One day spent reading real estate ads was one day too many for Buffy. When she heard the familiar squealing brakes of Dawn's school bus pulling up in the parking lot, she jumped up from her seat, and ran to Giles' fridge. Earlier, she had mentioned to Giles how she was running low on funds, as well as food. The Brit had taken the heavily dropped hint. He told her she could take whatever deli-takeout containers of food from his fridge that suited her fancy, which would be enough to tide them over at least to the next morning. That was when he would take her shopping for groceries, for which he also agreed to pay, setting up Buffy and Dawn with enough to eat, at least for a few more days.
Grabbing the choicest leftovers for her dinner, Buffy bid her Watcher a hasty good-bye, and with her pilfered prizes balanced in arm, she escaped the drudgery of any further house hunting to scurry away and meet her sister. That night, she and Dawn would eat well. They would dine on Chicken Parmesan with loads of pasta, and a side of fresh salad, all courtesy of Giles' personal larder.
Later that evening, once dinner was out of the way, Buffy put in a call to Willow. The Wiccan was eager to help her friend out with her real estate search. Within a few minutes, she and her girlfriend Kennedy were there, setting up a laptop, ready and eager to get started on this newest project.
While Dawn did her homework at the nearby kitchenette counter, the other girls worked in the living room, planning and scheming a Watcher intervention. Buffy described that day's archaic forage into realty with the stubborn Brit, dwelling in great detail upon the long hours wasted going through endless pages of messy ink smudging, smelly ads. The girls listened sympathetically, resolving en masse to bring Giles out of the Stone Age in his house hunt. Willow, as resident computer geek, would lead the reluctant Watcher through the various online sites, while Buffy, with her slayer brawn and more personal influence, would take on the more difficult job of convincing him it was all for his own good. Unfortunately, as always, Kennedy had her job, but she promised to help out with plenty of moral support after the fact, as well as any muffins and donuts she could scarf from work, which all involved agreed would be a worthy, and welcomed contribution.
The plan was set. There was nothing to do now but wait for the opportunity to strike. Meanwhile, the conspirators made good use of their time together to chat about their respective days. When Dawn finished with her homework assignment, she moved over to join the others in their gossip exchange, adding her own tidbits of news as she felt relevant to the conversation.
Early the next morning, after sending her sister off to school, Buffy met up with Willow as planned. The red head was waiting for her, laptop under her arm. After the usual exchange of greetings, the pair quickly headed for Giles' place across the way. Kennedy was off again that morning. She had pulled another couple hours at the hotel, and would join them later. For now it was just the two of them. . .
. . .and Xander?
They had gotten halfway across the lot when Xander's familiar vehicle came drifting around the corner. An underlying rattle emanated from the out of tune engine, the vibrations worsening as he slowed and came up next to them.
Hello, ladies,
he saluted them, rolling down his window. And where are you off to on this lovely morning?
We're headed over to Giles' place,
Willow cheerily offered. We're going to help him find his dream house.
Xander grinned, the effect one of a jovial pirate due to the eye patch he wore. He added a jerk of his chin toward the laptop. And you expect to do what using that?
he asked. His question registered his doubt. From what I heard, Giles sounded dead set against going the technological route when he talked about doing this. He seemed determined go old school, full on stone tablets and scribes. I can't believe you got him to change his mind.
We haven't,
Buffy shrugged. But he'll come around, once I convince him.
Something in her voice sent a chill through Xander. Maybe I should come along,
he suggested. Make sure things don't get too out of hand. Or involve any kind of hand context, especially of the direct contact variety.
Hey! I've got self control,
Buffy defended against the jibe.
I wasn't necessarily talking about you,
Xander returned. You know how Giles gets about these things. He can be really stubborn.
Buffy had met some of the guys Xander worked with, mostly those within grunt work lower echelon positions. She wasn't familiar with anyone named Matt. She assumed he was one of the up and coming managerial assistants Xander would occasionally talk about. It was oviously someone carrying responsibility on the construction site if he was entrusted with enforcing the boss's orders.
The girls stepped aside, allowing Xander to pull into the nearest parking space. As the car shook to a stop, Xander got out his phone, and after pushing a few buttons, connected with Matt. It didn't take long for the two to exchange what information needed to pass between them. Hanging up, Xander pocketed his phone before getting out of the car to join them. Together, the three of them made the trek across to Giles' place. Their knock was answered almost immediately. The Watcher must have been waiting with some anticipation for Buffy's arrival, for the door opened quickly weit the Brit excitedly greeting his slayer. Dogging her friend's footsteps, Willow chose the sofa for her perch, leaving enough space for Giles to sit beside her. She opened her computer, getting things set up for the job ahead of them, then with an eager smile, she faced her skeptic elder. Giles steeled himself against the initial verbal attack, his face drawing into a stern resolve in anticipation of the abuse he knew would follow. Buffy's response was a disdainful snort. With a heavy sigh, Giles obeyed, dropping dejectedly down onto the couch. He tossed the newspapers aside under the coffee table, and taking a moment to polish his glasses, he allowed himself a peek at Willow's computer. Willow quickly plugged in these new parameters, and in an instant, Giles was presented with dozens of options, each one illustrated with its own pretty photo. Not one voice acknowledged his comment. Everyone was deeply engrossed in the computer screen, including Giles. With a shrug, Xander moved unnoticed and alone across the apartment. With a final ignored sigh, Xander let himself out, leaving the threesome to their real estate foraging. Several hours passed, and with Willow's excellent computer assistance, Giles had compiled a goodly number of possible house choices from their internet search. There were almost an obscene number of listings within the areas he had chosen to confine his search. The variety of homes ranged in style, and amenities beyond any initial needs that he had decided to pursue. Things were looking up, and Giles was becoming excited at the world of possibilities opening before him. At Buffy's insistence, he picked a realty firm from the many listed online. He made contact by phone, and in spite of the girls' prompting him to the point of near distraction, he set up an appointment to meet with an agent that very afternoon. Her work done, Willow eventually scampered off. Kennedy was once again home, and her company obviously preferred to Giles'. Buffy continued to linger. Giles had promised to drive her to the grocery store so that she could restock the Summers' larder. Of course, Giles realized that also meant paying for those groceries, a burden he accepted without bitterness or complaint. With the food run completed, and everything tucked away in the Summers' cupboards and fridge, Giles accepted his slayer's gracious invitation to lunch. It didn't fail to escape him that it was a meal that he himself had only recently purchased, still it was nice to be waited on by Buffy for a change, and he made the most of the singular experience. Once lunch was out of the way, Giles began his good-byes. It was time for him to depart, and meet with his realtor. But Buffy wasn't about to let her Watcher run off on his own. Making arrangements with Willow and Kennedy, she satisfied her maternal obligations and made sure Dawn would not return to an empty apartment after school. Willow promised to get Dawn to do her homework. From her own high school experiences studying with the red head, Buffy realized this meant as much gossiping as it did completing any assignments, but that was the price one paid to free up an afternoon. By one o'clock, Buffy and Giles were in the car, and heading down the road. The realtor Giles had chosen had a local office in nearby Pueblo Verde, a small town about eight or so miles from where they currently resided. It didn't take them long to make the drive. Traffic was light, and there were few stoplights to hinder them on their journey. They were soon turning into the parking lot at the address of the realty firm. A colorful banner welcomed them, with a large print sign on the building's side proclaiming they were in the correct place. After parking his vehicle, Giles led Buffy into the offices. There he paused, looking suddenly lost, overwhelmed by the unexpected scale of the cubical jungle that lay before them. Buffy sensed her Watcher's momentary apprehension. Placing a firm hand at his back, she nudged him forward into the reception area, guiding him over to the main desk where a young woman sat answering and fielding a series of phone calls. The woman behind the desk noticed their approach. Tilting side the receiver she wore around her head, she smiled, and greeted the pair as they stepped up to her desk. The receptionist beamed brightly back, delivering a look Buffy had come to recognize after many years. Once again, Giles' cloyingly polite English accent had struck down the defenses of some helpless female. It was a phenomenon Buffy never quite understood, and was apparently immune to herself. She listened to Giles talk every day, and she never once swooned, or giggled, simply because he'd opened his mouth and began to speak. It didn't seem to matter what he was saying, or to whom he was saying it. Young, or old. Married or single. The women fawned on him, smiling and making doe eyes at her Watcher. It was positively disgusting. Rachel responded with her own personal attentiveness. Getting up from behind the fortress of her desk, she escorted the Brit through the maze of cubicles, and with Buffy hoofing along at their heels, the receptionist led them all to a private office down a short hallway. They made themselves comfortable, settling into conveniently placed chairs to wait. Giles glanced about the room, idly taking in their surroundings. As his eye fell upon his companion, he frowned, puzzled by her stare. A few minutes later they were joined by Mrs. Callaway. She was a woman who made an immediate impression on those she met, a calculated move on her part. Buffy's best estimate put her at forty-ish in age, and while she was getting toward that dangerous point of where many women begin to visibly decline, Fiona Callaway had found some way to by-pass that problem. She was more than reasonably good-looking, though Buffy would have stopped short of calling her beautiful. Her nose was a tad too pinched, and her tan more orange than natural, but she had the sort of knock-out figure most men wanted to get their hands on. To say the woman was voluptuous was an understatement. The real estate agent had a bosom that would be the perfect advertisement for whatever plastic surgeon had done the work to create them, and she definitely understood the assets she possessed. Her strikingly graphic outfit clung to her every curve, her hair calculatingly tousled, and her makeup stylish, if a tad overdone. She certainly knew how to keep it fresh as it lacked the telltale caking Buffy sometimes noted on older women. There was a business-like exchange of handshakes between the two before Mrs. Callaway turned toward the third person within the room. Buffy could see the woman was torn between the usual choices of wife or daughter. Secretly, the slayer enjoyed the awkwardness in the moment. Holding the power in even such small social situations imparted a feeling that made her heart race. It was obvious Mrs. Callaway wanted to avoid any embarrassing faux pas, and while the urge to play cat to the woman's mouse was strong, she decided to cut the woman some slack, and quickly recued her from the clumsy predicament. A curious expression furrowed the woman's brow. When the Watcher seemed reticent in his explanation, Buffy jumped in, happily answering for him. They spent the next hour hashing through the various points Giles was looking for in a house. Mrs. Callaway brought out several thick books, each filled with slick, impressive photos of available listings. As Giles obligingly thumbed through the pages, the realtor extolled the virtues of the properties. Buffy sat close, making sure she saw everything Giles did, and cueing him in on several homes in particular with a forcible prod from an elbow. Once they had picked out a sizable inventory of prospective homes, with Mrs. Callaway adding a few of her own, the realtor excused herself to run off copies of each listing for them. The printer was located in some distant part of the building, and when the woman went out to collect the information, Buffy thought it the perfect opportunity to have a little talk with her Watcher. . .alone. Giles, however, had an entirely different thought occupying his mind. His eyes followed the bustling woman as she walked out of the office, an inscrutable smile on his lips as he stared after her retreating back. There was a strangely disquieting air about the woman. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but there it was, and it sent a peculiar feeling coursing through him. It was more than simply her looks. She was a fairly attractive woman. And she certainly maintained a well-appointed figure. In fact, if anything, he would say she was a bit. . . The voice in his head sounded remarkably like his slayer. It took Giles a moment to realize the word had been uttered aloud. He turned to face his younger companion, fixing her with a curious gaze. The scathing glare Giles shot her way said he very much was not thinking anything of the kind. His silent denial prompted a return look of cynicism from his disbelieving slayer. Fortunately, the realtor had returned from her trip to the printer, saving the Brit from further indignity at his slayer's scolding tongue. Adjusting his glasses, Giles carefully began to read about the listing. Coming around her desk, Mrs. Callaway grabbed a purse from the corner of her office, and with Giles and Buffy at her back, she led the way out to the parking lot where her car was waiting. In a shameless play for Giles' attention, the realtor invited him to take the passenger seat beside her, by default then delegating Buffy to the back. The slayer graciously accepted the downgrade, and together the three set off down the road for their very first viewing. The rest of the afternoon was spent touring their first three houses. It was an experience filled with excitement and expectations for the Watcher and his slayer. There were also more than a few disappointments. By evenings' approach, even the optimistic Buffy was having her first reservations. She thought it was going to be fun shopping for a house. To her disgruntled consternation, it was hard work. There was traipsing around yards, and looking into closets, and way too many badly decorated rooms. Through it all, Giles remained attentive, politely listening to the realtor, but remaining noncommittal as she guided them through each house. Several hours later it was time to call it day. Mrs. Callaway brought them back around to the office, and after extracting a promise from Giles to return the next morning, she walked them to their own car, sending the Watcher and his slayer off to discuss the day's adventures. Back at the hotel again, Giles stopped and let Buffy out at her door. Dawn was waiting inside, as were Willow and Kennedy, the girls all eager to hear how the day had gone. The blonde waved him off with a gesture demanding Giles call her, which he answered with a nod in return. Then driving the small distance to his own temporary home, the Watcher parked his car, letting himself in, and with a tired finality he locked the door, putting the long busy day behind him. Well, he's going to just have to unstubborn himself real fast,
Buffy announced firmly. You weren't there yesterday, helping him. We spent practically the entire day looking through those stupid newspapers. It was like some sort of typographical torture. I got paper cuts, and all of my fingers turned black from the ink,
a fact she emphasized with a waggle of fingers toward the open window. And do I need to talk about all the squinting, and polishing of glasses? You'd think he'd want to avoid all that small print. This is a fight for sanity, both his and mine.>
Whoa! Let's keep things calm there,
Xander cautioned. Just let me park this jalopy, and I'll come with.
Won't you be late for work?
Willow worried. I'm the boss, Will,
he reminded her. I'm allowed to show up after everyone else. I'll just give Matt a call, let him know I've been delayed a while. He'll get the rest of the guys started.
Buffy!
Giles stood inside the doorway, a cheerful smile wringing his face. And. . .Willow,
he added, noting his additional guest. A befuddled expression fell over his features, however, as his eyes fell upon the last of the group. And Xander?
Hail, hail, the gangs all here,
Xander quipped. He followed the others across the apartment threshold, brushing past the puzzled Giles. I wasn't expecting all of you this morning,
Giles said, attempting to recover from the shock of so many visitors. The Brit did a quick mental calculation of his small pantry, hoping he had enough food supplies for his additional guests. He had resigned himself to feeding Buffy, of course, that was a given when she'd invited herself to help. What he hadn't counted on, however, were the two additional extra hungry stomachs to fill. Apparently, he was looking at another grocery run later that day.Buffy said you could use help with your house searching,
Willow said, deflecting any blame onto her companion. So, here I am! Ready to seek out and find the perfection of domestic abode.
And you brought your computer, I see,
Giles returned. The polite smile he wore faded, replaced by a frown which he directed toward Buffy. I thought we had agreed to do this my way.
We agreed. We tried. We failed,
Buffy intoned, dismissing his reservations. She made her way over to one of the chairs across the room, flopping down to make herself at right at home. It's time to call in reinforcements, Giles.>
What kind of house are we looking for?
Willow asked.While I appreciate your willingness to help in this endeavor. . .
Giles started, but a impatient sigh from Buffy called a halt to any more as the blonde gave a roll of her eyes and interrupted. You want to do this yourself. . .a computer can't possibly understand what you need. . .blah, blah, blah!
The biting tone of her criticism brought and involuntary wince from the Brit. Giles, you're like a broken CD. You need to loosen up. Find a new tune to groove to. Preferably one written in this millenium.
Simply because I prefer the written word to the intangible pattern of integrated circuits, and irrational broadloom connections. . .
Band,<.q> Willow injected, correcting her teminology. The Brit paused, his argument rudely cut short due to some apparently banal technicality.
It's broadband, not broadloom,
Willow meekly continued. We're tying into the internet here, not weaving tapestries, she giggled.
I'd prefer not to be tied to anything,
Giles grumbled belligerently. Just give it up, G-Man,
Xander advised. Bow out before someone gets themselves hurt, that someone being you.
But. . .
Giles sputtered an ineffective protest. Grabbing a stack of newspapers off the kitchen counter, he brought them over to his indifferent guests, and waved the publications in front of them. I bought The Trent Gazette, and the Port Sinclair Journal. . .
You can read them later,
Buffy said, dismissing his plaintive wheedle. Look! Willow's got a whole page full of pretty houses for you to look at. And she's got pictures. Do your cutting edge news rags have pictures of houses?
she continued as he attempted another protest. Yes,
the Watcher replied, grinning self-righteously. To prove his point, he did a quick search through a section, eventually producing the promised pictorial, a small and grainy black and white depiction of a home. Nice try, Giles,
she derisively scoffed. With a smug, superior gesture, she spun Willow's computer around, displaying what the wiccan's brief search had produced. The screen was filled with multiple full color renditions of a home's interior. And do your pictures look like these?
the slayer snootily demanded. No. Not as such,
Giles admitted, his broad shoulders sagging as he reluctantly accepted his defeat. Then put up a chair and have a seat,
Buffy ordered with a wave at the empty spot on the sofa next to Willow. Ooooo, that one looks interesting,
he announced, tilting his head back to peer through his bifocals. Any further protests were immediately forgotten, his interest absorbed in the hunt. Where is that one?
This page has listings for Baywood-Los Osos that are in your price range,
Willow told him, her smile easing him further into her special world. She proceeded to demonstrate what the web site could do. Now, I can narrow the search by adding features. How many bedrooms do you want?
Two, preferably three.
And bathrooms?
One should suffice. . .he started to reply.
Two,
Buffy corrected. Her interruption earned her a glare from Giles. No less than one 'n a half,
she compromised. Bloody hell!
the Brit swore, impressed by the seemingly magical results. And you can do this for any city?
he queried in awed astonishment.
Yup,
Willow smugly bragged. And this isn't the only site. There's this one page that lets you draw shapes on a map, and they'll tell you where every house for sale in that area is, and give you all its' listing information. And, see? You can look for a mortgage loan, find out monthly costs. They've got just about anything you need to know, all in one convenient place.
Sounds like everything you'll ever need,
Xander announced, slapping the Watcher firmly on his shoulder. Looks like you guys are set,
he remarked, slowly starting toward the door. So I guess I'll just mosey on off to work.
No, that's alright. Nobody needs to get up on my account. I can show myself the door,
he babbled, filling the silence of his exit with his own small talk. So good of you to drop by, Xander,
he intoned in a fake British accent. Won't you come again sometime soon. Thanks for stopping by. You were a big help. See you soon!
There's nothing to be afraid of here, Giles,
she encouragingly prompted the Brit. Just keep moving. You're almost there.
Good afternoon, and welcome to Wannaman Realty. How may I help you?
Hi, uh, Rachel,
Buffy returned, personalizing her own greeting with a glance toward the name plaque strategically positioned on the other girl's desk. We have an appointment with…what's your realtor's name again?
she asked Giles. Mrs. Callaway,
the Brit provided, coming at last out of his befuddled reverie. She is expecting us. Or, rather me.
And you are?
Giles,
he returned, briefly flashing a pleasing smile. Rupert Giles.
Mrs. Callaway is away from her desk at this moment,
Rachel explained, opening the door for them. But you can wait inside while I go tell her you're here.
Thank you.
Giles smiled again, this time receiving a coquettish glance from the receptionist, before she finally scampered off to fulfill her promise. And what did I do now,
he grumbled, recognizing her disapproving squint. You did that thing again, she carped.
That thing where you talk and the ladies go all 'Oh, he's got an accent! Isn't that so Dreamy McDreamy? Bleeech!
I simply speak the way I speak,
Giles returned in nonchalant defense, but it was obvious he was secretly pleased by her observation. How people choose to react to the correct pronunciation my words is beyond the ken of my control.
Hello! And you must be Mr. Giles,
the woman gushed pleasantly as she breezed into the office. Ever the gentleman, Giles immediately rose to his feet, making himself the perfect target for her effervescent greeting. Fiona Callaway,
she cheerily introduced herself. We spoke earlier on the phone. I apologize for not being here when you arrived, but I was wrapping up a few loose ends in our search. I hope you haven't been waiting too long.
Not at all,
Giles smiled. We had only just arrived ourselves.
And I see you brought along your, uhm. . .
Friend,
she helpfully furnished, finally breaking the moment's tension. I'm Buffy. Giles and I know each other from when he first came to America. I was his student back in high school.
So you're a teacher!
Mrs. Callaway said, returning her attention toward Giles. She seemed relieved to be able to dismiss the other younger woman, and concentrate her smile toward her main client. I was a librarian, actually,
Giles gently corrected. Though sadly, that is no longer the case. Circumstances at the time demanded I switch careers.
The library exploded,
she enlightened the woman. That would be before,
she further clarified, not wanting to give the realtor the wrong impression. It was the first time the place blew up, when it was just the library. Not this last time, when the whole town bit the dust.
I see,
Mrs. Callaway frowned. It was obvious, however, that she did not understand at all. As a result of the unfortunate circumstance,
Giles said, taking over. I found myself seeking new employment. In the end, I used the afforded opportunity to invest my savings, and have at go at a very different business venture.
Giles bought the Magic Box!
Buffy proudly proclaimed, bragging off her Watcher's accomplishment. It was the very best emporium around for all your conjuring and sorcery needs. One of Sunnydale's finest. Or, at least it was. When there actually was a Sunnydale.
I see,
the realtor sympathized. Moving around her desk, she invited the pair to sit. How unfortunate. It must be devastating, losing your business like that. Well, at least you weren't hurt. They say when you have your health, you have everything. So, you're in the market for a new home?
she asked, segueing to her pitch. He is,
Buffy jumped in, answering for her Watcher. He shot her a look of warning, and she quickly backed down, meekly finishing But maybe he should tell you about that.
As it so happens, I left the shop behind some time before the recent. . .catastrophe. I returned to England, and have only recently returned with an eye toward starting a new sort of business venture. Miss Summers here,
he said with an acknowledging nod toward the slayer. . . .will be playing an integral part in the operation. As I explained in our earlier conversation, we'll be opening a small academy for young women. Which is what brings me to the secondary purpose for our visit today. In addition to a house for myself, I'm interested in purchasing a commercial property. Could you possibly assist with that as well?
Not a problem! I'll be more than glad to help you with that, Mr. Giles. Wannaman's handles all sorts of properties,
the woman reiterated with a helpful smile. We can work with one of our agents that deals in commercial listings. I'm positive we can find you something that'll fit your needs. . .for both your searches.
Now let's see. . .
She began to rummage through the papers on her desk, eventually producing the page she wanted. My notes here say you're interested in a fairly broad area, encompassing several towns. . .
Perfect.
Perfect?
he echoed, perplexed by the odd interjection. Implants,
Buffy continued, unabashed. I mean, they can't be real. No one her age can have breasts that big, and possibly achieve the lift she has through natural selection. It's definitely the result of some serious surgical intervention.
Oh, you know that's what you were thinking.
she accused.I can assure you I most certainly was not!
the Brit protested. His spine set with an indignant stiffness. And I really believe that. Giles, you were giving her Superman Eyes.
Once again the Brit's pop culture vocabulary failed him. X-ray vision,
Buffy explained. You were looking at her so hard you practically burned a hole through her blouse.
And again, you are mistaken,
Giles frowned, flustered by the accusation. However, his objection lacked the desired conviction he sought, paired as it with a sheepish blush. Truth be told, he had noticed the remarkable body feature of which Buffy spoke with some admiration. I think we've got ourselves a good selection of houses to look at,
We've got a little bit of everything here,
she said, flipping through the first pages for them. As you can see, I also threw in a few more newer listings that haven't made the books yet. Here's a nice little ranch in Cayucos,
she suggested, stopping at a page.That isn't the price range we agreed upon,
he said, looking up with a concerned frown. There's always some wiggle room there,
Mrs. Callaway assured him. That's where I come in. It's my job to work out a deal everyone can live with. Now, what do say we take a ride and see if we can find you the home of your dreams.