__Responses__
By Jolene Beasley
It arrived in the morning mail, on a Saturday, along with bills, sale circulars, and his monthly subscription to the ALA newsletter... a long manila envelope bearing only the insignia of the Watcher's Council as a return address. It was the quickest written response Giles had ever gotten. He never expected it to come so soon.
He picked the envelope up, leaving the other items still on the desk. Depending on what was inside, the other mail might soon be irrelevant. Meaningless. Dread set in, followed by a thrill of anticipation. Taking a letter opener from the drawer, he slit the top and the letter dropped onto the desk. He picked it up with shaking hands, unfolding the classic laid stationery, smoothing it open. He read in silence. When he finished, he put the letter down, and went upstairs to get his coat. He had a message to deliver.
********
"Psychology is the weirdest class I've ever taken. All you can prove is that there's nothing you can prove." Buffy shifted the phone on her shoulder and lay back on her couch, dangling her legs over the arm. "My teacher is certifiable, and she's telling me I've gotta think just like her, or flunk. I'm doomed!" She laughed and took another bite of her Pop Tart. "Giles is no help... he can't figure her out, either. His theories are diametrically opposed to hers..."
A knock at her door stopped her. "Hang on a minute, Will. Someone's at the door... be right back." She swung her legs to the floor, accidentally scattering her books and papers across the carpet. "Oh, great. Scrambled report. Just what I wanted for breakfast."
She jumped up and ran to the door, opening it with a smile. The smile faded when she saw his solemn face. She knew at once what news he brought. Admitting him soberly, she strode back to the phone and picked it up. "Uh, Will? I'll have to call you back. Something's come up."
He sat down on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp, oblivious to the papers and books on the floor. She sat beside him, taking his hand. His despair engulfed her, but she couldn't make out the details. She waited for him to compose himself. It took a minute, but he cleared his throat, and looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes.
"They... they have refused my request, Buffy. Without question. No hearing, no second opinions, nothing. The Council have stated that the Bond is not sufficient extenuating circumstances to break centuries of tradition. They cannot forbid us to marry, but we will be under full duty, the second slayer notwithstanding. They see it as a rare opportunity..." His voice broke, but he continued. "...an opportunity to make a significant dent in the vampire population, perhaps eradicate them completely. They... they admire your skill, Buffy. And mine, grudgingly. Rather ironic, isn't it? We do our jobs so well that they simply "can't do without us." God help us."
Tears began to stream down his face. Buffy couldn't stand it... she took him into her arms and held him as he cried. She couldn't think of anything to say. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and she closed them, allowing one tear to escape and fall onto his shoulder.
"I can't keep doing this... I can't keep sending you out to, to die. I can't... I love you." He pulled away, discarding his glasses on the couch and wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. He looked up at her, and managed a shaky smile. "I love you..." he caressed her cheek, wiping the tear track away.
"I love you, too." She kissed his wet face. "We'll just have to find another way. We can't give up. I won't give up. This is our future we're fighting for, Rupert. Yours and mine, together. It's worth the fight." She kissed his lips gently, waiting for a response. After a moment's hesitation, he kissed her back with an intensity bordering on desperation. He clung to her, hoping against hope that she was right.
They sat talking until late afternoon, turning the situation over, examining it from every angle. Mentally exhausted, they sat close together, his arm around her as she leaned against him, reveling in the extraordinary warmth they shared. He began running his fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands. She closed her eyes, enjoying the tiny shivers caused by his hands. The warmth spread, enveloping them. She felt the now familiar sense of duality as she shared his thoughts and emotions. This was a place where no callous old men could touch them, where dusty old traditions couldn't reach them, where nothing mattered but their devotion to each other.
Suddenly, her stomach growled. She giggled in embarrassment, and he began to chuckle, holding her close. "Perhaps we should stop moping about, and get something to eat." He mumbled against her hair.
She looked up at her love, gazing into his warm green eyes. "Great, 'cause I'm starving. I gotta call Mom, she needs to know what's going on. Then, you can feed me."
********
Joyce hung up the phone, her eyes full of pain. 'How dare that Council tell Rupert what he can and cannot do? It's unheard of!' She sniffed, trying to keep tears from falling. She had guests, her first since she and Wilton had gotten married, and they didn't need to see her crying. She put on her best hostess's smile, and went back to the living room.
There were three other couples besides her and Wilton, and they were having a lovely evening. Three of the four most powerful men in California education were under her roof tonight, along with their wives. There was an air of authority and responsibility about them, something Joyce instinctively responded to. She didn't want to ruin the evening, but she wanted to tell Wilton there was a problem.
She didn't need to. As soon as she re-entered the room, Wilton stood, a look of concern on his face. Her gracious hostess mask didn't fool him for a second. He crossed to her, taking her by the arms and looking into her sad eyes. "Joyce, what's wrong? You look like you've had bad news."
"I'm so sorry, Wilton. I have. I... just need to talk to you for a second." They excused themselves, and stepped into the kitchen.
"What is it? Has something happened to Buffy?"
Joyce felt her eyes fill, and shook her head, trying to gain control. "Something that certainly affects her. Rupert's retirement request has been denied."
Wilton blinked in surprise. He knew, vaguely, of the Watcher Society and their governing Council... he had spent too much time researching English folklore not to know of the stories. And Joyce had assured him that the stories were pretty well true. She had also told him about Rupert's request to remove himself and Buffy from active duty so they could marry. He couldn't believe they would refuse such a heartfelt request. Poor Buffy had to be upset... and that had upset Joyce. Well, he just couldn't stand by and let this happen.
"Honey, I'm sorry. I hate to hear that... they seem so happy. I hope they won't give up. There's always a loophole in these things, if you know where to find them." He gave her a comforting squeeze, and led her back towards the living room. "Let me make a few discreet phone calls to Oxford, and see what I can find out. I have some people who owe me some big favors, and this might be the time to collect on them."
Joyce looked a little worried. "Wilton, I'm not sure Rupert would be happy if he knew I told you about his being a Watcher."
Wilton smiled, and patted her arm soothingly. "He won't even know, hon. I've learned a few things from my studies of ancient secrets, like when to keep them, and when not to." They moved into the living room to rejoin their friends.
*******
Late that night, Buffy finally remembered to call Willow back, like she promised. She was afraid of waking her friend, but Willow answered immediately, sounding wide awake. She bombarded Buffy with questions, and when she got her answers, she felt horrible. How could those stuffy old Watchers be so cold?
"What're you guys gonna do, Buffy?" She held back a wail, not wanting to make things worse. "You guys can't quit, can you? They couldn't make you stay and slay, could they?"
"I don't know just what they can do, Will. I just know they can't make us stop loving each other. I don't know what we're gonna do. We talked for hours, and didn't come up with any great ideas." Buffy yawned, feeling exhausted both mentally and physically. "Oh, I gotta get some sleep. I still have major studying to do tomorrow, plus a Psych paper that isn't writing itself. I'll talk at you later, 'kay? Don't worry about it."
"Okay. I'm really sorry... I wish there was something I could do. 'Night."Willow hung up the phone, feeling such sadness for her friends. She sat a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly, she sprang up from her bed and seized her laptop from the desk. She quickly hooked it up to her phone line, and began sending emails around the world. Lucky for her, she had saved the address Giles had used the last time she sent a message for him. It wasn't a Watcher Council member's address, though. It was even better.
When she had finished, she sat thinking again, and came to another decision. She picked up the phone, and called her oldest friend in the whole world, and told him the news.
********
Buffy entered the main hallway of the city college Monday morning, feeling tired, sad, and sluggish, despite getting more sleep than usual. She made her way to her first class, not really seeing the people around her. She had almost reached the door when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up into Xander's worried face.
"Hey, Buff, I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes. You okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be okay? Things are just... great. Fine."
"Willow told me."
"It figures. Oh, well, the whole world could know, and it wouldn't make any difference. This is something me and Giles are just gonna have to deal with on our own, okay? You can't do anything about it." She started toward the classroom door again, but he stopped her.
"Don't count on me not being able to do anything, Buff. You know my rich cousins? The undertakers? Guess who their materials supplier is?"
She looked at him quizzically and said, "And what, exactly, does that have to do with me and Giles? In twenty words or less... I'm gonna be late for class." He rocked back on his heels, bouncing a little, and smirked. "Well, their supplier is my cousin's mother's favorite aunt, and she writes romance novels on the side. Very popular, English-type, big money romance novels. The Queen reads her books. And guess who her biggest fan is?"
Buffy shot him an exasperated look.
"Okay, don't guess. Her biggest fan is head of the Watcher Council." Buffy's look changed to one of shock.
"How do you know that?" She asked, leading him away from the doorway.
"I may be the poor relation, but I'm still a relation. They feel sorry for me, so they did me a favor. It was easy. One phone call from Auntie, and now I know everything."
"What did you tell her?"
"Just that the Council was making life pretty miserable for a certain heroic Watcher-type guy and Slayer-type girl here in Sunnydale. That his lovelife was going into the toilet unless someone did something about it. So, Auntie the famous writer thought it was a sweet, romantic story, and she's threatening to come to America, do a little in-depth research, and write the story of a lifetime. Of course, she'd have to tell the world about the Watchers, then, wouldn't she?"
"Xander! I don't believe this!"
"Groveling thank yous would be in order now."
"I'll wait until I find out if Giles gets totally fired over this, before I give you what you deserve!" She stalked away, leaving Xander shifting his weight uncomfortably in the middle of the hall.
"That was sooooo not the reaction I was hoping for." He shrugged, and moped off to his own class, muttering to himself.
*******
Wilton Bernard sat in his plush office, signing the huge pile of requisitions that accompanied the running of a large metropolitan university. Just as his wrist began to cramp in earnest, the telephone rang. Shaking his hand with a wry grin, he punched his intercom button. His secretary announced the call, and he took it eagerly. This was the call he'd been waiting for. 'Let's see that bunch of old prudes get out of this one!' He thought with a crafty grin.
********
Willow Rosenberg unlocked her door, dragged himself into the room, and dropped her books on the bed. She flopped down beside them, weary to the bone. What a day! Three labs in one afternoon... she had to be crazy. She'd never do that again... voluntarily, anyway. She lay back, sighed and had almost dozed off when a chiming sound got her attention. She leaped to her desk, opened her laptop, and squealed in excitement as she began to read. 'Looks like my ideas are startin' to pay off!'
********
Rupert Giles sat at his office desk, idly dunking a teabag into a rapidly cooling cup of water. He looked around the paneled room... much nicer than the one at Sunnydale. He was actualy enjoying his new role as lecturer. The students were bright, and the class was full. He was in love with the most wonderful girl in the world. By all rights, he should be happier than at any other time in his life. But, here he sat, morosely staring at the walls, wishing he could conjure up a spell to make his troubles all go away.
He sighed, and looked at his cup. Discarding the teabag, he took a sip, and grimaced. Cold already.
The telephone surprised him by ringing, two rings close together. An outside call. He picked up the receiver. "Rupert Giles, Antiquities. May I help you?" His face went from pleasant blankness to surprise, to amusement, then to barely concealed smugness. "Oh, yes, sir, I quite understand. Such a bother. No, I had no idea, really. Yes, I did write the letter, but that was all. No, I haven't discussed it with anyone except Buffy... no, of course not. I wouldn't dream of it. However, I do wish to resubmit my request formally at the next Council meeting. January first? I could be there, I think. School will be out until the 10th. Of course, I'll bring her. You do? That's encouraging. Yes, I'll be watching for confirmation in the post. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much."
He hung up, and sat with a smirking grin on his face. Suddenly, he began to laugh heartily. The poor Council. They never came up against a bunch of ingenious Americans before. It was too priceless! He wasn't exactly sure who had done what, but he had a very good idea of where to go for some answers.He squared his shoulders, symbolically shaking off his gloomy mood. He had reservations to make and a certain unhappy young lady to cheer up. Then, he needed to call a meeting.
********
Joyce's spacious new living room looked like Party Central. There were a dozen people milling about waving their arms, talking loudly, laughing and wandering back and forth to the kitchen for more drinks. Giles smiled as he watched the scene... he wouldn't have it any other way. Included in the group were the most important people in Buffy's life, and therefore, in his.
Actually, he didn't know some of them at all. Xander's cousin, two of Willow's internet buddies, three of Wilton Bernard's business associates. A strange mixture of personality types, to be sure. Giles didn't know how many of them actually knew the whole story, so he had to be careful how to proceed.
He cleared his throat, and the buzz of conversation died immediately. He shoved his hands in his pockets, preparing to speak. Xander raised his glass before Giles could start, and shouted, "A toast!" The group responded, echoing his sentiment, raising their cups and glasses. Giles flushed, looking down with a quick smile, pleased in spite of his reticence. Xander continued, "To the happy couple! And a plague of locusts on anyone who gets in their way!" They all shouted their affirmation, and laughed, clinking glasses and drinking in amusement.
"Yes, well, thank you, Xander... I think." The group laughed. "First of all, I want to thank you for your... efforts on our behalf. Most of you don't know us at all, yet you went out of your way to help us. For that, I am grateful. I do request, however, that this matter be held in the utmost secrecy from now on. I must abide by the wisdom of my... employers... in this respect. Our presence in Sunnydale is too important to be sidelined by idle gossip. Still, because of unprecedented involvement of so-called civilians, we have been far more successful in our endeavors than any previous... teams have been. For that, also, I have to thank you."
He looked over at the "Scooby Gang," sitting on the couch, unconsciously banding together even now. "Now, I need to know just what you lot have been up to. I, we, that is, Buffy and I, have been granted an audience with my ruling Council, to make our retirement request in person. This has only happened twice in the history of my group, and it almost certainly means a positive outcome. I need to know what has been going on, so that I can prepare my statement properly. If all goes well, then, ah, you're all invited to a January wedding." There was a happy shriek from Willow, and the room rang once more with laughter.
One by one, the stories were told. Giles' appreciation for his friends' ingenuity grew with each telling.
Willow's friends had emailed over a hundred separate messages to the Council Supply Order Clerk, asking why there were two active Slayers in Sunnydale. That must've been quite a shock. All the senders were somehow involved with the Council's extensive research network, and were legitimate contacts... people who facilitated the day-to-day running of the organization. They had also included a suggestion that the first Slayer, who had defeated two of the most powerful vampires known, be given a much deserved rest, along with her most diligent Watcher. No mention of their personal relationship was made... the messages were strictly about the wastefulness of maintaining two Watcher/Slayer teams. Willow didn't say how she came by her list of names... but Giles suspected she hadn't gone through 'proper channels' to get it.
Wilton's business associates just happened to be on the Advisory Board for the National Overseas Exchange Education Program. They, along with their counterparts in England, conspired to flood the campuses of several old and venerated English Universities with requests for placement of over a hundred new American college freshmen. It just so happened that these aforementioned schools were heavily involved in educating future Watchers, and there had never been any problem keeping their somewhat unusual curriculum quiet. Unless, of course, you happened to inject a large group of curious, eager, enthusiastic, and irreverent foreigners into the mix. Giles had to laugh at that one. It was a masterful stroke of genius. The fact that it coincided with the flood of email requests by Willow's contacts was not lost on the Council at all.
Xander's contribution was by far the most amusing. His highly respected relative, the romance novelist, had shaken the Council to the core by insisting on meeting the Watcher whose exploits had gone so horribly unrewarded. She had high tea with the Council head, and the result of that meeting was the conciliatory call Giles received.
Buffy's heart almost exploded with pride and love at her friends' efforts on her behalf.
She had never been fond of the Watcher's Council... they seemed bent on making Rupert's life - and hers, too - miserable from the very beginning. Now, she was going to have a face-to-face confrontation with them. She knew she'd have to restrain herself, and not make matters worse by telling them just exactly what she thought of them. After all, Rupert was asking them for a major favor. With all this support behind him, she felt sure he'd win.
Suddenly, she remembered something. Standing quickly, she went over to Xander. Crossing her arms sternly, she waited until she had his full attention. "Xander Harris, I think I have something to say to you."
He looked more than a little bit worried, but said, "O-okay, what?"
To his complete surprise, she dropped to the floor at his feet and began kissing the tops of his tennis shoes. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She gave his legs a hug, and sat back on her heels. "Does that count as groveling?"
He remembered his statement earlier at school and started to laugh. "That fits the definition perfectly!"
* * *