Life did not get a lot worse than throwing up into a bush.

It had not been a good week generally for Joyce Summers.  She has spent a large portion of it sick as a dog.  Buffy was urging her to go to the doctor, but Joyce had resisted in the hopes that her problem would clear up on its own.

This was her assistant's weekend off so Joyce had held down the Gallery on her own during the Christmas rush, both Saturday and today.  Sales at least had been good even if she had spent half the morning running for the toilet.

Her stomach had settled down in the afternoon and she had been able to get a small amount of work done.  Five o'clock finally rolled around and she was able to lock up and leave.

Only to be assaulted by the smell of the dry cleaners across the street.  The rich organics of the leather cleaners were offensive at the best of times.  Today she started gagging and could not even make it back to the store.  Leaning against the rail of the small park that bordered the shopping district, she lost what little food she had consumed during the day.

As she gagged she became aware of a hand holding her forehead and a strong arm steadying her body.  It helped.

Eventually her stomach emptied and even the dry gags ceased.  A clean white handkerchief was pressed into her hand.  She rather shakily wiped her mouth.

"Can you manage to walk?  My car is just over a block.  I'll drive you home."

Life just got worse.  Her rescuer was... Ripper? Mr. Giles? Rupert?  What did you call a man that you'd had sex with while under the influence of magic, but who otherwise you knew only because he was your daughter's Watcher?

Now there was a question for Miss Manners.

I must be really out of it, Joyce decided and let him lead her to his car.

She laid her head back and rested on the drive home. Giles, thankfully, did not say anything.

It was a short drive home.  Joyce's stomach still wasn't completely settled when the car came to a stop.  She opened her eyes, preparing to thank Giles for the lift home, to discover he was already out of the car coming round to open the door.

As he helped her out she felt obliged to murmur.  "Thanks."

"Not at all,"  Giles was more than a little concerned.  Buffy had mentioned earlier this week that her mother had been ill. The flu she said.

The flu did not usually hang on this virulently for a week.  He guided her up the path to the house.  An inquiry about her health would not be out of line, but how on Earth could he phrase it without bringing up that night?

At the door, Joyce dug for her key.  "Thanks again."  One of the idiot neighbors was barbecuing.  Her still unsettled stomach turned completely at the smell of burning meat

As she rushed to open the door, Giles asked with concern.  "Do you feel well enough to be on your own?  I could stay until Buffy gets home if you'd like."

Her nausea had returned in force.  Instead of answering him, she ended up rushing to the downstairs powder room.

Kneeling in front of the toilet she brought up what little stomach juices she had generated since her last round.  And gagged for a couple of minutes afterward.  Giles located her for that last.

Holding her forehead again, he wet a cloth and gently cleaned her face.  Then made her rinse out her mouth.  "Don't swallow.  You'll make yourself ill again."

Joyce was in no position to object as he settled her on the couch.  She just lay there for a few minutes as the room came back into focus.

After a while he came back carrying a mug.  "I've made you some weak tea.  To settle your stomach.  If you think you can manage it."

Sitting up Joyce took the cup.  "Thank you, again.  But I really am feeling much better.  You don't need to stay."

He sat down anyway.  Watching her closely.  Joyce sipped the tea.  It was weak, but he'd sweetened it
slightly.  Maybe it would help her stomach.

Then he cleared his throat.  "Uhm, Joyce, I realize I am completely overstepping propriety in this and you've every right to show me the door, but, uhm, is there any likelihood that this could be, uhm, not the flu?"

Oh, God.  Joyce looked away from him, feeling a blush rising.  "Uhm, I don't know."

"You have to know whether the possibility exists, Joyce."  Giles pointed out.

"Uhm, Well,"  Joyce didn't know what to say.  "Why would you say that?"

"I can count, Joyce."  Giles said with some asperity.  Then realizing how that must sound, he gentled his voice.  "We...that spell occurred on November 10th. That was thirty four days ago.  Even assuming you'd just finished your... m-menses when... at that point, you should have had a full cycle since then."

Joyce looked at her tea cup.

"How late are you?"  He asked.

Well, at least he was concerned.  Joyce sighed, "Nineteen days."

Giles did some quick calculations in his head.  The results were disconcerting.  "Your last cycle started around the 28th of October?"

"For a bachelor you know rather a lot about this." Joyce commented dryly.

"The Slayer's abilities to sense vampires is affected by the changes in her hormones."  Giles explained.  "Needless to say Buffy finds confiding in me about such things more than a trifle embarrassing."

How nice.  She and her daughter had something in common.  Joyce played with her tea cup some more.

Sensing that she was not going to say anything further, Giles braced himself and continued.  "Uhm, given the fact that you were probably fertile when..."  You can't keep talking around it, he told himself.  Bad enough that you've avoided the subject completely since that night.  She must already think you're a total cad. Don't make it any worse.  "We were... together.  Don't you think this is... suggestive?"

Suggestive.  My what a nicely neutral phrase, Joyce thought.  Well, I suppose I should be gratefully that he isn't just blowing me off.  Under the circumstances he'd be well within his rights to say - not my problem, Joyce, - and walk out the door.  "It may not be anything."

"Have you been this late before?"  Giles asked gently.

"Yeah, once."  The corner of Joyce's mouth quirked up.

Once.  Oh, dear.  When she was pregnant with Buffy. Giles was becoming more and more convince that he'd gotten this woman in trouble.

"It may just be stress,"  Joyce tried to keep her voice light.  "Lord, knows I've had enough of that lately.  Or the flu."

"You don't have the flu for three weeks, Joyce." Giles cleared his throat.  "Uhm, don't they have, well, test thingies you can get at the chemist's now?  Perhaps we should make certain one way or the other.  I'll go out and get one."

A practical suggestion.  One Joyce had been avoiding for several days.  "I already bought one.  I just haven't had the courage to use it."

"Is there really anything to gain by putting it off?"  Giles asked.
 

So Joyce went to her room to get the test kit.  It had two of the little test sticks in it.  The  instructions said to use the second to double check the results of the first.  The test itself was straight forward enough.  If a little gross.  The three minute wait for the results was nerve wracking.

Positive.  Twice over.

She carefully washed her hands and returned to the living room where Giles was standing by the fireplace apparently examining the painting over the mantle, but he turned quickly as soon as she came back.

Setting the test stick on a newspaper on the coffee table she said.  "Well, it's not the flu."

Giles looked down at the test stick.  He'd been thinking hard about this the entire time she had been gone.  Knowing for certain helped clarify his thought process immensely, but he waited till Joyce sat down on the couch before speaking.

"Joyce, I'm sorry beyond my ability to say to have put us in this situation.  That spell, well, it didn't just regress our ages, it-it completely eliminated all sense of responsibility."  He toyed with one of the books on the table.  "Even at sixteen I had better sense than to indulge in unprotected sex.  This is completely my fault."

"I seem to recall being there too,"  Joyce commented.  "And I knew, or should have known that it was the wrong time of the month to be doing anything.  I think there's plenty of fault to share around."

"That neither of us were in control doesn't change what's happened.  Or my responsibility."  Giles sat down next to her.

"What are we going to do?"  Joyce clasped her hands together tightly in her lap.

Giles pursed his lips not saying anything for a moment.  Then he spoke quietly.  "I know what convention dictates I'm supposed to say here, Joyce, but I'm not sure that I can."  He reached out and put his hand on top of the ones she had clasped in her lap.

"Don't mistake me.  If you...don't feel the way I do, I will do anything and everything you want me to do to make this easier for you, but..."  His thumb gently rubbed against the back of her hand.  "You made the most wonderful daughter, Joyce, and at our age to have started a baby the first time, well, I can't help but feel perhaps such a child is meant to be."

"I'm forty years old, Rupert."  She had to swallow hard.  "I don't know that I'm up to taking on a baby by myself.  Single motherhood is trying enough when you're young.  I'd be nearly sixty before this one was grown."

"I wasn't suggesting you do it alone."  It was Giles's turn to swallow hard, not at what he was about to propose, but that she might turn him down out of hand. "As I said this is my responsibility.  If you don't feel that you would be willing to... that we could make it work together, I would be prepared to take the child."

Looking into his eyes, Joyce realized he was serious.  "Right.  Going to bundle it along when you and Buffy are off slaying are you?"

"I'll admit the... logistics could prove difficult." Giles said.  "But no more so for me than anyone else. And I would hope that we could... work out some sort of arrangement.  A child deserves both parents."

He continued.  "And frankly two people raising a child would be considerably easier than one.  If you were willing... to have this child I think we could... work rather well together.  We seem to be able to do rather well with Buffy."

He really was serious Joyce realized.  She said cautiously, "Looking after an infant requires a whole lot more hands on time than a teenager.  Are you prepared to take on the two o'clock feedings and colic and the pre-school field trips?"

"I'm up at that time of the morning most nights anyway,"  Giles smiled.  "Granted I know next to nothing about small children, but I'm a fast learner.  And you have prior experience.  Between us we ought to be able to manage."

Joyce sat back and looked at him.  "This is not what I was expecting."

"I hope you have a better opinion of me than that I would shirk my responsibilities, Joyce."  Giles's voice was a bit peevish even to his ears.

"No,"  Joyce looked down at his hand still holding hers in her lap.  She took a tighter hold on it.  "No, I figured you'd be very practical and responsible and point out that we barely know each other, and we're both over forty, which is awfully old to be starting a family, and I have a daughter who is almost grown and the intelligent, practical thing is for me to make an appointment at one of the clinics in LA that handle these things and terminate the pregnancy."

Her lips curled down.  "Being a gentleman, you would, of course, offer to take me and even pick up the cost."

"Is that what you want to do, Joyce?"  There was a chill running down his spine.  The same sort of feeling he got when he knew Buffy to be in mortal danger.

"No!"  Joyce was on the verge of tears.  "I hate the idea.  I mean, when I was young I marched in support of abortion rights.  I even got arrested at one of the rallies.  I've gone with friends and held their hands through the procedure, reassuring them that it was all right.

"But I'm a hypocrite I guess.  When it's inside me, it's not some formless mass of cells.  It's a baby."  She looked up and found his eyes looking at her with profound gentleness.  "I always wanted another child.  And I'd long since given up on any chance of that.  It's just, I'm scared of the thought of being alone with a small child."

"Then don't be,"  Giles felt his heart lift.  Both hands encircled hers.  "Let me be there with you.  Marry me, Joyce.  I know it's not an ideal arrangement.  But I promise I'll do everything in my power to be a good husband and father."

"Marriage!  Oh, I don't know.  I'm not sure about..."  that threw Joyce for more of a loop than the idea of being pregnant.  "This isn't the 19th Century after all.  You don't have to marry me."

"Rather difficult to share the responsibility if we don't,"  Giles put in.  "Or were you thinking of just living together with your teenage daughter in the house?"

"Oh, God!  Buffy!  I hadn't even thought about Buffy."  Joyce pulled her hands away from him and rubbed her face.  "Can this get more complicated?"

"Probably.  Life usually does."  Giles very tentatively put his arm around her shoulder.  Joyce let him pull her in and rested her head against him.  "We can work this out, Joyce.  Things, well, moved a little faster than either of us were prepared for I know, but that night, it wasn't just the spell or the lack of inhibition.  I do... that is, uhm..."

He sighed and rested his cheek against her forehead. "I've never been any good at this sort of thing you know. I hope you don't require pretty speeches because I absolutely cannot manage them."

Well, it wasn't exactly the declaration of undying love that a woman hoped for when a man proposed.  On the other hand she'd gotten that from Hank and it had lasted what?  Realistically about six years, although they'd tried to hold things together for another ten for Buffy's sake.  She ran her hand down the front of his vest.  At least she did not have to worry about him flaking out on his responsibilities.  Despite how they'd gotten into this mess, she knew once he took on a job nothing short of death would keep him from completing it.

This would be so much easier if she did not respect and like him.  Or find him so damn sexy.  If it had just been a one night stand with neither of them sober.  Then maybe she would not have these warm and fuzzy feelings about him or the baby she could already envision growing inside her.  I'm probably going to regret this, she thought.  If it did not work, she'd end up a single mother again, this time with a baby on her hands.  Well, she had done it once.  She could cope if she had to.  And she really did not want to end this pregnancy.  Fear that she would have to had been what had kept her from facing the problem squarely two weeks ago.

"All right."  she said.  "I'm game."

Then, since it seemed the proper thing to do under the circumstances, he kissed her.

It started out fairly chaste.  She had been ill only a short time ago after all.  But she responded and he found himself deepening the kiss.  Stealing both their breaths and causing his heart rate to jump.

After several minutes Joyce pulled back a little and commented,  "Well, that answered that question."

"Pardon?"  Giles was more than a little dazed.

"You weren't talking marriage of convenience here," Joyce smiled.

"Uhm, truthfully, I hadn't gotten quite that far." Giles admitted.  "If you're not, uh, that is...I certainly would not want to... if you didn't..."

"Oh, I do."  Joyce was definite.  "This is going to be tough enough to make work.  We can't afford to pass on the one thing we actually have going for us.  Unless of course you'd rather not?"

"Oh, no,"  Giles hastily told her.  "That is, I mean, uhm..."

Blushing he got out.  "I, uhm, find you quite a-attractive."

"Thank you.  But we don't actually have to get married you know.  Lots of people don't,"  Joyce suggested.  "We could just live together.  That would accomplish the same thing."

"No it wouldn't.  And no we can't."  Giles was definite.  "A child needs stability.  And moral structure.  Just living together... isn't enough. Besides there's Buffy to consider.  How would it look to her?"

Joyce strongly suspected Buffy would be able to take her mother living with a man with less qualms than she would have about a new stepfather.  However, she had a pretty good idea that Giles, Rupert? (what the heck _was_ she going to call him?) was old fashioned enough that he would insist on it.

"Okay, if that's the way you want it."  she agreed.

"I do."  Then he grinned a little at his unintentional pun.  Joyce had to smile.  For a second she had seen that naughty boy from the candy spell peek through the years and the tweed.

He held her gently.  Joyce felt some of the stress that she had been feeling this last week slowly dissipate.  Which was ridiculous.  If anything she should be more worried not less.  She'd just agreed to marry a man she barely knew.  Still it was very comforting here in his arms.

"Can I call you Ripper?"  She asked.

Giles blinked.  "Uhm, well, if you'd like.  Uhm, why?"

"If you'd rather I'll call you Rupert, but that sounds, well, rather..."

"Dreadful?"  Giles suggested.  "Truthfully, I've never really cared for my given name.  It's just, well, I would have thought that old nickname would hold, uhm, unpleasant associations."

"Oh, no."  Joyce smiled up at him.  "That kid, and I know it wasn't really you, or at least not the you that matters, was sweet to me.  I think I would have liked you at sixteen."

"I doubt you would have noticed me,"  Giles confessed.  "Except for the rare occasion that I, uhm, acted out, I was actually shy and very bookish.  Pretty girls like you didn't even see me."

"Are you kidding?  I was what Buffy calls a yearbook nerd.  I'd have been thrilled to a have a smart guy pay attention to me.  Particularly one as cute as you are."

Cute?  She thought he was cute?  Giles blushed.

"Speaking of whom, how are we going to tell Buffy?" Joyce asked.

"Uhm, gently.  I don't fancy being beaten to a bloody pulp when she discovers I've gotten her mother in trouble."  Giles cleared his throat.  "I don't suppose we could just tell her we're getting married and wait to break the news about the baby until after the ceremony?"

"She's a pretty smart kid, Ripper.  I think she may figure it out on her own.  I mean it's not like we've been dating or stuff."  Joyce thought about that.  "At least we haven't been doing much stuff."

Giles's blush deepened.  "Enough it would appear."

Joyce giggled.  A mature giggle;  he could hear remnants of the girl he had, uhm, gone out with (you mean shagged, don't you Ripper? the little voice in the back of his head suggested) under the influence of that chocolate, as well as Buffy in it, but this was a adult woman's response to a rather silly joke.

It was a good sign when a woman laughed at your jokes.  Even he knew that.  He decided he might just grow to like it.

Which was probably a good thing.  Because he had just made a life time commitment he realized.  This was serious business.

"Do you own this house or are you just leasing?" Giles asked.

"Checking out to see if you're acquiring a rich wife?  Sorry to disappoint you.  I'm buying it, but the bank still owns about 80% of it."  Joyce told him.

"Oh, no,"  Giles suddenly became flustered. "Although I rather suspect you're financially better off than I am.  The Sunnydale School District pays rather well by California State School standards, they have to in order to keep anyone on staff, but even so I'm only making about half what I was at the museum, and that's taking into account the difference in cost of living.

"No, what I was wondering was where we were going to live.  If you were leasing then we could look for a larger place.  As it is..."  He looked around.

Joyce sighed.  "Right.  Would you mind moving in here?  I'm going to have to hire additional staff at the Gallery.  I won't be able to put in the hours I have been with a baby, or even while I'm pregnant, so my take home's going to take a nose dive.  I doubt we could afford a bigger house anyway."

"I don't think we have much choice."  Giles thought about it.  "I have a flat in London, but like you the bank owns considerably more of it than I do.  I could sell, but, by the time I paid the taxes and took into account the exchange rate, it wouldn't net out to enough to do us much good.  At least not in terms of getting a bigger house.

"Besides letting it, I've a positive cash flow of nearly a hundred pounds a month.  The extra income could prove useful."

What he lacked in romance he seemed prepared to make up for in practicality, Joyce decided.  "Yes, it could. Hank's committed to support Buffy through college, assuming she goes..."

"She's going."  Giles was firm.  "If I have to drag her there and chain her to the desk.  Especially with those SAT scores.  She's far too bright to waste that kind of opportunity."

Joyce liked the sound of that.  And Ripper had enough influence over Buffy that he could probably force the issue.  Okay that's another for the plus column of why to agree to this.

Although she was still a little queasy about getting married just to give her children a father figure.  Well there were worse reasons she supposed.

"You've got my backing on that, but what I meant was that if Buffy decides to go away to school or just move out on her own, the support goes with her.  I'm not getting any alimony from Hank.  I took it in a lump sum settlement.  Which I used to start the Gallery and put the money down on this house."

"Uhm, truthful that bothers me very little."  Giles cleared his throat.  "I can't say I fancy the idea of Mr. Summers supporting my wife and child.  I've done consulting work on the side before.  If money gets tight I can do it again."

"Right, in your copious free time."  Joyce ticked off on her fingers.  "Let's see, you've got your day job as librarian, the time you spend as Watcher, which eats up most of your evenings and a new baby to look after. Just what are you planning to take time away from? Sleeping?"

She had a point unfortunately.  Giles said, "We'll manage somehow.  Other people seem to."

Further financial discussions were suddenly put in abeyance by the sight of Buffy coming up the front steps.

"Hey, Mom, is it okay if I..."  Buffy bounded through the front door and paused as she watched them quickly disengage from each other.  Suspiciously she asked,  "You two haven't been eating that candy again have you?"

"Of c-course not, Buffy,"  Giles was only mildly panicked.  "Uhm, your mother and I, well, uhm, we have something to tell you.  Uhm..."

He looked at Joyce for support.  Joyce had the wide eyed look of a deer caught in headlights.  Then he realized that she was staring at the plastic stick with the test results that they had left lying on the table.

Buffy's eyes were tracking her mother's.  Hoping that she either would not know what it meant, or that he could distract her, Giles rushed out.  "Your mother and I are getting married."

Reaching down, Buffy picked up the test stick. "Kinda behind the curve on that aren't ya?"  She said harshly.

"Buffy, it's not..." Giles started.

"Oh, yeah it is, Giles."  Buffy looked almost ill. "You guys screwed up really bad on this one, didn't you? Bad enough you have to muck up your own lives, but did you have to muck up mine as well?"

"Buffy, that's not fair."  Joyce protested.  "This is not going to affect you."

"Like hell it won't, Mom."  Buffy was starting to get angry.  "A baby in the house and you two married? That's going to affect me.  Why don't you just strip me of what little life I have left?"

 She was on the verge of tears.  "Geez, Mom, how could you?  And Giles,"  she swung round on him.  "What were you thinking?  Were you thinking?  I mean, God, with my _Mother_.  That is just too gross for words."

"Buffy..."  Giles started.

"No.  I don't want to hear about it."  Throwing the test stick down on the table, she said.  "I don't want to hear anything.  I'm going to Willow's.  I don't want to talk to either of you right now."

With that she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

"So much for breaking it to her gently,"  Joyce sighed.  Turning to Ripper she saw incredible pain in his face.  Buffy's anger had hurt him.  "Don't worry, Ripper. That was a classic Buffy doing Hank reaction.  Scream loudly and the run off to cool down.  We won't know how she really feels until she's had time to get over her mad."

"It seemed to me she made her feelings quite clear." Giles said softly.  If forced to choose between Slayer and child, all his training and duty said he had to chose Buffy.  But he could hardly withdraw his offer to Joyce now.  He felt ripped in two.

"No, that was just a knee jerk reaction,"  Joyce knew her daughter.  "You've never seen one of her temper tantrums before?  No I suppose you haven't.  She stopped indulging in them that last year in LA.  About the time she started Slaying I guess."

She smiled at Ripper.  "Once she gets over being grossed out then we can talk to her."

"Are you certain?"  Giles asked hopefully.  At Joyce's nod he relaxed some.  Buffy did get over being angry fairly quickly.  Perhaps they could win her over.

And if they could not?  Well, at least if he and Joyce married the child would have a name.  And Joyce would not make that appointment in Los Angeles.  But the rest would be a mess.  He sighed.

"Having second thoughts?"  Joyce asked seriously.

"Not about getting married."  He told her.  "It just occurred to me that breaking this to the Watcher's Council is going to be even worse than telling Buffy."

"Not suppose to fraternize are you?"  Joyce asked.

"Well, actually all the edicts against emotional attachment are directed at the Slayer."  Giles culled his brain.  "I don't recall anything at all regarding interaction with her mother, but I'm sure they are going to think it... inappropriate at the very least."

"Since you've already broken the rules about becoming emotionally attached to Buffy, I don't think you need to worry a whole lot."  Joyce commented.  At Giles's surprised look, she went on.  "What?  You didn't think I knew that you're crazy about my daughter?  C'mon, Ripper, I'm not blind.  You love Buffy, and Willow and Xander as well, as though they were your own.  In fact I'm mildly suspicious that you're offering to marry me just to get Buffy for a daughter."

"Oh, dear, my secret has been revealed," he teased her back.  "Will you still have me?"

"Yeah, a woman my age can't be too choosy."  Then Joyce became more serious.  "What about your family? What will they say about this?"

"My sister will probably be delighted."  Giles was not concerned either way.  "Bea has said for years I should settle down.  She's the only family I have left, except for the odd second cousin.

"Odd, being the operative word to describe both Olliver and Adam," he added.  "Rather a good thing we're doing this in a hurry.  Makes for an excellent excuse not to invite them to the ceremony.  Which we can't really do anything about today.  Shall we go in Monday and get the license?"

"No, first we get a doctor to verify that we really are pregnant."  Joyce insisted.  "We're not getting married on the fly and then discovering it was some horrible mistake.  That wouldn't be fair.  Aside from being messy as hell."

Giles agreed reluctantly.  The use of the word 'we' in association with pregnancy also rather bothered him. Admittedly he had been in on starting the process, but he did not really see how _he_ could be pregnant.

But they agreed to set up an appointment to go off see Joyce's gynecologist.  Together.
 

Later that evening when Giles finally made it home, he dropped his jacket over the back of the desk chair and the events of the day finally hit him.

Pouring a tumbler full of scotch, he knocked back a good third of it.  "My God, what have I done?"

Whomever his question had been addressed to did not deign to respond leaving Giles to contemplate his glass.

Realistically he had done the only thing he could do.  Having gotten Joyce pregnant,  no matter what the circumstances, (He was going to _kill_ Ethan Rayne the next time he saw him.  No he'd have to be content with just seriously hurting the man.  With this new responsibility he could not risk a murder conviction.) he had no choice but to do the proper thing and marry her.

His lips curled a little at that.  There were other options.  Not honorable ones, true, but other options. But not with Buffy's mother.  The very nature of their, he had to call it a relationship he supposed, precluded any course but the one he'd taken.  Joyce meant too much to Buffy for him to treat her with anything but honor and respect.

No, aside from marriage the only other option out of this mess was the one Joyce had apparently been contemplating.  And the idea horrified him.  Not out of any abstract sense of morality.  Even the High Church Anglican Confirmation classes of his childhood had not regarded abortion as a sin.  But rather because like Joyce he found he could not bear the thought of destroying his own child.  Or potential child at least.

His child.

He took another drink.

The idea was totally foreign to him.  At one time, long ago now, he'd assumed there would be a wife and children in his life.  But as the years had passed the prospect became remote.  Even during the short time before Jenny's duplicity had been revealed and he had contemplated the possibility of their building a life together, the thought of children had not entered into it.

And now here it was.  Dumped unceremoniously into his lap, courtesy of Ethan Rayne and the Hellmouth.

Shaking his head, it occurred to him that he might not be doing this child any favor.  Coming into the world on top of a Hellmouth, with a Watcher father who might not live to see it grown (or even born, be realistic, Rupert) and parents who were little more than strangers. What kind of life would this baby have?

As fine a one as he could manage, he vowed.  Despite everything, Hellmouth, conflict with his duty as Watcher and marrying a woman he barely knew, let alone loved, when he learned that Joyce was pregnant something in him that he had never known was there had burst open and made him realize that he wanted this child more than anything he had ever wanted in his life.

Sheer bloody instinct was the only thing he could chalk it up to.  A desire to see his genes perpetuated. But there it was.

It did not help that even now, trying to think about the matter calmly and rationally what he kept envisioning was a little blond girl with a large book balanced in her lap, smiling up at him with Buffy's eyes and Buffy's smile.

Pathetic much, as his students would say, but there it was.  He had a chance for a little Buffy.  His own child, who might, if he did not screw things up completely, bestow on him, as a matter of right, the adoration he had seen Buffy give her father.

And Joyce.

He was not in this alone after all.  He would share this child with Joyce.

He wished he knew her better.  He should have come to know her better.  As Buffy's mother if nothing else. Because he had no intention of playing the role of absentee father if he could help it.

Which meant building some kind of relationship with Joyce.  He took another long swallow of whiskey.

Well for all her California cluelessness she seemed a pleasant enough woman:  Practical;  strong;  and capable of facing whatever life threw at her.  And if he were looking for a good mother he could not have found a better one.  Buffy was a wonderful girl, thanks in no small part to Joyce's influence he was sure.  She would give this child the same unconditional love and acceptance she gave Buffy, he was certain.

Love and acceptance were important to a child.  He had learned that from his own father.  This child would have the best he could manage to give it in terms of a family life and Joyce might just be a large part of that best.

There was one drink left in the glass.  He raised it as a promise and a toast to his unborn, unnamed child.

Finishing it off, he reached for the bottle and carefully screwed the top back on, returning the bottle to its place in the liquor cupboard.

This child did not need her Dad to be any more of a drunk than he already was, he decided.  From now on no refills.b

"Of course."  After classes were over he would not even have to take personal time.  "Shall I pick you up?  About 2:45?"

"Okay,"  Joyce suddenly giggled.  "Is this our first date?"

"Certainly not."  Giles tried to match her levity. "Remember?  I took you out for a night on the town?"

"Right.  How could I forget."

She was waiting for him when he arrived at the Gallery. After some last minute instruction to her assistant, who seemed very curious as to what Joyce was up to, they left.

"Uhm, I didn't see Buffy today at school."  Giles opened the conversation.  "Willow said she was ill."

"Blue flu,"  Joyce sighed.  "She's pouting big time I'm afraid.  But she has gotten over her mad.  Now she's merely decided that her life is over.  I can't quite make out whether this is embarrassment because her mother has gotten pregnant or because she figures if you live with us she'll have to be a Slayer all the time.  It was easier to let her stay home than to argue her out the door.

"She did have a long talk with her Dad.  He's taking her on a skiing vacation over Christmas.  Maybe that will give her a chance to get some perspective on the situation."

Normally Giles would be less than thrilled about having his Slayer out of town for a week, but under the circumstances a little distance might be a good thing. Assuming of course no demon tried to open the Hellmouth while she was gone.

Dr. Rosenberg actually saw them by 3:15.  Incredibly prompt by a doctor's standard.  Joyce introduced Giles, "You know Ira Rosenberg, don't you?"

"Of course, Willow's father,"  Giles took his hand. "We've met at Parent/Teacher nights."

"Actually I treated you last summer when I was pitch hitting down at the ER as well,"  Dr. Rosenberg told him. "But I'm not surprised you don't remember.  Nasty accident. You were rather out of it."

Leaving Giles trying to remember what excuse Xander had given when checking him into the Casualty after Angel's
ministrations last May.  Hopefully it would not come up again.

As they all sat in a cheery office decorated in earth tones, Dr. Rosenberg opened a file.  "I had the lab rush that sample you dropped off this morning.  The result is positive.  You are pregnant."  His face as he looked up at them was professional and blank of emotion.

"Have you discussed what course you would like to take?"

Nearly answering, Giles stopped himself and then reached out and took Joyce's hand.  It really was Joyce's decision after all.

Smiling at him, Joyce told the doctor.  "He wants to have a quickie wedding and pretend the baby is born prematurely."

"And you want?"  Dr. Rosenberg was still carefully neutral.

"Well, I don't think it's fair to make him marry me. There's no reason why we can't just live together and have a baby after all."  Joyce squeezed his hand.

Dr. Rosenberg smiled then, warm and supportive.  "In that case, congratulation.  We'll need to set up a treatment schedule, of course.  I'm fairly familiar with Joyce's medical history, but I'll need to get some information from you, Mr. Giles.  Start with the basics shall we?  Do you happen to know your Rh factor?"

"Positive."  Too many trips to the casualty had left Giles fairly conversant with that type of medical matter.

"Good that simplifies things."  Dr. Rosenberg was making notes.  "Now with parents in your age group we like to monitor things rather closely.  I generally like to get an ultra sound right away, the earliest we can get you in for that is Thursday, and then again at about eleven weeks if we can manage.  Your last period started on October 29th?"

"Yes.  But we had to start this on November 10th." Joyce put in.  Giles felt himself blushing slightly.

"And you think that because?"  Dr. Rosenberg prompted.

"That was the only time in November that we had sex." Joyce told the Doctor calmly.  Then turning to a choking and beet faced Giles she patted his hand and said.  "Ripper, the doctor needs to know that.  Get a grip."

"I'm afraid I do need to pry into your personal life, Mr. Giles."  Dr. Rosenberg was barely controlling his grin. "If it's any consolation to you I've been practicing obstetrics for over twenty years.  To me this sort of conversation is fairly routine.

"Not that any pregnancy is anything but extraordinary," he hastily assured  him.  "Bringing a new life into the world is a magical event.  Nothing in the least routine about that."

As Dr. Rosenberg probed Joyce and gently question him, Giles slowly became more comfortable.  He was beginning to suspect that Willow got her magical abilities from her father.  This man had healing talent that arose from more than his training and studies.  Even if he did not acknowledge it, Giles felt better knowing that Joyce would be in the hands of someone who drew down magic as well as science.

He even managed to discuss the possible complications because of their ages without making it seem unduly alarming.  Giles suspected that later these facts would scare him out of his wits.

"You'll need blood tests for the license."  Dr. Rosenberg checked some boxes on his form.

Joyce looked at Giles.  "You still sure you want to get married?"

"Yes."  Giles said with certainty.  He was not going to discuss it in front of a stranger.  Even if he was the doctor.

"Cause I'm sure we wouldn't be the first couple, Dr. Rosenberg has had who weren't married."  Joyce looked at the Doctor.

"Of course not."  Dr. Rosenberg said.  "However, aside from the social issues, there are some practical considerations that might make marriage desirable."

"Such as?"  Joyce had expected the Doctor to back her up on this.

"Insurance.  Your private plan doesn't cover pregnancy and Mr. Giles's group policy through the School District does."

Giles was becoming more and more impressed by Dr. Rosenberg.  Not only did he have an extremely good bedside manner, but he had come up with an argument that would never have occurred to Giles, but which Joyce would no doubt find very compelling.

"Oh.  I hadn't thought of that."  Joyce deflated a little.  "Will they cover me if it's a pre-existing condition?"

"Yes, actually.  We run across that question a lot." Dr. Rosenberg smiled.

From there they went into the exam room, where Dr. Rosenberg proceeded through a basic physical.  At least he said it was basic.  To Giles watching as he probed and prodded Joyce it looked incredibly invasive.  In fact, the doctor ended up examining areas of Joyce that Giles was fairly certain _he_ had not had an opportunity to examine.

He sat through it all though.  Joyce seemed to want him there.  Even while discussing with the doctor matters that Giles found himself blushing fiercely just listening to.

"Everything looks good."  Dr. Rosenberg announced stripping off his rubber gloves.  "I'd like to get you on a vitamin regime immediately.  Especially if you've been having as much nausea as you say.  And I'll want a formal medical history from you, Mr. Giles.  Why don't you go take care of that and the insurance information while Joyce gets dressed."

After Giles had obediently gone in search of forms to fill out, Dr. Rosenberg, who had lingered asked  "Anything you want to talk about that you didn't want to discuss with Mr. Giles present?"

"I don't think so,"  Joyce responded.  "Such as?"

"Well, a lot of women your age, particularly with their family nearly raised, might have a few doubts about starting over from scratch on a new one."  Dr. Rosenberg was keeping his voice neutral again.  "And from what I've heard about Mr. Giles from Willow he can be very persuasive."

"Oh, no.  I want the baby."  Joyce grinned.  "Ripper thinks he talked me into it, but really I couldn't have been happier when he said he wanted to keep it."

"Good,"  Dr. Rosenberg smiled.  "That's the attitude I like from my expectant mothers.  Makes my life a great deal easier.  Everything else all right?"

"Buffy's not taking things any too well,"  Joyce sighed.  "But you probably all ready knew that."

"I had heard... rumors to that affect, yes."  Dr. Rosenberg crossed his arms.  "But she likes Mr. Giles, right?  The impression I get from Willow is that Buffy is pretty much teacher's pet.

"The reason for that now being readily apparent."  The doctor grinned.  "Poor Sheila's going to have to eat some crow.  She was convinced that there was something inappropriate going on with Mr. Giles and the Scooby Gang, as Xander calls it.  I told her she was wrong, that he was just a good teacher dedicated to his job.  Guess we were both wrong."

"No, you were right.  I got to know Ripper because he was so involved with Buffy,"  Joyce added quickly, "And the other kids.  He's going to make a great Dad.  And Buffy is fond of him, but she's not taking the idea of a new little brother or sister too well."

"Give her awhile.  Hard to go from only child to big sister at seventeen."  Dr. Rosenberg nodded.  "If you need it I can give you the name of a good family counselor."
 

The prospective 'great Dad' had filled out the obligatory insurance paper work.   Giles was always amazed at how the American system, without government bureaucracy involved, always seemed to need three time the paperwork as at home, and was starting on his own information.  Dr. Rosenberg's medical history questionnaire was one of those - check the box if you have ever had - sort of things.  Giles sighed and got down to reading through it.  Fairly straight forward for the most part, even if it did leave him trying to remember when he'd had his last round of inoculations. Then he turned to the inside page.

And froze at question number 27.

After several minutes of staring at it, he asked to see the Doctor again.

He ushered Giles back into his office and perched on the desk.  "A question, Mr. Giles?"

"Uhm, yes.  Who precisely is your patient here?  Joyce or both of us?"

"You both are."  He answered readily.  "And the baby, too.  Of course if a conflict arises between those obligations, well, we try to avoid that, but some times hard choices have to be made."

"That's not what I was concerned about,"  Giles told him.  Holding up the questionnaire, he asked,  "This then is confidential?"

"Absolutely,"  he assured Giles.  "Is there something we need to discuss?"

His bedside manner was very good.  Willow got that tender caring from him.  Still.  "This is difficult."

Dr. Rosenberg nodded kindly and waited for him to continue.

"When I was... twenty one I, I took a leave from Oxford and uhm, indulged in some behavior that... "  How on earth could he tell him this?

"Question 27 or 29?"  The doctor asked gently.

"Both."  He blushed.

Dr. Rosenberg went around and sat down at his desk. "Are you currently using any drugs, Mr. Giles?"

"No, well, discounting alcohol and caffeine."

"How much do you drink?"  He wasn't making any notes. And there was no implied judgment.

"Two or three scotches in a week.  Oh, and sometimes wine with dinner," he added.

"And the caffeine?  Tea from what Willow says,"  Dr. Rosenberg smiled.

"Well, rather a lot," he admitted.

"Does it interfere with your sleeping?"

"No."  At least not when he actually got the chance to sleep.

Dr. Rosenberg nodded.  "And when was the last time you used drugs?"

"Those painkillers last summer."  Giles could not remember now what had been prescribed.

"Let me rephrase that, other than prescription medication and the odd aspirin, when was the last time you used drugs?"  He tapped his pen on the top of Joyce's file.

"1977."

He nodded again.  "So we are talking about fairly ancient history then?"

"Yes."

"And the other, was it of the same vintage?"

"Yes,"  Giles found himself blushing.

"How many partners?"

"O-one."  Giles looked at the floor.  Rather hoping it would open and swallow him up.

"And the relationship lasted how long?"

"A-about half a year,"  he choked out.

"As you probably deduced, Mr. Giles, those questions are intended to illicit whether there is a risk of AIDS or other blood borne disease."  Dr. Rosenberg's tone could have been talking about the weather.  "Given that we are talking about behavior that occurred over twenty years ago, I strongly suspect that if you had contracted any such diseases, they would have manifested long since even without being diagnosed in an earlier medical examine."

He came out from behind the desk.  "However, just to be on the safe side, we'll have them do a complete work up on that blood sample.  I don't see any reason for concern though.  As for this,"  he took the questionnaire from Giles's hand.  "I can understand why a man in your profession would be reluctant to put that kind of information in writing, no matter how confidential and since we've gotten what we need to know there's no reason to finish it."

"Thank you,"  Giles hoped he managed to convey how truly grateful he was.

"Not at all."  He smiled at Giles.  "Willow would never forgive me if I let her favorite teacher get into trouble because of a... youthful indiscretion."

Sitting down in the chair next to him, the doctor considered.  "I hope you don't think I'm overstepping here, Mr. Giles, but I'm one of those old fashioned doctors who thinks one should treat the whole patient.  Emotional needs as well as physical.  Does Joyce know about this?"

"Good heavens, no.  She'd be shocked."  Giles stammered.

"I doubt that.  She's a forty year old divorced woman.  She's had a fair amount of life experience."  Dr. Rosenberg went on.  "And the two of you, well, statistically your chances of making this marriage work are not terribly good:  second time for her;  baby conceived before the wedding.  If you're going to have any kind of shot at it at all, you have to be honest with each other.  And consider how she would feel if she heard it from someone other than you?"

"No one knows,"  Giles put in.

"Your partner is dead?"  Dr. Rosenberg asked.

"Uhm, no."  Giles had a sudden vision of Ethan smirking as he told Joyce, in ugly detail just how well he was acquainted with _her_ Ripper.

"Think about it,"  Dr. Rosenberg suggested. "Now come with me, and I'll introduce you to Nurse Jones.  She's the office vampire."

Giles hoped that was a joke.