XIII
Buffy woke to sunlight streaming through the windows. She sighed and stretched. She'd slept, but it couldn't exactly be called restful. More weird dreams had disturbed her sleep: disjointed images, uneasy feelings, a sense of disaster. Giles had featured prominently in most of them, always standing there, just beyond her touch. When she reached for him, he evaporated, almost like a vampire turning to dust.
She lay in bed for a long time, trying to gather the energy to move. But eventually, she dragged herself out of bed. She wasn't going back to sleep and at least she could have Giles's company, assure herself he was still with her.
He was sitting at the table sorting papers, the ubiquitous cup of tea at his elbow. He looked up when she came into the room.
"Good morning," he said, his voice kind, concerned.
"Hi," she answered, her own voice practically non-existent.
They looked at each other as if waiting for the other to speak.
"Um, I think there are still scones left," he finally said. She doubted it was what he wanted to say, but it was good for a start.
"'Kay." She went to the kitchen, finding a glass of juice and a scone. She stood at the counter staring out the window while she ate, letting her mind wander.
What it lit on, naturally, was Giles. Especially when she saw the barn. She smiled, trying to imagine Giles and Elizabeth making out in the barn, but soon gave it up. Even if it had happened, and it seemed pretty likely it had, she couldn't imagine it. Some things just couldn't be thought.
She heard soft footsteps behind her and turned her head as Giles came into the kitchen. She smiled at him, pleased when he smiled back, though it didn't banish the concerned look in his eyes.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, setting the kettle on the stove again.
She shrugged. "I slept." She didn't want to tell him about her dreams. She gazed out the window again.
A hand gently settled at her shoulder, his thumb lightly rubbing at the muscles in her neck. It felt good. Soothing.
"I wish you would tell me what's wrong," he said softly.
She sighed, leaning into his gentle massage, grateful for his sturdy support. "It's nothing."
"Don't give me that."
"No, really, it's just...." She took a deep breath and turned around. "Giles, have they ever taken a watcher away from a slayer?"
He frowned. "How do you mean?"
"I don't know, like they think someone else could do it better or something."
"Who's they?"
"The watchers. The council or whatever they are."
"That's not how they work," he said, shaking his head.
"But they're the ones who tell a watcher he's the one. They're the ones who call the slayer, right? So if they can assign a watcher to a slayer, can they, you know, unassign one?"
He frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just..." she stumbled over the words. "Meeting all those people yesterday, talking with them, the ones who were watchers. Some of them kept going on about...."
The doorbell rang.
"Damn!" He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I'll be right back," he said, squeezing her shoulder. She let out her breath, not sure whether to be grateful for the reprieve or mad that they'd been interrupted just when she was beginning to have the courage to talk to him. She followed as he went to the door.
Elizabeth was standing there, smiling, dressed in a sweatshirt and leggings. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.
"Elizabeth!. What are you doing here?" He sounded partly surprised, partly annoyed.
"That good, huh?" she answered with a chuckle. "I'd have thought you'd thank me."
"What for?"
"For convincing my mother you didn't want to be called bright and early this morning for breakfast."
"Oh." His expression softened. "Yes, thank you."
"I also was about to go for a run and wanted to see if Buffy would like to join me." She looked past him, to Buffy. "After all the sitting yesterday, I thought you might like to get in a little exercise."
That hadn't occurred to her, but she knew she hadn't been exercising as much as she was used to. Even that chi-whatever-it-was had been two days ago. Maybe that could account for that terrible unsettled feeling she had. At least partly.
"Yeah, sure," she answered. Giles was staring at her. "That would be good. Hold on, let me get changed."
Elizabeth nodded and Buffy went into the bedroom to change into sweats. She could hear vague voices, Giles and Elizabeth carrying on a soft conversation, their tone serious. She knew Giles was worried about her, knew he was probably telling Elizabeth about it. Maybe after her run, she'd feel better, enough to talk to him again. If her courage held out.
Quickly, she changed into her running clothes and pulled her hair back with an elastic band.
"Ready," she said, tugging her sweatshirt over her head as she came into the parlor.
"Don't stay out too long," Giles reminded them, "we have to be at the chapel by eleven."
"Don't worry, I'll have her back in plenty of time," Elizabeth promised and with a wave, the two of them took off.
They walked until they got to the lane, then Elizabeth pointed left and they broke into an easy jog.
"I'm a fairly slow runner," she told Buffy, "so if you want to do sprints or something, go ahead, I'll catch you up."
"I haven't run since we've been here," Buffy said.
"How often do you usually run at home?"
"Three or four days a week. In between my other training. I'm pretty fit, but Giles doesn't want me to get lazy."
"That's wise," Elizabeth said. "You always need to stay on top of things. Even if it doesn't seem that there's much happening. Things can change very quickly."
Buffy felt that now-familiar pang. "I know."
Elizabeth didn't answer and Buffy wondered whether Giles had told her about what was going on in Sunnydale-about Angel. Maybe even about Ms. Calendar.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," Elizabeth said softly. "That wasn't what I meant."
Buffy swallowed. "It's okay."
They ran in silence for a long time, through many of the country roads which crossed the area. They stayed clear of town, going instead on the lesser-known paths. Buffy enjoyed the sensation of pure physical exertion without thought. Running was so mindless, it felt good.
Elizabeth directed them down a small lane through an orchard, the trees just beginning to bud as if to say "we don't care how cold it is; we say it's Spring". The older woman slowed to a walk.
"Go ahead, I'll catch you up," she said, breathing heavily, pausing to stretch from the waist.
Buffy stopped, falling into step beside her. "Nah, it'll be good to walk awhile." They walked a little ways, taking in the peaceful setting. "It's pretty here."
"Yes, it is," Elizabeth agreed. "This was always one of my favorite routes." She ran a hand over her brow, mopping the perspiration.
Buffy took a moment to study her companion. She was old-well, older than her mother, even older than Giles, if what he said was true. Her short hair was almost half silver; it sparkled in the sunlight. She'd been breathing hard but was quickly returning to normal, meaning she was used to exercise. It was hard to see, with the sweatshirt, how good her body was, but she seemed fit.
Buffy's gaze moved to the older woman's face: wide hazel eyes with crinkles at the corners, a straight nose, not too long, small mouth with round lips, only a hint of a double chin. Fair complexion, not too wrinkly. Not so much pretty as pleasant. Elizabeth had a pleasant, open face, one which made you like her.
And Buffy did.
She realized the older woman was scrutinizing her in return and flushed, looking away. After all, they were still mostly strangers.
"So," Elizabeth broke the silence, "you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
"Huh?"
"Rupert said that skittishness of yours last night wasn't normal. He's worried."
Buffy stopped, scowling. "So he sent you to pry?"
"No," Elizabeth shook her head, coming to a stop beside her. "It was my idea to invite you running, because I know you're used to more physical activity than you've been getting here."
"We trained a little on Monday," Buffy said defensively, hoping Elizabeth wasn't going to come down on Giles for not keeping her fit enough.
"That's not enough and you know it. But," she took a deep breath, "I also thought that maybe an impartial third party would be easier to talk to than your watcher. If you don't want to talk, I respect that. Just remember that you can." She started walking again, leaving Buffy frowning after her.
Why shouldn't she talk to Elizabeth? After all, she knew the watchers, she might know whether they could do what they threatened. Giles said not, but Giles was prone to hide things from her if he didn't want her to know. And Elizabeth would understand. She'd had a slayer before.
"Hey!" She broke into a trot, catching up with the older woman.
"Yes?" Elizabeth stopped and waited for her.
Buffy took a deep breath. Better now than never. "Can...can I ask you something? About the watchers?"
"Yes, of course. What about them?"
"How are they set up? I mean, I know there's a council, but is there like, a head watcher-guy who tells everybody what to do?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "There is a council, yes, and senior members. But it's a society of equals. None of them has any more authority than anybody else. Why?"
Buffy didn't answer. "So, like, if they wanted to do something, could they?"
"If who wanted to do something?"
"The watchers. How do they decide things? Like who the next slayer is."
"That's not decided by the watchers, that's determined by Fate," Elizabeth corrected. "You should know that."
"Well, yeah, but...I mean, how do they decide who's got slayer potential?"
"Study, research, investigation. Word of mouth. Various ways. Some are probably missed, but most are found, eventually." She gave Buffy a sympathetic smile. "Some later than sooner. Why?"
Buffy shrugged in a way she hoped was casual. "I was just curious. Your mother said something the other day about how I got...missed. And I was wondering how it happened."
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm not sure I've ever heard the whole story; it was after my time. Some watchers wanted to put all the blame on Merrick, but it was at least as much the fault of the rest of the council for growing so complacent. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances which could have been disastrous. It's our good fortune that you're as talented as you are, otherwise we could have been in serious trouble."
Buffy frowned. She had to wonder whether they were expecting her to fail, because of her inexperience. Like, "oops, blew it on this one. Well, she'll screw up and get killed soon, and that'll solve that problem". They probably didn't expect her to survive. They certainly wouldn't have expected her to outlive Merrick.
"What about the watchers?" she asked.
"What about them?"
"Who decides which watcher's gonna be The watcher? You know, the one who gets the slayer."
"Potentially, any girl to whom a watcher is assigned could theoretically become the slayer, so they all need to prepare their charges. Certain...manifestations, if you will, give them some indication which girl will be next, but until the previous slayer dies and the new one is activated, no one knows for sure."
"Yeah, but not all watchers even get potential slayers, do they?" Buffy asked. "I mean, Giles's father never had one, did he?"
"There are a lot of factors which enter into the decision to choose a watcher to watch over a particular slayer or slayer designate. Skill level, area of expertise, the age of the slayer or designate, the experience and knowledge of the watcher. And so forth."
"Yeah, but who decides that? The council?"
Elizabeth nodded. "That's right. It's one of their most important duties, beyond the actual training of a slayer."
"What about...unchoosing them?"
"What?"
"Well, if they choose them, the watchers, can they, you know, unchoose them?"
"How do you mean?" Elizabeth frowned.
"Well...." Buffy took a deep breath. It was now or never. "When I was talking to Mr. Burkridge yesterday, he kept going on and on about what happened with the Master, you know, when I died. He made it sound like it was all Giles's fault, what happened. Like he hadn't prepared me enough or something. He kept saying how I'd be better off with someone stronger and more responsible who could do it right. I tried to tell him I like Giles and thought he did good, but he said some crap about not letting personal feelings get in the way.
"So I just wanna know...." Her mouth dried and she struggled to get the words out. "I need to know if they can take him away from me."
She hadn't expected the tightness in her chest, the tremor in her voice. Any second now, she was going to fall apart.
Elizabeth stared, her mouth open in shock. "Oh, Buffy, no," she began, and Buffy didn't hear anything more.
"God, I knew it!" she groaned, feeling her chin quiver. "Oh, God, I...they can't...!" Tears filled her eyes and she stood there, fighting a losing battle not to cry. "Oh, please...."
Elizabeth's hand went to her shoulder comfortingly. "Buffy, shhh," she soothed. "It's all right, love. They can't take him from you. And they won't."
"But you just said...." She opened her eyes and looked imploringly at the older woman.
"I said that a watcher is appointed by the council, and that appointment is based on a number of factors. But once that bond has been established, between the watcher and the slayer, it cannot be broken. Only in the rarest and most extreme of situations do the council ever intervene at all and then only in cases where the watcher is directly endangering the slayer."
"But Mr. Burkridge made it sound like that's what he thought Giles was doing."
"Matthew Burkridge is a supercilious twit who wouldn't know proper watcher/slayer behaviour if it hit him in the face," she said sourly. "Which I might very well do myself for upsetting you."
"But...."
"Buffy, listen to me." She put both hands on Buffy's shoulders, forcing her to pay attention. "If Burkridge wanted to have Rupert removed, he'd need to have a consensus of watchers. Not just the watchers here in Chalworth but all the watchers, throughout the world. And he'd need to have demonstrable proof that Rupert was failing in his responsibilities. He's unlikely to get the first, and he simply doesn't have the second. Even if he tried, he wouldn't succeed."
Buffy looked at her, wanting desperately to believe.... "You sure?"
"Positive. If he so much as tries it, he'll have a fight on his hands. Not just from Rupert, who believe me, would fight like the devil for you, but from me as well. Don't worry, love. You'll have your watcher, for as long as you need him."
"I don't want just any watcher," she sniffed. "I want Giles. I couldn't take losing another one. It was bad enough last time and I didn't even know Merrick that well, not like I do Giles. I couldn't handle it, especially not with everything else that's happened. Sometimes he's the only thing that makes it bearable- knowing he's there, looking out for me...."
"Shhh," Elizabeth soothed, opening her arms. Buffy moved to her, unable to stop the tears. "Shh, hush, love, it'll be all right," the older woman comforted.
Buffy struggled to get herself under control again. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I never freak out like this. Well, hardly ever."
Elizabeth smiled kindly and smoothed her hair. "That's all right. You have every reason to be upset. It's a very special thing, the relationship between a watcher and a slayer. Every one is different. Your relationship with Rupert is something unique to the two of you. It might not be what the older generation of watchers expect, but that doesn't make it less valid."
Buffy nodded, pulling herself out of Elizabeth's arms and wiping at her face. "Well, I thought so, but when we first got here, Giles's father started going on about maybe Giles wasn't the best watcher for the job and I told him yes he was, and I think he finally believed me. But then Burkridge started saying all the same things and I got scared. Like maybe they meant it and they were gonna take him away from me."
Elizabeth put an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "Richard Giles was a curmudgeon who never said a kind word when a nasty one would do. He spent most of Rupert's life putting him down, telling him he wasn't good enough, shaming him. I'd never tell Rupert this, because I know he loved his father, which is how it should be. But I'm just as glad the old bastard's gone. Rupert didn't need that kind of grief. He's a good man, one of the best. Only his father would never see that. All he saw was someone who failed to measure up to his idealized 'image' of a son."
"I think," Buffy began as they turned and headed home, "I think at the end, he finally realized that maybe Giles was okay. He said that at the end his father wanted to hear about everything he'd done-as a watcher. And your mother said he used to always tell her every time he got a letter from him. Like he was proud."
Elizabeth smiled gently. "Well, maybe he did. About bloody time. Thirty years too late, if you ask me."
"Better than not at all."
"True," Elizabeth conceded with a shrug. "Well, you ready to run again?"
Buffy smiled. "I wanna do some sprints."
"Go ahead," Elizabeth waved her on and broke into her own steady jog.
Buffy took off, running full-out for a time, then slowing to a walk until Elizabeth caught up with her, then sprinting off again, heading for home.
Giles was pacing, glancing at his watch when he heard laughter in the front garden and saw Buffy and Elizabeth trot up to the door.
He pulled it open roughly. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "We have to leave for the chapel in twenty minutes."
"My fault," Elizabeth said, "We lost track of the time. Go on, hurry," she urged, propelling Buffy into the house.
"Twenty minutes, Buffy," Giles called after her.
"I know!" she called back.
Then he turned back to Elizabeth. "Well?"
"Everything's fine. She had a misunderstanding. But everything's all right now."
"What was it?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Liz...."
Elizabeth sighed. "She was confused about some things about watchers and slayers. I straightened her out, don't worry about it."
Giles felt his stomach tighten. "What things? Did Burkridge say something yesterday to upset her?"
Elizabeth merely smiled. "I said don't worry about it. It's all fine now. I have to dash. I'll see you at the chapel. Bye." She kissed his cheek and trotted off toward her home.
Giles stood watching her, a frown crossing his face. Where did this sudden pang of jealousy come from? He ought to be grateful Elizabeth had done what he could not. But instead, part of him was indignant that Buffy had confided in her when she wouldn't talk to him.
Except she'd been on the verge when Elizabeth arrived. Perhaps if she hadn't come when she did, Buffy might have talked to him.
He sighed. Well, if Elizabeth said it was handled, it was most likely handled. Though if
Burkridge had purposely upset Buffy, he'd.... Actually, he didn't know what he'd do. He was in a precarious position with Burkridge. As much as he despised the man, he did wield power. He could make life very difficult for Giles if he chose.
Fifteen minutes later, Buffy emerged from the bedroom, wearing a very pretty dark red velvet dress. Her hair was upswept and held with a copper clip.
"Giles, can you get this clasp?" she asked, holding a necklace to her throat. His heart skipped a beat. It was his mother's cross.
He silently moved to her, taking the necklace from her and fastening it with fingers suddenly gone clumsy. But he managed, and turned her around. "You look lovely," he murmured.
She smiled shyly. "It just seemed-right-to wear this today," she said, fingering the cross.
"It is. She'd have been pleased to see you with it."
They shared a quiet moment, then he took a breath. "Are you ready?"
"Just a sec." She went back to the bathroom
and emerged a few minutes later with makeup applied. She smiled at him and he extended his arm, escorting her from the house.