"I have to, I have to tell Dawn," Buffy murmured as she pulled away from his embrace, her eyes still wide and frighteningly vacant. "Dawn needs to know."
"Buffy, perhaps you should stay here. Await the-the..." he stumbled around the word, not truly wishing to say it, "the coroner, and... I will go pick up Dawn from school."
"No. No, it should be me. It needs to be me. I'm... all that she has." At that, her face seemed to crumple. "I'm all that she has, Giles."
"Okay. Okay." He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, rubbing soothingly before he passed a hand along the top of her head. "You're right, Buffy," he told her softly, trying to keep her calm. "You should be the one to get Dawn from school. But at least let me drive you. You really shouldn't be driving."
"No, I can drive," she replied, but her voice was still monotone... robotic, her stare glassy. "I am very good at driving."
"Alright," he nodded, not wishing to rile her. "I-I'll... stay here, then."
"Good. Yes. That's a good idea, we shouldn't leave her alone in the house." She was nodding rather frantically, still walking around the house with that wide stare. She spun suddenly, as if something had occurred to her. "The others."
"Others?"
"Yes. Will, a-and Xand, and... the other people." She looked around the house unseeing. "They should know. They should know about it." She approached him, suddenly reaching out to straighten his tie and lapels, as if she needed something to do with her hands... something to focus on. "Giles, you could tell them." She looked up at him, then, with those watery green eyes of hers. "Will you tell them for me, Giles?"
She sounded so lost, so very much like a little girl. In that moment, he had all he could do not to break down and weep for her. But he remained strong -- it was what she needed from him in that moment. "Yes. Yes, Buffy, I will tell them."
"Okay. So, I'll go." She kept nodding, eyes focused on her mother. "I'll go and tell Dawn that mom's, um..." Her face seemed to crumple again, but she picked it up in record time, blinking away the tears that had gathered. "I'm going."
She left without another word and Giles was left to watch her go, before looking back at Joyce. Then, he headed for the phone, finding it on the floor near some paper towels. Jenny picked up extraordinarily quickly, sounding out his name as a greeting.
"Jenny," he breathed, closing his eyes. It had been too silent in his head over the last half hour... eerily silent. He'd felt tense. Hearing his wife's voice seemed to calm him somewhat.
"Rupert, thank God. Are you alright? How's Buffy?"
"Buffy's fine. Well, she... no, she's not, is she?" he murmured, more to himself more than anyone else.
"What happened? Is it Glory?"
"No. It's, um... s-something's happened to Joyce, Jenny." He swallowed, staring the once-vibrant Summers matriarch, now deathly still on the living room floor. "She's dead."
He jumped as the phone made a loud noise in his ear. Jenny had dropped it, he surmised, for he then heard a string of curses in her soft alto, as well as the sounds of her scrambling to pick the phone up again.
"Buffy, perhaps you should stay here. Await the-the..." he stumbled around the word, not truly wishing to say it, "the coroner, and... I will go pick up Dawn from school."
"No. No, it should be me. It needs to be me. I'm... all that she has." At that, her face seemed to crumple. "I'm all that she has, Giles."
"Okay. Okay." He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, rubbing soothingly before he passed a hand along the top of her head. "You're right, Buffy," he told her softly, trying to keep her calm. "You should be the one to get Dawn from school. But at least let me drive you. You really shouldn't be driving."
"No, I can drive," she replied, but her voice was still monotone... robotic, her stare glassy. "I am very good at driving."
"Alright," he nodded, not wishing to rile her. "I-I'll... stay here, then."
"Good. Yes. That's a good idea, we shouldn't leave her alone in the house." She was nodding rather frantically, still walking around the house with that wide stare. She spun suddenly, as if something had occurred to her. "The others."
"Others?"
"Yes. Will, a-and Xand, and... the other people." She looked around the house unseeing. "They should know. They should know about it." She approached him, suddenly reaching out to straighten his tie and lapels, as if she needed something to do with her hands... something to focus on. "Giles, you could tell them." She looked up at him, then, with those watery green eyes of hers. "Will you tell them for me, Giles?"
She sounded so lost, so very much like a little girl. In that moment, he had all he could do not to break down and weep for her. But he remained strong -- it was what she needed from him in that moment. "Yes. Yes, Buffy, I will tell them."
"Okay. So, I'll go." She kept nodding, eyes focused on her mother. "I'll go and tell Dawn that mom's, um..." Her face seemed to crumple again, but she picked it up in record time, blinking away the tears that had gathered. "I'm going."
She left without another word and Giles was left to watch her go, before looking back at Joyce. Then, he headed for the phone, finding it on the floor near some paper towels. Jenny picked up extraordinarily quickly, sounding out his name as a greeting.
"Jenny," he breathed, closing his eyes. It had been too silent in his head over the last half hour... eerily silent. He'd felt tense. Hearing his wife's voice seemed to calm him somewhat.
"Rupert, thank God. Are you alright? How's Buffy?"
"Buffy's fine. Well, she... no, she's not, is she?" he murmured, more to himself more than anyone else.
"What happened? Is it Glory?"
"No. It's, um... s-something's happened to Joyce, Jenny." He swallowed, staring the once-vibrant Summers matriarch, now deathly still on the living room floor. "She's dead."
He jumped as the phone made a loud noise in his ear. Jenny had dropped it, he surmised, for he then heard a string of curses in her soft alto, as well as the sounds of her scrambling to pick the phone up again.
Reply
Leave a comment