Pedigree (PG, Giles&Buffy)
His hands were large.
Coarse and worn from the years of experience. The battles, the research. Each mark signifying a weapon gripped, a book opened. The tortures inflicted.
They were strong hands, skilled hands. Precise and deft at any task, their only wasted movement the tendency to fidget with his glasses.
They were gentle, comforting hands, hands she could rely on to pick her up when she fell, to hold her when she wept. To support her.
She had seen him create and destroy, mend and break, inflict and caress, all with those same hands.
They were a father’s hands.
Coarse and worn from the years of experience. The battles, the research. Each mark signifying a weapon gripped, a book opened. The tortures inflicted.
They were strong hands, skilled hands. Precise and deft at any task, their only wasted movement the tendency to fidget with his glasses.
They were gentle, comforting hands, hands she could rely on to pick her up when she fell, to hold her when she wept. To support her.
She had seen him create and destroy, mend and break, inflict and caress, all with those same hands.
They were a father’s hands.