Chapter 10: Dining

A/N: For Disclaimers, warnings see Chapt. 1

A Schism in Stars Hollow

A Father Goose Digression

Chapter 10: Dining

"Bone jar Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay?"

Michel, looking as far down his nose as he possibly could, peered at the pair of adolescents, one rather plump boy and a girl who had a certain gamine quality, who were currently annoying him.

"Bone saw, numbnuts," the girl said, "it's evening."

"Whatever," the boy replied, and turned back to Michel and repeated, "Bone saw Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Michel said.

"Hey, I thought you were a French guy ?"

"I am French, yes. Now go away."

"So, I'm speaking French."

"No, you are not."

"Well, not now, but I was…"

"No, you were not. Now go."

"Was too, just now, 'bone saw Messer Froggie, ooh aye la twalett poobleekay'?"

"Perhaps if you go in the kitchen and ask nicely the chef will give you a glass of water. Right through that door," Michel said, pointing eagerly at Sookie's domain.

"I don't want a glass of water," the boy said.

"Just the opposite, really," the girl added with a grin.

"Just answer the question, dude, ooh aye la…."

"Stop!" Michel said quickly, "Stop. Do not speak to me. Please," he turned to the girl, his eyes pleading. "What do you want?"

"The restrooms, dude. His folks are in the room makin' the beast with two fat asses, so…"

"Stop. Please. Do not speak to me any more. Go toward the dining room then turn left down that hall there. There are two doors that some idiot in a moment of wild optimism has caused to be marked with the words 'Ladies' and 'Gentlemen'. Nevertheless, I assure you, no alarms will sound when you enter your respective portals. Good-bye."

"Dude," the girl said, "what hall, I don't see a hall."

"It is there by the dining room. You cannot miss it."

"I don't see no hall, man," the boy said, "and I really gotta go here, you gotta bottle or something there behind the counter…."

"No. Please, if I will show you will you promise never, never to speak to me again?"

"Yeah, sure, dude."

"Walk this way please…" Michel said and started across the lobby, ignoring the giggling behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, that meeting wasn't so bad," Lorelai said as they entered the house and began turning on the lights. "I was kinda hoping all the Xena's were going to attack, but I guess they were too busy pinching Luke's butt. You doing something with Jess tonight?"

"No," Rory answered, "we already did the Hartford movie and bookstore thing this afternoon."

"So, just you and me tonight? Movie?"

"Movie," Rory answered, moving to the phone, "Pizza or chinese?"

"I think Chinese. Unless you'd rather do pizza?"

"Chinese is fine. Let's do all the pork dishes this time, okay?"

"Okay."

Rory paused to check the message before calling the Chinese place. "Michel has resigned…." she announced, and waited, listening, "…. Three more times. Something about not being required to speak French with people who don't speak French. Seems reasonable. And Miss Patty wants you to call her."

"Oh, what about?"

"She didn't say. Just that it was important."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They met in Vanessa's room.

"Did you get it?" she asked eagerly and, being just as cool and casual as he possibly could, Jules slid the guest list he'd stolen off the diverted Michel's desk out from under his shirt and held it out to be snatched unceremoniously from his hands.

"Cool," Vanessa mumbled, reading avidly.

"So what?" Dustin said. "It's not like she's going to register as Faith the Dragon Slayer…."

"Exactly. So she's going to have to make up a name, and it's either going to be something really cool or something funny, right? But what it's not going to be is … Amanda Ericssohn. Or Helen Johnson. Now this one, Rita Fubar, that's gotta be made up. And this, Phoenix Drake, that's kinda of cool. Phoenix like in reborn, Drake like in Draco, so maybe…."

"What about this one," Jules said, reading over her shoulder, "Charity Wigglesworth…."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," Giles said, 'the whole demon shield is just a side effect of the blessing on the child?" They were in Giles' room at the Inn, Willow and Kaitlyn reporting on their trip to town.

"Yes," Willow nodded. "It's not even demon specific, just anti-evil…. there's no fast food chains or big box stores here either."

"And next year she's going to Yale… that should be interesting," Giles said thoughtfully. "I'll have to check with Toby but I believe that, percentagewise, the number of demons on the faculty there is almost twice that of the average American university, almost as bad as Notre Dame. I wonder what transpires when little Miss Blessed arrives on campus?"

"Nothing spectacular I'm afraid," Willow said, "Miss Patty isn't that powerful. The sphere of influence will shrink…the girl will live in a demon free dorm, she'll get all the classes she wants, that sort of thing."

"And the town?"

"As long as it's important to her there will be some protection, but the more she moves away … it's not like there's some great wave of evil just waiting to pour in, it's just that gradually the place will become more and more … ordinary."

"And the mother?" Giles asked.

"Same as the town, really. As the girl matures and moves away, emotionally as well as physically, the less protection the blessing affords her mother. Problem is, there does seem to be a demon just waiting to pour in at the first opportunity, in fact Lorelai seems to have made some sort of Faustian deal with it. So unless you're going to need us later, I thought after dinner we'd take Buffy and go see if we can't renegotiate, so to speak."

"You know where it is, then?"

"We think so," Willow answered.

The door burst open then and the Summers' sisters came bounding in,

"Hey," Buffy crowed, "guess who sucks at undercover and isn't me?"

"Dawn?" Willow guessed.

"No!" Dawn answered, "Dawn is the master of undercover…"

"Pfffft! Master, shmaster," Buffy said, "They totally picked up on you being different, just cause you managed to convince them you weren't Faith…"

Giles sat soaking in the happy banter, enjoying Buffy's pleasure in teasing him about being careless enough to let the kids overhear his and Xander's conversation even as he made a mental note to be more careful in the future. He'd been spending so much time behind a desk at the Council headquarters he was getting sloppy.

Speaking of Xander, Faith's bike had been spotted in the parking lot so apparently they had returned from whatever the "slayer maintenance" Xander had felt was needed and were probably in their room. Where not even Andrew was foolish enough to interrupt them.

After a few minutes the room cleared as everyone went off to freshen up before dinner. Giles moved to look out the window and contemplate the peaceful scene, the manicured lawn, the gently rippling lake. He thought about Willow's story and wondered briefly what it would be like to live in such an idyllic setting, in the anti-Sunnydale, as it were. Ambling down to the bakery for tea and pastries with the morning papers, the day spent tending a shop or doing translations or some other non-apocalyptic employment. A bit of idle conversation over dinner at one of the local restaurants, the evening spent with a book and a glass of good scotch, reading for pleasure for a change, perhaps a novel instead of stodgy Watcher reports or Sumerian prophecies. A nightcap and bed, get up and do it again the next day.

Dead boring is what it would be, he decided after a moment or two. Just as Buffy had eventually discovered that were was such a thing as too much time to shop Giles knew there was such a thing as too much peace and quiet. Perverse creatures, humans, he thought.

Oh well, too much peace and quiet was not something he was going to be threatened with anytime soon. As it was, he sometimes missed, if not the peace and quiet of Sunnydale, the relative simplicity.

He had spent the afternoon at the XLH meeting listening to the various arguments that were, of course, the occasional flights of fine language notwithstanding, mostly about money and power. He'd watched XLH Joe B. working the crowd, moving from faction to faction, shaking hands and talking earnestly … the consummate politician. Giles had watched the performance with a mixture of sympathy, admiration, and distaste. A colleague at work, building his empire.

A politician, Giles thought. Not a fighter pilot, not a grocer, not even a Watcher anymore, really. A politician. The one thing he'd always known he didn't want to be, he had become. A politician. With his own empire.

Politician, secret policeman, spymaster, CEO, sitting in London reading reports and moving people around like gamepieces.

Terrifying to realize, as he did sometimes in mornings as he shaved, staring at the strange old man in mirror, that he had become in a way one of the most powerful men on Earth.

He tried not to be. He did his best to make sure the Watchers and slayers In the field had as much autonomy as possible. He made sure there were guidelines, not rules. Slayers were asked to take on certain assignments, never ordered. He spent his days trying make the Council useful to slayers and not vice versa… yet at the same time he often felt himself as devious as Travers ever was.

Slayers were moved from post to post ostensibly to give them a broader education and experience, and that was true of course, but also it was done to prevent the creation of regional factions. Young watchers that Giles felt had too much personal ambition were assigned to more difficult slayers or problematic posts that would keep them fully occupied. And so on… His motives he knew to be benign but sometimes his methods… not so innocent.

So far so good, he supposed. Over the years there had been various crises, Robin Woods' brief attempt to create a rival council, a similar situation in China, a pair of South American slayers who had taken up bank robbing as a day job, more recently he'd scattered a faction in the new council that had begun pushing to gather the slayers together into an army and begin what Giles believed would be a disastrous city by city zero tolerance demon eradication campaign … and so on.

Crises that had been handled … in large part by his careful deployment of the Scoobies. Dawn his early warning system, Xander and Faith his roving troubleshooters, Buffy the big stick he carried when he needed to talk softly and be heard. And always the threat of Willow looming in the background.

The new council and all the slayers were still young, the Scoobies still legendary heroes that no one wanted to publicly oppose. For all the situations handled, who knew how many had fizzled stillborn at the thought of the Scoobies' opposition. And it wasn't simply fear either. To his shame Giles knew full well the easiest way to coerce an unwilling slayer into taking an assignment was to sigh dramatically and say, "Well, if that's your decision I'll call Buffy and explain your position and we'll find someone else… " by which time the slayer would usually be begging to go if only he wouldn't tell Buffy she'd balked.

So far so good, but someday … Someday the Council would have to learn to do without the Scoobies, and that was kept Giles up at night, worrying that the institution he was building would fail that test, his greatest fear not some demon apocalypse but the spectre of a future slayer versus slayer war brought on by the Council's corruption or incompetence.

After all, Giles knew full well what happened to the best laid plans. A bit over decade ago the Council had sent a relatively young and inexperienced Watcher off to mentor an untrained slayer on the Hellmouth, fully expecting him either to be killed or crushed by the quick death of his slayer. It had not been an unreasonable expectation.

And yet, here he was and Travers and company were vapor. And ten years from now….

Ah, he told himself, that way madness lies. Well, he knew a sure cure for his growing tendency to wax philosophic and melancholy. He unclipped his cell and dialed Xander's number, and smiled to hear it ringing just outside his door, which then opened and admitted a hunching Xander Harris,

"You called, mathter?" he Igored, then straightened and grinned, spoke in his normal voice, said, "Yo, Reggie, what's the plan?"

"The plan?"

"You figured out what we're gonna do about these fruitloops yet?"

"Oh. Yes, I believe so. How is Faith? Was your trip a success?"

"Yeah. Damn, this is tiny country, Giles, all these little hills and over each hill there's another little town with one of those little white churches and three stop lights, all red. But yeah, she's good, we found what we were looking for."

"And how are you?" Giles asked.

"I'm good," Xander answered as Giles knew he would.

"Apéritif?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, actually, that sounds good," Xander said, dropping bonelessly into a chair, "as long as it's not sherry."

"G and T?"

"Sure."

Giles dug in the mini-bar and busied himself making the drinks, then handed Xander his and took a sip of his own and settled back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "let's try that again. How are you?"

"Seriously Giles, I'm fine." He paused. "A little tired, maybe. Nothing a little sun and sleep won't fix. We thought maybe we'd get Willow to port us down to Camp Kendra tomorrow. We haven't been there for… I forget, maybe a couple years now. Time just kinda slips on by, don't it?"

"Yes. Faster every year," Giles agreed. "You two have become quite the world travelers, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Who'da thunk, huh? Guy who couldn't get past Oxnard, makin' Kerouac look like a homebody. It's no big, Giles. It's what we do. Have stake, will travel. Spill."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're leading up to something."

Giles smiled. "What would you say to playing the gentleman farmer for a couple months, maybe more if you're so inclined?"

"But I don't know anything about farming."

"Yes, hence the use of the term "gentleman farmer" which translates into the vernacular as "rich bastard who knows bugger all about farming," so I think under the circumstance you're qualified."

"Where?"

"Napa valley."

"I dunno, Giles, that sounds a bit … rural… for us. Faith is …. a lot calmer these days, but if she goes too long without a slay she still gets cranky, which is so not fun."

"Well, you'd only be a few hours drive from San Francisco, and after the first week or so I'm sure you'd have plenty of free time. Plus I understand there are vampires preying on the migrant workers…." Giles paused as, to his horror, Xander began to sing,

"La chupacabra, la chupacabra, Ya no puede caminar ….."

"Was that really necessary?"

"Hey, who's asking who to who to go live in deepest darkest wine country, here…" He paused. "So we're talking a nice place, right? With like a really big yard and stuff?"

"Yes, the grounds as I understand it are quite extensive."

Xander grinned, "Actually, Smythe-Smythe old boy, this might just be a bit of most excellent timing…."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The nametags that had been prevalent Friday were few and far between now, so the three investigators, after some heated debate, decided to locate the one true Faith by the peek-in-the-window method, taking advantage of the pre-dinner lull. As well they were aided by a bit of cloud cover that hurried the evening darkness, allowing them to sneak along the outer wall of the Inn fairly inconspicuously. Four of the seven names they'd decided had promise were booked in rooms on the first floor so they checked them first.

They'd eliminated F. Phoenix Drake (fat), they'd found F. Rita Fubar (redhead), F. Charli Brown had the right shape and coloring but was eliminated when Vanessa witnessed her struggling to lift her suitcase. The fourth and final first floor "Faith" was sitting on her bed reading a thick book entitled Recursive Methods in Economic Dynamics.

"We have to get up to that ledge," Vanessa said. They tried climbing up the drainpipe but Jules cut his hand one of the brackets and they gave that up and went looking for a ladder but found the toolshed had been padlocked. So eventually they gave up and simply went up to Dustin's room on the second floor and climbed out the window and began working their way in single file along the six inch wide ledge that ran around the Inn, marking the divide between the first and second floor, perfectly situated by kind fate for the convenience of peeping toms.

The first of the second floor "Faith's" was eliminated when her "Xander" appeared wearing nothing but about fifty extra pounds and black socks. The penultimate "Faith" was dancing around in her room, listening to Celine Dion.

"Of course," Vanessa grumped, "it would be the very last one, wouldn't it." They edged slowly along, ducking down as they passed each window, Vanessa leading, followed by Jules and Dustin who were quietly but steadily arguing about whether they had just passed room 210 or 212.
Finally they were there, outside what Vanessa, who, as she pointed out to her minions, could actually count, knew to be the room of the last likely "Faith" on their list, "F. Charity Wigglesworth."

Vanessa motioned for the other two to wait while she edged forward, ducking down to peek inside through the lower left corner of the window, for a moment her heart leapt when she saw the long black hair and the toned body. But then she saw what the woman on the bed was doing.

"Fuck," Vanessa whispered. She turned and motioned for the two boys to started moving back.

After they'd moved a little ways from the window Jules whispered,

"You're sure it wasn't her?"

"I'm sure. Faith would never do that."

"Why, what was she doing?" Dustin asked.

"Laying on her bed playing with her puppy," Vanessa hissed and then ran her nose into Jules shoulder. Jules had stopped suddenly in front her because he had run into Dustin who had abruptly stopped and half-turned back to hiss urgently,

"What? We have to go back, I want to see. Was she all naked or…"

"Why would she be naked?" Vanessa said, holding onto Jules' arm as the three of them wavered on the very edge of losing their balance on the narrow ledge.

"You said she was playing with her…."

"Puppy! You know, all furry…."

"Yeah?"

"..with four legs, wiggly tail, black nose, goes yip?"

"Oh."

"Pervert. Yeesh," Vanessa sneered, reaching past Jules to slap Dustin's shoulder but only managing to bump Jules and start his arms pin-wheeling as he fought to regain his balance and failed and desperately grabbing the closest handholds took Dustin and Vanessa with him as he fell.

It was only about fifteen feet at most, and the grass was soft, and they landed without injury beyond getting a little of the wind knocked out of them. Vanessa rolled over on her back, stared up at the darkening sky, and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

Somebody up there hates me, she thought sadly.

"You sure it wasn't her?" Jules said after moment. "Just 'cause she had a puppy? I know she's all badass but even badasses love puppies."

Vanessa thought back, pictured the woman on the bed with the goofy grin, talking baby-talk to the tiny animal she was cuddling… No. Faith didn't do that. Maybe badasses tolerated puppies but they didn't kiss them on the nose. That wasn't Faith. Buffy, maybe. But not Faith.

"Maybe they didn't even register," Vanessa said, "maybe they've got some VIP room that doesn't even show up on the list."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A puzzled Lorelai parked the jeep outside Miss Patty's neat house, and hurried up the walk.

Something important they had to talk about, not over the telephone, not in front of Rory. What in the world?

The door opened as she approached and Miss Patty stood looking at her. Or not at her exactly, but around her, over first her left shoulder, then her right, Lorelai glanced back herself but saw nothing. The Miss Patty shrugged, shook her head.

"Well, I still don't see it… I'm, sorry don't mind me, come in, honey, have a seat."

"Patty, what in the world…."

"I know, hon, I'm sorry to be so mysterious, just bear with me a moment. Tell me, how much do you remember about the day you first arrived here?"

-30-

Next: Chapter 11: Nightlife