dragonyphoenix

Giles had taken Buffy's habitual lateness into account when organizing his ammunition. Out of the hundreds of documented incidents attributed to the vampire Angelus, Giles had pared down to the few dozen most likely to unsettle a teenage Californian girl. He'd just settled the last book in place as she swung through the library doors with not only a coffee to hand but some sort of revolting sticky delicacy as well.

“Giles, I know what you're going to say, sugar bad, but I need the whole extra boost to keep me awake for that meditation thingy.”

Did she honestly believe they wouldn't be discussing Angelus? “As you will, in fact, not be meditating this morning, I'm certain you will have no trouble remaining awake.”

“We're sparring?”

Those two words told him she was being deliberately dense. Still, if she had chosen to be this recalcitrant, it might be best to ease into the subject. He gestured to the library's main table. “Would I have laid out this many books if I'd meant to spar?”

Buffy fell into her chair with a pout. “Giles, you know I'm no good at research.”

“Not research per se. I took care of that last night. Think of it more as a …” Hmm, lecture might not be his best word choice given Buffy's lack of interest in academic pursuits. “ … information sharing.”

“That sounds like fun.” Buffy took a bite of her cake as she rolled her eyes.

“Hair-raising, more likely.” He remained standing. A height difference, higher over lower, suggested authority. Although he did not need a volume to hand, he picked one up and opened it as if to read. The written word had an authority that mere speech did not. “In 1753, the destruction of a small town not far from the port city of Galway triggered an investigation by … well, the Council sent a team to investigate. Evidence suggested the involvement of no more than two or three vampires.”

“Vampires?” She dropped her breakfast and folded her arms across her chest.

Right, don't use Angelus' name just yet. “The fledgling, one Liam Conneely, is believed to have caused most of the damage. It is not uncommon for fledges to go on rampages just after they've risen.” No one had ever proven that Angelus had been behind that specific attack, but that was hardly Giles' concern at the moment. The attack had been attributed to Angelus. That was enough. Giles didn't need proof to convince Buffy. She would believe what he told her.

“Liam had reserved the most gruesome deaths for his own family as, again, is often the case with fledges. Evidence suggests the mother had been half-hanged multiple times.”

“Wait,” Buffy said. “Half-hanged?”

“Yes, a rope is pulled tightly around the victim's neck but then slackened when the victim loses consciousness. The victim is revived and the rope is tightened again.”

“Ugh, so it's like being killed over and over?”

“Exactly. We believe the father was forced to watch. While the mother's death was relatively easy, a mere snap of the neck …”

Buffy interrupted again. “This Liam snapped his own mother's neck?”

“Buffy, you've been a Slayer for more than a year. Please tell me you're not just now learning how vicious these creatures can be.”

“This is about Angel, isn't it?”

Giles returned to the book. “An elaborate design was stitched onto his sister's skin. Given the contortions of her corpse, the threads had been stitched into living flesh. It's not clear what tortures were performed on the father before he was eaten, alive, by rats.”

Buffy leaped up from her seat. “Giles, I do not need to hear this.”

Giles picked up a second book. “In the convent of St. Gobnait, thirty-two nuns were raped and killed, presumably in that order. The Abbess, skinned alive, seems to have been saved for last …”

“Giles. No.”

He picked up another book. “Valentine's Day. Nailed a puppy to the …”

“I don't need to hear about the puppy.”

“Yes, you bloody well do! You can't disregard your duty merely because one of these creatures has blinded you to …”

“He's Angel, isn't he? This Liam, he's Angel.”

“In the late eighteen-hundreds, two girls were killed and laid out, as if sleeping ….”

“That's enough.” Buffy bolted from the room, leaving coffee, cake, and even handbag behind.

“Buffy! Wait.” By the time he'd reached the hall, she'd vanished. Gods. He'd expected her to be disturbed, disgusted possibly, but not seriously discombobulated. Did she honestly believe she cared for this monster?