Rating: umm...I'm thinking along the lines of PG...in the meantime. Who knows what the future might bring:).
Disclaimer: nope, last time I checked, nothing was min e.
Spoilers: well...better safe than sorry: everything up to t he end of season 3 can be spoilery.
Synopsis: I have a strange drive to rewrite season 3 of BtV S. I just don't seem to like the way it ended...beats me why. Anyway, so despite the fact that the original plan was to begin with "Helpless" (that's aroun d the time everything really started getting screwed up B/A-wise), as you can see , plan's changed and I'm going to start with "Anne". If you expect to find in this series events/quotes from the original season....I seriously mean it - I'll try my hardest keeping them to the very minimum. But all in all - it's probably a yet another attempt to end the season on a more "positive" B/A level. See h ow it goes:).
Pairing: the conventional ships: B/A, W/O, C/X. If I decide to torture any/all of them, you'll be the first to know:).
Distribution: ask first.
Feedback: please, yes, please.

There's a place not far from here
Where people go when their dreams have died
As I walk from it's faceless streets
I must be the last one alive
Where are you, you're not with me
Numb my mind with a fantasy

- Vast, "The Las One Alive"

****

Giles woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. The moment his vision cleared enough for him to be able to see the clock, he learned that it was five in the morning. The lack of daylight outside could justly suggest the possibility of it being a vampire, but somehow, Giles knew it wasn't. Though he had intended to wake up in half an hour anyway, the Watcher was everything but happy with that unbidden, rather early, visit. He reached for his glasses and adjusted them on the bridge of his nose, then he groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and headed for the door.

****

"Mrs. Summers?" he blinked several times, confusedly gaping at the parson standing before his door.

Joyce shifted uncomfortable on her feet, then swallowed, directing her gaze at the Watcher. "May I come in?" she asked, nodding pointedly into the apartment.

"Yes," Giles shook his head, as if in an attempt to shake off a dream, "yes, of course, come in," he stuttered, inviting the woman inside with a gesture of his one hand and slamming the door after her with the other.

"I'm terribly sorry for the early hour," Joyce started to speak, as she was making her way further into the apartment, to the living room.

Gils swallowed. "It is quite alright, really," he lied. He wasn't thrilled with the early wake up call, but it was as nothing as compared to what could have kept sleep from Joyce's eyes in that hour, thus drive his Slayer's mother to his doorstep. "I-I will make some coffee," and God knew he needed it, if he intended to stay awake during that conversation, he acknowledged. "Would you care for some, too?"

"That would be nice, thank you. If it's not too much trouble," the woman accepted his suggestion with a feeble, somewhat tense smile.

"Not at all. Please," the Watcher motioned at the sofa, "make yourself at home," he smiled as well, and left for the kitchen.

****

After a few minutes, he came back, holding in his hands a tray with two mugs of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits. He put it in front of Joyce on the table and joined her on the couch, taking one of the mugs and sipping from the hot liquid.

Mrs. Summers did the same, then inhaled a deep breath, and looked up at the Watcher.

"It's about Buffy," she began.

"Buffy?" he arched a brow. What could be so important about Buffy it couldn't wait until a more appropriate hour of the *day*? And most importantly, why would Joyce come to *him* of all people?

"I'm worried about her," Buffy's mother said, sipping again from her drink. "You're a very important part of her life," she shrugged, with a barely discernable flicker of bitterness in her eyes. "Sometimes," she smiled sadly, averting her gaze for a moment, "I feel that you're even more important than I am." Giles was about to say something, but she didn't let him, indicating with her hand she wanted to finish what she had to say first. Which one of them had the most significance in Buffy's life wasn't the reason why she was here, it was merely the reason why she had chosen the Watcher. "You're the only person I could think of to go to for answers, and who might have any idea of what's going on with her."

He nodded, understanding. "What do you mean?" He inwardly wondered exactly what Buffy had told her mother, and what would he do, if Joyce mentioned Angel, and started asking questions about him, assuming the subject would rise, seeing as he didn't know how much Buffy had shared with her. He himself knew Buffy hadn't been quite herself ever since she had come back, but he also knew why, or at last, thought he did. What was he supposed to tell Joyce?

"Something is wrong with her," Mrs. Summers tried to explain, but couldn't quite find the right words. "She's…distant…I hardly get to see her at all, she's invested her entire being into slaying…"

Giles gave her an odd look. "Excuse me?"

Joyce eyed him with confusion. "Well, she always says she's busy, that you ask her to patrol, or research…" she waved her hand dismissingly, "I barely get to see her at home. But I can, to a certain level, understand it. I know she has a duty she must carry out, and I can't stand in her way, doesn't matter if I approve of it or not. It isn't why I'm here."

"I see," the Watcher nodded, and carefully lowered his cup of coffee back on the table. He suddenly didn't need it at all to wake up. What he did need was explanations, and a whole lot of them. And Buffy better supply them all once he would see her at school later that day. What was his primary concern at the moment though, wasn't at all Buffy's excuses, or reasons, to the way she had been behaving. What he wanted to know, right there and then, was why had she put him and her mother against each other, having, obviously, lied to them both concerning her whereabouts. And *what*, in God's name, had made him lie to Joyce Summers, to cover for her daughter?! Yes, he knew, he hadn't technically lied, but nor had he told the truth. He had been seeing as little of Buffy, as had Joyce, if to understand from her words, so wherever she had been spending that time, it certainly had nothing to do with him, or the slaying. He had been struggling to convince her to prolong her half-an-hour patrols, but it had would always end up with Faith taking over. He had been going easy on her, giving her all the time and space she needed in order to overcome her loss and her grief. The shadows of said grief he could seldom descry in her eyes when she would be too careless to conceal it from him, and  her agony terrified him, but...what if in his attempt to make it easier on her, he had chosen the wrong approach? What if all that he had given her, had only made her crave for more, and him to forget his duties as Watcher? Where on earth had she been spending those countless hours?!

"Rupert?" Joyce's voice found its way into his reflections, and he blinked, focusing his gaze on the woman.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, "go on, please," he nodded, taking off his glasses and starting to nervously polish the lenses. Like a little boy who was afraid his mother would notice his lie if he looked her in the eye, Giles kept his gaze on anything but the woman sitting in front of him.

The Slayer's mother sighed. "I stayed up late last night," she began her story, "I had some papers to go through, concerning the gallery," she waved her hand, indicating it wasn't the point. "I also came back from work later than usual, around midnight, which was why I didn't check on Buffy. I didn't want to disturb her, I thought she was already asleep, it was…rather late, even for patrols. Because I had more work to do than I had originally planned, it eventually kept me up all night. Around four, I just had this strange urge to see Buffy, a mother's instinct, if you want," she chuckled tensely, ironically, then her face sobered. "She wasn't in her room, Rupert."

The Watcher frowned.

"Not only that she wasn't there, the bed was cold, and looked like it wasn't slept on at all that night. She didn't spend the night at home, and I just…I feel it isn't the first time either." She shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. "A part of me is angry with her, for being so irresponsible, while…the other part just wishes I had been a better mother, that I had been more attentive to her needs, especially now…" she sighed pointedly.

"Now?" Giles pried.

"She told me about Angel," Joyce explained. "I had no idea there was something so major going on in her life," she chuckled, "as if the slaying itself hadn't been enough. But I," she bit her lip, casting her eyes to the floor for a moment.

"You what?" the Watcher probed, inwardly wondering if Buffy had also mentioned Angelus to her mother.

"I don't think I took her as seriously as I should have," the woman admitted. "I didn't think it was more than a teenage infatuation, despite everything Buffy had told me. I think I hadn't grasped the depth of her emotions until only recently. Or rather…I don't think I have…yet," Buffy's mother was struggling with her words. "I hid behind the fact he was dead. He lost his soul, she had to kill him, he was dead." She shook her head, in attempt to clear it up. "God, I can't believe I'm saying these words as if it was an everyday simple matter. I suppose that comes with having a Slayer as a daughter," she attempted a joke that only increased her anxiety. "I was kidding myself when I thought I could sweep it under the carpet just because he's dead. What I got as a result was a daughter, who formerly used to be so vivacious, and so full of life, looking and acting like a walking dead. She's like a person whose heart was ripped out, and…I keep thinking that I should have helped her, that maybe if I had seen it the way it was, instead of the way I wanted to see it, I could have made it easier for her. But…I thought…" she desperately looked at the Watcher, "she's only seventeen…"

He chuckled. "Joyce, when it comes to Buffy and Angel…age doesn't matter," he sadly grinned at the thrown mother. "Nor does the fact he's a vampire and she was chosen to kill his kind, nor the fact one of them is immortal. And nor the fact his demon, once unleashed, can wreck havoc in the world that will result in the deaths of thousands, some of which will only die to feed his sick hunger for pleasure. I...I don't know if Buffy told you...about," he looked down for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"She did," Joyce nodded. "I'm so sorry."

The Watcher nodded in return. "It was for Buffy, that I forced myself to acknowledge the difference between the man and the demon, which are things you might find difficult to understand…"

"Did he love her?" she popped up the last question Giles had expected her to ask.

He drew in a deep, unsteady, breath. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, that he most certainly did. As I said, there's a difference…"

"But he's a vampire," Buffy's mother couldn't let go of it. It was just too much to take, even despite the fact she had had weeks to adjust to the idea.

"As I said," Giles' lips curved up in that same sad smile, "it didn't play a role in that relationship. He loved her. I never once doubted his intentions, or the veracity of his feelings, or I would have opposed this relationship, not that it would have stopped them. He didn't just…love her, she was everything for him, if you had gotten to know Angel, you would have understood what I mean by that. She was the center of his universe. And yes, she is *only* seventeen, as you put it, but…she has already seen so much more than you ever will during your entire lifetime." He gravely peered at the Slayer's mother, taking a brief break from his speech. "She returned his love equally. None of us can imagine the true depth of their feelings, or their relationship, and none of us will ever be able to, and that is why we can never understand the depth of her grief. We just…have to show a bit more patience." And find out why she's lying to us, he noted to himself.

Joyce accepted it with a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're right. You…" she motioned at him with her hand, "seem to know her better than I these days. I'm sorry I bothered you," she stood up, ready to leave, and Giles rose after her.

"Not at all," he protested. "I'm glad you came. I hope I was able to clear up at least a few things."

"Yes," she nodded, forcing a smile. "Only unfortunately, not exactly the ones I needed answers for."

"Well," he swallowed, averting his gaze awkwardly, "I didn't think the…tasks I gave her would take that much of her time. I'll…try talking to her, I'll tell her to cut down on the slaying hours," he lied. Again.

But Joyce seemed to have bought it. "I'll appreciate that a lot."

"Yes," he emitted through almost gritted teeth, and clenched his hands into fists by the sides of his body, while following the woman to the door.

When he opened it, he almost jumped back in surprise.

"Aren't you a mind reader?" the person at his door didn't waste a minute to push his way through the stunned Watcher into his apartment.

When he was in, he turned around, and lifted his hat, grinning at Buffy's mother. "Mrs. Summers," he put the hat back on his head. "Very nice to meet to meet you." Then he turned to the Watcher. "We need to talk."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Joyce inquired, frowning.

"No, not really," he shook his head. "But it was a pleasure to meet you," he grinned again, all but pushing the woman out of the still open door.

"Do *I* know you?" Giles demanded, trying to figure out who, or even *what*, that person was, and if he had ever encountered him before.

"Do I look like I need a verbal invitation?" the demon shot Giles a pointed look. "Name's Whistler," he extended his hand, and the Watcher barely had time to shake it properly before he pulled it back, "and you're about to."

Giles studied him for a long moment, then looked back at Buffy's mother. "I-I'll see you later," he held the door open for her again, and she walked through it.

"Again, I'm sorry for waking you up," she apologized.

"Don't be," he shook his head. "Good day, Joyce," he smiled.

"You too, Rupert," she smiled back, and he closed the door after her.

"Your fridge really doesn't fill up over the years, does it? Months, actually, but only to let you have the benefit of the doubt," Whistler stepped out of the kitchen, wearing a playfully disappointed expression, and walking past the Watcher straight into the living room.

"I beg your pardon?" Giles followed the demon.

But Whistler dismissed him with a wave of his hand, without even bothering to turn around, and flopped into the nearest chair. "You wanna sit down now," he pointed at the couch.

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