HERE TO WATCH GIRLS, CHAPTER FOUR: WHITE HAT ( PART 4 OF ABOUT 15-20, FINAL POST OF THE DAY)
Title: Here to Watch Girls
Author: ProtoNeoRomantic
Betas: Gilescandy & porkwithbones
Rating: NC-17 (work as a whole)
Paring: Giles/Willow, Giles/Buffy, Giles/Cordelia, Giles/other female characters
Word Count: 1471 (this chapter)
Chapter Four: White Hat
Giles tried to look casual, strolling the campus, though strictly speaking, he should not have been out of the library at Lunch hour, which was a peak time for fiction borrowers particularly. He should have been there to serve. But, considering how his day had gone so far, he didn't want to run the risk of deflowering yet another innocent student. He'd been damned fortunate over the course of the past twenty-five days to keep that number at only three. Besides, he had to speak to Willow before she or Buffy left school, and at any other time, she might well be in class.
Sunnydale High, unlike every other state secondary school in California, still had six class periods rather than seven or the increasingly popular eight. This allowed classes to be completed by 2:30, leaving time for all extra-curricular activities to be squeezed in before 5:00. No one was sure just why, but it was a Sunnydale tradition. In order to keep that schedule while still meeting state standards, Sunnydale had devised the most complicated variant of block scheduling known to man. Each student was assigned to eight classes, which met on often but not always alternating days, leaving one or two free class periods per day, though not always at the same times. There was a Vice Principal whose entire job it was to keep up with where each student was supposed to be at any given day and time. The rest of the faculty had all they could do to keep up with where they were meant to be themselves. Guilty as he felt admitting it to himself, Giles had no idea of Willow's schedule for this afternoon, let alone Buffy's.
And so, hands tucked safely into the pockets of his tweed suit coat, forcing his eyes (in so far as was possible) to scan only the faces of the young girls that he passed, Giles strolled. Or rather, he scoured the campus for his young lover. Your young what now? Shut up.
At last he spotted her, sitting alone at a picnic table near the edge of the outdoor dining area, far from the laughing crowd. He moved to join her, fairly sure that no one would overhear their conversation and that the few who saw it wouldn't make much of it. Willow had evidently been well-known as a haunter of libraries, wont to converse with librarians, long before his time. But when Giles saw who was even now approaching her, he hung back, stepping into the shadow of a tree with practiced stealth. He leaned one hand against the truck and stood there. Tense. Watching. It might have been cowardly of him, he supposed, but under the circumstances, he'd have been a damned fool to do anything else.
“Willow!” Cordelia's voice rang though the picnic area in acidly ironic greeting. “Love the outfit! Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears(!)” Willow made an evidently contrite response (which could not be heard at this distance) and stood, gathering her things to move. Apparently, Cordelia and her companions were not satisfied. Harmony Kendall, a tall, exceptionally attractive blonde with a sour look on her face, threw out her elbow and 'accidentally' knocked Willow's still mostly full lunch tray to the ground. Several lesser 'Cordettes' laughed loud and plastically. Willow took a long step backwards, lowing her head and seeming to wilt, to almost physically shrink.
Giles took his hand from the tree and was on the point of stepping forward after all, blood boiling, when he was seized by sudden, sharp, painful spasms of the scrotum. The crippling pain very nearly drove him to his knees. Though it lasted less than a second, it was several seconds before he could see straight. Easy there, Don Quixote, the incubus warned, deep breaths. But this is all my fault; I have to do something! Nah, s'got nothing to do with you. Just garden variety meangirlism. Believe me, I've known this type for centuries. Fit right in at Versailles, that one. If she thought for one minute she'd been boinking the same beefstick as Miss Just-Happens-Not-to-Be-Mousy-Haired, she'd hide in a closet with a paper bag over her head until she died of shame.
Willow was crying now, possibly pleading with her tormenters to have mercy, but not yet running away. Cordelia and friends had lowered their voices, probably to say something truly nasty. Look, I can't just stand here and let them treat her that way! She's my-! Giles stopped short, having no labeled relationship to assert. The incubus smirked inwardly in triumph, understanding the assertion well enough without the label. Die and be damned! Giles admonished the demon, taking a step forward, heedless of the dizzying array of possible negative consequences. What the hell. You asked for it. Let's see how this one plays out.
“You girls!” Giles challenged in a way that sounded, even in his own ears, very much like, 'en garde!', striding purposefully forward, “What do you think you're doing?”
Cordelia cocked her head to one side and made a noise of utter disdain. “Excuse you?” she demanded. “Since when is what I do any tiny bit of your business?”
“Cordelia,” Giles said, as firmly and steadily as he could manage, looking her slightly above and to the side of in the eye, “This behavior is completely unacceptable. It's childish and... and cruel... and unbecoming to-well to anyone.”
“Oh, I see,” Cordelia something between purred and snarled, her voice dripping with scorn, “You're being the 'grown up' now. Well sorry, I don't do the whole 'discipline' thing. So why don't you go find yourself another naughty little girl to spank?”
“What-I-Ms. Chase, that's hardly-”
“It's all right,” Willow assured Giles with quiet, gentle urgency that suggested more concern for him than for herself, backing up to stand much too close to him, touching his hand. “It was an accident. I was just leaving anyway.” Then it happened. Cordelia looked from Giles to Willow and back again and something clicked with her, even as she was failing to notice the looks several Cordettes were exchanging at her expense, and the pointed way Harmony failed to meet those looks in either confirmation or challenge.
Harmony reached to put a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, gently suggesting restraint. But Cordelia was too far gone to be gently restrained. “Oh, but I guess you've already got one. More your speed is she? Little Miss Compliant. Ready to bend over just for the attention?”
“Hey!” Willow snapped, suddenly fierce, stepping protectively in front of him, “Rude much! You can't talk to him like that! He's-uh-a teacher or, or well not exactly, but-but-!”
“Willow,” Giles admonished her, worried for her safety now-and not at all worried you're about to get busted, I bet-pushing her aside a bit less gently than he'd meant too, putting himself between the two girls, and much, much too close to Cordelia. “Go to the computer lab and wait for me.” Willow obeyed, looking reluctant but moving quickly. Giles turned his attention back to the other girls. Everyone stood their ground. Cordelia's eyes blazed. All of her girls seemed, for the moment, at least passively, prepared to back her up.
“Cordelia, Harmony,” Giles began, as steadily and authoritatively as his temper would allow, “You will both-” report to the principal's office? Seriously, that's what you're going with? “-do... well to remember... to remember... that the actions you take towards others may come back to haunt you in ways you least expect!” he blustered indignantly, his sense of chivalry acutely unsatisfied, but both guilt and self-preservation preventing him from taking any more definite action. “You might also do well to consider the cost to your own reputation of attacking someone else's,” he added more firmly, warningly. Nicely done. Very heroic. What was it you were trying to accomplish here again? Protect Willow? Keep your secrets? Assert justice in the universe? Fuck off and die. Oh well, in that case, your doin' all right.
“Are you done?” Cordelia demanded, putting on a bored-with-being-annoyed-by-you attitude, having gotten a hold of herself at last. “Was that the whole faculty lecture? Fifty ways a mousier you? Or do you have more pearls of wisdom yet to share?”
“As far as I'm concerned,” Giles replied in a tone of calm, authoritative threat-warning, “this entire matter is most definitely concluded. And if I hear of anything like this happening again, I don't think anyone is going to very happy with what results.”
“Is that what you think?” Cordelia countered, nasty-sweet. “Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?” Giles raised his eyebrows, one slightly higher than the other. Favoring Cordelia with a doubtful but carefully unconcerned expression that would do until a smirk came along, he turned stiffly and quickly walked away.