plead, Plead, Plead >
DISTRIBUTION:  Oh please, Oh please, Oh please, I love to see my stuff
posted.  Just tell me
where it is (So I can go look it and gloat to myself. )
DISCLAIMER:  The characters of BtVS belong to Joss Whedon and others
(lucky bastards).


Considering how close it had come to apocalypse, Sunnydale looked remarkably peaceful as dawn spilled over it.  And considering two men inhabiting it, the Sunnydale High School library was remarkably quiet.


"Hold still dammit"  Giles gripped Wesley’s face a little tighter, as he dabbed at the cut on the younger man’s lip.

"I wish you to know that I entirely disapprove of your willingness to involve not only civilians, but vampires as well."

Giles merely soaked the cloth in alcohol again, before applying it to Wesley’s rather insolent mouth.  The watcher hissed and pulled back.

"Do you want that cut to heal or don’t you?"  He spat out in exasperation.

"I am quite capable of cleaning my own wounds, thank you."

"Well, you’re certainly capable of obtaining them."  In response the younger man glared.  Then after he had had sufficient time to think of a comeback he opened his mouth, but Giles beat him to it.

"You might be a little more grateful for this *willingness of mine to involve vampires* as you so eloquently put it.  It did after all save your life."  Wesley bristled.

"I would have gotten out."

"Yes, at a possibly extremely high cost to your slayer, try thinking about that next time."  Taking off his glasses, Giles looked hard at Wesley until the new watcher finally looked away.

"I don’t know what you were taught since these new and improved methods have been implemented at the council, but I would hope that they still emphasize that the slayer is your most important priority."

He was staring hard at the simpering fool before him.  His heart sunk when Wesley first walked in the door.  Hope had sprung eternal that the council would at least have the sense to send someone with enough experience or sense to take care of Buffy if he could not.  Now his resolve to stay by her side no mater what had only strengthened ten-fold.

Wesley obviously felt the insult.  "I assure you Mr. Giles.  I am entirely devoted to my slayer."

Something snapped in Giles.  "Are you?  I mean after all you weren’t even prepared to lose your kneecaps.  I suppose though you’re ready to lay down your life."

"And you are.  I suppose."

"Everyday."  His reply was so quite that it didn’t register with Wesley at first.  When it finally did, his eyes went wide.

Giles’ smile was indecipherable.  "Yes, I’m prepared to lay down my life for her, even now.  Do you find that astonishing?"

Wesley sputtered.  "You are no longer her watcher."

"No but she is still my slayer.  Tea?"

"She is not your slayer.  I am her watcher."

"Yes, you are by council appointment; however, I suggest you start to learn a little about Buffy before you start calling her your slayer." Giles walked over to the cabinet and pulled out his journals.  "Here these are a good start.  They should make fascinating reading."  Wesley simply ignored him as he held out the books.

Giles sighed exasperated, "Oh, blast it man don’t be so stubborn.  I’m not going away.  You’re just going to have to live with that." Reluctantly Wesley reached up and retrieved the diaries, but not without adding in a final barb.

"I’m a little wary about taking your advice Mr. Giles, after all I suspect Buffy would wish to keep at least one watcher."
Within moments after the words were out of his mouth Wesley knew he had said the wrong thing.  Giles’ face hardened into an expression, that was an exact mirror of the one he wore before beheading that vampire.

"Listen you little snot nosed twit.  I don’t know what kind of training you went through under those *controlled conditions*, but I suspect that they didn’t breed all the emotion out of you.  Find some of it.  She’s fighting a war on a day to day basis.  Without compassion or affection she’ll die, maybe not physically, but on the inside.  Her spirit is more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and if I see it fade in just the tiniest fraction, I’ll make Balthazar’s threat to break your kneecaps sound like a damn good offer."

"You are reacting quite irrationally and are entirely out of line." Wesley’s voice had risen to a ridiculously high quiver.

"Maybe I am, but I’m not a part of your line anymore.  It would probably be beneficial for you to keep that in mind."

Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was Wesley straightened his tie and rose to sort through the boxes of books he had brought with him.  "You are, of course, aware that I will inform the council of your threats against."

"Oh yes, quite aware."  Giles smiled a little as he sipped his tea.

"I don’t see why you insist on being so very irrational about it. You’re being offered a chance to have your own life again, which from the council’s reports is what you’ve always wanted."

"Buffy is my life now.  I’m not about to abandon her."

"I don’t understand you Mr. Giles."

"No one seems to."

"You seem rather attached to the girl.  I can understand how endearing she may be to some people, but you must realize that at one point she will die."

Giles looked blankly down at his cup, before replying.  "Yes well, I have this ridiculous fantasy that she will be the first slayer ever to have to retire from old age."

"It is just a fantasy.  You should be wary of forming too much of an attachment with the slayer."  Giles looked up in surprise.  Then a bitter chuckle emitted from his throat.

"Didn’t they tell you why I was fired?  I love her."

Wesley faltered in astonishment.  "Love her?"

"Oh yes, ‘I have a father’s love for the *child*.’  Huh, they wouldn’t know a woman if one walked up and slapped them across the face."

He looked up as if realizing what he had just said, "Well, the first class will begin soon.  Good day Mr. Windham-Pryce."

For the first time in two years, when the first bell rang the man who walked out of the library office was nothing more than a man.