Joyce stumbled against her car and stared at the hazy reflection in the window. She was gasping for breath and everything was swimming. Fumbling in her purse for the keys, she finally gave up and leaned against the car, closing her eyes as tears trickled from them.
Finally, she got herself under control, found her keys and got in the car. Taking a deep breath, she started the engine and headed for the high school.
Pulling into the parking lot an hour after the end of the school day, she wasn't surprised to see his car there. She just hoped her daughter hadn't decided to stay for training.
Walking on unsteady legs, Joyce made her way into the nearly deserted building and headed towards the library. She peeked through the window in the door and let out a sigh of relief on not seeing Buffy. Gathering her courage, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Almost immediately, Giles stepped out of his office, his eyes buried in the large, open book he carried. He must have sensed her presence, for he started and looked up, setting the book on the counter.
"Um, Mrs...Joyce...Buffy's studying at Willow's this afternoon." Flustered, he rubbed his nose, fiddling with the rim of his glasses.
"Good...I didn't come to see her," Joyce replied softly, unable to meet his shifting gaze. "I...need to talk to you."
Silently Giles ushered her into his office. She sat on the edge of a chair, her purse clutched in her lap. Uneasy himself, Giles sank into his desk chair, his eyes going everywhere but to her face.
Joyce took a deep breath, then a second, then blurted, "I'm pregnant."
Giles paled, then flushed, his heart nearly stopping, then threatening to explode in his chest. He gaped at her, finally able to meet her panicking eyes.
Alarmed by the rapid color shifts in his face and neck, Joyce dropped her purse and reached forward. "Oh God, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Are you okay?"
Giles' mouth opened and closed a few times, then he took off his glasses and rubbed his temples, his color slowly returning to normal. "Are your certain?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"I just went to the doctor," she said softly. "I...we..." She sighed again. "I wasn't using any birth control. I...hadn't been with a man since my divorce, so I didn't think it was necessary." Joyce flushed slightly and rubbed her moist hands on her cotton covered thighs.
"It was irresponsible of me," Giles muttered. "Ripper...I should have taken precautions..."
"We were neither of us ourselves that night. I don't blame you. We were both caught in the moment."
Once again in control, Giles gave her a hard look, his hands clasped together in his lap. "I'm surprised you told me. We haven't actually had a conversation since that night."
Joyce was surprised by his sudden control and by his words. "You're the...father. You deserve to know."
"Thank you," he replied softly.
"You must be in shock. I've suspected for a few days, but the confirmation stunned me. I...All I could see was the need to tell you. I'm not quite sure why." Joyce was clearly puzzled by that, but felt a lot of relief as well. It felt like her burden was now shared.
"I am...I never...Active watchers don't usually have children...or a family of any kind...We don't tend to survive very long," he said slowly.
"Oh...OH, I didn't come here expecting anything, no, not in the least," she protested quickly.
Giles waved her off gently. "I know. I didn't mean it to come out like that. I've never thought about children...my own children. At least...not in several years."
"Oh." They both fell silent for a moment. "Rupert? I'm not sure what I'm going to do, yet," she said delicately. "But, I did want you to know."
"I understand," he replied in a neutral voice.
"I'm forty years old. Having a child at my age isn't always safe and..."
"It's your decision, Joyce. I will support whatever you choose and abide by any decisions, and take any responsibility."
She flushed slightly, her mind whirling with options and an image of this handsome, somber man holding a tiny infant, pure love filling his green eyes. Quickly, she picked up her purse and rose to her feet. "I need time to think and I'm sure you do, too."
Automatically, Giles stood as well. Their eyes met briefly, then shifted away. Joyce turned towards the door. "Will you tell Buffy?"
"I have to," she answered. "She's nearly eighteen and...you are a large part of her life. She deserves to know." Joyce glanced over her shoulder to see him nodding in solemn agreement. "I'll talk to you in a few days."
"Yes."
Without another word, Joyce left the office, walking quickly out of the library, leaving a nearly shattered man to slump into his chair, open his desk drawer and pull out a bottle of scotch.
"Oh God," Giles muttered, shocked, as he drank straight from the bottle. There were so many variables, so many choices, so many things he hadn't explained to her. She thought her worst obstacle was being a forty year old mother. How could he tell her that there was a chance the child wouldn't be human?
*****
Joyce sat at the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the brightly colored brochures and lists of instructions the doctor's office had provided. There seemed to be so much more to be done since Buffy's birth, things she vaguely remembered reading about in the newspaper, but seeing no need to be concerned, had basically ignored. Things like folic acid and the dangers of changing cat litter boxes.
So many things that pregnant woman could and couldn't do...and so many more for pregnant women over forty. With a feeling of unease, she remembered the amount of wine she had drank the previous Saturday at a dinner party, the second hand smoke she had inhaled at her friend Doreen's house four days ago,...the sleeping pills she lived on to get through the nights when Buffy patrolled.
Fear swept her, fear for what she might have unknowingly done to the unborn child inside her. Taking a deep breath, Joyce picked up the brochure with the one other option she was considering. She scanned the contents--it was couched in nice, pleasant, helpful terms. Discussions of the possible repercussions of her age filled one page. Another held that vital question 'do you want a baby'.
Did she want a baby?
The back door flew open and Buffy burst into the kitchen, radiating happiness. "Hi mom. You're home early. Does this mean we get real food for dinner?" She scowled at the total lack of evidence of cooking. "Hm, guess not." Bouncing over to the refrigerator, she opened it and took out a bottle of orange juice, then leaned across the counter towards her mother. "Whatcha reading?"
Joyce quickly gathered the brochures into a pile and rose to her feet. "Buffy, I need to talk to you...seriously."
Buffy's face fell and Joyce caught a glimmer of fear. "What did I do now?" she asked hesitantly, setting down the juice bottle.
"Oh, no, honey, it's not you. I went to the doctor today..."
Wide eyed with sudden panic, Buffy interrupted, "Oh God, what's wrong? Are you sick?"
"Buffy, let's go sit in the front room."
Her daughter nearly ran down the hall, Joyce following at a slower pace, trying to figure out how to say this. Buffy sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clenched around the cushion on either side of her legs. Joyce sat down in a rocker, drawing it closer to her daughter. She took a deep breath.
"I haven't been feeling well for about a week, just a little...off." Buffy nodded and Joyce wondered briefly if she had actually noticed. Sometimes her daughter was so wrapped up in the slayer stuff... "I also had my suspicions."
"That weird flu?"
Shaking her head, Joyce continued. "I didn't really feel sick...Buffy...I'm pregnant."
Buffy stared, her body totally still, she didn't even appear to be breathing. "Huh?" she exhaled.
Swallowing, Joyce repeated herself, "I'm pregnant...with a baby."
"Well...duh...of course it's a baby, not a racoon...Are you sure?" Buffy asked quickly.
"That's why I went to the doctor. The tests were all positive."
"Oh God...mom...um..." Buffy flushed and her fingers moved to dig into her cargo pants covered knees. "I didn't even know you were dating," she said baldly.
"I'm...not." Joyce answered her daughter's flush with one of her own. "It was...unplanned."
"Oh God...An unplanned pregnancy...my mom...MY mom..." She shook her head wildly. "No, this is too bizarre for words." Jumping to her feet, Buffy began to pace. "I'm the one who's supposed to have unplanned pregnancies, not my forty year old mom!"
Joyce sank deeper into the rocker, her arms instinctively wrapping around her flat stomach.
Buffy's eyes narrowed as she realized what was in that stomach. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Joyce said slowly. "I...haven't had much time to think about it. I'm only eight weeks along, so my options are pretty open."
"What about...what about the you know, guy?" Buffy sank back down onto the couch, too stunned to continue pacing.
"He knows. He seems to be willing to support whatever I decide."
"Are you going to marry him?" There was disapproval in Buffy's voice and Joyce winced slightly.
"No honey. I don't love him."
Buffy gaped at her, shocked. "You had sex with a guy you don't love? You always told me that only two people in love should have a baby, so how did this happen? One night stand, a pickup in a bar?" Now her voice was accusatory.
Straightening her spine, Joyce frowned. "You may be nearly eighteen, Buffy, but you're still my daughter and I deserve more respect than that."
The humphing sound coming from the girl and the glint of steel in her eyes, didn't reassure Joyce.
"I will answer your questions and listen to your suggestions, but I will not let you criticize my life."
"I didn't even know you were dating."
"I wasn't."
Buffy stared even more, then she paled as her mind leapt to another conclusion. "Mom...we're you...attacked?"
"No, honey. No, it was mutual. It was..." Joyce dropped her eyes to her lap and took another deep breath. "It was during the candy incident."
"You mean...when you were acting all immature and teenagery?"
Joyce nodded. "And, as a teenager, at least in spirit, I didn't think about precautions and neither did he."
"He who?" Buffy demanded, then went even whiter. "Oh God, no..." She shook her head wildly.
"Yes, Buffy, the father is Mr. Giles."
Buffy just gaped.
Giles...father...father...Giles...Giles a daddy? Her watcher? HER watcher?
Buffy gaped even more, her mouth open and slack. Her mother cooly returned her stare. Buffy began to shake her head. "Uh uh, no, can't be. He's a watcher. Watcher's don't have kids."
"He's a man, Buffy," Joyce reminded her gently.
"Euuu, ick, no, I don't want to think about that. He's Giles and Giles is old and watcherly and old."
Now Joyce began to grow a little exasperated. "He's only a few years older than your father."
Obviously the wrong thing to say as Buffy's face twisted even more. "ICK, mom!"
"Buffy, that's enough. I'm a long way from being in my dotage. This pregnancy kind of confirms that."
At Joyce's harsh words, Buffy's face fell. "I'm sorry, mom. I don't want to make this harder. I just...Giles doesn't seem your type," she finally added lamely.
"Well...he really isn't. Buffy, we were...under the influence. I know that's not an excuse, but it is an explanation. Outside of you and a mutual interest in art, we really don't have much in common."
Buffy gave Joyce's stomach a pointed look and Joyce flushed. "You're old enough to know perfectly well that children don't always come from love and stable relationships."
"So...you're not going to marry him or anything..."
"No."
Indignation crossed Buffy's face and she jumped to her feet. "What? You're not good enough for him?" She was all prepared to rush off and beat up her watcher until Joyce sighed and gave her a look to sit back down. Buffy grumbled, but did so.
"Mr. Giles is an honorable man, but I'm not going to marry a man I don't love. This isn't the nineteenth century. I'm perfectly capable of raising this child on my own."
"Is he...Giles accepted that?"
"He...told me he'd agree to anything I wanted. He was really quite reasonable about the whole thing, considering I just blurted it out."
"So, you'll let him play daddy?" Buffy furrowed her brow at that thought.
"Honey, that's a long way off and...I'm not sure if it will ever reach that point."
"Huh?"
Joyce clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward slightly. "I'm over forty and there are certain risks. Plus, I'm not sure I want a baby. I...have never given it much thought. Your father and I decided that we'd do zero population one better and only bring one child into the world. I keep picturing myself watching my child and grandchild in high school together." She shook her head and gave Buffy a rueful look."
"GRANDCHILD? Are you trying to thoroughly traumatize me?"
"Well, it is a possibility."
"Mom...you do know that vampires can't have kids, right?"
"But, you're not really seeing Angel anymore, right?"
"Mom, I have absolutely no plans to provide you with a grandchild any time soon."
"I had no plans to provide you with a sibling...ever. And you didn't answer my question about Angel."
"MOM."
Joyce sighed and rose to her feet. "Fine. I'm going to go take a long bath and do some thinking. Why don't you order a pizza or something. There's money in my purse." She headed for the stairs.
"Okay." As soon as her mom was out of sight, Buffy grabbed her slayer bag, stuffed the money in her pants pocket, and ran out the front door.
*****
"Giles!"
Giles blinked his eyes open, groaning as his head swam. The Valkyrie screamed his name again and he batted his hand feebly in her direction.
Buffy stared down at him in a mixture of disgust and concern. She really wasn't surprised he had retreated to the bottle. It was a disturbing pattern of his. But, she really needed him sober now. He had to be the grown up.
Giles sat slumped in his desk chair, head on his desk, a post-it note stuck incongruously to his cheek. "Harpy," he grumbled as he focused dimly on a blonde, who, with hands on her hips, was glaring at him and repeating his name in an uncommonly shrill voice.
"That's nice. Call me names." Buffy knew she needed to get him home. It wasn't that late and if he was found here in this condition...Well, Snyder was always looking for an excuse to fire him. She could get him to his car, but he was in no condition to drive, and she wasn't about to try to baby that heap of junk. A taxi was a possibility, but, Sunnydale was a small town and it wouldn't take long for the rumor to spread of Giles being drunk at school.
Then it hit her. Oz. Oz had a van and was extremely close- mouthed. Picking up the phone, Buffy quickly called him and made arrangements for him to pick them up at the back entrance. Now, to just get Giles there.
Ten minutes later, out of breath and trying not to gag at the smell of stale scotch and vomit--luckily Giles had missed both of them and spewed all over a bush as soon as they reached the outside--Buffy maneuvered the staggering librarian towards the black and white striped van.
Oz was alone, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to deal with Willow's concerned attempts at helping. Buffy just wanted to get Giles home and sober.
So, she could break his nose.
"Hey," Oz greeted her, opening up the side door of the van and helping her load Giles onto a pile of furniture moving blankets the band used to cover the amps when they traveled to a gig. "We going to his place?"
"Uh huh. Thanks, Oz." They climbed into the van and Oz started the engine.
"No problem."
Buffy had to smile at the fact that Oz asked her absolutely no questions as they drove in peaceful silence...except for the occasional groan from Giles as they hit a pothole or came to a stop.
*****
Ten minutes later, Giles was half-laying on his couch and Oz was gone, happy to have been of service. Buffy pulled off Giles' shoes, then leaned down and removed his tie. That was as far as she was going.
"I'm going to go make some coffee. You might go rinse out your mouth. Your breath smells like Hell."
"I feel like I'm IN Hell," he muttered, rubbing his sore temples.
"I've heard that barfing helps. You do seem to be making more sense." She went into the kitchen and purposefully banged the kettle on the stove as she heated water for Giles' cute little press pot. Adding at least two heaping teaspoons more than she normally would for a pot of coffee, Buffy leaned back against the counter and waited for the water to boil, trying not to think about her mom and Giles...and the 'S' word.
Shuddering, she busied herself setting up a tray with cream and sugar and mugs.
When the coffee was ready, Buffy carried the tray into the living room and set it on the coffee table. Giles sat slumped on the couch. His face was damp, so he must have made it to the powder room to splash water on himself. Handing him a cup of black coffee, Buffy poured herself a cup, liberally adding cream and sugar, and sat down in a chair pulled up at the end of the low table.
Giles took a sip and made a face.
"Too strong?" Buffy asked blandly.
"Harpy."
"You called me that already. What? Booze befuddle your brain so much you can't come up with new insults?" Giles paled and Buffy gave him a concerned look. "Are you going to barf again?"
"Oh God..."
She pulled her feet up.
"Your mother," he managed to get out, his voice strangled. He gave her a horrified look.
"Yeah, it's really wiggy, I know." She made a face, decided he wasn't going to resume vomiting, and put her feet back down on the floor. "You knocked up my mother, Giles."
Giles groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he slumped farther into the couch.
To Be Continued...