Part Four

Joyce tossed the Sunday paper to one side and opened the kitchen door for one very overloaded Rupert Giles.

"Oh thank you!" He said gratefully as he stopped fumbling with the keyring. "I am such a bother."

"You are not a bother." She disagreed as he swept by carrying an armload of books, two papers, stack of folders and a garment bag. Putting one hand on her hip she wagged a finger at him. "But if you keep bringing in a half a dozen books a day I'm going to have to put in a card catalogue."

Giles' brow wrinkled. "I hope that was a joke."

"Yes, it was a joke." Joyce confirmed. "I wish you would relax. Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes please, just let me put these things away." He stopped in the doorway and turned back toward his hostess. "And as for the relaxing, that might be wishful thinking. Detective Marcum left his card in my door for the world to see. They want me to come to the station tomorrow morning." His face went dark with annoyance. "I told them I was here so why would they leave their card over there?"

"They are psyching you out." Joyce answered. "I've watched 'NYPD' and 'Homicide' enough to know that."

"So they 'do' think I am a suspect. Wonderful."

"Maybe you should call a lawyer?"

"I have nothing to hide, I was not involved." Giles dropped his bundle onto the deacon's bench in the hall and came back into the kitchen proper. "Joyce! There is no reason for me to secure legal representation!"

"They are going to walk all over you." She cautioned as she poured two cups of coffee. Sitting them down on the island she motioned for Rupert to join her. "And just because you have a lawyer does not mean you are guilty."

Rupert sat down and rested his forehead in his hands. Worse case scenarios flooded his mind; prison, deportation, his name dragged through the mud. Who did this? Besides his small Sunnydale circle only the undead had any dealings with Ethan. "Perhaps Wesley was correct." He whispered.

"How so?"

"The idea that vampires and their human allies are responsible is beginning to seem more and more plausible." Giles raised his head and stared out the window. "I will try to get Detective Stein alone and present this possibility to him."

"And then he will call the men with the nets!" Joyce snorted. "Take my advice and call Mr. Arbogast. We used him when we had that problem with Ted and..."

"Detective Stein knows the truth about Sunnydale. He told me that much, I believe I can trust him." He turned back toward Joyce. "I will tell him 'everything' about Ethan and his schemes." Taking Joyce's hand he nodded with a thin smile. "I promise if it does not go well, I will then hire this Mr. Arbogast."

Joyce sighed. "If you promise."

"On my honor."

"I'll hold you to that." Joyce left her hand in his as she took a sip of coffee. "We have to get this cleared up so you can go to the wedding."

Rupert half smiled. "True.... from what Matthew has told me, it's not going to be one to miss."

"I guess Buffy is going to miss it, she said she doesn't want to go." Joyce said somewhat sadly. "Buffy has been so distant since she left for college. Not as if she told me much before..." As her voice faded out she clasp her hands and rested her chin on them. "Forgive me, but Friday I asked the girls about you and Matthew. Got the whole story about that vampire and the Blanchards and the Alliance, then they told me about the falling out with the Council... and everything else."

"You have no reason to ask for forgiveness. I on the other hand...." Giles went silent and stared into his coffee mug. "My past, especially my 'Ripper' days seems to haunt both myself and all those around me. I am the one who should beg everyone's forgiveness, starting with you."

Joyce took his hand. "Don't say that. You changed your life then you did your job and you don't have to apologize to anyone."

"Thank you, those are I words I needed to hear." Rupert forced a thin smile as he withdrew his hand from under hers. He cleared his throat and made an obvious change in the subject. "Tell me, is Willow planning on going to the wedding?"

"Yes, she wants to. Said it sounded like fun and she wants to see Xander. You know, I didn't even know he was in Louisiana."

"He's been there since late July." Rupert sat back and began to clean his glasses. "He is doing well from what I have heard. Has a lady friend and has taken quite well to the Alliance training."

"They sound like an interesting bunch."

Rupert arched and eyebrow and gave Joyce a true grin. "I'm sure that perspective came from Willow, Buffy would have presented her opinion in a quite different light."

Joyce mirrored Rupert's expression. "Oh, you could say that."

Replacing his glasses he made a 'cluck' noise. "Buffy and Matthew, they reminded me of two squabbling siblings. Each would rather have some sort of invasive medical test than admit the other has any redeeming value." Giles shook his head. "I will admit that Matthew can be rather...troublesome, but...."

"As if Buffy has never been 'troublesome'?" Joyce interjected. "Or you? Willow did say that you and Matt are just, quote - totally alike - unquote."

"Thank you Joyce, you have know idea how many souls have made that observation." Rupert shifted a bit in his seat. "And by the way, I will know better the next time. Dishwasher soap, not dishwashing soap in that contraption."

"I think everyone does that... once."

"Have you?"

Joyce smiled and shook her head "no" and watched as an expression of mock annoyance flashed across his face. She was glad to see him relaxing a tiny bit. He had spent he first day pacing around like a caged bear and the second underfoot as he tried to 'help'. With a small chuckle she offered up a confession. "But I did cook my first Thanksgiving turkey without taking that bag of parts out."

"I'll wager that was delightful." Rupert said as he got up and went over to the coffee pot. Bringing it back to the island he poured Joyce and himself a second cup. "Perhaps I should give Matthew a list of things 'not' to do around the house."

"Not a bad idea." She looked up at him. "You seem to be happier about the whole wedding thing than you were."

"Oh... slightly. It's his life and I am not really in a position to offer much criticism." Rupert put the coffee pot back and stared out the window. "I never knew he existed until the day he arrived at my doorstep and gave me a well deserved beating."

"Yeah, Willow told me all that. But really Rupert, I think you're being too hard on yourself." Joyce said softly as she got up and joined him at the window.

"Am I?" Rupert rubbed his forehead and turned to Joyce. "I think I can safely say we both know what a hellion I was in my 'younger' days. And Matthew... Matthew is so much like I was at his age it's like looking in a mirror." He shut his eyes and let out a ragged exhale. "That's what worries me the most I'm afraid he will not commit, afraid that he's getting in over his head, worried to death that he is not up to being a husband and father."

"Worry? That's what parents do best. It's our job." She patted him on the arm and smiled. "Sounds like you're getting the hang of this 'dad' thing."

"And if I live to be one hundred and thirty I might get the total 'hang' of it."

"Remember you turned out allright and I'm sure he will too. Someday I would like to meet him."

"I suppose you are correct. All one can do is hope and pray for the best." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Would you like to be my guest at the wedding?"

Without hesitation Joyce accepted. "I would love to!"

"You won't feel foolish dancing with a grandfather to be at the reception?"

"Only if you don't mind my crying my eyes out during the ceremony." Joyce quipped back.

"Very good. Now all we have to do is settle things around here." Rupert bit his lip as the problem at hand came rushing back into his mind.

"I'm sure it will be over with by then." Joyce said with a nod. "Has Wesley heard anything from his Uncle?"

"As of last night, no." Rupert retrieved his coffee and brought Joyce hers. "Wesley rang him up twice on Friday and twice yesterday. Each time he left an 'urgent' message with the household staff." Rupert laughed a bit. "I assume there will be two or three more calls today. Mr. Wyndam-Pryce can be a bit tenacious... when he wants to be."

"Tenacious?" Joyce rolled her eyes. "You are being so kind."

*******

"Of course." Conrad-Chaney removed the phone from his ear and waved it around a bit as he dug some paper out of the nightstand drawer. Putting the receiver back to his ear he agreed with the last comment concerning his nephew. "Yes, Joseph.. he is quite the annoying little trainspotter. Give me that number again and I will contact him sometime today." Douglas wrote the information down and circled it on the pad. "Now, on to more important things than my dear sister's youngest curse upon the Earth; did Mr. Travers come through with the Alliance information and, or the possibility that Rupert Giles has a son?"

Leaning against the wall McKinley took a long drink of his beer to hide his growing smile as he listened to Conrad-Chaney mumble into the phone. This job was a cakewalk, a very profitable cakewalk. Every time he suggested something Douglas jumped on it, with his price not even being a factor.

Sean idly ran a finger around the edge of his can as he thought about his employer. Now he had worked for some serious wackos over the years, but nothing like this guy. He glanced over to the sacks of magic supplies Douglas had purchased the day before and choked back a full blown belly laugh. This guy thought he was a sorcerer, but then so did the stiff and supposedly the original mark was a witch. And her roomie was a... vampire slayer? Oh yes! Vampires, vampires everywhere! Being chased by this Council and by this Alliance - state secret you know.

"Would you be quiet?" Douglas growled as McKinley's laughter cut through the air.

With a 'brush off' wave of the hand Sean straightened up and went out onto the balcony. Leaning on the rail he watched the joggers and tourists pass by on the boardwalk taking a special interest in lone women. The vertical blinds parted and Douglas motioned him back in.

"It is going better than planned...." Douglas began, tossing his notes down on the table and squeezing into one of the chairs. "...My dear nephew wants to contact me regarding breathlessly important matters."

"So?" Sean snotted as he moved the remains of Conrad-Chaney's lunch over to one side and sat down opposite of him.

Douglas picked up his notes and assumed the air of a professor explaining some obvious point to a particularly dense student. "I told you, Wesley is the Watcher."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. The one who takes care of the blonde." Sean interrupted not even bother hiding his smile. "The blonde who saves the world from..." He hunched over the table and theatrically snapped his teeth to punctuate the last word. "...vampires!"

"Are you finished being an ass?" Douglas huffed.

"Yeah, yeah pal. Go on - I'm listening." Sean answered with a final snort. Conrad-Chaney rolled his shoulders and glared. "As I was saying, Wesley is the Watcher. Last March he reported possible Alliance interference in violation of the 1878 agreement."

"No shit!" Sean interjected with overt sarcasm.

"Pay attention!" Douglas barked with a slap of his hand onto the table. "A second report three days later stated that this group was there for personal reasons and had left without incident. But obviously this was not the case, for now Wesley is in with them enough to be invited to an Alliance wedding." A faint smile flickered on his lips. "Perhaps the little fuckwit has finally learned the advantages of keeping a bit of information back for his own use.... doubtful, but possible."

Sean reached over and poured the last of the coffee into his cup. "Right, what's this got to do with the operation? Did your contact confirm that this Matt is the mark's kid? Come on Douggie, let's hear it."

Douglas snorted at McKinley's impertinence. "Yes, my contact confirmed that two, almost three years ago a young man claiming to be Rupert's son arrived at the Council's estate demanding to know where his father was stationed. He was unceremoniously shown the door."

"And what about these other guys?"

"We do not have any current information regarding the Alliance operatives, but they have historically been very clannish and there is no reason to suspect that has changed. There are three main groups of them, each a tight knit family within a very tight knit organization." Douglas dug through his notes tapping his pen on the table as he went back over the exchange between Willow and Matthew. "Vermont, the wedding is in Vermont so that means it's one of the Karn women."

"Damn shame, a widow on her wedding night." McKinley said with feigned pity.

"Well, she can commiserate with the Slayer and the other Alliance survivors... widows and orphans should stay together." Douglas added with a cold grin. "I do hope Wesley has the foresight to pack a black suit." His expression faded to cold malice. "Two birds with one stone. The Alliance gutted and our wayward Slayer left without mother or mentor."

McKinley rubbed his hands together. "So, what you want me to do? Pipe bomb in the limo? Fire in the reception hall?"

"You underestimate the scope of the operation Sir! The strike will be much more selective than that. I want a minimum of one out of every family dead along with the Slayer's mother and the groom.

So we're talking at least five additional marks plus pinning the Sunnydale stiff on your pal? It's gonna cost you." Sean grinned evilly. "I might need to bring in a partner."

"I have already thought of that. I am meeting tonight with a local contact who can unearth some assistance."

"Rule one, I don't work with an unknown crew." McKinley snapped.

Douglas stood and stretched. "Don't worry, I can guarantee that you will be the absolute leader of the pack. Trust me, these people are just as cold and heartless as you are." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I better call Wesley before he splits a seam. You go on back to your hotel, we'll meet over at the cable car turnabout at Market and Powell at sunset."

"I don't like it."

"Not my problem. Believe me McKinley you can trust these people to do the job." Conrad-Chaney tossed his head toward the door. "Now go! I want to make my call and take a nap."

Sean thought for a moment about this turn of events. "Good for you. I 'want' half of the balance now. Forty grand, pay up or I'm history."

"Twenty thousand will be transferred to your account as soon as the banks open in the morning." Douglas countered a little to quickly for the merc's comfort.

"I said forty... you trying to fuck with me?" Sean asked with more than a bit of menace.

"Absolutely not, but remember I do control the purse strings. If you want your money you will finish the job according to my plan." Douglas went silent and glared back at McKinley. "Have we reached an understanding?"

"Yeah, we have an 'understanding'. Transfer it, and you better make sure it's there by the end of business tomorrow." Sean stood and sauntered over to the door. "I'll see you at sunset."

Douglas waited until McKinley left before he dialed Wesley.

"Wesley!" Douglas shouted into the phone before his nephew even had a chance to say the first word. "How are you lad? Joseph said you have been trying to contact me!"

"Oh! Thank you for getting back to me. There has been a terrible murder and I am concerned about the safety of Miss... ah, The Slayer." Wesley began to stutter a bit. "Y-y-you see, Uncle... ah, it, it has been brought to... I know it's ri-ridiculous... but.."

"Calm down, calm down..." Conrad-Chaney's voice took on a fatherly tone. "Does this concern (ahem) Council business?"

"Ah, yes Sir. As I said there was a murder.."

"Say no more Wesley! Have you forgotten your training? Remember you must use discretion when passing along sensitive information."

Chastened, Wesley mumbled an apology.

"Now lad, by chance I am in San Francisco. I see that your area code preface puts you also in California, I believe we should meet here tomorrow."

"Uncle Douglas! San Francisco is at least six hours away."

Douglas began to laugh. "Six hours is not a lengthy trip. Listen to me, I have a meeting tonight with a Chinatown rare book dealer, but tomorrow I am free. I want you to drive here and meet me at... humm, met me at The Cliff House between noon and one tomorrow."

"What? Where?" Wesley's voice went up an octave. "I'm not familiar with..."

"Get a map. The Cliff House is at Seal Rocks. I will be expecting you." He paused for a moment before adding. "Unless this is not really that important."

"Oh yes Sir. It is very important. Cliff House at Seal Rocks, San Francisco - I will be there."

"Very good. Goodbye Wesley."

"Goodbye, Sir."

Douglas hung up the phone and snorted. "Well lunch tomorrow is ruined, the things I subject myself to in the line of duty." He reached down with a grunt and grabbed the sacks from the magic shop. Dumping them out onto the table he began to sort through the items occasionally mumbling to himself as he sprinkled the ingredients into a large brass bowl. Satisfied with the mixture he pulled the last two items toward himself, Buffy's fouled blue top and a length of braided leather cord. With a curl of his lip he laid the silky 'T' out flat on the table and taking a pair of scissors began to cut around the semen stain. He shook his head at the audacity of the mercenary, he had raped the Slayer and then kept this as a souvenir. "You should keep your perverted little treasures a secret Mr. McKinley." Conrad-Chaney said outloud as he finished his task.

Giving the unstained section of blouse a toss onto the floor Douglas began to cut the piece of cloth into smaller and smaller shreds until all that was left was a mass of fibers which he sprinkled into the bowl. Taking the leather cord he coiled it into a spiral on top of the entire heap. "That should do the trick." Douglas began to laugh in anticipation of the surprise awaiting Sean. "My friend, tonight you will become a believer."

Buffy slipped down the stairs trying to look uninterested in the scene playing out in the living room. Detective Stein and Giles had been there for over an hour talking quietly. She pursed her lips and almost wished for a shouting match between the two men, at least then she would able to hear what was going on. As she walked toward the kitchen she stole a covert glance at them, taking in the fact that Stein had laid his notebook on the table and both men seemed relaxed.

"What are they doing in there?"

Joyce glanced around toward Buffy and shrugged her shoulders.

"Shouldn't Giles have a lawyer or something?"

"I told him he should, but he wouldn't listen." Joyce opened the oven an peered in. "I think this is about done."

"Turkey, dressing, two veggies, salad, pie." Buffy twisted up her face as she listed off the menu. "Okay Mom, what's going on?"

"Can't we have a nice supper every once in awhile?"

"Uh-huh.... yeah." Buffy's voice took on a suspicious tone. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"What are you getting at?" Joyce asked with more than a bit of annoyance over her daughter's question.

"Nothing, never mind." Buffy mumbled as she looked every direction but at her mother. "It's just I don't get why you want him here."

Joyce took the turkey out of the oven and tossed the hotpads onto the counter. "Because of the circumstances, you know that." She crossed her arms. "And no, I have not been sleeping with him, if that is what you wanted to know."

Buffy twitched. "Good, 'cause that is just too weird for me to think about anymore."

"What's too 'weird'? That Rupert and I might be human?"

"Can we change the subject?"

"Sure." Joyce arched her eyebrow. "When are you and Willow going back to the dorm?"

"Why?" Buffy arched an eyebrow right back at Joyce. "You want to get rid of us so you and Giles can be alone and 'eeeww'?"

"Nooooo, I want to know how many people are going to be here this next week so I can plan the grocery list. Thought we were changing the subject?"

"Yeah, it's changed. Want me to set the table?"

"Yes please. Oh, and by the way I'm going to Vermont with Rupert next month."

"WHAT!"

"For his son's wedding next..."

"Mom... you can't do that! What about the gallery? Who's going to take care of the gallery? How's that going to look!" Buffy's eyes widened. "With Giles? To an Alliance thing? Those people are..."

"Since you declined the invitation 'you' can watch the gallery. And personally I think they sound interesting and I would love to meet his son."

"He's a jerk Mom! A total jerk! And what will everyone say if you go off with Giles?" She rolled her eyes. "My life is over!"

"Are we being a little theatrical?"

"I have two words, 'police car and handcuffs'."

"Ahem.... that's four words." Rupert observed from the doorway.

Joyce quickly turned and stirred the first pot on the stove, Buffy grimaced and waved at Rupert. "Hey.. ah... is the cop gone?"

"Yes. I still have to go to the station tomorrow for the benefit of his partner, but I believe we now have an understanding."

Buffy nodded, grabbed a stack of plates from the cupboard and disappeared into the dining room.

"Did I interrupt?" Giles asked dryly.

"I'm glad you did." Joyce said with a sigh. "I think Buffy is having a problem with you being here. I don't think she trusts us because of...you know."

Rupert shifted a bit on his feet. "Ah... yes. I know."

"Are you uncomfortable here?" Joyce asked, taking in Rupert's fidgeting.

He hemmed and hawed for a second before answering. "Not exactly 'uncomfortable'. But your neighbor, Mrs. Thompson did give me a funny look this morning. I don't want you to be the object of neighborhood gossip, and Buffy is not happy with the arrangements."

"Do I look worried about it?" Joyce said with a small laugh. "When we moved in here Mrs. Thompson almost fell out her window trying to see exactly what kind of furniture we had. And as for Buffy? Well she's just going to have to get over it."

Buffy reappeared in the doorway. "I have to get over what?"

"That what happened, just happened and that Mr. Giles is here until all this is figured out." Joyce answered as she handed her daughter the silverware.

"Yes Buffy. You can trust me to be a gentleman."

"I suppose so.... as long as there isn't a stash of candy around here."

Joyce's face darkened with irritation for a split second before it turned into mock innocent grin. "I only have two or three left." She reached over and manually closed Buffy's dropped jaw. "Now finish setting the table and tell Willow that supper is almost ready."

Buffy picked up the silverware. "You are joking? Right?"

Joyce just smiled.

Rupert glanced back and forth between Buffy and Joyce his embarrassment growing with each passing moment. On the average Buffy had sniped at him about once a week for the first month after she had found out about their indiscretion. He had tried to explain to her that it was the candy but still she wasn't dealing with it well. Joyce on the other hand seemed to be enjoying tweaking her daughter.

Rupert removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes Buffy she was joking."

"So what did the detective say?" Joyce inquired as Buffy turned on her heel.

"I told him everything about Ethan.... everything. He seemed to be receptive to the information, which is good." Rupert rubbed his chin for a moment and thought. "Maybe a little too receptive. I honestly don't know what he's thinking." His brow furrowed as his mind went back to the conversation. Stein had allowed him to ramble on but had not shown one of his cards in return. In hindsight this was not a good sign.

"You look worried."

Giles composed himself and managed a thin smile. "No, I'm... I'm just thinking about Ethan. He... he always said he never wanted cremated. 'Why burn twice?', that's a direct quote. But his brother wanted to save a few pounds on the 'shipping and packing'..." His voice faded out and he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "But... so be it. Do you need any help?"

"Yes, would you please take the pie in and put it on the sideboard?" Joyce answered softly. She gave Rupert a covert glance and was struck by how it seemed he had aged ten years in the last ten seconds. She reached over and flipped on the kitchen light. "I can take care of the rest, you just go put your feet up."

"You are spoiling me, Joyce. Why?"

Joyce turned to get a serving bowl from the cupboard. "You want the truth?"

Pulling up a stool Rupert sat and rested his chin on his folded hands before nodding his answer.

"Well, you're a very interesting man to have around."

"I'm flattered."

Leaning up against the counter, bowl in hand Joyce made a 'tisk-tisk' noise. "Mysterious, like a knight-errant, but I'm not sure what color your armor is."

"I believe the armor is tarnished and the lance is cracked."

She sat the bowl down and came over to him. Taking his hands into hers she smiled. "I don't think so."

Giles made no effort to pull away from the touch. He simply smiled and said. "Thank you."