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“You’re brooding,” he said as he entered the kitchen.
“Am not,” she answered.
Sitting on the floor, she kept her knees close to her chest and stared into the small illuminated window, as if her willpower alone would make the dough rise. The coarse tile beneath her naked feet, the warmth of the oven, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was the perfect concoction. More soothing than a bubble bath. More grounding than yoga could ever be.
She tilted her head away from the hypnotizing sight and gave him a playful smile. “I thought we established long ago that I never brood. I merely contemplate.”
“You’re contemplating then.” He sat down next to her on the ground. “And you turned on the underfloor heating.”
“I was cold.”
“It’s only September.”
She shrugged. She loved the change of seasons. How summer seemed endless at first and then suddenly turned to fall. The dew on the grass in the morning, the golden embrace of the fleeting summer sun, the crisp taste of the evening air. Still, a part of her always wanted to hold on to the warmth a little longer.
“What are you baking?”
“Pumpkin muffins,” she admitted almost sheepishly.
He nodded as if food was their secret code. A wordless language both of them understood. They had always shared kitchen duties, yet an invisible demarcation line had formed between them over the years. He was the cook. She was the baker. He loved the chance for free expression and uncertain endings. She loved the practiced routine and predictable results.
He leaned back on his hands and shifted his focus to her. “Do you want to spend the winter in California?”
She hadn’t even thought about it. Their return to Scotland had felt so final, that going back had not presented itself as an option so far. Even if she was just an interim principal, she could hardly leave the school without a lead.
Buffy crinkled her nose. ”Nah. I’m living my best cozy life here. Like a small furry critter. Digging deep. Burrowing in. Getting ready for hibernation with my hot cup of tea.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wind In the Willows?”
“More like Brambly Hedge,” she said whistfully.
He laughed at that. “I’d forgotten all about those.” But then his voice, too, became more somber. “Funny. We read those books more times than I can count. And then one day to the next she was over them completely.”
“Time passes fast,” Buffy mused.
As if on cue, the chicken-shaped timer on the counter released a soft plink, and Buffy raised herself from where they were sitting.
The muffins were done.
Buffy grabbed her oven mittens, carefully opened the glass door, so as to not hit either of them with the cloud of hot air and extracted the tray with the perfectly shaped pastries.
“So what was it?” He, too, got up. “Although she’s quite dapper, I doubt a mouse in an apron caused this sudden bout of nostalgia. Did something happen at school?”
******
Buffy had received the call from the Seoul office ten days ago.
The garbled sounds had first led her to believe that the world’s end was nigh once more, but that was not the reason for the word soup sputtering from the other end of the line. After Min had collected herself, Buffy was able to infer that the Watcher had just gotten off the phone with one Kim Ji-yoon. Buffy blanked at the name drop, but her long silence was misunderstood.
“I knooooow, right?! I should have told you to sit first.”
“It’s not that,” Buffy replied meekly.
“I couldn’t believe it either.”
“It’s just–”
“I knoooow!!!!”
“Min…please let me–”
“I mean, I’ve seen many amazing things, but this?!”
“Min!”
“The absolute honor to–”
“Min!!!”
“Yes?”
“Who is Kim Ji-Yoon?”
The silence that followed was even longer.
Today Buffy was better prepared. She sat at the large oak table in the castle's conference room, empty notepad in front of her, and detailed intel on Kim Ji-Yoon at the forefront of her mind. Silas, the head of the Watchers, sat to her right and Min, who had come to Scotland as kind of a liaison, to her left.
As per usual Silas looked mildly attentive at best. He casually flipped through the tomes on demonic dimensions piled high in front of him.
His complete opposite, Min could hardly sit still in her chair. She scooted back and forth, dried her palms on her pants and adjusted her glasses in regular intervals. She was not nearly as professional as she had claimed she would be under these particular circumstances.
Just as the wait became seemingly unbearable for Min, the door opened with a heavy croak and a beam of bright morning sun revealed Rowena with three strangers in tow. The women strut into the conference room like this was their stage and they were styled in the same vain. Even though Buffy had experimented quite a bit in her youth, their clothes and hair dos were leagues apart from what she’d ever dare to try. One of them even pulled off micro bangs successfully.
The guests came to a halt in front of the table, and Rowena excused herself.
The woman who appeared to be the leader spoke first. “Thank you for meeting us.” She greeted Buffy and the Watchers with a slight bow.
“Ji-Yoon Kim?” Buffy asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Ji-Yoon nodded and her purple braid bounced from left to right. “Call me Rumi,” she offered, then gestured towards her companions. “These are my partners Mira and Zoey.”
Buffy offered the women a seat, and when she caught Min stare at their guests with a slightly open mouth, she kicked her under the table.
Trying to keep the meeting professional, Buffy pulled everyone’s attention to the issue at hand. “So what demonic thread can we help you with?” There was no point stalling in their line of business.
The women had expected a more subtle approach it seemed, but hid their surprise quickly, and Rumi spoke up once more. “I…We are trying to locate the realm of Gwi-Ma. He’s a demon who feasts on human souls. For a long time we thought his world was the only place where demons hid,” she bit her lip, “but we’ve learned recently that it’s more complicated.”
“Unfortunately so.”
Rumi nodded, as if this was the last piece of confirmation she needed.
Buffy clasped her hands together. “And why exactly do you want our help?” She was not unaware of the notoriety she held, still she was curious about the women’s motives.
“We talked to many people about finding Gwi-Ma’s realm. They all had different suggestions, but in the end all of them also mentioned you.”
“The Slayer Organization?”
The woman shook her head. “No. They said Buffy Summers. Ask Buffy Summers, she will understand.” She sat up a little straighter and a new fierceness flashed in her eyes. She pushed a colorful piece of paper across the table. “This is Jinu. Gwi-Ma trapped him. I want to destroy Gwi-Ma for good. But it’s Jinu I need to save.”
*****
The house had come fully furnished. It was one of the perks of the job. But after a year and a half Buffy had still not fully settled between the well-preserved antiques and pricey British home decor. It all looked beautiful - the heavy carpets and plethora of patterns, the lived in wood, the 18th century panelling - but sometimes Buffy felt more like an extra in a Horse & Hound photoshoot than a human being living and breathing in their own home.
The stove was one of those beasts with a heritage. It looked sophisticated with just a whiff of old money, it baked and broiled beautifully, but Buffy missed her Bosch oven just the same.
Careful not to burn herself, Buffy levered the muffins from the tray and placed them one by one on the metal cooling rack. She closed the oven door with her foot, and the hinges rattled with disapproval.
Angel leaned back against the kitchen unit, drumming his index fingers against the rim of the ceramic sink. “Female demon hunters? But they’re not Slayers?”
“Not as far as we know. Silas thinks they have their own calling, if that makes any sense.”
“I suppose it’s possible for someone else to come up with a concept like that. Or the required magic. I’m just surprised we’ve never heard of them until now. Especially if there is a hereditary aspect.” He briefly glanced out the window. “Do they have super strength?”
Buffy opened a drawer and pulled out another cooling rack. She put it onto the counter and lifted the remaining muffins from the tray. They looked delectable and perfect and for a moment she was so focused on the task that she forgot the question Angel had asked. “Apparently they fight demons with song,” she finally continued, catching his expression just in time. “Oh, don’t look so scared. I’m not gonna try it.” She flung a checkered kitchen towel in his direction. “And neither should you.”
He caught the towel with ease, folded it in half and hung it back across the oven handle.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t dare.”
*****
“You don’t believe us?” Rumi’s stern facade wavered briefly before it snapped back into its prior form.
Buffy silently counted the seconds until it did so. Rumi was good, but she was also much more involved than she wanted to admit. This fight was about more than freeing and innocent man or beating a demon king. Buffy wondered if the other girls understood how deep her motivation went. Maybe not even Rumi did.
“We do not not believe you.” Buffy appeased the huntress. “It’s just that going to hell is not easy. And coming out is even harder.”
“But it’s not unheard of.” Rumi fixated Buffy with a stare.
“No, it’s not.” Buffy confirmed. “But I can’t send a team of my people to another dimension for one demon. Regardless of who he is.”
Rumi bit her lip and considered her next words. “But you understand why I have to do this?”
Of course Buffy understood. There were times this feeling had been its own mission. The years had softened the intensity, still she would have walked to hell barefoot, if that’s what it took.
“We can help you with the research, if you decide to make the trip.” Silas stepped in and Buffy was released from the request to answer. “We, too, are interested in Gwi-Ma. Right now we’re not sure whether he is a demon king we have not heard of, or a part of an order we call the Senior Partners. Either way, your quest aligns with our interests.”
Rumi seemed content with this concession for now and they shook hands. “Information for information. It’s a deal.”
*****
His fingers slowly crept towards the muffins. Before he reached them, her hand shot forward and lightly slapped the back of his. “These are not for you. I have to bring snacks to the teacher conference tomorrow.”
He gave her a pitiful look, which she ignored.
“Anyway, I already put a team of Watchers on the Singing-Demon-Hunters. They’re trying to figure out if there was some kind of schism we missed.”
He was still eyeing the muffins.
“You know, you can start with dinner, if you’re hungry.”
Angel turned with a small huff and opened the fridge. “So what do they want? Zucchini Risotto?”
“That would be one long flight for a rice dish.” She pushed the muffins further along to make sure they were safe. “They want our help. You ever hear of a demon called Gwi-Ma? They want to kill him…”
Angel perked up. “And?”
“....and free a guy from his hell dimension." She paused. "They claim he’s a good guy.”
“There’s a lot of good guys in hell.”
“Yeah about that.” Buffy waited for a beat. Angel always liked the gossipy parts, even though he stoically pretended he was mile-high above them. “One of the girls has a thing for him.”
“She told you that?”
“It was impossible to overlook.”
Angel placed an assortment of vegetables onto the counter and reached for a cutting board. “Did you tell her these things never end well?”
“Alas I was only asked about my slaying expertise and not to give advice on dating a demon.” Buffy wrapped her arms around Angel's waist and dropped her forehead into the space between his shoulder blades. She breathed in the scent of detergent and Angel and for a moment she felt more squishy than she should have. “Otherwise I would have warned her.” She placed a kiss on his back and quickly released him.
“What kind of demon is he?”
“I don’t know. They had pictures, but I couldn’t tell. Apparently he was also a singer.”
Angel sorted the vegetables in front of him and picked the first onion to chop. “Age?”
“400.”
“Does he look 400?”
“Oh no, he’s a total dreamboat.”
“Well, I guess it’s more likely than you’d think…”
A smirk flashed across Buffy’s lips. In her head she went through all the demons she had come across in the last decades, but nothing matched. “The description doesn’t actually fit anything we’ve encountered so far. It seems to be more of a possession.”
The chopping turned slower. “Are you going to help them?”
The answer came to Buffy fast, but it settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Outside a crow strutted across their front lawn, pecking at the fallen leaves. One by one they would soon become part of the soil and return to the trees that had originally grown them. "It's their fight," Buffy finally said.
Angel held the knife still. “And that’s what’s getting to you? Sitting on the sidelines? Or is it…the parallels?”
“Both. Neither." Buffy shook her head, shook herself, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation. "It’s just that it makes me realize my time has come and gone. That I have to pass the baton.”
Angel looked up from the cutting board and directly at her. “I thought you already passed the baton the last eight times you told me you would.”
Buffy groaned. She had meant to retire. She really had. But something always came up. Someone to save. A place to run. A reason to help out. She had claimed she would settle down time and again. If she was honest with herself, she probably never would. Before she could even start to explain, the knife resumed its rhythmic chop chop chop.
“Don’t beat yourself up. We probably wouldn’t be married, if you had.”
“We wouldn’t?”
“Okay, we would,” his cheeks dimpled. “but I expected nothing else. Your tenacity is a big part of you.”
“I will have to let go eventually.” She wasn’t old old yet, but definitely not fit enough to venture into demon territory anymore. This fight, all the fights were someone else’s now. Buffy looked out the window once more. A gust of wind rustled through the trees in the garden, and the crow bolted into the air. “We’re approaching the fall of our lives and I thought…” She didn’t even know what irked her exactly. Didn’t know what she wanted. This wasn’t some grand revelation or a novel crux only she had come across.
Angel stopped cutting and waited for Buffy to continue. When she didn’t, he rinsed off his hands and took two steps in her direction. “A lifetime would take longer?”
She nodded. “For years, I thought my life would be a short one, but now that it hasn’t, I’ve become kinda greedy.” It was almost embarrassing to admit, although she had a hunch Angel already knew. He gently lifted her face, then cupped it in his palms. How often had he held her this way? For how long would they get to be like this? She was grateful for the time that had passed, yet she was also becoming more aware that time was slowly running out. “Maybe it's just my midlife crisis talking, but I wish we’d have a little more. Not eternity. But an additional decade or two would be nice.”
Angel placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Everyone wants more time, Buffy. But believe me, you don’t. This feeling of loss, the fall of it all, is exactly what makes it so precious.”