Chapter Text
“Giles!” Buffy shouts, storming into the library without checking if anybody else is around, “My mother is dating a vampire!”
She’d do good to learn some discretion, but Giles is used to his Slayer’s antics by now, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have to suppress a smile at her theatralics.
Besides, the library is empty save for him and Jenny, whose presence has become even more frequent since she revealed her own involvement with the occult. She’s still irritating, but out of all the irritating people he’s had the displeasure of meeting, she is at least compelling enough to only make him dislike her company about half of the time, which is pretty much the British version of a compliment.
“Calm down,” he says, “what precisely do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” Buffy repeats, “my mother’s dating a vampire. Only she doesn't know it.” She sees the doubt on Giles’ face and continues. “She cooked without garlic when he came over and he insisted on having the blinds drawn because of the sunlight. And: He didn’t cross the doorstep until she invited him in. Totally freaksome.”
“So you suspect him of being a vampire,” Giles corrects her, “You do not have definitive evidence.”
“Exactly. Which is why I need you to get some.” She twists her face into a grimace then and Giles doesn’t know who’s more mortified at the accidental implication of the phrase. “Proof,” she clarifies quickly, “I need you to get some proof.”
Jenny is trying to stifle her laughter besides him. He elbows her in the ribs once Buffy looks away.
“Me?” he asks. “How am I supposed to gather proof?”
Buffy fiddles with the sleeves of her jacket. “Well, he has this show. There’s an open spot tomorrow and you could go on there, as an undercover sort of gig, and see what you can find out. Nobody watches it, really, but if there are clues either way it’d be cool to have them on camera.”
Giles finds it difficult not to be wary about this plan, but he decides to humour Buffy for a moment. “What kind of show is it that I can go on and you cannot?”
“He’s a couples counsellor,” she says hastily, as though hoping he’s not actively listening, “not a real therapist, even, just a TV therapist. And besides, he knows me already. You’d only have to play the part of the client and try to get him to spill.”
There is no way Giles can gloss over what she just said. The entire idea is preposterous. “I will not have my relationship drama laid out on television. And that’s if I were in a relationship. Not that it’s any of your business whether or not I am currently in one.”
“Well, let’s assume you’re not,” Buffy rolls her eyes, “but my Mom’s boyfriend doesn’t know that.” She looks around, her eyes catching on the other person in the room. Oh. Oh no. “You could take Ms. Calendar,” she suggests brightly.
“Absolutely not,” Giles says at the same time as Jenny says, “I’m down.”
They turn to face each other then, neither one willing to speak first. Instead their discussion happens silently by way of facial expression. Giles narrows his eyes in incredulity. What do you think you’re doing? Jenny raises her eyebrows at him. It’s not a big deal. Giles glares at her with a murderous rage. That part needs no translation.
“This is creeping me out,” Buffy says, “stop your weird telepathy thing and say you’ll do it.” She cringes. “Not it it. Ew. I mean helping me. Just say you’ll help me.”
“It’s not a bad plan, Rupert,” Jenny says calmly. “It’ll be way less suspicious than following him around.”
Giles scoffs. “You are being presumptuous. Nobody would believe we’re a couple.” Jenny tilts her head to the side, asking him to elaborate. “There’s the fact I’m not physically attracted to you, for one,” he says and he wishes he could take that one back the moment it leaves his mouth, but it’s too late. He couldn’t have picked any other reason?
“Perfect,” Jenny deadpans, “You say that on camera tomorrow and he’ll immediately know why we’re in couples counseling.”
“We are not a couple, Ms. Calendar,” Giles responds.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Come on, we don’t have to be a happy couple.”
“Correction: We don’t have to be a couple at all.”
Buffy starts whining next to them and looks up at Giles through her lashes and her wide eyes resemble those of a baby animal. Bambi, possibly. “My mother might be dating a vampire, Giles. Do it for me?”
He hates the way his resolve softens at the mere sight of her. It should not be as difficult to deny her her wish, especially considering it’s a senseless plan. “I don’t see why we can’t do reconnaissance any other way,” he says.
“It’s the easiest way,” Buffy insists, “and it’s not like you have to do anything bad. All you have to do is pretend to be dating Ms. Calendar for three hours total.” She smiles one of her hopeful smiles. It annoys him beyond reason that he finds himself moved by it.
“Or four,” she adds innocently, “if we’re including the follow-up.”
Giles groans. “There’s a follow-up?”
“You don’t have to do the follow-up if you can prove he’s a vampire before that,“ Buffy offers helpfully, ”I’ll just stake him then.”
By God, Giles hopes Buffy’s mother is dating a vampire.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Buffy says then, “you truly are the best Watcher a Slayer could ask for.”
Giles wants to remind her that he has not agreed to this absolute insanity and that he is certainly not about to. But Buffy is beaming at him and she’s had such a rough time lately and maybe it won’t hurt to do this one thing for her. “What is his name?” he asks instead, resigning himself at the very least to research.
Buffy stares ahead blankly. She is impossible.
“You want me to make a fool out of myself on television and you didn’t even make the effort to remember his name?” Giles complains.
Buffy counters just as vehemently. “I was a bit busy noticing the way he kept staring at my mother’s neck. Name starts with J, I think. Jack maybe? Or John?”
“Jackson West?” Jenny asks, reminding them of her presence, and Buffy nods in agreement.
“Jackson,” she echoes, “that’s it.”
Giles bites back a snide remark about what kind of name that is. Actually, he doesn’t want to bite it back, so he doesn’t. “I’m not taking relationship advice from somebody named Jackson West.”
“Don’t be Posh,” Jenny says, “besides, considering it’s play-pretend you don’t have to take his advice at all. Not that his advice would be that horrible to take.
“So you’re a fan?” he asks, delighting in this slightly embarrassing piece of information she’s just let slip.
Jenny’s feigned casualness gives it away. She shrugs. “Not a fan, exactly. I’ve heard of him.”
“Sure,” Giles responds dryly, and he prays to God that Jenny will be a better liar than that when they actually go on the show. He cannot believe he’s about to do this.