The next morning, after seeing her sister off to school¸ Buffy made her way over to Giles' place. She knocked loudly at the door. When no immediate answer was forthcoming, she repeated the pounding with even more insistence. Finally, she heard someone stirring behind the closed door. A moment later¸ Giles was standing before her, looking rested and fresh from a good long sleep.
Good morning, Buffy.
he greeted her cordially. Stepping aside, he silently invited her to enter the apartment, closing the door behind when she was inside. She could see an empty plate had been set out on the kitchenette counter. Might I offer you a bite to eat? Some tea, perhaps?
You might,
she replied, making herself at home on one of the stools. Aren't you usually an early eater? I'd have thought you'd be done with breakfast by now.
Giles pulled another plate from the cupboard, setting it before her. True,
he confirmed, placing a bakery box between them. He flipped it open, revealing its contents, several yummy looking muffins. And I would be finished if I hadn't needed to run out to fetch it first. I'm afraid I'm off to a late start.
That's okay. Especially since you're late lazy morning means big bennies for me!
she cheerily announced.
Eagerly, she selected a treat from the proffered box, zeroing in on a target with fat, plump blueberries bursting through its surface. Peeling back the paper wrap, she ignored the shower of crumbs that missed her plate to fall on the counter and floor. With unceremonious gusto she sank her teeth into the baked good, her eyes partially closing in heady delight.
You could at least confine your mess to over the plate,
Giles scolded with mild annoyance. It's difficult enough keeping the cockroaches at bay without you providing them a feast.
Mmmmm, shorry,
she mumbled, continuing her chewing unabated. She noticed a fat stack of newspapers lying nearby, and nodded in their direction. Homework?
I picked up a few issues while I was out,
Giles replied. Thought it might be a good place to start my house search.
You could do that. Although, they have this new thing, it's called a computer,
she smiled, delivering a dig at her Watcher.
You know how I feel about those. . machines,
Giles grumbled, his expression one of contemptible disgust as he mentioned the dreaded bane that was artificial intelligence. They're the ruin of modern society. We've become lazy and complacent, willing to allow some nameless internet dictate every aspect of our lives. If these past weeks have provided one benefit, it's the peace of mind that comes from not having to constantly kowtow to the blasted contraptions.
Kowtow?
the slayer questioned, visibly struggling to hold back her amusement. You know, in the right hands, insert name Willow here, those 'contraptions' can actually be pretty useful. Do I need to remind you that was how we found out about 'my little friend'.
The reference was to her special slayer axe, a scythe imbued with magical powers. The weapon had been a vital instrument in Buffy's fight against the forces of The First, and was responsible for the eventual activation of all current slayers throughout the world.
Forged by the Guardians centuries before, and wielded by the First Slayer, Sineya, who used it to rid the Old Ones from this world. The scythe being a weapon of great power, the Guardians wisely feared what it could do in the wrong hands. So after the last of the earth's pure demons fell under its blade, the weapon was put into safekeeping by the Guardians.
Hidden away for centuries within a secret crypt near the place of its last battle, which just happened to be located in Sunnydale, California, knowledge of the scythe was kept from the Shadow Men, and the sorcerers' successors, the Watcher’s Council. A visionary message from the First Slayer allowed Buffy to find and resurrect the scythe, who used its magicks in her final battle against The First.
However, it was the activation of all those fresh young slayers that led Buffy, and subsequently her Watcher, to the task that lay ahead of them that morning. Not only did they have to find a house for Giles, but they needed someplace to establish their new slayer school in which the intended to train all those budding new slayers.
There are all kind of real estate sites online,
she helpfully informed the Watcher. You just plug in your vitals. Price, number of beds, baths, square footage, where you want to live. They do the searching, you do the choosing. Piece of cake. I could get Willow to hook you up on her laptop. . .
Perhaps later. For now, I'd like to work with what we have here.
Giles was a man of books and letters. The written word was his divinity. When the academic Brit had first come into Buffy's life years ago, Giles had worked as the librarian at her high school. It was the perfect undercover identity for the Watcher, and provided the necessary miles of shelving needed to store his expansive collection of texts. Later, with the impending knowledge of the school's destruction, the Brit had moved his private occult library into storage at his apartment. With the purchase of The Magic Box, a downtown business venture Giles took on to occupy his sanity, the athenaeum once again relocated, continuing to grow and expand, reflecting the additional available space.
Some short years later, the Brit's library collection went through yet another growth, more important, albeit smaller in scale. This time the extension was due to The Firsts attempted extermination by bomb of the Watcher's Council, and all its associated personnel. While the explosion may have meant the destruction of the organization's massive occult library, a research source unequalled throughout the world, not everything was lost. True, most of the priceless volumes of rare lore were gone, as well as a compilation of irreplaceable antiquated documents. Fortunately for the Scoobies, and consequently the world as well, Giles had the foresight to rescue a few select volumes beforehand before they were forever lost to history.
Through the surreptitiously remove of several valuable key books, something Xander liked to refer to as the Five-finger Discount of Borrowing, Giles removed a handful of priceless works before the bomb blast took out the main library. Since then, he and many of the other remaining Watchers had been working to restore the reference collection to some semblance of its former glory. Through duplicate copies found in private collection, and additional undiscovered works, many long lost to forgotten libraries, they were making headway toward that goal, though they had a long road ahead of them.
It was a momentous task to take on, one that could take the Council multiple lifetimes. In the meanwhile, Giles, being the resourceful Watcher he was, had decided to invest his own funds as well. He continued with the expansion of his personal collection, adding new
old books. As his sizable library increased, Buffy could see her Watcher's pride grow right along with it. She often caught him gazing lovingly at the stacks amassed around him in the too small apartment. He treasured every volume, and whenever he could drag her into the local antique bookkeepers shop in Westcliffe, he would look for yet another valuable addition to his collected works, treasuring each and every find he would make.
Okay, then! Buffy started, heaving a resigned sigh. She took up a newspaper from the pile nearby. She saw a pen at the other end of the counter, and grabbed it up, holding it at ready. Flipping through the large pages, she landed at last in the desired section.
Time's a wastin'. Dawn's due home later this afternoon, and I've got a dinner to plan, so let's do this thing.
Giles joined her at the counter, taking his place on the spare stool beside her. Together, they scanned the narrow columns of tiny print, discussing the attributes of each possible choice with Buffy's pen striking down those candidates she deemed lacking a proper environment for her Watcher.
Here's one. Three bed, two bath. Eighteen hundred square feet,
she read, squinting at the paper's small print. Is that big enough?
Before he could reply, she threw out another thought. Who decided feet should be square?
she mused with a pensive pout. And why can't they be round, or some other shape? Like dodecahedron.
Her introspective ramble prompted Giles to peer at her over the tops of his spectacles. Instead of answering, he allowed his impatient frown to speak for him.
Right, off topic,
she shrugged apologetically, diving back into the paper. Well, the price is okay. They say the air is new, and the kitchen's been remodeled, too. But, oh. .
She made a disapproving frown. There's carpeting. And no mention of any pool.
Her pen drew a definitive dark line through the listing. That one's off the list.
Leaning over her shoulder, Giles attempted to decipher the print under her redacted scratches. But it has double pane storms,
he protested, pointing out the practical asset.
And it says it is a fairly recent build.
Buffy leveled a skeptical slayer glower his way. Only you think the nineteen nineties are recent,
she griped. The rest of the world lives in this millennium. You should come visit us some time. We're talking house years here, Giles,
she playfully berated the Brit. Not the Neolithic measurement you use to track the passage of time. Moving on now. . .
she said, picking up her pen and dismissing any further discussion on the issue.
What about. . .
Giles aimed a pointing finger in the vague direction of a listing, but Buffy cut him off with a vehement shake of her blonde head.
No air conditioning. Do you want constantly sweaty friends?
He opened his mouth. And before you answer, remember, Xander will be one of them.
You're right,
His finger moved down to the next listing.
Why did you eliminate this one?
No parking.
And this?
Needs TLC. Listing code for questionably habitable, for those with questionable habits.
I don't mind putting in a bit of work to make my place suitable. I'm sure Xander would be willing to help out. For a price, of course.
Okay, well, I guess that opens up some new possibilities,
she said, pondering the various listings with a new purpose in her eye. Exactly how much work would you be willing to put into this fixer-upper? Are we talking paint and a few updated appliances , Or a full blown gut job with walls coming down? It's not like you're Joe Schmoe Carpenter Repair Guy. Unless you've been holding out and have got some special hidden talents I don't know about. Do you even own a tool belt? Or a hammer?
Not as such. Fine. That one stays off the list.
They continued to plow through the stack of newspapers, Buffy's pen getting a judicious workout as they progressed through the listings. Nearly every place had something wrong with it. It was too old, or needed too much work. Some lacked the extra bedroom Giles insisted upon for his books.
An hour passed, then two. Multiple cups of tea were consumed. In the late hours of the afternoon, Giles finally tossed his glasses on the counter, and with a rub of his aching eyes, pushed back his stool, dropping his feet to the floor to stand.
Perhaps we're being a bit to critical,
he suggested, giving his back a stretch. It appears my money isn't going to go as far as I'd hoped. I may have to compromise on what I hope to buy.
If that means living in a dump, then you might as well not move at all,
Buffy scowled. You could just stay put, and save your money. Of course, you'd just waste it on something stupid, like more books. As if you don't have enough of those,
she snipped with a biting sarcasm. Giles, I realize you're doing this with a budget in mind, and while there are worse places than this where a person can live, though I'm really not sure where that would be,
she grumbled under her breath, her gaze taking in the meager furnishings around them. There's no reason you should have to settle.
Believe me, that is not my intention. I gave that up long ago, when I left what the Council considered suitable housing back in the day.
Giles shuddered, recalling with a less than pleasant nostalgia his youth, when funds had been lean, and he possessed a strong penitent desire to punish himself for a grievous past transgression involving his poor choice in friends and lifestyle. There is a reason I had continued to keep a flat in England all those years I was staying here in California.
Sounds like the old Council really knew how to pinch their pennies, or would that be farthings in England?
she continued to mull over distractedly.
Not since pre-Decimal Day. Anyway, I was on 'special' assignment, their clever little euphemism for whatever dirty business they could dole out to those of us blokes sorely in need of favor. The per diem included lodgings. Times were lean. I couldn't afford to turn down free digs. They had me in this horrid flat off a back street. Place had rats the size of a small dog. Wouldn't have put it past the bloody Council to have been charging them rent.
Suddenly realizing why you never talked much about the glory days of your Watcher youth.
Wasn't much glorious about any of it,
Giles replied.
Guess the more things change, the more they stay the same. Looks like you've come full circle. Maybe you should think about subletting this place to the cockroaches. Given the price of real estate here in California, you could use the extra cash flow.
They used their timely respite to rustle up something to eat. Unlike her own fridge¸ there was plenty to choose from at Giles' place. He had recently restocked his entire kitchen, filling every cupboard and shelf with what seemed tons of groceries. Knowing the varied tastes of his young companions, the Brit had a little bit of everything available. Buffy chose some flavored chips to go with her turkey sandwich, which Giles finished off in what she thought of as 'fancy style' with thin slices of tomato and plenty of crunchy fresh greenery. Constructing his own modest version of Buffy's lunch, Giles brought out some chilled drinks. A beer for himself, a soda for his slayer. Glasses added that small touch of civility to their repast, and with the newspapers set aside for the moment, the pair settled down to eat and converse. Giles shared more news about his trip to England, filling in additional gaps between the facts that she already knew. She in turn told him what little had gone on in his absence, dragging out her side of the tete-a-tete with details to flesh out the sketchy dialogue. The Watcher listened attentively, his brain sometimes having to translate Buffy's very American vocabulary. It was as if she spoke an entirely different language. He would have thought he was used to it after all these years, but he still had trouble keeping up at times with the pace with which her pop culture references would change. Now there was Dawn to keep him on his toes. Even as Buffy matured into the role of provider and parent to her teenaged sibling, the younger Summers girl took up the slack, often testing the limits of Giles' patience with her strange, adolescent point of views. After cleaning up from their lunch, the pair settled back into their paperwork. They spent a good hour debating the virtues of various home amenities. While Giles required only one bedroom for sleeping, he insisted on a second for storage of his precious books, and a third for his private office. To some it might seem the Brit was being a picky. Certainly, in the past he had lived with a lot less, renting a loft apartment with a single bath, combining all his living needs in a large communal space. But this time around he was buying, and he wanted the luxury of having a bit of space in which to wallow. As Giles' friend and slayer, Buffy had appointed herself his first line of defense against the confusing morass of advertisements trying to hook in prospective buyers. She felt she understood his needs better than he did. He completely missed the point of owning property in sunny California. If you could afford it in any possible way, you needed a pool. Tons of people had them, and Giles should, too. Of course, she didn't know if the Brit even knew how to swim. He could learn. The downside to that plan would be the image of Giles in a swimsuit. Definitely not a vision she, or anyone else wanted to see. Crossing off yet another of many listings from the paper, Buffy could sense her Watcher's eyes upon her. She turned her face to stare back, her frown questioning. Resolved to get to the bottom of her Watcher's odd behavior, Buffy pushed her lower lip forward in a calculated pout. Nothing dramatic. She didn't want to overdo it. Just a barely perceptible projection. Next, she fixed an unwavering 'poor little me' eye upon Giles, being sure to tilt her head to an advantageous angle. She waited. It didn't take long. Under the onslaught of her powerful female wiles, the Brit eventually capitulated in defeat, meekly delivering his explanation. Her frown was perplexed, failing to understand why this was special. Her pout deepened, registering confusion, and Giles obliged with a translation. Buffy regarded her Watcher in silence for a long moment. The Watcher smiled, but there was no comforted light in his eyes. Buffy could see he had yet to be persuaded. He too was ready to leave this disheartening conversation behind them. With the air cleared, at least for the moment, the pair was free to devote their attentions to perusing the advertisements in the paper. They had gone through several additional listings, with Buffy rejecting every one, when once again, the slayer caught the Brit staring at her across the page. They shared a brief chuckle, and the warmth of the moment invigorated their purpose, allowing them to tackle several grueling hours of paper chasing searches, and exhausting phone calls in the coming afternoon.What I could use is a new mattress,
Giles sighed, giving his stiffened muscles another limbering twist. The one I have now will be the death of me, or at least my back. I'd like to lay blame to all the travelling I've done as of late, but in all truth, I'm beginning to get old.
Only beginning?
she taunted.
Giles, you're a man in serious denial.
What?
When he didn't answer, she continued to press. Giles, you've been giving me funny looks all morning. What gives?
It's nothing,
he evasively protested.I simply can't help but marvel at the level of trust you continue to show me,
he shyly admitted at last.Why wouldn't I trust you?
she returned. You're Giles.
Buffy, I appreciate the kindness you're offering, but we're both aware that during the previous months, I've made decisions you consider questionable. Perhaps even seditious.
Treasonous,
he supplied.
Lacking in loyalty.
This is about the thing with Spike, isn't it?
she posed. You think I'm still mad at you because you couldn't trust him the way I did.
She gave a dismissive sigh, her kindhearted gaze soothing in its forgiveness. Giles, I told you. That's all part of the past.
And yet, it still lingers, standing between us,
he pragmatically pointed out.
No.
She shook her head emphatically. No yets. No lingering. Not even a perchance, or perhaps. It's over. Done with. History already forgotten.
Look, I know you think I should hate you. And maybe I did. For a while. Note the use of did as the operative word here, meaning of the past tense. Giles, I get it. And using my powers of hindsight, I totally understand where you were coming from when you and the others acted the way you did. You guys were wrong, of course, but then, you didn't know that at the time.
None of you knew Spike the way I did,
she continued, speaking of the vampire with a kindness.
With his soul returned, and free from The First's influence, he was a good man. I could feel it in him, the potential for something greater. Something none of us could comprehend. And when the time came to prove himself, he delivered beyond all our expectations.
You were wise enough to recognize that potential,/
Giles sagely responded.
You saw how his pivotal contributions could assist in our fight. We on the other hand, saw only the danger he represented to our mission. Or, perhaps, if I'm to be completely truthful, it was fear that we felt. Fear for you, for our own lives.
And I'm not blaming you for that,
she sympathetically countered.
It's not like you knew what was coming. You didn't have some all-knowing prophecy written in the blood of the damned at your disposal telling you everything would work out.
Besides, I feel like you deserve some leniency. You were under a lot of stress. Losing the Council. Gathering the Potentials. Plus, your past with Spike wasn't exactly. . well, past. That's a lot of Watcher baggage to carry around. You had a responsibility to look out for everyone. To protect them. To protect me. After all, it's your job to make my job easier. Spike was a complication. One you didn't think I could deal with.
And I was wrong,
the Brit sighed ruefully.
You were,
she bluntly agreed, mincing no words between them. The pain of Giles expression softened only slightly as she continued. But you weren't the only one. The others thought the exact same thing. Even Dawn. My own sister thought I'd lost it. But I've forgiven her. And the others. So it's only right I forgive my Watcher,too,
she added with a smile. After all, I can't exactly afford to go around disowning my friends. It's not like I have that many these days.
Still,
the Watcher continued to argue. It would be understandable if you harbored reservations regarding our. . association.
No reservations,
she returned, then repeating herself more emphatically at the doubt she still saw on his face. Giles, I swear! I trust you! What's it gonna take for you to believe that? You need to stop beating up on yourself. That's my job,
she reminded, hoping the humor would break through the man's self-deprecation. You can't always be right about everything, you know. Sometimes I get a turn at being practically perfect in nearly every way./
It's a concept that may take some getting used to on my part,
Giles smiled, but Buffy could see that the Brit was beginning to come around. Tell you what. If you let me be right once in a while about stuff, I won't tell Dawn about the practically part of the perfect, and you can go on pretending you're. . .
Irrelevant?
he suggested, throwing out a painful concept Willow had used in the past. I was thinking more along the lines of infallible. It a catchier word, one she can wrap her brain around.
I'm a fortunate old fool,
the Watcher humbly sighed. To have someone so forgiving in my life.
Not a fool,
she corrected him gently. Just a Giles. And you have no idea how important you being that Giles is to me.
I believe I'm finally beginning to understand.
Good, 'cause this conversation was delving into deeply depressing territory. It's time we lighten things up a bit. Think happy thoughts! Warm, cozy homey thoughts. So, let's find you a real estate guy, and start looking at some houses. The sooner we get you moved in, the better off we'll all be.
An excellent idea,
Giles agreed.
Okay, now what?
she demanded. You are aware that where it concerns my future domicile, this purchase is completely one of my choice alone,
he admonished. I am the one who will live there. You will be merely a welcomed visitor. I do hope you haven't agreed to come along on this venture simply to exert undue influence. I don't want you to try and pressure me into buying a host of frivolous features I don't need.
Oh, yeah, it's totally your choice,
she nodded condescendingly in agreement. No exertions of any means or degree from this slayer. I'll be completely copacetic. The only reason I'm riding along is to put in my two cents about the academy selection. And for the free food, of course,
she added with a teasing gring.
Now that I actually do believe.
Giles resolutely grunted.