Giles sat at the table sipping tea as he went through the mail. What's this? A letter from some place in Nevada? Who would write him from Nevada?
He neatly cut the envelope open and began to read.
Do you ever find yourself wondering what it is that you have as a goal in life? What it is that keeps you going?
The very fact that you might be asking yourself those questions means that there is something seriously wrong in your life. What's worse is when you ask yourself those questions and realize that you are what you have always feared you would become. When you realize that the goal you worked towards, that you dedicated yourself to has decided that you're not even worth the time to say hi to anymore.
I know, it sounds weird, but it's the truth. I used to have a goal. I used to have a purpose. I used to have people who needed me. I used to have friends. Hell, I used to fight side by side with Slayers, saved the world a couple of times.
Key words here are used to.
Here's another note. Saving the world from being sucked into hell isn't something you can expect to be taken seriously on a resume. Or a college application, under extra-curricular activities. You want to know why there are no heroes left in the world anymore? I'll tell you why. The world doesn't want heroes around. It doesn't want to be reminded, ever, that there are people out there who are willing to risk their lives for the countless millions of people on this planet.
Stop the world, I want to get off... I don't like it here any more Heroes are like soldiers. This is how people act towards soldiers. "We're glad you saved us, but you're not like us nice civilized people. You do bad things to keep the rest of us safe. We don't want to even think about it. So, now that we're safe from the bad stuff out there, why don't you just go away and leave the rest of the world to us nice people. You're different and we don't like you." Maybe that's why most Slayers don't last too long... They feel the way the world treats them and lose it. But then if that was the case, you'd think a Slayer would understand.
You'd think Buffy would understand.
But no... See, I'm not like she is. I don't have super powers, or magic or great training or anything else going for me. Well a bad sense of humor, but I don't think that really counts. All I have is the burning desire to help Buffy in her fight.
What do you do when somebody doesn't want your help? When the woman who owns your heart says that you are dead weight... Or her boy toy says that you're collateral damage waiting to happen, and she agrees? When it feels like your guts are being pulled from your body as you hear her say that you can't do anything worthwhile and it's not the place for a guy like you, but instead a job for the real hunters.
What do you do when you weren't supposed to hear what you heard? When you were out minding your own business, well, checking on a possible vamp related corpse for signs of activity, and happen to lean against the wrong wall of a crypt?
You ever seen a black hole on TV or in a movie? I can now tell you what it feels like when your heart collapses and grows so heavy even light cannot escape.
Its not fun...
What's really sad is when you don't even realize how pathetic your friends think you are. Even when you have stood by them for years against the forces of darkness. Or stared down a homicidal vamp exboyfriend in a hospital to save her life. Or brought her back from death itself.
You'd think things like that might be remembered.
Guess not.
For some reason it just stuck in my head to send this to you Giles. Not sure why I even picked up the pen, much less why after writing this I'm going to stick it in the mail. Its been a week since I overhead that conversation. A week since my heart collapsed in on itself. A week since I heard those words and my life, what little brightness I thought I had, crumbled to dust around me.
Giles, I thank you for being there for me as I grew up. I'm sorry for all the crap I put you through and irritating you. I thank you for being strong and showing me some glimmer of what I could have been.
Of what I'm not, but what I can at least try to be.
Very seldom do you ever get credit for what you do. But you should.
Giles, thank you for being you. For knowing what you know and keeping us alive. Thank you for being there for us. Thank you for being my friend.
Its hard to write now... Tears tend to make the ink smear too... So that's going to be all from me. I don't know where I'm going. But I need to leave. Maybe I'll be back someday, but I really don't know, so I won't lie to you and promise it. I wish you luck in whatever you do Giles. You deserve better than what Sunnydale has to offer.
Be well my friend.
Alexander LaVelle Harris
His tea now cold before him, Giles stared at the letter.
He didn't hear the door open, but the fingers being snapped between his eyes and the letter broke the trance.
"Giles, you ok?" asked Buffy. As she watched, his gaze became cold and hard. A second later she looked away. "What did I do?"
"You inconsiderate little child!" he snapped at her, rocking her back with the harshness of her tone. He stalked over to the fax machine he had bought for his business and ran the letter though it, making a copy. Folding it once, he thrust it at her and told her to leave his home immediately and then pushed her out the door.
A very confused slayer stood on the doorstep as the heavy wood door slammed behind her. Not knowing what else to do, she began to read the letter as she walked home...
Willow stopped as she was walking to Giles' home. She saw her best friend sitting on the curb, leaning forward, shaking.
"Buffy are you ok?"
When the blonde looked up, Willow saw her eyes were red from crying and that she was clutched a tear stained paper in her hand.
"Willow, help me... What have I done?" And then the tears began to fall again...