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Title: A Mile In His Moccasins 1/26 Rupert Giles sat sullenly across the desk from Quentin Travers. Giles had never cared much for the man in all the years they'd been colleagues, but at least he'd been able to understand the man's agenda. This was not anything he'd expected. "You really think I'm going back there? Do you have any idea what you're asking of me?" "I'm asking that you go back and earn the paycheck we give you, Rupert. I'm asking you to do the thing you seemed so keen on doing this time last year. I'm asking you to go back and watch your Slayer the way you're meant to." "Buffy doesn't need a Watcher." "Nonsense, Giles. Every Slayer needs a Watcher, and your Buffy does seem to have her heart set on having you for the job. We fired you, you stayed. We threatened to have you bodily removed and she managed to force our hands so we had to give you two years back salary. She died and you stayed. You'd barely given up and come home when she was back and you were on the next plane to California. We pay you to keep an eye on her and train her, not to mope about Bath ignoring your duties." "Send someone else, then, and I'll do research or training or some such here." "Don't think we didn't try. I have personally offered Miss Summers two different Watchers, and she turned both down. I won't repeat what she said. Suffice it to say that her vocabulary remains...colorful. I even offered to send you back." "I take it her reply was equally colorful?" "No, but it was illuminating. She didn't say a word; just rang off without so much as a by your leave. I don't pretend to know what sort of quarrel you two have had, but it ends now. The last thing we need is another mentally unstable Slayer." "Buffy is not Faith." "No, she isn't. Not yet. And I intend to see that she stays that way. Your flight leaves tomorrow at ten in the morning. You can stay the night here in Council rooms. Anything you need can be sent on to you. You do have your passport with you, do you not?" At Giles' sour glare, Travers allowed himself a smug little smile. "Never mind, we'll just send someone round to fetch it, shall we?" ***** Giles hated flying. It wasn't because he was afraid the plane would crash or be hijacked to someplace unpleasant, or even the prospect of being trapped in a metal cylinder for hours at a time with no escape. No, it was a far more prosaic reason than that. There was never enough legroom. A transatlantic flight always left him stiff and in pain, and that always left him in a temper. Not to mention that he invariably ended up on the flight with a small unruly child or a squalling baby seated near him. This time it was both. A young mother traveling halfway across the globe with a boy of about six and an infant in arms was seated right across the aisle from him. The boy wriggled and fussed while the baby howled and the mother became more and more frazzled. Giles shifted uncomfortably again and tried to concentrate on the papers Travers had sent with him about a new demon threat coming to Sunnydale. The last thing he needed to think about was children. A strange feeling prompted Giles to look up from his papers. He found himself being regarded by the little boy who had decided to come sit next to him while his mother tried unsuccessfully to quiet the baby. "Will you read me a story?" "I - a story? I'm afraid I haven't any stories to read that you'd find interesting." "What's that, then?" The boy pointed a slightly grubby finger at the precious documents spread in Giles' lap. Involuntarily, Giles pulled them out of the child's reach. "Something grown up that your mum wouldn't want you to hear. Why don't you go back to your seat?" "It's not as loud here. Zoe won't stop crying. Mummy says it's because her ears hurt. If I could go where I couldn't hear it I would." "So would I," Giles admitted. "But we can't always do that, can we?" "Mummy says if I was Zoe, I'd do the same thing, but I don't think I would. Would you?" "I hope not, but I rather think I might." "Why?" "Well, because...Zoe's a baby and she doesn't have any other way of letting people know she's hurt and angry and wants it to stop. As she gets older, she'll learn other ways to cope with her problems." "It's a stupid way." "There are worse." "If I was her, I'd just say." "If you were her, she'd be sitting next to me right now telling me she would never be so stupid as to yell her head off if she were you. And that's exactly what you'd be doing." "I'd never!" "There's a saying among a tribe of American Indians. They say you can never really know a person until you've walked a mile in his moccasins." "What's a moccasins?" "A sort of shoe." The boy frowned as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. "So if I put on your shoes, I'll know all about you?" Giles couldn't repress a small smile at the boy's literal interpretation of the phrase. "It means you can't fully understand someone you're not, so it's best to try not to judge them too harshly." The mother across the aisle had finally managed to soothe the baby to sleep. She looked up at Giles with a grateful expression. "Come back here, Antony, and don't disturb the nice man anymore. Now thank Mr...?" "Giles. Rupert Giles." "Thanks Mr. Giles," Antony parroted dutifully as he returned to his mother's side. "Yes, thank you," the mother said quite a bit more sincerely. "I hope he wasn't a bother to you." "Not at all. In fact, we had a most intriguing philosophical discussion." The mother smiled and shook her head. "Your kids are lucky, aren't they? To have such an involved father. My Tim forgets they were born now they're here." "Oh, I - I haven't any children," Giles stammered. "I'm sorry. I just assumed, since you were so good with Antony. You seemed like a professional." "Merely a talented amateur, I assure you." He gifted Antony's mother with a dazzling smile and returned to his research. The demon in question looked particularly nasty, but was mainly harmful for the spells it cast when it felt threatened. The spells were unpredictable in nature and effectiveness. Watchers of previous Slayers had written of effects as diverse as felling the Slayer with bolts of lightning to giving her a mild cold that made her lose the beast as she sneezed uncontrollably. As far as he could tell, there was no way to predict what sort of spell might be thrown. The only way to avoid the beasts' magic was to catch it completely unaware. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. While Buffy had many strengths, subtlety was not one of them. This whole situation was bound to get worse before it got better. *****
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