Author's Notes: The original characters in this chapter were introduced in a stand-alone fic entitled "The Mayor's Legacy." If you didn't read that story, all you need to know is that Sergeant Mahoney dusted Spike in a, erm, rather unusual fashion, and that everyone in the squad room is aware of this fact. A huge thank-you goes out to Taryn, for helping me with Mahoney's dialog. She is truly the queen of innuendo and double-entendre.

Disclaimer: Joss may not know what he has in these characters, but he knows that he owns the copyright to them. Sadly, I know it too... They're not mine, and never will be. sob

Part Four

Buffy took Rupert out to the car that she had found, a sporty red BMW. He was surprised; it didn't look like anything he could see himself driving. He took out his keys nevertheless, and discovered that he did indeed own the vehicle. Perhaps he had bought it for Anya... though the fact that the seats and mirrors were all adjusted for him cast suspicion on that comforting theory.

"Um," Rupert began hesitantly, "I suppose we will need to ask somebody for the location of the police station."

"No need," Buffy said brightly. "I bought a map of the city this morning." With that, she pulled a map out of jacket pocket; the name on the map matched that from his plane ticket: Sunnydale, California.

"Good thinking," Rupert said, as he began scanning the map. "I've, uh, been meaning to tell you something." She looked at him curiously, but nodded for him to go on. "I have been most impressed with your ingenuity ever since we woke up. You seem to have an uncanny ability to see what needs to be done, as well as the leadership skills to ensure that it is done."

Buffy blushed happily. "Thanks, Rupert." She looked thoughtful and gave him an appraising look. "But you know, the name Rupert? It doesn't really suit you at all."

Rupert grinned at her, highly amused. "No? Then what would you suggest?"

"I have no idea," she admitted, "but Rupert is kind of a sissy name, and you don't strike me as a sissy. Pretty far from it, in fact."

Rupert wondered whether he should be insulted by her criticism of his name, or pleased by her praise of him. He opted for the latter, and his grin broadened further. He then turned thoughtful. "Actually, you may be correct. Although he admitted that he wasn't my friend, the man this morning called me Giles.' And that equally rude woman from the detective agency also called me Giles. Perhaps that is the name I normally go by."

Buffy smiled at him, and said, "Giles. Just Giles. I like it!"

Rupert wasn't sure that he cared for just Giles' at all, but somehow, it felt right to hear this woman say it. His smile turned shy, and he tried to turn the discussion to another topic. To his surprise, it was easy to do, and conversation flowed easily all the way to the police station.

Although neither knew very much about him or herself, they shared what they could, and Rupert enjoyed himself thoroughly. In fact, he spent more time talking with Buffy during the short car ride than he had in the long hours of getting to know your fiancée time' that he had spent with Anya the night before and that morning. He wasn't sure what that said about him, but he was quite certain that he didn't like what it suggested about his relationship with the woman he supposedly loved.

The ride was far too short for his taste, and Rupert sighed unhappily as he parked the car and turned off the ignition. He would have preferred to continue to enjoy Buffy's company, but they were here for a reason. Acting on impulse, Rupert tried to open the car door for her, but Buffy had already jumped out by the time he walked around. Undeterred, he gently grabbed her elbow and steered her inside. If their destination and circumstances hadn't been so bizarre, it would have felt like a date. Appalled at himself for thinking that, Rupert dropped her elbow as if it were a live coal. Buffy gave him an undecipherable look, and he blushed in embarrassment.

Mentally he called himself an idiot, a pillock, and every other name that he could think of. He was particularly disgusted because he didn't know why he was cursing himself: for being unfaithful to Anya in his mind, or for being too cowardly to move beyond mental infidelity.

~*~*~

When they arrived at the police station, Buffy immediately headed for the counter. Rupert trailed along in her wake, and concentrated on not noticing the enticing way she walked. When she got to the counter, Buffy coughed to gain the attention of the tall man working there. He wore his hair in a crewcut, and to say that he was not particularly good looking would be the kindest thing one could say about him, but he was evidently in charge. And he knew it. He turned, gave Buffy a contemptuous sneer, and asked, "You want something?"

Rupert grimaced at the rude tone. "No, we thought we would just come in here in order that we might waste your time." Buffy glared at him for his lack of helpfulness, and Rupert blushed in shame.

Buffy looked at the man's nametag, and then gave him a sweet smile. "Yes we do, Sgt. Mahoney. We're looking for someone who was arrested last night."

Mahoney grunted, and then began flipping through papers. "Name?"

"Uh, see, that's kind of a problem," said Buffy.

The desk sergeant was giving Buffy a disgusted look, so Rupert decided it was time to break in. "I know this will sound unbelievable, but we have, erm, lost our memories."

The officer shrugged. "Well, it is Sunnydale," he observed, seemingly out of the blue.

Rupert was completely nonplussed by that non-sequitor. "Um, yes. Quite. In any case, I received a call very early this morning from a man asking me to bail him out of jail. He was extremely rude, so I hung up on him. It has occurred to me, however, that he might be instrumental in our quest to regain our memories. So it is therefore essential that we find him."

"Okay. Following you so far. So, who's the guy?"

"Unfortunately he didn't give his name," Rupert admitted. "He just assumed that I would know who he was. He was British, sounded uneducated, and was–as I mentioned earlier–extremely impolite."

"English, stupid, and rude? A bit of a blowhard? Arrested last night?" Mahoney shuffled through his papers again, but idly, as if he was only doing so for the sake of appearances. Obviously, he knew exactly which prisoner Rupert wanted. "Sounds like William de Sangre."

Rupert grinned. Could it really be that easy? He glanced over at Buffy, and saw that she was beaming. He then turned back to Sgt. Mahoney and said, "Excellent. We would like to bail Mr. de Sangre out of jail as soon as possible. I assume his bail has been set already?"

"I'm afraid not," Mahoney oozed, not looking regretful at all. "There was no need to set bail as the owner of the pet store decided against pressing charges. He got off around 7:30 this morning." An extremely young officer choked at that, and the desk sergeant shot him an indecipherable look. He turned back to Rupert and continued, "It's just as well, really. You wouldn't have found him in a very good mood; Mr. de Sangre was very frustrated when you didn't come for him. He really wanted to be released, and the fact that you didn't do that for him? Well, let's just say that it was hard for him to swallow." This last was said with the barest hint of a smile, highlighting the fact that his concern for the absent prisoner was patently false.

Rupert could see that there was more to this story than was immediately apparent, but the only matter that concerned him was de Sangre's whereabouts. He narrowed his eyes at the sergeant and asked, "Do you know where he went after he left here? It is very important that we find him."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't. The only thing he left behind was a pile of ashes. I hate smokers, don't you," he asked blandly.

The younger officer was now goggling at his superior, and Rupert was starting to become quite curious as to why. But of course, he could hardly ask the man what he was hiding. He contented himself with mildly observing, "Yes, smoking is an unpleasant habit. But are you quite certain that you don't have any more information as to where he might have gone after he left the police station?"

"No sir. I'm sorry, but that's all I've got for ya. I did hear him say that he couldn't wait to blow this joint." Mahoney gave a small, unpleasant smile. "I wouldn't worry too much about your friend, however. He seemed to have a good head... on his shoulders." This bit of compassion seemed out of character for the staid officer. The younger man evidently thought so as well, for he barked out a short laugh and then ran out of the room.

Rupert couldn't shake the conviction that Mahoney knew more than he was saying, but there didn't seem to be any means of gathering additional information from him. He shook the loathsome man's hand and said, "Well, I thank you for your time. Have a good day."

"Yeah, whatever," the sergeant grunted. "And good luck on that memory thing."

"Yeah, whatever," Buffy muttered quietly. Rupert coughed to hide a chuckle. The sound of the crass officer singing Dust in the Wind' followed them out the door.

~*~*~

"That cop was hiding something," Buffy proclaimed with disgust. "He so knows where our guy went."

Because the light was red, Rupert spared a glance in her direction. "I'm not certain that he did know where de Sangre is right now, but I agree that he was hiding something."

Buffy scowled, and Rupert quickly turned his attention back to traffic. The blonde had a truly ferocious look on her face, and he was glad that he had never made her angry, at least not to his knowledge. "If there hadn't been so many cops around, I would have beat it out of him." Rupert chuckled, but Buffy insisted, "I'm serious!"

"I'm sure you are," he said condescendingly, "but that sergeant was a very large man."

"So were the guys who attacked me on the way home from the hospital last night," Buffy responded, "but I totally kicked their asses. I'm like a superhero or something!"

Rupert turned to stare at Buffy, dumbfounded. This caused the car behind him to honk, and Rupert belatedly realized that the light had turned green. He turned his head back to the road with a start, but his mind remained with the petite blonde sitting next to him. The startlingly small girl who claimed to be a superhero. Buffy obviously noticed his skepticism, because she said, "You can ask Dawn or Tara if you don't believe me."

"I'm not doubting your word, Buffy," he assured her. "But that is an extraordinary statement. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"I'm not sure either," Buffy admitted. "But these really strange looking guys with yellow eyes and bumpy faces jumped out at us, and I totally put them down." She hesitated for a moment, and then slowly continued. "I think they, that is, they seemed to be... uh, vampires."

"Vampires!" Rupert chuckled for a moment, but then stopped. His first reaction had been a categorical assertion that vampires and superheroes were mythical, but then he recalled his similar declaration about magic. Magic, which was, apparently, the only explanation for their current predicament. Trying to be open-minded, Rupert offered, "We should, uh, research vampires at the magic store. We could probably do that simultaneously with our quest for a spell to give us back our memories."

"Thank-you, Giles," Buffy breathed gratefully. "I would really like to know that I'm not crazy."

Rupert glanced at her again, and saw that she was beaming at him. Her smile was amazingly bright, and his heart pounded in a way that should have been reserved for his fiancée. He blushed in embarrassment, which prompted a similar reaction from Buffy. The rest of the ride passed in an uncomfortable silence, standing in stark contrast to the easy rapport they had established on the way to the police station.

~*~*~

When Buffy and Rupert entered the Magic Box, Anya and Willow were screaming at each other. Every attempt to resolve their disagreement simply led to more things to argue about. Buffy mentioned her encounter with a vampire (if that was what her attacker had actually been) and chaos erupted again. Finally, Rupert had had enough. "I think that we are all too tired to pursue either of these matters at the moment. I would suggest that everyone take a break, and we'll come back after dinner nice and refreshed."

Willow scowled at Anya once more for good measure, and then turned towards Rupert. "Yes, but which direction should we go in once everyone is refreshed?"

"Despite my initial skepticism, it has become clear that our memory loss must be the result of a magic spell." Rupert studiously ignored Alex's--no Xander's--shout of triumph. "When we return, we will systematically go through all books that appear to deal with the human mind. After we exhaust those, we will expand our search to all spells that can be placed upon another person." Rupert slowly turned towards around, looking each young person in the eyes. "We won't stop researching until we find a solution to our dilemma. And as long as we all work together, I anticipate that we will find a counter spell with relative alacrity."

The girls were all nodding with various degrees of thoughtfulness, but Xander looked confused. Willow grinned at him and translated, "Go to dinner. Come back, willing to work hard. Be a team player, and we'll have our memories back in no time."

Xander grinned brightly, and the tension in the room suddenly dissolved. "Dinner? Don't have to tell me twice! You coming, ladies?"

"Yes, all of you need to leave our shop," Anya declared tactfully. "I want to spend time with my fiancée." Buffy and Xander both frowned at this statement, but neither said anything. They simply left, promising to return within a few hours.

Once the store was empty, Rupert began tidying up books and supplies. The others had made quite a mess while he and Buffy had been at the police station, which was just one of the issues that Anya and Willow had fought over during his absence. His and Buffy's absence.

Rupert found himself pondering the mystery of his feelings for the hundredth time in the past two days. How could he have such strong feelings for Buffy when he was engaged to another woman? It didn't make any sense. He needed his memory back, as soon as possible. If that took magic, then he would overcome his anxiety and do magic. But first, he needed to put things in order, so that he might expedite their search for a solution. Telling himself that he needed to focus on one thing at a time, he emptied his mind of unanswerable questions and concentrated upon the quiet simplicity of basic housekeeping. His focus shattered, however, when Anya suddenly broke the silence. "This must be nice for us."

Rupert lifted an eyebrow at her in confusion. "Sorry?"

Anya looked embarrassed as she fumbled through an explanation. "I mean... I know there's the vampire problem, and our memory loss, and all that, but still... to spend this time together alone? Must be nice," she finished wistfully.

He was busy not thinking of another woman, and his fiancée was thinking about the nature of their relationship? Gods, he was a bastard. He may not know many things about her, but instinctively he knew that she deserved better than him. Hoping to make things right, he stuttered out, "Uh, yes, yes, um, I'm sure that's right."

Yes, he was definitely a bastard. Rupert was both relieved and saddened when he realized that Anya hadn't picked up on that fact yet.