summer_of_giles | Fic: Teacher's Pet, Part 1/3

Title: "Teacher's Pet": Chapter 3 of In a Corner of My Soul
Author: Dragon's Phoenix
Rating: PG
Word count: 12766
Summary: Giles as the Big Bad of Season 1
Note: Apologies for the font change; LJ does stupid stuff like that to me.

Note: Previous chapters of In a Corner of My Soul can be found chapter by chapter on Archive of Our Own or scene by scene on Fanfic.net.

Note: “How to govern is from Kuan Tze but the cup of white gold at Patera, Helen's breasts gave that”. According to Robert Anton Wilson's The Illuminati Papers, Ezra Pound “refers to a celebrated drinking cup said to be molded directly from the right breast of Helen of Troy and, therefore, the most beautiful cup in the ancient world.”

Note: Dent of London, clock company that Giles thinks about

Note: Pink Floyd's Careful With That Axe, Eugene.

Possible trigger warning: Giles is manipulating Willow into reading books on sex magick in order to get her to practice techniques to get her magic flowing more smoothly. That's as far as it goes. There will be no intimacy between the two of them. Just wanted to give people a head's up so when you see it you know how far it's going.

A big shout out to mikeda who found a first name for Dr. Gregory. Many thanks to Gill O. and Not Vacillating who helped me with British idioms, and to Il Mio Capitano for Brit picking this chapter. All errors are my own.

Since it's been a couple months since the previous chapter, a few reminders:

Eyghon is connected to Giles by a process called domination. Unlike possession, in which a demon takes over a human host, domination entails the creation of a psychic bond between the demon and its host. The demon does not inhabit the host but is, instead, connected to the host’s mind. Think of a boat tied to a dock. Like the boat, which remains in the sea, the demon continues to be discarnate, existing in a non-material plane, but a persistent connection between the demon and its human host remains. It may sound trivial. I assure you, it is not. The demon is, in effect, always in the back of the host’s mind, whispering directly into the host’s thoughts, always exerting its pernicious influence.

Under the stress of Eyghon's influence in the back of his mind, Rupert's personality has split into three. Rupert is closest go canon Giles and has the least contact with Eyghon. Giles is the personality in charge of protecting Rupert. Ripper takes care of any dirty work Giles needs done. To keep Eyghon from tormenting Rupert, Giles has agreed to give Eyghon access to the Slayer line.

Giles, after recognizing Willow's power, has worked a power that allows him to drain her magic for his own use. In order to keep an eye on her, he has Rupert teaching her magic.

Buffy is taking homeroom in the library. Giles expects her in an hour early so she can meditate. That's going about as well as you'd expect.

Kris Mansfield, Principal Flutie's administrative assistant, is aware of Slayers and Watchers. Buffy noticed Kris investigating the witch's magic attacks.

In order to gain access to the Slayer more quickly, Giles killed Roderick Ashworth, who had been next in line – before Giles – for a Slayer. Cecil Ashworth, nephew of both Roderick Ashworth and Quentin Travers, tried to force Quentin to act against Giles. As punishment, Cecil has been assigned to an indexing task back at the Ashworth family library. Cecil's mother, Antonia, has given him a new task: find information that will discredit Rupert Giles.

Jeremy Taylor retrieved Council data for Cecil. I don't believe Jeremy will pop into the story again.

When Giles found Tucker in the school library after hours, Eyghon claimed the boy as his own. Giles tried to teach demonology to Tucker but the boy got bored and gave it up.

As Rupert poured tea from the pot, catching the loose leaves in a strainer, he heard a knock at the back entrance of the library. “Buffy's early,” he muttered to himself although, in fact, she wasn't. She was scheduled to arrive an hour before homeroom started. She never did. When he opened the door, he found it wasn't Buffy at all but Willow waiting to be let in. “Hi, Giles.”

This was unexpected. Rupert wondered if his alter ego had arranged this. The lout did seem to delight in tripping him up. “You're here early.”

“Buffy wanted me to look some stuff up and I know she's been having trouble with the meditating thing so I thought I'd come here and help her out. I mean, not help her meditate because that's something you have to do all on your own but I thought if I was here it'd sort of help her get into the meditativey mood since I'm meditating now too. Is there more tea?”

Ah, good. He, or his other self, hadn't known Willow would come to the library before school. “Tea? Certainly. I'll pour you a cup. Milk or sugar?” He hated sharing his Harrod's stash with the barbarian children but at least Willow, unlike his Slayer, had the maturity to appreciate a cup of tea.

“Oh, I can get it.”

As he followed her, more sedately than her mad-dash pace, into the office, Rupert compared Buffy's morning grogginess to Willow's vitality. The two girls were friends and presumably kept similar hours but Willow was far more lively in the morning. Perhaps Buffy's Slayer duties were keeping her from getting enough sleep? Well, she'd just have to forgo socializing with her friends. Her duties as a Slayer were far more important.

Rupert found Willow standing before the tea service and staring down into her cup. She looked up as he joined her in the office. “Um, there's a bunch of floaty stuff, like loose leaves or something. Don't you use teabags?”

“Heaven forfend.” He poured the tea and loose leaves back into the pot and then, with a strainer firmly in place, poured the liquid back into her cup.

“But wouldn't teabags be easier?”

“Everything should be made a simple as possible, but no simpler.” He didn't bother trying to explain tea to the girl. He wasn't quite sure Americans could understand. It seemed to be one of those cultural gaps that neither time nor tide could diminish.

“Oh.” Willow didn't seem fazed. She merely took him at his word and reached for the milk.

Back in the reading room, Giles stood by the staircase as Willow sat down at the computer. Given that Buffy would probably start banging at the door the moment he got comfortable, he didn't bother to take a seat. “I take it your own meditative practice is going well?”

“So so,” she shrugged. “It's sort of hard to clear my mind.”

“Yes, it generally is,” he replied. “That will take a bit of time.”

“You think there'd be a shortcut, some type of spell or something to make it easier.”

“That would defeat the purpose I'm afraid. Meditation builds discipline.”

“I'm disciplined,” the girl muttered. “I've got the best grades in school. You don't do that without discipline.”

“Yes, well, those who desire a shortcut tend to lack discipline.”

Before Willow could reply, Buffy swung through the library doors. She held a paper cup with the words Espresso Pump in one hand and a doughnut in the other. ”Buffy, please tell me that's at least a decaffeinated.”

“Why would I drink decaff?”

“Because you still haven't succeeded at your meditation practice, and neither sugar nor coffee will be of any help whatsoever?”

Buffy shook her head. “There you're wrong, Giles. Sugar and coffee will keep me awake.”

“Awake and too hyper to meditate properly.”

“And you say I'm undisciplined,” Willow muttered but, happily, too quietly for Buffy to catch.

“So, Willow.” Buffy slipped into a seat on the far side of the table. “Find anything yet?”

When Willow gave him a guilty glance, Rupert realized he'd been keeping her from whatever it was she'd come in to do. “No, I'm just getting started.”

“What is it you're researching?” Rupert asked.

“Buffy wants to know more about Miss Mansfield.”

Rupert was certain he was blushing. The secretary had flirted with him when he'd first arrived at the school. He'd been flustered by the attention and it seemed he'd dithered too long. She'd shown little interest since then. He rather regretted having missed the mark there. “What on earth for?”

“She was too interested in the witchcraft,” Buffy replied.

“Interested?” He hadn't noticed that she'd been paying any attention.

Buffy stared at him as if he were the imbecile. “She interviewed all the students at each of the incidents? She was the first school official on the scenes?”

“And you don't think her position as Principal Flutie's assistant had anything to do with it?”

“That's what I said,” Willow told him. “But Buffy's still suspicious.”

“I just want to know more about her.”

“I see.” Gods, look at the time. “Up onto the table. Lotus position. You've only thirty-five minutes until homeroom starts. You should have been meditating for the past fifteen.”

“Can't blame me for trying,” Buffy said as she hopped onto the table.

Rupert didn't tell her that he bloody well could blame her for delaying her meditation. Starting another conversation would be counterproductive.

Less than two minutes in, she started squirming. “Buffy, settle down. Clear your mind.”

She opened her eyes. Even worse, she drank more of the coffee. “I can't. It's too loud in here.” Loud. In the library. She must have seen something on his face because she added, “Willow's keyboard, the clattering, it's distracting.”

Willow stopped whatever it was she'd been doing. “Oh, I'm sorry.” Wonderful, give the insecure girl yet another complex. “I'll get out of your way.”

“Huh? No, I didn't mean …”

Ah, Buffy thought she'd found another way out of meditation. This he could handle. “Willow, why don't you meditate as well?”

“What?” Ah, apparently Buffy hadn't expected that tactic.

“She did come here to help you after all. If she's meditating then she can't distract you. Perhaps you could make a contest of it. See who can keep still the longest.”

“Oh, yeah, I can do that.” As Willow made herself more comfortable in her chair, Buffy glared at Rupert. Apparently she'd picked up on what he was doing.

“Hey, how come Willow gets to sit in a chair and I'm stuck in this lotusy position?”

“Once you make it into trance, then we'll see about allowing you a chair.”

Gods and it actually worked. Buffy lasted a whole five minutes before squinting open one eye and peering over at Willow who was sitting still, taking deep and even breaths. Buffy closed her eyes again. Perhaps competition was the key. He'd have to think on it.

When the bell rang, Willow leaped up from her seat with a shout of “Homeroom. I'm late!” and Buffy didn't settle again. Hmph, and perhaps competition wasn't the answer.

“Willow.”

Buffy called out to her just a block from the Bronze which was good because that last alley? Sort of dark and scary. Scarier now that she knew about vampires. As Buffy ran to catch up – and how did she even run in those shoes? – Willow compared her clothes to Buffy's, starting with her own sensible shoes. Well, yeah, because if she tried to run in Buffy's shoes she'd twist an ankle and then she'd be vampire-chow for sure. Her own sweater had some really nice gold tones to it but looked all beige and drab in the dark light of the alley. Her skirt was colorful, actually her whole outfit was a lot more colorful than Buffy's black shirt and purple miniskirt with the black wavy lines. Maybe Buffy needed to wear darker clothes for patrolling or maybe they hid her from the vampires or something but if that was true then Willow should also wear dark clothes because she was a lot slower than vampires although she didn't actually go hunting them down herself. Maybe it was just that Buffy was cooler than she was. Yeah, that was probably it, with her no sleeves and how was she not cold with no sleeves and that really short skirt? Willow looked at her own sleeves which ran down all the way to cover half of her hands. Mom really had to stop shopping for her clothes without her. The sweater was nice and all, particularly when there was light and the gold tone could actually be seen but the sleeves were too long and, now that she was seeing Buffy's miniskirt, her own skirt sort of looked like something somebody's grandma would wear.

“So, what's up?” Buffy took her arm as they continued into the alley.

“Oh, not too much. Kill any good vampires? I mean, not good vampires because obviously none of them are good. I just meant, uh, kill any evil vampires? Except that they're all evil so maybe I just meant kill any vampires?”

Buffy's smile wasn't a superior smirk. It wasn't. “There were a couple of fledges rising at Shady Rest. No big.”

“Fledges, those are baby vampires, right?”

“Yeah, vamps that have just been Turned. I'm not sure why there's a special name for them.”

Oh, just been Turned. Like Jesse had been. Willow sort of lost the thread of the conversation. Buffy kept chatting until they were at the Bronze. There wasn't much of a line or any line at all really but that was because the Bronze was packed. The dance floor was full and she didn't see Xander anywhere. Buffy was looking around too but probably not for Xander. “Are you meeting Angel here tonight?”

“Mr. cryptic here's a vague warning and sorry but I've got to go guy? Not so far as I know.”

“Oh, you just had that sort of searching for somebody look and, oh, speaking of searching, you won't believe what I found on Miss Mansfield.”

“So, give.”

“Well, I didn't have a chance to search during computer class because I'm doing those magic sessions with Mr. Giles so I had to wait until after I got home and finished my homework. I've still got some more searching to do but I did find, well, she disappeared when she was four.”

Buffy took one look at the tables, all claimed, and steered them toward the bar. “Disappeared? But she's here, I mean we know where she is so how can she be disappeared?”

“That's the thing. She turned up again when she was nineteen.”

“So what happened in between?”

“Nobody knows. She said she doesn't remember. I did a pretty extensive computer search. If there'd been any info, I'd have found it.”

“Doesn't remember?” Buffy asked. “So there's nothing on her for, what?, fifteen years?”

“Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero.”

“That doesn't sound very likely.”

“It's what she claims.”

“Okay, well see what else …”

“Babes!” Xander, he had made it to the Bronze. And, okay, grabbing them each by a shoulder was different.

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked.

“Work with me here,” Xander said. “Blayne had the nerve to question my manliness. I'm just gonna give him a visual.”

Willow grabbed Xander back. “We'll show him!”

And she was actually getting to hold Xander sort of like she was a real girlfriend but then Buffy walked off and Xander sort of let go so she had to let him go too. Oh, and look who Buffy was talking to. “That must be Angel! I think?”

“That weird guy that warned her about all the vampires?”

“That's him. I'll bet you.” And, gosh, he was cute, just as cute as Buffy had said.

“Well, he's buff! She never said anything about him being buff!”

Why would Xander think another guy was buff, except she could tell when a girl was pretty, or when guys would like a girl which sort of came down to the same thing so maybe it went that way for guys too. Or maybe Xander was just protesting because he didn't want any other guy swooping in on Buffy but that totally wasn't Xander's call. If Buffy wanted to see the cute, cryptic guy then that was totally her call and, oh, look, Angel was giving Buffy his jacket.

“Oh, right! Give her your jacket. It's a balmy night, no one needs to be trading clothing out there!”

Well, at least Buffy wouldn't be cold anymore.

Gods, if Buffy absolutely had to wear a leather jacket to school, you'd think she'd at least pick one that wasn't longer than her dress. Not that this jacket was, longer that is, but it only missed completely dominating her outfit by a few scant inches. As large as it was, it would be better suited to a … Gods, please let it not be a lover. She was already more negligent of her Slayer duties than should be allowed. “Buffy. Late as usual I see. Please fill me in on last night's patrol quickly so you can get at least some meditating in.”

“Good morning to you too, Giles. Delightful to see you so bright and dare I emphasize, early, in the day.” She had the nerve to tip her coffee at him as if he didn't know she was late because she'd stopped off at the Espresso Pump.

“Please Buffy, I'd like you to report on your patrol.”

She must be weakening. Rupert had to raise only one eyebrow to get her to speak. “Nothing unusual. I found a couple of fledges at Shady Rest, just like you'd thought. Killed them and headed out to the Bronze. Oh, and I saw Angel. He said that there's, um, a Fork Guy coming, or maybe Fork Guy's already here since he cut Angel, so I guess that means Fork Guy is definitely in town.”

“Fork Guy?” Rupert asked. Wait, what was this other name she was so casually referring to? Giles settled his tea carefully on the table before asking. “Who is this Angel?”

“Angel? You know. Angel. Big cryptic guy who told me about the Harvest.”

“He has a name?” Idiot, of course he has a name. “And you've known it for how long?”

She spoke slowly, dragging out the words. Apparently it hadn't occurred to her that he'd need the names of her enemies. “Since, um, before the Harvest?”

“And you were planning to leave me in the dark indefinitely, then?”

“Well, uh, you know. Harvest. Saving the world. I sort of forgot you didn't know.”

“Buffy, I can't protect you if I don't know what your enemies are up to.”

“What? Enemy? Angel isn't my enemy. He's been helping.”

“'But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.'”

“Kisses? There've been no kisses. You think there should have been kisses?”

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Proverbs.”

“Proverbs? Those things Jesus said or told or something?”

“It was a quote. Proverbs is a book in the Bible.” Good to know the American educational system was maintaining its ever so high standards.

“Um, what was a quote?”

“'Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.' Proverbs 27:6. I was attempting to suggest you don't know enough about this Angel to consider him an ally.”

“But we wouldn't have even known about the Harvest if it wasn't for Angel.”

Ah, youth, so easily shocked. “And perhaps that was a ruse, merely meant to gain your trust.”

“Why? Why would he want to be all trusty with me?”

Giles held back a sigh. “Because you're the Slayer. Anyone who wants power might begin by attempting to gain your trust.” She seemed to be taking that in. “Now, what can you tell me about this Angel? Leave nothing out.”

“What? I'm not spying on him for you.”

Damned recalcitrant … Giles gave up. Let Rupert deal with the impudent brat. “So, er, Fork Guy. What else do you know?” Rupert wasn't quite sure why his Slayer looked upset. Surely she'd been trained to interrogate a source.

“Angel's arms were cut up because the bad guy, the evil guy, the one I'm supposed to hunt down, had attacked him.”

“Oh, I, uh, you're friend will be alright, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“What else did he tell you about this Fork Guy?”

“No mercy. Ripping my throat out. Blah blah blah.”

Gods but she was surly this morning. He knew she was a teenager but Rupert expected a tad more maturity from his Slayer. “In other words the epithet of Fork Guy came from you?”

“Huh?”

“Did your source actually refer to this character as Fork Guy?”

“Uh, well, no.” She stared down at the floor. “I called him that.”

“Any other information?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps in the future you could ask this, er, Angel to be a tad less vague.”

“It's not my fault that's all he told me.” Did she have to be this defensive first thing in the morning? “He just sort of vanished.”

Vanished. A Slayer said he'd vanished. Giles sipped at his tea to cover his shock. This Angel couldn't be human. “I'll see what I can learn with the overabundance of information at hand. Lotus position. Come on. You'll barely get thirty minutes in.” She grumbled but she sat on the desk and shifted into the Lotus pose and at least closed her eyes. He didn't expect she'd actually get into a trance any day soon but at least she was trying.

As Buffy fidgeted on the table, Giles thought about her so called friend. Calls himself Angel. Isn't human. Damn, it was so very little to go on. When he looked up, she was glancing at the clock. “Buffy,” he warned.

She actually had the nerve to jump off the table and pace about the room. “Giles, I'm a Slayer. I'm primed to fight,not sit on my butt and do nothing.”

“Buffy, I can make you a better Slayer, I can keep you alive, but only if you trust me. I've explained why the meditative practice is important.”

“Yeah, yeah, connect with my inner rainbow warrior.”

“There's no need for sarcasm. Merrick thought you wouldn't last and this attitude is exactly the reason why.”

“Merrick thought I wouldn't make it?”

Gods, was she honestly about to cry? “I'm sorry, Buffy. I shouldn't have said that.”

“If it's true, why not?” Her arms were folded and she wouldn't look at him.”

“Please, will you try meditating? It's just another twenty minutes, not long at all.”

“Okay.” She sounded broken. Well and good. It was time she accepted the harsh reality of her Calling.

The library's table was piled high with the books that Giles had already searched through. Open before him was the Journal of Nicholas Stone. Its discussion of the creature calling itself the Invitavit Iste Angeli hadn't helped Giles with his search. Far too many creatures based their nom de guerre on some variant of the word angel. The demon might be cunning, almost certainly had to be cunning, if it had identified and targeted the Slayer, but it almost certainly wasn't well-educated. A more knowledgeable demon would have taken the name of an actual angel, Kushiel whose name meant punishment or Maalik whose name meant hellfire for example. Unless the demon was clever enough to appear less intelligent than it actually was. Giles leaned away from the table. Gods, this was getting him nowhere.

“Hey Giles, what's up?”

Willow's bookbag hit the table with a heavy thud. Giles wasn't entirely sure why she brought books to these lessons. Reading would, in fact, be a distraction from both her meditation and levitation practices. It was possible she merely enjoyed books. It was a sentiment he could agree with. He supposed he should give way to Rupert. It wasn't as if he'd been making any progress but, hang on, perhaps Willow could provide information on this mysterious Angel. “I'm researching Buffy's informant.”

“Oh, Angel, really?” She moved behind him so she could see the text. “'The Invitavit Iste Angeli, Slayer of Angels, one of the darkest beasts to roam this land, does sometimes call himself Angel, a dark desecration touching the very core of our faith. The demon's murderous rampages directed at servants of the forces of good' … Hey, you don't think that Buffy's Angel is this creepy Angel Slayer, do you?”

“Many demons name themselves with some variant of the word angel. For me to definitively associate any one of them with Buffy's informant, well, I'd need more information than is currently available.”

“But Buffy's Angel, I mean, he's a good guy.”

“Is he?” Giles stood and started pacing the room. “He's allied himself with the Slayer who has considerable power in her own right. How do we know what his motives are?”

“But, well, we could say that about you.” She must have seen something on his face for she backtracked immediately. “Not that we would, of course, because you're her Watcher and obviously that's a good guy kind of a thing but, uh, how we would actually know that having never heard of a Watcher before …”

“Watchers have prepared Slayers for centuries. We've guided them. We've trained them. It is a long and time-honored association. We do not steal their power or abuse it for dark purposes.” Eyghon chuckled in the back of Giles' mind as an image of the Scythe flashed through his thoughts. Right, except that stealing Buffy's power and abusing it for dark purposes was, in fact, his goal. But, still, he was her Watcher and until that day of inevitable betrayal, he would guide her to the best of his abilities.

“What do you know about Angel?” he asked.

“Well.” She seemed reluctant to speak. “If you're thinking he's evil and all, I mean, it's not really my place to say. Maybe you should ask Buffy.”

He'd already asked Buffy but he could hardly share that with Willow if he expected her to provide information. “Have you seen him, this Angel?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, he was at the Bronze last night.”

“Then you can at least describe him to me.” He could lead her slowly, get her talking, and see what else she'd say.

“Well, uh, I suppose that couldn't hurt. He's taller than Buffy, sort of broad shouldered, and, uh, has dark hair.”

“That's it?” Gods, the girl was almost as useless as Buffy.

“He had on a white t-shirt?”

“And what has Buffy told you about him?”

“See, that's where I think you need to talk to Buffy because it's really her business, I mean your business as well since it's Slayer stuff but totally not my business and so I shouldn't say anything and could we start practicing magic now?”

“Fine.” He obviously wouldn't get anything else out of the girl. Rupert could bloody well wake up and take over her lessons. Giles needed to think.

Antonia found Cecil playing snooker. Ha! And he'd thought he could hide from her. Where else would he be? He wouldn't hide in the library; too many associations with work. And it was too early for him to have wandered down to the pub. Of course he was playing snooker.

“Cecil.”

When he saw her, he jumped. “Mother.”

“Should I even bother asking after your research?”

Cecil picked up his cue, lined and made the shot before responding. She had to give him one thing. He did play a good game of snooker. Too bad there was nothing else he could do well. He stared at the table as he spoke. “Do you know how many demonic attacks there are on any given day in London? I do. Shall I share?”

“Rupert Giles spent two years at Oxford after returning to the Council. Start there.” Could he do nothing on his own?

“He's too intelligent to release a demon on Oxford proper. Yes, there were attacks in the vicinity, by which I mean he could have driven there, released a demon and driven home all in one night. So what? There's nothing to tie him to the attacks, or at least that's what dear uncle Quentin will claim.”

“How did the rate of demonic attacks change? Were they higher after he'd returned to Oxford? Did they drop after he'd left?”

“What?”

“Good Lord, Cecil, are you not even working on a comparison study?”

“Taylor's data covers Oxford while he was there, covers London while he was there. He didn't give me any data for those areas when Giles wasn't there.”

Idiot child, always blaming others for his own deficiencies. “Forget the statistical analysis.” She'd assign it to someone competent. It'd have to be someone she could trust to keep his mouth shut. Not Jeremy Taylor. Quentin must have already suborned the poor fellow. As for the overall project, she couldn't leave Cecil out of it completely, not if she was going to present it as his investigation. “Interview Giles' friends.”

“He hasn't got any.” Antonia watched as Cecil realized that interviewing Giles' friends would return him to London. “He must have had some mates at university. I suppose I could start there.”

Mates from university, most of whom would be working for the Council. “You aren't to speak of this to any Watchers.” Naturally Quentin knew they were investigating Rupert Giles but there was no need to clumsily advertise the fact. “I'll get you a list.”

Cecil dashed off, presumably to pack. How the Travers and Ashworth lines, both ancient and venerable in their service to the Council, had produced such an imbecile, Antonia would never understand. At least her daughters were intelligent.

Fic: Teacher's Pet, Part 1/3

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