Author's Notes: First off: to SilverRain4 - thanks for the info on Cleveland. Nice to know I wasn't miles off with my suppositions. I think, however, I'll stick to it being a sort of fictionalish Cleveland, and those from the area can apply that how they like - maybe the Scoobs could have moved into Shaker Heights, hm? I think I was planning on there being snow at some point, so at least that won't be way off the mark.
Incidentally, if anybody's interested, I've drawn something of a floorplan of the S.T.C. Yes, I am a big geek… but if anyone wants to see it, let me know in a review and I'll put the address for it somewhere…
Well, it seems as though all the chapters are going to be fairly long, if the first is anything to go by; this one is hideously long, for which I apologise. And, yes, the plot will start to take form eventually. This one's really another situating chapter, though it has a little more point than the last one, and I quite like the opening section. Here's my first plug for Katie Melua (even though the song was technically first sung by Bette Midler, I believe…) - go and buy her album. I'm serious! Anyway. Enjoy…
Chapter Two - I Think It's Going To Rain Today
(Part A)
Upon first seeing the building that was to accommodate the new Slayers, Dawn was decidedly sceptical about it. It was a shell, buried deep in the darkest woods she'd ever seen, and it hadn't seen human life for what seemed like centuries. She'd read Jane Eyre; it reminded her of Lowood, the school where the heroine had spent the latter half of her childhood. The entire place needed rewiring, which meant they'd first explored it bearing torches, and wearing bright yellow safety helmets, just in case.
Giles took them there a day or so after he'd purchased it, hoping to raise Buffy's spirits a little with the prospect of training new Slayers. Xander had accompanied them so he could oversee what needed to be done to rectify the place, and Willow and Andrew had both tagged along out of curiosity; Dawn only went because her sister did. Kennedy had been left in charge back with the other Slayers, armed with videos and popcorn. It was early evening when they'd left; by the time they got there, night was just starting to fall, dark blue sky emerging through the trees.
The front doors, at least, had remained intact, locked with a heavy padlock and a chain. Inside, there was a hallway from the front to the back, lined on each wall by three doors. At the far end was another set of doors, flanked on either side by two imposing-looking staircases leading up to the top floor. The house was symmetrical and almost square. At the back of the building there was a patio space, with a few steps leading down onto a small, overgrown lawn area, which was only cut off from the surrounding forest by hedges. A gate in the end hedge was the only exit.
All of the rooms on the ground floor were empty, but they were each large enough to accommodate the various purposes Giles had already assigned for them. One was to be a gym, another the kitchen, next to that, the dining area; on the other side, there were to be two seminar rooms and a basic laboratory. One of the front rooms on the ground floor was going to be partitioned into two, and the smaller section would house an office and reception area.
The entire of the upper floor was to be dormitories, bathrooms and a social room for the girls. Each of the two flights of stairs opened into its own corridor, along which were situated a variety of rooms. On the outer edges of the building were four equally-sized rooms each side; six of the total were to be dorms, the other two, bathrooms. In the middle, between the two corridors, sat three more rooms, but these were to be knocked into one, forming the common room. This soon-to-be common room also accommodated the entrance to the attic, but that had proved too unsafe to investigate.
It would certainly look very grand when it was refurbished and decorated. For the moment, however, it was looking rather shabby, the old architecture apparent through the layers of dust. All of the walls - corridors included - were wood-panelled from the floor to halfway up, the upper sections covered in peeling wallpaper. The roof needed to be fixed. The floors were intact, though the varnish on the boards had seen better days, and the rotting, old rugs definitely had to go. Crates were dotted around, discarded from whenever the previous owners vacated the premises.
Dawn shuddered as they stood outside, waiting for Giles to remove the padlock; the building had a certain aura about it, and she was suddenly very glad she hadn't turned out to be a Potential. She doubted she'd be able to live comfortably in a place like this. Her feeling of foreboding only increased once they got inside. The doors creaked painfully as Buffy and Xander pushed them open, and the dwindling light illuminated clouds of disturbed dust.
"So," said Giles, once he'd stopped coughing, "what do we think?" He was met by a series of incredulous glances, and more coughing. "All right. I admit it's not exactly… homely, but-"
"This place is a dump," decreed Dawn, wiping the dust-induced tears from her eyes.
Xander raised a hand. "I'm with her."
"Now, don't shoot it down without a fair trial," said Giles. "All it needs is a little work..." As if on cue, something overhead thumped, dislodged by the disturbance caused to the foundations. "…And some modifications."
Buffy raised an eyebrow, seeming more like herself for a moment. "Giles, this place is barely habitable. You expect to train Slayers in here? You're probably more likely to kill them…"
Presented with such a negative response, Giles' initial enthusiasm was starting to wane a little, his smile wavering. Two of the group had yet to pass judgement, however. Andrew was standing nonchalantly behind the others, his hands in his pockets. Giles gave him a questioning expression, and he shrugged.
"I like it," he said. "It's kinda like a haunted house, only without the ghosts." His face suddenly more animated, he was struck with a thought. "It's not haunted, is it? Because that'd be cool…"
Giles smirked. "Not as far as I know. If it is, then the estate agent neglected to tell me."
"That'd be just our luck…" muttered Dawn, though she didn't say anything else. Buffy's expression said it all: they had enough ghosts as it was, without the building being haunted.
Willow was crouching on the floor, running a finger through the thick dust. Then, she stood, making her way to the walls, where she placed her palm against the panelling. Everyone watched her with interest. After a few moments, she turned back to face the group. "I can work here," she stated. "The surrounding energy… it's positive. If there is a Hellmouth in this city, I'd bet it's nowhere near here."
Xander heaved a sigh of relief, as Giles began to hand out torches. "Hardly a unanimous vote, but I'm afraid there's no changing it. Here. Explore."
So, they did, splitting into smaller groups. Giles and Xander stayed where they were for the time being, so the latter could thoroughly examine each room in turn. Buffy and Willow headed off along the ground floor corridor to investigate the back of the house and the garden, while Andrew went upstairs. Dawn protested, refusing to go with him, and stood her ground at the bottom of the stairs.
"This is dumb," she said, to anyone that could hear. "We're not in an episode of Scooby Doo, guys. Let's just…" Her sentence trailed off as she realised the corridor had gotten very dark, the dwindling light from the flashlights finally disappearing into the murk. She tried not to let it get to her; at sixteen, to be afraid of the dark was somewhat silly. However, with barely any natural light entering the building because of the woods, and the permeating dust bearing down on her, the darkness began to feel incredibly stifling, the walls she could barely see beginning to close in.
Panicking, she got to her feet and ran up the stairs, hoping to find Andrew on the upper floor. It was only marginally brighter up there. Her heartbeat was deafening in her own ears, her footsteps exaggerated. A bird flew past the window, making her jump, and something else in the attic became dislodged, falling above her head with a crunch.
"Not haunted," she told herself. "Not haunted. Not haunted…" She looked over the banister at the top of the staircase, seeing only blackness beneath her, and shuddered. "Okay. Okay. It's just a spooky old house in a big, dark wood. There's nothing-" Footsteps. Footsteps that sounded far too heavy to be Andrew. Where the Hell is he, anyway? Dawn's breathing quickened to such an extent she thought she'd hyperventilate, and she moved away from the staircase, further into the left-hand corridor. That turned out to be a bad idea. It was completely deserted - no sign of Andrew, but Dawn tried not to dwell on that - and thoroughly dark except for the edge of a large, round window that sat in the end wall, at the front of the house. Figuring some light was better than no light, she made her way, trepidacious, towards the window's vague grey-blueness.
Once, it must have been some kind of focal point; now, there were panes missing, and the paint on the frame was cracked and peeling, stained green with damp and moss, though it had once been white. Dawn positioned herself near to it, poking her head out through one of the gaps. She could see Giles' car parked in front of the building, and the dirt track they'd taken to get there as it weaved its way back into the forest. To the left and right, there was nothing but a sea of imposing trees, utterly obliterating the city's lights. At least if she stayed here, she'd see them when they left and could get someone to come and find her.
She sighed. This was turning out to be incredibly un-fun. Craning her neck to look up, she noticed that the sky was still darkening, streaky grey clouds filling it. It didn't help matters in the slightest, with the sight of the decidedly spooky full moon, part-obliterated by wispy cloud. As if she didn't feel like she was in a horror movie already. It had been a fairly pleasant day in terms of weather, but by the looks of things, they'd be facing rain tomorrow.
At that point, someone tapped her on the shoulder. With a start, she spun around to face the person. Then, she screamed.
Andrew shrieked, and dropped the torch, his features no longer being under-lit, then scrabbled for it. Dawn's scream trailed off into a groan; as Andrew recovered their light source, she kicked him sharply in his shin.
"Ow! Hey…"
"Where the Hell were you, doofus?"
"I was exploring," he said, pointedly, "like Mister Giles told us to. Where were you, hm?"
Dawn glowered at him. "Getting scared out of my wits, no thanks to you."
"Sorry," he said. "But you have to admit, that was kinda funny…" The glare he received in response told him that she didn't think so. "Y'know, this place is cool. I'm beginning to wish I was a Slayer, too."
"Yeah, well, I'm glad I don't have to live here," she said. "Come on. I wanna go find Buffy…"
With that, she snatched the torch from Andrew and led the way determinedly back towards the stairs. Her blond companion followed, dejected. "You're no fun," he muttered.
Dawn stopped in her tracks and turned around, shining the beam into his face. "No fun?" she echoed, rhetorically. "Andrew, I am so far beyond 'no fun', it doesn't bear thinking about." He didn't say anything, surprised by her threatening tone. Dawn continued in her diatribe, realising she had a captive, if not entirely willing, audience. "I mean, look at this place! I know, it's the best Giles could do, but… God, everyone's so hung up on looking to the future, training the Slayers, being ready for the next big evil. But you know what? I don't care. We lost our home. We lost everything. And everyone's being so… so good, and so kind, and giving us things and trying to make it right, but it's nothing. It's just words, and possessions, and things to take our minds off the past. It's worthless."
She stopped, running out of things to say. After a pause, Andrew opened his mouth cautiously, and said, "What's your point?"
Dawn let out a frustrated scream. "My point, Andrew, is that maybe I don't want to move on just yet. Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe Buffy's not ready; anyone ever think of that? Giles is so wrapped up in doing the best he can for everyone, and… and maybe all we need is time to grieve." She paused, then added, partially to herself, "She hasn't even had time to cry…"
Understanding, Andrew placed a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. "Nor've you," he said. "Or Xander. And, I mean, I'm still sorta shocked I'm even alive…"
Dawn offered a weak smile, grateful for the effort. "I think we all are…"
"But… I think Giles is doing the best thing. He just wants everything to be finished, and that won't happen if everybody's too busy crying and moping… right?"
"Right… I guess," she agreed, reluctantly.
"You'll see," said Andrew. "Once this place is up and running, I bet everything'll return to normal."
Dawn nodded to appease him, and he let her lead the way back downstairs, where the voices of Buffy and Willow could be heard, distantly. In her heart, though, she knew that nothing would ever be normal again, despite the fact that Buffy didn't have to be the Slayer any more. The Training Centre would undoubtedly take up most of Giles' time, possibly to the extent that nobody would ever see him, and he'd probably want Buffy's help to train the girls.
Normality, Dawn decided, was severely underrated.
Within a week or so, the dormitories at the Training Centre were very nearly completed. The entire group were up at the Centre: the girls were all upstairs, finishing the decorating and arguing over who got to sleep where, despite the fact there were no beds in there yet, and the Scoobies, Kennedy and Giles were down in what would become the latter's office, sitting on crates as they discussed other matters. Giles held a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, ticking off points on his agenda as they talked.
"So," he said, "once the decorating is done and the beds are in, I suggest we start work on the classrooms." Several nods greeted his suggestion. "The training rooms are probably the most vital areas that need work; the seminar rooms can wait a while yet, so long as they're at least reasonably comfortable."
"Yes, sir," said Xander, saluting.
"I have another suggestion, Giles," interjected Buffy. He nodded a 'go ahead'. "While all this work's being done up here, that house is still in dire need of some personal touches. Someone should stay back there and get everything back in place once the girls are out."
"I quite agree," he said. "Andrew, you-"
"Andrew?!" The admonition came from all of the collected Scoobies, and Giles gave them a questioning expression. It was Dawn who provided an explanation.
"No offence to him or anything, but it's not like he knows us that well… I mean, c'mon, the place is gonna end up filled with Star Wars dolls or something."
"They're not dolls, they're collectables," muttered Andrew, indignant. "And, hey, I wouldn't do that."
"Actually," said Giles, returning to the point, "I was only going to say he should move the furniture back." He took in Andrew's slight build. "But I'm beginning to rethink that idea." With a sigh, he rubbed his brows with finger and thumb. "All right, everyone help with the furniture; beyond that, it'll be a matter of time. This place" - here, he gestured with his head to encompass the building - "is our top priority right now."
There were various murmurs of acknowledgement. The meeting progressed in much the same manner for at least another hour, before Giles released everybody for lunch and drove into town to pick up coffees and sandwiches for the assembled troops.
They'd settled in nicely in Cleveland; the people were friendly, and understanding, and, like in Sunnydale, utterly oblivious to the fact that there was a bubbling Hellmouth beneath their feet. There'd been a problem at first in explaining why there were so many residents in the house; eventually, Giles had settled on telling people that the Slayers were all international students who had escaped the High School during the Sunnydale 'accident', and that he was in the process of finding them somewhere else to live. This had provoked many local people to offer them lodgings; they'd all refused. After living in such close quarters for so long, they'd all gotten very close, and the idea of being separated was decidedly unappealing. It was bad enough that they'd end up getting split into two dormitories, (including a third and a fourth, to house the Slayers that had yet to be found) but at least they'd all be together.
The atmosphere at the house - it was still strange to think of it as 'home' - was mostly amicable. The survivors were still recovering from their various experiences, though Giles seemed to be coping the best. He had no other choice; they'd never needed his guidance more than they did now. He had all number of tasks ahead of him. He'd decided several months ago that once it was all over, he'd reform the Council of Watchers from whatever surviving original members, as well as seeking out new Watchers to guide the Slayers once they'd completed their training.
Currently, the Training Centre had no principal. The job had been offered to Robin Wood, and he had accepted, but for the moment, his task was to find the other Slayers. He'd taken Faith along with him, partly as a surprise, to show her the world, and partly for demonstration purposes. It was inevitable that some of the Slayers would be confused, perhaps even scared, by their new powers, and their families would be worried. A lot of the girls were no older than ten, and the eldest was only fourteen, as Willow's locator spell and internet hack had informed them. Faith was there to show the kind of potential they had, and what they might aspire to be. It was entirely impractical, however, to expect all of the Slayers to wait until Robin had found the final one of them and returned, because it was a task that could take months, even years; there were God-only-knew how many unborn Slayers that might emerge in the world. Training them all would prove to be a lifetime's work, and Giles needed all the help he could get. As it stood at the moment, however, Giles would be acting principal - or, as he preferred to be called, refusing to give in to Americanism, 'headmaster' - until such time as Robin could take up the job.
The training itself would be based on physical exercise and fighting techniques, as well as seminars on basic demonology, weaponry, and the use of magic in Slaying. The last of these was to be led by Willow, since it was her power that had released the energy of the Slayers. Her magic had helped Buffy immensely over the years, and Giles intended to make use of it in the future as well. His hope was that Willow might be responsible for organising such teaching.
Yes, things were going to be very different now that Rupert Giles was in charge. No more archaic tests and strict rules; the new Council was going to be more laid-back and helpful, rather than enigmatic and difficult.
He'd hurled himself into the Training Centre, but through it, he was well aware of the moods of Buffy and her friends. The journey to Cleveland in the school bus had been silent, for the most part, each of them lost to their thoughts. It was ridiculous to expect them to forget everything or put it behind them, so he let them recover. Xander was putting on a brave face, as usual, but he hadn't even mentioned her name since the incident.
Remembering, Giles took a sharp intake of breath. Oh, Anya… He didn't know what had happened to her, just that she hadn't made it out; there hadn't been time to question it during the escape, and it didn't seem appropriate to ask as the final rocks fell into the crater. Andrew was the only one who knew, and he seemed determined to forget about it. Giles hoped, for Xander's sake, that Andrew would eventually feel up to recounting what had happened; it wasn't healthy to keep something like that bottled up.
Willow seemed to be adjusting well after the power she'd experienced, and was determined, more than ever, to keep it under control. Dawn was subdued, still somewhat in shock from learning what had caused the crater to form, and relieved beyond measure that her sister had made it out alive.
Buffy, however, seemed to be the worst off out of all of them. She put on a brave face - as brave as she could, at least - in front of everyone, but when she thought nobody was paying attention, she'd soon let her smile falter. Giles had caught sight of her once, sitting alone in her and Dawn's room, staring out of the window; watching her, he felt as though his heart might break. He'd never seen her so lost. She cried, but her tears were silent, because she knew as soon as she let the dam break completely, she'd never be able to stop. She was broken inside, a vital piece of her missing, and Giles was utterly unable to help.
Perhaps, he pondered in the car, he wasn't supposed to… Perhaps the only one who could help Buffy was Buffy herself.
Upon his return, bearing sandwiches, snacks and beverages, Giles found the Scoobies scattered around the building. Xander was measuring up in what was to be one of the seminar rooms, with the help of Andrew and Dawn. He was determined that his 'accident' at Caleb's hand wasn't going to stop him doing what he did best, though his depth perception was slightly awry.
Dawn noticed Giles' entrance before the other two, and she immediately forgot what she was doing. "Is that lunch? Please let that be lunch."
"It is," he said, amused by the outburst.
"Thank God."
Andrew dropped the end of the metal tape measure he was holding, causing it to whip back into the holder. Xander, holding onto the other end, let it go just as fast. The entire thing fell to the floorboards with a clatter, and Andrew winced, expecting punishment of some kind. "Sorry…"
Xander frowned, but soon shrugged it off. "It's okay. Just be more careful; you could have someone's eye out. And trust me, it's not as fun as it sounds."
His comment was succeeded by a somewhat awkward silence; nobody had quite gotten used to his 'one-eyed-man' jokes, the horror of the situation that caused it still fresh in their minds. Xander was taking it in his stride, trying to make everyone as fine with it as he was, but wasn't yet being very successful.
Breaking the silence by clapping his hands together, he said, "So. Sandwiches."
"Yes, sandwiches," agreed Giles, suddenly remembering why he was there. "Take your pick."
The three of them rummaged through the carrier bag and dug out their favourites and a bottle of water each, then settled down on three of the apparently endless supply of old crates to eat. "Thankth Gilef," muttered Dawn through a mouthful of bread.
He smiled - it looked like there were some things she'd never grow out of - and headed off to find the others. Luckily, with the building being carpet-less, the task was made slightly easier; all he had to do was listen for distant footsteps or thumps and follow the noise. The majority of the raucousness seemed to be coming from the upper floor, where the girls were decorating, so he made his way up there, figuring that he'd probably pass the others on the way.
When he got up there, he had to admit that the room was starting to look impressive. The walls, freshly painted, were far more cheerful now that they'd had a lick of paint, and Molly seemed to have taken it upon herself to create some kind of mural along the window wall, to complement the forest setting outside. The other would-be dormitories were still sporting their recently re-plastered walls, yet to be painted. The floorboards were covered in drops of spilled paint… as were most of the Slayers. It seemed that a paint-fight had ensued at some point.
The girls stopped what they were doing as Giles cautiously entered the room, not wanting to get caught in any kind of crossfire. They assembled in the middle of the room, dropping paintbrushes into cans and setting down rollers and paint-trays.
"Hi, Mr. Giles," said Vi, wiping her hands on her jeans. The others waved and greeted him in a similar manner, and he went further into the room.
"Sustenance," he explained, holding up the second bag and handing it to them. They shared out its contents and stood around to eat, as he added, "Do you plan on leaving enough paint to cover the rest of the rooms, or is it all going to be ammunition?"
His tone was jovial, but the girls looked guiltily at the various coloured splodges on themselves and the floor. "Sorry," said Rona. "We got bored."
Molly swallowed her bite of sandwich. "I tried to tell 'em not to, Mr. Giles," she said, indignantly. "I'm just glad none of it ended up on the mural."
"Indeed," he agreed, "and very nice it is, too."
Molly beamed. "Thought it might brigh'en the place up a bit."
Giles nodded. "Quite." After an empty pause, he asked, "Um, has anyone seen Buffy or Willow around?"
Vi started waving her arm around frantically, gesticulating that she did, but was unable to say anything due to having a mouth full of bread and cheese. When she'd eventually managed to swallow it, she stopped waving, and said, "I just saw Willow. She and Kennedy are checking out one of the seminar rooms."
"Ah. Thank you." He turned to go, calling "Enjoy your lunch, girls," over his shoulder, and headed down a level. He made his way to the larger of the rooms, noting that the door was closed. As he got closer, the muffled sounds of an argument could be heard; briefly, he debated whether or not it was polite to intervene, but seeing as he hadn't yet found Buffy, there was little else he could do. Knocking tentatively, he waited for the raised voices to die down, and Willow to open the door.
"Oh, hey, Giles," she said. He looked past her into the room. Benches had already been installed, though the desks had yet to be put together, so the room looked to be full of bleachers. Kennedy was sitting about halfway up, staring defiantly out of the window, refusing to look at Willow.
"Am I interrupting-?"
"No," she interjected, hastily. "Nope. Not interrupting." There was a lengthy pause, then she asked, "So… did you want something?"
"Oh, um. Yes. Here." He handed her two randomly selected sandwiches from the bag, which she took. "And there was something I wanted to ask you."
"Oh, okay…" She removed herself from her entrance-blocking position in the doorway, allowing him to move past her. Willow called Kennedy, who pointedly ignored both her and Giles, but took the sandwich that was proffered nonetheless. Willow and Giles sat on the bottom bench, and the former tucked into her lunch.
Giles cleared his throat, and began a lengthy run-up to his question. "I hope you don't think I'm being too presumptious, but… you know part of the plan for this place was to teach the girls about magic…" Willow nodded. "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to… perhaps… have a hand in it?"
She raised a curious eyebrow. "How so?" Kennedy's ears pricked up, and she moved down to a lower bench to listen in.
"Nothing too complex," he said. "At least, for starters. I just thought you could teach the girls about why magic can and should be used during Slaying. It's important for them to know how to use all the resources available to them, and that includes magical practices." When Willow said nothing, he continued, "And if that's successful, I was thinking you might be able to teach them some spells. Nothing too dangerous, of course. Just… locator spells, invisibility, and the like."
Willow munched thoughtfully on her sandwich, pondering it. "Wow, Giles… I mean, I'm flattered that you trust me enough to ask, but… Can I think on it?"
"Of course," he said, though he had a feeling she'd accept the offer. He glanced to Kennedy; she was smiling, happy that, if Willow took up the offer, they'd be spending more time together. Seeing that Willow was clearly overwhelmed by the prospect, he got to his feet to give her time. "I don't suppose you've seen Buffy, have you?"
"What?" Snapping out of her reverie, Willow tried to remember. "Oh, uh… I think I saw her out back a while ago."
"Right. Thank you."
She stood, leaning against the creaking doorframe, and watched the sunlight patterns dancing on the grass. Above her, from the new, open windows, the shrieks and giggling of the girls as they decorated filtered down, but other than that, it was silent. There was no traffic for miles, and barely any planes overhead. There was really no reason for her to be there; she had nothing to do, but Giles had insisted on holding their morning meeting in the new building rather than at the house.
Ordinarily, Buffy would have been more than willing to help out with the decorating, or work with Xander and Dawn. The only problem was, she was feeling decidedly unwell; she'd woken up exhausted, as usual, but with a strange queasiness that, while it had dwindled slightly over the hours, had prevented her having breakfast. Her stomach rumbled, making her feel momentarily worse.
The screaming from the upper floor ceased for a few moments, and she heard Giles' muffled voice as he brought the girls their lunch. It had been clear for a while that they weren't spending the majority of their time actually doing any decorating - especially if the irate cry of "That was my favourite shirt!" was anything to go by - and she could only imagine what state they were in. Beneath the coveralls, there were brand new designer fashions, evidence of their being spoiled, but they probably looked a complete mess now.
Then again, Buffy could hardly complain; she felt the exact opposite. Her outfit was fashionable enough, not as expensive as Giles would have allowed - though he'd been pleased at her sensible underspending in that regard - and, she had to admit, looked good on her. But somehow, it felt like an empty, pointless indulgence. Who was she dressing up for, anyway? Herself? Her friends? The entire goddamn universe, just to prove she was okay? Her brain was packed so full of reasons and explanations, rehearsed lines, instructions on how to smile, anything to keep her mind occupied, she felt like Dorothy's scarecrow. She was full to the brim with the whole wide world, feeling like everything was coming out of her ears and bearing down on her at the same time.
Her stomach churned again, and she winced. She really should have had some breakfast. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a good night's sleep, either.
No. That was a lie. She could. There were three nights before the battle, when, in the midst of panic and exhausted planning, she'd finally found some peace. Tears stung her eyes; she clamped her eyelids shut in an attempt to stop the torrent she knew would flow. She wasn't allowed to cry. She wasn't allowed not to be okay.
Behind her, the door creaked open. Hastily, she wiped her eyes to catch any stray tears, and turned to see who was there.
"Hey, Giles." She attempted to sound cheerful and pleased to see him.
Despite her best efforts, though, he could tell straight away what was wrong. He wanted to offer her comfort, but knew nothing would help, so instead, he broached a different subject entirely. "I brought you some lunch, if you're feeling better."
"Thanks," she said, taking the sandwich. The sight of it made her queasy again, but she bravely fought down the first bite, finding the rest of it easier as she carried on. She sat down on the bottom step. "So," she ventured, "how's it going in there?"
Giles sat beside her, finally managing to eat his own lunch. "Just fine, it seems. Though we may end up having to buy more paint if the girls persist in hurling it at each other." She smiled, not feeling it in the slightest, but knowing it was a better response than nothing. "And I asked Willow how she felt about teaching."
"Oh? What'd she say?"
"I've given her time to think it over," he said. "She seemed quite pleased."
"I'll bet. I hope she does take it up. The girls seem to like her." Giles nodded in agreement, sipping his coffee. "I suppose you'll be training them, yourself? I mean, it'd keep it 'in the family' if you did."
He thought about it. "Possibly, yes. I was hoping Faith might volunteer, but since she's gallivanting around the world with Robin, that's out of the question. I may have to bite the bullet and hire someone from outside…"
Buffy looked incredulous. It was going to be hard enough trying to keep the Training Centre a secret without bringing in any more strangers; the potential Watchers didn't really count, since there were plenty of trustworthy non-Council people that Giles already knew. "What? Giles, are you sure about that?"
"It may be the only option," he said. "Unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Well, unless… unless you want to train them, Buffy."
"No," she said, without even thinking. "Definitely not."
"Won't you even consider it?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, but no. I'm not even remotely qualified enough, and… and I really think they've had enough of my ordering them around." Giles looked disappointed, trying to understand her reasoning. He knew there had to be more to it. Eventually, she said, "Seven years, Giles. Seven years of nothing but Slaying, training, fighting evil, leading people… I just… I can't do it any more. The torch has been passed."
He nodded, comprehending. "All right." Offering a compromise, he suggested, "but might I call on your services for the sake of demonstration?" Off her questioning expression, he explained, "At least until Faith's returned. I'll need something to actually show the girls so they've got something to work towards."
That idea wasn't appealing to Buffy, either, but Giles was in a tricky position. Reluctantly, she agreed. "Oh… fine. But only until Faith comes back, okay?"
He smiled. "Good. Thank you." Silence then descended, and the ex-Slayer and her Watcher ate their lunch in silence, sipping from coffee that had since gone lukewarm. Conversation had been difficult for a while, and they'd never really spoken about the trust issues between them. Buffy wanted to make amends, but she was also too stubborn to admit that, at least some of the time, she'd been wrong. Giles, on the other hand, while willing to apologise for her sake, wasn't entirely sure he should. Surviving had made everybody re-evaluate themselves and each other, so they'd put it behind them without talking it through. In retrospect, it wasn't such a good idea.
Giles finished his sandwich before her, and got to his feet. Buffy was chewing through her lunch very slowly, still obviously feeling ill, but knowing she had to eat something. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, as she apparently hadn't noticed him moving.
"Well," he said, breaking through her reverie, "I'd better go and check on Xander and his two assistants." Buffy looked up and nodded in acknowledgement. "Try to eat all of that, if you can. It'll probably make you feel better."
"Yes, Dad," she said, jokingly, the greater truth behind the expression lingering in the back of her mind. As he turned to re-enter the building, she called him back. "Oh, and Giles?"
"Yes?"
"When you lecture those Slayers…" She paused, debating whether or not to continue. Biting the bullet, she continued. "When you lecture them, make sure you warn them not to fall for the enemy. Under any circumstances."
Her tone was jovial, but the warning held serious, regretful undertones. "I will," he said. "Just as I'll tell them how important it is to get along with their Watchers." He stopped a moment. She'd opened up, just a little, but not enough that he could help her. "But remember, Buffy… Angel was a special case…"
With that, he escaped. They both knew Angel wasn't whom she'd meant with her comment, but he was a far safer topic. Buffy, unable to decide whether to be utterly incredulous at his final words, or merely upset that he'd missed the opportunity for them to talk, stared at the closed doors, and remembered a time when the mention of Angel's name had caused her heart to break repeatedly. She searched for that feeling again, and came up with nothing, just a mild annoyance that he'd had to appear at the vineyard in the first place. If he hadn't come, with that damned amulet, then maybe…
And there, she forced her thoughts to stop. Blaming Angel would become blaming herself, like she'd blamed Giles before, like she'd blamed Fate constantly. Angel's still here, she thought, trying to be positive, and at some point, someone has to tell him what happened. We're all still here. We're all… Oh, God…
Her memory defied her at every turn.
To be continued...
A/N: This is not the whole chapter, just so you know. But it was looking to be ridiculously long, so I had to cut it into two bits. The lyrics of the song it's based on will appear at the end of part B, and you'll see how difficult it was for me to actually get them into the story... I'm beginning to think maybe this whole song-chapter-fic thing wasn't such a good plan. ;)
Just a point of some interest: in the section where Buffy's in the garden, before Giles comes to talk to her, the strange imagery describing her mental state is borrowed not only from the lyrics (as you'll see below) but from a Judy Garland film whose title escapes me. BBC1 showed a programme where Lorna Luft was talking about her, and there was a clip from said film, with a quote that went something like: "No, I couldn't possibly drink any more coffee. If you want to give me coffee, you're going to have to find a vein and inject it. I'm full to the brim with the whole wide world." Which is probably wrong, but… it was something like that, and it cried out to be used. So, bizarre imagery, explained.
So, as I said, there's more to this chapter. In the meantime, leave me some reviews. I know it's rambling and boring; it'll get more interesting...