Title: "Ten Conversations" 1/2
Author: Ruth
Pairing: B/G
Rating: PG13
Summary: an experiment to tell a story entirely through a series of
conversations. Set very roughly around the latter half of season 5, so
A/U by now. Canon is ticking me off with its relative Gileslessness,
and now apparently future plans too…
Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles, Willow and Anya belong to Joss Whedon, ME
etc. I'm just putting words in their mouths.
Thank you once again my betas, Gail and Rari. Your continued support
and encouragement are invaluable.
Feedback: oh all right, go on, then… rufusruff@hotmail.com
"…libera me..."
"Hey, Giles, watcha doin'…Ewwww, *what* is that *smell*?"
"Buffy! …er, ah…I didn't expect you so late. Thought you'd gone straight home. Patrol was busy?"
"Nope, quiet as the grave; quieter than most of the ones in Sunnydale. Joke, huh, Giles? Oh, okay, lame. I just started late on account of…well, kind of a date, actually."
"Date? You didn't mention…never mind, none of my business, I suppose. Buffy, what are you looking for in here…?"
"Giles, you're brewing that in your *teapot*. Ick. What is it anyway: magic insect repellent? We having a problem with giant mantises again?"
"No, no. Merely…um, an experiment. Nothing you need to worry about."
"C'mon, Giles. The tea at Starbucks isn't *that* bad. Making it yourself from muskrats' toenail clippings counts as overreaction in my book."
"Yes, yes: terribly amusing. A teapot is an ideal vessel for slow steeping all kinds of things, not just beverages, and I have more than one. Will I see you tomorrow morning for more 'special training'?"
"Right after my appointment with Willow at the mall. I *so* need some new workout outfits."
"After which, I presume you have another appointment with Xander for an extension to your house, to accommodate your ever-expanding wardrobe."
"Ooh, snarky Giles, in there with the quip. I'll have you know I threw out two t-shirts last week. Well, gave them to Dawn actually, but that's, like, the same thing. Eleven-thirty okay with you?"
"Of course. I'll be at the shop, as usual."
"See ya then. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite. Just wave your teapot at 'em."
"Goodnight Buffy…Now, I'll have to start this from the beginning again. Manu mitterre me ex vinculorum naturae. Libera me. Non concupiscere qua non mea est. Right, bottoms up. Eurgh. Ghastly. This had better work."
"Good morning, Anya. Thank you for coming in early to open up."
"It *was* rather inconvenient. Xander left me very tired this morning after yet another sex marathon last night."
"Ah, well…very nice for you both, I'm sure. Now, where did I leave those spare till rolls…"
"Is there something wrong with you?"
"Wrong? W-why should anything be wrong?"
"I mentioned the 's' word and you didn't look at me like I should wash my mouth out with soap. Or get all fidgety and nervous. I'd come to the conclusion that you were either beaten as a child for self-abuse, or just plain envious because everyone you know except you has a sex life. Now at last you're being sensible about it."
"I didn't know you took any notice of what I think."
"Not enough to change. Just enough to be curious."
"I merely decided to take… a different perspective."
"Good. Welcome to the twenty-first century."
"Thank you. Have you finished the orders?"
"Yes. I did all the love-charms restock, and the aphrodisiacs. If I'd known you were going to get all modern all of a sudden, I'd have left them for you to do. There are so many in the trade catalogues, and it's hard to guess which will sell. Takes a long time to choose."
"I'm happy to leave that in your capable hands."
"That wasn't sarcastic, Giles. You're very non-grumpy altogether today. Are you *sure* you're okay? You haven't been taking happy pills or smoking mellowing recreational plants? You do smell a little funny."
"Stop sniffing me, Anya. It will unnerve the customers. I'm fine. I'm expecting Buffy for training at about half past eleven. In the meantime I'll be in the stockroom. Let me know when she gets here."
"Ah. Buffy. See what that does to your mood. Depending on what she's been up to. And what she's wearing."
"So, Buff, lemme see the haul of goodies. Ooh, sale at Gymtastic! New leggings, on account of the squirty demon last week, I get it. Is that a sports bra or a crop top? Doesn't white get a little, y'know, see-through when you're sweaty?"
"Willow, relax. Not like anyone's going to care. The fit's just great, and it was forty percent off. These are like, a business suit. Power dressing. White, 'cause I'm a white hat. So what'd you get? "
"Just a dollar necklace. Spent most of my budget this week on.... this."
"That's...a very thick book. Smells like Giles' apartment."
"Gee, thanks. It's second-hand, been in a damp basement for a while in that bookshop in Mason Street. It's a signed first edition copy of the best Hebrew history of the Jewish Diaspora, for my Dad's birthday next month. It's his hobby. Giles' apartment doesn't smell."
"Diaspora? Is that something you wear? And it did so smell last night when I went to see him. Horrible."
"It's Greek for "dispersion". You know, how it is that just about every telephone directory in the world has a bunch of Goldsteins, Cohens… Rosenbergs, and we're all descended from this one guy back in ancient Mesopotamia. Smell like what?"
"Whatever disgusting potion he was making. I didn't think he did magic any more unless it was directly in the fight against evil."
"Maybe he had to test some stock for the shop. Wish he'd asked me to be in on it. Every time I go in the Magic Box now, Anya makes me leave my bag at the counter and her eyes follow me round waiting for things to jump off the shelves into my pockets."
"You could make them do that, right? But of course you wouldn't. You can just buy the supplies you need. Y'know, once you've paid for all the stuff you already...Shutting up now."
"Willow! This is a pleasant surprise. Something I can help you with?"
"She was right, it does smell, a bit."
"I'm sorry, what did you say? Didn't quite hear you. Smell?"
"Mmm. Vanilla bean candles. Been working magic, Giles? I could be like, your apprentice. Without the white gloves or pointy hat. Or the flooding."
"No, um...no need, thank you. Everything's under control."
"Turn your Airwick up another notch. That should do it: that, and the candles."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Whatever you've been conjuring, Giles, it's bewitched your curtains and it'll take dry cleaning to free them. What *is* the spell, anyway? Something to help Buffy?"
"Not exactly. It's really, um, not something you need concern yourselves with, any of you. Would you like a cup of tea?"