Transitions - Ch. 25

They stood on the side of Great Russell Street, watching people come and go from the British Museum, that had once been Giles's home away from home.

The place looked, Buffy thought, like the definition of "Museum," big and gray, with tall columns out front and lots of steps leading up to the entrance. The Sunnydale Museum probably could have fit inside one of its restrooms. Giles had this nostalgic look on his face--the nearness of all that seriously old stuff seemed to perk him right up. Buffy felt scared. She also felt her IQ plummet another five points with every step she took.

"It's a pity they've moved the British Library," Giles said, sounding genuinely sad about it. "I'd have liked to stop by. Later in the week, perhaps, there'll be the opportunity."

"Yeah." Buffy swallowed. Her mouth still felt dry. "And that's the last I'll see of you for how many days, Book-guy?"

Giles laughed softly. "Shall we?"

"Let's shall," Buffy answered nervously. Her feet felt like lead as they climbed the many steps.

She'd expected it to be all musty inside, but it wasn't. The air was cool and fresh-smelling, the walls painted in subdued whites and pale grays. Everything looked modern and clean--except, of course, for the seriously old stuff.

"Would you like a bit of a look-round?" Giles asked her. "What interests you?"

"Show me some of the things you took care of?"

Giles led her to a big rock with a bunch of squiggly writing carved into it--the squiggly writing looked a lot like Xander's penmanship. Buffy whispered that to Giles--she felt like she had to whisper, even though other people in the museum were talking normally--and he smiled.

"Actually, I believe you're right about that. Do you know what this is?"

The big rock stood all alone with a special light shining on it. "Uh...an important old thing?" Buffy read the label. "The Rosetta Stone? Wait--I know this one. Some guys wanted to be able to read some really old writing, but they couldn't. And then they found this rock, and they could. Right?"

"Close enough." Giles took her hand. She could feel his fingers trembling--either he was excited, or he was a little nervous too.

They wandered into another room, where there was a lot of giant old stuff: some huge wooden doors from some temple or city or something. A pair of huge griffin-type things, some other big things that might have been lions, wall after wall of carvings of squiggles and patterns and people in skirts, everything carved out of this yellowy-gray stone, so that Buffy felt like she'd been walking through a desert for hours. She was too nervous to read the labels.

Giles lead her through into another room, where a bunch of art students were trying to draw a big pharaoh-head. In still another room, further up, were mummies, and mummy-cases--what Giles told her were called sarcophagi. There was even a cat mummy, which Giles said never stayed where you put it.

"Mr. Firkins always got so upset about that," Giles said. "He would always come after me, crying, 'Dr. Giles, it's that damn cat again.' I always rather suspected Mr. Seaton-Bowes would move the blasted thing to get up his nose...er...to distress him."

"I didn't know you had a 'Dr.' in front of your name."

Giles shrugged. "One doesn't use it. Bad form."

"You sound more British in here."

"Do I?" Giles stared over her head at the mummies. Buffy couldn't read his expression. For some reason, she kept wanting to apologize--even more so when they turned to go, and she saw the sign.

Rupert Giles, it said, with a whole, whole bunch of letters after his name, Curator of Egyptian Antiquities. Then, underneath, some other guy's name, with fewer letters, Acting Curator.

"They think you're coming back?" Buffy asked.

Giles laughed. "Like King Arthur, when Britain needs him most." He shrugged again. "I still do a bit of work for them, now and then. Willow helps me with the computers."

"So, you had, like, three jobs? The library, and me, and stuff for the museum? No wonder you looked tired."

Giles's face got a complicated expression, but all he said was, "The library's gone, at least. Would you like to meet my friends?"

"How much are they gonna hate me?"

"Not at all," Giles assured her, and led Buffy to an almost invisible double-door, which he unlocked with a key from his keyring. They walked down a wide hall, then a narrow one, then opened a glass door to an office, where a gray-haired lady typed fast on a computer keyboard with her back to them.

They hadn't made any noise coming in, but the lady seemed to sense their presence. She turned, and pressed her hands over her heart, and began all at once, like an explosion, to cry and cry. Buffy turned and glanced back to see if there was something scary behind her, but of course there wasn't.

Giles went to the gray-haired lady, knelt down beside her, and gave her one of his handkerchiefs while she sobbed on and on, saying a bunch of words that didn't make sense.

Feeling weird, Buffy poured a glass of water from the cooler in the corner, and brought it to the older woman.

"Elspeth," Giles was saying to her, in his quiet, comforting voice. "Elspeth, my dear, you mustn't take it so to heart. I'm so sorry. I ought to have rung."

Shuddering, the lady finally got herself under control, drank the water Buffy handed her, and dabbed at her eyes. Elspeth was the sweetest little grandmother-type British person Buffy could imagine, even smaller than she was, with a pinkish-gray tweed skirt, and a pinkish-gray sweater, so that she reminded Buffy of a little dove. Her eyes were bright blue, her hair a soft, pale gray. You could tell, just by looking at her, that she was one of those people whose hearts are too big for their own good.

"Better now?" Giles asked her quietly.

The lady nodded. "Oh, Dr. Giles. I didn't... I am sorry... I did so believe..." One of her hands went back to her chest and played with the little gold cross that hung on a chain around her neck. "Oh, my dear...sir. My dear Dr. Giles." She drew in a shaky little gasping breath. "What a lovely surprise!"

Giles remained kneeling, looking up into her face. Watching, Buffy realized that these two people, in their restrained, we-never-say-what-we're-really-thinking British way, loved each other. Maybe like mother and son, maybe in a way that was more complicated than that. She kind of thought Elspeth might have a little bit of a nothing-can-come-of-this crush on Giles.

The little gray dove-lady touched his cheek.

"Have you been ill, my dear?" she asked, then glanced at Buffy. "Don't they look after you in America?"

"Believe me, my dearest Elspeth, I am chided almost constantly." Giles smiled slightly. Buffy had never heard him use exactly that voice before, not even with her. It was all light, and tender--Buffy knew he would have done almost anything to protect Elspeth from badness.

"But your poor hand..." Lightly, the older lady touched Giles's sling.

"Healing," he told her. "Bit of an accident. Soon mended." Giles climbed do his feet, and helped Elspeth up. "Elspeth, I should like to introduce Buffy Summers, my fiancee."

After what she'd thought before, Buffy expected to get a weird look, or a jealous look--funny, how she always expected people not to approve, even after how nice Celeste and Sebastian had been to her, but Elspeth took both Buffy's hands in her teensy ones, and gazed up into Buffy's face. "You look like an angel, my love," she said, in a voice that was sweet but not icky-sticky. "How fortunate you are to have found your Mr. Knightley."

Buffy got that one--that was the movie with Gwynneth Paltrow, where Gwynneth played the rich girl who tried to fix up all her friends, but finally fell in love with her neighbor, who was older but really cute, especially in those tight pants and tall black boots. "Oh, like Emma!" she said, and Elspeth smiled at her.

"Yes, love. How nice that you've been able to come for a visit, or..." She glanced at Giles hopefully.

"Only a visit, I'm afraid," Giles answered. "My mum's died, Elspeth. We must catch the train this afternoon for Salisbury."

"Your mum," Elspeth said, in what was probably the closest thing she had to a disapproving tone, then remembered her manners. "I'm sorry, Dr. Giles. Honestly sorry."

"Thank you," Giles answered, obviously understanding her meaning--that she was sorry for him, but not so much for his mom. Buffy guessed that Elspeth knew a little bit of Giles's history. "Elspeth, are the others anywhere round the place? I should actually like to say hello."

"I shall hunt them down like tigers in the jungle," Elspeth said, smiling--which she did. First a shy, pretty, thirtyish woman named Miss Belizar appeared, then a snide, funny bald guy called Mr. Seaton-Bowes, then a teeny man named Mr. Firkins who, like Elspeth, cried when he saw Giles. Miss Belizar put her arms around him, and passed him a tissue.

Someone went out for sandwiches, and someone else for wine, and they all moved into a back room, where there were things that looked fairly suspiciously like mummies lying on the worktables, and the air had an interesting smell. Everyone talked and ate and drank and laughed. Everyone was nice to her, and seemed to think it was cool that she and Giles were engaged. They weren't stuffy or reserved at all--in fact they reminded her of the Scooby Gang, only older. And they obviously loved Giles. They were crazy about Giles. The only thing that made the party a little sad for them was that he wasn't going to stay forever. Just thinking of that made Mr. Firkins cry again.

While Giles was speaking to him kindly, the door opened behind them, and a slightly un-British voice said, "You're having a party? Why wasn't I asked?"

It made Buffy think of Sleeping Beauty, just before the evil Maleficent laid down her curse. Everyone turned. Everyone set down their cups and sandwiches. Even Mr. Seaton-Bowes seemed at a loss for words.

"Eva," Giles said, his hand still on Mr. Firkins's shoulder.

"Rupert." Her voice hit the 'r's' in his name hard. Eva had Willow-red hair, and remarkably bright blue eyes. She was big-boned and curvy, without actually being fat. Under normal circumstances she was probably a nice person--she didn't have a mean-looking face--but just at that moment, she was thoroughly pissed.

Warily, Giles got up from his seat, and offered her his hand, but Eva refused to take it. "No, Rupert, I don't want to see. Whatever it is, I don't want to see." She looked into his face. "You've aged, and you look terrible."

"Dr. Jotunnheim," Elspeth murmured.

"You got your doctorate?" Giles said, genuinely happy for her. "Eva, congratulations. That's wonderful. Well-deserved."

She held up a hand, stopping him from saying anything else. Those bright blue eyes locked on Buffy's. "And who are you?"

"Umn..."

"Surely you know your own name?"

That made Buffy mad. She guessed that Eva had an inner bitch after all, maybe one to rival Cordy's. "Buffy Summers," she said, "Rupert's fiancee--the one who won't dump him."

"Buffy," Giles cautioned.

"I'd like to use the ladies' room." Buffy slid down from the table where she'd been perching. "Maybe Eva could show me?"

"I could..." Miss Belizar began nervously.

"Nah, Eva wants to." She practically shoved Eva out the door. They actually went down the hall to the women's room, and once they were inside, Buffy locked the door.

Eva watched her warily, eyes narrowed. "You're one of those...what are they called? Those Slayers. Like that creature he brought to our flat."

"Her name was Helena," Buffy told her, feeling sorry, for the first time, for her predecessor. "She wasn't a 'creature.' She was a person like you and me who just had to fight longer and harder than she could handle. You should be grateful she was out there saving the world, because I'm here to tell you, sometimes that job really bites. My God, Eva, what kind of evil bitch are you? Helena and Moira were Rupert's friends. They needed him. What did you expect him to do? He's a decent person. He's the most loyal and caring man I've ever met in my life."

Eva continued to watch her.

"Besides," Buffy told her, "Helena's dead now. And she died in the worst way you can imagine."

Eva still didn't talk.

"Celeste told me you have this touchy-feely thing, where you know stuff? You touched him--what did you think would happen? You thought you could close your eyes and wish it away?"

After a long time, Eva did close her eyes. "Yes," she said. "I believed I could change him."

"Like that ever works." Buffy said, but not in a mean voice. She started to feel sorry for Eva, who'd probably known Giles better than she'd ever be able to, and still just hadn't gotten it. "He's here to see his friends, Eva. Either be one of those friends, or be gone, okay? 'Cause he doesn't need this right now. Believe me."

"Is he--?" Eva swallowed. "He looks ill."

"There was some badness," Buffy said. "He's getting better."

Eva gave a smile that let Buffy see just a little why Giles had probably cared about her.

"We're here for his mother's funeral," Buffy added.

Eva said something that sounded like maybe some naughty words in Norwegian.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Buffy--" Eva laid a hand on her arm, and for a minute her face got all twisted up, and she breathed funny. "Oh, poor child," she said, then, "Oh, my poor Rupert."

Buffy waited for her to say what she'd actually meant to say. Eva dug with shaky hands into her pockets for a pair of gloves, pulling them onto her hands.

"Watch out for Mr. Stanley," she said, nailing Buffy with a look from those intense blue eyes. "He's a right bastard--and he hates our Rupert."

"Thanks." Buffy nodded.

Eva turned to go. "Does he really still wear the dressing gown I gave him?"

Buffy nodded again. "Guy kind of gets to you, doesn't he?"

"Ja, that is true." Eva, to Buffy's surprise, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Only," she said, "I haven't the stamina for him. Perhaps that takes a Slayer." Then she was gone.

Buffy found her way back to the workroom. Mr. Seaton-Bowes passed her a glass of wine.

"I believe we could hide the corpse in a spare sarcophagus," he said.

"No, it's okay," Buffy answered, absently, moving to just behind Giles's chair. He leaned back against her, the pressure of his body warm and comforting. "Actually, she was nice."

"Dr. Jotunnheim?" Mr. Firkins asked, confused.

"After I yelled at her." Buffy grinned, and Giles's friends grinned back at her.

Reluctantly, Giles got to his feet. "Much as I wish we could stop here for our entire visit..."

"Mustn't miss your train." Elspeth rose briskly.

A lot of hugging and kissing followed, more than Buffy could really keep track of, and more tears. She found out that she was crying too, which was kind of stupid, but she liked these people, and liked how much they loved Giles--since that had taken her forever and ever to do, she felt like they were way better than she was. It all confused her. She felt both happy and sad to get back into the sunlight.

"At this point we really must move with all due haste," Giles told her.

"Seb's driving us to the station, right?"

"That would be our plan." Giles took her hand again, and they walked back briskly to the world's most perfect house, expecting to find Sebastian waiting--only he wasn't. The demon-in-a jar still stood on a shelf in the study, so he hadn't left to take that to safety.

Giles hurried upstairs to check the bedroom, and came down carrying his luggage, with an odd expression on his face. "Sebastian was still sleeping. I had some difficulty waking him up, and I wouldn't say he's fit to drive."

"Like, drinking not fit, or sick, or just groggy?"

Giles's face kept its troubled look. "Just groggy, I believe, but his skin seemed rather chilled. I covered him up warmly, and told him to stay in bed. Celeste ought to be home soon. Why don't you fetch your suitcase, Buffy, whilst I call a cab?"

"Note to self," she said crankily, "Don't rely on Seb for transportation."

"I fear yesterday's episode may have been harder on him than we originally thought." Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then his forehead. He looked tired, Buffy thought, and was glad they were going down the day before the funeral. He needed a chance to defuse.

She really hoped that what Eva had told her about Mr. Stanley was just Giles's ex-sweetie being dramatic, but she kind of thought it wasn't. What was the deal with that?

All she really knew was what she'd overheard him tell Xander, when she'd been playing possum in the car on the way to LAX. She knew that Mr. Stanley was the reason Giles ran away from home, back when he was the tragic-looking kid in the picture Seb showed her. Buffy wished she knew all the right stuff to say to him.

She hoped and prayed that, on this trip at least, she could be a help and not a burden.

Not wanting to slow Giles down, Buffy ran upstairs to grab her bag while he dialed the phone. Fighting her crankiness, she popped her head into the master bedroom to say goodbye to Sebastian, but he seemed completely out of it.

Seb's eyes were closed, and when she tip-toed through the dark to feel his forehead, his skin was icy-clammy, the way Giles's had been the night before. That gave Buffy a major wiggins.

When she got back downstairs with her suitcase, Giles was saying into the phone, in his semi-huffy voice, "Well, do please be certain to convey the message. Her husband isn't well, and he oughtn't to be alone."

"You got cold like that last night," Buffy told him, when he'd hung up the phone, "And I couldn't wake you up."

For just a minute, Giles's green eyes turned to hers, troubled and haunted--then he was himself again. "Yes, well, I've called Celeste to come home."

"Celeste is cool," Buffy said, as they went down the steps. "She'll know what to do, right?"

"Yes, yes," Giles answered, distracted. Buffy doubted he'd even convinced himself about that.

He sat holding her hand in the back of the taxi, as old buildings and new buildings, streets and parks flashed by, all of it like something in a movie, like you suddenly expected people to charge out and start singing songs from "Oliver!"

Buffy wanted Giles to explain what she was seeing, but at the same time, she didn't want to bother him.

Giles didn't say a word all the way to Waterloo Station.