I took a sip of something poisoned, but I'll hold on tight
Sleep has not been kind to Rupert Giles lately. He's been plagued with nightmares that shake him out of bed in the dark hours of the morning, skin prickled with cold sweat. The themes are ever recurring: Buffy, Sunnydale, Jenny, the Hellmouth, the friends he's made in this world-all collapsing, dying, ending in a violent rush. He dreams in blood
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Comments 54
It should, but it doesn't.
This would be one of the instances where Buffy is not sleeping. It's one of those moments where she feels like she might still be on Scotland time, despite having been on the Rift for months, but she'll wake up from a dead sleep, and not manage to go back. Sometimes she'll just roll over and close her eyes, trying to will herself back to it. Sometimes, she goes for a walk.
She finds Giles in the lounge of the Kashtta, and she smiles a bit. It isn't what she was expecting, but she's not disappointed. She makes her way closer, unsure at first if she should try and wake him up, but when she sees the way he's twitching, she knows she has to.
"Giles," she says softly, reaching for him to shake him awake. "Giles!"
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The world around him starts to shake and his eyes snap open.
"Buffy," he breathes, a dazed look on his face. "I... was dreaming, wasn't I?"
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She worries about him. She worries that she doesn't get by to see him often enough, she worries that he's spending too much time alone, and she worries that the things she told him the last time they talked is part of what has scared him away. She knows that she's been through a lot since the last time he saw her, but she's still Buffy -- or, at least she thinks she is. Even if she wasn't, Chicago is bringing that part of her around again, and she hopes that he'll be able to see that as well.
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When he pulls his fingers away, he sees stars.
And then he sees Buffy.
"What are you doing up at this hour?"
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A man was killed in front of her, and then she brought that man back to life. But the man who had stopped to help had died in return. A life for a life.
She's taking a sip of freshly brewed tea when she spots Giles. A frown deepens on her face, when she notices that he appears to be having a nightmare.
"Mr. Giles?" She queries gently, not wanting to touch him yet, lest it pull him too violently from the dream.
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That can't be good.
His brain shifts her query into a cry for help.
In the real world, his eyes dance behind their lids, and the twitching continues.
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Her hand rests gently on his shoulder, and she speaks again. "Mr. Giles, you need to wake up."
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It's with a violent start that jerks his glasses askew, but awake is awake, and he's thankful to be in that state. He blinks at Maura, readjusts his glasses, and takes a breath.
"Dr. Isles, hello. I was, ah... dreaming. Though I imagine you figured that out."
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Ever since she began training for Torchwood, ever since got Jack as a ward and now Mio, Phoebe's become much less of a lazy bum, gaining a sense of responsibility she never had before. That means jogging every morning as soon as she wakes up, and then hitting the gym for some lifting.
"Oh my god, boppy!" she says.
This is a gleefit you're witnessing, Dave. She crouches in front of said dog. "He's so cute! What's his name?"
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But here he is instead, bundled up in a jacket and scarf, with his little corgi leading the way.
As soon as Phoebe appears, Tesla starts pulling. It's a person! Coming toward him! HOLY CRAP! Dave, too sleep-deprived to interfere, stumbles along after the dog and blinks at Phoebe when she speaks.
"Oh, uh. This is Tesla."
As if on cue, Tesla sits and offers a paw to Phoebe. Dave presses his lips together. "He's... kinda weird."
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It's been forever since she had a pet, but she used to have a puppy that's very similar when she was younger. It's odd to think that far back.
It feels longer than it really has been. She's only twenty-one, after all.
Phoebe takes the paw and scritches him lovingly, before turning to Dave, lifting an eyebrow. "I think he's cute. Weird can be very cute. Goes with his owner," she says, flashing him a small wink to accompany with her way-too-cheery disposition at this early of an hour.
Oh, Phoebe.
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And then Dave looks over his shoulder, because maybe Phoebe is mistaking someone else for Tesla's owner.
Except no one's there.
He looks back to her, brows furrowed slightly. "Um. Heh. Yeah, he's... got better hair than I do, admittedly."
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