Giles winced as he stepped into the bright morning sun, bags in hand. He'd got enough food to feed a small army, and some prenatal vitamins for Buffy, as well as some vitamin E oil. Epsom salts and some organic cranberry juice. Anything he could think of that would help her during the early stages of pregnancy.

A man with a cap bumped into him and muttered an apology. Giles only nodded and smiled, already looking to his car as he walked on. He grinned as he loaded the items into his trunk, glad to be done with his errands. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could return to Buffy. He couldn't believe his luck. That she could love him at all… and now she's expecting and ready to marry. He never dreamed she'd find such happiness in her life, let alone that it would include him. He shut the trunk and twirled the key ring on his finger as he stepped around to the lock of his driver's door.

He saw the shadowy reflection of the man in the cap, in the glass of his window, a split second before a billy club crashed into the back of his skull. Giles groaned and slumped forward, sliding down the side of his car, his keys clanking as they hit the ground. He was caught and dragged by the man in the cap, another joining him to speed the process. A van pulled up behind the car, and they hefted him into the cargo compartment efficiently. They climbed in, slammed the sliding door, and banged the barrier window twice, sending the van lurching forward.

From the depths, a familiar buzzing skittered along his skull. He wanted to push it away, escape further into unconsciousness. So bloody tired… everything hurts.

"Giles?"

He stopped, turning his attention back to the buzzing.

"Buffy?" She sounded so far away. A light in the distance flickered into existence, then slowly grew until all he could see was his slayer, sitting on the floor of their flat. She had her eyes winced shut, and she was clutching Willow's hand.

"Giles, where are you?" she said, her lips motionless.

"I'm here," he said, reaching for her. His fingers swiped through the air as he reached for her.

Willow and Tara chanted softly, their voices harmonizing over the small candle between them. It relaxed Buffy a little, helped her focus on her watcher. She could smell Giles' cologne, as if on a breeze, and a ghostly tremor trickled through her sternum. Her eyes snapped open, and Xander flinched, shifting away from the stare. Buffy's features slackened and her posture relaxed, her hand slipping from Willow's grasp.

"I think she's mind-melding again," he said.

"Should we s-stop?" Tara asked, biting her lip.

"The spell is probably helping," said Willow, looking to Buffy. "If he's really far away she might need the boost."

"Is this going to take very long?" asked Anya. Willow shot Anya an angry glare. "What? It's not like my success rate is abnormally low –"

Xander grabbed Anya's hand and kissed the back. "Have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asked quickly, diverting her attention.

Willow waggled her fingers and wove them with Tara's, pressing their palms together. At a nod, they began chanting again, letting the outside world slip away as power flowed in and around them.

Buffy's eyes snapped open and she was suddenly standing, stepping forward, crushing him into a hug. He picked her up, letting her feet dangle as he held her to him. He could feel her desperation as if it were his own, and knew they must be in a trance again. Memories flashed and flared.

"I'm so sorry, love," he said into her neck, kissing her below her ear. She slowly slid down his frame, though she didn't let him go.

"Giles, where are you? How do I find you? Who did this to you? What the hell is –"

Gently, he tapped his fingers to her lips, giving her a wan smile. "The council."

Her features turned stony and she looked around, realizing for the first time that the space around him was a dense, endless void. "They knocked you out."

"Most likely," he said, thinking back to the pain he first felt. "I imagine I'm in holding somewhere."

"Do you think you're still here, or…?"

He thought for a moment, then glanced into the flat behind her. "What time was it when you realized something was wrong?" he asked.

"Late," she said, embarrassed as she looked down and pressed her forehead to his chest. "I fell asleep waiting for you to come back and the gang realized you were missing when they came over."

He felt another pang of panic, but it wasn't his usual anxiety. It was foreign, tight, like a coiled spring... It constricted around him, making his breath hitch a bit.

"If it's been long enough I'm likely back in England," he said softly.

"Goody," she muttered. "That narrows it down to just a few thousand places you could be."

"Closer to fifteen, actually," he said with a small grin, gently pushing her away, tipping her face up to his. "If I'm in England, there aren't many facilities that could hold me. Fewer still if this isn't sanctioned."

"So an illegal arrest by the council. That makes it so much better," she said, her annoyance plain. "Gee, I wonder if they plan to give you a stern talking to."

He hummed and sighed, wondering how he was to help. She ran her hands down his sides to his hips, giving a playful squeeze, drawing his attention back down to her.

"Why don't you wake up and then come back? I can wait here a few minutes."

"I'm not certain it works that way, Buffy," he said, running his hands down and up her arms to cup her shoulders. "I may not be able to come back."

"Can't you just make a TV like I did?" she asked next.

Before he could argue with her, his small black-and-white television popped into view. He blinked and looked from the TV back to Buffy.

"And a pony," she said, laughing when a shiny black pony appeared, shaking its mane and glancing around, alert and stamping at the non-ground. The feathery tufts of hair at its hooves waved as if in a gentle breeze.

"Is that you or me?" he asked, bemused. She moved to the pony, her hand stretched out.

"It's gotta be you. I don't think I've ever seen a pony like this before," she said quietly, her eyes wide.

"That's a Dales pony," Giles said faintly, his attention back on the TV. He stepped forward and carefully twisted the plastic fob, turning the TV on with the familiar flickering and hum of electricity buzzing along the screen. The small screen slowly came into focus. Dank, mossy brick walls, worn with age. Dirt floor. Cot. Heavy wooden door with iron bars and hinges.

Buffy craned her neck to look around him. "Look familiar?" she asked over her shoulder. She chuckled as the pony nuzzled her palm. She pet its thick mane, careful to keep her movements slow.

"Not in the least," he said quietly.

"Ok…" she said, a pout beginning to form. The pony trotted away into the darkness. Buffy stepped to Giles and wove her fingers with his, joining their hands. As he looked down into her eyes, they seemed to go blank.

Buffy's voice broke through the soft sound of the girls' chant. "Willow."

Xander and Tara jumped, and the chant abruptly stopped.

"Jesus, Buffy," said Xander, putting a hand to his chest.

"I told you," said Anya, flipping a page in the book she held. "No one wants to listen to Anya. Anya's just a crazy ex-demon."

"Did you find him?" Willow said, her brows tipping up with hope.

"Kinda. He said he's probably in England by now." Buffy fidgeted and continued, "I was wondering if we could scry him if we're connected?" she said, tapping her temple with her finger.

"Does he even have a map of England here?" said Xander.

"I don't know… that's a lot of distance," said Willow, biting her lip. Her brow furrowed as she looked from Buffy to Tara. "We might not have the juice for that kind of casting."

"He should put out a beacon," said Anya, still half-engrossed in her book.

All eyes turned to her, their brows climbing up. "A beacon?" asked Tara. "How would he do that?"

Anya rolled her eyes and slapped the book closed, glaring at the two witches. "This is why we need regulated witch education. If there was a curriculum, you would learn more than just whatever you stumbled on in the Magic Box –"

Xander put a hand to his girlfriend's knee, patting it quickly. "That's a great idea, An. What do you say we talk about it when Giles is back?"

Anya huffed and let the book fall to the floor with a heavy thud. She leaned forward and snatched a piece of chalk from the witches' supplies. She began drawing out a circle around herself, old and arcane symbols twisting in a scratching, curly script as she quickly illustrated the necessary glyphs. She tossed the chalk back to Willow and settled onto her knees within the circle.

"So you just – ugh, she's staring again," Anya said, crossing her arms.

"I think she's just t-trying to show M-Mr. Giles so he can cast the spell," said Tara.

Anya flashed an annoyed look at Tara before sighing. "She better be."