Title: A night for eternity
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Author: Kathy
Genre: from 14
rights: All rights in the television series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and its characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Television Network .
The story was the sheer fun of the series and to write. It is used for commercial purposes. My only reward is hopefully a lot of nice feedback.
Category: Giles / Jenny = feelings
Spoiler: reference to Season 2 "Ted" and after "Passion"
Content: Giles recalls an unusual night with Jenny.
Comment: you were meant for each other. It was love, but hope died of a future with her. Maybe they were there but to go on a night together their memories give him the strength. To accept help him and not to forget.
***
Cursing Giles fumbled nervously in the drawer of his desk.
It was, as so often one of those nights at him threatened to eat the pictures and memories. Again and again he ran up the stairs to the bedroom in thought, in excited Expected, the sounds of Laboheme in mind the uneven beating of his heart in the ear and then this picture .... you so sweet, peaceful face, her delicate body in his bed ... lifeless, dead .. the sudden intermittent beating of his heart, the horror, the paralyzing shock, the perceived emptiness and the painful awareness. Everything was there when he closed his eyes.
It was one of many nights in a row that he has been on the small, many spent too uncomfortable couch in his living room. He just could not go up, without which it was still painful and vivid. But not only that. Meanwhile, there overtook him again, again and again as in the film running Image. No idea how many sleeping pills he swallowed all these nights, the first one, then two, then three. Initially, they helped a bit less to make the mind quiet, send in a well-earned void relaxation. But now it does not create chemical substance to calm a false illusion of sleep over it and find peace of mind that he needed so badly. to forget The more he tried to repress, the more intense and worse it got. There was no sleep, no peace, no forgetting.
still desperately searched his finger in the gloom after the package with the small, redemptive, white things, but he did not find. There were paper, pens, a letter opener, Paper clips and ... OUCH a stabbing pain. It went through him, leaving his hand twitch abruptly withdrew from the drawer. What was that? At first he could not interpret it, but when his hand felt carefully on it, the cold, metallic, lace, felt the memories came back.
How could he forget it. This cold, starry night, the painful and beautiful at the same meeting, the hope was it. Lost in thought, he reached back inside, grabbed tighter, renewed pain, but he ignored him. Warm blood mixed with the cold metal and then pulled it out of the drawer, the head of the arrow the Jenny that night with his crossbow shot down. The the arrow to kill the vampire, but instead hit him unhappy, and held down. A piece of memory for him, next to a scar on his hip, remained conscious.
Everything was so confusing and complicated this evening. His patrol in Buffy's body, Jenny's sudden appearance, her sweet, awkward way to apologize to him, then the vampire brought them at once both in danger, her courageous action, which was unfortunately next to it and the moments afterwards, which unless they two nobody knew anything.
With trembling hand he took the tip from the drawer. In his fingers was a hole. Blood dripped on the desk, on the boards, the cover of the bed, where he slumped, breathing heavily.
subheading she had brought him back then, not to the hospital as all suspected. It had been his wish. How could he explain to the doctors, where the wound came to this part of the body. Much rather he wanted to provide at home, without the hassle and possible questions written evidence from the medical records. Reluctantly, she brought him home, insisted on taking care of him. Even if her laughter was still echoing in his ears, he knew that she felt sorry for her and she was to blame for it. She had come that evening to talk to him to apologize and to forgive him. Then this happened, ran in another direction, exceeded his deepest desires.
were
Since the deep wound below his waist and the stabbing pain that made him wince with every move together. And as their hands were where he began to trust that evening. Helped him out of his coat, the jacket. The Association of the stuff out of the closet they went on to doctoring him and took the fear but not quite the shame. It could not and would not require it. But her smile did not allow any opposition. How could he resist it? He was helpless as she slowly unbuttoned his vest and shirt. It gently stroking over his arms fall to the bottom left. A curious sight of him and walked along desired. There was no undershirt what else was removed. Only her smile which was conspiratorial as she opened the collar of his pants. Suddenly the pain was secondary. His only support was the back of the chair that supported him, held him in order not to lose the ground under their feet. He felt now at this moment how his fingernails clawing into the fabric, not trying desperately to lose his composure.
Then came the pants, which she moved very gently and carefully at him down. Trying not to touch the wound. Not to cause him pain. Again her hands to his thighs, pulled by mistake and yet deliberately. His trembling amused her, gave her courage to continue and distribute the pain. Resistance came in him. He wanted to ask them to stop, but he was not strong enough. Any desire in him was extinguished. He felt warm blood through his shorts pressing and pulsating wound. Without words, her eyes searched his. It looked like they picked up a pair of scissors and did not see it too. The quake's body was intense. Reassuring her finger on his lips, streaked down his neck and on to the chest. She knew exactly what she did and as the fabric of the shorts from the wound caused, it was not the stabbing pain that he took, but the touch of her hand on his skin. He tried to turn around to see the wound, but he thought about pain from. Determining she pushed his head back, lightly touched his neck, then down the shoulders, back and hips. Again he forgot about the wound and collapsed in their touch. Only when he no longer felt he looked at her. As an expression in their eyes he had never seen so very lovely, inscrutable and mysterious. She approached him. He could feel her breath, the smell of her hair exercise, the gentle touch of her lips. Then he saw her smile and felt a brush over his eyes. Iridescent points mingled in the darkness as he closed. His lips trembled and his heart was racing. All senses were waiting as small sensors on their next touch. His body tensed as her hand the blood away, freed from the small hairs crust and gently cleaned everything. He shuddered as the disinfectant is distributed and the burning of the wound he drove tears in his eyes. Then, the sudden pressure of the Association and the warm blood that shot out again. Followed by their contact, let him breath away, almost floating gently down, deeper courage. He kept his eyes closed as she wanted it, enjoyed the feeling, forgetting the pain, time and space. Their hands were everywhere. In his neck, his chest, on his back, beguilingly between the loins, gently above and below the wound next to it. In places that were not injured, his legs down to the ankles. She knew him to take the pain. To let him forget and take you to a realm of weightlessness.
All shame was gone and he had joined her involuntarily. How much he wanted to touch it, go by. But with a conspiratorial smile, holding their hands to be firm. It was their way of excuse. to show him that she still had everything in front of him. That this was only the beginning. Only when she helped him back into the things that he realized what had just happened. He was drunk, confused and happy. What they had done to him? When he wanted to thank her, she interrupted be adopted by him with a kiss, soft and full of meaning with a sense of eternity.
Weak rumbling beside him. His arm hung over the back of the couch, the arrow head was down. Hourly moved the hands forward of the Clock. The moon gave way to the sun, it had been slow hell awaited him of sleep finally caught up, calm and steady, natural and peaceful.
> END \u0026lt;
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