It's late afternoon when Rupert Giles steps out of the library closest to the Kashtta with a pile of books in his arms. As far as he's concerned, his first day in Chicago has, thus far, been completely successful.
Ten months ago, Giles was in Sunnydale. It was the year 2000.
He's still not exactly sure how it happened-no one ever is, according to
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It's been so long since she's seen her Watcher. Even before she arrived in Chicago, it has been a long, long time since she and Giles have been in the same place, and when she sees her Watcher, walking towards the Kashtta with his arms full of books, there's really only one reaction she has.
"Giles?"
That's about all the warning he gets before he gets an armful of Slayer. She is aiming for a hug, but this is going to end in a nice hard tackle. Just ... because.
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It's a very good thing that he's used to injury-by-Buffy.
With the books out of the way, he wraps his arms around her and gives her a tight (possibly too tight-if she weren't the Slayer) hug. He'd pull away to make sure it's her, but he doesn't need to. He knows.
"Buffy."
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Buffy doesn't know if she trusts herself to find the words right now. Right now she just wants to burrow into that tight hug and pretend that she hasn't been in Chicago for months, cut off from a lot of familiar things. This is home, in one way or another.
"I missed you," she murmurs, closing her eyes as she leans into him.
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Buffy was always on the top of that list.
"If I'd have known you were in Chicago-" He trails off and frowns over her shoulder, squeezing her to his chest.
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She decided, you see, that she was going to get ahold of a cell (which she did) and call Buffy's number from back home. Just on the off chance that the Buffy who'd known her here was still out there, and had the same number.
A lot of ringing later got a rather impersonal voice mail automatic announcement, which Tay doesn't know what to think of, so she leaves a message. Just in case.
"Um, hey. It's Tay. Not your Tay, I'm... I fell through the rift. And... we were friends back home, and I heard we were friends here, too. So... I guess if you want to, come back to Chicago. I miss you. Oh, and if this isn't Buffy--" And that's when she runs into a man carrying a stack of books.
Oops.
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He didn't expect the impact to knock the books out of his arms, but there you go.
Immediately: "Sorry. I didn't... see you there."
Okay, so he sometimes lies.
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Never let it be said that Tay couldn't be taught to interact with the masses.
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Giles takes the books from Tay and sets them back in his arms, rearranging them so they're in the order they were before.
Much better.
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He misses Sunnydale. Mostly for the people, but there's been Buffy. There's been three Buffys, and one Willow that disappeared along with one of the Buffys. However, there has never been a Giles.
However, there he is. In his unmistakable, tweed glory.
"G-man?" Xander freezes on the sidewalk. For once, he doesn't have food with him which is good as it would end up on the sidewalk right now. From the books and the specs and the tweed, I'd say... Yes."
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But then he realizes that if he were, it would likely be a hallucination of Buffy. No offense, Xander.
He blinks and very nearly drops his books. "Xander."
You know what, Xan? You're gonna get a hug. Just as soon as Giles puts these books down.
...okay. Awkward hug time.
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If he were to hallucinate someone, it would also be Buffy more than it would be Giles.
"Yes, there is the British speak to go along with all those things. If it looks like a Giles, sounds like a Giles, it must... be a Giles."
And awkward!sauce forever is Xander.
But there is definite awkward hugging right back, okay/ He missed Giles. Totally wished he'd had a more Giles-like figure for a father. "Hey, man. It's... uh, really, really of the good to see you." Expressing things other than wit or sarcasm is hard. "How long have you been here?"
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We are all manly men here.
"About ten months or so, give or take a week. Not here, though-I've been in Britain. I came through the rift in Rome. I only meant to come to Chicago for research, bur now..." He trails off, then stares at Xander. "Is Buffy here?"
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Stairs are not his friends right now.
"Actually," he says, making a face as his glasses slide down his nose, "a hand would be very appreciated, if you have a moment."
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"Were you headed far?" He can't imagine that he was, considering how much he was carrying but he figures it's polite to ask.
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Or so he thinks.
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Of course, Maura is more reclusive by nature anyway, and that's a product of her environment, her past. She's the outsider, the "alien," the cyborg, "Doctor Death." She's the one who looks human, but does and says things sometimes to raise enough reasonable doubt about that ( ... )
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"A little bit of both, to be quite honest. Mostly research."
Should Maura peek at some of the titles, they're mostly history books on Chicago with a few special interest titles (things about angels and demons and others) sitting at the bottom of the pile. "But yes, I could use a hand. Thank you."
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"Research on our surroundings," she states, drawing the conclusion given the evidence before her. "And the beings we find ourselves cohabiting with. The concept of angels and demons walking amongst us is fallacious to me."
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Luckily, the demons in this world seem far less interested in literally poking his brain than the ones back home did. It's nice.
He chuckles a little at her remark. "You must come from a world that's fairly normal, then. And you also must be new to this one." He presses his lips together and looks at her. "Assuming you're a Wanderer, of course. It sounds like you are, but I apologize if my assumption was incorrect."
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