Disclaimer: See prologue.
She knocked.
“Giles?” she called out softly as she did so.
Rupert Giles pulled on his tweed jacket as he stepped out of his office. He had heard the light knocking and what he thought was a questioning “Hello?” and logically assumed he would be presented with an unknown student who needed help finding an actual book. He was taken aback when he found only Buffy and Willow, the former standing timidly by the door and looking like she might bolt at any moment and the latter looking at her friend, the Slayer, as if she had suddenly and without warning sprouted another head.
“Oh, B-Buffy, ah, good morning, you, uh. . . . you knocked?” Giles asked, visibly confused at the new turn of events.
“Yeah,” the blonde girl said softly. “I didn’t want to be. . . . disrespectful.” she finished at length, still standing by the counter. Her Watcher winced as he recalled his harsh words to her the other day, and turned to her indignantly, prepared to lash out at her for mocking him. However, all his anger died the moment he saw Buffy’s face. She was completely serious, the pain in her normally happy green eyes evident. The British librarian found himself regretting, not for the first time since the discovery of Angel’s return, speaking so impulsively to her as he had done.
“Of course,” he said gently, gesturing to the table as he did so. “Why don’t you sit down?” Buffy complied silently. “Uh, h-how did your patrol go last night?” She brightened a little at that, and Willow sighed inaudibly in relief as the tension in the room eased.
“Oh, mostly pretty boring. . . . dusted one fresh from the grave. . . .” Buffy grew quiet as Xander, Faith, and Cordelia entered the library. Giles looked on as terse greetings were exchanged. He sighed inwardly. He noticed a lot more that went on between this odd mix of teenagers than they gave him credit for. The events of these past few months had created a complex and highly combustible mixture of emotional relations among the self-titled “Slayerettes”. As he watched them seat themselves, careful to avoid sitting next to certain people and trying to find a comfortable distance from others, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Someday soon there would be an emotional blowout worthy of Hiroshima, he feared. And the more they tried to act as if nothing had happened, the larger that explosion would be.
“So, Giles, what’s the sitch? Any new and improved evil rearing it’s ugly head on the Hellmouth today?” Xander, in his usual flippant manner, broke the silence.
“Uh, no, Xander, not that I’m aware of. Ah, Buffy was, was just ah, filling me in on the details of last night’s patrol.” he responded distractedly. Rupert Giles had always maintained a preference for minimalist conversation - he rarely offered more than what he felt was required. As a result, he was always a little unsettled by the manner in which these young adults, mainly Xander, provided exorbitant amounts of bafflingly teenaged conversation at some times and frustratingly few words at others.
“Oh, yeah, Giles,” Buffy cut through his thoughts. “I wanted to tell you. Last night I was fighting two vamps in an alley by the Bronze, and when I was done, I could sense more vamps nearby. I saw a couple, three or four, watching me, but when I took off after them, they ran away. At first I thought, hey, cool, they’re scared of me, but at the same time, it was kinda wiggsome.” she explained.
“Hmm. Did you notice anything peculiar about them? Defining characteristics?” Giles questioned. Buffy cocked her head slightly to the side as she thought.
“Ummm, I didn’t really get close enough to see jewelry or tattoos or anything, but. . . .” she tapped her foot impatiently as if to hurry along a thought that wouldn’t quite come to the front of her mind. “They. . . . were dressed better than most vamps.” Cordelia snickered.
“Buffy, even the undead have got to have a better fashion sense than you,” the cheerleader jibed, still only half-joking. She winced internally at the slightly annoyed, withering glance Buffy shot her. These days, making fun of Buffy had become something she did just to maintain some sense of normality in her life. It used to be fairly challenging and mildly funny to exchange cutting remarks with the slayer. . . . when it was actually an exchange. Lately, Buffy had just been too distracted to get up enough emotion to make banter with her. Now, she usually just gave Cordelia a look that always reminded the brunette of the way her mother looked at her if she interrupted a fairly important phone call.
“Usually older vamps have a tendency to dress in a way that, I don’t know, reminds them of the time they were human or something.” Buffy continued. “Either that or they dress how they think trendy people dress. And they’re usually wrong.” she added. That piece of information was something she had gleaned from Angel.
“Great, B, it’s comforting to know that you know all about vamp fashion. I’m sure it’ll really come in handy if you ever wanted to start a Hellmouth clothing line.” Faith deadpanned, looking up at the ceiling like a bored kid in class. Buffy just rolled her eyes slightly. Faith had slipped back into the defensive, wisecracking attitude she had when she first arrived in Sunnydale upon the arrival and near dusting of Angel. The two Slayers had really let loose on one another that night in a fight that only those two could have walked away from, and Faith had not been happy about the lesson she’d learned: just how much difference Buffy’s experience made and how much her anger hurt.
“Or if you ever wanted to *date* a vampire.” Xander added, looking pointedly at Buffy, and Faith’s head shot up as the rest of the group just looked at him in shock. He looked away when he saw how Buffy flinched and how Willow looked at him, a betrayed look in her eyes. She had made him promise not to talk about Angel in front of Buffy - ‘she’s not stupid, Xander, she knows you’d cheerfully kill him for your own stupid reasons’ was what she’d said. Bottom line, Willow wanted to protect Buffy from being hurt any more by Xander, and she must have known that he couldn’t refuse anything she asked him to do. So until two seconds ago, nobody had spoken about Angel, an endeavor which didn’t make them any more comfortable around each other, but which put a statute of limitations on venomous conversations. It kept them from killing each other.
“Xander-” Giles began, but was cut off by the final school bell. “Well, I, uh, I think that perhaps, well, ah, perhaps Buffy a-and Faith should patrol together tonight, to, ah, guard against, uh, surprise attacks.” he managed, and Buffy got up hurriedly from her seat.
“I-I should probably, um, go then. . . .” she stammered, upset.
“Buffy, what about training? Y-you said that we could go over hand-to-hand after school,” Giles reminded her, which just seemed to make the girl more upset.
“I should go, um, to. . . . class. I’m. . . . sorry.” she breathed this last as she turned on her heel and fled the library, knocking over Oz, who was just entering, on her way.
“Uh, hello? School’s over now.” Cordelia offered, and Willow rolled her eyes quickly as she rushed to help her boyfriend off of the floor.
“Woah, what was *that*? Somehow, I get the impression that I tick that girl off for no apparent reason.” Oz mused as he dusted himself off.
“She’s not mad at you, Oz,” Willow said through clenched teeth as she shot Xander a look and took his arm. “Come on, let’s go.” she said as the two headed off to Oz’s van. As soon as they had left, Xander’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly in defeat. He felt bad, not just because Willow was pissed off, but because he could tell how much his words hurt Buffy. He didn’t really want to hurt her. . . . but he kept doing it anyway.
“That was really slick, dork.” Cordelia quipped as she slapped his arm gently. Xander’s face lifted a little at her way of saying “That was harsh” and “I love you anyways” at the same time.
“So, Giles. . . . meet Buffy back here at about seven?” Faith asked wearily, watching the couples’ backs as they left the premises. Giles dropped the hand that was massaging the bridge of his nose and gave her a weak smile.
“Yes. . . . I’m sure she’ll be back by then.” he said. In the midst of her hardships, Buffy had come to be much more dependable, regardless of her moods. Giles sighed for what seemed like the hundreth time that day.
More to come. . . I promise!!