Title: Going Towards Yes 1/7
Author: K.V. Wylie
Pairing: Giles/Ira Rosenberg (Willow's father)
Spoilers: Spoilers to Season 6 BtVS
Rating: R
Summary: Shortly after Buffy's death, Ira takes a teaching job in a small town in Alberta, Canada, hoping that the time away from Sunnydale will help a grieving Giles. However, the small town is in the midst of a mystery revolving around a young woman, her dead husband, a piece of stone, and a story which started in Biblical times.
Disclaimer: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS, has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. This is purely for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended

Note: First story in series is...In Giles' Living Room

Rupert Giles stepped out of a rental pick-up and stretched his back. "What a horrid drive."

A tall man, with copper-coloured hair, stepped out from the other door, pocketed the keys, and said in amusement, "The drive, or my driving?"

"Take your pick, Ira. I have just endured three hours of flat country, oil derricks, squashed prairie dogs on the asphalt, and you passing eighteen-wheelers on the wrong side of the highway while fiddling with the radio dials."

"I thought the country was lovely."

"Then I have to ask what country *you* were in. And why on earth could you not leave a radio station on for longer than three seconds?"

"Not this again, Rupert."

"All I asked was to hear that *one* song, a grand total of two and a half minutes."

"Rupert, My Sweet Lord isB"

"Ba *classic* from the 1970s!" Giles interrupted.

"There are only three words. What did you miss?"

They were parked in front of a house. As Ira started up the walkway, Giles muttered, "I am going to write Hare Rama on wallpaper and plaster it on every inch of the living room. That ought to set your yarmulke spinning."

The front door opened and a woman stepped out. She was dressed too formally for the hot, dusty air, and Ira wondered if she had done so for him.

His thought was confirmed when she smoothed her skirt and said nervously, "Dr. Rosenberg?" She glanced between Giles and Ira. Ira held out his hand. "I'm Dr. Rosenberg. Hello, MissB?"

"Mrs. Sahrene Ria. We're all very excited about you being here for the summer. Both of your classes are full. We had to turn students away. And we've set up an office for you at the Museum, formerly the Assistant Curator's." She lowered her voice. "He's on an extended leave. Some kind of marital problem."

Hammering sounded from the back of the house. "That's George," Sahrene said. "Don't mind him. He comes twice a week. Right now he's putting screens up. The mosquitos are dreadful this year."

She took a breath and Ira cut in quickly. "Mrs. Ria, this is my partner, Dr. Rupert Giles."

Sahrene blinked. "Oh, are you working on a paper together?"

"No," Giles said, and waited for her to clue in.

She didn't. Mystified, she frowned for a moment, then said, "Would you like to see the house? Will you be staying here, Dr. Giles? There are four bedrooms, so there is lots of room."

"Yes, he'll be staying here, and we'd like to see the house. Thank you," Ira cut in, half-afraid that Giles would reply sarcastically. After ten months of living together, Ira well knew Giles' moods, especially these most recent, dark ones.

Sahrene opened the door. As they went in, she said, "Don't worry about your bags. George will get them."

Which the invisible George did while they were conducted at a breathless pace through the vast first and second floors, deck, and pool. Despite Sahrene's wound up deportment, Ira found that she had been thoughtful in preparing the house. There was food in the cupboards and refrigerator, instructions for the central air and spa, phone numbers for people at the museum and university, a city map, and arrangements for dinner and a reception that evening.

After Sahrene left, Ira went to the master bedroom and began unpacking. Giles didn't turn when Ira came in. He was standing at a window, back rigid, almost turned in on himself. And he didn't speak.

This had nothing to do with the drive, Ira knew. He also knew he'd have to wait for Giles to speak first. He hung up his suits, filled half the drawer space in the bureau, then opened Giles' suitcases and started doing the same.

"Unless my sense of direction is out, I can see the edge of the excavation," Giles said at last.

Ira came up beside him. Their shoulders touched. After a few moments, some of the tension went out of Giles' stance.

"How long have they been digging here?" Giles asked.

"There was a mine from nineteen-twenty to nineteen-fifty or fifty-one," Ira said. "One of the miners found a mineralized Diplodocus foreleg bone. The mine was going under by that point. The coal had been tapped out, so the land was purchased by the university with government grants and the excavation started. The Palaeontological Museum opened in 1965."

"When we were both young, innocent boys," Giles murmured.

Not knowing what to make of the remark, Ira said, "Indeed." He opened the window and warm air wafted in. Part of the dig could be seen, shadowed by high slopes of red shale. "This area used to be called The Badlands."

"Worse than the Sunnydale Badlands?" Giles said, still in a low, almost imperceptible tone.

Ira sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "As you didn't specify a preference, I took the left side of the closet. I'm going to take a nap. The flight was long and the dinner and reception tonight will, undoubtedly, be reprehensible. Will you be coming with me, Rupert?"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I don't see why we should hide it."

"It's awkward, and then we get told those jokes."

"Better to our faces then behind our backs."

"That's one theory," Giles murmured.

Ira laid back on the bed, quieted for a moment, then said, "There is an eighty-foot high Tyrannosaurus Rex here."

"A what?"

"Made out of fibreglass. You can go in and walk right up to the top, apparently. I was looking for it while we were driving in, but I didn't see it. You'd think something that large would be easy to find."

"I thought you were here this summer to teach, not be a tourist."

"Rupert, you have lost your sense of exploration," Ira chided.

Giles blinked. "Excuse me, but I plan to visit a huge dig tomorrow and burrow for fossils."

"Then you would, no doubt, wish to attend the reception tonight and meet those people whose good graces you should flatter. Otherwise, you will only be allowed where the tourists are allowed, and you will miss the 'good' stuff."

Giles hated losing arguments. "I'm going down to see if there's any tea," he said as he wheeled out of the room.

Dinner that evening was held at the best hotel in town, according to a fading green sign at the front desk. During the reception afterwards, Giles found that The Hotel Dimocoddicus was also the only hotel in town, earning it the distinction of being the first no-star inn he'd ever seen listed in a traveler's guide.

During post-dessert mingling, he discovered why Mrs. Ria hadn't shown to pick them up. The Curator of the Museum, a woman with a severely-short haircut who paused for breath in the middle of every sentence, said, "Did you...hear the sirens, Dr. Giles?"

"Sirens? This afternoon? I didn't hear anything."

"Sahrene's husband was...crushed by a rockslide. He...died."

"That's terrible," Giles said.

"He was...not a nice man. Will you come out to the museum...tomorrow? Dr. Rosenberg said...you might."

Startled by the change in conversation, he said, "I was looking forward to it. When is the service for Mr. Ria? Ira and I would wish to pay our respects."

"That is considerate but...he will probably be buried...quietly."

Giles couldn't get any more out of her. As soon as he could, he disengaged himself and sought out Ira.

"Did you hear about the young lady's husband?" Giles whispered.

Ira nodded politely at someone walking by before answering in the same tone. "Yes."

"I couldn't find out about funeral arrangements."

"Nor could I, and I asked several people. His name was Austano, he was older than his wife by about thirty years, in charge of the excavation, and the general view seems to be good riddance." He took a glass of wine from a passing tray and regarded it curiously. "I hope, when I die, the people around me are a little more upset than these ones are."

"You're not planning on doing that anytime soon, are you?"

Ira put the glass on a table, then put a hand on Giles' arm. "Rupert, I wish us to be two doddering old men together."

A man and woman approached them, and the man asked, "Dr. Rosenberg?"

Ira nodded. "Yes."

"I'm Chris Steffler, and this is my wife, Trudy."

"My partner, Dr. Rupert Giles," Ira said. He hadn't removed his hand from Giles' arm. He caught the fleeting look between the Steffler's, confirmations of a suspicion. They'd left a group of people to come over, and the others were watching speculatively.

"We'd heard about Dr. Giles," Trudy said, with a glance behind her. She changed the subject. "Chris teaches Latin and Greek. He's taught most of the kids in Druggins, except our own two boys who absolutely refused. They're going to school in Vancouver."

Amused, Ira said, "My daughter is the same. When she was a young child, I attempted home schooling. After witnessing some dramatic tantrums, I abandoned that idea."

"The two of you have a daughter?" Trudy asked in surprise.

"No, I was married once."

Trudy flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Her husband cut in quickly. "Trudy and I tried to teach our boys at home too, and gave it up. Five year-old children can throw books much farther than you'd think. How many children do you have, Dr. Rosenberg?"

"Just the one."

"Did your daughter come with you?" Chris asked.

"She remained in California. She did not wish to spend the summer away from a friend of hers."

"Our sons stayed in British Columbia. I think they met some girls," Chris said. "Do you have any children, Dr. Giles?"

"No," Giles said. "Please call me Rupert."

Trudy relaxed and smiled, and Ira wondered at it. Even at his most caustic, Rupert knew how to charm women, and with seemingly very little effort.

"Would you and Dr. RosenbergB?"

"Ira," Giles cut in.

Trudy smiled again. "Would both of you care to come to our home for supper on Thursday?"

Ira said, "Thank you. We'd enjoy that."

After arrangements were made, Ira added, "Rupert and I would like to give our condolences to Mrs. Ria, but we've been unable to find out about arrangements for her husband."

Hesitantly, Chris said, "I'm not sure there will be any."

While looking into her drink, Trudy said, "There's a story to that man. He's not from around here either. We'll fill you in on Thursday."

Later that evening, after they returned to the house, Ira said casually, "I think I will visit the excavation tomorrow before going to the university."

"I was told the police are there, and it's all roped off where that man died," Giles said.

"*Was* he a man?" Ira asked. "Was he human?"

"Jumping to conclusions," Giles said.

"Rupert! I'd rather you call me a horse-thief."

"You're guessing on no information," Giles said, and added, "Horse-thief."

"Intuition, Rupert," Ira corrected. "Subconscious deduction. Does nothing about Mr. Ria strike you as odd?"

"What strikes me is that he must have been one hell of an arsehole." Giles started up the stairs. "I'm going to bed."

- - - - -

Ira woke with the feeling of being alone in the bed, an almost forgotten feeling.

He looked around the room, then got up to check the house. He found Giles on the back porch, looking up at the night sky.

"It's cool out," Ira said. Abruptly slapping his arm, he added, "And now I have my first mosquito bite."

"I doubt it's your first. A couple of the little buggers are in our room." He pointed up. "One doesn't need a telescope. Everything is so close."

Ira looked up at the black velvet shining almost purple in the luminance of thousands of stars. "Therefore sprang there even of one, and him as good as dead, as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable. These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them and embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."

"Job?" Giles asked.

"Hebrews eleven."

"Strangers and pilgrims," Giles said softly. "Apt."

Ira leaned on the railing and waited. He could see the pool, the water still and blank; beyond that, desert, which would look maroon in the daytime. At the furthest reach of his vision was the mouth of a pit, gnawing at the feet of mountains asleep for six billion years.

He felt Giles' arm tremble. "It's too cold out, Rupert."

"Yes," Giles said, his mind elsewhere. "Ira, how do you think it felt? How do you think she felt at that moment when she realized she couldn't go back, the choice was gone, and she was utterly alone?"

Ira took Giles' hand. "I don't know."

"I can't bear that she felt it, that she faced it. I wanted to protect her. More than anything."

Giles was holding too hard. Ira felt pain, blood throbbing in his fingertips. The pain was almost a relief, after waiting so long for it.

"You could only protect her from others, not from herself, Rupert."

Giles realized what he was doing, and let go. "Goddess, I'm sorry."

Ira took Giles' hand again, despite the pain. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you."

"It didn't help, did it?"

Giles shrugged. "When I lost my parents, it wasn't like this. I used to believe..." He paused. "It doesn't matter."

"We used to believe, when we were young, innocent boys, and we listened to our priests and rabbis preach, and death was something very far away." Ira looked up at the sky. "And heaven was not so immense as to make us feel this small." He smacked his cheek. "Another bite!"

"That's odd. They only bother you and not me."

"I noticed you never get bitten," Ira said. "Let's go in, Rupert. Quickly."

- - - - -

Empty scaffolding rocked slowly in a breeze. Students, who would normally be sifting sand, were absent, and there was a stillness over everything, muting even the sounds of trucks on a highway close by.

Ira had walked up to and past the police tape as if it didn't exist. Giles hung back. No sense in both of them getting kicked out. Instead, he traveled around the perimeter, stopping every so often at a depression in the shale.

He knew there would be a base house somewhere. Base would usually be a tent, but this valley was special. It had been giving up fossils for nearly fifty years. The base would be more permanent than a piece of canvas. Midway through the morning, he found it, a rock and wood-paneled house that was walking distance to the Museum.

A blonde woman in denim and construction boots came out of the door and called, "Hello, I'm Dr. Linda Brommel. I've been watching you make your way here. Can I help you with anything?"

"Hello," Giles replied. "I'm Rupert Giles. I arrived yesterday with Dr. Rosenberg."

"*You're* the one," she grinned. "The whole town's talking about you."

He stopped. "Oh?"

"Outside of tourists, we don't have too many people here. Newcomers break the boredom," she said mischievously. "We were expecting Dr. Rosenberg, not the doctor and a gorgeous male lover. In terms of relieving boredom, you're a real bonus, Dr. Giles."

Flustered, Giles managed only, "Um, you're welcome."

Linda took his arm and led him inside the house. "Would you like a tea? I stock a decent blend." She pointed him towards a kitchen chair, and said, "I should tell you that some of the single women are not daunted. They're lowering the bodices on their tight dresses as we speak."

"How does news get around so quickly?"

"Are you kidding?" She laughed. As she pulled some cups from a cupboard, she continued. "Poor Sahrene didn't get what you told her at first, about being partners. She came back here after getting you settled, and that's when it clicked. Then your neighbour called, ninety year old Mrs. Downweather. Her news was that you and Dr. Rosenberg were in one bedroom. She was watching the unpacking." She set milk and sugar in front of him. "You might want to draw your curtains."

Giles gaped at her. "I saw a house out the back, but it must be half a mile away."

"She has binoculars."

"What?"

Linda smiled. "Don't worry. They're almost as old as she is, and she has no night vision left. Still, I'd think about those curtains."

She poured tea, and took a chair across the table from him. "When I heard your name, I thought it sounded familiar, so I started looking through our files."

"British Museum," Giles said.

"Yes," Linda said. "I found it this morning. Our Palaeo and your Brit do a lot of sharing of collections, but your name disappeared from the letterhead six years ago."

"That's when I moved to California." He added milk to his tea and took a sip. "This is excellent."

"I won't buy cheap tea. I buy cheap coffee, but keep that to yourself." Linda said. "I have fifteen crates of Burgess fossils ready to be shipped to the Brit."

"Marine life?"

She nodded. "Soft-bodied, mostly. Beautifully preserved. After you finish your tea, I'll show them to you. By the way, I don't think they replaced you. We correspond with the assistant curator."

"I'm sure they have," Giles said. "One gentleman in particular had his eye on the position. Essethal."

"Nope. He's A.C."

"He mustn't have slept with the right people."

"They do that in England too?" Linda asked in amusement.

A shadow passed by the window, and they both turned.

"Another cop," she said. "Supposedly they're going to lift the tape tomorrow and let my students back in. They'd better. The summer schedule is tight. It's hard losing even a day."

"I was sorry to hear about Mr. Ria," Giles said.

Linda sobered. "I didn't want him to die, but I did want him to go away. What he was doing here in the first place, God only knows. I didn't like working for him."

"I heard he was unpleasant."

Linda shook her head. "It wasn't as though he went around yelling and screaming. I never heard him raise his voice. He was always controlled and polite."

"But you didn't like working for him?"

"I wouldn't turn my back on him. I was afraid to be alone in a room with him, and I'm not a jumpy person. If we were working late, I'd call my husband to come and hang around. Poor Sahrene, I don't know how she managed."

"But she married him."

"It was a short courtship."

"Who is in charge of the dig now?" Giles asked.

"Me." Linda sighed. "This means I have to give up most of the fun stuff, and spend my time begging for money and filling out ridiculous forms. Are you finished your tea? Great, let me show you around."

She let him wander and poke at his own pace. After taking him to where the students had been digging, she led him in the back door of the Museum and down to the rooms where the collection that was not on display was housed. She even unpacked one of the Burgess crates.

"Some of these are five hundred million years old," Linda said proudly.

Giles examined the rocks reverently. "What amazing detail! This came from where the students are working now?"

"A little, though mostly we pulled them from higher up. This area used to be covered by a glacier, which is why everything's so well preserved. I'd say we've got the best finds ever for the Cambrian period."

"You do," Giles said. "If I may keep visiting, I'll have a very happy summer."

"I'll get you a pass."

While he was waiting for her, Giles wandered around the tables, engrossed in the artifacts. As he passed the crates bound for the British Museum, he paused. When Linda returned, he said, "There are sixteen crates here. I thought you said you had fifteen."

She tapped a box beside a wall. "Ria packed this. I have no idea what's in it. I might hold it back. I'm in charge now, so I guess I can do that."

"Would it be more of the shale?"

"He said it was," she said, "but I don't know, Rupert. He wasn't interested in what we were doing."

"Yet he was here," Giles said. "At some point, he applied for a position."

"No, he came with a huge whack of money, and I mean huge. Taking the money meant taking him for a year, and the Museum Board had no problem with that." She handed him the pass. "It's funny that he died in a rockslide. The past couple of weeks, he's hardly been around."

"In Druggins?"

"Sorry, I meant the excavation. He was always going off down the Hoodoo Trail."

"The what?"

Linda laughed. "Hoodoos are those big rocks that keep crashing on top of Wile E. Coyote. They don't really do that, if you're worried. The Trail goes south through the Badlands to a bunch of old coal mines."

"And the terrain?" Giles questioned.

"Sandstone. We've never pulled anything of interest out of it." Linda studied Giles for a minute, her expression hesitant. Then she came to a decision and said quietly, "Rupert, I don't think Ria came to the dinosaur capital of Canada because he liked dinosaurs. I think..." She glanced at the crate. "I think he was looking for something."

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