"Many Happy Returns" - BtVS - Rated G
Buffy was exhausted. And she knew, through long experience, that under such conditions stopping was equal to sleeping, which in itself was a primary cause of stuff not getting done.
“Let’s do one of those walk-and-talks,” she told Xander. “Like on The West Wing.”
“Oh, I know this one,” he said. “You stride around with purposeful urgency while I scamper along behind trying to get your attention to sign things.”
Buffy yawned. “More like I try to put one foot in front of the other, in the right order, and you be on alert in case I need catching.”
“I’m gonna be the stereotypical Concerned Buddy now and say, Buffy, you should really get some rest. There, my duty is done.”
“Duly noted and appreciated. Now, this is a big castle. It’s an old castle. It is in many ways a scary castle. It’s not going to inspect itself, and if there are any stray Hellmouths or ancient crawling evils that weren’t mentioned in the brochure, we need to make mighty sure we know about them before we bring the rest of those girls in here.”
“Believe me, Buff, if there were any evil long-leggedy beasties hiding around here they’d have run screaming into the night when Giles brought in that Wensleydale Coven to scour the place. I mean, I ran screaming into the night, so…”
“You just have a problem with scary goth chicks.”
“Especially ones who can make my ears bleed with their voices without even yelling. And yes, experience has instilled in me a lifelong fear of scary women in tight leather pants. Which is a tragedy in itself. Thank you, Faith Lehane.”
They arrived at a gallery overlooking the main hall. About two dozen Slayers were training in the open area below. Vi and Rona were putting them through their paces before heading off to New York and Chicago, respectively, to head up the field offices there.
Buffy’s eyes started to glaze over as she stared down at the rows of bodies exercising in graceful synchronization.
“For our next order of business,” Xander said, studying his clipboard, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Buffy, happy birthday to you.”
Buffy laughed. “You didn’t sing it.”
“No I did not. In keeping with the happy part of happy birthday.”
“You’re the best,” she said, putting an arm around him and squeezing. “I don’t feel a day over a hundred and fifty.”
“This whole Commander Buffy thing not sitting too well, huh?”
“It was bad enough when I was just house mother to a bunch of teenaged girls having an extended sleep-over. Hasn’t been the same since the Hellmouth. I miss Sunnydale.”
“We never did make it to that sale at Arden B, did we?”
“Neither did Arden B.”
“Well,” said Xander, back at his clipboard. “On a happier note, you’ve made some good choices for the members of your personal team. Leah McPhee… Satsumi Yamada… Rowena Geissner. Solid Slayers all.”
“And proud recipients of the shortest life expectancy award.”
“Well, what good is dying if you can’t do it with the best?”
“Point. Have you gotten them outfitted yet?”
“Sure. Your little rob from the rich and give to the us scheme has given us pretty much all the funding we need. Speaking of which, let’s go check in on the STP.”
“The which now?”
“Sunnydale Teleportation Project.” They arrived at a room that looked as if James Bond should be chained up somewhere in it, being taunted by a man with a monocle.
In the center of the room was a console that reminded Buffy of the TARDIS control bank from Doctor Who. Seated around the circular platform were several young women with their fingertips placed on the black tabletop before them. Each of them wore a metal circlet around their heads, and each circlet was connected by wires to an elevated pylon in the center of the structure, which pulsed and crackled with green mystical light.
Directly beneath the pylon was a glass-enclosed chamber inside which various small objects periodically appeared from thin air. Each object was in its turn taken from the chamber by an attendant, placed inside a box, and hustled away.
A young woman Buffy had never met before seemed to be in charge.
“Buffy,” Xander said, “I’d like you to meet Sandra Greenhalge. You remember looking over her files. She’s one of the brightest up-and-coming young technomancers out there. Specializes in enhanced telekinesis, teleportation and portal magic. And she knows Willow.”
That got Buffy’s attention. Sandra was a petite woman with nerd glasses… somewhat resembling a blonde Tina Fey. Which might explain how she came to meet Willow, Buffy thought.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” said Sandra, coming around the console and offering her hand for Buffy to shake.
“Um, welcome aboard,” replied Buffy. “This is kind of Xander’s department down here. Could you remind me what we’re doing here again?”
Sandra gave Buffy a keen look over the top of her glasses. Eep… channeling Mrs. Harding from second grade, Buffy thought.
“These ladies are powerful clairvoyants,” Sandra explained. “The machine is a TK translocator hooked into the GNSS satellite system. With it we can, given enough time, scan any given location on the surface of the earth or up to fifty feet below the surface, identify what’s there, and transport any small non-living objects here.”
“Damn,” said Buffy. “Sounds impressive. And, uh, expensive.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” said Sandra. “The talent is much harder to come by than the equipment.”
“We’ve been scanning the Sunnydale crater,” Xander said. “There was so much magical crap floating around in and under that town, we wanted to salvage as much of it as we could before the government started digging.”
Buffy was amazed. “You can pinpoint stuff in Sunnydale all the way from here in Scotland?”
Sandra looked over the top of her glasses again. “Ma’am, my girls could find a cigarette butt in a gutter in Shanghai and tell you if the ember was still burning or not.”
Hmmm, thought Buffy. Cocky. I like her.
“And we maintain the strictest ethical standards,” Sandra added with a pointed look. So no bank robbing, she did not add, but might as well have.
“By the way, Mr. Harris,” she said, “we have the item you requested.”
“Aw, Sandra, you’re awesome,” said Xander. “Did I give you and your girls Christmas bonuses?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re getting New Year’s bonuses, then. Uh, late New Year’s bonuses. Martin Luther King Day bonuses. Do they have that in Scotland?”
“I don’t think so, but we will accept the bonuses.” Sandra took a small box from one of her assistants and handed it to Xander. She looked at Buffy. “Many happy returns, ma’am,” she said, and turned back to her work.
“Thanks,” said Buffy after her.
Buffy and Xander went out into the corridor. “So what’s in the box?” she asked him. “Your precious Atari cartridge games? That naked statue you liked in the botanical garden gift shop?”
He handed the box to her. “Happy birthday, Buff.”
Curious, she opened it. All it contained was a small, filthy, much the worse for wear stuffed pig.
She looked at it in shock as her heart beat five times. “Mr. Gordo,” she whispered. “It’s my Mr. Gordo.”
Floods of tears came, with Xander’s shoulder absorbing most of them.
“Thank you,” she sobbed. “Oh God, Xan, you’re the best…”
“It was Willow’s idea, too. Just before she took off, we decided you might need something to help with all the rough times you were going to be going through. Something to help you sleep a little bit better at night. We didn’t want you on your deathbed one day, whispering Mr. Gordo and dropping a snow globe on the floor.”
Still crying, Buffy hugged Mr. Gordo tightly to her chest. “It’s all gonna be OK, isn’t it, Xan?”
“Probably not. But why start now?”
Buffy laughed through her tears.
“Some mighty Commander of Slayers I am, crying over a stuffed piggy.”
“If you couldn’t do that anymore, Buff, I’d be crying over you. The world may need Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I need Buffy the Sweet and Slightly Goofy Friend. And now, can I get you to get some sleep?”
“I can’t wait,” said Buffy. And she knew that when the nightmares came tonight, for the first time in a long while she wouldn’t care.
“Let’s do one of those walk-and-talks,” she told Xander. “Like on The West Wing.”
“Oh, I know this one,” he said. “You stride around with purposeful urgency while I scamper along behind trying to get your attention to sign things.”
Buffy yawned. “More like I try to put one foot in front of the other, in the right order, and you be on alert in case I need catching.”
“I’m gonna be the stereotypical Concerned Buddy now and say, Buffy, you should really get some rest. There, my duty is done.”
“Duly noted and appreciated. Now, this is a big castle. It’s an old castle. It is in many ways a scary castle. It’s not going to inspect itself, and if there are any stray Hellmouths or ancient crawling evils that weren’t mentioned in the brochure, we need to make mighty sure we know about them before we bring the rest of those girls in here.”
“Believe me, Buff, if there were any evil long-leggedy beasties hiding around here they’d have run screaming into the night when Giles brought in that Wensleydale Coven to scour the place. I mean, I ran screaming into the night, so…”
“You just have a problem with scary goth chicks.”
“Especially ones who can make my ears bleed with their voices without even yelling. And yes, experience has instilled in me a lifelong fear of scary women in tight leather pants. Which is a tragedy in itself. Thank you, Faith Lehane.”
They arrived at a gallery overlooking the main hall. About two dozen Slayers were training in the open area below. Vi and Rona were putting them through their paces before heading off to New York and Chicago, respectively, to head up the field offices there.
Buffy’s eyes started to glaze over as she stared down at the rows of bodies exercising in graceful synchronization.
“For our next order of business,” Xander said, studying his clipboard, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Buffy, happy birthday to you.”
Buffy laughed. “You didn’t sing it.”
“No I did not. In keeping with the happy part of happy birthday.”
“You’re the best,” she said, putting an arm around him and squeezing. “I don’t feel a day over a hundred and fifty.”
“This whole Commander Buffy thing not sitting too well, huh?”
“It was bad enough when I was just house mother to a bunch of teenaged girls having an extended sleep-over. Hasn’t been the same since the Hellmouth. I miss Sunnydale.”
“We never did make it to that sale at Arden B, did we?”
“Neither did Arden B.”
“Well,” said Xander, back at his clipboard. “On a happier note, you’ve made some good choices for the members of your personal team. Leah McPhee… Satsumi Yamada… Rowena Geissner. Solid Slayers all.”
“And proud recipients of the shortest life expectancy award.”
“Well, what good is dying if you can’t do it with the best?”
“Point. Have you gotten them outfitted yet?”
“Sure. Your little rob from the rich and give to the us scheme has given us pretty much all the funding we need. Speaking of which, let’s go check in on the STP.”
“The which now?”
“Sunnydale Teleportation Project.” They arrived at a room that looked as if James Bond should be chained up somewhere in it, being taunted by a man with a monocle.
In the center of the room was a console that reminded Buffy of the TARDIS control bank from Doctor Who. Seated around the circular platform were several young women with their fingertips placed on the black tabletop before them. Each of them wore a metal circlet around their heads, and each circlet was connected by wires to an elevated pylon in the center of the structure, which pulsed and crackled with green mystical light.
Directly beneath the pylon was a glass-enclosed chamber inside which various small objects periodically appeared from thin air. Each object was in its turn taken from the chamber by an attendant, placed inside a box, and hustled away.
A young woman Buffy had never met before seemed to be in charge.
“Buffy,” Xander said, “I’d like you to meet Sandra Greenhalge. You remember looking over her files. She’s one of the brightest up-and-coming young technomancers out there. Specializes in enhanced telekinesis, teleportation and portal magic. And she knows Willow.”
That got Buffy’s attention. Sandra was a petite woman with nerd glasses… somewhat resembling a blonde Tina Fey. Which might explain how she came to meet Willow, Buffy thought.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” said Sandra, coming around the console and offering her hand for Buffy to shake.
“Um, welcome aboard,” replied Buffy. “This is kind of Xander’s department down here. Could you remind me what we’re doing here again?”
Sandra gave Buffy a keen look over the top of her glasses. Eep… channeling Mrs. Harding from second grade, Buffy thought.
“These ladies are powerful clairvoyants,” Sandra explained. “The machine is a TK translocator hooked into the GNSS satellite system. With it we can, given enough time, scan any given location on the surface of the earth or up to fifty feet below the surface, identify what’s there, and transport any small non-living objects here.”
“Damn,” said Buffy. “Sounds impressive. And, uh, expensive.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” said Sandra. “The talent is much harder to come by than the equipment.”
“We’ve been scanning the Sunnydale crater,” Xander said. “There was so much magical crap floating around in and under that town, we wanted to salvage as much of it as we could before the government started digging.”
Buffy was amazed. “You can pinpoint stuff in Sunnydale all the way from here in Scotland?”
Sandra looked over the top of her glasses again. “Ma’am, my girls could find a cigarette butt in a gutter in Shanghai and tell you if the ember was still burning or not.”
Hmmm, thought Buffy. Cocky. I like her.
“And we maintain the strictest ethical standards,” Sandra added with a pointed look. So no bank robbing, she did not add, but might as well have.
“By the way, Mr. Harris,” she said, “we have the item you requested.”
“Aw, Sandra, you’re awesome,” said Xander. “Did I give you and your girls Christmas bonuses?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re getting New Year’s bonuses, then. Uh, late New Year’s bonuses. Martin Luther King Day bonuses. Do they have that in Scotland?”
“I don’t think so, but we will accept the bonuses.” Sandra took a small box from one of her assistants and handed it to Xander. She looked at Buffy. “Many happy returns, ma’am,” she said, and turned back to her work.
“Thanks,” said Buffy after her.
Buffy and Xander went out into the corridor. “So what’s in the box?” she asked him. “Your precious Atari cartridge games? That naked statue you liked in the botanical garden gift shop?”
He handed the box to her. “Happy birthday, Buff.”
Curious, she opened it. All it contained was a small, filthy, much the worse for wear stuffed pig.
She looked at it in shock as her heart beat five times. “Mr. Gordo,” she whispered. “It’s my Mr. Gordo.”
Floods of tears came, with Xander’s shoulder absorbing most of them.
“Thank you,” she sobbed. “Oh God, Xan, you’re the best…”
“It was Willow’s idea, too. Just before she took off, we decided you might need something to help with all the rough times you were going to be going through. Something to help you sleep a little bit better at night. We didn’t want you on your deathbed one day, whispering Mr. Gordo and dropping a snow globe on the floor.”
Still crying, Buffy hugged Mr. Gordo tightly to her chest. “It’s all gonna be OK, isn’t it, Xan?”
“Probably not. But why start now?”
Buffy laughed through her tears.
“Some mighty Commander of Slayers I am, crying over a stuffed piggy.”
“If you couldn’t do that anymore, Buff, I’d be crying over you. The world may need Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I need Buffy the Sweet and Slightly Goofy Friend. And now, can I get you to get some sleep?”
“I can’t wait,” said Buffy. And she knew that when the nightmares came tonight, for the first time in a long while she wouldn’t care.