"I'm not concerned about that," said Giles, "I'm concerned about you. Don't you think you're stretching yourself a little thin?"
I smiled. Trust Giles to be all worried about me and stuff. I was four hours away, literally. He could have driven up at any given minute to see how semi-normal life Buffy was going and I'd have welcomed him with open arms. I loved living in LA, had been here for a year and a half, give or take a few weeks, but it still felt like sometimes I was adjusting. "I'm fine, Giles," I reassured him, "Really. All over the Normal Life of Olde like Cordelia at a Barney sale."
Giles chuckled. "And how is Cordelia?"
"She's good. Bickering with Wesley as per. I swear, Giles, it's like Cordy and Xander the second..." Except there wasn't any uncomfortableness or hints of Wesley cheating on her with the next mousy redhead who walked in the room.
I bristled when he started telling me about Faith and her progress and, like, her 'platonic' relationship with Angel. Her decision to be all redeeming gal had been met with approval all round from the people who mattered. The Council, hell, even Giles and Angel. Which was why I'd wanted to get the hell out of Sunnydale, though I hadn't told Giles. "It's my chance at a normal post-high school life. You told me I could go anywhere..."
Giles had smiled at me. "And you can, Buffy. With Faith... You're not the only Chosen one any more."
Jinx, thy name was Giles. I'd moved into student accomodation three weeks later, packed up my bedroom from home and carried it cross-freeway to LA, my new life. And on my second night? I'd rescued Cordelia from some guy called Russell Winters. She'd been in LA six months, acquired visions - something she rarely talked about, if ever - and for reasons that were still unbeknown even to me? I'd started helping her.
Wesley had come along later, right around the time the Council had tried to interfere with Cordelia and her visions and I told them, for the second time, to go to hell. I didn't want a Watcher. Thankfully, Wes didn't want to be one either.
Year and a half later, here I was, heading out after a pretty hectic day at college with instructions from Cordelia to meet Gunn, yet another little addition to our team, the message: Big. Bad. You. Slay. Meet Gunn at the corner of Lippick and Broadway.
"Really, Giles," I said again, "I'm fine. And I promise I won't leave it this long between phone calls." I told him, seeing Gunn's truck from across the street. I jogged over, closing my flip phone and caught him singing to some song I vaguely recognised from when Cordelia and I'd had a night of almost-normalcy last week in a local club.
"Don't give up the day job," I teased, leaning in the window and laughing as he almost jumped three feet in the air, "Jeez! I'm not that scary, am I?" I asked, patting down my hair, pretending not to be worried, though I secretly kinda was. God, I had issues. "So what is it?"