A Night to Remember
Title: A Night to Remember
Author: il_mio_capitano
Rating: Teens I suppose. Nothing shocking.
Length: About 3300
Characters: Buffy, Giles. Season 5 but after Riley has sulked off.
Bit so Joss doesn’t sue: Quite.
Notes: Written for the Drunken!Giles Ficathon. A truly marvellous institution.
With thanks to mythichistorian for the awesome prompt.
Prompt: There's a pink elephant demon in town - which you need to be intoxicated to see. As Buffy and alcohol are unmixy things, Giles volunteers to down a drink or two (or three, of four - at least one in every bar/party they visit) so he can help her find (and fight it ...)
Buffy was learning a lot about Giles that night and most of it she intended to repress. She sighed and leaned back against the bar of the Sunnydale Arms. It was a quaint bar with oak beams and brass horseshoes. A bar with pretensions to genteel Englishness but which served the same sad losers she’d seen in every other bar that night. She’d perfected a dangerous scowl to stop them hitting on her whenever Giles wasn’t in the vicinity. Giles, who she now knew couldn’t juggle and certainly shouldn’t try it with other people’s drinks. How she didn’t have to rescue him from more bar brawls was a mystery, it was like trying to patrol with an excitable overgrown puppy.
As she waited, scanning the bar area and the alcoves looking for signs of trouble, a party of four men arrived. They were clothed casually but might as well as been in full dress uniform for all the undercover they had. She approached the leader, a balding but solid looking man in his fifties.
“I thought the Initiative left town long ago?” she demanded.
The older man stopped to consider her before answering, “Special Ops Unit. Set up the equipment here, sergeant.” He viewed her with open contempt, “You must be the little girl that caused all the trouble for my predecessor.”
“I’m the Slayer. What are you doing here?”
The rest of the soldiers began to piece together some elaborate electronic surveillance equipment as he spoke. “We got word of an unusual demon. Invisible to the eye and seems to attack only the inebriated. How about you? Are you here on a date?” He asked politely but with just a hint of sarcasm indicating he probably knew about Riley. Bastard, she thought, did everyone know about Riley leaving her to get his GI Joneses in the jungle?
“You boys can scuttle back to the Pentagon. I know all about it. It’s a Rosie Orthodonty Demon,” she said confidently, though wondering if that meant it had a dental plan, “We’ve got this covered.”
“Really?” his doubt was almost tangible, “We have the finest demon detection system in the western hemisphere. The specs to this equipment are top secret; it detects heat, pheromones, moisture content, light diffraction. Just what are you using?”
At this point, Giles returned from the bathroom and stumbled up to the conversation, nudging a couple of bystanders as he went, spilling their drinks, “So sorry. Hey?” he asked playfully, “Who ordered the goon squad?”
The head soldier seemed to swell to twice his normal size, “I’m Major Pratt, Special Forces. Who the hell are you?”
“Really,” giggled Giles, “Major Pratt? Really?”
The Major visibly bristled, “Got your green card with you buddy?”
Buffy interposed, “He’s with me, he knows far more about this demon than you. He knows its history, its name, and how to kill it and how it reproduces…”
“Let’s save that last one for the Discovery Channel fella,” at which the other soldiers laughed.
The major shook his head patronisingly, “Slayer, we have half a million dollars worth of technology - the product of the finest scientific minds in the country. Whilst the cornerstone of your strategy seems to be dragging around some pickled limey as, what, bait?”
“He’s not bait. He’s here to help me fight it,” said Buffy defiantly, keenly aware that behind her, Giles was throwing peanuts in the air and failing to catch them in his mouth.
“Fight it?” The major laughed, “Missy, Bertie Wooster over there, couldn’t stake an olive in a full jar.”
“What ho Pratt,” said Giles amiably, stuffing handfuls of peanuts in his pockets as his latest drink was served. Buffy smiled weakly.
There was no mystery demon feeding on the customers in the Sunnydale Arms that night. The military packed away their equipment and Giles shook his head to Buffy having downed two further scotches and checking out the room. The two parties met up again outside in the parking lot.
“Have you swept the campus area yet?” Buffy asked one of the other soldiers.
“No that’s our next call.”
“Us too. Can you give us a ride?”
“Sorry,” the major appeared at her shoulder, “Military Vehicle, Military personnel only. Why don’t you take your dad home.”
“He’s not my dad.”
“Well, whatever. Amateur hour is over.”
Buffy turned to Giles angrily, “Are you going to let him talk to you like that?”
“I rather thought I would yes,” he said and giggled in the fresh air. He was considering sitting on the ground, but it seemed a jolly long way away so he opted to slump against the wall instead. Buffy could actually see the thought process. “And I couldn’t have got Ripper?” she lamented to herself.
The army sped away leaving Watcher and Slayer in resentful silence.
“Buffy, we’ve hit almost every bar in Sunnydale and I’ve drunk enough scotch to sink a small schooner and most of the surrounding yacht club.”
“We are not amateurs,” she griped.
“Perish the thought,” he slurred, “but we don’t have transport.”
“I could drive your car,” she said earnestly.
Giles disappointed her again by laughing at her. A lot. He was spluttering something about a death wish too but Buffy ignored him.
“We need to find this demon before Major Moron does. He has no idea what he’s getting into. Stop laughing. You’re not helping Giles!”
“Sorry, Buffy, sorry. Oh god I haven’t drunk this much in years.”
“I thought we’d find this thing really quickly,” she said by way of apology. It had seemed like a good plan at the time. Giles could do the drinking, point out the invisible mystery demon, she’d kill it. Game over. Cocoas all round. It wasn’t her fault the damn thing hadn’t been in any of the bars they’d tried. She started to walk back to town and Giles lurched from his wall after her.
“I know, I know. S’OK. I agreed to the plan,” he said to cheer her up. “God I hope I don’t wake up at Liverpool Lime Street Station again, or Brighton Beach, that was bloody uncomfortable - all pebbles, that’s not a bloody beach in my book. Ethan’s couch was nice, that would be good. His landlady gave the most amazing…”
It was a seriously weird night and there were some things she just didn’t want to hear, however…. She stopped suddenly, Giles lumbered into the back of her but Buffy’s eyes were gleaming, “Almost every bar did you say?”
Giles pushed confidently at a darkened door round the back of the business centre of Sunnydale. It gave immediately and Buffy followed him up two flights of narrow twisting stairs. There was little to no light and they had to largely feel their way to another door. This also opened easily and they were rewarded with a corridor of subdued lighting and gentle music. There were faded posters on the wall of semi naked women in rather beckoning poses.
“Where the hell are we going?” asked Buffy.
“It’s called The Zoo. It’s a, um, private club.”
“Good god I didn’t know we had places like this in Sunnydale. I’m guessing Major Disaster doesn’t know about it either.”
At the final door they reached the reception area manned by a large, bored doorman. He assessed the tall drunk and the young woman carrying a large holdall. Sunnydale was a strange town.
“Members only,” he said firmly.
Giles had that goofy glazed look in his eyes again and started checking his pockets. That he kept finding peanuts seemed remarkably strange to him. Buffy took charge.
“We need to go through. There’s a demon in there killing your customers.”
The doorman folded his arms, unimpressed, “Members only.”
Giles reached past Buffy and held out a shiny black card.
The doorman’s attitude changed immediately, “That’s fine, Mr Giles you’re very welcome.”
“Whoa,” said Buffy.
“But if your girlfriend causes any trouble I’m going to have to ask her to leave.”
“I’m not his girlfriend and excuse me, I hadn’t finished ‘Whoa-ing’. Membership card, Giles, You have a membership card?”
They entered the main area of the club and found it surprisingly quiet. A few members looked furtively at the newcomers, but they seemed to have timed their arrival during a lull in exotic dancing. There was one long bar across the far end of the room.
“Anya got it for me. She thought it would get me out of the shop more. I’ve never been here before I swear to you.”
His earnest plea of innocence was interrupted by the female bartender’s cry, “Rupert!”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed to disbelieving slits. “Rupert,” the woman cried again excitedly. She was mid thirties but dressed in a lewd costume comprising g-string, a blue feather boa scarf and some sort of tassel arrangement that if it was meant to provide modesty was sorely failing. Buffy’s mind reeled. If this was the bar staff, god knows what the acts wore.
“Rupert, how good to see you again.”
“Good evening Trina,” said Giles, with tremendous politeness. “Buffy this is Trina. She knows me.”
“I gathered.”
“Trina works at the bookstore opposite the Espresso Pump. During the day obviously,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily.
“We had a poltergeist in the bookstore. Rupert was very brave,” Giles’ newest biggest fan explained enthusiastically.
“I’m sure he was.” Buffy’s attitude could have etched death marks on diamonds.
.
Giles was oblivious, “You look different somehow Trina… Have you changed your hair?”
Trina beamed and raised her hand to her hair. This had unfortunate consequences for her attire which rose up revealingly. “You like it?” she asked.
“Very much,” slurred Giles.
“Oh brother,” muttered Buffy, “Can we get this man something to drink?”
Just when Buffy thought the night just couldn’t get any worse, Major Pratt and his merry band entered. They’d double backed and were just as surprised to see Team Slayer. Pratt scowled and pointedly ordered their equipment be set up in the farthest corner of the room. Giles meanwhile had continued talking to his new best friend. When Buffy caught the phrase, “How do you feel about Mexicans?”, her attention snapped back and she grabbed at his shirt, “Could you focus for a moment here.”
He drank some of his scotch, “What? What’s the problem?”
She pulled him a little way from Trina and hissed, “Mexican?”
“What? I’ve got a thing, she’s got some things,” he took a big swallow of his drink, “It’s none of your business really.”
“No it’s not, but stop it anyway. You’re freaking me out.”
“Goodness me. There’s an elephant in the room.”
“Well, there’s just so much with Riley leaving and my mom’s illness and Dawn being a pain and Glory wanting to end the world and yes, maybe yes I am a little jealous,” Buffy conceded, “there I’ve said it, I’m a little jealous, but now is not the time-“
“No really. An elephant. Well demon but elephant like. It’s on two legs, about seven foot tall with a big trunk. Very hungry and very …Pink. Roseus Loxodonta.” Giles watched in fascination, “Hmm. Pink elephant, actually that makes a lot of sense. These things might be more common that we think, the first recorded sighting was in 175-“
“Giles!”
“Hmm?”
“Less with the exposition, more with the pointing.”
“Oh right, sorry, yes. It’s about…,” his unsteady finger moved around the room, it got closer to where the soldiers where setting up their equipment. An unseen force suddenly ripped one of the men from his feet and hurled him into power supplies. Sparks flew dangerously across the room. “There really,” pinpointed Giles helpfully.
Buffy dived to the holdall, produced an axe, raced over and swung it wildly to defend the injured man. There was nothing. No sounds. No contact.
“Everyone spread out and keep low,” barked the Major.
Buffy dropped to his side, “Can you get any readings?”
“Not a thing now. It’s down to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she bleated, “Giles, where is it now?”
Giles however had decided he needed to polish his glasses and seemed to take an age to inexpertly finish the task. On replacing them he pointed his finger again but the demon was either moving evasively or Giles had developed some serious shaking from alcohol poisoning. Eventually he stopped on a fixed point. Buffy and the soldiers got to their feet cautiously.
“What’s the distance?”
“Twenty feet... fifteen feet. No ten feet now. Ah,” his eyes opened wide in fatalistic realisation, “I do believe I’m beginning to see the flaw in our strategy.”
The trunk of the elephant like demon shot forward and wrapped itself across Giles’ face, blocking his airways and lifting him off his feet.
“Giles!” Buffy made to speed across the room but Trina was nearer and reacted first. She smashed a bar stool optimistically at thin air and made satisfying crunchy contact. Whatever it was reacted by dumping Giles to the floor and then knocking him over the bar into the bottles and glass of the serving area. Trina ran round the bar to see if he was OK. Buffy and the solders stopped. The place went silent. The few customers huddled into the corners.
“Hand to hand men,” ordered Major Pratt, “let’s limit the civilian causalities as best we can.” The few customers huddled even further into their corners.
In the meantime Trina had managed to drag Giles away from the broken glass and was cradling his head on her lap. He opened his eyes and looked at two pink tassels, rather a lot of soft flesh and eventually a woman’s concerned eyes. “This isn’t Brighton Beach,” he concluded.
“Shh. Is anything broken?” Trina whispered.
“Not usually,” he admitted and rolled off to survey the battle scene. Buffy and the soldiers were trying to cordon the demon but it was much too strong and mocked their efforts. He winced as Buffy went flying backwards through the air as the demon swiped her effortlessly out the way.
Trina tugged his sleeve, “What does it look like? Is it Disney?”
Giles considered as the creature snarled dark tusks of anger, its eyes blooded with a lust to kill.
“In a way.”
He ducked back down behind the bar and started pulling ingredients from the lower shelves. “Pass me that ice bucket,” he ordered and recklessly started to fill it with everything he could get his hands on, vodka, orange juice, grenadine, and Galliano. He tried a taste but his eyes watered so badly, it made him take his glasses off. As an afterthought he emptied in the rest of the peanuts from his pockets.
“Do pink elephants like peanuts?” asked a puzzled Trina. Giles took the feather scarf from her neck and added that to his bucket of alcoholic slosh. He handed her his glasses, “Look after these for me, and stay here. You’ll be safe.” He then edged to the corner of the bar and waited his moment.
Buffy was finding the soldiers of only limited assistance. They had armed themselves with short bayonet knives, which would have been OK, but they would insist on trying to protect her. Buffy was a little sick of men who thought they had better battle tactics than she did. Riley, and if she was honest Angel, had both left because they couldn’t handle being the sidekick. If Pratt patronised her once more he was going to be on the wrong end of some pointy friendly fire mishap.
To her surprise, Giles suddenly reappeared from behind the bar and threw the contents of some grizzly cocktail into the air. It took her a moment to understand but the mixture was shiny and sticky and the peanuts and feathers clung on to the invisible demon just long enough to give Buffy a reasonable look at her objective. The elephant trumpeted it’s disapproval at Giles and turned to end the matter of the annoying English drunk once and for all. But Buffy, now with a target, struck viciously with her axe just as Giles dived to the floor out the way. The soldiers attempted to close in to share the kill even though their weapons made little impact.
After a couple of good axe blows, Buffy knew how it was going to end. She had killed a lot of demons in her time and had developed a sixth sense for when things were going to go squishy. Consequently, as soon as she knew she’d dealt a fatal blow, she dived to the floor next to Giles for cover just as the elephant exploded into a tidal wave of pink goo. Major Pratt and his team had no such sixth sense and caught the full force.
Giles raised himself to his knees quickly, “Don’t get any of it on your skin,” he advised, “that’s how they reproduce.”
“Jesus H!” exclaimed Pratt and the army swiftly fell out in the direction of the bathrooms.
Fortunately Buffy’s sixth sense also extended to times when her Watcher told whopping great lies. Sure enough there was a twinkle in his otherwise seriously glassy eyes. She smiled and punched him the arm to show she understood. He continued to kneel on the floor but grinned smugly to himself.
The few customers began to slowly crawl from the hiding places, and the bar started to resume normalcy. Buffy stood to look for damage or casualties and approached Trina.
“Sorry about al the mess.”
The woman nodded, “That’s OK. We’ve had worse. God, this is one weird town. I guess you should look after these,” she held out Giles’ glasses, “he’ll need them again, when he’s seeing clearly.”
Buffy took them and felt maybe she’d been a bit unfair before, “You did well Trina, and thank you for taking care of him.”
“I think he has you to do that most of the time.”
“Not all the time. He’s probably not going to remember any of this. Why don’t you come over to the Magic Box one day? For coffee, or tea, he has lots of tea. He’d like that.”
Trina nodded, accepting the olive branch offered, “I’ll wear more clothes,” she promised.
“I’d like that even more.” The two women smiled.
Buffy picked up her weapons bag, and went back to Giles who was still kneeling on the floor where she’d left him. She polished his glasses and handed them back to him, “Let’s go home Giles.”
But he looked up at her with stricken eyes, “I can’t….”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t feel my legs,” he confided in a dreadful whisper.
She smiled gently down at him, “You’re kneeling on them.”
He considered this for a moment, “Are you sure?”
Buffy burst out laughing. The whole night was too much. Angel could leave to play the Hero, and Riley was all about the macho thing, but Giles was always at her side. Sweet goofy, loyal Giles: a man who wasn’t afraid to put his life, or indeed his liver, on the line for her.
“I’m sure. Come on. Put your arm around me, there, now up, that’s it. Put some weight down and you’re up, there you go. Well done.”
He weighed a ton, smelt like a distillery and Buffy had no idea how she was going to get him down the two flights of narrow stairs, but all in all, it hadn’t been such a bad night.
“Is this the epilogue Buffy?”
“I guess so, why?”
“Because there’s just one thing I don’t understand….when you said you were jealous, what did you mean by that?”
“You’re not going to let me forget that bit are you?”
“Hell, no.”
Author: il_mio_capitano
Rating: Teens I suppose. Nothing shocking.
Length: About 3300
Characters: Buffy, Giles. Season 5 but after Riley has sulked off.
Bit so Joss doesn’t sue: Quite.
Notes: Written for the Drunken!Giles Ficathon. A truly marvellous institution.
With thanks to mythichistorian for the awesome prompt.
Prompt: There's a pink elephant demon in town - which you need to be intoxicated to see. As Buffy and alcohol are unmixy things, Giles volunteers to down a drink or two (or three, of four - at least one in every bar/party they visit) so he can help her find (and fight it ...)
Buffy was learning a lot about Giles that night and most of it she intended to repress. She sighed and leaned back against the bar of the Sunnydale Arms. It was a quaint bar with oak beams and brass horseshoes. A bar with pretensions to genteel Englishness but which served the same sad losers she’d seen in every other bar that night. She’d perfected a dangerous scowl to stop them hitting on her whenever Giles wasn’t in the vicinity. Giles, who she now knew couldn’t juggle and certainly shouldn’t try it with other people’s drinks. How she didn’t have to rescue him from more bar brawls was a mystery, it was like trying to patrol with an excitable overgrown puppy.
As she waited, scanning the bar area and the alcoves looking for signs of trouble, a party of four men arrived. They were clothed casually but might as well as been in full dress uniform for all the undercover they had. She approached the leader, a balding but solid looking man in his fifties.
“I thought the Initiative left town long ago?” she demanded.
The older man stopped to consider her before answering, “Special Ops Unit. Set up the equipment here, sergeant.” He viewed her with open contempt, “You must be the little girl that caused all the trouble for my predecessor.”
“I’m the Slayer. What are you doing here?”
The rest of the soldiers began to piece together some elaborate electronic surveillance equipment as he spoke. “We got word of an unusual demon. Invisible to the eye and seems to attack only the inebriated. How about you? Are you here on a date?” He asked politely but with just a hint of sarcasm indicating he probably knew about Riley. Bastard, she thought, did everyone know about Riley leaving her to get his GI Joneses in the jungle?
“You boys can scuttle back to the Pentagon. I know all about it. It’s a Rosie Orthodonty Demon,” she said confidently, though wondering if that meant it had a dental plan, “We’ve got this covered.”
“Really?” his doubt was almost tangible, “We have the finest demon detection system in the western hemisphere. The specs to this equipment are top secret; it detects heat, pheromones, moisture content, light diffraction. Just what are you using?”
At this point, Giles returned from the bathroom and stumbled up to the conversation, nudging a couple of bystanders as he went, spilling their drinks, “So sorry. Hey?” he asked playfully, “Who ordered the goon squad?”
The head soldier seemed to swell to twice his normal size, “I’m Major Pratt, Special Forces. Who the hell are you?”
“Really,” giggled Giles, “Major Pratt? Really?”
The Major visibly bristled, “Got your green card with you buddy?”
Buffy interposed, “He’s with me, he knows far more about this demon than you. He knows its history, its name, and how to kill it and how it reproduces…”
“Let’s save that last one for the Discovery Channel fella,” at which the other soldiers laughed.
The major shook his head patronisingly, “Slayer, we have half a million dollars worth of technology - the product of the finest scientific minds in the country. Whilst the cornerstone of your strategy seems to be dragging around some pickled limey as, what, bait?”
“He’s not bait. He’s here to help me fight it,” said Buffy defiantly, keenly aware that behind her, Giles was throwing peanuts in the air and failing to catch them in his mouth.
“Fight it?” The major laughed, “Missy, Bertie Wooster over there, couldn’t stake an olive in a full jar.”
“What ho Pratt,” said Giles amiably, stuffing handfuls of peanuts in his pockets as his latest drink was served. Buffy smiled weakly.
There was no mystery demon feeding on the customers in the Sunnydale Arms that night. The military packed away their equipment and Giles shook his head to Buffy having downed two further scotches and checking out the room. The two parties met up again outside in the parking lot.
“Have you swept the campus area yet?” Buffy asked one of the other soldiers.
“No that’s our next call.”
“Us too. Can you give us a ride?”
“Sorry,” the major appeared at her shoulder, “Military Vehicle, Military personnel only. Why don’t you take your dad home.”
“He’s not my dad.”
“Well, whatever. Amateur hour is over.”
Buffy turned to Giles angrily, “Are you going to let him talk to you like that?”
“I rather thought I would yes,” he said and giggled in the fresh air. He was considering sitting on the ground, but it seemed a jolly long way away so he opted to slump against the wall instead. Buffy could actually see the thought process. “And I couldn’t have got Ripper?” she lamented to herself.
The army sped away leaving Watcher and Slayer in resentful silence.
“Buffy, we’ve hit almost every bar in Sunnydale and I’ve drunk enough scotch to sink a small schooner and most of the surrounding yacht club.”
“We are not amateurs,” she griped.
“Perish the thought,” he slurred, “but we don’t have transport.”
“I could drive your car,” she said earnestly.
Giles disappointed her again by laughing at her. A lot. He was spluttering something about a death wish too but Buffy ignored him.
“We need to find this demon before Major Moron does. He has no idea what he’s getting into. Stop laughing. You’re not helping Giles!”
“Sorry, Buffy, sorry. Oh god I haven’t drunk this much in years.”
“I thought we’d find this thing really quickly,” she said by way of apology. It had seemed like a good plan at the time. Giles could do the drinking, point out the invisible mystery demon, she’d kill it. Game over. Cocoas all round. It wasn’t her fault the damn thing hadn’t been in any of the bars they’d tried. She started to walk back to town and Giles lurched from his wall after her.
“I know, I know. S’OK. I agreed to the plan,” he said to cheer her up. “God I hope I don’t wake up at Liverpool Lime Street Station again, or Brighton Beach, that was bloody uncomfortable - all pebbles, that’s not a bloody beach in my book. Ethan’s couch was nice, that would be good. His landlady gave the most amazing…”
It was a seriously weird night and there were some things she just didn’t want to hear, however…. She stopped suddenly, Giles lumbered into the back of her but Buffy’s eyes were gleaming, “Almost every bar did you say?”
Giles pushed confidently at a darkened door round the back of the business centre of Sunnydale. It gave immediately and Buffy followed him up two flights of narrow twisting stairs. There was little to no light and they had to largely feel their way to another door. This also opened easily and they were rewarded with a corridor of subdued lighting and gentle music. There were faded posters on the wall of semi naked women in rather beckoning poses.
“Where the hell are we going?” asked Buffy.
“It’s called The Zoo. It’s a, um, private club.”
“Good god I didn’t know we had places like this in Sunnydale. I’m guessing Major Disaster doesn’t know about it either.”
At the final door they reached the reception area manned by a large, bored doorman. He assessed the tall drunk and the young woman carrying a large holdall. Sunnydale was a strange town.
“Members only,” he said firmly.
Giles had that goofy glazed look in his eyes again and started checking his pockets. That he kept finding peanuts seemed remarkably strange to him. Buffy took charge.
“We need to go through. There’s a demon in there killing your customers.”
The doorman folded his arms, unimpressed, “Members only.”
Giles reached past Buffy and held out a shiny black card.
The doorman’s attitude changed immediately, “That’s fine, Mr Giles you’re very welcome.”
“Whoa,” said Buffy.
“But if your girlfriend causes any trouble I’m going to have to ask her to leave.”
“I’m not his girlfriend and excuse me, I hadn’t finished ‘Whoa-ing’. Membership card, Giles, You have a membership card?”
They entered the main area of the club and found it surprisingly quiet. A few members looked furtively at the newcomers, but they seemed to have timed their arrival during a lull in exotic dancing. There was one long bar across the far end of the room.
“Anya got it for me. She thought it would get me out of the shop more. I’ve never been here before I swear to you.”
His earnest plea of innocence was interrupted by the female bartender’s cry, “Rupert!”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed to disbelieving slits. “Rupert,” the woman cried again excitedly. She was mid thirties but dressed in a lewd costume comprising g-string, a blue feather boa scarf and some sort of tassel arrangement that if it was meant to provide modesty was sorely failing. Buffy’s mind reeled. If this was the bar staff, god knows what the acts wore.
“Rupert, how good to see you again.”
“Good evening Trina,” said Giles, with tremendous politeness. “Buffy this is Trina. She knows me.”
“I gathered.”
“Trina works at the bookstore opposite the Espresso Pump. During the day obviously,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily.
“We had a poltergeist in the bookstore. Rupert was very brave,” Giles’ newest biggest fan explained enthusiastically.
“I’m sure he was.” Buffy’s attitude could have etched death marks on diamonds.
.
Giles was oblivious, “You look different somehow Trina… Have you changed your hair?”
Trina beamed and raised her hand to her hair. This had unfortunate consequences for her attire which rose up revealingly. “You like it?” she asked.
“Very much,” slurred Giles.
“Oh brother,” muttered Buffy, “Can we get this man something to drink?”
Just when Buffy thought the night just couldn’t get any worse, Major Pratt and his merry band entered. They’d double backed and were just as surprised to see Team Slayer. Pratt scowled and pointedly ordered their equipment be set up in the farthest corner of the room. Giles meanwhile had continued talking to his new best friend. When Buffy caught the phrase, “How do you feel about Mexicans?”, her attention snapped back and she grabbed at his shirt, “Could you focus for a moment here.”
He drank some of his scotch, “What? What’s the problem?”
She pulled him a little way from Trina and hissed, “Mexican?”
“What? I’ve got a thing, she’s got some things,” he took a big swallow of his drink, “It’s none of your business really.”
“No it’s not, but stop it anyway. You’re freaking me out.”
“Goodness me. There’s an elephant in the room.”
“Well, there’s just so much with Riley leaving and my mom’s illness and Dawn being a pain and Glory wanting to end the world and yes, maybe yes I am a little jealous,” Buffy conceded, “there I’ve said it, I’m a little jealous, but now is not the time-“
“No really. An elephant. Well demon but elephant like. It’s on two legs, about seven foot tall with a big trunk. Very hungry and very …Pink. Roseus Loxodonta.” Giles watched in fascination, “Hmm. Pink elephant, actually that makes a lot of sense. These things might be more common that we think, the first recorded sighting was in 175-“
“Giles!”
“Hmm?”
“Less with the exposition, more with the pointing.”
“Oh right, sorry, yes. It’s about…,” his unsteady finger moved around the room, it got closer to where the soldiers where setting up their equipment. An unseen force suddenly ripped one of the men from his feet and hurled him into power supplies. Sparks flew dangerously across the room. “There really,” pinpointed Giles helpfully.
Buffy dived to the holdall, produced an axe, raced over and swung it wildly to defend the injured man. There was nothing. No sounds. No contact.
“Everyone spread out and keep low,” barked the Major.
Buffy dropped to his side, “Can you get any readings?”
“Not a thing now. It’s down to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she bleated, “Giles, where is it now?”
Giles however had decided he needed to polish his glasses and seemed to take an age to inexpertly finish the task. On replacing them he pointed his finger again but the demon was either moving evasively or Giles had developed some serious shaking from alcohol poisoning. Eventually he stopped on a fixed point. Buffy and the soldiers got to their feet cautiously.
“What’s the distance?”
“Twenty feet... fifteen feet. No ten feet now. Ah,” his eyes opened wide in fatalistic realisation, “I do believe I’m beginning to see the flaw in our strategy.”
The trunk of the elephant like demon shot forward and wrapped itself across Giles’ face, blocking his airways and lifting him off his feet.
“Giles!” Buffy made to speed across the room but Trina was nearer and reacted first. She smashed a bar stool optimistically at thin air and made satisfying crunchy contact. Whatever it was reacted by dumping Giles to the floor and then knocking him over the bar into the bottles and glass of the serving area. Trina ran round the bar to see if he was OK. Buffy and the solders stopped. The place went silent. The few customers huddled into the corners.
“Hand to hand men,” ordered Major Pratt, “let’s limit the civilian causalities as best we can.” The few customers huddled even further into their corners.
In the meantime Trina had managed to drag Giles away from the broken glass and was cradling his head on her lap. He opened his eyes and looked at two pink tassels, rather a lot of soft flesh and eventually a woman’s concerned eyes. “This isn’t Brighton Beach,” he concluded.
“Shh. Is anything broken?” Trina whispered.
“Not usually,” he admitted and rolled off to survey the battle scene. Buffy and the soldiers were trying to cordon the demon but it was much too strong and mocked their efforts. He winced as Buffy went flying backwards through the air as the demon swiped her effortlessly out the way.
Trina tugged his sleeve, “What does it look like? Is it Disney?”
Giles considered as the creature snarled dark tusks of anger, its eyes blooded with a lust to kill.
“In a way.”
He ducked back down behind the bar and started pulling ingredients from the lower shelves. “Pass me that ice bucket,” he ordered and recklessly started to fill it with everything he could get his hands on, vodka, orange juice, grenadine, and Galliano. He tried a taste but his eyes watered so badly, it made him take his glasses off. As an afterthought he emptied in the rest of the peanuts from his pockets.
“Do pink elephants like peanuts?” asked a puzzled Trina. Giles took the feather scarf from her neck and added that to his bucket of alcoholic slosh. He handed her his glasses, “Look after these for me, and stay here. You’ll be safe.” He then edged to the corner of the bar and waited his moment.
Buffy was finding the soldiers of only limited assistance. They had armed themselves with short bayonet knives, which would have been OK, but they would insist on trying to protect her. Buffy was a little sick of men who thought they had better battle tactics than she did. Riley, and if she was honest Angel, had both left because they couldn’t handle being the sidekick. If Pratt patronised her once more he was going to be on the wrong end of some pointy friendly fire mishap.
To her surprise, Giles suddenly reappeared from behind the bar and threw the contents of some grizzly cocktail into the air. It took her a moment to understand but the mixture was shiny and sticky and the peanuts and feathers clung on to the invisible demon just long enough to give Buffy a reasonable look at her objective. The elephant trumpeted it’s disapproval at Giles and turned to end the matter of the annoying English drunk once and for all. But Buffy, now with a target, struck viciously with her axe just as Giles dived to the floor out the way. The soldiers attempted to close in to share the kill even though their weapons made little impact.
After a couple of good axe blows, Buffy knew how it was going to end. She had killed a lot of demons in her time and had developed a sixth sense for when things were going to go squishy. Consequently, as soon as she knew she’d dealt a fatal blow, she dived to the floor next to Giles for cover just as the elephant exploded into a tidal wave of pink goo. Major Pratt and his team had no such sixth sense and caught the full force.
Giles raised himself to his knees quickly, “Don’t get any of it on your skin,” he advised, “that’s how they reproduce.”
“Jesus H!” exclaimed Pratt and the army swiftly fell out in the direction of the bathrooms.
Fortunately Buffy’s sixth sense also extended to times when her Watcher told whopping great lies. Sure enough there was a twinkle in his otherwise seriously glassy eyes. She smiled and punched him the arm to show she understood. He continued to kneel on the floor but grinned smugly to himself.
The few customers began to slowly crawl from the hiding places, and the bar started to resume normalcy. Buffy stood to look for damage or casualties and approached Trina.
“Sorry about al the mess.”
The woman nodded, “That’s OK. We’ve had worse. God, this is one weird town. I guess you should look after these,” she held out Giles’ glasses, “he’ll need them again, when he’s seeing clearly.”
Buffy took them and felt maybe she’d been a bit unfair before, “You did well Trina, and thank you for taking care of him.”
“I think he has you to do that most of the time.”
“Not all the time. He’s probably not going to remember any of this. Why don’t you come over to the Magic Box one day? For coffee, or tea, he has lots of tea. He’d like that.”
Trina nodded, accepting the olive branch offered, “I’ll wear more clothes,” she promised.
“I’d like that even more.” The two women smiled.
Buffy picked up her weapons bag, and went back to Giles who was still kneeling on the floor where she’d left him. She polished his glasses and handed them back to him, “Let’s go home Giles.”
But he looked up at her with stricken eyes, “I can’t….”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t feel my legs,” he confided in a dreadful whisper.
She smiled gently down at him, “You’re kneeling on them.”
He considered this for a moment, “Are you sure?”
Buffy burst out laughing. The whole night was too much. Angel could leave to play the Hero, and Riley was all about the macho thing, but Giles was always at her side. Sweet goofy, loyal Giles: a man who wasn’t afraid to put his life, or indeed his liver, on the line for her.
“I’m sure. Come on. Put your arm around me, there, now up, that’s it. Put some weight down and you’re up, there you go. Well done.”
He weighed a ton, smelt like a distillery and Buffy had no idea how she was going to get him down the two flights of narrow stairs, but all in all, it hadn’t been such a bad night.
“Is this the epilogue Buffy?”
“I guess so, why?”
“Because there’s just one thing I don’t understand….when you said you were jealous, what did you mean by that?”
“You’re not going to let me forget that bit are you?”
“Hell, no.”