Title: A Hard Lesson Learned
Author: LadyForASH
Rating: FRT
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: You know that nothing belongs to me. Joss created it all. Please don't sue!
A/N: From Ladyforash, with prompts from Antennapedia

"Why is he such a poop head, anyway?" Willow sunk into the Magic Box sofa with a frown. Quentin Travers and the other Watchers had finally left, after informing the group that Glory was not a demon, but instead, a God.

Buffy had left to be with Dawn, and Xander and Anya had exited not far behind the Slayer. Now it was just Willow and Giles alone in the shop.

Giles knew the question coming from Willow was rhetorical. It was also so deep, and so complicated, that Giles didn't think he could ever explain it, even if he wished the attempt.

As his hands moved to make the tea, his mind went back in time. Back to that cold, rainy English morning.

* * *

"Stop that!" The voice was firm in its British clipped accent. The voice belonged to that of the Head Watcher of the time, Andrew Stover. His arm snuck out to firmly grip the neck of the man bent before him. "It's just a corpse. She's gone. Just as the one before her, and the one after her. It's nothing now. She's nothing now. You must rid yourself of emotion. It's a sign of weakness. Are you weak, Quentin?"

Rupert stood under the tree. There were five of them all together, counting Quentin Travers and Head Stover. Rupert felt like crying too. His eyes stung and his throat hurt. It was sheer luck that it had been Quentin that had fallen to his knees before the gutted Slayer.

Her name had been Amelia. They'd gotten to know her over the months of classes. She'd spoken at their classes, laughed with them in the commissary, and helped them with their hand to hand. Most Slayers were not English, but Amelia was the exception, and her Watcher was proud to lend her out to the Council to help educate future field Watchers.

Now, Head Stover realized that had been a mistake. "The Slayer cannot be seen as a giggling girl. Don't you see?" He pulled Quentin to his feet and then turned his hard gaze onto Rupert and the other men of their class. "I brought you here this morning precisely for this reason. The Slayer fights, and the Slayer dies. She's a means to an end. Another will now rise, and someday, one of you will hold her life in your hands. You must not get attached, emotionally or otherwise." He pushed Quentin away. "Dry your eyes, Quentin, and see the truth of what I speak. The Slayer is a tool against the darkness. Just as a doctor cannot get close to his dying patient, you must not get close to a Slayer." Stover glanced down at the dead girl by his feet, no expression on his face. "They all die in the end, and if you let them, they'll take you with them."

* * *

Giles shook his head, dispelling the images of long ago. He brought a mug of tea over for Willow and sunk into the chair beside her. He had no words of explanation. Instead, he reached for another text book and lost himself in what he knew best. Research. Unemotional, painless, research.

END