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She’d been missing for over a week now without a word. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Giles conceded. Buffy had left a note with her mother. A very vague note that had said absolutely nothing about where she would actually be going. Giles couldn’t believe that she had taken off.

Well, that wasn’t true either. He could believe that she had taken off. She was only seventeen-years-old for goodness sake, and she had been dealt a ferocious hand. The weight of the world had been put on her very young shoulders, and she’d crumbled under the pressure of it. Giles couldn’t blame her for that.

Giles sat in his apartment, nursing a glass of scotch, scouring through his address book, searching for people who might have had leads on where his young charge might have gone.

He had to admit that he was worried sick. Especially at this time. He’d received word from the Ministry of Magic that Lord Voldemort had risen, which could only mean one thing. Dark times were ahead. Very dark times indeed. And Buffy had no idea about the danger she could be in if…Giles didn’t even want to finish the thought.

A gentle tapping at his window broke him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw a tawny brown owl hovering at the windowsill. Giles’ brow furrowed and he stood up, praying for good news. He’d contacted the Ministry the second he’d realised that Buffy had gone missing, and everyone in the Magic World had been put on alert.

Giles opened the window, allowing the owl to swoop majestically into the room. It dropped a letter onto the table and perched itself on the back of the chair. Giles picked up the envelope and opened it quickly.

Dear Rupert,

Fear not, your young charge is both alive and well. She was last seen getting off a bus in the Los Angeles region. I’d suggest, dear friend, that you find her very soon, for I fear that the Dark Lord will be quick to locate her. Please keep us informed, Rupert. She could very well be the Light from the Dark that we have been waiting for. I’ll await your owl.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbeldore.

Giles scanned over the letter again, his breath catching in his throat. Buffy was alive! That was all that mattered. He hurried up the stairs to the loft and grabbed a duffle bag, throwing several changes of clothes into it before racing into the bathroom to grab his toiletries. With a quick look to ensure his pain medication was packed in the small bag as well, Giles dashed out of his apartment towards his rusty old Citroen, praying to whatever higher Powers that he would find Buffy and be able to bring her home before anything (more) horrible could happen to her.

“How did you find me here?” she asked, nestling back into the comfort of his arms.

“If I was blind, I would see you,” Angel replied, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist.

“Stay with me.”

“Forever,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “That's the whole point. I'll never leave. Not even if you kill me.”

Buffy tensed in his arms and turned to look at him. Before she could catch a glimpse of his beautiful –angelic- face, she awoke with a start.

She fought back tears and stood, moving shakily towards the window, looking out over the deserted street in one of the worst parts of LA. A siren sounded in the distance, but Buffy refused to give in to the tears that threatened to fall.

He didn’t even know where to begin looking. LA was a big city, and considering Buffy had grown up there and knew the area well, he’d have problems finding someone who had no desire to be found.

Giles sighed and pulled his car into an almost empty parking lot. It was still early yet, not even eight in the morning. The owl had arrived at five-thirty, and Giles had set out straight away.

His stomach growled angrily, and with a sigh, Giles scanned the street, searching for somewhere that looked even halfway decent. He settled on a small diner named Helen’s Kitchen. He sighed as he took in the sleazy exterior, but he knew that he was desperate enough to eat just about anything.

He entered, taking a seat near the window in case he should see Buffy walk along the street for any reason. He grabbed the menu, and scanned down the list with tired eyes.

She hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep after the dream about Angel. That wasn’t anything new though. She’d been dreaming about him for the last week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d been dreaming about him vividly since her seventeenth birthday. When things had gone, literally, to hell.

The dreams were beginning to weigh her down, her once proud posture becoming slumped and defeated, her voice tired and weary. Thoughts of suicide had strolled through her head more times than she would care to admit, but she was a fighter. She wasn’t about to give in.

She sighed as she saw another customer enter and take a seat by the window. It was too early in the morning for her to be paying much attention.

“You wanna take him?” Michelle asked.

Buffy just nodded and flicked her hair out of her eyes, slowly wandering up to the customer who had his nose buried in the menu.

“Can I take your order?”

The man looked up and Buffy felt complete and utter panic. Giles. Her eyes widened, whether in fear or astonishment she didn’t know. She fumbled with her notepad and swallowed nervously.

He just stared at her in shock. He hadn’t been expecting it to be that easy. He’d been expecting to have to hunt for her for the next week. He hadn’t even been in LA for two minutes and he had already found her.

“Buffy,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard and nervously looked around for the closest exit, not ready to have to deal with her life. Not ready to deal with the reality of what she had done. Not ready to tell anyone that she had betrayed her lover by sending him to the pits of hell for all eternity.

A glare from her manager stopped her dead in her tracks. She needed to keep this job if she wanted to stay in her apartment.

“Dear god…it’s you,” he continued, his voice quiet.

She wanted desperately to crumble, to let her Watcher take care of her. She wanted to take comfort in the man who had become her father in every way except blood. She wanted to sink into the booth beside him and tell him what had happened. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t allow herself even a moment’s weakness.

“Say something,” he implored.

Buffy felt a tear slip from her eyes. Before she even knew what had happened, Giles had stood and was hugging her tightly. Buffy felt something inside of her shatter and she let herself break down in his arms, a dam of tears opening up as she felt his warm arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He just held her tightly, rocking her gently and stroking her hair, whispering nonsense words into her ear. Giles looked up to see the disapproving glare that Buffy’s manager was giving them. Giles reached around to Buffy’s back and undid the apron around Buffy’s waist. Buffy didn’t even seem to notice, too caught up in her grief to even realise what Giles was doing.

Giles threw the piece of cloth onto the counter and quickly led Buffy out of the diner, a quick look over his shoulder.

“She’ll not be coming back,” Giles said.

The door closed behind them before the managed could even get a word in edgewise.

She finally composed herself, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief that Giles offered her. She gave him a watery smile as he sat them both down on a park bench that overlooked the beach.

“How did you find me?” she asked quietly.

“A friend,” he replied.

She nodded and sniffled, looking away from her mentor. Her father. The scars on his face were nearly completely gone now, but his fingers were still in splints. She couldn’t help but feel that the blame for his cuts and bruises lay directly with her.

“Will…will you come back with me?” he asked gently. “Will you come home?”

She felt a sense of panic within her at the thought of returning to Sunnydale. She’d hurt all her friends, nearly killed the people she loved most in the world. Kendra was dead because of her, Angel was in hell, Willow had been put in a wheelchair.

“I…I don’t think I’m ready,” she replied.

He nodded and just held her close to him. She was startled by this unusual show of affection between them, but she knew that he was doing this for her. Because she needed it.

“It’s not really safe here,” he said. “Not by yourself.”

“I’m the Slayer, Giles,” she replied.

He swallowed hard and just pulled her closer to him. How could he tell her this now? How could he tell her that the danger she was in was not from vampires or demons. It was from something she had had no preparation for. Something she had probably never even considered.

How on earth was he meant to tell Buffy that she wasn’t, and never had been, the Slayer?

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