Verse taken from Edmund Spenser’s The Fairie Queene.
Writing banter is harder than it seems. Writing witty banter is even worse, and I’m not sure I pulled it off
See disclaimer on first two chapters.
“Well, this is interesting. Did you see this part?” Buffy held up the worn demonology text. “It’s about the apocalypse. I think this says ‘glass.’ And here’s ‘the one with the lovely face.’ What the hell does that mean?”
“Actually,” her Watcher said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose, “That says ‘angelic face.’ How did you get lovely out of that?”
“How did you get angelic?” The Slayer’s blond curls bobbed in the streetlight that filtered through the front windows of the Magic Box. “This is way harder without Willow.”
“I concur.” He reached over and picked up the book she was looking at. This was the first time anyone had said her name in the three weeks since she’d gone, and he remembered a flash of red hair and a very dirty question. He was glad he was sitting down, so Buffy couldn’t see where all the blood in his body had just gone.
“Hey, give that back.” Buffy pouted. “I wasn’t finished.”
“I’m double-checking your translation.” Giles looked up and smiled. “It does say ‘lovely face.’ Sorry.”
“I minored in Classics, remember? That oughta larn yah.”
“It says angelic on the facing page. I didn’t see what you were looking at.” He looked down at the book he was trying to translate.
“Shouldn’t you be able to read my mind by now?” She asked. “Any way, it says here, ‘a poem in glass by the one with the lovely face,’ and then talks about the Sisterhood of Jhe. The Sisterhood of Jhe? That sounds familiar...”
“They were the blue ones that we fought the second time the Hellmouth opened.” Giles said absently.
Buffy pulled the book he was reading away. “Hey, listen. If they’re only around when the Hellmouth opens, doesn’t that mean that this poem is the first thing on the list of things that make the Apocalypse?”
“I suppose so. Technically. But we don’t ecen know what the poem is. Maybe we should focus on translating the Codex, instead.”
“But the Codex is so boring!” She whined. She put her elbows up on the table and stuck out her bottom lip. “I’ve already done all the stuff in there.”
“Except avert the apocalypse. Which is what we’re researching. According to most of my sources, it’s going to happen, and sooner rather than later as I’d hoped. Please, back to work, we’ve got lots to get through.”
Buffy grumbled and continued to pout. “I’d rather be on patrol.”
Giles glared at her. “Enough.”
“Killjoy.”
The front door opened, and the little bell jingled. Anya strode in and plopped herself down at the table. “What are we doing?”
“Research.” Buffy answered. “Pull up a book. Find us end-of-the-world stuff.”
“Ooh.” Anya did as she asked and flipped open the nearest musty old tome. “This is spells.” She chose another. “Herbology?” Another. “Hedge magic. High magick. Conjuring. Summoning. Hey, this is the D’Hofran spell.”
Giles sighed. I’m never going to get anything done, he thought. “Do either of you realize that I’m trying to work?”
“Hey, I’m working here. See me work. Blame her.” Buffy stuck her tongue out at Anya.
“Yes, blame me. Because it’s fun, and I’m not the Slayer so I won’t beat you up.” Anya stuck her tongue right back at Buffy.
“Hello, there, everyone. Still mature, I see.” Both women glared at Xander as he went behind the counter and fetched the keys to lock up the store. He looked at the clock. “Eight thirty. Want me to close you down?”
“Yes, thank you, Xander.” Giles said, going back to his book.
Anya turned a few pages in the book and stopped, peering closely at a picture. “Is this important?”
She held it up for Buffy and Giles to look at. It was an old-fashioned etching with pictures of angels in flight, and armies of demons, of kings being crowned and soldiers despoiled, and of young women holding swords. On the left, a man held up a chalice, and on the right, a woman held a candle over her head. There was no caption on the bottom, but there was a very fine line of text running around the entire etching that looked like it was supposed to be part of the picture.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t looked these over in a long time.” Giles took the book from her. “Xander, would you mind bringing me the magnifying glass beneath the cash register?”
Giles stiltingly translated the dialectical Latin around the picture:
“No less did Daunger threaten me with dread, When as he saw me, maugre all his powre, That glorious spoyle of of beautie with me lead, Then Cerberus when Orpheus did recoure His leman from the Stygian Princes boure. But evermore my shield did me defend Against the storm of every dreadfull stoure: Thus safely with my love I thence did wend.”
Buffy looked over his shoulder as he read, and he looked up at her, irritated. It alsways bothered him when someone read over his shoulder. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“For one thing,” Xander said, “It doesn’t go with the picture.”
“Why are we even doing this?” Anya asked.
Giles began to explain. “The council seems to think that the apocalypse is nearing. It’s supposed to happen sometime within the next five years. And since Buffy has proved nigh unstoppable--”
Buffy smiled at him. “It hurts to be this good.”
He glared at her. “ --they’ve asked me to step up my research in that area. So here we are. Have a seat, Xander. It’s going to be a long night.”
Xander groaned and sat down. “You guys remember when it was Buffy’s job to go for snacks?”
“No.” Anya said. “I don’t.”
Buffy smiled at him. “Yeah. That seems like forever.”
“Life was so different, then.” Xander said. “And now she reads Latin and Greek.”
“But still feeds the need for cheese nips.”
“Now, Buffy,” Xander grinned, “You know that Anya is all the tasty little morsel that I need.”
“I am not a tasty little morsel.” Anya sniffed. “I am a delicate flower.”
Buffy rolled her eyes at Giles, who was trying to ignore them. She said, “That’s funny, you don’t smell like a flower.”
“I think she pulls it off nicely.” Xander said.
Buffy said tartly, “She married you already. You don’t have to suck up.”
“Yes he does.” Anya smiled. “If he knows what’s good for him.”
“I just want to keep all my parts looking the same, and in the places they are now.” Xander said. “No boils on the penis, no exploding heads, no trolls.”
“I would never put boils on your penis. I like your penis.”
Buffy groaned, and Xander smiled widely. “That’s my Anya. Now you know why I married her.”
“Because no one else was weird enough to put up with you?” Buffy asked.
He straightened in his chair and thrust his chest forward. “Because she tells me what a manly man I am.”
“She didn’t say she wouldn’t make your head explode.” She licked a finger and made a quick hashmark in the air. “And she wasn’t there the time you screamed like a woman.”
A lightbulb appeared to go on in his mind. “Oh, that was the Sisterhood of Jhe. I knew I’d heard the -- hey!”
Anya defended her husband as she got up and went behind the counter to look for something.“But I was there the first time you made out with Spike. That was way more disturbing than anything I’ve ever seen him,” she pointed at Xander, “do.”
“I do not wish to discuss my demon ex-lovers. I’ve dated exactly three human guys, and two dead guys, and they all sucked.”
“You can’t blame the vampires. Sucking is in their blood.” Xander said triumphantly. “He shoots, he scores!”
“In their blood?” Buffy couldn’t help her laugh. “How awful. What a horrible pun.”
Anya dropped the ledger she’d brought over onto the table and began to half-heartedly balance the checkbook. “He does that all the time. Did he always do that?”
“It was way worse when he had Will to play off of. She constantly opened the door for it.”
Giles stood up. “If all you three are going to do is make meaningless banter, I’m going to go home.” He chose two books from the stack in the middle of the table, collected his keys and case from behind the counter, and walked to the door. “Goodnight. Buffy, go patrol. Take Xander and Anya. Get some air.” It slammed and he was gone.
“Is he okay?” Anya asked.
Buffy sighed. “Willow’s been gone for three weeks, and she hasn’t called him yet.”
“Oh,” Xander closed the book with the etching in it, carefully marking the page. “I talked to her last night.”
“Exactly.” Anya said. “I bet he knows that she calls us all the time.”
Buffy nodded. “He knows. He’s understandably upset.”
“She’s afraid to call him.” stated Xander. “She asks about him, but...”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Typical human failing. Can’t even see what’s right in front of her nose.”
“Maybe it’s hard to see it from that angle.” Buffy said. “And right now there’s not much anyone can do about it. Unless someone wants to volunteer to talk to him about calling her?”
The room was silent.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s lock up and patrol.”