In the office, Wesley and Cordelia exchanged surprised glances. "I so never saw this coming," she said.
"We must be careful," said Wesley, his brow furrowing. "Angel needn't know about this development right now. He should focus on the immediate threat."
"Yeah, because he'll never notice the googly eyes or that new ring on her finger." Cordelia rolled her eyes and returned her attention to them. "You have to admit, they look right together. I don't think I've ever seen either of them look so happy – I mean, except for the whole threat on Giles' life and all."
"I suppose it was inevitable. Almost every watcher forms some kind of love for their slayer. It's a hard road to walk, loving the Chosen One and knowing her destiny to save the world." Wesley sighed and sank back into his office chair. "If Faith hadn't joined the mayor and tried to kill us, I might've grown a fondness for her. I was perfectly willing to bond with her."
"You wanted Faith?"
"No, not like that," he said, removing his glasses and giving her a decent impression of Giles' glare. "There is something special when a watcher and slayer bond. It is unique to their calling, and if sought out, it can strengthen them as a unit."
"Plus she would've chewed you up and spit you out if you tried to mack on her," Cordelia said, putting a hand on her hip.
"Yes, well, there is that to consider, as well." He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses on his nose, sitting forward. He considered the date book again and sighed. "Olivia wrote in some kind of coded shorthand. It could take me weeks to figure out what all of this means."
"We need to find out who was issuing these orders," she said, picking up one of the notes. "I think we should probably send Angel out on patrol and have Lorne come read the love birds, get a peeksy at their future."
"That's the best idea I've heard all day." Angel stepped into view and further into the office, ignoring the wary look Cordelia and Wesley exchanged. "I'll ask around the demon community, see what I can turn up. You two need to make sure they stay here, out of sight."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "And I'm supposed to stop a slayer and Super Librarian, how?"
"I am a trained fighter," said Wesley, earning a snort from her. "I could help detain them."
"Again I ask," she said.
"They're not going anywhere, but just in case they do, call me. I can take care of it." Angel sighed and straightened, pressing his shoulders back. "I'll be back later to check in."
"Have fun, boss." Angel glared at her before turning and leaving the room. "He has no idea what I put up with for him."
"Yes, well," Wesley said, coughing. "Perhaps we should call them in, start puzzling this out? I'll call Lorne."
"'Cause I just love spending my spare time with Buffy," said Cordelia, trudging to the office door. "Hey, guys. We have a friend coming in to help. Wes thinks we should talk about the notes and stuff 'til he gets here."
Buffy pulled herself up, fingering the new ring on her hand. She looked down at it, twisted it a little. Giles stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her, leaning his head down by her ear.
"It becomes you," he said.
"I'm still surprised it was there all these years later."
"It's easier not to ask Fate why and simply accept that some things are meant to happen."
She sighed and stepped from his arms, grabbing his hand as she walked toward the back office. "That is definitely a subject for a different time."
"Whoever wrote these notes thought he was pretty powerful. Thought a lot of himself."
Wesley, Giles and Cordelia looked at Buffy as she stared down at the notes spread on Wesley's desk. She was touching them, reading them over again, her brow furrowed. She pointed at the one she found first.
"'Make the arrangements. I want him in LA on the nineteenth.' It's formal without being formal. Almost…"
"Pompous," said Cordelia, looking down at the missive.
"Arrogant," said Wesley.
"Yeah. It's pretty clear this person is used to running the shots. I mean look at this one," Buffy said, pointing to another. "'Avoid unnecessary contact.'" She frowned, leaning on one hand on the desk. "I think these are part of a bigger conversation." She pointed at another. "'Our agreement is final. Do not force me to take matters into my own hands.'" She looked at Giles, who was watching her every movement. "She wanted to back out. She didn't want to do whatever it is she agreed to."
"The handwriting doesn't match the personality," said Wesley, leaning forward in his chair. "This block-type writing, in small capital letters. It's a forced penmanship. See this 'h' on the nineteenth? There's a hint of curvature at the base of the closing stroke." He looked up to Buffy and Cordelia. "Whoever it was is used to writing much faster, probably in cursive or a combination of cursive and print."
"Been watching a lotta CSI, Wes?" Buffy grinned over his desk at him.
"Reading, actually." He cleared his throat. "People only change their penmanship for a few reasons, and I doubt this signor did so for legibility."
"So it couldn't be recognized!" Buffy said, picking up a note. "They didn't want anyone who found these to know who they were." She turned to Giles, her eyes wide. "It's someone you know."
"Or used to know," said Wesley, sighing. "Which doesn't give us a terribly good lead."
"What do you mean?" said Cordelia, turning to Giles. "How many people could you possibly know that would want to hurt you in some way? That are capable of doing that kind of damage to your ex."
"You'd be surprised," said Giles, sighing and closing his eyes. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would stem the dull throb beginning in the back of his skull. "I've been in the business of stopping demons much longer than I've been in the Americas."
"We're called the US now, Giles. Catch up with this century."
"I was referring to continents," he retorted, cracking an eye open to glare at Cordelia. "Did you honestly think I simply hopped aboard a plane and trotted my merry way to Sunnydale to meet the Slayer, and that was my only experience in these matters?"
"Well it's not like you're exactly Mister Let's Tell a Story Guy."
"Smooth, Cordy," Buffy said, grinning despite herself. "You've gotten rusty in your comfy LA lifestyle."
"Hanging out with people with more maturity than a five-year-old will do that to you," Cordelia snapped back.
"Whoa, maybe I was wrong about the rust," Buffy said, holding her hands up. "I was just kidding." Her eyes widened and she reached forward, grabbing Cordelia and shoving her behind Wesley's desk. She had a letter opener aimed for the kill when she realized Cordy and Wes were both pulling on her hands and yelling at her to stop.
"Let me guess," said the green – and oddly dressed, she noticed – demon. "She's a slayer."
"Smart demon," Buffy said, taking a step forward. Wesley slid between her and the demon, smiling nervously.
"Buffy, this is Lorne. He's a friend."
"A green, demon-shaped friend," Cordelia amended.
Buffy eyed Lorne a moment before shrugging and tucking the letter opener in her jeans pocket. Wes stepped out of the way and Lorne offered a hand, smiling at her.
"I'm the Host," he said, shaking her hand. "Like they said, name's Lorne. I'm a benevolent demon. I got a call you needed some help, so here I am."
Giles rose from his seat and offered a hand, taking in the red horns and green skin. "I'm Rupert Giles," he said, and nodded to Buffy as he added, "Buffy Summers."
"You're Giles?" Lorne said, eyes going wide. He looked down at the hand he was shaking and let out a low whistle. "They healed nicely."
Giles snatched his hand away, stuffing both into his pockets. He avoided the concerned look that passed over Buffy's face. "Perhaps you can explain how your presence here would be beneficial to our… situation."
"Wes said you two had some trouble here in town. I've got a little bit of extra perception, if you know what I mean. Sing me a tune and I'll take a look at your aura, and your future if it reveals itself."
"Ah, you're from Pylea. I thought as much," Giles said.
Lorne's brows shot up. "You know your stuff." He shifted his weight, ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't do battles, just so we're clear. I'm a lover, not a fighter."
"Interesting," Giles said, tilting his head to the side a bit. "I imagine your clan didn't take a liking to that very well."
"Really didn't," Lorne said, clearing his throat. "But enough about me. I'm going to have a seat and I want you to sing me a song, Mister Giles." He settled down, looking up expectantly. "And don't worry, I won't judge your abilities."
Giles looked to Buffy, wondering how she would react to his… abilities. He knew he wasn't terrible. Continued gigs at the Espresso Pump proved as much. He sighed and cleared his mind, closing his eyes. He needed to focus on the song, if the lore he'd read about Lorne's demon powers were true. After a moment of quiet, he opened his mouth and sang.
Lorne immediately smiled.
"No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
"No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies."
Buffy frowned and crossed her arms, listening to him sing. The song was a vague memory, almost-familiar and bringing sadness with it.
"But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
"I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
"No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you"
Giles cast a glance at Buffy as he sang this line, catching her grin before he looked out the office doorway, to some faraway place as he continued to sing. She understood that look, and the meaning behind those soulful eyes.
"No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
"But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
"I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free"
Lorne sat forward, raising his hand, which made Giles stutter to a stop. The demon rifled through his suit, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping away gathering tears.
The room was silent. Lorne was processing the information his observations allowed. Buffy was trying to figure out how to punish her watcher for not sharing this sexy hidden side of himself. Cordelia was wondering when she was going to get her next manicure. Wesley was a little surprised to find himself jealous of Giles' talent, and wondering what Lorne had seen to bring such a reaction from him.
"We are so having a talk later," Buffy finally said, drawing everyone's attention to her. She fidgeted. "Me and Giles."
The man in question chuckled and turned back to Lorne, a brow raised. "What do you see?"
"I think we need to have a talk." At Buffy's look, Lorne added, "Alone."
"No fair!" said Cordelia, taking the words from Buffy's mouth.
Lorne nodded towards the lobby and led Giles away, their voices low while they talked. Buffy tried to focus, listen in on the conversation, but Cordelia was so very vocal about her first experience with Lorne that Buffy couldn't hear a word. She glared at the brunette, oblivious though she may be, and tried not to punch the obnoxious out of her.
"And when did Giles get cool? Is this some kind of Twilight Zone episode I don't know about?" Cordelia said, crossing her arms. "He's supposed to be tweedy and boring and insightful. Nowhere in the laws of the universe does it say that he's also supposed to be able to sing like that."
Wesley saw the dangerous look in Buffy's eye and cleared his throat. He stood and nodded at the door as he said, "I'm sure that Lorne is filling him in on something rather interesting. Soon we should be able to sort this all out."
The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted any further comment from Cordy, who picked up the phone in Wesley's office.
"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless." She rolled her eyes and held the handset out to Buffy. "It's Willow."
Buffy took the phone and put it to her ear mid-ramble.
"- a-a-and she didn't say what was wrong. I don't –"
"Wil, Willow! It's okay," said Buffy, sinking onto a chair. "We're working on it."
"Buffy! What's going on? I mean, Tara said you sounded sick, and I just got home because I had to go to the market and then to see my mom while she's in town and I knew something didn't feel right but I figured –"
"Willow, breathe." Buffy grinned at the heavy sigh on the other side of the phone. "Listen, I can't go into details right now. I just need you guys to keep an eye out for anything funny, maybe go check on Mom, that kind of thing. I really don't know what's up yet, but as soon as I know more I'll call."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Yes."
There was a pause, and Buffy knew what was coming next.
"Was it amazing?"
Buffy giggled and looked down at her hand. "So much more than amazing, but I don't have a word for it."
"That good, huh?" She paused and Buffy could just imagine the excited look on Willow's face. "Did you use the nighty?"
Buffy's laughter was heard in the lobby, drawing a slow smile from Lorne while he talked to Giles.
"I guess that's a yes?" asked Willow.
"Definitely."
"Okay... well, I'm going to take Tara to Joyce's. I think we'll stay the night there, set up some wards."
"Thanks, Wil, that'd be perfect." She looked down at her hand again. "Please be careful, and tell my mom it's just a precaution. You know, better safe than sorry."
"Will do. Be careful, Buffy." Willow grinned. "I expect mochas and girl talk when you get home."
"I don't think you'll need a mocha after the girl talk," said Buffy, grinning. "In fact I'm pretty sure you won't."
"No fair flaunting secrets and not sharing. I'll call if anything happens."
"Thanks. Talk to you soon."
"Bye."
"Bye."
She looked up, about to hand the phone to Wesley, and found Cordelia and Wes staring at her. She looked behind her and turned back, her eyebrows up. "What?"
"You're different," said Cordelia, her eyes roving over her face. "Something's different."
Buffy looked to Wesley, who stuttered and took the phone from her, avoiding her eyes.
"Now that we've determined I'm different," Buffy said, looking out the door, "when the hell are they coming back?"
"Often if Lorne receives a thorough reading he will take a bit of time in talking with the... person in question about their emotional state, help them resolve any issues they may have, or come to a realization they may need to better their future."
Buffy blinked. "I think that might be the most I've ever heard you say at one time."
"Well, if you remember, you all had a penchant for interrupting me." His eyes widened at her look and he hastened to add, "Not that I didn't deserve it, but I was never able to finish a thought when we were previously… acquainted."
"You were cuter when you couldn't talk," Cordy said, rolling her eyes.
"Life is about to get very interesting for you, Mister Giles."
"Rupert is fine. Or Giles, if you must." Giles sighed and reached for his glasses, pulling them from his face so he could have something on which he could focus. "What's to come of me?"
"I can't tell you."
"What?" Giles looked up, the hand pulling his handkerchief from his pocket stopping half-way to his glasses. "I thought the entire purpose –"
"As far as this business with the old girlfriend goes, you'll figure it out, and you and your girl are gonna go home. It's what you do, and you knew that." Lorne grinned. "And you're going to celebrate your new engagement. Your friends will be very receptive to the good news."
Giles cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. "It is somewhat a relief to know my hopes will come true."
They both heard a clear, wonderful laugh come from the office. Buffy's laugh. Giles smiled to himself, loving the sound, and Lorne's grin turned into a full smile as well.
"But as to the things I've seen, if I tell you about them, it'll blow some of the joy winds from your sails down the line." He paused, waiting for Giles to look up, and his face melted into a more serious expression. "It won't be easy, of course, but you don't expect that, do you?"
"No, though it would be nice on occasion." Giles put his glasses back on and tucked his handkerchief away.
"Just remember to do what you always do, and you'll be fine, Giles." Lorne clapped Giles on his arm, nodding to the office. "Let's go talk clues with the mystery squad in there, get this figured out so you can go home. It can't be easy for you being around Angel."
Giles stopped walking, looking at the green demon. "How do you know about… that?"
"Angel has to sing for me quite a bit, to help him out, you know." Lorne shook his head. "That kid, he carries every piece of baggage like a masochistic pack mule." He sighed, looked down at Giles' hands. "I've seen every hit, every cut, every burn and broken bone. He remembers them all and he hates himself for it. He's more tore up over what he did to you than most of the crimes he's committed as the Scourge of Europe."
After a moment of absorbing this, Giles looked down, inspecting the faint scars on his knuckles. He touched the crook of his arm, where the tattoo of Eyghon still marred his flesh. "I understand the cross he bears," he said quietly, keeping his eyes lowered.
"The difference is you didn't intend to kill that boy," said Lorne, keeping his voice low. "You were into petty theft and ruckus behavior, but you weren't a killer."
"I knew the risks –"
"So did the rest of them." Lorne stepped closer, putting a hand to the taller man's shoulder. "If you were a killer, you wouldn't have left the lifestyle behind that night. You have a heart, Rupert Giles. The heart of a warrior, of a knight of valor and honor." Lorne took a moment, working to find the words. "I haven't seen anyone quite like you before. The things you've witnessed... that you've lived through. That you still want to be a part of the good fight is a miracle. You and Buffy both."
Giles moved to say something but Lorne cut him off, shaking his head.
"I know you think you're biased, that you try to keep that logical stuff up front, especially now that you're closer than ever, but you forget that I've seen it. You poured it out for me so plainly I couldn't let you finish the song." Lorne sighed, pursed his lips, then watched as the older man lowered his gaze to the ground. "If everyone knew what I knew, you and your slayer would get the praise and glory you deserve. Instead, you're destined to work through this life in silence, fighting to save a world which not only won't thank you, but they won't even know what you've done and what you will do to save it."
Giles' eyes lifted to Lorne's, a weight lifted he didn't realize burdened him. "Thank you."
"Anytime," Lorne said, nodding and stepping toward the back office. His shoulders were a bit stiff and he rolled them, trying to get back to his normal, easy-going demeanor. "Hey, is Chinese a possibility? You know sometimes I need a little compensation for my troubles."
"Allow me," said Giles, following behind him. "I find I'm rather famished, myself."
Buffy quirked a brow as Giles stepped into the office. "Famished? Get you around Wesley and your inner-librarian rears its ugly British head, huh?"
"Now I'm engaged I don't have to keep up the pretense of my new age vocabulary," he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. He ignored the snort that came from Cordelia. "Crab rangoons?"
Buffy's eyes lit up and she giggled, wrapping an arm around his back. "You know me too well."
They all went to bed in the early hours of morning, exhausted and confused. There wasn't enough to go on with the few clues they had. Olivia's shorthand used only a few letters to remind herself of her obligations for any given day and never once mentioned the name of a person or place.
Around one in the afternoon, the phone in Buffy and Giles' room rang, waking them both with a start. Buffy groaned and rolled over, glaring at the handset as she plucked it from the receiver. Giles rolled with her, keeping his arm wrapped around her middle.
"This better be important," she said. "Hello?"
"Buffy it's Willow, you've got to get out of LA."
Buffy sat up, adrenaline pumping, Giles' hand slipping away. "What's wrong? Is Mom okay?"
"She's fine, but Buffy, you have to leave. Travers came here looking for you. They know you're with Giles."
"Travers? What, why was he –"
Giles sat up and took the phone from Buffy. "Tell me everything, from the beginning."
"We were staying at Joyce's house last night, a-and this morning we were all getting ready to leave. Joyce had some stuff to do at the gallery and we had class. Travers showed up with a bunch of watchers and wanted to know where Buffy was, said he had to talk to her about 'dire consequences' and that 'Mister Giles will be reminded of his oaths'." Willow paused, taking a breath. "I told him she wasn't here, that he could just go back to England and leave us all alone, and he wasn't very happy about that. He went to your condo, Giles, I – I c-couldn't stop them, and they realized Buffy was living there and your notes about reservations were on your desk and –"
"Willow, it's alright. I can take care of Travers."
"He looked really upset, Giles. I think he brought all those watchers to hurt you, or take Buffy, or –"
"He can't do a damned thing to Buffy. She is the Slayer, and he is required in his position as Head of Council Security to protect her. If he tries to hurt her every watcher nearby is bound by oath to stop him. Whether the Council signs my paychecks or not, I am still her watcher."
Willow let out a small breath. "Okay Giles. Just… be careful, okay?"
Giles smiled. "Thank you. Now, I have a few phone calls to make, but I suspect I will see you all by tomorrow evening. Take care of yourself and the others." They said their goodbyes and hung up, Giles reaching over Buffy and placing the phone in its cradle. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.
"Do I get to kill Travers?" she asked.
"No," he chuckled, "He is still quite human."
"Can I hit him?"
Giles smiled and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "That is entirely acceptable."
"Just remember you said that."
Sighing, Giles pulled out of the hug and rolled from bed, stretching his back and arms. "I need to make some calls. I think perhaps you should get a quick shower and change clothes."
"The not-so-subtle way of saying you want privacy?" she asked, standing as well.
"Not at all. The entourage of Council representatives will doubtless be here within an hour or two, and I know you like to make an impression. My phone calls would bore you, anyway."
Buffy chuckled and walked around the bed, pressing herself against his chest. "Fine, shower time for Buffy."
She strolled away, peeling clothes from her frame and tossing them on the floor in a trail behind her. Giles grinned when he caught her throwing a look over her shoulder.
"If it weren't for impending business, I'd be chasing after you, love."
She winked at him and closed the bathroom door, shutting the view of her naked form climbing into the tub from his vision. He shook his head and moved to the other side of the bed, sinking down and picking up the phone. After a breath to steady himself, he dialed the international number he knew so well.