Fred snatched up the phone instantly. “Cordelia?” she asked hopefully.
“Er… no, actually. My name’s Buffy, and I… I knew Angel for a while. I was just wondering if he was around… there’s something I need to speak with him about.”
Gunn watched as the disappointment and suspicion settled onto Fred’s face. “Oh. Well, he’s… he’s out right now… can I ask what this is regarding?”
“I’d… rather not say, if it’s all right with you. Can you just tell him I called when he gets back?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll… I’ll do that, sure.”
“Thanks. He’s got my number, and I’ll be here, so if you could have him call me, that’d be… great. Bye,” said the other end of the line before hanging up hurriedly. Fred frowned and put the phone down slowly.
“Who was it?” Gunn asked her quietly.
“Some girl named Buffy.” She shook her head. “That name sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”
“Angel’s old flame. The one that died.”
“Oh. Right.” Fred’s eyes widened. “You don’t think she’d know where Conner was, do you? I mean, mystical powers like a Slayer, she might know…”
Gunn shook his head. “Holtz took Conner into a hell dimension; Sahjhan wouldn’t have sent them to Sunnydale, seeing as it’s only a couple’a hours drive. But we should tell Angel she called, anyway,” he told her. “Hell, maybe she’ll even help.”
Fred pursed her lips and looked doubtful. “Not with the way she sounded. She had something going on; I don’t really think she was calling completely out of the blue to offer her help for something she has no reason to know about.”
But Gunn’s attention was now directed outside. Fred turned and saw a very angry-looking Angel dragging a guy from Wolfram and Hart behind him, ignorant to his protests. Both Fred and Gunn promptly forgot about Buffy’s call and decided to deal with the fun task at hand.
***
Giles walked into his apartment and threw the keys into the bowl beside the door. He shed his jacket and hung it up gracefully before pressing the play button on his brand-new answering machine.
“You have two new messages,” the machine chimed.
“Get on with it, then,” he told the machine while pouring himself a drink.
“Ripper, you got an answering machine? What’s all this, then? Not giving in to the 21st century, are you? And where the hell are you, anyway? It’s bloody noon, mate. Ooh, I bet you slept at Olivia’s again. She is quite a catch, Ripper. Far too gorgeous for the likes of you. Haha, I jest, mate, not to worry. Just called to tell you to get your Watcher ass over to the pub tonight; Travers wants to run over something he probably doesn’t understand and wants you to translate for him. Ta, see you then.”
“You will bloody well not,” he stated as he shot back the drink and immediately poured himself another.
“Giles? Giles, it’s Buffy. Something’s come up… nothing like the usual occurrences around here, but… well, I need all the contacts I can get. Call me back when you can, day or night, kthanxbye.”
Giles put down everything he had in his hands and immediately picked up the phone, dialing Buffy’s number by heart. A very groggy-sounding Dawn at the other end picked up after the first ring. Giles quietly did the math and realized it was a pristine 4 a.m. back in Sunnydale. Maybe he should have waited after all.
“Hello, Dawn. I’m so sorry to call at such an ungodly hour.”
“Giles! Oh, it’s okay… I’ve been waiting at the phone for the past… lots of hours. I guess I fell asleep. How are you?”
“I’m just fine, Dawn, thank you. I just got in and heard Buffy’s message. Forgive the phrasing of my next sentence, but why do you need me?”
Dawn paused. “I’m not really sure. Buffy just told me to wait at the phone until you called. She found something out yesterday, and she’s pretty super-controlling about it.”
Giles’ eyebrows shot up. “Really? She’s feeling more like her old self, then?”
“Well… not really. Mostly, I guess, but… she’s still distant most of the time. Anyway, I can’t really figure out what’s going on let alone explain it, so I’ll find Buffy and let you talk to her.” Dawn paused. “It’s been really good talking to you, Giles. We miss you around here.”
Giles smiled. “I miss you as well, Dawn. Take care, now.” Dawn bade goodbye to Giles and put a hand over the receiver as she spoke quietly with someone. An equally tired-sounding Buffy immediately grabbed the phone from her sister.
“Giles?”
“Buffy,” he said warmly. “How are you?”
There was hesitation on the line again. “I’m… okay. Recently tried to kill Willow, Xander and Dawn by locking them in a basement and letting loose a demon while making Tara trip down the stairs, but I’m fine.”
“Oh. Uh…” he began, but was cut off before he could respond.
“Actually, Giles, there’s a thing.” The Slayer sighed. “It’s sort of a big thing. Willow found my old birth certificate in mom’s old drawer, and apparently…”
“Your father isn’t your father?” he asked.
A long, long pause. “That’s a little too good a call, Giles.”
Giles sighed heavily. “Oh, Buffy. I was worried when you were going to find this out.”
“What do you know, Giles.” It wasn’t a question.
Giles sighed again and wandered his cordless phone back over to the drink table to resume what he’d started. Sure it was only twelve in the afternoon, but when had that ever stopped him before? “When you came back from your summer in L. A. before your junior year, Angel came across your father—Hank—and smelled something different in his blood. He knew it wasn’t yours, at any ate; before the Master was resurrected, he and I did a touch of family research.”
“Then you know who my real father is.”
“No, actually. That was the part of the history that was missing. Hank didn’t come on the scene until two years after you were born.”
There was a long pause on the other line that Giles and his drinks took advantage of. Fighting demons all night had shot his nerves (and he hadn’t seen Olivia for years). “Thanks for telling me, Giles.”
“Well, Buffy! You can hardly expect me to be the one to tell you your father isn’t really your father. Angel and I agreed on a decision; I only prayed that you never found out.”
“Hm. That’s really great. Now I have neither father.”
“Now, Buffy, that’s a bit rash.”
“Is it? Really?”
Giles forced his voice into a softened tone. “I’ll be perfectly willing to help you find your father, Buffy.”
Long pause. “We’re not okay, Giles.”
“I know.”
Buffy sighed. “His name, according to the certificate, is Peter Kilpatrick.”
Giles’ softened tone evapourated into one of unbelieving panic. “I’m sorry, did you just say Peter Kilpatrick?”
“…Yeah. Why? What does that…”
“Nothing. Nothing does… Nothing is… nothing. I’ll… erm… ask around, and… ask around. I’ll call you at a more decent hour tomorrow. Ta.”
“Gi—“
But Giles had hung up. He let the disbelief wash over him and allowed the anger to ebb into his head. Rubbing the desire to sleep out of his eyes, he made a couple of phone calls and booked a round-trip ticket to London on his favourite airline before taking his suitcase out of the closet.
It was time to visit Ethan Rayne.
***
She padded softly down the hallway with a phone in her hand. The cold stone floor felt good on her bare feet; she was always so warm. Every once in a while a strange gust of wind tossed her hair aside as doors opened and closed quietly with demons walking every which way on either side of her. Each was always polite to her, so she didn’t mind their presence so much; it certainly made for an interesting head space, anyway.
As she neared his door, his smell hit her. She always loved how he smelled, like wilderness and freedom and the hope of something better. Maybe she’d get out someday and see the world. Not that she didn’t like it here; she’d just been here for so long.
She knocked softly on his door. A guttural growl formed the words “come in” on the other side. She opened the door slowly and smiled at the werewolf sitting on the floor relaxedly. “Telephone for you, Master Osbourne,” she said sweetly, holding out the phone. He quickly became man and took the phone gently from her. He smiled at her and she returned the gesture, tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door almost all the way, though leaving it a touch open so she could hear everything.
“Oz. Hey. Yeah.” There was a pause, and it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking English. “That’s pretty big.” Pause. “But are you sure it’s this big?” Pause. “Look, I appreciate the call and everything, but…” Pause. “Okay. If you’re sure.” Shorter pause. “Willow…?” Longer pause. She felt some of the tension leave his disposition. “Okay. I’ll fly out tonight, meet you…” Pause. “Sounds good. See you then.” He hung up the phone and went to the door. “You heard?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’ll be gone for about a day.”
“Promise you’ll be back?”
“Of course. I’m not about to abandon you; being your teacher is pretty much right where I want to be.”
“Unless you got an offer to be a guitarist?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
He pretended to consider the matter for a moment, a gesture she found greatly amusing. “I’m pretty comfy right here, actually. Besides, ever since the E-flat-diminished-nine got conquered and beaten, playing guitar just doesn’t hold the appeal it used to.” She giggled at his rough translation from English to Cantonese and he realized it. “I’ll be back. Not to worry,” he assured her. Then he held up the phone. “I have to make a call or two. You go continue with your studies; you can slack off while I’m gone, but until then...”
She smiled at him politely and left him alone. He never spoke of his life before coming to Nepal, and she never asked, but she’d sensed this Willow being in his aura before; she knew how he felt about her.
And she found herself relieved that she wouldn’t be wherever he was going.
-----
A/N: I'm guessing they speak Cantonese in Nepal, I don't actually know. I guess I could find out, but... it seems like too much work.
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