SOMEWHERE IN SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA. Circa 1999-2000

A lone figure walked down the near empty streets of the quaint town of Sunnydale. The barrel chested man smiled at several couples as they passed him, then smiled with some amusement as they scurried away from him. As he passed several closed storefronts, the man paused, smelling something in the air. Curious, he looked across the empty street and saw two demons emerge from an alley. Walking across the street. The man saw a door opened and closed as two more demons emerged from the entrance. Then without hesitation he ducked into the establishment called ‘Willie’s Lounge’.

As he descended the steps, the man could hear several loud sounds coming from the bottom of the stairs. The loudest being a song that he had heard for the first time over thirty years ago, by that horrible man pounding on the pianoforte and wailing ‘Goodness gracious, Great balls of fire!’ Absently, he had thought that it was a pity that he had not killed the singer when he had the chance. Better yet, he should have killed that Presley fellow before he had started the entire disturbing change in music. But how could a man of God like him kill a man who had obviously loved his mother and sang church songs with such intensity?

Pushing his wayward thoughts away, he walked through the door and his senses were assaulted by the scents of blood, oil, sweat and demon. Looking around, the man could see several of his kind sitting or standing at the bar, drinking mugs of a dark, red liquid as they conversed with humans or other demons. Two demons were playing a round of darts, with a couple of humans keeping score. Walking cautiously up to the bar, he waited for the small barkeep to notice him.

With tired, but watchful eyes and a nasal voice, the barkeep handed over a menu and asked, “What’s your poison, padre? The Midnight special is OB-negative, high on the white count, fresh from a blood bank in Seattle, which costs extra but it’s worth every penny. Then we also got the regular stuff, with the Day’s Specialty being Kangaroo and Llama. If you want texture we got two specialties: the Haggis with Lentil-Blood Soup and the Hearty Liquid Mash-“

“I don’t want anything from the menu, thank you. I already had a bite to eat before I got here,” the man said as he put down the menu and looked at the barkeep. “I was just wondering if you would have a bit of information for me.”

The barkeep frowned as he looked at the vampire. “I’m outta that information business, padre. I don’t deal with information anymore. Who ever told you that Willie was still in the business was definitely late in hearing the news. And you can put the ridge face back, that ain’t gonna work on me. I’ve got more to be scared of than any of you, vamps. If you want something to drink or have a bit of texture with you blood, I can help you. Need to find a nest for the night, I got connections. But I can’t help you with the info, I’m outta that business.”

Angry that his face ploy hadn’t worked, the man returned his face back to normal as he pulled out a small wad of bills an started to fan them out on the bar counter. “Are you sure? The exchange of information could be very profitable for you.”

Willie looked at the man suspiciously. “What’d you want to know?”

“Where does the Slayer and her Watcher live?”

Across the street of Giles’s Apartment Complex:

Faith cursed again as she watched Ethan Rayne do nothing but sit in his crappy car and stare at Giles’s house. “What the fuck are you waiting for? You’ve been out here for the last thirty minutes, make your fucking move already, Goddamn it!”

She growled with frustration when the car and its occupant did nothing but sit there. Faith pulled out her jack-knife, and started to clean out the dirt underneath her fingernails as she scowled. “Fucking lame job if you ask me.” Then she mimicked the mayor’s voice. ”Faith, will you watch Ethan for me? Don’t want him to cause any trouble in my plans. That’s a good girl. Now eat your fruit.’ Shoulda gotten one of the vamps to do this job.”

She started to perk up when he moved towards the door, then the other and then moved back to his seat. Faith narrowed her eyes. “You just did that to open the windows, you asshole? Fine…lemme give you a warning, you limey asshole, if you’re still sitting the next two minutes, I’ll just drag you to the Mayor and make you deal with him.”

As Ethan sat inside his rented car, he looked at Ripper’s flat. “No lights, nobody home. Janitor at the school said you weren’t there either. Figures you wouldn’t be anywhere I can find you. Now where the hell are you, mate?”

Tapping on the steering wheel, Ethan thought hard of where he could go. There was always a chance that Ripper went patrolling with the lovely and nubile, if violent, Buffy. Or he could be out of town for the moment. “Which would entirely coincide with the way that my luck is going.”

Ethan tapped on the steering wheel some more, then winced as his body protested the minor movement. Somewhere on the way toward Ripper’s house, he had developed some kind of a skin rash, if he didn’t know better, he’d think that it was sunburn. Which meant that something was happening to the red dragon. Willing away his thoughts, he forced himself to think about what to do next. “Bloody hell, I really don’t feel like cruising the cemeteries, something might come up and eat me.”

“Well, I could start making come trouble and let the Slayer come to me and have her take me to Ripper,” Ethan mused as he thought of his choices. “Of course that’ll be very painful when she gets to me and that’ll make Ripper want to help me with my minor dragon problem. Bloody stuffy in here.”

As he rolled down the two front windows to let the cool breeze go through the car, he winced again. Looking closely at his arm, he could actually feel the hairs on his arm move, and that hurt. By the rate that he was hurting, he could only assume that the dragon was closer and she was getting into painful trouble…just like him.

“Now that’s a scary thought,” Ethan muttered. “A dragon that’s a chip off the old block. Just what I don’t need.”

Then the proverbial light hit his head. As he started the car, he had to admit that he didn’t like it, but there was no other place to go…

Inside Ethan Rayne’s Motel Room:

Buffy rubbed her eyes in frustration as she paced around the room. “This is so stupid of him! You’d think that Ethan Rayne would know better than to come here and try and make trouble for us again!”

“I’d say that he would be the one in more trouble this time,” Giles said as he looked up from the book he was trying to translate on the spur of the moment. He scanned the other titles in the suitcase; a small line appeared as he knitted his eyebrows together. “I’m not quite sure of what these texts are about-but I’m sure that it will not bode well for us. I think that we had better gather these and take them with us.”

Buffy scowled as she looked at the collection of musty, old and tattered tomes that were unpacked in a very used suitcase. “Oh, joy. More research. I am so thrilled to be spending my time like this!”

“Buffy, do stop dawdling,” Giles said as he closed up the suitcase and handed it to her. He gave her a stern look. “We must be prepared for anything that Ethan is planning. And pouting is not going to help any of us. It would be better if we knew exactly where Ethan has gone to, but since Angel has yet to contact us, we had best go back to your place and calm your mother down.”

“Yeah, like she was really hysterical when we left, throwing those wedding plans around,” Buffy sniped as she grabbed the suitcase. She watched Giles pick up some extra tomes and felt a severe case of brattiness fill her. “Never rains, but it always pours in Buffy’s world, the little Mouth of Hell by the great blue sea. Let’s get outta here else I’ll start to choke on the décor which may be a good thing the way things are going.”

Giles lifted his head up sharply as he heard her bitter tone and gave Buffy a hard look. One that she missed because she had quickly half flounced-half stomped towards the door. [Where the hell did that remark come from? I’ve never heard her that bitter since Career Day last year…]

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Giles demanded as he followed her out the door. “Buffy?”

“It means nothing,” said Buffy tersely as she threw the suitcase into the Gilesmobile. “I was misquoting music again. Don’t mind me, come let’s go and start all the researching again.”

“We are not moving until you explain that statement,” Giles said stubbornly as he crossed his arms and stared at the young girl. “Buffy?” He stood there, looking at his Slayer’s back. “I can be more stubborn than you even if you can throw me a few hundred feet. What do you mean by that statement?”

“You really want to know?” said Buffy angrily as she whirled to face him. Her hazel eyes glinted in the pale lamplight. “It means exactly what I just said. It never rains but it pours in Buffy’s little world! Should I say what’s going on? Well, for Student Buffy, she has three tests this week, get her college applications ready and Mien Furor Snyder wants her to jump through the Loop of the Week by having her do something for the Razorback prep rally. But let’s not mention Girlfriend Buffy’s problems, ‘cause if she did that, the world just might be sucked into Hell. But wait we can discuss something else! For Slayer Buffy, she has to deal with patrols, Faith, the Mayor and Ethan Rayne. It all gets better, ‘cause Slayer Buffy’s world is getting together with Daughter Buffy’s world ‘cause all of a sudden- Whammo-Bammo! Her mom is marrying her Watcher! Now she gets to be the Slayer and Daughter Buffy all at once! And whether she wants to or not! Worlds colliding here! Featuring attraction is Buffy Summers! Whoopee!”

At the end of this tirade, Buffy’s eyes started to water with tears of frustration and her face crumbled, her lower lip sticking out. She gave a huge sniff as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I wanna go to Mom’s bed and start my whole life over again. But I can’t do that ‘cause you and MY MOTHER HAD SEX IN IT!”

“Oh, Buffy, really,” Giles winced as he looked at his upset Slayer…and his soon to be stepdaughter. He should have known that dinner had gone too well, Buffy was too calm, something that was very unlike herself. “Buffy-“

“You just stay away from me and leave me alone, Giles,” Buffy said as she stepped away from him. “I’m not too happy with you and Mom right now and I wanna be a brat and mope, so I’m gonna be a brat and mope.”

Not sure of what he was going to do or say, Giles stuck his hands into his pockets and gave her a curt nod. “Very well, then I shall let you mope, Buffy.” He started to walk towards the driver’s side, then stopped to turn and look at her. “But, let me just say this, Buffy. Your ‘worlds’, as you call it, are not the only ones colliding. It’s also your mother’s and mine as well, and I’m just as scared and worried as you are about having everything work out.”

Buffy frowned at him and scoffed, “What have you and Mom got to be scared of? You’re the ones that are getting married and driving on the happy road map of life! Not me! I’m just the tag-along for the ride!”

Ignoring her snipe, Giles lifted his eyebrow at her. “And knowing what I want to do makes life-altering decisions less frightening? I don’t have a handbook on life, Buffy, much less a road map or even one of those horrid mini-books of what to do.”

He took off his glasses and looked at her. “If anything can be researched or if there’s evil to be fought, I will do whatever task that must be done to make the world safe. I am a Watcher; there has been a Watcher in my family for over seven hundred years. But to change my personal life-to join my life with someone else’s even if I want the change…it is quite mind numbing, Buffy. As wonderful as it is, loving your mother terrifies me.”

“Loving Mom shouldn’t be scary,” Buffy scowled as she crossed her arms. Then her eyes widened. “You LOVE Mom?”

“Of course I love your mother! Why else would I marry her? Did you think it was a spell we both are under?” Giles snapped as he whipped his glasses back on. At her sullen look, Giles sighed. “You really did think that we were under a spell, didn’t you?”

“It was a reasonable assumption,” Buffy said stoutly as she crossed her arms and looked sullenly at him. “You and Mom were only gone in the mirror for four hours in Sunnydale time and you two say that at least ten days passed while you were in the mirror, why shouldn’t I think it was a spell? Since last October, you and Mom avoided each other like the First and Second Plague combined. Well yeah, okay, you asked about her, but you always asked about her and wondered how she was doing, but that doesn’t mean that you were in love with her just ‘cause you asked about her. Hell, if we went by that then Xander would be in love with every other girl and her sister and cousin.”

“Of all the blasted times to let her be logical,” Giles muttered as he looked at the sky. He looked down at Buffy and wondered how to try and explain his feelings for her mother, and wondered if he could. ”I do love your mother, Buffy, and no, I am not under any magical spell nor did I drink any noxious love potion. Any magic that is honestly generated is between your mother and myself is made by ourselves.”

Buffy scowled at him as she stomped over to him. “Other than the icky thought of you being with my mother, I want to know how can you be so sure that the mirror isn’t influencing the way you think? I mean, you said yourself when you came back that the mirror showed you things that you’d never thought would happen, so how do you know that the mirror wasn’t influencing things?”

Giles sucked in his breath and wondered if he should tell Buffy about the fate that would have been her mother’s and his had the mirror not interfered…

Inside a House on Revello Drive:

Thankful that Wesley and the children decided to call it a night and head towards their respective homes, Joyce started to clear the dinner and coffee tables. She was glad that she had insisted that she was all right, that she was going to be all right even though Ethan Rayne was in town. After all, how much trouble could the former lover of her fiancé generate? “Like you really need to answer that question, Joyce. Really.” Frowning, Joyce threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, great. Now you’re talking to yourself. At this rate, you’ll be in the nice padded room right next to Rupert.”

Shaking her head, she headed towards the kitchen. Joyce bit her lip as she washed and rinsed the dishes, a nice mundane job that relaxed her as much as cooking. As the warm water ran over her hands and the dish, she thought about the dinner she, Rupert and Buffy shared. Buffy was quiet. Buffy had a fine line between her eyes when they told her the news. Buffy bit her lip several times after hearing Willow’s observations. Undeniable conclusion: Buffy was absolutely shell-shocked and not happy.

Perhaps she had been in shell shock since finding her mother and her mother’s lover in the middle of an afternoon tryst. Okay, it wasn’t really in the middle of one, but at the end of an afternoon tryst. Like that would make any difference in her teenaged daughter’s mind, the sentence: ‘MOMS DO NOT HAVE SEX’ was practically a commandment written in stone then covered in a titanium alloy and then encased between diamond slabs so that it wouldn’t chip or wear way. So what was Buffy going to do when her mother had a wriggling, little bundle, in about nine months?

Even worse, how the hell was she supposed to sleep alone in that big bed of hers without Rupert in it? She tossed and turned the past two nights, looking for Rupert’s strong arms and his warmth. It was amazing, for years she went without sex with Hank and didn’t miss it. But have three days of sex with Rupert, not including that night of the Band Candy, and all she could think about was having sex with him again. Especially when he felt as she did about sleeping alone. It was wonderful to be back in his arms again, having a little afternoon delight in the house while Buffy was-Buffy. “Oh, Lord.”

“That was so not good, Joyce,” muttered Joyce as she covered her eyes and rethought those last thoughts that popped in her head. “Priorities, Joyce, priorities. You’re not supposed to be thinking about sneaking away to have sex with Rupert when you’re supposed to be thinking about Buffy. Get back on the subject, Joyce, even if your hormones are going bonkers.”

But Lord, it was hard to get back to thinking about Buffy when all she wanted to do was- “Stop it, Joyce. You did it once, so you can do it again. When pregnant, you master your hormones, your hormones do not master you.” As she waited for her hormones to settle, Joyce let out a small chuckle as she patted her abdomen. “Well, Robbie. At least you answered one question for me, now I know that my wanting to have sex while carrying your sister wasn’t a fluke. How about a glass of milk?”

Joyce placed a hand on her abdomen as she walked over to the fridge and got out the milk. Her thoughts settling, Joyce wondered about what to do about her very beloved and very emotional first born child.

As much as she loved her daughter, she was so not looking forward to the emotional blow-up of geological proportions that Buffy was going to give her. Buffy was her adored little girl, and she always would be. But Buffy also was used to being the center of her mother’s attention... and now she was going to have to share her mother’s attention with at least two or more brothers and Rupert. In short, Buffy was not going to be a very happy camper in the next few months. “Well, Robbie, if it was anything like the blow up she had when Hank and I decided to call it quits, I think that we would be safe.”

“Mrs.Summers?”

Joyce jumped up and whirled around when she heard her names called. She let out a huge sigh of relief when she saw Angel at the backdoor. “Angel! You scared me!”

Standing at the entrance, Angel looked sheepish as he looked at her. “Sorry, I guess you didn’t hear me knock. Is Buffy or Giles around?”

Joyce shook her head. “No, they went off to Ethan’s motel room. I thought you were tailing him?”

“I was but then I lost him when I had to stop a vamp from eating a Coffee Shop waitress who was out on a cigarette break,” Angel said as he shook his head. He smelled something intriguing in the kitchen. “Last I saw, he was heading down Mercer Street.”

“Lovely,” Joyce sighed heavily as she sat down on her stool. “So he could be anywhere, making trouble. I hate this town, too many street to make trouble in. Not really a good place to raise kids. Unless of course, they’re demon kids.”

Silently, Angel agreed. Joyce looked up at him. “You want something to drink? Some coffee or tea? Milk? And why are you looking at me strangely?”

“I’m sorry, but no, thank you,” Angel said politely as he watched Buffy’s mother sit. Angel just stood there uncomfortably as she looked speculatively at him with her ‘Should I Ask Him About His Last Date With Buffy’ brown eyes. Rather than have her voice that question, he asked, “Um-who’s Robbie?”

EARLY 1880’s: SOMEWHERE IN EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND:

As the evening ended and the night started to settle down in the busy city of Edinburgh, music still could be heard in the fine halls of the Aisling Hotel. The discreet, but ever present staff went through the halls, quietly lighting the candles so no one would lose their way in the dark. They cleaned the halls and the empty rooms with their usual discretion, but in low whispers, they talked about the very strange couple who stayed in room 415.

Though the staff enjoyed their visits, they were still considered quite strange. And since the staff had served them, they felt it was quite within their rights to discuss the genteel, but strange couple in room 415.

It was quite obvious that they were well off, and the lovely woman was related to Quality, but she did not act like any Quality they were aware of. Mrs.Giles was overly courteous to the staff for one thing, and for the second, she requested some very strange items and foods. Why, just for her late supper today, the lady had wondered if the cook would be able to serve her pieces of raw salmon and tuna with hot mustard. How odd was that?

As for her husband, Mr.Giles, since the man was from England, that explained his peculiar tastes. After all, only the English would ask for a piece of flat bread baked with crushed tomato sauce and cheese. And only the English would wear a small bauble in his ear. Quite odd the Englishman was.

But the newest bit of news about the couple wasn’t so odd at all, though it was a cause for some concern. Thompson the majordomo had heard from the head groom McNab that young Jenkins and Phillips saw Mrs.Giles return from shopping with Bridey, the new maid on the third floor and the footman McFee. Well, it seemed that as soon as Mrs.Giles sent Bridey and McFee up with her packages, that horrid Lord Anson came reeling out of the hotel. Unfortunately, the lech had been drinking and immediately attempted to accost Mrs.Giles as if she were some common street strumpet!

Before any of the staff had been able to aid her, the young lordling was on his knees, but according to McNab, that wasn’t the worst of it! The worst of it was that Mr.Giles, who had just been informed that his wife had returned from her afternoon jaunt through town and had come from the library to greet her, and the man saw the entire incident.

Quick as a flash of lightening, Mr.Giles had hauled the young lord to his feet and started to beat the stuffing out of him. In such a murderous and blind state Mr.Giles had been in, there was no doubt that the young lord would have died at Mr.Giles’s bare hands. ‘Twas lucky for the young lord that had not Mrs.Giles thrown herself at her husband, and held on to him as she shouted for the grooms to take the young lord away, declared McNab, with a nod of his head, and the young lord would have deserved it, too.

Young Jenkins agreed as he told Thompson that the grooms were quick in taking Lord Anson away, else there’d have been blood all over the stable yard! And it weren’t have been Mr.Giles’s blood! Well, after that bit of excitement, Mrs. Giles calmed Mr.Giles enough to drag him up towards their rooms and they’ve been there since the incident!

Well, after that incident, said Innes the head maid of that level, a huge ruckus could be heard from their rooms. All she could hear was Mr.Giles arguing about tempers, mirrors, jealousy, history, stress, some nonsense about time, and a town in the sun. And for some reason, the favorite curse of Mr.Giles was Hell’s mouth! She could not hear anymore, for it seemed that Mrs.Giles always knew when Innes was close to the door!

Eerie it was, Agnes the second parlor maid agreed. That Mrs.Giles always knew who was near the door! And who wasn’t! And how she always knew where things were, no matter how hidden a thing was! Why, Agnes had only mentioned once that she could not find her mother’s favorite kerchief, and Mrs.Giles had told her it was in her little brother Tommy’s pocket, wrapped around a pretty little rock the boy had found. Now how would she be knowing that when she had never met Tommy or known what the kerchief looked like?

Old Florence the Cook shook her head as she looked at Agnes and Innes. Couldn’t the silly pair of them tell when they looked at Mrs.Giles? The woman had the Sight! Best be leaving her and her man alone lest the hotel and staff gain her displeasure! And best for the rest of the staff had best not be talking about the Gileses like a pack of hens, else they’d take it into their heads to get the magistrate and make some trouble for sure! Old Man Aisling would be having enough trouble with Lord Anson and his father understand that they weren’t to grace the halls of the Aisling if they were going to accost the other respectable guests.

Thinking about this, the staff wisely nodded and gave the Gileses in room 415 a wide berth…and started to discuss what Old Man Aisling would be done about Lord Anson and his father.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rupert sighed as he looked at the rigid back of his beloved. “Darling, what I did wasn’t really all that bad.” Instead of answering, she continued to sit on her side of the bed, carefully brushing her long, blonde tresses and ignoring him. “I didn’t kill him, darling. He is still breathing. In all and all, I’d say he was quite lucky.”

Rupert winced as that remark made her hand brush her hair harder and faster. If he didn’t calm her soon, his wife would most likely be bald by the end of the night. “I really don’t see why you’re mad at me, I saw what happened. That young pup tried to molest you- and I merely defended you-“

“Merely defended me? Merely defended me?” Joyce echoed as she whirled around to glare at him. “You did not defend me, Rupert. I defended myself! What you did was not defense! It was something, but it certainly wasn’t something that was done out of defense! And it was against a drunken boy! A drunken boy that was nearly beaten to death just because he was drunk enough to make a pass at me! And I will not have it!”

His temper rising again, Rupert glared at his Joyce. “Oh, I’m so sorry that I should be so concerned about your honor! Should I make sure that you call out for help when someone attacks you?”

“There is no need to be snide at me, Rupert Giles!” Joyce declared angrily as she placed her hairbrush down with a sharp snap. “I know the difference between an attack and an over aggressive pass! And that is what it exactly what it was! A pass! There was no need to kill anyone, much less a boy too filled with drink, to do anything on account of it! Especially when he was down and out after I kicked him in the family jewels!”

“Thank you for that needless reminder that I was too late to stop him from attacking-or rather-from stopping his over aggressive pass at you,” Giles said coldly as he ground his teeth. “I know you can take care of yourself but I still cannot promise to stand aside and let someone manhandle my wife. That’s asking a bit much.”

“I’m not asking you to stand aside and let someone manhandle me,” Joyce glared as she looked at her husband. “I only want your promise that you will hold on to your jealous temper and not kill anyone on account of me! This is the fourth time that this has happened! And let me tell you, my stress level has gone way up because of it!”

“Considering how many times we get in bed to relieve our stress levels, I think that your stress level is just fine,” Rupert retorted as he crossed his arms and glared at her. “Furthermore, I am in full control of my temper, thank you. And I am not jealous!”

“Then what about the young bellhop when we visited 1950 Los Angeles?” Joyce demanded through gritted teeth. “The one who accidently bumped into me? You nearly threw him out into the traffic!”

“He didn’t accidently trip you, he nudged you down those last steps with his luggage! I saw it all,” Rupert said stubbornly. “I had every right to be angry with him. Then he deliberately tried to feel you up after he picked you up off the floor and tried to dust you!”

“That boy was doing no such thing! And what about that nice Lord Wyndwood when we were in Regency England? When he was helping me off my horse? You nearly drowned him!”

Rupert crossed his arms and glared. “You cannot blame me for that, his hands were too high up your waist. He was trying to touch your breasts. He deserved to be thrown into that horse trough and I didn’t drown the man.”

“Only because there was less than a foot of water in that water trough!”

“Well, that was a bit neglectful of the stable boys don’t you think? Poor horses would’ve died of thirst had I not noticed it.”

Glaring back at Rupert, Joyce said tersely, “And what about that footman Danton? The one we met in 1750 France? You nearly killed the poor man when you threw him out the window!”

Rupert winced as he remembered that particular incident, but defended himself stoutly as he leaned against the bed board. “Well, I honestly thought he was trying to go up your dress-and besides we weren’t up that high.”

“You were lucky that he landed into the decorative pond,” Joyce said through gritted teeth. She stood on her knees as she poked at his chest. “The man could have been killed if it weren’t there. Admit it, you have a short-fuse.”

Rupert remained silent as Joyce continued to glare at him. Then he rolled his eyes. “So I have a slight problem with my temper-“

Joyce lifted her eyebrows mockingly. “Slight? Try a huge problem, darling. And a huge dose of jealousy, too! Having them both together is almost like having both Buffy and the Hellmouth erupt!”

Affronted, Rupert glared at his wife. “I resent that remark! I do not throw temper tantrums like Buffy!”

“Only because you can’t throw people or things twenty-something feet away from you,” Joyce snapped back as she glared at him. “But you do use her logical illogic! Now, we are not leaving this era to peek in on the other Joyce and Rupert until you can admit that you have a problem being temperamental and jealous. Rupert Giles.”

“Fine, I have a huge problem with jealousy and I have a temper,” Rupert allowed grudgingly. He gathered his pillow and plumped it up, then sat heavily on the bed as he held the pillow like a shield. “I admit that I don’t like other men touching or harming you. Are you happy now?”

“Lord, the lightening still hasn’t struck,” Joyce said as she rolled her eyes and sat next to him. “Try repeating after me, ‘I will not murder the next person that touches or accidentally harms my wife.’ Come on, say it.”

Hugging his pillow, Rupert scowled at his wife as he started to turn away. “I will not say that.”

Stopping him in mid-turn, Joyce sat astride on his knees and yanked the pillow away. “Yes, you will Rupert Giles. I won’t be happy unless you promise me that you’ll get your jealous temper under control.”

“I have it under control,” Rupert said as he glared at her. When she merely scowled at him, he amended. “Most of the time I have it under control, you needn’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about your temper most of the time,” Joyce growled as she grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him. Unfortunately, she ended up being the shaken one. So she did the next best thing, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him forward. “I’m worried that your temper will make us get into some really serious trouble again. Remember the fight you had with Cesare Borgia? He tried to torture you because you insulted his ugly doublet!”

“I did more than insult his ugly doublet,” Rupert muttered, but quieted when Joyce frowned suspiciously at him. “It was but one incident in Italy. Long forgotten by now, darling.”

Bringing her face close t his, she asked tersely, “Then what about France? Do you really want us to revisit 13th century France again? They tried to burn you as a warlock in that small town! And let’s not go into what you and Saint Thomas Becket argued about while we were in Henry’s England!”

When he stubbornly refused to say anything, Joyce’s fiery eyes suddenly turned pleading. “Darling, you and I both know that we can make the mirror into our private and personal little Eden. And I could spend forever jumping around time with you, wherever or whenever you want to go, Rupert, but you have got to control your temper! It’s driving me up the wall and stressing me beyond belief!”

After staring at Joyce’s teary eyes for a second, Rupert finally conceded, “I will admit that I may have a trigger temper. And that you may have a point in that I must control that trigger of mine-“

“The lightening finally has hit,” Joyce murmured as she gave him a beaming smile. “Alleluia!”

Ignoring that, Rupert looked down at her. “But I still say that I had every right to beat that boy for molesting you!”

Rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, Joyce sighed, “Rupert, you that is not the point!” She quickly put her fingers on his mouth. “But I will admit that the little prick deserved to be smacked around a bit, not that I’m condoning that you should do it all the time.”

“I’ll be more in control of my fists from now on,” Rupert promised as he kissed his wife’s fingers. “I promise you this, my sweet Joy.”

“Good,” Joyce said as she kissed Rupert on his nose, then placed nibbling kisses on his mouth. As he wrapped his arms around her, Joyce pulled away, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him speculatively. “You know, since we’re on the topic of your temper, I think that we should look for new avenues and positions to help control your aggression.”

Smiling at the teasing light in her eyes, Rupert simply brought his wife closer to him and stroked her hair. As she peppered soft kisses on his face, he smiled as he took a deep breath and took in her gentle scent. This is what he loved about her, what he had missed when he lost her: Her mercurial moods, her quick temper, her bawdy humor, but most of all, her eyes shining with love. Love for him, and only for him. There had never been someone in his life that had loved him absolutely like she did. Ethan certainly did not love him absolutely, though Jenny might have, had she lived.

His eyes darkened as he fleetingly thought of Jenny Calendar. The woman had loved him, but he had not been sure that he had loved her, not until she had died at the hands of Angelus. Time had passed, and he healed from the wound in his heart. Then by the Fingers of Fate gave him another gift, and he took it by falling slowly in love with the mother of his Slayer, his sweet, sassy and wonderful Joyce.

Rupert’s mouth grew serious as Fate had taken its gift back when his Joyce died from his Philan’s bullet. But with the mirror’s help, he defied time and Fate itself when he helped save a younger Joyce from Philan’s bullet and again when he stabbed her. By helping his younger self, they stopped the younger Joyce from dying and by doing so, the mirror had given him his own Joyce back. He would never lose her again, for if he ever did, he was not sure that he would survive it all over again. “Rupert? Rupert, where are you? Are you paying attention to me?”

Rupert focused his eyes to look at her face. A faint line of worry marred her brow. “I never want to lose you, my love. Not ever again. I don’t think that I could remain sane if-”

Joyce placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him. “You will never loose me, I will always be with you.” She touched his earring, the one she gave him on the night she physically died. “Just like I had always been when you were…lost in that cottage near Mort Grange, drinking yourself into a stupor. I just couldn’t reach you, to let you know I was there.”

Resting his forehead on hers, Rupert remembered his darker days. “I had always thought you were a pipe dream when I saw you, my sweet Joy. Life wasn’t so bad if I could see you, even if I thought you were only a hallucination, reminding me that I had failed to save you. Drinking-”

“Hush, my darling. You have never failed me, my Rupert,” Joyce said as she placed her fingers on his lips again. “You saved me and gave me the courage to try and find a way to reach out to you, and I finally did. I will never leave you, never again, my darling.”

Gripping her tightly, Rupert kissed her hard. “Promise me, Joyce. Promise me that, darling.”

“I promise,” Joyce said as she held him tightly. When she felt his heart grow calm, she pulled away to look at him. Faint traces of his brooding look were in his wonderful hazel eyes. To lighten his mood, she gave him a mock serious look. “You know, I think that I might have to work on my seduction skills. Getting scared and depressed while I’m trying to seduce you is not a way to reassure me that you’re paying attention to me.”

“My apologies, darling,” Rupert said as he pulled her back close to him. “I shall get rid of my frightening and depressing thoughts in order to concentrate on your seductive efforts.”

Pulling away, Joyce crossed her arms as she turned up her nose playfully. “Well, that’s not good enough. Now I’m not in the mood to seduce you, Mr. Giles. You had better think of something fast, or else you’ll be sleeping on just your side of the bed tonight. Or worse, I’ll have the mirror you back and you can sleep in our bed there alone.”

“Well, now that’s a horrible thought. To be sent back to our disappearing mattress without you in it,” Rupert said drolly as he looked at her, and smiled at her muffled giggle. With a twinkle in his eye, he pulled her closer. “I think that I have just the thing to prevent you from doing that.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Joyce teased as she brought her face closer to his. “I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to try.”

With a sudden movement, Joyce found herself on her back with her husband looming over her. “Better yet, I think that I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

“Oh, goody! Show-and-Tell!” Joyce giggled as Rupert’s mouth covered hers.

SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA:

Sitting underneath inside a small cave, the young dragon pondered on what to do next as she tried to get comfortable. Tears started to form and roll down her eyes as her skin felt as if she were burning. She could not understand what was wrong with her or why she was in so much pain. At first, when the sun beat down upon her as she walked, it felt good. She had been so very cold at the other place across the great water. Then as she walked a few more steps, the ground started to burn at her feet.

Giving thanks to the One again, it was quite fortunate that she had not been far from the Old Ones, Zhar and Zhara. They heard the strange sound coming from her voice, and had come to her aid by allowing her to sit upon Zhar’s strong back. With their help, the three of them had managed to find the cave after walking in the desert so long. But now that the sun had gone, it felt colder and her skin had many red marks all over it. It was painful to move.

Are you still in pain, young one? Zhara asked as she reentered the cave. She nuzzled the young dragon’s head and found her to be very hot, feverish. You feel so very warm, Young One. Are you supposed to feel like this?

I don’t know Elder! My skin feels as if it is on fire the young dragon moaned as she looked at the Elder One. I do not understand this form-it is so fragile! The sun can hurt it and the ground is too painful to walk on! Too fragile!

Yes, it is, Young One Zhar said as he put down a dead animal in front of the red dragon. Come and eat, young One. We caught our meal, now it is time to eat yours.

Zhar, she is hot. Can we not do something for the Young One? Zhara asked as she looked at her mate anxiously.

I do not think that we can do anything except keep her cool Zhar said as he looked at the young dragon, which had yet to make her move towards the meal that he had provided. You still cannot change your form, young One?

Lifting her head mournfully, the young dragon shook her head. It still hurts when I try, Elder.

This is not good Zhar said as he shook his head. He looked at her again. If you cannot eat, then rest. Perhaps you will feel better in the morning, when the sun is up, Young One.

Yes, Elder the young dragon said as she slowly laid her head down on Zhara’s belly.

Zhara nuzzled the young dragon’s head. Well, I think that it is time to give you a Name, Young One. She looked at the young dragon as she lifted her head to look at Zhara. A temporary one. We simply cannot continue to call you ‘Young One’ forever, you know.

Can you name me? The young dragon asked as she looked at Zhara.

Zhara looked at her mate and said, If we may-I would like to call her Ara. May we please?

Ara, that’s a pretty name, I like that name the young dragon said as she looked at Zhara, then at Zhar. The Elder One was flipping his tail as he stared at his mate. Who was Ara?

Zhar looked at the red dragon, the he turned away as he answered. Ara was the child that the two-legged ones took from us over seven seasons ago, she was only two seasons old. As their sleeping potions and pain sticks worked to keep Zhara and I away, they took Ara to another cage and carted her away. We have not seen her since.

I am so sorry for your loss, Elder. the red dragon said as she looked at Zhar hopefully. May I use her name, Elder? For only this time, until the One names me? I would be honored to use the name of your little one.

Zhar looked at the young dragon. You may use her name, Young One. Your temporary name shall be Ara. No go and sleep…Ara. You must be well enough to travel tomorrow.

Yes, Elder Ara said as she snuggled deeper against Zhara’s cool body.