*****

Buffy was vainly trying to concentrate on her Chemistry homework when something hit her bedroom window. She looked up and saw another rock ping against the glass. Frowning, she walked over to the window, raising the blinds. She stared down at Angel.

She was caught between finding something to throw at him and letting him in. Much to his relief, she opened the window and walked away leaving him to his own devices. Seconds later, he made it through the window, broken hand and all, and headed directly over to her bed. He lowered himself to his knees before her. She caressed his injured hand.

“I heard about this,” she said, caressing the cast lightly with her fingertips.

“Just one thing in a long line of personal fuck ups,” he said bitterly. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He hated what he saw there – uncertainty, fear, nervousness, the beginnings of tears not yet shed. “The worst thing I ever did was push you away,” he said quietly. “You’re not a burden, Buffy. I meant everything I said that night in the mansion. I love you and I will take care of you.”

“You’ll take care of me,” she echoed. Tears made their way down her cheeks despite her attempts to keep them at bay. She swiped at them angrily. “What are you going to do send me child support checks, Angel?” Buffy choked out. “Take our kid to the ballgame every other month?”

“No,” Angel said firmly, “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you with everything I have in me. Every penny I make and every minute of my time is for you for now until I’m dust. Is that clear enough?” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you’re pregnant, if you’re not pregnant – whatever – I will still love you just as much. I’m not going anywhere, Buffy, I promise.”

Buffy threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “I thought I lost you. I thought it was over.”

“You can’t lose me,” he murmured gently. He held her so tightly against him that it was almost painful, but Buffy didn’t say a word. Instead, she just clung to him and cried harder.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Buffy said, after both of them had calmed down. She held his broken hand in both of hers.

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, kissing her lips gently. Soberly, he added, “But, baby, if we don’t take a pregnancy test soon, I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. I have to know before we can deal, okay?”

***

Buffy returned to her bedroom where Angel was pacing like a caged tiger. He looked at her expectantly, but her expression betrayed nothing. She handed him the little plastic stick and went to sit on her bed.

Angel looked at the stick in his hand. He read the directions on the package, so he knew what the result meant. He set the stick down on her dresser and once again dropped to his knees in front of her. With his good hand, he tugged on her wrist until she slid off the bed and into his lap.

“It could be wrong,” she said, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was burrowed against his chest.

He held her tighter, taking a deep breath. “Do you think it’s wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he told her.

She looked up at him and he bent his head down, kissing her slowly. “I love you, Buffy,” he said. “And our baby.” She buried her face against his chest again.

“Oh, I’m going to England over Thanksgiving,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“What?” he said. “It sounded like you said you were going to England.”

She pulled away and looked up him. “I am. Dad already bought the tickets.”

“Oh no. No way,” he said, pulling them both to their feet. “You are not getting on a plane. It’s not good for the baby. Forget it. Tell him you can’t go.”

“Just say no,” she said dryly. “Just like that.”

“Well…” he said in exasperation, “make something up.”

She stared up at him, her brow furrowed. “Why are you upset about this?” she asked. “It’s not like we’re moving there. We leave on Wednesday and get back on Saturday.”

He glowered.

“Angel?” she pled.

“I don’t want you that far away,” he groused. “Especially not now.”

She smiled sappily at him. “You’re worried about me,” she said.

“Yeah, well, it’s my prerogative,” he grouched.

She shrugged, snuggling up against him again. “We could always just tell my dad I’m pregnant. He might let me stay home.”

Angel groaned, burying his face in her hair. “Your dad is going to murder me.”

Buffy sobered. “Actually, I don’t have any idea what he’s going to do. I mean, we haven’t even told him that we’re dating yet. That’ll be a fun conversation. Hey, Dad, yeah, Angel and I are going out, and by the way you’re going to be a grandfather. I don’t think he’ll take it well.”

“I’m a dead man.”

***

Buffy’s brow furrowed as she approached the lunch table where Oz, Willow and Angel were sitting. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and almost everyone was in a foul mood. They all just wanted a break from school for a while. But even that didn’t explain Devon’s angry form stomping away from the table.

She took a seat, setting down her tray carefully. “What’s his problem?” she asked, nodding toward Devon.

“Josh didn’t work out,” Oz offered.

Buffy frowned. The Dingoes had been searching for a fill in drummer since Angel broke his hand. They still had another three weeks before his cast came off and they’d already had to cancel four gigs. If they didn’t find a filler, they’d have to cancel another three. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Angel looked at Buffy’s lunch tray and then glared at her.

“What?” she asked self-consciously. Noticing that all she had was jello, she said, “My stomach didn’t feel like hard food today. But hey, there’s fruit in it.”

Angel leaned in closer. “Those are marshmallows,” he bit out. “And maybe a ... french fry?”

Buffy made a face, pushing the tray away from herself. “On second thought ... “

***

Giles had a bit more of a bounce to his step as he walked out of the teacher’s lounge toward sixth period study hall where he would be substituting for the afternoon. Ms. Calendar, the school’s new computer teacher was winsome and bright – something normally lacking Sunnydale High. He was thinking about asking her on a date when he returned from his trip to England with Buffy.

It seemed like everything was working out well. Buffy seemed more exuberant about life and school in general lately. She was a pleasure to be around. She seemed to have outgrown her more catty friends, which was something he was pleased with. He would much prefer she spend her time with Willow Rosenberg.

He was also delighted with his decision to spend the holiday in England. It was amusing and ironic that they would be going back across the sea for Thanksgiving. He dearly missed home and was looking forward to seeing the family he had left behind. They hadn’t been back since Joyce passed away. It should make for a nice trip.

Lost in his own thoughts, he rounded the corner where Cordelia and Harmony, Buffy’s friends, were chatting about something or other. Normally, he would have just passed by and paid them no mind, as they usually did to him, but he overheard his daughter’s name. Casually, he slowed down his gait and cocked an ear in their direction.

“No way!” Harmony nearly shouted.

“Oh yeah,” Cordelia said, nodding her dark head gravely, “You heard me right. Angel ‘The Loser’ Roarke knocked up Buffy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Harmony said, leaning against the locker she was standing in front of. “Who would have ever thought she’d actually sink that low?”

“I know,” Cordelia agreed. She opened her purse, found a small flip cell phone and immediately began dialing. “I have to call everyone I have ever met right now.”

***

Angel leaned against the kitchen sink, staring down the trailer at the door to his dad’s room. The place was a total wreck as usual. Dishes from the last three weeks were piled in the sink. There were beer cans and empty pizza boxes everywhere. Damn, he hated this place. He’d always hated this place, even though it had been home for almost as long as he could remember. The big house with the lawn and the swing set was nothing more than the most distant memory now.

He took a deep breath. This was his life. This was what he had to offer Buffy. He hung his head in shame. Even now, he was cutting school to do this. What kind of a father would he make? What kind of a husband? If he loved Buffy, he’d walk away from her. He’d spare her and their child the embarrassment of having him in their lives. But even as he thought it, he knew he could never do it. He loved Buffy more than he ever thought possible. And despite everything, he wanted this baby. He wanted to have a life with her.

Steeling his resolve, he headed for his Dad’s room. It was a pigsty. The bed was unmade as usual. The sheets probably hadn’t been changed in a year. Closet doors were missing and he could still see clothes hanging in there from his dad’s previous four live-in girlfriends. None of them had stayed long. Why would they? His dad was nothing more than a washed up shell of a man, dead inside.

Angel made his way over to the closet, rummaging around on the top shelf. With one hand still in a cast, it took him far longer than necessary to accomplish such a simple task. Eventually he found what he was looking for.

He sat down on the corner of his dad’s bed, holding the antique jewelry box in his lap. It was without a doubt the nicest thing in the entire trailer. It had belonged to his mother, passed down from her mother for generations. Angel ran his fingers lightly over the clasp. It was old and beautiful. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his mind to wander. He barely remembered her anymore. He had only the most fleeting impression, a memory of her voice, her smell. She had been so beautiful and gentle. They had been a family then. He remembered his parents being happy together. And then one day everything changed. Angel pushed the memory away.

He flipped open the box. There, nestled in the aging velvet was the silver Claddagh. It was tarnished with age, but still beautiful. His mother would have liked Buffy, Angel knew that in his heart. Very carefully, he removed the ring. Tonight he would ask Buffy to be his wife.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Angel’s head snapped up and he looked at his father’s enraged features. The larger man barreled into the room, grabbing Angel by his shirt and hauling him off the bed before he had time to react. “I said what the fuck do you think you’re doing with her ring!” he bellowed.

***

Giles was far angrier than he ever remembered being since Buffy was born. He couldn’t believe the gall of Angel, that miscreant touching his little girl! Did he think to get on his good side by shelving books and helping in the library? A fury raged over him and he found himself sitting stock still in study hall until the class was up.

At the end of the day, he drove home going exactly the speed limit and pulled into his driveway. He had decided he would sit down and calmly speak to his daughter like a civilized adult before he lost his temper. That, of course, was before he saw Angel’s motorcycle in his driveway.

All his careful calming and reason flew out the window. He opened his car door and hurried into the house, leaving his beloved ancient leather briefcase on the seat. He had visions of Angel taking advantage of his daughter flashing before his eyes as he ran up the stairs, taking them two at time. Reaching the top of the stairs, he ran to the end of the hall and burst through the door without bothering to knock. He opened his mouth and a gasp came out.

“Oh dear Lord,” Giles groaned, stepping inside.

Angel was beaten so badly Giles almost couldn’t believe he had ridden his bike over. His injured hand was mangled and splashed with what appeared to be his own blood. His face was bruised and swollen, his lip split. His clothes were torn – more than normal – and he was bleeding freely from his temple and right arm.

Giles watched his daughter for a moment. She had looked up at him frantically when he came in but hadn’t said a word. She was currently trying to tend to Angel’s wounds but her hands were shaking so badly she wasn’t get very much accomplished. After a few moments, she stopped and burst into tears.

“Shhh,” Angel whispered, pulling her against him. “C’mere baby. It’s alright.”

Giles watched Angel gently comfort Buffy, mindless of his own wounds, intent only upon the emotional distress his condition was causing her. Quietly, Giles cleared his throat. Buffy managed to pull away from Angel and gave her father a questioning gaze.

"Buffy, please go get the first aid kit as well as a basin of water and a washcloth," Giles said quietly.

Nodding, Buffy pushed herself off the bed to comply. She was hugging herself tightly as she left the room, her clothes smeared with Angel's blood.

Carefully, Giles perched on the bed next to Angel. The young man slowly met his gaze, before his eyes flicked away shamefully. His voice was startlingly strong when he spoke, though his enunciation was significantly hindered by his split lip. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I'll leave, I just didn't know where else to go."

Giles frowned down at the young man he'd mentored for the last year and a half. "Angel, I know your home life isn't stellar, but certainly your father would - "

"My father did this to me," Angel said, cutting him off.

Giles didn't even know how to react to that. He had known that Angel's father was a mess. It was common knowledge among both students and staff at the school. But Giles had never dreamed that the man was so far gone. For him to brutalize his own son to this extent … Giles couldn’t even finish the thought.

Buffy returned and together the two of them managed to remove Angel's shirt entirely. The bruising to his torso was extensive. Giles could clearly make out fist marks in several places. Angel sucked in his breath sharply when his ribs were touched, but never cried out. After they'd wiped away most of the blood, Giles discovered there were only two open wounds, one at Angel's temple and the one on his right arm. Neither was deep and thankfully, they would probably heal without scarring.

Giles shook his head as he took in the young man's sad condition. "Angel, you need to go to the hospital. Your hand needs to be re-cast and these ribs should be x-rayed at the very least."

"Please," Angel pled, "I'll be fine. Just give me a few more minutes and I'll be out of your hair."

"You most certainly will not," Giles said sharply. "You are not leaving this house under any condition unless it is to go to a hospital."

Angel and Buffy both stared at him blankly. With a huff, Giles rose to his feet and paced a tight circle in the small room. He stopped abruptly, pinning both of them with his gaze. "I heard a nasty bit of gossip today in the hall," he said. "It seems that the rumor mill believes Buffy to be pregnant with your child. I would like to know if this is true."

Buffy's cheeks flamed in embarrassment and she found herself unable to look at her father. Angel carefully grasped her hand, twining his fingers through hers before squeezing gently. He looked at Giles. "It's true," he said firmly. "We've been trying to find the right time to tell you."

Giles groaned, sitting down heavily in Buffy's desk chair.

"I love her," Angel continued. "I will do everything in my power to support her and the baby in any way I can."

Removing his glasses, Giles polished them feverishly. "I suspected something was transpiring between the two of you," he said. "But I never dreamed it had gone this far." With brisk movements, he replaced the glasses on his face. "Well, this changes things significantly," he said. He stood again, heading for the door. "I'll be back. You are still not permitted to go anywhere."

Buffy watched, dumbfounded, as her father left her room, pulling the door shut behind himself. She had no idea what was going on. Shaking off her confusion, she turned back to Angel. Tears pricked her eyes again. He looked so terrible, all swollen and bruised. She touched his face lightly with the tips of her fingers. "Angel, you have to call the cops," she said. "He can't get away with this."

Angel shrugged, looking away.

"Are you listening to me?" Buffy pressed. "Angel, something has to be done about him."

"Baby, just leave it alone," he said wearily. "I'm not going to call the cops."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "Do you want to look in the mirror? How can you just let him do that to you?"

"He has his own punishment," Angel said quietly.

"Nothing makes up for what he did - "

"He's miserable," Angel said shortly, cutting her off. "There's nothing left inside him. Nothing but rage and pain. I can't do anything to him that will be worse that what he's already in."

Buffy shook her head, clearly not understanding. Gently, Angel reached up and wiped away her tears. He took a deep breath. "My dad was always a loser. Wrong side of the tracks, police record, you name it, he'd done it. My mom was … She was great. Pretty, smart, from a really nice family. For whatever impossible reason, she loved my dad. He turned his life around for her, made something out of himself. He went to college, got a degree. He was working in a bank somewhere, saving up money for his own motorcycle shop some day. We all lived in this really nice house. And then … "

Buffy sniffled, listening intently. Angel had always brushed off her questions about his family.

"She died," Angel said flatly. "I don't really remember it. I was only four or five at the time. I just remember her being gone. And then nothing was ever the same. My dad just broke. And he never healed. He loved her so much. And when she died, he died with her."

Buffy cupped his cheek, tears streaming down her face. Angel smiled tightly at her. "He lost everything, the job, the house. We moved to Sunnydale. It was years before my mom's parents finally tracked us down. They took me away from him, took me home to their house. But by then, I was a lost cause too. I didn't have any idea how to behave in a real family. I got in tons of trouble, stole from them, disrespected them. They tried for a really long time, but I wasn't worth saving. They finally shipped me back to my dad. We've been like this ever since."

"Angel, you're worth saving," she said softly, her bottom lip quivering.

He smiled up at her again, this time softer. "I never believed that before I met you."

She was sobbing, torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms and not wanting to cause him further physical pain.

"What happened today - "Angel started to explain. "I went through some of my mom's old things. I found a ring she used to have because I wanted to give it to you. He caught me with her things and he just came unhinged."

"Angel," Buffy sobbed, horrified that this all happened because he wanted to give her something of his mother's.

"I can't hate him," Angel said. "I used to. I used to hate him more than anything. But now … " He gently rubbed Buffy's fingers between his own. "I can't hate him, Buffy, because if something ever happened to you, I'd end up exactly the same way."

Giles cleared his throat from the doorway and stepped in. He looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment and then took off his glasses. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and polished them furiously.

“Right then,” Giles began awkwardly. “I moved Buffy’s old twin bed into the basement and you should be fairly comfortable down there, Angel. I put linens on it and an extra blanket. The basement tends to be on the chilly side.”

Both Buffy and Angel opened their mouths to speak, but neither allowed a syllable out when Giles glared in their direction. This was not a time to argue or question.

“Now,” Giles continued, “Angel, we will take you to the hospital and have x-rays taken. You most certainly have a broken rib. You are welcome to stay in this house for here on out. Although you and Buffy have undoubtedly already had…er, relations, I will not find you in her bedroom at any time. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Angel managed to choke out. He swallowed harshly and risked a glance at Buffy. She was just as stunned as he. “Thank you,” Angel added gratefully.

“I’ve contacted an associate to gather your belongings,” Giles added. “He will be coming by later this evening to deliver them.”

“Mr. Giles, I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to send anyone to see my father-“

“It’s taken care of, Angel,” Giles repeated firmly. “I trust you will take care of my daughter with the same respect. She is the most precious thing in my life.”

“I love her,” Angel said clearly, clasping Buffy’s hand in his.

***

Angel did in fact have three broken ribs, a concussion and several minor contusions. Considering the beating he took from his father and the fact that his hand was already broken, he thought he came out of the situation in pretty good form. Especially since Giles didn’t try to kill him. He had expected nothing less.

He was strangely surprised that after his initial coolness, Buffy’s father seemed to accept the situation with as much ease as humanly possible. He didn’t appear angry or put out, even though he did, on occasion, have the tendency to glare.

When they got home again, it was after one in the morning, but a man was waiting inside the house. He stood in the dark with his hands clasped in front of him and on the floor at his feet was almost everything Angel owned. The man was tall and thin with a deep mesmerizing voice. Although he was pretty spooky, he didn’t seem to be much of a threat to a man like Angel’s father.

Giles stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”

“The balance between us is restored, Rupert Giles. Do not call upon me again,” the man said in his hypnotic, deep tone.

“I shan’t.” Giles answered gravely. “Peace with you.”

“And with you.” The man smoothly made his way to the door and barely made a sound with each step. Yeah, “spooky” was definitely the way to describe him.

“The balance is restored?” Buffy echoed. “What did you do for him?”

“I introduced him to his wife.” Giles said with a cocky smile. Unwilling to answer any of the questions about the strange man, he headed off to bed.

***

Jenny Calendar lounged against the library’s front desk, watching Rupert Giles scurry around his office with sharp, hurried movements. In body language, it practically bellowed ‘Go Away!’. But Jenny had never been one to be deterred by something as mundane as a frazzled librarian. “I’m not leaving, Rupert,” she called, “so you might as well come out here.”

He stopped and she could see his shoulders slump in a sigh. Several moments later, his head poked out of the office. “Thank gods, it’s you,” he said wearily. “I was afraid it was Mrs. Mernickey again. I swear that woman would have had an enterprising career with the Soviet Secret Police.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Jenny asked. She frowned. “Is it really true that Angel Roarke is living with your daughter?”

Giles bristled. “He is living in my basement. He is not living with my daughter.”

“But your basement is part of your house and your daughter does live there, so technically, Angel Roarke is living with your daughter,” Jenny pressed.

“Fine,” Giles bit out. “He lives with my daughter. But I’m afraid it’s not the sordid love den of adolescent passion that most of the office staff wants to make it out to be.”

Jenny motioned him over to the table and took a seat across from him. She was quiet as he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what did happen?” she asked quietly.

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses. “This can go no further,” he said in warning. He took a deep breath. “Angel was badly beaten by his father.”

Jenny sucked in a breath sharply. “I guess that explains why he’s not here today.”

Giles nodded. “He should be well enough to resume classes after the holiday, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say the attack was vicious.”

“So you took him in?” she asked cautiously.

“What else would you have me do, Jenny?” he demanded in exasperation.

She put her hands up in surrender. “You’re right,” she said. “Please continue.”

“I’m afraid for once, the rumor mill is actually lagging.” He took another weary breath. “Not only was Angel attacked by his own father and now living in my basement, but I’m afraid he’s the father of my soon-to-be grandchild.”

Jenny gaped at him for a moment. “Wow. Uh, congratulations I guess.”

Giles stared at her, nonplussed. “I am not thrilled about the news, but there’s little I can do about it now. Angel and Buffy are both eighteen and regardless of the fact that they’re still in high school, they are both adults. While they’re living under my roof, there are stringent guidelines I expect to be followed.”

“But ... “ Jenny prompted.

Giles expression softened. “But I do think that Angel is a good man. He can’t be held responsible for the circumstances of his upbringing and I do honestly believe that he is trying. He wants to do right by Buffy. And having him living with his abusive father or in the back of a car or on some friend’s couch is not going to put him on track to be a responsible father. He had enough obstacles as it is, I don’t feel the need to add to them unnecessarily.”

Jenny nodded. “So on a different note, I guess your holiday plans are shot.”

Shrugging, Giles said, “Buffy is urging me to go without her, but I haven’t decided yet.”

***

The pain medication that was given would have kept Angel sleeping on the narrow bed in the basement for most of the day if Buffy hadn’t woken him up. When he inhaled her sweet scent, he thought it was a dream until he opened his eyes. She sat perched on the end of the bed looking dazzlingly gorgeous as she always did. The first thought after that was to wince in pain. So he did.

“Are you okay?” she demanded. “Don’t move. Do you want me to get you anything? Are you hungry? Angel?”

“Baby, calm down,” he urged in a grunted whisper. “I’m fine. I just need a shower.”

“Just need a shower?” Buffy huffed irritably. “Angel, you have a broken hand and three broken ribs. You need a nurse!”

Angel groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and headed for the door, bare foot and in black silk boxers. Despite his current physical condition, Buffy couldn’t help but drool. He was just so yummy.

He turned and smirked at the door. “You can be the nurse if you find the right uniform,” he said huskily and barely missed the pillow that she launched at him.

He trudged upstairs slowly and dug through the bags and boxes of his things for clothes to wear before making his way to the bathroom. He was overwhelmed by the idea of living with Buffy, being able to kiss her goodnight and see her in the morning. Even though he was living in the basement of their house, his living quarters were far more spacious and neat than his home with his father.

He couldn’t help grinning as he stepped into the shower. Giles had one little corner with his solitary bottle of shampoo with leave in conditioner and bar of soap. The rest of the shower was overflowing with female things like colorful loofas and razors that suction cupped to the wall. He counted four different kinds of soap and a veritable cornucopia of shampoos, conditioners and various hair treatments. It was like being in a store.

He took his time, not overtaxing his sore muscles. The pain pill was great, but Angel knew if he wasn’t cautious, he could do more harm than good. He’d cracked ribs before and they weren’t fun.

He toweled off as best he could and dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. By the time he made his way downstairs, Buffy had fixed him a sandwich. He smiled at her. “You never told me you can cook,” he said with a wink.

“Hey, if you think that’s impressive, you should see me microwave a burrito,” Buffy countered.

Angel feigned shock, taking a seat at the table. Buffy was picking at her own sandwich, leafing through a copy of Vogue. When he’d eaten as much as he could, Buffy cleared that table. “So,” she asked, “what do you want to do this afternoon where we’re home all alone while I’m on vacation and my father is stuck with an afternoon of teacher inservice?”

Angel chuckled at her, but sighed. “Honestly,” he said, “I would like nothing more than to ravish you all afternoon, but I don’t think I’m quite up to it yet.”

Buffy was slightly disappointed, but she knew he needed his rest. She followed him back down to the basement, making sure he was comfortable. “You sleep,” she said. “I’m going to go upstairs and sort through your boxes.”

“Okay,” he murmured sleepily, drifting off.

***

Buffy wouldn’t have admitted it to her friends, but she liked the idea of taking care of Angel. Sure, she couldn’t really cook, but making that sandwich for him was sort of fun in a Susy Homemaker kinda way.

She looked at the big pile of boxes and bags in the living room and frowned. There wasn’t much there considering it was all of his earthly possessions. It would take a rental truck just to haul her stuff away, not counting her father’s things. She was glad they had taken Angel away from that bastard he called a father. She smiled to herself. Angel would be a thousand times better at being a parent.

She began making piles of things and soon was surrounded by various stacks. Twenty minutes into unpacking and she already had a load of his laundry going. An hour into the event, she had called her father twice and had talked him into stopping to get a dresser on the way home and a list of various other odds and ends that she said, “Angel could not live without.”

“Buffy,” her father had said dryly, “I certainly think that Angel can live without an area rug.”

“Are you going to make him live like an barbarian in the basement with cold feet in the morning?” she demanded in outrage. “Daddy, he could die of pneumonia!”

“Buffy, I seriously doubt-“

His disagreements launched Buffy into a ten minute tirade that made Giles feel guilty enough to buy every item she insisted upon. It wasn’t until he loaded up the car that he realized he just spent a hefty sum of money for the lecher who impregnated his only daughter. The thought had him scowling at the way home.

Buffy, on the other hand, was not scowling. She was thrilled with the arrangements and hummed as she continued to sort through Angel’s clothes and belongings, carting them down the stairs to where he slept. It wasn’t until she ran through the pockets of the clothes she was going to throw away, which consisted of what he wore the previous night when battling with his father, that she noticed something in his pocket. She eased her hand in and sucked in a breath when she found an ornate silver ring.

Buffy bit down on her lip. This was the ring he had been going to give her, the ring that got him beaten to a bloody pulp. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

That’s how she was when Giles entered the house several minutes later. She was sobbing in earnest and when he asked her what was wrong, she merely handed him the ring. Giles sobered as he looked down at the ring. It was a Claddagh. Giles had heard Angel tell Buffy that he and his father had ostensibly been fighting over the ring, but he hadn’t elaborated beyond that point. And aside from pledging that he wouldn’t desert Buffy or their child, Angel hadn’t mentioned any sort of permanent situation. But this ring, this was permanent. This was an Irish wedding ring.

Giles looked down at his daughter who was still sobbing on the sofa. No doubt, her emotional outburst was intensified by hormones. Pregnancy hormones. Despite everything that had happened, it was in that moment that the gravity of the situation fully hit Rupert Giles.

“There, there,” he said, absently patting his daughter on the head. He sighed. “I think I need a drink.”

***