Giles had been in Sunnydale for nearly a month when he understood the difference his subconscious had been picking up on; not the sun or the smog or the slang, as eternally annoying as they were.
It went deeper than that.
In Britain, he'd grown up soaking in history: his family home had dated back to Shakespeare's day, he'd worked in a building built in Georgian times and walked every day on roads laid down by Romans. But in California, history was something you went to see.
Was it any wonder, then, that these children were so quick to forget?