Strictly Business: And So It Begins
by Fairfax
Carlyle lifted his head from the book he’d been studying, stretched with cat-like satisfaction, and turned to Andrew.

‘Compelling though Leishman’s ability to wax rhapsodic about Khatojanan demons is, I was wondering if a cup of coffee might not be in order?’

‘Certainly,’ said Andrew. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on.’

Andrew was proud of how well his Brit-speak was going. He reckoned a good Watcher should possess the ability to seamlessly blend in with their surroundings - international heroes entirely at ease at every point on the globe. Then he thought of Giles, who was never anything other than his thoroughly English self. Maybe this theory needed more work.

‘Yeah, for sure. Beverages are of the good,’ Jeez, now he’d forgotten how to talk.

‘What’s that, old thing?’

‘Nothing, Carlyle. Coffee’s coming up.’

When Carlyle had first asked Andrew about having a drink or breaking for lunch he’d felt weird making a decision for the man. He wasn’t really sure what Carlyle’s deal was, and was too embarrassed to ask. What had become obvious over the last two-and-a-half days was that for Carlyle work equalled being told what to do, and that in Giles’ absence he’d happily listen to anyone prepared to make a decision.

Despite the fact that the man was definitely what Andrew had heard one of the witches describe as ‘not quite the full shilling’, Carlyle was good company. Unlike Giles, who had a way of staring at whoever was talking to him as if what they were saying had better be important or there would be consequences, this other Watcher was easy going, quick to laugh and happy to just shoot the breeze.

With Giles down and Anya looking out for him, it had fallen to Andrew and Carlyle to create a physical presence for The Watchers’ Council. They’d driven to Giles’ to get the good books and, seeing as space was never going to be an issue, to Carlyle’s to get the not-so-good ones as well. Multiple runs had been made to the nearest office supply place for furniture and (most importantly) computers. Andrew told Carlyle that with the right hardware anything was possible, so there was no need to get stationary and stuff. Carlyle had listened attentively to a detailed explanation, then said ‘for the want of a nail…’ patted Andrew fondly on the head and bought a ton of it.

That had turned out to be a good plan. Demonstrating just how agile his mind was, Carlyle had learned to use the technology now at his disposal with phenomenal speed, only to dismiss it just as quickly. To be fair, he was making use of his laptop. Earlier he’d propped an open book up against it and a row of biscuits were neatly arranged on its closed lid.

Now that everything was in its place, looking good and ready to go, Andrew was bored. Like The Architect’s speech bored. Neither of them knew what to do next, and as far as they were aware the man with the plan still wasn’t awake. Andrew spun around in his chair a few times, spent a couple of minutes throwing a pen up in the air and catching it, and was seriously considering a game of spider solitaire when Anya and Giles walked in.

‘Nunc, you look fucking awful,’ Carlyle pointed out with delight.

‘Yes, but it’s far from permanent. Whereas unless you do something about that beard, you’re always going to look like a prat.’

Andrew wondered if all English people were this strange or was it just these two?

Carlyle rooted around in a drawer before pulling out a handful of receipts. Switching his attention to Anya he asked her:

‘Is it true that inside that picturesque exterior beats the heart of a true capitalist?’

Giles stepped back to let Anya and Carlyle confer. There was something about that gesture - that he’d touched her - where he’d touched her - and then the glance that passed between them. It was almost as if they were…no way.

‘You’ve been busy,’ Giles said to Andrew. ‘I’m impressed.’

Andrew grinned, tried not to, then grinned again.

‘And you’ve found time for a change of image.’

Involuntarily Andrew ran a hand over his rock-solid gelled back hair then smoothed over his shirt. Carlyle had told him that only police officers and waiters wore white shirts, but he didn’t care - the good guys always wear white.

‘Yeah, I thought Watchers were smart kind of people.’

Andrew said this regardless of the fact that the two Watchers before him were currently looking extremely casual. Despite the heat, Giles was wearing jeans and a thick, baggy sweater like he was too sick to feel anything but cold, and Carlyle had topped his washed-out khakis with a well-worn t-shirt that had 'Edinburgh University Hockey Club’ printed jauntily across the back. He had already confessed that he’d never been near that city or a hockey pitch in his life.

‘Perhaps we ought to smarten ourselves up a bit,’ said Giles as he gestured for Andrew to come closer. 'And you need to learn how to tie a tie correctly.’

The improvised knot easily came apart as soon as Giles tugged at it. Using one hand; prompting Andrew when two were needed, he fixed the heavily patterned tie in a more traditional manner. The younger man felt a bit uncomfortable at being subject to such close scrutiny and contact, whilst liking that Giles seemed to appreciate his new look and cared enough to help him improve it.

The phone rang, Andrew grabbed it and proudly said, ‘Watchers’ Council, how may I help you?’

A curt female voice said, ‘Put Rupert Giles on.’

Giles held out his hand, but Andrew ignored him and started pacing around, providing a running commentary as he did so.

‘Okay just checking the outer offices…’

‘Give me the phone,’ commanded Giles.

‘…nah, no one’s around. I see people down the corridor though…’

Anya and Carlyle began to talk loudly and bang stuff together.

‘…no. Just going down to the library…’

Andrew turned to find Giles stood right in front of him looking not far off violence. He half-threw the phone at Giles and scurried back behind his desk.

When his brief conversation was over, Giles stared at them all.

‘Why?’

‘The old council was big, right? Lots of stuff going on. I figured people would be more confident in us if they thought that was still happening. Same with the website.’

‘Website,’ Giles’ voice took on a dangerous edge. ‘Andrew, if you have taken the details of one of the most secret organisations in existence and posted them on the very public internet, then I am going to kill you.’

‘No, no. It’s fine. Look.’

Calling up the site, then turning the monitor so that Giles could see, Andrew managed not to panic. He’d kept it simple; in block capitals were the words ‘The Watchers’ Council’ with a phone number beneath it, then two boxes labelled ‘login’ and ‘password’, and that was it.

‘And if someone does…er, login?’

A quick burst of typing and an alphabetical list of fictitious departments from ‘archives’ to ‘translations’ appeared (based on what Carlyle could remember of his previous place of employment) each with its own email address.

‘Once people get given access we’ll be able to sort their queries based on which email they use.’

Andrew didn’t know why Giles’ opinion was so important to him, but if he'd had a tail he’d have been wagging it hopefully.

‘No doubt that’ll prove to be very useful,’ There was a brief hint of a smile. ‘Consider your lifespan extended indefinitely.’

There was a pause.

‘Right, I need to talk to Willow go over the precise details of the spell she used to unlock the Potentials and devise a way of finding them. Carlyle, in one of the documents I…um...borrowed from the old place, there is a contact list for our network of people keeping an eye out for likely candidates for this line of of work. Get some letters out telling them that we are still here and very much recruiting. Andrew, find some information on Cleveland - local newspapers, high school websites, that sort of thing. Make a note of anything unusual, especially any odd murders or patterns of behaviour. Anya…’

‘I’m in charge of the money. I’ll make good accounts and investments for it,’ she said. ‘Proper ones this time.’

‘As long as I can still understand them when you’ve finished. All clear? And so it begins.’

At first there was a lot of talk and conferring, then as each person became absorbed in their individual task an atmosphere of silent concentration built up. Surprisingly, it was Giles who got distracted first. He went and sat next to Anya, stretching an arm around the back of her chair, watching her work. Anya leaned closer and closer into him and got pretty distracted herself. When the phone rang for the second time they looked very comfortable together.

‘Speaker phone?’ suggested Andrew.

‘Why not?’

‘Rupert Giles,’ said a dry voice with certainty. They weren’t asking, they knew.

‘Here.’

‘We thought we had made it clear that change was not going to be tolerated, and yet there you are persisting in your misguided belief that the Potentials matter.’

Giles gestured for the others to remain quiet, then asked the question that they all wanted answered.

‘How do you know?’

‘Our methods and knowledge are not topics for discussion. You will address us with more respect.’

‘In which case may m-may I request The Committee’s guidance?’

Nothing was said for a moment.

‘Guidance has already been given and you are neither a foolish nor a forgetful man.’

‘Clarification then.’

Andrew waved a pen in the air, miming his willingness to take notes. Giles shook his head.

‘The Potentials are an aberration . We require one Slayer and one Watcher. Fortunately their dormant power will act as a signal for our enemies and they will be naturally disposed of.’

‘That’s murder. To sit idle a-and not even attempt to find these girls, to help them. That is murder and I will not stand for it.’

The voice became rasping, harsh and furious. ‘You pathetic little mortal, you cannot even conceive of what will happen if you defy us.’

Giles looked from to Carlyle to Anya, who both nodded their consent. When Andrew was targeted by the same solemn, enquiring gaze he paused for a second before responding. This was big. A desperate band of rebels uniting to face an overwhelmingly powerful enemy in what would probably be a suicidal last-stand. Awesome! Andrew nodded eagerly.

‘I will find The Potentials.’

‘No!’

Giles sighed. ’Go on then, threaten me.’

The voice was eerily calm. 'There will be no threats, only action. You will discover that like you, we can do far more than watch.’

The line went dead.

‘What do they…’ The words died on Anya’s lips as with an audible crack Giles’ ring shattered, the golden pieces falling to the ground.

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