The days flashed by far too quickly. Buffy had never felt so rested, so at peace, and much to her chagrin, she was gaining weight.

The truth was Giles was way too good of a cook, and when they didn't eat at home, he was taking her somewhere else that he wanted her to see or experience. She'd enjoyed most of the British food, the Spanish, the Thai and even the Cornish...except for the fish pie... The one cuisine she didn't get along with too well was Indian. If she never saw another Madras curry or Vindaloo it would still be too soon. Morning ablutions had been an exercise in delicate torture.

On the other hand, they had not spoken again of the 'incident' but by mutual unspoken assent they'd gone out of their way to spend time together, to enjoy each other's company. No more had been said, either, about the past, for which Buffy was truly grateful. The more time she spent with Giles, the more she found herself reliving those days in the moments before sleep, remembering things long shut out of her mind or cast aside so that she could function; things she wished she could forget, but never would again...

*******

The phone rang two days before they were due to fly out to rendezvous with the others in Los Angeles. Giles had spoken to Robin and Faith, who had made temporary arrangements to accommodate the group until they knew what they were going to do with their lives. All of them had confirmed that their parents and families had survived Sunnydale, but none were in a position, financial or otherwise, to offer shelter to the group, or even to their children.

"Buffy! Phone!"

Upstairs, Buffy poked her head out of the bathroom, where she'd been drying her hair. "Phone? Me?"

"Yes, you. Hurry up. It's an international collect call. Anyone would think I'm made of money."

She was downstairs a few seconds later, tightly bundled up in one of his best bath towels.

Buffy's mouth dropped open when she heard Angel's voice on the other end.

"Hey Buffy."

"What are you doing calling Giles collect?" She demanded.

"Collect? I didn't...!" Angel objected, causing Buffy's head to swivel around and a gimlet eye to fix itself on Giles.

"You didn't?" She enunciated, and scowled at the Watcher who flushed adorably. "Oh, good. Why are you calling me here? Is the world ending again already?"

Giles straightened.

"No, silly. I just...I need to see you again and Wesley says he has to see Giles about this new Watcher's Council, or whatever it's going to be called now. He's kinda worried about what's going to happen now that there're all these potential hand-grenades around the world who just got their pins pulled by a certain Witch and a certain Slayer who shall remain nameless. Come with him, Buffy. I've missed you ever since I left Sunnydale."

Buffy turned and shook her head at Giles. He relaxed again, pleased that world wasn't ending, yet again. He didn't think he had the energy to care, much less fight, at this point.

She turned back to concentrate on her call. A part of her was romanced beyond words...basking again in the glow that was being wanted. She did want to see him again...and a few weeks ago nothing would have kept her from him, now that she was a free agent. She looked across at the Watcher again, not sure what was holding her back.

"Sure. I'll mention it to Giles. We'll probably come early and see you before we meet the others in Anaheim."

Buffy didn't see Giles tense again.

"That was Angel," she said redundantly when she hung up. "Wesley wants to see you about the new Watcher's Council or whatever you're going to call it. Angel asked if I'd come too."

"We'll leave tomorrow. The tickets are open, in case the others had problems and were going to be late getting into Anaheim. It won't be difficult to change the booking," he said coolly.

Buffy watched him warily, aware that the warmth, relaxation and closeness they'd shared in the last little while had suddenly vanished again as it had never been there.

"Fine," she replied, just as coolly, and headed back to the bathroom.

Giles watched her go, aware that he would never look at the luxurious duck-egg blue bath sheet Xander and Anya had given him for Christmas one year, in exactly the same way, ever again.

*******

Los Angeles hadn't changed much. Buffy still didn't like it. The rental car was a dark green convertible. It had been a compromise. She got a convertible, he got to choose the colour. Nothing was going induce him to drive a pink car. Buffy had cajoled him into the upgrade, but Giles really didn't mind. There were times when he missed the two-door-tramp rather more than he'd ever let on.

When they walked into the lobby of the old hotel, they found themselves surrounded by packing crates, packing materials, piles of books, paperwork, files and stacked furniture.

An intimidating looking black man emerged from one of the rooms with his arms full of weapons.

"Ah, hey there. What can I do for y'all?"

Buffy gestured towards Giles, "Giles," and then towards herself, "Buffy."

"Oh, hey, cool. I heard all about you guys. I'm Gunn." He grinned at Buffy, equal parts admiration and sizing up. "So you're the Slayer?" His gaze slid to Giles. "And this is Wesley: the previous generation." Against his better judgement, Buffy had convinced Giles not to drag out his old stuffy suits and his shabby sweaters again. He looked every bit as good as the first day they'd gone out for lunch together, if not better...right down to the earring. "Except you don't look too previous to me, dude. You Watchers found some kind of 'cool' elixir or something? You ain't gonna believe Wesley these days."

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Gunn," Giles said evenly. "I believe Wesley is expecting me."

"Ah...wouldn't know about that. I just got back from a week in Vegas with Fred and Lorne. Angel and Wesley were here a while ago...and I don't think Angel would have gone too far this time of day...for obvious reasons."

At that moment the subject in question wandered down the stairs with an armful of cleaner bags packed with jackets and shirts.

"Buffy..."

"Angel," she grinned radiantly.

After a beat, Angel focused. "Giles, good to see you again. Wesley slipped out a couple hours ago to see a man about a demon...several...demons, actually. He's due back any time now. In the mean time, why doesn't Gunn take you over to the office and show you around?"

Giles' eyes narrowed as the vampire's gaze slipped back yet again to Buffy.

She in turn smiled warmly at him, then turned to Giles, the smile fading. "Or...you could stay here and wait." He followed her eye line down to his clenched fist and released it self-consciously before turning back to the younger man.

"Lead on, Mister Gunn," he said.

Buffy watched him go, confused. How weird was it that all she could think about was how upset Giles looked when Angel was right there in front of her? Angel, who never seemed to change. He was still wearing the same jacket with yet another dark shirt...relentlessly unchanging...except that he'd apparently gotten tired of gelling his hair. It didn't look so bad...maybe even added a few years.

"So how's the baking going?" He asked, as though unsure how to start a conversation.

She smiled wryly and caught herself looking at the door again. "Um...doughy."

*******

"Look, see, this is really cool. Wesley said you'd be blown away by this," Gunn enthused, placing a large volume in the Watcher's arms.

Giles turned the first page. Blank pages. He rolled his eyes. "Please tell me no-one has been scanning books into computers again...?"

"No, man...well, sorta. See, think of something rare...something you always wanted to read...you know, mystical, and tell it to the book."

Giles blinked at Gunn for a moment, wondering what the young man was on then sighed.

Gunn heard him say something in a demon language, but had no idea what it was. Still, he was more than satisfied with the older man's reaction when the words began appearing on the page, particularly with the colourful expletive Giles uttered.

"And I thought Wesley was awful potty-mouthed for a Watcher," he drawled, grinning. "They're all like that. I don't know what the rest of them do, but Wesley does. This is the only one he'd let me try. I actually work in a different department altogether..."

At that moment Wesley arrived and it took a moment for Giles to absorb the man who'd replaced the boy he used to know.

Wesley responded by looking him up and down. "I see we've both been breaking a few moulds."

"Indeed," Giles said wryly. "How is the search going?"

"Two hundred and eight-seven so far, from Newark to New Zealand. They're everywhere, Rupert. It's a bloody nightmare. Had one contacted in Saskatchewan just recently and by the time my emissary arrived back here another was detected... two streets away from the first one. We've already had our first reported suicide and two homicides: one in the Philippines and one in the South Bronx."

"Homicides?"

"Both victims of abuse who finally fought back. One didn't know her own strength, and the other didn't care..."

Giles closed his eyes. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Well, I'll do what I can, but you do understand that my primary job is here, running this department? I've already given an undertaking..."

Giles nodded. "Anything you can do is very much appreciated, at least until we can get some real and tangible infrastructure in place."

"Is anything wrong?" Wesley asked suddenly.

The older man met his vivid blue gaze. "Nothing, apart from another apocalypse and the deaths of a few friends. Why?"

"You seem...unsettled. It's not something I'm used to seeing in you."

"Yes, well, everything changes."

"Yes, it does," Wesley agreed. "Is there somewhere you'd rather be?"

That finally made Giles focus on what he was doing. "No, nowhere, except perhaps in my own home with..." The green eyes grew distant again for a split second then he came back. "...With a good book and a drink."

Wyndham-Pryce looked sceptical, but nodded. "Fine, then. We should get started on these plans of yours. If you brought your computer with you, or you have an address to which I can upload all the data we've collected so far...?" He handed Giles a hard-copy file. "I should tell you that we've only been able to locate seventeen active Watchers, three retired ones, one of whom is in a nursing home, and a number of operatives who were far enough under cover to avoid the First. They're the most difficult of all, because they're really only useful for espionage and, well, wet-works activities. Not all of them want to come and work for us. It takes a certain kind to handle that type of work and I'm afraid and very few of them seem to be as altruistic as the rest of the Council ...er...was."

"Your father?"

"Still listed among the missing," Wesley confirmed in a flat monotone. "Apparently there are at least a dozen sets of remains from the explosion at Council Headquarters of which there isn't enough left to formerly identify, and I haven't been asked to provide a DNA sample...yet. We know, however, that Travers, Danbridge, Summerside, Stanthorpe and Meadows were all in that building...and are, unfortunately, confirmed deceased."

Giles browsed the lists in the file. "Good God. That's half the inner Quorum. What about Michaelson? I heard he was in Scotland...?"

Wesley shook his head. "Both he and his two sons...car bomb about two months ago."

Giles swore under his breath, then rubbed the back of his neck with an agitated palm. "This is going to be far more difficult than I thought. Mabuto has already agreed to come out of retirement to take a senior position, but most of these names I'm not even familiar with. God alone knows how long since they've worked even with potential Slayers, if at all."

"My point exactly. We'll just have to organise an assessment process. I suggest sending someone to them, rather than assembling them, at least initially. We're more likely to get a better picture of who they are if we're assessing them in their own environment. The last thing we want is everyone on their best behaviour..."

The two men paused, their gazes meeting again, the sheer immensity of what had happened to their world, their heritage, haunting both sets of eyes.

Then the younger Watcher decided it was time to break the silence. "Let's continue this discussion while I take you on a tour of the firm. You must have a thousand questions, particularly given which firm exactly this is..."

Giles nodded and gestured for Wesley to lead, before following him out.

*******

Buffy watched Angel expertly making coffee and wondered what his life had been like with Cordelia and Wesley...and the hunk out in the lobby. They'd been immersed to the eyeballs in small talk ever since Wesley and Giles had left. She wasn't sure who was responsible but they sure as heck weren't having the kind of reunion she'd expected, or dreamed of over the years.

She was about to tease him about it when someone else came in. She leaped to her feet, ready to fight.

"Whoa, doll face...I come in peace," the demon said chirpily.

Angel sighed. "Lorne, this is Buffy."

"*The* Buffy?" Lorne waggled his eyebrows. "That one?"

Angel sighed again. "Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, meet Buffy Summers. Buffy, Lorne. He's part of the team."

"Wow, she is a hottie. Nice to meet you, sweet cheeks," he said, shaking her hand firmly, his eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments before he cleared his throat and grinned again. "Well, I hate being a third wheel so I'll just go find out what Fred's done with my clothes...and my CDs. For all I know, my whole life could be in a crate on the way to Nepal...or worse: Fresno, by now."

Buffy watched the larger-than-life demon saunter off before looking up at Angel. "Is he for real?"

"Oh yeah. Sings like an angel too...you'll forgive the expression. Empath demon. Big help around here...mostly."

"Oh. How many more bodies?"

"Well, Cordelia you know about, except you don't know she's in a coma right now after giving birth to Connor's child which turned out to be another hell god...and ...it's..." His tone flattened as he remembered that no one else would have any memories of Connor's existence. "...A really, really long story. We still don't know if they're going to be able to bring Cordy back, but she's in the best hands possible."

Buffy blinked dazedly. "Connor?"

Angel sighed. "It's a long story. He was...my son. Now I'm the only one who remembers him."

Buffy's head was spinning. "Son? You have a son? A-and he slept with Cordy? And she's in a coma, to go with one-eyed Xander, dead Anya and dusted Spike? And you're what? A...grandfather? Cordelia is your daughter-in-law? How icky is that?"

Angel, whose eyes had widened in shock at the mention of Spike, snorted.

"What...grandfather? It was a set up. Evil Cordy sleeps with Connor and they make a full-grown goddess? I don't think so. Jasmine manipulated everything, including the creation of Connor, to get here. What happened to Spike?"

Buffy blinked again. Angel always was good at getting back to the point...and away from one he no longer wanted to deal with.

"The medallion...it used his soul to defeat the whole army of the First and close the Hellmouth, but he was already flamey when I said good bye to him." Her expression grew haunted. "He...he didn't make it."

"So Spike saved the world, huh? God, he would have hated being the sappy good guy, although he would have lapped up the attention... at least before he got a soul..."

Angel froze, then turned slowly to Buffy. "We just had an apocalypse and a vampire with a soul saved the world...?"

"That about sums it up," she agreed, not sure why he was looking so... Stunned? Shocked? Nauseous? Something was making him look awfully green instead of his usual pallor. "Angel? Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just dandy," he growled. Then he snapped out of it. "Sorry. I'll tell you about it sometime." He cast about for a moment for a change of subject. "So what was with Giles and the midlife crisis? I thought he already did that once..."