"That was an incredible class."

"Say what?" Xander stopped walking and almost got run down by the wave of college students escaping for the afternoon. He threw himself up against the wall until it was safe to move, then ran to catch up with his friend.

She smiled as though he’d been beside her the whole time. "Didn’t you think so? It was intense. I could actually imagine those little mitochondria wiggling around in my cells."

"Mito... what?"

"You were there, Xand! Didn’t you hear what Professor Stewart said?"

"I heard what he said, but I have to go home and, uh, meditate on it before I actually get what he said."

"You mean, you have to go home and fall asleep with your face in the textbook. Professor Stewart is just amazing. I actually caught the whole spiel."

"The whole spiel? Really?" Xander scrunched up his face in confusion.

"You know, what the stuff inside us looks like. Wiggly bizarro stuff."

"Wow. I never thought you liked Biology."

"Today I do. I’m like... Learn Girl, or something. Go ahead, test me! I’m good today."

"He gave us a bunch of words to look up." Xander stared at the paper in his hand. "It’s like grade school, only with more syllables."

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. She recited, in an almost perfect imitation of Professor Stewart’s laconic delivery, "Mitochondrion: Highly pleomorphic, double membraned organic body of eukaryotic cells that can vary from numerous short... rod-like things to long... branchy kinda things."

"Wow, again! Except, he didn’t say that ‘thing’ thing."

"I think he said ‘structures’ but it sounds so boring. ‘Struhkt-shuhs.’" She drawled the word out, making it ridiculously long. Professor Stewart had such a Southern accent!

Xander laughed at her impersonation of the very proper Georgia gentleman. "Okay, since you’re so smart all of a sudden, lemme see you define..." He looked at the word list again. "...uh... oh, here’s one. ‘Ple-o-mor-phic.’ Define that." He gave her a challenging look.

"That’s easy. It means stuff that can be almost any shape. Like... a shape-shifter!"

"That may be right, and it may not, since I don’t have the answers written down here. But, believe me, I’m gonna check you on it when I get home... if I remember what you said."

"We’re gonna have all these words on our next test, Xand." Buffy shrugged. "She can define ‘em, but can she spell ‘em? Film at eleven."

"I can’t believe you actually learned something in class today! You’re gonna get kicked out of the Xander Harris ‘Too Cool for School’ Club, if you keep this up. You been moonlighting as a real student, or something?"

"Ha, ha. I’ve been living right... lots of sleep, lots of good-for-me food, and lots of lovin’. Makes for a better Buffy."

"I think you got that list just backwards, don’cha? The way I hear it from Will, you and the Tweed Ranger are busy little superheroes at home." He waggled his finger at her, for emphasis.

Buffy chortled loudly at that, and threw her arm across Xander’s shoulders. "Giles is the only person I know that thinks education is erotic. I can’t wait to tell him about this class. I’ll lay some of this higher learning stuff on him and he’ll probably tear my clothes off, he’ll get so turned on."

Xander shuddered and looked highly embarrassed. "I’d call that a classic case of ‘W.T.M.I.’, Buff. Whatever you do, don’t give me any details." Under his breath, he muttered, "I already gotta go take a cold shower as it is."

********

One thing was certain... the Diary of Aloysius Klemperner would never make the best-seller list, or even the Watcher’s Council top ten. Giles paused in his excruciating perusal to clean his glasses and blink his eyes. "My God," he exclaimed into the empty room, "This has got to be the dullest writing on earth!" He set the book aside and rotated his head and shoulders, fighting the stiffness that had set in over the last few hours. All his classes had been early ones today, so he was going through some of his lesser-used reference books to determine if he should keep them or sell them. Of course, if one were going to sell a book, one had to be sure there was nothing valuable - or dangerous - in it first.

He sighed and picked the diary up, placing the large volume on his lap and opening it to where he left off. He steeled himself to the mind-numbing tedium the words presented, and began to search for any small significant detail that would render it unsafe for the general public.

A wicked thought came to him. He should take all the driest, dullest, and most useless books, box them up, and send them to the Council with his best wishes. They’d drive themselves crazy trying to find some hidden detail. He almost laughed aloud, but caught himself. ‘Now, now, the Council has granted your fondest wish. Don’t go mucking that up now...’

A sound at the front door stopped his musing, and he rose to his feet just as the front door opened. ‘Speaking of my fondest wish...’ Even before Buffy entered the room, he could feel the happy vibes radiating from her. A brilliant smile came to his face as she made her usual grand entrance, complete with her patented "ta-daaaaa!" pose. She really must be pleased about something. The grander the entrance, the happier she was. And a happy Buffy made him a happy Giles, as well.

Usually, a happy Buffy also made him a very, very happy husband.

"Hello, love, you’re in a good mood. Classes go along well?"

Instead of replying, Buffy dropped everything in the floor, flew across the room and gave him a most thorough kiss. He responded immediately, his usual restraint gone under the double-edged onslaught of thought and touch. He could no more ignore her attentions than he could ignore oxygen. He needed both to survive.

After several minutes had passed, Buffy finally eased her grip on his head and gentled her lips against his. She broke the last kiss reluctantly, and looked up at him, lost in his adoring eyes. It took her another minute to form a coherent thought and express it. The Bond was still pounding in her head as their combined emotions swirled, making audible speech difficult and rational thought impossible.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi, indeed." His voice was little more that a whisper, itself.

"You wanna know how my day went, or do you wanna keep on doing what we were doing?"

"Yes." Again, his voice was a mere breath, and he closed his eyes again without even realizing it.

"Yes, how was your day, or yes, let’s hit the sheets?"

"Yes, to both." He cleared his throat and managed to force a little more volume out. "Perhaps we should, ah, combine the two."

"You have such good ideas."

"I can think of more good ideas, under the proper circumstances."

He bent slightly and lifted her into his arms, his lips moving over hers again before they began to explore her face and neck. He started for the stairs, stumbling once or twice as she found a sensitive spot to attend to. They didn’t quite make it to the bedroom, but ended up in a happy heap in the upstairs hall, a trail of discarded clothing marking their journey.

A good while later, Buffy gave a breathless laugh as they arranged themselves more comfortably. "You are absolutely the most adorable man on earth, you know that?"

"I certainly have the most adorable, and adored, wife on earth, I’m quite sure of that." He kissed her forehead and pulled her against his chest, her slight weight merely a comfortable presence. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot to ask... how was your day?"

She began to babble happily about her newfound zeal for learning, and, as she had predicted to Xander at school, Giles was most appreciative of her efforts.

Except that he didn’t tear her clothes off. She wasn’t wearing any to begin with.

********

Giles made a quick dinner for them, happily puttering around in the kitchen clad only in his slacks. Buffy set the table and watched him, enchanted by his unassuming grace. He moved easily, now familiar with their new kitchen, and she couldn’t help noticing how expressive his hands were. He practically glided across the floor, he moved so well. He looked slightly rakish, with his bare feet and tousled hair. She suddenly realized that she was waxing sappy and poetic over him, but she put it down to postcoital giddiness... and the fact that he looked drop-dead gorgeous without a shirt. She didn’t even realize she’d blocked their mental connection with her inner fantasy. He did notice, though, and began to worry.

He glanced over at her as he put the finishing touches on the meal, his eyebrows doing their familiar one-up and one-down movement. That was a sure sign that he had a question to ask. He waited until they were seated at the table, then smiled and took her hand. "Is everything all right, my dear? You seem... rather intense tonight. Not that I’m complaining..." He chuckled softly. "... but you’ve shut me out for the past few minutes. You haven’t mentioned anything about homework, or tests, or projects, but do you have..."

Buffy shook her head and held up her free hand, stopping him. "I did my homework in class, no tests until Friday, and I’ve been working on my favorite project ever since I got home." He reddened slightly as her graphic thoughts reached him. She winked and took a huge bite of spaghetti. She thought he was sooo cute when he blushed. Even after almost a year of living together, he still blushed.

A new thought popped into her mind. "You realize in exactly..." She tilted her head to one side and did some mental addition. "...Two months, two weeks and seven days we’ll have our first anniversary? That is so cool."

"I had realized, yes. I was wondering if you wanted to return to England, or remain in the States, for our first anniversary. I’ve been told a special ‘getaway’ trip is mandatory."

"Oh, it is! We can do both, can’t we? Two weeks there, after Christmas here with Mom and the gang. I miss seeing Will every day. Xander is fun, but he’s not Willow."

"Xander is... unique, but he isn’t Willow, by any stretch. I would enjoy spending time with all of them, as well. That sounds like just the thing. I’ll call the travel agent tomorrow and see what flights are available... uhm, what about your job?"

"No problem there. They close for Christmas and New Year’s. If the days don’t match up to our flights, I’m sure David or Jimmy can take the class for a little while."

"Excellent! It’s settled, then. I’ll take care of it first thing, right before my ten o’clock class."

Buffy looked down at her empty plate in surprise. "Did I eat all that already?"

"Yes, devoured it, more correctly."

"Is there any more?"

He motioned towards the counter. She sprang up and helped herself to another large helping, murmuring about how sexy it was for a man to know how to cook. Her appetite had increased rather surprisingly in the past two weeks. He knew a single pound increase would be protested loudly, so he assumed she hadn’t gained weight. Even though she was no longer the active Slayer, she still kept in top form. She looked just fine (wonderful, actually,) to him, so he made a mental note to keep a watchful eye on her.

It couldn’t hurt, and it would be his pleasure to do so.

********

A few days later Willow called, feeling the same disorientation Buffy had experienced... the lost of a soul-sister’s daily presence. They chatted happily on the phone for over an hour, and would have continued if Buffy hadn’t noticed the time.

"Oh, my goodness! Will, I gotta go... I have fifteen minutes to get ready for my exercise class."

"Well, you better go, then... you’re the teacher; you can’t be late!"

"I know, I know... my turn to call next week, okay?"

"Okay, but not Friday night next week, ‘cause I have a seminar."

"That’s my Will... dedicated to the bitter end."

"It’s not so bad... Oz is flying in just in time to go with me."

"So, combining business with pleasure... I’m envious. You go, girl! Later, ‘kay?"

"‘Kay. Bye, Buffy."

Willow hung up the phone, a wistful look in her eyes. "She sure sounds happy... happier, even, than the last time I saw her, if that’s possible." She twisted the opal ring on her finger. It was a gift from Oz, a pre-engagement engagement present, he said. Why was it so easy for Giles to commit, after being solitary for so long, when Oz, at twenty, didn’t seemed to willingly go beyond the girlfriend/boyfriend stage?

She shook her head. No use comparing Oz to Giles. The only similarity was their reserved nature. Really, she couldn’t compare anyone to Giles. He was unique. She loved the man like family, just as she loved Buffy like a sister. They were so perfect together... too bad they didn’t have any kids yet.

She mused aloud as she started getting ready for dinner. "I can’t wait to see Buffy pregnant, or Giles with a tiny baby in his arms. That would be so great..."

********

As Buffy hopped around the room putting on her cross trainers, she began to wonder where Rupert was. He told her he’d be a few minutes late, but it suddenly dawned on her that he was well over an hour late. He always drove her to the gym, and sometimes stayed and worked out while she taught her two classes. It wasn’t like him to be late. She knew she didn’t have time to wait for him. She dashed a note on a post-it pad and stuck it on the outside front door, just where he would be sure to see it. She glanced at the clock... she had ten minutes to get to work. She decided it would be faster to run than drive. Rupert could give her a ride home, when he finally got there.

Both classes she taught lasted fifty minutes, with a ten minute break between. When she dismissed her last class, she stared apprehensively at the clock. No Rupert. No phone call. No hint as to where he might be. Fear gripped her, and she paled visibly. He wasn’t here, and it was dark. Her fellow employees, David and Susan, were visiting with some customers in the lobby, but they both noticed when the color drained from her face.

Susan was the first to speak. "Hey, Buffy, what’s wrong? You look sick."

Buffy shook her head slowly. "Not sick. Worried. Rupert is late picking me up."

"Maybe something came up... a flat tire, or a phone call just as he started out the door." David’s calm voice was a contrast to his large, muscled frame.

She knew they were trying to help, but she shook her head again, harder this time. "He’s never this late. I’ve know him for four years... the only time he’s ever late is when something major happens to him. He’s allergic to late." She didn’t even realize it when a tear formed in her eye and ran down her cheek.

Susan began to look worried, herself. Buffy’s handsome professor husband seemed like a really nice guy, and Buffy obviously adored him. "You want me to give you a ride home? It’s not out of my way at all."

"I better call, first. If he’s on his way, we might miss each other."

Buffy’s danger radar went up another notch when the answering machine picked up at her house. Panic began to spread into her thoughts as she dialed again: first Xander, then Wesley, then the University night watchman’s office, and finally, her mother.

The little girl in her started sniffing as soon as she heard her Mommy answer. The adult Buffy spoke calmly, asking if they’d heard from Rupert that afternoon. Joyce called Wilton, and checked with him. Rupert had left the school at about the normal time. He hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping anywhere. Buffy related her concern, hoping her voice wouldn’t break.

Joyce, with her finely honed mother’s instinct, knew her daughter was on the verge of tears. She did think Buffy might be overreacting just a little, but then, when you live near a Hellmouth, you tend to expect the worst. And, most of the time, you get it. "Honey, I can be there in thirty minutes, even less, if you need me to."

"No, Mom, that’s okay. He’s probably just stuck somewhere and can’t get to a phone. I can’t help worrying a little, though."

"I know, it’s perfectly normal. Why don’t you go on home, so he can get in touch with you more easily. And call me if you want me... I’ll be there."

Good ol’ Mom. Buffy had to smile. "Well, I guess I’ll go home. If Wilton thinks of anything, you call, okay?"

"I will. I love you, sweetheart. Try not to worry."

"I’ll try. Bye, Mom, love you, too."

She hung up the phone with badly shaking hands. "Sue, I think I’ll take that ride home, if you don’t mind."

********

The phone rang at ten thirty. She practically leaped over the couch to grab the receiver, only to whine with frustration when Xander’s voice hit her ears.

"Hi, Buff, did Daddy ever come home?"

Buffy’s face tightened into a grimace at his attempt at humor. Her voice was strained as she retorted, "No, you moron, he hasn’t, and I’m gettin’ pretty freaked."

"Hey, sorry... don’t mind me, I’ll be having my usual phalange sandwich now. Uh, can I help? Snoop around? Check things out? Bring you a pizza?"

Buffy laughed despite her tears. He was trying, he really was. "Xand, if you could drive over to the University and make sure he isn’t broken down on the side of the road somewhere, I’d really appreciate it."

"Xand’s your man." He didn’t mention stopping by the Police Station or the Emergency Room. He didn’t want to bring on more panic, but Giles was like Old Faithful... he didn’t just disappear for no reason. He said a swift good-bye to his tearful friend, and dashed for the car. Just before he pulled the door closed, he stopped, went back inside, and grabbed a cross and a stake. You could never be too careful in Sunnydale after dark.

By midnight, everyone Buffy knew was either looking for Giles, or was making phone calls trying to track his earlier movements. Even Wesley and Faith extended their patrol and checked the streets on her side of town. It almost cheered her up to hear that Wes was patrolling with Faith regularly. He’d gone from a ramrod straight by-the-book Watcher to a rather insightful ally in a reasonably short time. Rupert had taken a bit longer to loosen up...

The strain of waiting finally got the best of her, and she broke down and started bawling. She was a trembling, soggy heap when the door finally opened and her husband hurried in, followed by Xander, Joyce and Wilton. With a wail, she flew at him and covered his face with frantic kisses. Her thoughts swirled so wildly that he couldn’t soothe her with mental reassurances. He did the only thing he could. He just held her tight.

Xander laughed uncomfortably, then started an explanation. "You’ll never guess where we found this guy..." He didn’t get to finish the story, because a most unexpected thing happened. Buffy’s arms slid down from around Giles’ neck. She stopped kissing him and put a shaky hand to her head.

Then Buffy, the ex-Vampire Slayer and poster girl for fitness in Sunnydale, fainted dead away.

She could hear faint voices and muffled sounds, but the gray fog was pressing down on her, keeping her eyes closed. There was a strange buzzing in her head, like the drone from a hive of bees. She began to wonder if she would get stung. She hated bee stings. It was totally gross, scraping that stinger out.

Ah! There was a familiar tone to that voice. She knew it. She reached out blindly to grasp the person talking, trying to pull him closer so she could hear what he had to say. Oh, yuck, he must’ve been working out. He really stunk.

She grabbed Giles by the jacket front with an iron grip. Her eyes were still closed. She began to stir as Giles gave the smelling salts another pass. The third pass was never completed. Buffy began to cough, and gave him a hard shove that sent him flying across the room and onto the floor.

"Ewww... gross..." She coughed again, her eyes streaming with tears.

"Aaaaand, she’s BACK!" Xander crowed triumphantly.

Giles got back to his feet, shakily, and rubbed his chest where her clenched fist had struck him. Thank God she wasn’t sick very often... he would be in real danger, then. He knelt beside her, brushed the hair away from her forehead, and gave her his best reassuring smile. "Darling, are you feeling better now?"

"Um, yeah, babe, I’m a little woozy, though. What happened?"

"You... ah... you fainted."

"I WHAT?"

Xander added, "Passed out cold. Did the old ‘tree falling in the wilderness’ routine. Went out like a light!"

Joyce’s face appeared above Rupert’s shoulder. Slender, experienced Mom fingers checked Buffy’s forehead for fever. "Honey, did you forget to eat before you went to the gym?"

"I ate something. I’m sure I did... I just can’t remember what it was. And then, Rupert was late, and... Ohmygosh, what happened to you? I was scared to death!"

"I’m so sorry, dearest. I’m afraid my poor car finally gave up the ghost on my way home. I had a little, uhm, trouble getting help."

Ever helpful, Xander elaborated. "Yeah, this hooker walkin’ by saw him, and offered him her cell phone to call for help..."

"Yes, well, I wasn’t aware of her profession at the time."

"I’d have thought the leather bustier and the fishnet hose would be a dead give-away."

Giles huffed. "I didn’t notice. I thought the offer was quite genuine. When I called, the line was busy here, so I waited for a bit to try again. With my usual flair for bad timing, a police car came along..."

Joyce tried to hide her smile. "...and naturally assumed the worst."

Buffy’s eyes grew round. "The cops thought you were..."

Rupert’s face turned as red as she had ever seen it. "Y-yes, they assumed my intentions weren’t... uhm... honorable."

Buffy started to laugh.

Xander plopped down in a chair, relishing Giles’ discomfort. "They took him downtown in handcuffs."

"Oh, no! Poor baby..." Buffy grabbed his hand and kissed it comfortingly.

Giles gave a resigned sigh. "I suppose... I really shouldn’t blame them. It certainly did look suspicious, now that I think about it. They were unfailingly polite the entire time, I must say. I was allowed the traditional phone call, but..."

"I know, the line was busy. I was callin’ in the troops to look for you." She kissed the back of his hand again. "Sorry, babe, I was spazzing."

"I did try and reason with them... I told them my wife would be frantic, and that she was most likely trying to call round and find me. I’m afraid I made rather a pest of myself, because they wouldn’t let me stay there and keep dialing." He sighed again, standing up and turning to sit beside her. He pulled her into the crook of his arm. "They finally believed me when they sent someone to pick up the car, and it wouldn’t start."

Joyce went behind Buffy and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Wilton and I saw the car being hooked up to a tow truck. Xander came by just then, and we found out from the driver where Rupert was."

"They were already about to let me go when everyone walked in." Giles smiled gratefully at his in-laws and his young friend. "I may have to pay a fee to get my car out of the impound lot, if I decide to try and get it repaired. Perhaps I should leave the poor machine to a dignified death."

Buffy gave him a stern look. "That settles it. I’m getting you a cell phone. I’m not taking no for an answer, this time."

"You have every right to be upset." Joyce’s reasonable voice calmed Buffy’s frayed nerves. "If something like this happened with Wilton, I’d be a basket case, too."

"But I’m usually not a basket case. I don’t know what came over me, Rupert, I just freaked out..."

"Hush, now. Everything’s all put right. I’ll tell you all the silly details... but not until tomorrow. You need to get to bed."

Wilton came in from the kitchen holding a glass of orange juice. Buffy took it gratefully and drank half the glass before anyone could caution her to go slowly. She hadn’t realized she was so thirsty.

Joyce eased Giles aside and gave Buffy a kiss and a hug. "As much as I’d like to stay and mother you until you scream, I’d better get home. Wilton has to go to LA tomorrow, and I’m sure you both need to get as much sleep as you can."

"Okay, bye, Mom." She watched as Wilton escorted her mother out.

"Bye, for me, too, Buff." Xander nodded his head towards the door. "I’m outta here, unless you want me to go for pizza."

Buffy rewarded her friend with a dazzling, if sleepy, smile. "Thanks, Xand, you’re the greatest."

"Don’t I know it... too bad no one else does. Night, you crazy kids."

"Good night, Xander. And... thank you again." Giles gave the young man a rare, warm smile.

"No prob, G-man." The smile on Giles’ face was replaced by a stern, forbidding look. Xander grinned and ducked out the door, calling his "G’night!" over his shoulder as he left.

Giles sat down beside Buffy on the couch and drew her into his arms. She seemed... fragile. That was something totally unexpected. She was, physically, the strongest human on earth, with the possible exception of Faith. But there was something about her, leaning on him, her face pale, that worried him greatly.

"Babe?" Even her voice sounded weak.

"Yes?"

"We need to call Wesley. Faith’s been patrolling around our neighborhood for three hours. It’s time to give her a break."

"I’ll call, but only after you’re in bed." He slid her into his lap and stood, lifting her easily.

"I can walk! I’m not an invalid!" she protested, but he ignored her and started up the stairs. "Rupert, put me down!"

"Not until we get where we’re going, love. Allow me to pamper you, please? We’ve both had a bit of a scare tonight."

"Oh, all right." Buffy gave in and rested her head against his neck. She was asleep before he got to their bedroom.

********

Buffy couldn’t quite clear the haze from her eyes. She blinked them and rubbed them, but all she could see was swirling mist. She shivered suddenly. It was cold. She rubbed her bare arms, squinting. And there were all these...sounds...

Suddenly, as though a spotlight had been switched on in front of her, Rupert appeared. She smiled with relief and started towards him. He turned away from her with a frown. She stopped. Why did he turn away? Why did he look at her like that? She took another step, then she noticed he was holding something... something small, by the way he held his arms. He turned his shoulder towards her, as if to shield his burden from her. She whimpered his name.

His voice sounded hollow and unfamiliar. "No! Not yet! You’re not ready."

"Rupert... what is it?"

He turned his back on her, completely shutting her out. "Not yet. I’ll tell you, when it’s time."

Tears flowed down her face. Had she been found unworthy, somehow? Why was he hiding something from her? She moved to one side, just far enough to see his face. Love and tenderness shone from it as he looked down at his cradled arms. He looked up and smiled at her. "In a little while, you’ll be ready."

"Rupert!" Anguish and fear tore at her very soul. "What is it?"

"Not long, now." He turned, angling his body so that she could almost see what he was hiding. She reached for his arm, trying to get a better look... and was blinded by a flash of light so bright it seemed a physical force. Intense beams radiated through her as though she were made of glass. It burned... she screamed...

And woke up, shivering violently, in Rupert’s arms. She slumped against him, sobbing now with relief. It was just a dream.

"Buffy! Shh... It’s all right, darling, I’m here... you were dreaming. Just a dream. It’s all right, you’re safe, easy, now..."

"You were th-there, and you wo-wouldn’t let me see..."

"Shh, now, it was a dream, love. I’m real, here and now. Don’t be afraid."

"Wh... why did you say th-that?" Her sobs had stopped, but she was still breathing in jerky, shallow gasps. "Whuh... why did you say I’m aff...fraid?"

‘What an odd question,’ he thought. ‘She woke up shrieking at the top of her voice, and she is surprised I thought she was afraid.’ "Because you screamed... a most frightful scream. I’ve never heard the like." He rested his cheek on top of her head, and held her even closer, rocking slightly.

"I... I was afraid, in my dr... dream. But, I would never be afraid of you!" The shivering subsided, leaving her limp and exhausted. Random tremors shook her still, but nothing like the teeth-chattering fear of the dream.

He moved until he was sitting up against the headboard. Gently, he pulled her up until she was between his legs, her back to his chest, trying to warm her with his own body. He slid his arms over hers, his large hands covering her smaller ones. His breath ruffled her hair.

"Shh, love. Take a moment to relax and calm down. Then, tell me."

"But..."

"Shh. Close your eyes."

Her eyes obeyed, and after a few minutes, his heat began to soak into her, and her trembling stopped completely. A few minutes more, and she began to feel the soft touch of his concern in her mind. Finally able to separate the dream image from her living, breathing, and very warm husband, she opened her thoughts to him, trusting him completely.

As the Bond allowed her to share her dream fully, including the emotions that accompanied it, Giles began to see why she screamed. Her reaction was so strong because the nightmare involved someone she loved and believed in with all her heart.

He continued to murmur reassuring words until she sank against him, finally asleep once more. It was only then that he allowed himself to worry.

********

Giles awoke to a familiar buzzing, and reached over Buffy to silence the alarm. He’d quite forgotten to reset it for the weekend. She didn’t even stir. He watched her for a few minutes, then, satisfied that her sleep appeared normal, decided to get up and get ready for the day. He showered, shaved, dressed, and went downstairs to make breakfast. Nearly an hour later, Buffy was still asleep, and her eggs were stone cold. He went back up to check on her. She was buried under the covers, only one side of her face visible. Her hair was jumbled over her cheek and forehead. She looked so beautiful. He intended to take very good care of her.

The telephone receiver was in his hand as soon as he got back to the living room. He dialed his good friend, Father Denning, and spoke in low tones for several minutes. When that conversation ended, he dialed the number Denning had given him, and began another intense dialog. He was on the phone for fifteen minutes or so, answering questions and talking to the appointment desk.

He was just hanging up the phone when his wife came down the stairs, clad only in his shirt from the day before, smiling. A tornado of desire flashed from her, hitting him squarely between the eyes.

His mind, which had been working busily for the past hour or so, shut down completely. Well, it did manage one fleeting thought, which was, ‘Oh, my.’

Apparently, she was feeling much better.

********

It was noon before he had the presence of mind to tell her about the appointment. She was not happy, but she didn’t make a big issue of it. They both knew she wasn’t entirely herself. She really couldn’t think of a convincing argument against going, except ‘eww, doctors,’ but that wasn’t enough to deter Rupert. The appointment wasn’t until Tuesday, so she decided not to think about it.

Despite her foray into the halls of academia during the past week, Buffy’s mind felt surprisingly clear. She didn’t even have the usual gloomy, after-a-prophetic-nightmare feeling she normally felt. After fixing tuna sandwiches for their lunch, she decided to clean house. She sent Giles to the grocery store, and surveyed her domain. Hmmm.

‘I think I’ll start with the living room...’

When Giles returned, arms full of grocery bags, he had trouble getting into the house. There was a surprisingly large percentage of the household furniture piled into the front hallway. ‘Uh oh,’ he thought as he negotiated the room, holding the groceries as high as possible, ‘This cannot be good.’

He recognized a large armchair and ottoman from the master bedroom. ‘Definitely not good.’

There was no sign of Buffy, not even a whiff of her mental presence. He put away his purchases and started looking for her. She wasn’t even in the house. Every room had been partially rearranged, then abandoned. He began to wonder if he would survive long enough to get her to her appointment.

He found his personal interior decorator in the back yard, on her knees in the flower bed. She was planting a neat row of marigolds in front of their privacy fence.

She smiled brightly as he approached. "Hi, babe, didja get my guava juice?"

He squatted beside her. "Yes, and the granola cereal you like so well. It was on sale, so I bought three boxes."

"Great! I’m hungry, so I might just have a bowl now, so I won’t spoil my dinner."

"How is eating at two o’clock in the afternoon not going to spoil your dinner?"

"Hasn’t hurt it so far!" She stabbed enthusiastically at the black soil, making another hole for the plant she had in her hand. "I’m almost done here... wanna go for a drive?"

"Ah, Buffy..." He almost didn’t want to end her happy mood, but he couldn’t put all that furniture back by himself. "There’s something else we have to do first."

"What?" She gave him a sultry look.

"Not that, I meant the furniture. We have to put it back where it belongs."

"Furniture? Oh, right, I was cleaning, and I got a little carried away." She hopped up and brushed herself off, dropping her work gloves to the ground. "Let’s go do that right now."

He stood, confused. "Aren’t you going to finish the marigolds first?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I better." She slapped the last two plants in and left them sitting at crazy angles. "Let’s go, Mr. Muscle."

He looked down at her gloves, trowel, potting soil and two dozen empty plastic pots. At first, he was amused, then the sheer impact of her strange behavior hit him. He knelt and carefully righted the tender plants, packing the earth firmly around them. As he stood, fear for his beloved tore at his heart. He looked up to the sky, ignoring the soft white clouds and lovely blue background. "Please, please let her be all right."

He gathered her tools and trudged back towards the house, hoping he could remain calm until Tuesday morning.

********

It had taken Buffy, alone, less than thirty minutes to reduce their house to shambles. It took Buffy and Giles, working together, over two hours to put all the furniture back into place. When they finally finished, he was more than ready for a shower. Buffy hadn’t even broken a sweat.

She went to the kitchen, peeled and sliced a cantaloupe, and ate the entire thing. Then she felt guilty, so she peeled another one, sliced it, and only ate half. She was quite proud of herself for saving some for Rupert.

Then, she decided that it was too nice an afternoon to waste, so she began to assemble a picnic basket of food for them to take to the park. Before she was finished, the basket was brimming, and wouldn’t close properly. She sat down on the couch to wait for Rupert, and promptly dozed off.

When her squeaky clean husband finally came downstairs, she was sound asleep. He stepped quietly towards her, intending to join her, but was stopped by the strange smell of burning wood coming from the kitchen. He got there just in time to prevent the picnic basket from bursting into flames. She had set it down on the stove, and somehow, the burner had gotten turned up. He grabbed the basket, which was smoking ominously, then turned on the hood fan to clear the room.

He deduced that she wanted to go out for a picnic dinner. As he began to remove the food, intending to put it in another container, he wondered how on earth she managed to stuff everything into the one basket. He counted a dozen sandwiches, two large jars of pickles, two six packs of drinks, what appeared to be an entire head of lettuce made into a salad, and an enormous variety of fruit. There couldn’t be much left in the refrigerator after all that. ‘Good thing I’ve just come from the grocer’s,’ he said to himself as he put away the fresh groceries. That accomplished, he turned to the ruined basket. He sighed to himself as he began to unload it, wrinkling his nose at the acrid burnt smell.

He discarded the basket in the garbage can outside, being careful not to make too much noise. After he carefully repacked a more reasonable amount of food into an ice chest, he returned to the living room and knelt by the couch. For a blissful few seconds he gazed at her, sleeping peacefully. Like an angel... although, he could never call her that. It would invoke too many painful memories. Yet, she was truly angelic. He felt the familiar pang of love, the feeling that was so strong it sometimes hurt.

"Buffy... darling... wake up. If we’re to go picnicking, we need to go soon. It’ll be dark in a few hours."

She opened her eyes and gave him a warm, slightly drowsy smile. She stretched like a cat, luxuriating in the feeling. With her hands still in the air, she wrapped them around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

Kissing her was almost like drowning, at times, the way she completely filled his senses.

After a few minutes, she decided she had done a fairly thorough job of it, and loosened her grip enough for him to catch his breath.

"Did you say something about a picnic, Rupert?"

"Ah, y-yes, I did. Actually, uh, you thought of it. I noticed the basket in the kitchen."

"Oh! I was going to make tea,too, but I forgot."

"No matter. I’ve got everything. Shall we?"

"Let’s shall!" She giggled. It was her standard response to his formally styled question. She loved the way his eyebrow bent upwards when she said that. Teasing the Watcher had always been a favorite pastime of hers.

She ran upstairs to put on her shoes, then met him at the door. He picked up the ice chest and handed her a blanket to carry. As they went out, a frown crossed her face. "Rupert? I thought I packed that stuff in a big basket."

He decided he didn’t want to ruin the mood, so he bypassed her question. "We’d best hurry, dearest. We don’t want to be back after dark, do we?"

The thought of facing the creatures that inhabited Sunnydale after dark was sufficient to distract Buffy from further queries about food containers. Giles breathed a sigh of relief as they got into the car. ‘Only two more days to go...’ he thought to himself as they drove away, Buffy chattering happily all the while.

The telephone was ringing when they returned that evening. They could hear it as they came up the sidewalk, an annoying klaxon in the midst of the evening quiet. Buffy dashed to unlock the door, then grabbed the phone and said cheerily, "Giles place! It’s your nickel, go ahead!"

A familiar, cultured voice answered with a chuckle, "Hello, Buffy, Father Denning here. You sound pretty chipper this evening!"

She felt a little embarrassed at addressing a priest so casually, but she shrugged it off. "Hi, Father Denning. We just got back from a nice picnic. I guess I am feeling ‘chipper.’ Do you want to talk to Rupert?"

"I wanted to speak to you, first. I’m having a get-together tomorrow after services. A luncheon, I guess you’d call it. Most of my congregation is a little... off-beat, but Doctor Stevenson is going to be there, with his family. He helps me out, on occasion, with this and that. I thought it might be nice for you to actually meet him, informally, before your appointment."

Buffy sank to the arm of the couch and seriously considered his words. "You’d let me, I mean, you want me to check him out? Like, make sure he’s not a demon, a robot, or a mad scientist before I bare myself body and soul?"

Giles froze behind her, hearing the edge of nervousness tingeing her tone. ‘Oh, dear. She did agree to the appointment. I do hope she doesn’t change her mind...’

"And I haven’t changed my mind, Rupert." She didn’t even look up. Her side of their mental connection was firmly in place, so she felt his relief instantly. She turned her attention back to the telephone. "Y’know, that sounds like a great idea, really. What time does the shindig start?"

After talking for a few minutes, she held the telephone out to her husband. He took it, smiling, and conversed with the priest a bit longer while she cleaned up the kitchen and the remains of their meal. She was confused inside, and she knew it. She stopped rinsing the silverware and thought about herself. ‘I feel like a box of Lincoln Logs. All the pieces are there, just not in the right order. Maybe I’m coming down with something... I did get the flu, that time, just like everyone else.’

She didn’t really think it was the flu, though. She thought she was going crazy.

It dawned on her that Rupert was worried sick about her. ‘Poor man. I’ve gotta be extra nice to him to make up for all my weirdness.’

She heard him hang up the telephone and go up the stairs. His walk sounded heavy, like he was carrying a burden.

Actually, he was. She was his burden.

She burst into tears at that realization.

********

Although it was still early, Giles was exhausted, more from stress than physical activity. He had ceased to wonder why Buffy was doing the things she was doing. He knew she wasn’t herself. If he had been alone, he might have cried a little and relieved some of the tension that settled around his shoulders and neck. As it was, he tightened his jaw and held his fear in check.

He busied himself with getting ready for bed, laying out a pajama top for Buffy and putting the bottoms on himself. He brushed his teeth and washed his face. He turned the sheets back on her side of the bed and turned the reading lamp on his side to its softest setting. He was about ready to go back downstairs and check on Buffy when she burst into the room, sobbing piteously.

"Love? What..."

She tried to tell him, to spell out her anguish, but it all came out as a plaintive wail. He took her in his arms and held her, feeling the grief pouring out from her. It overwhelmed him for a few minutes, and tears slid down his face despite his best efforts.

He tried again to get to the source of her sorrow. "Buffy, dearest, what’s wrong? Come on, now, come on, it’s all right..." His voice lowered until he was murmuring nonsensical phrases, unable to piece together a sentence. He backed up, pulling her along until he touched the bed, then slid onto it, putting a pillow behind him for support as he leaned against the headboard and held her.

Buffy had cried in his arms many times, for many reasons. Joy. Sorrow. Fear. Anger. But this... felt like self-loathing.

Finally she calmed enough to whisper, "It’s all my fault! I’m making you so sad, babe. You’re all down an’ worried ‘bout me, and I can’t help it..."

"Darling, I’m not sad. I’m concerned, and perhaps worried, as well, but you can only bring me gladness."

"I’m going crazy."

"No, no, you’re not going crazy. You wouldn’t be aware of it, if you were, I think. Father Denning thinks you may be ill. We’ll just use that as our working hypothesis, all right? You have been ill before. You tried your best to ignore it, but you couldn’t. This is no different."

"Yes, it is! I didn’t almost burn the house down last time!"

"Being ill can be rather, uhm, distracting. Listen to me." He held her face, gently but firmly, and turned it up to his. "You are the most... extraordinary person on earth. Even Faith doesn’t completely share your metabolism or your unique physiology. There’s only one Buffy in this world, and sometimes that makes it difficult for an ordinary doctor to discover what is happening when you’re ill."

The truth in that statement struck a chord in her, and she nodded. "I know that doctor, when I had the flu, freaked out every time he read my chart."

"Yes, I recall some rather strange questions being thrown about while you were in hospital. Now, this doctor, Doctor Stevenson, comes highly recommended for... for unique people such as yourself. We’ll meet him tomorrow, then you can tell me what you want to do about your appointment. Is that all right?"

She nodded.

"Are you tired?"

She nodded again, her eyes closed and she pressed against his chest, snuggling closely against him.

"Why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll lock up and join you in a moment."

She arose, sniffling, and shuffled into the bathroom, looking small and lost.

He made the rounds, checking windows and doors, and made sure all the stove burners were off. As a precaution, he checked all the taps in the house, to be sure they were closed. He looked around the ground floor, trying to think of anything else he should look for before he went to bed. He couldn’t think of anything else, so he went back upstairs.

Buffy had already gotten into bed. The covers were pulled up to her chin. She was still trembling. He climbed in beside her, turned off the lamp, and took her in his arms, spooning her against him, making as much contact as possible. Before long, he felt the tension drain away as she fell asleep. His last waking thought was, "No nightmares tonight, please..."

A stirring beside him woke him from troubled sleep. Buffy was restless, tossing her head and moaning softly. ‘Another dream,’ he thought groggily, and murmured her name. She turned out of his embrace and grabbed the sheet underneath her, twisting it in her strong grip. When she exhaled his name, it wasn’t fear, but longing, that underscored the word.

He didn’t know whether to wake her or let the dream take its course. He was terrified of what might come to her in her night visions. So many of them had been prophetic. He moved to put his arms around her again, drawing her back into his warm embrace. ‘Perhaps if I hold her closely, she will not feel afraid.’

It seemed to last for hours, this dream journey she was taking, but he knew it was merely minutes. Although she didn’t pull away again, she moved constantly, restlessly plucking at the bedclothes before yanking the top sheet hard enough to pull it free from the bottom.

She was tugging at his arm. Again, Rupert held something just out of her sight, but his face was alight with love and tenderness as he looked at her. "Not just yet, love. In a little while."

"But I want to see! What is it?"

He shook his head gently, but smiled. "Do you really want to know?"

Fear gripped her, but she replied firmly, "Yes! I have to know!"

He stood there smiling at her over his shoulder, but didn’t reply.

"Rupert..." Her voice was full of emotion. "I need to know!"

He beamed at her, pride plain on his face. "It’s Life."

"Life? Whose life?"

"Ours."

She awoke with a sigh, becoming aware of her husband’s tight grip on her. She smiled and buried her head into his shoulder, inhaling his warm scent. She was crying, but not with the heart-wrenching sobs of the night before.

"Buffy? Darling? Did you have another nightmare?"

"No..." she managed, sniffing slightly, "... not a nightmare, just a dream. It wasn’t scary. Weird, but not scary."

"Tell me, if you wish."

She related the dream calmly, and he sighed in relief as she finished. It sounded, to his amateur psychologist’s mind, that her subconscious was trying to resolve something. People often worked out tough problems in their sleep, free from the restraints of logic and reason. If that was all there was to this, then she would eventually overcome it, and revert back to normal. At least, in theory.

"So, do you think I’m crazy, Rupert?" Her voice sounded so small and uncertain.

"No, love, I don’t, not at all. Something is bothering you, but you seem to be working it out a little at a time. I wouldn’t worry too much about it just now. It’s probably something minor, but your subconscious has amplified it, trying to sort it out."

"And just when did you get your Ph.D.?" The tease was back in her voice.

"Nineteen-seventy-nine. Why?"

She smacked him playfully.

"Not that kind. I mean the Sigmund Freud kind."

"I know." He gazed at her, naked emotion plain on his face. ‘I do so adore you, my dearest.’ The thought was as plain as if he had spoken aloud.

"Oh, babe..." She melted into his embrace, kissing him tenderly, and finished the thought via the Bond. ‘I love you so much, it takes my breath away.’

"Wouldn’t want that," he murmured, lips grazing her neck, "I want you breathing... moaning my name as we make love." He returned his attention to her lips as his hands caressed her.

"Oh, Rupert..."

Sheer need flashed between them. The Bond pulsed with their desire, and the dream was forgotten.

********

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, but the sun was well up in the sky before the sleeping pair stirred. Buffy smiled a happy, contented smile and stretched, arching her back against his chest. ‘Now that was a good night’s sleep.’

‘Quite good.’ His thoughts answered hers effortlessly. Without worry and confusion between them, the shared connection that forged their Bond allowed them to communicate freely again.

‘You were quite good.’ She turned in his arms and stroked his face tenderly. ‘I hate to say it, but that little episode with the time-stream turned out to have some cool side-effects. You still look ten years younger.’

‘Far be it from me to give Ethan the benefit of the doubt, but his tampering with the power of the Hellmouth actually wasn’t a complete debacle. And I still feel...’ He accentuated the thought with a passionate kiss. When he broke the kiss, he finished audibly, "...ten years younger."

"Lucky me!"

He laughed, and she joined him, snuggling close.

"Uhm, what time is this meeting with Father Denning and Doctor Stevenson?"

She thought a moment, gathering the information together in her mind. "He said lunch was around noon. The service thing starts at eleven."

"Service? Do you want to go?"

"Dunno. Do you?"

"If you do." He pondered the thought. Father Denning wasn’t Anglican, but he seemed a decent sort. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too strange to visit his friend in his natural element. In their current situation, a direct line to the Almighty wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Buffy giggled at his thoughts. "We’re going, then?"

"All right, yes. We’ll go."

"Cool. I’m hungry. Let’s go hunt and gather breakfast."

"I’ll hunt, you gather. It’s traditional."

"Hah! I’ll show you traditional!" She hit him in the face with her pillow. An all-out pillow war ensued, but ended in a truce.

They fixed breakfast together, cheerfully getting in each other’s way, and ate on the back deck in their robes.

They shared the Sunday paper, quietly passing the sections back and forth as they sat at opposite ends of the sofa, their feet tangled together. They even shared a long, lovely, erotic shower, leaving only when the hot water ran out. It was a blissfully peaceful morning.

At ten thirty, they dressed for their visit to Father Denning’s little church. Giles wore a charcoal double breasted suit, and Buffy opted for a simple sheath dress in delicate pink. A matching short sleeved sweater brought the outfit up to more modest standards. She didn’t feel comfortable going to a church in spaghetti straps and shorts, for some reason.

She clung to her husband’s arm as the walked from the parking lot towards the small church. It reminded her of the chapel in England, where they had gotten married in the presence of God, her mother and her friends. She relaxed a little, remembering that magical day in the ancient country church. This place had the same feel: sacred, hushed, protected.

She didn’t feel at all weird or out of place with the people inside. There were people her age, people Giles’ age, and some vaguely in between the two. She noted several children, an old fat man who looked like Santa Claus, and three people who were so huddled and bowed she couldn’t see their faces.

The service began. Two dark-haired boys, almost identical, came down the aisle and proceeded to light the altar candles, Father Denning following behind them. Someone was playing an organ, but she couldn’t see where it was. The priest stepped to the middle of the bare stage and welcomed everyone, smiling even more broadly when he saw them. Buffy smiled back, and Giles nodded. There was a responsive reading from the order of service they were handed as they came inside. Most of the people crossed themselves, a gesture Buffy had only seen people use in jest. She filed it away in her memory... just one more thing that she hadn’t known was for real.

A youngish man and woman sat a few rows in front of them, and as soon as the candles were lit the two curly headed boys came back and sat beside them. Buffy leaned over to Giles and whispered, "Betcha a ham sandwich that’s Doctor Stevenson."

He smiled and nodded. The man seemed a likely sort, mid thirties, well dressed but not overly so. His wife was pretty, slightly chubby, with a sweet round face that wore a comfortable smile throughout the service.

A young girl around Buffy’s age came forward and sang a song. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Giles couldn’t place it. It was full of words about faith and strength. There was more responsive reading, a congregational song, and finally their host got up to speak.

Father Denning didn’t use overblown, flowery words, and the message was fairly short. Buffy realized it had to be, when she saw a man across the room shaking and wiping his nose. He was pitifully thin and looked sick. She nudged Giles and nodded to the man. ‘look at that, Rupert. Poor guy. He looks awful. Wonder what he’s doing here?’

‘Looking for hope, I’d imagine.’ His thought surprised him a bit. ‘Much like we are.’

‘Guess there’s always someone worse off, if you look around.’

‘True enough.’

They turned their attention back to the priest. The service concluded with people coming up to the front, kneeling and taking some kind of cracker from Father Denning. He placed it carefully in each person’s mouth and said something, making motions with his hands. Buffy and Giles sat on the back row, not participating. She thought it was weird, and told him so. He smiled and responded by patting her on the hand.

The services were different from the few he had attended as a boy, yet it felt comfortingly familiar. He had been told since he was ten years old that he was chosen to fulfill a sacred calling. Only recently had he begun to accept that his calling was truly sacred. Retired or not, he was still a Watcher, and his beloved wife was still the Slayer. Nothing could change that.

After the people returned to their seats, Father Denning invited people to come to him after the service if they needed to speak with him privately, then gave a blessing and dismissed them. There was another procession, another song, and then it was over.

She looked up at Giles with a crooked smile. "That wasn’t so bad."

"No, it wasn’t. We should go speak to Denning and find out where our gathering is to be held."

They were directed to a large open room at the back of the sanctuary. People were already gathering, chatting amiably in small groups. Buffy thought it looked like a high school gymnasium, only smaller. There were basketball hoops at both ends, and the hardwood floor had court markings. There were volleyball nets in the corner and a box of various kinds of balls beside it. Wooden bleachers were folded against the wall.

"This is a gym, Giles. I didn’t even know it was here."

"Denning tells me they hold interfaith tournaments here frequently. They try and keep displaced children off the streets by giving them something to do after school."

"Great. Not everyone has a Sacred Duty that takes up all their free time."

"You still had time for the Bronze, Homecoming, and the Prom." ‘And me,’ he added silently.

She made a face at him. "Just barely... and I never got my deposit back on a single dress I rented. Wonder why?"

He chuckled, then looked up as Father Denning approached, the young couple they’d noticed coming up behind him. He smiled widely and shook Giles’ hand as he said, "Rupert, let me introduce you to Philip Stevenson and his wife, Carla. They’ve been wanting to meet you."

"Rupert and Buffy Giles, Doctor Stevenson... Mrs. Stevenson. A pleasure." Giles shook the man’s hand firmly, then took Carla’s offered hand with great care, almost bowing over it. She blushed slightly at his courtly gesture, but insisted, "Please, don’t call us by any fancy titles. We’re just Phil and Carla."

The young physician was darkly attractive, and had a nice open smile. His wife seemed warm and friendly. Buffy decided she liked them both.

They sat across from their new acquaintances at lunch, the topic of conversation ranging from motives in church attendance to the dubious joys of having children, without bringing up the subject of Buffy’s appointment. Giles seemed to enjoy the conversation. Phil was intelligent, and deeply convinced of his faith. It was quite a contrast to Giles’ own upbringing, where formal religion was considered an impediment to Council business.

Buffy fell in love with the twins immediately. They were gorgeous children, about eight years old, with dark, curly hair and huge brown eyes. They were obviously taken with Buffy as well, and plied her with questions: "Where do you live? What school do you go to? Do you have any kids? How old are you? How old is Mr. Giles?" They wondered out loud why Rupert was so much older than her. She told them she had to marry an old guy, because cute guys like them were too young, and the ones in between were too stupid. The boys giggled wildly at that until Carla told them to behave.

Roger was the spokesman for the two. Robert was the thinker. He whispered his questions to his brother, rarely asking one of his own. Buffy was amazed at their interaction. She hadn’t been around twins very often. Actually, she wasn’t around children all that much. She decided she’d like children if they were all like these two.

Giles was surprised at Buffy’s reaction to Phil’s boys. He had never seen the maternal side of her, but she obviously was enjoying being around these children. It made him prouder than ever. She was truly amazing, his Buffy.

When all but a few people had left, Buffy decided to get down to serious business. "I guess you know why we wanted to meet you," she began.

Phil sent the boys to the far end of the room to practice shooting baskets. Over the sounds of bouncing and the shrieks of children at play, he answered, "I have an idea, but you might want to give me the details, if you don’t mind."

Buffy outlined her week, assisted by Giles, who added things she had overlooked. By the time they had finished, she was looking pained and depressed. Itemizing her strange behavior made her feel horrible, as if she had eaten something that didn’t agree with her.

Giles put a comforting arm around her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "There, now, don’t fret. We’re going to get to the bottom of this." Buffy gazed up at him gratefully, loving him for trying to make her feel better.

Phil looked at Carla, sympathy on his face. "Actually, I may be able to help, Buffy. I won’t make snap judgments, but I think I know what to look for now."

"Oh, good. I can’t take much more of this, y’know, I feel like a total freak show. As if I didn’t already."

Phil chuckled. "You should see some of my patients... don’t be surprised at my clientele when you get to the office Tuesday. I have a pretty eclectic mixture. Let’s just say, there’s no slaying allowed in the waiting room, and leave it at that."

He laughed at her incredulous expression. "You don’t... I mean, you can’t treat vampires, of course, it’ll be daytime. But... demons and ghouls?? Yuck... but, I guess they have to go somewhere."

"I don’t turn anyone away, no matter what their origin. They’re all welcome. I have a rather... unique background in mystical matters. I do what I can."

"Wow. So, I won’t be the weirdest one there, then?"

"Not by a long shot."

"Wow." She was overwhelmed. Maybe he could help her after all. "Okay, I’ll see you at ten Tuesday morning then, and I promise not to stake any of your patients."

********

She was happy. He glanced at her from time to time as he drove home, drinking in the tiny smile that graced her lips. A contented, sub-vocal hum came from her, bathing him in warm feelings. Meeting Doctor Stevenson... correction, Phil... had made her feel much better. The service had been a comfort, as well. They were both feeling better.

The afternoon passed comfortably. They took a long nap, cuddled together on the sofa. Giles awoke with Buffy’s head on his chest, her arms around him and her legs entwined with his. Coming out of a peaceful sleep with her in his arms was one of his happiest fantasies come true. He never grew tired of watching her, with all her softness and warmth against him.

Time passed without him being aware of it, and soon she began to stir, a sleepy smile brightening her face as she saw him watching her. "Hey, Watcher-man, what’cha watchin’?"

"The most beautiful woman in the entire world."

"Ooooo, you silver-tongued devil, you. You’re just saying that ‘cause you wanna have your wicked way with me."

"Yes, but I promise to make it worth your while."

She snickered into his shirt front. "You have an extremely high opinion of yourself."

"No, but I am, on occasion, capable of sudden leaps of brilliance, when faced with the proper inspiration."

"And I’m the proper inspiration?"

"Judging from past experience, I’d say you are."

She encircled his neck with her arms and drew herself slowly upwards until her lips met his. The afternoon sunlight streamed in at a low angle from the windows across the room, and the golden light seemed to dance all around them. They made love on the couch until the light was gone from the sky and the sounds of the night filled the air. Then, they lay in each other’s arms and watched TV. They didn’t bother with putting their clothes back on.

At about nine thirty, the telephone rang and Buffy reluctantly left her comfortable spot on Giles’ chest to answer it. It was Joyce, being a typical worried mother. It was weird, how hearing her mom’s voice made her feel self-conscious about being stark naked in the living room. She smiled at herself, ignored the feeling, and concentrated on reassuring Joyce.

"Mom, I’m okay, really. Much better. Oh, you’ll never guess what we did today!"

Joyce was afraid to ask. You never knew, with Buffy.

Buffy giggled when her mom hesitated. "Mom! Mind out of the gutter, please!"

"It wasn’t in the gutter!" Joyce said, quickly. "I was afraid it was a Hellmouth thing."

"No, it was completely other. We went to church."

"Where?"

"Father Denning’s chapel outside of town. You remember him, don’t you? He came to that reception party we had after we got back from our honeymoon."

"Oh, yes, I remember. The priest. Stocky man, nice laugh."

"That’s the one. He introduced us to a doctor I can go to that knows all about the creature-of-the-night-slash-Chosen-One stuff. He thinks he knows what’s wrong, and says it’s probably no big deal."

"That’s great, honey. I know we’ll all breathe easier when we know what’s going on." She sighed, biting off the urge to vent her fears. Buffy didn’t need to add her mother’s worries to her own. She knew from experience that her daughter could worry perfectly well all by herself. "Well, I don’t want to keep you up. I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?"

"I’ll call you, Mom. I gotta work tomorrow."

"Do you think you should? I mean, you could just call in sick."

"But I’m not sick, not really. Just out of sorts. If I start feeling weird, I’ll call in, but I’ve already told them I won’t be working Tuesday night, so I don’t wanna lose the job I just got. Don’t worry, Mom, I gotta take care of myself. If I don’t Rupert will go all mushy and protective, and I’ll never get to leave the house."

Joyce laughed. "I’m glad he takes responsibility for you... that makes me feel a little better."

"Yeah, he’s a pretty good guy."

Joyce smiled. "I never thought otherwise, honey. Well, goodnight, and sleep well."

"Bye, Mom. I’ll call tomorrow." She hung up with a thoughtful smile.

Rupert got up from the couch and came over to her, stroking her arm gently. "I know it’s early, but I think we should go on to bed, love. You need the extra sleep, and it probably wouldn’t hurt me either."

She turned, frankly admiring his body in the dim light. "Sounds okay to me. I’m a little drowsy already. You gave me a workout this afternoon."

"Oh, dear!"

"What’s wrong?"

"We haven’t trained in two days. How forgetful of me!"

"No big, babe, you’ve had stuff on your mind. I’ve gone weeks without training, and bounced right back. Besides, I have exercise class tomorrow, and that’s a nice little workout."

"Not what you’re used to."

She smiled seductively and ran her fingers through the crisp hair on his chest. "No, I’m entirely used to training for two hours, teaching Tae Bo for two hours, and..." She pulled his head down, raised up on her toes, and kissed him. "...doing other things for two hours."

He laughed. "I don’t think I could keep going for two hours straight, dearest."

"Maybe not, but I bet if you add up all the time we’ve spent gettin’ frisky the past couple of days, it’d be close."

He thought a moment, then said, with surprise in his voice, "Actually, today does qualify. Now, aren’t we the lively pair?"

"All the more reason to go to bed early, in my book."

"Agreed."

They started towards the staircase, then Buffy stopped and looked around. Their clothing was scattered all over the room. "Uh, I guess we should pick up our clothes first, don’cha think?"

********

Monday morning seemed Buffy seemed much better. She had slept soundly, without disturbing dreams, and was her usual cheerful self as she attended her morning classes. She had lunch with Giles... he showed up unexpectedly, lingering outside of her classroom until she came out. She knew he was checking up on her, but she didn’t mind. He was too sweet.

That afternoon, right in the middle of her last class, she fell asleep. She was feeling a little woozy, so she rested her head on her desk for a minute... and suddenly Xander was shaking her shoulder and calling her name frantically.

She looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. "Xand, what... what are you doing?"

"You fell asleep. I kept trying to wake you up, but you zoned out every time."

"Oh, no... and I was startin’ to like this class... did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, some stuff about wiggly insides and tree branches. I wrote it all down. You can borrow my notes."

"Your notes? Uh, thanks, Xand, but I’ll call Debbie Thompson tonight and ask her about it. Your notes aren’t exactly in English."

"I’m hurt. I was the one who stayed awake, this time!"

She got up unsteadily, grabbing onto his jacket for support. "Woah, dizzy."

"Hey, maybe I better drive you home. We can’t have you trashing your new used car."

It was a sign of just how disoriented she was that she allowed Xander to lead her to the car and take the driver’s seat. She didn’t let anyone drive her car except Giles. But, right then, she couldn’t seem to focus properly. She leaned her head against the window and dozed until he pulled into the driveway. He offered to walk her inside, but she waved him off, plodding up the steps like each foot weighed a ton.

Xander was more than worried. He was scared stiff. What if she ran into a vamp or a demon in her current state? He didn’t know for sure if she could hold her own. He put on his backpack and started for home. He knew if there was something major wrong, that Willow or Giles would let him know.

Buffy stumbled into the house, feeling detached and light headed. Rupert would be home in a few minutes, and she hadn’t started thinking about supper. He usually took over as soon as he got there, but she always got things started, so she dropped her purse on the floor and headed for the kitchen.

She took out a package of fresh corn and stared at it. There were five ears of corn in the package. ‘I like corn on the cob. We’ll have corn on the cob.’ She pulled out a large pot, filled it with water, set it on the stove, and dumped the corn, shucks and all, into the water. She turned on the stove as she headed upstairs to change for her exercise class.

The bed looked so soft and inviting. ‘I’ll just lie down for a little while until the corn is ready.’ She was fast asleep in seconds.

********

Giles unlocked the door, came in the house, and froze. What was that sound? The irregular hissing seemed to come from the kitchen. Considering the way things had gone lately he was a little gun-shy, and he hesitated a moment longer, trying to prepare himself for whatever awaited him. He noted Buffy’s purse on the floor in the middle of the hall. He picked it up and placed it beside his briefcase. He went to the kitchen door and peered inside, dreading what he would find.

The brimming pot was boiling vigorously, splattering droplets of water onto the red-hot burner. The hissing came from the water evaporating rapidly. Some of the larger droplets danced around the rim before dissipating. Cautiously, he peered into the pot.

Ah. She was boiling corn. Neat trick. The husks were still in place. At least they would be clean.

"That’s not too bad," he said to himself as he turned off the burner and waited for the hissing to subside. "At least, nothing’s on fire."

He looked around for the rest of the meal. Nothing. He almost chuckled. ‘Buffy must’ve fancied corn tonight.’

He started looking for her, and found her cuddled up on the bed with all the pillows tucked around her. He sat carefully beside her, hating to wake her, but knowing she had a class to teach that evening. He leaned towards her and whispered her name...

And found himself on his back halfway across the room, his jaw smarting painfully.

"Rupert! Ohmygod..." She dashed over to him, her voice almost a wail. "I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry... I musta been asleep... oh, sweetie, are you okay?" She tried to touch him, but he pulled back with a pained look. "Oh, Geez, what’s wrong with me? I’m gonna end up in jail for beating up my old man..."

"Buffy, stop fussing. I’m all right. You’ve hit me harder than that in training."

"Yeah, maybe, but you were expecting it then. I coulda broke your jaw."

He worked his mouth cautiously, then stopped with a moan. "I’m quite sure it isn’t broken. I can still move it around. It just... well, it hurts to do so, and I think I’ll stop."

She helped him to his feet, holding his arm like he was made of glass. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head still spinning. She’d connected solidly, all right.

She sat beside him, distraught. "Can I get you something? An ice pack? A couple of aspirin? Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to hit you..."

He started laughing. It hurt to laugh, so he interrupted his chuckle with, "Ow...oh, God..." then continued to shake with laughter until she broke into a grin and joined him.

"Only you, Rupert. Only you can get knocked across the room and laugh about it."

"Yes, well, you see... ouch, you w-were worried about missing a few days of t-training. I’d say, augh, you’ve kept up your form... ow, quite well. I didn’t even see the punch coming." He moaned and tried to calm down. "By the way, what were we having for dinner?"

"Corn on the cob."

"And... what else?"

"Uh, just corn, so far."

"Ah. Well, I’d best get after finding something else to eat, then. I don’t think I’m quite up to corn on the cob just now."

"Oh, babe, I’m so sor..."

He stopped her with a hand to her lips. Gently, he moved to stroke her cheek. "If I wasn’t afraid I’d pass out from the pain, I would kiss you thoroughly right now."

"I’ll take a rain-check, okay?"

"A rain-check? Ah, yes, all right. Now let’s get something to eat. You have class in less than two hours."

As they started down the stairs, Buffy looked over with troubled eyes. "Should I even go tonight? If I hurt some innocent person..." her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to take her by the arms. She was a step above him, so she was gazing right into his green eyes. "Listen, Buffy. You were asleep, and I startled you. That wasn’t a wise move, on my part. Now, unless you’re planning on sleepwalking through your classes, you should be fine."

His soothing tone wasn’t lost on her. "Okay." She gave him a gentle hug and kissed his uninjured cheek. "But I want you to stay with me at the gym, just in case."

"I had planned to anyway, love. It’s my workout night."

"I just want you around, in case I go brain-dead again. There’s no middle ground, anymore. I’m either asleep on my feet or spazzing totally out."

"We’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow morning."

As he rummaged in the refrigerator for something to fix, Buffy began cleaning the still warm corn. She fought to keep depression at bay. ‘Just gotta hang on ‘til tomorrow,’ she kept telling herself. ‘The doctor guy will know what to do.’

After a cobbled-together dinner, Giles drove Buffy to the gym. He tried to keep conversation light, but he could feel the black clouds of gloom that seemed to hover over her. Their connection was sporadic, giving him first a crystal clear snapshot of her thoughts, then nothing but a vague feeling of unease. It was unnerving.

He stopped her just before they went inside, his hand gentle on her shoulder. "Love, if you want to tell them you’re not feeling well, I’m sure they’d understand."

"No, I don’t want to. I need to do something... oh, I dunno... productive, right now. They’re all so nice to me in there, maybe it’ll cheer me up."

"All right, but if you start feeling ill, give a yell, yes?"

She gave him a peck on the cheek, avoiding the livid bruise that was beginning to display its colors. "Yes. I promise. The minute I feel even remotely like spazzing or passing out, you’ll be the first to know." She smiled at his relieved expression. ‘You’re soooo protective, even after I belted you in the face. What a guy!’

He suppressed a laugh at her thoughts as they went inside.

Susan seemed very happy to see Giles. "Hey! You’re alive! I was beginning to think the earth had swallowed you up."

He glanced downward warily. Little did she know... he’d actually seen that happen before.

She laughed at his expression. "You should’ve seen Buffy... she was frantic. Hey, who hit you?"

Buffy wasn’t too interested in rehashing her most traumatic moments in recent history. "Uh, well, he’s okay, but his car showed up in the obituary page Saturday morning."

Susan frowned sympathetically. "Oh, bummer. Car trouble sucks big time. But you guys are in such great shape, you could hoof it anywhere in town, and probably faster than in a car. You wouldn’t have to wait for all the stupid traffic lights. Oh, hey, Mrs. Sullivan called. She’s got a sick kid and won’t make it tonight."

"Thanks, Sue. See ya later, Rupert." Buffy headed off towards her classroom.

Giles watched her go. He didn’t realize his face had gone sad and troubled. He jumped when Susan spoke from beside him. He hadn’t heard her approach.

She leaned over, and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, "Just what’s eatin’ her tonight? She’s usually Little Miss Pep Squad. Did you guys have a fight?"

He shook his head, and forced a smile. "No, she’s not feeling too well. I tried to get her to call in sick, but she can be quite strong-willed at times."

Susan laughed lightly. "Can’t we all?"

By the end of the last class, Buffy was exhausted. She hid it from her class fairly well, but she felt like she’d been fighting demons all night. She actually thought about foregoing her shower and taking a nap in the car until Rupert was ready to go. Reluctantly, she forced herself to bathe and dry her hair. She didn’t bother with makeup. Everyone here had seen her bare-faced before.

When Giles joined her at the front, he could see dark circles under her eyes. ‘But, why? She’s been sleeping more and more...’

Buffy smiled weakly. "Can we go straight home, babe? I’m not in the mood for yogurt tonight."

That worried him more than the bags under her eyes. Buffy passing up a frozen yogurt was almost unheard of.

He practically had to carry her to the car. She was asleep by the time he pulled into the driveway. It took him an extra minute or two to get her out of the car. She was completely limp, like a tiny child that had missed its nap. He carried her to the front door, leaving her gym bag in the car, and set her on her feet only long enough to unlock the house and get her inside.

An little while later, Buffy woke to find herself at home in bed. She didn’t have the faintest recollection of how she’d gotten there. Rupert was nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed hadn’t been disturbed. She glanced at the digital display on the night stand, and was shocked to find it was only nine o’clock. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, wondering why she was in bed so early. She decided to go downstairs and ask Rupert.

She wandered down the stairs, still groggy with sleep, and almost didn’t see him at first. The only light in the room was a reading lamp on the end table. She froze in shock when she saw him... on his knees beside the sofa. What was he doing? She could feel deep emotions filling the room. It was almost like wading in a strong surf. She eased closer. Suddenly, realization hit her. He was praying... for her.

Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. He’s worried about me. He’s asking God to make me well. That’s so sweet...

She didn’t think she’d made a sound, but he looked up at her, his eyes glistening in the dim light. He rose to his feet and shoved one hand in his pocket. He slowly slid his glasses back in place and smiled. He didn’t seem uncomfortable about the whole thing at all.

"Hello." He was smiling, the soft, loving smile that warmed her right down to her toes.

She smiled back, taking his hand and sitting on the couch. He joined her, his eyes never leaving hers. She studied his face carefully, looking for signs of distress. He seemed... peaceful. "Hi. Feel better now?"

He almost laughed at the question. "I should be asking that of you."

"I feel better, to answer your ‘should be’ question. Now you have to answer mine."

"Ah, yes, I do feel all right, really."

"Are you that worried? About me?"

He looked down, his face pensive. "To be truthful, I was feeling rather... uhm, inadequate."

She gave him a puzzled look.

"You aren’t feeling well, and I... well, there’s really nothing I can do to... to make it better. So, as Father Denning would say, I sought, a-asked... for divine intervention."

"So, what did he say?"

"Pardon?"

"God. What did he say when you asked him?" She looked completely serious. "Did he say, ‘okay,’ or, ‘no way’?" She giggled. "I made a rhyme!"

He gave his quick half-laugh, and replied, "He said, ‘don’t worry so.’ At least, that’s my impression. I don’t think Heaven is quite ready for you at present, darling. So, you’re stuck here with me."

"Cool. Tell him thanks, next time you talk to him."

"You could tell him yourself, if you’d like."

"Maybe I will..." She arose gracefully and turned to go back upstairs, her stiffness gone. "...after we have a few words about this whole ‘Chosen One, Girl Slayer’ thing. Too many chills, not enough thrills, in my book."

"It brought me to you."

She stopped in her tracks, and turned. The glow from the lamp highlighted the angles and planes of his face, glinted off his glasses, and outlined the gentle smile on his lips. A tiny crescent of green sparkled in one eye, backlit by the soft light. Words failed her, she loved him so much.

They gazed at each other for several moments. She searched his face. No trace of regret or doubt lingered there. She embraced him, burying her head into his chest and listening to his rapid heartbeat, his arms holding her securely. One thought alone stood out in her mind. ‘I’m happy with this man. I’m gonna be happy with him for the rest of my life. I should be grateful, no matter what else happens.’

Before he could agree with her sentiments, she murmured, "Then I guess I should tell God thanks."

That night, she dreamed again.

The light had changed. It was tinged with gold, and his glasses caught the glow and reflected it, much as she’d noticed in the living room before they went to bed. His smile was tender, and he was murmuring softly to himself, the tone of his voice as warm as his smile.

"Rupert, what is it? Why are you hiding something from me?"

"I’m not... you just haven’t seen it yet."

A small knot of frustration built up in her throat. How could she see, if he didn’t show her? "Rupert, I just want to see what it is. Why won’t you show me?"

The enigmatic smile grew wider. "But I have shown you. Every time you’ve asked. You just haven’t seen."

She stepped closer, no longer disturbed, but intensely curious all the same. "If I ask, will you answer me?"

"Always."

She took a deep breath, ready to express her longing...

And awoke, wrapped in her husband’s arms. She shivered once, then settled back, leaning against his solid bulk. ‘I guess all that weird mystical stuff is just me telling myself to wait until tomorrow. Maybe the doc can tell me what’s going on, and I can get back to my real life.’ She fell asleep again almost instantly, comforted by the sound of Rupert’s soft breathing in her ear.

********

Doctor Stevenson’s office was not in the nicest part of town. The building itself was neat and well-kept, though, with a tidy strip of grass and flowers surrounding its perimeter. Several stately elms shaded the walk. Their shade was littered with people sitting in plastic chairs, and there were children playing on the lawn. Happy shrieks filled the air.

Buffy took Giles’ hand as they approached the front door to the clinic. She gave his hand a squeeze, and remarked, "Doctor Stevenson really must like kids... they’re all over the place."

"It would seem so."

"I wonder if there’s any demons or ghouls in there. I promised not to stake anybody in the waiting room, but I might get carried away."

He gave a short laugh. "You must restrain yourself, Buffy. Staking patients would be bad for his business."

She let go of his hand, but hesitated in front of the door. He took her chin in his hand and gently raised her face to his. "Are you ready? I’ll be beside you every moment... that is, every moment I’m allowed."

She squared her shoulders and looked into his eyes, drawing strength from him. "I’m ready. Let’s go face the Muzak."

"You’re ever so clever." He opened the door for her and followed her inside.

At ten-thirty, she was sitting on a threadbare exam table wearing nothing but an equally threadbare gown. It was a hideous print that had to have been from a remnant sale. It had cartoon purple elephants wearing nurses’ uniforms, wielding comically large objects labeled ‘rectal thermometer’, chasing blue and pink spotted giraffes.

She concentrated on not biting the oral thermometer in half. She didn’t want to risk the alternative.

Idly kicking her feet back and forth, she wondered why Doctor Phil had chosen to take care of Sunnydale’s less-than-prosperous clientele. Surely he could do better. But, if he had been doing better, he wouldn’t be seeing her, and she definitely needed to be seen. So, it all evened out, to her mind.

Giles had been banished to the waiting room, although not without protest. The nurse assured him he would only be in the way, and that the doctor would talk to them both as soon as he was through with the exam. Buffy imagined him sitting just outside, miserable and worried on the inside, but trying to put on a brave front. He probably looked really out of place, with his three piece suit and his absentminded-professor face. There was a bunch of little kids out there, too, waiting their turn. She wondered what he’d do if one of those snotty-nosed toddlers decided he’d make a great jungle gym. She was giggling to herself when Doctor Stevenson finally came in, his nurse in tow.

As patiently as she could, Buffy recounted every symptom and incident of strangeness she could recall. The nurse took careful notes, and Doctor Phil, as he insisted on being called, asked questions here and there as he looked at her eyes, ears, nose and throat. They took a blood sample and, to her embarrassment, asked her to fill a small cup with urine. After further poking and prodding, which included a thoroughly undignified pelvic exam, he patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Okay, you’ve done your time. The prisoner can go free. After you get dressed, Betty will show you and Rupert into my office. I’ll have a look at all these tests, then we’ll see what we have."

"Thanks, Doc. Uh, that’s fast, with the tests, I mean. Usually you have to wait a week to find out if you’re dead or not."

Doctor Phil smiled. "I have an ‘in’ with the lab boys... I worked with most of them, at one time or another. They sorta do me favors, if I ask them."

"Cool!" Buffy was anxious to get out of her ugly gown and back into her comfortable tank top and shorts. ‘My clothes are way more modest than this gown they gave me... it’s totally backless!’ In the back of her mind, she could just hear Rupert’s amusement at her sudden modesty.

Once she was dressed, she flagged down her nurse... Betty, her name was... and asked where the office was. Betty showed her to a nondescript door that looked much like the rest of the exam rooms. Before the nurse could send for Giles, Buffy was down the hall and into the waiting room, looking for him.

Sudden shocks seemed to be in the cards this week, she thought. She never expected to see her rather stand-offish husband holding a sleeping baby in one arm while reading a story to two toddlers. An older child was sitting on the coffee table next to them, engrossed in a brightly colored story book. She covered her mouth, trying to hide a smile, and fought to keep tears from blurring her vision. When she’d gained control, she sent him a quick greeting via the Bond.

"Oh, Buffy! There you are. Ah, Mrs... ah, Sanders, if you don’t mind..." A young girl, barely old enough to be a mother at all, got up and took the sleeping boy from Giles. She gave him a grateful smile, and settled back in her chair. The child slept on, content.

The other two, a boy and a girl, protested when he handed them back their book. He shushed them gently. "Now, now, if you would ask nicely, and promise not to wake your brother, I’m sure your mother would finish the story for you." The children beamed, and immediately ran to her side and held the book up imploringly.

Buffy took his arm as they headed back for the office. "That was nice of you, Rupert. How many of those kids out there were hers?"

"All of them. Poor child."

"Oh, my God! four kids? She can’t be a day over eighteen!"

"She’s twenty-one. The two I was reading to are twins. Her husband was laid off from his job, and they lost their medical insurance."

"That’s awful. Good thing Doctor Phil’s around, right?"

"Yes, it certainly does seem to be a good thing."

They entered the small office and sat down to wait. The room was full of books, with only a small area for a desk and some client chairs. The one wall without shelves held a myriad of diplomas, certificates, and licenses. Interspersed with the offical documents were cartoons and funny sayings, all having to do with doctors and nurses. She was trying to read them when the doctor came in.

They both stood as he entered, anxious despite their best efforts to appear calm. He smiled and urged them to sit. Neither of them did. Instead of retreating behind his desk, he perched comfortably on the corner, her file held loosely in his hand. He noted the bruise on Rupert’s face, but decided to ask about it another time.

Buffy was his patient right now, and she needed some answers.

"I’m not going to bore you with long lists of test results." He grinned widely as they both said, "Good!" at the same time. "The bottom line is... Buffy, you’re perfectly healthy."

"That’s not such great news, doc. If I’m okay physically, then this whole mind-trip must be a mental thing."

"No, what you’ve been going through is completely physical."

"But..."

Doctor Phil held up a hand. "Let me get to the end of the story, and it’ll make sense. You’re not having these symptoms because you’re mentally unstable, but because you’re hormonally unstable."

Something like recognition flickered in her eyes. "Hormones... uh, huh, what, am I allergic to my birth-control pills?"

"In a way, yes. Your body has actually developed an immunity to them. I guess the manufacturers weren’t thinking of a Slayer’s metabolism when they made them."

Giles fought the urge to pace, his mind clicking along furiously. "But, if her pills have ceased to be effective, then, that... that..."

"...that would mean..." Buffy waited for him to finish his sentence, still not getting the point.

Dr. Phil broke into a huge grin. "Congratulations!"

"Oh, my God..." Giles collapsed, his legs giving way completely. Luckily, his chair was still right behind him.

Buffy’s mouth flew open. "I’m pregnant??!!!! I haven’t missed a pill in a year, and I’m pregnant?" She placed her hands on her hips angrily. "It figures. Most anybody can take a little pill, and be just fine. But, Buffy? Nooooo, she’s different, she’s special, she’s...." Suddenly, she collapsed right next to her husband, missed the chair, and sat down on the floor with a thud. "...pregnant. Oh, my God, I’m pregnant... I’m gonna have a baby. Rupert..." She turned her face towards his, looking awe-stricken. "...we’re gonna have a baby!"

He nodded. The power of speech had not yet returned to him. He stared down at her, unable to look away.

Dr. Phil continued in a conversational tone, knowing that neither of them was hearing a word he said. "You’re about three to four weeks along, and everything’s almost textbook perfect... except that your symptoms are far more exaggerated than average. That’s not surprising, seeing you’re anything but average. I just hope you don’t experience morning sickness to the same degree..." He started to give her some general health advice, but finally stopped when it was clear the message wasn’t getting through. He folded his arms and watched them with great amusement.

Finally, they looked back to him, still in shock.

"...and I’ve written down everything I’ve gone over in the past five minutes, because none of it has registered with either of you." He laughed and offered Buffy a hand in getting to her feet. Unexpectedly, she hugged the physician so firmly he thought he heard some of his ribs crack. He had just enough breath for a strangled "YOWCH!"

She released him, apologizing quickly, and turned to her catatonic husband. "Rupert, babe, let’s go home. Rupert?" She patted his cheek gently, remembering Dr. Phil’s reaction to her enthusiasm. "Hey, Daddy Giles, let’s get outta here, okay?" She grabbed the small folder that held the papers Dr. Phil was holding out for her, then helped the dazed man beside her to stand.

Giles looked at Buffy, a beatific smile spreading across his face. "I... we... I’m... oh, dear God."

"You have such a command of the English Language, don’cha? Bye, Dr. Phil. Oh, when do I come back?"

"A couple of weeks will be fine, unless you start getting sick. Don’t try and be brave if you can’t keep anything down... we don’t want to risk dehydration at this stage. If you have any problems, or questions, anything, call me, day or night. My card’s in the packet." As they started out the door, Phil called, "Tell MaryAnn at the desk you need to make another appointment. Once again, congratulations!" The door closed. Phil smiled and glanced upwards. "That sure was fun. Thanks for sharing them with me!"

Mrs. Sanders, still holding her sleeping baby in the waiting room, listened as best she could as Buffy scheduled her next visit. The twins were still clamoring for her to read "like Mister Giles, Mommy!" She couldn’t help thinking what a great Dad that nice Mr. Giles would make... even if he was an old guy.

********

"We should have a party tonight."

"What?"

"Party. Merriment. Laughs. Friends. Mom and what’s-his-name. Y’know, celebrate!"

"Wilton is his name."

"You sooo did NOT get the joke I was trying to make, and sooo ignored the whole point of my statement."

"Yes, I did, sorry. It’s... It’s rather short notice, isn’t it?" He still hadn’t recovered from the initial shock.

"No one I know has that much of a life, Rupert, it’s a Tuesday night! I want everyone to come over here and eat junk food and be freakin’ happy with us."

Rupert looked over at his pregnant wife. They were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, feet and legs meeting in the middle. One bare, slender female foot was gently sliding up and down his leg, causing shivers to extend all the way to his heart. He was incredibly, immeasurably happy. Happiness should be shared, should it not?

"I think a party might be nice, dearest. Shall I go pick up some ‘junk food’ while you handle the inviting?"

"Oh, no, I think I’ll ask Xander to go when he gets out of class. You have no idea what to buy. Grapes and jelly donuts are not party food!"

"They’ve served me well in the past." He tried to sound miffed, but he couldn’t.

She laughed and crawled over to him. She made herself very comfortable in his lap, then looked him soberly in the eyes. "You really are a delightful man," she said in her best British accent. "but I have to do what’s best for the group, here. Xander is the junk food connoisseur. You are the Buffy connoisseur. Go with your strengths, Rupert."

He gave up and hugged her close like the precious thing she was.

********

He never realized just how noisy their friends were. There were only ten people in the house, but it sounded like well over a hundred. The stereo was going full blast. Xander was hovering over a bowl of cheesy chips, loudly offering them to everyone in the room and refilling it when it got even slightly low. Willow manned the drinks, breaking out her famous ‘mystery punch’ and forcing everyone to try it. It was actually good. Buffy doled out chips and dip. Joyce brought homemade cookies. Lots of them. She knew Xander would be there. Giles doubted there would be a single cookie left at the end of the night.

The surprise of the evening was Cordelia, who drove out from LA to see for herself what a pregnant slayer looked like. She brought a huge plate of deli meat and cheese, which was immediately attacked from all sides.

Of all her friends, Cordy seemed the least shocked by the news. She stated her theory while balancing a plate of food on her lap. "It was just a matter of time. The only surprise was that it took this long."

Willow looked at Cordelia suspiciously. "How come you thought so when none of us did?"

Cordy smiled smugly. "I’m the only one who wondered what a Slayer’s souped-up system would do to a wimpy little birth-control pill. I guess we know now, don’t we?" She gave a soft giggle. "And they haven’t slowed down since the honeymoon, from what I hear. It’s all timing."

"The pills did work for almost a year. And so, we really like each other. That’s why we got married, y’know." Buffy had given up trying to keep their ‘private life’ out of the conversation. The subject of their celebration had inspired some truly embarrassing comments. She had decided early in the evening to grin and go with the flow.

Rupert, on the other hand, was blushing enough for them both. When Xander arrived, he cornered the new father-to-be immediately, and the topic of their low-voiced conversation left the former Watcher beet red from his ear tips to his collar. There seemed to be a contest underway... to see who could cause Giles the most distress without getting kicked out of the house. So far, Xander seemed to be winning.

Still, as Buffy watched her husband across the room, she knew he was content despite the constant harassment. She could feel the happiness coming off him in waves. He was smiling, a shy, self-conscious grin, ducking his head from time to time, hands in his pockets when he wasn’t holding a glass of Willow’s mystery punch. He was never alone. One by one, the gang all gravitated to him, touching him, teasing him, patting his shoulder, showing their affection for their reticent friend. Even her mother spent some time in earnest conversation with him, smiling and giving him a short, awkward hug before she moved on.

It dawned on her that everyone she loved in the world was here, except for her real father. She had given up on him, learning to love him even though he wasn’t there. He had a place in her heart, but she was through allowing him to break it. Why dwell on what you don’t have, when you have so much already?

She looked at her family. ‘That’s what this is, a family,’ she decided, ‘so, I’m gonna go have some family fun.’

She went to his side and slipped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back until she could look at his face. "Hi, there, Daddy. How’re you holdin’ up? Do you want me to throw Xander out?"

He beamed down at her. "No, Xander hasn’t said anything too horrific, as yet. And I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’m superb. And you’re wonderful." He planted a gentle kiss on top of her head. "Cordelia has an interesting outlook on all this, don’t you think?"

"Cordelia always has an ‘interesting outlook’ on things. That’s what makes her Cordelia. I’m surprised she didn’t bring a maternity magazine with the ‘correct’ outfits circled in red pen."

The party continued for several hours. Suddenly, Rupert realized it was getting late, and they both needed to get up early in the morning. "Ah, darling, I think it’s about time for our guests to leave. We can’t stay out of school again tomorrow, or at least, I can’t. My boss knows you’re all right." He nodded towards Wilton, who was having an animated conversation with Oz, of all people. The man spent most of his time around college students, so he felt at home with Buffy’s friends.

A thought struck him. ‘They’re my friends, as well.’ He looked a little surprised at the revelation. Buffy sent her heartfelt agreement to him via the Bond. She reached over and took his hand, and they began the slow process of saying goodnight.

********

Wednesday passed by like a dream... Buffy was only partially aware of her surroundings. Xander made sure everyone in her classes was aware of her ‘condition,’ much to her annoyance. She endured the attention as patiently as she was able. She just couldn’t get mad at her best guy friend in the world... he was happy for her. For them.

Xander insisted on driving her home. Buffy hoped fervently that he’d get used to her being pregnant and get over it, and soon. The only person she could stand coddling her was her husband. And her mom, of course. But she really, really liked it when Rupert coddled her...

She unlocked the house and went inside, aware that it was quite empty. There was a certain presence she could sense when her husband was home. Or maybe it was just that he always put his briefcase in the same spot. That was Rupert... predictable, dependable, adorable...

The sound of a strange car pulling into their driveway stirred her out of her reverie. She went out the front door just as Giles got out and started towards her. When the driver came around the car a moment later, she recognized him immediately. Father Denning. She waved at him and gave her husband a kiss as he came up the porch steps. They turned, his arm around her, and waited for their guest to join them.

"Hi, Father D. Did you take Rupert to raise, all of a sudden?"

The priest laughed. "No, but I’d imagine he’s on the lookout for a new vehicle already. He had to bum a ride to work this morning, and would’ve been in the same boat this afternoon, if I hadn’t stopped by."

Buffy looked at Rupert with alarm. "Why didn’t you say something, babe? I coulda dropped you off, or let you have my car..."

"We both had other things on our minds, love."

"But, how did you get to school Monday? And you were there at lunch..."

"Called a cab Monday morning, and borrowed your step-father’s car at noon." He attempted to steer her into the house, but she stopped again, determined to get all the pertinent details out of him.

"How’d you get home?"

"Xander. After he dropped you off, he came over and waited for me in my office."

"He never said anything."

"No, he wouldn’t. It wasn’t... embarrassing enough to merit comment."

"Besides, he had all that really good stuff to hit you with!" Buffy laughed and turned to Father Denning. "I’m sorry we’re such poor hosts. Won’t you come in? Have a lemonade?"

"Thank you, Buffy, but I’ve got to visit a parishioner in the hospital. I promised to come by just before dinner and give her a blessing so she wouldn’t choke on ‘that infernal hospital slop’ they’re feeding her."

They all laughed at that. Giles felt especially sympathetic. He didn’t care much for hospital food, either. He’d had far too much of it in his day.

Buffy suddenly realized she’d never properly thanked Father Denning for introducing them to Dr. Phil. "Uh, Father D... I just wanted to tell you... well, thanks for everything. I really didn’t want to go see my family doctor. He always looked at me like I had three heads, or something."

"You’re quite welcome, young lady. I’m always happy to be of help. Phil is truly extraordinary. And, I might add, so are the two of you."

They said their good-byes, and the priest was on his way back to the car when Buffy called out, "Hey, tell God I said ‘thanks,’ too, okay?"

Father Denning looked back up at her. "You should probably tell him that yourself, child. He’s waiting to hear it, I’m sure."

She smiled at that, and waved once more before going inside.

He sensed her pensive mood, and gave her a quick hug before going upstairs to change. Lost in her inner thoughts, she wandered into the living room, touching the couch as if she’d never seen it before. Their home, their haven, seemed all the more precious now. It didn’t matter where they lived... where the two of them were, it was home. Soon, it would be the three of them. Her heart swelled inside her. We’re making a family, ‘cause we’ve already made a home.

Buffy stepped off the back deck and wandered out into the brilliant afternoon sun. She could hear an amazing variety of sounds. A dog was barking a few houses over. Children played across the street. Cars passed. Birds were singing everywhere. Someone’s radio was going, too far away to make out the actual style of music.

She placed her hands on her stomach and took a deep breath, in awe of the miracle that was life. Gratitude almost overwhelmed her, but she didn’t really know what to say... how to begin. What were you supposed to say to God, when you talked to him?

She smiled as she looked up into the sky, gave a hesitant wave, and said, "Hi."