He walked down the gravel drive towards the Victorian redbrick edifice. The impressive limestone portico spoke volumes of the care the Victorians lavished on their lunatics.

This was the country residence of Rupert Giles, no director or therapist he. He was an inmate. Ethan adjusted his case in his right hand as he rang the bell with his left. The door was opened by an immense Neanderthal in a ridiculous three-piece suit.

"Yes?"

Ethan gazed up at the giant and gave him his most disarming smile.

"Good morning, I’m here to see a patient. My name is Ethan Rayne." The cave man shuffled out of the doorway and pointed down the hall.

"Thank you!" Ethan marched past rows of doors until he got to the head psychiatrist’s office.

"Rupert Giles is a man who’s suffered a massive trauma. The Watcher’s Council pays for his care here and want us to help him remember. I think that it would do him more harm than good. He seems fixated on young blonde women…"

"Who isn’t?" Ethan smirked.

"Quite. On the odd occasion that we let him go out, he visits cemeteries and sits for hours watching."

Ethan nodded drinking his tea while he watched a video of Rupert’s treatment. Giles could have attempted suicide in the first few weeks, so he was watched all the time. Ripper was acting strangely, pacing his room, listening then pacing again. He would become violent for no reason. Ethan rewound the tape to just before the violent outbursts. He noted that just before Rupert became aggressive he looked like he smelled a scent. Then some men entered his room, overpowered and sedated him. It was disturbing to see.

"Could you not talk him down from the violent moods instead of sedating him. Surely that suppresses the memories you’re trying to unlock?"

In answer the psychiatrist ejected the tape and played an earlier one. It depicted Ripper full force, his face a mask, flinging men twice his size to the ground. He fought with an economy of movement not stopping until everyone in the room was still. Then he turned to the window and stared out at the trees.

"If we could get away with a dart gun, we’d use it! He’s extremely violent, Mr.Rayne. Are you sure you want to see him?

Ethan nodded. He had found him for the little witch. She would be able to help him better than any asylum.

Ethan walked down the path towards the seated figure. His heart beat fast in anticipation of seeing his friend. He sat down next to him and looked fondly into his face. Ripper had gone. Ethan’s smile faded. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Mr. Giles?" Rupert’s head lifted imperceptibly.

"Yes." His lips barely moving; his tone was flat and lifeless.

"It’s Ethan, Rupert." He said softly, appealing to his subconscious mind, smiling as Rupert’s fingers curled into a fist. "You remember me don’t you?"

"Yes." This time he nodded, turning his head minutely.

"Good," Ethan patted his thigh and Rupert’s eyes flicked dangerously from his fist that clenched tighter to Ethan’s face.

"Rupert, you’ve got to concentrate on getting better old chap, I’m sending Willow to you."

"Tree…" His hand relaxing, his eyes watering.

"Willow?" A tear fell on his cheek and he swiped it a way quickly. Ethan held his breath at the inflection in his voice. Rupert’s expression hardened.

"Sleep." He said bitterly. Ethan didn’t like the sound of that.

"Your psychiatrist tells me you’re going to an Art gallery next month, if you’re good."

"Yes." The dead voice was back.

"Be good Ripper, she misses you! You won’t see me again till near the end. See you later, Rip." He kissed Rupert’s head as he left.

Willow dashed through the rooms clutching the email she’d printed, her heart fluttering in her chest. Found him, found him! Her mind repeated her new mantra. She stopped her desperate search for the errant vampires and stood in the centre of the courtyard, screeching their names.

Xander fell out of his bed with an almighty crash. Spike and Angel jumped from the upper floor to the courtyard in a leap that would have killed mortal men.

"You bellowed?" Spike quipped.

"What is it, Willow; what’s the matter?" Angel asked. She thrust the crushed paper into his hands, not trusting her voice with the news. Angel grinned and passed the paper to Spike. Willow flew into Angel’s arms and he whirled her round giving her a kiss. After a moment Willow pulled away, a little embarrassed. Spike hugged her and called for Xander but he was already downstairs watching the commotion.

Xander knew it meant one thing; Giles had been found and he would be alone.

"Giles is sick Xander. Ethan says I’m the one to make him better. I’ve got to go to London to meet him at an Art Gallery" He nodded.

"Willow, it’s alright. You go. I’ll be fine here.. Give G-Man a hug from me OK?" She reserved her best hug for him.

"I love him, but Xander, you’re the best friend ever," she whispered. That’s all he could expect now, wasn’t it?

One week later Willow Rosenberg found herself stepping through the revolving doors to the Tate Gallery in London. There were two reasons for her excitement. Ethan had assured her that Giles would be there today and she had never been to London before. She bought a program and wandered round. She realised that she ought to be methodical, go to the artists that Giles would like. Then she changed her mind; let the Gods decide.

She became fascinated with one particular painting. She stepped forward for a closer look, then stepped back onto someone’s foot.

"Sorry…" she glanced round with an apologetic smile, which widened to an ecstatic grin. Giles! Her mind rejoiced, then her smile died. Giles wasn’t there. His eyes were vacant.

He had an aura of a caged animal, looking past Willow at the painting she had studied. His eyes gained expression briefly. Someone came along and attempted to move him along. He shrugged them off angrily but followed them all the same. Willow gulped back her tears, searching her bag for a tissue to blow her nose.. ’Fight for him, Rosenberg!’ she ordered and marched off in search of her prey. For two hours she stalked him. Every time his eyes left a painting she made sure she was right beside him smiling happily.

She gained confidence toward the end, making him search for her. Search for her he did. Her reward was his smile. He was looking at her, seeing her. She was jubilant! Willow bent to collect her bag and he’d vanished! Her heart stopped.

She raced to the exit, galloping down the steps. She saw him get into a minibus with a dozen other people. She grabbed her pen, ripping off the top and noted the name printed on the side of the bus. She waved and saw Rupert look out the back window. She stayed frozen like a statue until the bus faded from view. She read the hastily written address Redhill Sanatorium, Surrey. Right! She picked up her bag and slapped the top on her pen. Prepare for a Willow invasion!

The occupational therapist had instructed her patients to draw a familiar face. It was part of the ’zone of safety’ therapy for trauma patients. Rupert Giles had been sketching the same girl over and over; always sleeping. Now he was drawing a tree, not exactly wrong if it was familiar to him but a bit abstract for therapy.

She showed Rupert’s sketches to his psychiatrist who decided to agree to the request of the Watchers Council and use Electro-Convulsive Therapy to jolt Rupert’s memory. It might even help with his violent tendencies.

Giles walked in the gardens by the pond. He liked it here. It was peaceful. Not like the first place, that was hard and white. They had hurt him there.

Oz put his case on the ground and fixed the sight to his weapon. He checked the focus revealing his target. Giles, he gasped. He couldn’t kill Giles! He had to though; it was a full moon tonight. If he didn’t kill now, he’d kill later. He lifted the sight to his eye and pulled the trigger. The shot spat harmlessly into the ground at Giles’ feet. Someone had forced his gun down at the last second. Oz glared at the man scowling down at him.

"Werewolf," He tutted. "Not now, not ever! Don’t you want to be free? Let him help, wait.." Ethan dissolved into the trees. Oz looked back to where Giles had stood. He wasn’t there.

"Is it enough?" Asked the nurse. The doctor nodded. Orderlies held Rupert still but he wasn’t calm; his muscles cording with the effort to free himself. He struggled desperately beneath the men. The needle slid home and he slumped back on his bed. The orderlies didn’t let go straight away. They prepared Rupert for his treatment, dressing him in a robe and dumping him in a wheelchair. One of them rapped his knuckles on Rupert’s head.

"Hey Rupert, who’s gonna have their brain fried, ’eh? You’ll drool like the rest of ’em then ’eh?"

"Tree.." Giles whispered.

"What? Ere yer not suppose’ to say nuffink."

Giles eyes closed, as he was moved from his room. His hand drifted down to the wheel rim slowing its progress.

The psychiatrist studied the determined young woman sitting opposite him. Her name was Willow Rosenberg. She recognised the girl in Rupert’s sketches as Buffy Summers and the tree that Rupert obsessed about was a willow tree. He didn’t need the E.C.T. His mind was waking. He grabbed the phone.

"He’s already left?" Willow felt her chest constricting. The plump psychiatrist dropped the phone.

"Let’s stop it, stop it now! You’re not going to shock him! I won’t let you!" Looking at her face, he believed every word.

"Second floor…" She shot out of the door before he could rise from his desk.

She thought she saw someone familiar in a chair being wheeled to a lift. She screeched to a halt as the doors closed. Cursing, she crashed into the door marked ’Stairs,’ turning her ankle. Cursing again, she ripped her shoes off and chucked them viciously down the stairwell. She tore up the stairs, her lungs burning and smashed through the second floor door, powering down the corridor; people scattering before her.

"Giles!" She screamed. Not knowing where she found the breath!

The orderlies finished their smoke and prepared to wheel him into the treatment room.

"Move him and you’re dead!" She growled dangerously. Sinking to her knees before him. She searched his face for a sign that he recognised her. He looked much as she had seen him the day of Buffy’s death, when she had used that disastrous relaxation spell. Tears squeezed past her tight closed lashes. She caught her breath as she felt his hand sweep through her hair.

"Willow.." He smiled.

She flung her arms round his neck and held him secure in her arms until the psychiatrist arrived to cancel the session. A nurse took Rupert back to his room, where he slept off his sedation.

Willow arranged to have Giles released into her care. Although the psychiatrist had orders from the Watchers that forbade his release, he didn’t trust them. He trusted this young woman, who had travelled half the world to be with the man she loved. Rupert Giles would be safe with Willow Rosenberg.

"Taking care of him will be tough, here’s my private number should you run into difficulties or simply want to talk. If it gets too much for you…"

"It won’t. Thank you." She shook his hand and went to collect her prize ’I’ve got him Buffy; he’s safe!’ she thought as she opened the door to his room. She smiled. He stood quietly in his room waiting for her, clutching his case looking almost like the old Giles; the high school librarian Giles.

"Let’s go, Rupert." She took his hand in hers and they walked out of the building. They were free.

The End.

Sequel: Willow's secret.

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