Think of Something Cool
By G-Woman

Title: Think of Something Cool
Author: G-Woman  Email:
Distribution: Spread the love. Just ask. 
Rating: A nice kosher G/PG.  But give me time. 
Summary: B/G Filling in the holes.  Early angst abounds as a new member of the Sunnydale clan witnesses something the others haven't seen, quite...yet. A missing scene in "Prophecy Girl".  :-)
Spoilers: Early B/G ville.  Season One - Prophecy Girl.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my fertile and deviant imagination.  The characters represented in this sad little musing of an obsessed mind belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB.  No copyright infringement is intended.  Suing is fruitless.  No fruit here.

Note:  in an effort to quell the serious NEED to see Season 4, I was re-watching old eps and this just happened.  Be kind.  It was very late.  I was very tired.  And feedback is comfort food.

<I still think she's little>

"Think of something cool. Tell him I said it."

"If you fight the Master, you'll die."

"Maybe."  The girl smiled a melancholy smile as she readied her crossbow.
 "But maybe I'll take him with me."

With that, an odd calm settled over her and the Slayer headed out the door
<Maybe not so little...> Jenny revised.

"Rupert.  Rupert!" Jenny cradled the Englishman's head for a moment longer before relinquishing her efforts to revive him on the floor, opting instead to heave him into a neighboring chair.

"Tweed really is as heavy as it looks", she quipped delicately, slipping her arms under his and dragging him into the seat with a groan.

Darting behind the library counter, she fished out the first aid kit.

"Ok.  Lets see what goodies we have in here.  Aha!  Prepared for every outcome, and we wouldn't have it any other way would we, England."

Seizing an icepack she hurried back to the side of the Watcher, who was still very much down for the count.

<Certainly leaves an lasting impression that Buffy>

She cautiously removed his glasses and set to work bringing her patient round.  After some concerted brow mopping and a smattering of water, the Englishman's eyes flickered open.


<How did I know that'd be the first thing he said? >

He fumbled stubbornly for control of the ice pack she held to his face.  His breathing was labored.  Jenny felt his pulse.  <He'll survive.  My work is done.> 

"She's gone Rupert.  To face him."  He turned deathly pale.

"She...?  Then I'm going after her."

"You already tried that," she countered, growing impatient.  "Remember? I've made up my mind...Pow!"

The Watcher ignored her jibe and struggled to his feet, still dazed.  "I must locate the Master, and you...the rest of you can ...can..."

Jenny moved toward him.  "Wait."  There was a new tenderness in her voice.

He shot her a despairing glance. "What?"   Think of something cool.  Tell him I said it.


The suffering written on his face made up her mind.

"Thank you."

Distress became confusion.  "I beg your pardon?"

"Before Buffy left, she told me to thank you.  For what you were willing to do."

<Doesn't know what she has...that girl>

"She also said that if you promise to hit the books and save the world, she'll save you a dance tonight at the Spring Fling," Jenny broke in, reaching for his arm to steady him.  "So whaddaya say?" Her voice was rising in urgency.

<Come on Rupert, help me out here>

"Damn and blast!"


He jerked away from her, hand cupping his bruised cheek, cursing his folly in allowing Buffy to slip away.  Tonight of all nights...

His demeanor had softened slightly, though she knew she wasn't supposed to have glimpsed it.

"Listen to me Rupert."  The computer teacher was at his side.  "Make this right.  You said it yourself, defy prophecy!"

"Ha", he muttered through clenched teeth, eyes traveling tentatively in the direction of the door.  He tried to banish Buffy's tortured outburst from his mind, to no avail.  Her words ate at him.  "Read me the signs!  Tell me my fortune!"  Useless...he was useless. Enclyopedia with arms indeed.

She was out there, alone.  Again.  Preparing to die.

"In the meanwhile, if you recall, we have an apocalypse to reckon with..."

Giles straightened slowly, sighing.  His companion saw the energy leave him and it broke her heart. 

He retreated a shaky step toward his office.

<Wonder when she'll get it>

"Will you excuse me?" he said mechanically, his gaze shifting from the exit to the table.  Jenny crooked her head in an effort to meet his eyes. "Rupert!  Are you with me here?" She wanted to shake some sense into the Englishman, make him see beyond the shroud of hopelessness assailing him.

"Maybe you need to rest a while longer.  You haven't slept in days..."

<I've never seen him so desolate.  How have I missed this?>

"Just a minute," he managed.  She believed him.  "I just need..."

Time.   She finished wordlessly; understanding, wishing she didn't.

He stumbled back another pace, then righted himself and trod perfunctorily into the musty quarters.

<Course, we don't have any, but what's a girl to do>

Watching somberly, Jenny let him go without further interrogation or guarantee.  She knew his strength would return.  For her, as always. < Just let it be soon> she prayed.  <The others will be here shortly and we need a game plan, fast> 

She sank into one of the old wooden chairs in anticipation of the cavalry, head bowed, unmoving, as a lone cry gently echoed through the library.