Big thanks to Lilachigh and Stuffandnonsense for helping with understanding England’s homes! Although I used only a mere 1% percent of the information, they were beyond helpful!





Arrangements for Dawn consisted of waiting until Christmas break, and together, making the trip.  Among the throngs of other holiday travelers, they made their way through Bristol Airport with carry-ons in tow.
 
“I am so pleased you both arrived safely.” Giles drew Buffy into a hug, then Dawn. He took and shouldered Dawn’s carry-on, and after they collected the rest of the luggage, headed toward the exit.

En route to the rebuilt Watcher-central in Bath, conversations were kept light, mainly sticking to their day-to-day lives, new interests, and even the weather. Ironically, when reaching the Georgian maisonette, they needed to make a mad dash inside to avoid one of the many infamous England rainstorms.

After settling in their rooms, Buffy and Dawn headed to the library, and taking in along the way, the beautiful architecture and décor of the arched entryways, intricate woodworking, rich tapestries and fabrics, and every nook and cranny housingdozens of books.

It was Masterpiece Theater come to life.

“So Alistair Cookie, don’t tell me you have a smoking jacket and pipe around here somewhere.” Buffy sat down in a leather Club chair, holding back a smile.

“They’re reserved for Sundays only. Sorry to disappoint.”

Giles hid his own smile while preparing afternoon tea. Buffy watched with amusement his compulsory need to keep his hands busy. Today a matching antique English tea set substituted his long replaced glasses and handkerchief.

“I’ve gathered all we have on the First Slayer. I’m afraid to say, there isn’t much. On my preliminary review, I have located nothing divulging or alluding to the demon the Shadow Men used or said demon’s origin.”

Buffy watched as Dawn quickly polished off several Linzer cookies and was heading back for more. Buffy grabbed a few, knowing if she didn’t take any now, she’d get none. Not even a slayer was a match for the ever present evil of a teen’s endless appetite.

“Then we’ll just keep looking.” Buffy popped a cookie in her mouth. It tasted even better than she’d thought.




Two weeks. Two weeks and nothing more than National Geographic-esque commentaries about the First Slayer fashioning her stakes from Leadwood trees and preferred meals of grasshoppers over beetles. Of all the painstaking entries, the hardest to read was how she was banished from her tribe. The Shadow Men made her the first social pariah and condemned her and those in the future slayer line to a life of solitude.

Buffy had never been more grateful for her family and friends.

Christmas and New Year’s came and went without a hitch. The festivities were all Dawn’s doing. Buffy loved it and so did Giles. Not that he’d ever admit a Charlie Brown Christmas tree and sparkly New Year’s foil top hats made him smile.

Then it came time for Dawn to return to school. Buffy was ready to give up the search and deal with the nightly dose of freaky dreams on her own. Well, this was the plan until it became evident Dawn clearly had other ideas. Namely Xander arriving that day, and tomorrow night just the two of them were heading back to Rome.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Xander called out from the front door, Buffy and Dawn rushed to welcome him with a group hug.

“You know, this is usually the beginning of some of my really non-PG dreams.” Xander winked, which stopped him from seeing Buffy’s non-slayer strength smack coming.

“Ouch. Gotcha, no letters to Penthouse.” Xander rubbed the back of his head while they made their way to the study.

The group settled in while Xander regaled them with tales of his travels and close calls. Later that evening, Dawn recreated a combo Christmas and New Year’s—a sort of ‘Newmas’. Complete with Xander’s rendition of the Snoopy Dance and more silly hats. Buffy knew this whole thing was just Dawn’s ploy to get more presents. That was fine with her, especially since she finally got to wear the jeweled tiara Dawn had been hogging.

“Okay, gather round kiddies and let’s see what Ol’Saint Nick has in his bag.” For effect, Xander leisurely searched through his worn-weathered travel backpack, and with a hint of mock-surprise, held up his find.

“Is there a Dawn here?”

Dawn squealed and dropped herself on Xander’s lap, grabbing and unwrapping her gift in one fell swoop—“Oh my god! I so love it!”—She hugged the onyx statue. Then stood and rushed to show Buffy.

“What is it?” Buffy eyed the odd looking figure.

“It’s Akuaba!”—Going off of Buffy’s ‘Huh?’ look, Dawn explained—“She’s kinda like an African Kokopelli.”

“Oh. Oh...”—Buffy watched how Dawn held the statue and cradled its saucer-sized head —“Okay, please let’s not get too kissy-huggy with the whole creepy baby-making doll.”

“Sorry, Buff, but I just hadda get it for her. I remembered a few years back how upset she was with the whole mass witchy cleanup. Plus, not to worry, I’m on strict Dawn-duty. There will be no while in Rome-ing goin’ on when I’m in charge.”—Xander saluted, then pulled out another gift—“Buffy?”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”—Buffy smiled, sat on Xander’s lap and took her gift. Tearing off the paper, she’d immediately became misty eyed—“Oh Xander, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s an mpomponsuo. They’re only given to the most respected warriors. And see here,”—Xander pointed to the symbols on the sheath—“they mean responsibility, power, loyalty, bravery and authority. You know, your basic ‘I’m-a-bad-ass-don’t-mess-with-me slayer’s sword.’”

“Thank you, I love it.” Buffy hugged Xander tightly and stood up, eyes never leaving her gift. “And that alone was worth all the trouble getting through customs and learning how to say mpomponsuo.”— Xander clapped and rubbed his hands together—“Now, I think I might have one present left.” Xander rummaged through his bag.

“Well, if you think I’m going to sit on your lap, Xander, you’re sadly mistaken.” Giles sipped his scotch.

“Darn, no sweet lovin’ from the stuffy British man. Oh well, I’m still feeling generous. So here.” Xander stood and handed Giles a wrapped bundle, which he placed on his desk and peeled back the protective, worn linen revealing a leather-bound tome.

“I came across some shaman guy, who was willing to trade for my collection of Babylon 5 comic books. I’m still thinking he got the better end of the deal, but, um, Merry and Happy Newmas!” Xander beamed a smile.

“Actually, he’s a sangoma. They are an interesting and influential group of healers. Dealing with every issue from political roles in the community, to birth and death rituals, to finding lost cattle.”—Giles carefully turned the parchment, his interest growing with each turn—“Per chance, had he deciphered the contents?”

“Well, I tried asking him, but you know. The whole lost in translation thing happened. So nada. I just thought it’s a book and you’re Giles. So it was pretty much a shoe-in as far as a gift giving goes.”

“Oh course, it’s brilliant, Xander. Thank you. Do you recall what part of Africa you were visiting? This would aid greatly in giving a starting point in the selection process from hundreds of African dialects.”

Curious to get a look, Buffy sheathed her sword and moved next to Giles. She instantly felt pure energy radiating from the book. She reached out, yet was hesitant to actually touch.

“Um, Giles?”

“Yes, yes of course, Buffy. We have other pressing matters at hand. My indulgences must wait till another time.” Giles closed the book.

“Actually, Giles. Indulge away. I’m totally getting full-on-body tinglies here. It’s like, I don’t know, I’m connected to this somehow.”—Buffy placed her hand on the cover, her expression set and determined—“This is what we’ve been looking for.”