"Does everything look as you left it?" Wesley's voice was softer than normal and Giles flashed him a grateful smile. Glancing around the office, he couldn't see anything out of order, but there was still much to go through. His desk, the books he kept here, the files. He couldn't see why anyone would want something other than the books, but one never knew and it was best to be careful.
"Everything seems to be just as I left it, but we won't know until we go through it all." Sighing, Giles moved to the bookcase, as that was the best place to begin.
"Uh, what am I to do?" Wesley asked, still standing by the door and looking rather uncomfortable.
"Oh. Sorry. I was hoping you'd start with the books over there. The top shelf should contain Levy's fifteenth century works, the middle's a split of all the Orthin journals and the Bartein texts, and bottom's my journals, with which you've made yourself familiar." Giles sighed, blinking at the books in front of him and attempting to focus.
"Uh, yes, I'll . . . I'll look them over. Uh, Mr. Giles . . . I didn't want to mention this in front of the children, but I'm, uh, quite worried. What if this . . . thing wasn't after anything in the library? What if it was doing something to the Hellmouth? What if… what if you, specifically, were the target?"
Giles sighed, nodding. "Both possibilities had crossed my mind. There isn't much use in speculating, however, until we have some idea of what we're dealing with. I don't think that--ah!" Giles dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut against a growing pressure in his head.
"Damn," he heard Wesley curse and then his colleague was kneeling next to him. Giles was merely happy to remember it happening this time. "Is there anything I can do?"
"If there was, I'd tell you," Giles snapped, then sighed, removing his glasses. "I'm sorry. No, there's nothing you can do. Not until we, uh, find something out. All these books are here. Will you, uh, help me stand?" The last he pushed out through gritted teeth, partly because his head was pounding once again and partly because he hated to have to ask at all.
Wesley made no comment, but simply offered his hand. Giles found his head began to feel better once he was standing, receding a bit to that dull ache that clung to the back of his skull. Turning toward his desk, Giles came face to face with Wesley, the man still giving him a rather worried look.
"It's better now," he said with a shrug, oddly touched by the man's obvious concern, even if Wesley was hovering.
"So, this boy . . . or demon, didn't take any of the books," Wesley said, changing the subject and turning back toward the bookcase. "Those, uh, your journals are out of order, so I'm guessing it went through them. To what purpose I can't say."
"Out of order? How?"
"Well, when I went through them I made sure to put them back just as you had them situated. They were in chronological order and now they're most definitely not."
"What's been moved?"
"Uh, well . . . it, I believe it contains your accounts of Angelus. Uh, including . . . well, everything."
Giles went still, feeling his eyebrows draw together. "What? Why would anyone to read through that? Is, uh, is that the only one out of place?"
"Yes. It looks as if it is, though . . . obviously, he could have read the others and simply put them back correctly. We don't know how long the demon was in here, or . . . anything, actually."
Giles simply nodded. He went quickly through his desk drawers and didn't remember anything that should be there and wasn't. So, unless it was a pencil or paperclip stealing demon, he doubted his desk had been touched.
"All right, so what have we got?" Giles slumped in his seat, shaking his head. "A demon, that . . . honestly, may well have been a teenager, who was in my office. My journal, in which the facts about Angelus were written, out of place. Me missing a good two hours of my morning." Shaking his head, Giles looked to Wesley. "Any ideas?"
"Well, uh, this . . . thing was after something. Now we just need to know whether that was you, or something from the library, or something having to do with the Hellmouth. The missing time has continued and we know it's not good for you to be standing when . . . if it occurs again."
"Lovely. I'll just sit here and moan, shall I?" Giles snorted, shaking his head
"Well, at least then I won't have to follow you around and attempt to catch you before you hit the ground and crack open that thick skull of yours," Wesley muttered and somehow Giles could only laugh at that. Of course, once the laughter started, it seemed to decide to stay and Giles had to stifle it, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "Hysteria? Lovely." Wesley sighed, examining him.
Giles shook his head, smiling slightly. "No, just . . . I thought that was rather funny, actually. You, calling me thick skulled. It's, uh, a bit like the pot and kettle, yes?"
"I am not thick skulled," Wesley replied, though there was a slight smile on his lips as he sputtered. The man lifted his head haughtily and looked down his nose at Giles. The action, somehow pulled off with an air of self-deprecating humor, made the older man laugh rather than snarl.
"No, no. Of course, not. Just, er, perhaps a bit stubborn and a smidgen dense." Giles replied, finding himself giving the first real smile he'd felt all day.
"I'll have you know, sir, that I am far from dense." Wesley said, a shy smile on his lips that Giles had never seen before. "I'm actually . . ." Wesley turned, shrugging a bit as he re-shelved a few of Giles' books, "quite a fast learner, if given the opportunity."
There was something in his tone Giles couldn't interpret. He raised an eyebrow at the other man, about to ask what exactly Wesley meant by that when Willow appeared in the office doorway with a book in her hands and smile on her face.
"I think I found something!"
Wesley jumped a little and Giles had to wonder what had the man so nervous that just Willow's appearance would have him acting that way. Shrugging, Giles pushed himself to his feet, motioning the girl to his desk.
"What is it?" he asked, handing the book back to her after a single glance proved that trying to focus his eyes was a very bad idea.
"Well, there's a section in here on hypnotism and how it can have lingering effects in certain cases. If the person isn't adept at doing it, it can leave . . . they call it a fragment, in the subject's mind."
Feeling his eyebrow raising, Giles leaned forward a bit, glancing at the book. "What, uh, what . . . kind of effects?"
"Well," Willow shrugged, "it doesn't say anything about missing time, but it says that, because hypnotism forges a link between the psyches of the person doing it and the subject, it can lead to other things. Headaches, passing out, nausea. It's . . . uh, it's easier to do to someone who's been . . . hypnotized before."
Willow cast a glance at the others, Xander and Buffy, who had joined her in the doorway, and then Wesley.
"Oh," Wesley said, glancing at the bookcase. Giles followed his gaze, his eyes landing on the volume of his journals that contained the accounts of what had happened with Angelus, including the bits about Drusilla.
"What?" Buffy asked, apparently seeing the thoughtful expressions on the faces of both Watchers. "You guys know something?"
"Uh, no-no," Wesley said, sighing. "It's just that Giles' journal, uh, the-the one that mentioned Angelus and, uh, Drusilla, it was out of place and it seems to be the only thing that was moved."
"What?" Buffy's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "Then, someone targeted you! I mean, you're the go-to guy for information-y things and . . . hypnosis . . ."
They all stared at one another for a long moment and Giles knew exactly what all of them were unwilling to say. Hypnosis had gotten information out of him before. If this . . . this person, demon, if it knew that . . . then of course it would try that to get information out of him again. Good, lord, had he told it anything? Why didn't he remember? He'd remembered Drusilla's trick, remembered seeing Jenny, hearing her and feeling . . .
He swallowed hard, fighting back memories. Closing his eyes tight for a moment, he took deep breaths until he was once more under control, or as close as he was going to get until he knew what had been done to him. There were many forms of hypnotism, many ways this . . . thing could have damaged his mind. It would take a while to figure out exactly what they could do to learn what questions he'd been asked, what answers he'd given, what effects there might be . . .
"I'm going to go see Willy," Buffy announced, crossing her arms, "if there's some sort of hypnosis-y demon running around we need to get it quick, especially if it can take human form."
"And if it is human?" Wesley asked, drawing all eyes. Giles sighed, shaking his head.
"He's right. It could be a human. Demons aren't the only ones known to possess such skills. In fact . . . Drusilla's abilities are just that, so . . . uh, it could very well have been a human."
"Well, if it's a human . . . I don't know, maybe Willy's heard. I can't just . . . I have to . . ." Buffy gave him a helpless look and he nodded, attempting to reassure her with a smile even he knew was weak.
"Go on, we'll, uh, continue with the research and, uh, well, hopefully come up with something of-of use."
Buffy sighed, glancing at the others before going to get her jacket and marching purposefully out of the library. Giles smiled at Willow and Xander, nodding down to the book in the girl's hands.
"Does it say anything else?" Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was looking more and more as if he'd been the target, and now he couldn't help but wonder if what Drusilla had done to him had somehow made him . . . weak, made him an easier target than he might have otherwise been.
He didn't like that thought at all, of course. In fact, he hated it with a passion. As Buffy's Watcher it was his job to be more resilient than that. Now he'd failed her, not only once, but perhaps a second time as well. Perhaps the Council had been right in their decision to replace him, though their reasoning was faulty.