For disclaimer, see Part 1.
Mail:LunarMyth@yahoo.com


"She did WHAT?!?" Giles yelled as Joyce paced in front of his couch in his apartment.

"She went to L.A. to be with Angel," she repeated.

The ruffled Watcher looked around his room in bewilderment. He had found out some news that Buffy was not going to like. And now she wasn't even around for him to tell. She was walking into battle with no weapons. He noticed how green Joyce looked.

"Are-are you...are you feeling well Mrs. Sum-...er.....Joyce?" he blushed and looked away.

Joyce didn't notice. She held her stomach and looked around. "If you don't mind me asking, can you tell me where your bathroom is?"

Giles escorted the sick woman down the hall and returned to his den. He paced back and forth, unconsciously picking up her habit. Her was freed from his reverie at the sound of her retching in his bathroom. He hurried to the door.

"J-Joyce? Are you all right in there?" he stammered.

"I...I'm..........I'll be.....fi-i-" she broke down into another bout of sickness.

He heard her mutter something about not being as bad last time. He opened the door and withdrew a cloth, wetting it to make it cool. He walked to her and held her hair back as she continued to bring up all the contents of her stomach - not that there was much left.

As the sickness ceased, he cradled her weakened form in his arms, wiping the sweat from her face with the cool cloth. "You're very sick," he informed her, concerned. "Perhaps we should go to the hospital...?"

Joyce shook her head. "No. No. Really. I'll be fine now."

"Well, do you, uhhh, do you know what's wrong? Are you taking any medicine?"

She shook her head again. "Yes and no." She closed her eyes and slumped back against him.

Without any further qualms he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of his apartment to place her gently in his car. He drove as speedily as his old car could take him to the hospital. He pulled under the portico to the Emergency Room and parked the car in the middle of the drive. Giles raced around the side of the car and lifted her in his arms, disregarding the offers of assistance from the nurses and orderlies around him.

Joyce pleaded with him to put her down, but to no avail. A nurse walked up to him when she saw the commotion he was creating.

"Sir? Sir! Can you please slow down," Nurse Thompson ordered him.

"She-she's very sick. She needs a doctor immediately," he told her.

The nurse guided him behind a small curtain and motioned for him to set her on the bed. As Joyce settled herself down, another nurse came to take her temperature and blood pressure.

Nurse Thompson led him to the waiting area. "You'll have to wait out here, Sir. Don't worry," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm sure the doctors will have you wife feeling better in no time."

Giles began to correct the nurse in her assumption, but it was useless for she'd already walked off. He sat down and contemplated calling Buffy's dorm room, but he knew she'd already left town. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, wondering what *else* was going to happen before the night was over. He looked at his watch. It was 12 am. Technically the night *was* over. Buffy had left hours earlier and was probably already with Angel. *If only she'd stayed a while longer. I would have been able to clarify the prophecy and a bit of this Kiara woman's history for her.* But it was an idle thought. Buffy could be in more trouble than was imaginable. And she would be, if he didn't find her soon. However, Joyce's health was the most important at this point in time. Buffy would never let him live if he didn't take care of Joyce. Besides, he secretly harbored very warm feelings for her and could not bear to see her in any discomfort. He remained in this thoughtful position until the doctor came out to give him an update.

"Hello. Nurse Thompson told me you brought the woman in curtain 3 here?"

Giles nodded. "Yes. Is she, ah, is going to be all right?"

The doctor beamed at him. "Yes. She's getting dressed at the moment. I gave a small prescription for the sickness, but only to be taken if she absolutely needs it. Other than that, she seems to be in fine form. Congratulations."

Giles looked at him in confusion. "Yes, yes that's wonderf- Excuse me? Congratulations? For what, if I might ask?"

The doctor patted him on the back and gave him a knowing wink. "Your wife. She's very healthy and seems to be handling the pregnancy quite well, except for the morning sickness, of course. Seems like it's not just happening in the morning." He grinned. "Is this your first?" he inquired.

Giles' jaw dropped and he had to shake himself physically. "Yes. I mean no, yes....I don't know," he said.

The doctor gave him a curious look and then shrugged. "Well, here she comes now. She should probably check with her own doctor in another month, just to make sure everything is in order." He nodded to Giles and retreated down the hall.

Giles watched Joyce walk towards him, her head down. He looked at her lithe form, so much like Buffy's, yet so different also. *Pregnant?* he thought, bewildered. *It couldn't be.....could it?* As she stopped before him she looked up at him, a blush spreading over her cheeks.

"I...I assume they told you....?"

Giles nodded.

"I had to tell them you were my husband. Well, I didn't have to tell them. But it seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time. I just didn't want any rumors spreading.... The gallery and all...." she babbled, her voice trailing off after a few moments.v He had to know. "Ah, Joyce...is it....are you...I mean, how......"

"Yes. I'm sure. And yes, it happened when, well.....during that incident with the candy.... I mean, there hasn't been any other opportunity." She bowed her head once more. "Unless you wanna own it up to a Hellmouth fluke." Her gaze shot up, dark and worried. "You don't think it could be that, do you, Mr. Giles?"

Giles shook his head. "Ah, no. I don't think it's an...errr....a 'Hellmouth fluke'," he said.

He placed his hand upon her back, then snatched it back, not knowing if she would abhor his touch or not. As she leaned her head against his shoulder, he muffled a sigh of relief and rubbed her back lightly. "Well," he began after a long moment. "I think we should probably, probably go."

She nodded as they walked out the doors, relieved to see his car was still in place. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Giles made up his mind in a split second; a spontaneity he hadn't known since his "Ripper" days. "You'll see," was all he told her. *It's going to be a very long day* he thought.



* * *




It was 5:00 in the morning and still dark out. The gang stood outside Giles' apartment door. Willow looked at the dissatisfied faces around her.

"What?" she asked. "I can't help this. I just have an icky feeling about Buffy being in L.A. And, and she didn't say I *couldn't* tell Giles. Just that I couldn't tell him right away."

"Don'tcha think it could have waited an hour or two longer, Will?" Xander asked, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. He mumbled to himself as Willow shot him her determined look.

"I'm with Willow," Oz said.

"Big surprise there," Xander grumbled.

"...and if she thinks that there's a reason to worry about Buffy, then I'm all for being here," Oz continued, ignoring Xander's comment.

"Something tells me you didn't have a phone ringing in your ear at four this morning telling you to be ready to go in fifteen minutes...." Xander mused to Oz. He shut up as Willow glared at him again.

"Do you really think Buffy's in danger? It just surprises me that she would run off and not tell anyone," the tall, handsome blond fellow behind Xander said.

Willow flushed guiltily, remembering how she'd told Aidan that the only reason she knew Buffy'd gone was because she found a note in Buffy's history books this morning. In truth, as she and Oz had lain in bed she just started to get a bad feeling about the whole situation. So she called Xander and then Aidan. She hoped Buffy wouldn't get mad at her for including Aidan, but since he was her 'technically labeled' boyfriend, Willow felt he had a right to know. Also, she felt it'd be best to have him around to dissuade Buffy from any touchy feely with Angel.

"Oh yeah, that Buff. She's just a wild woman when it comes to taking off. You'd think it was her life's goal to travel the world on a whim. Or at least just to Los Angeles," Xander remarked.

"Xander...." Willow whispered warningly as she rang Giles' doorbell.

The group stood in shock as Mrs. Summers opened the door. In only a man's button down shirt.

"Mrs. Sum-Summers," Willow stammered.

"Oh. Hi Willow. Hi Xander. Hi Oz and you too, uhhh, Andr...Arth...Anth...I'm sorry, I forget your name."

Aidan smiled shyly. "It's Aidan, Mrs. Summers."

She nodded absently. "That's right. I'm sorry. Buffy's always trying to get me to remember." She opened the door. "Won't you come in? Rupert was just making some tea."

The gang exchanged a look and then headed inside. Giles was just walking out with two steaming mugs of tea as they came in. Willow could have sworn that he blushed right to his roots.

"Oh, ah, I see, we, uh, we have, uh, guests," Giles faltered. He hurried to set the hot cups down.

They stood in a circle around the room, the gang looking back and forth between Giles and Joyce.

"Did we come at a bad time?" Xander asked. He grunted as Willow elbowed him. A bit too hard, in his opinion.

"We-" Joyce began.

"Joyce-" Giles started.

The gang looked at each other, quickly becoming even more uncomfortable.

Giles took a deep breath. "Joyce came here last night. She was quite upset, and informed me that Buffy has left town again. In her state I did not think it was prudent that she travel back home by herself. So she stayed the night here." He looked at Joyce to gauge her corroboration of the story. "I slept on the couch," he added as a misguided afterthought.

The gang nodded. Willow exhaled in relief. "I-we just stopped by to tell you that Buffy's gone. But since you already know that we can go now." Willow started backing up slowly. The guys took her lead. They practically ran out of the apartment.

Giles looked at Joyce. "Well, all things considered, I'd say that went well." He handed her a mug of still hot tea and they sat down on the couch in synchronized despondency.

"Think they're going to L.A.?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Think they'll get there before us?"

"Most likely."

She nodded. "Think they'll tell Buffy?"

"No. I don't think they really think anything is going on."

She nodded again.

"And even, even if they do..." he took off his glasses and wiped them carefully before replacing them. "I don't think they could ever guess the truth."

Joyce looked down at her ring finger and the newly acquired wedding band. "Probably not," she said after a moment.

They both stared forward at the fireplace and sipped their tea in silence.


"Please tell me that wasn't about what I think it was about," Xander said as they climbed into Oz's van.

"Don't worry," Willow said, patting him on the head. "Think of it this way. It'll only equate about one month in therapy. Which is good, considering the other forty years it'll take for everything else in your life."

"Gee, thanks Will. You always have a way of making me see the bright side of things," he remarked sarcastically.

The four of them got settled inside, Willow up front and Aidan and Xander in the back.

"So Aidan, man," Xander continued. "Willow tells me you've been getting in with the Buffster. How long did it take you to discover her secret super hero style?"

Aidan smiled at him. "Oh, I always knew there was something special about Buffy. But it took her about a month before giving in and telling me."

"A month huh?" Xander sniffed. "Yeah...it wasn't too long after she came to Sunnydale that I expertly pried her secrets from her. What would you say, Will? A week? A night?" Willow shot him "the look" and he shrugged. "Ok, so I got stuck in the crossfire and cried myself to sleep like a baby for months after it. So what?"

Aidan grinned but remained silent, opting to look out of the window as Oz drove towards the City of Angels. He listened idly as Willow and Xander reminisced over their adventures with Buffy. His body jerked though, as Oz slammed on the brakes.

"Oz, buddy, not enough coffee this morning dude? Or is this a residual effect of being a wolf-boy? I thought you were supposed to have better than average eyesight," Xander yelped.

"Shut up Xander!" Willow screeched. "I think we hit him!" Her eyes were wide and panicky as she climbed out the passenger door.

The group got out and hesitantly walked around the van, careful not to move into any oncoming traffic that might appear. There was nothing around except a broad expanse of highway.

"This is giving me a very bad 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' vibe," Willow said.

"I dunno," Xander countered. "The blond chick in that movie was pretty much a hottie."

She rolled her eyes at him as they continued walking.

"Ummmm...guys?" Oz said cautiously. Willow, Aidan and Xander spun around. "I think I found it," he said. "If you can call it an...it."

Even as the other three backtracked to the side of the road they noticed a form, staggering to stand up. Willow let out a little scream and hid behind Xander.v "What the.... Bloody hell. You tore my pants, you bloody wanker," the form yelled drunkenly as it straightened.

"Oh, we gotta stop meeting like this," Xander said as he recognized the slurred British accent.

Willow ran to him. "Spike!" she cried out. "What are you doing?!?! It's almost sunrise."

"I don't care!" he said, trying to push Willow away. "What's it matter, pet? There's nothing left to live my undead life for."

Xander joined Willow and helped her drag Spike to the van. "I'm gonna guess Drusilla," he said.

"Bitch," muttered Spike, unable to stand or walk on his own.

As they lifted him into the van, Oz drew the black drapes over the windows in the back of his van and then moved a bar near the front, and a black curtain fell, blocking the sunlight from the windshield. As soon as they got Spike settled in the back, he passed out. Xander quirked a brow at the black velvet furnishings.

"Band thing," Oz said.

They piled back into the van.



* * *




He slept. He dreamed.


Her long black hair was piled in silken ringlets atop her head, glinting in the moonlight. Soft strains of the orchestra wafted outside through the open French doors. Candle light spilled from brightly lit chandeliers. The ballroom was magnificent and his fare had dressed splendidly for the occasion. But his thoughts were not on feeding. As he stood in the shadows of a tall potted tree, the transient scent of jasmine encompassed him and he focused only on her.

Darla had not wanted to attend the party tonight. After leaving Venice swiftly last week, he had decided to come to London. *Somehow*, the woman child was here too. Darla was suspicious of his motives. Angelus didn't care. She could bloody well play with her own toys. He was beginning to enjoy stalking the young beauty far too much. He smiled cruelly as he envisioned her imprisoned and at his mercy.

She turned and he inhaled, taken off guard once again at the pure hunger she unwittingly enticed in him. He had the vague thought that even if he drained her, it would never be enough. Her blood would set him on fire, and he would never be free of her. *Wanker. She's no different than any of the others. Now either play with your food or just go ahead and take advantage of the insipid ingenue.* She reached out and lifted a perfect red rose from the vase on the balcony. As she trailed the soft petals over the tender skin of her cheek and neck he felt his game face present itself. She walked to the stone railing and looked out over the river. A breeze blew around her, causing the sheer, thin silk of her midnight blue gown to mold itself to her frame. She had chosen, he noticed, to ignore the current style in exchange for a simple shiftlike dress that, in his opinion, was more delectable than any of the "fine ladies'" dresses inside. She laid the rose upon the top of the railing and turned, her silver gaze searching the shadows. As he stepped forth, he watched the candlelight flicker a reflection in her mesmerizing eyes. *You're a damned fool.*

"You're late," she murmured.

"And you're early," he replied smoothly. "One might think you were eager to see me." His arm snaked around her waist from behind and drew her to him in a crushing embrace. He nudged her head to the side with his chin before lowering his lips to place a light caress on the nape of her neck. He raised his head scantly, letting his tongue trace the outline of her perfect shell ear before he whispered quietly, "It's quite appalling for a woman to seem too desperate, my dear."

She moaned softly, letting her eyes drift slowly closed. "Really? I could have sworn you were already lurking in the shadows when I got here..."

A low rumble of laughter sounded in his chest. "Touché. Tell me, dearest, how it is you can detect me without ever seeing me."

"Call it a sixth sense," she replied.

His free hand rose to clasp her neck gently from the front. *How easy it would be to snap* he thought. *She is so fragile, so small, so trusting. She wouldn't even be able to scream before she was a heap at my feet.* He smiled as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone.

"My Angel," she whispered.

His arm tightened violently around her, hating the name. Hating the way it sounded so sweet upon her lips. He let her go and turned her around. Then he drew her close, ready to lead her in a very taboo version of the waltz playing. As they moved, their bodies pressed closely together, she tilted her head back and a tinkling peal of laughter was emitted from those supple red lips. Her arms wound around him and she rested her head against the place above his undead heart. He flinched and lowered her in a sweeping dip, his cold, dark eyes raking over her body.

"I'm nobody's *angel*, luv," he told her coldly. "Least of all yours. If I were you, I'd watch myself. You never know what a man like I could do to an innocent such as yourself." He lowered her to the ground, pining her arms down above her head. As he knelt down beside her, his free hand roamed over her body, emphasizing his words.

She smiled up at him angelically. "Oh you're my Angel, Angelus. You can't escape that no matter what you do." Her eyes flashed silver in the darkness. "And I'd be careful of who I labeled 'innocent'. Never underestimate a foe, dearest."

"And are you my foe, dearest?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

"Never, my Angel," she replied. "Then again, with friends like me, who needs enemies?" she asked sweetly.

He looked down at her for a moment before gripping her jaw tightly and kissing her. His mouth was brutal upon hers, hard and punishing. He stood swiftly, leaving her on the cold stone floor. "Be careful when you're tempting Fate, dearest. You might just find yourself in over you head." With that he walked back into the ballroom, opting to leave without Darla and search for his dinner elsewhere.

She leaned back on her elbows, watching the moon shine down brightly on the glimmering water. "Oh I do believe it's you who can't possibly imagine what Fate has in store for you, my Angel," she murmured. She looked around and felt a giddy laugh bubbling inside her. "And why is it," she wondered aloud, "that whenever you're around, I always end up on my back?"


He was awake with a jolt. He listened carefully for a moment, trying to figure out where he was. He relaxed as he heard Buffy's soft, even breathing coming from the bedroom. His heart tightened as he thought of her. So valiant. So strong. So heartbreakingly beautiful. He ached to join her, and his body rebelled at the futility of his desires. He raked his hands through his hair and flopped back down upon his makeshift bed. As he thought of the two women in the next room, he was overcome by a hunger so powerful it caused him intense physical pain. He knew it had something to do with *her*. He had not experienced such desires since Angelus had met her two centuries before. Nor had he felt such since. Angel fought back the blinding hunger with a growl. He used all of his remaining strength to conjure pictures that would ease the blood craving fire within him. He closed his eyes, but did not sleep. This time he was not plagued with memories of the dark haired beauty, but of the pain and anguish he'd caused Buffy.





Next