Title: Best of Intentions
Author: Luisa
Email: leyjd@hotmail.com
Pairing: B/G and a teeny bit of B/S, X/A
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Distribution: Dword, Kattie. Dee, Gabi and TL, if you want it. Any one
else - just let me know where.
Disclaimer, notes, thanks and dedications as per the prologue
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ Part 3 ~
The Slayer skidded to a halt inside the airport and looked around wildly, her keen eyes searching the queues of people for any sign of her former Watcher. She felt her heart sink into her boots when she realised that he wasn't there. [He can't have gone. He just *can't*. Not if Anya was right about his flight times. Please, oh please let him be here]. Determined, she strode to the front of the queue, heedless of the frowns and comments thrown her way as she pushed in at the front.
"What flight is Rupert Giles on?"
The clerk glared at the petite blonde leaning over the counter. "Perhaps you would take a place at the *back* of the queue, Miss. Then, perhaps when your turn comes, I *may* be able to help you."
Buffy glared back, trying in vain to quell the panic rising inside her. "Rupert. Giles. He's mid to late forties, with short blonde hair, green eyes. He's tall and English. *Where* is he?"
The older woman crossed her arms over her chest, keen to get rid of this disturbance before the crowd started revolting. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Look around you. There are hundreds of men that could describe. You can't expect..."
"Tell me where he is." The command came out on a low growl.
"I... I'm afraid I can't give you that sort of information, Miss..."
In a heartbeat, the Slayer had leaped over the counter, landing neatly beside the clerk and pushing her out of the way to search their computer system.
"Excuse me? You can't do that. Stop it!" The woman's voice became hysterical, but Buffy ignored it, tapping frantically on the keyboard.
"Look, Miss... I'm going to have to call security... you leave me no choice..."
The Slayer turned to face the other woman, a retort ready on her lips, when a familiar voice stopped her short.
"Stupid, bloody contraption. Typical Americans and their technology. Work, damn it!"
Heart catching in her throat, Buffy could only hesitantly lean to one side so that she could peer around the clerk, afraid that she'd imagined the voice. It was no fantasy... there he stood... barely restraining himself from kicking a vending machine that had apparently eaten his money. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Pulling herself together, she straightened herself up and shone a smile at the older woman.
"Oh look, there he is. Thanks. Really. You've been a great help." With that, she hopped out of the cubicle, leaving a baffled clerk in her wake.
Silently she walked over to stand behind Giles, excited at first to have found him but by the time she reached him, she'd remembered what she was doing there and fury was coursing through her anew.
"You couldn't be bothered to say "Goodbye"? You're leaving without so much as a "Call me if you need me"?"
The Englishman froze mid-curse. "Buffy?" No, she couldn't be here. He shook his head to clear it of the confusion whirling inside. Buffy would be with Willow... or on patrol... not here.
An angry voice answered him. "The one and only."
Heart pounding in anticipation, he turned slowly to face her, not at all surprised to find her standing in her usual pose of defiance, hands on hips and a glare that could cut steel.
"Buffy?" he questioned again softly, "What are you doing here?"
The glare hardened. "What am *I* doing here? You have some nerve. I think *I* should be asking, "What are *you* doing here?"
"I... I... ah..." He gave a resigned sigh. "I would think that that's obvious, Buffy."
"You're going." The accusatory tone in her voice didn't go unnoticed.
"Buffy... we've been through this... I have no choice." He ran a weary hand over his face as he spoke and leaned back against the machine.
"No choice?" Her voice rose in disbelief at his choice of words. "*No choice*? Giles, *I* have *no choice*... I'm the..." awareness hit her momentarily of their surroundings and she lowered her voice only long enough to whisper, "Slayer," before the hysteria crept back in. "You *do* have a choice. No one's forcing you to go back to England... in fact... we all want you to *stay*. So don't give me all that "I have no choice" crap. 'Cause sorry, it won't work."
"Buffy..."
"No, Giles. Don't think you can lecture this away. I've had enough of you doing what you think is right for me. Do you remember a certain... *book*?" She carried on, knowing that he knew just which book she was referring to by the emphasis she gave it. "Giles, you would have died if I hadn't found out what you were gonna do. You assumed it was the right thing to do, but it wasn't up to you to make that decision. It was *my* destiny..."
"Buffy!" His reprimand was much sterner this time, breaking into her rant. She looked back at him, flustered, her cheeks burning with anger.
"*What*?"
Giles' voice softened. "We have an audience."
Sudden embarrassment replaced the anger as Buffy whirled to see two security guards striding toward them. She turned back to her Watcher with wide eyes, silently requesting that he defend their argument. He let out a loud snort in response.
"Oh no, Buffy. *You* can handle this. I would hate to think I'm assuming what's right for you... in case I was wrong."
She could only frown at him as the guards reached them and flanked the Slayer.
"Come along, Miss. We don't want any trouble. If you'll just leave quietly and let this man get on his flight, we won't have to arrest you." They each took an arm belonging to the petite blonde. She easily pulled out of their grasp and they tried again to grab her. "If that's the way you want it..." the burlier of the two growled.
To Buffy's surprise, Giles interceded at last, unable to see his Slayer manhandled in such a manner.
"I'm sorry for my... friend's... behaviour, gentlemen. Perhaps... perhaps you could let us have a moment somewhere... privately? I'm sure there will be no more disturbances... and I'll be certain to let the management know of your help in this regard."
The two men looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Whatever they had expected, this certainly wasn't it. They shifted their gazes to the clerk who still stood, glowering, in her cubicle. She appeared to think for a moment, before giving a curt nod.
"This way, then." The same man spoke, his voice gruff as he directed them to a private lounge. After checking that it was empty, he let them in and both guards left the Watcher and Slayer to settle their feud in private.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ Part 3 ~
The Slayer skidded to a halt inside the airport and looked around wildly, her keen eyes searching the queues of people for any sign of her former Watcher. She felt her heart sink into her boots when she realised that he wasn't there. [He can't have gone. He just *can't*. Not if Anya was right about his flight times. Please, oh please let him be here]. Determined, she strode to the front of the queue, heedless of the frowns and comments thrown her way as she pushed in at the front.
"What flight is Rupert Giles on?"
The clerk glared at the petite blonde leaning over the counter. "Perhaps you would take a place at the *back* of the queue, Miss. Then, perhaps when your turn comes, I *may* be able to help you."
Buffy glared back, trying in vain to quell the panic rising inside her. "Rupert. Giles. He's mid to late forties, with short blonde hair, green eyes. He's tall and English. *Where* is he?"
The older woman crossed her arms over her chest, keen to get rid of this disturbance before the crowd started revolting. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Look around you. There are hundreds of men that could describe. You can't expect..."
"Tell me where he is." The command came out on a low growl.
"I... I'm afraid I can't give you that sort of information, Miss..."
In a heartbeat, the Slayer had leaped over the counter, landing neatly beside the clerk and pushing her out of the way to search their computer system.
"Excuse me? You can't do that. Stop it!" The woman's voice became hysterical, but Buffy ignored it, tapping frantically on the keyboard.
"Look, Miss... I'm going to have to call security... you leave me no choice..."
The Slayer turned to face the other woman, a retort ready on her lips, when a familiar voice stopped her short.
"Stupid, bloody contraption. Typical Americans and their technology. Work, damn it!"
Heart catching in her throat, Buffy could only hesitantly lean to one side so that she could peer around the clerk, afraid that she'd imagined the voice. It was no fantasy... there he stood... barely restraining himself from kicking a vending machine that had apparently eaten his money. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Pulling herself together, she straightened herself up and shone a smile at the older woman.
"Oh look, there he is. Thanks. Really. You've been a great help." With that, she hopped out of the cubicle, leaving a baffled clerk in her wake.
Silently she walked over to stand behind Giles, excited at first to have found him but by the time she reached him, she'd remembered what she was doing there and fury was coursing through her anew.
"You couldn't be bothered to say "Goodbye"? You're leaving without so much as a "Call me if you need me"?"
The Englishman froze mid-curse. "Buffy?" No, she couldn't be here. He shook his head to clear it of the confusion whirling inside. Buffy would be with Willow... or on patrol... not here.
An angry voice answered him. "The one and only."
Heart pounding in anticipation, he turned slowly to face her, not at all surprised to find her standing in her usual pose of defiance, hands on hips and a glare that could cut steel.
"Buffy?" he questioned again softly, "What are you doing here?"
The glare hardened. "What am *I* doing here? You have some nerve. I think *I* should be asking, "What are *you* doing here?"
"I... I... ah..." He gave a resigned sigh. "I would think that that's obvious, Buffy."
"You're going." The accusatory tone in her voice didn't go unnoticed.
"Buffy... we've been through this... I have no choice." He ran a weary hand over his face as he spoke and leaned back against the machine.
"No choice?" Her voice rose in disbelief at his choice of words. "*No choice*? Giles, *I* have *no choice*... I'm the..." awareness hit her momentarily of their surroundings and she lowered her voice only long enough to whisper, "Slayer," before the hysteria crept back in. "You *do* have a choice. No one's forcing you to go back to England... in fact... we all want you to *stay*. So don't give me all that "I have no choice" crap. 'Cause sorry, it won't work."
"Buffy..."
"No, Giles. Don't think you can lecture this away. I've had enough of you doing what you think is right for me. Do you remember a certain... *book*?" She carried on, knowing that he knew just which book she was referring to by the emphasis she gave it. "Giles, you would have died if I hadn't found out what you were gonna do. You assumed it was the right thing to do, but it wasn't up to you to make that decision. It was *my* destiny..."
"Buffy!" His reprimand was much sterner this time, breaking into her rant. She looked back at him, flustered, her cheeks burning with anger.
"*What*?"
Giles' voice softened. "We have an audience."
Sudden embarrassment replaced the anger as Buffy whirled to see two security guards striding toward them. She turned back to her Watcher with wide eyes, silently requesting that he defend their argument. He let out a loud snort in response.
"Oh no, Buffy. *You* can handle this. I would hate to think I'm assuming what's right for you... in case I was wrong."
She could only frown at him as the guards reached them and flanked the Slayer.
"Come along, Miss. We don't want any trouble. If you'll just leave quietly and let this man get on his flight, we won't have to arrest you." They each took an arm belonging to the petite blonde. She easily pulled out of their grasp and they tried again to grab her. "If that's the way you want it..." the burlier of the two growled.
To Buffy's surprise, Giles interceded at last, unable to see his Slayer manhandled in such a manner.
"I'm sorry for my... friend's... behaviour, gentlemen. Perhaps... perhaps you could let us have a moment somewhere... privately? I'm sure there will be no more disturbances... and I'll be certain to let the management know of your help in this regard."
The two men looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Whatever they had expected, this certainly wasn't it. They shifted their gazes to the clerk who still stood, glowering, in her cubicle. She appeared to think for a moment, before giving a curt nod.
"This way, then." The same man spoke, his voice gruff as he directed them to a private lounge. After checking that it was empty, he let them in and both guards left the Watcher and Slayer to settle their feud in private.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~