Chapter Two

Anchorage

"What? Oh, it's cancer."

Michael Greco spoke casually. A week had passed since Rupert's arrival and November was blowing and raining in the gardens. Michael was in Rupert's room, enjoying the large fire burning in the hearth. He picked up the poker and turned over a log. Rupert was pacing, not sure how to cope with the calm words he'd just heard.

"Oh, bloody hell, Mike."

"Now, don't be like that. Something like this gets most of us in the end, unless we go down suddenly in the street. Now, that's unlucky."

"Unlucky?" Rupert felt off-balance.

"You don't get the chance to plan."

"Bugger that. Let me go in my sleep."

"It's not so bad, you know. The drugs are really nice and you should take a peek at my nurse. You'll go blind."

Rupert gaped at him. "You can't be trying to tell me It's Okay Really?"

"No, of course not. But it's not as bad as I thought it would be." Michael shrugged. "Of course, the next few months will be worse, and I may change my mind." He looked at Rupert's face and laughed. "But at the moment I'm all right. Truly. Sit down, man. Drink your tea."

"How long do you have?"

"Year. Or less."

Rupert dropped into a chair and picked up his cup. "Well, I'd be in a rage."

"Against the dying of the light? God, what's the point? Might as well rage against the sun rising. Give in. Go gentle. Spend your energies on something else."

"Honestly Mike, I don't know whether to give you sympathy or jokes."

"Do neither and just accept it. It's quite simple. Right now is when we live and right now is when we die and when you get to the end it doesn't matter a damn how many years have passed. Everything happens in the Now."

"Yes, I realised that years ago. It was an unpleasant thought then and it still is. I know it's true, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. It makes it all seem so pointless."

Michael nodded. "I happen to like the inevitability of it all. It means I can just go limp and let happen anything that wants to happen. I'm tired of fighting, done it my whole life. I'm glad to just relax and let it go."

"Well." Rupert felt a dull sadness settle down deep inside him. "I'm going to miss you, you old sod."

"Positively splendid of you to say so, old boy. Now tell me, have you written anything about the famous Spike that I can take an early peek at? When Quentin gets his hot, sweaty hands on anything it's weeks before I get a look in."

Relieved at the subject change, Rupert turned to the papers on his desk but was interrupted by the telephone ringing. Suddenly irritated, he snatched up the receiver. "Giles," he said curtly, and proceeded to listen in wonder to the plummiest voice he had ever heard:

"Mr. Giles, sir. Clerk's office calling. Good day. You will be pleased to know that I have received several replies to your enquiries and I have discarded those that are obviously not to your specifications."

Rupert had no idea what the man was talking about.

The clerk sighed dramatically. "Really, one takes the time to tell these fellows what one requires, and what do they do? They ignore one and send everything. Most vexing. Happily, however, I am left with the details of eight pleasing properties here on my desk that I believe you may find satisfactory. Do you wish me to dispatch them to your room? The porter fellow is available."

Unable to believe the pomposity he was hearing, Rupert's mouth hung open. Then the devil took him and he channelled Ripper. "Shit, yeah. Send those bastards up." In the corner of his eye he saw Michael's shoulders begin to shake.

Down in the office, the clerk didn't bat an eyelid. "At once, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Crispin Farnsworthy, sir."

Rupert swallowed a laugh. "Well, thanks."

"Good day to you, sir."

Rupert held the receiver up and stared at it.

"Going by what you said," said Michael, still chuckling, "I imagine that was Crispy."

Rupert laughed and mimicked, "Ay hev received replays to your h'enquairies," He laughed again, feeling grateful to Crispy for the light relief, feeling his day brighten up. "Wh'one takes the tayme...good god, I thought they'd all gone the way of the Dodo. I've never heard so many dropped h'aiches."

Michael laughed. "Yes. We do seem to attract some h'insufferable snobs. Crispin, h'unfortunately, is one of the worst we've ever known, h'and that's saying something."

They were still laughing when Rupert's package arrived.

*

Two weeks later Rupert knew he had found his house.

The day was cold, bright and clear; the type of weather that usually lifted Rupert's spirits, but today he could hardly be bothered. Having seen six previous properties he was fed up with the whole business and more than a little depressed.

He'd spoken to Buffy the previous evening and had listened with a heavy heart to her brief account of the doings of the Scooby Gang. Nothing much had happened: vampires dusted, a couple of rampaging demons taken down, the usual. Dawn was doing okay and had a boyfriend who was being terrorised by an certain overly protective vampire: Spike was still basically Spike, except -

"He's got this whole territorial thing going on around Dawn. Any day now he's gonna start leaving his spoor in the garden."

Willow and Tara were fine. Xander and Anya were fine. The Hellmouth was quiet. Boresville, and how was his house-hunting going?

Oh, how Rupert wanted to be back in Boresville. He'd gone to bed in a foul temper and lain awake until well past three a.m.

His head felt fuzzy and his eyes were hot and gritty as he drove up the drive leading to Little Eden; highly sought after des.res., rare opportunity; six dbl beds; blah, blah; one acre; blahdyblah. He scoffed at the pleasant garden areas on either side of the drive. He twisted his mouth contemptuously at the black-beamed old house with gabled windows and large oak front door.

The agent came out to meet him and he forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Her heels echoing, she led him through the empty house and pointed out the splendid original features, but he followed her like a zombie, aggressively disinterested in everything.

She brought to his attention the lovely view, and for the sake of looking as though he cared, he glanced through an upstairs window as he walked past. Yes, there was indeed a view from up here. Yes, the rear garden was nice and big, just like the other six he'd seen. Pah. Suddenly he stopped and looked down into the garden again.

After a minute the agent touched his arm, making him jump. Having shown him the house, she told him she'd wait outside if he wanted to walk around again on his own, and Rupert found he was suddenly interested and did indeed want another look. He wandered slowly around, feeling a strong sense of deja vous.

When he entered the living room he went to the french windows that opened onto the rear garden and stood there for some time looking out at a sundial set on a pedestal in the middle of the lawn. It seemed to have a horse-shaped gnomon.

Ten minutes later Rupert shook hands with the agent, telling her he'd think about it. He walked to his car, a little frown creasing his forehead. Slowly, he took out his keys and unlocked the driver's door, then his eyes widened and he straightened up, his mouth hanging open. Olivia was smiling. A blackbird settled on the long horn of the unicorn gnomon on the sundial. After a moment of complete stillness, he said: "Good lord."

*

"Clerk's office. Crispin speaking."

"This is Giles - what? Oh - yes, hello. I'm calling to let you know I've chosen a house. Pardon? Well, as I was about to say - it's the one in Mitching called Little Eden. You will? Thank you."

*

"Mr. Giles? I need your signature for the deeds to Little Eden. Could you visit the office sometime today?"

"What? It's only been four days!"

"Well, it was an executor's sale, no chain involved. We just threw money at them. Plus, our solicitors are evil."

"Yes, they must be. Well, wonderful it's all gone through. Where's day clerk Crispy?"

"He's on holiday. I'm covering for him."

"Oh. I'll miss him."

"Won't we all."

"I'll be down in a minute."

*

Dear Willow.

Hello! Giles here. Yes, I now have a computer. Yes, I know how to use it although it is a machine forged in the fires of hell. It's a Good Thing you gave me your e-mail address before I left, wasn't it?

How are you all? Everything still quiet? Everyone all right? Write back and let me know. This e-mail thing is quite exciting.

I now have a house. It's very nice and has a lovely garden - or it will be lovely come summer. I'm buying furniture when I'm not writing that bloody report. Tell Buffy that to write about her needs a lot of words. Thank god I kept regular diaries. Everyone is fascinated with it, you're all stars you know.

Olivia will be coming to spend Christmas and new year with me, which will be nice. Hopefully I'll have most of the house ready when she gets here - when you employ the Watcher's Council to arrange things for you it all gets done *very quickly*. There are three carpenters and five decorators over there beavering away as I type. I think they're scared. It will all look very nice when it's finished. I plan to have a gargoyle on the roof.

You'll be pleased to know they're still bribing me. I'm on quite a collossal salary and all I'm doing is writing a report and spending their money. Quentin seems quite anxious to keep me happy, don't really know why. However, make the most of it, next on the list is a new car. LOL.

Anyway, love to everyone. Reply soon! Miss you all very, very much.

Giles.

*

"LOL!" shouted Buffy. "He wrote LOL!"

"Next he'll be giving us OMG and IMO," said Willow.

Buffy looked scared. "God, I hope not. I couldn't stand it. He sounds like chirpy Giles, doesn't he?" She handed the e-mail to Xander.

"I can't believe he has a computer," said Anya. "Voluntarily, I mean."

"And he lets it come indoors too," Buffy shook her head. "Scary."

"He sounds very busy. He must be loving it." Willow turned to her computer. "We have to write back. Now. He wants to know everything."

"What everything?" said Spike, reading the message over Xander's shoulder. "There's been bugger all happening around here since he left."

"I killed those vampires tonight," said Buffy, and then she sighed. "Right. Nothing happening."

"Well, you might get lucky on patrol tomorrow," said Xander. "And who let the corpse in?" He shrugged a shoulder irritably. "Stop breathing down my neck."

"I came with Dawn. And I don't breath, friend. It's great. You should try it."

"Go away."

"I don't think so."

"We could tell him what we did today," said Tara, heading off another argument.

They thought about that.

"I gave myself a facial," said Anya brightly. "Oh, then I did a stock check - he'll want to know that."

"I killed the evil laundry," said Buffy. "I used creepy water and a cursed machine"

Spike shrugged. "I slept."

"Like he wants to know about you," said Xander. "I bought some new tools."

"Yeah. Great. Tell him that. He'll get all excited."

"Will you two shut up a moment?" said Willow. "I'll just start typing and see what happens." She poised her fingers over the keyboard. "Um..."

Buffy nudged her. "Putting "Hello Giles" right at the top might be a good idea."

"Oh! Right. Okay, what else?"

"Tell him we miss him," said Dawn.

"Okay. 'Cos we do." Willow typed a few lines. "Come on, people. I need more. Think."

"Put..." Spike paused and ticked off on his fingers. "Put ROTFLMFAO and wait for him to ask what it means."

"You're evil, Spike," said Willow, her fingers tapping on the keys.

"Well, yeah."

*

Dear Willow.

Just a quick note to say -

Don't think I don't know what it means.

Lots of love,

Giles.