Chapter Nine: Watcher Wars IV: A New Hope

Whee! Let's hear it for exposition! Yay! And let's also hear it for insane band rehearsal schedules that leave time for nothing else but homework and sleep --in that order. Woo! Not. Anyway, enjoy, review, blah, blah.
And I'm just assuming that if you're reading this chapter, you've already read the previous chapters, in which I reiterate several times, to and possibly past the point of irritating, that I don't own anybody. I mean, what kind of person finds a new story and goes, "Oh, this looks like an odd bit of fanfiction. I think I'll start at chapter nine. Oh, this must be a ME exec. in disguise, because they don't mention otherwise anywhere at the top of the page! Wow! Maybe they'll send me an autograph!"

With that in mind, I will no longer go on and on about not holding copyrights. It's unnecessary, and it takes up space I could otherwise use to whine.

~Star Mouse

@ @ @

Giles sat alone in the Magic Shop. Anya had asked him to watch the store while Xander took her out to lunch. It was out of the question to close it, of course. He didn't appreciate the implication that he couldn't possibly have anything better to do, but he really *didn't* have anything better to do, that he couldn't do at the Magic Box. It didn't make sense to go to the bar, even if he had the slightest interest in being there more than absolutely necessary, since Rupert's' clientele tended to be nocturnal. At least he had a little light reading.

He had found the book, this morning. The one he had wrested from that drunken sod the night Birdy appeared. It was in Latin, luckily. Latin wasn't a problem. He only wished more of these mysterious and useful books of prophesies were in Latin.

He settled down behind the register --as per Anya's instructions-- and scanned the pages.

Blah blah blah, famine, blah blah, flood, blah blah, soul'd demon... Oh. Here it was. Funny how Angel had always been "the vampire with the soul," and Spike was always "the demon with the soul." The distinction explained why none of these relevant texts had turned up earlier, though. Let's see here... He read aloud, translating as he went:

"And the demon shall fall to a . . . what was that word... a deathless life, and shall love the Slayer to the ends of the earth, where he will gain his ...soul ...for ...her.' Oh, for crying out loud."

He flipped the book shut. The silly thing was past the expiration date.

The bell above the door chimed. He clicked the slim volume into his briefcase, and turned to face the customer.

Egg~framed sunglasses stared him down.

"'Ello, Rippeh."

@ @ @

And the Buffybot, pretty much forgotten, carried on blending and shaking through the noontime rush at the PikiMiku Juice Bar. Like Watcher, like Robot, as the not~so~old~and~slightly~altered saying goes.

@ @ @

Willow looked around the classroom, at all the talking kids. Under her desk, her feet tapped nervously, and she was twirling a pencil. With her mind. A little harmless, small~scale, friend~approved magic to calm her nerves. She cautiously raised her hand.

After a few seconds, the students went silent.

She tried not to grin, but it was just so *fun*. The power of being a teacher was like nicorette gum, for her. She had wanted power, had wanted to stand apart. That was what had started that whole embarrassing 'I'm gonna end the world' thing. Power. In her classroom, her little universe of 'Computer Applications 102', she had power. Unlimited, unchallenged power.

She smiled at her subj-students. "Okay, guys. Log in and go to the tutoral webpage."

She smiled into the sound of forty~four hands rattling keys.

@ @ @

Shouts, crashes, and British epithets carry out onto the street from inside the strange magic store on Lawrence Street. Then, the building starts shaking.

Several pedestrians cross the street to avoid the tremors, and continue on their way.

It is Sunnydale, after all.

@ @ @

Buffy and Birdy had watched Willow drive off with Dawn in her green Passat a while ago. Willow had had an afternoon class to teach, and was taking Dawn with. The Slayers, unlike the other two women, didn't have anywhere they had to be. Not until sunset, anyway. And it seemed such a pity to get all gross and sweaty training again right after showering and changing. They sat at the table and worked their way through the beverage menu, both carefully avoiding the alcoholic options.

Buffy took the opportunity to fill Birdy in on some of the stuff that had been going on before her arrival. Starting ...basically, sophomore year, and working her way from there. She tried to avoid focusing on Spike any more than was strictly necessary for accuracy's sake, but even she could tell she'd put too much attention on him. And her synopsis really didn't make sense. She needed Xander here to summarize.
Without someone to do the 'in a nutshell' bit, her explanations sucked.

When she finished, Birdy just sat there, nodding slowly, biting the end of her straw.

"I am so confused right now."

"Sorry. I tried."

"Let me repeat it back, to make sure I've got it."

"By all means. Repeat away." Buffy took a gulp of cherry coke.

Birdy looked alternately off into the distance and at Buffy as she spoke. "Okay. You get called. You get expelled--"

"--for setting the gym on fire--"

"--for setting the gym on fire, you move here, you meet Xander and Willow, find out Giles is your new watcher, fall in love with a vampire--"

"Angel."

"Right. The one from all those prophesies. You die, you come back, you kill the Master, you have sex with Angel, he gets bad, tries to destroy the world, along with Spike and some vampy chick Drusilla. You kill him, but he also comes back again. But then you guys decide it's not going to work out with you two and he goes away. Somewhere in here you blow up the school."

"Right. Boom."

"After that there's college, and some psycho Mr. Potato head guy, and a weird super~soldier boyfriend from Idaho--"

"Iowa," Buffy corrected.

Birdy nodded. "--From Iowa, who left you for a ...helicopter. And then Spike's back, and he gets a microchip in his head so he can't hurt people, and you find out Dawn's something not human, and a hell god tries to kill her. Somehow you end up jumping off a radio tower or something, and die again. Willow and co. revive you, pulling you out of heaven, Dawn goes delinquent, Willow goes to the dark side of the force, and Xander stops her from destroying the world."

"Righto."

"Spike comes back from wherever he went for whatever reason--"

"..."

"-and now he also has a soul."

"In a nutshell."

Birdy bit her lip in thought. "Huh." She nodded. "Okay... I guess I'll go with that. But there's still one thing I want to know."

"Mm?" Buffy was suddenly suspicious.

"When were you and Spike involved?"

"Involved? Involved in what?" Buffy hedged. Uhoh. New friend or not, that was more than she wanted to think about, let alone discuss.

"Involved in whatever you were involved in. You guys just scream old flames. I'm just curious, that's all."

Buffy sighed. "It's a really long story," she started. "He tried to kill me for a few years, then decided he loved me, I used him for sex after I came back from the dead, and he went to Africa after trying to rape me. When he came back, he decided he didn't love me anymore just as I decided I did love him, but he hasn't tried to kill me again yet. The fact tha I see that as a promising sign tells you pretty much all you need to know about my love life." She paused. "Okay, I guess it wasn't that long, after all."

@ @ @

"Oh MY *GOD*! What have you done to my shop? What have you done to my shop?! What have you done to my shop?! What has he done to my shop?!" Anya stared aghast at the extremely expensive damage. It had, technically, been worse with Willow, but not by much. She turned her slightly glazed eyes to the bloodied, shredded woman leaning against the stairs. "Who are you? Did you do this? Giles, did she do this? Who did this?"

Xander, who had recovered from his own initial shock, gently led her to the lone surviving chair and pushed her down into it. Anya kind of collapsed, weak~kneed from the shock.

Xander tried to lighten the mood, of course. And fill the silence while the guilty parties caught their breath.

"Jeez, Giles! We leave you alone for one hour..." He clucked. "Bad Giles. And you, young lady--"

The woman straightened up, amazingly supporting her own weight. "I am Marion Krumpht. Birdy's new Watcher. Ripper and I ...go back."

"Uh huh. And you two just thought you'd have a little duel to the death by way of reunion?"

Giles started to respond, but he was cut off as Anya let out a piercing scream, followed by several gasping sobs. Apparently she had reached the second stage of grief.

Xander excused himself with a look and hurried over to do comforting fiancee things.

Giles looked across at Marion.

She looked back at him, daring him to speak.

About this time, they both realized that the animostity that had fueled the sudden battle had been burned away.

He reached up to pull off his glasses, only to realize that he wasn't wearing them. He blinked and squinted around himself. That was actually a bit of a relief. He had thought the blurry vision was from sweat and head trauma. "Ms. Krumpht, have you seen my glasses?"

He bent to see the floor, and missed her mildly surprised expression. She had expected an insult, or some allusion to the fact that she had lost. This was a good sign. She had gotten all her fight out earlier, anyway. She peered around for the glasses, praying they weren't broken, like everything else in the store. That might put a crimp in their working relationship, just in case this didn't.

Giles took a cautious step, waving his hand close over the ground, like he was looking for a contact lens instead of a pair of wire~rimmed glasses.

Across the room, Anya sniffled and said, "I hope you intend to pay for all this." There was righteous venom in her voice. Xander left off his back~patting as she stood, the closest to Anyanka he had seen her.

There was a crunch of glass.

Marion looked down at Anya's foot. "Oh."

Giles blinked and squinted. "Ah. Found my glasses, then."

Anya kicked out, scattering the little shards of glass --Giles was the only person left on earth that didn't have scratch~resistant, indestructible plastic lenses-- into the plaster dust and mystical relic debris.

"Well you can just pay for those, too."

@ @ @

Did you notice the way I cleverly avoided that fight scene? Sort like a before/after kind of thing, without the violence? Trust me, I suck at fight scenes. You wouldn't like it. You'd probably just skim it even if I did write it, reading just enough to figure out who won.

...Not that I do that...

*ahem*

Just use your imaginations to visuallize a battle between a twenty~something young woman (--with magic powers--, she hinted) and a middle~aged British librarian type. Have fun.


Yada yada yada review yada yada yada. Sorry. Ran out of gimmicks and other humourous ways to beg. And the airline lost my luggage. And neighbors moved. And my fish ran away. If not for my reviews, I'd have nothing left...
Okay. I had one gimmick left. But now I'm seriously out. And that one wasn't even that good.

~Star Mouse

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