Disclaimer: See part 1.
“Done!” Xander cried triumphantly, shutting Oz’s yearbook with a snap.
“Ditto,” said Oz calmly, closing Buffy’s book carefully. The two girls continued scribbling without so much as an acknowledgment that the boys had finished. Xander and Oz just exchanged a knowing look and shrugged in sync. The girls had finished approximately ten minutes later than the guys on every single round of signing, and this time was no exception.
“So, Gilesmeister,” Xander called out jovially, earning a mildly irritated look from the librarian, “You comin’ to witness this whole graduation thing?”
“Yes, Xander, all faculty are requested to attend and furthermore, I wouldn’t miss the four of you graduating high school for anything,” he replied with a touch of pride. He had always regarded these kids as sort of his “charges”; he looked after them in a way that no adult save for Joyce could fathom, and yet he regarded them not only as children, but as companions. Hearing that, Willow and Buffy looked up at each other with wistful expressions which they then turned on Giles.
“Awwwww. . .” the two girls crooned in unison as the boys watched, Xander looking exasperated and Oz looking softly bemused. Giles flushed slightly at their emotional display.
“There, there,” he said awkwardly, “no crying in the library.”
“Good rule,” Xander quipped gently. “Hey, are you femmes almost done there? Jeez, I don’t need a novel.” Willow, biting the end of her pen, just shook her head.
“There. Done,” Buffy sighed as Willow finished her signature with a flourish.
“Okay, trade-back!” Willow said with excitement as the four teens gave all the books back to their owners.
“Oh, drat,” Giles muttered absently as he sorted and sifted through stacks of old books frantically.
“What is it, Gilesy?” Buffy asked amicably, using her pet name for him that he absolutely despised and refused to answer to, but that she had, with equal tenacity, refused to give up.
“Oh, I believe I left installment seven of the Black Chronicles at my house and I must catalog it along with the others,” he said with some dismay while the teens smiled and suppressed lighthearted giggles at his plight. Giles silenced them with a glare. “I am going back to my apartment to get the book, not to mention some more teabags. . . I’ll be back shortly. I trust I shall see you all at seven o’clock?” The group nodded in unison and called out farewells as he left.
“Well, Will. . . you ready to get glam?” Buffy asked her best friend playfully.
“You bet. I was thinking of putting some flowers in my hair since it’s too short to put all the way up. . .” she trailed off, Oz reluctantly following the two girls’ retreating forms, having agreed to drive them to the beauty salon to get their hair done. He turned back to Xander for a moment, wearing a hopeful expression.
“Last chance, Xander. . . care to come keep me company?” Oz tried to keep a note of desperation out of his voice.
“And miss the latest episode in the saga of shampoos and hair combs? I’ll pass,” Xander replied sarcastically. Oz just shook his head and exited the library. Alone in the room, Xander paced slowly back to the central table. He sat on the edge of it, leaning back on the palms of his hands, looking up at the domed ceiling. He scooted back on the table, bringing the edge up against the backs of his knees and, after a moment’s hesitation, laid down on his back, his hands folded behind his head. As he looked about, images of the past flooded his mind. Willow, seated at the lone computer, with himself and Buffy, looking impossibly young, peering over her shoulders at the screen. Himself and Cordelia kissing in the stacks. The gang eating pizza at midnight while Giles droned on about some demon come to visit ugly death on them all. Buffy performing cartwheels, aerobics, weapons training, beating the crap out of Giles in hand-to-hand combat. Oz the werewolf growling in the cage, obscured mostly by the towels they had hung up for privacy while Faith, Buffy, Willow, Giles, and himself stood watch and read to him like a baby-sitter to an overly alert child at bedtime. Xander smiled and chuckled a little at himself.
“Man, I guess I really *do* like this place,” he chortled. “Which is exactly why I gotta get out of here - I’m starting to think like Giles!” He hopped off the table, gathered up his bookbag and yearbook, and headed out the doors toward the bright June sunlight.