FIC: AS WE GO FORWARD, (Giles gen, FRT) Part 4/8

[kaymickbee.livejournal.com]

Title: As We Go Forward
Author: Kelly B - kaymickbee
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Giles gen, some B/G subtext
Timeline: End of season seven. Spoilers for entire run of series as well as season 4 of Angel
Disclaimer: Joss/Fox/ME own it; According to Joss, all the best fans write fanfic.
SUMMARY: This is an epilogue of “Chosen,” which follows the new Slayers out of Sunnydale through Giles’ eyes. This portrait focuses on the immediate aftermath for Giles, Buffy, and the Scoobies as they regroup in L.A. Feasibly serves as a prequel to my story “Something Else,” which I may actually finish someday.
FEEDBACK: is lovely. This is my first fic in a very long time.
Distribution: This is for the 2007 summer_of_giles. Distribution is open if proper credit is given.
A/N: This assumes the characters’ knowledge that Angel Investigations has taken over Wolfram & Hart.

Parts 1-3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8



4. The Comfort Food
“I don’t get it,” Xander said, breaking the weighty silence. “I just… I don’t get it.”

Giles glanced at his roommate, already stretched out on one of the room’s two queen beds, clad in his eye patch and a pair of pajama pants. Wesley had personally prepared the top-of-the-line arrangements from them, had greeted Giles with a cup of tea and an uncharacteristic man-hug before turning to Faith, ever the Watcher in his blood. Everyone had been shown to semi-private hotel-style rooms stocked with toiletries, sleepwear, first aid supplies, and open access to room service. Robin and the other injured were in medical suites on a different floor, being constantly monitored by private nurses. Angel had spared none of his vast resources to assist them and try to make their new shelter soothing and safe for the new slayers. For this, Giles was grateful, and he even told Angel so.

For Giles, though, and his more longtime companions, it was surely going to take more than hot showers and ibuprofen and pasta and chocolate to break through the initial shock. This was tangibly clear as Giles watched Xander wait for a response from him. Giles felt the change in their lives as he gave Xander a non-Watcher, unedited response.

“Don’t get what?” he said, with a slight sardonic grin. “That your home was sucked into the bowels of the earth, that along with your eye you lost the woman you loved, that Cordelia gave birth to a demon goddess before lapsing into a coma, or that Angel is the one helping you to get through all of that with a full belly and clean pants?”
Xander didn’t miss a beat. “No, that I get. I’m just not sure why you didn’t let Andrew drive. You could barely stay awake, and you look like shit.”

They both grinned then, and Giles removed his sweatshirt as someone knocked on the door.

“I hope that’s the food,” Xander said.

“I didn’t know you ordered anything.”

Over the growl from his stomach, Xander whined, “I thought you did while I was in the shower.”

“I’m not the bloody hostess,” Giles protested as he opened the door.

It was Dawn, holding a pillow and bag of onion chips, her messy hair and pink pajamas bringing a smile to Giles.

“Did you guys eat yet?” she said, bounding in.

“We were just getting to that.”

“Here,” Xander said. “I have a menu.”

“Where’s Buffy?” Giles asked.

“She’s with Willow somewhere, I think. Visiting Fred, maybe.”

“Did they eat?”

Dawn screwed up her face. “I don’t know. What I am, the hostess?”

Xander looked at Giles and laughed. Giles glared. “I thought perhaps we could eat together, Thing One and Thing Two.”

“Let’s just order a bunch of food, and if they get here, we’ll have extra.”

Giles nodded somberly as though they were discussing the fate of the world. “All right. Make sure you get something everyone likes.”

“We’ll order tea!” Dawn said.

“Order a bottle of Merlot as well, smartass. I’m taking a shower.”

As Giles gathered his affects, he listened to Dawn’s list. “… one grilled cheese with fries, one Greek omelet no olives, two chicken quesadillas with sour cream, one deluxe nacho platter extra guacamole and salsa, the steak shish-kabobs with garlic mashed potatoes, one shrimp alfredo with extra parmesan, the spinach dip appetizer, maybe two of those, oh—“

She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Giles, what should I order for you?”

“None of that bloody mess is for me?”

“You want one of the quesadillas?”

He screwed up his face. “Salmon, with rice and extra lemon and butter. And some sort of bread. And get some dessert. Besides chocolate.”

She added his order, then, “… chocolate silk pie… can you just send a whole one? And bananas foster. And… apple crisp. A la mode. Lots of it, and many napkins. Crap,
Xander! What should we get for Willow?” Giles headed to the bathroom snickering, and feeling amazingly hungry.

When he exited the bathroom in knit shorts and matching grey T-shirt, Willow and Buffy had joined Xander and Dawn on the bed. They were fighting over the remnants of
Dawn’s chips and lamenting the time it was taking to receive their mammoth food order.

Giles stood for a moment before they perceived his presence and took roll of them. Buffy was wearing a fitted white tank top and loose black sweatpants, her hair in a characteristic, though damp, ponytail. She was absently tangling her fingers in her sister’s hair. Willow was wearing a slightly baggier version of the same thing and was collapsed against the pillows next to Xander, trying to strong-arm the bag of chips out of his tightly clenched hands.

“Who would know you all just conquered the epitome of evil?” Giles said, he thought for his ears only.

But Willow giggled as she ripped the bag and said, “Oh Giles, it’s just another day for the Scoobies.”

“Yeah,” Dawn chimed in, “What’s one more apocalypse?”

“One more superior ass kicking by superior us,” Xander added.

“One more…” was all Buffy said, not looking at any of them.

Giles walked over to the other bed and sat. “One more, indeed.” The words seemed to hang in the air with all the unspoken ones, and he wanted only to steer from the sadness for a few moments more. “Perhaps if Dawn hadn’t ordered the entirety of the menu times four, we’d have something to eat by now.”

Dawn promptly threw a pillow at him. “I’m hungry! We haven’t eaten anything but generic Cheerios and macaroni for weeks!”

“Not true,” Xander said. “There was some Ramen involved, too, which is so not macaroni.”

“I seem to recall some peanut butter,” Willow added.

“And jelly,” came from Buffy.

“Fine, but still...” Dawn grumbled. “We have a five star chef at our disposable.”

Giles snorted and leaned back against his pillows, suppressing laughter. “Yes, I hope his training has him well prepared to handle your nachos bellgrande.”

Dawn leaped to his side and began batting him with another pillow. Xander came to his aid and pulled the screeching Dawn away just as the food arrived.

They spent several minutes taking inventory, distributing drinks, and trading tastes. Though there was a small table and chairs and a desk, everyone started eating right where they sat. Giles ate his entire plate more quickly than he recalled eating anything before, then took a heaping portion of the spinach dip and, just to tease Dawn, a handful of goopy chips from her nacho platter.

And it wasn’t until the first bottle of wine was opened that the room’s elephant came out of hiding. Clutching his glass and suddenly serious, Xander announced, “There should be a toast. In memory.”

“All those we lost today,” Dawn said softly.

“And along the way,” Willow added.

Buffy looked at Xander. “Anya was tougher and braver than I ever acknowledged.”

“She’s not the only one,” Giles said, then raised his class. “To the fighters.”

The toast commenced silently. The room remained as such for a minute or two before Dawn, from beneath a mouthful of pie, asked the inevitable.
“So… where do we go from here?”

“Arrrrrrrrrr.” Buffy reached over her for the apple crisp. “Can’t we just enjoy this for a minute? And why aren’t there any cookies?”

“Order some. And anyway, are you actually enjoying it?” her sister asked.

“Ouch. Touché,” Xander said. “And are there any nachos left, Miss Piggy?”

Dawn passed the plate, but her eyes didn’t leave Buffy’s face.

“I’m enjoying the food,” she finally answered.

“Which she does deserve to do,” Willow said.

“Everyone deserves a good meal and a good rest,” Giles agreed. “But that doesn’t change who we all are and how we think. I’ve a feeling that gourmet junk food isn’t quite the distraction we’d like it to be.”

Buffy shook her empty glass in response. “More wine, please.”

“You should be careful,” Dawn said. “You were run through with a very sharp object. Be mindful of your blood sugar.”

“I just ingested the equivalent of about 64 spoonfuls of sugar, Florence Nightingale. Sugar isn’t always sweet. How many carbs do you think is in pasta and alfredo sauce? About 600? Twelve thousand?”

“Sheesh, what’s with all the name-calling? I’m just saying…”

“Pass the damn bottle.”

Giles poured into her glass, though murmured gently, “Make sure you drink water, too.”

She began giving him a dirty look, but then softened into an, “I know.”

“Oh-kay…” Xander said. “So, seriously, what does happen now?”

Buffy looked up from her dessert. “Why are you looking at me?”

“’Cause you’re General Summers?”

“I only led the fight,” she said. “I’m not… I’m not the… future plan maker.”

Dawn grew agitated. “Well for you and me you are, right? What are we going to do?”

“Dawn, our home and all our possessions and some friends and random acquaintances just fell into the earth’s core. How the hell am I supposed to know what we do?”

“Giles!”

“Dawn…” Giles started. “It’s possible Buffy doesn’t have all the details precisely pinpointed just yet.”

“I don’t need details, just generalities.”

Willow nodded. And suddenly, four sets of eyes were on Giles.

“Hellooooo?” Dawn prompted.

“Piss on all of you,” he said. “A few weeks ago no one wanted to hear a word I had to say.”

“A few? It’s been that way for months,” Dawn said.

“Not helpful, Dawn,” Willow said.

Buffy looked haunted at the exchange, and this path was one of the last Giles wished to trod upon. He attempted to trade his emotions and worries for the logic instilled in him. That made everything seem clean and clear.

“The first step,” he began, “is simply to make sure everyone is healthy and safe. We’re almost done with that part.”

Four faces now looked at him with a look that clearly said, “Duh.” He took a sip of wine and cleared his throat. “The next piece, I believe, is to hold some small group conferences. I – along with whomever would like to help me – need to assess how the new Slayers are mentally, what they do and do not understand about being a Slayer, what sort of family situations they have.”

“Are you going to be their Watcher?” Xander asked.

Giles swallowed slowly, trying to ignore the hard gazes. “There is no conceivable way I could be a Watcher to all of them. It defeats the purpose of having a Watcher.”

“Are there other Watchers anywhere?” Xander asked.

“And are you in charge of them?” Dawn added.

“Easy guys,” Buffy said. “Ever think he might not know yet?”

Giles looked at her gratefully, and found himself reaching for yet another spoonful of bananas foster. He had never until this meal understood the idea of comfort food.

“As it stands,” Giles began, “there are three known Watchers who remain. Four if you count Wesley, but I doubt he has the time to resume those duties now. Robson is one of them, and a gentleman named Wills Schmidt is the other. They’ve both been underground in Europe and Asia, respectively, but I have messages into them. They’ve been looking for other potentials; now they’ll be searching for other Slayers. I assume that my immediate duties are to care for the Slayers we know we have here and to begin the process of training and assigning other Watchers.”

“There are really only three of you left?” Willow said.

“Only we three have been in contact,” Giles said. “We have many reasons to believe there are other Watchers or Council supporters out there. In fact, the Coven has been working on some locations spells, but I’ve not had the opportunity to speak with them about their progress.”

“Shit,” Xander said dumbly. “So all these Slayers and…”

“They don’t all get a Giles,” Dawn finished.

“They may not need one,” Buffy said, then her expression snapped as if she remembered the rest of them were there.”

“… The hell?” Xander said.

“I’m uh… we need cappuccino,” Dawn said, walking to the phone.

Giles didn’t say a word. He wanted clarification, but he would not ask for it. Had this not been the longest day of his li- well, of the past year, he’d have been injured by what she said, but his thinking was fuzzy, and his emotions were systematically shut down.

“I just mean… things will be different. And what that woman said, who gave me the scythe… about Watchers and Guardians. Giles, I don’t mean… you know, I just don’t understand how it’s all supposed to work. I guess… you know I trust you, I just don’t know if I trust the concept of Watchers anymore.”

He knew part of that was a lie. Buffy had not trusted him or anyone but Spike in a long time, and she’d admitted as much just a few weeks before. But typically, she wanted to gloss over that with the fact that she trusted him “now.” So he’d let her, for now.

“Buffy, there is a lot of information required to answer that question.”

“How about starting with why I never knew about the Guardians?”

That question was fair, and unfortunately, his answer was not. “Because I did not know there were any left. The subject never came up, and frankly, it didn’t seem important.”

“Not even when the Council fired you?”

“One had nothing to do with the other.”

She let her fork drop to her plate with a clang. “I guess I just don’t see it that way. After the Council turned on you, when they sent Wesley, when they came back to test me about Glory… there were so many times we talked about their role and this never came up. I just don’t get it.”

“There’s a lot you don’t get,” Dawn said, hanging up the phone.

“Dawn, you have no idea-“

“Bullshit. I know more than you want to admit.”

“Guys!” Willow said. “Is this really where we want to go tonight?”

“It’s possible we have some relational issues to work on… tomorrow,” Xander deadpanned.

Giles sighed. Along with the charming resilience they all held came the annoying small-mindedness.

“Buffy, I will never deny that parts of the Council were corrupt. That is why I went against their wishes and demands when the stakes were too high. However, you must realize that the overall mission of the Council was good. It was meant to inform and protect, and most of the time, it did. I don’t know what the Guardian told you specifically, but I do know that you don’t shave your head when one strand of hair goes array. You don’t cut off your finger when your nail breaks.”

“Point,” Buffy conceded.

“And my never telling you about the Guardians was not part of some conspiracy to withhold pertinent information. For seven years, we’ve gone from one dire situation to the next. Wouldn’t you say you were usually equipped for the task along the way?”

“Usually.”

“When you needed knowledge of the Guardians, it was there.”

“True.”

“And do you believe me when I say that my not telling you about them was not part of a Council conspiracy nor was it an intentional secret that I kept from you?”

“Well… yes.”

“Then feel free to ask me any questions you have as we go forward, and I shall do my best to answer them or find answers to them. In fact, Wesley may even have some material you can read about the Guardians.”

“I’m sure it’s not that serious,” Dawn muttered.

Giles raised an eyebrow at her while Xander sniggered under his breath. Buffy looked back at Giles a bit wide-eyed but said nothing.

“Does that seem reasonable?” he asked her.

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s fine, Giles.”

“See?” Dawn said. “If she has to read a big dusty book about it, it suddenly becomes a much smaller deal.”

“Dawn-“ Willow touched Dawn’s elbow and nodded toward Buffy.

She was no longer staring wide-eyed at Giles, because he’d moved to answer the door. Instead, she was staring, looking a little crazy, a little scary, like someone in serious shock.

“Um, Buff? You okay?” Xander asked.

After another beat or two, her eyes finally shifted to his face. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Where did you go?” Willow asked.

“I just…” she watched Giles transact with the server, who took everything but the chocolate pies and left only a tray of coffees and teas. “Giles said, ‘As we go forward.’”

“Um…. Yeah… “ Dawn said.

Giles handed Buffy a steaming cappuccino. “Forward,” he repeated.

Willow nodded knowingly. “Kind of a new concept.”

“For someone who thought she’d never have a future,” he added.

Buffy looked at each of them, then allowed herself a smile. “There’s still so much to do, not bad things, just things. And I feel like I just want to buy a bikini and a lounge chair and take a year off. Maybe sell churros on the beach. Or just… eat churros...”

“Maybe you should,” Xander said. He looked hard at Giles. “Maybe we all should.”

“There’s that whole issue of money,” Willow said.

“It’s really not an issue,” Giles mumbled, then busied himself about his tea.

“There is an issue about living in the good old U.S. of A and needing a high school diploma to even work at the Chili Mac Junction,” Dawn said, and then, “Oh, son of a big, sweaty whore! No more Chili Mac Junction!”

“This could go on for days,” Xander said, then watched with a small amount of amazement as Giles snorted in laughter and quite uncharacteristically, planted a loud kiss on Dawn’s cheek.

“We saved the word, but not the chili dogs. I’m sorry, Dawn. I will make it up to you. You make me laugh like no other.”

Dawn beamed as he walked across the room and found his shoes. He looked ridiculous in his shorts and boots, but for that moment, he looked relaxed and oblivious.

“What are you doing?” Buffy said, sounding more critical than she should have.

“I have to meet with Wesley, and I also need to go round and check on the other Slayers.”

“Yeah, I should probably spend a little time with Kennedy,” Willow said.

“And I promised Andrew I’d help him get to Angel’s stash of Hot Pockets. For some reason, he swears there is one.”

“Everyone’s leaving?” Buffy asked. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, I’m about ready to hit the hay,” Xander said, rubbing his belly.

“I don’t believe this,” Buffy said. “This is the first time we’ve had to talk in weeks.”

“There’s the rub,” Giles said. “We had some time, and it was lovely, but I need to make sure none of our new Slayers are… having issues. Perhaps we can all have dinner together again tomorrow.”

Buffy muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Dawn hollered.

“I’m supposed to have dinner with Angel.”

There was an odd silence in the room. Giles once again recognized and utilized his twenty-five years of extra experience and spoke first. “See then?” he said. “We’ll all be keeping busy. But we’ll have more time sometime tomorrow, or the next day.”

“Thanks for hosting the dinner party,” Dawn said.

Giles winked at her as he walked toward the door, then called a “Good night” behind him as he pulled it shut.