Bringing his truck to a stop, Xander threw the gears into park and shut down the engine. A series of shudders rocked the vehicle for a moment, then with a final protesting buck the motor gave up, falling silent with a finality that promised to last forever. The smell of diesel fuel disappeared slowly, and was replaced by the more pleasant aromas of garlic and herbs wafting upward from the front seat beside him. He'd been in a good mood all that day. Buffy's call to say Giles was back made things all that much better. She promised he'd brought good news, news that required celebrating. That had fueled his decision to stopped off at Gerry's, the pizza place a mile up the road. There he picked up a few of their tastiest combo specials to bring home with him. Xander knew no better way to commemorate any festivity than consuming carbalicious rounds of hot, greasy bread smothered in toppings and plenty of melted cheese.
Vacating his vehicle with a heavy slam of the door, Xander headed for Buffy's place with the stack of pizzas. Balancing them gingerly, he freed a hand, using it to rap loudly at the slayer's entry. A moment later the door swung open, and Buffy was waving him in.
I come bearing gifts, Xander announced with a broad grin.
So did Giles, Buffy replied. But he won't hand them out until everyone's here, so hurry up and get in already!
He negotiated with familiar ease his way toward the cozy kitchenette. His own rental on the opposite side of the complex was a near mirror image of this one, the only variations coming in the color scheme of the furnishings and their placement. From a position behind the counter peninsula, he could survey the entire living room. All the remaining core Scoobies were there, their numbers spread out between the sofa and chairs. Dawn, Buffy, Willow, even Kennedy, who they had adopted as one of their own. And, of course, Giles.
Whoa, Buffy! Xander frowned at the final member of the group. Didn't your Mom teach you not to let strangers in the house? he chided.
The Brit shared an indulgent smile of greeting. He knew the comment was Xander's attempt at humor. It's good seeing you again as well.
Pizza! Dawn exploded from her seat, launching herself across the room. She flipped open the top box, pushed it aside, and opened another. I smell anchovies, but I don't see them.
Try the one with the scarlet A on the lid, Xander suggested. I asked Gerry to clearly label the pie, so as to avoid those taste buds lacking in the necessary sophistication required to fully appreciate the finest salty goodness of flavors.
There are some of us who prefer not to have to hold our noses while we eat, Willow pouted unapologetically.
Or for what others eat, Kennedy reiterated with a wrinkle of her nose. Anchovies smell so. . .fishy.
Yeah, fish tend to be that way, Xander admitted with a shrug. Well, everybody dig in. They only stay hot for so long. Once the cheese goes cold, they get demoted to leftover breakfast.
Way better than cold Pop Tarts, Dawn grumbled, sliding a castigating glance toward her older sibling.
And if someone would be ready early enough in the morning they'd have their Pop Tart roasty-toasted, Buffy pointedly returned. You need to speed up your toothbrush if you expect me to have time to cook a hot breakfast.
Putting a Pop Tart in a toaster isn't cooking. It's heating, the teen protested. Grabbing a paper plate, she plopped a slice of pizza on it, and began to lick the grease from her fingers. Of course, there might have to be allowances made considering how you cook.
And to think I was foolish enough to have left all of this behind, Giles sighed. How ever did I manage to get through the week?
Sounds like your meeting with the Council wasn't so bad after all, Willow said.
A regular walk in the park compared to all the bickering that goes on with you lot,/ Giles replied.
So funner than getting hung by your thumbs suspended over a pit of voracious fire ants, while being flogged at the mast, Xander remarked. Cool.
He handed out plates as the others came forward, gathering around the kitchenette. They helped themselves to the pizza until, slice by slice it disappeared. Drinks were dispensed, and lively conversation flowed. In time, the gang of friends was sated, and once again seated around the living area.
Now? Buffy asked, wringing her hands anxiously as she prompted her Watcher. You promised prezzies.
That I did, Giles acknowledged. He pointed to the box he'd brought in earlier, after his brief nap on the couch. It was battered from its' travel from Britain. One corner was slightly crushed, while another looked as though something had chewed at it from inside. If one of you would hand over my package there.
Being the closest, Kennedy did the honors, laying the carton on the coffee table before Giles. The box was opened before an eager audience, a fact that was not lost on the Brit, who paused to voice his concerns.
I do hope you're not expecting too much, he cautioned the group. A suitcase is only so large, and that leaves one with only so much room in which to pack things.
Relax, Giles, Willow replied. We're not expecting the Crown Jewels.
I would hope not, he returned, continuing his unpacking. Not after the way you all drained my accounts. At this point, I couldn't even afford fancy paper to wrap these in.
Whatever it is will be fine, I'm sure, Buffy said. Unless all you brought was some stupid mug with the British flag on it.
An expression of something between trepidation and mortification crossed Giles' face. He locked eyes with his slayer, his features struggling to remain composed. Feeling overwhelmed by a sense of uncomfortable guilt. Buffy quickly backpedalled, attempting to save face from her faux pas.
Of course, she awkwardly grinned, hunching her shoulders in a sheepish shrug. If they're smart mugs, that's a whole different matter. Stupid mug, bad. Smart mug, okay.
Reaching into the box, Giles slowly withdrew the first item. It wasn't a mug. Instead, what he handed over to her was a small, slim box, the sort that usually held a piece of jewelry.
What is this? She regarded the box apprehensively. She could feel Giles' eyes on her, waiting for a reaction.
I realized you were wanting a tea cozy. You've been dropping hints for some time now, he remarked. But as I passed one of the shops in Oxford Street, I saw this in the window, and thought it suited you better. It's been a while since I bought a woman jewelry, so I hope I haven't missed the mark here. As I recall, shiny goes with everything.
Buffy opened the slender box. Inside, cushioned within a cotton lining was a bracelet. It was a slim silver slide band, simplistic and yet elegant in design. Dangling from the band was a pair of charms. One the initial B decorated with tiny gem stones, the other an oval disc emblazoned with an iconic symbol of Britain, the Union Jack.
Wow, Giles! Dawn remarked, admiring the banded wristlet her sibling held up. Her expression of surprise was unguardedly genuine. You actually picked out something nice.
No, this is more than just nice, Buffy corrected her sister. It' beautiful.
Then I take it, it meets with your approval? the Watcher inquired.
Flashing the Brit a reassuring smile, Buffy clutched the bracelet to her chest. she pouted impishly, teasing him. Those are the rules. And yes, it definitely rates the Buffy Seal of Approval. she joyfully smiled back. Jewelry is way better than some silly tea cozy.
Or a silly mug?/ he wryly ribbed, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Yes, better than a mug, Buffy admitted with a sheepish grin. Thanks, Giles.
She could have left it there, allowing Giles to smugly bask in the sweet victory of one-upmanship, a place he seldom achieved around his younger companions. The temptation was too great, however, and she couldn't resist one last dig of her own.
You really had me going there for a minute, she continued, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. Managed to pull one over on the Ol' Slayer. Bet you're feeling pretty good about yourself right now.
I must admit, the sensation is a bit heady.
Well, enjoy it while you can, Funny Guy. I seem to remember promising we'd get together for a training session after you got back, and I'm thinking tomorrow morning sounds good.
Tomorrow? Giles echoed nervously. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his heart racing just a bit faster.
No use wasting time. Besides, this girl like her revenge served piping hot.
The thinly veiled threat struck the desired chord. Giles' triumphant grin quickly faded, and a flustered blush was creeping upward along his neck, reaching toward his ears.
What say we see what else we have in here? he stammered, diverting attention back onto the open shipping box.
The next few minutes were spent distributing the small gifts Giles brought back from England. For the most part they were trinkets, little nothings meant to satisfy those with a craving for souvenirs. There were shortbread filled tins shaped like bears dressed as Beefeaters, jars of Extra Tangy Lemon Curd from Harrod's, and packages of Irish Cream fudge. There were also items with a more personal theme. For Xander, a watch featuring a Monty Python theme. Dawn received a fancy bedazzled protective case for her new IPhone, which she had dropped more than once. Willow and Kennedy were given earrings with coordinated designs from The Book of Kells. The various bits of booty were handed out, creating a room of happy faces as they accepted the thoughtful gesture each treasure represented.
Eventually, the empty box was set aside, and the group settled back to continue the night's conversation. A lot had happened in the past week, and there was plenty to discuss. Xander had a new assignment at work. His construction firm had recently won the bid for the burial and safety demolition of what little remained of their former home town, and once again he was back working in Sunnydale.
Then there was Kennedy's new job at the hotel, and Dawn's last week at school. But the main topic on everyone's mind was Giles' recent trip. Questions were thrown at the Brit. Answers fervently demanded. The Watcher did his best to keep up with the verbal assault, but the youthful intensity of his companions became overwhelming. In desperation, Giles threw up a hand, attempting to still the deluge of voices that came at him.
Did you see any royal people? How about famous celebrities?
Was it weird driving on the wrong side of the road again?
Crawl into any good pubs? Meet with the Queen for tea?
What kind of sales did they have at Harrod's?
Please! One at a time, Giles protested. My brain has yet to fully recover from the change in time zones.
Sorry, Willow apologized for the group. But it's not every day one of us gets to visit a foreign country. Except, maybe, I guess you do, she babbled giddily. Except, for you, England isn't foreign. Your foreign would be here in America. Where you've been living. So you do sort of visit someplace foreign every day.
No more just visiting, Buffy announced firmly. Now he's totally staying. That is what you promised, Giles, she firmly reminded her Watcher.
So I did, Giles conceded. A topic we will touch on in greater detail later. For now, however, there are other matters we should discuss. Before being called before the Council to give my report, I met with a few of our friends.
We have friends? Cool!/ Buffy grinned. Who are they? Have I met them? I don't remember knowing anyone from England. No one still alive anyway. Well, except for you.
Giles was momentarily thrown by the tirade. A conversation with Buffy was seldom without its challenges, whether they be generational in origin, a difference inherent in her American culture, or merely the quirky way she had of looking at life that was simply Buffy.
So these friends, she was saying, carrying on the conversation without him. Do they have names?
There are names, ones with which I hope you soon will become quite familiar.
Bet they're really weird ones, Dawn knowledgeably announced. Did you ever notice how a lot of English people have weird names? she said, leaning toward Willow to confide in her vast understanding of another culture. Rolling her eyes in a gesture of disdain, she completely missed the glare of affronted reproach the Watcher threw her way. Meanwhile, her expressed opinion was quickly taken up by another of her fellow Scoobies.
Yeah, they've always got names like Lord Cuthbert Penderbottom of High Castle Fitherton, Xander chimed, using a poorly executed British accent. Or Miss Euphaneemia Brattlebutt from Waxlyshire on the Moors.
Willow laughed at her friend's nasal intoned performance. Sounds like Buffy's making new friends everywhere. How's it feel to be so popular?
Like being back in High School, the slayer sarcastically chuckled. If I remember, my friend total back then peaked somewhere around five. Or was it six?
Ignoring the interruptions, Giles continued on, turning his conversation toward his slayer.
At some point you might consider meeting with these people. Perhaps once we get your school up and running? I'm sure they would appreciate seeing in person what you are doing, especially considering they are funding the operation.
I can't just send them memos, or e-mail some pictures? While most people would think a trip oversear exciting, the idea of flying that far from home made butterflies flitter uncomfortably in Buffy's tummy. They say a picture's worth a thousand words, she agitatedly informed her Watcher. I'm told I'm very photogenic.
Brushing aside her fellow Scooby's apprehensions, Willow redirected the line of questioning. She was interested in hearing more about the Watcher's successful trip.
Then the Slayer School thing's a definite go?
Funds are being drawn up even as we speak. And there is another bonus in it for you, Buffy. As an official employee of the school¸ you will be receiving remuneration for your services rendered. There will be a paycheck, and possibly other compensatory benefits. The details require some further discussion, but I thought you might appreciate hearing the good news.
They're going to pay me? Her response was one of incredulous wonder. It's about time. The Council wouldn't happen to be making that salary/retroactive?
It isn't the Council that will be providing that paycheck, but those funding your school. I did, however, manage to get your salary activated immediately. You should be receiving your first check very soon.
Buffy let out a squeal of delight. I can't wait to start spending my very own money.
A sentiment I and my wallet wholeheartedly share with you, Giles muttered agreeably.
Why wait? Xander asked. Start spending now. It's a time honored American tradition, maxing out the paycheck before it arrives.
Xander's made a valid point, Buffy returned. Dawn and I have pretty much maxed out our wardrobage. We could hit the malls this weekend, she said to the teen. It'll be so much fun.
As much fun as filling out those pesky tax forms you'll be getting, Xander announced. They usually start showing up once the government figures out you're gainfully employed.
Taxes? Ughhh! Taxes are bad. They're complicated, and full of important financial things my tiny Buffy mind can't comprehend.
We'll find you a good financial advisor, Giles promised. Someone familiar with international laws.
Wow! The miracle of a steady paycheck, Dawn chirped. Bet you never thought you'd see one of those.
I didn't think I'd ever have friends in England, either, her sister quipped back. Apparently anything is possible. Including us. . .me. . .getting along with the Council. Which is what I apparently have to do if I want this school to work
Fortunately for us, Giles said. Several key Council seats are now filled by progressive thinkers, men and women willing to consider new ideas. This is your chance to make a difference, to change thousands of years of antiquated dogma.
But if I might extend a word of caution? One can't expect this sort of monumental change to happen overnight. If one expects to make forward strides against difficult odds, it will require a great deal of patience, a quality you have in the past shown with some scarcity.
Hey! I can do patience. It was Giles' turn to shoot a skeptical glance her way. What? I'm filled with patience. Overflowing even. I can be as patient as the next person, provided it doesn't take too long.
This is really happening, isn't it? Willow was still stuck on the exciting news. Your very own Slayer School. I bet Andrew wishes he were here to see this.
To Giles' astonishment, Andrew had become something of an instant celebrity among his curious colleagues. The young man had remained on his best behavior while presenting his video to the Council, and was not only cooperative, but gregarious, thriving on the attention he received. When the time came to return to California, Andrew opted to accept the Council's invitation to stay indefinitely, leaving Giles to return alone, a fact Giles had shared earlier with his companions.
Andrew has his own work ahead of him these days, Giles said. Though I can't say I understand what the Council sees in him. Perhaps the time away will do him some good. Lord knows, he needs to learn how to interact with normal people.
We are still talking about the same Council here, aren't we? Buffy chided. You people aren't exactly what I would call normal.
Another glare came from Giles' direction, only to be equally ignored by this Summers' sister as well.
I can't believe the Council offered him a job, Kennedy voiced in wonder. He's nothing like any Watcher I've ever met. Not that I've met that many, she offered sheepishly. Two. I've met exactly two. One of them being Giles.
As I keep saying, the winds are changing in England, Giles said.
And if there's any windbag we know who blows more, it's our Andrew, Xander grinned.
Well, we shan't be seeing him any time soon, the Watcher reiterated.
Willow giggled. He said shan't, she said, pointing out the Brit's slip of tongue to her friends. Sounds like someone got his Mother Tongue vocabulary all charged up again. I bet we'll be hearing 'whereases' and 'Good Lords' for weeks now.
He better have loaded up plenty, 'cause this slayer's not letting him out of the country any time soon. We're getting you good and settled in, Buffy informed her mentor. We should start by finding you a real house to live in. One with actual bedrooms.
House? Dawn broke the silence first. Giles is going to buy a house? You mean as in free standing home, with a yard to mow, a picket fence and a real mailbox out front?
And a real mortgage? Kennedy soberly added.
Giles smiled reassuringly at his younger friends.
Buffy has convinced me that if I am to remain here on a permanent basis, more substantial accommodations are in order.
You're serious about this. Xander asked. About the house, not the staying. We already believe that part.
It is what I promised. Removing his glasses, Giles proceeded to idly polish the lenses, a small gesture he often used while considering his words. We have a lot of work ahead of us, he continued with an inclusive nod toward his slayer. There's a good deal more to establishing a school than posting a sign and cobbling together some desks. We need to create an entire curriculum. Find a suitable training facility, preferably somewhere where we can conduct classes as well. There is also the matter of where to house those students who come to us for instruction.
And their parents, Buffy reminded her Watcher. There won't be any secrets in the Buffy Slayer School. These girls will need tons of emotional support, and parental understanding. We agreed on that.
And you thought running a Slayer School would be all fun and games, Willow said to her friend.
I didn't think I was signing on for this much work, Buffy replied. A flash of concern suddenly crossed her face. What if this whole thing goes bust on us? Or if nobody comes? Or worse, I flunk out of my own school?
You're the head master. . .mistress, Dawn pointed out. Teacher's can't flunk. But if you do, you can always make it up at summer school, with me.
Thanks for the sibling encouragement, Buffy snarked sarcastically. Dismissing her worries about failure, she turned to Giles. What kind of house are we talking about? Rambling California ranch? Trendy Mid-century modern? Cute Spanish bungalow?
No particular style. My needs are simple. Something with a decent kitchen, a few bedrooms, and enough room for my books.
In other words, a mansion, Xander translated for those around him.
Can you afford a one of those? Buffy asked with a concerned pout.
I do have the funds from my policy on the Magic Box, Giles replied in dismissive detachment. That should cover most of the cost, and leave me with enough for a tidy retirement intact. I figure a comfortable three bed, two bath ready to move in should suffice.
However, procuring someplace to set up the school. . . He shook his head, frowning contemplatively. That could prove a bit dicey on my current bank account. I'd be looking at liquidating a good deal of my inheritance. Fortunately, it won*'t be necessary to come to that. I shall have access to further resources from our friends to procure those accommodations.
I get to spend your money, and extra funds, too? the blonde gleefully intoned. I'm happy Buffy again.
I can only hope the mood will last, Giles returned, adding under his breath For at least as long as the duration of our next training session.
And now, if you all will give me leave, he continued. Giles gingerly rose to his feet, his weariness weighing heavily upon his posture. I realize the night may still be young for you, but I'm in need of a proper lie down.
He said his good-byes, and started for the exit. Jumping up, Buffy escorted her exhausted Watcher to the door, lingering briefly in the open threshold to make sure he made it safely to his vehicle. As he drove off, parking outside his own apartment, she waited for him to disappear into the suite before turning to join her friends.
Poor Giles, Willow breathed, voicing sympathy for the departed Brit. All tuckered out, and too tired to have fun.
The guy did look pretty burnt, Xander agreed.
And old, Dawn added. Even older than usual.
Nothing that a good 'lie down' won't cure, Buffy assured her. You'll see. Come morning, he'll be ready and rarin' to go. He's got. . .
Supersecret Watcher powers! Willow and Kennedy chimed in unison within the slayer.
Laughter filled the cozy room. With important conversation now out of the way, the group settled back, to finish out the evening with a marathon viewing of their favorite television shows.
