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Author's note: this story is set shortly after the events of "No Future For You". It was inspired by an episode of Spooks. For anyone who's interested, the "old friend" that Giles mentions is a shout-out to Harry Pearce.
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"You and B still not talking, huh?"
"There was one rather terse email, but aside from that, no."
"What did the email say?"
"She wanted me to return a number of mystical objects."
"Well, least she didn't make you give back all the good lamps and half the CD collection."
"I'll have you know, the eternal quadrat of Baklathaz is a darn sight more valuable than a few lamps!"
"Giles, it IS a lamp."
"How did you know that?"
"Occasionally, I read your books. What? Slayers can't do research? Or did ya think I can't read?"
"Well...obviously...I mean..."
"Don't sweat it, Rupes. I know I was never your star pupil."
"You were never my pupil at all. But I feel....well. I'm honoured to have you as my ally."
"Now I think you're just buttering me up cause there's someone you want offing."
"Poor taste, Faith."
"Sorry. I thought you Scooby types were all about the murder jokes."
"I'm afraid I haven't been a Scooby type for rather a long time."
"No. I guess you haven't. But, I'm glad that you're my type now....and, ok....That was the WRONG phrase."
"Quite the wrong phrase. But, I appreciate the sentiment."
.....
Xander paused the tape and took off his headphones. He felt that was a good place to quit transcribing. Not a job he was enjoying a hell of a lot, but he couldn't entrust it to any of the slayers. Buffy didn't want the business with Giles and Faith to be discussed by more people than necessary. She hadn't said as much, but he had a good slayerdar when it came to reading Buffy's moods. The idea that people would be whispering about this in corners ? slayers, gigging and gossipping about how Giles had set up shop with Buffy's arch nemesis...no. That would not lead to a happy place for Buffy.
So, Xander was transcribing the feed himself. Willow had planted the bugs mystically. Not something she'd been keen to do, but they all realised it was necessary. Giles had authorised a wetworks mission on the sly, using a woman who had tried to kill all of them at least once as the hit-girl in question. So, they had to find out what else he might be planning. Didn't they?
Xander sighed and rubbed his face as he read back over the last few pages of Faith and Giles's conversation ? held in one of his safe houses in London. How in the hell had it come to this? Planting bugs, listening in...in all Xander's spy boy fantasies, he'd never considered this before: quite how dirty he'd feel.
He steeled himself to do some more. Nothing evil plan-y so far. Just banter, and an offer of a cup of tea from Giles. More banter. Discussion of the weather. Unless that was some kind of evil secret code? More banter.
"Well, an old friend of mine once told me," Giles was saying. "Love thy enemies. In case your friends turn out to be a bunch of bastards."
Xander stopped the tape once more and decided that was enough for the day. And that his report to Buffy was going to involve some tactful editing. She didn't need to hear all that.
As Xander locked his office and wandered along the corridors of the castle, he felt colder than even the Scottish weather could account for. A particular word was bouncing about in his skull.
Enemies.
Had it really come to that?
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"You and B still not talking, huh?"
"There was one rather terse email, but aside from that, no."
"What did the email say?"
"She wanted me to return a number of mystical objects."
"Well, least she didn't make you give back all the good lamps and half the CD collection."
"I'll have you know, the eternal quadrat of Baklathaz is a darn sight more valuable than a few lamps!"
"Giles, it IS a lamp."
"How did you know that?"
"Occasionally, I read your books. What? Slayers can't do research? Or did ya think I can't read?"
"Well...obviously...I mean..."
"Don't sweat it, Rupes. I know I was never your star pupil."
"You were never my pupil at all. But I feel....well. I'm honoured to have you as my ally."
"Now I think you're just buttering me up cause there's someone you want offing."
"Poor taste, Faith."
"Sorry. I thought you Scooby types were all about the murder jokes."
"I'm afraid I haven't been a Scooby type for rather a long time."
"No. I guess you haven't. But, I'm glad that you're my type now....and, ok....That was the WRONG phrase."
"Quite the wrong phrase. But, I appreciate the sentiment."
.....
Xander paused the tape and took off his headphones. He felt that was a good place to quit transcribing. Not a job he was enjoying a hell of a lot, but he couldn't entrust it to any of the slayers. Buffy didn't want the business with Giles and Faith to be discussed by more people than necessary. She hadn't said as much, but he had a good slayerdar when it came to reading Buffy's moods. The idea that people would be whispering about this in corners ? slayers, gigging and gossipping about how Giles had set up shop with Buffy's arch nemesis...no. That would not lead to a happy place for Buffy.
So, Xander was transcribing the feed himself. Willow had planted the bugs mystically. Not something she'd been keen to do, but they all realised it was necessary. Giles had authorised a wetworks mission on the sly, using a woman who had tried to kill all of them at least once as the hit-girl in question. So, they had to find out what else he might be planning. Didn't they?
Xander sighed and rubbed his face as he read back over the last few pages of Faith and Giles's conversation ? held in one of his safe houses in London. How in the hell had it come to this? Planting bugs, listening in...in all Xander's spy boy fantasies, he'd never considered this before: quite how dirty he'd feel.
He steeled himself to do some more. Nothing evil plan-y so far. Just banter, and an offer of a cup of tea from Giles. More banter. Discussion of the weather. Unless that was some kind of evil secret code? More banter.
"Well, an old friend of mine once told me," Giles was saying. "Love thy enemies. In case your friends turn out to be a bunch of bastards."
Xander stopped the tape once more and decided that was enough for the day. And that his report to Buffy was going to involve some tactful editing. She didn't need to hear all that.
As Xander locked his office and wandered along the corridors of the castle, he felt colder than even the Scottish weather could account for. A particular word was bouncing about in his skull.
Enemies.
Had it really come to that?
