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2
Giles peered hard at the wrapped spines of the books ranging up and down shelves, both high and low; he stared them down as if he was preparing to interrogate them: why are you out of order?
He voiced it too, then: "Why are you out of order?" but very softly.
As if from overly far away he heard the phone at the library counter ringing; Giles straightened, the sound normalizing, listening as Xander apparently answered: Gods help him. Rupert took to his feet to quickly to arrive at the bannister overlooking the study tables, relieved to see Willow was the one at the phone.
Rupert delivered a firm, chastising look to Xander while the boy chanted out entirely too cavalierly "Sunnydale Pizza Shack: You want pizza, we got Pizza-" he was even balanced precariously on two legs of the chair, the wood creaking it's complaint to any that might listen while Willow answered the phone much more appropriately "Sunnydale High School Library; Willow speaking?"
Giles waited, Xander cracking the chair back to the blessed four legs that it was meant to carry weight on with a winning smile up to Giles, Willow glancing up and caught Giles' gaze and then back down to the counter: "Yes. Yes, he is- do you want - Oh. Oh Kay."
Willow raised her glance again to him, and this time she offered a small smile: "It's for you" she shared. The smile was a good sign; it ruled out a rather large number of possible callers - such as Mrs. Trumble in the English Department -
He waisted little time on the stairs; he hadn't dared phone the counsel about Angelus just yet; nor reach back to any contacts from his seedier days of youth - not that after Ethan - "Yes? Giles?" Not that he couldn't hope the council might already know Angelus was at his door step and save him the trouble of trying to explain-
"-Ah. Hi. It's Daniel..."
Giles let his eyes fall closed and swallowed back the nascent, irrational hope smoothly, opening his eyes the next moment: "Daniel. Hi. How are you?"
"I hate to do this but I really need your help."
The class bell rang out. Rupert waited out the second of percussive dinging, directing a rather proprietary look at Xander until Willow raised the teen, grabbing up his arm and his bag and pulling him for the doors, him dragging his feet with leaded steps all the way thru the halls.
The ringing ended with a rush of sound in the halls outside, Rupert clearing his throat: "Tell me what you need and I'l try to help as best I can" he offered.
"I'll tell you what I can when we get there but do you remember the Talenti?" Daniel's voice cracked over the line.
Rupert nodded to the empty room: "It was the small group of markers, the one we thought might be giving directions?"
"Yeah" Daniel agreed; "We were right. Some of my people were assigned to go to one of those destinations and now we need to know more."
Rupert's mind caught on Daniel's memory jog and brought back the rest of that bit of translation "It was of an aramaic lingual family, yes?" he checked.
"That's it" Daniel confirmed, already sounding reassured.
Rupert wondered what on earth had happened to solicit Daniel calling him -his breath catching, then spoke: "You said: when we get there" he repeated, "How many of you are coming?"
"Four of us. We can meet at your condo?" Daniel pressed.
Rupert glanced around the library, thinking; "Fine. Tomorrow is Saturday, I can pick you up at the airport-"
"Actually we're coming now. We'll be there in a coupe of hours." Daniel corrected.
"Hours?"
"Hours" Daniel confirmed.
Rupert sighed aloud, "Right. Call when you arrive, I suppose. We'll start at the library then, too. I have some books here I want to start with" he capitulated.
"Thank you" Daniel breathed, deflating. "Thank you" he repeated again, more graciously, cutting off the line.
Hundreds of miles away, Giles carefully replaced the handset. Again: the bell sounded, the noise in the halls already diminished. Forget Pavlov and salivating dogs: admire Schools Bells herding Teens from room to room - desk to desk - and as if summoned by that thought the library doors pushed open, Buffy striding in.
She barely glanced at him, moving immediately for the study table, surrendering her bag to the floor, folding herself into a chair as her head came to fall gracefully on to her folded arms.
Giles watched, concerned, quietly coming over once she had settled. "I thought you had class this hour."
Buffy turned her head so one eye and half her mouth appeared to him: "Miss Calendar will write me a pass."
He raised a brow in response.
Buffy relaxed her neck and just her head listed back towards the table, her eye closing tiredly; "I need sleep and she owes me."
"Ah" Giles said softly. "Well, just this once" he excused. He took up her book bag in hand, walking with it to his office; "Might as well stretch out. Come on…" he lead.
Buffy rose wearily, her docile obedience more worrying than anything else as Giles watched his Slayer pass him in the doorway, head for the couch, and promptly curl up with her head resting on the armrest.
From the doorway, Giles set her bag just out of sight, "Yes, well…" and then pulled the door shut behind him. Sleep would do her good. He considered his library; it was about to serve as the crisis room for Daniel's team. He wondered if he could send Willow and Oz to pick up a book or two from his condo for him and he supposed he ought to prepare a list of texts to pull for Daniel's people. He ought to have asked for a more specific arrival time: it was just after two and sunset was at seven : forty eight. Nearly six hours more of sunlight and Daniel sounded like he'd be arriving as soon as he and his team could manage.
That considered he began to set up the library for hour six - Mr. Gotting and his history class. He intended to leave them to it and hide in his office, give himself a chance to brush up on more watchers' diaries, see what useful tidbits might present themselves for him of his predecessors' battles. He didn't mind so much now Quentin had sent him to America with box upon box of diaries to "study and learn from"; Quentin's high-handed insult had some felicitous consequences. Giles must remember to thank the man; nothing would annoy Travers more. He headed back into the stacks- habit- to make sure things that shouldn't been seen were in their proper places, pausing and pulling out a small pamphlet as well as a squat, thicker hard cover he hoped would be useful for Daniel.