Title: Love on the Rocks 1/3
Author: Opus, Bloom Co. Picayune ace reporter, aka Shelley
Contact: shelchrisbarnard@earthlink.net
Summary: Buffy makes a wish, Giles finds true love, and the world comes to a fiery end. Thank-you, Anya!
Pairing: Giles/penguin
Spoilers: "Entropy," "Two to Go," and "Grave." Yes, I know that they aired only three weeks apart, but I'm going to pretend that at least two months passed between them. Surely you can suspend disbelief *that* far, can't you? The rest will make perfect sense. I *promise!* <snicker>
Rating PG-13 for adult themes and British profanity.
Warning: Character death and a successful apocalypse.
Flames: Bring `em on, baby.
Praise: Um, with all due respect, you've GOT to develop better taste in literature...
Disclaimer: Neil Diamond wrote the tune and lyrics to "Love on the Rocks", and he owns all rights to it. Mutant Enemy owns Giles, Buffy, and the rest of the Scooby gang. The idea for Giles' tragic propensity towards penguin lust came from Gileswench's excellent story, "A Word with You All," and I don't own that either. Lulubelle and Bluto are mine, however, and I am fiercely possessive of them.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Gileswench, for permitting me to borrow her throwaway joke, and to TweedEmpress for her invaluable help with London geography and British expressions. This story is dedicated to Taryn who knows that I shouldn't be allowed near a word processor without adult supervision, and yet convinced me to release this upon an unsuspecting public anyway. If you feel the need to, erm, *thank* anyone, it really should be her... %^)

Prologue

Anya wanted Xander Harris punished for his betrayal, and she was almost out of options. She couldn't curse him herself, and she hadn't been able to get Willow, Tara, or Dawn to curse him for her. Buffy was her last hope. So here she was, leaning against one of the pillars beside Buffy's front door, trying to goad the Slayer into cursing her best friend. So far, it had not been a blazing success.

"I don't think he could feel any worse," Buffy said sadly.

Not the most promising of starts, but she could work with it. "Let's test that theory," she said brightly.

"Anya," Buffy said soulfully, "Xander's my friend. I know what he did was wrong, and ... if it had happened to me, I'd-"

"Wish his penis would explode," Anya asked hopefully.

Buffy looked at her oddly. "Um, no, that wasn't what I was going to say."

"But you are going to wish something dire upon him, right?"

"I don't really think I should," Buffy said carefully.

Anya was starting to get annoyed. "Did I mention the whole 'left at the altar' thing? Didn't leave that out, did I?"

Buffy shook her head regretfully. "No. Look, I - I know what he did was wrong. God, if it happened to me, I ... I-I, it must have been torture."

Now she was getting somewhere! "Okay! Let's talk about torture," Anya said happily.

Buffy sat down on the top step, and considered her words carefully. Buffy could see how much Anya wanted her to side against Xander, but she felt that a better friend would try to help Anya heal, not fuel the fires of resentment "Anya, I know you feel awful, but it's gonna get better. I promise you it will."

Anya let out a frustrated growl as she plopped down beside Buffy. "Squish, squish, squish! Guys have been running roughshod over you for years." Buffy pouted and nodding, reluctantly agreeing. "Torturing that perky little ticker. Aren't you sick of it? Don't you wish guys like that-"

"Whoa," Buffy demanded indignantly. "Guys? There have only been four - three! Three! Three guys. That's barely plural."

Buffy was losing the cool caring friend act and starting to get riled up. Good. Just a bit more goading, and she would get her wish! "And didn't each of them rip your heart out? Don't men like that, as to pick an example, Xander, deserve to be punished?"

Buffy scowled at the ground. "I hate men that leave," she muttered.

"Me too," Anya crowed in triumph. "I hate men that leave too! Don't you wish that something awful would happen to them?"

"I mean, when someone I care about pulls a now-you-see-me, now-you-don't act, it throws my world out of whack. Makes me do stupid things that I regret. Yet I'm stuck with the consequences of my moronic actions, even though I never would have done them if—"

"If he hadn't left," Anya interrupted excitedly. "You're absolutely right! I mean, who knows what sort of mischief I might get into now that I'm rebounding? Shouldn't Xander bear some of the consequences of my actions? Shouldn't—"

Buffy cut her off, finally getting into the spirit of things. "Shouldn't Giles know what it's like to get involved with somebody who is totally wrong for him?"

Suddenly, Anya got a queasy feeling in her stomach. "Giles?"

"I mean, he left me when I needed him most, so it's kind of his fault that I've gotten out of control, right?" Anya gave a small, tentative nod, but Buffy took that as full agreement. "Giles never gets out of control, or at least not when he's being Giles. I would love to see Giles, not Ripper but *Giles*, know what it's like to have no control over his life!"

Anya's uneasiness was increasing by the moment. "Now hold on there, missy. Don't want to do anything rash, now do we?"

Buffy ignored the vengeance demon and plowed on. "For instance, what if Giles was to be totally drawn to somebody who was bad for him, with nobody around that he trusted to pull him back in. Somebody that he had no business being with. Like, like, a nun? or a married woman with ten children? or Princess Anne? or, or—or a penguin!"

Anya was becoming seriously alarmed. "Maybe we should rethink this whole `blaming men for our problems' thing..."

Buffy didn't hear Anya; she was completely caught up in her fantasy scenario. "Yeah, a penguin!"

"You know, I am woman, hear me roar? Maybe we should concentrate on that," Anya suggested desperately.

Buffy was in no mood to be an independent woman. "I wish—"

"Oh, please don't," Anya whispered.

"—that Giles would fall in love with a penguin!"

"Done," Anya said resignedly. She turned away, so that Buffy wouldn't see her demonic visage and glowing focus stone. Anya offered up a silent prayer to the Lower Beings that matters wouldn't turn out as badly as she feared.

~.~.~

Giles quickly grabbed the stool closest to the bartender. He had been forced to wait five minutes on the doorstep of the pub before the proprietor opened the doors, and he had spent that time wondering if he should get drunk or start a brawl. It was barely lunchtime—far too early for serious drinking—but he couldn't think of anything else to do to release the tension that was wracking his body. He felt out of sorts and restless, as if there was something he should be doing, some place he should be, and that feeling was starting to drive him mad.

This vague feeling of wrongness had begun three days ago. He had been reading in bed when he was suddenly struck with an overpowering urge to go to London. He had already begun to pull off his pajamas before he questioned his actions. Laughing at himself, he got back in bed and tried to determine if his subconscious was reminding him of something that he had forgotten. There was nothing that he had *forgotten*, _per se_, but there was definitely something that he had been putting off. He had never gone to the Watcher's headquarters, never let them know that he had left Sunnydale. He told himself that he would go tomorrow, content in the knowledge that his resolve for that unpleasant task would melt away in the morning. It hadn't. In fact, his need to go to London had grown stronger as he slept. When he awoke the next morning, his longing for London almost overpowered him. He stubbornly ignored it for most of the day, but by late afternoon his yearning for the city of his youth was almost a physical ache. He finally called Quentin Travers at a quarter till five and set up a luncheon meeting with the older Watcher for the following day.

The meeting was a disaster. Giles narrowly escaped the restaurant before grabbing the older man by the throat. While the idea of throttling Quentin Travers did have a certain appeal, he was afraid that a murder conviction might make it a trifle difficult to go back to the United States once Buffy sorted herself out.

After fleeing the loathsome little toad, Giles went into the first pub he found and proceeded to go on a bender, a rather impressive bender, in fact. Drunk, angry, and heartsick, Giles had stumbled back to his hotel late last night, determined to go back to Bath early the next morning.

Which made him wonder what he was doing here now, still in London and still at loose ends. The feeling that had driven him out of bed two nights ago, the conviction that he needed to be someplace in London, was unabated. In fact, it had grown. As he grew more and more agitated, Giles began to wonder whether he might be under a spell of some kind. The fixation he felt was too strong to be natural.

Deciding to forgo both drinking and brawling until he figured out what was going on, Giles sought out a quiet corner booth where he could go into a meditative trance. If he could figure out what compulsion held sway over him, he would be in a better position to fight it. Using the same techniques that he had taught Buffy a few years ago, Giles slowly cleared his mind of outside influences and internal rational thoughts, until it suddenly became very clear to him: he wanted to go to the zoo.

The zoo?!? Giles broke the trance with a sudden shake of his head. He hated the zoo, and always had. Even as a small child, he had preferred history to biology, sentient beings to animals. There was no way he was going to the sodding zoo! He would just go back to his original plan of getting plastered until this obsession faded. The zoo, indeed. Bollocks to that!

Giles tried to follow through with this decision, but he soon realized that it was impossible. He was too edgy to sit still, much less concentrate on mindless binge drinking. Now that he knew where he was supposed to go, the need to go there overwhelmed him. "Right. The zoo it is, then," he snarled to himself. He threw down money for his drinks, along with a very generous tip to compensate for his odd behavior, then stalked out of the pub. He quickly hailed a cab, still muttering to himself, "I hate the farkin' zoo."

The zoo was just as awful as Giles remembered. In fact, now that he was an adult, he could authoritatively state that it was worse. Admission prices were far too high (£12? Bloody highway robbery, that is!), the food was revolting and exorbitantly priced, the animals were listless and uninteresting, and the children were loud and obnoxious. Giles quickly decided that he was in hell. He was anxious to do whatever it was that he needed to do and then leave as expeditiously as possible. The best way to accomplish this, of course, would be to go into another meditative trance in the hopes that he would gain some insight into whatever spell had been cast upon him. Unfortunately, the zoo was so crowded with squalling children and exhausted parents that there were no quiet corners in which he might meditate. With a sigh, Giles resigned himself to wandering aimlessly until he felt tugged towards somebody or something.

Three hours and one stomach-ache (he had foolishly attempted to consume the greasy blob that the proprietors of the zoo laughingly packaged as a "hamburger." To say that it did not mix well with all of the residual alcohol in his system would be something of an understatement...) later, he was nearing the end of his tether. To hell with this! He was just going to dig in his heels and ignore this compulsion until it went away. He looked at his map to determine the shortest way out of this earthly demon dimension. All he had to do was find a signpost telling him where he was and—

And that's when he saw her. The most enchanting creature he had ever seen. He was stunned, literally stunned. He forgot all about looking for a spell or anything else that might be wrong with him, so enthralled was he with discovering his soul mate.

Soul mate. Such an overused term, and yet that was the only way he could describe what he was currently feeling. The only time that he had felt anything even approaching this maelstrom of emotion was when Buffy had walked into his library, five years ago. At that time, he had felt something clicking in his soul; something that he had never realized was missing. He had been so giddy with the feeling that he had made an ass out of himself, plopping that ridiculously heavy volume in front of his new Slayer, and expecting her to immediately recognize the connection between them. He had gone into a snit when he realized that she did not share the same sense of completeness, and his pettiness had driven her away. Somehow though, he was certain that it would be different this time, that this queen among females would connect to him and would welcome the passion buried within him. For yes, there was passion, and that too was different. When he had first met Buffy, he had had absolutely no interest in her, sexually. That may have changed over the years, for he was a man in his prime spending a considerable amount of time in the company of a beautiful young woman, but it didn't change the fact that he was completely unattracted to her when they first met. But this... this was lust and love and completeness and destiny all wrapped up together, free of all awkwardness and confusion. She *would* be his, he knew it in the very depths of his being, and this knowledge brought him unimaginable joy.

Although he was certain that his suit would be accepted someday, he didn't feel right approaching her immediately. Instead, he sought out a docent that might be able to tell him a little bit about her. He quickly spotted an elderly man who looked like a retired dentist and flagged him down. "Excuse me, but I was wondering, if it doesn't seem too presumptuous to you, if per- perhaps you might know the, uh, the name of that goddess over there?"

The old man beamed kindly at him, and then looked over where Giles was pointing. The benevolent smile fell from his face, to be replaced by a very odd expression that Giles couldn't decipher. "What, her," he asked in amazement.

"Yes, *her*," Giles replied impatiently.

"Why, that's Dr. Schneider, one of the world's leading ornithologists." (The old man said the word proudly, obviously quite pleased for a chance to use it in conversation, although his pronunciation was atrocious.) "She specializes in sea birds, and we're very lucky to have her, but I never would have guessed that anyone would call her a goddess. Just goes to show you, it takes all kinds..."

"Quite," Giles answered shortly. In truth, Giles couldn't fault the man for being confused. The expert in question was 75 if she was a day, was terribly hunched over, and wore her hair in a tight bun that was most unbecoming. He could understand the man's condescending tone, but he didn't like it. As a result, he was perhaps more abrupt than he should have been. "Not *her*, you dolt, *HER*."

The old man lost his look of confusion, and gained one of fear. Not to put too fine a point on it, he looked utterly terrified. "*Her*, you mean," he asked, obviously stalling for time.

"Yes, *her*," Giles asked impatiently. "That stunning creature over there, tethered to the doctor. What. is. her. name?"

The man answered slowly and reluctantly, clearly frightened of Giles now. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but I don't know her name. All penguins look the same to me, sir."

"All penguins look--" Giles sputtered incredulously. How could anyone say such a thing? Sure, Giles was willing to make concessions for senility, but *no one* could possibly be that far gone, unless he had been a complete moron to begin with. That bird over there was clearly far superior to any other creature that had ever lived, regardless of genus or species! If this idiot had been younger, Giles probably would have thrashed him for daring to belittle a being that was so far above him; as it was, he decided that this cretin wasn't worth his time. "Well, thank-you anyway. Perhaps Dr. ... Schneider, did you say? Ah yes, perhaps Dr. Schneider will know."

"Perhaps she will, sir," the old man muttered, moving away from Giles as quickly as his old legs could shuffle. As soon as he was out of hearing range, Giles called him a pillock and went over to the acknowledged expert upon the zoo's aviary inhabitants.

"Um, excuse me, Dr. Schneider?"

The elderly academic raised her head as far as she was able and gazed at Giles myopically. "Yes?"

"Hel- hello. Um, yes. I was wondering if you might be ab- able to tell, tell me the name of that lady next to you?"

The ornithologist, who was clearly far more intelligent than the docent, smiled sweetly at Giles and answered with a faint German accent. "Lulubelle? Isn't she magnificent?"

"Yes, she is," Giles answered softly, shooting Lulubelle a significant look.

"Oh, yes. Absolutely stunning. Penguins have always been my favorite bird, and I've been studying them for over forty years now ... and I've *never* seen another female quite like Lulubelle. She was in a zoo in Guatemala where she was terribly mistreated, but I convinced the London zoo to purchase her. One of the better things I've done during my tenure here!" Giles had been making approving noises all through this speech, admiring the aged scholar immensely, but the old harridan's next words stopped him cold. "She'll improve the breeding stock considerably."

Giles was outraged. "You bought her solely to breed?!?"

The evil old woman looked at him oddly. (This seemed to be his day for odd looks.) "Not *just* to breed, obviously! Though I will admit that I am very anxious for her to do so. She's almost nine years old, which means that she will be ready to mate very soon now. Do you see that large bird on that rock over there? That's Bluto, the dominant male in this flock, and he seems to be quite interested in her. Their offspring will be exceptional!" Giles shot her a look full of loathing, which Dr. Schneider didn't notice. "But she makes an excellent addition to the zoo for other reasons as well. I'll study her, of course. Most emperor penguins barely reach a meter in height, but Lulubelle is 125 centimeters tall! That isn't altogether unheard of, but is quite exceptional for a female penguin. I'm curious to know whether it is her genetic make-up or her environment that has caused this growth. Moreover, she is quite popular with the children who attend the zoo."

"Oh, she is, is she," Giles asked in a deadly tone.

"Oh yes," Dr. Schneider answered obliviously. "They just adore her. While I don't approve of forcing animals to learn tricks, I see no reason to prevent them from performing behaviors that they already know. The zookeepers at the Guatemala zoo taught her a wide repertoire of tricks, many of which she seems to enjoy. It does no harm for her to continue to do those tricks that she likes to do, and it does bring in revenue for the zoo." Apparently the old hag had at last noticed Giles' displeasure, for she added defensively, "There is no shame in pandering to the wee ones. Children who enjoy the zoo grow into adults that contribute money and attend fund-raisers. The London zoo does a lot of good with the money that it raises, and I refuse to apologize for doing my part!"

"Let me see if I've understood you," Giles said menacingly. "As far as you're concerned, Lulubelle exists solely to breed, to serve as a subject of scientific enquiry, and to do pratfalls like a bloody circus freak. Is that correct?"

"Oh, I know you," Dr. Schneider sneered. "You're one of those deranged animal activists. Zoo employees are not permitted to talk to your kind. If you object to the way we treat our animals here in the London zoo, then you'll have to take it up with a member of the community outreach program. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return Lulubelle to her exhibit and then get back to my work!"

Giles made no effort to stop the old woman as she hobbled away on her cane. Good riddance as far as he was concerned, though he wished that she had left Lulubelle out. Ah well, he could talk to her through the glass once she was put back in her pool. "Bloody cow," he muttered under his breath. When he looked up, he noticed his love staring at him. "Oh, not you," he hastened to assure her. "Never you! Oh, Lulubelle, you deserve so much more than this," he sighed. She continued to gaze at him unblinkingly (mainly because penguins don't have eyelids), and Giles began to feel self-conscious. "I imagine that you must think me a bit of a berk for not introducing myself. My name is Rupert, and I'm a Watcher, or rather," he winced, "a retired Watcher."

With that simple introduction, Giles sat down and began to tell her the story of his life. He found her to be an excellent listener (perhaps because penguins don't talk), and unwavering in her attention (again, with the not blinking). He could tell her anything, things that he had never whispered to another soul, and she seemed to understand. He hadn't even realized how burdened he was with secrets and unexpressed emotions until he began spilling them all into Lulubelle's sympathetic ears (or whatever it is that penguins hear with). So relieved was he to have somebody to confide in that he lost all track of time. He felt like he had only been there for a few minutes when the old docent that he had met earlier hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir, but the zoo is closing now. Your bird will still be here tomorrow."

Giles looked up and was met by a face filled with abject terror. Honestly, he couldn't fathom what was wrong with the old fool. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be polite; he intended to spend a great deal of time at the penguin enclosure, and it was likely that they would run into each other again some time. "I can't believe it has been two hours already. I'm Rupert, by the way."

"Hobson. Ralph Hobson," the docent muttered, reluctantly offering Giles his hand. "I'm here every Friday, and an occasional Monday as well."

"Ah, then we're certain to run into each other again," Giles said with an admirable attempt at joviality.

Sadly, Giles' attempt at making a new friend fell flat. The strange old man looked alarmed and quickly informed him that they probably *wouldn't* be seeing each other again. He was almost done with his stint at the penguin pool, and would probably be reassigned to another area of the zoo. One on the farthest edge, in all likelihood. In fact, Ralph was considering resigning this volunteer job in order to spend more time at The Natural History Museum. He doubted that he would be returning to the zoo any time in the near future. Or perhaps ever. Throughout the duration of this bizarre ramble, Hobson kept backing away from the Watcher. He did this slowly, and with care, so as to maintain a watchful eye on Giles at all times. Giles quite forgot his earlier irritation with the man, and silently wished poor Ralph a quick journey to his home, so he could take the medication he so obviously required.

That night, Giles stayed up late in his hotel room, thinking about what he had to do to win Lulubelle over, to make her his. His first impulse was to be at the zoo again bright and early, but that wouldn't help him in the long run. No, as loath as he was to do it, he needed to go back to Bath. He needed to sublet his flat, transfer his funds to a London bank, and collect his clothes. And his guitar. He would definitely need his guitar if he were to be successful in his suit.

Oh, and he needed to go to a library, in order to collect as many books on penguins as he could find. If Herr Schneider was correct, he had stiff competition for Lulubelle's hand, erm, wing, and he couldn't afford to be at a disadvantage simply because he was ignorant of her culture. And perhaps he could get a book on penguin breeding habits while he was at it, so when the appropriate time came, he would know what would please her. With this delicious thought dancing around in his head, Giles fell into the most refreshing slumber that he had known in years.

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