Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon. 

Thank you all so much for your reviews!!! I am flattered and amazed people like it…so thank you!!!

Hehehe, I got lots of reviews that tried to guess who the father was…and if you want to know…you have to wait till the next chapter, because I'm not telling you just yet.

The potion thing will be explained, but not just yet…if you want explanations you'll have to wait for two more chapters…k?  But just don't give up on me…please!?!?!

OK, those who read my other stories and Sam-453 stories…should know by now that I bug her a lot for her stories…cos their bloody amazing…so…if any of you have read Sam-453's latest update of All In The Blood…go and tell her to update REALLY soon…Sam-453…when you read this I want you to go and update!!! Now!!!  Evil child.

Check back mid-week because I'll probably be updating then…but if not…then it'll be on Sunday, a week from now.

Please review!!!

***

"Anne?  Anne?  Are you listening to me?"  Buffy shook herself out of her reverie and smiled sweetly up to her boss, Mac.  She hadn't been listening, and she still was not used to that name, Anne. 

"Sorry boss, what's up?"  Buffy asked, sitting down on one of the stools.

"Don't sit down kid, there's a customer."  Sighing, he walked away from her, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'damn kids'.  Buffy rolled her eyes and hopped off the stool.  The moment her feet touched the ground, she wished she hadn't hopped off.  Pain vibrated up her legs all the way to her head and she gripped the handle of the chair, squeezing it tightly because it hurt so much.  She had been feeling a lot like this lately, and she knew it was nothing to do with what she was eating, or how she was walking.  At any moment, when Buffy was not expecting it, pain engulfed her body and she was left numb for a few seconds.  Buffy let go of the metal handle, the pain subsiding.  She glanced at it and smirked; the tough metal handle now had her hand imprint in it. 

She carefully walked to the customer, the numbness not going away completely, but if she messed around much, her boss would fire her, and she needed the money.  Really badly. 

"How can I help you sir?"  She asked the customer, taking out her notepad and pen, ready to take down his order.  The man in front of her growled and Buffy tensed, looking at the man properly, the growl reminding her of a vampire.  But, hello, daylight?  But the man was odd looking anyway; he wore a large black bowler hat which covered his face from view.  He also wore a large black coat and Buffy swore she could see a wooden leg poking out from under the wooden table.  She looked back up to the man's face and gasped in surprise.  The man was looking at her, a small smile on his wooden face.  His features were plain, his skin tough-looking and his mouth was only a small slit in his face.  But his eyes were what threw Buffy off.  One was a small black beady one, calmly looking at Buffy, but the other one was large and round electric blue eye, which was fixed on Buffy, occasionally rolling to one side and then fixing back to Buffy again.

"What you staring at kid?"  He asked in a gruff English accent, but his accent was not like Giles in any way, it was rough and sharp, not like Giles' posh one.  The man glared at Buffy, and she glared right back, putting her hands on her hip for extra effect.  The man made a little noise, which Buffy assumed was a laugh and he raised his eyebrow.

"You not scared of me girl?"  He asked gruffly.

Buffy smirked. "What's there to be scared of?"  She was right; she had seen more horrifying things in her life to be scared of this guy.  The guy made the noise again.

"I like you kid."  He growled, but Buffy knew it was meant to be friendly.

"So I'll get a bigger tip then?"  She asked hopefully, sticking her bottom lip out a little for more effect.  The man made the noise again and nodded.

"What's your name kid?" 

Buffy paused, not because she was scared to giving the man her name, it was right on her nametag, but because the pain was coming back now and it was stronger than ever.  She gasped and dropped her notepad and pen and grabbed the table, leaning down on it and breathing intensely.  The man seemed shocked by this action, but he got over it and asked if she was alright.  Buffy shook her head no and arched her back, wincing in pain, tears coming out of her eyes.  Customers and waiters were looking at her now, confused expressions on their faces.  The man asked her what was wrong, but she leaned down again on the table, the pain filling every each of her body making it seem as if she was on fire.  The pain was so intense that she held the table tighter, and a large chunk of it came off when she tightened her grip.  The man looked at her in astonishment, but she took no notice.  She threw her head back and screamed a loud long yell and then she collapsed to the floor, choking out one word before she fell unconscious.

"Help."

***

Joyce breathed in and out steadily, standing in front of her plain fireplace, holding a small amount of floo powder in her sweaty hand.  She had not been to this man's place in almost seventeen years, and she was excited but nervous of seeing him again.  Nervous and excited? 

Joyce had always been hooked up to the floo system, ever since she had left England all those years ago.  She was going to see him.  She had to see him.  She had to see Buffy's real father.

Taking a deep breath, she threw the powder into the lit fire, stood inside it and shouted her destination.

***

Joyce stepped out of the fireplace elegantly, brushing off a little soot and fixing her hair into place.  She had to look good when she saw him again.  She still had feelings for him; they hadn't disappeared over the years even though he had.  Or rather, she had. 

The room was cold and gloomy; plenty of light shone through the barred window, but the room, adorned with black furniture was still depressing.  Joyce shivered, rubbing her hands on her arms.  She walked away from the fireplace, looking at the books on its shelves, the potion ingredients and desk filled with papers.  She smiled.  Hasn't changed a bit. 

Joyce was about to turn away from the desk, but a picture frame caught her eye.  The frame was small, black shiny pebbles were stuck to the frame, but it was the picture that caught Joyce's eye.  It showed a baby, very young, about six months or so, smiling in a young woman's arms. 

It was her.  A picture Joyce and Buffy, before they had left to California.  Tears formed in Joyce's eyes and she picked up the frame, stroking it lovingly.

"I can't believe he kept this."  She whispered.

"You think I would have forgotten you?"  A voice said behind her.  Joyce gasped in surprise and spun round, almost dropping the picture.

She smiled, he hadn't changed a bit.  His hair was a bit shorter, there were lines on his face now, and he had a sense of sadness about him, but he hadn't changed.  He was still hers.

"How are you?"  She asked, regretting it the moment it left her lips.  What a stupid question!  I show up after seventeen years and ask how he is?

He raised an eyebrow, "Surprised, but I'm coping efficiently.  Why are you here-not that I'm not glad to see you, because I am, but-"

Joyce smiled, reaching up with her hand to touch his cheek, stroking it tenderly.  "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

He grinned, reminding Joyce of a younger version of her former lover. "How is my daughter?"  Joyce's face fell, and her hand withdrew from her former lovers face.  She stepped away from him and turned, not wanting to see his face when she told him.

"She's in trouble.  She's a slayer-"Joyce heard the man's sharp intake of breath, "and she ran away."

The man felt a lump forming in his throat, and a sense of fear and worry for the daughter he hadn't seen for many years, but had stayed in his thoughts the moment he had laid eyes on her.

"How long?"

"Three weeks."

Joyce heard him gasp again, and a salty tear rolled down her cheek. 

"We have to find her, where do you think she'll be?  Does Hank know anywhere?"  He asked, his brow furrowed.  Joyce looked down to the picture in her hands, stroking the face of her daughter.  Where are you, my baby?

"Hank and I divorced a couple of years ago."

He curled his hands into a fist, digging his nails in deep into his skin so hard it drew blood.  "I never liked him."  He growled.  Joyce smirked and turned to face him.

"You never did like my previous boyfriends."  She joked, smiling even more when he nodded.

"Your mine."  He said, moving closer to her.  "Always have been."  He pressed his head to hers, "and you always will be, and so is my daughter."

OK…not much happening there but next chapter… you get to find out the name of the father.  I hope you all recognised the man in the café, because if not, my description is really off.

Anyway…please review!!

Becks.