"Really, Xander. When are you going to learn that magic is a - a dangerous, difficult process and something to be handled with care? It is for situations of dire emergency only. It is most certainly not something you call upon to help you do your homework."
Xander spread his hands. "But this was a situation of dire emergency! If I didn't get the essay in on time, Mrs Robertson was going to give me detention for the rest of my life. And Willow was sick! So you tell me - what was I supposed to do?"
Giles continued stacking books, thumping one on top of the other with rather more force than was strictly necessary. "I think you'll find that what you were supposed to do was study. Perhaps - and forgive me, I understand this is an alien concept to teenagers these days - but perhaps you could have tried actually reading the book in question?"
"I watched the movie. What more do they want from me?"
"Xander, the film you borrowed from Larry was - well, it might have been called Animal Farm, but - "
"Yeah, yeah, I know that now, don't I? Gotta say, I did think it was a bit, um, enlightened for Mrs Robertson's class. When they brought the donkey out I started to wonder if - "
Giles held up his hand. "Yes, yes. Quite. Let's leave the film review there, shall we?"
"All right. But you really should have seen the bit with - "
"Xander!"
"Okay, okay. Don't get your tweed in a twist."
"Don't - Xander, your cavalier attitude to all this is quite astounding. Do you have any idea what you've done, here? What damage you may have caused? Magic is not something to be trifled with, and time travel even less so."
"He didn't seem that bothered. I mean, people like to talk about stuff they've done, don't they? And Amy said it wasn't proper time travel, anyway. Just a, uh - " Xander's eyes glazed over slightly. "A consciousness access, uh, sharing type, uh, thing," he finished. "It makes better sense when she talks about it. And she didn't seem to think it was a big deal. She does stuff like this all the time, she said. I think she kinda gets off on it."
"Well, rest assured that I shall be having this conversation with Miss Madison, too. Magic must be respected, doesn't anyone understand that any more? You have invoked dangerous and extremely volatile forces that could have ripped apart the whole fabric of reality, just so that she can show off and you can complete an essay."
"Well, not complete as such." Xander tapped the end of his pen on the battered notebook in front of him. "I mean, I took notes and all, but - well, that Orwell dude was a bit hard to follow. What exactly does socio-political satire mean, anyway?"
"Xander, do you ever - " Giles stopped, at a sudden noise from the stack behind him. "What was that? Xander, did you hear something?"
"Uh, yeah. That was, um, - well, you remember that thing you said earlier? About the rip in the fabric of reality?"
Giles stared at him. "Yes?"
There was another crash. Giles swung round to face the figure that had leaped out from behind him. "What the - "
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to -"
"Die, yes," said Xander. "So you keep saying. Just button it for a minute there, will you? I'm trying to get this sorted."
"Good heavens," said Giles. "Is that Mandy Patinkin?"
Xander turned back to Giles and offered him a small, sheepish smile. "Oops?"
*
"How - how - "
"I'm guessing you're aiming for 'how did that happen', right?" Xander shrugged. "Not totally sure. I mean, all I said to the Orwell guy was that they should have let us study The Princess Bride and things would have been a lot better all round. I could've written an essay about that, easy as anything. The number of times I've watched that movie with Willow - and hang on your librarian hat, Mr Unbeliever, because yeah, I liked it enough to read the book too - I could've written out the whole script. 'I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say - "
"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," said Inigo.
Xander rounded on him. "Will you quit doing that? It's freaking me out." He turned back to Giles. "So anyway, that's what I said, and then - well, there he was. And George was gone. And now, here we are."
Giles shook his head. "Xander, what have you done?"
"I don't know, do I? That's supposed to be your job - to tell me what I've done, and how to fix it. Look, Giles, I know I screwed up, okay? I get that. And you can, you know, spank me or whatever once this is all over. But right now I think we need to do something."
"Xander, when this is over you will wish you'd simply given up on the essay, because there is nothing Mrs Robertson could possibly do to you that would come close to what you are going to suffer at my hands. But yes, that can wait. In the meantime we need to find a way to deal with Mr, er - "
"Montoya," said Xander.
"You killed my father. Prepare -"
"Xander, is there any way you can stop him doing that?"
Xander shrugged.
"Well, does he at least say anything else?"
"Not so far. But then it is the best line in the movie."
"Hmm. " Giles walked around Inigo, who stood still. "He isn't particularly animated, is he? No apparent independent action. I think - yes, it must be."
"Must be what?"
"Well, it seems that Amy's spell, whether by design or chance, successfully manifested a simulacrum of the personage you desired interaction with, but their capacity for existence is limited to playing the role assigned by your desire."
"It did what now?"
Giles sighed. "It created an intelligent copy of George Orwell, because you wanted to talk to him about Animal Farm. But Mr, er - this gentleman can only express your favourite line because that's what you were thinking about at the time."
"So I could have conjured up anyone? And they would have done what I wanted them to do?"
"Probably, yes."
"Wow. Where are the Amy Yip fantasies when you really need them, huh?"
"Xander, please try to focus."
Xander's eyes began to glaze slightly. "I'm focused, believe me."
Giles folded his arms and looked at Xander over the top of his glasses. "On the problem at hand, Xander, not Ms Yip's, uh, attributes."
"Oh. Right."
"Yes, well, as I was saying, I believe that it could well be possible to deal with this by simple reversal of the initial procedure."
"Giles, I really wish you'd learn to speak American. You live here, it's only polite."
"Very well. In words of one syllable, then: you wished him here. Wish him gone."
Xander blinked. "Just like that?"
Giles shrugged. "Quite possibly. Magic can be surprisingly literal, you know."
"Well - okay." He turned to Inigo, who watched him with flat, uninterested eyes. "Inigo -"
"Montoya. You killed -"
"Get out of here. I don't want you around any more."
Inigo gradually faded from sight. "Huh," said Xander. "Looks like you were right. It really was that simple."
"Xander, just because you seem to have got off fairly lightly on this occasion, I don't want you to start thinking that -"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Magic bad, study good. I got it."
Giles raised his eyebrows. "Why do I somehow have trouble believing that?"
"Give me a break here, Giles. I know you were born all mature and responsible, but some of us have to work at it."
Giles looked away, and then reached out to briefly squeeze Xander's shoulder. "Yes, well. I won't say you haven't been foolish, but no harm was done. Just - try to remember that magic isn't something you play with lightly. Next time, it might not work out so well. Believe me, I know."
"Yeah, right. Like you've ever done something like this."
"I've done - well, let's just say I've had my moments."
"But -"
"Don't you have class to go to? Mrs Robertson?"
Xander jumped, and scrabbled frantically for his notebook. "Oh, no! The essay! What am I going to - "
"Oh, for goodness' sake. Here, write this down: Animal Farm deals with themes of revolution and corruption in a metaphorical 'fairytale' style. Characters in the story symbolise political figures such as Stalin and Karl Marx, and...
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