Hee. That was my big challenge this time around: can I make the Council sympathetic? Must be careful not to make them into the fuzzy snuggly Council, though. Hee.

More Lenny and Cordy...almost accidentally typed /. Ewww.

“How could I possibly be offended by that?”

“Well, some people have the crazy idea I don’t have any manners. That I just shoot my mouth off anywhere, but when it’s important, I have manners, like I don’t remember your name, Detective...” “Logan. Like Boston Airport,.” Briscoe couldn’t believe it. He had to know how young this girl was, but he was still pulling out the crooked smile bit.
“Excuse us,” Lenny said.

“What? Why are you busting my hump?”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He should be an actor. Pretty boy like that, with a very convincing shocked face. You can't kid a kidder. Or an ex-drunk. Or a veteran homicide cop. Mike Logan scored a very unfortunate triple-double with this piece of bull.

”Well, I’ll just be here to make sure “hump” stays a noun, if you get my drift. I’ll talk to Lolita the Next Generation, you interview Giles.”

Logan went off into the back with the librarian. Briscoe sat at one of the tables with Miss..Chase, it said on her I.D.

“Where’s Detective Logan?”

“I sent him out to prevent a felony.”

”That’s good, I guess. What was I saying?”

“Talking about your manners,’ Lenny said, dryly.

“Right. Giles doesn’t know everything. I mean, sure, he’s English, but he’s also Secret Life Guy. I wouldn’t call that classy.”

“Whoa. Secret life? What kind?”

”It’s this whole big thing...he’s Buffy’s Watcher, and teaches her how to catch monsters and be a big freak. He gets hit in the head a lot though...I guess he’s better at the bookwork part..”

”What’s a Watcher, Miss Chase?”

She sighed, looked bored, tossed her hair, all of teendom’s greatest hits that Lenny remembered from when the girls were young. He deserved it a lot more then, though he hated to think about it. “You didn’t hear about it from me.”

“We’ll pinkyswear on it, Miss Chase.”

“Cordelia. My mom’s Ms. Chase.. The Scoobies are gonna hate me for this.”

“Cordelia, a teacher’s dead. That’s more important than what your friends think.”

“They’re not my friends. But I did promise. You ever promise somebody something, even though you didn’t really like them?”

“I’m a cop,” Lenny said. “That’s what we do. Along with eating donuts and closing out bars with “Danny Boy."

After Cordelia told her story, Lenny felt even more confused. It just didn’t wash. A five-foot-nothing cheerleader wanna-be who inherited an ancient destiny that allowed her to save the world multiple times by the time she was sixteen. With the help of an undercover demonology expert. Uh huh, sure, makes as much sense as those pink elephants you used to see on Saturday nights, he thought. It made him depressed, but if Buffy had been trained to be a dealing or killing machine by the time she was sixteen....or a drunk like him, it would have made more sense. The streets, jails, and living rooms were full of those, all over America. God, Briscoe, you’re getting old, if fighting the good fight makes you suspicious. But he’d fought a lot of good fights and lost. And thanks to sobriety, he could remember them all. Ain’t clean living grand?

“I’m a cop,” Lenny said. “That’s what we do. Along with eating donuts and closing out bars with “Danny Boy."

You just can't *not* write the perfect zinger, can you, babe?

No pressure. But thank you.

Erika, brilliant. That's just amazing.

I believe the council, or giles, or someone said that was the reason the council was so cold, the deaths of the slayers, but I wasn't sold on it. It wasn't a good enough explanation for their actions, and it's not now, but... it's a lot more believable now.

You liked the Briscoe take on the destiny thing.

This:

But he’d fought a lot of good fights and lost. And thanks to sobriety, he could remember them all. Ain’t clean living grand?

My favorite line. I was nodding along with him.

Thanks. Dude,I'm thirty and all ready to shake my head and say "Kids. They just don't know." This is wrong, on some level.

Hee! and I'm 40, so I'm shaking my head at you and saying... Okay, not really *g*

Somehow I missed a step. And the memo that I'm not homicide. Or Jewish. Isn't there supposed to be some optimistic youthful phase in here, someplace, you know? Between insecure teenager and beat-up and jaded? And the voices in my head say "Yeah. My first marriage."