Title: Revealing Pictures (6/16)
Series: Giles/Ethan Series (Story 1/Part 6)
Author: Adrienne S.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or situations belong to me and no copyright infringement is intended.
"Miss Summers? Would you please come with me?" Buffy looked at Snyder, then at Giles, then at the woman who was now smiling at her with professional niceness. She scowled.
"Why?"
"I would like to talk to you for a few minutes, okay?" The niceness didn't falter. Buffy, with another glance Giles-ward, nodded and followed the woman to an empty classroom.
"I'm Nancy Graves, from Child Protection Services," the woman smiled reassuringly. Buffy was not reassured. "I just want to talk to you for a few minutes."
"About what?" Oh, God, let this not be about the little incident in the courtyard last week. She hadn't hit Larry that hard. Barely enough to bruise. Really.
"You spend a great deal of time with Mr Giles, don't you?" Nancy said, with another of her creepy smiles.
"Um. Yeah," Buffy admitted, every fibre of her being going on alert.
"Does Mr Giles ever touch you?"
"Touch me?" Buffy frowned, her mind automatically going to the number of times she'd trained with Giles, and the number of times she'd kicked his ass.
"Buffy, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you," Nancy began. "And I want you to be perfectly honest with me. There's no reason to be frightened. I'm here to help you."
"Help me with what?" Buffy widened her eyes. What was this woman going on about?
"Has Mr Giles ever touched you in an inappropriate way?"
"Hunh?"
"Has he made any suggestive remarks to you, or looked at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable?" Nancy waited. "Buffy, has Mr Giles sexually abused you?"
Buffy stared at the woman for nearly a full minute, then burst into peals of laughter.
---------------------
"Oh, please." Cordelia looked bored. "Giles is definitely not interested in schoolgirls."
"You sound very sure." The social worker, Lisa Meddows, looked keenly at Cordelia.
"Trust me, I know when some old letch is coming on to me," Cordelia replied. "Mr. Hennessey, the guidance counsellor? Totally creepy. I swear - eyeprints all over my butt. Giles? If I were, like, twenty years older, maybe. If he ever gets over what happened last year."
"Last year?"
"He planned this romantic evening with his girlfriend. Gave her the key to his apartment and everything," Cordelia said blithely. "He came home to find her murdered in his bed. I think he got a bit gunshy after that. Not that he was ever Mr Smooth Moves to begin with. Everybody in school knows that Giles is shy and kinda geeky, so what's with the third degree?"
"There was some concern, after the exhibit at the gallery last night."
"Concern? That Giles was suddenly going to volunteer to model for art class? I don't think so," Cordelia said emphatically. "Can I go now?"
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"Of course. Giles touches me on the shoulder sometimes... Oh! Touch me as in... No, of course not. Well, there was that one time when everybody thought I was a va..., um, dead. He hugged me right after Xander let me go, and that wasn't the kind of touching you were talking about, right?" Willow bit her lip to stop the flow of babble.
"No. Willow, some people are concerned about the amount of time you and your friends spend with Mr Giles."
"The library is a great place to hang out," Willow said, enthusiastically. "It's nice and quiet. I used to hang out in the library even before Giles. It's even better with Giles, though. He has the coolest books and knows so much about everything. Except computers. If it was up to him, computers would be banned from the library."
---------------------
"No."
"Could you elaborate on that, um, Daniel?"
"I could." Oz shrugged.
"Daniel, you can talk to someone else, if you'd feel more comfortable."
"No, I'm cool."
"Daniel, I am trying to help you. You say that Mr Giles has never made any sort of inappropriate advance to you or any of your friends, right?"
"Right. You were asking if Giles was screwing any of us. I said no. He isn't and he wouldn't. End of story."
---------------------
"What?! No way. No way, no how, unh-hunh," Xander protested when he realised what was being asked. "Giles? Some kind of pervert? No. Absolutely not."
"Are you sure?"
"What do you mean, am I sure? Yeah, I'm sure. I'd know if anyone touched me that way, wouldn't I? And Willow and I are best buds. She'd tell me if he was some kind of touchy-feely- gropy guy," Xander said, emphatically. "In fact, I kinda resent you for even suggesting such a thing."
"Principal Snyder was concerned..."
"Snyder? You believe Snyder? Man, that guy is out to get Giles. And Buffy. Snyder still hasn't gotten over Giles making Snyder let Buffy back in school."
"Pardon? Mr Giles made Principal Snyder take Buffy back?"
"Yeah. I dunno what Giles said, but Giles can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be."
"Intimidating?"
"Yeah. He gets this glare and this little smile that is..." Xander suddenly realised what he was saying, and clammed up.
---------------------
Buffy put her hand hard over her mouth, trying to stop the last of her giggles from escaping. She used her other hand to wipe away a stray tear or two.
"I'm sorry, but..." She let out a giggle that insisted on making an appearance. "Giles? Sexually abusing anybody? God, when he was sweet on Miss Calendar, he practiced for days on how to ask her out. It was so funny."
"And I understand that Miss Calendar is now deceased?"
"Yeah." Buffy felt no urge to giggle now. "He found her, you know. It was... I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Because it was horrible and it's private. He loved her and she's dead and now you're trying to tell me you think he's some kind of a sicko because he spends time with me? Giles is... Giles. He helps me with stuff and he lets us hang out at the library, which is way better than having us hang out where there's drinking... and... and smoking. He's a good influence on us."
"And, yet, you're still not performing up to your potential academically."
"I said he's a good influence, not a miracle worker."
---------------------
Snyder sat back in his chair, a look of true contentment on his face.
"Dr. Lyttle, this is Rupert Giles, our librarian," Snyder began, oozing good cheer. "It has come to my attention that Mr. Giles may be an inappropriate choice for unsupervised access to minors." He paused to savour the moment.
"I attended a very interesting art exhibit last night and it motivated me to look a little further into Mr. Giles' background," Snyder continued, with a grin. "It would appear that Mr. Giles left a few things out of his application to the school board."
"Dr. Giles," Giles said coldly, tired of Snyder's games. If he wanted to play it that way, so be it. "If you have investigated my background and are insisting on formalities, you may as well acknowledge my credentials."
"Oh, I'm well aware of your academic record, Dr. Giles." Snyder smiled. "But you neglected to mention your criminal record."
"I've never been convicted of a criminal offense," Giles replied stiffly. That was true enough, although it had taken a certain amount of unorthodox persuasion on his and Ethan's part to avoid a lengthy stay at Her Majesty's pleasure.
"Breaking and entering, 1978. Charges dropped when the plaintiff refused to press charges," Snyder read. "Grand theft auto, 1978 and 1980. Charges dropped for lack of evidence. Possession, three charges in 1979 and 1980. You copped a plea on those. Six police raids on your place of residence between 1978 and 1981. Numerous counts of drunk and disorderly and public mischief." Snyder was enjoying this way too much.
"I think that will be quite sufficient." Giles cut in coldly. He was beginning to get a little nervous, as well as angry. So the Council hadn't expunged his record with the police in London, as was policy for exactly this sort of situation. He suspected they had left the police files intact as payback for not telling them everything about his adventures.
"And to top it all off, there was the death by misadventure of one of your friends. Randall James fell, jumped, or was pushed off the roof of your apartment building during some kind of drunken revel." Snyder sat back, his hands clasped over his stomach. "Would you care to explain that?"
"I don't owe you any explanations," Giles said, ice coating the words. He tried, with some success, to quell the hot flood of rage running through him.
"Principal Snyder?" Lyttle finally spoke. "I'm not sure how that relates to your current concerns. When did this happen, Dr Giles?"
"November, 1980," Giles replied, grateful for the intervention.
"And you returned to Oxford for the following fall session, correct?"
"Yes."
"And there have been no incidents involving the police since?"
"None, unless you count the extraordinary number of times I've been attacked since moving to America," Giles said, with a touch of asperity. "This is a remarkably violent country, Dr Lyttle."
"Yes, well..." Lyttle let that trail off, then shuffled the papers on her lap. "Principal Snyder, I admit, I am still a little puzzled why this has suddenly become a concern. Of course, we do have to investigate any possibility of abuse of minors, but I don't see why such suspicions would fall upon Dr Giles at this time."
"You don't?" Snyder spluttered. "Have you seen the pictures at the gallery?"
"No, I have not," Lyttle replied calmly. "I really must go see what all the fuss is about, though. Shall I tell you what I have seen? These reports indicate that Dr Giles had a rather wild youth and appears to have learned a lesson in responsibility and maturity when his friend died. That's a common enough pattern and certainly not anything to be concerned about at this late date."
"But he's naked in the pictures," Snyder practically whined.
"You posed for nudes?" Lyttle favoured Giles with a sidelong glance.
"Ethan was constantly drawing me. Quite annoying, really." Giles strove for a vaguely amused tone. It must have succeeded, since Lyttle smiled.
"I think we can safely put the issues of the pictures aside, then," Lyttle said, putting the papers back into her briefcase.
"Thank you, Dr Lyttle." Giles tried to hold back a smirk at Snyder.
"I find nothing suspicious about the existence of a few pictures of you in your youth, Dr Giles," Lyttle continued. "However, the amount of time you spend with Buffy, Willow, Alexander, Cordelia and Daniel does concern me. Three very pretty girls and two attractive boys spend an inordinate amount of time alone with you. You are, according to your transcripts, extraordinarily intelligent, resourceful and, despite a tendency to stammer, very articulate. You left an extremely lucrative and prestigious position at the British Museum, with every indication of success and promotion in your chosen field, to become a high school librarian."
"My career choices are not at issue here."
"Oh? I believe they are," Lyttle countered. "You have gathered around you a group of young men and women who all, in one way or another, have less than ideal home lives. Buffy moved from LA to come to a small town high school, after her parent's divorce. Willow's parents give her constant pressure to conform to their own ideals. Cordelia is the stereotypical poor little rich girl. Alexander's parents have substance abuse problems and Daniel has been left alone to fend for himself for months at a time. All of this information is easily accessible to anyone on the faculty."
"Perhaps your agency should have stepped in long before this, then."
"We can do nothing without a complaint, Dr Giles, and parents have rights regarding their children that you do not," Lyttle reminded him. "Dr Giles, are you sexually attracted to adolescents?"
Giles counted to ten in his head. In five different languages. Backwards. Then he took a deep breath.
"Not since I was one myself," he said slowly. "I have never at any time abused children or abused the position of trust and authority I hold as a staff member of this school."
"You can't tell me that you don't think those girls are attractive," Snyder growled.
"They are, as are a number of other girls in this school," Giles said carefully. "Southern California has a reputation for pretty girls, I believe."
"And boys," Snyder sneered. "And you like boys, too, isn't that right?"
"My personal preferences are none of your concern," Giles snapped back.
"But they are mine," Lyttle cut in smoothly. "Dr Giles, from where I sit, I believe there is some cause for concern. Are you aware that strings were pulled to get for you the position you currently occupy?"
Oh, yes. Giles knew that the Council had found him as unobtrusive a position as was possible so he could be near Buffy on a daily basis. He marshalled his thoughts, preparing to lie through his teeth.
"I did ask some friends to help me find a position here in California where I would have time to work on some research projects without isolating myself completely," Giles explained. There. No lies yet. "They told me about this position. Although I am somewhat overqualified, I can perform my professional duties and still have time to study."
"Which friends?" Snyder butted in.
"My friends at the British Museum, and at Oxford," Giles permitted a small, condescending smile. "I have contacts in the academic community. Some of them are on the Board of Education here in California."
"And what is the research?"
"I am writing a book on mythology. Specifically on mythological creatures. Demons and the like." Giles marvelled that he still wasn't exactly lying. Surely the meticulous Watcher's diary counted?
"And coming to California? I doubt Sunnydale has anything to compare to the libraries and research materials in England."
"No, there is nothing like the Bodleian here in America," Giles replied. "However, there is nothing like California weather, especially when compared to England."
"You came here for the weather?" Snyder exclaimed.
"There aren't that many other attractions for me," Giles replied. "Dr Lyttle, I've spent a lifetime in old places with rather stifling atmospheres. Is it so surprising that I would want to spend some of my career where I don't have to carry an umbrella constantly? I have all the research materials I need for the moment."
"So you deny any inappropriate behaviour on your part towards these young people?" Lyttle asked sharply.
"Yes," Giles bit out.
"Principal Snyder, I will have to speak to the social workers who have been talking to the children. Their reports will determine whether there are grounds for a full scale inquiry," Lyttle said briskly. "In the meantime, Dr. Giles, you will be assigned a chaperon while in the company of the children until our investigation is complete."
"What? That's uncalled for," Giles protested.
"It is necessary."
"I could suspend Dr Giles for the duration," Snyder offered, with a sideways glance at Giles.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Principal Snyder. This is a delicate matter and needs to be handled with the utmost discretion. I trust I can count on you for that?"
Snyder didn't look too happy, but he agreed.
---------------------
"Buffy, would you please explain to me what is going on?" Joyce looked at her daughter with ill concealed impatience.
Buffy took a deep breath and faced her mother. She had called Joyce as soon as that Graves woman had let her go, barely able to speak because she was shaking so much. She'd been calm enough through the interview, but now the reaction was setting in.
"Mom, Snyder's accusing Giles of abuse," she blurted out. "It was awful. This woman kept asking me if Giles had touched me and stuff and I think they asked Willow and Xander and Oz and Cordelia, too."
"What?" Joyce blinked and took Buffy by the arm and led her to one of the benches outdoors. "Now, Buffy, explain. This time without the hysteria, hmm?"
"Okay." Buffy took another deep breath and squared her shoulders, the way Giles had taught her. It helped. "This morning, Snyder ordered us - all of us - to his office. Giles and some scary people were there. Then one of them asked to talk to me, then accused Giles of molesting me. I didn't know what she was talking about at first. I laughed. I mean, it's totally ridiculous to think that Giles would do anything to me. Well, except forcing me to actually learn how to dust vampires properly. Plunge and move on, he keeps telling me. And not to drop my elbow. I mean, what's so suspicious about that?"
"Let me get this straight. Principal Snyder called a meeting with some social workers to find out if Mr Giles had molested you?"
"Un-hunh. And Willow and Xander and Oz and Cordelia." Buffy nodded. "And I tried to talk to Giles after and he was still in a meeting with Snyder and this scary woman and I'm so scared he's going to lose his temper and do something to get fired and..."
"Buffy." Joyce cut in firmly. "Take a breath."
"Giles is my Watcher. I can't do this without him."
"Maybe... that's not such a bad thing, Buffy."
"Without my Watcher... Without my Giles, I won't last a week, Mom," Buffy replied. "I can't not be the Slayer. I need my Watcher."
"Calm down, sweetie." Joyce pulled Buffy into a hug and stroked her hair. "It'll all work out."
"How? I mean, I'm almost eighteen, but that doesn't matter, since Giles is kinda a teacher and an authority figure," Buffy responded. "Mom, I know how these things go. I know Giles did nothing wrong, but even an accusation like this could ruin everything. I'll never be able to be alone with him in the library to train and to research and I can't tell anyone what we really do in the library."
"I know, honey," Joyce said soothingly. "I'll talk to Principal Snyder and we'll see."
"You will?"
"You bet. How dare that slimy little fascist leave me out of the loop like this? I am your mother and he is supposed to call me about anything to do with you."
Buffy snuggled close to her mother, glad to have warm, loving arms around her. It wasn't until she had soaked up as much Mom vibe as she could and Joyce had gone on the warpath to Snyder's office that she remembered that her mother had said nothing about defending Giles.
---------------------
Giles was about ready to unpack the crossbow from the library cage and go Snyder hunting, but he decided that sullying his crossbow bolts or his sword with the likes of Snyder was really a waste of good weaponry. His fists would do just as well, and the parking lot wasn't that well lit this time of year.
His temper was not improved by the number of people in his nice, quiet library. That horrid Lyttle woman had parked herself at the table, and there was a gaggle of girls congregating around the desk, including the Cordettes, minus Cordelia herself.
"Mr. Giles." Harmony Kendall simpered at him and he barely managed to restrain himself from snarling at her. He locked his anger behind a wall of bland, British reserve.
"May I help you with anything, Harmony?"
"Um, yeah. Do you have any books on birds? I have a paper for class on killing birds. What is a mockingbird, anyway?"
"I believe you're looking for Harper Lee's _To Kill a Mockingbird_. It's a novel."
"Oh." Harmony flashed her dimples. "Do you have it?"
"Up the stairs, third stack on the right."
"Could you show me?" Harmony was eyeing him the same way a vulture eyed a nice, rotting carcass. He pushed the mental image away and sighed.
"Right this way."
After Harmony left with the book in hand, he found himself helping over half the senior girls and a couple of the boys. Everyone seemed to be in the library today and it was irritating him to no end. Normally, the scholar in him would have been delighted in the sudden interest in literary pursuits, but he knew that this influx of students had nothing to do with education. They were checking him out, which he found deeply embarrassing.
It wasn't until two of the teachers came in that he could flee to his office. Unfortunately, fleeing didn't help.
"Rupert?" Margaret Barton poked her head around the door with a smile and a wink. "Getting to be a bit much, isn't it?"
"Uh... Yes. It's quite... unnerving," he stammered. He liked Margaret and wanted to keep her high regard.
"I'll bet. I just wanted to let you know that I saw the exhibit last night."
"Um." He couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"Don't worry about this. It'll die down soon enough. Mind you, if I were ten years younger, Rupert, I'd be after you in a minute."
"If you were ten years younger, Margaret, I'd have no chance at all," he replied, with a smile.
"Flatterer." She smiled back. "The coast is clear and I think Frank wants to talk to you."
Frank Fanshawe was sitting at the table and Lyttle was gone. Giles frowned. Frank was obviously the chaperon of the hour.
"Rupert." Frank got up. "Snyder asked me to help out in the library for a bit, since it's so busy."
"Frank, I know what's going on," Giles said shortly. "I know why you're here. I am sorry to take up your free period for this nonsense."
"Not a problem. I can do prep anywhere," Frank replied, not even pretending to misunderstand. "Look, Rupert, I know that Snyder's witchhunt is utter crap. I'm just surprised that it took him this long. He's been out for your blood since he got here."
"Which makes no sense to me."
"Hey, Snyder knows that you're far more qualified for his job than he is."
"I don't want his job," Giles denied, surprised.
"Yeah, well, he doesn't believe that," Frank replied. "I offered to baby sit while the state people are here. It's temporary and I'll be quiet as a mouse when your kids come in."
"They aren't my kids...," Giles muttered, going to a random shelf and reindexing it.
"And I wanted to ask you something about that exhibit."
"What?" Giles mentally cringed.
"That guy, Rayne - did he make up what he painted or did he paint from life?"
"Ah..." Giles hesitated, but Frank kept on talking.
"Those weapons in the painting - were they real or props or figments of Rayne's imagination or what?"
"They're... real." Giles was confused. Frank wanted to know about weapons?
"Were they yours? Do you still have them?"
"Um. Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes to both questions. They're mine and I still have them."
"Cool. I couldn't get you to bring them in one day, could I?" Frank was practically salivating. "Where did you get them? Are they replicas?"
"No. The crossbow was my father's, hand made for him in 1960. He gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. The sword was made for me when I worked at the Tower."
"The Tower? As in the Tower of London?"
"Yes. I worked at the armoury on contract when I was in my twenties." Giles replied, sitting down across from Frank and launching into a most interesting discussion of weapons of times past.