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Joan	By : QueenB Category: > Buffy/Giles Views: 54535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: This belongs to the great and powerful Joss and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses
Pairing: B/G
Distribution: http://www.buffygiles.com
Feedback: Do your worst--it can’t compare to my worst ;)
Notes: General spoilers for BtVS, season six, episode “Tabula Rasa” from which a lot of dialogue is liberally extracted
Dedication: This is to Wordsmith who gave me the idea with his fiction “Remember Me?”
Thoughts are shown in italics.

Willow knew Tara would disapprove of the step she was taking. Heck, they’d all get the major wiggins if they found out. She’d promised a week without magic, but no one could hate her for this one teensy weensy little spell. After all, she was only trying to make her love and one of her closest friends forget their pain. What could be wrong about that?
She laid down the bag of magic herbs in front of the fireplace. She started a small flame, touched the crystal to it and began to chant.
__________

Dawn practically hummed with anticipation as she looked at Giles. “So what have we got? What kind of oogly-booglies? Lizardy types, zombies or vampires or what?”
Giles sighed in well-bred patience. “There are no oogly-booglies, Dawn.” He looked around at the assembled faces. Willow had come into the Magic Box with Xander. She was wearing his coat as there was a brisk chill in the California air. [Almost like England] The stray thought drifted across his mind and strengthened his resolve.
He tried not to look too hard at Buffy where she sat on the bookshelf ladder. The decision he’d given her earlier had precipitated a much-expected show of anger. But now she had settled into a grim torpor. She hadn’t said a word to him since then; he could almost feel the anguish and rage radiating from her body. He turned and spoke to the assembled gathering. “I have something I really have to tell you all. Um, it feels like we’ve been through this before--”
“Why don’t you just jump to the chase?” Buffy cut in harshly. “Tell them that you’re--”
At that moment, Spike burst into the shop and Giles felt the familiar sense of exasperation at the sight of him, a feeling that was only partially lessenedthe the fact that blonde vampire was inexplicably dressed in a tweed suit and a furry hunter’s cap. After Spike had rambled on about needing asylum from a loan shark (A literal shark, it appeared. Only on the Hellmouth), Giles broke the bad news to them: He was heading back to England and he planned to stay there indefinitely.
It hit them like a bombshell. Xander was dismayed; he didn’t know how Giles could leave when Buffy so obviously needed him. Anya predictably hoped that this time the move was permanent since she wanted to be able to run the store on her own without his interference. But Buffy broke out in a fury.
She knew she sounded needy, whiny and selfish. But she couldn’t help it. Since she’d been resurrected, nothing in the world had felt right to her. The others simply didn’t know how she felt, how painfully she dragged herself through the days. They didn’t know about the increasing feeling of numbness that attended her nightly battles.
“I know that you guys are just trying to help. But it’s--it’s too much and I can’t take it anymore. If you guys--you guys understood how it felt, how it feels. It’s like I’m dying--”
Giles felt his heart twist inside him at the despair in her voice. He’d warned Willow how arrogant she’d been in wielding this kind of magic. He had feared that the resurrection would have terrible consequences for Buffy. But the damage had been done and now he was witnessing the result. He stepped towards theng wng woman, halting when she shifted just out of his reach. “Buffy, please, we’ve been through this. Leaving is the best thing that I can do.”
“Why does everybody always say that? Why do they believe that the best way out of tough situations is to leave? First my father, Angel, Riley and now you. And this is way harsher than any of them, because you’re not supposed to leave. Isn’t that part of the Slayer/Watcher dealie? The Slayer slays, the Watcher watches, not the Slayer slays, the Watcher toddles off to merry olde England when he gets bored or fed up.”
Buffy took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair; Giles noticed with silent alarm that her hands seemed to shake. “I tried running away from my responsibilities too, Giles, remember? But that didn’t work. There were demons in L.A. and I realized the Slayer doesn’t get the luxury of chucking her workload. She’s got to soldier on--whether she likes it or not.” This last shot was flung at Willow whose face crumpled under the vicious blow.
Giles stood only a slight distance from his charge. He wanted more than anything to put his arms around her and comfort her, remove some of her obvious distress, just as he’d longed to do with every hurt she’d ever suffered under her role as a Slayer.
But the time for doing such things was past as was his time in America. He had to turn his back on this young woman who right now looked so brittle she might just fly apart like fragile glass struck by a hammer.
Back in the Summers’s home, the bundle of herbs ignited, burned all the way through and the crystal in Willow’s tiny beltpurse turned completely black. Immediately everybody collapsed where he sat or stood. Slayer and Watcher fell to the floor in a heap together.
__________

The blonde woman in the leather coat stirred first. She opened her eyes to see an older man sprawled on the floor beside her. For a moment, blank confusion gripped her and she could only gaze at him helplessly. He looked tired. Not the good tired that would make someone lie down for a quick little nap but the kind that spoke of a lifetime of sorrow and loss. Without knowing why, she reached out a hand as if to smooth away the worry lines on his face.
The man’s eyes fluttered open behind his glasses and she snatched her hand back hurriedly. Startled green eyes looked into curious hazel ones and they both said, “Who are you?”
The woman smiled nervously and said, “I asked you first.”
The man’s mouth opened and shut and then his forehead wrinkled even more as he replied, “I haven’t the foggiest.” He sat up and stared around in bewilderment. Only then did she look about her. Near them were several other people lying in various attitudes of unconsciousness. As the two gazed at them, they all began to stir and wake up from their unnatural sleep.
“Who are you freaks?”
“What’s going on?”
“Who are you people?” A chorus of uncomprehending voices came from everywhere as the others stared in various stages of panic. There was an oddly dressed man with dyed hair lying on the countertop. When he stretched and began to move, he lost his balance and fell off with an abrupt shriek.
A teenage girl with long hair shrank into a corner. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered when the leather-clad blonde came closer.
The petite blonde woman smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “It’s okay. I don’t know anyone here either.”
The green-eyed man scratched his head. “Does anyone remember anything?” He was met with blank looks; apparently no one could remember who they were or how they all wound up in the same room. He ventured a guess as to their situation. “Maybe we all got terribly drunk and this is some sort of blackout.”
The teenager murmured, “I don’t think I drink.”
Another blonde woman seated at the table looked around critically. “I don’t see any booze. I don’t feel any head bumps.”
A brunette man in his twenties was glaring about in wide-eyed fright. “Okay, I’m not panicking. I’m not. I’m not. Stop looking at me like I’m panicking!”
A cute redhead perused the books and articles. “Look at the stuff on these shelves. Weird jars of weird stuff. Weird books with weird covers.” She pulled a book from a shelf. “Magic For Beginners,” she read.
“This is a magic shop, a real magic shop,” yet another blonde woman exclaimed. Up until then, she hadn’t spoken much, seeming the shyest of the group next to the teenager. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe something magic happened.”
The green-eyed man scoffed, “Magic? Magic’s all balderdash and chicanery. I’m afraid we don’t know a bloody thing. Except that I seem to be British, don’t I? And a man with glasses. Well, that narrows it down considerably.”
The dyed blonde in tweed started sneering, “Oh, listen to Mary Poppins. He’s got his crust all stiff and upper with that nancyboy accent. You Englishmen are always so--” He stopped abruptly, realizing that he was sporting an accent of his own. “Oh god--I’m English.”
The other Englishman dryly replied, “Welcome to the nancy tribe.”
The dyed Brit eyed the older Englishman speculatively. “You don’t suppose you and I--we’re not related, are we?”
“There is a ruggedly handsome resemblance,” said the critical blonde woman.
The green-eyed man grinned, pleased at the description, and then peered at the man behind the counter. “And you do inspire a particular feeling of familiarity and disappointment. Older brother?”
The peroxide in the tweed snorted, “Father. This is great. God, I must hate you. An aged father and his tarty girlfriend,” gesturing at the hazel-eyed blonde woman.
She protested, “Hey! Who are you calling tarty?”
The dyed Englishman replied, “I saw the two of you--sleeping together.”
“Resting together,” the older man corrected. “And I’ll have you know I’m not ‘aged.’ I’m young enough to still get carded.”
“Carded! Driver’s licenses!” exclaimed the redhead. She pulled out her wallet while the others searched for similar pieces of identification. In short order, introductions of sorts were made.
The redhead was Willow Rosenburg, the shy blonde Tara and the panicky brunette Alexander Harris. Willow discovered she was wearing Alexander’s jacket. Since they’d woken up next to each other, it was taken as proof that they were a couple or at least dating. Tara and Willow were going to the same college.
The teenager was too young to carry a wallet or any ID but her necklace read “Dawn.” “Or ‘Umad’,” she chirped, having looked at her necklace upside down.
The tall Englishman learned his name was Rupert Giles, a fact that proved vastly amusing to his son. His amusement was short-lived when he peered inside his tweed suit and found an inscription “Made with care for Randy.”
“‘Randy Giles?’,” he exclaimed with outrage. “Why not just call me ‘Horny Giles’ or ‘Desperate-for-a-Shag Giles?’ I knew there was a reason I hated you.”
The blonde in the leather coat smiled at the teenager. “Dawn. I think that’s a pretty name.”
The teenager gave a small smile of her own. “Thanks. What’s yours?”
The woman began sifting through her pockets and frowned in increasing desperation. There was some lint, a rubberband and a small nail file but no identification whatsoever. “I don’t--I mean, there’s nothing here.”
She tried to stem back a rising wave of alarm. Rupert Giles walked over to her and placed a cautious hand on her shoulder. He didn’t know who this woman was or what role he played in her life but, as with the vexatious young man behind the counter, he felt a definite connection to her. Having nothing else to go on but his instincts, he attempted to reassure her.
“It’s--it’ll be all right. Some of us seemed connected in some way to the others. So if you’re here with us, then at least one of us must know you. We’ll go to our homes and see if we can find any indication of who you are. A photo, a birth certificate--there’s bound to be some clue.”
She looked up at him and attempted a wan smile. The look in his eyes was so concerned and considerate; she found herself automatically warming to him.
Suddenly she wondered at her relation to Mr. Giles. Randy had called her his girlfriend. Was she? She’d sensed--something when she awoke next to him. There was a deep feeling of affection, comfort and a hint of unhappiness. She blinked at this last emotion and tried to chase it down but it disappeared like mist from her mind. She sighed in frustration.
“What about me?” whined the critical blonde. “I don’t seem to have any identification either. All I have is this key around my neck--and an engagement ring. Nice rock, too. It must have been expensive.” She smiled at it in appreciation and then looked around uncertainly at the others. “So who’s the lucky guy?” Speaking to Willow and Alexander, “You two are together. Mr. Giles is too old.” When he stiffened in indignation, she glanced at the only other male in the shop and quickly dismissed him. “And you’re obviously gay.”
“Obviously gay? Where the hell’d you get that idea?”
While the others smothered laughter at his palpable spleen, she pointed out the apparent signs. “Well, you have this cheap, blond dye in your hair, your fingernails are painted and you’re in a very prissy suit. You also seem to have this misogynistic hostility towards your father’s girlfriend. And it would explain his feeling of disappointment in you. He probably gave up hope a long time ago of your ever being able to give him grandchildren. Not to mention that girly squeal you gave when you fell off the counter.”
“None of that means that I’m gay, you know-it-all bint! It could mean a lot of things.”
The critic held up her hands in a placating manner. “Take it easy. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with your sexual orientation. I’m just saying that it rules you out as being a viable choice for my fiancé.”
“Oh, like I’d want to marry you anyway,” he muttered.
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re gay,” the woman responded with baffling circular logic.
The blonde in the leather sighed, “In the meantime, I need a name.”
“You want me to name you?” the teenager asked.
The woman shook her head; somehow she didn’t want a name chosen by a kid. She cast a mute appeal at Mr. Giles. He cleared his throat as a name seemed to swim up from the depths of unconscious. “Well, how about Joy--”
“Anya!” the critic exclaimed. Everybody stared at her. She looked up from behind the cash register with an air of excitement and triumph. “This key fits this lock. And the forms next to the cash register say that Rupert and Anya own a shop together. This is our store!” She beamed at Mr. Giles. “Hey, maybe this is more than just a business partnership. You must be my fiancé.”
Mr. Giles felt a sense of shock and sharp dismay lance through him. He was engaged to this mercenary, tactless woman? His face must have registered his consternation because Randy chuckled at his discomfort. “Uh oh, looks like dear old dad isn’t too pleased with that bit o’ news. He was probably hoping to get cozy with the cheap trollop in the leather gear.”
The ‘cheap trollop’ became incensed. “Listen, you, you, Randy! You look a hell of a lot cheaper than I do, what with those gross black fingernails and that phony hair color. I mean, my god, you look as if you emptied the entire bottle of household bleach on your head!”
“At least I’m not dating a man old enough to be my father!” he retorted.
“That we know of.” The quiet comment came from Tara. The others goggled at her and then began laughing while Randy scowled.
The unknown blonde giggled again and then sobered instantly. “I still need a name.” She paused a moment to consider. “I’ll name me ‘Joan.’”
Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Ugh.”
The newly named Joan glared at her. “Did you just ‘ugh’ my name?”
“No, I just--I mean it’s so blah. Joan,” she shrugged.
“I think it’s a fine name,” Rupert stated quietly. “You look like a Joan.” It hadn’t been the name he was thinking of but it seemed to suit the diminutive woman. She appeared frail yet he sensed she had the inner strength to fight armies if need be. He frowned slightly, wondering what had prompted that odd thought. She smiled at his praise and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. She really did have the most attractive smile. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.
Joan straightened her shoulders. Assuming an identity had given her an unexpected feeling of confidence. “We need to figure out what’s going on. We need to get help.”
“Looks like Joan fancies herself the boss,” Randy observed.
Joan pointed out, “We have no idea what’s wrong with us. I think the hospital’s our best bet. Any suggestions on how we’re gonna get there?”
As they all got up to leave, Randy slung his arm about his father in a false show of friendliness. “Dad can drive. He’s bound to have some classic midlife crisis transport. Something red, shiny, shaped like a penis.”
Rupert raised an eyebrow. “Shaped like a penis? Perhaps I should let you drive.”
Any reply Randy would have made was lost as they opened the door. The bunch was met with a pair of men with demonically twisted faces. The two creatures growled and lunged forward. The eight people inside the store screamed as one and slammed the door.
__________
“Vampires!” Randy yelled. “Those were vampires!” He paused as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “Vampires are real? Did we know this?”
As they feverishly debated the situation, the monsters outside banged on the locked door and made intermittent yells of “slay her!” and “spike.”
Rupert said with some puzzlement, “They seem to want spikes.”
Randy thought for a second, ran to some part of the store and came back with a lot of pointy, wooden objects. Joan picked up one tentatively. “What do they want to do with these?”
Before anyone could answer the question, the door was violently broken down as the two demons outside charged into the store. As the others cowered, one of the vampires grabbed Randy and threw him up against a wall. “You owe us, Spike!”
Randy pulled out a number of the wooden things from inside his jacket and threw them on the floor. “Fine! Take your damn spikes!”
The monster pushed him back with casual force and sneered, “Don’t be stupid. You’ve got the boss’s kittens.”
Randy goggled at him in a complete lack of comprehension. “Kittens?”
The other vampire had grabbed Joan, picking her effortlessly off the floor. She struggled to escape his grip, kicking furiously and swearing behind his hand. Rupert hesitated, torn between aiding her and helping his son. Thinking quickly, he picked up a heavy bronze statue and began belaboring the head of the vampire holding Joan.
The demon grunted in annoyance and dropped his captive. He clutched Giles around the throat with one hand and began slowly choking the life out of him.
Joan felt an awful fear overtaking her as she saw Rupert being strangled. She snatched up one of the wooden things Randy had dropped. “Hey, stay away from Rupert!” she yelled as she plunged the spike into the creature’s heart. He gave a roar of agony and disintegrated into a pile of dust.
The other vampire cringed in terror and ran out yelling, “The boss ain’t gonna like this. I’ll be back and I won’t be alone!” He stormed out and, belatedly, Anya lowered the steel anti-theft gate.
There was a moment of silence after the creature fled while the others gaped in shock at Joan and the dust lying at her feet. “What did you just do?” whispered Tara.
“That was, that was--what was that?” Anya said.
“I don’t know,” a confused Joan replied. She stared at the object in her hand and then grinned. “It was cool, though, huh?” Then a light appeared to dawn. “I think I know why Joan’s the boss. I’m like a superhero or something.”
Rupert picked himself up as he coughed and gasped for breath. Joan ran to him, wrapping her arm about his waist. “Rupert! Are you okay? Did that vampire hurt you too badly?”
He shook his head not trusting his vocal cords to speak. Randy threw up his hands. “Oi, what about me? That other guy was using me as a punching bag.”
Joan barely glanced at him. “What about you? You look fine to me.”
Anya glanced worriedly out the window. “The other vamp said he’d be back--with company. We have to figure out what to do before they get here.”
Willow said, “Maybe we can find another way out of here and make a run for it.”
The others began searching the store. Rupert called from the back. “Look here! I found some kind of gymnasium.” They all ran to the back where they found Mr. Giles holding up what looked like a medieval sword.
“Holy moly!” Alexander exclaimed. “What’s with all the props? Is there a Lord of the Rings convention in town?” When he fiddled with a loaded crossbow, the thing abruptly discharged itself into the wall near Randy’s head.
“Hey, watch it with that bloody thing, you nearly took my head off, you tosser!”
Alexander retorted, “I don’t know what ‘tosser’ means, pal, but I’m not it! Anyway, it was an accident. I didn’t know this thing was a working model.”
Joan fingered one of the throwing knives. “I don’t think these things are models. I think these are, like, real weapons.”
Anya scrutinized the various dangerous objects. She was as puzzled as everyone else was but her practical mind could find only one question. “Amazing…actual swords, knives and daggers. What are they doing here? Why aren’t they in the front of the shop with the rest of the items?”
Rupert sheathed the sword in its scabbard and slung it about his waist. “We don’t have time to figure this out. Those things are going to come charging through the door any minute. We should be prepared to fight them.”
Joan gestured at the sword. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
He glanced down at it with a surprised look. “I’m not entirely sure. But wearing it seems natural somehow. Perhaps you should pick a weapon of your own.”
Joan hefted the spike she was still carrying in her hand. “Nah. I’m good. Me and Mr. Pointy here can definitely handle ourselves in a crisis.”
Randy sniggered. “Mr. Pointy? Is that the brilliant name you’ve come up with? You are the imaginative sort, aren’ you, Joan?”
“I’m naming a piece of wood not a child, Randy.” Joan was getting pretty fed up with this guy’s attitude. Honestly, she didn’t see how a man as well spoken, sophisticated and kind as Mr. Giles could have spawned such a mean-spirited jerk of a son.
Willow came rushing back into the room. “Guys, I don’t want to be Miss Worrywart, but we’ve got trouble. Those guys are back and they’ve brought what looks like a shark in a business suit.”
“A loan shark?” exclaimed Rupert. Then he glared at his son. “Is that what this is all about? Are these innocent people in trouble because you got caught up in some shady affair with criminals?”
Annoyed at being picked on, Randy shot back, “Hey, don’t look at me, Dad, I’m as in the dark about this as the rest of you lot. Besides, that vamp didn’t ask for money, he was just burbling on about spikes and kittens, so don’t--”
Willow interjected, waving her hands, “No, you don’t get it. I mean a real shark, like the one in Jaws.”
The others stared and then ran to the front of the building. Sure enough, Willow was right was right. It was a little difficult to see in the dim light from the street, but there certainly appeared to be someone or something with a shark’s fin and flippers standing in the street.
Alexander muttered, “Wow, it’s like that land shark character that Chevy Chase used to play in the old Saturday Night Live skits.”
The others gazed at him blankly. “Who’s Chevy Chase?” asked the teenager.
Tara had made a short reconnaissance and came back with news. “I found a trapdoor in the basement. I think it leads to the sewers.”
Joan snapped to attention. “Okay, I’ve got a plan. They seem to want Randy and I seem to be pretty strong--wicked strong--so you guys go through the sewers to get to the hospital and Randy and I’ll give the monsters a run for their money.”
Randy appeared skeptical. “That’s your plan?”
She looked at him in irritation. “Yes.”
He shrugged; it sounded as sensible as anything else did in this crazy situation. “Right then. I’m in.”
As Randy and Joan strode to the door, Rupert followed. “I-I should go with you. I may be able to help.”
Randy smirked, “Oh, what, you strap on a sword and you think you’re Blade the vampire killer?”
“I didn’t see you doing anything heroic when that vampire was banging you up against the wall, sonny,” Mr. Giles snapped. “Anyway, I want to guard you and assist Joan, if she’ll have me.”
Joan gave him another of her radiant smiles. “The more, the merrier. All right, you can come along and watch our backs.”
“Hang on!” Anya protested. “We shouldn’t leave the shop. It’s our property and we need to protect it.”
Rupert stared at her incredulously. “I don’t think these creatures are interested in the store’s contents. They are after my son, as Joan pointed out, and when he leaves, they will undoubtedly follow. I intend to stand by him for as long as I’m able. If you think there’s real danger, then I strongly advise you to escape with the others.”
When the woman opened her mouth to protest, the man simply turned his back and marched to front of the store. Joan glanced at him in admiration and then asked, “You two ready?” When they nodded, she shouted, “Now!”
At that word she sprang through the front entrance with Randy and Rupert close behind her. Their abrupt exodus took the assembled group of monsters by surprise. The creatures froze momentarily and then, yelling about spikes, took off after the trio.
__________
The descent into the sewers was a piece of cake. It was the trip itself that proved unnerving. The group marched huddled together and peered anxiously into the shadows. Dawn began to sing in a quavering voice, “The ants come marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah…” Her voice trailed away when she realized no one else was joining her.
Tara halted uncertainly as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute. How do we check on the others after we get to the hospital? What do we do if we get there before them?”
Willow replied, “We can always come back to that magic store and see if they checked back in there. It’s the only place we all seem to have in common.”
Dawn said worriedly, “Wh-what if they get killed by those vampires? How will we know what happened to them?”
Anya shrugged. “Then I guess we check the morgues and ask if anyone matching their description has turned up.” She looked around to meet the horrified stares of the others. “What?”
__________
As they resumed their march, Alexander toted his crossbow in his arms. He had four females in his charge and he was as determined to save them as that Mr. Giles had been. Though one of them was a minor, he felt quite the macho hero.
His courage was soon put to the test when a hungry vamp jumped in front of him. The women screamed and ran back towards the ladder. Alex squealed, stumbled over his feet and landed flat on his back. As the vamp loomed over him, the crossbow discharged again--sending the arrow neatly through the creature’s heart. He watched the demon dissolve and then he scrambled up and cheered. “Woohoo!”
The girls came back cautiously when they heard him yelling. “It’s okay! I got it!” he crowed.
Anya gaped at the heap of dust on the ground. “You did? You did!” She threw herself at him, hugged him hard and then she gave him a big uninhibited kiss. “My hero,” she murmured.
“Hey!” Willow yelled. “That’s my boyfriend, remember?”
Anya blinked and the two reluctantly released each other as they recalled their circumstances. “Oh, I know that. But somehow it seemed perfectly natural that I should thank him in such a fashion. After all, he did just save our lives; I merely wanted to display my gratitude.”
“Yeah, well, display it with someone else,” Willow muttered.
The teenager burbled, “Can I thank him, too?” Willow and Anya both scowled at her. “Just kidding. Come on, guys, can’t you take a joke? We just escaped a life-and-death sitch. Lighten up a little.”
Alexander looked above him as if trying to see the street. “Speaking of life and death--I wonder how the others are making out.”

TBC
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