Feedback: Makes me very happy.
Her umbrella twinkled when she twirled it beneath the lights. Buffy admired it, wondering at the same time who had made it. It was so… glittery. And there was her name at the bottom. Buffy Summers, Class Protector.
“This is the prettiest thing ever,” she said as Willow joined her by the punch table. “The Watchers’ Council should give these out every year. Ooh, and have an awards ceremony.”
“Like the Oscars,” Willow agreed. “Only I guess not with the envelopes and things, what with there only being the two of you.”
She made a face. “Please tell me I kick ass in the Best Supporting Slayer in a Non-Psychotic Role category.”
“The Academy loves you,” she said. Then she frowned, voice dropping as she asked, “Was it weird? Seeing him like that?”
“So weird,” Buffy agreed, starting to ladle herself a cup of the crimson punch before she decided it was too blood-like and tipped it back. “I mean, tuxes, traditionally the hottest possible guy uniform, right? But then he’s Giles so there’s the Watcher, mentor, you-have-a-father’s-love-for-the-child thing and it’s all mixed up together and guh. So much with the wigginess.” Willow looked like she’d seen a devil dog. “What?”
She blinked. “Nothing! It’s just – I meant, Angel? Was it weird, seeing him like that?”
“Oh.” Of course that was what she’d meant. Maybe the drink was hurting her brain. She put the empty glass back on the tabletop. No more fruity non-alcoholic beverages for you, missy. “It was hard,” she said. “But nice. I’m glad he came.”
Willow asked gently, “Is he still…”
“Leaving?” She took a deep breath and released it shakily, actually managing to smile. “Yeah. And he should.”
“Doesn’t make it easier, though.”
Willow put a hand on her bare arm. Buffy covered it with her own, squeezed it for a beat. Just when it was in danger of getting too sappy, she spun her brand new umbrella over both their heads. Willow laughed up at it.
“So, Giles, huh?”
She groaned. “Can we pretend I was having brain freeze?”
“No, I get it. Hey, I had a crush on Giles before you even got to Sunnydale, remember? Plus,” she glanced over at where Giles and Wesley were talking together at the other side of the gym, and a wicked smile sprang to her lips, “there is the whole ‘debauch me now’ thing with the tux.”
“Willow!” She folded her little protector award up with false dignity. “Miss Rosenberg, I’m afraid you must have been corrupted by Mister Osbourne.”
“I’m a saucy minx when exposed to punch.”
“Speaking of Oz…”
She turned her best friend over to her boyfriend, smiling as she watched them move onto the dancefloor, Willow laughing at something Oz said to her. And then she found herself glancing past them, to Giles and Wesley. No, Wesley was with Cordelia; it was just Giles by himself.
She should go and keep him company, she thought. Maybe she could take him some punch.
Anyway, one dance couldn’t hurt.
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