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It wasn’t really something Buffy wanted to talk about with Giles. Boy-talk was fine when it was with Willow and Giles just sort of happened to be there, but seeking Giles out for romantic advice felt like something he would very much not be cool with. He was her Watcher, and he liked to talk about boring, Watchery stuff like demons and stakes and how many pull-ups Buffy could do in a minute.
But it wasn’t like Buffy could ask her mom. Mom would wig, she would be Captain Wig, president of Wiggins County Central. And there weren’t any other teachers who Buffy could ask, and she was pretty sure that if she brought it up with Willow, Willow would get all weird and slightly jealous about it like she always did when it was Faith.
If there had been a teacher, somebody who was young and cool and who wouldn’t make Buffy feel weird about asking, who was politely distant in a way that made you kind of mad but also kind of not, because the polite distance really meant that they didn’t actually care about the embarrassing thing you were saying and therefore you didn’t really need to be embarrassed, but who was still kind and gentle and made you feel like you were being heard—
Well. If there was somebody like that, then Buffy would’ve gone to them. But there wasn’t, and Buffy didn’t want to think about why.
The cafeteria had Hoodsie cups, so Buffy picked one up as a peace offering and held it by the rim so that her hands wouldn’t get wet and condensationy. The sort of teacher Buffy was looking for would probably be the kind of person to bring food as peace offerings, and she would probably be bringing Giles a jelly donut or at least something yummy from the staff room, but Buffy had to make do with what she had, and what she had was Hoodsie cups.
Actually, Giles was probably going to throw a fit about having something so sticky in the library, so maybe it wasn’t actually a peace offering so much as a defensive weapon. Not that Buffy wanted to think about why she was on the defensive.
Sometimes Buffy felt very, very tired.
She pushed open the door to the library, half-hoping Giles wouldn’t be there, but she knew before she said anything that he was. The library had that sort of feel to it. “Giles?”
He came out of his office. “Buffy, hello. Is something the matter?”
“What, I can’t stop by?” said Buffy. She held up the ice-cream. “I bought you a present.”
Giles blinked at it, and then he put out his hand. When Buffy was really little and had wanted a pet cat, her dad had said they couldn’t have one because cats liked to bring home dead birds, and any animal that was silly enough to think dead birds were an acceptable sort of present would not be welcome in the Summers household. This had made sense to Buffy at the time, because dead birds were indeed gross.
Buffy deposited the ice-cream cup into Giles’ waiting palm with a smile. “Ta-da! One hooting-tooting Hoodsie cup, fresh from the cafeteria. The flavour’s in the spoon.”
“I see,” said Giles. “And does this… ice cream—” (He said it extremely dubiously) “—come with some sort of special request? There’s not another party, is there?”
“Nope!” chirped Buffy. “I just thought you might be hungry.”
“Oh,” said Giles. “Well, that’s… thoughtful.”
“Mm-hm,” said Buffy.
“I think I have a coaster in the office,” he said, after looking around for a suitable place to put the ice-cream down. “Hold on a moment.”
“Sure,” said Buffy, and watched him retreat. She stood up high on her tip-toes, came back down onto her heels, and folded her hands behind her back. Giles was rifling around under his papers, ice-cream held aloft. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
She saw him smile, just slightly, before he tucked it away someplace else. “Of course,” he said, and turned around. Buffy had followed him up to the door, and she waited for him to set the ice-cream down before hitting him with the whammy.
“It’s about Ms. Calendar,” Buffy said. Giles’ face did something odd.
“Oh,” he said, and he sat back against the desk. His face had frozen slightly, like he didn’t want Buffy to know what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter because Buffy could see it all anyway, because the frozen-face was the kind where you could still see the shapes moving underneath the ice. He fiddled with the button of his jacket, staring a little over Buffy’s shoulder, and Buffy bit her lip.
“Yeah,” she said. “Um, it’s also about Faith.”
He looked slightly pacified by this. The button came undone and Buffy could see the whole of his red and blue stripy tie. “What is it?” he said, in the sort of voice that Buffy decided to ignore.
“Well, it’s me. Kinda. Um.” Buffy took a deep breath, and wiggled her toes underneath the straps of her sandals. “So, look, you know how the vamps and the slayers are always with the tinglies? Lots of super-secret Spidey senses kicking about? Well, I noticed it was happening with Faith a lot, like, a lot a lot, and then I realised that, um, not all of the tinglies I’m feeling are tinglies. Some of them are just… tingly.”
She felt too hot, and looked nervously at Giles. “Do you get it?”
Giles was very quiet. “I see,” he said, and his shoulders were very stiff, but he seemed like he made an effort to relax them. His face still looked a little frozen, but it had started to melt a bit. “Buffy, that’s perfectly normal.”
“Is it?” said Buffy, too high. “Because, you know, I liked Angel, I did, I loved him, and Faith is— she’s so— I mean, is that a thing? Liking, um, vampires and slayers?”
Giles looked down at the ground, or maybe Buffy’s sandals. He had melted into very-tiny-smile territory, which was good. The glasses came off and he cleared his throat, and when they went back on, he was Giles again.
“I couldn’t possibly say, in that regard,” said Giles, like she’d asked him a question about monsters. “But liking men and women— yes, Buffy. It’s certainly a thing.”
“Oh,” said Buffy. “Good. I mean, I figured it was, I just…”
She trailed off, and Giles seemed to steel himself.
“What, um. What does this have to do with— with Ms. Calendar?”
“Oh.” She was embarrassed, now, and wished she hadn’t said anything. “Um, nothing, I guess. I just— it’s just that I didn’t really wanna talk to my mom about it, and you’re for, y’know, slayer stuff, and I just figured that, um, if she was here—”
“You could’ve talked to her,” finished Giles. “Oh, Buffy.”
“I’m sorry.” The hot feeling was back, and Buffy’s eyes hurt. “Giles, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Giles’ hands were white around the desk. “It was never your fault.”
Well, that was a lie. But it felt nice to hear.
“Still,” said Buffy quietly. Giles took a shaky breath.
“What do you think she would’ve said?” he asked, and Buffy pulled a face, speaking also to Giles’ shoes, which were fancy brown ones with laces.
“I mean, I don’t know.” She chanced a look at him. “I didn’t really… know her. That’s why I was asking you.”
He sighed, but it was more of a thinking-sigh than a Buffy-ruined-my-life-and-now-I-have-to-talk-to-her-about-girls type of sigh, and he said: “I think she would have told you what I have. That you have nothing to be— ashamed of.” His voice caught. “And, um. I expect she would’ve made you feel quite a lot better about it than I have. She was always— very lovely, sometimes unexpectedly so. And, erm, she probably would’ve told you that she herself—”
He faltered, going a bit pale, and Buffy stared at him.
“Ms. Calendar?” she said. “Ms. Calendar, seriously?”
He nodded.
“Wow,” said Buffy. “I would not have guessed that.”
“Yes, well. It wasn’t something she was particularly vocal about, given the circumstances.”
“Oh,” said Buffy, and wondered if Willow knew. Not that she thought Ms. Calendar would have told her, exactly, but it just seemed that if anyone was going to know something about Ms. Calendar, it would’ve been Willow. She was the one TA-ing for her. “Do you think she’d have liked Faith?”
“I do, actually,” said Giles, with a bit of a smile. “Faith is… abrasive, and combative, but she seems to have a very soft heart, underneath. I think she would’ve been— rooting for you.”
Buffy looked at him, the way she spent most of the time trying not to, because Giles always looked so sad and Buffy didn’t know how to make it better, because it wasn’t like she could make him cards or breakfast in bed or any of the other stuff she might’ve once done for her own dad. Buffy was pretty sure if she ever tried to give Giles a hug Giles would do something awkwardly terrible like pat her shoulder in response, but Ms. Calendar had hugged Giles a lot, presumably. It didn’t seem fair that now nobody did.
“Do you—” Buffy cleared her throat. “Do you miss her?”
“I suppose,” said Giles, stumbling over the word in the middle, and too detached to actually sound like a human. “I— yes, I suppose I do.”
“You suppose?”
In a horrible voice, he said: “Frankly, Buffy, I try not to think about her at all.”
“Oh,” she said, and something flickered on Giles’ face, something like regret or remorse or admonishment, and then he was buttoning his jacket and standing up straight, clearing papers from his desk. There was a pile that he couldn’t clear because of the Hoodsie cup, which had started to melt and was getting the coaster sticky.
“Yes, well,” he said. “Was there anything else?”
“Um—no,” said Buffy. “No, that was— that was it.”
“For what it’s worth,” said Giles, “I am glad you told me. And, and while I’m not sure I recommend pursuing Faith, I won’t caution you against it. You’re nearly eighteen, and— you are your own woman.”
“Thanks,” said Buffy, after a moment. It sounded like a compliment, or at least like he thought it was one. “Um, for the being my own woman stuff, not the reminder about my birthday stuff. I knew that one already.”
“Of course,” said Giles. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the ice-cream, Buffy.”
“You betcha,” said Buffy. “I guess I’ll… see you later?”
If it was Ms. Calendar, Buffy was pretty sure she would’ve said something like: Sure, we’ll work out a patrol route for the evening, and maybe you could bring Faith. And then she would’ve winked in this really corny, over-the-top sort of way, because she was kind of cool but she was also dating Giles, who was not cool, and it would’ve been really obvious and really embarrassing what she meant.
“Yes,” said Giles, gathering himself. “I wanted to talk to you about your patrol route, actually, we’ve been neglecting some of the outer cemeteries. Perhaps— perhaps you could take Faith with you. If you wanted.”
Buffy’s throat got very thick.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Giles.”
He smiled at her, and Buffy got the sense that he wanted to be alone, so she turned around and left the way she came, because Giles didn’t want her help and Buffy wasn’t the person to give it, probably, because it was Buffy’s fault his girlfriend was dead. She glanced over her shoulder as she went, saw Giles sitting still and quiet at his desk with the Hoodsie cup at his elbow, and felt a little sick.
In her head, Ms. Calendar winked.