Service prompt: The Mentor and Service Calls
Title: The Mentor
Setting: post-Chosen; Buffy and Faith talk about the present and the past
“You can come out, B. I could hear you breathing.”
“Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
Faith lifted an eyebrow. “So you weren’t worried I was corrupting Ariana with my criminal tales?
“Don’t get mad, but you’re like a cautionary tale for slayers. Maybe the others-”
“Hold on. Not gonna go all Public Service Announcement on the girls.”
“If they ask, though, maybe you’ll tell them what you told Ariana? You were good with her."
The praise was unexpected. “Yeah?”
“You took responsibility, didn’t make excuses.” Buffy paused. “It’s good they have you.”
Faith smiled. “Looks like we’ve both changed.”
Title: Service Calls
Setting: the post-BtVS5 summer
He was drowsing when he heard her enter. Maybe that helped explain why he couldn’t make sense of the image swimming in front of him of Buffy, in pieces. Literally. She cradled her nearly-detached right arm in her left hand and stared at him patiently.
What the hell?
The fog lifted. Not Buffy. The robot.
“I’m injured, Spike.” Her brow wrinkled. “I come to you when I’m injured. You make everything better.”
He swallowed hard, looked away. “Sorry, pet. I can’t fix this.”
A few words with Willow ensured that the bot would not seek him out for service anymore.
Setting: post-Chosen; Buffy and Faith talk about the present and the past
“You can come out, B. I could hear you breathing.”
“Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
Faith lifted an eyebrow. “So you weren’t worried I was corrupting Ariana with my criminal tales?
“Don’t get mad, but you’re like a cautionary tale for slayers. Maybe the others-”
“Hold on. Not gonna go all Public Service Announcement on the girls.”
“If they ask, though, maybe you’ll tell them what you told Ariana? You were good with her."
The praise was unexpected. “Yeah?”
“You took responsibility, didn’t make excuses.” Buffy paused. “It’s good they have you.”
Faith smiled. “Looks like we’ve both changed.”
Title: Service Calls
Setting: the post-BtVS5 summer
He was drowsing when he heard her enter. Maybe that helped explain why he couldn’t make sense of the image swimming in front of him of Buffy, in pieces. Literally. She cradled her nearly-detached right arm in her left hand and stared at him patiently.
What the hell?
The fog lifted. Not Buffy. The robot.
“I’m injured, Spike.” Her brow wrinkled. “I come to you when I’m injured. You make everything better.”
He swallowed hard, looked away. “Sorry, pet. I can’t fix this.”
A few words with Willow ensured that the bot would not seek him out for service anymore.