Title: A Spot of Bother (4/5)
Author: Gail Christison

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

"You really should eat something, Giles."

Giles looked down his nose at his Slayer, in so far as he was able, half propped up by pillows. His tone was biting. "I will most certainly eat something... if you would be so kind as to hold my bucket, next time."

It took a few seconds for Buffy's puzzled look to scrunch up. "Eww. Nobody said anything about Xander barfing..."

"Lucky Xander," Giles hissed, sipping his glass of water and wishing it was something much stronger. Jenny had allowed him Scotch, just once, to cheer him up...but there was something rather tragic about ten year old Laphroaig ending up in the bottom of a plastic bucket, where it could do no one any good.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Hey, I came to cheer you up. Do we have a problem, here? I care, Giles...hence me, here, on one of my...rare...days off. I gave up...stuff...to be here with my favorite Watcher."

His expression was unchanged. "And it is appreciated. However, one does not expect to share one's sickbed with several...healthy...visitors."

"Hey, we're not several...we're us. And we don't take up much room, do we Buffy? We thought you'd like my mom's TV set, especially since it's a combo, and, see, tapes. I kinda...borrowed...a bunch from dad's collection. He tapes stuff off Discovery and National Geographic and stuff all the time but he never has time to sit and watch them." Willow paused, aware that she was venturing into 'too much information' territory.

Buffy picked up the remote and started a tape, cutting out the soap opera that Giles had been half-watching covertly. A middle-aged Eygptian somebody in an Indiana Jones style hat was emoting over a couple of mummies in a tomb, pooh-pooh-ing someone else's theories about their demise. "Wow, Will. Giles-y stuff. Good call."

Giles snorted at the screen. "He's a git; all self-importance and not a clue what he's doing."

"You know him?" Buffy asked, starting another jelly donut out of the box Xander had left behind.

"Knew," was the extent of his grudging reply. "Are you two going to spend all of your Sunday afternoon cheering me up?"

Willow grinned. "Sure...we knew you'd be bored, 'cause Xander...way bored already, and Miss Calendar marking papers and stuff...and we're happy to be here, right, Buff?"

Buffy smiled at her friend. "What she said. Xander actually sent us. He figured he should share the wealth and dispatched his cheer up squad over here to keep you company. He's communing with Willow's Rubik's cube as we speak. We even brought corn chips...and salsa."

"You must thank him for me," Giles deadpanned, his implicit sarcasm flying over the teenagers' heads.

"Will do," Willow said cheerfully, engrossed in the bellicose pronunciations of the Indiana Jones wannabe on the screen while Buffy tried to find something to clean the confectioner's sugar from her sticky fingers.

Giles sighed in the knowledge that his bed was going to end up full of crumbs and sugar, and probably corn chips, closed his eyes, and slid down into his pillows, wishing Jenny would come back and shoo them away, no matter how well-meaning.

When his improvement of the night before had continued into the next day, she'd seized the opportunity to keep up with her classes and her backlog of marking and assignments. He had expected to have a quiet day dozing and working on his pitcher of water, in the hope that by the time Jenny returned for dinner, he would be able to actually eat and retain some solid food. He'd forgotten how tedious being ill actually was. Like an unending hangover, and just as inconvenient, not to mention itchy. At least with most of the physical injuries he'd had to date, one could generally still get around and accomplish things.

The warm, comfortable position claimed him before he even realized it. He woke to find the room quiet, the television off and, judging by the light, the time rather late in the afternoon. The flat seemed ominously silent and there was no glow of light in the loft from downstairs, either. He frowned and lifted himself up enough to look around for a note or something from either Jenny or the girls. When he found none he answered the urge to go to the bathroom, slowly easing his body out of the big bed and taking his time getting to his feet and putting on his robe.

Downstairs, the living area was shadowed and there were no signs of life. After his visit to the bathroom, Giles decided he was doing well enough to attempt tea and toast, at least. When the smell of the toast didn't turn his stomach he decided he was definitely improving. He was still fretting a little when he made his way to the living room to consume his small meal. He knew Willow and Buffy too well to believe they would have simply up and left him alone, regardless of whether or not he really needed them to be there or not, and Jenny should have been back. That was his biggest concern...that the girls might have left to patrol in the belief that Jenny would be there shortly thereafter to take over.

Halfway through his cup of tea, he put it down on the coffee table and headed for the phone. No one was answering at the Summers house, or Jenny's flat. Even his school library number went unanswered. Xander answered the Rosenbergs' phone.

"They're out patrolling, Giles. No big. Buffy said it's been quiet for about the last week and half. They're just doing a couple of the graveyards on the east side that Buff hasn't checked out in a while, and maybe a few derelict warehouses over there...oh ...and that old, abandoned Church on Maxwell."

"Very good," Giles said patiently. "I don't suppose you know where Miss Calendar is at this point?"

"With you?" Came Xander's inevitable response.

Giles rolled his eyes and gripped the handset a little tighter. "Did Willow say anything about Miss Calendar before they left?"

"They didn't come back here. Willow called from your place. She said Miss Calendar was on her way over and that you were sleeping like a little bitty baby. She said she thought you were over the worst of it, as long as grumpiness didn't count," he added mischievously.

Giles blew out a long breath. "She hasn't arrived. If you see the girls before I do, ask Buffy to call me, then she's to go and check the route between here and Miss Calendar's apartment on Ninth and Broadhurst."

"Check and check," Xander replied, serious all at once. "Buffy wasn't expecting to be late. I'll get them right on it."

"Thank you," he said softly and listened to the boy's equally soft farewell, before hanging up.

Several more calls to Jenny's number rang out, as did the Summers' number. He wondered in passing where Joyce was, then resolved to get dressed. He wasn't entirely infirm, after all, just running a temperature and skipping through a repertoire of fairly spectacular headaches and assorted joint pain. He couldn't face a suit, instead digging out an old pair of jeans and a well-worn, blue-gray chambray shirt, as well as a slightly battered pair of sneakers he hadn't used since his last game of squash back in England. By the time he was done, he needed to lie down again for ten minutes to recover from the exertion. He used the time to call a cab and write a note for Buffy and Willow...and Jenny, should she turn up.

The cab ride to Jenny's place was a somber one, Giles discovered his equilibrium really wasn't quite up to the motion of the drive, but was considerate enough to refrain from despoiling the remarkably clean taxi. The driver agreed to wait whilst he went up to knock on her door, also a very taxing exercise, though the fresh air helped clear his head and settle his stomach.

As expected, there was no answer, but thankfully no sign, either, of forced entry or foul play, nor could he sense any residual magick in the air. They pushed onwards, this time to the school, where the substitute librarian had indeed locked the side access to the library. Giles swore the whole time he was sorting through his considerable collection of keys on the heavy, Celtic designed, key-ring Jenny had given him by way of rueful penance, after his introduction to 'Monster Trucks'.

The library was predictably dark and deserted and no residual magicks pervaded the air there, either. He went to his office and called Xander again, only to be told the girls hadn't returned yet. On impulse he called his own home number, his heart leaping into his throat when it was answered on the fourth ring.

"Willow!"

"Giles? What's going on? We just got here and the place is deserted. Are you okay? You didn't have a relapse and get hauled off to the ER or something?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," he lied. "I left you a note, which I assume you haven't found yet. I'm in the library. Miss Calendar didn't arrive. I've been to her apartment, and now the school. There was no sign of her, or the car, en route to her apartment. Tell Buffy I need her out on the street, searching. Also tell her that she must call in on the hour, every hour. Tell her that's an order and it is not negotiable."

"She's missing? I don't understand. She was on her way out the door when she called us. Everything seemed fine...." Giles made an unidentifiable but impatient sound. Willow jumped a little but got the hint. "Oh...well, okay, we're going now. We'll call, I promise," she said quickly. "We'll find her, Giles."

The cab made its way back to his apartment from the school, Giles hoping to see the Citroen *somewhere* along the way.

Buffy and Willow were gone when he let himself back in, exhausted and frustrated. He made himself fetch a large glass of water and take it to the living room, where he stretched out on the couch, easing his aching body into some semblance of comfort while he drank it. The phone was still on the coffee table, where he'd left it, and there was a note alongside it with reassurances from Willow that they would find Jenny, no matter what.

An hour later they called, Giles sinking back disappointedly into the cushions on the couch as Willow informed him that they'd found the Citroen between Giles' apartment and the school, but on the Eastern route rather than his regular one. Less traffic lights, but significantly longer trip, unless one flouted the speed limits rather a lot. It seemed fine, locked up and undamaged except for a very large puddle running out from underneath it. Pushed, Buffy investigated, by dipping a finger, and discovered that the puddle was water, rather than transmission fluid, gas or oil.

"Radiator," Giles growled. "Either cracked it or the hose blew." The epithet that followed, libeling the small car, made Willow jump back in surprise. Giles heard her telling Buffy that she had no idea he was such a potty mouth, before relaying the information about the probable source of the water and then returning to him to confirm that they were coming back.

The question remained: where was Jenny? If the car had broken down and she'd started walking she should have reached a public telephone by now. She should have called *someone*. It was time to check the Emergency Room and to make subtle inquiries of the Sunnydale Police Department.

The words: 'yes, we do have a patient by that name. Are you a relative?' were the sweetest he'd heard in a long time.

"Yes, yes, I'm her brother," he lied, wanting immediate answers, then remembered his accent. "Half brother," he qualified. "She's been missing for the last few hours. How is she?"

"She seems to have contracted a virus of some kind. We'll know more, soon. She's asleep right now. Has been since she was brought in muttering something about someone called Vekkrath or Ventukath or something like that."

Giles hung up. A Vitukahth demon? In California? Unusual enough, but the creatures weren't considered dangerous, though if distressed they were capable of emitting a pheromone that could knock someone out briefly...

He rolled his eyes. Of course. The car had broken down and she'd obviously been confronted by one or more of the creatures for whatever reason and somehow agitated them, which explained why she hadn't called or asked anyone to make a call for her.

It was hell waiting for Buffy and Willow to get back, but he spent the timing filling Xander in and calling another cab to take them to the ER.

Jenny was awake when they finally reached the hospital and struggled through the bureaucracy to arrive at her side.

"Hey guys. Hey Rupert...you look like crap," she croaked.

"Good to see you too," he retorted, but his eyes were bright with affection and relief.

"Guess I don't look so hot, either, huh?" she asked sheepishly. "And by the way, your car is officially crappy."

"I thought you'd had the chicken pox?" Giles asked pointedly.

"I don't have the chicken pox," she snorted. "A couple of demons wanted me to take them to see you. Since when does every demon in Sunnydale recognize the Watcher's car? I told them I didn't have time for games. That upset them ...next thing, here I am."

"Yes," Giles said softly. "Here you are. However you did not get the fever and the other symptoms from the Vitukahth. The only affect of their defensive pheromone is to render you harmlessly unconscious until they're well out of harm's way. It's not deliberate. It's an autonomic reflex when they're stressed or endangered."

"I cannot have chickenpox," she objected. "That's...that's ridiculous. It's a chil..."

Buffy and Willow snickered, but refrained from pointing out the number of emerging spots on the beautiful face that belied that protest.

Giles decided it was time to create a distraction. "The real question here is why those demons were so distressed and what did they want to see me about?"

End part 4