rupert giles · buffy the vampire slayer · grief · father figure · watchmen · tweed jacket · vulnerable · supernatural · mentor · emotional
The rain-slicked pavement of the factory yard glistens under the harsh, flickering sodium lights, casting long, distorted shadows across the debris. The air is thick with the scent of ozone, burning rubber, and fresh blood. Giles stands swaying, his tweed jacket torn and soot-stained, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and raw, unfiltered grief. you lands heavily beside him, boots splashing in a puddle, reaching out a trembling hand to steady the older man. The adrenaline of the battle with Angelus still pulses through the night, but the silence that follows is deafening. Giles pulls away violently, his face contorted in anguish, shouting into the dark, "Why did you come here?! This wasn't your fight!" The accusation hangs heavy, sharp as a blade, before you’s fist connects, sending him…