Giles sighed as he pulled his car into the courtyard outside his suite. The elegant block of rooms, set slightly to the west of the main buildings, presently housed most of his nearest and dearest. Buffy and Spike, Dawn, Willow, Xander and when they were around, Andrew, Faith and Kennedy. As such, the inhabitants had formally replaced the official name ‘Fairway Suites’ with a more fitting sobriquet – ‘Sunnydale Lodge’ and informally with the more irritating label, ‘Scoobyville’.
It was late, he was tired and a little distracted, and he’d undoubtedly missed dinner, but the light spilling out of the Lodge filled his weary body with warmth, and satisfied a hunger that food could never fulfill. His weeks were crazy at the moment, the days so filled with demands on his time that he felt washed out and stretched thin.
But coming to this place made him feel, for the first time in his life, like a father arriving home at the end of a hard day’s work. It re-energised him and gave everything a sense of purpose. This was his home, and inside, those people were his family.
Each set of rooms was self-contained, with its own living area and kitchen facilities. But in the evening they tended to gather in the attached lounge room of the former Country Club, share a meal, talk about their day, watch TV – things that a regular family did.
Grabbing his briefcase off the passenger seat, Giles clambered out of the car. And a very nice car it was too, he mused, a sleek silver 2002 BMW 3 Series E46. A company perk, and a damn sight better than anything he’d ever driven before. Still, he needed it with the mileage he’d been putting in.
He’d just finished his working day with a one hour journey south down the A22 from Amazon’s Administration Centre in Bromley, grateful at least that it was Friday and tomorrow he could be based at Ashdown instead of heading to Bromley. The last few weeks he’d been able to cut those trips down to two a week, a vast improvement on the three or four he was doing over the first month since he’d taken control of the helm in May.
Just in time too! Things here at Ashdown were really winding up; in ten days time, with the arrival of the first wave of Slayer Trainees, all hell would break loose. Well, not literally hell, Giles mused. After all, what was that saying? Been there, done that!
He shook his head and grimaced slightly at the memory of the hormonal nightmare that had overrun the Summers’ household earlier in the year. But as he stepped through the door into the lounge, calls of welcome settled around his shoulders like a warm blanket. From Xander’s “Hey Dad’s home” and Spike’s “Rupert” to Willow’s “Hi Giles”, Rowan’s “Hey Uncle Giles” and Buffy and Dawn’s more demonstrative hugs, Dawn’s extra squeeze marking her return home from LA that morning. Yeah, it was worth it, and he’d do anything to keep his little family safe and happy.
Willow and Rowan bustled around, getting out cutlery and popping his dinner in the microwave while Spike poured him a scotch. Then they all joined him at the table, talking and squabbling and laughing as Giles ate. Finally, plate clean and glass empty, he opened up his briefcase and grabbed his laptop. He still couldn’t believe he’d succumbed to the pressure of using one, but he had to admit now that he could navigate his way around the more basic functions, it had come in very useful.
He began by checking his emails. Each of the Recruitment Teams had taken a laptop with them and were staying at hotels with internet access. Each evening they emailed in their progress reports. One week down and the results were astounding.
“What are we starting with first Giles?” Willow asked. These little informal Scooby meetings had started up the day after they’d shifted into the Lodge, and Willow had become their unofficial secretary.
“I thought we’d go over the Team reports for this week and see what sort of numbers we’ll be dealing with and discuss any sort of problems that might have cropped up.”
Willow nodded and opened up the folder in front of her. Finding the papers she needed, she began handing them out.
Everyone flicked through the reports, their favorable remarks reflecting the generally positive progress the teams were making. They had found and recruited 66 out of the 68 girls identified in this week’s target areas. One of the girls they’d missed had been only 13 and her parents felt she was too young too join the programme but had agreed to reconsider it the following year.
“I like this idea of Faith’s, taking the team out on a patrol each evening.” Buffy commented. “It’s good for morale and helps balance out the sitting and talking side of the day. And you get to check out the sights at the same time.”
“Yeah, what a great tourism venture that would be – ‘Great Cemeteries of the World – The Moonlight Tour’. Crowds will be flocking.” Xander said. “Still it’s a good idea. Maybe you could email the other teams and suggest they do the same.”
“A few problems though, I see.” Willow said.
“One girl we’ll need to keep our eye on is this Genevieve chick, sounds like she could be trouble,” Buffy noted.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine pet. Just needs a gentle hand and a bit of acceptance no doubt.”
“The only other significant issue seems to be with 25 year old Dana Strassberg.” Rupert paused, a worried look on his face as everyone turned back to Faith’s report. “Dawn, maybe you could fill us in on a little more detail seeing as you’ve just been out there.”
“Sure Giles. Dana’s life has been tragic. She was just a little girl, only ten, when she witnessed her family’s murders and then spent months being tortured and God knows what else by some psychopath. She was utterly traumatized by the events and has never recovered. She’s been a patient at Gateways Hospital and Mental Health Centre ever since.”
“God, how horrible,” Willow shuddered.
“And now she’s a Slayer?” Spike’s voice held a mix of sympathy and horror.
“Yeah, Ashton and I had identified her not long after we landed. She was the easiest to pick up on – a totally stationary signal day and night. Faith and Ashton made the preliminary visit, found that she was a long-term patient and spoke to her doctor. During the day she seemed placid enough, non communicative, but manageable. But Dana’s nights were often broken by terrible nightmares. The staff always assumed that the trauma of her past haunted her. But one of the nurses Faith spoke to showed them dozens of drawings she’d done, always in the days following her dreams. Pictures of monsters and demons and often a girl fighting them.”
“Oh my God,” Buffy gasped. “She was having slayer dreams.”
“Yeah,” Dawn continued, “it seems so. Then, the doctor reported, about two months ago she started becoming more agitated, more violent. Even though she’d been on a cocktail of sedatives since she first came to them, she’s become almost impossible to restrain. They’ve had to up her meds, but its not calming her. They’ve had to move her to the maximum security ward and they’re worried about what could go wrong.”
“We have to do something Giles,” Buffy exclaimed tearfully. “We can’t leave her in there like that. The thought of her in that place …” She shuddered and they all knew she was recalling her own experiences in psychiatric care.
“I agree Buffy,” Giles said, “but I just don’t see how we can help her. You heard what Dawn said; she’s suffering from some form of attenuated state of psychosis. We’re not trained for this kind of work.”
“I don’t know Giles,” Buffy said, a frown on her face. “What if we were able to get through to her, break through the fog? Maybe we could guide her back towards life.”
“I don’t know what you think we can do that fifteen years worth of psychiatric support hasn’t managed to achieve. But I suppose, as a Slayer, she is our responsibility now. One thing’s for certain, we can’t leave her where she is. They’re not equipped to deal with the inhuman strength this girl now possesses.” Giles paused, deep in thought. “It might be best to bring her back here, keep her sedated and find somewhere secure to confine her. Damn, I’m going to have to think again about employing that bloody wench of a doctor,” he muttered, half to himself.
“Maybe we can do more than that,” Willow offered. “Do you remember when Buffy was in that catatonic state after Glory had snatched Dawn? Remember how I was able to enter her sub conscience psychically, and ass kick her mopey self?”
“Hey,” Buffy pouted, “I was feeling overwhelmed and guilty and depressed and … right, mopey. But I had cause.”
“Yes you did Buffy.” Giles agreed. “And so does Dana. But I don’t think it follows that you’ll automatically be able to work your caring, compassionate, ah …ass-kicking skills on such a severely damaged stranger Willow. It could even be dangerous.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, well not dangerous in a physical sense anyway. My body wouldn’t actually be there.” Willow paused. “But in a psychological sense, yeah it could be pretty traumatizing. It’s possible I’d end up witnessing all the horrors that Dana experienced as a child. I can imagine that that could be a hundred times worse than anything Wes Craven could come up with. But throughout the whole process I’d still be conscious and aware, able to talk to and comfort Dana, explain to her that the bad things are over now and that she’s safe.”
“Well, maybe its worth looking at,” Giles conceded. “Let me think about it.”
“Actually Uncle Rupert,” Rowan’s quiet voice piped up from where she sat on the couch next to Xander. If Willow doesn’t mind, I’d like to try this with her.”
“No, Rowan,” Xander interjected, “Why? It’s too dangerous.”
“Xander, you’ve just sat here, along with everyone else, and listened to Willow explain that the dangers are only psychological, emotional. I know I’m a little younger than most of you, but I’m not a child. In fact, I was only a very young child myself when I began dream-witnessing the gruesome sights and sounds of the Hellmouth Battle, and I handled that.” Rowan paused and took Xander’s hand. “Besides which, I think this is something I’m supposed to do. We all contribute those talents we have. Well this is my talent.”
Xander starred at her for a time, then drew her forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. He smiled and turned to Willow. “So what do you say Mr Spock? Are you ready to pass on the closely guarded secrets of the Vulcan mind-meld?”
“Yep,” Willow grinned back. “Beam us up Scotty.”
They’d packed it in after that. It was late, everyone was tired and tomorrow was another day. Giles had poured himself another small scotch and wandered across the courtyard to his suite. He wasn’t quite ready to turn in yet. The discussion about Dana’s possible removal to Ashdown had re-emphasized AI’s need for a qualified medic. Treating the sorts of injuries that Slayers received required a highly specialized and trustworthy individual.
The Watcher’s Council had always trained and employed their own medical personnel, but the current staff had all been killed in the explosion. Giles was looking for someone who was not only an experienced and well-qualified emergency physician, but also familiar with the supernatural world, and prepared to consider mystical or mixed medical/mystical treatment options where necessary. And now, with Buffy’s pregnancy, he was seeking someone with obstetric experience as well.
It was a pretty tall ask. The position had only been advertised by word of mouth and so far they’d had only two applicants. Dr. John Galloway would have been fine, but he was pushing 65 and Giles was pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the on the job demands. So that just left that annoying Scots chit, Catriona McNair.
Of course she was eminently qualified for the role. She was not only a highly regarded practitioner, currently in charge of the Emergency Department at Princess Royal Hospital, but she also came from a long-standing Council family. Both her brother and father had been watchers, while her mother and paternal and maternal grandfathers had been doctors. In fact old Dr. McNair had been the Council medic for 30 years up until his death.
And to top it off, she’d done her residency in obstetrics. The bloody job was written for her.
Both Gareth Robson and Buffy had added their stamps of approval; he was the only hold out. The woman just plain irritated him.
Theoretically, it should have helped that she was not only the aunty of his goddaughter but also the little sister of his long deceased best friend. But in practice, the history they shared was more of a negative.
The first time Giles had met her had been at Mac and Celeste’s wedding. He was Mac’s best man and 13 year old Catriona, ten years younger than her handsome big brother, was the bridesmaid.
A skinny, awkward, brunette, teeth done up in a full set of braces, Catriona wasn’t the most eye-catching 13 year old. Not that he’d found her loathsome or anything. Just that he hadn’t really noticed her at all. But she’d noticed him all right.
It quickly became obvious, as the reception wound up into full swing, that little Catriona had a crush on him. If he’d been a little wiser to the ways of the world, or even just a little bit less of a self centered prat, he would have been flattered by the young girl’s attentions and treated her with gentle affection or even a little mild flirtation. It would undoubtedly have boasted her teenage self-esteem no end.
But instead, confusion, anxiety and his own hormones guided his actions. A rather fetching lass, well into her twenties judging by the size of her endowments, caught his eye. He’d spent most of the evening trolling after her, and had finally ended up achieving some moderate success, snogging her under the stairs.
Catriona, on her way to the toilet, had caught them out when, leaning on the cupboard door too enthusiastically, they had tumbled out of their hidey-hole and landed on the ground at the young girl’s feet.
Giles’ shirt had been untucked (thank goodness, as it hid the fact that his zipper was also down), there was lipstick smeared across his face, and worst of all, the lass’ lacy knickers were adorning his head. Catriona had gasped and she and Giles had locked eyes before she turned bright red, burst into tears and fled the scene.
Well that had pretty much put paid to any further action for Giles that night. Not only had the bombshell’s hitherto unmentioned fiancé (a cousin of Celeste’s) threatened to knock his block off before dragging his unrepentant girlfriend out the door, but Giles had also ended up feeling slightly guilty for his rather cavalier treatment of Mac’s little sister.
It had weighed on his mind quite a bit over the years and he’d decided to apologize to her the next time he saw her. But for one reason or another the right occasion had never cropped up.
They’d come close to crossing paths at Rowan’s blessing and naming ceremony. Both Giles and Catriona were asked to stand as the baby’s Guardian’s and had both eagerly accepted the honor. But at the last minute Catriona had come down with a bad case of glandular fever and had to make her oath at a later date.
So it was that the only other time Giles had ever seen Catriona was at Mac and Celeste’s funerals. It had been seven years after their first meeting and he hadn’t recognized her at first. When Althanea pointed her out to him, he’d been astonished at the beauty she’d blossomed into. In fact he’d probably gone on to act a little bit inappropriately given the tragic occasion, frequently staring at her across the aisle of the church, and later as she wept by her brother’s graveside.
The only time he’d managed to catch her eye, she’d looked right through him. He’d had no idea if that look represented a lack of recognition or an aloof disdain, but her subsequent early departure meant he never did get to find out. He also never got to apologize for his boorish and inconsiderate behavior of so many years previous.
So, it was fair to say there was some baggage between them. Of course Giles had recognized the name on her C.V. as soon as it landed on his desk. He’d followed her career over the years, well just in a general sense of course, casually asking Althanea from time to time what Catriona was up to. And he guessed she must have known that he was the one holding the reins now at the newly reconfigured Council. So theoretically there shouldn’t have been any surprises for either of them when she’d turned up to the interview yesterday.
But that’s certainly not how it played out. When she walked into his office, he could hardly breathe, such a mixture of surprise, confusion, disapproval, irritation and violent, passionate attraction hit him at once that he was at a total loss at what to do with himself.
It had started the minute she’d walked through the door. She was dressed down in holey jeans and an old band t-shirt, her gamine haircut was streaked with shocking purple, her elfin features adorned with little more than a slash of magenta lip gloss and a smudge of black eyeliner. Giles was taken aback by her; this punk princess, so different from the sweet, little girl he remembered. He was unsure what message she was trying to give him.
Confused and a little annoyed at what he saw as inappropriate attire for a professional job interview, he was even more unsettled by the lightning-strike frisson of awareness that sizzled his senses when she reached out and firmly grasped his welcoming hand in hers.
It had temporarily shorted out his circuits and he’d had to resort to autopilot for the next few minutes. Long enough for him to realize he’d missed something vital in her opening remarks. His confusion was obvious, as too was the realization that she was making fun of him in some way. Giles did what he so often did in moments of pressure, resorted to his pompous, arrogant persona.
That had set her off even more, her giggling, quick-witted disrespect more than a match for his snappy, supercilious disregard. If truth be told, she’d made him feel like a gauche schoolboy. Oh how the tables had been turned since that long ago wedding.
Sitting here now, he couldn’t remember a word of their conversation, just the emotions that the encounter had invoked. The fury he’d felt when he slammed the door behind her retreating figure, the shame that had washed over him not five minutes later, the embarrassment at how foolish he must have seemed. And roaring through the whole lot, a deep hungering lust, so intense and overwhelming that he’d had to pull his achingly hard dick out right there in his office. Three swift strokes later and he’d spilled into his handkerchief like a teenager.
By evening he’d been hard again and had had to seek release twice before he could relax enough to sleep. His dreams last night had been full of her and now, his cock was throbbing once again, her power over him so intense.
Giles sighed and tipped back his glass, swallowing the last mouthful of scotch. God, there was no way he could work with the woman, he’d have no control over his mind, his emotions or his bloody libido whenever they were in the same room. Yet she was the best person for the job. And she was going to be around any way; she was Rowan’s auntie and Buffy’s obstetrician.
Maybe if he appointed her, he could try to be elsewhere during her working hours, make sure they set the clinic up at the other end of the building from his offices. Or maybe if he tried to meet up with her, apologize and try and sort out some of their issues from the past.
Either way, now that they Dana to deal with, they’d need a doctor pretty quickly. He resolved to call Catriona tomorrow. Or maybe Monday. Yes, Monday would be better.
Shaking his head in embarrassment and disbelief, he flicked off the lights in the lounge and wandered through to his bedroom, the rampant dick in his trousers signaling that he still had a task to perform before he’d be able to settle to sleep that night.