“Ow! Bleeding hell. Why am I the one in the barrel with the tribal flag? The end is sharp, and it keeps almost staking me.”
“Oh, that’s beautiful. Really. I get to spend over a month on the same tribe with a very annoying neutered vampire.”
“Nice comeback, Harris.”
“Shut up, Spike.”
“If I could suggest that we try to co-operate rather than arguing at this point?”
“Oh, look. Watcher-junior’s on the squad. Now I almost wish this flag would stake me. Who else is on this stupid excuse for a team?”
“You’ve got me.”
“And me.”
“Oh, wonderful, the Summers duo. This experience isn’t going to be painful at all. I can hide under a nice leaf while the Slayer and the little bit taunt me from afar.”
“Two Slayers, actually.”
[long line of profanity from the barrel with the flag in it] “All right. All right. Nothing the Big Bad can’t handle. That’s six of us, who’re the other two?”
“M-me.”
“Oz here.”
“A witch and a werewolf.” [Sigh from the barrel with the flag in it.] “All right, I’m tired of floating. Who’s got that sodding map?”
“I do.”
“Of course. Buffy’s in charge. Why did I even ask?”
“Spike, do you think that maybe you could shut your mouth for five minutes?”
“Harris, do you think you could maybe produce a future for yourself for five minutes?”
“Gee, Spike. That didn’t insult me at all. Are you feeling all right?”
“No, actually. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was tired of floating. I’m getting all queasy-like.”
“That was rhetorical.”
“Okay, Summers, lead the way. I’ll keep quiet to avoid tossing up the last decent meal I’ll have in months, and you get us out of the ocean as fast as bloody possible, yeah?”
“Oh my… I’m afraid I don’t feel terribly well either.”
“Uh, sorry, but who’s the British guy?”
“That’s Wesley, Kennedy. He was Watcher for me and Faith for… what, three months?”
“Geez. Weren’t a very good Watcher, were you?”
“I’ll have you know that I graduated top of my Watcher class, thank you very… oh my. Perhaps I’ll do likewise of Spike and remain silent to avoid getting sick all over this lovely sounding rice.”
“Good plan. Anyway, according to this map, the tide is taking us in exactly the right direction. Why did he even provide us with a map if our only method of getting there is by letting the tide carry us?”
“I’m not quite sure that Jeff guy was really… there. In the brain department, I mean. He put Spike in a barrel with a flagpole that’s wooden and sharpened. That doesn’t spell ‘full deck’ if you ask me.”
“Actually, Dawnie, that sort of tells me he’s more intelligent than anyone gives him credit for.”
“Ha-ha, Xander.”
“Guys, if we could maybe cut down on the cutthroat banter until we land. Just a suggestion.”
“Right-o, Buff.”
“Sure, Buffy. No prob.”
“Don’t say cutthroat, love. It’s making me hungry.”
“Oh dear, oh dear.” [Vomiting noises from the barrel with the rice.]
**MEANWHILE…**
“Well, that was highly unpleasant. One second I was standing around, and the next I was extremely unconscious. Now I’m in a barrel with this weird awareness that I’ve been recruited involuntarily for a Survivor show.”
“Ooooh… there’s a fabric with a mean partner attached… it’s not very kind. Bad flag!”
“Oh, okay. Nice. Perfect. Drusilla’s on this team. Nobody’s going to let me just brood in peace, are they? They’ve got to rub in everything I did.”
“Hey, chill out, vampy. I’ll be more than happy to stake her for you once we get on land. Or better yet, I’ll stake you. Maybe I’ll even go nuts and stake ya both.”
“No, Faith. No one’s staking anyone, just as no one’s biting anyone. Is everyone clear?”
“God, I hope so.”
“Giles?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, that was me. I was just… muttering to myself.”
“All right. Who else do we have?”
“I’m here.”
“And, and me.”
“That’s Cordy and Willow…”
“Ow! They don’t make these barrels very comfortable for you, do they? They could at least have put a cushion, or maybe a nice blanket in here instead of this humungous box of rice. It’s very awkward.”
“And Anya… That makes seven of us. Who’s the quiet one?”
“Mostly I’m just hoping that I’m having a nightmare and maybe if I don’t say anything then I’ll wake up on the other team. Or better yet, back home in bed.”
“…Okay. I get that I have to atone for my sins and all that, but couldn’t that Jeff guy have cut me at least a little slack?”
“Oh, you think I’m happy about this? Believe me, the last thing I want is to be stuck on the same team with the infamous Angel.”
“I have an idea, Finn… why don’t we both just not talk to each other at all?”
“Sounds like a plan. Who’s got the map?”
“…Uh… I do.”
“What?! I’m the Slayer, why don’t I get to be leader?”
“Because you’re evil.”
“So are you!”
“Not anymore. I’m naturally evil, but I’m good. You’re naturally good, but you’re evil. That’s why I’m in charge.”
“And if you get dusted?”
“No one’s dusting anyone! Is anyone even listening to me? …Nevermind. Anyway, the tide’s taking us toward land. I don’t see why we needed a map to figure that out, but…”
“The ocean… it calls to me… ooooh…”
“That’s because you’re floating in it, lady. Is she all right?”
“Not really, no.”
“Mm, I smell scaly little creatures. They sing so sweetly… can I keep them?”
**MEANWHILE… **
Buffy punched her way out of the beached barrel first, bring the map out with her. Spike and Kennedy shortly followed suit, Spike bringing the flag and Kennedy pulling out a kettle of some kind.
Spike unfurled the flag and read it aloud. “The Jeff Tribe.” He crumpled his face in disbelief. “The Jeff tribe? That ponce named our tribe after himself?”
Buffy shrugged. “It’s the publicity probably. You all right, Wes?” she asked, holding out an arm to help him after she gently punched in his barrel.
“Oh, I’ll be fine… nothing a little lie down won’t cure. The rice, though…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with that.”
“The Jeff tribe?! What the hell is that wanker trying to pull?”
“Spike, get over it and help me get the others out of their barrels.” Buffy punched in Dawn’s barrel and helped her sister out of the wooden contraption. Kennedy set Xander free, and moved over to help Tara as Spike reluctantly abandoned the flag on the ground to let Oz out of his barrel. Buffy kicked the container of rice into the ocean and let it clean itself.
“Hey, look. Instructions,” Tara said as she looked on the other side of the map that Buffy had abandoned on the beach. “They say they’re for the leader’s eyes only.”
Buffy sighed. “All right. I guess that’s me. Let’s have a look.”
Good evening, Jeff Tribe! I guess you’re wondering what the next few days will entail. Unfortunately for you, I’m not saying squat. Makes it less fun if I do.
There are some landmarks I feel I should point out; the well is at the top of the mountain you see due north. [Buffy looked up and saw what would barely pass as a mountain, but it had to be it since it was the only hill at all as far as she could see.] You may have to boil the water. There’s a sort of outhouse a few miles into the forest. Tribal council is right in the centre of the island; just follow the yellow brick road… or, I guess the rocky dirt path, in this case.
As you can see, you’ve been properly abandoned on this island with very little at all. There are a few fruit trees around; coconuts and pineapples and what have you. It’s a tropical sort of place. Your friend Spike should be able to find some vermin to feed off of. We’ve provided you with rice, a kettle, a tribal flag, a miscellaneous cloth for your disposal (though I recommend you make a little home for Spike; I hear he doesn’t cope well with sunlight exposure), tribal scarves, a drum (hey, you never know) and a bottle of vodka. Despite my argument that it could be a hoot, you’re not supposed to let Dawn have any of that last item. The network’s a party pooper sometimes. Oh, and you also have this lovely sheet of paper that could help in your fight for fire. Trust me, you’ll need it.
Good luck! Check your mail bag tomorrow night. It’s up by the well.
“That’s it? I could have figured out half those things without the freaking letter.”
“Uh, Buffy…”
“Hold on, Dawn. I’m just going to…”
“The rice is floating away.”
Buffy swore loudly and looked out into the ocean, where the small cube with the rice in it bobbed about fifty feet from land. Spike roared with laughter.
“You might want to shut your mouth, Spike, or you’ll be the one getting that rice.”
Spike calmed and looked at Buffy, startled. “No bloody way. You know how much vampires hate to be in water. Besides, I don’t eat it. Why should I have to get it?”
Kennedy raised her eyebrows. “Vamps hate water, huh? Thanks for the tip.”
Oz shed his shirt and stepped into the water. “I’ll get it. I was planning on going for a swim anyway.”
“Thanks, Oz.” Buffy looked at the very small pile of things that they’d been provided with and sighed. “I guess we’d better start setting up. Wesley, you feeling any better?”
The former Watcher stood tentatively and tested the strength of his legs. “I think I’m all right. I’ll make the fire pit, perhaps?”
Buffy nodded. “Sounds good. Spike, use this pathetic excuse of a blanket to set up a shelter of some kind. It’s got to be stretched enough to cover all eight of us if it rains, and it should cover you for the whole day, too.”
Spike raised his eyebrows as Buffy handed him the cloth. “All right, love, I’ll do what I can, but don’t be expecting any miracles.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m not.”
“…Hey!”
“Just do it, Spike. Xander, if you, Tara and Dawn could wander around and gather fruit, that’d be good. Anything else you find that might pass as food, may as well pick that up, too.”
“Sure thing, Buffster.”
“Thanks. Kennedy, you and I are going to push some boulders to sit on around the fire pit that Wesley’s building. If you see Oz before I do, ask him to wander around the woods and find himself a nice place in captivity for the full moon coming up next week.”
The next hour or so passed with barely any conversation, aside from the one Spike seemed to be having with the shelter or possibly with himself, consisting of a bunch of comments like “stupid wanker” and “bloody hell”. Wesley tried without much success to light a fire once he got finished making the pit for it. Oz stopped by, dripping wet, with the rice, which seemed to be totally unaffected by either the Wesleyvomit or its little adventure in the deep blue sea. He shortly disappeared into the woods and didn’t return for several hours.
Xander stumbled out of the woods with Tara and Dawn shortly behind. Xander was frowning intently at the forest and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to where he was going. He came up to Buffy without taking his eyes off the woods. “Did you see Oz?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said breathlessly, wiping the back of her hand against her forehead. “Only for a second, then I sent him away to look for a place to lock himself up at the full moon. Why?”
“He really seems to be getting in touch with his wild, wild wolf. I just saw him scrambling amongst the trees, running faster than he probably normally would be able to. He was shirtless and his hair was everywhere, which, I guess, isn’t much of a change. But… there was something seriously weird about him.”
“Xander’s overreacting,” Dawn assured Buffy, not looking very happy about the giant unidentified bug that Tara had pulled out of her hair a second ago. “Oz wasn’t any more or less Oz-like than usual. Just… friskier, maybe. Like a puppy.”
“See? Inner dog.”
“I’ll talk to him later. Find any food?”
Xander jolted himself back to reality and brought his hands out from behind is back. “One pineapple.”
“What? That’s it?”
(“Bloody hell!”)
“Yep. One very spiky, very unripe pineapple. I hit it against a tree a bunch of times, but all that happened were these little cuts all over my hand.”
Dawn smiled. “I tried to explain that the hitting it against the tree thing only worked with coconuts, but he was just so determined.”
Kennedy walked up, toting a large tree stump with her. “I couldn’t find another rock big enough, so I pulled this out of the ground. It seems weird to me that this island is supposed to be deserted, but this was recently a tree. Someone took a chainsaw to it.” She put it down and glanced at the battered fruit in Xander’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast, apparently,” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes.
“All right! I’ve given up,” Wesley proclaimed, throwing the twigs he was rubbing together up in the air and letting them fall into where the fire should have been. “Someone else can try. Is there anything I can do?”
(“Son of a BITCH!”)
“Yeah. Go see if Spike could use your help. It doesn’t sound like he’s having a lot of success.”
Wesley winced. “Must I?”
Buffy lifted her face to the sky and sighed deeply. “Is it Spike you’re not willing to deal with, or the job?”
“Well… he’s nothing a rogue demon hunter can’t…”
“Fine. Send him to me. I’ll give him something else to do. Kennedy, you may as well go with him.” She watched Wesley and the new Slayer go a short way into the trees and turned back to Xander. “Okay, guys, I know you looked, but I need you to look harder. We need more than this for food. Also, if you see Oz again, send him my way.”
“Okey-dokey, Buff,” Xander said, dropping the pineapple and heading back into the forest. Tara nodded and followed him; Dawn rolled her eyes and stomped after them. Evidently she wasn’t fond of the woods where the big bugs lived.
Spike strode, fuming, toward Buffy. “That fabric is bloody afraid of me. Every time I grab hold of it, it wiggles until it gets loose. I even tried lying down and putting it on top of me, and it slips off and just lies there about five feet from where I am. It’s bloody stupid.”
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m not joking, pet. It won’t come near me. I finally attached three corners to trees, and when I reached for the fourth, the whole thing flew up and got stuck in the tree about thirty feet up. I’d never have gotten it down if wolf-boy hadn’t scaled the thing in six seconds flat and thrown it down. It wasn’t afraid of him.”
Buffy ignored most of Spike’s speech, but focused on one detail. “You saw Oz?”
“Yeah. Freaky were-thing he is, too. He looked feral, but I didn’t complain because he saved me the trouble of climbing the tree.”
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Would you have climbed the tree anyway?”
“Well… no… but that’s beside the point.”
“Yes, it is. Did you get anything weird off Oz at all?”
Spike thought, then shook his head. “Nah. Nothing weirder than normal, anyhow. Smelled more like a wolf, maybe.”
Buffy nodded slowly. “Spike, I think something weird’s happening to Oz. If he gets out of control, can I count on you to take him down?”
Spike scoffed and searched his pockets for the cigarettes he wouldn’t find. “No chance, pet.”
“You’re the only one immune to his bite.”
“No.”
“Spike…”
“You’re not going to cutesie your way into this one, Slayer. I may be love’s bitch, but I’ve still got my pride, yeah?”
Buffy sighed. “Fine. Light the fire.”
“No sodding way! What if I catch on fire?”
“And this never occurred to you in all these years of lighting your cigarettes with a lighter?”
“That’s different. Contained flames. I start boy-scouting it up and three seconds later I’m the one frying up a nice fish for your dinner.”
“But the fire would be lit.”
“No, Buffy.”
“Light the fire or make sure Oz doesn’t get out of control.”
“Hey, no fair.”
“One or the other, Spike.”
Spike rolled his eyes and weighed his options. Getting a good fight in versus catching on fire. “Fine. I’ll be the werewolf’s bodyguard. But you’re not voting me off the island, pet. I deserve the cash for this job.”
Buffy smiled triumphantly. “Deal.”
Wesley and Kennedy stepped out of the woods. Wesley staggered and lay down again on a small patch of grass he’d claimed once he’d stepped out of his barrel. Kennedy looked down at him but kept walking toward Buffy. “Okay. I’ve strung it up at about waist-height between some trees over there,” she said, pointing. “Those trees are pretty much stripped of their leaves, but it’s where the cloth wanted to go. Literally. It flung itself between those trees and won’t move. Then Oz walked by with a dead something and Wesley threw up again, all over our new low shelter. But it bounced right off. The vomit, I mean. It went, ‘froing,’ and flew up in the air, and I think it landed in the outhouse’s general area.”
Tara appeared behind Kennedy, frowning, with Xander and Dawn shortly en tow, seemingly arguing about whether the object Xander was holding was a coconut or a dead hedgehog. “You say the blanket flew?” Tara inquired.
“Yeah, and it bloody well won’t go near me, either,” Spike added, searching for his cigarettes for the first time in what had to be five minutes.
Tara nodded slowly and seemed to think for a second. Then she said, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared in the trees toward where Kennedy and Wesley had come from, stopping on the way to ask Wesley if he needed anything.
Buffy watched the argument that Dawn and Xander were having in amusement, not wanting to interrupt what would probably be the best entertainment she’d have in a month. She turned her head slightly and jumped when she noticed Oz beside her. He was holding a thread of some kind that had obviously been a part of one of the many dead poultry that were hanging on the thread.
“Got breakfast,” he said quietly.
Buffy watched Oz carefully for a second. He seemed just like Oz, but there was a little wildness in his eyes that almost dominated the sheer intelligence that was usually there. For the first time, Buffy truly appreciated what it was to have a beast hidden inside. She wondered how he coped. Then she took the string of plump birds from him and examined them. “Wow, Oz. This is fantastic.”
“Beats out the dead hedgehog, anyway.”
Buffy smiled. “So Dawn’s right, then. I was wondering.” She put the food down beside the fire and ignored Spike’s peculiar sniffing in that general direction. She glanced back at Oz and noticed that he was watching her intently. “What’s up, Oz?” she asked.
The werewolf shot his wild eyes at Spike before returning them to Buffy. “I’d like to have a discussion with you when it’s light out. I think I’d probably be easier to talk to then.”
Buffy nodded after a second. “Sure thing.”
Spike looked up at the sky and seemed to smell the air before coming toward Buffy. “It’ll be sunup in about an hour. I think I’ll turn in for the day. You need anything, have someone else do it.” The vampire glanced at Oz before turning away from Buffy and heading toward where she knew the shelter was.
Xander was knocking on the object he found to prove to Dawn that it was just a really spiky coconut and it sprung open. Xander took one look at the empty beady eyes and dropped the dead hedgehog, stepping away in surprise. Dawn started laughing hysterically and lay down on the sand, clutching her stomach. Buffy grinned as Xander approached the hedgehog hesitantly, eventually picking it up and examining it from several angles. “I like this,” he proclaimed. “I think we should make it our tribal mascot.”
Buffy winced. “Xander, it’s a dead hedgehog.”
“And explain to me how that’s any worse than ‘The Jeff Tribe’.”
“…Good point.”
Buffy was interrupted by a long line of profanities coming from the forest, followed by rather uncharacteristic spiels of laughter from Tara. Spike was shortly seen, hair all askew and t-shirt ripped, fuming toward Buffy. Tara was running behind him, still stifling giggles.
“That BLOODY thing is more trouble than it’s worth. I slid under it, but it was too quick for me; it picked me up and threw me thirty feet into the sodding air. It caught me, and then threw me on the ground. There’s no way it’s going to let me sleep under it today.”
Oz blinked and smelled the air just as Spike had a few minutes ago. “I found a cave not far from here. It’s small, but it’ll do the job. I’ll show you.” Oz picked his shirt off from the sand and pulled it on as Spike followed him reluctantly into the trees.
“It’s… the blanket, it’s enchanted,” Tara explained, out of breath. “It doesn’t like vampires, and it doesn’t like to be bossed around. I don’t know how to lift the enchantment. Willow would, it’s just…” Tara trailed off and tilted her head sideways. “Willow.”
Xander put his new favourite friend down and frowned. “Anya.” He looked up at Buffy. “It’s weird that I hadn’t passed thought about her until just now. I wonder if she’s on the other tribe?”
**MEANWHILE…**
Angel burst out of his barrel at almost the same time as Faith. He started going around from barrel to barrel, breaking every one else out, while Faith stood around with her arms crossed and surveyed the land.
“Something ain’t right,” she speculated.
“Could it be… oh, say, your brain?” Cordelia asked, letting Angel help her out of what remained of her barrel.
“You think you’re real smart, don’t you, Miss Beauty Queen? You think you got life all figured out just because your daddy’s a rich stiff.”
“Uh, hello, kinda broke now. I had to get a job and everything.”
“Hey, if we could maybe not argue, I think this little vacation could be a lot easier on all of us,” Angel suggested, pulling his fist back to punch through another barrel.
“Daddy, no!”
Angel sighed. “Dru, you have to come out of there.”
“But I like it. It’s very cozy.”
“I’m sure it is, Dru, but we need you on the team.”
“This kind flag and I are having tea. You mustn’t interrupt the party.”
Angel rolled his eyes and pulled Drusilla’s barrel onto shore just so she didn’t float away. “Fine. But only until you… finish your tea party. Then I’m breaking you out of there.”
“Yay! Daddy brings home a treat!”
“Stop calling me that.” Making sure that everyone else was free, Angel flipped the map over and read over the letter. He scoffed at its sheer uselessness and was about to put it under a rock for future fire-lighting, but did a double-take when he noticed something.
Hello, Probst tribe!
Angel frowned and read over it a few times to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting the text, and then looked up and swore. He bounded over to Drusilla’s barrel and punched it in carelessly, pulling the flag from it despite Drusilla’s cries and unfurling it. Angel snarled in a vampire-like fashion and threw the flag on the ground angrily. He sat on a nearby fallen tree and stared at the grounded fabric. Willow walked over to see what he was so upset about.
“The Probst Tribe,” she read off the flag. She squinted and looked closer, and then looked up in alarm. “The Probst tribe? Jeff named our tribe after himself?”
“Looks that way,” Angel said bitterly. Then he looked up and about. “I really shouldn’t be this upset about this.”
“Well, it’s not like you don’t have the right to be,” Willow said. “It’s a pretty dumb name.”
Angel ignored this last comment and got up off the decomposing wood and started pacing. He was usually a fairly level-headed guy, when he wasn’t off killing people. Here he was getting all bent out of shape over the name of a tribe he didn’t want to be on in the first place.
“The Probst tribe?” Anya asked, appalled. “Well, that won’t do. We’ll have to change it to something happy, like ‘The Money tribe’ or perhaps ‘The Bunny-free tribe’.”
“Hey, Angel,” Faith called, not joining the mob wincing at the poor choice of tribe name. “Are we just going to stand around all night gawking at a name, or are we going to set up camp? I’m getting wicked hungry just standing here.”
Angel stopped pacing and decided to dismiss his poor mood for nothing more than precisely that. “Uh, yeah. Faith, set up the fire; get things to sit on, make a pit, try to light the fire. Willow, it’d be nice if you, Cordy and Anya went searching for food.” Willow gave Angel an angry expression and Angel sighed reluctantly. “Okay, fine. Willow, set up that blanket somewhere so Dru and I can hide out during the day. Uh… Riley, go with Anya and Cordelia.” Riley nodded in a military-like fashion and set off toward the woods, listening patiently to Anya rant on about the proper process of naming things while Cordelia freaked out about walking through a spider web.
Angel watched Riley go and decided to give the boy a small amount of credit. Despite his strong dislike for Angel, Riley didn’t protest the order given to him. He didn’t imagine he ever would.
Angel turned to Giles, who was still examining the flag with disdain and muttering to himself in a British fashion. “Giles?”
“Hm? Oh. What?”
Angel frowned. “You all right?”
“Fine, never better. Perhaps I’ll fish.” And with that the Watcher set off toward the lake, still muttering to himself. Angel could probably decipher his words if he tried, but he decided to let it go. Giles had just made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t be taking orders from Angel, and Angel decided that if that’s the way he felt, then whatever.
The vampire walked over to the whimpering Drusilla and crouched down in front of her. “You all right, Dru?”
“No. Daddy’s a bad, bad man. He ruined the party and hurt all the guests. He mustn’t interfere, he mustn’t…” Drusilla trailed off in a fit of whimpers .
“I’m sorry, Dru, it’s just that we had to swing into action. Nothing’s going to happen here unless I take control. I’m the boss, and what I say or do has to go. You understand?”
“Of course I do. I’m not a child,” Drusilla stated with some of the most sanity Angel had witnessed her possess in a very long time. She stood and shook off the wood chips she’d been showered with. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my Angel, I have a something to do tonight.” She stalked away into the forest without so much as a glance backward.
Angel watched her go and shook his head in mild amazement at the many moods of Drusilla and how quickly they could change. He turned back to the lake and saw Giles staring intently into the water and not moving at all. Angel watched in mild fascination as the Watcher, without even blinking, caught a fish in a microsecond with his bare hands. Giles looked about and picked up a small, sharp rock and began using it as a knife to clean the fish.
The vampire approached Giles carefully and stood above him, watching as he cleaned a fish. “What’s going on with you?”
“What d’you mean?” Giles asked, not looking up.
“You’re not speaking with your usual precision. You’re acting a little more high-and-mighty than usual, which I personally have no problem with. But what I do have a problem with is that you just reached out and caught a fish with your bare hands faster than I could morph into vampface. I did see it in different speeds than everyone else would, but would everyone else would see would be something strangely akin to a fish suddenly appearing in your hands. It’s an inhuman speed you’re operating at.”
Giles finally looked up at Angel, though angrily, and saw that he was serious. He then looked down at his fish and the rock in his hand, and put them both down carefully, staring into the lake. Neither of them said anything for a while. Angel decided to sit on a boulder next to the one Giles was sitting on.
“Oh dear,” Giles commented after a few minutes. “Oh dear me.” Angel waited patiently for the Watcher to turn to him and explain when exactly he got turned into a vampire, but it never really came.
“Is there something I should know?” he prodded eventually.
“Yes,” Giles said slowly, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Angel after a second and stared straight into the vampire’s eyes. “ I don’t like you. I feel that Buffy’s judgement has been very poor in her decision not to kill you, soul or not.”
“Buffy?” Angel asked dimly, not expecting her to be brought into it.
“However, since you are the head of the team, and since I have no intention to be ‘kicked off the island’, so to speak, I believe I owe you something resembling an explanation.”
The Watcher picked up his gutted fish and stood up carefully, stepping from stone to stone back to land and toward the fire that Faith was starting to build adeptly. Angel followed him and listened as he explained.
“I’m not sure how much, if anything, Buffy has told you about my past. I’ve been hoping she hasn’t said a word, but I can’t control her since she quit the council. In short, when I was in my early twenties, me and four other Oxford drop-outs formed a fun little club. We created a demon that shortly took one of our own. I realized how terrible the power we possessed was and immediately lost contact with all of them as much as possible. I didn’t hear from any of them for twenty years, when two more of our group brought the demon back and killed them. Ethan Rayne came to Sunnydale. He and I are the only ones left.”
The Watcher sighed and stopped as he neared Faith, putting the fish down on the wall around the fire pit and walking away, not wanting her to become a part of the conversation. Angel remained silent. “Anyway, you battled the demon, and won. I thought it gone now, totally dead. Nonetheless, the tattoo on my arm that serves as a constant reminder of those years is still there, and since I found myself in that cramped little barrel, it’s been… I don’t know how to describe the sensation. It’s itchy, but in a way that I don’t know how to make it stop itching. I suppose I’ve been acting weirdly, and I suppose I know why now; the demon’s coming out, trying to make its appearance again. Eyghon lives on, despite my best efforts. I believe that he’s trying to fight his way out of the tattoo and into me. That’s why I was able to catch that fish so freely.”
Angel proverbially breathed more easily. He had sensed something weird from Giles, and he’d just assumed that he’d been turned, but this was better and easier to deal with for the both of them; Drusilla was enough of a handful. “Can I… help? I don’t really know what I could do, but feel free to ask.”
Giles nodded. “I need you to keep me in check. If I start to mutter again, listen. I know you can, but you haven’t chosen to. If I get out of control, put me in line. Be as candid as possible and don’t worry about any balderdash like ‘hurting my feelings’ or what have you. I can take it.”
Angel smiled slightly and nodded. “Sure.” The two gentlemen continued their walk along the beach, Angel ignoring the shouts from the woods he heard and Giles ignoring the slight whisper in his mind that was instructing him to stake the vampire with the nearest sharp stick. They walked in almost comfortable silence that may have lasted an hour. Angel eventually blurted the question he’d been wanting to ask since the beginning of their conversation. “You mentioned Buffy before. I’m just wondering what she has to do with it. I haven’t seen Buffy in months.”
Giles stopped walking and looked up at Angel. “What are you talking about? You and Buffy see each other almost daily, despite my constant protests.”
The vampire raised an eyebrow at the skeptical man. “I live in L. A. It’s nearly impossible for us to see each other that often, and besides, I left so we wouldn’t see each other daily. That was the entire point.”
Giles scoffed. “I might be partially controlled by a dormant demon, but I’m not an idiot. Feeding me lies like this isn’t helping the me hating you situation,” he added a tad childishly.
Angel’s eyes lit up as he suddenly understood something. “Giles…”
“Is this some sort of absurd test? Because you’re not terribly good at coming up with stories. ‘I live in L. A.’… honestly. How daft do you think I…”
“Giles, what year is it?”
Giles stopped mid-sentence and frowned even deeper at the vampire. “It’s 1999.”
Angel smiled. “No. It’s 2000.”
Giles turned his head and watched the vampire out of the corner of his eye. “You’re smiling, but not in a humourous way. You’re not lying to me, are you?”
Angel shook his head. “I think I have an idea. Let’s go back to camp. I’ll prove my theory and then explain.”
They turned and walked back along the beach in the other direction, quickening their pace. Finally they neared the camp, and everyone except Drusilla was back and crowded around the healthy fire Faith had built and lit single-handedly. The flag with the controversial name on it waved proudly nonetheless in the slight breeze. Willow looked a little worse for the wear and Riley was surrounded by ample amounts of some sort of juicy fruit that may have been pears. Angel didn’t keep track of what food really was anymore. The vampire stopped a safe distance from the flame due to his increased liability of catching on fire and waited as Giles sat down.
“Hey, where have you guys been? It’s been like two hours since Faith said she last saw you drop off the fish and leave,” Willow asked, looking happy that the two of them were okay but mostly still looking battered and dirty. “The fish was delicious, by the way. There wasn’t a lot, Giles, but we left you a helping.” She held up a makeshift plate that had obviously been Riley-made, which held a small strip of fish which Giles decided was properly a sixth. He smiled at Willow and gratefully ate the meal, pleased that she would fight for his share.
Angel watched this transaction and smiled at Willow’s thoughtfullness. Then he stated quite plainly and simply: “What year is it?”
“Well, duh, it’s 1999,” Cordelia provided.
“Told you,” Giles said with a smile, and then realized how silly his words sounded and resumed eating his fish.
Willow frowned. “Hardly. It’s 2001.”
Faith’s eyes darted around. “I gotta go with Cordelia here. It’s good ol’ ’99, if you ask me.”
Anya made a cluck sound with her tongue. “You’re all nuts. It’s plainly 2002. It even says so on calendars, and they can’t all be wrong.”
Riley frowned. “I’m actually pretty sure it’s only the year 2000.”
“Well, at least we agree on something,” Angel said from behind him. Everyone turned to look at him. Recoiling slightly under all the sudden attention, he cleared his throat. “You all think it’s a different year because it is. We’re all on different wavelengths. I think that if Drusilla was here, she’d say it was 1998. …Or possibly she’d say that it was still 1860, no one really knows what she’s thinking. But my point is, none of us are wrong. We’ve all been torn out of our respective lives at some point in time and brought here, none of us questioning what anyone else is doing here. It occurs to me now that Cordy’s in L. A. in my time, but I never questioned that she was still in high school here.”
Giles made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat and swallowed before speaking. “A time flux, of course,” he provided, looking about. “Damn. I wish I had at least some books on this God-forsaken, continuum-defying island.”
“I knew there was something wrong here,” Willow said, nodding. “While I was fighting with the blanket…” she noticed Angel’s eyebrows shoot up and she shook her head. “It’s a long story. Anyway, I tried magick on it and it failed. Like, totally and completely. I tried even the simplest of spells and it just didn’t work.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t really think anything of your magick talk until just now. I just knew that you were a bad ass wicca. But back in my time, you can barely float pencils…” the Slayer shook her head. “This is weird shit. I don’t like this island. It’s making me actually do things. I lit this fire and everything, even though I know I wouldn’t do that in the real world, since I’m evil and all. It’s like I’m nice here or something, totally the opposite of who I know I am.”
“Bully for you,” Giles muttered into the last of his food. Angel overheard and stopped himself from laughing aloud, settling instead for an appreciative grin in the Watcher’s direction.
“So what was the upshot of this Willow-blanket throwdown?” Angel asked, sounding much too much like Buffy for his taste. “Is it up?”
Willow winced before answering. “It’s up, but Drusilla popped by to play fort under it or something. The blanket didn’t like that much. Threw her up in the air and sent her squealing away for Miss Edith to save her or something. I never really know what she’s saying.”
Angel shook his head. “No one ever really does.” He took in the information. “All right. Well, the sun’s going to rise in an hour or so, so I think I’ll give the blanket thing a shot now, which still gives me enough time to find a place to hide if it doesn’t like me, either. If you need anything, feel free to wake me up if I’m asleep, even if I’m hiding under a bough of evergreen.” He flinched at his last words, hoping it didn’t come to that, and set out into the forest to conquer the mighty blanket.
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