AVATAR Book II:

The Mother

(two decades later)

"So what's on the agenda for tonight? Multiple stakings? Crash a vampire party? Or, I know, let's go hang in the graveyard and see what pops up."

"Not funny, Xander."

Xander slouched down in his chair, gangly form taking up too much room, as usual. Willow and Buffy both glared at him. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

They sat there, glumly staring at the debris of their lunch. Three vampire attacks in the past

week, two in-the-hall lectures from Principal Snyder, and Ms. Callender still wasn't talking to Giles. Not that he seemed to notice. The Watcher had been nose-deep in his books for days, barely surfacing long enough to guide Buffy's training sessions.

"So what is it with Giles, anyway?" Buffy asked. "I mean, just this morning he told me to take the day off. The day off! I think he's coming down with a fever or something."

"Hey, don't look a gift day in the mouth, you know?"

Willow scrunched her forehead and frowned at them. "Maybe we should check on him. Maybe we should check on him -now-."

The other two followed the direction her chin was pointing, and blanced at the sight of Principal Snyder heading towards them.

"Does that man never stop to go to the bathroom?" Xander griped

"Obviously not, cause he's definitely, ah, Principal Snyder. We were just on our way to the library. Bye."

Buffy grabbed Willow by the arm and marched her past, with Xander bringing up the tail end of their parade.

Snyder stood there, shaking his head. "Those kids spend too much time in that library. It's not normal. "

For the first time in Buffy's memory, however, the library was occupied by someone other than Giles. A woman sat at one of the long tables, intently studying a large book open in front of her. Dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt, she was several steps out of the fashion parade, but appeared completely at home in the high school library. Reading one of Giles' research books.

"Hey," Willow protested, moving out in front of Buffy. "You're not supposed to --"

Her voice trailed off as the woman looked up, eyes the color of new grass staring intently. "It's all right," she said in a soft voice with the faintest trace of a British accent. "This book and I are old friends. Aren't you," she asked the book, closing its cover and patting it fondly.

"So," Buffy said, reclaiming her protective stance in front of Willow, who had stopped dead as though walking into a wall. "You're a friend of Giles'?" Her voice clearly doubted it.

"A friend? No. I don't know if I would say that. But I am here to see him." She smiled, showing small, even teeth. "And no, I am not here to harm him." She paused, then grinned in a way that made her seem no older than they. "At least, not in any way he would complain about."

"Uh-huh." Buffy looked at Willow, who was still staring at the woman with an expression she usually reserved for a particularly interesting computer problem. Xander just shrugged, tossing the ball back into her court.

"Okay, so you're not a friend, but you're not foe, either. Do you have a name?"

"Mada."

"Meydeh?"

"Mmmm. Close enough. And you are the Slayer."

Every hackle on Buffy's body rose, and she could sense Xander tense beside her. Willow, for some reason, seemed oblivious. The last time someone out of her Watcher's past had shown up, knowing about her, it had been a very unpleasant experience for everyone concerned. Not the least, Giles himself. If this woman were in any way connected to Ethan, Buffy would take her out without hesitation.

She was the only one allowed to give her Watcher grief, damnit!

With impeccable timing, Giles walked into the library at that point, two oversized books tucked under one arm. He caught sight of the three teenagers standing there and brightened immediately.

"Ah, Buffy, there you are. I've discovered something quite in--"

Mada stood quietly, pushing her chair back. Giles saw her, and his voice trailed off into

nothingness. "--teresting..."

There was silence.

"Giles, this is --"

"Meddy."

"Oh. So you =have= met."

Giles stood there, blinking owlishly, then walked over to the table, put the books down

carefully, and opened his arms. Mada went into them like a final puzzle piece, and was crushed in an embrace that didn't acknowledge anyone else in the room.

"Yeah, I guess they've met. Guess friend wasn't the right word after all, huh?" Xander cracked.

Willow shot him a Look, which she had been perfecting for weeks. "I think it's romantic."

"Romantic?" Buffy hooted. "Giles? I don't --" She stopped, seeing her Watcher pull away slightly, taking that woman's face between his hands. His hands tangled in shoulder-length black curls, his fingers almost dwarfing her face.

"Mo cariad," he said, in a voice Buffy couldn't remember ever hearing him use before. "I

never -- I never thought I would see you again."

The woman replied in some language none of them could understand, but Giles obviously did,

from the blush that crept along his cheekbones. "Meddy." It was both a sigh and a caress, the way he said it.

"Are you going to introduce me to your young charges, my knight?" she asked in English, and

he seemed to suddenly recollect himself, letting go and stepping back as though he had been burned. "Oh, yes. Er, this is Xander, Willow, and Buffy. Buffy is, er, "

"The Slayer. Yes, I had noticed that," Meda said wryly.

"Yes, of course. You would." He stopped. "I'm being quite the ass, aren't I?"

She smiled up at him. "Only in the most wonderfully lovable way."

"Yes. Well." He fumbled with his glasses, pushing them down on his nose, then back up again.

Xander stepped forward, defusing what promised to be another disgustingly sappy moment by saying "so, you're a babe from Giles' past. Care to tell us any deep dark secrets?"

Mada considered him carefully. "What do you have in trade?"

Xander turned to Buffy, grinning. "I think I'm going to like her." Willow had already gone to Meda's side, looking up at her like a puppy would to someone who had just given it a bowl of milk.

Buffy bit her lip, not saying anything.

"Um." Giles suddenly seemed to realize the tension in the room, and made a great show of checking his watch. "Don't you three have to be in class, soon? I'm sure your lunch period is almost over..."

"Yeah. Over. Lunch. Right." Buffy grabbed her friends and steered them out the door, casting a glance over her shoulder that warned Giles that she wasn't through with him yet.

"Oh dear," Giles said under his breath.

"So what was with that chick, anyway?" Buffy fumed, stalking down the hallway.

"Who, Meddy? I think she's nice," Willow replied, trying to keep up.

"Yeah, Buffster. She's not bad. Not up to Ms. Callender's standards, maybe, but --" Xander doubled over when Willow hit him, and he ducked, rearranging their positions walking down the hallway so that Buffy could protect him.

"Maybe you're being a little protective?" Willow suggested. "I mean, you really don't like people who take up Giles' time, and..." her voice trailed off when she saw Buffy's face. "Or maybe not."

They split up, Buffy to history, and Xander and Willow working their way through the period-change crowds to study hall.

"You did seem totally taken with Giles' long-lost love, there -- what's up with that?"

Willow shrugged. "I just like her, that's all. She's got this glow to her, like a summer day.

Warm."

"Yeah, right." Xander lost interest as he saw Cordelia heading down the hallway in the opposite direction. "I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Xander, if you cut class again --" But he was already ahead of her, jogging backwards in order to talk to Cordelia, who was doing her best to look completely uninterested.

"You're going to get detention," Willow finished, then sighed and went to class.

"Interesting children you have there," Meddy said, sitting on the table and letting her feet dangle above the floor. "Buffy doesn't like me one bit, does she?"

"Well. It's been rather difficult for her lately, what with a second Slayer showing up, and Angel getting hurt and so forth. She's quite a good --"

"Rupert."

Her voice cut through his meandering like a switchblade, and he stopped, halfway turned from

away from her.

"It's okay. I'm not insulted."

"No, I didn't think you would be." He turned to face her. "Will you be here long enough for it to matter?"

"That's up to you, my knight. If I'm treading on someone's toes..."

"No. Er, that is... she's ditched me, I believe the phrase is."

"I'm sorry." She almost sounded it, too.

"Yes, well." He looked at her then, a gleam in his eye that no student of Sunnydale High would associate with their staid librarian. "You would like her, I suspect. She's a technopagan."

Meddy stared at him, then began to laugh. "A what? Oh Rupert, only you. Only you."

"Should I be insulted by that comment?" he asked, coming to stand in front of her, his body fitting between the open wedge of her knees.

"Probably."

"Oh, good. I always like to know where I stand, when women begin laughing at me."

"And does this happen often?"

"Oh, Buffy doesn't laugh to my face, but I can read her quite well. And Jenny -- well, she thought I was a bit too stuffy."

"You? Stuffy?" Then she stopped to look carefully at him. "Well, yes. I can see where that impression might be given. Although I've always had a fondness for men in tweed. But really. Stuffy. She didn't know you very well, did she?"

"I've changed a bit since those days," he retorted, mildly defensive.

"Yes. I see that you have."

And there was a comfortable silence between them for a moment, each reliving the week he had spent in her flat, over twenty years before, healing from the wounds both physical and emotional the young Rupert Giles had inflicted upon himself.

"But you are still the same. Still my beloved knight errant."

"Still tending the altar of my Lady," he agreed, placing his hands on her knees and leaning forward so that their foreheads touched.

"Yes. I know." A pause. "And it appears that you're raising another one, much to my dismay."

"Who, Willow? Yes, I noticed the way she gravitated to you. Not that much of a surprise, really. She's always been more sensitive than her classmates. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she were to wake up one morning and find herself tending to your father's domain."

"Seriously?" Meddy pulled away to look at him, her face bright with pleasure. " Yes, I can see it in her, if she doesn't get distracted. Much better. I shall have to keep an eye on her. And until that time, I couldn't ask for her to have a better mentor than you."

And to her delight, Giles blushed.

She pushed him back and jumped down from the table, tucking her arm into the crook of his.

"Come on, Mr. Stuffy Librarian of Sunnydale High. Show me a good place to get a really greasy hamburger, and maybe I'll let you eat my french fries."

"I dislike french fries."

"Well then, maybe I'll let you eat something else."

"Meddy!"

But this time, he didn't blush.

Letting her lead him out into the hallway, he felt somewhat self-conscious, as though people were stopping to stare. Unlikely -- nobody noticed him, in the hustle of pimpled angst and bravado that defined teenagers. Or your average adult, he had to admit. He had crafted himself too perfectly to stand out, no matter the crowd. It was merely that he was so attuned to Meddy's presence, so aware of her every movement, that he couldn't image every other person in the bulding reacting the same way.

But the general populace, he had noted over the years, didn't see most of what went on around them. How else to explain the fact that Buffy, scarcely the most inconspicious slayer in the annals of their history, had managed to remain relatively unnoticed? And the body count -- he winced. Perhaps, with Meddy in town, things would quiet down for a few...

"Oh dear."

Meddy stopped when he did, looking up at him. They were almost at the main doors, with only a few students hanging about, using the pay phones in the front lobby.

"Rupert?"

"Oh dear. We may have a problem. But we mustn't discuss it here."

Escorting her out the door and down the steps, they walked to the faculty parking lot.

"All this sunlight," Meddy said, squinting into the pale blue winter sky. "It doesn't seem healthy, somehow."

"You become accustomed to it. And in my job, it's always a nice reminder."

"Yes, I suppose it is." She looked at him then, with none of the teasing of before. "And your... job. You are at peace with it?"

Giles smiled, wistfully. "I cannot image my life other than it is."

"No regrets?"

"A few. Nothing I wouldn't do again. Except one."

They stopped in front of an old, beat-up sedan , distracting her from her next question.

"This? This is your car?"

Giles nodded, digging in his pockets for the keys.

"No. Oh, no, tell me you didn't junk the Dutchess!"

"I'm afraid that a man of my... position, cannot afford to be conspicious. Regrettably, a motorbike would not have fit with the image I try to project." He found the keys and opened the passenger side door with a flourish.

"You junked the Dutchess. Blood of my father, Rupert, you =have= become stuffy!"

"Get in the car, Mada."

Muttering, she sat down, drawing her legs up under her and picking at the denim covering her knee. Giles got in, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"I suppose you live in a high-rise flat, filled with stainless steel appliances."

"Don't sulk, Meddy. It doesn't suit you. And for your information, I have quite a nice apartment that doesn't require an elevator to reach. Filled with wooden furniture, one television,and far too many books to ever allow me to move again. I don't even have a dishwasher, much less a microwave. Feel better?"

"Actually, yes. I do." And she turned to smile brilliantly at him. "So, what is this problem we have?"

"In a word -- you. Or rather, you so near to the Hellmouth. That may create some difficulties."

"Hellmouth? Lovely. What, dare I ask, is a Hellmouth, and how close to it am I?"

"You're sitting in it, I'm afraid. As to what it is... that could take a while..."