Welcome back! The renovations were relatively painless, I guess. Nothing to panic over. And FFN's basically back, right? All the essentials, anyway, I haven't tried everything out yet. This time the note actually has a purpose: If you ever thought you saw Birdie's name spelled "Birdy," you were hallucinating. Okay? That never happened. Really, I swear. And if you go back to previous chapters, and write snooty reviews saying, "Oh, yes it is *too* spelled with a 'y'."... Well, those chapters are lying, too. Just like your memories. Bad chapters. Bad, bad.
On with the hijinks:
~Star Mouse
(That wasn't the hijinks, just yet.)
@ @ @
When Dawn arrived at the Magic Box after school, there was a sign on
the door. She paused with her hand on the knob.
"Pardon our mess; We're renovating."
She squinted through the dusty glass. "Huh. More like razing."
She eased the door open, careful not to let it fall down on top of her. It didn't swing well. She looked at the hinges. One was melted through. She looked back at the interior of the shop.
Xander, Giles, and another woman were engaged in various cleaning activities. Anya was standing to one side, like an Egyptian overseer watching the pyramids rise. The little bell had probably exploded, or something, so they hadn't noticed her yet. Too bad she had stopped with the theft thing. This would be the perfect opportunity...
She took in more of the damage. Well, except for that pesky 'no piece of merchandise in less than five parts' thing.
She walked over to Anya, sidestepping fractured ceiling beams and trying not to think about the fact that they couldn't hold the roof up when they were on the floor.
"Hey, Anya. What happened? Ghoulie or paraphysical phenomena?"
Anya spared her a second's eye contact. "Hello, Dawn. No, you're looking at the handiwork of our own Rupert Giles."
"Giles? Giles did this?"
Anya nodded solemnly. "Him and that other one over there. Not Xander. The girl~one. And they're paying every cent of this back."
Dawn noticed an extra broom. "How long do you think this clean up effort is going to take?"
Anya reached out without turning her head and snagged the broom handle. She passed it off to the slightly leery teenager. "Start over by the stairs," she said. "Be sure to get the corners."
Dawn sighed and trudged over to the glorified ladder, to pay her debt to society and Anya.
@ @ @
"Giles? Giles did this?" Buffy looked around, sort of shocked, sort of impressed. This must have been one of those Ripper moments. It screamed 'good old days' like a howler monkey.
Xander leaned on his broom. "Yup. Him and that one over there. I forget her name. She's British. New Watcher for Birdie."
"Oh. Kinda makes you glad the Watcher retreats are outside the continental US."
"Yeah. Always knew those shirts were stuffed with plastic explosives."
"Judging by the state of order this room is *not* in, I'm kinda with you on that. How's Anya taking the death of her baby?"
"Oh, just fine. She wigged at first, but after about five minutes, she was getting Giles and the other one's bank account numbers and handing them brooms. She's going through the inventory now, getting some numbers on the damages so she can charge them later."
"And you and Dawn..."
"We're volunteers. In the Snyder sense of the word."
"Oh. I getcha." She sighed. "I guess that's my lucky fate, too."
He stroke a somewhat noble pose. "It's too late for me, Buffy, but there's still hope for you. Run. Save yourself. Run fast, run far, and take Birdie with you before you're spotted."
Buffy was about ready to bolt, but she hung back. "Are you sure I shouldn't be here? You know, to keep Giles and ...the other one... From killing each other?"
"Nah. They've been holding trashbags for each other for the past hour or so. The storm seems to have blown over. Or hurricane, as the case may be. I guess she started it, but when we got here, Giles had her in a headlock, so he won. That's the best way a fight can go."
"Giles winning?"
"No, the one who started it losing. It kind of keeps the fighters even. It helps them work past the rumble."
"Oh. Way with the wise, Xan. I'm just gonna... You know."
"Hide. Gotcha. I'd go, but I wanna get married this time."
"Bye." Buffy managed, with Slayer stealth, to sneak to the door and out to freedom.
Where do you think she will go?
@ @ @
Spike climbed the ladder out of the sewer system. Before he was even technically in the crypt, he heard the knocking. He set down the baseball bat, still shaking dust out of his clothing.
"Bullocks. That better not be who I think it is."
He climbed the next ladder, into the upper sanctum. And sighed. Only a Slayer or a nastie could bang that hard. And either way, he wasn't up to kill anything else tonight. He was at a pretty good, semi~nonviolent place emotionally right now. It had taken quite a while to get there, and he wouldn't be back in a lethal mood for a good hour or so. If only she could have waited a bit.
But no. He couldn't kill her.
It would break Dawn's heart.
He considered not answering. The old Buffy wouldn't care, would've just barged on in. But his new Buffy, the one that cared what he thought *shudder* would just stand there knocking, or walk away quietly, not wanting to wake him. He knew. He had left her knocks unanswered in the past. But what if it was an emergency? If his problems with Buffy got someone killed... Well, his soul wouldn't really appreciate it very much.
He swung the door open with a sigh.
She looked up at him. Ventured a cautious half~smile. He didn't return it. He was starting to see why she had never dropped him any crumbs, once upon a time. He didn't want to feed this misguided, ill~timed thing in her. It would be crueller than anything else he could do.
"What is it, Slayer?"
"Um, can I come in?"
"Can I stop you?"
"Yes! I mean, you wouldn't have to. If you don't want me to come in, then you can just say it. I'm not going to barge in on you anymore."
"Don't come in."
Buffy stood there, on the threshold, for a moment. Just staring at his face, drinking in the sight of him, half~obscured in shadow, until he shifted uncomfortably, breaking the spell.
She blinked out of it, but didn't even bother to pretend to hide it.
Spike was impressed despite himself. She was at least going to be as honest about this as he had been. When he was insane. He sighed.
"Slayer, was there something in particular, or did you just come here to gape at my chiseled features? You're letting in sunlight, lu- Buffy."
His quick correction nearly broke her, but she managed to form a reply. "Um, no. It's nothing. Well, Birdie's new Watcher came."
"Oh? That'll be fun. Birdie deserves a Librarian of her very own. Is he a friend of Rupert's?"
"Uh, I don't think so. Her name's-- well, I don't actually know what her name is. But she looks sort of like Cordelia, paler. She and Giles destroyed most of the Magic Box this afternoon."
Spike perked up. "Really, now? That'd be those vibrations around noon. I thought it didn't feel much like an earthquake."
"Yeah. The ceiling's on the floor, and the merchandise....isn't."
He let out a low chuckle. Buffy's chest tightened.
"I'll bet Xander's demon's having a conniption."
"Anya recovered pretty quickly, after Giles and the other one gave her their bank codes. They're in the process of cleaning up after themselves right now."
"And they didn't want your help?"
"Well..."
Spike picked up on the Slayer's meaning, and he had to laugh, again. "Ohh. I see. The noble Slayer's afraid of housework, is that it? And here I thought you came here to see me. I'm just an outlet, aren't I?" He looked at her for a second, standing on his threshold, like a vampire uninvited. She looked cold and broken in the heat of summer, and her sweaty hair clung to her skin and just made her look like she'd stepped out of an icy deluge.
He smiled at her, and Buffy saw simple kindness in that smile. Like charity. She hated it, but as he stood aside to let her enter, she realized that she would take whatever she could get from him, and just pray it led to something more.
@ @ @
Birdie was reading when the doorbell rang. She paused for a second, unsure whether or not she should answer it, in that way houseguests do. She wasn't actually a real resident, after all. Well, she was, but if it happened to be the Social Services woman again, she'd have to do some explaining --aka lying-- to explain her presence and role in the Summer's family. At least she could honestly say she wasn't a gay witch. Not that she had a problem with Willow. It was just really amazing that SS had considered the redhead an acceptable role model in Dawn's life.
She stood up and headed for the door. If it was a package or something, she'd have to sign for it. And she was living here indefinitely, after all.
She swung the door open, opting against the cheery smile. Her scars made it look forced and unnatural.
There was a youngish woman standing on the porch, her back facing the door. She turned when she heard it open.
"Hallo," she said, with British accent thick and prominent. "You must be Birdie McGregor. I was told I'd be able to find you here."
"Um, yes. I'm Birdie. Can I help you?" She was pretty, pale, with redlighted hair in a chunked bob. There was a butterfly bandage on her brow, and a few fresh bruises on her exposed arms.
Birdie couldn't help but notice she was standing in a pile of luggage.
"I'm Marion Krumpht." She held out a hand, and Birdie cautiously shook it.
"I was sent by the Watchers' Council to guide your Slayer training."
Birdie cocked her head, just like a real bird. "Watcher? You're going to be my new Watcher? But Giles--"
"Oh, Mr. Giles is busy. He has a business to run, and a Slayer of his own. Plus, he isn't actually a member of the council, so he technically doesn't count..." Marion trailed off. She followed Birdie's eyeline to her feet.
"Oh! Right. The luggage. I spoke with Mr. Harris, and he told me that I could hole up in Ms. Summers' basement here until I locate an apartment of my own. He didn't seem to think she would mind."
"Oh. That's okay, then, I guess. Uh, nice to meet you, Marion."
"The pleasure's mine." The British woman smiled and picked up her bags. Birdie didn't actually invite her in, just stood aside so she could enter. When Marion passed through the threshold unhindered, except by her rather bulky luggage, the new Slayer breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Just a month or two in, and she had already picked up on the most important lesson of Sunnydale: Better safe than sorry, in this town.
@ @ @
Review. I'll cry if you don't.
~Star Mouse