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“It’s a Thesulac paranoia demon,” announced Giles.
“It’s a what?” said Toby.
“A demon that feeds upon suspicion and paranoia. I can’t think what it could be doing here,” Giles explained with a touch of sarcasm.
“How do we make it *not* be here?” asked Josh nervously.
“Yeah,” Sam backed him. “This White House fully supports that thing being – somewhere else.”
“The procedure, as I recall, is first to make it corporeal. That seems to have already been achieved. Which means it’s been fed.” He looked at Toby with suspicion.
“Fed?” yelped Toby, stepping backwards. “What the hell does that mean? It’s not, and never has been, the policy of this administration to feed demons!”
Giles rubbed his forehead. It all made a lot of sense.
“The demon feeds on bad-feeling, paranoia,” he reiterated. “When you first saw it, can you remember what you were thinking about?”
“Well, it couldn’t have been anything paranoid,” Josh interrupted. “Because that could never happen.”
Toby scowled. “I was thinking about Congress.” he admitted.
“And,” prompted Giles.
“And I was thinking about things I’d like to do to Congress.”
“You have to remember,” Sam pointed out, “That we don’t need demons to cause bad feeling around here. We have Republicans.”
“Yes, I’m glad we remember about not wanting to seem partisan in front of our guests,” said CJ, innocently.
“And then,” continued Toby, with a glare at his senior staff, “I saw a monster and I stopped thinking about anything other than getting the hell out of there!”
“Ha! You did make the monster!” crowed Josh, beginning a chant of, “Toby made a mon-ster,” that was soon quashed by the sight of Toby arising from his seat.
“You can get rid of it, then?” he demanded.
“Yes. I need to get some supplies. There’s a shop not too far from here,” said Giles.
“You don’t have the stuff with you?” asked an incredulous Toby.
“Well, one doesn’t know what might be required until the exact nature of the demon is known,” said Giles, suddenly becoming Very English. “And since all you could tell me was that it was a ‘Big Thing’ I chose not to carry the entire contents of the magick shop with me from California!”
“Sure,” muttered Toby, backing away.
“I should be back in an hour or so,” said Giles, more reassuringly. “Willow, would you like to come with me?”
“Well, no.” The witch looked disappointed. “I wanted to see the White House!”
“Ooh! I’ll come!” volunteered Dawn.
“You spent the whole day whining abut wanting to come here!” Buffy sounded exasperated. “Now you wanna go to a magick shop? Because, you know, you’ve never seen one of *those* before!”
“Buffy!” pleaded Dawn, “C’mon, it’s, ……”
“Boring here,” Spike explained. “Let her go. If fact I’ll come too!”
“No, you will stay here,” determined Giles, contemplating with displeasure the idea of spending time in a small car with Spike. “If the demon reappears you may be of some use.”
“Can’t believe I’m protecting the poxy American government,” grumbled Spike. “My unlife sucks.” He received for his trouble a sharp elbow in the ribs from Buffy.
“Dawnie, you sure you want to go?” asked Willow in concern. “We’re going to have fun, get to look around the White House.” She turned to the rest. “We can have a look around, can’t we?”
“We can give them the full guided tour,” offered Josh.
“Yes, of course. Because that will arouse no suspicion of any type,” was Toby’s reply. “The entire senior staff become tour guides for a day. I ask one more time – do *none* of you have any work to do?”
“I do not understand this ‘work’ of which you speak,” said Josh with a grin. “Come on, Toby, these nice people are going to save our butts from the – that thing. The least we can do is show them around.”
Willow and Tara affixed identical pleading stares upon Toby. Toby gave in with a deep sigh.
“Don’t stand out,” he warned his staff.
“Don’t show yourselves up,” warned Giles, looking worriedly at his group.
“Stay away from the president.”
“Don’t break anything.”
“And the First Lady.”
“Don’t *say* anything.”
“And security!”
“And security!”
“Come on,” said Buffy reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. We’ll be good. What on earth could go wrong?”
“Well, it may all work out,” Giles turned to Toby. “You may not have a demon by the end of the day. Of course, you may not have a White House either….” He started to leave.
Toby stared at his retreating back. English sense of humour, he never really got it. He turned to look at the large group making their way back to the main building. A feeling of overwhelming fear flooded him.
“This is very much not my job description,” he declared to no one in particular.