Title: The Assistant, part 56
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Pairing: B/G
Rating: R
Summary: Buffy and Giles learn about Fyarl demons
Spoilers: season 4
Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Giles stayed out till nearly three in the morning drinking and reminiscing with Ethan. He staggered home, luckily not running into any vampires, and collapsed on their couch, passed out before he could do more than kick off one shoe. Buffy was home well ahead of him and had simply gone to bed assuming he was still brooding in the study. Neither Faith nor Wesley had thought to check for him either, and it was a very surprised Buffy who woke realizing that her husband was absent from their bed.
She ate a couple of crackers to settle her stomach before sitting up, deciding that things were going to stay where they belonged, at least for now. She pulled on her jeans and a camisole blouse and walked softly down the stairs, checking in the office, but not finding her husband.
She heard snoring coming from the couch and smiled to herself. He must have crashed there all night. She hoped the reality check he had received with the ultrasound wasn’t too hard on him because, even though he could be dense about things like this, he was still a very sweet guy. She leaned over the couch intending on giving her husband a good morning kiss. Instead she screamed.
Lying stretched out on her sofa was a big, stinking Fyarl demon. It snorted awake at her scream and looked up at her myopically. Faith and Wesley tore down the steps and skidded to a halt at the sight of the demon, now sitting up on the couch.
“Oh, I say! What’s all the fuss?”
“Oh my God!” screamed Buffy. “It’s talking with Giles’ voice!”
Faith stepped protectively near Buffy. She put her arm out in front of her. “You need to step back, B, just in case I have to kill it.”
Buffy pushed the restraining arm out of the way and looked at the demon. “Where’s Giles?”
“What on earth are you chattering on about, Buffy? I’m right here!” Giles told her. He was feeling very hung over and not a little bit drunk still. It took him several minutes to note that his normal voice was several octaves lower and coming from a chest about twenty inches larger than his own. “What the bloody hell is going on?” He looked down at his hands then at his legs and feet. The trousers he had worn out the night before were stretched taught over a much larger frame than he normally sported. He winced at the sight of his feet which had somehow become cloven hooves.
“Buffy! What’s happened?” He tried to get up but his massive hangover prevented any kind of speedy movement. “I may be ill!”
“Giles? Is that, um, you?” Buffy took a tiny step closer brushing off Faith’s restraining hand.
“Of course it’s me!”
She turned to Faith and Wesley. “It’s Giles, guys. Somehow, he’s gotten himself turned into a Fyarl demon.”
“Are you quite sure?” Wesley was ready to kill it and sort out the difficulties later.
“Yeah. It’s got Giles’ eyes. And how many Fyarl do you know with a British accent?”
Faith and Wesley both relaxed. “I say old chap, any idea how this happened?”
Demon Giles turned a deep green—a genuine Fyarl blush. “I, er, well…last night I was rather overcome by the ultrasound. I understood about the pregnancy before, but it was so abstract that I suppose I hadn’t really processed the idea yet. Well, um, seeing the, the fetal heartbeat was an eye-opener. At any rate, I felt the need to get out and walk last night. I wandered all over town and ended up in a bar on the very outskirts of town.” He sighed, knowing there was no getting out of the confession. “I ran into, um, an old friend. We had quite a few drinks. I think he may have done this to me.”
Buffy stood, hand on her hips, looking at him. “Ethan! It was that scumbag, Ethan Rayne again wasn’t it?”
“Er, yes.”
“Let me see if I have this down correctly. Ethan Rayne, Mr. Band Candy himself, shows up and instead of you beating the snot out of him for existing, you sit around all night and get drunk with him?”
“That, um, appears to be the case.” He sounded very contrite.
“God!” Buffy wanted to tear a strip off his hide. He deserved it, certainly, but the sight of the blushing, stammering Fyarl on her couch was enough to send her into paroxysms of laughter. She covered her eyes and excused herself to the restroom where, after turning on the water, laughed until her side hurt.
Giles looked up at Faith. “Do you think she’s very upset with me?”
Faith, whose Slayer hearing detected the sounds from the bathroom, debated letting him sweat out Buffy’s mood. She decided that since he was Buffy’s husband and Watcher, he was also her problem. She shrugged. “I dunno. How do you get back to being human?”
“I suppose we had better find Ethan.”
“You can’t go out like that,” Wesley protested.
Giles managed to stand. He tottered for a moment before learning how to walk on hooves. His head brushed the ceiling. “So, I’m a Fyarl?”
“That appears correct,” Wesley replied. “Er, should you feel an overwhelming need to sneeze, do you suppose you could, ah, be a bit careful? Um, paralyzing mucus secretions, what?”
Giles put a hand to his bony forehead. He stomped over to a mirror and examined his features. Fyarl, all right. He turned around and looked at his family. “Can you do a locator spell, Wesley?”
The younger Watcher shook his head. “I’ve never been very talented magically. I suppose we shall have to get young Willow involved.”
Giles groaned. If Willow knew, Xander would as well. He was going to be hearing snot jokes for years from this incident. He sighed. “Very well, Faith, could you call her, please?”
Faith dialed the number. “Willow, we have a situation over at the house. Do you think you could come over? Oh, and bring whatever ingredients you need for a locator spell.”
Willow had been out partying at the Bronze for a good portion of the previous evening. She wasn’t functioning at her full potential. “Spell? Uh, OK. Give me an hour, OK?”
“It’s kind of urgent,” Faith told her. “Do you mind if I send Wes in the car for you?”
“No. That would be great. I’ll get my stuff packed up. Fifteen minutes?”
“Great.”
Faith shot her Watcher a look that he correctly interpreted as his clue to fetch his car keys.
Less than twenty minutes later, he pulled the car back into the driveway and a rumpled but finally awake Willow tumbled out of the passenger seat. They hurried into the house.
Buffy had finally emerged from the bathroom, red-faced from laughing. Giles had requested a cup of tea. His new hands were much to large to hold anything as delicate as a teacup, so she had poured the hot beverage into a Pyrex measuring cup. His new frame looked like it could handle the 48oz size of the container easily. Faith had exited upstairs to finish dressing.
They were sitting on the couch holding hands when the others returned. Giles had wanted to hold her on his lap, but she said it was too odd. His blush was an even deeper green from the conversation they had just had.
She had stood watching him sip the tea. “Um, Giles?”
“Yes, Buffy?”
“Show me your hoo-ha.”
“My what?”
“You know, your, um, thing,” her hand gesture left no reasonable doubt that she wanted to see his penis.
“I will not!”
“Oh, come on, you big baby. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
“Well, you’re not seeing it now. Why would you even want to?”
“Just curious. I’ve never seen a Fyarl naked before.”
“Good Lord! I never realized you had this prurient streak.”
“I’m just curious,” she repeated. “Does it feel like normal?”
“I am unaware of any difference.”
“Can I touch it?”
“No! For heaven’s sake, Buffy! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, let alone the fact that it is taking place in our living room.”
“C’mon, Giles. You’re the one who’s always telling me I need to study more. Now here I have a perfect opportunity to examine demon anatomy and you won’t show.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.
“Buffy…” He threw up his hands. “All right, but come to the bedroom. I’m not dropping my pants in public.”
They went to their room and Giles turned his back and undid his trousers. He heard his wife comment that his butt was every bit as nice, even when it was green. Girding his loins, at least figuratively, he turned around. The sight of his beautiful young wife had its normal effect on his anatomy. He watched her eyes go round as saucers.
“Wow! Look at the size of that thing! How did you ever even get that into those jeans?” She stepped closer to him and put her soft hand on the body part in question. “It doesn’t feel any different than normal, well, except for the part where it’s really huge now! Not that you were all that small before, but…” she broke off as his complexion turned so dark a green that she thought he might faint.
“Really! Must we have this discussion?” He was attempting to push everything back into his jeans with an alarming lack of success.
“I’m just sort of amazed is all.” She continued to stare. She turned her head. “I hear the car. They’ll be back soon.”
“Damn!” The thought of being caught out, so to speak, had a decidedly relaxing effect on his body. He was able to slide carefully back into the jeans.
“I just have one more question.”
“What is it now?”
“How come Fyarl’s have two sets of dangly bits?”
“We can look it up later.” He chivied her out of the room ahead of him. They made it to the couch before the others arrived.
Willow, having been primed by Wesley and Faith, knew logically that it was Giles sitting on the couch, but it was still a shocker to see him in that condition.
“Giles! You’re huge! And really, really green.” The redhead stammered.
Buffy nodded. “You have no idea!”
Luckily, the comment passed over the witch’s head. Keeping her eyes on him, she put out the ingredients for her locator spell. In a very few moments they had Ethan Rayne’s current residence.
“Looks like he’s staying in that motel on the west side,” Faith noted. She looked at her Watcher. “Let’s saddle up and go fetch us a sorcerer.”
“Um, you may want to tape his mouth closed,” Giles offered. “Use duct tape.”
“Why that?” Willow asked, wondering about the magical properties of the adhesive.
“Because it will hurt like Billy-O when we rip it off,” he told her in a deeply satisfied tone of voice.
Faith grinned and grabbed the roll of tape from the kitchen junk drawer. “Ready.”