Warnings and Disclaimer in Chapter 1. Enjoy.
She awoke to knocking on her door. Confused, she bolted upright when she realized she had slept the day away. The knocking sounded again. "I'm coming," she called out, quickly moving to the door. She opened the door only to come face to face with Giles
"Joyce?" he asked, his hand in the air as if he were ready to knock again. His eyes were full of concern and Joyce briefly thought back to the conversation she had with him.
"You came?" she asked, half wondering if she was dreaming. "That was quick."
"We were leaving anyway," he told her. "It was a simple matter to divert to New York City rather than continue on to Sunnydale."
"We?" she asked, wondering if she interrupted something special. Giles smiled and motioned a woman forward. She was a few years older than Giles.
"This is my sister Veronica," he introduced. Joyce politely shook the woman's hand, noticing the similarities between them. "Now what was so important that it warranted a call to London?"
"It's Buffy," she said, sobbing again. He took her into his arms and guided her until she was back on the bed. She absently noticed the phone was off the hook and went to right it, but Veronica beat her to it.
"What happened?" Giles gently asked once she had calmed down. Joyce told them everything she had found out.
"I know I'm being silly," she voiced for the first time, "it probably isn't even her, but…"
"If there's even the slightest chance we must take it," he said, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "I will stay with you until the situation is resolved."
"As will I," Veronica piped in. Her accent was much more upper class than Rupert's was. It matched her attire, expensive tailor made suit and matching designer shoes with perfectly manicured nails and hair that seemed to come straight out of a salon. Her whole look spoke of power and privilege.
"I don't want to put you out," Joyce said, comparing the two siblings. "I'm sure you have places you need to be."
"Indeed," she said proudly, "I am to be Faith's new Watcher." Joyce felt her mouth open in shock before she quickly shut it.
"That's unexpected," she said honestly. Faith had hung around for a bit after the battle, long enough to make sure everyone was coping before taking off, Daniel going with her. She did volunteer to return to jail, like the original agreement had stated, but when Buffy didn't return the Council thought it was more important to have Faith available and made her temporary freedom permanent. Faith was as gracious as she could be, alternating between Sunnydale and L.A. before she decided to hit the road and find a new home.
She and Daniel had bought a couple of old motorcycles and fixed them up. Once they were running good as new, they went on a road trip across America, fighting evil wherever they found it before finally stopping in Cleveland. Another Hellmouth was forming in Cleveland, though not nearly as powerful as the one in Sunnydale, and Faith finally felt like she found a home. She was still far too restless to settle completely though. She and Daniel still took several trips on their motorcycles, especially during the summer months, but she made Cleveland her official home. She was good at keeping in touch with both groups though, even better at coming back if either group needed her help.
The Council was determined to get her back on their payroll, so to speak, and immediately assigned her a new Watcher. He had lasted three months before he quit, the next barely lasted four. Faith tried to work with them, only deliberately scarring them off once she realized it wouldn't work. They just couldn't find the right match for her New Age style of Slaying.
"Is that why you went back to England?" Joyce asked, glancing at Giles.
"Quite," he told her. "There are certain spells and rituals that pair up a Watcher and a Slayer. When Faith went through her eighth Water in two years, the Council decided to perform the ritual again. The name 'Giles' was the result. As fond as I am of Faith, I will never be able to be her Watcher." He regarded her carefully for a moment, fully aware Faith was a sensitive topic to everyone in the Scooby Gang. "They completed the ritual several different times and in several different settings but still the same result. Quentin then thought that perhaps I needed to relinquish the blood oaths I took upon becoming a Watcher, completely removing my status from the Council, but again 'Giles' was the result."
"That's when we realized the ritual was referring to me," Veronica said. "When I took my oaths I was still single. I took the oaths as Veronica Giles, not Veronica Adell, which is my married name. It was quite a shock to me as I was never trained to be a Watcher to a potential Slayer, let alone a Slayer with Faith's unique countenance, but I look forward to the challenge."
"Let me give you some advice," Joyce said, teetering on whether or not to like this woman, "you have to earn Faith's respect. The other Watchers just assumed Faith would give it to them because they were Watchers and she was the Slayer. Faith's not like that. Her respect is earned. And the way you do that is through your deeds, not pretty words she has heard a thousand times before. You need to get down and dirty with her in the mud and the grime and the sewers, not sitting up in the ivory tower telling her what to do."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That was a rather refreshing view on Faith's character."
"What?" Giles asked. "I've been telling you the same thing all bloody flight and suddenly it's refreshing."
"It's not the same coming from you dear brother. A woman knows these things."
"Then one more piece of advice," Joyce spoke up, deciding she was firmly on the side of liking the lady Giles. "Loose the outfit and the attitude. I understand wanting to make a good first impression, but haughty arrogance will hurt more than help."
"Of course," she said thinking for a moment before heading for the door. "If you both will excuse me, I need to change and apparently do some shopping. I hear New York is good for that sort of thing." She waltzed from the room without a second thought.
"We have rooms right down the hall," Giles told her. She looked at him amusedly.
"You two seem very different," Joyce commented.
"I defied my calling with every fiber of my being, until I met Buffy," he told her honestly. She nodded, knowing it was true. "She embraced hers." He turned, taking her hands gently and forcing her to look him in the eye. "How are you?"
"Scared. Confused. Worried that it isn't Buffy. Worried that it is," she told him honestly. "If it is her, how could she have been here all this time without us knowing? And if even half the things I've heard them say about this ring is true, how could we just leave her here?"
"It's alright," he said, handing her a tissue as she started to cry again. "If it is Buffy we will have our answers, and probably a whole lot more questions. If it is not, then we will mourn the loss of innocence this young girl has suffered and go back home."
"You're right, of course," she wiped her eyes and smiled at him, surprised when her stomach growled. "I haven't eaten all day. Would you care to join me downstairs? The bar makes pretty decent sandwiches." He nodded and the two of them left for the lobby. Joyce bypassed her usual seat, instead heading to one of the small tables tucked into the side. Tim noticed them and immediately came over.
"You okay Joyce?" he asked in concern, "You left rather quickly last night and didn't seem quite yourself."
"I'm fine Tim, just had a bit of a shock last night," she told him, before turning to Giles. "Rupert, this is Tim, one of the best bartenders I have ever met who happens to be the father of one of the artists I was hoping to buy from. Tim made this buying trip a lot more pleasant than I thought it would be, and not just because he makes the best martinis."
"Aww shucks," Tim said, blushing slightly.
"Tim, this is Rupert, a very dear friend of mine who just flew in from London at my request. He's going to help me with a few things before we fly back to L.A." Tim shook the other man's hand, wondering what things Joyce had to take care of before shrugging it off. Joyce looked much more composed than she had when she ran out the night before, and that was all that Tim was concerned with.
"I know it's not my job, but I can take your order if you're ready." Giles quickly placed an order for scotch, while Joyce ordered her favorite wine, as well as some sandwiches for both of them. Tim nodded, returning with their drinks after a minute and promising to bring their dinners as soon as they were ready.
"Great service," Giles commented playfully. "I think he may be smitten with you."
"He's happily married," she countered.
"That doesn't stop some men," he said, abruptly reminding them of the recent developments.
"What am I going to do Rupert?" she asked, putting down her wineglass.
"There's nothing we can do until the police get in touch," he reminded her. "I suggest until they get in touch, we enjoy our rare night out. It isn't often we both manage to escape that house full of unruly children."
"Dawn is not unruly," she protested.
"Dawn wasn't the one I was thinking of," he said coyly. She laughed as the waitress brought over their dinners. They were enjoying their meal when Joyce suddenly paled. Giles turned in his chair, seeing several people heading toward them.
"Ms. Summers," one of the men greeted her, "I'm sorry for barging in like this, but can we go somewhere private and talk?" Joyce nodded, her food forgotten.
"I have a room here. We can go there if that works." He nodded, turning a curious eye towards Giles when he pushed his food back and stood up at the same time Joyce did. "This is Rupert Giles. A very dear friend of mine." He nodded before letting Joyce lead the way up to her room.
"Detective Johnston," the older man introduced himself as soon as the door to the room was closed. "This is my partner Detective Kestrel," the younger man nodded, "and this is Mr. Typher. He is the District Attorney who is prosecuting the case."
"We've investigated your claim," Detective Kestrel spoke up, "but we have several questions for you." He pulled out his notebook. "You said you filed a missing person's report with the local police force?" Joyce nodded. "We were able to get a copy of it and it seemed that the local police didn't do much investigating."
"That's an understatement," Joyce scoffed. "Sunnydale PD and Buffy never really got along. There's a lot of gang activity for such a small town, and Buffy felt the need to protect her friends and family. She would fight to protect people from getting hurt. This caused her to develop a rather negative reputation that the police force could never overcome. I think when we filed the missing person report they were secretly glad she was gone."
"She was also under investigation for three separate murders," Detective Johnston told them. They nodded.
"No charges were ever filed in any of those instances," Giles told them. The detective regarded him carefully.
"Exactly where do you fit into all this Mr. Giles?" he asked.
"Buffy and I work for the same organization," he told them.
"Which organization would that be exactly?" Detective Kestrel asked.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he said regrettably.
"Nothing about it?" he asked calmly. Giles shook his head. "Ms. Summers told us she wasn't sure where her daughter was going when she left the house that day. Her daughter herself didn't know. How can that be?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he said again. The Detectives looked at each other.
"Does your daughter have any identifying marks?" Detective Johnston turned back to Joyce. "Tattoos or scars?"
"She had some burns on her back," she told them. "Four symbols encircling a fifth." The Detective looked to the attorney, who subtly nodded, before pulling out a picture.
"Are these the symbols?" he asked handing the picture to Joyce. She looked at the picture briefly before gasping.
"Oh God." She quickly handed the paper back. Giles held out his hand and the detective passed it over. "Those five are there, but I've never seen the others before."
"Do you recognize any Mr. Giles?"
"Some of them," Giles replied, studying the picture carefully before handing it back.
"Does the name Illyiana Romanov mean anything to you?" They shook their heads. The two detectives shared a glance before looking to the lawyer.
"This is a very delicate matter," Mr. Typher spoke up for the first time. "The trials are starting, but the case is still ongoing. They encrypted their systems to the degree we are still trying to break into some of their files. New information is coming in everyday, which continually makes this large and incredibly tragic case grow bigger. And it is an international case, which further complicates things. Many of the victims were taken from third world countries, while many of the predators were upper class, white American men. The political fallout from this is going to be a nightmare, and it's just beginning."
"Why are you telling us this?" Joyce asked.
"We still have several victims on American soil," Typher explained. "They are officially wards of the state, though many of them are not Americans. If we were to rashly give over care to someone just because they claim to be related, and come to find out that is not the truth, the shits gonna hit the fan very quickly and it's all gonna land on us."
"I understand," she told them. "I'll do whatever you need me to do."
"We need proof," he told her. "DNA testing to establish a familial bond."
"I can do that," she told them, resolve firmly in place in her voice. Mr. Typher nodded.
"We've arranged an appointment tomorrow morning at Mercy General. They will draw your blood and run the test. Once the test comes back positive we will talk more."
"Do you think it's her?" Joyce begged desperately. Typher pulled out another photo and handed it to Joyce. "Buffy," Joyce whispered, running her fingers over the face in the picture.
"I think it is," he told them, "and tomorrow I think we will have much to talk about." He moved to take the picture back, but relented at the sad, lost look in Joyce's eyes. "I've arranged a car to meet you. Tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp. We'll see ourselves out." The three men quietly left.
"Oh Rupert," Joyce cried, tears filling her eyes as she clutched desperately at the picture. Giles stepped over and put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "I don't think I can do this alone. Will you come with me?"
"Of course," he immediately told her. "Do you want me to stay?" She shook her head and he left for his own room, knowing tomorrow was going to be a long day and not one he would miss for the world.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Joyce said diplomatically as she and Giles waited in the lobby. "I know what I said last night, but I was just scared and lonely."
"And you won't be scared and lonely at a hospital?" Giles challenged. Since her near death experience she hated hospitals. The only time she went near one was if one of her kids was hurt, then she was usually the first to leave after making sure everything was okay. "Besides, I know your aversion to needles," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I might need to hold you down in order to draw the blood." She smiled at him.
"You know me to well," she told him. They both turned when the elevator opened up behind them. "Mrs. Adell?"
"Veronica please," she said as she joined them in the lobby. "We are practically family you know." She had given up the power suit and went for something more casual. The change in her bearing was quite profound.
"What are you doing here?" Giles asked his sister.
"I thought I would accompany you to the hospital, if you don't mind. A little moral support and all that." She smiled at Joyce and Joyce couldn't help but smile back. It was like meeting a whole different person.
"Don't you need to meet up with Faith?" Joyce asked. She would like the company, like to get to know Giles's sister better, but she knew firsthand the dangers of Slaying and knew how much a Slayer relied on her Watcher.
"Faith doesn't know I'm coming," she told Joyce. Joyce shot a look to Giles, who nodded quickly.
"Faith was told she had a new Watcher," Giles explained, "but not who or when they would arrive."
"Faith is very independent," Veronica told them, which was nothing new to the two of them. "The one thing her various Watchers did agree on is that she doesn't need a Watcher like she did when she was first Called." She looked at the two of them calculatingly. "The only other thing they agree on is Buffy's influence over the girl. They report now she is trying to emulate the other Slayer, instead of trying to take over her life. It would be extremely insightful to understand the interactions of your family so I can hopefully find a place in Faith's."
"Well, I don't know how much you'll learn, but you're welcome to stay," Joyce said diplomatically.
"Excellent," Veronica exclaimed as Detective Johnston walked through the doors. He raised his eyebrow as the three of them walked toward him, but didn't question them.
"Morning," he greeted as he led them to his car and opened the door for them. Half an hour later they were pulling into the hospital parking lot. Detective Johnston led the way, past the admissions desk and into the hospital's conference room. "We've arranged to have the room for the day, though we can take you back to the hotel if you prefer."
"How long will this test take?" Giles asked, shooting a worried glance at Joyce. She had grown paler the closer they got to the hospital.
"We're not doing a full DNA workup, just enough to establish a parental match, so it should be relatively quick. Maybe four, five hours."
"That's quick?" Joyce asked, her voice higher than normal due to nerves. The detective smiled at her reassuringly.
"I've had to wait for two weeks for some DNA comparisons," he told them gently. "Trust me. This is quick."
"Why the expedience?" Veronica asked, her eyes narrowing. The detective went to answer, but his phone suddenly went rang.
"Excuse me," he said, pulling off to the side to answer. After a short conversation he hung up, turning back to them. "I'm sorry, but I've just been called to a crime scene." He looked up as the door opened and a tall, Hispanic woman came in. "Dr. Mendoza will help answer any questions you have about the procedure. Did you want me to arrange a car to take you back to the hotel?"
"No," Joyce said, "We'll be fine here." He nodded.
"I'll be back later. In the meantime, I'll leave you in Dr. Mendoza's good hands." He smiled at them then quickly left the room. Dr. Mendoza came up and took his place. Introductions were quickly made before she got down to business. She quickly explained the procedure, exactly what they were looking for and how they went about finding it. She could tell they were all intelligent people, asking detailed questions and understanding her answers.
"Are there any more questions?" she asked after about fifteen minutes of discussion. They shook their heads. "In that case I'll send one of our lab technicians up here to take the blood sample." She stopped as she was paged on the overhead speaker. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll try to check back on you as soon as I can." With that she was out the door. Ten minutes later there was a soft knock. Giles went to open the door.
"Dr. Mendoza sent me up for some blood samples," the lab tech said cheerfully. She entered the room, pushing a tray filled with test tubes and needles. Joyce sat down, woozy at the sight. "It's not bad," she said, recognizing the reaction. "Just a little prick. I'll even give you a cookie."
"What we wouldn't do for a cookie," Giles joked, trying to calm Joyce down. It wasn't working. "Shall I go first?" he asked, rolling up his sleeve.
"What?" Joyce asked, breaking out of her trance. "You don't need to."
"I'll do it as well if it will help you feel more at ease," Veronica offered. Joyce smiled as the tech applied the tourniquet to Giles's arm. A few minutes later she had a vial of blood, which she carefully labeled before turning to the women. Veronica offered her arm, all the while watching Joyce as if to say it's no big deal. She quickly told the tech her name, ensuring the sample was labeled properly, before the tech turned to Joyce. Joyce sighed, holding her arm up, but turning her head and closing her eyes.
"All done," the tech encouraged as the last vial was filled up. Joyce looked only after she felt the Band-Aid being applied to her skin. The tech labeled the last vial before smiling at them. "I'll get this going right away. While you wait, the gift shop should be open by now if you want to pick up a crossword or something. It's down on the lobby level. And the cafeteria is in the basement. Just follow the signs there. There's also a cathedral on the third floor." They nodded and the tech left them to their own devices.
"Well," Joyce said as the door shut behind her, "this seems like a good time to talk about Faith." They spent the next few hours talking about Faith, Veronica getting some really good pointers and a pretty solid idea of what she was getting into when the door opened again. Everybody went silent, standing in a row in front of the doctor who was studying the paper in her hands intently.
"Well we now have our scientific proof and I can say with ninety-eight percent certainty that you are our Jane Doe's father," she said, standing before Giles and looking him in the eye.
"What?!" Giles asked, shocked. The women on either side of him were standing in shock as well, their mouths hanging open at the news. The doctor just looked confused.
"You are her biological father," she said, studying her papers again. Then Giles did something he had never done in his entire life. He fainted.