Father Figure

Chapter One: Confessions, Conundrums, and Considerations

He wasn't expecting her.

Joyce hesitated on the doorstep, manners warring with a desperate need for information. She really should have called ahead.

She considered going back, then calling to ask if it was a good time to visit. But Buffy was being distracted and surrounded by her friends, which meant there was no better time for her to leave her teenage daughter alone. And she was safe, in their properly warded and guarded house.

There was no better time to seek her answers. And no better person to seek them from.

She stepped forward and rapped her hand sharply on the door, trying to squash the butterflies that a lifetime of proper manners instilled, in regards to visiting a man in his home unannounced.

There was a faint response, then a minute later the door latch clicked and the door swung open. "Yes? Oh."

Giles stopped, blinking in the porch light. Even in the dimness, Joyce could see the purpling bruise across his temple. He blinked again. "Ah...Joyce. Good…good evening, I suppose." He ducked his head, shy and awkward.

The fact that he was as uncomfortable as she was made her feel better. Gave her courage. "Uh, yes. Good evening, Rupert." It was still so strange to call him that. Buffy always called him Giles. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time…."

"No. no, it's not. I was just..." A faint, self deprecating smile washed over his features. "Well, I was just about to sit down with a drink and an ice pack, actually, if you'd care to join me."

"Yes to the drink. No to the ice pack. You probably need it more than I do." She followed him inside, into a moderately sized living room crowded with books and knick-knacks, with just enough room for a sofa and an end table and a lamp.

"Gods, I sincerely hope so." He ushered her to the couch, then went around a half-wall to the kitchen, returning a moment later with two glasses and a bottle. He settled down next to her, popped the bottle open and poured two drinks, then handed one to her. "How's Buffy?"

"Frustrated." Joyce smothered a chuckle, remembering the scene in her kitchen that afternoon. "She doesn't like being weak. Well, weaker than Xander and Willow in the physical department, at any rate. Personally, I don't think there's anything weak about her, but then, I'm just her mother."

"No. There's certainly nothing weak about Buffy." Giles smiled again, but his eyes were haunted as he sipped his drink. "The physical effects should wear off in a few days. I suspect once she's returned to normal and managed to get a few good slayings under her belt, she'll be back to her usual self. Generally, that's how it seems to work for her. Well, there is some emotional outburst to be handled at some point, but she's very good at channeling it into aggression as needed until she's worked through it. Though, I suspect a shoulder to cry on wouldn't go terribly amiss."

"Probably not. But I think Willow has that covered at the moment." Joyce sipped her own drink. "Besides, Buffy's feeling guilty for my involvement, and she's worried about my emotional state. So even if mother-daughter confessions didn't violate some obscure parent-child, parent-slayer relationship taboo, she probably wouldn't want to share with me. Not right now, at least. Maybe later."

"Indeed. That would be...quite like her, yes." Giles offered a short, jerky nod, then went back to sipping his drink, staring at the opposite wall as if the world depended on his being able to describe every crack and marking on it.

Joyce considered her options, then decided to go with the blunt, straightforward approach. He seemed the type of man to appreciate that. "Buffy told me you were fired. As her Watcher, I mean."

She was watching him close enough to see the almost imperceptible flinch that rippled across his shoulders, and the way his hands tightened on the glass. "I was, yes. Directly after the end of the test. There should be a new Watcher here within the month, at the longest."

"And then what?" Buffy hadn't said what would happen. Joyce wasn't sure Buffy even knew.

"And then..." Giles paused, then gulped the remainder of his drink. He refilled the glass, then sat cradling it, elbows on his knees, his expression so still that the very stillness of it told her the anguish he was experiencing. "Then I will be required to step aside. I will not be permitted to train Buffy, nor advise her. At least, not in any official capacity. I will, however, still have my contract as the school librarian to fulfill, so I shan't disappear completely from her life, and I will still be available if she needs me. But my contact with her will be limited, and most likely, strictly supervised. And should the new Watcher report that I am interfering overmuch in his duties and his regulation of Buffy, then the Council will most likely see to it that I am fired and my working visa revoked, thus forcing me to return to England." He knocked back another swallow of his whiskey. "If that happens, you can be sure they will do everything within their power to ensure that Buffy and I never cross paths again."

"Sounds serious." Joyce sipped her drink, content to sit in silence with him for a few minutes, waiting for the tension in his shoulders to fade.

"It is. I feel...I feel trapped, between maintaining the necessary distance to keep myself from being removed from her side entirely, and remaining close enough to support her properly." His hands clenched angrily, his head bowing for a moment before he wrenched it up. Then a tormented expression crossed his face, and his head bowed again, his shoulders hunching in an expression of pure misery. "Of course, I'm sure Buffy would prefer I have as little contact with her as possible at the moment, given the circumstances and recent occurrences."

Joyce released the glass with one hand and laid it gently on his shoulder. "I'm not so sure about that." She kept her voice calm, quiet, sensing he needed the outburst, a way to vent the poison that was burning inside him.

His head whipped up to look at her, and she saw shame in his expression before he turned away. "I subjected her to a terrible ordeal. A horrible and unfair test, just to prove...to prove nothing really. After all the trials she's faced, all the monsters and demons she's dealt with, she has nothing to prove. Not to me, not to anyone. She certainly shouldn't have had to go through such an insane and dangerous ordeal to prove her worth to the Council. I knew that, and yet I...I..." He all but flung the glass to the table, locking his hands together in white-knuckled fists. "I submitted to the Council's demands. I poisoned her with the drugs to disable her powers. I listened to her fears, her worries, her terror over her vulnerability, and I did nothing. Said nothing. Not until it was too late. I gave her mindless, meaningless platitudes while she sat before me, terrified that her powers were fading and she would no longer have the strength to protect those whose lives and happiness depended upon her skills. The things I put her through, for the sake of pointless Council protocol and formality..."

He broke off, voice cracking as he buried his hands in his hair, folding over his knees in an expression of pure human grief and guilt. "I'm sure you and Buffy can come to an understanding. Buffy is..." A sad smile touched her face, remembering half a year ago. "Buffy is very good at forgiving people. And understanding."

"She is. She is far better at forgiveness than I deserve. I fear that she will indeed forgive me, and that I will in turn only wound her further." The words were muffled by his arms, but Giles didn't unfold from his position.

There wasn't much she could say to that. She knew from painful experience that what he said was quite likely. Joyce settled for rubbing his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting fashion.

Only a few months ago, she'd all but hated the man. Hated him for his relationship, his bond, to her daughter. For all the secrets he knew about her child, secrets she had never been privy to. For the duty he had taught her, a duty that had taken the innocent little socialite Buffy had once been and made her the Slayer.

Now she wanted to comfort him. Now she knew more about the life he lived, the burden he bore, watching over the special young woman that had been given into both of their care. Now she understood the strain it placed on him, and on Buffy, keeping the terrible secret they both shared. After Buffy's return, they'd overcome some of their differences and grievances with each other, and she'd even become a bit fond of him.

It took several minutes, but he finally started to relax a little. He uncurled, hands swiping across his face to wipe away tears with sharp, hurried strokes, almost as if he thought she would scold him or get angry with him over the display of his emotions. In fact, he actually offered her an ashamed smile moments later. "My apologies. I assure you, such outbursts are most uncharacteristic of me. Generally, I exhibit much better control of myself than my current state might lead one to believe..."

"Then I'm sure you needed it." She didn't let him continue his self-deprecating apology. "That happens sometimes." She remembered her own explosion the night Buffy had left home. And the one a few nights after Buffy had come back.

"I...I suppose I did. It has been a rather...trying few days." He reached for his drink and sipped it, slow, cautious sips this time. "I...thank you. For your patience."

"Of course." Joyce nodded. "Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you something else."

"Of course. Please do go on." He gave her his full attention once again.

She hesitated, wondering if it was even the proper time to bring it up, then decided there was no point in having disturbed him without addressing the reason she'd come over. "Buffy...she didn't tell me why you were fired. And honestly, with everything that's gone on, I can't imagine why anyone would think you need to be fired. I mean, there have certainly been some bumps in the road, I suppose..." She shrugged her shoulders, trying to convey acceptance and understanding of it, even though she was was sure she didn't understand half of what had gone on for the two or three years. "But if they didn't fire you over things like Angelus, or the Apocalypse, or...well, Buffy mentioned a demon last year..."

"Eyghon. Yes. I remember." The wince told her it was a particularly painful memory for him. She decided not to delve any further into it.

"Yes. If all those didn't get you fired, I guess I'm having trouble understanding what did." She studied his profile. "And I'd like to. Given the influence you have on my daughter's life..."

"Indeed." A short, painful laugh broke from him, startling her with it's raw harshness. He drained his cup again, seemed to consider pouring himself another, then set the cup on the table and turned to look at her. His hands clenched in his lap. "How much did Buffy tell you?"

"She said the whole thing, with her getting weaker and the vampire, that it was a test of some sort, by some sort of Council. Your Council. And that they fired you for interfering. Which, I suppose I might understand, but...I know now, when Buffy isn't telling me everything. And I just want to make sure...I want to understand. As much as I can, at least."

"Indeed. That is fair, I suppose." He sighed, then looked away from her.

She waited, content to let him speak at his own pace. She suspected Buffy would be preoccupied with her friends for a while, and she'd asked them to make sure her daughter rested.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and hoarse, matching the pain in his eyes. "There is a test, known as the Cruciamentum. It is administered to Slayers who reach their eighteenth birthday. Why I don't know. It seems...barbaric to me, to issue such a test, especially when so few Slayers actually survive to that age. But, the Council assures me that there are reasons for such protocols. Though I suppose that's rather pointless now." He sighed, his head bowing.

After a moment, he continued. "During the week prior to the test, the Slayer's Watcher induces a trance, once a day, during which he or she injects a mix of muscle relaxants and adrenal suppressors, to weaken the Slayer, to reduce her strength to that of a normal mortal. The mix also suppresses her other powers, such as her sensitivity and her foresight. Basically, it renders her a normal human girl, in every sense of the word save her experience." A bitter smile twisted his face.

"And?" She couldn't help prompting him, guessing that he could sink very easily into another state of self-loathing reflection if she let him.

He jerked to look at her, then away. It was just long enough for her to see the sharp agony that the memories caused him, before he turned from her again.

"After a week has passed, on the Slayer's birthday, the Watcher takes his charge to a pre-designated place and leaves her there. Leaves her trapped, with a vampire provided by the Council. If the Slayer survives, she passes the test. At least, that's how it's supposed to work."

"I take it something went wrong with Buffy's test."

He huffed, another brief burst of bitter laughter. "Several things went wrong. The vampire the Council chose was a particularly vile specimen. Even before his transformation, he was a rapist, a serial killer, a murderer of young women. And they underestimated his cunning entirely, assuming that the migraines that lingered from life into his immortal life would render him controllable, manageable. Instead, he used them as a deception to facilitate his escape. He tricked and killed his handlers. One of them he turned. The others he mutilated in a horrendous fashion. So horrendous I was very nearly...quite ill, when I discovered the remains."

He looked so pale that Joyce took it upon herself to pour him another drink, then press it into his hands. He took it, shooting her another pained glance. "Thank you. The memory is quite unpleasant."

"I can imagine." Just the idea of seeing her co-workers, her friends, dead and mutilated made her stomach churn. She couldn't imagine what the actual experience had been like. She sat back, content to give him space to collect himself.

He sipped his drink, one, two, three swallows, then began again. "At that point, when I discovered the death and turning of my compatriots, I raced to warn Buffy. The test has never called for a vampire who was free to move beyond the confines of the prison he was set in. Nor for there to be multiple vampires. And, as I could not convince my superior to abandon the test, I was determined to warn her. I realized that, even if the only threat had been Kralik, I could not send her unwarned and unprotected into danger. So...I found Buffy. And I told her. Everything."

His voice cracked, hands clenched around his glass so hard she thought he might shatter it. Even in the sideways profile view she had of his face, she could see his pain. "She didn't react well, I take it."

"No. She was...quite furious. She quite correctly accused me of betraying her, poisoning her. She said...she said she no longer knew nor trusted me. In fact, she despised my presence so greatly, she turned to Cordelia Chase for comfort, in spite of the rather...tumultuous relationship that both girls share." His head bent, despair lacing his posture and his voice. "I believe that, in that moment, she truly hated me, as much as she could have hated any vampire, if not more."

The breath he heaved out seemed to carry the weight of the world. "My confession should have made the test invalid. It should have resulted in the Council removing the vampire, or so I believed would happen. Certainly, it meant I was no longer bound by my oath of non-interference. But, of course, it was far from the end of the matter. Because..." He turned to look at her, regret clear on his face. "Because Kralik kidnapped you. And Buffy, being who she is, immediately went after you, even knowing the dangers and the possible consequences."

Joyce nodded. "She came after me, and I guess you came after her."

"To even the odds, yes. As I said, the test was never meant to incorporate multiple vampires."

"So, she rescued me and killed this... this Kralik. You killed the other one. And then the two of you were whisked away, and the next thing I knew, you were fired." She paused. "Because you interfered with the test by telling Buffy?"

"In part. Though that was not the reason Quentin gave." He looked away again, undertones of something other than grief flickering through his tone. Uncertainty.

"Oh? And what reason did he give you?"

"I...he said..." Giles paused, then abruptly tossed back the rest of his drink. "The reason he gave..."

"Yes?" It surprised her to see him suddenly so inarticulate. She wondered if he'd drunk enough to impair his vocal abilities.

He looked at her then, a painful smile twisting his features, anguish so bright in his eyes that it hurt to meet his gaze. "A father's love."

"What?" She frowned.

He shoved himself to his feet, turning away from her, turning to the counter to lean against it. "I was dismissed because, according to the Council, I care too much for Buffy's welfare. Because I love her, as if she were my own child, and my concern for her has rendered me incapable of remaining objective and serving the greater cause."

Joyce sat, stunned for a few moments, processing that information.

She knew that Giles and Buffy cared for each other. That much had been obvious. She'd known, even before she'd discovered that Buffy was the Slayer and Giles was her Watcher, that the two of them shared a relationship that went far beyond the customary student-teacher dynamic. It had been evident in the way he was constantly at her side, even visiting with her in the hospital. In the way that Buffy constantly spoke about him, affectionate and amused and even exasperated by terms, but always warmly. Never with more than a hint of a pout when he'd made her do her homework. Or, as she now knew, her training.

Over the past year, Buffy had talked more of Giles, gone more to Giles, than she had her own father. In fact, she'd planned to ask Giles to accompany her to the ice show that both of her natural parents had blown off. Joyce recalled Buffy mentioning it, that her father had canceled, and that she had thought to ask Giles.

Buffy had gone to comfort Giles, after the loss of his...the lady he'd been seeing. His fellow teacher, who had been killed. And it wasn't the first time, if she'd understood Buffy and Willow's jumbled story about Eyghon correctly, that she had gone to comfort the librarian. Comfort and aid him in his personal struggles.

And Giles had moved heaven and earth hunting for Buffy after her disappearance over the summer.

When she thought about it, it really wasn't that big of a stretch. Certainly less of a shock than discovering her daughter was the Slayer, destined to hunt monsters, and had been since she was fifteen. Which really only left one question.

She stood and walked around the couch to stand next to him. "Was he right?"

Giles stiffened, head twisting to look at her, surprise replacing some of the strain on his features. "I beg your pardon?"

"Was he right? Do you love my daughter? Do you feel like you should be her father?"

He flinched, hearing the slight accusation she couldn't quite keep out of her voice on the last sentence. "Assuming I haven't already become her worst enemy, I wouldn't presume to take the place of either you or her birth father. But...yes. Quentin was right." He met her eyes. "I do care for Buffy, quite as much as I would for my own child, if I had one. I would...well, I suppose my recent actions would say otherwise..." He offered her another one of those bitter smiles. "Whether Buffy believes it or not, I would move the world for her. If I could take this destiny, this power, from her in truth, and she asked me to, I would do so in a heartbeat. I would walk into hell for her. Die for her. I would sell my soul and break every chain of prophecy, every rule of destiny, if it were possible. If I had not feared the Council's dismissal and subsequent removal of my person from Sunnydale, I would never have considered even beginning the Cruciamentum." His hands clenched hard on the counter.

He meant every word. She could see it in his eyes, in the rigid set of his shoulders. She could hear it in the passionate roughness of his voice, the conviction that cracked the words with the force of his emotion.

She laid a hand on his arm. "Okay." He looked at her, silent and waiting for her judgment. Joyce considered. "So...what happens now? You said Buffy will get a new Watcher?"

"Indeed. The Council will select one for her, if they haven't already." He sighed, collapsing towards the counter as if the strength had been drained from him.

"Come on." Joyce took his arm and guided him back to his seat. Giles went with her, seemingly spent. She got him settled, then sat beside him. "So...this new Watcher..."

"Will conform to the Council's ideal of proper behavior and objectivity. I cannot say anything more without knowing who they have chosen, but I can tell you that much." His words were heavy with his exhaustion.

"But you don't think he'll care for Buffy."

"Oh, he'll care for her. As a weapon, as a...a tool. As the Chosen One, the Slayer. As such, he may deign to offer her some support, and he will be as considerate of her requirements as is necessary to maintain a proper working relationship. But if you are asking me if he will care for her life, her happiness, over her destiny and responsibilities...I highly doubt it. Especially not with the example of my disgrace to dissuade him. I don't think anyone the Council appoints will care for Buffy as a person, as an individual, as the special and unique person she is." He sighed. "My only consolation is that I will be on hand, at least somewhat, to offer her at least a limited amount of assistance. I can at least help her with research. And, I suppose..." He smiled, this one weary and knowing rather than bitter. "It is some consolation that your daughter is a remarkably stubborn individual, who will likely try any future Watcher's patience and temperament fully as much as she tried mine in the beginning. And who knows, she may well break this one into being a relatively decent human being and support for her as well, through sheer force of will. It is a gift of hers, after all."

"I suppose. But what will you do?"

"Help as I can." He sighed. "How much I can do will depend on Buffy herself, and the personality of the Watcher who is sent to guide her." He folded his hands together. "It's ironic. I was furious when I learned that she had developed habits of keeping things from me. But now, I find myself hoping she has maintained that skill, if only to evade her Watcher in the case that he attempts to prevent contact between us altogether."

"That, I can perfectly understand." Joyce smiled, taking the sting out of the words.

He flicked a startled, chagrined look at her. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you would." A shy smile emerged to match hers.

Joyce sipped her drink. "Is there...is there anything you can do? To prevent Buffy's new Watcher from preventing you from helping her?"

Giles frowned. Joyce watched him thinking, her own thoughts circling in her head.

She didn't want someone who didn't properly appreciate Buffy in charge of her daughter's welfare. She didn't particularly like the whole 'Slayer' concept to begin with. She certainly didn't like the idea that it was her daughter's job to fight vampires and demons and monsters, in addition to trying to maintain her grades and finish school. She didn't like the idea that Buffy was in danger every time she left the house, or every time trouble came to find her.

But at least she knew Buffy was watched over by someone who cared about her. Someone who wanted her safe, wanted her to be happy. Someone who let her have friends, after-school activities, a life outside of killing and hunting and fighting. Someone who helped Buffy's friends, who helped incorporate them into Buffy's world, rather than forcing her to be alienated from everyone. Buffy was lonely enough as it was.

She didn't want to contemplate her daughter working as a Slayer without that support. Without the help and comfort of the man she'd grown so fond of, so dependent on. The man who would not only help her research the 'demon-of-the-week' as Xander put it, but had comforted her daughter and bandaged Buffy's wounds with gentle hands. The man who managed to integrate training her with helping her with her schoolwork, patrols with chances to go clubbing, or hang out and watch silly movies.

Giles sighed, scrubbing his face. "I fear I have little influence over what happens now. I may be able to gain some ground, by virtue of my superior knowledge after two years on the Hellmouth and as Buffy's Watcher. But unless her new Watcher is a complete incompetent, I doubt I shall be able to maintain the superior position for long. And even if I could, the Council would most likely intervene."

"But you're Buffy's friend. Buffy's friends help her out all the time."

"Indeed. And if I were just Buffy's friend, if I had always been just Buffy's friend, I would, ironically, have a great deal more freedom. Unfortunately, Buffy's friends now have more freedom to assist her than I do. As I mentioned before, should the Council decide that I am overly involved, they will most likely take pains to remove me from Sunnydale, and possibly from the country as well."

Joyce nodded. "Is there any way around that? I mean, you mentioned a visa..."

"A work visa, yes. It was obtained and expedited through Council channels, and can be revoked just as quickly. Sadly, I never considered it worth the effort to obtain a citizenship card. Nor was I blessed with an abundance of time to do so. And, of course, the Council might have seen to it that it was denied, in case they came to the conclusion that I was needed elsewhere. I certainly doubt it would be permitted now."

"There has to be some way. Some...loophole."

Giles sighed. "I fear not. Unless we could somehow produce documents that prove me to be family to Buffy. Family, even or perhaps especially the family of a Slayer, is sacrosanct. But the Council will have investigated that beforehand. I doubt I would have been assigned as her Watcher if there had been the remotest of blood ties between myself and her."

Joyce considered.

She knew of one way to form a family tie. One that he apparently hadn't considered, or had at least rejected. Well, there were probably lots of ideas that he'd considered that she'd never even heard of, but she knew of one that was legal, recognized by any group in the world. Well, any civilized group.

She studied his profile. He was wearing layers, as usual. No suit jacket, but a vest, a button down shirt, and most likely an undershirt. Still, she could clearly see the outlines of broad shoulders, and a lean, muscular body. From what she remembered of the Band Candy incident, he was strong, well muscled in a lithe way that suited him. Training Buffy and protecting the town had kept him in better shape than most men his age.

He was also well educated, intelligent. He liked history. And art, even if his interest ran more to the occult value of it, rather than the historic or cultural. He was well read in a fascinating variety of subjects. She'd heard Buffy comment that he was an almost decent cook, if you could get his head out of the library. He had good taste in furniture, and she'd liked what she'd heard of his music, though she wasn't sure about his taste in casual literature or movies, and definitely thought he needed a slight wardrobe alteration. And he had a pleasant enough personality. She'd been vaguely attracted to him when they'd met, but had never bothered to pursue it, uncertain about the safety of a parent-teacher relationship, and informed by her daughter that he'd developed a 'thing' for the school computer teacher.

She could do worse. Buffy could certainly do worse. And hadn't she recently lamented the absence of a strong adult male role model in her daughter's life?

She reached out and touched his arm. Giles startled, jolted out of whatever he'd been thinking. He blinked, then his expression turned sheepish. "My apologies for drifting off. I was...well, I was woolgathering, I suppose. Thinking." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up in wild disarray. "We were discussing my role, or rather possible lack of one, in Buffy's future."

"We were. And I had a thought." She paused, making sure she had his full attention. "Have you ever considered marriage?"

Author's Note: I've always thought the end of 'Helpless' was kind of sweet. I rewatched it recently, and this story just quietly came into being.

Hope you enjoy.