"Goooooooooooooooooddddd mooooooooooorrrrrniiiing, Sunnydale! Rise and shine, it's six a.m. on this beautiful Monday morning! Open those eyes, get those feet on the flo-"
KGEM 96.5's morning show didn't survive the inevitable press of the snooze-button, and in the sudden silence that followed, Buffy Summers rolled over onto her back and groaned. The realization that her period had snuck up on her didn't make the prospect of getting out of bed any sweeter, but Buffy made a solemn promise to herself to get up and going in five minutes, when her snooze time was up.
Unfortunately, Buffy's poor alarm clock had taken about all the abuse it could stand over the past few weeks, and quietly died before waking the sleeping seventeen year old.
"-going to be late if you don't get up right now, Buffy!"
Buffy opened her eyes and glanced at her clock, realizing that she'd slayed yet another timepiece. "And a good morning to you, too."
Fifteen minutes later, Buffy walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk, and gulped it down with a few Midol pills, stuffing the bottle into her purse. Glancing out the window, she saw that her mother's car wasn't in the driveway, which meant Buffy was on her own for getting to school on time.
Buffy sighed, turning away from the window. Before, her mother would have rather been late to work herself than have her daughter miss a moment of public education. Now, however, it seemed that Joyce Summers could care less if Buffy made it to school on time, because after all, she did her part by waking her up. she wondered.
Walking over and picking up the phone, Buffy dialed a number while muttering, "Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?"
After two rings, the other end picked up and Buffy heard, "Yes?"
"Cordelia?"
"Buffy? Why are you calling me?"
"Listen, Cordie, I need a ride to school. I woke up late and my mom ditched me and if I don't make it to school on time, Snyder's gonna wig."
"Do I look like a taxi service to you?"
Buffy declined to comment on what Cordelia Chase looked like to her. "Please?"
"Fine, fine, okay. But only because it's basically on the way."
Buffy ended up thanking the dial tone. Grabbing her bookbag and purse, Buffy sat on the doorstep outside and munched on half a bagel until Cordelia's car pulled into her driveway.
Opening the passenger door, Buffy got in next to Cordelia, shutting the door behind her. "Thanks, Cordie."
"How did you know my car phone number?"
"Caller I.D."
"Oh. You look sick. Are you sick? If you are, don't breathe on me."
Buffy had to smile. Cordelia was getting better at toning down her me-me-me attitude, but she still had a long way to go. "No, Cordelia, I'm not sick. I'm cramping. But thank you for your concern, I'm touched that you care."
Cordelia threw an annoyed glance in her direction as she pulled into the school parking lot. "Great, now I'm going to get a loser parking space. See what happens when I do things for other people?"
"Gee, Cordie, having a touch of PMS yourself there?"
"No!"
Buffy and Cordelia headed into the school building, and both girls nervously walked right passed Principal Snyder, who alternately glared pointedly at his watch and the girls. He couldn't say anything, however, because the bell wouldn't ring for another two minutes.
Cordelia stopped at her locker, but Buffy headed on toward the library.
Pushing open the door, Buffy was met by a furious librarian.
"Do you do things like this on purpose, Buffy? Do you--do you sit and think up ways to waste my time?"
Rupert Giles turned away from Buffy, and stacked books in a neat and orderly fashion, his movements sharp and to the point.
Confusion stamped across her features, Buffy touched Giles's forearm.
Giles turned toward the girl, looking down into her face. He opened his mouth to berate her some more but stopped when he saw the confused expression on her face. He searched her eyes and believed that she hadn't purposely not shown up, but the fact remained that she missed their training session this morning.
The British thirty-seven year old sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, you were supposed to meet me at my house this morning. Remember? We were supposed concentrate on honing your senses, not to mention focusing on gymnastics."
"Giles, I am so sorry! I've been having such a horrible morning! I pushed the snooze button too hard on my alarm clock or something cause it went wonky on me, and my mom had to go to work and couldn't take me, so then of all people I had to call -"
"She called me, and out of the goodness of my heart, I agreed to pick her up. And what did I get out of it? A parking space in the bad section of the lot," Cordelia interrupted as she made her way to the main table with her boyfriend Xander Harris in tow. Behind them came Willow Rosenburg, who pointed out to Cordelia that when you do something for someone else out of the "goodness of your heart", you're not supposed to worry about what you "get out of it".
Giles took a moment to take in Buffy's paleness and obvious fatigue. And then to have ridden with Cordelia, well...
"I'm really sorry, Giles. I was out late last night on patrol, and then other... things... dragged me down this morning..." Buffy trailed off, and sat down at the table with her friends. And Cordelia.
Giles looked at his watch, and saw that it was the seventeenth of the month. He knew that Buffy's cycle was regular as clockwork, because his Watcher's manual gave this week as the cycle's week for every Slayer that ever was. He felt suddenly remorse for treating her in the way he did, and for even scheduling the gymnastics sessions beginning this week, but decided against saying anything to spare them both embarassment. She didn't know he knew, and she wouldn't appreciate knowing that everything about her body right down to her very menstrual cycle was recorded in the manual.
"So, Giles, what evil force do we have to reckon with this week?" Xander asked, looking up from the math text that Willow was trying to explain a problem to him from.
Cordelia looked up from examining her nails. "Yeah, I mean, if you all are going to rope me into dealing with ghouls and demons or whatever, I need to know. I need to plan my wardrobe for the week, and I am *not* ruining another pair of leather shoes in cemetary-mud, thank-you-very-much."
Giles didn't even warrant that comment with a response. "As far as I know, Mr. Harris, there is nothing out of the, uh, out of the ordinary occuring this week."
"Goodie! I, for one, could use a break." Buffy commented, resting her chin in her propped up hand.
"Just because there isn't anything too ferocious coming out of the woodwork this week that I know of, Buffy, you must remember that the "ordinary" is enough of a challenge as it is."
"Yes, Mr. Hitler, sir."
Giles sighed, exasperated. "Buffy, I am not a Nazi. I just don't want to see you slacking off."
"Yeah, yeah, okay."
"I want you to come here during your free, and maybe we could go over some your dreams lately," Giles told her.
Buffy glanced at Willow and made a "no way in hell am I gonna tell about my real dreams" face. Willow stifled a giggle, because she knew the kind of recurring dreams that Buffy had been having.
"Buffy? Are we in agreement?"
Buffy looked at him.
"Grr."
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