In the beginning - in the end - there had been darkness after light, and the fall. The pain had been brilliant, coruscating, a stream of light that made me scream, soundlessly, into the void
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Been a good choice to move back to England. Buffy didn’t need me anymore, neither did Dawn. They both were doing well in Collage, leading an almost normal life. It’s not what was said in the handbook for Slayer, but I’d tossed that thing out the window ages ago. It’s true what they say. A watcher trains his Slayer. But a Slayer trains her watcher too. Took me some time to get that
( ... )
I blinked, looking around the room. It was a very English looking room, I noticed. Nice furniture. What the hell? Was this the afterlife? Didn't seem very... well, afterlife like.
Then the door opened.
“What the blood hell are *you* doing here?”
"Giles?" I stared at him. "What d'you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here? Are you dead?"
I walked towards him... And walked straight through the coffee table.
“Dead?” I scoffed, looking at him over the rim of my glasses. “I’m not but you most definitely are supposed to be dead. Twice,” I felt the need to point out.
Good lord, I do not believe this. Of all the things, people, ghosts, what have you’s to appear here, it had to be *him*. The one thing I was happy to get rid of. Alright, so he dusted in a heroically way, hoorah for him, but he was gone. Problem solved.
And here he is *again*. Why me?
“Look Spike, I don’t know what you’re playing at and I don’t--” My voice trailed off as he walked toward me, right through my coffee table. Blinking, I stared at said coffee table and then up to him. Yes, I had to fight hard to keep the smirk of my face.
“Well, well, well,” I murmured, “looks like maybe you’re not all here after all. Where the *hell* did you come from anyway?” And how about going back there? I like that idea. Nay, I love that idea.
Oh, he was loving this, the old bastard, seeing me all ghostified. Bollocks. What did I do to deserve being a ghost? If someone was gonna bring me back, couldn't they do it proper like?
"Where the *hell* did you come from anyway?”
"Well, Rupes," I said, knowing the name annoys him, "you tell me. I was quite happily in the afterlife, then suddenly I got pulled back here. Think someone has been doin' a bit of mojo." I looked at his desk. "Wait a minute, what's that?" It was the amulet. "D'you mind telling me where that came from? Far as I know, that Liz Taylor accessory burned up with me." I cross my insubstantial arms and give him a disdainful look.
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Then the door opened.
“What the blood hell are *you* doing here?”
"Giles?" I stared at him. "What d'you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here? Are you dead?"
I walked towards him... And walked straight through the coffee table.
Bugger.
Reply
Good lord, I do not believe this. Of all the things, people, ghosts, what have you’s to appear here, it had to be *him*. The one thing I was happy to get rid of. Alright, so he dusted in a heroically way, hoorah for him, but he was gone. Problem solved.
And here he is *again*. Why me?
“Look Spike, I don’t know what you’re playing at and I don’t--” My voice trailed off as he walked toward me, right through my coffee table. Blinking, I stared at said coffee table and then up to him. Yes, I had to fight hard to keep the smirk of my face.
“Well, well, well,” I murmured, “looks like maybe you’re not all here after all. Where the *hell* did you come from anyway?” And how about going back there? I like that idea. Nay, I love that idea.
Reply
"Where the *hell* did you come from anyway?”
"Well, Rupes," I said, knowing the name annoys him, "you tell me. I was quite happily in the afterlife, then suddenly I got pulled back here. Think someone has been doin' a bit of mojo." I looked at his desk. "Wait a minute, what's that?" It was the amulet. "D'you mind telling me where that came from? Far as I know, that Liz Taylor accessory burned up with me." I cross my insubstantial arms and give him a disdainful look.
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