Chapter 2: Interruption
Sunnydale, Southern California.
Rupert Giles sank wearily into an armchair, habitually polishing his glasses. Part of his mind pondered the notion that a slayer should respect her watcher's decisions, but most of it was dedicated to the task at hand: marshalling his arguments to reason with Buffy.
He glanced at her friends. Redheaded Willow looked a little amused, her green eyes following the discussion like a tennis match. Her boyfriend, Oz, was as deadpan as usual, but he, too, followed the volley back and forth. Xander was confused. This showed in his slight frown as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
Giles glanced at the cause of the argument. Bloody pillock, he thought. She was never going to be happy about this, but he had to make it worse by baiting her. He sat, insolently relaxed, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at her.
Giles looked back at Buffy. The petite blonde stood before him, hands on hips, looking dangerously sulky.
"But Giles," she whined. "He's evil! I kill evil." Her lower lip poked out, making look about eight years old. "Why can't I kill him?"
"Because I'm too good for you, Slayer. You should know that by now, the amount of times you've tried."
Giles, having replaced his glasses, shot Spike a warning look.
"Buffy. I assure you I realise this, but he may well be able to help us."
"Who says I want to, Watcher?"
"You may as well, you can only fight demons."
Xander cut in.
"I have to say, I'm with the Buffster. We don't need a neutered vampire who never left the 1970's."
"Actually," interjected Oz, "the punk movement didn't really take off until the early 1980's."
Whether Oz intended to or not, he successfully broke the tension enough for everyone to calm down slightly. Buffy sat, folding he arms. Giles continued, thinking longingly of a nice cup of tea, or perhaps something a touch stronger.
"The behaviour you described, as you know, for vampires, it was, well, most unusual. Spike, having over a century of, erm, experience in vampire behaviour…"
"Oi. I am still here, y'know."
"Unfortunately."
"Yeah, real mature, Slayer…"
Spike broke off, startled by the noise coming from outside the watcher's house. It pulsated. It somehow managed to be a whirring growl. It sounded oddly familiar.
Willow, who had been standing next to the window, frowned as she peered out into the courtyard.
"Giles," she said. "How long have you had a big blue box in your yard?"
Giles got up.
"Willow, what on Earth are you talking about?"
Spike moved from his chair to get a better look.
"There bloody is, as well, Watcher. There's a 1950's Police public telephone booth right outside your front door."
As Giles, Xander and Oz went to look, Buffy called the attention back to her.
"Hey! What are you doing? You don't know anything about it. You should come away from the window, it might explode!"
Giles admitted that this could well be the case, which prompted arguments from all sides. Fortunately, just as things were getting nasty, a knock on the door interrupted. Silence fell like a clumsy child. Everyone stared at each other. Finally, Giles opened the door. There stood a man. Tall, dark hair, wearing a leather jacket. Grinning in a way that was, for some reason, slightly unnerving. It was perhaps because the smile seemed a little too wide, giving the impression that he might just go for the neck. Behind him stood a very peculiar looking girl. He nodded to Giles, her blue hair shining eerily.
"Rupert Giles?" Enquired the man. Giles nodded. "Nice to meet you." He stuck out a hand, which Giles shook. "I'm the Doctor." He continued. "This is Blue." He indicated the girl, who smiled an even, white smile. Giles stepped back, opening the door wider.
"Do come in."