I want it on the official record. I officially do not like this idea!
A belligerent pout darkened the slayers features as she regarded her Watcher with an angry glower. Even from his vantage point well across the room, Giles felt the heat of Buffy's dark glare, and he shivered as he offered up a few words of encouragement.
You'll do fine, Buffy. This isn't supposed to be formal, or polished. You need only speak from the heart.
It's not what my heart has to say that has me nervous,
she informed the Brit. It's my mouth, which seems to think it can bypass my brain when I talk, but then all the wrong words fall out, and I sound stupid.
Not stupid,
Xander sympathetically corrected. He was standing beside Giles, and fiddling with a camera mounted on an elevated tripod. It's more like you sound insane.
Insane. . . stupid, what's the difference?
Xander made another small adjustment to the video equipment, which he had carefully focused on Buffy. She was sitting, perched nervously on the chair Giles used at his desk, and which for the moment, had been strategically set up before the backdrop of an overflowing bookcase. The furniture rearrangement was an attempt to create a small staged scene, and Buffy's discomfort resulted from finding herself facing down the business end of the camera's lens.
With one last check through the viewfinder, Xander assessed that everything was properly set. With a satisfied grunt, he straightened from behind the camera to obligingly address his companion's last question.
Insane is something unbelievable. It's attempting something you know has a good chance of blowing up in your face,
Xander patiently explained. Stupid is asking a guy with one eye to be in charge of setting up this camera. And you're not doing this yourself because. . . ?
he asked Giles.
Because I am a Watcher,
the Brit dryly replied. I believe the job descriptions speaks for itself.
I wish is would speak for me,
Buffy sullenly pouted.
You're thinking about this way too hard,
Xander advised his friend.
And here I thought I wasn't thinking hard enough,
Buffy frowned in reply. I should have written something down. Done an outline. Practiced more. Or maybe less. Anything in the way of better preparation. Is it too late to make cue cards? Or we could get one of those teleprompter thingies.
She breathed a strained groan, her body visibly taut with tension. Why did I let you talk me into this?
she glared accusingly at her Watcher.
Because you are the slayer, and this. . .
Giles returned, gesturing toward the camera. This is your destiny.
Hey!
Xander protested, defending himself and Giles. You're not hanging this one on either of us. Blame the source, Andrew. This was all his bright idea.
Andrew,
Buffy growled, her tone registering something like contempt. He has no idea how incredibly lucky he is. Only he could find the perfect excuse to be thousands of miles away when he needs a good beating.
Ignoring his friend's verbal wrath, Xander turned to Giles. I think we're ready to go,
he cheerily reported.
Very good, then,
Giles returned with an authoritative nod. He gave Buffy a glance over the top of his spectacle. You may proceed when ready.
Giles stood back and took a moment to carefully observe his slayer. Gone was the strength and confidence that had carried her through the past months. Since the specter of this video had been suggested by the Council, Buffy had become a bundle of raw nerves and half-hearted excuses. It had become apparent the ide of performing for a camera left her unsettled. Fortunately, his own life and their search for a home had proved the perfect distraction, though that was quickly fading in the light of the present situation.
After many hours spent debating his various choices, Giles finally had decided to purchase the house on Raven Heights Extension. There were many problems to overcome, of course, before the house was brought up to a standard where he felt it could be inhabited, and serve his needs. Fortunately, the initial inspection of the structure pronounced it sound, and sitting on a stable foundation, though that news seemed to do little to nullify his slayer's concerns.
His original plan had focused on Giles procuring two separate properties. One would be for his personal use as a home, while the second would become the site of Buffy's Slayer School. Raven Heights Extension afforded them an unprecedented opportunity, one that he hadn't previously considered. Over the years, Giles had managed to amass a tidy sum of personal savings. That, along with a small family inheritance, and the insurance monies he received after the destruction of the Magic Box provided the basic funding allowing him to acquire the property, as well as a loan to renovate the house.
As for the school, they had the kindness of Basil Crichlowe and his generous resources to thank for that. The Council seemed unconcerned with the alacrity of their response, holding their funding like a sword of Damocles over them, so with his benefactor's permission, Giles used some of the donations to hire an architect to redesign the garage. The plans were to include space suitable for housing ten slayer students in dormitory fashion, as well as adequate accommodations for them to congregate, dine and socialize. In addition, the blueprints were to provide additional rooms for their classes, and a spacious gym for training, all built accordingly with Buffy's slayer seal of approval.
There lay yet another advantage in bypassing the Council's funding. It left Buffy and Giles liberated to set up any curriculum they desired for their new school. Buffy could instruct her prospective students in her way, free of any outside influence from the Council. She would be the true master of her own destiny, as would those girls they eventually trained. As for Giles? He would also benefit in bringing about that opportunity, which he hoped would go far to soothing any remaining difficulties between them.
Whatever Buffy may have thought of Mrs. Callaway, the realtor was true to her word. She negotiated Giles a reasonable deal with the property's owner, a Mr. George Michael Santerras, and with her connections at the bank, the realtor cut through most of the associated red tape, expediting the sale to allow Giles to take possession in just over a month's time.
With the purchase behind him, Giles could turn his attention toward the task of renovating the property. With Xander's help, he secured a contract with the firm for which the Scooby worked. While they usually dealt in large commercial undertakings, the company had suffered a major revenue loss with the destruction of its offices in Sunnydale. Eager to rebuild its fractured client base, the company was only too happy to take on Giles' modest project. The work enabled them to keep many of their best payroll workers employed between projects, and because Xander was the one who had provided the contact, he was given the Westcliffe assignment to supervise.
Everything was beginning to fall into place. Giles had his house. Buffy had her school. Xander was looking at a sizable bonus for bringing his company business, while Willow and Kennedy gained steady employment as instructors at the school. Everybody got what they wanted, what they needed to set up what could be a productive life for them all. There was still a lot of hard work and risk ahead of them, but the groundwork was in place, and it was time for each Scooby to make what they could of it.
While Giles took encouragement from his part in the school's eventual set up, Buffy was feeling the increasing pressure with each forward step. It was moments like this one that had her worried the most. She was dreading the production of this video. When she wasn't sitting on her hands in a vain attempt to control her fidgeting, she was compulsively playing with her hair, pulling it back behind her shoulders, or brushing it from her face. She was particularly obsessed with a stubborn lock that plagued her with its constant straying, and refusal to stay put no matter what she did.
I look like a hot mess,
she anxiously groused, fussing with the wayward strand for the umpteenth time. Abandoning the impossible task, she looked to her Watcher in a desperate appeal. I really should change this outfit. I think this shirt might have a mustard stain on it somewhere. Can we do this tomorrow? Tomorrow would definitely be better for me.
You're blouse is fine,
Giles returned in his best soothing tone. I don't see any stains, or wrinkles,
he said, preemptively cutting off her next protest. You look perfectly lovely.
Perfect? We're going for perfect?
she squeaked, her voice rising a decibel in panic. Oh god! I'm doomed!
There is no point in putting this off any longer,
Giles gently admonished his fretful slayer. Changing strategy, he appealed to Buffy's kinder side. Xander has worked very hard to prepare this little scenario per Andrew's instructions,
he put forward. You wouldn't want to disappoint him now, would you? Of course not. So, why don't we get on with this. . .
Because this. . . the blonde sighed despondently. This is such a bad idea.
Relax, Buff,
Xander grinned, adding his voice to the Watcher's. It’s cinema verite. What could go wrong?
I need to make a list?
she petulantly replied. For starters, the camera lens could break. Actually,
she pouted, brightening for a brief moment as she pondered the possibility. That one would be a plus. At least it would put an end to this horror show.
When nothing of a disastrous nature took place, Xander pressed the button that started the camera recording. Realizing there was no way to stop this now, Buffy heaved a resigned sigh, cleansing herself of as much apprehension as she could, and with a overly cheerful grin forced onto her face, she began her slayer recruiting speech.
Hi, there! I'm Buffy. . .
The speech came to an abrupt stop even as it began. Squinting past the blindingly bright lighting, she sought out the reassuring eye contact of her camera man. Can we erase that? It sounded really sucky to me. You guys heard sucky, too, didn't you?
It was definitely perky,
Xander encouragingly commented. Nothing wrong with perky.
It was fine,
Giles said, reinforcing Xander's positive attitude. Very forthcoming, completely natural. Now, take a deep breath, relax, and we'll have another go at it.
Reluctantly following her Watcher's advice, Buffy slowly breathed in, and with a tension releasing exhale, she worked at finding her calm center again. When she achieved a reasonable approximation of serenity, she casually brushed her hair back, put forth her happiest smile, and started again.
Hi, I'm Buffy. And you're not.
Exploding into uncontrolled nervous giggles, she was joined by a loud burst of sympathetic laughter from Xander.
Shaking his head with exasperation, Giles glared at his two young friends. Not you're being silly,
he complained.
Sorry,
Buffy apologized between titters. I can't help it, Giles. This whole thing is so lame.
Perhaps it would help if you tried a different approach,
the Watcher suggested impatiently. Something with more formality.
Formality, huh?
she questioned, pouting. Like formal wear? You want me to wear a ball gown? Because I'd be only too happy to oblige. Of course, that would mean putting this on hold while we went to the mall. . .
What I want is for you to show a bit of professionalism,
the Brit irritably grumbled back.
Professional, right,
she nodded, appearing to consider the idea. With a nod, she rearranged herself in the chair, adopting a serious expression. In a composed, detached voice that mockingly echoed Giles' British accent, she delivered her latest attempted pitch to the unwinking camera lens.
Good evening. I'm Alistar Buffy, and welcome to tonight's episode of Monsterpiece Theater.
The effort produce another eruption of guffaws from Xander. This only annoyed Giles, who shot out a hand to smack the young Scooby across the back of his head, effectively silencing him, if only for a brief second.
You are not helping,
the Watcher peevishly growled.
What? It was funny!
Xander defended with outstretched hands between breathless fits of mirth. Trust me. Andrew will appreciate it, and he can always edit that part out later.
This is supposed to be an educational video, not a comedy of errors!
Giles snipped curtly back, his tolerance dwindling by the moment. It will represent the first introduction parents and prospective students receive concerning the slayer school, and inform them of the important mission we will be performing here. Now, if you two can find it in yourselves to control any further outbursts of frivolity for the duration of our film session, we can finish this, and move on to more pressing matters.
Okay, okay!
Buffy hiccupped. Carefully, she blotted a mirthful tear from her eye, ever mindful of her makeup. I got this. No more joking, I promise. I'll do it right this time. A one and done for a final take.
Another deep breath, a few more tweaks with her fingers to straighten her hair, and Buffy once more made an attempt to compose her nerves. Closing her eyes, she mentally shook off her stress, and spiritually turned her focus inward. Her breathing gradually slowed. Her confidence growing as a calm serenity settled over her physical body. Every muscle relaxed, letting loose all the tension and apprehension stored within as her mind blocked out the extraneous stimuli of the surrounding room. For a moment, the world ceased to exist. There was no Xander. No Giles. No camera with its blinking light. She withdrew into a private mental universe that she created within her head. Her essence of self levitated freely within the nothingness of her special world, and she was at peace, once with the spirit of the universe at last.
Giles watched with pride as his slayer sought out her inward strength. It took only seconds for the amazing transformation to take place. When at last Buffy opened her eyes again, there was a perceptible change in not simply her demeanor, but in the very core of her being. She calmly faced the camera, her smile neither mocking nor anxious. Words began to pour forth from her soul like a fountain of tranquility, each one ringing of credible truth.
Hi!. My name is Buffy Summers. I'm not a celebrity, or a famous sports figure. I don't do reality TV. Hollywood isn't out there, beating down my door to exploit me. I'm just a woman. An ordinary person. Someone who's a lot like you.
Parents, your daughter received a special gift. She inherited a calling that only a select number are privileged to share. She was chosen to become a vampire slayer.
Right now, some of you are asking yourself, what's a slayer, and how did this happen to my child? There are those of you probably thinking this is some sort of scam, or that I'm crazy, and should be locked up. Now, before you decide this is a hoax, and walk away, I'd like a few minutes of your time. Hear what I have to say. In return, I'll help you make sense out of why you're here.
Giles smiled as he listened to his slayer launch into the story of how she came to be The Chosen One. She explained the One Girl in all the World
concept, told her audience about how Merrick came to her with the revelation of her calling, and how at first, she thought he was some raving lunatic. She described how he trained her, and about her first awkward encounter with a vampire.
As she talked, Giles felt a deep sense of pride well within him. He saw a confident young woman, someone very different from the brash, impertinent Buffy he first met those seven tumultuous years ago in the Sunnydale High School library. She had grown and blossomed over the past years, become stronger, more responsible, capable of carrying the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. At times, she was still blunt, her words often cutting and brutally honest. She could hurt with both fist and tongue, and no one, not even her Watcher, could force her to do something if she felt it was wrong.
Buffy was a free spirit, a singular force of nature. In one moment she could make a snap decision of the sort that would forever change the world, and in the next break into tears at some sentimental drivel in a late night movie she was watching. She followed her heart, trusting it more than her mind, the remarkable combination of both, along with her slayer instinct, bringing her through some of the worst threats to mankind. She could be congruously absurd, was lightning quick with a biting quip for her enemy, though Giles was just as often a target of her unusual brand of humor.
I realize this is a lot to take in.
Buffy was still talking, but from the reassured tone of her voice, Giles could tell her discourse was gradually nearing its end. Vampires, monsters, magick, apocalyptic disaster. Apocalypse,
she briefly smiled, repeating the word. It's a harsh concept to wrap your head around. Hard as the decision you and your daughter are about to make. I can't stress how important it is you discuss these things, and make this decision together. If there is anything I've learned as a vampire slayer, it's never underestimate the importance of family and friends. Both are crucial in keeping you alive, and in the end, that's the goal in all of this.
Because being a slayer is about more than staking vampires, or standing against the forces of evil. It isn't just averting the next apocalypse. It's you being able to walk away from all those things, and staying alive to face the next great fight.
Though Buffy directed her words toward the camera, Giles heard her message reach far beyond the invisible fourth wall. She wasn't simply talking to, but rather with the parents and girls who would one day see this video. In simple language, she had laid out the story of her life as a slayer, describing the various tribulations of her calling in an honest conversation. And while she may have minimized the more painful moment of her past, she did not fail to stress the danger involved, tempering her message with the rewarding satisfaction of a job well done. Through it all, she impressed upon her audience the value of family and friends, and their place alongside sacrifice and courage in the face of adversity.
She spoke to the parents, comparing the duty placed upon their child to sending a family member off to war. She briefly described the school's proposed curriculum, spoke of how it would benefit their daughter, even if they chose not to accept the life of a vampire slayer at the end of the sessions. She made certain all involved knew that, while they had no choice in having received this calling, there was no shame in choosing not to answer its duty.
In closing, she encouraged her audience to phone or e-mail any question, giving out the special internet account provided by the Council, as well as one for their slayer school. Then she politely extended an invitation to see the new campus in person, as well as the chance to meet and greet the personnel at the school. She finished with a promise the instructors would look after their daughter as they would family. After all, that is what they were now.
There was a long pause where no one in the room said a word. All of a sudden, Buffy broke from her serious character, her body visibly melting in her chair with relief. Turning to Xander and Giles, she flashed a timid smile, her mood falling somewhere between hope and dread.
How was it?
she demanded, anxiously searching for their reaction. With a moan, she answered her own question. It was bad. Really bad! We should do it over. I can do better. Darn it!
she exclaimed, sullenly whining in complaint. Man, I totally suck at this! It was really bad, wasn't it?
It was perfect,
Giles gently smiled, offering his praise to assure her. You were informative, impassioned, and definitive. It wouldn't have you change a thing.
Really?
She perked up slightly, though not quite convinced. Turning her apprehensive eyes Xander's way, she eagerly looked for his confirmation, too.
Ditto everything the big guy said,
her friend grinned encouragingly. You totally rocked it, Buffy.
A broad grin of relief broke across her once tense features, lighting Buffy's face with a boundless joy. You have no idea how glad I am that nightmare's out of the way.
With an energetic bound, she sprang from her chair, released from its sedentary prison. I could really use a drink,
she complained, striking forth toward the apartment's kitchenette.
The unanticipated announcement furrowed the Watcher's brow. It's a bit early, don't you think?
he asked, checking his watch for the time. Smiling apologetically, he nevertheless offered up his meager larder as a polite host. I'm afraid all I have is Scotch. . .
Half-way toward her goal, Buffy paused and turned on her heel to face her Watcher. A drink of water,
she returned, tossing a disgusted glower toward Giles. Contrary to certain people's inebriated opinion, some of us actually like drinking the non-alcoholic version of wet.
Others of us choose to bathe in the stuff,
Xander quipped jovially in addition.
Water. Yes, of course,
Giles stammered with embarrassment. He flashed an awkward smile, and quickly strode across the room, brushing past his slayer. I'll get you a glass straight away.
Fetching a clean tumbler from the small kitchenette's cupboards, Giles reached into the fridge and pulled one of the chilled bottles inside from the shelf. He held out both to Buffy, who regarded him with an expectantly quirked eyebrow. Quickly, the Watcher realized his social faux pas, and after a juggle of his hands and their contents, he twisted the cap from the bottle, poured the cool liquid into the glass, which he offered once again to his waiting slayer.
Buffy accepted the refreshing drink, and slowly sipping it as she made her way back toward the living area with its garish sofa, she tossed an impish grin Xander's way before flopping down on the aged furniture's dumpy cushions. Xander, who had observed with amusement the entire pantomime between Watcher and slayer from his station behind the camera, sauntered over to join his friend, plopping down unceremoniously beside her.
How'd you do that?
he asked, leaning back with a look of awe.
The Watcher's comment produced an excited shriek from Buffy. Slamming her empty glass down on the coffee table before her, she grabbed Xander in a strong, slayer hug, congratulating him on the fantastic news.The speech?
Buffy shrugged, taking another sip of water before explaining. I just opened my mouth and started moving my lips and tongue until the words came out. There was a little brain action involved, too, but mostly, it was my mouth.
I'm guessing soon though. Jobs have been hard to scare up since work in Sunnydale dried up. And yes,Not the talking thing,
Xander returned. Though kudos for that, too.
He glanced over toward the Brit who was bent behind the counter, adding the empty water bottles to his recycling, seemingly oblivious to any ongoing conversation within the room. That,
he said, nodding toward the Watcher's cowered back. The slayer Jedi Mind Control you just did on Giles. You've got to teach me that.
That's not mind control,
she joshed back between swallows. It's years of arduous, labor intensive training. Believe me, it wasn't easy. I had to get creative with Giles. His kind doesn't take well to instruction. Had to use all my best tricks on him.
You two do realize I'm standing right here,
the Brit under discussion indignantly protested, rising again. I can hear every word you are saying.
And we care because?
Xander returned with an impudent grin, and waggle of his eyebrow.Because,
Giles responded, appearing around the counter with two more glasses in hand. He approached the pair on the couch, and handed over one of the glasses to Xander. I shall soon be your employer, and as such, I control your main source of income.
You got the job!
she crowed in a happy soprano, squeezing Xander even tighter. The overzealous response prompted a breathless groan of protest from her friend.Circulation. . . . failing,
the young man grunted, gasping for much needed air, the power of her vigorous grip constricting his lungs. Arms. . .going numb!
As the contents of his glass came dangerously close to sloshing over, Buffy realized her embrace might be just a bit too enthusiastic. She yielded her grip, easing up on her hold, but her effervescent grin refused to fade in its joy.When do you start? Are you going to get that bonus you talked about? As co-client of this project do I get to boss the guys around?
The questions came at him rapid fire, Buffy barely pausing to take a breath in-between. It would be so cool to be the one in charge of the grunts! Especially after working as a gruntee along with them. You know, for that one day.
No firm date yet,
Xander replied, coughing as he fought to catch his breath. he continued, addressing another of her queries.
There have been definite hints afloat involving bonuses of the cash variety. One good thing about the company. It likes to reward its innovative go-getters, a group which I am now considered to be among, given I brought them one honey of a deal courtesy of you two guys.
As for the Bossy Buffy gig? You'll have to scratch that,
he unhappily informed her. Technically, Giles' signature is the one on the contract, so legally, making him the client, not you. Any gloating on your part will be done from a distance. Of course, if Giles' is as well trained as you claim, you're free to do your Svengali mojo through him.
Naaa, that's okay,
she dejectedly sighed, waving off his generous offer. Delegating authority through someone else takes all the fun out of ripping people down to size. It's just not the same.
Oh, and while we’re on the subject of ripping things apart,
she added, frowning contemplatively in Giles' direction. I've got some ideas for your house. About that bathroom. . .
You are not to touch my private bathroom!
the Watcher nervously scowled in warning. Instantly, he was on the defensive, protective of his precious space, and determined to keep it exactly as is. I'll not put up with anyone mucking about with my things. I simply won't have it! There is not one tile in that place wants for changing. Not one, I tell you! Everything is absolutely perfect, and shall remain exactly as is!
There was a genuine panic in the Watcher’s eyes, one Buffy usually saw reserved for those situations when death seemed imminent at some demon’s hands. Unquestionably, the ferocity of Giles' animated outburst caught both herself and Xander by surprise. With eyes popped wide in shock, the two younger Scoobies exchanged furtive looks of alarm as they waited to see if the Brit's frenetic tirade had blown over, and some sense of reason returned to his immediate demeanor.
It took a moment. At first, Giles' glare grew more heated, and it seemed as though he might explode into another flaming rant about his bathroom. The Brit paused, and as he drew in a deep breath, he appeared to collect his thoughts, reflecting back upon what he had said. In that instant, he appeared to recognize the ridiculousness of his fears. After all, he owned the property, and without his permission, or his money, Xander would never dare change a thing. And once he was secure with that knowledge, his ruffled conduct cooled again to some semblance of rational calm.
His redemption didn’t last long. Unable to resist the challenge of Giles' verbal explosion, Buffy snipped back with a feisty cut at the flustered Watcher, causing his blood to boil again.
Sheesh, get over it already, would you, Giles!
An exasperated roll of her eyes accompanied the brash tease, along with a particularly effective reproving sigh. I wasn't talking about your bathroom. God knows, I wouldn't dare lay a hand on your precious tubby wubby.
Her tone mocked the Brit in a dramatically exaggerated inflection. Trust me, I learned my lesson. I am never getting in a tub with you again! You better believe, the last time, was the only time we'll ever share a dry dock bath. So as far as I'’m concerned, your bathroom is completely off limits!
Caught between the feuding Watcher and slayer, Xander shifted uneasily on the couch, trying his to avoid notice, and remain neutral lest he get caught up having to declare a side in the argument. He had managed some level of success in his anonymity, until he thought he heard Buffy saying something about sharing
a bath with Giles, and he could no longer stay a mere i observer of their fighting.
Please, please, please!
Xander bleated, his voice cracking in an impossibly high register with his agonized horror. “Please tell me what you shared with Giles in his bathroom was a sub, as in of the sandwich variety. His long body began involuntarily curling in on itself, drawing in a protective ball against the flood of negative imagery that invaded his brain. While the health code issues alone are monumentally gross, even for a junk food slob like me, any alternative interpretation involving unclothed Watchers and bare naked slayers cavorting together in bathtubs is just too horrific for my mind to handle.
Shifting her glare to target Xander, Buffy leveled an expression of disapproval at her male Scooby friend. What is it with guys?
she demanded, reprimanding him for his malicious, and horrible conclusion. It's like you all have the same disgusting fantasy! What? Is there some secret book you pass around, like a perverted male version of Oprah’s reading club? Or is it some inherent flaw in your collective DNA. You're all just born that way, with a disgusting, dirty thoughts just festering away inside your pitiful heads?
She took a moment to castigate her two male companions with another withering glower. Xander stared uncomprehendingly back, his gaze registering various degrees of shock, and complete bafflement, with enough guilt to know he should apologize, but unsure what for. As for Giles, when Xander finally recovered his wits, and looked over at his British friend, the Watcher wore a definite look of shameless gratification in his self-satisfied smile.
While Xander puzzled over what was going on between his companions, and why he ended up caught in the crossfire of what apparently was their private squabble, Buffy suddenly turned off the heat of her ire, and refocusing to the abandoned topic of bathroom embellishments, she continued her conversation with Giles.
Anyway,
she went on, calmly ignoring the stunned expressions of her audience. These ideas are for the bathroom down the hall from the master bedroom. You keep saying how we should all act like we 're professionals,
she said to Giles, purposefully emphasizing what seemed his favorite vocabulary term. Well, the way I figure it, teachers showering with their students? A big no-no there. So I got to thinking, we ladies could use that hall bathroom to clean up after getting stinky and sweaty.
I suppose that is a reasonable request,
Giles frowned, yielding to the wisdom of her idea. I'm certainly willing to open my home for you lot to use between training and classes. Therefore, I would benefit by those occupying said domicile did not bring into it any undue and lingering odors during their stay.
Glad you see it my way,
Buffy chuckled. In that it will be mostly we girly types using the bathroom, I thought maybe we should have some say in how it looks. We like our spaces sparkly and blingy while we're getting all prettified, so you'll need someone with actual estrogen to help out with that.
And this is your way of offering to assist with those decisions?
the Brit asked, realization dawning at last.
Finally, he understood where this discussion had been heading. It was apparently Buffy’s opinion that as a man, he knew nothing about either choosing the design, or furnishing his own house. Why she had come to that particular conclusion, he had no idea. He'd done well enough with his Sunnydale flat, creating a cozy, relaxing environment to live in, and he had every intention of carrying over this aesthetic in his new place.
It will be some time before I’m ready to choose finishings for this house,
Giles remarked, amused by what he interpreted as his slayer’s eagerness to get him settled. However, I promise, when that day does arrive, I shall take the matter under consideration.
It'd be better if you skipped the consideration, and just took me shopping with you,
she cheekily chirped back in response. In the meantime, us slayer ladies will be busy planning the job with Xander.
Turning to her young friend, she Since you're an employee of the school now, you qualify to join in the latest office pool we've got going.
Sounds like fun,
Xander announced with a gleeful rub of his hands. I usually put a few bucks in with whatever the guys have going on at the site. Playing the odds keeps me in good with the crew, especially since I don't win. Maybe I'll have better luck around here. So, who's in this pool, and what are you guys betting on, ‘cause frankly, I don’t see you as big into sports.
I'm not, though Kennedys been following the baseball games lately. So far, we got me, Willow, Kennedy, Dawn. . . and you. We're taking odds on how long it takes Giles to have his first hissy fit melt down. We figure the triggers will be if things don't go exactly as he planned, or when he sees his first bill from you guys.
But the why doesn’t matter. What you need to pick is a where, and a how. Extra credit if you work out the who gets it, too.
Leaning closer, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial volume so Giles couldn't hear, or at least, that seemed her intention. My money's on Colonel Watcher, in the library, with a heavy, blunt book as the weapon of choice. Kennedy's voting for the kitchen. For some reason she thinks all the knives lying conveniently around raise the odds for death and dismemberment potential.
A brusque disapproving cluck sounded deep within Giles' throat as he directed one of his patent glares toward his slayer. It was obvious he wasn't amused by her little game, or her lack in faith that he could handle the problems associated with a property renovation of such extensive magnitude.
As the recognized founder of this school, and it's very public face, the day is coming, Buffy, where you shall be required to exhibit a show of professional respect toward those of us who are you business partners,
the Watcher irritably grumbled. Might I suggest you begin practicing that deportment sooner, rather than later.
Can I get back to you on that?
she returned, flashing the Brit a sweet, and contemptuously innocent smile.
Giles does kind of have a point, Buff,
Xander sagely counseled his friend. Once you start working with clients, image is a big thing. You need to put your best face forward at all times.
Thank you, Xander,
the Brit harrumphed with approval. He was glad at least someone was sensitive to his problem. It's good to know all those years of work weren't for naught, and I've managed to acquaint one of you to the rudimentary of good manners.
Xander shifted his shoulders in a laid-back shrug, explaining the logic that got him to that judgment.
If he's the school's Master, he pondered, the fuzzy connections in his brain straining to carry through with his reasoning. After all, G-man, you won’t be just part owner of this school, but its Head Master, too,
For a fleeting moment, a look of perplexed thoughtfulness crossed over the younger man's face. Then does that make you it's Mistress?
he finished, waggling an eyebrow at Buffy.
This girl's nobody's mistress,
she defensively growled, objecting to the unfavorable term.
You're right,
Xander agreeably returned. Why settle for mistress. With your talent for putting on the hurt, you could shoot straight for dominatrix.
The impertinent crack earned Xander a swift jab in his bicep as Buffy demonstrated the truth behind his attempted joke. With his indulgent laugh dying in a tortured wince, Xander reflexively grabbed at his arm in pain, his mouth dropping open to release a loud dramatic Owwwww!
And well deserved, I might add,
Giles dryly cheered, remarking on the younger man's punishment from his lofty viewpoint. He raised his water glass in a deferential salute to his slayer. Let that be the first of many lessons you shall impart in your new position as an educational instructor.
Xander does bring up a dilemma,
Buffy pouted, casually settling back into the sofa. Or is it an issue?
she thoughtfully posed in question. A quandary?
Shrugging off the problem, she confronted her audience with a puzzled frown. What exactly are we going to call me?
What's wrong with Buffy? It's worked for you so far,
Xander jested with a lighthearted grin. Another slayer fist shot his way, making solid contact in the same spot as before, and producing the same resulting protest from Xander.
Lesson number two,
Giles sighed. It would be well advised that you cease and desist before she commences with lesson three.
Wise words, Obi-Wan-Watcher,
Xander conceded, rubbing at his upper arm.
An impatient sigh from Buffy interrupted the men's exchange. Still waiting to hear what I am. If I'm running the place, I think I deserve a good title.
Giles had been standing during the most of the ongoing discussion, but at his slayer's question, he lowered himself to sit in the nearby chair. With his lips lightly pursed in reflective thought, he contemplated various suggestions that he felt Buffy might find suitable.
You could call yourself professor. . .
You'd be like that guy on Gilligan's Island,
Xander grinned, prompting an answering frown and shake of the head from Buffy.
Too sit-commy,
she dismissively pronounced.
Right, then,
Giles sighed. That one's out. Let's see. There's maestro. . .
Too close to mistress, and we already know what we can do with that one.
What about dean?
Mmmm, closer, but I dunno. Dean Buffy,
she said, trying it on for size. Nope. Not happening. Sounds too reminiscent of Animal House, and while the dead horse thing might be funny in the movies, no animals will be harmed on my watch. What else you got for me?
Well,
Giles frowned. He began rattling off several choices rapid fire, only to have each shot down by his slayer in turn. There's coach . .
.
I'm supposed to teach these girls, Giles. Not play tiddly winks.
Academician?
Geeze, now that makes me sound like a one of you! Moving on. . .
Mentor. . .
Nuh, uh. Images of white coats sans sleeves. For the institutionalized.
Pandit. . .
I'm an American. Not Hindi.
Pedagogue . . .
I only do my own toenails, thank you very much.
Sensei?
She pouted, thinking that one over. Okay, sounds promising.
Xander snapped his fingers, intercepting Giles' next offering in an effort to cut the seemingly endless list short. I got it!
he smugly announced, beaming proudly at the others. Yoda!
Buffy groaned, dejectedly slumping down in the cushions of the sofa. My brain hurts,
she complained. Maybe we should decide this later. Speaking of time. . .
she segued, directing her next question toward Xander. How's you're schedule looking? Any hope we might be breaking up that ground anytime soon?
My crew's rarin' and ready to go right now,
Xander optimistically reported. Providing we don't run into any major snafus, I'm looking at wrapping up phase one of this project, mmmmm. . .
His face contorted thoughtfully as he did a swift mental calculation, weighing in all the scenarios he could imagine. I'd say two, maybe three months if we hustle.
Wow! That's like. . . wow!
Buffy repeated, shocked by the unexpected answer.
Wow, indeed!
Giles agreed with his slayer. You're original estimate said things would take longer. Has something changed?
One of the firm's big deals just went bust, so now we've got more guys to throw your way. Gotta keep those working stiffs busy, or they start walking, following that paycheck right out the door. Funny thing, investors seem to frown on the time it takes to rebuild a reliable workforce. Time is money, and delays. . .not that profitable.
And that works for us!
Buffy gleefully pronounced. Clapping her hands, she looked to her Watcher, happy, and giddy with anticipation of finally getting their school under way. It's really happening, Giles. This the best news ever!
Excellent news,
he agreed, unable to restrain his own excited grin. I believe this deserves a celebration. Drinks all around then on me?
Rising from his seat, Giles tottered off for the kitchen to rustle up additional beverages from the fridge. As he buried his head inside the chilly interior, Xander lazily called out from his comfy location on the couch across the room.
Since you're in such a generous mood,
he suggested to their host. How about you break out the good stuff?
Yeah,
Buffy nodded her agreement. Water may be the drink of choice for your average party, but nothing says making merry like something bubbly,
Right then. Soda it is,
Giles agreed, diving back into the fridge.
With three cold carbonated beverages in hand, he returned to his companions, and proceeded to pass them around. Drinks distributed, Giles took his seat, and the friends with their respective libation refreshed, raised their glasses high, and toasted their future endeavor with a round of hearty, jubilant cheers.