S J Smith

Disclaimer: All hail Joss, I ain't him!

Rating:T for the Lolita-ness of it all.

Written for misbegotten at Fandomwishlist, 2004. Happy hols!

Rupert Giles often wonders at the propriety of it all, that male Watchers spend so much time with their young and nubile charges. He prides himself on the fact that he has never, ever had a thought about his Slayer that could be construed by an outside source as indecent or even inappropriate. He understands why it could drive a man to drink, though, all that young skin, tantalizingly cased in lycra and spandex, shown to the best of its ability during high kicks and splits.

And yet, he looks at Buffy as he might have a daughter, had he ever had a chance to have one.

Willow Rosenberg is another possible hazard, a lovely young woman with a penchant for books and a rare talent for magic. She sometimes catches his eye when her delicate hands arch on that wretched machine's keyboard but only in utter fascination, that she understands both arcane and esoteric as well as the internet.

She is another of his charges, his wards.

But he cannot help himself for watching the third girl who has joined their little band, with her rich dark hair and smoldering eyes. He realizes his attraction too her far too late for it to be shoved back down, under tomes of books and familiar Watcher catechism, for Cordelia Chase slipped in from his blind spot, first as an annoyance but later as someone who could be counted on to always see directly to the heart of the matter. Her tactless comments only went so far and she did have a caring heart within her, if only it had a chance to be offered to the right person.

He knows that acting on this would only lead to problems in the nature of not only a lost job and being relieved of his position as Watcher but also being removed from the United States, itself. So he bides his time, for someday, Cordelia Chase's age will no longer be a predicament.