"Come in, come in," Dumbledore said, coming out from behind his desk and waving them forward. His white beard hung over his blue-robed chest, reminding Willow of a thinner Santa Claus. His voice reminded her of freshly-sanded wood. She liked him instantly. He shook hands with Giles and Spike, then turned to her.
"Miss Rosenberg. I am so glad you chose to join us this year."
"Th-thank you, Professor. I'm glad you wanted to give me a chance." He waved them all to seats, but Spike remained standing and glanced around the office. Nothing had changed from his last visit, including the beautiful red and orange phoenix perched over Dumbledore's shoulder. Spike winked at the bird, who winked back.
"Rupert tells me you have quite a large capacity for magic, young lady," Dumbledore said once they had been seated, casting a fatherly eye on the girl. Willow dropped her eyes, embarrassed but unsurprised that Giles had told him of her recent history. "Addiction to dark magic is very dangerous, and also very easy for someone with your facility. It speaks volumes that you have been able to restrain that at all. I hope you understand that for that reason, I consented to bring you here as an Assistant Professor."
"I-I … you hired me because I'm a magic crackhead?" She blurted.
"No, Miss Rosenberg. I hired you for a number of reasons. However, the foremost was this one: strength of magic is far less rare than strength of character. You would do well to remember that while you tear yourself apart with guilt." With that pronouncement, he closed the subject and moved on to another. "Rupert, you should know that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is … somewhat coveted among the current staff. You might prepare for some trouble with one of our professors."
"Severus is still hangin' about then, is he?" Spike said, leaning against the wall.
"Indeed he is, William." Giles looked at Dumbledore questioningly. "Severus Snape, our potions master, is a bit … difficult. He is a good man, but his checkered past has made him touchy. I fear he will be most displeased with the hiring of both of you, as he desperately desires your post."
The honesty of the statement surprised Giles. Most of his employers had not been quite as forthcoming about potential difficulties; but then, Dumbledore had earned a great deal of respect the hard way.
"We shall deal with it in due course, Albus," Giles said. "However, should he attempt to harass Willow…"
She cut him off.
"I can handle myself, Giles. I've been a geek for a long time. I know how to deal with people who don't like me for no reason."
The Watcher smiled. Suddenly he was glad that he was not Severus Snape.
Giles could feel the film forming over his eyes as he stared at his lesson plans. The torches and candles provided sufficient illumination, but his eyes seemed to burn every time he focused on the printing on the page. Willow, ever the student at heart, had color coded the various aspects and talking points for each class to make it easier for him. It wasn't helping. The students would arrive tomorrow, with classes to begin the day after. He knew he had to finalize these papers, but his whole being balked.
After another ten minutes, he gave in to fatigue and removed his glasses. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he realized that he was not alone.
"Dammit, Spike. Do not sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry, Rupes," the vampire said with his usual cocky grin. "You know, for a guy whose birthright is Watcher…"
"Yes, yes I know. What is it you want, exactly?"
"Something you should see. Up on the roof. I think it has to do with that additional assignment we talked about with Albus after Red left." Giles put his glasses back on and looked at Spike, whose grin had been replaced by concern. They had decided not to let Willow know about the special assignment that Giles and Spike had actually been recruited for. The Watcher put his papers down and followed Spike to one of Hogwarts' few flat roofs.
The moonlight pierced the cloudless sky effortlessly, opening a clear view for miles around. The two former Scoobies emerged at the corner farthest from the object of Spike's concern. Giles heard the music before he saw the man. The thump of the bass vibrated across the open rooftop. He vaguely recognized it from Buffy's massive workout 'music' selection.
Then he saw the man.
Bald, medium height, some sort of light-colored sweatshirt and denims, Giles observed. He was doing katas from an art Giles had never seen. Even from thirty yards away, though, the Watcher could recognize a deadly expert. He moved like water sliding along glass. In its own way, it was physical art, and he suddenly hoped Buffy would be around if he and this man were ever on the opposite sides of an argument.
"Like watching the Slayer, innit?" Spike commented quietly.
"Yes," Giles agreed. "Do you know who he is?" The vampire shook his head.
Dave Grey had heard Spike on his first trip. He detected the vampire's return, with a friend, the moment they reached the roof. He had subtly adjusted himself, as he always did now when he was watched, weakening his form, lessening his expertise for the spectators. Hiding his true skill. Allies could become enemies instantly.
He should know.
They waited for him to finish and begin toweling his head off before walking over.
"That was quite a good show, young man," Giles began. "What discipline was it?"
"Mixture." Grey offered no further explanation.
"Yes, well, impressive regardless," Giles said, discomfited by his brevity. "I'm Rupert Giles." The Watcher extended his hand, which Grey shook.
"Spike," said the vampire, not offering his own hand.
"Do you prefer William?" Grey asked politely.
"Not likely, mate. You know who I am, then?"
"Dumbledore is thorough. I'm Grey." While he said it, Rupert realized the man naturally stood in a balanced position, as if an attack might come from any quarter. Grey paused, obviously realizing Giles was uncomfortable with his lack of communication. "I'm sorry if I seem rude. I don't talk much these days, just lurk."
"You're here about the Death Eaters," Spike said. It wasn't a question.
"Who isn't?" Grey asked rhetorically. He looked directly at Giles; the Watcher found it every bit as disconcerting as the silence. "I was glad to hear that your Slayer returned. We don't have enough heroes as it is." With that pronouncement, he glided across the roof and went back inside.
"Worse than the bloody poof, that one."
"Americans can be a bit strange," Giles said offhandedly. He wondered exactly who the young man was, and why Albus had not said anything about him. He made a mental note to bring it up the next time he found himself alone with the headmaster.