FIC: Conspiracy Theory, 5/12 (Giles/Xander, FRT)
Title: Conspiracy Theory, part 5 / 12
Author: Soft Princess (soft_princess) and Mireille (mireille719)
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 6,100 this part / 64,000 overall
Summary: When Xander is attacked by a demon on his way to deliver a trio of young Slayers to England, he and Giles find themselves investigating a plot that may threaten the Council's very existence--and re-evaluating their relationship in the process.
Spoilers: Post-Chosen; based on aired-episode canon only.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; we are only borrowing them.
Feedback/Concrit: Both welcome, either here or at mireille719 {at} gmail {dot} com and soft.princess {at} gmail {dot} com.
Notes: This story is being posted in 12 parts: parts 1-4 at spring_with_xan on June 17, parts 5-8 at summer_of_giles on June 19, and parts 9-12 at summer_of_giles on June 22. We would like to thank wesleysgirl for the wonderful job beta-reading.
Previous parts:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
It took Xander half an hour to get the computer hooked up to the printer. And then he had to fight with it, because the sheets of paper kept getting stuck. "Brilliant," he muttered. "Seriously brilliant." He finally managed to get Dawn's document printed, and he was picking it up when he realized he hadn't thought about Giles at all during the whole ordeal. Apparently, he was on the right track.
Until he came back into the dining room, and saw Giles hunched over an open book. Xander just stood there in the doorway for a moment, spellbound. He really had forgotten just how much he liked watching Giles like this, working and researching. He looked so--so intense.
"Giles?" Xander finally said, keeping his voice low so as to not startle Giles too much.
"Yes?" Giles didn't look up.
"I have Dawn's stuff," Xander replied, the spell broken and his legs working again. "Here." He put the pile of papers down on the table within Giles' reach. "I'll be in the office, reading on the computer."
He didn't wait for Giles' nod. He really needed that walk. Three seconds in the same room as Giles, and his mind was back to thinking in circles.
"Focus, Xander, focus," he muttered to himself, sitting down in the front of the computer to read. Hopefully, that would distract him from unwelcome thoughts, and put him back on track.
He started reading.
"Xander?"
Giles' voice startled him, and Xander looked up from the computer, rubbing his tired eyes. He must have been reading for a while. "Hmm?"
Giles was standing close to the desk, Dawn's document in his hands. "We've both been reading for hours now; perhaps we ought to take a break."
"Yeah, you're right," Xander said, sighing. He stretched and looked at the clock. "I should check up on Niki, see how her day went."
"You do that," Giles replied. "Andrew just phoned, and I have to meet him in my office. Something's happened to Bishop."
"Oh." Xander frowned. "What?"
"I didn't really understand what Andrew was telling me, but there seems to have been an attack of some sort on the library in London--nothing to do with our current research, I don't think--and Bishop was hurt." Giles looked worried.
"So I guess you have to go to London, then?"
"I don't know. I'm hoping not."
Xander grabbed his phone and keys, and followed Giles out of the office. "Keep me posted. I have my phone."
"Of course."
Xander didn't go straight to the dorms to find Niki; she was probably still in class, and besides, he needed a few minutes to shake the cobwebs out of his brain before he saw her. He wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything she was saying if he was still worrying about the demon, or Bishop, or even his brain's unbelievable ability to get off-track today when Giles was in the same room.
He headed for the pond where he'd found the girls yesterday; no one else was there, and so Xander was able to amble around the path surrounding it without interruption. He'd gotten used, over the past couple of years, to doing a lot of walking, and somehow, it made it easier for him to think.
Thinking wasn't all that helpful, it turned out. Their research didn't seem to be getting anywhere, not with their sources contradicting one another. And no matter what Giles said, if they'd been right about the Watchers, not the Slayers, being the demons' targets, there was a chance, at least, that the attack on Bishop was related.
And thinking about how he shouldn't be thinking about Giles boiled down to "thinking about Giles," and that was no help at all.
Sighing, Xander shook his head and went to see if he could find what class Niki was in. He'd sit in the back and watch; it'd give him something else to think about.
***
Giles rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Mr. York, I quite understand, but this is a matter of great importance."
"I don't believe I've said it wasn't."
"Perhaps not in these words, but you've implied that you couldn't care less, and this is a disappointment. Our colleague is comatose; this attack happened in your department, during working hours, and I'm simply wondering where the hell you were." Giles really was trying hard not to sound angry, but it wasn't easy. York was doing his very best to piss him off, and Giles' patience had limits.
"This is none of your affair, Rupert, and you will cease these accusations. I had nothing to do with Mrs. Bishop's attack, and no, I didn't see anything, either. I found her on the floor of the office when I came back from running some errands."
Giles hated the patronizing tone York used on him every time they talked. He'd been a contemporary of Giles' father, and always assumed he had more authority then Giles did. Giles sighed. "If you remember anything, please phone. I've no interest in playing games with you today." He hung up without waiting for York's answer, clinging to what little bit of self-control he had.
"Andrew?" he called, smiling when the young man immediately appeared in the doorway. "Do you have the hospital records that were supposed to be faxed?"
"Yes, right here," Andrew said, handing him a couple of pages. "There's nothing there, and the police are still investigating. You sure you don't want to send a few Slayers out there?"
He should, he truly should, if only to make sure that the threat was truly human in nature, and not demonic--it seemed at first that robbery had been the motive for the attack--but as much as Giles knew this was the course of action to take, he loathed putting any more Slayers in danger.
"I don't want to get in the way of the police investigation," Giles said at last. "There's no evidence that it's anything but a robbery. Afterward, or if something unusual turns up, then I'll send some of the Slayers to make certain everything's all right."
"If you say so," Andrew said, sounding doubtful.
"I do," Giles snapped, then sighed. Andrew didn't have any idea why Giles was so reluctant to send the Slayers into this, and he was right--under normal circumstances, he'd have sent a team there immediately. "Just make certain," he went on, in a calmer tone of voice, "that the police know that I'm the one they should talk to, and not York, if they find anything important."
From the way Andrew's eyes widened, Giles knew he should have found a different way to phrase that. "You don't think that Mr. York had anything to do with--"
"No," Giles said immediately. "But you must admit," he went on, in a confiding tone, "that he tends to overstep his authority." That might have been an unprofessional thing for him to say, but it wasn't anything Andrew didn't already know, after all, and if it kept him from leaping to conclusions, Giles would willingly risk a little unprofessionalism.
It seemed to work well, because a minute later Andrew was back at his own desk, leaving Giles to pour through the reports that kept piling up. He looked at the papers Andrew had just handed him, sighing. Bishop could have died--could still die. She hadn't woken up yet, and the doctors feared it might be a while before she did. The blow to the head she'd taken had been quite powerful; the only thing that had kept her from being killed outright was her hair, which she kept in a bun high on her head.
"Andrew?"
The young man popped his head in again. "Yes, Captain?"
"You haven't received the report on the damage to Gregory's car yet, have you?"
Andrew shook his head. "No," he said, worrying his bottom lip. "I forgot to call back because of what happened to Mrs. Bishop."
"All right. Perhaps you could do that now?" Giles tried not to snap again. He reminded himself that Andrew had no idea what was going on; to him, Bishop's attack would be of more importance than Gregory's. "There's no sense in waiting for more information on Mrs. Bishop, and there might be none for a while. We should keep working until then," he added.
"You're right," Andrew replied, straightening up in the doorway. "What if the police or Mr. York calls while I'm on the phone?"
"I'll pick it up myself. Now go. I need this information before I can close this file." Giles waved Andrew off, and took off his glasses when the boy was out of sight. Rubbing his eyes, he took a moment to breathe. Two problematic situations within a couple of days of each other. He had a hard time believing it was a coincidence, no matter how much he wanted it to be true.
Then he thought of Xander--distracting thoughts indeed--and remembered that he'd asked for news when Giles could give it, so he picked up the phone and dialed.
"Yeah?" Xander sounded concerned, and Giles realized he must have seen who was calling before he answered the phone. Of course he was expecting the news to be bad; when had it been anything but, lately? "What did you find out?"
Giles sighed. "Not a lot," he confessed. "Bishop was hurt quite badly, and she hasn't regained consciousness, so we've still no idea who actually attacked her. The police are investigating, of course--"
"They won't know what to look for."
"The motive could have been simple burglary."
"Since when," Xander said, sounding tired, "has anything been simple?" Giles realized that Xander sounded a great deal like him, right down to the weariness in his voice, and wondered why he hadn't noticed that earlier. "Shouldn't we send somebody?"
"Perhaps," Giles said, sighing, "but I'm reluctant to send anyone away." He probably should have kept Gregory from leaving for Asia the day before as well, but he hadn't thought Watchers were in any danger then. Now with the research they'd done, and Bishop in the hospital... Giles rubbed his forehead and leaned against his desk.
"Yeah, I understand what you mean," Xander replied.
"I knew you would. Are you with Nkiruka right now?"
"No, she's still in class, so I was just walking around. I was thinking of sitting in her class until she was done, but I don't think they're going to let me."
Giles smiled slightly at that. "Probably not, I'm afraid."
"Captain!"
Giles looked up. "Hold on, Xander. Yes, Andrew?" he asked, a hand on the receiver.
"The shop's sending me the report on the damage. Should be faxed now. Just thought you'd want to know." Andrew was smiling, almost bouncing in the doorway. "I'll bring it over as soon as it's done printing."
"Thank you, Andrew," Giles said, with a grateful smile. "Xander, I--"
"I heard. Call me when--"
"Of course I will."
"This could make or break the case."
Giles quirked his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I follow..."
"I just meant that this could be our answer to the age old question, 'Who's right?' And have I mentioned that I really, really hope it's Dawn?"
"Yes, you might have, at some point, but I'm afraid no matter which way the report goes, York might still be right."
"Whatever, that guy just isn't--right."
"Just because we--I mean, you don't like him, doesn't mean he isn't a good Watcher and a good researcher."
"Maybe not, but it can still mean that I have a bad feeling about him, and--well, sometimes I'm wrong, but sometimes I'm also right."
"True," Giles conceded, standing up from his desk. "I'll call you back very soon."
"Okay, no problem. You do your stuff. I think the girls are coming out of class now anyway."
Xander broke the connection before Giles could even say goodbye, and Giles hung up the phone, sighing. Xander was letting his personal dislike of York cloud his judgment, but Giles couldn't afford to make decisions based on hunches and "bad feelings." Still, perhaps the report on the damage to Gregory's car would shed some light on the matter.
For once, Andrew couldn't have had better timing; he reappeared in Giles' doorway, carrying a sheaf of papers, just as Giles put down the phone. "The report," he said, handing the papers over with a crisp salute.
Giles sighed. It wasn't that Andrew wasn't a capable assistant--he'd turned out to be quite good at keeping Giles' office running smoothly--it was that Giles was never quite certain what to expect. "Andrew," he began, wearily.
"Yes, Captain?"
"The salute," Giles said, pausing for a moment to try to find a tactful way to phrase his objections.
"Too much?"
"No. 'Captain' is too much. The salute goes beyond that." Giles tucked the papers under his arm. "I'll be in my study," he said. "Unless it's Xander, or news from the hospital about Mrs. Bishop, I don't want to be disturbed."
"All right, Cap--Mr. Giles," Andrew replied, looking slightly dejected.
Giles sighed and shook his head. He was going to say something else, but Andrew was already back at his desk, and Giles wasn't sure what he could say anyway. He didn't look at the report yet; he made himself some tea, settled down in his favorite chair, and sipped quietly for a few minutes, the document down on the side table. He wasn't sure what he wanted the results to be. He wasn't sure the results would be all that definite either way. They wouldn't give them the answer, no matter what Xander might think. It wouldn't be that simple.
It never was.
With a sigh, Giles put down his cup, picked up the first sheet of paper, and started reading. The first part was just the usual estimate of how much the damage would cost to repair. Giles skipped lower to the details, and groaned.
The left side of the car was untouched. Only a short scratch mark that had probably been made by Julia's weapon. The right side, however...
It was a miracle Gregory had gotten out of there alive, and without much more than a couple of cuts and bruises. It did seem as though the Watcher had been the primary target. But whether it meant the demon had orders, or was intelligent enough to know on its own that the Watcher had to be taken out first to get to the Slayer, or if Gregory had been the only target--that was still a mystery that Giles was afraid would not get answered.
"This is one piece of this puzzle, but where does it fit?" he asked himself. He put down the document again and reached for his cup, staring into space. He was afraid they wouldn't get the answer before tragedy struck again. Perhaps he ought to let the Watchers in the field know, ask them to be careful and vigilant for the Slayers' sake and their own.
He picked up the phone and phoned Xander again. After he'd told him of the report, he was surprised when Xander didn't jump to conclusions, and instead waited for Giles to continue. "I'm simply not sure it is worth risking the ensuing panic."
"Yeah, it would be crazy. Maybe we just need a couple more days to figure it out," Xander mused. "But if we're still not sure by Friday morning, we'll go to plan B."
"I'd still like to warn Gregory, as he's been a target before," Giles said, nodding and still a little surprised at the degree of good sense Xander was showing.
"Maybe a good idea, but I'd wait till tomorrow morning. I think Andrew said something about Gregory being out of cell phone range until then." Xander said something away from the receiver. "Sorry, Niki's getting antsy. I think she wants me to watch her train. I'll see you at home in an hour?"
Giles smiled slightly. "Of course, I'll find us something to eat."
"Sounds good!" Xander hung up again without saying goodbye, and Giles shook his head fondly. It was rather nice to have Xander in England, despite the circumstances. Giles had missed his company more than he'd known.
With a smile on his face, Giles picked up the papers, and another book from the shelves, and went into the kitchen. He didn't know why, but he felt the urge to impress Xander tonight. He rummaged through the cupboards, and settled to cook, his worries pushed to the back of his mind for now.
Andrew stuck his head in the door after a while to tell Giles he was going home for the day; Giles looked up from chopping and stirring to ask him about Gregory's travel plans.
"I think he'll be reachable tomorrow," Andrew confirmed. "I'll check his itinerary before I leave, if you want, Cap--Mr. Giles?"
Giles sighed. "I can tolerate 'Captain,'" he said, "provided that you don't salute."
"No salute, check," Andrew said. "Do you want me to get you a printout of Mr. Gregory's entire itinerary?"
"No, thank you." He'd been the one to insist that Andrew go home at a reasonable hour except in crisis situations; Andrew might still live on the grounds, but Giles had found that otherwise, it was impossible for him to get any peace and quiet. "The morning will do for that, as long as you're certain I won't be able to reach him before then."
"Not if he's on schedule, and I know his flight landed on time." Giles lifted the lid on a pot, and as though dragged into the room by the smell of cooking, Andrew stepped all the way into the kitchen. "You know, Mrs. Walters from the village is still willing to come in and cook any time you need her to. I saw her the other day, and she said--"
"I don't need Mrs. Walters to come in and cook," Giles said. She'd come in a time or two before, when Giles had been entertaining some of the senior members of the Council, but this was hardly a formal business dinner. "I can certainly prepare dinner for Xander and myself without outside assistance."
"Oh," Andrew said, then his eyes grew wider. "Oh! Okay, I'll--" He waved at the doorway. "I'll be on my way then." He grinned at Giles and turned around. "Have a nice, um, a nice evening."
Giles wouldn't ask why Andrew waggled his eyebrows at that; Andrew was full of bizarre quirks. When he was sure Andrew had finally gone, he sighed, relieved, and continued cooking. Everything else could wait until the morning--providing nobody else was attacked during the evening.
Oh, dear God, please let there be no more attacks. Giles wanted to enjoy a quiet evening for once. Perhaps there would be more reading later, but for now, he was quite content to cook and hope Xander would appreciate his culinary skills.
He even found himself humming as he moved about the kitchen, checking on the pots, and setting the table for two.
He was almost done when he heard the front door opening and closing with a bit more force than he was used to hearing. "Xander?" Giles asked, walking into the hallway.
"Yeah," Xander said, smiling and taking off his jacket. "Smells really good."
"Yes it does," Giles agreed. The smell had been teasing him for a while now, and he was starving. "It's almost ready."
"Great, I could eat a horse." Xander passed by Giles and walked into the dining room.
"As a matter of fact--" Giles started, trying to sound as serious as he could.
"We're not eating horse meat, are we?" Xander turned to Giles, concerned.
Giles couldn't help but laugh. "No, we aren't."
"Seriously, I know you have some weird food here. Andrew's been threatening me with something involving toads." He paused. "It's not toads either, right?"
"Just settle down, and I'll bring the food in. It shouldn't be too long."
"Let me help you." Xander followed Giles into the kitchen. "Wow," he said when he saw the pots and the plates. "You really went all out, didn't you?"
"Oh," Giles said, stuttering slightly. "I'm--I've--I don't often have the--the chance to cook for anyone but myself these days." He shrugged.
For some reason, Xander's grin dimmed slightly, though it didn't fade. "Well, feel free to take advantage of having me here to practice, then," he said. "If you cook it, I'll eat it." Then the grin returned in full force. "Unless it's horse meat."
"I promise that I won't try to feed you anything that whinnies," Giles said, and Xander nodded.
"Then you can cook like this any time you want. That is, if we're not eating the leftovers from tonight until I go back to Africa." Xander peered over Giles' shoulder at the contents of the pot he was stirring. "What can I do to help?"
"Go and sit down," Giles said, reaching for a plate. "I'll be out in a minute." Xander disappeared into the dining room, and Giles began to serve up the food. He hadn't had either the time or the supplies to do anything too elaborate, and he hadn't been certain how well Xander would appreciate that, regardless. But he supposed that since Xander had been eating his own cooking, or in whatever restaurants were available in the towns he visited, for months, the roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables he'd prepared would go over well enough.
He hoped.
He carried the plates out to the dining room to find that Xander, rather than sitting down, was standing at the window, looking out. Giles set the plates down on the table; when Xander didn't seem to have noticed he'd come in, he went over to stand next to him. "We can worry about it after dinner," Giles said. "Let's just enjoy the meal, and then we can get back to work afterward."
Xander turned to look at him, shrugging slightly. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
Giles smiled at Xander. "We'll figure it out, Xander; this is what we do, and we wouldn't be here today if we weren't good at it. Sometimes, we need a bit of a break when there seems to be a dead end."
"Yeah, I know," Xander said. "So, what's for supper?"
Giles sat down, and picked up his fork. "Chicken. I didn't have time to do any shopping."
"Hey, no worries, chicken is great. Chicken is much better than horse meat."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Giles said dryly as they began to eat.
They managed to keep conversation relatively light throughout the meal; it only took the slightest encouragement for Xander to start telling him about Nkiruka and the other girls he'd brought back with him, and how they were settling into their new environment. He'd had a chance to check up on how some of the other Slayers he'd brought back to England in the past were doing, as well, and so they had plenty to talk about as they ate.
Xander helped him clear the table, and they did the washing-up in companionable silence. It wasn’t until he'd put some water on for tea that he brought up the demons. "Do you want to take a look at the report on Gregory's car?" he offered. "You might see something I've missed."
"Okay, I'll take a look." Xander settled down at the table, and Giles handed him the report.
"I'll go over Dawn's notes while you do that."
"No matter how many times we read them, they'll still say the same thing, you know?" Xander asked, hunched over the papers in his hands.
"I do know, but there might be some details we've missed," Giles replied.
"At this point? The only thing that might make a difference is if we caught one of the demons alive. Or if we got Bishop's gizmo translation."
"Gizmo?" Giles frowned. "Oh! You mean the Gi'iz?"
"Yeah, that. I guess we won't get anything now, since she's--Oh, God."
"What?"
"What if--never mind, it's crazy." Xander dismissed it and went back to reading the report.
"No, please, do tell," Giles said. He put the cordless phone on the table with the books, and sat down.
Xander shook his head. "No, really, it's crazy. Maybe we should call York, see if he knows where Bishop put her notes."
"You think her translation might be the reason she's in the hospital?" Giles asked.
"Do you?"
Giles stared at him for a moment. The thought had crossed his mind. "Next thing we know, we'll start suspecting York of treason," he said, sighing. "This is ridiculous." He took his head in his hands and groaned. "I'll set up a patrol on school grounds tomorrow. Groups of three or four, no less. Perhaps we can get our hands on this demon."
"Maybe," Xander replied, slumping down slightly on his chair, his eye having the faraway look of someone who was thinking hard. "Maybe we should have three Slayers, one kiddo Watcher, on the patrols. Tell them it's just a change to the normal patrolling practice or something. They'll be less suspicious that way."
"That sounds reasonable. I'll have Andrew on it in the morning; Mrs. Cheever can divide them up. In the meantime, you read that report, and I'll give York a call about Bishop's notes." Giles stood, cordless in hand, and went to look for his phone book. "I should have his home number, I believe."
Xander settled into reading, and Giles flipped through the pages of his phone book until he found York's home telephone number. He spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. York--she didn't mention Bishop, but that didn't surprise Giles all that much; many of the older Watchers refused to discuss any of the details of their work with their families. His own father hadn't talked about Council business in any but the broadest terms, even though his mother had been fully aware of the nature of his work.
Finally, York came to the phone, his voice sounding thin and impatient. "I hope this is important, Mr. Giles. One of the few perks of being in the research department is the lack of late-night telephone calls."
Giles didn't try to hide his own annoyance. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," he said, knowing the insincerity came through. "I was simply wondering if you knew what had happened to Mrs. Bishop's research notes."
"Notes?" he repeated, sounding genuinely perplexed for a moment.
"The Gi'iz translation she was working on before the attack," Giles said. "I know she hadn't finished, but I'd like to see whatever she had managed to get done."
There was a long silence at the other end of the line; then York snapped, "You are absolutely unbelievable."
"I beg your pardon?" Giles said.
"You heard me, young man. Considering the condition that hooligan left her in, you should be concerned about her and not her notes. That woman has put in thirty years of service to the Council--faithful, dedicated service, unlike some people--and if all you're concerned about is the translation--"
"Mr. York!" Giles interrupted sharply. "I could remind you that you are talking to the head of the Council." At that, Xander's head came up, his attention drawn away from his reading, and Giles gave him an apologetic smile.
"Yes, sir," York said. "I haven't forgotten that. My point remains. Your concern ought to be about Mrs. Bishop, and not the translation she was doing for some pet project of yours."
"Not that this is any of your concern, but I am perfectly aware of Mrs. Bishop's condition, and receive reports whenever it changes. My concern, as you say, is with her, although despite what you seem to believe, the world did not stop turning the moment she was admitted to the hospital," Giles snarled. "It is, in fact, still turning, and I need those notes. It might be a pet project, but it is one that cannot wait until Mrs. Bishop has regained consciousness. I need you to find me those notes and fax them to me as soon as humanly possible, is that clear?"
"Very well, sir," York replied icily, emphasizing the 'sir'. "I will fax what I can find in the morning, and not one moment before. Until then, good night, Mr. Giles."
"Mr. York!" Giles growled, but it was already too late. Giles cursed, throwing the phone back on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Fire him."
Giles looked up at Xander. "Huh?"
"Fire him. He's been a giant pain in the ass since you gave him that job. He deserves it," Xander said, matter-of-factly, although he had a worried look in his eyes. "Seriously, Giles, you have the power. Use it."
"I wish I could," Giles sighed, sitting down on the chair closest to Xander. "Unfortunately, if I fire him, I'll have a small mutiny on my hands."
Xander looked pensive for a moment, then glanced at the report he was still holding. "Who says that's not exactly what we're dealing with? The old gang's revolting because they can't deal with the way things are run now. Andrew said something to me the other day about some Watchers not being happy that you're in charge. I'm pretty sure York's one of them."
"And you think York would lead them to mutiny?" Giles asked; he wouldn't admit to it now, but the idea of this being an inside job had crossed his mind more than once over the past few days.
"Not York," Xander replied, shaking his head. "If there's anything, and he's involved in it, he's just a follower. This is very conspiracy theorist of me, but I'm starting to think it's our best answer."
"I'm still not sure we aren't dealing with an outside source. The Council has many enemies, and some might think to strike now while we're still recovering." Even as he talked, Giles knew he didn't really believe it.
"God," Xander groaned, leaning against the back of his chair, and stared at the ceiling. "I'm so tired of running around in circles." He waved the report in the air. "This is clearly saying 'kill the Watcher', just like my car said, but I keep thinking that it's too obvious to be true, you know. And you have a counter argument for everything I say."
Giles smiled and shook his head slightly. "I must admit that I'm liking your theory more than my counter arguments. But they need to be voiced, simply so that we're prepared for any eventuality."
"Yeah, I know," Xander said, smiling back, then he sighed. "All right, so to sum up, we're at a dead end until we get, A, Bishop's notes, B, the patrols up, or C, and please let that not be the option that actually happens first, another attack happens that answers all our questions."
"Yes, more or less. I'll be contacting Gregory in the morning to urge him to caution. Perhaps I should contact all the Watchers in the field as well, at this point."
"I thought we'd gone over that already." Xander straightened up. "Telling everyone's going to end up causing panic, and, you know that conspiracy theorist in me? Says you're going to alert 'them' that we know what they're up to. I don't think we want to do that before we can actually catch them."
"You're right," Giles said. He laid a hand on Xander's shoulder and squeezed. "Perhaps I should check up on my tea, shouldn't I?"
"Yeah, maybe," Xander said. He set the papers aside, sighing. "And I might as well stop trying to find the answers in this. We're not going to get anywhere tonight."
Giles' hand was still on Xander's shoulder; he squeezed it again now, trying to seem reassuring. "We'll get to the bottom of this," Giles said. "Not tonight, perhaps, but very soon. We'll have Bishop's notes tomorrow, the Slayers will begin patrolling, and I'll be able to warn Gregory to be on his guard."
"You should probably fill Gregory in on the whole situation," Xander said. "He'll be more help than I will."
Giles shook his head. "I need someone I can trust implicitly," he said. "I trust Gregory, mind you, but not to the same extent that I trust you."
Xander looked up at him, brow furrowed slightly in thought. Realizing that he'd just potentially steered the conversation into distracting waters, Giles let go of Xander's shoulder and went to get his tea.
Xander was still asleep the next morning when Giles went into his office. Andrew arrived a few minutes later, coffee and scones in hand, just as Giles was about to call Gregory.
"Hey, Captain," Andrew said, dropping a scone on Giles' desk. "Figured you'd be here early, and forgot to eat again."
He was smiling a bit too widely for what passed as normal Andrew behavior, and it made Giles frown. "What has you so cheerful this morning?"
"Oh!" Andrew's smile widened, if that was even possible. "Nothing."
"Well, then," Giles said, picking up the scone. He was starving. "I'll need you to call Mrs. Cheever. I need to speak to her before lunch time. Ask her to stop by my office? I'll also need your help for a little project I've thought of."
"Okay! Anything I can do to help!"
Giles smiled at Andrew's retreating back and picked up the phone. He had no idea what he would tell Gregory once he had him on the other end of the line. "Be careful," seemed pointless. "Hello, Gregory," he said when the other man picked up. "I trust your journey is going well?"
"Not particularly."
No Slayers anywhere remotely close to where Gregory was searching. It was not uncommon to receive reports of Slayer activity when there was none, but it was the first time it had happened to Gregory, and Giles could very well understand the disappointment in the man's voice. The rest of the phone call was brief; Giles urged the young Watcher to be cautious on his return trip and hung up.
He finished his scone and went out into Andrew's office. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Garner," he said when he noticed Andrew wasn't alone.
"Mr. Giles, a pleasure to see you today," the woman answered. "I was picking up the schedules for the new arrivals. Five in one day?"
There was a rumor at the school that she only had two facial expressions: scolding or indifferent. Not that Giles would know anything about such rumors, of course, the headmaster never did. "I'm certain you'll have no problems with our African contingent," Giles said. "For the Asian, I'm afraid, we might have a bit of a language barrier."
"Yes, that's what Andrew was telling me just now," Mrs. Garner said. "I've some grasp of Bangali, so I might be of some use to one of them, but I'm afraid I know nothing of the other girl's language."
"We'll find them both a tutor shortly, I'm sure." Giles shot a look at Andrew, who shrugged apologetically. "Andrew, Gregory has had no luck on his trip and asks that we find him a flight home as soon as possible. Apparently, the natives are slightly hostile to his presence. Can you find a flight for him, and send along the information?"
"Of course, Mr. Giles, I'll do that immediately," Andrew said. Giles was thankful that the boy at least remembered to use the proper title when there were other Watchers in the room. He was pretty sure that being called "Captain" would do no good to his authority. "I called Mrs. Cheever; she's going to be here any minute."
"All right. When she arrives, come along with her to my office, will you?" When Andrew nodded, Giles turned to the teachers. "Have a good day, Mrs. Garner."
"To you too, Mr. Giles," the woman answered, barely looking up from the schedules in her hands.
Giles nodded at Andrew, and went back into his office to wait for Mrs. Cheever. He would present the idea of the expanded patrols as a variation in the students' training, just as Xander had suggested, and hopefully, with her help and Andrew's, they could start as soon as that evening. The sooner, the better.
***
Part 6
Author: Soft Princess (soft_princess) and Mireille (mireille719)
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 6,100 this part / 64,000 overall
Summary: When Xander is attacked by a demon on his way to deliver a trio of young Slayers to England, he and Giles find themselves investigating a plot that may threaten the Council's very existence--and re-evaluating their relationship in the process.
Spoilers: Post-Chosen; based on aired-episode canon only.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; we are only borrowing them.
Feedback/Concrit: Both welcome, either here or at mireille719 {at} gmail {dot} com and soft.princess {at} gmail {dot} com.
Notes: This story is being posted in 12 parts: parts 1-4 at spring_with_xan on June 17, parts 5-8 at summer_of_giles on June 19, and parts 9-12 at summer_of_giles on June 22. We would like to thank wesleysgirl for the wonderful job beta-reading.
Previous parts:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
It took Xander half an hour to get the computer hooked up to the printer. And then he had to fight with it, because the sheets of paper kept getting stuck. "Brilliant," he muttered. "Seriously brilliant." He finally managed to get Dawn's document printed, and he was picking it up when he realized he hadn't thought about Giles at all during the whole ordeal. Apparently, he was on the right track.
Until he came back into the dining room, and saw Giles hunched over an open book. Xander just stood there in the doorway for a moment, spellbound. He really had forgotten just how much he liked watching Giles like this, working and researching. He looked so--so intense.
"Giles?" Xander finally said, keeping his voice low so as to not startle Giles too much.
"Yes?" Giles didn't look up.
"I have Dawn's stuff," Xander replied, the spell broken and his legs working again. "Here." He put the pile of papers down on the table within Giles' reach. "I'll be in the office, reading on the computer."
He didn't wait for Giles' nod. He really needed that walk. Three seconds in the same room as Giles, and his mind was back to thinking in circles.
"Focus, Xander, focus," he muttered to himself, sitting down in the front of the computer to read. Hopefully, that would distract him from unwelcome thoughts, and put him back on track.
He started reading.
"Xander?"
Giles' voice startled him, and Xander looked up from the computer, rubbing his tired eyes. He must have been reading for a while. "Hmm?"
Giles was standing close to the desk, Dawn's document in his hands. "We've both been reading for hours now; perhaps we ought to take a break."
"Yeah, you're right," Xander said, sighing. He stretched and looked at the clock. "I should check up on Niki, see how her day went."
"You do that," Giles replied. "Andrew just phoned, and I have to meet him in my office. Something's happened to Bishop."
"Oh." Xander frowned. "What?"
"I didn't really understand what Andrew was telling me, but there seems to have been an attack of some sort on the library in London--nothing to do with our current research, I don't think--and Bishop was hurt." Giles looked worried.
"So I guess you have to go to London, then?"
"I don't know. I'm hoping not."
Xander grabbed his phone and keys, and followed Giles out of the office. "Keep me posted. I have my phone."
"Of course."
Xander didn't go straight to the dorms to find Niki; she was probably still in class, and besides, he needed a few minutes to shake the cobwebs out of his brain before he saw her. He wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything she was saying if he was still worrying about the demon, or Bishop, or even his brain's unbelievable ability to get off-track today when Giles was in the same room.
He headed for the pond where he'd found the girls yesterday; no one else was there, and so Xander was able to amble around the path surrounding it without interruption. He'd gotten used, over the past couple of years, to doing a lot of walking, and somehow, it made it easier for him to think.
Thinking wasn't all that helpful, it turned out. Their research didn't seem to be getting anywhere, not with their sources contradicting one another. And no matter what Giles said, if they'd been right about the Watchers, not the Slayers, being the demons' targets, there was a chance, at least, that the attack on Bishop was related.
And thinking about how he shouldn't be thinking about Giles boiled down to "thinking about Giles," and that was no help at all.
Sighing, Xander shook his head and went to see if he could find what class Niki was in. He'd sit in the back and watch; it'd give him something else to think about.
***
Giles rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Mr. York, I quite understand, but this is a matter of great importance."
"I don't believe I've said it wasn't."
"Perhaps not in these words, but you've implied that you couldn't care less, and this is a disappointment. Our colleague is comatose; this attack happened in your department, during working hours, and I'm simply wondering where the hell you were." Giles really was trying hard not to sound angry, but it wasn't easy. York was doing his very best to piss him off, and Giles' patience had limits.
"This is none of your affair, Rupert, and you will cease these accusations. I had nothing to do with Mrs. Bishop's attack, and no, I didn't see anything, either. I found her on the floor of the office when I came back from running some errands."
Giles hated the patronizing tone York used on him every time they talked. He'd been a contemporary of Giles' father, and always assumed he had more authority then Giles did. Giles sighed. "If you remember anything, please phone. I've no interest in playing games with you today." He hung up without waiting for York's answer, clinging to what little bit of self-control he had.
"Andrew?" he called, smiling when the young man immediately appeared in the doorway. "Do you have the hospital records that were supposed to be faxed?"
"Yes, right here," Andrew said, handing him a couple of pages. "There's nothing there, and the police are still investigating. You sure you don't want to send a few Slayers out there?"
He should, he truly should, if only to make sure that the threat was truly human in nature, and not demonic--it seemed at first that robbery had been the motive for the attack--but as much as Giles knew this was the course of action to take, he loathed putting any more Slayers in danger.
"I don't want to get in the way of the police investigation," Giles said at last. "There's no evidence that it's anything but a robbery. Afterward, or if something unusual turns up, then I'll send some of the Slayers to make certain everything's all right."
"If you say so," Andrew said, sounding doubtful.
"I do," Giles snapped, then sighed. Andrew didn't have any idea why Giles was so reluctant to send the Slayers into this, and he was right--under normal circumstances, he'd have sent a team there immediately. "Just make certain," he went on, in a calmer tone of voice, "that the police know that I'm the one they should talk to, and not York, if they find anything important."
From the way Andrew's eyes widened, Giles knew he should have found a different way to phrase that. "You don't think that Mr. York had anything to do with--"
"No," Giles said immediately. "But you must admit," he went on, in a confiding tone, "that he tends to overstep his authority." That might have been an unprofessional thing for him to say, but it wasn't anything Andrew didn't already know, after all, and if it kept him from leaping to conclusions, Giles would willingly risk a little unprofessionalism.
It seemed to work well, because a minute later Andrew was back at his own desk, leaving Giles to pour through the reports that kept piling up. He looked at the papers Andrew had just handed him, sighing. Bishop could have died--could still die. She hadn't woken up yet, and the doctors feared it might be a while before she did. The blow to the head she'd taken had been quite powerful; the only thing that had kept her from being killed outright was her hair, which she kept in a bun high on her head.
"Andrew?"
The young man popped his head in again. "Yes, Captain?"
"You haven't received the report on the damage to Gregory's car yet, have you?"
Andrew shook his head. "No," he said, worrying his bottom lip. "I forgot to call back because of what happened to Mrs. Bishop."
"All right. Perhaps you could do that now?" Giles tried not to snap again. He reminded himself that Andrew had no idea what was going on; to him, Bishop's attack would be of more importance than Gregory's. "There's no sense in waiting for more information on Mrs. Bishop, and there might be none for a while. We should keep working until then," he added.
"You're right," Andrew replied, straightening up in the doorway. "What if the police or Mr. York calls while I'm on the phone?"
"I'll pick it up myself. Now go. I need this information before I can close this file." Giles waved Andrew off, and took off his glasses when the boy was out of sight. Rubbing his eyes, he took a moment to breathe. Two problematic situations within a couple of days of each other. He had a hard time believing it was a coincidence, no matter how much he wanted it to be true.
Then he thought of Xander--distracting thoughts indeed--and remembered that he'd asked for news when Giles could give it, so he picked up the phone and dialed.
"Yeah?" Xander sounded concerned, and Giles realized he must have seen who was calling before he answered the phone. Of course he was expecting the news to be bad; when had it been anything but, lately? "What did you find out?"
Giles sighed. "Not a lot," he confessed. "Bishop was hurt quite badly, and she hasn't regained consciousness, so we've still no idea who actually attacked her. The police are investigating, of course--"
"They won't know what to look for."
"The motive could have been simple burglary."
"Since when," Xander said, sounding tired, "has anything been simple?" Giles realized that Xander sounded a great deal like him, right down to the weariness in his voice, and wondered why he hadn't noticed that earlier. "Shouldn't we send somebody?"
"Perhaps," Giles said, sighing, "but I'm reluctant to send anyone away." He probably should have kept Gregory from leaving for Asia the day before as well, but he hadn't thought Watchers were in any danger then. Now with the research they'd done, and Bishop in the hospital... Giles rubbed his forehead and leaned against his desk.
"Yeah, I understand what you mean," Xander replied.
"I knew you would. Are you with Nkiruka right now?"
"No, she's still in class, so I was just walking around. I was thinking of sitting in her class until she was done, but I don't think they're going to let me."
Giles smiled slightly at that. "Probably not, I'm afraid."
"Captain!"
Giles looked up. "Hold on, Xander. Yes, Andrew?" he asked, a hand on the receiver.
"The shop's sending me the report on the damage. Should be faxed now. Just thought you'd want to know." Andrew was smiling, almost bouncing in the doorway. "I'll bring it over as soon as it's done printing."
"Thank you, Andrew," Giles said, with a grateful smile. "Xander, I--"
"I heard. Call me when--"
"Of course I will."
"This could make or break the case."
Giles quirked his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I follow..."
"I just meant that this could be our answer to the age old question, 'Who's right?' And have I mentioned that I really, really hope it's Dawn?"
"Yes, you might have, at some point, but I'm afraid no matter which way the report goes, York might still be right."
"Whatever, that guy just isn't--right."
"Just because we--I mean, you don't like him, doesn't mean he isn't a good Watcher and a good researcher."
"Maybe not, but it can still mean that I have a bad feeling about him, and--well, sometimes I'm wrong, but sometimes I'm also right."
"True," Giles conceded, standing up from his desk. "I'll call you back very soon."
"Okay, no problem. You do your stuff. I think the girls are coming out of class now anyway."
Xander broke the connection before Giles could even say goodbye, and Giles hung up the phone, sighing. Xander was letting his personal dislike of York cloud his judgment, but Giles couldn't afford to make decisions based on hunches and "bad feelings." Still, perhaps the report on the damage to Gregory's car would shed some light on the matter.
For once, Andrew couldn't have had better timing; he reappeared in Giles' doorway, carrying a sheaf of papers, just as Giles put down the phone. "The report," he said, handing the papers over with a crisp salute.
Giles sighed. It wasn't that Andrew wasn't a capable assistant--he'd turned out to be quite good at keeping Giles' office running smoothly--it was that Giles was never quite certain what to expect. "Andrew," he began, wearily.
"Yes, Captain?"
"The salute," Giles said, pausing for a moment to try to find a tactful way to phrase his objections.
"Too much?"
"No. 'Captain' is too much. The salute goes beyond that." Giles tucked the papers under his arm. "I'll be in my study," he said. "Unless it's Xander, or news from the hospital about Mrs. Bishop, I don't want to be disturbed."
"All right, Cap--Mr. Giles," Andrew replied, looking slightly dejected.
Giles sighed and shook his head. He was going to say something else, but Andrew was already back at his desk, and Giles wasn't sure what he could say anyway. He didn't look at the report yet; he made himself some tea, settled down in his favorite chair, and sipped quietly for a few minutes, the document down on the side table. He wasn't sure what he wanted the results to be. He wasn't sure the results would be all that definite either way. They wouldn't give them the answer, no matter what Xander might think. It wouldn't be that simple.
It never was.
With a sigh, Giles put down his cup, picked up the first sheet of paper, and started reading. The first part was just the usual estimate of how much the damage would cost to repair. Giles skipped lower to the details, and groaned.
The left side of the car was untouched. Only a short scratch mark that had probably been made by Julia's weapon. The right side, however...
It was a miracle Gregory had gotten out of there alive, and without much more than a couple of cuts and bruises. It did seem as though the Watcher had been the primary target. But whether it meant the demon had orders, or was intelligent enough to know on its own that the Watcher had to be taken out first to get to the Slayer, or if Gregory had been the only target--that was still a mystery that Giles was afraid would not get answered.
"This is one piece of this puzzle, but where does it fit?" he asked himself. He put down the document again and reached for his cup, staring into space. He was afraid they wouldn't get the answer before tragedy struck again. Perhaps he ought to let the Watchers in the field know, ask them to be careful and vigilant for the Slayers' sake and their own.
He picked up the phone and phoned Xander again. After he'd told him of the report, he was surprised when Xander didn't jump to conclusions, and instead waited for Giles to continue. "I'm simply not sure it is worth risking the ensuing panic."
"Yeah, it would be crazy. Maybe we just need a couple more days to figure it out," Xander mused. "But if we're still not sure by Friday morning, we'll go to plan B."
"I'd still like to warn Gregory, as he's been a target before," Giles said, nodding and still a little surprised at the degree of good sense Xander was showing.
"Maybe a good idea, but I'd wait till tomorrow morning. I think Andrew said something about Gregory being out of cell phone range until then." Xander said something away from the receiver. "Sorry, Niki's getting antsy. I think she wants me to watch her train. I'll see you at home in an hour?"
Giles smiled slightly. "Of course, I'll find us something to eat."
"Sounds good!" Xander hung up again without saying goodbye, and Giles shook his head fondly. It was rather nice to have Xander in England, despite the circumstances. Giles had missed his company more than he'd known.
With a smile on his face, Giles picked up the papers, and another book from the shelves, and went into the kitchen. He didn't know why, but he felt the urge to impress Xander tonight. He rummaged through the cupboards, and settled to cook, his worries pushed to the back of his mind for now.
Andrew stuck his head in the door after a while to tell Giles he was going home for the day; Giles looked up from chopping and stirring to ask him about Gregory's travel plans.
"I think he'll be reachable tomorrow," Andrew confirmed. "I'll check his itinerary before I leave, if you want, Cap--Mr. Giles?"
Giles sighed. "I can tolerate 'Captain,'" he said, "provided that you don't salute."
"No salute, check," Andrew said. "Do you want me to get you a printout of Mr. Gregory's entire itinerary?"
"No, thank you." He'd been the one to insist that Andrew go home at a reasonable hour except in crisis situations; Andrew might still live on the grounds, but Giles had found that otherwise, it was impossible for him to get any peace and quiet. "The morning will do for that, as long as you're certain I won't be able to reach him before then."
"Not if he's on schedule, and I know his flight landed on time." Giles lifted the lid on a pot, and as though dragged into the room by the smell of cooking, Andrew stepped all the way into the kitchen. "You know, Mrs. Walters from the village is still willing to come in and cook any time you need her to. I saw her the other day, and she said--"
"I don't need Mrs. Walters to come in and cook," Giles said. She'd come in a time or two before, when Giles had been entertaining some of the senior members of the Council, but this was hardly a formal business dinner. "I can certainly prepare dinner for Xander and myself without outside assistance."
"Oh," Andrew said, then his eyes grew wider. "Oh! Okay, I'll--" He waved at the doorway. "I'll be on my way then." He grinned at Giles and turned around. "Have a nice, um, a nice evening."
Giles wouldn't ask why Andrew waggled his eyebrows at that; Andrew was full of bizarre quirks. When he was sure Andrew had finally gone, he sighed, relieved, and continued cooking. Everything else could wait until the morning--providing nobody else was attacked during the evening.
Oh, dear God, please let there be no more attacks. Giles wanted to enjoy a quiet evening for once. Perhaps there would be more reading later, but for now, he was quite content to cook and hope Xander would appreciate his culinary skills.
He even found himself humming as he moved about the kitchen, checking on the pots, and setting the table for two.
He was almost done when he heard the front door opening and closing with a bit more force than he was used to hearing. "Xander?" Giles asked, walking into the hallway.
"Yeah," Xander said, smiling and taking off his jacket. "Smells really good."
"Yes it does," Giles agreed. The smell had been teasing him for a while now, and he was starving. "It's almost ready."
"Great, I could eat a horse." Xander passed by Giles and walked into the dining room.
"As a matter of fact--" Giles started, trying to sound as serious as he could.
"We're not eating horse meat, are we?" Xander turned to Giles, concerned.
Giles couldn't help but laugh. "No, we aren't."
"Seriously, I know you have some weird food here. Andrew's been threatening me with something involving toads." He paused. "It's not toads either, right?"
"Just settle down, and I'll bring the food in. It shouldn't be too long."
"Let me help you." Xander followed Giles into the kitchen. "Wow," he said when he saw the pots and the plates. "You really went all out, didn't you?"
"Oh," Giles said, stuttering slightly. "I'm--I've--I don't often have the--the chance to cook for anyone but myself these days." He shrugged.
For some reason, Xander's grin dimmed slightly, though it didn't fade. "Well, feel free to take advantage of having me here to practice, then," he said. "If you cook it, I'll eat it." Then the grin returned in full force. "Unless it's horse meat."
"I promise that I won't try to feed you anything that whinnies," Giles said, and Xander nodded.
"Then you can cook like this any time you want. That is, if we're not eating the leftovers from tonight until I go back to Africa." Xander peered over Giles' shoulder at the contents of the pot he was stirring. "What can I do to help?"
"Go and sit down," Giles said, reaching for a plate. "I'll be out in a minute." Xander disappeared into the dining room, and Giles began to serve up the food. He hadn't had either the time or the supplies to do anything too elaborate, and he hadn't been certain how well Xander would appreciate that, regardless. But he supposed that since Xander had been eating his own cooking, or in whatever restaurants were available in the towns he visited, for months, the roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables he'd prepared would go over well enough.
He hoped.
He carried the plates out to the dining room to find that Xander, rather than sitting down, was standing at the window, looking out. Giles set the plates down on the table; when Xander didn't seem to have noticed he'd come in, he went over to stand next to him. "We can worry about it after dinner," Giles said. "Let's just enjoy the meal, and then we can get back to work afterward."
Xander turned to look at him, shrugging slightly. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
Giles smiled at Xander. "We'll figure it out, Xander; this is what we do, and we wouldn't be here today if we weren't good at it. Sometimes, we need a bit of a break when there seems to be a dead end."
"Yeah, I know," Xander said. "So, what's for supper?"
Giles sat down, and picked up his fork. "Chicken. I didn't have time to do any shopping."
"Hey, no worries, chicken is great. Chicken is much better than horse meat."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Giles said dryly as they began to eat.
They managed to keep conversation relatively light throughout the meal; it only took the slightest encouragement for Xander to start telling him about Nkiruka and the other girls he'd brought back with him, and how they were settling into their new environment. He'd had a chance to check up on how some of the other Slayers he'd brought back to England in the past were doing, as well, and so they had plenty to talk about as they ate.
Xander helped him clear the table, and they did the washing-up in companionable silence. It wasn’t until he'd put some water on for tea that he brought up the demons. "Do you want to take a look at the report on Gregory's car?" he offered. "You might see something I've missed."
"Okay, I'll take a look." Xander settled down at the table, and Giles handed him the report.
"I'll go over Dawn's notes while you do that."
"No matter how many times we read them, they'll still say the same thing, you know?" Xander asked, hunched over the papers in his hands.
"I do know, but there might be some details we've missed," Giles replied.
"At this point? The only thing that might make a difference is if we caught one of the demons alive. Or if we got Bishop's gizmo translation."
"Gizmo?" Giles frowned. "Oh! You mean the Gi'iz?"
"Yeah, that. I guess we won't get anything now, since she's--Oh, God."
"What?"
"What if--never mind, it's crazy." Xander dismissed it and went back to reading the report.
"No, please, do tell," Giles said. He put the cordless phone on the table with the books, and sat down.
Xander shook his head. "No, really, it's crazy. Maybe we should call York, see if he knows where Bishop put her notes."
"You think her translation might be the reason she's in the hospital?" Giles asked.
"Do you?"
Giles stared at him for a moment. The thought had crossed his mind. "Next thing we know, we'll start suspecting York of treason," he said, sighing. "This is ridiculous." He took his head in his hands and groaned. "I'll set up a patrol on school grounds tomorrow. Groups of three or four, no less. Perhaps we can get our hands on this demon."
"Maybe," Xander replied, slumping down slightly on his chair, his eye having the faraway look of someone who was thinking hard. "Maybe we should have three Slayers, one kiddo Watcher, on the patrols. Tell them it's just a change to the normal patrolling practice or something. They'll be less suspicious that way."
"That sounds reasonable. I'll have Andrew on it in the morning; Mrs. Cheever can divide them up. In the meantime, you read that report, and I'll give York a call about Bishop's notes." Giles stood, cordless in hand, and went to look for his phone book. "I should have his home number, I believe."
Xander settled into reading, and Giles flipped through the pages of his phone book until he found York's home telephone number. He spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. York--she didn't mention Bishop, but that didn't surprise Giles all that much; many of the older Watchers refused to discuss any of the details of their work with their families. His own father hadn't talked about Council business in any but the broadest terms, even though his mother had been fully aware of the nature of his work.
Finally, York came to the phone, his voice sounding thin and impatient. "I hope this is important, Mr. Giles. One of the few perks of being in the research department is the lack of late-night telephone calls."
Giles didn't try to hide his own annoyance. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," he said, knowing the insincerity came through. "I was simply wondering if you knew what had happened to Mrs. Bishop's research notes."
"Notes?" he repeated, sounding genuinely perplexed for a moment.
"The Gi'iz translation she was working on before the attack," Giles said. "I know she hadn't finished, but I'd like to see whatever she had managed to get done."
There was a long silence at the other end of the line; then York snapped, "You are absolutely unbelievable."
"I beg your pardon?" Giles said.
"You heard me, young man. Considering the condition that hooligan left her in, you should be concerned about her and not her notes. That woman has put in thirty years of service to the Council--faithful, dedicated service, unlike some people--and if all you're concerned about is the translation--"
"Mr. York!" Giles interrupted sharply. "I could remind you that you are talking to the head of the Council." At that, Xander's head came up, his attention drawn away from his reading, and Giles gave him an apologetic smile.
"Yes, sir," York said. "I haven't forgotten that. My point remains. Your concern ought to be about Mrs. Bishop, and not the translation she was doing for some pet project of yours."
"Not that this is any of your concern, but I am perfectly aware of Mrs. Bishop's condition, and receive reports whenever it changes. My concern, as you say, is with her, although despite what you seem to believe, the world did not stop turning the moment she was admitted to the hospital," Giles snarled. "It is, in fact, still turning, and I need those notes. It might be a pet project, but it is one that cannot wait until Mrs. Bishop has regained consciousness. I need you to find me those notes and fax them to me as soon as humanly possible, is that clear?"
"Very well, sir," York replied icily, emphasizing the 'sir'. "I will fax what I can find in the morning, and not one moment before. Until then, good night, Mr. Giles."
"Mr. York!" Giles growled, but it was already too late. Giles cursed, throwing the phone back on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Fire him."
Giles looked up at Xander. "Huh?"
"Fire him. He's been a giant pain in the ass since you gave him that job. He deserves it," Xander said, matter-of-factly, although he had a worried look in his eyes. "Seriously, Giles, you have the power. Use it."
"I wish I could," Giles sighed, sitting down on the chair closest to Xander. "Unfortunately, if I fire him, I'll have a small mutiny on my hands."
Xander looked pensive for a moment, then glanced at the report he was still holding. "Who says that's not exactly what we're dealing with? The old gang's revolting because they can't deal with the way things are run now. Andrew said something to me the other day about some Watchers not being happy that you're in charge. I'm pretty sure York's one of them."
"And you think York would lead them to mutiny?" Giles asked; he wouldn't admit to it now, but the idea of this being an inside job had crossed his mind more than once over the past few days.
"Not York," Xander replied, shaking his head. "If there's anything, and he's involved in it, he's just a follower. This is very conspiracy theorist of me, but I'm starting to think it's our best answer."
"I'm still not sure we aren't dealing with an outside source. The Council has many enemies, and some might think to strike now while we're still recovering." Even as he talked, Giles knew he didn't really believe it.
"God," Xander groaned, leaning against the back of his chair, and stared at the ceiling. "I'm so tired of running around in circles." He waved the report in the air. "This is clearly saying 'kill the Watcher', just like my car said, but I keep thinking that it's too obvious to be true, you know. And you have a counter argument for everything I say."
Giles smiled and shook his head slightly. "I must admit that I'm liking your theory more than my counter arguments. But they need to be voiced, simply so that we're prepared for any eventuality."
"Yeah, I know," Xander said, smiling back, then he sighed. "All right, so to sum up, we're at a dead end until we get, A, Bishop's notes, B, the patrols up, or C, and please let that not be the option that actually happens first, another attack happens that answers all our questions."
"Yes, more or less. I'll be contacting Gregory in the morning to urge him to caution. Perhaps I should contact all the Watchers in the field as well, at this point."
"I thought we'd gone over that already." Xander straightened up. "Telling everyone's going to end up causing panic, and, you know that conspiracy theorist in me? Says you're going to alert 'them' that we know what they're up to. I don't think we want to do that before we can actually catch them."
"You're right," Giles said. He laid a hand on Xander's shoulder and squeezed. "Perhaps I should check up on my tea, shouldn't I?"
"Yeah, maybe," Xander said. He set the papers aside, sighing. "And I might as well stop trying to find the answers in this. We're not going to get anywhere tonight."
Giles' hand was still on Xander's shoulder; he squeezed it again now, trying to seem reassuring. "We'll get to the bottom of this," Giles said. "Not tonight, perhaps, but very soon. We'll have Bishop's notes tomorrow, the Slayers will begin patrolling, and I'll be able to warn Gregory to be on his guard."
"You should probably fill Gregory in on the whole situation," Xander said. "He'll be more help than I will."
Giles shook his head. "I need someone I can trust implicitly," he said. "I trust Gregory, mind you, but not to the same extent that I trust you."
Xander looked up at him, brow furrowed slightly in thought. Realizing that he'd just potentially steered the conversation into distracting waters, Giles let go of Xander's shoulder and went to get his tea.
Xander was still asleep the next morning when Giles went into his office. Andrew arrived a few minutes later, coffee and scones in hand, just as Giles was about to call Gregory.
"Hey, Captain," Andrew said, dropping a scone on Giles' desk. "Figured you'd be here early, and forgot to eat again."
He was smiling a bit too widely for what passed as normal Andrew behavior, and it made Giles frown. "What has you so cheerful this morning?"
"Oh!" Andrew's smile widened, if that was even possible. "Nothing."
"Well, then," Giles said, picking up the scone. He was starving. "I'll need you to call Mrs. Cheever. I need to speak to her before lunch time. Ask her to stop by my office? I'll also need your help for a little project I've thought of."
"Okay! Anything I can do to help!"
Giles smiled at Andrew's retreating back and picked up the phone. He had no idea what he would tell Gregory once he had him on the other end of the line. "Be careful," seemed pointless. "Hello, Gregory," he said when the other man picked up. "I trust your journey is going well?"
"Not particularly."
No Slayers anywhere remotely close to where Gregory was searching. It was not uncommon to receive reports of Slayer activity when there was none, but it was the first time it had happened to Gregory, and Giles could very well understand the disappointment in the man's voice. The rest of the phone call was brief; Giles urged the young Watcher to be cautious on his return trip and hung up.
He finished his scone and went out into Andrew's office. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Garner," he said when he noticed Andrew wasn't alone.
"Mr. Giles, a pleasure to see you today," the woman answered. "I was picking up the schedules for the new arrivals. Five in one day?"
There was a rumor at the school that she only had two facial expressions: scolding or indifferent. Not that Giles would know anything about such rumors, of course, the headmaster never did. "I'm certain you'll have no problems with our African contingent," Giles said. "For the Asian, I'm afraid, we might have a bit of a language barrier."
"Yes, that's what Andrew was telling me just now," Mrs. Garner said. "I've some grasp of Bangali, so I might be of some use to one of them, but I'm afraid I know nothing of the other girl's language."
"We'll find them both a tutor shortly, I'm sure." Giles shot a look at Andrew, who shrugged apologetically. "Andrew, Gregory has had no luck on his trip and asks that we find him a flight home as soon as possible. Apparently, the natives are slightly hostile to his presence. Can you find a flight for him, and send along the information?"
"Of course, Mr. Giles, I'll do that immediately," Andrew said. Giles was thankful that the boy at least remembered to use the proper title when there were other Watchers in the room. He was pretty sure that being called "Captain" would do no good to his authority. "I called Mrs. Cheever; she's going to be here any minute."
"All right. When she arrives, come along with her to my office, will you?" When Andrew nodded, Giles turned to the teachers. "Have a good day, Mrs. Garner."
"To you too, Mr. Giles," the woman answered, barely looking up from the schedules in her hands.
Giles nodded at Andrew, and went back into his office to wait for Mrs. Cheever. He would present the idea of the expanded patrols as a variation in the students' training, just as Xander had suggested, and hopefully, with her help and Andrew's, they could start as soon as that evening. The sooner, the better.
***
Part 6