And in that moment she lost him, albeit temporarily. Buffy saw the light of scholarship in Giles’ eyes as he hurriedly told her about the prophecy, going on to hypothesize as to what its true meaning could be. He was actually grinning as he forced them back out into the clear winter’s night, excited at the prospect of the pure academic rush of acquiring knowledge. Buffy was less enamoured.
‘We have to go back and research right now? It’s nearly midnight,’ she complained.
‘This prophecy has serious implications for the immediate future, in particular ours. We can’t waste time.’
Giles stuck out a hand to attract the attention of a passing taxi.
‘Trainee Watchers don’t get much sleep you know.’
‘And real Watchers get even less,’ said Giles as he held the car door open for her. ‘There are so many other things that I wish I could be saying to you right now, believe me if I didn’t think that…’
‘That the shit was about to hit the fan?’
‘Quite. Were that not the case then things would be very different.’
He gave her the sad look of someone who’d seen too much and lost even more. Buffy recognized it instantly, she saw the same one when she looked in the mirror.
‘Duty comes first. Still sucks though.’
‘Yes it does.’
Giles got out his mobile and had nine near identical conversations, during which he apologised for the lateness of the hour, then ordered those he needed back to their posts. However he barely concentrated on the task, and once finished focussed solely on thoughts of Buffy.
Buffy who’d kissed him, Buffy whom he should be devoting all that he was to, Buffy whom he’d cast aside the moment he’d thought about work. He agitatedly began to clean his glasses and wondered exactly when he had turned into his father, or Quentin or any of the countless Watchers he’d seen put their loved ones second until they were no longer there.
He needed to talk to Buffy properly, now.
‘King William Street. That’s twenty five quid, mate,’ said the driver.
Too late.
********************
‘I had a job offer from someone normal once,’ grumbled an Asian woman around Buffy’s age to a colleague as they arrived at Council Headquarters just in front of Buffy and Giles.
‘Normality is vastly overrated, Nihal,’ said Giles catching up and holding the door open.
‘How would you know, sir?’
‘I read about it in a book. Conference room - ten minutes.’
When they’d all assembled Buffy was relieved to see that these people were strangers to her, who did nothing more than nod encouragingly in her direction when the topic of the ‘disguised Slayer’ was raised.
The only person she knew by sight was Mark, who instead of his usual shirt and tie was wearing jeans and a hooded top that made him look even younger than he was. Compared to the others, some of whom had the drawn, grey look of those wrenched from sleep, Mark was buzzing; his honest, open face spilt by a near permanent grin. At first Buffy wondered why Giles had dragged his secretary across the city for research, then as time went by and he made himself useful, getting drinks, running errands and returning to a hero’s welcome with pastries from the first bakery to open, Buffy saw how much he was enjoying being included and that that was as close to apologising for treating him like crap as Giles was ever likely to get.
At first she thought that after years of Scooby research parties and more recent Watcher training remedial language classes she’d be able to make a contribution, but these people were in a league of their own. Laptops were produced, books and scrolls were placed in strategic piles. Every so often one pile would be dismantled, its contents distributed amongst others and the whole pattern would reform, occasionally two or three researchers would meet in the middle of the room, briefly exchange information and call upon Mark to return now discarded texts to their offices or the library.
Buffy commandeered a laptop and tried to get her brain to register what she could see on the screen. Sunnydale had risen again, the crater had been filled, smoothed over and a new city was growing in its place.
‘Folk memory is a very powerful thing,’ explained Giles. ‘Given the choice mankind will always build on a civilization’s ruins rather than somewhere new. No one is immune to it, the Council Headquarters has risen three times from the rubble and no doubt w-will again.’
It still seemed wrong to her, some things should be left alone. She curled her lip at a picture of Governor Schwarzenegger, builder’s helmet stuck on his head at a jaunty angle, smiling goofily and posing with workers on what looked like the largest building site on Earth. A massive billboard behind them said ‘Sunnydale - Tomorrow’s City Today’ in fiery red letters metres high.
The sky became lighter as dawn approached, by then there were only six of them left in the room, the others had reached the limits of their knowledge and gone to find a quiet corner to snooze in until a conclusion was reached. After a while Giles got up, stretched out a few kinks in his back, then went over to Buffy.
‘They’re talking proto-Germanics now,’ he yawned. ‘My contribution to that would be negligible. Shall we go somewhere else?’
‘Any where but here sounds good to me.’
Giles led Buffy to his office, where they discovered Mark, sound asleep and twitching slightly, on the couch.
‘Aaah, he’s dreaming,’ cooed Buffy.
‘Probably of chasing rabbits.’
She lightly slapped Giles’ arm.
‘Be nice, he worships you.’
‘Then he really is a fool,’ whispered Giles as they quietly stole away.
They drifted on down darkened corridors, both slightly unnerved by the silence of a building that was usually alive with people and noise. They found another office with a couch and made themselves comfortable, Buffy putting her legs up and leaning against Giles who stretched an arm around her, they shifted about, working out how their bodies fitted together, carrying out for the first time movements that may one day become automatic. Right hand occupied with idly tracing circles on Buffy’s thigh, Giles used his left to set his glasses down and massage his temple.
‘Giles?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘You know that going to sleep would be a bad plan, right? They’ll be done soon then we can crash.’
‘Actually I’m wide awake,’ mumbled Giles sounding shattered.
‘Yeah, right.’
He took hold of Buffy’s hand and pressed her fingers to his neck, so she could feel his racing pulse.
‘Caffeine - a Watcher‘s greatest friend.’
Buffy attempted what Willow would’ve recognised instantly as a ‘resolve face’.
‘You’ve got to start taking care of yourself. This isn’t right.’
‘It’s what Watchers do. Have you not been listening to your instructors? You keep going as long as you are needed, a-as long as you are able,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Standard practice.’
‘Madness,’ shot back Buffy.
‘Oh yes,’ challenged Giles, suddenly playful. ‘And what else would you suggest to drive away fatigue and invigorate mind and body?’
As he was talking Giles changed position so that he could bend down to kiss Buffy, who draped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. They were a breath apart when a far-off voice could be heard shouting:
‘Mr Giles. Could you come back to the conference room please. They’ve finshed.’
With extreme reluctance Giles got to his feet.
‘Relax for a while, Buffy. I’ll make sure you’re there when they formally present their findings.’
She gave him a beatific smile and was asleep before he’d even reached the door.
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