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Last Resort	By : NeenaVarscona Category: BtVS AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2639 -:- 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
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Spoilers: Canon up until �Tabula Rasa� in season six. Then I get my hands on them.

A/N: This story is the second in a series of stories centred on Bobrachnilothtot, who first appeared in my story �A Mile in My Shoes�. The stories are completely independent�the only common factor is Anya�s relationship with her �Uncle Bob�.

~~~~~
One thing Bobrachnilothtot liked about Florida was that there were nearly as many demons as there were Canadians. And they knew how to treat tourists�especially the ones with horns. Bob had only been on vacation for a year, but already he was starting to feel more relaxed.

As he sat back on his beach chair, lemonade in hand, and stared directly into the sun, Bob basked in the knowledge that he still had another nineteen years before they were expecting him back at work. He sighed. Life didn�t get much sweeter than this.

The sun suddenly disappeared behind a human-shaped silhouette. Bob craned his neck to see around the obstacle, but it moved to block his view again.

�You�re in my sun,� he said, testily. �I may not look that scary, but I could still rip out your intestines and make balloon animals out of them.�

�No you couldn�t,� said the obstacle in a distinctly feminine voice. �You tried that once at my birthday party. All you could do was a snake.�

�Anyanka?� he said. His whole demeanour changed from lethally cranky to jovial in the blink of an eye. �Please, have a seat,� he said, pulling over another beach chair. Anya sat carefully, trying not to get sand in her clothes.

�To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?� he asked.

�I need a favour. And since you said �anytime you need a favour, just ask�, I�m asking,� Anya answered in her usual, endearingly blunt way. With a small frown she took off her shoes and shook out an enormous amount of sand.

�Of course, Dumpling. You know Marcy and I think of you as one of our very own spawn. I�ll do anything in my power to help you out. Is there someone you need smited? That boyfriend of yours giving you trouble?�

�No, nothing like that. My boyfriend is now my fianc� and we live in a very expensive apartment and plan on getting a new car soon.�

�Then what is it?� he asked.

�It�s my boss,� she said.

�You want me to smite your boss?�

�No. No smiting.�

�Then perhaps a little brainwashing so he gives you a nice raise?� he suggested.

Anya had to think about that one for a moment, but at last she shook her head. �As hard as it is to believe, it�s not about the money. Giles is threatening to leave.�

�And you wish him to stay?�

�Yes. Kind of. Don�t get me wrong�the store would run much more smoothly if I were in charge, but Giles is more than just my boss.�

�That�s right�he�s the Slayer�s watcher, isn�t he?� asked Bobrachnilothtot, feigning ignorance. He�d kept a close eye on Anya since she�d become human, and he knew all the players. So far, none of them had done anything to warrant disembowelment.

�Yes, only she�s been acting weird ever since Willow dragged her out of Heaven, and Giles thinks she�d do better without him there to cling to.�

�And you disagree?� he asked, thoroughly confused.

�Not at all. It makes perfect sense. Buffy will never stand on her own two feet if she keeps leaning on Giles like he�s her father. But if he goes back to England, he won�t come back,� she explained.

�I still don�t get it. Why is that a bad thing?�

Anya huffed, annoyed that she had to explain herself. �It�s like this�if life in Sunnydale was like a cookie, Xander would be the chocolate chips, Buffy and the others would be raisins and nuts, and Giles would be the batter. He�s what holds the cookie together. And besides��

�There�s a besides?�

�Besides�he�s an incredibly good kisser,� she admitted. �Last night Willow screwed up a spell and we all lost our memories. Giles and I came to the conclusion that we were engaged, and we kissed. And it was pretty�amazing.�

�And you want me to get Xander out of the way so you can have your boss� I see,� said Bob.

�No!� said Anya, growing more frustrated. Why was he having such a hard time with this concept, she wondered? �I�m happy with Xander�weren�t you listening? What I�m trying to tell you was that last night, for the first time, I saw what kind of potential Giles has. If the kiss was any indication, that man is going to waste, sitting around all alone in Sunnydale. And if he goes back to England and gets a life, he�s bound to find a kiss-buddy there and he won�t want to come back again.�

Bobrachnilothtot looked bewildered, much to Anya�s chagrin. �Sorry Anya, Sweet-pea, I�m not following.�

�I want him to stay�to be my cookie batter,� she said, spelling it out for him. �Without him, the nuts and the raisins and�and the chocolate chips�will fall apart, and they�ll end up on the floor where they could get stepped on or eaten by mice. Do you see where I�m going with this?�

�No smiting, then?� he asked, unsure what she wanted.

�No smiting.�

�Then what is it you want me to do?�

�You know all the best holiday spots in pretty much every dimension, right?� she asked.

Bob nodded confidently, relieved that the conversation had finally steered itself towards something he could understand. After all, he�d literally written the book on demon vacation hot spots.

�Good,� she said. �Then what I�d like is for you to give Giles the vacation of a lifetime. Send him somewhere for a couple of weeks. Somewhere he can live a little�sow some wild oats. The rest of us will get Buffy back on her feet again, then when he comes back, he�ll have no reason to leave and he�ll be ready to settle down in Sunnydale, where he�s needed.�

�I could book him on a flight to Florida,� he suggested.

Anya wrinkled her nose at the idea. �Think bigger. Something more exciting,� she said, then added, �but safe.�

Bob got a demonic look in his eye. �I know just the place. It�s nice and safe, and sunny. And plenty of wild oats to sow.�

�Okay. Finally we�re on the right track,� said Anya with immense satisfaction.

�One catch, though,� he warned. �This place is inter-dimensional, so Giles will have to trade places with his counterpart from the other dimension. There must be a balance, or the fabric of both dimensions could come unravelled.�

�So you�re saying we�ll have to baby-sit a Giles from another dimension? That�s no problem�it�s Giles�how much trouble could he possibly cause?�

�So it�s decided?� asked Bob, hoping he�d got things right at last.

�Yes. But you have to hurry�he�s leaving for England today.�

�Consider it done,� he said, and sat back in his lounge chair, taking a merry slurp of his lemonade.

Anya waited, but he seemed content to just sit there soaking up the sun. �Well?� she prodded.

�You mean right now?� he whined. �Can I at least finish my drink?�

�All right. But drink quickly,� she said, and went off to find her friend Halfrek to transport her back home.

~~~~~
Giles hated teary farewells, but tears would have been preferable to the cold send-off he�d received. As he stood in line at the terminal to have his ticket taken, he found himself checking hopefully over his shoulder, in case one of his young friends should have decided to give him a proper farewell.

It was silly of him to expect, considering the way things had turned out. Buffy was too mad at him to say good-bye, and Willow and Tara were too caught up in their own troubled relationship to even notice he�d gone. Anya hadn�t been able to look him in the eye since he�d kissed her last night, and Xander must have picked up on the unusual tension, because he seemed ill at ease just giving him a handshake. Of the lot, only Dawn seemed genuinely sad to see him go.

Giles chastised himself for entertaining such self-pitying thoughts. He was leaving because it was best for Buffy if he did. His own feelings didn�t enter into it.

The line began moving again, and Giles hefted his carryon off the floor with a sigh. But instead of shuffling forward with the rest of the weary crowd, he dropped like a stone, passed out cold on the airport�s hard linoleum floor.

~~~~~
Giles� eyes blinked open, but the light was so strong that he quickly closed them again. He groaned, assuming that he�d been knocked unconscious and should, therefore, be in pain. But after doing a quick survey of all his body parts, he discovered that there was no pain to warrant a groan.

�I think he�s waking up,� came a woman�s voice from somewhere nearby.

�Should we call an ambulance?� This time it was a man�s deep baritone coming from directly overhead. The man�s shadow was blocking the light, and Giles risked opening his eyes again. A large, barrel-chested man in a miniscule tank top and shorts grinned down at him. The man�s close proximity played tricks with Giles� perception, making his mouth look enormous.

�No,� said Giles, testing out his voice. �No need for an ambulance. I�m fine, really.� To illustrate his point, he raised himself into a sitting position, aided by the many people who�d crowded around him.

Giles blinked, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. It was almost as if he was outside on a sunny day instead of in an airport. And that, he suddenly realised, was because he was outside on a sunny day instead of in an airport. What�s more, his carryon bag was missing. He could only surmise that these concerned citizens, having witnessed his collapse, had carried him outside to give him some fresh air.

�And then changed him into a pair of tight running shorts and a flimsy white undershirt, apparently. Giles noticed his unusual attire with a modicum of shock�why should anyone want to change him into this outfit�

�and then dump him in the car park of a strip mall? Things were making less and less sense, and Giles instinctively brought his hands up to his skull to check for any new bumps.

�I�erm�don�t suppose any of you lot happen to know h-how I got here? Or-or what happened to my luggage?� he asked.

�Goodness, I think he�s hurt his head�he�s not thinking clearly,� said a matronly brunette wearing a top so revealing it made Giles blush. �You were just walking along and down you went, like a sack of potatoes.�

�How long was I out for?� asked Giles. He picked himself off the ground, once more accompanied by many helping hands, one of which lingered for a disturbingly long time on his behind. Giles moved away nervously, making a show of brushing himself off.

�You was only out for a few seconds,� said the barrel-chested man with the enormous mouth.

Giles scratched his head in confusion, and noticed that he wasn�t wearing his glasses. But he could see clearly enough. How strange, he thought. He blinked a few times and felt the presence of contact lenses shifting slightly on his eyes. When had he put them in? How did he get where he was, wearing what he was wearing? It would appear that he was missing some time.

And thanks to his lengthy conversations with Xander, Giles� thoughts leapt to the possibility of alien abduction. According to his young friend, time loss was a common complaint among abductees. Giles laughed at himself for even considering the possibility�it was absurd! Aliens! Really, quite ridiculous.

Giles realised he must have been laughing out loud, because his little clutch of concerned citizens was eyeing him oddly and backing away.

�I�m fine, honestly,� he assured them. He fished around in the pockets of his shorts and pulled out a set of keys. �Ah! My keys. To my car, which is�� he pressed the button on his car alarm and a car one row over honked in response, ��just over there. So, if you�ll excuse me,� he said and turned to head for the car that had beeped at him.

He heard one of the ladies in the crowd mutter �how rude,� at his back, and this puzzled him. But then everything puzzled him at the moment. Like why he recognized his key ring but not the keys on it or the car they belonged to. Instead of his red convertible, he was driving a white four-door sedan. He supposed it might be borrowed.

He got in the car and started it, but as he was about to reverse out of his parking space the thought occurred to him that he didn�t know where he was going. He put the car in park again and looked around for some clue as to what was going on. A search of the passenger seat and glove compartment offered some interesting information. According to the vehicle registration, the car was his and had been since January 2001. And his driver�s license stated that he resided at 1630 Revello Drive. Buffy�s address.

Obviously there was more going on than some missing time. He supposed that since he could find no sign of his luggage or plane tickets, he had no choice but to go to Buffy�s place. Besides, whatever was happening, he�d feel better knowing that the others were safe. His travel plans would just have to wait.

~~~~~
Rupert stirred and stretched, wondering why his bed was so hard. But that made no sense�it was the middle of the day�he shouldn�t be sleeping. He opened his eyes.

�What the hell?� he muttered to himself. For some reason, he was lying on the floor of an airport. It looked like the Sunnydale airport, but it couldn�t be. The people were dressed all wrong and there were uniformed guards everywhere. Two of them were standing over him, looking more bored and put out than concerned. Neither of them offered him a hand up. More than a little perplexed, Rupert started to sit up on his own, but one of the guards held out his hand, stopping him.

�Please, sir, don�t move,� he ordered. �We have paramedics on the way.�

�Paramedics?� asked Rupert. �That won�t be necessary; I feel fine.�

�It�s for your own safety,� said the other guard, with no more compassion that the first guard. �And for insurance purposes. Please just lie still and let them have a quick look at you.�

�Is this your wallet?� asked one of them, holding out the leather item like it was part of a crime scene.

�Yes,� Rupert answered, thinking it would be prudent to go along with it until he figured out what was going on.

�I�m afraid you�ve missed your plane,� he said.

�What plane? I wasn�t taking a plane,� said Rupert.

�Then this bag isn�t yours?� asked the second guard. Rupert tilted his head awkwardly to get a look at the offending baggage, feeling foolish still lying on the floor.

�The bag is mine,� he said, confused. It was his old bag�one he thought he�d thrown out years ago. �But I wasn�t travelling anywhere.�

�So this plane ticket under the name Rupert Giles doesn�t belong to you?� he pressed.

Rupert was starting to get panicky. �Rupert Giles�? What did it all mean? Everything was off kilter, and wherever he was, he felt instinctually that it was a hostile place.

�I don�t understand�the last thing I remember I was out getting groceries. I have no idea how I got here.�

The first guard looked at him with a touch of concern, but the second one looked sceptical. Why would anyone think he�d be lying about something like that, Rupert wondered?

The paramedics arrived, and now there were four men in uniform hovering over him. Rupert felt a growing sense of unease at his situation, and as the paramedics poked and prodded at him, the guards kept up a barrage of questions that made him feel as if he was under interrogation. When he couldn�t answer some of the easier questions, like �what day is it today?�, the paramedics strongly suggested that he come back with them to the hospital. Rupert got the distinct impression that it was not open to negotiation.

Rupert reluctantly allowed them to usher him out of the airport to a waiting ambulance. It was nighttime, and even though it looked like Sunnydale, it felt darker somehow. He clutched his carryon bag tightly to his chest, refusing to let the paramedics pry it away from him.
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Last Resort