Alexannah
Nerd in Training
Summary: An infected wound from patrolling puts Buffy in the hospital, while her mother makes an interesting discovery concerning Giles and her trip to England seventeen years ago.
Rating: PG-13 for bugs (the insect kind, not the computer kind)
Disclaimer: Buffy and co belong to Joss Whedon, etc. I own nothing.
Author’s notes: I have no idea if anything like this has been done before in the Buffy fandom, being pretty new to it. Until recently I lurked solely in the Harry Potter fandom where this type of bunny is very common, which I guess is where I got the idea from. As I had the idea back before I saw any series other than the first, I’ve left it pretty much a post-series one fic with just the odd small element of later series, e.g. Wesley appearing. The nature of the plot is very AU, so if you can’t stand anything that deviates from canon, don’t bother to read. Otherwise, give it a try.
This isn't a particularly A/B fic; they're not together. I much prefer Spuffy, which the sequel will be.
As I’m British, I’m going to be writing in British English, except for dialogue when I will keep to the character’s speech patterns. Just thought I’d warn you now so I don’t get accused of inconsistency.
-----
Daddy’s Little Slayer
by Alexannah
Chapter One: Big Bugs
“Ouch!”
“Buffy, watch out!” Angel called, a little late.
“Thanks, I got it.”
There was an unmistakeable slicing sound and silence. Buffy appeared from behind a large headstone, examining a gash across her palm.
“Pesky demon badly needs a manicure. Look what it did. I’m not going to be able to hold a pencil for a week.”
“Let me see.” Angel drew nearer and pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.”
“You carry a handkerchief?” Buffy said curiously as Angel gently tied it round the wound. “Do vampires actually get runny noses? … That sounded better in my head.”
Angel smiled. “No, not really. I just carry it out of habit, I suppose. No Kleenex in my day.”
“No, suppose not. Ow.”
“Sorry.”
The handkerchief smelled faintly of Angel. Buffy smiled. “Thanks. I’d better go and report to Giles. Do you know what that one was?”
He shook his head and they began walking out of the cemetery. “It didn’t look familiar. Just looked like an overgrown cockroach to me.”
“Don’t mention it to Xander. For some reason he hasn’t exactly been crazy about bugs since Miss French nearly decapitated him.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Thanks …” Buffy yawned. “Actually, I’m kind of beat. Maybe I’ll talk to Giles tomorrow.”
“You want me to walk you home?” Angel offered.
“I wouldn’t say no.”
The two of them walked in companiable silence all the way to Buffy’s house. Angel paused outside the door.
“Well, goodnight,” he said quietly.
“Night, Angel. And thanks again.”
Joyce was still up, watching television. “Buffy, you’re home a little early.”
“I’m a bit tired.” Buffy flopped onto the couch next to her mother. “What are you watching?”
“Nothing good.” Joyce flipped the channels. “There’s a low-budget black and white horror on if you fancy it.”
“No thanks. Anything better than that?”
“Not really.” Joyce handed her the remote. “See for yourself.”
Buffy did. “Want to watch a video, Mom?”
Joyce smiled. “Shall I make the popcorn?”
The two curled up together on the couch. Joyce ate most of the popcorn. Buffy was beginning to feel slightly off. As the credits went up, she closed her eyes and nearly dropped off.
“Honey, are you alright?”
“Huh?” Buffy looked up. “Oh … I’m not feeling too good.”
Joyce felt her forehead. “You’re a little warm. Why don’t you go to bed now, and see how you feel in the morning.”
“Think that’s a good idea,” Buffy mumbled, standing up slowly.
“Do you want me to bring you something? Hot chocolate, perhaps?”
Buffy smiled. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”
As she turned to exit the living-room, Buffy noticed a cardboard box resting on the dresser, a dusty photograph album lying on top. “What’s that?”
“That’s my England collection,” Joyce answered. “Photos, things I bought there … You know how unorganised I am, I never really sorted it out. I just found it under the bed in the spare room and thought I’d look through it.”
“When did you go to England?” Buffy asked curiously. This was something in her mother’s life she had not yet heard about.
“Years ago, before you were born. I was there several months. For a while I thought I might stay permanently … but it didn’t work out,” Joyce murmured quietly.
“Was it nice?”
“Very.”
Buffy looked at her mother. A sort of dreamy, faraway look had appeared in Joyce’s eyes. “I loved it there …” She seemed to shake herself out of it. “But like I said, it didn’t work out.” She paused. “I’ll get you your hot chocolate, honey; go to bed.”
It was a blissful relief to sink into the cool sheets, and Buffy drifted off almost straight away. When Joyce came up with her hot chocolate, she found her daughter fast asleep and still fully clothed.
TBC …
Rating: PG-13 for bugs (the insect kind, not the computer kind)
Disclaimer: Buffy and co belong to Joss Whedon, etc. I own nothing.
Author’s notes: I have no idea if anything like this has been done before in the Buffy fandom, being pretty new to it. Until recently I lurked solely in the Harry Potter fandom where this type of bunny is very common, which I guess is where I got the idea from. As I had the idea back before I saw any series other than the first, I’ve left it pretty much a post-series one fic with just the odd small element of later series, e.g. Wesley appearing. The nature of the plot is very AU, so if you can’t stand anything that deviates from canon, don’t bother to read. Otherwise, give it a try.
This isn't a particularly A/B fic; they're not together. I much prefer Spuffy, which the sequel will be.
As I’m British, I’m going to be writing in British English, except for dialogue when I will keep to the character’s speech patterns. Just thought I’d warn you now so I don’t get accused of inconsistency.
-----
Daddy’s Little Slayer
by Alexannah
Chapter One: Big Bugs
“Ouch!”
“Buffy, watch out!” Angel called, a little late.
“Thanks, I got it.”
There was an unmistakeable slicing sound and silence. Buffy appeared from behind a large headstone, examining a gash across her palm.
“Pesky demon badly needs a manicure. Look what it did. I’m not going to be able to hold a pencil for a week.”
“Let me see.” Angel drew nearer and pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.”
“You carry a handkerchief?” Buffy said curiously as Angel gently tied it round the wound. “Do vampires actually get runny noses? … That sounded better in my head.”
Angel smiled. “No, not really. I just carry it out of habit, I suppose. No Kleenex in my day.”
“No, suppose not. Ow.”
“Sorry.”
The handkerchief smelled faintly of Angel. Buffy smiled. “Thanks. I’d better go and report to Giles. Do you know what that one was?”
He shook his head and they began walking out of the cemetery. “It didn’t look familiar. Just looked like an overgrown cockroach to me.”
“Don’t mention it to Xander. For some reason he hasn’t exactly been crazy about bugs since Miss French nearly decapitated him.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Thanks …” Buffy yawned. “Actually, I’m kind of beat. Maybe I’ll talk to Giles tomorrow.”
“You want me to walk you home?” Angel offered.
“I wouldn’t say no.”
The two of them walked in companiable silence all the way to Buffy’s house. Angel paused outside the door.
“Well, goodnight,” he said quietly.
“Night, Angel. And thanks again.”
Joyce was still up, watching television. “Buffy, you’re home a little early.”
“I’m a bit tired.” Buffy flopped onto the couch next to her mother. “What are you watching?”
“Nothing good.” Joyce flipped the channels. “There’s a low-budget black and white horror on if you fancy it.”
“No thanks. Anything better than that?”
“Not really.” Joyce handed her the remote. “See for yourself.”
Buffy did. “Want to watch a video, Mom?”
Joyce smiled. “Shall I make the popcorn?”
The two curled up together on the couch. Joyce ate most of the popcorn. Buffy was beginning to feel slightly off. As the credits went up, she closed her eyes and nearly dropped off.
“Honey, are you alright?”
“Huh?” Buffy looked up. “Oh … I’m not feeling too good.”
Joyce felt her forehead. “You’re a little warm. Why don’t you go to bed now, and see how you feel in the morning.”
“Think that’s a good idea,” Buffy mumbled, standing up slowly.
“Do you want me to bring you something? Hot chocolate, perhaps?”
Buffy smiled. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”
As she turned to exit the living-room, Buffy noticed a cardboard box resting on the dresser, a dusty photograph album lying on top. “What’s that?”
“That’s my England collection,” Joyce answered. “Photos, things I bought there … You know how unorganised I am, I never really sorted it out. I just found it under the bed in the spare room and thought I’d look through it.”
“When did you go to England?” Buffy asked curiously. This was something in her mother’s life she had not yet heard about.
“Years ago, before you were born. I was there several months. For a while I thought I might stay permanently … but it didn’t work out,” Joyce murmured quietly.
“Was it nice?”
“Very.”
Buffy looked at her mother. A sort of dreamy, faraway look had appeared in Joyce’s eyes. “I loved it there …” She seemed to shake herself out of it. “But like I said, it didn’t work out.” She paused. “I’ll get you your hot chocolate, honey; go to bed.”
It was a blissful relief to sink into the cool sheets, and Buffy drifted off almost straight away. When Joyce came up with her hot chocolate, she found her daughter fast asleep and still fully clothed.
TBC …
