What did Giles give Buffy?

Giles gave Buffy the money in Life Serial, one ep after he found out about it. I think he wanted Buffy to try to fix it on her own. It's not like she's a child. Then he saw that she needed help (or it took him a while to get money) and he gave her money.

What happens to Giles in the Buffy comics?

In the final arc, "Last Gleaming", Spike's information leads them to the source both of magic and of Twilight's power, a mystical "seed" buried beneath Sunnydale. Giles plans to destroy it, but Twilight possesses Angel and compels him to kill Giles by snapping his neck .

What is Giles secret in Buffy?

In Season Two, Giles' dark side is revealed and his relationship with Jenny deepens. In "The Dark Age", Ethan Rayne comes to Sunnydale to flee the demon Eyghon. Giles ashamedly admits to Buffy that he was responsible for summoning the demon in his youth , and is horrified when Jenny becomes possessed by Eyghon.

Why was Giles written out of Buffy?

Her relationship with Giles is put to the test in "Helpless" when Giles is forced to drug Buffy and render her powerless for a test organized by the Watchers' Council. In the end he saves Buffy from a demon, causing her to fail the test and for him to be fired.

How much money does Giles give Buffy?

Giles gave Buffy money to help with the bills. We never learn how much . I've always imagined it to be $5000.00. At the time, this would have been enough to put a welcome dent in Buffy & Dawn's bills for a couple months but that's about it.

What is Giles injecting Buffy with?

While she tries to get Giles to take her to the ice show, Giles has Buffy stare into a rock where she then falls into a trance. He injects her with a needle filled with muscle relaxant and adrenaline suppressors .

Why did Giles stop being Buffy's watcher?

As the Watcher of Buffy Summers, Giles developed a father-like bond with his charge, not only training her but also fighting by her side and openly defying the Council in order to save Buffy's life , which ultimately led to his dismissal from the Council.

Who is Buffy's watcher after Giles?

Wesley is introduced in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer season three (1998–1999) episode "Bad Girls" as the new Watcher of Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar) and Faith (Eliza Dushku).

The Threefold Cord - BuffyGiles

Chapter 1: The Ceremony

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."
~ Ecclesiastes 4:12 NIV translation

"Buffy... where is Marcus’ gown?"

"I thought you had it!"

"If I had it, I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!"

"Oh, sweetie baby, you’re wet again? You must’ve inherited your daddy’s tiny bladder..."

"Ha bloody ha. Xander, help me find the wretched gown, would you? We’ve got just over three hours to go!" Giles charged down the stairs and into the kitchen, calling out his request over his son’s plaintive wails as he passed. He continued to himself as the door began to close, "We’ve got to drive all the way to bloody Encinada..." The door closed, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

Xander raised his voice so Giles could hear him in the kitchen. "I’m scared to leave the living room, Giles. It’s like World War Three in this house!"

Buffy appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a diapered, but otherwise unclothed Marcus. He had stopped his screaming and was merely whimpering, tiny tears trickling down his face. "Xand, the stupid robe never left the downstairs, I’m sure of it. It just didn’t grow legs and walk away... uh, well, at least I don’t think it did... around here, ya never know. Oh, Marcus, honey... don’t cry again..."

She placed her fussy son against her shoulder and patted his back soothingly. "Shhh, shhh... Marcus, you’re supposed to be a happy baby... what happened to my happy baby?"

Xander straightened from where he was turning the couch cushions over, and sniped, "He’s feelin’ the love in this house, I bet."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at Xander before heading back to change her soggy child. In the kitchen, Giles suddenly shouted, "AH HAH! Found you!" He entered the living room at a near gallop, waving the carefully wrapped package in his hand. He bounded up the stairs, leaving Xander caught between a groan and a laugh.

"Only Giles and Buffy could go this bananas about a christening." Xander punched the cushions back into place and sank gratefully down, trying not to wrinkle his dress shirt too badly. The doorbell rang just as he got comfortable, and Giles’ harried voice floated down from above. "Xander, could you get the door, please? There’s a good lad."

Xander muttered under his breath as he lurched to his feet and trudged to the front door. "...Xander, find this! Xander, carry that! Xander, where’s the wet wipes? Xander, get the door... Oh, hi Will! Gee, you look great! C’mon in!"

His best friend grinned as his face went from sullen to friendly, and back again. She patted Xander’s arm in sympathy. "What’s the matter, Xand? Trouble in the Castle of Love?"

He smirked as they went back and sat on the couch. "They’re going nutso. Certifiably, commitably nutso. It’s been ‘backstage at "A Chorus Line"’ since I got here... clothes flying, people yelling, Marcus crying..."

Willow listened for a minute. "He’s not crying now."

"He’s recharging. Just you wait."

"I don’t think I’ve ever heard him cry. Well, whimper a little, maybe, when he needs changing. He’s such a happy baby."

Xander shook his head sagely. "You haven’t been here for the last hour... he’s developed some serious lung capacity in three months. I’m surprised they haven’t called 911 from the Quick Mart a block over."

"He’s probably reacting to Buffy and Giles being all nervous and excited."

"Yeah. This is a big deal, and they’re kinda worried that the Council might still try to mess with them."

"I bet those ol’ Council baddies won’t even come near Sunnydale after the beating they got last time!"

********

"I thought surely you’d have more sense than to check us in here!" The prim British voice hissed at his companion. They sat across from one another in the small restaurant attached to the Sunset Inn. "I never wanted to lay eyes on this miserable establishment again!"

The second man shrugged. "It’s the only game in town, Quentin, dear boy. I know how Ripper thinks. He’d never look for you here. It would be too obvious."

"You assume a great deal, Mr. Rayne... and I’m not your dear boy."

Ethan spread his hands widely in surrender. "Certainly, Mr. Travers, sir. You, of course, are the man in charge here. I am merely the one who knows Ripper better than you ever will. I know how he thinks, I know what aftershave he prefers... I can tell you what he likes to wear to bed at night, if you wish."

Quentin Travers’ face screwed up in disgust as he eyed his accomplice. "I don’t care how the man thinks. I don’t care if you were fourth form chums. I don’t care if you were shagging each other’s brains out in London. I don’t care about your opinion. I only want the child. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal, Mr. Travers. Now, can we get down to business? I have no love for Sunnydale, and the sooner I’m away, the better."

Travers leaned closer, moving his cup of over-boiled coffee to the side. "Now... here’s my plan..."

When the two had finished their discussion, Travers paid their bill, leaving a minimal tip. Ethan watched with thinly veiled amusem*nt as Travers struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. They nodded curtly at each other and left, going in opposite directions.

From the booth behind them, a neatly dressed young man rose to his feet. He thanked the waitress warmly, pressing a five dollar bill into her hand. He left the restaurant, a frown of concentration on his face.

When he got into his modest car, he reached for his cell phone, dialing a familiar number. "Hello? Who is this? Xander? It’s Doctor Phil. Is Rupert there? I need to talk to him, now!"

********

Cedrick Giles watched the laptop’s monitor with delight. The tracking device was working perfectly. So far, they’d been able to apprehend seven more conspirators by allowing Quentin Travers to ‘escape.’ He was amazed that the man hadn’t realized it was a set-up, what with his injury making him surpassingly clumsy. Still, Travers, stubborn, blinded by hate and misplaced zeal, had taken the bait, and Cedrick was itching to reel the traitor in.

He didn’t approve of the Director’s plan to endanger his son’s family all over again, but despite his protests, the Director had spoken. As soon as Cedrick knew he’d been overruled, he set about to make sure that the plan was executed perfectly. He might not be able to stop Travers from coming back to Sunnydale, but he intended to make sure this was the last time.

He picked up his telephone and carefully dialed an unlisted overseas number. After the connection was finally made, he said tersely, "Giles here. Let me speak to the Director." He waited a moment more, then continued, "Director? He’s in Sunnydale at this very moment. It worked perfectly. Such a clever idea, using the Internet to transmit the bounder’s coordinates. Yes, sir, my little conversation with Willow Rosenberg certainly sparked some interesting innovations. I’m in the vicinity now. He’s been contacted by his current ally... Ethan Rayne. I hope we can clear this up before Rupert sees just who Quentin’s brought into the game."

He listened carefully, making cryptic notes in an obscure, dead language. "Yes, you guessed correctly, sir." He chuckled into the telephone. "Yes, I do remember our wager... I owe you a pint. The ceremony? It’s today at one. I’m merely a few blocks away at the moment. No, I haven’t told Rupert. I won’t let anything happen to my son’s family, sir. They’re not just Destiny to me... they’re family. Yes, thank you, I will." He hung up carefully and shut down the laptop, returning it to its case. There was just enough time to scour the town for a decent brunch. Then he had a christening to attend. He suspected that Travers would make his move then. The man had always been overly dramatic, and he loved an audience.

Cedrick left the hotel room, unaware that he himself was being observed. From inside a large trash can set just outside the door, a wizened, bewhiskered face appeared. The elf climbed out, dusting his leather pants and vest off, and strolled slowly behind the neatly dressed Englishman. Elf hearing assured that he’d caught every word spoken in the small room.

The small creature found a pay phone, pulling himself up with one hand until he could reach the dialing buttons. When the other telephone rang, an operator intoned, "Collect call from a Mr. Zehdlaf... will you accept the charges?"

Rousing a sleeping vampire in mid morning was never a quick process. After receiving groggily issued permission to reverse the charges, the operator made the connection and rang off. Zehdlaf waited patiently until Angel woke up enough to say, "yes? What did you find out?"

"Hey, boss, gotta hurry, my target’s getting away. I know I was supposed to watch the bad guys, but guess what? The diapers are about to hit the fan!"

********

Buffy finally got the diaper bag loaded. Marcus was in his playpen, swatting at the musical fish mobile above him and cooing as the music started each time he connected. She watched him for a few seconds, smiling, then went back to her last minute inventory. "Bottle, gown, change of clothes, extra diapers, Wet Wipes, pacifier, blanket, burp rags, oh, no, where’s his rattle toy? Here it is... Oh, God, we’re never gonna get through this..."

Giles came into the bedroom, a bit more relaxed now that he was dressed and his son’s christening gown was safely tucked away. "Buffy, we need to go. Your Mother wants us all there for pictures... I haven’t the first idea why."

"Because she’s a mom, Giles, and moms take lots of pictures of their babies, and their baby’s babies. Right, Marcus? Are you gonna smile for Grandma? Yes, you are..." She reached over and picked up the clean, sweet smelling infant, smiling as he responded to her familiar face. Marcus had developed a surprising range of sounds in the last few weeks, and he shrieked with delight as Buffy held him high and nuzzled his tummy.

The telephone rang just then, but before Giles could dash into the master bedroom to answer it, Xander called from the living room, "I got it!"

Buffy turned and looked at Giles for the first time since he’d gotten dressed. "Oooo... for an old married guy, you sure do look yummy."

"Thank you. For an old married girl, you look spectacular. Um, I’ve got the bag, love, and everyone’s downstairs waiting. Do you need a moment before we go?" He felt her uncertainty through the Bond. She was worried, and it was affecting both him and their son. Giles didn’t think she was being silly, however. He himself had a certain sense of foreboding every time they left the protective shell of their home. There were still malcontents from the Council that were convinced Buffy, Giles and Marcus were going to personally bring about the Apocalypse.

She crossed the room and gave her concerned spouse a gentle kiss. "No, babe, I’m fine. Let’s go."

Just then, Xander yelled from the bottom of the stairs, "Giles! Phone! Doctor Phil wants to talk to ya!"

********

The trip to Joyce and Wilton’s Encinada home took about thirty-five minutes... slightly longer than it should have, since the driver was a cautious Rupert Giles. He’d never been a careless driver, and he’d become even more deliberately cautious since Marcus was born. Buffy and the others teased him about it, but they all knew he took his responsibility seriously when it came to his child’s safety. The Giles’ new minivan was equipped with baby seats and all kinds of safety features. His young friends might laugh at him, but they depended on his protective nature more than they realized.

In the back, Willow and Xander talked, playing with Marcus until he fell asleep. Buffy and Giles kept their conversation nonverbal, since it mainly consisted of possible scenarios with Quentin Travers. They weren’t ready just yet to tell their friends that trouble had arrived... once again.

The phone call from Doctor Phil had warned them that their enemy was back, and that he had an accomplice with him. In the diner, Phil had recognized Travers from the kidnapping attempt, but he didn’t know the other man. A mercenary of sorts, Giles suspected. Phil hadn’t been able to hear the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough to know that his friends were in danger once again.

During a quiet moment, the cell phone in Giles’ jacket pocket rang. He reached for it, answering it awkwardly, still not comfortable holding the tiny device. He kept his voice low, letting road noise cover most of his conversation. "Hello? Oh, hello, Angel. What news... my father? Yes, I knew he was here already. For the christening, of course. I knew Travers was here... he was seen in town this morning with another man, an accomplice. Who? Oh, dear. No, I didn’t know who it was... yes, I’m aware of his talents in that area. How did you know... elves, you say? How clever. Yes, we’ll be cautious, believe me. He’s fine. She’s fine, of course. Don’t worry about us... we will be ready."

Being privy to Giles’ thoughts as he talked, Buffy followed his side of the conversation easily, and reached out to touch his arm when he severed the telephone connection. ‘How did Angel find out about your dad being here?’

‘He had elves following every British visitor to Sunnydale... which totaled exactly three contacts.’

‘Three who? Travers, your dad, and...’

‘Ethan.’

Buffy looked at him, shock on her face. Out loud, she said, "Oh, great."

Xander piped up from behind them, "Okay, you guys are playing Psychic Connection again, and it’s not fair... remember, we speaka de English back here."

Buffy snorted. "Would you rather we just whispered? Would that make you feel better?"

"No, but at least it wouldn’t freak me out like the mental telepathy thing does."

Willow looked up as Marcus began to fuss. "Hey, is something going on? You two are upsetting the little guy here."

Buffy turned in her seat to stroke Marcus’ head. He calmed and stopped whimpering. As they turned off the highway and into the exclusive residential section where her mother now lived, Buffy said, "Here’s the sitch. The baddies are back, but we’re gonna deal with them. We’re gonna have lunch with Mom, do the ceremony thing, maybe kick some butt along the way... then, have cake. Don’t sweat it, okay?"

Turning to Giles, she commented, "Y’know, it’s weird. I could hear what you were thinking, and what you were saying, while you were on the phone, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, or what you were thinking about what he was saying while he was saying it. Did that make sense?"

As she babbled, Giles eased into the wide driveway, pulled up to the three-car garage, and turned off the engine. Facing her, he looked amused. "I followed your every word... which frightens me as few other things have done."

She laughed as the four of them piled out of the minivan, gathering baby things, as well as a drowsy baby, before starting down the curved sidewalk towards the house. Willow and Xander had never been to Joyce’s stately new home, and they were both in awe.

Xander grabbed Willow’s arm and hissed in her ear, "columns. The front porch has columns! Only rich people have columns!"

Willow gave him a tolerant smile. "Don’t be silly. Lots of homes have columns."

Xander shook his head and started down the walkway again. "Not three-story-tall, Lincoln Memorial-type columns!"

When they came within a few feet of the front door, Joyce came out of the house smiling broadly. "Buffy! Your father just called. I think he’s actually going to show up this time!"

She pulled Buffy into a gentle, one armed hug and bestowed several kisses on her sleepy grandson. Marcus blinked at her, yawned, then closed his eyes against the bright sunlight. Joyce greeted Willow and Xander like family, giving each one a quick hug.

As Giles gathered the diaper bag and a few other odds and ends from the van, he noticed a small blue car drive slowly by. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the driver hunch over to avoid being recognized. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he realized they’d been followed. The car pulled over to the curb a few houses down, and parked. ‘So. It has begun.’ He communicated silently with Buffy, hoping to keep the matter quiet for Joyce’s sake. Forcing a placid expression on his face, Giles rounded the van to join the others.

As he approached, Joyce marveled at how comfortable he seemed with the whole baby thing. She’d been worried that, at his age, he wouldn’t have the energy or the inclination to be an equal partner in taking care of an infant. Boy, oh boy, had she been wrong! Buffy had told her repeatedly how amazing he was... how he didn’t shirk from changing diapers, how he’d jump up in the middle of the night to feed Marcus so she could stay in bed, how he seemed to instinctively know what to do. Joyce knew the Bond between the three of them made him more responsive, but she also suspected that he was just a naturally nurturing individual. Since Marcus was born, she had become more and more convinced that he was a great partner for her daughter.

The man in question smiled charmingly at her now. "Hello, Joyce. It was so nice of you to have us here. I think Buffy needs a breather before the ceremony." He congratulated himself on sounding so calm... if she only knew...

"I wouldn’t dream of letting you get ready for such an important occasion all by yourselves." She grinned, letting him know that she knew full well they could handle just about anything.

The group filed into the house, with Willow and Xander trying to act as though the luxurious surroundings didn’t amaze and intimidate them. Buffy still couldn’t believe that her mother was wealthy. Wilton didn’t seem like the type, in a way... and yet, in a way, he acted like he was born to money. Judging from this place, he certainly knew what to do with it!

Joyce, Buffy, and Willow immediately headed for the kitchen with the baby. Buffy was still breast feeding, but was slowly weaning Marcus to a bottle so she could return to school. Despite being close to all her friends, she still felt embarrassed about nursing with the men around. Joyce had already planned for Buffy’s sensitivity, and Wilton met them in the front hall, shaking Giles’ and Xander’s hands firmly. He then led them towards his den to give Buffy some privacy. As soon as they were out of Joyce’s hearing, Giles asked quietly, "Wilton, would you mind if I used your telephone? I believe we are being followed by some rather unsavory characters."

Wilton didn’t doubt his step-son-in-law’s statement in the least, in light of what he’d seen when Marcus was born. "Of course. There’s an extension just down the hall."

"I shan’t be long."

"Rupert..." Wilton caught his arm. "... is something going on... again?"

Giles smiled thinly. "I’m afraid there may be. Not to worry, though... we’ve been rather expecting it."

In the kitchen, the man of honor was wide awake. After his nap in the car and a tummy full of milk, he was in a jovial mood, laughing, playing with his rattle toy, and generally being on his best behavior.

Willow spoke up as she played with the baby. "So, what’s the plan? I mean, why did we come here before the ceremony?" Buffy glanced at Willow sharply, but her friend was smiling at Marcus, totally unaware of the impending danger.

Buffy relaxed slightly, telling herself, ‘Rupert has it under control... just act normal... well, not normal, that would be way suspicious... but regular.’ Joyce still had no idea that the evil Watcher had returned. "Mom insisted. She was afraid that after the reception we’d all be tired and ready to go home, and she wouldn’t get to play Grammy. We’re just gonna have a little lunch, then all go to the church together." She tickled Marcus’ tummy, listening to his happy gurgles. "I hope he stays happy... it’s impossible to think when this little guy starts screaming. He’s got a great set of lungs, no doubt."

Joyce laughed. "He definitely takes that after you, then! I’ve never heard a baby cry as loudly as you did."

Willow’s eyebrows went up. "I’ve never even heard him cry."

Buffy rolled her eyes as Marcus seized her finger and guided it to his mouth. He bit down enthusiastically, and she winced slightly. "Take my word for it, Will, he can. I hope we can get this Bond thing worked out so he won’t have to cry so much. Sometimes it takes us a while to figure out what the problem is."

Joyce patted her daughter’s shoulder comfortingly. "Parents have been dealing with that since the dawn of time, Buffy!"

"Well, I know, but... hey, ow! Marcus, you bit me, sweetie!" She held up her finger, and froze, staring at the narrow red mark just below the first joint. "Mom... he’s getting a tooth!"

"Already? Honey, he’s only three months old!"

Marcus fidgeted as his mother pried his mouth open and rubbed his upper gum gently. A tiny incisor was just breaking the surface. "He is! Mom, that’s so... amazing! I gotta tell Giles!" She picked up the baby and started into the den, yelling, "Rupert! Marcus bit me!"

Giles came out of the room with a bewildered look on his face. "I’m sure he didn’t mean to, love."

"No, silly, it means teeth! He’s getting a tooth, look!"

The rest of their time was spent munching finger sandwiches and taking turns feeling of Marcus’ gums. He seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

********

Across the street from the beautiful home, a very disgruntled Quentin Travers and a highly amused Ethan Rayne sat in their rented car, keeping watch over their targets. Travers had been livid when the Giles family and their friends drove a half hour out of town and ended up in the high-rent district of Encinada.

Travers couldn’t believe it, and he voiced his opinion--loudly. "What on earth are they doing here? The ceremony is in just over two hours... back in Sunnydale! Why would anyone do such an inane thing? This proves that Rupert is a first-class idiot. That insolent little whor* of his isn’t much better, but at least she was good enough to fool me with her ‘I’m just a helpless little mother’ act. I do believe I’ll just kill her and be rid of the nuisance. The child alone will be enough. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Kill the fool parents and keep the boy for myself." He chuckled evilly, ignoring Ethan’s disgusted expression.

Ethan had decided after the first hour with Travers that he’d made a monumental blunder aligning himself with this madman. He enjoyed a good bit of mayhem as much as the next person, but this was ridiculous. The man was obsessed, and that was never good. Besides, Ripper was much more fun alive than dead, in his opinion, and to off the delectable little Slayer... well, that was entirely too much of a waste.

He cleared his throat and commented mildly, "Perhaps if one knew exactly who was living in this fine abode, one would have the answer as to why they made their way here."

Travers looked at the sorcerer with distaste. "And if one were to ask you that question, would one receive an answer?"

"Of course. If one would ask."

Travers ground his teeth together. "Then who lives in the bloody house?"

"Buffy’s mother."

Travers was stunned. "Her mother? But she lives in Sunnydale!"

"No, dear boy, you’re very much behind the times. Joyce married Mister Wilton Bernard a few months before Buffy married Ripper. The new husband is quite well-to-do."

"Isn’t that interesting." Travers fell silent for a moment, thinking furiously. "I wonder if her home is warded as thoroughly as Rupert’s?"

Ethan’s eyes shone with anticipation. "We could find out. It might save us some time."

"We need to sabotage their vehicles. Wouldn’t want them making an escape."

"Let me take care of that. I’ve brought my switchblade."

Travers nodded, and Ethan slid away to do his dirty work. He hadn’t been gone very long when the disgruntled Watcher heard a tap on his window. He looked up, confused, and saw a rather large policeman peering in at him. He moved immediately, rolling down the window and putting on his best smile. "Hello, Constable. What can I do for you?"

"Please step out of the car, sir. Several of the residents have called to complain that a strange vehicle was parked on their street. This is a nice, friendly neighborhood. Everybody knows everybody. When someone they don’t know parks in front of their house, they don’t like it."

Travers sighed impatiently. "Constable, I have an injured foot. Is it completely necessary that I get out of my car?"

"I’m afraid I have to insist, sir." The officer actually put his hand on his weapon, and Travers cringed before complying. He’d had no luck with handguns lately.

He struggled to brace himself on his good foot, and glared at the officer as he checked him for weapons. How utterly embarrassing to be frisked in view of anyone who happened to be looking! Of course, the kind of weapons Travers would employ were not the kind that created suspicious bulges in one’s clothing, but the fool policeman had no way of knowing that.

The officer stepped away as Travers turned, smirking as he leaned against his rental. "I trust you are satisfied, Constable. Now, you can be on your way. Thank you for your vigilance."

The policeman smiled slightly. "I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not quite finished. This car is registered as a rental. I need to see some ID, please."

Travers sighed patiently. "Of course. Just a moment." He turned to reach in the car window. The cop stopped him, his hand hovering over his weapon again. "Oh, really, Constable. I’m merely reaching for my wallet. It is quite uncomfortable to sit on for any length of time."

"I have to be careful, sir. There have been a rash of break-ins around the area lately. Now, please hand me your wallet... slowly."

"This is ridiculous. Young man, I have no intention of burglarizing these fine homes."

"Then you won’t mind telling me why you’re sitting in a rented car outside a seven-hundred-thousand dollar home in the middle of the day."

"Of course not. I am resting. I’ve had rather a long drive, and I needed a short break before I continued on to my destination."

"And what is your destination, sir?"

Travers couldn’t think of a good lie, so he told the truth. "Sunnydale. I believe it is close by."

"Sunnydale? You’re way off the main road, sir!"

"I wanted to find a quiet street, Constable. Driving on the wrong side of the road is tiresome."

The cop didn’t seem convinced. "Wait here, sir." He stepped to the side of his squad car and spoke into his radio. Travers fidgeted uncomfortably. The sun was hot, the air still and cloying, and his foot ached abominably. Would the cretinous policeman ever leave? He gritted his teeth, barely able to suppress his rage as his targets came out of the house, piled into their undamaged vehicles, and drove away. He watched helplessly as they disappeared around the corner. Ethan was nowhere in sight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the cop came back to Travers’ side. "I’m sorry, Mr. Travers, for putting you through the wringer like this, but It’s my job to be sure you’re not an ax murderer or a burglar."

"Of course, Constable. I understand completely. Now, may I return to my vehicle? My foot feels dreadful."

"Yes, sir. Everything is in order. Just don’t stay too long, or I’ll start getting calls again."

"Count on it, Constable. I’ll just rest for a moment, then go."

The policeman gave him a little salute, which seemed to Travers to be slightly mocking. "Have a nice day, Mr. Travers."

Travers eased himself into his car, relieved to have his weight off his throbbing foot. The patrolman drove slowly away, still talking into his radio. Travers had no sooner rolled up the window and started the engine when Ethan slipped in beside him. The cool blast from the car’s air conditioner caused them both to sigh in relief. When Travers began to feel comfortable again, he turned in anger towards Ethan, his voice little more than a caustic snarl. "And just where were you, dear boy, while I was being interrogated by Encinada’s finest?"

Ethan smiled broadly. "Why, I was hiding, of course. I couldn’t be expected to slash the tires of those vehicles while there was a copper right across the street, now could I? I would’ve been arrested. That wouldn’t have helped matters any, now would it?"

Travers fought down his fury, put the car in gear, and began to drive back towards Sunnydale. "At least it would’ve gotten you out of my hair."

********

As Giles drove, he constantly checked the rearview mirror. Buffy watched as Willow played with Marcus in the middle seat. In the built-in rear-facing baby seat, Marcus giggled and shrieked as Willow and Xander made faces and noises that would’ve shamed them completely three months ago. As she watched them, smiling softly, Buffy caught Giles’ thoughts and sent him a question in return. ‘Are they still on our tail?’

He smiled, and answered her through the Bond, ‘No, I think our policeman friend delayed them long enough for us to have a good head start.’

‘Good. Are we ever going to be finished with this?’ Her face turned sad as she watched the side of his face.

‘I dearly hope so.’ As he slowed and turned the van into the church parking lot, he held that hope in his heart.

********

Inside the gymnasium behind the church proper, Father Denning was setting out folding chairs in the reception area. The gym had been transformed by Cordelia into a festive, blue, white and silver reception hall. Denning smiled as the tall brunette critically surveyed every inch of the place, frowning and adjusting bows and tablecloths until she was completely satisfied. He hefted the extra chairs he’d borrowed from a classroom in the church and began adding them to the seating area, carefully placing them in a row. He made sure there was elbow room between each chair... in his own way, he was as meticulous as Cordelia. He knew people hated to be crowded.

Willow and Xander came in just as Cordy smiled in satisfaction. She turned to them happily. "There. It doesn’t look like a smelly old gym now, does it?"

"Nope. It looks like a smelly old gym covered in tissue paper and ribbon." At the self-appointed decorator’s glare, Xander added, "But, festive. Verrrrry festive. Looks great! Really!"

Willow went straight to the kitchen and started mixing punch. "This needs to be refrigerated for an hour or two... I think we’ve got just enough time. I don’t want it to taste all blah."

"Your punch could never be described as ‘blah,’ Will."

"I’ll take that as a compliment, Xand, and move on."

"Good idea. I’m going to check on the snacks..."

"Look, but don’t touch!"

Xander gave Willow a pouty face, but she ignored him.

Buffy and Giles, looking for Father Denning, came to the gymnasium doors and peered in. They grinned as they saw the decorations, and Denning waved them over to discuss some last minute details about the ceremony. Once inside, Buffy stood with Marcus in her arms and watched as her friends completed their voluntary tasks. She smiled happily as she realized just how lucky she and Giles were. They were both thinking the same thing, and they smiled at the same time, sharing their gratitude silently. They talked briefly with the priest, warning him quietly about Travers, then went back to get in place for the service to begin.

People were already gathering inside the church. Buffy and Giles went in and waited nervously in the side room, watching as more and more people arrived. Buffy noticed her mother and Wilton close to the front, and gasped in surprise as Hank slipped into the pew behind them. She fought back tears. This was the first major milestone of her young life that he’d managed to attend. Giles came up behind her and rested warm hands on her shoulders, giving his support and love with the simple gesture. She looked up at him, smiling happily through the haze that was filling her eyes.

Marcus hiccuped. Buffy looked down at him, smiling. He looked surprised, then hiccuped again. His expression was halfway between crying and frowning. Upon the third hiccup, he started to whimper, tight fists waving in protest. He didn’t like having the hiccups.

"Marcus, sweetie baby, you’re not gonna go ballistic on us, are you?" Buffy set him against her shoulder and rubbed his back, hoping to stop the involuntary spasms that were making him angry.

Fat baby hands were grasping for Buffy’s hair, and Giles was afraid he’d pull it out of the neat French knot her mother had fastened it into. He took the squirming baby from her, and Marcus quickly seized his father’s long finger and pulled it into his mouth. "Ouch! He’s biting me!"

Buffy smirked as she straightened her dress. "Told ya. He’s gonna do some damage with those teeth pretty soon." She giggled softly as Marcus quieted down, happily sucking and chewing on Giles’ finger.

"His gums must be a tad sore... he’s trying to get some relief. Ow... well, if my finger must be sacrificed in order for my son’s christening to actually be heard by the congregation, then so be it."

"We’ll have to buy a teething ring, pronto. I’ll give him a bottle during the reception, and he should be fine."

"Yes, good idea. One would hardly expect to need a teething ring at three months, yet he’s obviously cutting a tooth... ouch..."

They heard organ music, and realized the ceremony was about to begin. Giles handed Marcus to Buffy, removing his now quite reddened, thoroughly chewed finger and easing the pacifier into his son’s mouth. He watched through the slightly open door, and Buffy felt his happy relief as Cedrick Giles slid into a pew dressed, as usual, in his heavy tweed. The elder Giles noticed Joyce and Wilton, and smiled in his reserved manner, receiving two answering smiles in return. Giles felt a sudden joy at his father’s presence. His family--at least, everyone he cared about as family--was complete.

As they waited, Buffy reflected on their choices as godparents. She desperately wanted Willow and Xander to be part of Marcus’ life, but she needed a couple that would actually be able to raise their son if something happened to the both of them. She knew that her two best friends wouldn’t be in a position to do that for quite a while, even though they would certainly be willing. Although she planned to live a long and happy life in the company of her husband and child, Buffy knew full well that might not be the case.

Buffy was new to Church practices, but she had carefully considered this one, and was absolutely certain she wanted this for Marcus. So, after a long talk in Father Denning’s office, she and Giles had agreed... Phil and Carla Stevenson would be godparents, and Willow and Xander would be witnesses. It seemed right that the doctor who had helped bring their son into the world would be involved. He knew about their Destiny, as well, and that was a big check in the plus department.

Buffy had begun to actually calm down when Giles froze beside her. He watched as the congregation, seemingly moving as a whole, shifted to one side of the church. She couldn’t see anything but people whispering frantically. "What’s wrong?"

Giles sighed. "We have some unexpected guests." He pointed, and she sighted along his finger to the back pew. There, sitting tall and solemn, or at least as much so as was allowed by his diminutive height, was a small blue goblin named Gerard. He was wearing a child-sized blue suit with white shirt and matching striped tie. He eyed the crowd calmly, finally spotting Joyce and Wilton, then nodded pleasantly, as if to say, "hello, there, we meet again!"

"Oh... my... God..." Buffy couldn’t believe that a goblin could actually enter a church. She made a mental note to ask Giles about it... but later, after all the other stuff was over.

Hank Summers looked as though he might have a heart attack. Wilton nodded back at Gerard, and Joyce waved. Hank’s incredulous stare shifted back and forth from the weird blue creature to his ex-wife. His eyes widened even more when Madvehkar, one of the ugliest trolls on God’s green earth, slid into the pew beside the blue goblin. He was wearing his finest doeskin leather shirt and breeches, in honor of the special occasion.

After he sat there for several minutes, Gerard elbowed Mad with a look of disapproval. Mad looked chagrined and snatched his hat off in a belated show of respect. His completely bald head shined as it caught the light.

Joyce and Wilton looked pleased to see the creatures. Hank looked positively apoplectic.

The goblin might have passed as an extremely short, slender human with a strange complexion and odd eyes... but Madvehkar stood out in any crowd. Three and one half feet of gray-skinned, broad-faced, wrinkle-browed, white-haired, snaggle-toothed troll was hardly a common sight, even in Sunnydale. The two lower beings tried to ignore the horrified stares they were getting from Buffy’s father, but it wasn’t easy. He was doing a surprisingly accurate imitation of a fish out of water. People in the congregation quickly stopped staring at the troll and the goblin and started staring at Hank.

Faith and Wesley arrived about that time, the expression on his face plainly showing his displeasure with their being late. They took the first seat available to them, which happened to be right next to Madvehkar. Faith didn’t even twitch as she looked at the two odd creatures. She just grinned and said, "Hey. Nice leather." Wesley leaned slightly forward, smiling a strained smile, and then sat back rigidly. He really couldn’t remember ever seeing a troll and a goblin in church before.

Phil, looking handsome and proud in his best suit, put his arm around Carla as Father Denning came down the aisle towards them. The doctor had met the goblin and the troll the day Marcus was born, and Carla figured that if her husband wasn’t worried, there was no need for her to be. Father Denning didn’t seem to mind them being there, either, so the congregation began to relax as well. Next to the Stevensons stood Willow and Xander, both looking nervous despite Giles’ careful coaching. Buffy beamed a smile at them as she gently bounced Marcus. He had been quiet for a long time, and she was getting worried.

The ceremony began, the priest’s words rising clearly in the small room. Phil and Carla spoke their part calmly, and even Willow and Xander did fine. Joyce and Wilton held their breath as Father Denning took Marcus out of Buffy’s arms. If he was going to scream, he’d probably start now. Denning paused in his carefully spoken litany, and gazed down into the boy’s clear, blue-green eyes. Something deep inside him responded... this was a special child, of special parents. He smiled, and Marcus gazed up at him and smiled back.

He continued smoothly, moving the group down the aisle and over to the baptismal font. As Father Denning lead them through the ancient rite, Buffy kept glancing at the doors. Giles was a little more surreptitious about it, but he, too, was monitoring the exits carefully.

********

Three blocks away, Quentin Travers, the leader of the revisionist movement within the Watcher’s Council, the scourge of the Giles’ existence, the man who’d almost pulled off the most daring double abduction in the organization’s long history... Quentin Travers was standing along the side of the road, cursing in every language he knew. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped into his eyes as he kicked the rental car’s flat tire. "Rayne," he rasped after he’d run out of appropriate terms, "find the things in the boot and fix this, and hurry!"

Ethan opened the trunk, muttering to himself, "he thinks I’m a bloody mechanic. Now, if I were a spanner, where would I be? Ah, here you are... now, we must have a jack. Can’t remove a bloody tyre without a jack..." He listened with amusem*nt as Travers’ unabridged cursing began all over again. He recognized all but just a few of the words. Travers was quite the linguist. Spell casting required it.

After a futile search, Ethan straightened. "I don’t seem to have the proper tools for tyre removal in the boot. You’ll have to call Recovery... it looks as though we’re going to be late for the ceremony."

"Bugger it all... this is the biggest co*ck-up I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing played out!"

Considering what had happened the last time Travers was in Sunnydale, Ethan thought that an extreme statement, indeed.

Travers stopped kicking the tire when his good foot began to throb in response. "Ethan, you’ll have to bloody walk. It’s only three blocks more. Go and set the plan in motion, and I’ll join you as soon as I can arrange for alternate transportation."

"Now, that’s all right for you, old boy, but if you’re further delayed, I’ll be the one left holding the dirty nappies." Ethan didn’t like that idea at all. Ripper could probably think of all kinds of ways of making him wish he’d never been involved with Travers. One slip-up, and Ethan would be finding those things out first hand.

Travers whirled on him in fury, nearly falling down as he set his weight on his bad foot. "Unless you have a death wish, Rayne, you’d best be on your way." The cold, flat tone was far more menacing, despite the speaker’s precarious balance, than all the previous outbursts of cursing had been. Ethan shivered, spread his hands in compliance, and nodded. Despite his dislike of the man, he respected, even feared, the man’s devilish power. He reached in the back seat for his bag of spell ingredients, then made a hasty departure towards St. Mary’s.

********

Back at the church, things were proceeding smoothly. Marcus had been as good as gold, even cooing when Father Denning poured the cool holy water on his head. Everyone in the building was caught up in the simple beauty of the ceremony, and their eyes were glued to the front altar area. No one noticed when Ethan slipped through the doors in back and begin setting up his magic circle on the foyer floor.

Marcus began to whimper softly.

The moment the sorcerer began his dark spell, Father Denning, Buffy and Giles, Faith, Wesley, and Cedrick all snapped their heads up and turned towards the back of the church. Denning reacted instantly, and his strong voice rang through the building as though it had been amplified. "NO! In Jesus’ name, BE SILENT, and BE GONE!" His eyes blazed with anger at the profane intrusion.

Ethan suddenly found that he couldn’t speak, his throat constricting dramatically until his breath was a mere rattle. In all his life, he’d never encountered a priest with such supernatural authority. He almost lost his footing as he scrambled for the door, gasping for air as he exited the small foyer. He grabbed a stair railing outside and forced air into his lungs so his head would clear. He stumbled away from the church, fleeing from that terrifying power.

The thought occurred to him as he ran, ‘This is not going to be the walk in the park Travers described.’

As Ethan ran out of the church, Giles made a start down the aisle, only to be restrained by Doctor Phil. Giles half turned and sought Buffy’s eyes, locking onto them in desperation. Rapid thoughts flew back and forth between the Bonded pair... they were almost finished with the ceremony. The evil had been banished from the church. A confrontation could wait. Giles acknowledged the wisdom of that course in his mind, and returned to his place.

********

Father Denning took several deep breaths and continued, lighting the symbolic candle with a surprisingly steady hand. Gerard the goblin kept his multi-faceted eyes on the back door, his expression clearly protective. Several people stirred nervously, not sure of exactly what had happened. Denning’s steady voice slowly soothed everyone, and collectively, the crowd began to relax. The priest brought the ceremony to its conclusion, keeping a steady tone. After the final charge and blessing, they began the short procession down the aisle.

Everyone in the group knew they had to exit the church building in order to get to the gym. That meant facing whatever awaited them on the outside. Father Denning, realizing the danger, dismissed the crowd and directed them towards the side doors and out to the walkway that lead to the gym. The small church emptied quickly.

Hank Summers at first followed the crowd, but when he realized Buffy wasn’t with them, he tried to reenter the church. Wilton and Joyce stopped him, but he was too freaked out and confused to listen to reason. "What’s going on with Buffy? Why are we leaving? I haven’t even seen the baby yet! What were those weird people? I’m going back in..."

Cedrick, hearing the disturbance, stepped close enough to take Hank’s arm. "Mr. Summers, forgive me. I’m Cedrick Giles, Rupert’s father. I assure you, nothing shall be gained by going back inside. The reception is in the other building."

"But, why are you all acting like there’s some big secret club here? And what the heck was that little blue man... was he a clown? And the gray one... he looked like a dwarf, or something! Listen, something’s going on, and I want to know what it is!"

Cedrick looked towards Joyce. She knew the man better than anyone else there. She stepped forward and said soothingly, "Hank, if you want answers, you’re going to have to come with us. I’ll tell you the whole story then, okay?"

Hank made an attempt to break the older Giles’ grip, and was astonished to find that he could not. Hank was a good-sized man, strongly built, and still athletic. But the small, tweed-clad senior held him in an iron claw and didn’t seem inclined to let go until Hank complied.

Hank might have been confused, but he wasn’t stupid. Rather than test Cedrick’s strength further, he let the others lead him towards the gym. He was determined to get his answers once they were inside.

As the Giles’, their friends and Marcus’ godparents stood by the back pew, Gerard and Madvehkar jumped to their feet, edging in front of Faith and Wesley as the two humans shifted to let them pass. Like diminutive soldiers, the two creatures took up stations ahead and to either side of Buffy and her loved ones. Faith and Wesley both stood then, feeling a little embarrassed that a goblin and a troll had outmaneuvered them. They flanked Giles and Buffy, standing just behind them and in front of Willow and Xander.

Faith caught Buffy’s eye as she turned to acknowledge her sister-Slayer. The dark-haired girl winked at her predecessor, and, in a cheery tone, quipped, "Slayer solidarity." She nudged Wesley sharply, and he blurted, "Um, yes, Watcher, too, as well."

Buffy pivoted on her heel and handed Marcus to her best girl friend in the world. Willow’s face reflected her sudden fear, but Buffy just smiled. Her gaze took in Doctor Phil and Carla, as well as Xander. "You four get to take turns watching him. You’d better get to the gym, it’ll be safer there. Me and the Monster Squad here have a little business to conduct, then we’ll see ya, okay?"

Phil swallowed hard, and nodded. He led Carla back down the aisle and towards the back exit. Xander opened his mouth to protest, but decided it was his place to protect Willow and the baby. As Xander began to pull Willow away, she looked down at Marcus with wet eyes. The little fellow didn’t seem a bit worried. A tentative smile crossed her face. "Yeah, you know your mom kicks bad guy butt for breakfast, doncha, Markie?"

Just before pushing open the front doors, Buffy and Giles stopped, and spoke firmly in unison, "Marcus."

Willow didn’t have time to even look up and smile before the six of them, the two Slayers, the two Watchers, and the two mythical creatures stepped out into the sunlight.

********

It took a few seconds for their eyes to become accustomed to the mid-afternoon glare. Buffy sought her husband’s hand instinctively. Something inside them began to stir and grow, filling them with a confidence they hadn’t felt before. "The Bond, Rupert." She tilted her head up at him, watching his face as he scanned the area.

"Yes." He never wavered from his careful watching. His hand tightened over hers possessively. Mad and Gerard fanned out slightly on either side, allowing Faith and Wesley to step slightly forward onto the small porch area.

Faith started slightly as she felt Wesley’s hand capture hers. In the year as her Watcher, he had never touched her in a familiar way before. She looked up at him, shock in her eyes. He smiled shyly. "If there is the slightest inkling of our sharing this Bond, now would be a good time to find out."

She found herself smiling back. "Yeah. First, we zap the baddies, then, we party!"

They followed Giles and Buffy as they carefully descended the concrete steps. Just as they got to the sidewalk, a red skinned figure rose from a stand of bushes and waved cheerfully. Buffy smiled as she recognized him.

Gerard wasn’t so generous. "Richard! You’re late!" He fixed his earth demon friend with an accusing stare.

"Sorry, Ger, I was watching the head bad guy. He’s been trying to fix a flat for a half hour now... apparently his Triple-A membership has expired." Richard chuckled heartily, then froze. "Uh oh..."

Buffy and Giles turned to him and said in one voice, "what?"

Richard turned and nodded towards the street. "I guess he gave up and walked."

As the man approached, they all felt it... the stifling breath of hate, malevolence, and pure evil, and they knew that Travers was pulling out all the stops. His intent was clear. This time, he meant to kill them both... to annihilate them with dark magic.

Hidden by a low planter that marked the property line of the house next door, Ethan lay gasping, still fighting to regain his strength. Sensing something new, he rolled to his elbow, his trained eyes observing the almost invisible cloud of evil that was approaching the people on the church lawn. Travers might be mad, but he was powerful. Truth be known, Ethan had complied with the man’s requests more out of fear than out of a need for revenge. Actually, Ripper and his little tart had never done anything to him unless he provoked them... and they’d spared his life each time. Odd, that...

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then, he blinked again. ‘Have I gone mad, myself?’ he thought. No, there was definitely something building around the two couples in the yard. He stared as an answering field of power, clear but still visible to Ethan’s trained vision, began to expand outward from Buffy and Giles, encompassing the pair behind them as it grew. Their power was impressive. "Hullo, this is new..." Above them, thick clouds appeared out of a clear sky, boiling and rumbling with increasing energy.

The battle had begun.

Buffy couldn’t see Travers at the moment... only the obscuring wave of dark power preceding him. She knew it was the Councilman, though. His venomous magic was nauseatingly familiar. She instantly remembered the scene at the Watcher’s retreat the summer after their marriage when Travers and his men had tried to murder their fellow watchers, and herself and Giles as well. She felt the same gathering of forces, the same clash of elemental power that she’d experienced that day. Her heart swelled with love and pride as she remembered Giles standing with her in the clearing, defying the poisoned darts from the enemy... boldly invoking the Heavens... standing for Right and Truth... just as he was today, only on a much more personal level.

Something unfolded in her mind, and she began to smile. The awareness of the Bond enveloped her and her husband, and she began to be conscious of everything around her. She sensed Father Denning shepherding the frightened guests into the gym, steering them away from the area of conflict. She saw Willow, holding Marcus close, flanked by Xander as she waited in the gym doorway. Her green eyes were anxiously scanning the area at the front of the church, hoping for a sign that her friends were okay.

Marcus. Buffy focused in on her son as he dozed in Willow’s arms. Yes, we’re doing this, we’re fighting this, for him. ‘God, give me strength to do the right thing,’ she prayed silently, and heard Giles echoing her sentiment. Then there was no more time for sentimentality, for the impact of Travers’ spell caused her to rock on her heels.

She turned her mind back to the battle, mingling the faith and love in her heart with determination and using them as a weapon. She could feel emotion pouring off the man at her side, for despite his reserved demeanor, Giles felt more strongly and cared more deeply than anyone else she’d ever known. The sky grew dark above them, the wind rising in response to the power of the Bond.

As the impact zone spread outward, people driving by in their cars suddenly threw on their brakes, backed up and turned around. Without knowing why, they suddenly felt the urge to get out of Dodge, and get out they did, tires screeching as they sped away. Soon the street was deserted.

Minutes passed, ten, twenty of them, and still, the battle raged. To Ethan, observing from the relative safety of the next yard, it appeared as a clash of forces, dark against light, accompanied by the very real rumbling of thunder, the hiss of lightning and the crackle of electricity. If an average person had been watching, he would have only seen four wind-swept people and three strange-looking creatures facing a tired-looking, crippled old man in a rumpled suit. The change in weather was the only physical sign of the war that was raging on the spirit realm.

Ethan knew that appearances were deceiving. That tired old man was immersed in dark power, and alone he was almost a match for his old chum and his little wife. The operative word, of course, being almost. He watched as time crawled by... watched a practiced, crafty man with a heart of evil do battle with a younger, more uncertain one. Aiding Ripper in his battle was a laughable trio; a slip of a girl with only the most elementary knowledge of her own power, and a fledgling Watcher and Slayer who had no inkling of what the Bond truly was. Despite the uneven odds, the good guys seemed to be doing quite well.

It was a classic conflict: Good against Evil, Light against Dark. Ethan had always rooted for the darkness, had worshipped Chaos. Today, he wasn’t so sure he was pulling for the winning side.

He jumped as a shadow crossed his face. He scrambled back and looked up into the face of Father Denning. "How... how did you know I was here?" Ethan sputtered, cringing from the man who’d banished him with a mere few words.

Father Denning smiled. "I sensed you... you’re a seeker. It’s my job to help seekers, you see."

Ethan snorted. "Surely you’re joking... I’m not a seeker. I’m a sorcerer."

Denning chuckled as though they were sitting on a park bench having a casual chat. "Before, perhaps. Now... we shall see."

He offered a hand to the man seated on the ground. Ethan took it, wondering just why he’d done so. Denning hauled him to his feet and beckoned for him to follow. The slender Brit complied again, still not sure why. They rounded the back of the church and disappeared.

Willow looked around as the two men approached, looking at first glad, then suspicious. The isolated area of clouds were still roiling and spewing lightning bolts down around the church. She knew her friends were still in danger, but the sight of Father Denning leading Ethan Rayne towards them caught her attention immediately. "Father D., do you know Ethan? I do, and he’s ‘trouble with a capital T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for...’ well, something I can’t think of right now, but he’s bad."

Denning chuckled. "I thought he might like to meet Marcus, child."

Willow drew back against Xander’s side and the two of them shook their heads. "No, no way, I’m not letting him near Buffy’s baby... he’s bad, and mean, and he hurts people." Behind them, Doctor Phil and Carla were drawn to Willow’s frightened tone, and came up to present a unified front to their friends’ nemesis.

Denning, in a most reasonable tone, explained, "but, child, he is no longer a threat to Marcus, or Buffy, or Rupert. He has been... well, let us just say ‘defused’ and leave it at that."

Ethan looked at the unassuming face of the priest in disbelief. "What did you say? I can still conjure up a spell any bloody time I choose!"

Denning stepped away from his side and gestured with his open hand, as if to say, ‘be my guest.’

Ethan opted for a simple elemental spell, and opened his mouth to form the familiar words. They would not come. He shut his mouth, irritated, then tried again. He couldn’t do it. He could remember the words, he just couldn’t say them. It was infuriating!

Xander gaped as Ethan dropped his head in defeat. In a voice tinged with awe, he breathed, "Cool..."

Ethan grabbed the priest by his arm. "What did you do to me?"

"The evil spirit possessing you is gone, my friend. There is no connection with the dark forces. You are free."

"What if I don’t want to be free? What if I like the dark forces? You had no right..."

"You brought it on yourself, my son. You invaded God’s house and threatened God’s people. Evil cannot stand in God’s presence."

"Now, see here.. I have no intention of going all soft and lily-white..."

"You have been freed, but the rest is up to you. If you choose to return to evil, you may do so. I suggest you don’t wait too long to decide, though. I recommend you read Matthew chapter twelve, verses forty-three and following. It will explain your situation quite clearly."

Ethan muttered under his breath, but didn’t contradict the priest again.

Marcus decided to wake up, and he did so with a yawn and a huge sigh that made everyone, except Ethan, who was still grumbling, smile tenderly. Willow started in with the baby talk, and despite his reticence, Ethan was drawn to the tiny thing. He stepped closer to Willow’s side and stared at Marcus. Marcus stared back, his curious eyes focusing in on the former sorcerer. Suddenly, the baby’s face broke into a smile, and he began to make happy baby noises.

Ethan found himself smiling, too, despite his best efforts not to.

********

Halfway across town, Sergeant Larry Stockton looked up from his late lunch at the local drive-in restaurant as a call came in over his two-way radio. Something weird was going on at St. Mary’s church. He sighed and began to wrap his half-eaten sandwich back up. When the call was ‘something weird,’ it nearly always meant that he’d have to be involved. Rather than wait until they called him, he took a quick slurp of his soda and cleared his throat. As he backed out of the parking space, he spoke into his radio. "This is Sergeant Stockton, I’m on my way to the scene... don’t the nut cases around here ever take a lunch break?"

********

Travers was unable to break the invisible shield that surrounded his targets. He was growing tired, and yet he hadn’t even been able to cause the slightest waver in the Giles’ power. It was inconceivable... these puppies hadn’t the first idea of how to wield supernatural powers, and yet, they were standing against him with little or no effort at all.

He was certainly glad he’d developed a backup plan. As he continued to batter the protective covering the Bond had extended around the two Slayers and their Watchers, he began to summon other forces. Then, he would see if their concentration held while they were fighting on two fronts at once.

********

Cedrick Giles watched from his vantage point in front of the gymnasium as his son and daughter-in-law held one of the Council’s most powerful sorcerers at bay. His barely perceivable connection with them was humming with the force of their shared Bond. He allowed himself the merest glimmer of pride before returning to the task of scouting the area for signs of further danger. He was sure, in his heart, that Rupert would prevail... his son had one of the strongest wills he had ever encountered. And Buffy... well, she wasn’t one to back down from a fight, that he knew quite well.

Despite his vigilance, Cedrick was surprised when his own weak Bond began to tingle in an entirely different way, warning him of new danger. He squinted into the bright afternoon, trying to see what was advancing. At first, he could only make out shapes, but soon he recognized the forms approaching them...

"Miss Rosenberg, Mr. Harris, into the gymnasium, if you please. There are approximately one dozen Mhara demons heading this way. They are quite ferocious... and they will not require an invitation to enter this building. We must close the doors!"

Willow backed inside, but slowly. "Buffy and Giles, and Wesley and Faith... they’re all still out front... we can’t leave them!"

Cedrick put a hand on her arm. "They can handle themselves, Miss Rosenberg, while you, your friends, and Marcus cannot. Now, please, come inside quickly!"

She complied, and Father Denning began to pull the metal doors closed. Ethan stood uncertainly, caught between self-preservation and an unfamiliar sense of wanting to help Ripper beat the stuffing out of Quentin Travers. The desire for violence won out. "Go on inside, priest. I think I’ll have a little fun out here. What use is all this new-found freedom of mine without a purpose?"

Denning smiled. He reached out and touched Ethan’s forehead with the palm of his hand. The point of contact tingled briefly, and Ethan found the gesture curiously comforting. He was puzzled by it, but didn’t take the time to ask questions. He turned, grinning broadly, and strolled around to the front of the church.

Instead of bouncing off the seemingly impenetrable shield that surrounded the good guys, Ethan strolled right up to his former friend, hands in pockets, exuding casual ease. "Hullo, Rip, Slayer, and you lot. Nice afternoon for Armageddon, wouldn’t you say?"

Faith stared at Ethan for a long moment before saying, "Hey, Buff, he’s clean. I don’t know how... man, I don’t even know how I know, but he’s clean."

Giles cleared his throat calmly, never taking his eyes off Travers. "Ethan. Have you come to help, or merely to mock?"

"Oh, I’m going to help. I’ve seen the light... well, not exactly, but close enough for the moment. I should warn you though, that cretin over there..." He nodded towards Travers. "...has set a dozen Mhara demons on the gym. The priest has his hands full, I’m sure."

Buffy instinctively whirled and started for the gym, breaking her contact with Giles. His knees buckled instantly, and he cried out in pain. She realized her mistake, and grabbed his hand, holding him up with sheer physical strength. "I’m so sorry, babe... I know the creep is trying to divide us. It almost worked, too... sorry..."

Wesley spoke from behind Giles, the annoyingly precise voice bringing the older man back to reality. "Buffy’s quite right, Mr. Giles. You must continue to fight Travers. Let Father Denning and Mr. Giles, senior, handle the Mharas. From what I’ve seen, Denning is passably adept in emergency situations, and as for your father, well, he certainly wouldn’t be Head of Council Security were he not competent. I’m sure they’re both capable of..."

Faith jerked his hand, silencing him. "Shut up, Wes... geez, don’t you ever know when to stop talking?"

Behind the humans, Richard volunteered, "Hey, guys, let me and the shrimps go play with the Mharas. They’re a lot of fun to beat up."

Gerard and Madvehkar didn’t seem to mind being called ‘shrimps’. They both nodded eagerly at the larger creature’s suggestion.

Giles almost smiled. "By all means, please do. And... enjoy yourselves."

Richard’s ridged face split into a huge grin. "C’mon guys, let’s party!" The three mismatched beings dashed around the building and ran towards the marching column of demons, whooping gleefully. Madvehkar pulled his gnarled club out from beneath his coat and waved it like a scimitar. Gerard bounded into the line of Mharas, using his momentum to bowl them over like tenpins. Richard began punching demons left and right, the cheerful grin never leaving his face.

Back at the church entrance, Ethan stepped up to Giles and hesitantly offered his hand, moving slowly enough that the beleaguered warrior could see that he meant no harm. "Ripper, I’d like to help, if you’d allow me. I rather despise old Travers. I’d like to see him set on his tweed-clad derrière."

Giles glanced at his one-time friend, seeing only sincerity in his eyes. "I believe you... for the moment. One of the advantages of the Bond... I can sense that you’re telling the truth." Giles reached out and took the smaller man’s hand, and as one the trio turned their attention back to Travers.

The instant the three of them focused back on him, Travers staggered. Intent on his struggle, he didn’t realize at first what had made the difference. When his eyes quit watering, he stared ahead, and was infuriated to find his so-called accomplice facing him, openly opposing him beside the heretic pair.

A roar of outrage was torn from Travers’ lips, and he lurched forward, forgetting his cane momentarily. As he put all his weight down on the injured foot, the pain lanced upwards, breaking his concentration. The force of the Bond’s power instantly invaded the unprotected space, expanding like the shock wave of a nuclear explosion. Travers went flying back, traveling ten or fifteen feet in the air before landing on his back in the street. The air left his lungs with a startling whoosh.

Faith let out a war-whoop of victory, scaring Wesley so badly he snatched his hand back and stepped away, flinching. Buffy threw her arms around her husband and gave him a huge, sloppy kiss. When she released him, he looked down at her, a dazed and slightly goofy grin on his face.

Ethan sidled up to Buffy, his voice seductive. "I see there are definite advantages to playing the hero... do you have one of those for me, too?" Giles’ fist hit his jaw solidly before he could react, and he found himself sitting on the ground in a stunned heap.

Giles’ voice was conversational, but firm. "Don’t ever forget, for even the slightest moment, that Buffy is my wife. You will treat her with proper respect."

Ethan worked his sore jaw carefully. Ripper had pulled his punch... nothing was broken. "I shall remember that, old friend. Believe me, I shall." He stood shakily. "My apologies, Mrs. Giles. I meant nothing by it."

Buffy’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of fighting behind the church. "Faith, you wanna have some fun? Wesley, can you watch the bad guy, maybe tie him up or something? We gotta go pick up litter." The two Slayers and Giles headed around the building, eager for the outlet of a physical fight after such an intense mental and spiritual one. That left Wesley to walk out into the middle of the street and peer down at an out-of-breath ex-Watcher.

Wesley sighed as he loosened his tie. "Quentin, you old fool... If you ruin my best Churchill I’m going to have to have to submit a wardrobe reimbursem*nt form to the Council." He crouched down and began tying the groggy man’s hands behind his back with the sturdy silk. "If you don’t mind, I’ll just borrow yours for a bit, as well. Actually, it doesn’t matter if you mind or not. Wouldn’t want you suddenly spouting nasty spells at me." He chuckled to himself as he untied Travers’ tie and used it as a gag. "This would be an excellent time for the authorities to appear..."

Larry Stockton screeched around the corner, right on cue, his squad car skidding sideways as he threw on his brakes. The metallic emblem of the Sunnydale Police Department caught the sun briefly as he came to a halt directly in front of Wesley and Travers. Larry had to stop quickly... the two men were right in the middle of the street.

The cautious police officer exited his vehicle and put a hand to his weapon, unclipping it carefully. You never knew in Sunnydale just what you might encounter, even in broad daylight, in the middle of the street. He vaguely recognized Wesley, but as he came closer, his eyes narrowed. He drew his 9mm and trained it on the man on the ground, eyeing the younger man carefully. "Sir, I’d advise you to move away. This man is wanted for kidnapping and attempted murder."

Wesley complied happily, glad to be rid of his former superior. "I’m well aware of that, Sergeant. That is precisely why he is bound and gagged."

Larry reached down and checked the knots, impressed that a simple necktie could be used so effectively. "Good job, too, Mister... uh..."

"Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

"Thank you, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce... I know I’ve seen you before."

"I’m a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Giles."

"Oh!" That was good enough for Larry. He’d just about decided the quiet Englishman could walk on water if he wanted to. And that young wife of his... well, he didn’t want to dwell on that. Hannah would probably kill him. He busied himself with handcuffing the dazed man on the ground, then carefully untied the expensive piece of silk. He handed it back to Wesley, a little scuffed, but otherwise unharmed.

"Thank you, Sergeant. This is one of my favorite ties." He looped it around his neck, feeling a bit underdressed with his top button undone.

A clatter and crash caught their attention, and they turned to see a huge, greenish gray creature come barreling around the corner of the church with a small blue being chasing it. Gerard, the heretofore reticent fighter, had discovered the beast within, and was whacking the giant demon in front of him with a long two-by-four board. Since the goblin was well under four feet tall, his blows had the effect of a good spanking. The demons howled pitifully as he ran.

As the two weird looking individuals passed, Larry commented, "Ouch... I bet that smarts."

Wesley watched Gerard’s technique with interest. "Yes... I suppose it does."

"That little guy’s fast."

"Indeed."

With nothing further to say, Larry shrugged and dragged his prisoner towards the squad car, intending to put him in the back seat. He almost drew his weapon again when a cultured British voice close to his shoulder said, "Pardon me, Sergeant, but I believe that’s my prisoner you’ve got there."

********

Mhara demons were big, strong, and hideously ugly. The one thing no one bothered to tell Buffy, as she squared off against the nearest one, was that they stunk to high Heaven. "A little advice..." She dodged the creature’s sharp claws as it swiped at her. "...toothpaste... deodorant... facial cleanser... these are not just meaningless words." As she traded blows with the seven-foot-plus creature, she began to wonder just what would kill a Mhara demon.

She sent a mental message to Giles, albeit disjointedly, due to the fact a second Mhara had joined their private party. ‘Rupert! How to Kill? In ten words or less!’

‘Beheading, impaling through the heart, cutting off the center horn, putting out any one of its three eyes... sorry, more than ten words.’

‘You’re such a comedian.’ She leaped high in the air, executing a split kick that knocked both demons on their backs. "You said impaling..." she commented aloud. "Will a stake do?"

"Nicely," he panted, as he sank his into his opponent’s heart. Gray-green blood covered his hand as he retrieved his wooden weapon and watched the demon sink to the ground. The instant Giles was certain of the creature’s demise, he picked another target and continued to fight.

Faith was actually laughing out loud, she was so stoked. "Fighting these things is a kick!" She punctuated the sentence with a physical manifestation of her words, sending a demon back towards Giles. Instead of staking it, Giles gave it a push and sent it back to Faith. He knew how much she loved fighting, and he was getting just a little tired.

"Sorry, Faith, I’m a bit busy at the moment," he huffed, then yelped as he was tackled from behind. As he fell, he angled his stake back and upwards, impaling the demon and getting thick, rank blood all over his suit coat. "Good Lord, our cleaning bill is going to be enormous... Should’ve packed my sword... from now on, I’ll never leave home without it."

Buffy took a backhand to the face, went down, flipped back to her feet, and staked her giant assailant in one long fluid move. "You sound like an American Express commercial, babe."

Richard, the stocky red earth demon, was in his element as he used brute force to vanquish his opponents. He’d fought Mharas before, and they weren’t all that intelligent. He was more than a match for them. They were persistent, though, and he kept having to pull them away from the gym doors. Given enough time, the powerful creatures would be able to break through the metal doors and get to their target inside. He figured they were after the little human baby, and that made Richard very angry. His preferred method of killing Mharas became a stiff finger through an eye. It made him feel a little better.

Madvehkar the troll wasn’t adept at killing Mharas, not at all. He had no sharp weapons, only his gnarled club, but he wasn’t entirely useless. Mharas were warriors; they weren’t accustomed to fighting three foot opponents. Mad, however, was quite used to fighting things that were taller than himself. He saw to it that any bad demon that approached the exit he was guarding went away dragging an injured leg. You stick with what you know.

"Five down, everyone! We’re making progress." Buffy staked another demon, dancing to the side as it fell.

"Six down, Slayer..." Gerard hopped around the church, a big grin on his face. He leaped on the nearest Mhara, using the technique of wrapping his hands around the creature's eyes to blind it so someone could take it out. It was a little harder to do, since the thing had a third eye to cover. Somehow Gerard managed, and Faith whirled to stake the monster before it was able to shake the little goblin off. He looked up at Faith as he released his demon and sprang back. "I guess I should say, ‘Slayers,’ plural... and that makes seven down!" He hopped off to help Giles, who was rapidly being backed against the building by a roaring Mhara.

"You’re pretty tough for a regular human," Gerard commented as he tripped the demon in front of Giles and jumped on its back.

"Thank you so much... ah, Gerard, wasn’t it?" Giles waited until the huge creature rose to its knees. "Gerard, remove your hands, please." The goblin obliged, and Giles then sank his stake into the Mhara’s center eye. "Arrgh, that is hideously messy." He gave up wiping his blood-stained hands and started across the lawn to help Buffy with the last of the creatures.

The rest of the slightly battered group stopped to watch in awe as the Bonded Slayer and Watcher confronted the last four Mhara demons. Out of respect, Faith stayed back, leaving the final victory to the parents of the double-blooded child who had been the center of conflict from his conception.

To see two people fighting as one was an amazing sight. They could not have been more perfectly in sync if they had been choreographed by a master. When Giles moved, Buffy also moved in perfect counterpoint. Giles aimed most of his blows high, and Buffy simultaneously snapped a kick to the knee, back, or stomach.

Giles dodged a potentially deadly clawed hand, and Buffy used the Mhara’s momentum to spin it around and use it as a shield against another attacker. The creature was nearly gutted by its own fellow demon as Buffy tore the magical horn from the center of its forehead. They kept the odds in their favor by knocking the creatures against each other at every opportunity. Faith could almost see the golden glow of the Bond’s influence as it surrounded them, binding them together in soul, body, and spirit. The Mharas never stood a chance. The remaining demons were soon dispatched. Giles rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air, and Buffy slowly scanned the grounds to be sure all the monsters were dead.

The second he caught his breath, Giles went immediately to his wife’s side, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe a splash of gore from her face. His gentle movements, after the savage way he defeated his opponents just seconds before, seemed to be almost in slow motion. Richard got a goofy, sentimental look on his face as the human bent down and gave his lady a tender kiss. "Awww... that’s sweet."

Gerard snorted, but he secretly agreed. It was kinda sweet.

Madvehkar suddenly thought of something. "Hey, Gerard... what happened to your demon? The lasssst time I ssssaw you, you were tanning hissss backsssside!"

Gerard starting giggling... a strange sound, coming from a goblin. "He got hit by an eighteen-wheeler... yuck, what a mess! He tried to run across the highway while I was chasing him. Very dumb. That truck driver’s never gonna get the Mhara guts outta his grill."

Buffy and Giles were walking back towards the gym when they overheard the goblin’s statement. Giles looked vaguely ill. Buffy made a disgusted face and commented, "ewww."

Faith brushed the matted hair out of her eyes as she eyed the pair in front of her. "Are you guys gonna go inside like that?" She gestured at their ruined clothes and blood spattered faces. ‘Cause, I don’t know if you realize it, but you reek. Seriously." She started across the lawn, tossing her good-bye over her shoulder. "And so do I. I’m gonna go take a shower. Ciao, everybody!"

Giles reached in his pocket for his glasses, but they weren’t there. "Oh, bother... must’ve lost them in the fray. Um, we have a change of clothes in the van... Buffy, could you get them while I look for my glasses?" As she started back around the church, he began searching the ground, hoping for a glint of metal that would identify his missing eyewear.

Gerard hopped over to the distracted ex-Watcher. "Me and Mad are a lot closer to the earth than you are, Watcher. Why don’t you let us look? I bet there’s a tiny human inside the gym that would be glad to see you two... well, after you clean up, that is..." Gerard grinned, and Giles grinned back.

"Splendid idea... and thank you, all of you, for your help... once again." He headed off after his wife, anxious to rid himself of the purveying odor of demon blood and dirt.

********

The restrooms inside the church entryway were small, but functional. After a quick wash-up, a few strokes of the comb, and a change of wardrobe, Giles was feeling much more himself. He was tired, but so elated at their decisive victory that his adrenaline was keeping him wired. He left the restroom, shrugging his sore shoulders as he walked. Buffy came out of the Ladies room at almost the same instant, and he smiled affectionately as he realized she’d put on fresh makeup and a gauzy spring dress. She looked wonderfully relaxed and happy. The Bond’s connection allowed them to share a moment of complete relief.

She held up her makeup kit in triumph. "Told ya I wasn’t crazy for carrying this thing around with me... saved the day, in my humble opinion."

He gave her an admiring once-over and offered her his arm. "I’ll never doubt you again. You look... ravishing."

She gave him an abashed smile at the compliment. "Oh, silly, you’d think I was ravishing if I was wearing a paper sack."

"I’d think you were ravishing if you wore nothing at all. Particularly so, then..."

She giggled and nudged the church doors open. For the first time, she and Giles noticed the squad car, Cedrick, and Travers, the latter in handcuffs. Wesley waved at them, then started down the sidewalk until Faith joined him. The retired Watcher and Slayer watched with restrained delight as the young Watcher took his Slayer’s chin in his hand, checking her for injury under all the demon slime. She held out her arms for examination, and smiled as if to say, ‘I’m fine! Not a scratch!’ Wesley responded by touching her cheek fondly. The gesture was gentle, and Buffy put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

Giles smiled. "I think those two are certain to have an interesting future."

"They’re so cute. I wonder if we were that cute, y’know, at the start of all this."

"Cuter, I’d imagine. After all, it was you and I..."

"Yeah. We were probably way too cute."

"There’s no such thing..."

Buffy echoed him as he finished, "...as too cute!"

Buffy did laugh, then, and they started towards the squad car to see what was to be done with their enemy.

Ethan watched from the corner of the building until he was sure the danger was past. Then he strolled over to where his former partner-in-crime was being held between the Head of Watcher Security and the Sunnydale police officer. He smiled insolently and waggled his fingers at Travers before addressing Sergeant Stockton and Cedrick Giles. "If you two would like a former co-conspirator’s confession, I’m available at the moment. I should be able to tell you some fascinating stories." He held out his wrists calmly, and when neither officer tried to restrain him, he shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides.

Cedrick said gravely, "Mr. Rayne, if you would be so kind as to accompany us back home once the extradition paperwork on Mr. Travers is complete, I’m sure the Council would be quite interested."

"Certainly. Does this mean the Council is paying my way? You could tell them I’m a prisoner as well."

"I’m sure they’ll cover the airfare and lodgings... I’m afraid, though, that meals are your own responsibility."

"Pity. Travers there was going to take me to La Pointe tonight to celebrate." Ethan sighed. "Their beef Wellington is quite famous."

Travers began to shake with barely contained rage. "You!!" he spat. "You... you traitor! You villain! You... you..." he was so angry he couldn’t even think of the proper expletives.

Ethan smiled happily at his former business associate. "Mr. Travers, our partnership has been dissolved, I’m very much afraid. I dislike doing business with anyone who has even less scruples than I."

"You’ve just forfeited a king’s ransom, you fool!" Cedrick’s firm hold on Travers’ neck prevented the man from lunging at Ethan, but the attempt made everyone jump slightly, even though the man wore handcuffs. Cedrick sighed, and pulled the makeshift gag back up around Travers’ mouth. He did not want to listen to the prisoner swear.

Ethan shook his head in mock amazement. "Do you think this has been about money? How unforgivably shallow of you! This was never about money. It was about getting even. Now, I feel I’ve done so, thanks to your unbending obsession with my old chum, Rupert. I certainly appreciate your giving me such a golden opportunity."

Larry took control of the prisoner again, ungagging him and draping the tie around his neck so it wouldn’t get lost. These Brits and their fancy neckwear... Travers began to struggle, Cedrick stepped up to assist, and between the two of them, they manhandled Travers into the squad car. They both let out a breath of relief when the door finally closed, muffling the raw language that came from the man inside.

Buffy walked up to Ethan, still a little wary of her husband’s former hell-raising partner. "Hey, Ethan, what did you mean about ‘getting even?’"

He favored her with his most charming smile. "My dear, nothing horrible, I assure you. The last time we met you saved my life, although perhaps the more correct term would be ‘spared my life.’ I’d hoped to return the favor. It seems my timing was more than good."

Giles still couldn’t ease his suspicions, despite Ethan’s complete cooperation. "Your timing was impeccable, as usual. Thank you."

As Cedrick and Sergeant Stockton discussed extraditing Travers for the second time in three months, Ethan chuckled as their prisoner interspersed their conversation with curses and dire threats. His voice was muffled inside the car, but both Ethan and Giles heard and understood almost everything he said. Giles listened briefly as Travers spouted forth a particularly offensive string of words in Italian. "Interesting company you’ve been keeping lately, Ethan." He turned to Buffy, his face completely sincere. "Darling, I’m ever so glad you don’t speak Italian at this point."

"Rupert, I wanna check on Marcus." Her voice was tinged with worry. She hadn’t seen him since the battle began.

"Father... Sergeant... if you don’t need us..."

Larry waved them away. "Go enjoy what’s left of your party, folks."

Cedrick smiled his usual restrained smile. "I’ll join you in a moment, Rupert, Buffy. I need to tie up a few loose ends here."

The anxious parents practically jogged away, heading for the gymnasium and their baby. Gerard met them halfway, triumphantly holding up Giles’ slightly warped glasses. "Here they are, Watcher! A demon kinda fell on them."

Giles took them and began straightening out the earpieces. "It was time for a new pair anyway... I seem to be thanking you quite a lot lately, Gerard, Richard, Madvehkar... would you care for some cake?"

Richard looked interested, but Gerard grabbed him by the arm and started leading him away. "Thanks for asking, but we better go. Mad’s gotta get back to San Bernadino... he’s baby-sitting for his sister tonight. And you don’t wanna watch Richard eat, believe me! You guys have fun, and if you need us, just tell the nearest elf. We’ll be there in a flash!"

********

The small crowd inside the gym waited tensely as the sounds of fighting subsided. Willow tried not to worry... Buffy and Giles were the best. Faith was almost as good... even Ethan was really sort of a good guy now, so maybe everything would be all right. And if Marcus wasn’t scared or crying, then things couldn’t be too bad. She bounced Marcus automatically, not really conscious of her movements. The minutes dragged by as she waited for her friends to reappear.

She let out a joyful cry when she heard Buffy’s voice through the doors. "Will? Father Denning? You guys need to let us in... the weirdness is all gone now. Well, except for the lawn decorations... and the goo."

The metal doors of the gym were badly warped from demon fists, but they had held. After Denning and Xander unlocked them, Buffy used her Slayer strength to straighten them enough to be opened. She went right to Willow, giving her a one-armed hug before taking Marcus and giving him a relieved kiss. "Hey, sweetie baby! You sure do cause a lot of trouble, don’t you?" Marcus squealed happily and grabbed a handful of her hair. He gurgled at his father as Giles came up and peered over Buffy’s shoulder. The instant he reached out and tickled Marcus’ face, the baby grabbed a finger with his other hand and bit down on it... hard.

Giles yelped, then started laughing. "Teething ring, as soon as possible. Absolutely."

Joyce rushed up to her daughter with Hank and Wilton just a few steps behind, tears of relief replacing the earlier tears of fear. Buffy shifted Marcus to her shoulder so she could return her mother’s hug, and he began fussing at the loss of something to chew. Willow fished around in the diaper bag until she found a pacifier, and Marcus accepted it as a temporary substitute for Giles’ irritated finger. The mollified child endured the remainder of the round of hugs without complaint.

The small crowd surrounded the tired conquerors. Everyone started talking at once, trying to convey what they’d experienced, and trying to find out what the others had been through. The tension had been released, and the reception finally began.

Hank pulled Giles to the side as the ladies began discussing how much Marcus looked like Buffy. Giles had not had much contact with Buffy’s father, since he had only visited Sunnydale once since they’d married. Buffy had gone to see him a few times, always coming back a bit depressed at having to lie to her father, and knowing that he couldn’t begin to understand her life unless he knew the truth.

Now Giles turned to face the man who had brought Buffy so much sadness. He didn’t know whether to be angry or to feel pity. Hank’s face was sincere as he asked, "Mr. Giles, is the fantastic story Joyce told me really true? Are you and my daughter... for lack of a better phrase, the ‘Chosen Ones?’ It just sounds too fantastic... and still, it explains a lot."

"Mr. Summers, every word is true. I know it’s hard to believe, but for Buffy and Marcus’ sake, please try. She misses you terribly."

Hank looked at the floor. "I know. I’ve been a lousy dad. Maybe I can make it up to her by being a great grandfather." He looked up at Giles, grinning in bewilderment. "I can’t believe I’m a grandpa... I’m only forty-eight."

Giles almost laughed. "I can’t believe I’m a father. I’m forty-seven, myself."

Hank’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You look a lot younger than that... oh, man, this is too strange... my son-in-law’s only a year younger than I am..."

Giles smiled generously. "Age, like so many other things, is relative, isn’t it?"

Before Hank could reply, Ethan wandered into the room, hands in pockets, taking in the frothy decorations with barely disguised amusem*nt. He came within a few steps of Buffy, his eyes on the white-clad bundle in her arms. Giles instinctively moved to her side, keeping between them. "Do you mind... I’m really rather fond of babies. Oh, Ripper, don’t roll your eyes so." He maintained a respectful distance, but bent slightly down as Marcus gurgled up at him. A gentle smile began to change the features on the man’s face until it was nearly unrecognizable. "Hello, again, lad... you’ve quite a mum and dad, don’t you?" Marcus laughed around the pacifier and waved his fists happily. "He’s a cheery one."

Xander was beginning to get frustrated. No one believed him when he mentioned Marcus’ screaming fit. They all thought he was the perfect baby, and that Xander was being sarcastic. If they only knew.

Buffy handed Marcus to Giles and started fumbling in the diaper bag for a bottle. If they were to attempt to have a reception, it wouldn’t do to have a hungry baby in their midst. Marcus spit out the pacifier, reclaimed his daddy’s finger, and began gnawing enthusiastically. As he winced, Giles looked over at his old friend, and had to ask, "Just how did you get in with Quentin Travers, Ethan? I would’ve thought you two ran in completely different circles."

"Actually, the old boy has been dabbling for years in the black arts, more heavily in the last decade. He’s become quite adept. I met him a month ago... in a bar, actually, just after he got out of hospital. He said he was looking for a powerful sorcerer to be his second, one who wouldn’t balk at a little carnage."

"And, of course, you offered your services."

"Of course. The pay was quite attractive. I knew in fairly short order that he was off his nut, but I didn’t realize how completely until we arrived here. You should have seen him, Ripper... he was out of control... leaking emotions, leaving traces all over town. A mere apprentice could have tracked him with a bowl of herbs and a shilling spell book. And did you know he made reservations at La Pointe for this evening? He had every expectation of offing the lot of you, stealing your son and being back in LA in time for dinner."

Giles snorted. "That sounds exactly like Travers... too arrogant to plan for contingencies. It will all go his way, or no way at all."

"At least he has excellent taste in restaurants. You should go sometime.. take the Slayer... the cuisine is five-star, believe me."

Giles considered Ethan’s recommendation. The man did know about good food, and he had expensive tastes. "Perhaps I will, after things settle down a bit here. Right now, I just want to go home."

"Well, I don’t want these reservations to go to waste, dear boy. However, since I despise dining alone..." Ethan scanned the room until his gaze rested on Willow. A glint came into his eyes, and he gave the redhead an appreciative glance, taking a few steps to stand by her side. Using his smoothest tones, he crooned, "Willow, my dear... I have two reservations at one of the finest restaurants in Los Angeles. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? I can be charming, or so I’m told. And I promise no spells, no conjuring... unless you want me to, of course."

Willow’s eyes grew wide. "Who, me?" she squeaked. "Oh, no, no way, nuh uh, leave me out of this." She grabbed Xander’s arm, much to his surprise. "I’m staying right here. With Xander. He’s my friend. I’m staying with my friend. You... you go away."

Ethan sighed. "There’s really no cause to be afraid of me, I’m quite harmless... at the moment. But, if you insist..." His eyes came to rest on Cordelia, and the glint in them returned. "How about you, my dear? Certainly an evening in a fine dining establishment with a world-renown sorcerer would appeal to you!" He gave her his most devastating smile.

Cordelia snorted in disgust. "As if! I’m not falling for that, no matter how classy you sound. One cradle-robbing, former-bad-magic-dealing, extra-smart British old guy in my life is enough. No offense, Giles."

Giles sighed and bounced Marcus slightly, keeping him quiet. "I’ve considered the source. None taken."

Cordelia turned her attention to the baby, touching his arm as if she thought he might break from the contact. "Good, then. Well, I gotta get back to LA. Angel needs me." She began addressing the baby in higher, softer tones, though her words were still directed at Giles. "I’m going home... Whistler can not make a decent cup of coffee to save his little demon behind. No, he can’t..."

Marcus blew spit bubbles around Giles captive finger, grinning cheerfully. Cordy broke into a huge grin. "He is just the happiest little guy, isn’t he?"

It was Xander’s turn to snort derisively. "If you only knew, Cordy. If you only knew!"

Ethan looked disappointed. He really didn’t want to eat alone. He sighed heavily, then started for the door. Just as he reached it, a slender hand grasped his arm. He turned around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar female. Dark blonde hair, intelligent eyes... an almost other-worldly look about her. He was instantly charmed.

The girl smiled seductively. "Hello, I’m Anya... I hear you’re going to La Pointe alone tonight... it seems such a shame, a big, strong, nicely shaped man like you... alone..."

He offered her his arm. "I’m sure we can do something about that, my dear." They strolled out the door, with the girl gushing and batting her long lashes at the enamored man.

Willow looked up at Giles. "What do you think he’ll do when he finds out she used to be a vengeance demon with a history of inflicting serious nasties on the male of the species?"

Giles looked amused. "If she begins regaling him with tales of her exploits, he might attempt to leap from the nearest tall building..." He held Marcus up and jiggled him gently, laughing as the wiggly infant grabbed his nose, nearly unseating his glasses in the process. Buffy came to the rescue at that moment by handing Giles a warm bottle. Marcus focused on that immediately, and left his father’s battered eyewear alone.

Xander shivered at the sudden memory of Prom night with Anya. "And if she starts in about parts withering and falling off, he’ll probably just slice his throat with a bread knife and be done with it."

Giles grinned at the thought. "Somehow, I don’t think Ethan will ever forget this evening."

********

Later that evening at home, as Buffy finished putting away the last of the baby presents she’d gotten at the reception, she thought about the events of the afternoon. Despite the bad magic stuff and the gross demons, it had been a pretty okay day. Her father had apologized to her several times, promising to keep in closer contact. Rupert was going to have a nice visit with his father tomorrow. The reception had been fun. Her mother and Wilton seemed really happy together. Nobody had gotten hurt. She hummed to herself as she started back upstairs to check on her menfolk. It was entirely too quiet up there.

The sight of a man cuddling a small baby does something to a girl, way down deep inside... especially if that man is her husband, and the baby is her son. As Buffy stood in the nursery doorway, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. A shirtless Giles was pacing the floor with Marcus, murmuring in a voice so quiet she could barely hear the words, even with her enhanced hearing. She focused on him, and suddenly realized he was singing a lullaby to the sleepy child in a lovely, soft tenor. He was nearly finished with the song, but the words brought both a thrill and a warmth to her.

"...Race you to top of the morning,
Come sit on my shoulders and ride.
Run and hide, I'll come and find you,
Climb hills to remind you,
I love you, my boy at my side."

"You have such a great voice." She said softly when he stopped, hoping to preserve his warm mood.

He smiled down at his dozing son, maintaining a soft tone as Marcus drifted into sleep. "It depends entirely on the song, and the reason for singing."

She leaned her cheek against the door frame and sighed. "Do you know how big a turn-on this is, Rupert? I mean, handsome man holding baby equals yummy already, and then throw in the singing thing..."

He looked up at her and smiled.

Her breath caught. "Okay, and the smile... God, I’m hot..."

The smile remained, but the look in his eyes transformed into something that made her insides quiver in anticipation. "Always, my love, always..."

Buffy crossed the room, taking Marcus from him, relishing the feel of soft baby in her arms before gently placing him in his bed. As she made sure he was safely and comfortably asleep, Giles came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, love pouring from her in waves through their mental link. "He’s beautiful, isn’t he?"

Giles gazed down at the slumbering baby, his heart full. "Just like his mother."

"I can’t believe it sometimes... we did this. We made a new life, together, you and me... it’s incredible."

"Yes, it is." He slid his arms around Buffy’s waist and pulled her against him. They stood that way for several minutes, just taking in the sight of their son and the sound of his breathing. Slowly, the heat of their contact began to distract them from the little crib, and she slowly slid her arm up and around his neck.

He began to nuzzle her, removing his hand from her waist to slide her long blonde tresses out of his way. He placed soft, slow kisses on every inch of her neck and shoulders that he could reach. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, knowing that she might wake the baby. He seemed determined to undo her resolve, however... moving his hands up and down her body until she felt like screaming his name at the top of her lungs. He breathed into her ear, causing trembling gooseflesh to rise in response. "Still hot, love?"

A whimper escaped her lips. "Practically melting."

He hummed against her neck, holding her upright as her knees gave way. "Shall we continue this in a more... horizontal position? You seem a bit unsteady."

"That would be good..." He swept her feet out from under her, and she found herself cradled in his strong arms. He lifted her to him and moved his lips over hers, starting with a feather soft touch, then deepening the kiss to entangle his tongue with hers. He turned without looking up, moving from familiar habit into their bedroom across the hall. When they finally came up for air, she gasped, "ooo... way good..."

In his crib, Marcus roused slightly. Mommy and Daddy were happy, so he was, too. A contented smile crossed his face, and he cooed softly before falling asleep once again.

The End - Chapter 1 "The Threefold Cord"

Notes:

"Race You to the Top of the Morning"
By Lucy Simon
from the musical "Secret Garden"
Someone must save this sweet maiden
But surely the cost will be steep
So we lads all drew lots
Our insides tied in knots
And I won and the rest went to sleep
So I picked up my staff and I followed the trail
Of his smoke to the mouth of the cave
And I bid him come out
Yea forsooth I did shout
"Ye fool dragon be gone or behave"
And then under my breath I uttered a charm
Said to make the worst fiend become kind
"Knaves and Knights of dire plights
"Now diminish his sights"
And it worked and the dragon went blind
And he charged off the cliff howling mad and he died
And the maiden accepted my ring
And then you came along
And were brave, bold and strong
And in thanks every night now I sing
Chorus:
Race you to top of the morning
Come sit on my shoulders and ride
Run and hide I'll come and find you
Climb hills to remind you
I love you my boy at my side

Chapter 2: Keeping Up

Summary:

Buffy and Giles find out that keeping up with Marcus is quite a challenge!

Chapter Text

It was just out of his reach.

The bright orange object, dangling tantalizingly near his fingertips, beckoned to the explorer in him. He wanted desperately to seize it and examine it thoroughly, to taste it, learn its shape, find out if it came apart. He liked the music it played when he swatted at it, but he wanted to find out what was inside!

Marcus Everett Giles, the four month old son of Buffy and Rupert, gave a screech of frustration as he sat up and stretched his small body towards the mobile over his bed. As soon as he had learned to sit up on his own, his parents had moved the dangling toy out of his reach, suspending it from the ceiling above his crib. He was well on his way to pulling up and standing, but he still hadn’t figured the balance thing out yet.

The existence of an offspring from a Bonded Watcher and Slayer was the center of a whirlwind of Council controversy, half-understood prophecy, and tradition-shattering revelation. Buffy Summers had been the most unusual Slayer in recorded history. She had faced four master vampires and defeated them all. She had defied prophecy by drowning and being resuscitated by her friend Xander. Her death had created a phenomenon that had been heretofore unheard of... the calling of a second Slayer while the first still lived. She had felt the ancient call of the Bond between herself and her much older Watcher, and had subsequently fallen in love with him. She had retired from active Slaying, married him and finally, defying the odds one more time, bore him a son instead of a daughter.

In other words, she’d taken the Slayer’s Handbook, along with centuries of carefully written and preserved Watcher dogma, and ripped it into tiny shreds. Her son was a complete unknown, as far as prophecy was concerned. There were no dark volumes that foretold of doom and gloom when a Slayer gave birth to a boy child. It was simply unprecedented, and she preferred it that way. Marcus’ arrival was unplanned, but joyfully welcomed. She wanted nothing more than to raise him without the Watcher’s Council looking over her shoulder.

Marcus’ coordination was improving daily, and his parents were hard pressed to stay ahead of his developing skills. They’d gone from a floor pallet to a playpen to a low crib, trying to keep him corralled so they could snatch a few housecleaning moments from time to time. Giles happily watched him in the mornings, having arranged his fall schedule so his classes would all be late ones. Buffy crammed all available subjects into the first hours of the day, coming home in time to relieve her husband and watch him dash off to work.

Evenings were the best times, spent on the living room floor playing with their precocious son. He was a happy baby, quick to laugh, quick to imitate their expressions and sounds, and always highly curious. When he finally went to sleep at night, the two harried parents dashed around, doing chores before trying to snatch some quiet together-time. It was a punishing schedule, but it kept them from having to put Marcus in a public day care center.

She doubted seriously that any day care worker on earth could keep up with Marcus for long.

As far as physical tests could determine, he was a healthy, normal baby just beginning to show signs of accelerated development. He’d begun teething at three months, and at four was already crawling energetically. It made Giles laugh to see him tear out across the living room after one of his toys. He was still a chunky infant, but Buffy was guessing that as soon as he started walking he’d lose a lot of baby fat. That’s what had happened to her when she was a baby, according to her mom. Joyce was embarrassingly fond of telling Giles, "the instant Buffy figured out what her feet were for, she was gone."

Marcus could feel his mother close by, and he needed some help in getting those teasingly close trinkets into his anxious little hands. She’d been trying to teach him some words earlier, and he decided to try one now. He let out a squeal, louder, this time, and began babbling rapidly. "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!"

That did the trick. Buffy dropped her dust rag and came running. "Marcus, honey, did you just say ‘Mama’?"

Encouraged by the success of his first attempt, he repeated the phrase, holding his chubby arm up towards the desired toys. "Ma-ma-ma... MAH!"

She grabbed him up and swung him around, thrilled beyond reason. "You said Mama! Sweetie baby, you said Mama!" She gave him a swift kiss and a hug. He wiggled impatiently... now was not the time for snuggles, now was the time for toys! He grunted insistently, reaching for the plastic fish again. Sure enough, his delighted mother unhooked one fish from its hanger and handed the trophy to him. He crowed in triumph and stuck a third of the fish right into his mouth. As he chomped down enthusiastically, Buffy breathed a grateful prayer that the silly thing was solid and couldn’t be crushed by her son’s strong jaws.

She carried him over to the window, looking out to see if Giles was on his way down the street. She loved the new house, with its second story bedrooms and wonderful view. From this vantage point, she could see her husband’s van as it rounded the corner onto their street in the afternoon, and loved to watch him approach. She could pinpoint the exact spot where she would be able to feel his presence in her mind. The Bond seemed to broaden and grow with every new day. Sharing thoughts with her husband was a wonderful, joyful, yet sobering thing. Sharing thoughts with Marcus was proving to be a learning experience for both of them.

Not willing to sit still and be ignored, Marcus squirmed in his mother’s arms and cried, "Ma-ma! Ma-ma-ma..."

"Yes, I’m Mama, and you’re so smart!" She rubbed her nose against his as he waved the plastic fish at the open window. "Just wait ‘til I tell Daddy about this! I bet he’ll be all jealous!"

Marcus frowned. He didn’t understand the words, but the feelings behind them were clear. His lower lip started quivering... he wanted happy Daddy, not upset Daddy. Even at four months, he knew the difference.

"Oh, honey, no, he won’t be upset! He’ll be so proud... you’ll have to learn to say ‘Daddy’ too. He’ll be in seventh heaven then. Say Da-da... you can do it... Da-da..."

Marcus’ face cleared instantly. He began to babble again, practicing his ‘d’ sounds as if he intended to say ‘Daddy’ that very evening. The consonant came out pretty mushy sounding, but he was trying.

Buffy sighed. "Having a mind-reading baby is kinda tough sometimes, Marcus." She gave him another kiss on the head, just so he would know she wasn’t upset. She decided to take him downstairs to wait for Giles’ return while she tried to finish dusting the living room.

Marcus grinned at her and jammed his mouth full of plastic again.

********

Giles allowed the door to swing shut and stifled the urge to shout, "Lucy! I’m home!" ‘I’ve been watching too many TV reruns,’ he thought to himself with a rueful grin. Teaching was wonderful, and then you had all that lovely summertime off... Now it was back to reality, and an increasingly busy schedule with a new semester and a very active baby.

He felt Marcus before he saw him, and heard his happy squeal. The Bond rippled with his child’s welcome. Even without words, Giles could feel his emotions plainly. From his spot on the living room floor, the baby held up his arms, and Giles swept him up, giving him a kiss and hug. Babbling and drooling all over the three piece suit Giles was wearing, Marcus started using his new-found word. "Ma-ma!" He held out a hand to Buffy. Marcus waved vaguely in her direction, unable to point properly, and said again, insistently, "Ma-ma..."

Delight and pride plain on his face, Giles nodded as Marcus grabbed his lip and stuck his fingers in his father’s mouth. Holding his head back so he could speak, Giles said with a huge grin, "That’s right, Marcus, love, that’s Mama. When did you learn to say ‘Mama’?"

Buffy grabbed Marcus’ free hand so he wouldn’t mangle Giles’ glasses. "He started this afternoon, right after lunch. He’s working on Dada, too, aren’t you, sweetie baby?" She gave the squirming child a kiss, and he shouted, "Mamamamama!"

They both laughed. He was trying so hard to communicate. He certainly understood parts of what was going on around him, but hadn’t developed the skills to interact as yet. He was still a tiny baby, and they weren’t all that anxious for him to grow up. Baby time was a good time for the three of them.

As Buffy moved to put dinner on the table, Giles sat with Marcus in his lap and began talking to him in gentle tones. To be on the safe side, he removed his glasses and set them on the sofa table out of the reach of his son’s questing fingers. "And just what did you and Mama do today, Marcus? I see you’ve managed to chew up another toy. How many teeth do you have now? Let me see..."

Marcus obligingly opened his mouth like a baby bird begging for a worm. Giles chuckled at the serious look on the child’s face, and carefully felt his gums. "One... two...three... four... and I think... yes, there it is... five teeth! Five beautiful baby teeth!"

"You sound like the Count on Sesame Street!" Buffy called from the dining room table, trying not to laugh.

"It’s never too early to begin educating a child, dear. Marcus is quite bright. He will be talking before we know it."

"He was practicing his ‘d’ sounds today, babe. He’ll be saying ‘Daddy’ before you know it."

"All in good time. ‘Mama’ is easier to say, all the child psychology books say so."

"He’s trying awful hard." Buffy finished setting the table and clapped her hands together. When Marcus looked up at her, she held out her hands. "C’mere, sweetie baby, so Daddy can wash his hands for supper."

Marcus bounced eagerly and reached for his mother. He was ready to eat something besides plastic fish and teething rings.

********

After what seemed like the hundredth time Buffy pulled Marcus’ hand out of her plate, she implored Giles, "can you take over for a minute? He won’t let me eat tonight."

Giles obliged by pulling Marcus’ highchair closer to his side. "Young man, you are being insufferably rude. Keep your thieving hands to yourself." This was said with a smile, and the baby responded by laughing happily and grabbing a handful of peas off his father’s plate. "Marcus! Good Lord, what a mess!"

Buffy laughed and wolfed down a few bites of her dinner as Giles attempted to wipe his son’s clenched fist. Marcus had no intention of releasing his prize, however, and Giles finally gave up. The instant he released the chubby little arm, the green goo that was oozing out between Marcus’ fingers went straight into his mouth.

Buffy and Giles both jumped up, worried that the unaccustomed food would make him choke... and also worried that he would spit the unfamiliar substance all over the table. She got there first due to her Slayer speed, but he had already gotten enough food into his mouth to taste, and was exhibiting great surprise at what he’d discovered. His eyes were wide as he rolled the paste around in his mouth.

"Well, he’s not spitting it out or choking, so I guess it’s okay." She watched as he swallowed the captured peas.

"He likes mushy peas." Giles looked inordinately pleased. "Must be the British in him."

"Must be." Buffy made a face. She let Giles make mushy peas because he liked them, but she couldn’t stand eating the oatmeal-like green pudding herself.

Marcus decided he wanted more, and began reaching for his daddy’s plate again. "Hang on, now, Marcus, at least let me help you this time." He held up a small dab of peas on his spoon, and Marcus did his baby bird imitation again, opening his mouth. Giles gently spooned the green mush into Marcus’ mouth, and grinned widely as the baby gummed and swallowed it with relish.

Buffy sighed as she realized he was growing up too fast. It almost made her misty eyed. "I guess this means we’re skipping the rice cereal stage."

Marcus held a green-smeared hand out to her and said, in what seemed to be a consoling tone, "Ma-ma."

********

The doorbell rang just as Joyce was putting the finishing touches on the dinner table. She ran to the front and threw the door open wide to admit her daughter, son-in-law, and her grandson. She gave Buffy and Giles a hug, then took a happily shrieking Marcus for a series of slobbery hugs and kisses. He was learning to kiss, but hadn’t mastered the puckering part, so a kiss from him was a rather sloppy, open-mouthed affair that left the recipient dripping from his affection.

His baby hugs were perfect, though.

Joyce laughed at his attempted smooch, and Buffy wiped her mother’s face with a tissue as they filed into the kitchen. Wilton came down the hall and greeted his step-children heartily, talking in glib baby-talk to Marcus as Joyce saw to the seating arrangements.

The clatter of dishes and the flow of conversation kept Marcus entertained until they were seated. Once they began eating, however, he decided it was much too quiet. He slapped his hands on the high chair tray in front of him and stated matter-of-factly, "Ma-ma!"

Of course, Joyce and Wilton oohed and cooed over his accomplishment for a good while, and his parents took turns feeding him mashed potatoes and formula. Buffy and Joyce discussed baby food, cooking techniques and other details about growing children as the men listened with affectionate amusem*nt.

Dinner passed without further event, and as the maid gathered the dishes and shooed the two women out of the kitchen, Giles and Wilton retired to the study to talk shop. Buffy set Marcus in the middle of the living room floor and plopped down beside him, allowing him to pull his toys out of the diaper bag at his own pace. Joyce curled up behind them on the couch, peacefully content.

As Marcus played happily, Buffy turned to her mother with serious eyes. "Mom, how old was I when I started to talk?"

"Around seven months or so. You were babbling before then, but nothing coherent."

"Marcus is early, then, isn’t he?"

"Yes, I guess so, but the doctor said he was slightly advanced for his age. You should expect early milestones."

"I know. It’s just that..." She looked over at Marcus. He was watching her with an equally serious look on his face. "See, Mom? He knows everything me and Giles feel already. Sweetie baby, it’s okay, Mama’s just being silly. You go ahead and play." He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then resumed banging his teething ring against the side of the diaper bag.

Buffy sighed. "I’m just so afraid I’m gonna do something, or think something, that’ll scar him for life. He already knows way too much for a little baby, Mom. I don’t want him to know about the big, bad world for a while yet."

Joyce searched for words to soothe her daughter. It wasn’t easy... despite her extraordinary gifts, Buffy was still just a young mother with the accompanying fears and doubts. She took a deep breath, and did her best. "Buffy, I know this is going to sound trite, but you’ve just described every parent’s fears since the dawn of time. There’s no owner’s book for babies. You just do the best you can. Marcus will take what you give him, use what he can, ignore what he can’t, and go on. You have to do the same. Life isn’t easy, but it’s better than the alternative."

Buffy smiled at her mother. "How come you know just what to say? Are you sure there isn’t a Mom Manual you’re not telling me about?"

"You write your own as you go along, honey. You just have to write your own."

Before she could get teary-eyed again, Marcus threw his teething ring right in Joyce’s lap. She jumped, then started laughing, and her reaction broke the serious mood. Marcus fell to his hands and knees and started for the couch, intent on retrieving his toy. This was one of his favorite games; toss the toy, then go get it. Buffy giggled at his frown of concentration, and commented, "he does his own throwing and fetching. I usually don’t even have to get up unless something lands on the table or behind the TV."

"He’s got a pretty good arm! That last toss must’ve been ten feet!" She watched with growing amazement as Marcus reached the couch and began trying to pull himself up. He couldn’t make his feet behave, but he eventually got up on his knees and grabbed the teething ring. He swung his arm triumphantly, his fist closed tightly around the rubber toy. Joyce commented sagely, "honey, I hate to say it, but before long, you’re gonna have to childproof everything in your house. He’ll be tearing the house apart."

"Giles has already put child locks on every cabinet door. It’s getting to be a pain to cook dinner." She laughed as the budding toddler turned loose too soon and flipped the toy over his head. Bewildered, he began to try to look around, but his kneeling position kept him from spotting his prize.

Frustrated, he whimpered, then seemed to have an idea. He looked at his mother steadily for about a minute, watching carefully until she realized what he wanted. She looked directly at the teething ring, sitting on the carpet about three feet behind him. A smile of realization crept across his face, and he dropped onto his bottom and rolled until he was facing the opposite direction. A few crawling strides brought him to his toy, and he grabbed it, chomping on it with relish.

Buffy looked up at her mother. "See what I mean, Mom?"

Joyce couldn’t believe what she’d seen. This time, she didn’t have a clue what to say!

********

"I don’t know what to say, Rupert. Are you sure? This sounds fantastic, even for your milieu."

"Empirical data, Wilton, that’s all I have to go on. But he knows our thoughts instantly, and there’s no way to block them, that we’ve been able to discover. It’s the same Bond, but a completely unknown facet." Giles ran one hand through his hair and shook his head. "He’s pulling up, did you know? We’ve had to move things out of his reach already." The smile on his face was sadly proud. "He’s changing so fast! I’m with him daily, and yet, he continues to surprise me. I can only hope... ah, well, I suppose there is nothing I can say that a parent hasn’t already said."

Wilton listened sympathetically. He’d raised two children of his own. He knew the fears and insecurities, along with the joys. "Rupert, even though Marcus is gifted, he is still your son. No one else on earth will care for him like you and Buffy will. Surprisingly enough, that works."

"Thank you. I really didn’t come here for you to commiserate about my feelings of parental inadequacy. Sorry to burden you."

Wilton clapped Giles on the shoulder. "No burden at all. I’m an experienced grandfather, Rupert. It’s my job to offer wise and learned advice, then send the kids home when their child starts to misbehave. It’s the best of both worlds!"

********

Marcus slumbered peacefully in his car seat as Giles turned onto their home street. As they approached the house, Buffy noticed a black sedan parked in front. She frowned as she tried to recall anyone who drove such a car. She couldn’t. She looked at her husband, and instantly, the same thought occurred to them.

The Watcher’s Council.

"Now, Buffy, before we start panicking, we must remember that the Council has dealt with the evil Watchers..."

"Yeah, right, as far as we know. I’m still gonna keep a close eye on anyone they send, no matter what!"

"Yes, well, it never hurts to... err on the side of caution."

Buffy laughed shortly as they pulled into the driveway and parked the van in the garage. The closing of the garage door made her feel unreasonably safe, as though their combined destinies could be held at bay by a few strips of wood and metal. She hurried to get a sleeping Marcus out of the vehicle and into the house, with Giles right behind her, keeping close.

Buffy put Marcus in his crib, searching the Bond carefully for signs of wakefulness. He was out like a light. Traveling in a car always lulled him to sleep. She gave him a tender kiss before dashing back downstairs. Giles was looking carefully through the blinds at their visitor. The car was still there, but the driver hadn’t moved since they arrived.

Giles moved aside to allow her to see for herself. "I wonder what he’s up to. I may need to call Father and see if he knows what’s going on." Giles’ father, the head of Council Security, was the only person in the remaining Council that they were comfortable with. The friends they had trusted--before the onset of the Civil War that tore the Watchers carefully preserved society into shreds--had either retired or died. Cedrick Giles was the only one they could turn to. Giles tried very hard not to abuse that privilege.

"Here the guy comes... we’ll find out in a minute what’s going on, babe, like it or not!"

The doorbell rang shortly thereafter.

Buffy tried to stay calm as Giles went to the door. Her heart was beating double-time, and she felt every pulse in her head and her clenched fists. She willed herself to relax, knowing her anxiety would transmit to both her husband and her child. Not that she intended to voluntarily introduce Marcus to the Council.

As the front door swung open, Giles was struck by the apparent youth of his visitor. Despite his age, he wore the ubiquitous tweed uniform that so marked Council members. They probably all came from the same tailor. The man was younger than Wesley, Faith’s new Watcher. He was sandy haired and bland faced... innocuous. Deliberately so, Giles surmised.

The young man spoke with an accent borne of high breeding. "Mister Rupert Giles, I presume?"

"Yes." Giles kept his face dispassionate, his only expression the slightest curiosity.

"Excellent. A pleasure to meet you, sir. As you may have surmised, I represent the Watcher’s Council... I am Captain William Armstead, sir. It would seem I am to be your liaison to the Ruling Board."

‘If the old Director was still in office, I would have no need of a liaison,’ Giles thought wryly. Clearing his throat, and plastering a polite smile on his face, he stepped back from the door. Even in broad daylight, there was no sense in inviting a stranger into your home. Armstead entered, nodding in approval at Giles’ caution. He moved to shake Giles’ hand, surprised at the older man’s powerful grip.

Giles released Armstead and politely held out a hand towards the living room. "And just what is your task as our liaison?"

"I am a spy, of course."

Giles’ short barking laugh caught Buffy by surprise. As the young man entered the living room, he did a double take when he saw her. His expression was stunned for a moment, his eyes wide, and then he caught himself and attempted to retreat back into business mode. "And this must be Mrs. Giles." He held out a hand in formal fashion, and she stepped forward, deliberately letting him feel her strength, as her husband had just seconds before, as she shook his hand firmly.

"Yep, must be. There aren’t any other short, blonde ex-Slayers hanging around Rupert... at least, none that I know of." She flashed him a teasing smile, and he responded instantly.

Armstead seemed to be having trouble controlling his admiration. "Forgive me, Mrs. Giles, but the Council told me of your exploits, but they neglected to mention how beautiful you are. Took me quite by surprise."

Giles eyebrows shot up at least an inch, then gathered into a frown. Buffy felt his reaction, but she decided to see just how far the flattery would go.

"You think I’m beautiful? That’s a real surprise. I didn’t think Council members saw me as anything but a weapon... and an uncooperative one, at that."

"Weapon? God forbid!" Shock and horror showed plainly on his face. "You are far beyond that... you are our very reason for existence! Our avatar!"

She looked at Giles for the definition of avatar, but felt the possessive thunderclouds gathering in his mind, and decided not to push the issue. She sent him a wordless burst of affection, and the sun peaked out from the storm cloud as he smiled. "Well, whatever they think I am, in real life I’m Mrs. Rupert Giles. Please, have a seat Mister... um, I didn’t get your name..."

"Armstead, Mrs. Giles. Captain William Armstead. Forgive me for waxing poetic... a tendency that I have often had to suppress in the RAF."

"Are you a pilot?" Giles exhibited polite interest, but Buffy fought back a grin. He was fascinated with flying, and had been so since he was a small boy.

"For several years, yes."

"Ah. Impressive, for a young man such as yourself."

Armstead shrugged. "Means to an end. I washed out of Watcher training."

Both Buffy and Giles looked surprised at the man’s openness. Such failures were rarely made public. Giles recovered first. "Then, exactly what are you doing representing them?"

The young officer tapped the side of his head near his right eye. "I suffered a retinal detachment during high-G flight. Disqualified me from piloting. I took medical retirement and turned my intelligence training into something useful. The Council were kind enough to reconsider me."

Second chances were rarely the norm for Watchers, but since Giles had been the beneficiary of one such decision, he couldn’t discount the story completely. The fellow certainly seemed forthcoming with his answers. Giles decided to test his honesty. "Buffy, Captain Armstead is a self-proclaimed spy."

Buffy accepted the statement calmly. "You don’t say. A spy? I’m shocked." Her face showed no surprise at all.

Armstead smiled at her lack of reaction. "Anything else I might have said would have been completely disbelieved."

"Not that we’re believing you now, but what do you want?"

"Simply put, I am here to observe your son grow up."

"And send informative little reports back to England?"

He nodded guilelessly. "Of course. Otherwise, they would be disinclined to foot the bill."

Giles smiled, a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth. "Of course."

Buffy interjected, "why you?"

"Ah. Excellent question, Mrs. Giles. I have a Medical background... pre-surgery, which I abandoned when I began pilot training. I fear Doctor Singh is rather advanced in age to be dashing off halfway round the globe."

Giles acknowledged that point with a rueful nod. Singh had been the one to tend his wound during their trip to England. A crossbow bolt injury was an all-too-common occurrence in Watcher experience, and Singh had seen his share. The man had to be in his eighties.

Buffy read his thoughts easily, but for Armstead’s sake, she asked, "is he the one that fixed your shoulder when we ran into that nut-case Post?"

"Yes. That was an eventful trip."

She grinned widely. "Sure was. Especially the last part." He mirrored her grin as a flash of memory, tinged with strong, sweet emotion, passed between them.

Armstead saw the look. He knew their history. He knew the trip they spoke of with such tenderness culminated in their wedding. He was almost regretful that he had to intrude on such an intimate recollection.

The silence grew until he became decidedly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, and it seemed to break the spell.

Buffy once again turned her attention towards the stranger. "So, what does this kind of Watching entail, Mr. Armstead? Because I don’t want my baby poked and prodded by both his pediatrician and some Watcher wanna-be with a few years of pre-med."

"You certainly are plain-spoken, Mrs. Giles. I appreciate the candor. To answer; no, I shall not poke or prod. Any medical data, such as blood tests and lab results, I will simply request through your regular physician, with the proper authorization, of course. I am merely an observer. I will endeavor to remain unobtrusive, but you might possibly feel less threatened if I were to observe openly, and with your consent."

The parents shared another long look. Armstead could almost tell when they reached a consensus. They focused on him with almost the same intensity, and he fought the urge to squirm under their gaze. Finally, Giles took a deep breath and sat back. When he spoke, the ex-Watcher’s voice was velvety smooth, but with a core of steel that caused Armstead to pay close attention. "You have our permission, then, to observe, so long as that observance does not interfere with the raising of our child. We will, under no circ*mstances, tolerate any hidden agendas. If we decide that your presence is disruptive in any way, you will be asked, politely at first, to leave."

Armstead nodded gravely. "I understand and accept your conditions, sir... madam. I have arranged for a flat at the Chelsea Apartments already, so I should be going. I will contact you once I’ve settled in, and arrange a schedule of visits, or interviews, or whatever else you might like to call them. Nothing terribly frequent, I can assure you. Perhaps monthly. They should be at regular intervals, just for accurate recording of facts. However, that can be decided at a later date."

They stood, and for the first time he noticed how tall Giles was. Armstead wasn’t a small man, but Giles had at least two inches on him. The firm look on his face was formidable, to say the least. Armstead held out his hand, and Giles gripped it with easy force. "We will hold you to your promise, Captain. As of this moment, you speak for the Council." He dropped the officer’s hand, and added, in that deceptively soft voice that told of his absolute conviction, "and, if we find that you have been sent here under false pretense, both you and the Council will bitterly regret it."

"I have no doubt, sir. Thank you, sir." Reverting to almost military form, he stifled the urge to salute and made his escape. As he strode down the driveway towards his car, he thought to himself, ‘that man would’ve made a first-rate instructor. He’d have all the candidates shivering in their boots.’ He didn’t dwell on the fact that he was still shivering a bit, himself.

********

The night had fallen, crisp and cool as fall nights should be, even in Southern California. There was a brilliant quarter moon smiling lopsidedly down on the sleeping town. The hour being near midnight, few people were stirring. The small neighborhood slept, oblivious to the unseen danger the night could bring. If not for the unassuming vigilance of the Chosen Ones, life in Sunnydale would be quite different.

In the upstairs bedroom of their modest home, two of the Chosen were cuddled close together, reveling in the afterglow of love and in the intensity of their mystic Bond. From her very comfortable position sprawled across her husband’s chest, Buffy raised her head and snuggled her nose up against his neck. She loved nuzzling into the soft skin, breathing in his scent and listening to the pulse that beat just beneath. It made her feel all mushy and happy... something she suspected they’d both be needing in the coming days.

Trouble rarely took a holiday on the Hellmouth.

She tilted her head just enough to see her husband’s peaceful face. She hated to disturb that tranquillity, but they needed to discuss this latest development in their already complicated lives. "Rupert?" She kept her voice soft. "Do you think that guy was telling the truth?"

Giles shifted slightly, holding her tighter. "Yes, as much truth as he knows. Since the full extent of our capabilities under the Bond’s influence is unknown to them, I doubt the Council would inform him if their agenda had underlayers of subterfuge."

Buffy started chuckling against his neck. "You mean they think we can read minds, so they kept our boy in the dark about what they really want?"

"Yes. Well said, love."

She moved to straddle him, sliding her arms around his neck as he smiled up at her. "I’m still your interpreter. You come out with a convoluted, involved statement, and I translate it into plain English."

He responded by pulling her down for a long, languid kiss. When their lips parted, she sighed happily and rested her head against his shoulder again. Something she said caught his attention. In an inquisitive tone, he asked, "do you really think of Armstead as a mere boy? He’s considerably older than you."

"Maybe, age-wise. Experience-wise, he’s just a baby. I like my men mature."

For some reason, her statement pleased him tremendously. He began to relax, lulled by her soft breath against his skin. Before he was completely asleep, something occurred to him. "Buffy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Ah, ‘men,’ plural?"

She chuckled against his chest. "I wondered how long it’d take you to notice that."

"You’re a dreadful tease, dearest."

"Just wait ‘til morning, babe. I won’t be teasing then."

********

At two-thirty the next morning, Giles sat up straight in the bed, blinking in confusion. He had the distinct impression that someone had called him. He looked down at Buffy, still dead to the world, and smiled fondly. She could sleep through just about anything... The fact that she was still asleep caused him to frown. The Bond had awakened him. If it wasn’t Buffy, then who else could it be?

Marcus!

He leaped from the bed and dashed across the hall without bothering to put on his slippers. In his urgency, he didn’t stop to reason that Buffy should have sensed Marcus’ distress right along with him. He narrowly avoided bruising his foot on a discarded plastic fish, then stopped and bent over the crib to see what was wrong with his son. The baby was whimpering softly, his tiny tears glistening in the dim glow of the safety light outside. He pouted pitifully and held out his arms, prompting Giles to sweep him up and cuddle him comfortingly.

"There, there, Marcus, love, what’s wrong?" Giles checked his diaper, but Buffy had changed him less than an hour before, so the diaper was dry. He felt around the crib to see if there was something uncomfortable in the mattress, but found nothing. He held the baby back slightly, and said, in a reasoning tone, "what is bothering you, son? I don’t understand..."

Marcus patted his father’s face gently, still frowning, and then held out his hand to the window.

"What? Is something out there? Can you sense something?" Giles made his way across the room and carefully moved the curtains aside. He stared at the darkness for several minutes before seeing the flare of a cigarette lighter. Someone was standing just outside the back fence. It appeared the person was watching the house. "Ah... you don’t like people spying on us, do you, love?" He gave the infant a reassuring hug, and his baby face lit up in a snaggle-toothed smile. "Daddy isn’t going to let anyone hurt you, Marcus. I promise."

Marcus grinned again and said plainly, "Daa-daa."

Across the hall, Buffy was roused out of her comfortable slumber by what amounted to a mental shout of joy. Before she could throw on a robe and join them in Marcus’ room, Giles strode in, his happiness billowing in front of him like the crest of a wave. She managed a sleepy smile as her two favorite men joined her in bed. "Hey, sweetie baby. Why did Daddy bring you in here, huh?" She gave her child a kiss, and turned to her husband. "And how come you woke up and I didn’t?"

Giles settled Marcus between them, overwhelmed by the realization of what had just occurred. "It was the most extraordinary thing... this child of ours..." He punctuated the words with a gentle stroking of the soft fine hair on Marcus’ head. "...summoned me, as plainly as if he’d been able to speak. He wasn’t in need of a change, he was just upset. He was... well, pointing, for lack of a better word, at the back yard. I looked out the window and saw someone watching the house from outside the fence. It was upsetting him, so I brought him in here."

"Then what was all the ‘glory, hallelujah!’ stuff coming outta there?"

"Oh, that. He said ‘Da-da.’ It caught me quite by surprise. Sorry if I yelled, mentally, that is. It’s a bit overwhelming, hearing it for the first time."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Marcus giggled as Giles tickled his tummy lightly. "You little rascal... have me at your beck and call, do you?"

The infant gave a soft, happy squeak and started babbling. "Da-da-da-daaaa!"

"Oh, that is just so cute! Marcus Everett Giles, you are the smartest baby in the world!" Buffy planted several kisses on his tummy where his nightshirt had ridden up, and he squealed in delight. She settled back onto the bed, her hand brushing the remnant of his tears away. She began to hum softly, her arm around her child, keeping the warm contact until he settled down. In the sure safety of his parents’ presence, Marcus sighed contentedly, rolled over on his tummy, his diaper-clad bottom in the air, and began to doze off. "I guess this means we have a guest for the rest of the night."

Giles turned on his side, reaching over the baby’s head until he could slide the tips of his fingers into Buffy’s hair. "It seems that we do. I suppose it’s that wretched Armstead out there. I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow. I’ll not tolerate his ‘job’ interfering with our lives."

"That’s my man... protecting his territory. That’s probably why Marcus wanted you... Daddy: Protector, Mommy: Comforter. I hope the guy doesn’t make you too mad when you go see him. I’d hate to have to come over and pick up the pieces."

"Of him, or of me?"

She laughed softly, unwilling to disturb Marcus as he slept contentedly between them. "Him, silly. He wouldn’t stand a chance against you."

"Thank you, love. That makes me feel all... macho."

She snorted and shifted uncomfortably, not used to sleeping on her own side of the bed. "This kid is definitely in the way, babe."

Giles thought about it for a minute, then carefully lifted Marcus from his semi-kneeling position. He rested the baby face-down on his chest, arranging the tiny arms and legs until he was sprawled comfortably. Marcus snuggled up to the warmth, and Giles held his arm up so Buffy could move against his side. Assured that Marcus couldn’t crawl away without waking them both, Buffy fell into a blissful sleep with her head pillowed on her husband’s arm, able for the time being to forget the reason they’d been awakened in the first place.

Outside, the shadowy figure finished his cigarette, flicked the glowing butt to the ground, and walked away.

********

Armstead had been expecting Giles’ visit all morning. He’d reasoned things out with great precision. First, he’d make his presence known with a short visit. Second, Giles would come to the apartment to firmly reiterate his conditions for cooperation. Third, Armstead would agree with whatever Giles said, then proceed with his original plan.

Simple.

The knock stirred him from his reverie. As he suspected, when he looked through the peep hole in the door, Giles stood there, waiting patiently. Armstead smiled. This was going exactly as he’d envisioned it. He opened the door and smiled, feigning surprise. "Mr. Giles! This is unexpected. What brings you here this morning?"

"I need to have a word with you." Giles stepped past the younger man without invitation, smiling at the almost imperceptible relaxation of muscles as Armstead acknowledged Giles’ humanity. Even in the daytime, the filtered, indirect sunlight of the apartment hallway could allow one of the undead to pay a visit.

"Please, Mr. Giles, come and be seated. May I offer you something? I have a limited selection, at the moment. I haven’t had the time to go round to the shops."

"Nothing, thank you."

They sat opposite each other warily. Giles leaned forward and began without preamble. "Please, Mr. Armstead, can you refrain from lurking about our house at all hours? It’s quite disturbing to us. If you must observe, please do so in the open, in the daylight, instead of hiding in the back alley."

Armstead’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head for a brief moment before he regained his composure. ‘How in the world did he know I was there? Not only that, but he knew exactly where I’d been standing!’ Armstead took a deep breath and kept his voice even. "I do apologize. I was... well, establishing a perimeter." The explanation sounded weak, even in his own ears.

"Yes, a cherished tactic taught in Watcher training. However, unless you are aware of the boundaries of the Bond’s awareness, you have absolutely no idea where your perimeter should be. In all actuality, you’re not going to learn anything by disturbing a four-month-old baby and his two tired parents in the middle of the night. Please do not do so again."

"I... I had no idea your awareness was so acute, Mr. Giles. I assure you, I meant no disrespect."

Giles stood. "Exactly. If I’d thought you had, I wouldn’t have been quite so cordial."

There was nothing to say to that, so Armstead rose and followed Giles to the door. "I am sorry, Mr. Giles. I am a bit overeager, I will admit. It never occurred to me that my presence would disturb you."

"Of course." The statement carried just a hint of condescension. "You only know what you’ve been taught, Mr. Armstead. My family is quite outside your realm of experience." He paused at the door, turning a kinder, more understanding smile on the young Watcher. "It’s quite outside my realm of experience, as well. If you truly wish to learn about the Bond, you must put away your carefully constructed ideas, and remain open to infinite possibilities. Otherwise, you might well go flaming mad trying to make sense of it."

Armstead couldn’t help chuckling at the older man’s words. He watched as Giles disappeared around the corner, and closed his door automatically, his curious mind abuzz with possibilities. He crossed the room and sat down at the small desk to begin an outline on testing the limits of the Giles family and their mysterious Bond.

********

When Giles got home that afternoon, he felt the waves of welcome from inside his home before he got out of his car. ‘This empathic effect is getting stronger,’ he thought to himself as he started up the steps to the front door. Before he could reach for the knob, Buffy jerked the door open, excitement plain on her face. Marcus was babbling happily in her arms, using both of his new words in an attempt to garner attention from both parents at once.

"What’s happened now? Has our prodigy started conjugating verbs?" He dropped his briefcase on the hall tree bench and nuzzled the child, squinting his eyes as Marcus batted at his father’s face, and not always gently.

"Nope, but when he sensed you driving up, he took off for the front and pulled up like he was gonna let you in! It was hilarious! I had to grab him, or he’d have fallen right out when you opened the door. He was so anxious for you to get here... it sorta made me worry."

"I’m fine. I talked to Armstead on my way to work, and he seemed quite shocked that we knew he was there. There’s something about him, Buffy... can’t be sure what it is. A niggling at the back of my mind, as though I should know more about him than I do. Strange. I might call Father this evening, and see what he knows about him."

"Great idea! Now, Mister Giles, here’s one wiggly kid for you to amuse until I get dinner ready, okay?"

Giles took a gleeful Marcus and swung him gently in a circle before heading to the living room. "Come on, m’lad, let’s go see what that dreadful purple creature is up to."

Buffy finished dishing up the food and setting the table, listening with joy as her husband played with their son. Rupert was just so... involved... in every aspect of hers and Marcus’ life. She pondered just how lucky she really was as the end of the children’s show flashed across the screen. She put down the last plate and announced, "Okay, boys, come and get it!"

Giles grabbed a squirming Marcus and secured him in the high chair. The child didn’t really like being confined, but he knew from previous experience that if he wanted food, he had to be in that chair. So, he tolerated it until he was full, then it was impossible to keep him strapped in. Giles handed him a spoon to bang with, which occupied him until they could fill their plates and take a few bites. Buffy was trying some baby food out, and she had three tiny jars lined up on the table in front of her, wondering which to try first. She knew he liked peas, but what about strained carrots?

Marcus tried the orange mush carefully. It wasn’t too bad. In fact, he liked it. He bounced and reached for Buffy’s hand as she tried to bring another spoonful towards him. "Hey, hang on there, Speed Racer! Let me actually get this bite to your mouth, okay?"

Marcus crowed happily, a ring of carrot around his mouth. Buffy laughed at his orange-smeared face, looking over at Giles as he beamed paternally. "I’ll sure be glad when he learns to feed himself. This is way messy!"

"It will get messier before it gets better. Or so I’ve been told." Giles suddenly jumped up from the table and started for the living room.

‘Hey! Where’re you going?"

He returned with a small disposable camera in his hand. "I wanted to preserve this moment for posterity."

He aimed as Buffy fed Marcus another spoonful of carrot. The flash caught them just as the spoon went into the baby’s mouth. Marcus flinched slightly, but smiled an orange smile when he felt the sense of pride from his father. Giles couldn’t resist taking another picture to capture that comical face.

"You’ve got the shutter bug, babe. Xander’s gonna have to give up his ‘Photographer Man’ crown pretty soon."

"We’ll be glad when he’s grown... my parents never took pictures of me when I was small. They regretted it later on."

"I’ve seen some pictures of little Giles..."

"Yes, taken by doting aunts and uncles. Mother and Father had other priorities."

He sounded so wistful... she sent him a flash of sympathy through their shared connection, and even Marcus gave his father a solemn stare. Suddenly, she jumped up and grabbed the camera. "Okay, Daddy Dearest... it’s your turn to feed the kid. Try some of that yellow stuff, whatever it is."

Giles obediently shifted into Buffy’s chair, smiling at Marcus as he slapped his hands on the high chair tray. "You heard your mother, young man. Let’s put on a good show, shall we?" He dipped the tip of the spoon in the gooey yellow stuff and maneuvered it into Marcus’ waiting mouth. Marcus was still for a second, his eyes wide.

Buffy snapped the picture just as Marcus squirted the strained squash out onto his chin.

The rest of the meal was a cheerful mix of picture taking and attempted baby feeding. They discovered that Marcus loved carrots and apples, but wasn’t too crazy about squash or prunes. He liked peas and mashed potatoes already, so Buffy decided that, with his bottle as a supplement, he’d get enough nutrition to keep him healthy. The adults discussed baby nutrition as they finished their now-cold dinner and took turns feeding the baby in question.

She was cleaning his face and hands with a soft washcloth when a sudden feeling of uneasiness came over her. Marcus felt it too, his face falling into an almost frightened expression. Buffy straightened and called to Giles, "something’s wrong, Rupert... do you feel it?"

He descended the stairs two at a time. "Yes. It’s that spy Armstead. I recognize the aura, or whatever you might call it... but there’s something else. Something evil. I only hope he’s got the decency to come to the door instead of skulking about like a common burglar."

The doorbell rang in the next instant. Giles went to the door while Buffy carried Marcus upstairs to change his shirt and diaper. Sure enough, William Armstead stood there, his face a careful mask of contrition. "Good evening, Mr. Giles. I do apologize for the hour, but I received these papers by special courier today, and I need you to look over them."

Giles eyed the sealed manila envelope distrustfully. "Why would I want to do that?"

It was plain to the Council watchdog that Giles was not going to cooperate willingly. He didn’t really blame the man, but Armstead had a job to do and, difficult or not, he intended to do it. "Please, sir. Look at the papers. You needn’t sign them if you don’t wish, but I have to deliver them and report that you’ve seen them. My instructions were most explicit."

Giles thought for a moment while Armstead stood uneasily on the porch, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other as the silence grew longer. When Giles tilted his head slightly, as though he was listening to something Armstead could not hear, the visitor realized that there was sub-vocal communication taking place. Fascinated, he stared at the older man’s face as he came to a decision. "Well, then, I’ll look at them." He stood back, once again avoiding an invitation.

As he entered the home for the second time, Armstead realized just how cautious a person would have to be to survive on the Hellmouth. He went straight to the living room and sat on the sofa, placing the package on the low coffee table in front of him. "Now, Mr. Giles..."

"Exactly how did you receive these orders? Did they come under separate cover?"

"Well, as a matter of fact they did. On Council stationery, I might add."

"Open it," Giles commanded.

Armstead was taken aback once more. "Sir? But, it is meant for you..."

"It’s addressed to you, Mr. Armstead. Open it."

The retired military man knew an order when he heard it, so he reached in his pocket for a small pocket knife. Unsheathing the shortest blade, he carefully sliced open the packing tape and turned the envelope up, depositing the enclosed papers onto the table. He stared at the contents for a moment, trying to surmise what they were. An envelope, two stapled documents, and a smaller, sealed package. Strange.

Giles refused to give in to curiosity. He took a poker from the fireplace and shuffled the contents around until he could read the inscriptions on all of them. He didn’t care if Armstead thought him a superstitious fool. "Are you quite certain these items came from Council HQ?"

"Well, of course they did... the courier said..."

"Couriers only say what they’re told to say, young man." Giles continued his perusal of the legal documents, frowning. "These looks very much like guardianship papers, Mr. Armstead. Do you know anything about this?"

"Guardianship... what?" He moved to grasp the document, but was stopped by the cold metal of the poker.

"Careful. Don’t touch anything with your bare hands. I’ve some latex gloves in the study. Wait here."

Giles replaced the iron on its stand by the fireplace and left the room. Armstead stared at the opened package, wondering what made Giles suspect it. Gingerly, he picked up the manila envelope and looked into the well-protected interior. The matter became clear when he saw flakes of something nestled between the paper surface and the clear bubble-wrap inside. It appeared to be... spell ingredients!

Armstead’s opinion of Giles shot into the stratosphere.

Buffy descended the stairs with Marcus in her arms just as Giles returned with his hands protected by opaque white gloves. She stopped just behind Armstead, unwilling to get too close. She took in the scene unemotionally, though her head was reeling. She sent a thought to Giles, her worry apparent through the mental link where it was carefully hidden by her calm exterior. ‘I thought this crap was over!’

Giles looked over at her, and answered out loud, more for their visitor’s benefit than for their own. "I thought this was over, myself. I would imagine this was something set in motion before Travers was arrested for the second time. Please, stay across the room while we look at this. I don’t want to risk getting Marcus too close."

For the first time, Armstead realized that the baby he’d been sent to observe was actually in the room. He sat up and looked around, experiencing a twinge of admiration for Buffy’s beauty before settling his focus on the child in her arms. To his surprise, Marcus stared back, a vaguely accusatory look on his face. It was as if the child was saying, ‘you brought this evil into my house!’ After a few seconds, Armstead could bear the infant’s disapproval no longer, and he looked away, ashamed.

After examining the contents of the package carefully, Giles replaced everything and re-sealed the envelope with a roll of fiber tape. He stood and handed the terrible parcel to Armstead, and said quietly, "please get this out of my house, sir. I’m afraid I will not be signing any papers today."

"Yes, sir. At once. And, Mr. Giles... Mrs. Giles... we need to talk frankly when I return. This is not at all what I was commissioned to do. Perhaps there are things I am unaware of. I believe I need to be enlightened."

He started for the door, then stopped uncertainly. "Um, sir? Just how am I to dispose of this package? I shouldn’t wish to cause more damage through ignorance."

"Burn it, Mr. Armstead, until only fine ash remains. Then pour holy water on the ashes, seal them in something waterproof, such as a plastic bag, and throw them into a large dust bin. They should be harmless once the water soaks in. It was a compulsion spell, designed to cause us to sign those papers and hand Marcus over to the Council."

"This is simply terrible... horrible! I shall take care of this at once. I will return tomorrow evening, if you don’t mind, perhaps around the same time as tonight?"

"Make it a bit later, if you don’t mind. We were just finishing with dinner."

"Excellent. Thank you, sir. Mrs. Giles..." He nodded his farewell towards her and saw himself out. He didn’t want to face that overly aware baby again at that particular time.

Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding with a whoosh. "That was interesting."

Giles smiled at her and sat down on the couch. "Extremely. Come here, you two." He held up an arm as Buffy slid into place at his side. Marcus immediately threw his arms around Giles’ neck and squealed happily. He seemed to be relieved that Armstead and the cursed envelope were gone.

The remainder of the evening was spent comfortably, with the warmth of family and love surrounding them. The threat of evil seemed to be held at bay... for the time being.

********

The next evening, at the appointed hour, Armstead arrived on their doorstep with a peace offering... a bottle of his favorite port. When he entered the house, he was surprised to hear the buzz of conversation coming from the living room. There were other people here!

At his confused look, Giles smiled and ushered him down the hall. "It’s time you meet the rest of our family, Mr. Armstead."

"Family? But, I thought..." He stopped as his gaze fell on Willow. Was there no end to the line of lovely young ladies in Sunnydale? She looked up at him from her place on the living room floor. She was playing tug-of-war with Marcus, and he was squealing in delight as he succeeded in taking the teething ring away from her. A half-smile crossed her face and she said, in her brightest tone, "hi, Mr. Armstead, I’m Willow Rosenberg. Welcome to Baby Central."

Before he could recover, a young, dark-haired man stood and strode forward. His clothes were disastrously casual, but there was an air of quiet confidence about him... almost as if he’d been in the military. He stuck out his hand, his face impassive. "I’m Alexander Harris. My friends call me Xander. Since we’re not sure you’re a friend yet, Mr. Harris will do for now."

Armstead shook the hand, a bit dazed, and took a seat in an armchair as Marcus eyed him carefully. Seemingly satisfied that the stranger held no evil secrets this time, the baby turned back to his play. "Ah, Mr. Giles, Mrs. Giles... I wasn’t aware that this would involve others. I’d rather hoped to keep this under wraps, so to speak."

"What is done and said here affects much more than the three of us, Armstead. Your presence could put all of Sunnydale in danger. We would be remiss if we did not warn those closest to us of any impending danger."

"Oh, I see. Well, as long as it is just these two..."

Buffy cleared her throat. "Everybody’s not here yet."

"Oh?" Armstead felt like he was drowning. How had he lost control of the situation in just one day?

Just then, the front door banged open and a dark-haired, slender girl dressed in rather revealing clothes skipped into the room. "Hey, B, G, W and X! Ooo, look, fresh meat!" She strode up to Armstead as he stood politely, eyeing him up and down with obvious relish. "Cute. I’m Faith. Pleased to meet ya."

"Faith, for heaven’s sake..." Wesley’s much-put-upon voice was heard before he came into the room. "...would you please refrain from entering people’s homes without knocking? It’s quite rude." The newcomer marched up to Armstead and took his hand in a firm, but complex, ritual handshake. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Captain Armstead. Your reputation precedes you. You trained with Covington, did you not? My instructor was Albert DeHaviland. I’m the active Watcher."

Realization struck him, and Armstead turned his gaze back to the pretty brunette in front of him. "Oh, my... then you must be our active Slayer!" His precise voice took on a note of awe. "I am extremely honored to make your acquaintance, Miss..."

"Miss? Hah! Just Faith, dude. So, B, where’s the refreshments?"

Buffy laughed at her sister-Slayer’s words. "In the usual place. We just had dinner, so we’re all kinda full, but feel free." Faith sauntered into the kitchen, and the rest of the group rearranged themselves into much the same positions they occupied when Armstead first arrived. "Okay, Mr. Armstead, that’s pretty much everyone, unless you wanna meet my Mom."

"I’d be delighted, but no, that isn’t strictly necessary. I take it everyone here has been sworn to secrecy?"

At the blank looks from everyone in the room, he surmised, "well, I suppose not, then. What we are about to discuss involves Council information, and must be guarded at all costs."

Xander’s drawl broke the silence. "Let’s see, can we keep a secret? Hellmouth, Watcher, Slayer, vampires, demons, spells, witches, warlocks, werewolves, monsters, end-of-the-world-stoppage, and, in our spare time, trying to get passing grades in school... yep, I think we can keep a secret pretty well."

Armstead knew better than to respond to Xander’s sarcastic tone. The boy was right. He had no right questioning the loyalty of people who’d lived under the threat of the Hellmouth for years. "Quite, Mr. Harris, I stand corrected. Now, if we can begin our discussion...?"

Giles leaned forward from his spot next to Buffy. "If you don’t mind, we have some questions first. This may concern your career, but it concerns our very lives."

Armstead spread his hands. "Of course."

"Who commissioned this assignment?"

Armstead decided to go with complete honesty. He seriously doubted that he would be able to lie in the Giles’ presence, anyway. "Quentin Travers and Davis Branch."

Giles nodded thoughtfully as the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. It was obvious what these people thought of Quentin Travers. "I see. Thank you for answering truthfully. What was the exact nature of your initial instructions?"

The object of the inquisition, although having been questioned in training exercises, squirmed uncomfortably in the face of Giles’ intense gaze. "I was to take up residence in Sunnydale for a period of five years, or until the child entered school. I was to watch the child, and administer certain tests at regular intervals, forwarding all physical and observational data to the Surveillance Committee. If at any time I felt that you and Mrs. Giles, as parents, were unable or unfit to properly raise a child of such destiny, I was to report back to the Chairman of the Committee only."

A twitch of a jaw muscle indicated that Giles was holding his anger in check. "I see. And the chairman was..."

"Quentin Travers."

"Ah."

"But shortly before I was to leave, new instructions arrived. I was no longer to report to Travers or Branch, but to Cedrick Giles as head of security, and to the Director if Mr. Giles was not available. My new orders excluded the testing requirements and the rather presumptuous evaluation of you as parents, but otherwise remained unchanged."

"So, you’re on a five year assignment?"

"Yes, essentially."

"And you now answer to my father?"

"Ah, yes."

"Do you mind if I call him and confirm?"

Armstead squirmed again. "If you must, but I was not to reveal the specifics of my mission. I might be recalled."

"I rather doubt it." Giles stood and rounded the couch, reaching for the telephone.

"Are you going to call this very minute?" Armstead fought to keep a tremor out of his voice.

"Is that a problem, Mr. Armstead?" Giles pressed the speed-dial number for his father’s home as he talked.

"I sincerely hope not."

The little group watched Armstead sweat as the long distance connection was made. It was as though they were trying to see into his mind and discover what secrets he was hiding. When Giles finally spoke, it took

everyone’s attention away from Armstead, and the man was inordinately relieved to have the focus taken off himself.

"Hello, Father. How are you? Good. Yes we’re all fine. Marcus has another tooth, and he’s managed to say both ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ this week. It’s quite shocking." Giles smiled as his father asked what the call was for. "I need some confirmation. You needn’t reveal any state secrets, of course, but are you in charge of a certain Captain William Armstead, currently stationed in Sunnydale? You are? Good. Are you confident that the original agenda has been discovered and all possible negative actions have been removed? That is what I wanted to hear. You reviewed the email Willow sent you? Good. I wanted to make sure you were being kept abreast of the situation. Just a moment. Armstead? Father wants to have a word with you." Giles held out the telephone, pressing his palm over the receiver.

Armstead rose and took the telephone unsteadily. "Yes, Mr. Giles?" He listened intently for several minutes, saying only ‘yes, sir,’ and ‘no, sir,’ then handed the telephone back to the younger Giles. He returned to his seat, the very picture of whipped puppyhood. His superior had made it very clear that Rupert Giles and his family were not to be inconvenienced in any way.

"Father? I shan’t keep you any longer. You really should arrange another visit soon... Marcus is growing up before our very eyes. Yes, and thank you. Take care. Good-bye." Giles returned the phone to the desk and returned to his place on the couch. "Now, Mr. Armstead, I think we’re ready to continue."

"Yes, sir. But I’d be honored if you would call me William."

"Ah..." Xander held up a finger for attention. "Just to set the record straight..." He pointed at Armstead. "William, or Bill. Not Will, because that..." He pointed at Willow, who smirked at him. "...is Will."

Armstead smiled. "Bill is fine. My squadron called me that for several years. I am quite accustomed to it."

"So... Bill. You’d better be a good guy, because if you aren’t you’re going to get your ever-lovin’ butt kicked... and this bunch here takes its butt-kicking waaay seriously."

Armstead smiled even more widely, and nodded. As the conversation began again, he mentally threw his carefully thought-out notes away and started from scratch. He held back nothing, feeling less burdened as he realized he would still be able to do his job, only now with the cooperation of his subjects, rather that against their will.

He hoped for the day when they would cease to be subjects and start being friends.

The issue of trusting the newcomer was completely settled when Marcus crawled over to Armstead, pulled himself up by the man’s trouser leg, and gave him a drooling smile. One chubby baby hand patted the man’s knee awkwardly. Marcus then yawned widely, crawled over to Buffy, sat and held up his arms. She took him up into her lap, bestowing a kiss on his head and cradling him comfortably. He was asleep in an instant.

"Well, Bill, that settles it. You’re a part of the Scooby Gang now. You passed the Marcus test." Willow beamed fondly at the tiny baby nestled in his mother’s arms. "Now you gotta remember the first rule of the Slayerettes: Don’t get killed. The second rule is: Me and Xander have seniority!"

Buffy laughed softly and stood to take Marcus to his bedroom. Giles stood with her, his expression clearly stating that he was going with her. Willow smiled at the twin expressions of love on her friends’ faces. She waved them away imperiously, saying, "Go on, put your firstborn to bed. I’ll continue the Jewish Inquisition here until you get back."

They both laughed softly and headed upstairs. Faith remained standing and announced, "I’m gonna patrol. New moon means lots of weird stuff to slay. Coming, Wes?" Her Watcher was on his feet in an instant. "It was a pleasure, Captain Armstead. Do come round for tea." They left without further farewell, leaving Armstead slightly breathless. In one day, he had met both the former Chosen Ones and the current, active team as well. It was a little much to take in.

As he returned to his seat, Willow fixed him with a searching stare. "Back to the burning questions... Okay, Mister, ‘fess up. How old are you, anyway?"

"Before I answer that, I have a rather burning question of my own. Just what is a Scooby Gang?"

********

Giles could tell, as he watched Buffy carefully place Marcus in his crib, that she was disturbed. It was a vague uneasiness, with no coherent thoughts accompanying it. She leaned down to give her sleeping baby a tender kiss, then stepped back for Giles to do the same.

He bent over and pressed his lips against the tiny forehead, lingering for a moment against the soft baby skin. As he straightened, he turned and took her in his arms. "What’s wrong, love?"

Instead of answering, she burrowed into his embrace, almost disappearing against him as she sought his warmth. So slight, so delicate in appearance, yet made of such steel... that this supernaturally gifted woman turned to him for protection and comfort made his eyes water in gratitude, love and humility. He prayed daily that he would never fail to be that place of safety in her life.

He rubbed her back soothingly, waiting for her to speak, or to link her thoughts with his. She finally spoke into his shirt, causing pleasant tingles to dance along his spine despite his concern. "I’m probably being way silly, but I just worry about him. He’s so young, and he can read our thoughts... we can’t control what we think! He reacts when I’m even joking... he feels the meaning behind the words and can’t tell what’s real and what’s just being goofy..."

"...and by the time he understands the words, he will have learned the difference. Darling, even though he is an extraordinary child, he is still a child... our child. All children react to the emotions around them to some extent. We will do whatever it takes to give him what he needs to grow up happy, healthy, and well-balanced. Good Lord, I sound like a radio psychiatrist."

Buffy chuckled into his chest, raising more goosebumps. "You’re a heck of a lot smarter than any radio shrink I ever heard."

"Thank you, my love." His voice had dropped into the lower register, and she felt the vibration against her body. She looked up into his beautiful, compassionate eyes, and sighed as he bent down to touch his lips to hers. The Bond hummed with rising intensity as comfort slowly dissolved into desire.

Finally, Buffy came up for air. "Uh, babe, we have company downstairs..."

"Ah, yes." Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. He couldn’t resist giving her just one more soft kiss, then he took a step back, grinning sheepishly. "Perhaps we’d best go back down. Willow and Xander may have drawn and quartered our visitor by now."

"Or confused him beyond all hope of salvation."

"Either way, he could be in considerable distress." He chuckled and followed her back downstairs.

They entered the room just in time to hear Xander say, in his best drill sergeant voice, "you wanna hear a real oxymoron, soldier? Military Intelligence."

Buffy rolled her eyes and looked up at her grimacing husband. "Oh, no, we’re too late! Xander’s GI jokes... Bill’s brains are probably dripping out his ears!"

"I heard that!"

"Meant for you to, ya big lug." Buffy ruffled his hair affectionately as she walked by.

Armstead thought about the way these people fit together, and found himself nearly in tears. This was a family, as Mr. Giles had said so succinctly. He cleared his throat with a smile and said, "there appears to be no permanent damage due to Mr. Harris’ humor. I believe I shall live."

Willow, being the sensitive person she was, took in the longing looks that passed between her host and hostess, and decided that they’d overstayed their welcome. She could tell there was a ton of subvocal communication going on, and it wasn’t of the "hi, how are ya?" variety. It was so cute to see them so in love, even after being married for almost two years and having a kid. ‘Sorta gives me hope,’ she thought to herself as she elbowed Xander to get his attention. "It’s gettin’ late, Xand. We better go home. Buff an’ Giles look tired."

"They don’t look tired to me. They look uh... oh, uh, yeah, tired..." Xander’s face flushed redly and he quickly stood with Willow. "Come to think of it, I’m kinda tired myself." He gave an entirely fake yawn and stretched comically. "Bill, we’ll walk you out. Sunnydale isn’t exactly a safe neighborhood after sundown."

Bill stood, his face confused, but he said his polite good-nights and followed Willow and Xander out the front door. When they got to the car, he realized the two young people had no transportation. "I say, you two hadn’t intended to walk, had you? You were just admonishing me about safety!"

Xander grinned nervously. "You could give us a ride home, maybe. That would be right neighborly of you."

"Of course, I would be only too glad to give you both a lift." He unlocked the car and they hopped inside, Xander in the back and Willow next to him in front. He swallowed nervously at the lovely redhead’s close proximity. He mentally cursed the Council for choosing a compact as his rental. "Now. I shall need directions."

********

The instant the door clicked shut, Buffy locked it and turned, leaning against the cool wood. She smiled suggestively at her husband and curled a finger in a beckoning gesture. "C’mere, you big, handsome hunka ex-Watcher, you."

He practically jumped at her, causing her to giggle wildly as he pulled her against him and attacked her neck, a rumble coming from deep in his chest. Between nips, he growled, "You shouldn’t tease me so in front of company, little vixen..."

"But it’s so much fun... I loved the look on your face when I thought about what I wanted to do with that bottle of flavored massage oil Will gave us for Christmas... it’s too bad she caught on to what I was doing right away, though. I was hoping to torture you for at least ten more minutes... ohhhh... I’m kinda glad I didn’t, now..." Her eyes closed and she moaned as he lifted her against his chest until she was at his eye level. She wrapped her legs around his waist and captured his mouth before he could manage a sarcastic retort.

Still kissing her hungrily, he made his way to the couch and collapsed onto it with her still wrapped around him, trading moans and giggles and shushing sounds. Above them, Marcus slept the peaceful and deep sleep of the innocent and the loved.

********

As soon as Willow had given him the first turn to take, Armstead asked her, "and just why did we have to leave so soon? I had several more questions I wanted to ask."

"Have you ever been married, Bill?"

The surprisingly personal question made him blush, and he was thankful it was dark. Wouldn’t do to be blushing like a schoolboy around people almost ten years his junior. "Being in Intelligence and then in Watcher training effectively precluded all but the most superficial of relationships."

"So that means ‘no’, right?"

He fought a grin. "That means ‘no’."

"Well, I haven’t ever been married, either, so I’m going purely on second-hand information, but I’ve been around one particular married couple for almost two years, and I can tell when things go from ‘hello, there,’ to ‘hellooooo, there!’ and that means it’s time to leave."

Bill was completely bewildered. He was certain the words were English, but they made absolutely no sense to him. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t even know what to ask.

Xander leaned forward in the back seat, deciding the new guy needed some help. "Bill, since I’m a guy, I’ll do my best to translate. It doesn’t take a mind-reader to tell when Buff and the G-man are wanting to get busy. So, we just leave before anything embarrassing happens... well, not that they’d do anything embarrassing right in front of us... except kiss, which doesn’t embarrass anyone but Giles. It grosses me out a little, but it doesn’t embarrass me. It doesn’t bother Willow, ‘cause she thinks they’re ‘cute.’" He snorted, then leaned back, satisfied that he had made things perfectly clear.

"Ah. I think I’m beginning to see. By ‘getting busy’ you are speaking of having marital relations?" He was aware just how prudish that sounded, but he couldn’t think of any other way to put it in mixed company. There was something to be said for Americans and their myriad euphemisms. One could pick the degree of crudity based on the people with whom one was talking. Quite practical, really.

Willow nodded her approval. "Exactly. Good for you, you got it on the second try. Maybe you aren’t as stuffy as you look. Giles was Mr. Stuffy at first, and you see how laid back he is now... although I think Buffy can take most of the credit for that... but you have us, now, and under our careful tutelage, you’ll make a great Slayerette." Just then she pointed up ahead and said, "here’s my house, and my car, which is at my house, because I gotta drive back to Tech tonight... I guess Mom and Dad didn’t wait up. Either that, or they’re gone again."

"Why do they bother with a mortgage? They could timeshare and get better rates." Xander never could understand why Willow’s parents traveled like they did.

Willow made a face at her best friend and got out of the car. "I’ll see you tomorrow after school, goof-ball."

"Bye, witchy-woman. No naughty spells in the attic, now... Giles will be too busy the rest of the night to bail you out."

"Ha, ha." She ran lightly to the door and was inside in a flash.

As Armstead waited, Xander jumped out and ran around and got in the front seat, grinning. "Don’t want you to look like a chauffeur, Bill. Okay, go two more blocks and turn left."

"Mr. Harris..."

"It’s okay for you to call me Xander, Bill. First name basis is best for Slayerettes."

"Thank you, Xander. What is a Slayerette?"

"It’s just a nickname we gave our little group back in high school... Slayer... Slayerettes... I don’t know how else to explain it."

"And I am a Slayerette, then?" The implication pleased him to an inordinate degree.

"Slayerette-in-training," Xander corrected seriously. "If you can tough it out, you might even get a T-shirt."

"That is a good thing, I surmise."

"Definitely a good thing. It took me and Will two years to get one. Here’s the house."

Armstead pulled the car over to the curb and stared at Xander, trying to assess just how much of his banter was joking and how much was truth. Finally, Xander grinned and let him off the hook. "The T-shirt thing was a joke, although it’d be kinda cool. The part about it being tough, well, that’s not so much of a joke. Sunnydale is a pretty dangerous place. You sure you wanna be a Slayerette?" The grin disappeared, replaced with an expression of genuine care.

Armstead was touched by the boy’s concern. "I believe it would be an honor to be a Slayerette. I shall try very hard not to appear pretentious, but you must realize it has been trained into me by both the RAF and the Watcher’s Council. It may take some doing. Being ‘stuffy’ is a way of life for me."

The grin returned. "Okay, Bill, all you can do is try. That’s about all any of us can do. See ya later!"

The observer drove back to his apartment deep in thought. This was indeed going to be an interesting assignment.

He wondered how long it would take him to ‘go native.’

The End

Chapter 3: Increments

Summary:

Life is a series of small steps...

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

And now?" William ‘Bill’ Armstead’s voice came through loud and clear, amplified by the tiny device in Giles’ hand. The cellular telephone was a marvelous invention, he thought to himself.

"Only just... try across the street." Giles held his phone to his ear and concentrated as he reached out through the Bond to sense where the Observer was standing. Sure enough, the now-familiar aura was still there at the edge of his awareness.

Bill sprinted across the quiet street and took up position on the far sidewalk. "I’m across the street, sir. Approximately one hundred feet away. Can you still ‘see’ me?"

"Yes, but it’s faint. If I wasn’t concentrating, I don’t think I’d know you were there." Giles relaxed as he relayed the information. They had been testing the perimeters of Giles’ Bond enhanced awareness, and had just about reached his limit, at least, as a solo act. Now, it was Buffy’s turn.

"All right, that will do for you, sir." Armstead spoke into the phone, still amazed at its technology. "Now, Mrs. Giles, if you please..."

Giles handed the telephone to Buffy. She shifted on the couch as she said, "Hey, Billy-boy! No fair! You moved again before I could start!" She winked at her husband sitting beside her, then turned the majority of her attention back to the living room floor and her happily playing son.

Across the street Armstead grinned as he walked away from the house. She was stronger than Giles by half. "Sorry, Mrs. Giles, I couldn’t resist."

"You’re half-way down the block, you turkey. And it’s Buffy, not Mrs. Giles."

He swallowed and acknowledged, in a strained voice, "It’s Buffy, of course. I’m moving to the end of the street. What about now?"

"Yep. Still gotcha on my radar. Watch out for that car."

Armstead looked up as the vehicle whizzed past. "That is simply stupendous! At least two hundred and fifty feet! And, I’d wager it would quadruple if you two were together."

"Yep, again. C’mon, I’ve had enough Weird Science for one day. Let’s go get ice cream!"

********

"Hey, Marcus, you want some?" Buffy held the small spoonful of melting dessert just out of the baby’s reach. "C’mon, sweetie baby, let Mommy feed you. You’re still too messy for public viewing."

Marcus bounced enthusiastically on Giles’ knee. They’d discovered quickly that most restaurant high chairs were too big for their precocious child. He could slip right out of them and be in the floor before they could react. Marcus was happier in his father’s lap, anyway.

Armstead shifted in his seat, still overwhelmed by what he had witnessed in just a few short weeks. The child was developing rapidly, more so than the Council had even predicted. The Bond seemed to increase in the infant as his coordination and strength developed. Armstead was only beginning to realize the depth and strength of the connection between the three of them, and it amazed him... and frightened him, as well. Still, to look at Buffy, she seemed so... normal, so young... and she was feeding her baby ice cream. "You feed the lad ice cream?"

"What he likes, he gets. Doctor Phil says Marcus knows what he needs, and if he wants it, within reason, he can have it. He’s pretty much eating everything we eat, ‘cept for stuff that has to be chewed. You gotta get a few more teeth before you do any chewing, don’t you, sweetie?" She avoided a grasping little hand to spoon the cool treat into Marcus’ open mouth. His eyes widened with pleasure, and he swallowed happily before squealing for more.

"My turn, love." Unable to manage his own dessert and his son simultaneously, Giles grinned as Buffy scooped a large bite of raspberry sundae onto her spoon and leaned forward to lift it to his mouth. He just managed to get his mouth around it before Marcus grabbed the spoon. A pseudo tug-of-war resulted, with Giles winning out by holding his head up until the spoon was out of reach. As he handed the bit of plastic back to Buffy, he commented, "I ought to be losing weight, what with our little obstacle course present at nearly every meal."

"You and me, both, babe. Marcus thinks if it’s good enough for Mommy and Daddy, it’s good enough for him," Buffy reasoned, her tone proud and maternal. "He even tries to do everything you do, babe. He’s even started saying ‘Mummy’ like you do, instead of ‘Mama.’ It’s just so cute."

"Moooh..." Marcus mouthed, impatiently.

"More? You want more, baby? No problem... here it comes..."

Marcus smacked happily. Ice cream was good. Mummy and Daddy loved it, and he did, too.

"Simply amazing," Armstead said with admiration. That Buffy could feel Marcus’ emotions, likes and dislikes so easily was truly amazing. Marcus had been born with these abilities, but Buffy had adapted to them, out of necessity. Was it the Bond, or did mother instinct equip all women with similar gifts? Bill had completely forgotten about his sundae. He was too busy observing. He didn’t realize he’d stopped staring at Marcus and was gazing at Buffy with an intense look on his face.

"Bill, your sundae is leaning. It’s gonna be in your lap pretty soon if you don’t eat it."

"Oh! Sorry. I shouldn’t stare, I realize."

Buffy shrugged. "You get paid to watch. No big."

Giles said nothing, but his expression darkened with suspicion. Marcus shifted his gaze from the tantalizing spoonful of ice cream to the man sitting across the table. He looked at Bill with similar distrust. Buffy felt the building emotions, and started laughing. "But, maybe you better save the goo-goo eyes for Willow. You’re making both my menfolk jealous."

The Observer’s face flamed in embarrassment. He ducked his head and began toying with his dessert. "So sorry. Bad form."

Giles gave a non-committal snort and turned his attention back to Marcus. He made a promise to himself that he would watch this fellow carefully, not only for Marcus’ sake, but for Buffy’s as well.

This was going to be a very long five years, if this was any indication.

********

"So, what did he say to that?"

"What could he say? You shoulda seen it, Will... Giles had steam coming out of his ears."

Marcus, looking up from his high chair next to Buffy, slapped the tray impatiently. Willow had stopped by just in time to witness the noon feeding of a precocious, yet not quite coordinated, baby. She and Buffy were taking turns distracting the infant so that the other could shovel spoonfuls of baby food and mashed potatoes into his mouth. So far, the tag-team of Rosenberg-Giles had succeeded in keeping most of the strained carrots off the floor.

Buffy knew her best friend well enough to see that Willow was feeling a little blue. "So, Will, you haven’t said lately... what’s the status on the Oz front? Still keeping in touch?"

Willow bowed her head sadly. "Not much now, but it’s okay. I never saw him anyway, since the Dingoes started doing the big-time tour thing. I guess I knew, but I didn’t want to know, you know?"

"Yeah." Buffy captured two grabby little hands as Willow maneuvered a dollop of strained carrot into Marcus’ waiting mouth. "I do know, but I’m still sorry."

"It’s okay, really. I mean, it’s not like we got together all that often anyway. Even when he was here, he was... not. If it wasn’t wolf time, it was practice time, or gig time. Not much Willow and Oz time at all. It’s for the best." She sighed and made a funny face at Marcus as he smacked and swallowed his bite with relish. "Besides, it makes for more Willow and Buffy and Marcus time, doesn’t it, Markie?"

"Will!"

"I know, I know, MarCUS. But he knows it’s just a pet name, don’cha, baby?"

"Moooh!" Marcus stated emphatically, refusing to be distracted.

"Okay, okay, more! Here ya go..." She zoomed in with another spoonful of orange goo, and the baby gave a wide grin before engulfing the spoon eagerly.

Buffy continued, "Well, anyway, back to the male hormone discussion. I think Bill is afraid to come over right now. I haven’t heard from him all day."

"Giles isn’t still mad, is he?"

"Nah. He got over it. Mind reading has its advantages... he knows I’m not the least bit interested. And Bill... well, he’s just being a guy. He’s never said or done anything that could be called ‘improper’. I mean, really, all he did was just look a little. That’s considered way normal in Guy-ville."

Willow carefully scraped carrot off the tiny face and made sure most of it went inside the eager little mouth, grinning as Marcus smiled a cheerful, orange-smeared smile at her. "Buff, you don’t really think he’s... I mean, he wouldn’t... because you’re married, and with a kid and all... and he’s British, after all, and Brits are all proper and... and they just don’t do things like that... well, some of them might do things like that, but not the ones we know... I mean, he’s a gentleman, and uh, he wouldn’t dream of... uh, I mean, he seems a lot nicer than that, right?" Willow stopped her disjointed rambling and blushed brightly.

Buffy’s eyes lit up in sudden revelation. "Willow? Do I detect a note of personal interest in that total non-sentence you just said? You want a Brit of your very own? No wonder the Oz thing hasn’t got you all weepy."

"Stop putting words in my mouth! I’m not... he’s just... well, he is cute, in a military, British stiff-upper-lip kinda way... and besides, Xander likes him."

Buffy untied the heavily stained bib, expertly wiped Marcus’ hands and handed him off to Willow so the clean up could begin. "Xander likes him, huh?" Despite her casual tone, Willow knew her best friend was on to something, and wouldn’t let it go. Without missing a beat, the blonde continued, "And, of course, that makes it all hunky-dory, then? Will, ‘fess up. You like Wild Bill Armstead."

"Wild Bill? Um, where’d you come up with that?" She bounced Marcus gently as he cooed, content with his full tummy and his mother’s teasing mood.

"That’s what Giles and I call him when nobody else is around. It’s sorta opposite of the way he actually is... and it’s about the only way I can mention him without Giles going into caveman mode... y’know, ‘ugh, my woman, grunt, growl.’ It’s lame, and totally not reality-based, but he’s so cute when he gets that way... Giles, not Bill."

Willow started giggling at the thought of her oh-so-proper friend behaving like a Neanderthal. She was also grateful for the brief reprieve... Buffy had forgotten about teasing her, and that was fine with Willow. "Cave Giles? I can’t picture it."

"Believe me, underneath all that education and breeding, he’s typical male through and through. He just hides it better than most guys. Bill is perfectly nice, but he isn’t blind, he notices... well, stuff, and it makes Giles all crazy." Suddenly, she frowned at Marcus, wrinkling her nose. "Men are such trouble. Take this little guy, for instance... he needs to be changed, big time!"

Willow nodded, making a face as she hastily handed him back to his mother. "I think that’s my cue to volunteer to do the dishes!"

Buffy called over her shoulder as she started up the stairs with her fragrant child, "I’m telling you, Will, guys are a bunch of trouble!"

********

"Rupert, no..."

"Buffy, love, please..."

She slid out of his arms as he gritted his teeth in frustration. "Babe, I just don’t wanna do anything while Marcus is awake. It’s too weird."

"But, darling, we’re going to have to learn to block this somehow... avoiding the issue isn’t going to accomplish anything, except perhaps driving me to distraction." He took a couple of steps towards her and embraced her again, holding her loosely to keep her from skittering away again. "What brought all this on, anyway? Just this past weekend you didn’t seem concerned about Marcus’ perception of our sex life."

She knew she’d hurt her husband’s feelings, but she couldn’t escape the niggling worry that they were somehow corrupting their infant son with their decidedly erotic emotions. "I don’t know, babe... it never bothered me until today. He’s getting more... I dunno, aware, I guess... every single day. I just feel weird about being all adult when he’s listening. I know it’s dumb, and I’m probably making a bus out of a bug... but he’ll be sound asleep in half an hour. Bear with me, okay?" She nestled against him, sliding her arms around his neck, and felt desire coming from him like heat from an open oven. "I promise to make it up to you." She gave him a well-placed kiss, just at the corner of his mouth. She felt him acquiesce, and smiled up at him. "You’re such a sweetie."

"Yes, well, I’m a complete push-over, that’s what I am." He released her and started for the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. As he exited the bedroom, she heard him grumble, "Marcus, son, you’d best go to sleep quickly." She couldn’t help laughing. Suddenly, a curious question came floating back to her from the bathroom. "Bus out of a bug?"

"Yeah... you know... a big Greyhound bus and a little Volkswagen bug."

"You’re never one to use conventional metaphors, are you?"

"Hey! It makes more sense than ‘a mountain out of a molehill’."

"Well, I suppose, from your perspective, it would do."

She laughed briefly, then sent her mind questing into the nursery across the hall. Drowsy, contented, and slightly bored baby thoughts came back to her, and she smiled. From the bathroom, Giles mirrored the smile, his irritation melting in the warmth of his love for his wife and son. So, things were a little more... complex... than in most households. They would simply have to learn to ‘deal,’ as Buffy so succinctly put it.

In his crib, Marcus yawned widely and settled into his sleeping position, more prone that before, but still on his stomach. He sighed and murmured, "Muh-mee... Dah-dee..." the words a soothing mantra that lulled him into sleep. The words and feelings behind them transmitted clearly to his parents.

When Giles stepped back into the room, they both had tears glistening in their eyes.

Buffy sniffed back a tear, and gave her husband a lopsided grin. "He’s such a sweetie. Just like his Daddy."

Giles dropped his gaze, grinning self-consciously, as he always did when she complimented him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her for long, however, and when his gaze met hers, the look changed from chagrined to aroused. Her grin became a full fledged smile, and she arched a perfect eyebrow at him before turning away. He watched hungrily as she moved around the room... slipping out of her clothes, turning down the bed covers, brushing out her hair, padding over in bare feet to turn off the light.

She looked around, seeing him still standing rooted to the spot in the darkness. "You gonna stand there all night, or are you coming to bed?"

He reacted by quickly shucking his trousers and dropping them in the clothes hamper. No matter how distracted he was, he just had to be a neatnik. Buffy started giggling as he stalked towards her, his eyes sparkling in the glow of the street lights as it filtered through the blinds. She let out a tiny shriek as he pounced on her, propelling them both onto the bed and causing the frame to creak alarmingly.

"Rupert!"

"Hmm?"

"What happened to half an hour?"

"He’s asleep already."

"Look who’s Mister Impatient all of a sudden. What happened to ‘slow and steady?’"

"It comes after ‘hot and heavy’ tonight."

"Rupert!" Her giggle became a suppressed laugh as he growled and continued his assault on her neck.

"Shush, love, you’ll wake Marcus," he mumbled into her soft skin.

"Me? I’m not the one trashing the furniture... ahh... all I ever broke was a lamp... ooh, babe, yeah... and you’re shooting for a new bedroom suite..." she moaned softly, and he paused in his exploration to smile. He knew that sound... it meant he was making headway. He responded by moving his mouth to her earlobe, sucking lightly before rolling it gently between his teeth. She moved further into his embrace, his warm hands, gentle nips and soft kisses persuading her in ways that his pleading voice and thoughts could not.

Across the hall, the baby slept soundly.

********

"I don’t really know who to talk to about this, Will." Buffy cradled the telephone against her shoulder as she folded towels and put them in the linen closet. "We need some help, but this Bond stuff is way new to just about everybody, so we’re probably on our own."

"Well, I may not be able to help, but you can always talk to me, Buffy." Willow’s concerned voice soothed Buffy’s nerves considerably. That’s what best friends were for, she thought with a smile.

"Well, I don’t want to talk details, because you’d probably run screaming, best friend or not... but if you come across anything in your research about blocking mental telepathy, then I wanna hear about it, ASAP. I don’t even wanna think about what it’s gonna be like when he gets old enough to start asking questions. I can just hear it now, ‘Mummy, why are you and Daddy always locking the bedroom door? I already know what’s going on in there.’ I think I’d die."

Willow laughed at her friend’s imagination, and promised to do her best to find a solution. "I’ll take the net road and Giles can take the book road..."

"...and I’ll be in the Twilight Zone before you. Hey, I might even try my hand at the research thing. I’m not gonna raise a warped child... well, not if I can help it. With our crazy lives, a little warping is inevitable, I guess."

"You guys are great parents. If he ends up being warped, at least it’ll be a loving warped."

"That goes a long way toward making me feel better, Will," Buffy retorted dryly. After a few minutes of closing conversation, Buffy hung up and looked around for Marcus. She’d only taken her eyes off him for a minute...

"Marcus? Baby, where are you?" He was fast, the little dickens, too fast for a pre-walking infant. Too fast for even her, at times. She began to panic. There were stairs just down the hall. "Marcus! Where are you!"

She quested outward with her mind and felt nothing but the background hum that was present whenever she was near her child. She dashed across the hall to the master bedroom, and stopped short.

Snuggled into a comfortable ball in the middle of their king size bed, amidst rumpled bedclothes, a tiny baby slept. Somehow, he’d managed to crawl into the bedroom and climb onto the bed. It was nap time, and she had been busy on the phone, so he’d put himself to bed in the safest, most comforting place he could reach... the place that represented both parents and their heartfelt expressions of love.

Her heart racing, she couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or worried.

********

"Buffy, are you sure? Do we dare bring another outsider into our lives?"

"Rupert, I need some serious reassurance, here, and wait, I know what you’re gonna say... but I need a professional opinion. I mean, just when I think I know my child, he changes. It’s freaking me out, and that can’t be good for Marcus... or you, either. Don’t you want to be sure Marcus is okay? I mean, he’s just too perfect, y’know? What if that’s a bad? What if he’s supposed to cry sometimes, just because? What if all this ESP stuff is messing up his innocent little mind? What if..."

Giles halted her words by pulling her into his arms and holding her gently. "Love, if you need to hear that Marcus is okay from a complete stranger, however highly educated he may be, then so be it. I shall never consider your concern for our son to be trivial, I promise you. I’ll call Doctor Phil this afternoon between classes and see if he knows of someone we can trust."

"I’m sorry, babe. I don’t mean to imply that I doubt you when you say Marcus is fine... it’s just... I just want us all to be fine."

"Shh. It’s all right." He held her close, his cheek resting on her soft hair. "If it will bring you peace of mind..."

"Thank you. You’re the greatest." She snuggled into his warm embrace, sighing with relief. He always understood, even if what she wanted was crazy.

"Now, love, stop calling yourself crazy."

"We’re all a little crazy, babe. Comes with the whole ‘Chosen One’ gig."

"Then I shall be happily crazy with you and Marcus forever."

She rewarded his loving declaration with a warm kiss. "You’re a prince, Rupert Giles." She grimaced as she noticed the clock behind him. "A prince that’s gonna be late for class if he doesn’t leave right now."

He started, throwing his arm up to see his watch. "Good heavens, you’re right!" He gave her another quick kiss and started out, pausing to grab his briefcase from the hall bench by the door.

Before he put his hand on the knob, he heard a cheerful baby voice exclaim, "Dah-dee bah-bye!"

He had to turn around. He dashed into the living room and dropped to one knee where Marcus was happily playing with his toys. He gave his son a quick hug and kiss, and managed to say, "Daddy loves you, Marcus. Bye-bye, now, I’ll see you soon."

Marcus crowed and clapped his hands awkwardly. "Soo’, Dah-dee. Bah-bye."

As a teary Giles finally made it out the door, Buffy wandered over to the couch, lost in thought. She sank down, a thousand worries clouding her mind, but was quickly distracted by a tiny hand on her knee. Marcus’ solemn face gazed up at her. "Muh-mee?" he said tentatively, his lower lip starting the trademark quiver that signaled tears weren’t far behind.

"Oh, baby, Mummy’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I’m just worried, and that’s something Mummies do. We can’t help it, okay?" She lifted the child into her lap and felt the warmth of maternal love wash over her as he snuggled up against her. "I just want to do the very best I can for you, sweetie baby. I just don’t always know what that is. Bear with me, okay?" She rubbed her nose against his smaller one, and watched with joy as a sunny smile reappeared on the infant’s face.

"Muh-mee," Marcus said as he patted her cheeks. He didn’t have the words as yet, but the meaning was plain. He didn’t like for her to be upset.

"I sure wish you could tell me what’s going on inside that precocious little head of yours." Buffy gave him another hug before releasing him back to his toys.

Inside his precocious little head, Marcus was wishing the same thing.

********

"So, this is Marcus," the kind-faced doctor said, beaming at the couple sitting before him. The object of discussion had spotted the toys in the floor and was making a crawling bee-line for them, squealing happily. He didn’t seem at all disturbed by the stranger in the room.

The child psychologist’s office was decorated with a mish-mash of Sesame Street, Muppet, and Winnie the Pooh characters. They were brightly colored and non-threatening, adorning the room at far below adult eye level so as not to loom over the tiny patients that visited daily. Doctor Stevenson had recommended this man, claiming that he had sent several non-human and half-human patients to him, and had found him to be thorough, capable, up-to-date... and not easily frightened, which was always a plus. He was also highly respected in his field, a matter than held some weight with Doctor Phil, but none with Buffy or Giles.

Buffy eyed the fifty-ish man warily. She was trying not to let her natural cynicism win out. It didn’t help that her husband was the master of the sarcastic remark... verbal or mental. ‘He looks like Mel Brooks,’ Giles thought placidly, watching Buffy’s mouth twitch in response. As Doctor Leibermann approached, she sent her husband a warning thought... ‘If you make me laugh in this man’s face, babe, you’ll be seriously sorry.’

‘If he bursts into a chorus of "High Anxiety" we shall both be seriously sorry.’

‘Rupert! Stop it! I’m never letting you rent movies again.’ She glared at him quickly, then pasted a pleasant smile on her face and greeted Dr. Leibermann. "Hello, Doctor Leibermann. We’re the Giles-es."

"Hello, there, ah, Buffy, right?" Doctor Mendl Leibermann held out a hand to her, no trace of pre-judgment on his face. "A pleasure. And you are Rupert."

Giles shook the hand firmly, satisfied with the man’s firm, steady grip. "Doctor Leibermann. Doctor Phil speaks highly of you."

"Ah, Phil Stevenson... salt of the earth. We have a mutual admiration society going. I only hope I can help. Now, if you will have a seat, and excuse me for a moment..." Buffy suppressed a giggle as the rotund, balding man carefully got down on his knees and crawled over to where Marcus was happily banging a rattle against a plastic pail full of interlocking monkey figurines. "Hello, Marcus, I’m Doctor Mendl. I’m very pleased to meet you."

Marcus’ head came up and he looked the man right in the eye. The slightest frown crossed the smooth baby face as he evaluated Doctor Mendl thoroughly. Apparently satisfied, a sparsely-toothed grin spread across the tiny face, and he said, "Hew-wo."

Leibermann sat back on his heels, astonished. "My, my, you are an articulate little fellow, aren’t you? And who are these people you brought with you?" He waved a meaty hand at the Gileses.

Marcus, knowing full well he was the center of attention, smiled even more broadly and answered, with accompanying gestures that left no doubt as to whom he was identifying, "Muh-mee... Dah-dee." He clapped his hands, feeling his parents’ proud reaction in his mind like sunshine through an unshaded window. He liked making them happy.

"Very good! Thank you for introducing me, Marcus. Now, tell me, what is your favorite toy?"

"Bwoo..." Marcus began to look around him, seemingly agitated.

Buffy started, then began rummaging into her diaper bag. "Oh, baby, I have it. Just a minute..." She dug into the bottom of the bag as Marcus crawled up to her and pulled himself up, using her leg as a support. "Here he is!" She pulled out a ragged looking, bright blue stuffed bunny and handed it to the baby, her sunny smile mirroring his as he let go of her with one arm and hugged the toy with the other.

He immediately dropped back to his knees, crawling back to the Doctor, the doll grasped firmly in one hand. When he was within arm’s distance of his new friend, he sat up and, with an air of solemn ceremony, presented the Doctor with his prized possession. "Bwoo!"

Doctor Mendl Leibermann, experienced child psychologist and pediatrician, winner of several prestigious fellowships, awards, and countless government grants for the study of children and their environment, was stunned speechless. He accepted the toy gravely, realizing the child intended to share it with him. He had never encountered a child this young with such a complete lack of possessiveness. As he searched for something to say, he examined the stuffed bunny carefully. It was indeed blue, and well worn. Beloved.

Finally, he managed, "Thank you Marcus. I can see this is a very special toy, indeed. And it was very nice of you to share it with me. Ah, Buffy..." He looked up at the young mother. "Does Marcus know his colors?"

"I think he knows most of them. He can’t say them very well, but he named Blue all by himself. We point out colors to him every day, when we can. He’s so curious... he wants to know what everything is, even if he can’t say it yet."

"Remarkable. Amazing. And he is completely human? Forgive me for the question, gentle folk. I see some unusual things during my workday." Making no effort to return to his comfortable chair, Doctor Leibermann shifted into a more comfortable position with his back against the wall.

"He’s human as you or me, Doc. Rupert and I do have this... uh... telepathy thing going on, and I think maybe that has made him... oh, I don’t know what you call it, exactly... different, I guess."

Leibermann stretched out his legs carefully, so as not to disturb Marcus as he played happily, unconcerned that the strange man still had his favorite toy. "I would call it miraculous! How old is he again?"

The pride oozed from his voice as Giles replied, "Nearly six months. In just a few days, actually."

"Remarkable." Leibermann stopped asking questions and just watched the child with his toys, his eyes sparkling with discovery. After perhaps ten minutes had passed, Marcus suddenly looked up at his mother, a frown on his face. The doctor bit back a question, knowing from experience that observation answered almost everything he could ask, in time.

He watched with growing awe as the child crawled up to his mother and held up his arms. She scooped him up, her smile not quite masking the disquiet on her face. He turned towards her, patting her face gently. "Muh-mee, no... Muh-mee, no..." he said tenderly.

Leibermann looked at the blonde girl closely for the first time. Tears of worry were glistening in her eyes, and the child was doing his best to comfort her. He found his eyes welling up as the child continued to croon softly, finally putting his small cheek against hers. When that didn’t dry her tears, he turned impatiently and reached for his father. "Dah-dee?" He flexed his fingers urgently until Giles slid over next to them, his chair making loud scraping sounds on the vinyl floor.

"Buffy..." Giles let the rest of his sentence dwindle off, and finished his thought via the Bond. ‘...neither Marcus nor I like it when you worry."

"I can’t help it." She continued nonverbally, ‘He’s just... I love him so much.’

"As do I, dearest," Giles replied aloud without realizing it, intent as he was on defusing the tension his son felt. Marcus grabbed his father’s large hand and pulled it until the palm was touching Buffy’s arm. He guided it in an awkward stroking motion, staring intently into Giles’ eyes. Giles caught on immediately. He was to cheer Mummy up, so she wouldn’t be sad.

He slid his arm around her slight shoulders and pulled her into a gentle hug. With his other hand, he gave Marcus a tender caress, sliding his hand over the tiny head. "It’s all right, Marcus, love, Mummy’s fine. She’s just being terribly silly, but we love her anyway."

Marcus responded by throwing his arms around Buffy’s neck and giving her an enthusiastic hug. He leaned back, beaming, and said carefully, "Wuh’ yoo." Her tears reappeared, but they were tears of love, and she replied, "Love you, too, sweetie baby." He then crawled over the chair arm and hugged his father equally strongly. He then patted Giles on the face and slid off his lap, crawling back to his toys with a satisfied look on his face.

Doctor Leibermann’s mouth was hanging open. He sat and watched Marcus return to baby play as if nothing extraordinary had happened. After a couple of tries, he finally managed, "I think I begin to see how things are in your family. Buffy, Rupert..." He began to struggle to his feet, but before he could brace himself against the wall, Buffy was at his elbow, helping him to stand. She was amazingly strong, and he rose with little effort. "Thank you, Buffy. Ah, I don’t think you need my help with Marcus, kind people."

Buffy looked worried. "You don’t? Then you can’t help us?"

He began to chuckle, finally recovering somewhat. "Oh, I might be able to help. It’s not Marcus that needs help coping with his special abilities... it’s his parents, especially you, dear young lady. You have a remarkable child... selfless, open, trusting, yet extraordinarily aware. Such awareness can be frightening for any parent... but that fear and insecurity can be alleviated, to a large extent. I just might be able to show you some ways to do that, and some techniques for controlling its effect on the two of you."

"Thank God," Giles breathed.

"Indeed," Doctor Leibermann agreed wholeheartedly. "Shall we begin with weekly visits? My secretary will set up a schedule..."

********

"It’s okay, you can say it out loud. I won’t yell or anything."

"Say what, love?" Giles replied softly, nuzzling her ear. Even though he knew what she was going to say, he felt she needed to say it aloud.

She shifted under the covers until she was facing him. They’d just put Marcus to bed, and were talking quietly, waiting for him to fall asleep. It was only nine o’clock, but they’d retired early, Giles sensing that Buffy needed a little ‘personal’ reassurance. He held her gently as he waited for her jumbled thoughts to come together and form a reply. "Say, ‘I told you we were just fine,’ or something suitably British that means the same thing."

He laughed and rubbed his nose against hers. "I needn’t say anything, need I?"

"Okay, that was pretty British, even if it was nicer than I deserve."

"Oh, love..." He moved closer, his body warm against hers. "...you deserve far more that I will ever be able to give. Never doubt that."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" He began pressing the gentlest of kisses onto her face, moving slowly downward.

"Mmm... say just the right thing all the time."

"I only say what is in my heart, dearest." He reached her neck and shifted to gentle nips, grinning in satisfaction as her breathing caught and she gave a high-pitched sigh of pleasure.

"Ru-uupert..."

"Muh-meeeee..." A tiny wail came from across the hall.

They groaned in unison. Without conscious effort, they both quested into the mind of their child, searching for pain, discomfort, or fear. Discontent was the only word Giles could think of. Buffy started to rise, but Giles said, "No, stay here. I’ll go."

"He’s calling for me, this time. Let me go see why, Mister Martyr."

He chuckled and lay back down to wait for her.

Buffy slipped her feet into her fuzzy slippers and moved soundlessly into the next room. Marcus was standing in his crib reaching for her when she arrived. She picked him up and checked his diaper, but he wasn’t in need of a change. He settled into her arms with a tiny sigh and buried his face into her neck. "Muh-mee..."

She held him for a while, then started to put him back in the crib. He clung to her tightly and cried, "Muh-mee nooooo!" Fresh tears welled up into his eyes. He wasn’t about to turn her loose.

"What’s wrong, sweetie baby? You’ve never been like this before!" She soothed the child a second time, and he quieted immediately.

Giles, sensing her consternation, threw on his robe and came into the room. He slid an arm around Buffy and stroked Marcus’ baby-fine hair with his free hand, trying to send comforting thoughts to his son. Marcus whimpered slightly and pushed himself upright, reaching for Daddy. Giles took him and held him close, unconsciously mimicking Buffy’s comforting embrace.

Marcus was confused. At first, Mommy was comfort, and Daddy was protection. Now Daddy was comfort, too. The child didn’t recognize his feelings as jealousy or insecurity, but he’d awakened as his parents were sharing warm, loving feelings, and, for some reason, he felt left out. Yet, now, here they were, comforting him with the same intensity. His new brain wasn’t quite able to understand the idea that both parents loved him as fiercely as they did each other, but as his father held him closely he could feel it, just the same. He began to relax, yawning widely as Giles continued to soothe him.

‘What do you think that was?’ Buffy thought, turning her head up and resting her chin on Giles’ chest. She studied the drowsy baby’s face as he fell back into a comfortable slumber against his father’s shoulder. ‘It’s like he had to have both of us in here to feel safe.’

Giles carefully laid the infant down in the crib, arranging the blanket quietly. They watched for a minute to be sure he was fast asleep, then pulled her towards the door. After they’d crossed the hall and climbed back into bed, he said, in a distracted voice that signaled the depth of his concentration, "I believe he’s beginning to sense our individuality. I felt confusion coming from him until he had received reassurance from the both of us."

"Armchair psychologist," she accused fondly.

He laughed at her mismatched metaphors. "I’d be all too happy to hear your theory."

"Sure. We were making with the smoochies, and he was jealous."

Giles looked at her in surprise. "You think?"

She slid against him and began toying with his chest hair. "I think."

"Surely not... jealous?"

"Well, he wasn’t all the way asleep. We started too soon." She noted his frown, and added, in her best Giles-ish voice, "you doubt my veracity?"

He grinned widely, partly from her dead-on imitation of his accent, and partly because of where her hands were heading. "Merely expressing a differing opinion, my dear."

"You wanna test my theory?"

He groaned as her mouth began exploring where her hands had been. "I-ah-think he might be truly... ah... asleep this time."

"So, we’ll have to test my theory again when he’s awake, won’t we?"

A muffled moan was his only reply.

********

At two thirty the next afternoon, during a frenzied bout of housework that Buffy was trying to finish, the doorbell rang. She bit back a growl of frustration and said to Marcus, "Stay put, sweetie... Mummy has to answer the door. It’s Wild Bill."

Marcus seemed to agree with her assessment, and turned back to his toys. She strode down the hall and threw open the door without checking the peephole. "Hey, Bill. You’re way early."

"Oh, sorry, Ma’am, I..."

She gaped at him in astonishment. "Ma’am? Ma’am? Bill, Bill, Bill. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Well... let me in?"

She laughed and stood back. "You’re already loosening up. Must be Xander and Willow’s good influence on you." She gestured towards the living room, and he seated himself in the armchair.

Marcus looked up when the Observer entered, and gave a preoccupied smile before returning to his play. Bill leaned forward and greeted the child warmly. "Hello, Marcus. What are we playing today?"

Marcus demonstrated by continuing. His face fell into a comical mask of concentration as he attempted to stack his toys. It was a difficult chore... the odd sized pieces wouldn’t stay put. He had been working hard at his task for a half hour or so, and Buffy had stifled the urge to help him several times. As she stared, something occurred to her, and it stopped her short of the couch.

"Oh, my God..."

Armstead stood immediately. "Is... is something wrong?" He resisted the urge to touch her shoulder.

"I can’t feel him... he’s concentrating... oh, wow... he’s blocking me! He can block me... I gotta call Giles!" She whirled, then stopped again. "I wonder if I can break the block..." She frowned, effort plain on her face. After a second or two of her effort, Marcus suddenly looked up. "Muh-mee?" he said, tentatively, uncertain how to take this new development.

"It’s okay, honey. Mummy was just checking on you. Go ahead and play."

Marcus smiled and returned to his project, his face relaxing before settling into its former expression.

Bill said softly, "It’s amazing how quickly he responds to your reassurances."

Buffy was still overwhelmed by her discovery. She turned again and picked up the telephone behind her, punching in Giles’ number without thinking. It rang twice, then clicked over to his voice mail. "Darn. He’s still in class... I forgot... Oh, hey, babe, it’s me. Marcus learned something new today... you wouldn’t believe what he did! But, I’ll tell you when you get home, okay? Love you! Bye!" She dropped the phone back onto its cradle and turned back to Bill. She started to speak, but froze before a word was uttered.

Bill was feeling completely bewildered. Most of what was going on involved their mysterious Bond, something with which he was still unfamiliar. The speed with which their thoughts were shared was bewildering. "Uh... Mrs., I mean, Buffy..."

"Something downstairs? Baby, what do you mean?" Buffy’s thoughts were a million miles away from Bill as she stared at Marcus intently. He was frowning fearfully and looking down at the floor as if it would rise up and bite him. He gave a short cry of frustration and began waving his arms in an agitated manner.

Buffy tried again. "Is it something downstairs? Marcus, I can’t understand... I’m trying..."

Marcus flailed his arms again until he knocked over his sippy cup. Juice spilled out onto the carpet, and suddenly, he had his analogy. He played the spill over and over in his mind until his mother’s eyes lit up with comprehension. "Uh oh! Something’s spilled in the basem*nt!" She grabbed him up, ignoring the juice stains, and headed for the stairs leading down into the laundry room. She didn’t even pause to see if Bill was following.

Bill wasn’t. His fastidious nature got the best of him, and he dashed into the kitchen for paper towels.

When Buffy got to the bottom of the stairs, instead of touching the concrete floor, her foot slid into cold water. She gasped and shrieked, "LEAK! It’s a major WATER LEAK!" All she could think of was the pile of laundry she’d just sorted and folded. It was completely soaked in the basket. She kicked off her loafers and waded down into the room, hissing at the cold water, intent on finding the source of the leak before her house floated away. Marcus was babbling excitedly, making absolutely no sense as he surveyed the rising tide with wide eyes. Mummy didn’t like this, and he wasn’t too crazy about it, either.

"Bill! I need some help! Can you call a plumber? Any plumber, at this point?" Buffy wasn’t even sure he was within earshot, but she couldn’t be in two places at once, since there wasn’t a phone in the basem*nt. Actually... she needed him to come get Marcus. She looked down at him, and he stared solemnly back. "Sweetie baby, would you let Bill hold you until I can get this leak stopped? I promise it won’t be long."

Marcus looked confused, but not frightened, so she sloshed back to the stairs and shouted up, "Hey, Bill! Before you make with the phoneage, could you come and get Marcus? I don’t wanna get him all wet."

Bill edged down the stairs, eyeing the growing disaster with horror. How could she stay so calm? "Do you suppose he would allow me? I’m not Willow or Xander."

"I asked him, and I think he’ll be okay. Here." She handed Marcus up to him, noting with amusem*nt that Bill made sure he didn’t get anything wet while taking the child from her. Bill settled the infant in his arms and started back up the stairs. Marcus’ doubtful gaze stayed on his mother until she was out of sight.

Once he’d cleared the stairs, Bill looked down at the baby in his arms. "Well, at least you can’t be any more frightened of me than I am of you, little lad." Marcus’ face shifted into a more sympathetic look, and he gave the British ex-pilot an uncertain smile. "A smile for me? How lovely. You’re a good lad, then, aren’t you?" Marcus took Bill’s descent into baby talk in stride, and favored the man with several snaggle-toothed smiles as they returned to the living room to find a phone book.

********

When Giles turned onto his street, he saw Bill Armstead’s little rental parked in his driveway, and despite his famous British reserve, inside, he began to seethe. What was that idiot doing in his house, with his wife, while he wasn’t home? His mind surged ahead, seeking Buffy’s thoughts, but found himself blocked by a wall of intense concentration. Despite his complete trust in Buffy, he was red-faced and steaming by the time he got to the front door. He growled to himself, "There’d better be a good explanation for this..." as he dropped his briefcase and jacket on the hall tree bench and started into the living room. He hadn’t taken three steps before he heard Marcus cry, "Dah-dee!! Muh-mee wet!"

"Mummy’s what?" Giles was grabbed around the ankle by a babbling baby just as Armstead rose from the couch, looking intimidated, but determined. "What are you doing here, Armstead?"

"Muh-mee wet!" Marcus tugged on his father’s pants leg insistently. "Uh-oh!"

Giles face softened as he scooped the baby into his arms. "Uh-oh? Wet? You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you, love?"

Marcus nodded vigorously.

Armstead shifted his feet, but began his explanation before Giles glare at him again. "I, uh, arrived early. Turns out it was fortuitous I did... something in the basem*nt sprung a leak just after I arrived, and I’ve been calling the service companies and entertaining Marcus while Buffy tried to find the source of the leak. She’s downstairs now, and hopefully, a plumber is on the way..."

"A water leak? Buffy doesn’t know anything about plumbing!" Giles shifted the baby to one side and headed for the basem*nt.

Armstead followed at a safe distance. "She probably knows more than I do..."

The water had reached the top of the second step when Giles started down the stairs. When he got far enough into the room, he could see Buffy stretched out across the washer and dryer, her arm down behind the appliances. She sent him a reassuring greeting, albeit a short one, and called cheerfully, "Hey, babe, I found the leak, but I can’t find anything strong enough to hold it, except for me, and my hand isn’t big enough. Bill, did you get a plumber?"

"I believe one is on the way. I was quite adamant." A touch of pride crept into Armstead’s voice, and Buffy grinned.

"I’m sure you were, Bill. Thanks. Boy, I’m soaking wet! Can someone get me a towel, or maybe a couple of towels? The ones I just dried are floating around here somewhere..." She waved at the growing pool surrounding her. "I just don’t think they’d do much good."

Giles stifled the urge to wade over to her, and asked instead, "Where is the leak, exactly? Above or below the shutoff valve? And, did you unplug everything? You could get a nasty shock."

"Yeah, I unplugged first thing... uh, shutoff valve? What shutoff valve? You mean this sticking-out-thing with a knob on it?"

He sighed patiently, ignoring Armstead’s muffled chuckle. Marcus had been surprisingly quiet, taking in the scene without wiggling or babbling. Giles looked down at him, concerned, but saw that the child was mesmerized by the swirling water that whirlpooled down into the storm drain in the center of the room. The water was pouring out of the leak too fast to drain away. "Yes, the sticking-out-thing with a knob on it is a shutoff valve. There is one on both the hot and cold taps. Is the leak above or below the valves?" He had another sudden thought. "Is it in the hot or cold line, or both?"

‘Of all the stupid things... the shutoff valve was right there... here I was trying to patch the pipe...’ Aloud, she answered her husband’s questions in order, "The leak is above. It’s in the cold water pipe, and I can’t quite reach the shutoff valve. My arms are too short. I’m gonna have to move the washer."

"Hold on and I’ll help. We need to move quickly, or we’re going to need new appliances. I don’t think the renter’s insurance includes flood damage." Giles gritted his teeth and turned to Armstead, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy that was still lingering. "Would you mind..."

"Of course not. Marcus and I have been getting on famously, haven’t we, lad?" He took the baby from Giles and settled him against his side. Giles slipped out of his shoes and socks and rolled his pants legs up as high as he could, feeling ridiculous. He waded into the dark water, hissing at the chilly temperature.

When he got to her side, Buffy pulled him down for a quick kiss, then slid back so he could examine the pipes behind the appliances for himself. He grimaced and said, "I doubt we’ll be able to repair that ourselves. Good thinking, having Armstead call the plumber so quickly, love."

"Thank you. It’s nice to know my panic had a sense of direction."

"All right, we’re going to have to move the washer. It would be easier if you weren’t on top of it."

Buffy eyed the water with trepidation. "It’s cold, isn’t it?"

He didn’t even try to mislead her. "Like ice, actually. I can no longer feel my toes."

"Oh, joy. At least I’m wearing shorts." She grimaced and gasped as her feet touched the surface. "AHHH! I HATE THIS!"

He grinned and leaned closer before whispering, "Warm you up later, love, if you like."

"I’ll hold you to that. Now, let’s get this done so the rats can surf."

"We don’t have rats... ah, do we?"

"None with surf boards... c’mon, hurry! I’m freezing!"

Together, they pulled the partially full washer away from the wall, and Giles hurried to turn off both valves as they were both sprayed thoroughly with cold water. Buffy shrieked loudly, chilled to the bone, and Giles growled as the stubborn valve slowly gave way to his strength and blocked the flow of water until it was a tiny trickle. He was glad he’d left his coat in the hall... his shirt front was soaked through.

They both gave a huge sigh of relief and turned to face Bill, who was still hovering in the middle of the stairs. Marcus was clapping his hands in glee, feeling their triumph and expressing it for them. They started gathering towels and floating objects as they waded back towards the stairs, not noticing Armstead’s expression at first. He was, to put it mildly, stunned.

Giles glanced up at the Observer, wondering what he was staring at. He followed the younger man’s gaze until he saw Buffy... and her T-shirt. Her nearly transparent, wet and clinging white T-shirt. Her transparent, wet and clinging T-shirt that revealed just how cold she really was. He allowed himself a scant second of appreciative staring, himself, before realizing that there was another man in the room. He bit off a rather potent curse and did an abrupt about-face, sending a searing glare at the younger man. His voice was several degrees colder than the water he was standing in as he grated, "What are you staring at, you young fool?"

Armstead snapped his eyes away from the mesmerizing sight and started stammering as an obviously irate Giles started up the stairs towards him. He backed up the stairs as Giles advanced, holding Marcus in front of him like a shield. Behind them, a highly embarrassed Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, shivered, and followed, anxious to get out of the icy water and into some dry clothes.

She decided she’d better intervene on Bill’s behalf, before her dripping husband ripped the poor man’s head off his shoulders and tossed it into the garbage. "Rupert, honey, don’t kill him. We’ve got enough mess in here already." She watched with amusem*nt as Giles backed Armstead all the way back up the stairs and into the living room, ignoring the puddles of water left by every step. Marcus couldn’t decide to laugh with Mummy or get angry with Daddy, so he just watched quietly. He figured Bill would be leaving soon, one way or the other.

In Bill Armstead’s frightened mind, Giles appeared to be looming over him, glowering. Thoughts of the stories he was told about Giles’ Ripper persona, fearful tales told by upperclassmen at the Watcher’s training camp came back to him in a rush. If half of what he was told was true, he’d best stop putting his foot in it and start apologizing... again... for making the man angry in his own house. The back yard was large and secluded enough to hide a body without anyone knowing about it... and there were spells that left no body at all.

"S-s-sir?" He winced inwardly at the pathetic tremble in his voice. ‘I must get control of myself,’ he thought firmly. "Mr. Giles, I am truly sorry. I was only trying to help... although, in retrospect, I suppose it did not appear that way." Marcus picked up Armstead’s fear, and looked up at him with sympathy. The tiny boy reached up and patted the man’s face, attempting to comfort him. He was beginning to like Bill Armstead. He was the only person Marcus knew that got in trouble more than Marcus himself did.

Giles seemed unconvinced. He’d backed the younger man into the living room, just behind the couch. Over Giles’ shoulder, Buffy complained, "You never did get me a towel. I’m dripping on the polyurethane. And so are you, babe."

Her words finally penetrated the angry haze in Giles’ brain. He half turned, still glowering at the other man, and said to her, in a deceptively soft voice, "I’ll meet you in the kitchen, then, all right?"

"Yeah, great. At least the linoleum is waterproof." She sloshed into the hall and into the kitchen, grinning and teasing Giles with her amused thoughts about Caveman Giles. He stared at Armstead for another few seconds before following his wife into the other room. The squelching sounds of wet feet on the hardwood floor echoed down the hall, and was silenced by the closing kitchen door.

The Observer breathed a sigh of relief. He moved to the front of the couch and sat down, allowing Marcus to slide off his lap and onto the floor. The baby immediately spotted one of his toys, and headed for it, squealing with delight. Armstead watched the baby play, keeping a low-voiced commentary going as he waited for the parents to return. "Well, I’m not at all sure I’m going to be welcome in your house after this, Marcus. I seem to be constantly antagonizing your father. Not intentionally, I assure you... quite sorry about that, but, after all, your Mum is quite beautiful, and I can’t very well pluck my eyes out, now, can I?"

Marcus looked up at him and giggled. He waved a teething ring in Armstead’s direction, smiling happily. He tried to tell his new friend not to worry, that Mummy and Daddy weren’t the kind of people who held grudges.

"Dear me... I’m such a failure. Haven’t finished anything I’ve started, my entire life. Take my advice, lad, and stick to something, once you’ve decided. People will respect you far more if you do."

A solemn expression came over Marcus’ face, and he murmured, "Thow-wy."

"Did you say sorry? By Jove, a new word! Another new word! That makes three just this afternoon! That’s an excellent fellow!" He snatched his notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and slid down into the floor next to the child, beaming with pride. "Clever lad..." He reached out at gave the tiny head a quick caress, not realizing that Giles was watching from the doorway. As he began to write, he said softly, "You’ll make Mum and Dad proud one day, I do believe."

"He already has." Armstead started and looked up as Giles moved back into the room, wearing dry clothes and a pensive expression. "He’s much more forgiving and understanding than his father, that much is certain."

>From his spot sitting on the floor, the younger man looked up and said, "I am dreadfully sorry to have embarrassed you and your wife. I... well, there’s no excuse, really."

Giles sat down in the armchair and smiled at Marcus. The baby knew his father’s black mood was dissipating, so he crowed, "Dah-dee!" and clapped his hands.

"Don’t worry, I promise not to throttle you, but strictly for my peace of mind; what were you doing here so early? Our appointment wasn’t until four thirty."

"I came directly from an interview for a local position at the public library. I’m not much for the books... that is why nothing ever came of my medical training, really, but I’m an excellent organizer. The interview ended rather quickly when I mentioned I was here on an open-ended visa. Apparently, they’ve had trouble keeping the position filled, so I was hired immediately."

Giles thought wistfully of his days as high school librarian. He missed it terribly, at times, but Buffy and Marcus more than made up for it. >From upstairs, he heard Buffy’s affectionate response through the Bond, and smiled. She shared his sentiments. He tilted his head, watching Marcus stack his toys, more capable now that he’d gotten the hang of it. He glanced briefly at Armstead, nodded, and said, "Go on."

"Thank you. I had only just arrived when Buffy indicated that Marcus might be blocking her thoughts."

Before he could continue, Giles sat straight up in the chair. "He what??"

"Yes, that is why she called you. She had to concentrate to reach him. Apparently, about that time the pipe burst in the basem*nt and Marcus sensed it, somehow. Remarkable, him sensing something like that... We rushed downstairs to find water everywhere, and she asked me to take Marcus and call a plumber while she attempted to stem the flow. I made several calls, and was just sitting down when you arrived."

Giles nodded slowly. That was more or less what Armstead had told him when he first came in, and Buffy had confirmed it while they were in the kitchen. He began to feel foolish. Jealousy was so... base. "I should apologize for allowing my temper to get the best of me." He stood and offered his hand. "Shall we put this behind us and go on?"

Armstead jumped to his feet and shook Giles’ hand enthusiastically. "By all means, sir. I seem to have a knack for embarrassing myself. I should have warned you early on."

Giles chuckled softly. "You should have been here when I first arrived. You’d have felt right at home."

********

"Actually, I thought he exhibited admirable restraint, given the circ*mstances." Armstead toyed with his sundae, idly swirling the chocolate sauce back and forth until the bottom of the dish was coated with a muddy brown goo. "He’s going to have to get accustomed to having men stare at his wife, I’m afraid. She can’t help being lovely."

"Oooo... Bill, you hit the nail on the head, there." Xander sympathized completely with his new friend. He’d been staring at Buffy since Junior High, and he’d been on the receiving end of many of Giles’ stern glares. Not that he’d ever try anything... she let him know right away they were just friends... but still...

"Welcome to the ‘Look, But Don’t Touch, and Don’t Look Too Much’ Club."

Xander had been a bit surprised to get a call from the newcomer, inviting him and Willow for lunch at the local diner. He suspected the man was lonely, being in a new country, and all. Xander liked Bill, despite his reserved manner. He suspected that Willow was warming up to the guy, too... big time.

"How do you stand it?" Bill asked earnestly. "Surrounded, as you are, by such beauty? Not just Buffy, but Willow..." His voice trailed off, his eyes going dreamy at the thought.

"And Anya. And you haven’t even met Cordelia... but that’s another story. It ain’t easy, believe me. But they’re my best friends, and they’ve saved my life a bunch of times. I’ve even saved theirs, on occasion. Say... did I detect a little extra Willow admiration in there? Bill! Are you thinking about making time with my red-headed best friend?"

Armstrong jumped slightly and began stammering.

Xander nodded wisely. "That’s what I thought. You better get yourself together, now, because said red-head is approaching from stage left." He broke into a wide grin and said, "Hey, Will! We almost gave up on ya."

"Sorry I’m late, guys. Mom was actually home when I got there. I had to do the obligatory Mother/Daughter luncheon and chat thing. She does that from time to time, so she won’t be embarrassed when her colleagues ask about me. Hi, Bill. It was nice of you to invite us, thank you." She sat next to Xander, favoring the Council Observer with a warm smile.

His heart skipped a beat. He fought a blush and managed to babble some semblance of a greeting before focusing on his partially melted dessert again.

Xander watched, barely able to contain himself. "Oooo, yeah, that’s a really bad case, there, Bill," he said softly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Case of what?" Willow asked, but was interrupted by the waitress. She ordered a mocha malt, and forgot about the question, much to Armstead’s relief. After the girl left the table, Willow asked, "So, Bill, are you all settled in? Your place okay? No ghosts or ghouls lurking around? No bumps in the night? This is Sunnydale, y’know."

Before Bill could reply, Xander interrupted, "Way to go Will... you’re gonna scare the guy off before the IRS knows he’s here."

"No, I’m not, silly, and the IRS probably watched him get off the plane. Anyway, Bill’s knows all about stuff like that. He’s a Watcher guy. He’s tough, right, Bill?" Willow’s luminous green eyes fixed Armstead with a trusting gaze.

His heart stopped beating all together, and he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Finally, he managed to say, "Spot on. I’ve a job to do here, and I intend to do it." ‘And, if possible, work up the nerve to ask the young lady across from me for a date before we both grow old and gray,’ he added to himself. Aloud, he commented lightly, "Pardon me for asking, just what is the IRS, and why would they watch me disembark?"

The threesome chatted amiably for about a half hour, with Bill telling stories about school and RAF boot camp. Willow found herself captivated by the well-traveled young man. He seemed so urbane and sure of himself, while she was quivering inside like a frightened mouse. ‘He’ll never look twice at me, I bet,’ she told herself glumly. She did her best to hide her trepidation behind a sunny, friendly smile.

She had no idea just how far from the truth her thoughts were. Even when Xander excused himself from the table, stating he had to go to work early, winking at Armstead with a grin, she still didn’t catch on. Armstead’s next words caught her completely by surprise.

********

The telephone rang in the Giles household just after one thirty. Giles looked up from grading papers, slightly irritated at the interruption, but Buffy dashed from the kitchen and grabbed the phone before he could move. "I got it, babe... oh, hey, Will! What’s up?"

Her eyes grew round as she listened to her best friend’s news. "Oh, wow... he actually asked you? That’s so sweet... so, wha’d you say? You did? Hang on, this sounds like the start of some serious girl talk. I need to sit down." She handed the telephone to Giles, grinning widely. "Hang this up for me, I’m going upstairs. Bill just asked Willow for a date, and I may be on here a while."

He took the phone with an answering grin. "Did he, now? That’s interesting. Hello, Willow."

A tiny, embarrassed voice answered, "Hey, Giles."

Buffy called over her shoulder as she started up the stairs, "Interesting, nothing. It’s totally unbelievable. I thought Bill was the original Stone Watcher."

He waited patiently until Buffy got on the extension in the bedroom, then hung up gently. He looked at Marcus, asleep on his stomach on a quilt in the middle of the floor. He’d played himself to sleep before they could put him in his crib, so they left him there. He chuckled softly and thought, ‘That’s exactly what you thought of me, love, when we first met. ‘A textbook with arms,’ I believe you said.’

Buffy shushed him mentally, wanting to concentrate on Willow’s excited narrative. He smiled to himself and turned back to his work, glancing at his sleeping son every so often. He finished the mound of test papers before Buffy came back down, so he stacked them neatly and put a large binder clip on them. He dropped them into his briefcase and took it to the hall tree bench by the door. Everything was in place for Monday, he thought to himself as he returned to the couch.

Before he could decide what to do next, he yawned unexpectedly. He definitely could use a nap, he thought, but tried to stay awake to watch Marcus. An idea came to him, and he knelt by the tiny boy and picked him up gently. He returned to the couch, lay down with his head on the pillowed arm, and placed Marcus on his chest. He was asleep in just a few minutes, and Marcus slept, as well, content in his father’s arms.

When Buffy finally finished reassuring and encouraging Willow, she started back to the living room, intending to relieve Giles of watching the baby so he could finish his grading. When she got to the doorway, she stopped and took in the sight of the both of them, sound asleep together. All she could think of was, ‘Awwww, they’re so cute...’ She had a sudden idea, and crept to the cabinet to retrieve the little camera that they were using to capture Marcus’ memorable baby moments. ‘I need to ask for a camcorder for Christmas,’ she thought as she eased around to the front of the couch and aimed carefully.

The flash caught her by surprise, and she eeped quietly, hoping she hadn’t disturbed them. Giles simply opened one eye, saw her standing there, camera in hand, and gave her a resigned, if amused, look before closing the eye again.

Just to be facetious, she took several more, and caught his tiny, self-conscious grin perfectly on the third try.

She put the camera on the coffee table, still smiling and just stood there for a minute or two, looking at them. Her face grew wistful, and she came around to sit on the table, her knees touching the couch cushions. She watched Giles’ peaceful, contented face as he dozed, one arm curling protectively around Marcus, making sure he didn’t fall off the couch in his sleep. They were so precious to her at that moment that she was afraid to stir, to breathe, for fear they would disappear from her like morning fog.

At length, she slid from her sitting position down onto the floor, resting her head against her husband’s arm. He stirred slightly, then opened one eye again. He met her gaze and moved to brush his fingers against her cheek. She grasped his hand tightly and kissed his knuckles, her absolute love and devotion transmitting to him via their shared connection. She reached her other hand up and touched her son’s face, wondering for the millionth time at the softness of his baby skin. For a timeless moment, absolute peace reigned.

Two days later, there were three new photographs on the sofa table, proudly displayed in an ornate trifold frame. Buffy had taped a handwritten title to the center top. It read, "My Guys."

********

"It was just a demon!" Xander bellowed at his best friend.

"I’ve never seen one like that!" Willow snapped back, not ready to give in. "It had wings!"

"Doesn’t matter what kind." Faith tossed her stake into the air and caught it casually, tip pointed at just the right angle to pierce the heart of an opponent standing in front of her. "I find, I slay, I get congrats from the Watcher-man, and I party. Simple."

"But, you don’t know what type of demon it is, Faith." Buffy shifted Marcus into a more comfortable position. He was standing on one thigh, and it was beginning to get uncomfortable. "You don’t know for sure what will kill it. Better wait until Wes and Giles get back... they’re the book and bell boys."

Faith giggled at the image brought forth by that statement... Wesley tolling a huge bell with some dusty old volume that shed dust with every strike.

Willow plopped down on the couch, sighing impatiently. "If I had my laptop, I could probably have found the dumb thing already."

"But you don’t have your lightsaber now, do you, young Skywalker?" Xander intoned in his best Darth Vader voice, ducking out of arm’s reach as Willow swung a throw pillow at him. "Come over to the dark side of the Force!"

"Shut up, Xander. It was all your fault anyway."

"Mine? How?"

"It was your idea to skip the cemetery and go around the block. If you hadn’t, we’d probably be at the theater by now, watching a movie."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to avoid bloodshed on my only night off in weeks!"

"The guys had better get back soon, B, or I’m going cabin fever all over your living room." Faith stood, cracked her knuckles, and stretched, bouncing in place.

"You wanna spar a little?" Buffy surprised herself, saying that. She hadn’t worked out with anyone but Giles since Marcus was born. "I may be a little rusty, but..."

She saw the raw excitement in Faith’s eyes. She was itching for some action, and sparring might just take the edge off. "Yeah... sounds great. But where?"

"Follow me. Uh, Will, you mind...?" She pointed to Marcus, who had stopped his play to glance curiously at his mother. "Marcus, Mummy’s gonna go play with Faith. Will you stay here and play with Willow and Xander?"

Marcus thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded solemnly.

"Good boy. I’ll be back in a little while." The two Slayers headed for the exercise room, grinning.

Marcus pulled up to the couch and offered Willow a colorful block. "P’ay?" he asked sweetly.

"Sure, honey, I’ll play with you." Willow slid down into the floor, taking the block. "And so will Xander. Right, Xander?"

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked, and when he sat cross-legged across from Willow, Marcus laughed happily. Usually Mummy and Daddy took turns, because they were busy. He wasn’t used to having two friends play with him at once. This was fun.

In the other room, Buffy and Faith squared off, deciding on light hand-to-hand combat to start out with. By mutual consent, they agreed to take it easy. Faith didn’t even make a crack about Buffy being out of shape, which was uncharacteristically restrained of her. They began slowly, using the basic forms gleaned from the mish-mash of martial arts the Watcher’s Council taught.

They’d begun to warm up when Buffy felt the familiar tug of Giles’ consciousness in her mind. She grinned widely and concentrated on staying ahead of the younger girl’s blows, knowing that Faith probably sensed Wesley, although not with the same intensity.

As the two men approached Giles’ front door with Giles in the lead, he stopped suddenly, causing Wesley to almost run into him. Wesley regained his composure quickly, and said, "Mr. Giles? Is something wrong."

"Didn’t you hear that?" Giles turned, searching the shadows.

"Hear what?"

The older man scanned the yard nervously, squinting as if it would help him see in the darkness. "Willow and Xander did encounter a demon earlier tonight..."

Wesley made a disparaging noise, and scoffed, "Those two... they seem to see demons behind every stone. Besides, that was on the other side of the..."

Suddenly Giles whirled, and Wesley gave a chirp of surprise as a figure strode purposefully up the walk to them. "Good evening, Mr. Giles... Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Lovely night."

Giles relaxed instantly, suppressing a grin at Wesley’s gasp of relief. "Armstead. I didn’t expect you tonight."

"Quite right, of course... but Willow called. She said something about research... I thought I might assist."

Wesley recovered quickly, and responded, with his usual smooth tones, "Excellent. We can’t have too many pairs of eyes when it comes to research." He turned back towards the door, anxious to get out of the exposed yard and into the relative safety of Giles’ home.

A soft rustle caught all three men’s attention, and they froze. Giles once again made a slow sweep of the area before turning back towards the other two. "It might be the wind, but I keep feeling we’re being watched."

Armstead opened his mouth to make a comment, when the bushes at the side of the house rustled wildly, then parted. "GOOD LORD!" the Observer shrieked, as a hideously ugly, pale orange demon began leaping towards them at high speed. All three of them fell into a defensive stance, forming a triangle just far enough apart to present a difficult target.

The creature sniffed the air, as if deciding who was the tastier of the three, then pounced.

Several things happened at once. Wesley screamed loudly as he was bowled over by the demon. Inside the house, Buffy and Faith instantly spun from their fighting stances and ran, knowing their Watchers were in danger. Willow and Xander jumped up, hearing the noise outside, just as Buffy and Faith both barreled past them on their way to the front door.

Willow just had time to notice that both girls were carrying short swords before Buffy nearly tore the door off its hinges. The two non-slaying humans jumped to their feet, ready to assist, but Faith whirled and snapped, "Stay! Slayer business!" before leaping through the doorway and disappearing into the night.

Ever practical, Willow jumped up and ran for the entryway, intending to close the door. Demons didn’t need an invitation to come in! Xander followed, more interested in getting a look at the action than playing defense. They both gasped as they saw the demon batting the men around like playthings. A well placed kick from Buffy got its attention in a hurry, though.

"It’s the same one!" The petite redhead watched with appreciation as Buffy and Faith ganged up on the monster and began pummeling it unmercifully.

"Yeah, uglier than ever."

"The wings are useless. It can’t fly..."

"...but it can jump! Look at that! Oh, ouch... that’s gotta hurt."

Willow glanced around, and exclaimed, "Marcus! Xander, where’s Marcus?"

"I thought you had him!"

Willow slammed the door shut, almost catching Xander’s nose in the process. She ran back into the living room, calling Marcus’ name. He wasn’t in the floor where they’d left him. She peered around the furniture, looked down the hall and in the kitchen. No Marcus. She was beginning to get worried when Xander called out, "Here he is... he’s watching the show."

Marcus had crawled under the curtains onto the window seat in front of the picture window, and was pressed against the glass. His breath fogged the glass around his face, then disappeared as he gulped for breath. It was as if he was sharing the action with his parents. The instant the two Slayers got the upper hand, his little body began to relax.

Willow didn’t want the tiny child to witness the beheading of an ugly old demon, so she scooped him up and headed back to his play area. "Hey, buster, you’re a little young for an ‘R’ rated slaying. C’mon, Mommy will be done in a minute, then we can have some ice cream!"

Marcus was looking back over her shoulder, trying to see out the window as they moved farther into the house. Willow’s words caught his attention, however, and he pushed away to look at her, saying tentatively, "I’ c’eam?"

"You betcha, Markie. Mommy and Daddy will be ready for dessert after all that exercise. Let’s go get the bowls, okay?"

A small grin spread across the baby’s face. He nodded, but continued to watch the doorway, not completely distracted by Willow’s efforts.

Willow gave him a quick hug before making good on her promise. She’d begun dishing up the cold treats when the front door opened. She put Marcus down and ran to the hall to see how things had fared. "Oh, wow... you guys are shredded." She watched the slow parade of victors as they limped into the living room. Buffy was supporting her husband with an arm around his waist. Faith was right behind her with Wes, his hand held tightly over his ribcage.

"Yes, well, you should see the other fellow," Giles quipped as he limped over and sat down on one end of the couch. His shirt was torn, one sleeve was missing, his face was bruised and scratched. Wesley collapsed on the other end, looking somewhat less abused, but equally uncomfortable, with a livid bruise under one eye and a tattered pants leg. Marcus immediately crawled over to his parents and pulled up beside them, his eyes round and frightened. Giles patted the child’s back, and said soothingly, "Daddy and Mummy are fine, Marcus, don’t worry." He stroked the tiny head gently, and Marcus responded with a relieved smile.

Willow looked around, suddenly realizing that someone was missing. "Hey, did you guys see Bill out there? He was supposed to come, and he’s late..."

Giles tried to look innocent, despite Buffy’s glare of warning, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he replied, "Bill? Bill who?"

"Rupert..." Buffy warned, as she moved to the cabinet and began gathering soft cloths and first-aid supplies. She came back into the room and handed Wes a cloth and some antiseptic before turning to examine her husband’s injuries with a critical eye. She automatically made room for Marcus to crawl up onto the couch beside her. He lay his head in her lap and sighed, as if to say, ‘Everybody’s okay, now I can stop worrying.’

Wesley must have been riding a wave of adrenaline-induced euphoria, because he added, "Wasn’t that the fellow on the sidewalk? The one who screamed?"

"Guys! Where’s Bill?" Willow’s voice took on an irritated edge.

"No, I believe it was you who screamed, Wesley." Buffy decided Giles wasn’t hurt too badly, if he had the energy to bait Willow and Wesley at the same time.

"That was not a scream. It was merely a battle cry." Wesley managed to sound haughty despite his aching side.

"Thank you for clearing that up. I stand corrected." Sarcasm fairly dripped from Giles’ voice.

"Guys? Back to the subject, please?" Willow begged.

"Sorry, Willow, we were a bit distracted, for a moment. Who were you looking for, again?"

"Giles!" Willow’s voice cracked slightly, moving into the higher registers.

Wes began to feel sorry for Willow. She was obviously concerned about the young man. He was just about to let her off the hook when a polite voice came from the front entrance. "Excuse me, may I come in? The door is open."

Willow sprang from her seat and ran over to him, giving him an over-enthusiastic hug before releasing him and backing away in embarrassment. "Oh, I’m sorry, I was just... I’m just really glad you’re okay, and... uh... hi."

He beamed down at her, only slightly disheveled, and tried not to look embarrassed himself. "Hello, Willow. That was quite a welcome. Thank you for being concerned."

"Well, these guys are used to Sunnydale’s night life... You haven’t been here all that long, and I was a little worried... just a little, that’s all."

Their eyes met, and their smiles became gentle and sweet. Without changing expression, he explained, "I was designated as clean-up crew, since I was the only one left without a limp."

From her comfortable position sprawled across the back of the couch, Faith remarked, "He had a few dozen pieces to pick up, too. Buffy doesn’t take too kindly to baddies roughing up her honey."

Buffy looked up from tending to Giles’ face, and said softly, "Neither do you, from what I saw."

Faith shrugged and tossed her hair back. "Well, duh. Don’t want some stupid demon damaging the merchandise." She arched an eyebrow at Wesley, and he blushed vividly, despite his flattered grin.

Willow suddenly remembered what she was doing before the warriors came back in. "Oh! I was making ice cream! Be right back!" She whirled and ran into the kitchen, both to finish the desserts and to escape her self-consciousness.

Buffy quipped, "Well, at least the baddie didn’t cancel our dessert. Then I would’ve been really mad."

********

After the friendly crowd had left, Buffy gathered the empty bowls and started for the kitchen. Giles carefully picked a sleeping Marcus up and started to stand, wincing at the pain in his leg. Must’ve twisted something, he thought as he hobbled upstairs to put the baby in his crib.

By the time he’d finished tucking his son in, Buffy had dropped the last spoon into the dishwasher. They met in the hall, and stared at each other for a long moment, their eyes and thoughts expressing relief and love. Finally, Buffy spoke. "I guess it’s obvious that Marcus doesn’t feel all our ‘owies’ like he feels our emotions, or he’d still be crying."

"Thank Heaven for that. I couldn’t bear it." He moved closer, pulling her to his chest in a warm hug. She sighed and melted into him, loving the feeling of security she felt. Despite her superior strength, Rupert’s presence meant home and safety to her.

Ignoring his discomfort, he tightened his hold, relishing the peace and quiet. On a whim, he whispered, teasingly, "May I have this dance, Mrs. Giles?"

"What about your leg?"

"I’ll manage."

She tilted her head up to look at him, and nodded, with a glint in her eyes. "But there’s no music."

"I can take care of that, as well..." softly, he began singing, swaying her to the sound of his voice. She clung to him and closed her eyes, losing herself in the quiet bliss of the moment. There seemed to be so many wonderful moments, with him.

She smiled as she recognized the song he was singing. Trust him to be all mushy and romantic, and to top it off with a Country and Western song... yet, somehow, it was perfect. She sighed as he sang, and snuggled more closely against him, listening to his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing... everything that told her he was alive, and hers.

"I’ll always remember
The song they were playing
The first time I danced, and I knew,
As we swayed to the music
And held to each other
I fell in love with you.
Could I have this dance
For the rest of my life?
Would you be my partner
Every night?
When we’re together
It feels so right.
Could I have this dance
For the rest of my life?
I’ll always remember
That magic moment
When I held you close to me.
As we moved together
I knew forever
You’re all I’ll ever need.
Could I have this dance
For the rest of my life?
Would you be my partner
Every night?
When we’re together
It feels so right.
Could I have this dance
For the rest of my life?"

The End

Notes:

Song "Could I have this dance," as sung by Anne Murray

Chapter 4: The Larger View

Summary:

A series of firsts on the Hellmouth

Chapter Text

Standing up was great.

Sure, crawling got a fellow farther, but standing... new point of view, new vistas to explore... new things to grasp... Standing was definitely superior to crawling.

It just took a lot longer to get from place to place. Hand over hand, always needing support... now, walking, that was the ultimate. He almost had the standing thing licked. The walking thing was a lot harder than it looked. Mummy and Daddy made it look so easy!

Marcus frowned with concentration as he maneuvered his still unsteady legs into a wider stance. At eight months, his mind was racing ahead of his still-infantile body. His mind told him that walking was necessary, but his legs just wouldn't cooperate. The bookcase was almost within reach, but he needed to let go of the couch first, and he wasn't too confident in his ability to stand unassisted. He stood, swaying precariously, trying to gain his balance in his spread-eagle position. Only his fingertips still grasped the sofa cushion, and he was just about ready to lean out into the void. He took a deep breath... wobbled briefly...

And landed solidly on his diaper-clad bottom.

Frustration welled up inside him, and he started to wail. Buffy came out of the kitchen, where she'd been watching the entire series of events, and gathered him up soothingly. "Hey, sweetie baby, I know it's tough being the little guy, but you'll get it right eventually. You're growing up so fast, you make Mummy all misty-eyed."

Marcus lay against her shoulder, a perfect pout on his tear streaked face, and wondered why his getting big would make her sad. He didn't want to make Mummy sad. The tears began afresh, and Buffy started chuckling despite her sympathy. "Oh, baby, I'm not sad. That's not the right feeling. It's more like... sentimental. I know that's a big word, but it's like when Daddy comes home wearing his tweed, and I look at him and remember how it was back in high school. Good memories, but with just a little sad in them, because it's of the past." She held him back and kissed his forehead as he rubbed his eyes.

The child psychologist, Doctor Leibermann, had urged them to explain their feelings to Marcus, even though he might not fully understand them. It seemed to be working, because Marcus always calmed down once they talked him through their bewildering adult emotions. To a child, adults could be so confusing.

"Muh-mee thad?" His pronounced lisp made Buffy smile.

She sat with him in her lap and gave him a quick hug. "No, Marcus, Mummy's not sad. Mummy's happy."

Suddenly, the answer dawned on the child. Mummy was happy and sad. She could be more than one emotion at the same time! This was a revelation to him. He pushed away and stared at his mother, trying to put something verbal to his new thought. "Muh-mee 'ap-py-thad?"

She laughed delightedly at his intuitive word combination. "Yeah, baby, I think that's a good way to put it. Mummy's happy-sad."

"O-kay." He gave her a tiny smile, and settled against her shoulder again. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. He could live with happy-sad.

Buffy thought proudly, 'just wait until Rupert gets home. He'll be happy-sad, too." She cuddled the relieved baby for a few minutes more before letting him slide back to the floor. "You're growing up so fast..." she repeated, gazing fondly at him as he returned to his toy truck and began making moist motor noises. Actually, they sounded more like prolonged raspberries to her.

As she went back into the kitchen, she stopped at the little cork board message center they'd affixed to the wall just under the telephone. With a deliberate hand, she wrote 'camcorder' in large letters, and pinned the note to the board at Giles' eye level. The kid was gonna be running relay races before they could videotape him, if they didn't act quickly.

'Definitely a priority item,' she thought to herself.

********

As Giles pulled into the driveway beside his wife's little red convertible, he could feel the comfortable sub-vocal hum of contentment coming from the house. He pulled the parking brake on the van and sat motionless, eyes closed, basking in the aura of home. He shook himself after a moment, smiling. He was still grinning widely as he retrieved his briefcase and started for the door, whistling softly. The neighbors probably wondered what kind of job he had, that he was so relieved to get away from it!

No, more than likely, they took one look at Buffy, and knew exactly why he was glad to get home each day.

The front door was unlocked as usual, and he swept in, kicking the door shut behind him and laying his briefcase on the hall tree. His jacket came off next, and he tossed it onto a coat hanger with deliberate aim. It caught and hung quite nicely, as usual. He allowed himself a small twinge of satisfaction. It was akin to getting a 180 in darts, to throw the old coat just so...

Buffy called her greeting over Marcus' happy babble. Giles dashed into the kitchen to collect some welcome-home smooches, then proceeded to the living room where babyhood reigned supreme. He stepped over several plastic blocks, lego pieces, and stuffed animals, heading for the child that knelt at the center.

"Dah-dee! Wook!" Marcus waved a hand, broadcasting 'NO' loudly as his father bent to take him into his arms. "Wook!" Giles stopped, confused, but straightened dutifully, wondering what the child was wanting him to watch.

"I'm looking, love. Daddy's looking. Go on."

The child pushed himself to his hands and knees, then carefully got his feet under him until he was squatting, hands still on the floor for support. A frown of intense concentration on his face, he pushed up, wavering dangerously, before finding his balance and managing an unassisted stand. Actually, it was more of a squat, but it was an accomplishment, nevertheless. A proud grin broke across the little tike's face, and he announced, "I up, Dah-dee! Wook!"

Giles caught him just as his balance failed, and gathered him into a delighted embrace. "Marcus! You stood up all by yourself! I'm very proud of you!"

Marcus returned the hug, then pushed away to state, "Up, Dah-dee. I up!"

"Yes, I saw... you're getting to be such a little man..."

"I man!" Marcus mimicked vehemently.

"Yes, you are." Giles was beyond ecstatic, and Buffy began to laugh at the pride that was pouring off of him. He retorted, "I have every reason to be proud, Buffy, that's quite an accomplishment at his age."

"Sorry, babe, but that's not the only big thing he did today."

Giles came around to the kitchen, still holding Marcus. The baby seemed content to play with his daddy's tie, and babbled quietly to himself as his parents talked.

"What else has our son accomplished? I shouldn't be surprised if he began grammar school."

Buffy laughed again and gave her husband a quick smooch. Marcus looked up and puckered, begging for a kiss of his own. She complied, a loud smack accompanying the process, and the baby giggled happily.

"You know how he doesn't want us to be sad, and he knows what the word means, just like he knows what happy means? Well, today, I told him he was growing up too fast, and it made me sentimental. He thought I was sad at first, but I tried to explain that sentimental was different than sad, even though I knew it was probably not soaking in. Then, all of a sudden he got it."

Giles gaped at her. "He got it? An abstract concept like sentimentality? I'll admit he's quite bright, but don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?"

Buffy shook her head firmly. "No, I don't. After I explained, he said, 'Mummy sad?' and I said, 'No, Mummy's not sad, Mummy's happy', and he said, 'Mummy happy-sad?' and it almost floored me! He didn't have a word he could say, so he made one up. I call that genius!"

Giles gazed with absolute adoration at the little boy in his arms. "I have to agree!"

In perfect unison, both parents sighed. "He's growing up so fast!"

Marcus looked up, recognizing the emotion instantly as his parents felt it. "'Ap-py-thad. Uh-oh, Muh-mee!"

********

Bill Armstead held up a flash card, fighting a grin at the look of absolute concentration on the tiny child's face. "And this one?"

"Bwoo."

"Right, you are, lad. Now, this will be a bit harder." The Observer laid two color cards face up on the carpet between himself and the sitting infant. Marcus didn't grab for them, or touch them. He waited patiently as Armstead explained further. "Which of these two cards is the darker blue?"

Marcus looked up at Armstead, perplexed.

"I'll try and explain." Giles had instructed Armstead to speak normally around Marcus, and Armstead was making every effort to do so. It was surpassingly difficult to look down into that adorable face and not be reduced to shameful baby-talk. "This card," he held up the robin's egg blue one, "is light blue. This one, on the other hand, is dark blue. Do you see? They're both blue, but differing intensities... uh, that is to say, different shades."

Marcus, with his well-developed mimicry, pointed at the cards, identifying them correctly. "'Ite bwoo... daaak bwoo."

"Yes! Yes, that's it exactly! Well done!"

Marcus beamed and clapped his hands, bouncing in place. "Mo', Bee-yoh, mo'!"

"Yes, of course, more. Let's see... ah, here we go. These cards are... what color?"

"Gween."

"Right-o. Now, remember what we did with the blue cards?" The baby nodded solemnly. "All right, then, Which of the two cards is the dark green?" He held his breath, fighting not to give any unconscious signals to influence Marcus' choice.

Marcus pointed decisively at the forest green card. "Daaak gween. Daaak bwoo! Yaaaay, Ma'cuth!"

Bill laughed out loud as the tiny child threw his hands up in victory and crowed his own congratulations. "Yay, Marcus! You're a very good boy. You always do your best, and I know your Mummy and Daddy are very proud of you."

"You betcha we are," Buffy agreed as she watched from the hallway. "Marcus, sweetie, are you ready for some cherries and ice cream?"

"I'cweam!" Marcus struggled to his feet, reaching for his mother's hands. She grasped his just as he lost his balance, and levered him up for a loving hug.

"Do you want to walk?"

Marcus nodded, his head bobbing like a toy in a car's rear window. Armstead watched in amazement as Buffy let him down and held out her finger. The budding toddler grasped it firmly, one arm still around his mother's leg for security. As she took a small step, he eased his grip on her and swung his leg forward. It wasn't a big step, but he was covering ground under his own power, using his own feet. The delight in the child's eyes was a joy to see.

It took a while to get to the kitchen, where Giles was putting the finishing touches on four bowls of frozen dessert... three large and one small He was putting the carton away when his wife and son marched slowly in, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

"Dah-dee! I waak! Wook!"

"I see, Marcus. Very good, indeed!" He took the child into his arms, bestowing a loving kiss on his cheek while looking as happy and proud as any man on earth could look. "Buffy, would you..."

"Oh, sure. Here, Bill, have some." She gathered the desserts, handed a bowl to Armstead, and they moved to the dining room table to enjoy their treat.

As he ate, Armstead turned his Observer's eye on the family as a whole. They seemed so... normal. Granted, there was the age difference between the parents, but it seemed to have little or no bearing on the way they behaved toward each other, or to Marcus. In every way that was important, Buffy and Rupert related to each other as husband and wife, two individuals who chose deliberately to stay together for a lifetime. And into this solid foundation, Marcus was welcomed with open arms and hearts. He was certainly a fortunate little boy.

Bill believed he understood why Willow and Xander were so protective of these three. They were so special, so gifted... unique. Buffy and Mr. Giles... he couldn't bring himself to think of him as 'Rupert' just yet... longed for an ordinary life while being singularly extraordinary.

He became aware that Buffy was addressing him. "Oh, sorry, I was... woolgathering, I suppose."

Buffy smiled kindly. "S'okay, Bill. I was just wondering when you had to send your next report in."

"Oh, uh... I think... ah, next Tuesday, I believe. Helps them if I send it on the same date each month. Easier to keep track of. I will send a note regarding anything out of the ordinary..."

"You should have Willow set up an Email account for you. I know for a fact that Cedrick is 'down' with the new technology."

"Down with...?"

Giles translated placidly. "He is familiar with it. And Buffy is mocking my feeble attempts at modern terminology, aren't you, love?"

"If the wing-tip fits... and it's still a good idea, Bill... Email, I mean."

Bill nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Well, yes, it would help a great deal, although I'd have to purchase a computer."

"You say shopping and computers, in the same sentence, on the same day..." Buffy started giggling at the thought, and Giles' reaction was similar, although he kept quiet. "...and Willow will be in Geeker Heaven."

"And that is good, then?"

"Definitely. You should ask her. Maybe when you go on your date tonight."

Bill began to choke on the last bite of his ice cream.

********

When Giles returned home on Monday, he could feel the frustration coming from his home like a wall of fog rolling in from the sea. He steeled himself as he started up the steps, and before he could turn the door knob, he could hear his precocious son wailing at the top of his lungs. He smiled sympathetically as Buffy's heartbroken attempts at soothing the child came to him through their shared connection.

Things certainly weren't as peaceful as they had been last week. That fact did nothing to lessen his joy at being there, however, and he walked up the steps with his usual delight. It was home, peaceful or not!

He entered the living room and stopped, seeing his exhausted wife cradling Marcus as he cried piteously. A large bruise was forming on the baby's forehead, and his tone spoke more of disappointment and emotional upheaval than pain.

"Hello, loves. Can I help?" He held out his arms, and Marcus reached for him, leaking fresh tears. He took the child and cuddled him, kissing his flushed forehead and smoothing his hair where it had become matted with sweat and tears. "Hello, Marcus, Daddy loves you. Look at you, you've got such a bruise. It's all right, son, you're safe. No harm done."

Marcus gave a heaving sigh and relaxed against his father's shoulder. In seconds, he was asleep.

"He's so tired, but he wouldn't take his nap." Buffy was clearly worn out from her frenzied day. "He wants to walk by himself so bad, he wouldn't go down, no matter how sleepy he was. He's probably fallen a hundred times. He's got bruises and cuts all over him! The Child Protection people would want to investigate if they got a look at him right now."

Giles rubbed his cheek against the sleeping baby's forehead. "Poor lad... let's put him upstairs and let him sleep it off."

"Fine with me." Buffy sighed. "If it wasn't for Slayer strength, I think watching this tiny tornado would kill me. He hasn't even reached the terrible twos yet, and I don't think I'm gonna survive until he turns one!"

"Nonsense. He's just going through a phase."

"Psychobabble for 'I don't know what the heck is going on.' Right?" She trudged up the stairs behind Giles, her footsteps heavy with fatigue. "It's only four o'clock, and I'm already beat."

She watched as Giles put Marcus into his crib, admiring the tender way he tended the child. He even checked Marcus' diaper before covering him and tucking him in. From his considerable height, it was an effort to bend and press his lips to the tiny face, but he managed it with unconscious grace. Love for her husband welled up inside Buffy, and she rose onto her toes to give him a grateful kiss. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Rupert. You are the best."

He smiled and pulled her into a gentle hug, his eyes flicking from hers to the softly breathing figure in the baby bed. "When you have the best, you must strive to be the best."

She leaned against him, relief melding into contentment as she took strength from him. Finally she looked up and patted him on the chest. "I gotta go start dinner. I never got a chance with the Tasmanian Baby taking apart the living room."

"I'll do it. You take a rest."

"Oh, you are too perfect. You got a deal." She looked back at Marcus. "Poor little guy. Inside he's Indiana Jones... outside, he's Baby Huey. No wonder he gets frustrated sometimes!"

Giles looked completely dumbfounded. "Ah, Buffy..."

"Oh, come on, I know you know who Indiana Jones is... we've seen Raiders of the Lost Ark a dozen times!"

"Yes, of course, that is one pop culture reference I understood immediately. But... 'Baby Huey?' That one escapes me."

Buffy rolled her eyes, as she always did when faced with his inherent Britishness. "It's a cartoon. Me and Marcus watch the old ones on TV sometimes. Baby Huey is a big fat baby duck in diapers. Breaks everything because he's so big and clumsy, then cries because stuff is broken. Not that Marcus breaks a lot of stuff... well, not on purpose, anyway, but then, neither did Baby Huey. Break stuff on purpose, I mean. You had to be there, I guess."

"I guess." Giles pondered her comments as he watched Marcus sleeping, tears of frustration still glistening on the flushed baby cheeks. Buffy's intense concern seared his mind like a hot burner, and he turned again to take her in his arms. "Love, Marcus will be fine. He's going through the same learning experiences all children do. He's finding his limits, then testing them."

She sniffed against his shirt. "And just where did you get this incredible knowledge of child psychology?"

He laughed gently, resting his cheek against her hair. "Various and sundry places. University, books, lectures, Doctor Liebermann... and I remember... things."

She looked up at her husband in shock. "You remember being a little baby? That's impossible! How? I don't remember anything before kindergarten."

"I have distinct memories of my parents' first house. We moved when I was just turned two, so those memories are from before that."

She looked up at him with something akin to awe. "I knew you had some major wattage upstairs, but that's impressive! What do you remember?"

He drew her to his side and began to lead her downstairs. "Let's have a cup of tea and a sit-down, and I'll regale you with stories of skinned knees, bruised heads and bee stings in the garden."

"That sounds great. Especially the sitting down part."

********

"I don't know if this is such a good idea, Will." Buffy cradled the telephone against her shoulder, folding towels as she watched Marcus beating a plastic nail into a plastic board with a plastic hammer. The noise seemed to please him. He was grinning widely.

"Sure it is, Buffy! You guys need a break. Even Xander noticed it last night when we came over."

Buffy thought about the night before. Sure, she was a little short with everyone, but it was because Marcus had been up all night with a tummy ache. Slayers were used to going on just a few hours of sleep... it really shouldn't have bothered her all that much. Giles had seemed a bit snippish, lately, though... maybe he could use some time away.

"I don't know..."

"Look, Xander and I can watch Marcus for a few hours. It's no big deal. He likes us, and we've done it before."

"Yeah, but that was a couple of months ago, and he's a lot more mobile now. He wears me and Giles out, and we're... y'know... the Chosen Ones!"

Willow laughed into the receiver. "Yeah, yeah, the Super Duo... blah, blah, blah. Demon stuff, okay, I'll give you that. But baby-sitting? Heck, for three summers I made all my spending money baby-sitting... well, that and building web sites... but anyway, I can do this, and Xander can help."

Buffy shifted the telephone to the other ear and slid onto the sofa. "Xander helping? That's another thing I'm not too clear on. Sure, Xander loves Marcus, but he acts like he's scared to death of him."

"Don't be silly. He's just being Xander. He even offered to call out for pizza, so we won't have to eat before we come over. We're going to let you two have a nice, romantic night out, and no arguments. This is my Resolve Voice talking, since you can't see my face."

Buffy recognized the firmness in her best friend's voice, and gave in. "Okay, okay, just don't look at me with that tone of voice."

Willow squealed happily. "Oh, goodie, this is gonna be great! I'll call Xander, and you'd better call for reservations."

"And just when is the reenactment of Adventures in Baby-sitting going to happen?"

"Tomorrow night! It's Friday night, which is date night all over the world, even for old married people."

Buffy giggled. Old married people, indeed!

"So, if tomorrow night is date night, why aren't you going out with Wild Bill?"

Willow sighed. Buffy just wouldn't leave well enough alone. "Because we're going on a picnic Saturday, then computer shopping, remember? He has to do his report this weekend. I'm giving him time to do it, too, because I'm a considerate person, which is also why I'm helping you! So, there."

"I give up! Okay, I'll see you guys tomorrow night. Better make it around five-thirty, because I don't want to stay out too late. Marcus might get fussy on you."

Willow squealed again, then said her good-byes. Buffy stood for a minute, smiling fondly, then hung up the phone and looked at Marcus. "Hey, sweetie baby." He responded instantly, looking up at her. He knew from her thoughts that she wanted to ask him something. "If Willow and Xander came over tomorrow night, would you stay with them while Mummy and Daddy go out for a while? We won't be gone long."

He thought about it, his tiny face furrowed with concentration. This was important to Mummy. He didn't know just when tomorrow night was, but he knew it was in the future, so that made it all right with him. He nodded solemnly.

"You're such a sweetie." Buffy knelt to give him a hug and a kiss. He smiled broadly. Mummy was happy, so Marcus was happy. Daddy would be happy when he came home. It was a good day.

Now, if he could just learn to walk, it would be just perfect.

********

It was almost as frantic in the Giles' household Friday afternoon as it had been on the day of Marcus' christening. Both parents were dashing back and forth, trying to get last minute chores done before getting dressed for dinner. They had chosen Cherve's, the restaurant where they'd gone on their first date, and their reservations were at six. Willow and Xander were going to be there at five-thirty. It was five o'clock now, and neither of them were close to being ready to go.

Marcus watched the whirlwind of activity with confusion. Mummy and Daddy were excited and happy, but worried, too. He didn't understand how grownups could feel so many different emotions at once! He tried to get them to stop and relax for a moment, but his vocabulary didn't have the words yet. Frustration began to well up inside him once again. He needed to be older, now!

"Muh-mee!" He needed a word badly, but he didn't have one. What could he say that would make her stop for a minute? He thought of something, suddenly, and grinned. "Muh-mee? Wuh' yoo!"

It worked.

"Oh, sweetie, Mummy loves you, too!" She immediately came over to him and picked him up, hugging him tightly. He puckered up for a kiss, and she complied immediately. Instead of putting him down again, she carried him upstairs so she could change clothes. He sat on the king size bed, playing with the throw pillows as she combed her hair and slipped on her dress.

She gazed proudly into the mirror. She could still wear the little black dress from her first date with Giles! Having a kid hadn't altered her body too much, although she was a little bigger at the top now than she had been in high school. She decided that was a good thing as she evaluated the cleavage peeking over the top of the bodice. Satisfied, she finished her makeup and swept her hair back and up into a french knot.

"There. That doesn't look too bad." She knew Giles was still in the shower, so she grabbed the baby and went back downstairs. Marcus still wasn't sure what was going on, but he went back to playing with his toys, shooting a glance at her every so often to be sure she was still there.

The doorbell rang, and Buffy danced down the hall, excitement making her giddy. It was silly... she saw her husband every day and night, and he was always appreciative, affectionate, and very sexy. The idea of going out with him, being seen in public as husband and wife... something they hadn't done very often, even before Marcus came along... somehow that made it more titillating.

She threw open the door and Xander almost swallowed his tongue. Buffy stood there in a slinky black dress, her hair piled onto her head, her face flushed with anticipation. She looked amazing. After enjoying the sight for longer than strictly necessary, he decided that Willow had pegged things pretty well. Buffy certainly looked like she was glad to be going out.

He stood there with his mouth hanging slightly open, as Willow, chatting happily, followed her best friend into the house. "Oh, Buffy, you look fantastic! I just knew this was a good idea! Shut your mouth, Xander, and come on in. Is Giles ready yet? If you look this good, I can't wait to see what he looks like! Um, did I say that out loud? I'm not trying to glom onto your hubby, or anything... it's just... Xander!"

Willow came back down the hall and grabbed her friend by the arm. "Stop staring and get in here! You're supposed to be stopping me before I say embarrassing things. Good grief, you act like you've never seen Buffy all dressed up before!" She tugged him into the living room, released him, and swooped down on Marcus, babbling baby talk at a rapid clip. Marcus grinned and gave her an enthusiastic hug, then begged for a kiss. Willow giggled and gave him a loud smack, which was greatly appreciated.

"Wih-dow, wook! T'uck!" She slid down to the floor and released him, and he seized his new toy truck and showed it to her. "T'uck!" he said, proudly. "B-b-b-b-b-b..." The motor sound was accompanied by a spray of bubbles, and Willow laughed heartily.

Xander finally sat down on the couch next to Willow. "Hey, Marcus, that's a pretty neat truck."

"Yeth. Wook, Than-ner!" Marcus pushed a large button on the top of the truck, and it played the sound of an engine revving. Marcus' imitation of the sound was startlingly accurate. He was a wonderful mimic.

"I hear ya, Marcus. You've got it down pat." Xander slid down to the floor beside Willow and joined the baby's play. This was his favorite part, because Marcus always had cool toys. The least favorite part was diaper duty, but with Will there, he was hoping to avoid diapers at all costs.

Buffy glanced up as Giles started down the stairs. Her heart began to thump wildly. 'Babe, you are gorgeous.' she thought dreamily as he descended, resplendent in his black double-breasted suit. He blushed slightly and answered her thought with one of his own. Its suggestive nature made Buffy grin widely. She knew he'd never say anything blatantly sexy in front of Willow and Xander, but he could think whatever he wanted! She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, wiping the lipstick away an instant later.

They both turned and beamed at their two friends, who were feeling very pleased with themselves for suggesting this little diversion. Xander stood and gave them a quick assessment, then remarked, in a thick, affected accent, "I must say, you two look mah-velous!"

They both said, "Thank you," in unison, then Giles looked at his watch. "We'd best be getting on, Buffy. Willow... Xander..." His eyes lit up with affection. "...Thank you both. You're the best of friends."

Willow's heart melted at his gentle gratitude, and Xander coughed and looked down at the floor awkwardly.

Marcus sensed that his parents were going somewhere without him, and he frowned, not sure whether to cry or not. "Muh-mee? Dah-dee? Buh-bye?"

Buffy smiled. "Bye-bye, honey, we're going somewhere for a little while. You'll be okay with Willow and Xander until we get back."

Marcus wanted to give his parents a hug, but they were too far away, and there was no furniture between them and the couch. Determined to get their attention before they left, he pulled up on the couch as Buffy and Giles went over some last minute details with Willow. Nobody noticed as the baby eased to the edge of the side table and made his way around the perimeter, balancing himself carefully.

The child's fierce concentration blocked the link between him and his parents, and Giles looked up first, puzzled. He wasn't home the time before, and hadn't yet experienced Marcus raising his mental barrier, but he realized in an instant what was happening. Buffy looked up a split second later, and they both froze in mid-conversation. Willow frowned and turned around to see what had caught their attention, and Xander stopped next to the couch, a combined look of fear and amazement on his face.

Marcus had released the table's edge, and was balanced unsteadily on his own two feet. Instinctively, Buffy squatted and reached for him. "C'mon, Marcus, come to Mummy... you can do it!"

Marcus gave a squeal of delight and took three shaky steps, beaming like a lighthouse. The fourth step faltered, but Buffy caught him before he fell. An explosion of noise broke the silence as all four adults began to congratulate the child for taking his first steps. He'd certainly found a way to get his parents' attention!

Buffy and Giles were ten minutes late leaving for their dinner. Some things were more important than being on time. They drove away in Buffy's little red convertible, since Willow had forbidden them to take the van, insisting that the car was much more conducive to date-ness.

Willow, Xander and Marcus waved as Buffy and Giles drove away. Willow breathed a huge sigh of relief as they disappeared around the corner. "Finally! I didn't think they'd ever actually leave. Okay, Xander, it's time to order the pizza."

********

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Willow looked up from where she was letting Marcus use her as a jungle gym. "Pizza's here! Cash in my purse! Tip the guy two bucks for being early!"

"Tip?" Xander looked at her with disdain.

"Xander..." Her voice took on a warning tone. "Give the guy a tip, or else."

He grumbled to himself as he opened the door, counting Willow's money without looking up. "Okay, okay... gee whiz, can't a guy tease a little bit.... oh, boy!" Before him stood a beautiful and very curvaceous young lady in a pizza delivery uniform. She was holding a giant pizza box in one hand and a two-liter drink bottle in the other.

"Did you order a Supreme Madness Special, cutie?"

"Uhhhh...."

It seemed that Xander was taking an awfully long time with the pizza, and Willow was just about to check on him when he wandered back in with the food. He wore a bemused expression as he plunked the pizza down on the table and wandered into the kitchen for glasses.

"Xand? Did you tip the guy?"

"Huh?"

She heard him rattling ice in the glasses, so she knew he could hear her. "Xan-der! Did you tip the guy?"

He came back with the glasses, smiling broadly. "Oh, yeah. Even pitched in a few bucks of my own."

********

The appetizers had been taken away, and Buffy toyed with her wine glass, looking preoccupied. Giles gazed at her lovingly, knowing her mind was on Marcus. He shared her preoccupation, but was determined that she enjoy the few hours they had. "Buffy?"

She roused from her obsessing, and looked up. A flush stole up her neck as she realized she'd been ignoring him. "I'm sorry, Rupert. This is supposed to be for us, and I'm ruining it."

"You're not ruining anything. However... we might as well make the best of the evening, if only for Willow's sake. She would be quite cross if we didn't."

"You got that right! She's a regular force of nature, isn't she?"

Giles laughed gently. "Well put. So, in deference to our determined friend, shall we talk about something that doesn't involve diapers and baby bottles? That is, if we remember how."

It was Buffy's turn to laugh. "Okay, so, how's the semester going, Professor Giles? I haven't heard about work all month. We've just been talking about... well, what you said we weren't going to talk about, so let's talk about the other... thing, that we were going to talk about. That was an awfully Willow-like sentence, wasn't it?"

He laughed heartily. "I understood perfectly, my dear. With or without proper sentence structure."

"Thanks. I think. So... classes? Any troublemakers?"

He hesitated, then began sharing his feelings about his current classes, warming to the subject until they were both laughing and trading classroom horror stories. The hour passed quickly, and as they finished dessert, taking turns feeding each other, their shared feelings shifted from comfortable companionship to smoldering desire.

********

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Xander caught Marcus just as he was removing another book from the bookcase. The child could manage about three steps, which now brought the entire living room into his realm of awareness. Marcus' new perspective allowed him to see things he'd never seen before... like the tassel hanging from the table runner on Giles' writing desk. Willow had managed to grab the baby's hand just in time to prevent the lamp, the decorative pen and pencil set, and several neat stacks of correspondence from ending up in the floor.

"I'm gonna start callin' you Marco Polo, if you don't quit exploring, kiddo!" Xander slid the book back into place and waggled a finger at the tiny child. "You know Mom and Dad don't want you messing with the books."

"I bet he'll be reading before you know it." Willow came back from the kitchen, where she'd stashed the remains of the pizza and the half-empty soft drink bottle in the refrigerator. "Hey! I could give him a head start!" She grabbed a pencil off the desk and grabbed Giles' notepad. She settled onto the couch and drew a large capital 'A'. "Markie... look what Willow has! Do you want to learn your letters?"

Marcus crawled over and pulled up on the couch, frowning at the marks on the page. Suddenly, he brightened. This was something new! He liked learning things.

"It's a letter 'A', baby. When you learn all your letters, you can start reading books, just like Giles... uh, Daddy does. Won't that be fun?"

Xander snorted in disbelief. "Can't you give the poor kid a break? Isn't it bad enough he's gonna have to spend thirteen years of his life surrounded by that nasty ol' alphabet? Does he have to spend his tender years learning, too? That's pretty cruel, Will."

Marcus ignored Xander. He was always teasing, anyway. He stared at the drawing, memorizing it.

Willow leaned towards him encouragingly. "C'mon, you can say it. This is the letter 'A'... say 'A', Markie."

"I don't think you're supposed to call him Markie, Will."

She ignored Xander and continued. "This is 'A'. I wonder if they let him watch Sesame Street."

That seemed to ring a bell with Marcus, and his eyes lit up. "Aaa-ee." He said firmly.

"That's right! Xander, did you see that? He got it!"

Xander shook his head sadly. "I saw. It's the end of an era. The innocence is gone."

Willow was about to make a retort, but the telephone interrupted. She jumped up to answer it, leaving the notepad where Marcus could stare at it. "Hello, Giles residence. Oh, hi, Bill! What's up?"

Xander rolled his eyes, and Willow stuck her tongue out at him.

"Sure, you can borrow my laptop. It's at home, though, and I'm here... but you knew that already." She blushed slightly, then said in a lower tone, "Are you sure you can't wait until tomorrow... oh, that's sweet... I don't want anything interfering with our picnic, either. I can run home and get it. Okay, I'll be right over, but I have to come right back here, because we're baby-sitting. Yeah, Marcus is being good. He's walking, did you know? Okay, see you in a sec. Bye!"

She was beaming when she hung up the phone, and Xander's expression was one of complete dread. She ignored it and grabbed her purse and keys. "I'm just gonna be gone for a few minutes, guys. Markie, you be good for Uncle Xander, okay?"

Marcus looked at her innocently. "O-kay."

"Bye!" She dashed out the front door, closing it noisily behind her.

The two deserted males looked at each other. Xander sighed. "Mark, ol' buddy... you might as well learn right now... you can't figure women out. It's just not in the cards."

Marcus decided not to even try.

********

"Buffy, I've not had much practice with restraint in the past year or so. If you keep teasing me, I might well embarrass us both," Giles warned in a low voice as Buffy's shoeless foot inched its way up underneath his pants leg.

"Might be fun," she said languidly. "It would certainly be more entertaining than this yucky old Muzak." She waved a hand in the direction of the ceiling speakers.

Giles growled low in his throat, and the sound made her shiver with delight. After almost two years of marriage, she could still drive him crazy. Of course, it worked both ways. The look in his eyes was enough to make her wish they weren't so far from home.

"They have a ballroom upstairs," she commented, continuing to torture him under the table while above it her hands were folded demurely under her chin. "I bet the music's better up there. Maybe we could dance for just a little while..."

He quirked a smile at her, causing her breath to catch. "A capital idea, my dear." He stood, offering her his hand, and she rose gracefully, her eyes never leaving his. She had to stop and feel for her shoe, but he didn't seem to mind.

********

"Okay, kiddo, watch Uncle Xander. You have to throw it with a little over-the-top, like this..." Xander tossed the soft, foam-rubber ball into the trash can with an exaggerated flourish. "Woo hoo! Three points for the Xand-man! Okay, Marcus, your turn. Put it in the hole, buddy." He handed the child the toy, and nodded encouragingly.

Marcus had never tried to throw something deliberately before, and he thought it sounded like fun. On his first attempt, he released the ball too quickly, and it went straight up, pinging off the spinning blades of the ceiling fan and careening into Giles' chess set. There was enough raw force behind Marcus' throw to cause the pieces to fly in all directions at once, effectively emptying the board.

Xander gaped in disbelief. This kid had an arm! If he could only learn some control, he'd be a killer on the court someday. "Wow, Mark, you really did inherit your Mom's muscle, didn't you?"

Marcus giggled, then high-tailed it for the ball, first crawling, then walking a few steps before crouching to grab his prize. "Woo hoo!" he cheered, holding the ball up like a running back who'd just scored a touchdown.

"Okay, buddy, c'mere and let's see if we can work on your aim."

The next shot knocked over the floor lamp. Xander checked it to make sure it wasn't broken, then retrieved the ball and turned his attention back to his little protégé. The third throw went into the wastebasket, tipping it over and spilling three days worth of trash onto the floor. Xander winced, but cheered dutifully as Marcus shrieked in triumph. "Great shot, Marko. We'd better get this cleaned up. But first, I need a little pick-me-up. You want some more pizza?"

Marcus cheered again. He liked pizza.

********

The music was delightfully slow and sensuous, and Buffy snuggled against Giles' chest, sighing happily. What a nice night... good food, good conversation that wasn't interrupted by baby stuff, and being in the arms of her one-and-only fella. Good old Willow. And Xander, of course.

"This is just what we needed, babe," Buffy murmured happily. "We gotta to do this more often."

"Um hmm." Giles was preoccupied with the delightful feeling of Buffy in his arms. The music was sexy and sweet, a perfect compliment to their mood. "I hate to see it end."

"Well..." She shifted slightly and looked up into his eyes. "We could go for a nice drive..."

He finished her sentence, and her thought, for her. "...and perhaps make a detour on the way?"

"Maybe. There's a really pretty overlook on the way back."

"Yes, there is. Just what are you suggesting?"

"Oh, I don't know... we've never made out in a car before..."

He started chuckling. "Buffy! Don't be silly!"

"I'm not. Just think about it for a minute. Warm night, clear mountain air, a soft breeze blowing, the lights of the city below us, nothing but the moon and stars above... one of the advantages of owning a convertible."

He actually stopped to consider the possibilities. As he thought about them, he decided it had become much too warm in the room. "Well... perhaps a few minutes won't put us too late."

********

"Dude! You forgot the rules again! No books! Your dad would kill me." Xander picked Marcus up and turned him away from the bookcase. "You are one stubborn little guy. Hey, I know, let's build a fort!"

He put Marcus down in the center of the living room floor and started removing the couch cushions. "I used to do this when I was a kid... it's great, really." He began stacking the cushions like toy blocks, using the edge of the couch as a prop. "See, we can crawl through here... follow me!" Xander crawled through the makeshift tunnel, emerging on the other side just in time to see Marcus yank the table runner off Giles' desk. "AAAAHH!" He dove for the antique Tiffany lamp, catching it just before it smashed into the carpet.

Marcus laughed and clapped his hands. Uncle Xander was lots more fun than Aunt Willow.

********

"This is nice." Buffy sighed. They were parked next to the guard rail at the scenic overlook, their bucket seats fully reclined. With the convertible top down, they had an unobstructed view of the night sky. The hill's elevation eliminated much of the haze and light pollution from the valley, and the stars looked close enough to touch. Giles' thumb rubbed lazy circles on the back of her hand as it rested on the console between them.

"It is extraordinarily peaceful, considering the cacophony just a few miles below us." The crowded freeway glistened in the distance, far enough away to muffle the sound of traffic, but close enough to paint delicate threads of red and white onto the dark valley.

Buffy thought of something. "We're not making out. Why not?"

He laughed softly. "We haven't gotten round to it yet, I suppose." He looked skeptically at the small vehicle's interior. "Either that, or I haven't figured out the logistics of cuddling in a sardine tin."

"It's easy. Watch." She slid out of her seat and straddled his lap, smiling seductively. "See? Nothing to it." Suddenly, she yelped as the steering wheel caught her in the back. "Yowch! Well, maybe you should scoot your seat back."

"The seat is as far back as it will go already, love. I had to pull it back so I could drive. This car was obviously made for midgets."

"Hmm. Where there's a will, there's a way. I guess you'll have to move over to the other side. There's nothing in the way over there."

He started chuckling again. "Oh, well, I suppose..." He started to slide out from under Buffy, first bumping his knee on the dashboard, and then banging his thigh on the gear shift. "Ow! Good Lord! Just a few inches over and the romantic atmosphere would have ended... for quite some time!"

Buffy, still propped up against the driver's side door, burst into muffled laughter, holding her mouth in a desperate attempt to not hurt his feelings.

********

"Hey, guys, sorry I took so long but the phone in Bill's apartment didn't have a modem jack... oh... my... God."

She stopped in horror at the state of the living room. Marcus' lego blocks were scattered into the hall. The standing lamp was turned over onto the floor, the shade a few feet away. She started into the room and stepped on a chess piece. There were books everywhere. A half-eaten slice of pizza was draped over the corner of Giles' writing desk. The trash can lay on its side, its contents spilled in a perfect fan shape. The couch cushions were in the floor. There were pieces of shredded paper resting on every available surface. From time to time, a breeze from the ceiling fan would cause paper to shift gently before settling back into place.

"Xander?" She rounded the edge of the couch and looked down to find Xander sprawled out on the floor, face down, with Marcus sitting on top of him. The baby looked up and grinned widely. "Shhh... Than-ner s'eep."

"Xander!!"

A sleepy voice mumbled, "I'm up, Mom... oh, Will, hey. We were just playing 'fort.' Marcus won. I had to show him the confetti dance." He looked up, frowning. "Marcus, you sure did make a mess while I was asleep, buddy."

"Xander! We gotta clean this place up! They'll be home any minute!"

Xander sat up, confused. "No way... it's only..." He looked at his watch. "Augh! Eight-thirty! Don't just stand there! We gotta clean this place up!"

The two friends began dashing around, trying to straighten the once-immaculate room. After watching them dash back and forth for several minutes, Marcus finally curled up on the couch and dozed off. Willow stopped her cleaning long enough to put him to bed, partly so the noise of the vacuum cleaner wouldn't wake him, and partly to keep him out of their way.

********

Giles eased the car into the driveway and killed the engine. The silence stretched out over several minutes. Finally, they turned to each other, speaking simultaneously.

"I just wanted to say..."

"This was really..."

They stopped, then laughed breathlessly. "We are a bit late." The smile on Giles' face indicated he wasn't too worried about the time.

"Yeah, but it was worth it... thank you." She leaned over and gave him a grateful kiss. "You stud-muffin, you."

He laughed self-consciously as he jumped out and rounded the car to open her door. She took his proffered hand, and he tucked hers into the crook of his arm as led her to the front entrance. "My various bruises and abrasions thank you, as well." They both giggled at the memory. "Shall we admit to Willow that her idea was a sound one? Or shall we keep up the pretense of business as usual?" His voice held a teasing note.

"I feel so great right now, I don't think I could pretense if I wanted to."

He cleared his throat gently at her misuse of the word, but didn't bother to correct her.

He unlocked the door, but before he opened it, he stopped and listened for a moment. "Marcus is asleep upstairs."

She nodded. "We're just a couple of worry-warts, aren't we? They did just fine without us."

They entered the house quietly, and Buffy stopped to check her appearance in the hall mirror. Her hair was mussed, so she took it down to avoid curious Willow questions. She glanced at Giles, noting that other than a slightly skewed tie, he looked fine. She giggled softly and eased into the living room.

Xander and Willow were lounging on the couch, drinking sodas and looking totally bored. They both jumped up when they saw their friends were home, and Willow gave them with a searching stare. "Well? Did you have a good time?" She waited, but the answer was plain on their faces. "You did! It was great, wasn't it? I told you this was a good idea!"

Buffy took a few steps towards her friend and gave her a sisterly hug. "Yeah, Will, you told us, and we had a great time. Giles even loosened his tie a little, as the night wore on." She gave him a surreptitious wink behind the redhead's back, then released her and beamed at her two friends.

Xander, who had been hovering in the background during the hug, opened his arms for his share of the gratitude, a pout on his face. Buffy grinned at his expression, then caved in and hugged him with equal affection. When she turned him loose, he complained, "Hey, I think Willow's hug lasted a tad longer than mine!"

One stern look from Giles convinced Xander than the hug he received was sufficient.

"Okay, we're gonna go home now. Marcus is asleep upstairs. He was great. There's a bunch of leftover pizza in the fridge..." Xander nudged her as she spoke, and shook his head when she turned to look at him. "Oh. Okay, there's a few pieces of leftover pizza in the..." He nudged her again. She glared at him, and he shook his head solemnly. Her eyebrows went up, and she put her hands on her hips, finally stating, "Okay, never mind. There are no pieces of leftover pizza in the fridge. You did throw the box away, right?" She directed the question at Xander, and he shrugged and grinned sheepishly. She turned back to Buffy and Giles and rolled her eyes. "There's an empty pizza box in the fridge. Sorry."

Buffy laughed and threw an arm around both of them. "It's no big. I think I can toss a pizza box all by myself." She led them to the door, thanking them profusely along the way. "You guys are great... I can't believe Marcus didn't wear you completely out! You make a great baby-sitting team, I have to admit. Maybe we could do this again some time... in a couple of weeks?"

Willow deliberately avoided looking at Xander's panic stricken face. "Sure! It was a piece of cake. Just give me a call... we can handle it."

They said their good-byes, and started down the steps. The instant Buffy closed the door, Xander hissed, "Next time, I'm getting combat pay."

"I can't believe you trashed the place!" She hissed back.

"Me? Wasn't me! It was Baby Taz!"

"You're blaming the baby?"

"Baby? No baby back there, he's a demolition expert."

"Yeah, right, and I suppose he asked for the confetti dance."

"Well, no, but I had to do something! He was taking apart the furniture! Besides, he won the game."

"You're supposed to be the one watching him, not the other way around."

"I did watch him. I watched him knock over the chess set. I watched him try to dismantle Giles' library. I watched him smear pizza sauce on the table legs..."

"Uh huh."

"Hey! You gotta believe me! I saved Giles' ugly ol' desk lamp from a horrible, lingering death... twice! Actually, I don't know if that counts for me or against me."

"Only you, Xander." She unlocked the car and slid in, reaching for the knob and letting him in the other side.

"Hey! You weren't there! The kid's a menace!"

"Yeah, yeah..." The argument continued as they pulled out of the driveway and started down the street.

********

In the small sliver of light spilling in from the hallway, Buffy stood watching over the little crib. The smile on her face embodied a myriad of emotions... pride, love, wonder, concern... all wound up together in a look that spelled 'Mother' like nothing Giles had ever seen before. He watched her from the doorway, knowing she sensed him there. He felt the same things welling up inside him, and he was grateful that the Bond allowed him to share those strong feelings without having to put them into words.

"I always thought you were pretty good with words." She answered his unspoken thoughts as she glanced up at him, her eyes soft with a love of equal, yet differently directed, intensity.

"Words often fail me... as they have at the moment."

"Words might fail you, but your eyes... they're pretty articulate right now."

"Ah. What are they saying to you?" He smiled, just a tiny quirk of the lip, and her heart skipped a beat. She loved that smile.

"Come here, and I'll tell you." She looked up at him through her long lashes, and his feet moved before he could consciously think to tell them to do so. He swept her off her feet, muffling her delighted laughter with a sound-absorbing kiss. With easy familiarity, he backed across the hall and into their bedroom, never breaking contact with her mouth. He placed her gently in the center of the bed and joined her, murmuring the soft endearments that always made her smile.

Things were getting pretty intense when a familiar wail from the nursery caused them both to freeze. They both groaned, and Buffy started laughing as they sat up, straightening their clothes.

"Making out under the stars is looking pretty good right about now, huh?" she quipped breathlessly as they started back across the hall.

"I was just thinking... perhaps we should buy a larger car..."

The End

Chapter 5: Home and Hearth

Summary:

The Giles family braves the unknown... and the Mall.

Chapter Text

"Rupert, we gotta go shopping."

Giles looked up from his book, surprised at Buffy’s vehemence. It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and he had fervently hoped to keep it that way. Marcus was taking a nap, and the house was quiet. All he wanted to do was stay in his favorite chair and read a bit. If she wanted to shop, that was fine with him. "What? Shopping? All right, go ahead." He returned to his book, knowing she wasn’t finished, but hoping to avoid the issue, whatever it was. "I’ll stay here and wait for Marcus to wake up."

She came up to him and closed the book in his hands. "WE are going shopping, and we are taking Marcus. He needs clothes, and right now. He’s growing so fast I can’t even button most of his shirts anymore. Now..." She pulled the book out of his grasp and straddled his lap, smiling at the glint that appeared in his eyes. "...unless you want your son to become the world’s youngest streaker, get up off your duff and let’s go buy him some clothes."

He couldn’t help it. She was completely adorable, looking at him with those intensely blue eyes of hers. He chuckled softly, then pulled her down for a gentle kiss. As engaging as that was, when he pulled back, his face was still reluctant. "Must we go now? It’s Saturday... the stores will be overflowing!"

"Yes, we must go now, because there’s a sale."

"Ah. Of course." He sighed. "A sale. I see."

"No, you don’t, but that’s okay. You’re obviously sale-impaired."

She slid off his lap as he stood, an amused smile on his face. "Obviously." The ubiquitous fears and questions invaded his thoughts, and he frowned. "We’ve not taken Marcus out in public before. It may overwhelm him."

"He did just fine at Mom’s family reunion."

"Yes, but he was only a few months old. And most of those people were blood relations, and more inclined to overlook our unique... ah, gifts. The people in town are strangers."

"Well, duh. That’s why they’re all not coming to our house for dinner afterwards. He did fine at the christening, so what’s the problem?"

"That was a small crowd... perhaps another time might be better... Monday or Tuesday night, when there aren’t as many people about..."

Buffy listened for a moment to see if Marcus was awake from his nap. Sensing only sleeping thoughts, she sat back down on the couch, knowing they needed to talk the matter. Rupert wasn’t usually so sensitive about crowds. For her own peace of mind, she needed to find out what was bothering him. "He’s gotta live in the world, someday. He needs to learn to deal with it."

"He shouldn’t have to, not yet. He’s just a baby."

Buffy shook her head sadly. "He won’t be a baby forever."

Giles sat beside her. "I realize that, but he’s still so young. Is it necessary to begin all this ‘socializing’ now?"

"Well, yeah, I think he needs to work into it gradually, don’t you? Otherwise, kindergarten is gonna be a major shock. And what if we can’t get our schedule for classes worked out next year? He might have to stay in a daycare for a couple of hours." She tilted her head at him questioningly. "What’s the big deal? You’re always the one that keeps saying Marcus is fine and we can deal with anything."

He stood and began to pace, his thoughts dark and disturbed. They threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought back the urge to give in to the despair. "I just don’t think it’s time yet. We can call your mother, or Willow..."

"Rupert..." Her face was sympathetic, but determined. "How am I going to buy the kid clothes if the kid’s not with me? Be realistic. We can’t keep him in a cave. He needs to be around other people besides us. He’s our baby, sure, but that just means we do what’s best for him. Wearing too-tight clothes is not what’s best for him!"

"Now you’re putting words in my mouth. Of course I want him to have new clothes... and new experiences, as well. Just not yet. Not for a while. Not while he’s so..." Giles’ voice cracked with emotion, and Buffy felt it deep within her... his fiercely protective father instincts were raging inside him. "...so small," he finished, his voice soft with anguish.

She got up and rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t raise his head at first, and she studied his profile carefully before speaking. She’d never seen him get so upset in such a short time. "Babe, I had no idea this would bother you so much."

He looked down for a moment, evaluating his own tumultuous feelings. Finally, he admitted, "Neither did I, actually. The thought of being amongst strangers who might cause Marcus some sort of harm terrifies me."

"Oh, Rupert... that scares me, too. We just have to keep him safe and with us. He’s so friendly and curious... I can’t stand the thought of someone grabbing him... again."

The last word she spoke... ‘again’... reverberated in her mind until it dawned on her just why he was so afraid. "Rupert..." She reached up to stroke his cheek. "It’s not the same. There’s no Council out there trying to take him away from us this time. No more Quentin Travers, no mercenaries. We’ll be fine."

He shook his head slightly, but she felt his hesitant acceptance through the Bond they shared. "I thought I had put that bit of business behind me." He shuddered. "Apparently, I haven’t."

She pulled him into a hug, soothing him with the contact, understanding his terror completely. "You don’t just ‘get over’ having your baby kidnapped." She tightened her hold on him slightly and closed her eyes. "I don’t want to pretend it never happened, but I don’t want it to rule my life, either."

She felt his chuckle before she heard it, the sound rumbling in her ears. He finally spoke softly, stroking her hair as he did. "Well put, my wise little wife. I seem to have grown reluctant to venture much beyond the safety of home and hearth. I didn’t realize how insular I’d become."

"Consider today a chance for a major breakthrough, then. If you’re still worried, then it can be your job to protect Marcus from the big, bad world."

"Or, perhaps, to protect the big, bad world from him."

They both chuckled at that, knowing there was a certain amount of truth in that facetious statement. Finally Giles squared his shoulders, his decision made. "All right, you’ve convinced me. Let’s be off, then."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and started upstairs. "Great. I’ll get the baby stuff ready. Marcus oughta be awake by then. And if you’re really good, I might buy you a new outfit or two. Only I get to pick them out."

"Oh, dear Lord... what have I gotten myself into?"

********

Marcus looked up at his mother’s face, watching her as he tried to decipher the emotions behind them. She was bustling about the small nursery, gathering baby things from all four corners, frowning in concentration. Marcus recognized the frown. It wasn’t a happy expression, or a sad one, either, or a combination of the two. He still had trouble with emotions, but he was beginning to understand this particular one as ‘worry’. He watched from his spot on the floor until he couldn’t stand it any more.

"Mummy? I go?" He knew they were going somewhere, and he wanted to be a part of it. Most of the time he was left behind with Gramma, Xander or Willow. Not that they weren’t fun, but he loved new places and new people. He loved his car seat, where he could see the scenery passing by. He was fresh from his nap, and ready for action!

Buffy looked up and smiled at him. "We’re going shopping, sweetie, and you’re going, too. I know you’ll be a good boy."

A pleased smile spread across the toddler’s face. "I go! I go!" He thrust an awkward fist into the air, imitating Xander’s favorite gesture of triumph. "Yeth!" He bounced a time or two, for good measure, then stopped for a minute, thinking about her last sentence. "I goo’ boy, Mummy?" His tone pleaded for reassurance.

She stopped packing the diaper bag and squatted in front of her son. "You’re a very good boy, Marcus Everett Giles. Mummy loves you very much, too." She gave him a hug and a kiss, then released him back to his play. He was almost a year old, now, and much more independent. He only cuddled when he was tired, or when one of his parents was upset or sad. The rest of the time he was incredibly active, moving with surprising agility for such a tiny thing. His physical coordination was beginning to catch up to his mental ability, and it was a little overwhelming at times.

She watched the child rolling his toy cars and trucks around on the bedroom floor as she got herself ready to go. Giles had made a quick run to the grocery store, hoping to find some nice steaks to grill outside that evening. His new gas grill was a delight to him, and he presided over weekend dinners with the air of royalty. He was a great cook, too, which made it worth putting up with his over-protective attitude towards his grilling territory. It promised to be a glorious summer, full of typical summer fare: backyard barbecues and wading pools and the precious sound of a little boy’s laughter.

She heard the front door bang open, and smiled. ‘That certainly didn’t take long,’ she thought with amusem*nt, and was rewarded with a wash of pride and satisfaction from him as he entered the kitchen.

‘The mighty hunter hath returned... with ribeyes that should make your mouth water.’ His thoughts were clear and focused, letting her know he was happy and relaxed. He’d come to terms with his fears while he was gone. She knew he could feel her sense of relief.

‘We’re ready any time you are, babe.’

‘Let me put these in some marinade, and I’ll be there in a flash.’

Marcus looked up at her, smiling distantly. He knew Daddy was home, and was eagerly waiting for him to come upstairs. He could capture their emotions easily, but when they communicated via the Bond to each other, he either couldn’t or wouldn’t interrupt them. He broadcast emotions and impressions with little effort, but he hadn’t gone so far as to transmit actual words. Buffy sometimes wondered just how different her son’s version of their mystical connection would actually become, as he grew older.

He turned and looked up just as Giles strode into the room. "Daddy!!!" he shrieked, and launched himself at his father’s leg, grabbing him around the knee and giving him an enthusiastic hug. "I go! I go! I goo’ boy!"

Giles laughed heartily and pulled Marcus into his arms. "Yes, love, you’re going with us, and you are a very good boy." Marcus was much better at kisses now, and he nailed his father’s cheek with a loud smack and leaned back, grinning proudly.

"I berry goo’ boy."

Giles shifted the happy child into a comfortable carrying position, and watched Buffy shoulder the diaper bag with a smile. He was going to spend the day with his beautiful wife and son, even if it was at the dreaded mall. He should be grateful.

********

The Sunnydale Mall wasn’t huge, but it seemed so to Marcus. He twisted his head up, down and around, trying to see the ceiling and all the bright lights. When he wasn’t staring at the lights, he was staring at the people.

He’d never seen so many people! They strode past him as he watched from his father’s arms, and he was confused. He kept trying to get Mummy and Daddy to stop so he could talk to them, but they wouldn’t. Finally, he stopped wondering why and started examining the exciting things that were all around him. He especially liked the bright signs that decorated the store windows. Soft music was playing over the speakers. He decided this had to be the most interesting place on earth.

Buffy made a bee-line for the first children’s clothing store she came to, with a reluctant Giles tagging along. He loved carrying Marcus, but he felt self-conscious, like he was drawing attention to himself. Actually, it was Marcus drawing all the attention... the instant the four sales ladies in the shop saw him, they descended en masse, oohing and cooing like crazy, complementing Giles on his adorable baby. He responded graciously to their admiration, and they went equally crazy over his lovely accented voice. To Buffy’s surprise, not one of them assumed he was anything other than the child’s father. She realized just how happy, proud and young he looked, and began to beam proudly herself, until she realized they were effectively leaving her out.

After looking uncertain for a few seconds, Marcus smiled and said, "Hi."

An older lady with salt-and-pepper hair seemed to be the ringleader of the sales quartet. "Hello, young man! My aren’t you handsome? Just like your father!"

Giles flushed slightly, but the smile stayed on his face.

Marcus said solemnly, "I berry goo’ boy."

The ladies burst into laughter. Salt-and-pepper agreed heartily. "Of course you are, you darling." She beamed and patted his back gently. "What’s your name, sweet?"

"Mah-cuth Ev-wett Gileth." Marcus enunciated carefully, and was rewarded with even more bright smiles. His ‘g’ and ‘s’ sounds weren’t quite correct yet, but it was still fairly easy to understand. He’d just learned to say his full name, and was more than willing to share it with anyone who asked. Giles’ pride broadcast to the child, and he looked up at his father, basking in his approval.

One of the younger girls cooed, "Oh, my, that’s such a grown-up name! Marcus, you’re such a big boy. How old is he, Mister Giles?" She batted her eyes at the older man, causing his eyebrows to rise slightly. Good Lord... was she flirting with him, or just trying to make a larger sale? He sincerely hoped it was the latter.

"He’s a year old next month."

"Oh, my! He’s so mature for his age..." The ladies once again began cooing and complimenting Marcus. The baby seemed perfectly at ease with all the attention, unlike his father.

Giles kept looking around for Buffy, but couldn’t see her for the small crowd around him. He felt her close by, and could feel her internal resentment building like thermal pressure at a geological fault. He almost chuckled. ‘Turnabout is fair play, love... see how you like feeling jealous, for once.’

Her thoughts came back to him, clearly and distinctly. ‘Don’t make me have to kill the entire sales staff, babe. I like shopping here.’ She paused, then added stubbornly, ‘And I’m not jealous.’

He sent a mental laugh back to her, and started looking around, trying to locate her. Marcus was chewing on his fist, and he was drooling a bit, and Giles needed a cloth to wipe himself and the child’s arm. In a flash, Buffy was by his side with a washcloth. She beamed up at the both of them as Marcus pointed to her and said, matter-of-factly, "Mummy!"

She wiped her son down with a few practiced strokes, then leaned against Giles’ arm. He was so uncomfortable with the attention she decided not to be jealous any more. "Are you two finished wowing the workers? We need to actually buy stuff here."

"Oh, yes... I’m sure a man with baby saliva on his shirt front is considered quite attractive."

Salt-and-pepper eyed him appreciatively. "In this store, it is." The other girls nodded in happy agreement.

Buffy laughed at the confused look on his face. "You definitely need to get out more often, Rupert."

"I don’t blame you for keeping a man like him hidden away, honey," the thirty-something brunette sympathized. "I can see your little boy has his father’s good looks." She smiled widely. "And his beautiful manners, too."

Giles was in full blush now, and Buffy good-naturedly rescued him by asking for help with clothing sizes. They spend about thirty minutes shopping, and by the time they’d finished there was a good-sized pile of children’s clothes, socks and shoes on the counter in front of them. Giles handed Marcus to Buffy to reach for his wallet, and the child began to squirm.

"Down, Mummy!" he commanded, nearly wiggling out of her grasp.

The store wasn’t crowded, so she cautiously set him on his feet. He’d been very patient in the dressing room, trying on all the outfits she’d picked for him. He deserved a little free time.

Giles’ attention was on the purchase, and he didn’t notice the wide-eyed stares from the staff as Marcus toddled around under his own power. Salt-and-pepper gasped from behind the counter as the boy broke into a stilted run, with Buffy a few steps behind. "He sure does get around for such a tiny thing..."

Giles smiled fondly. "He’s been walking for several months now. He’s quite precocious... sometimes we hardly know what to do with him."

At that moment, an attractive young red-haired girl came through the entrance wearing the matching slacks and shirt of the store’s uniform. Giles thought she looked familiar, and she brightened when she saw him. "Professor Giles! Hi! You probably don’t remember me... I was in your Mythology class last semester."

His eyes lit up in recognition. Mythology had been a mercifully small class. "Miss DeLong? Hello... of course I remember you. How are you?"

"Doing great! I’m working here for the summer. It’s a lot of fun. By the way," She lowered her eyes slightly and grinned. "I loved your class. You’re a great teacher."

"Why, thank you. That’s quite a..."

Marcus chose that moment to run full tilt into Giles’ leg. Grabbing it tightly, he let out a squeal and shouted, "Daddy!"

Buffy came up behind him and let out a huge breath in relief. "It’s your turn to chase the kid. We’ve been around the store three times already. I need a break." She looked at the new girl suspiciously for a split second, then smiled. "Hi. I’m Buffy Giles."

The girl’s eyes grew wide, but she wisely chose not to comment. "Pleased to meet you, and you, too," The latter was directed at a laughing Marcus, who was still clinging to his father’s pants' leg. "I was in Professor Giles’ class last year. I was just starting my shift here. I’m Andrea."

"Hi, Andrea," Buffy said in a more friendly tone.

"Hi, An-dweeah," Marcus said clearly. They all erupted with laughter.

As they left the baby store, Buffy whispered confidentially, "We have to remember to say everything out loud, babe. I hollered at Marcus for running under a rack of clothes, and he came out all pouty, and there was a lady standing there staring at us like we’d grown two heads apiece. I forgot I was talking through the Bond! Gotta do audible in public. Help me remember, okay?"

He smiled and nuzzled Marcus briefly, eliciting a storm of happy baby giggles, and agreed. "Quite right. Audible only, if at all possible." Then, just to be contrary, he thought, ‘If I decide I’d like to sneak us into one of those tiny dressing rooms and have my way with you, shall I say that out loud, as well?’

She let out a shout of laughter, and slapped him on the arm sharply. "Behave!"

Marcus thought his parents were terribly funny, and laughed with them. An older couple passed them, going the opposite way, and they both smiled and said hello to the happy little boy in his father’s arms. Marcus took an immediate liking to their faces, and he turned in Giles’ grasp to watch them retreat. He couldn’t understand why Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t stop and talk to all the nice people. He mulled it over in his mind, but he didn’t have enough words to explain his feelings, so he began to feel frustrated.

As Marcus became increasingly more fussy, Buffy gave up the idea of continuing to the next store. "There’s a play room in the mall office, just down the next hallway. I think we need to let Mr. Mini-Toddler here run loose for a little while. Let’s get something to eat... it’s almost noon, anyway, then he can play for a while before nap time. If he wears himself out, we can put him in a stroller and finish up."

"I am getting a bit hungry," Giles admitted.

"How about pizza?"

Giles thought about it, then nodded. "That doesn’t sound too awfully dismal."

Buffy shook her head in amazement. "Why don’t you just say ‘okay’ and save all the ten-dollar words for your lectures?"

********

After a casual meal in the mall’s food court, the family headed for the play room to let Marcus work off some energy. There were children of varying ages already there, and Marcus was so excited he couldn’t wait to get down and tackle the brightly colored toys littering the floor. There were several other adults in the room watching their respective children.

Buffy wondered how Marcus would approach the other children. He’d been in the nursery at church, but there was only one child with him each time, and that child was several years older.

Marcus toddled over to a pile of plastic blocks and plopped down, eager to get his hands on something new. He had started stacking them when a larger boy appeared and watched for a moment. He seemed to be about four years old, with dark hair and eyes and a swarthy complexion. When Marcus finished his stack, the boy grinned and knelt down beside him. Marcus looked up and smiled, welcoming his new friend to his play. "Hi. I Mar-cuth."

"Hola. Mi nombre es Miguel." The older boy answered.

Marcus frowned, then brightened. He looked at Miguel intently, and the boy began to smile. They turned back to their play, perfectly in tune. Giles watched the two children carefully. They were silent except for the occasional laugh or squeal of delight.

Before long, Marcus tired of the blocks and began looking for something more active. He discovered a soft foam rubber ball, and looked at his new friend as he held it out. Miguel was surprisingly careful, taking the ball and tossing the ball gently so Marcus could catch it in his arms, beaming happily when Marcus was able to throw it back to him.

Buffy tried not to gape at the little scene unfolding before her. After a few minutes, she pulled her chair up closer to Giles and grabbed for his hand. ‘I know we said we’d say stuff out loud, but... did you see what he is doing? He just bypassed the language barrier like it wasn’t there!’ At first, she was proud and awed by his ability, then the implications began to sink in. She searched her husband’s face for reassurance. ‘What if someone else notices? What are we gonna do? They’re gonna think Marcus is a freak...’

‘Buffy, don’t panic. Marcus is enjoying himself. Let him.’

‘But, they’re not talking!’

‘Neither are we. I’d say, offhand, we’re more likely to draw suspicion than Marcus is. Look at them.’

The two mismatched children were having a grand time, running in circles and shrieking from time to time. The sound of their voices bounced cheerfully off the walls.

"I guess I’m being the worry-wart now, huh?"

He smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze. "This is such an extraordinary time... when everything is so new and exciting for him. We must savor each moment." He suddenly shot out of his chair and grabbed Marcus, foiling his attempt to climb over the low gate behind the counter and investigate the cash register. "Here, now, son, that doesn’t belong to you. All these toys are here for you and Miguel."

He set the toddler back down on his feet in the center of the play area and grinned at the worker. "I’m sure you’re accustomed to dealing with active youngsters."

She replied, "Oh, yes. Your little boy has been awfully good so far."

Giles nodded in agreement. "He has been good. This is his first time to visit the mall. We didn’t know just how he would act."

"He’s done better than most."

"Thank you."

"By the way, nice moves."

Giles looked back. She was grinning widely.

"Ah... thank you." He returned to his seat, ignoring Buffy’s teasing grin.

After a short while, Miguel’s mother decided it was time to leave, and she called to him softly. Miguel looked at Marcus sadly, and Marcus began to pout. He didn’t want his new friend to leave!

Seeing the storm approaching, Giles sighed and stepped forward to address his son. "Marcus, thank you for playing nicely with Miguel." Marcus looked up and smiled hesitantly. Miguel looked up at the same time, his hand firmly in his mother’s, suspicious of strange adults. Giles smiled at the older child, and said softly, "Gracias, Miguel, por jugar agradable con Marcus."

"Marcus es agradable," Miguel said, shyly. "Mama," He turned and looked up to the darkly attractive young woman holding his hand. "Puede Marcus venir a nuestro hogar y jugar con migo?"

Giles laughed at the woman’s surprise. Buffy tried not to look like she didn’t speak Spanish, but she was actually relying heavily on Giles’ mental translation. She chided herself for not paying more attention in Spanish class. Giles thoughts were amused as he supplied, ‘Miguel asked if Marcus could come to his home and play with him. He says Marcus is nice.’

Buffy smiled and stood as the woman came over to them. Giles gave her a quick couple of phrases to say, hoping she’d remember them long enough to say the unfamiliar words. She gave him a quick glare for doubting her, and said politely, "Gracias, Miguel. Eres agradable tambien. Puedes venir y jugar con Marcus." She looked up at Giles and said plaintively, "I’m gonna have to brush up on my Spanish, huh?"

"So it would appear. Senora, cuál es su direccionamiento?" They exchanged names, addresses and short pleasantries, and after promising to visit soon, the young Mexican woman and her son left to finish their shopping. Marcus waved sadly as his new friend left, but quickly became interested in exploring the rest of the room, trying out every toy as he came to it. He even babbled happily with the other children, although he didn’t make the emotional connection to them that he had with Miguel.

‘Perhaps he feels the Bond isn’t necessary with children who speak English as a first language,’ Giles mused as Buffy watched with a smile on her face.

She turned to him and said audibly, "Well, do we have a date? ‘Cause if they’re coming over, you’d better be there, or I’m gonna be reduced to pointing and grunting. All I remember from class is ‘Buenas dias! Como esta usted? Muy bien, gracias.’ That won’t get me very far. Oh, yeah, and ‘Hasta la vista.’ That’s about it."

Giles laughed. "At least you’ll be politely ignorant. Senora Navarro is learning English at the Community College. She’ll be wanting to try out her lessons on you."

"Should we be letting Marcus do Spanish before he learns English? And, by the way, is our life weird, or what?"

"Marcus understands English very well, he just can’t speak it fluently as yet. Actually, he wasn’t speaking Spanish, merely capturing another child’s emotions and thoughts. We suspected he might be able to do that, didn’t we? He certainly does so with us, and with Willow, Xander, and your mother. As a matter of fact, children tend to be much more open to such communication than adults. And yes, our life is weird. Wonderfully so, at times."

She looked up at him with adoring eyes, loving how he made everything seem so simple and right. "You are really something, aren’t you, Rupert Giles?"

Giles gave her a sweet, lopsided smile, and they froze for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes. Then, by mutual consent, they turned their attention back to their child. Giles smiled again as a wide yawn split Marcus’ face nearly in two. "I’d say we shall be resuming our shopping adventures shortly. He’s getting sleepy."

It wasn’t too long before Marcus came trudging up to Buffy, rubbing his eyes and whimpering softly. She gathered him up and rocked him until he fell deeply asleep, then borrowed the smallest available stroller from the nursery worker and strapped him in. They headed back down the wide corridor, feeling happy about their trip thus far.

********

Giles eyed the store before him with no little trepidation. He much preferred a low-key, traditional gentlemen’s store, one where a single salesperson stayed with a man until he was fully outfitted. He had his favorites back home in London, particularly one run by an ancient Italian man who was as ebullient as Giles was reticent. The man knew Giles’ wardrobe better than Giles himself did, and clothed him with the fondness of a proud father for a son. He knew Giles’ tastes, as well, and never ventured beyond what Giles would be comfortable wearing. He might not have been the highest paid employee of the British Museum, but he had always been well clothed. Coming to California put a considerable strain on his wardrobe.

The store before him was brightly lit, with neon lights in the windows and equally appalling neon colors splashed over the clothing in the window. There was loud, obnoxious music coming from the impressive speakers hanging from the four corners of the store. Young people were bustling about, shouting over the cacophony. It resembled one of Giles’ worst nightmares... or a night at the Bronze.

He turned and said, in a voice that was mere millimeters shy of pleading, "Buffy, love, I can’t go in there. There’s absolutely nothing in the place I could, or would wear."

"Rupert, love, you need some warm-ups, another jogging suit, and some jeans and casual shirts, and I promise there’s something in there you can wear just fine."

He sighed. He really needed to shop by himself more often, then Buffy wouldn’t have a good reason to drag him into places like this. She laughed at his thoughts, patted his arm soothingly, and pushed the stroller-full of sleeping baby into the noisy store. He sighed again, more heavily than before, and followed her in.

The sales staff consisted of young girl and boy, both in jeans and T-shirts with the store’s logo printed across the front. They met Buffy at the door, and the boy and greeted her politely. "Hi, I’m Derrick, this is Debbie. Welcome to The Place. Can we show you some stuff?"

She smiled back, noting that the loud music wasn’t disturbing Marcus in the least. "Not for me. But my guy could use some help. He’s sorta fashion-deficient."

Derrick looked at Giles, who was hovering close to the door, looking like a prisoner contemplating a break out. He nodded at his fellow salesperson, and she grinned and approached Giles carefully. "Hi, I’m Debbie. You need some stuff? I might be able to help you out." She kept a completely innocent expression as he smiled shyly.

"Well, my wife tells me that I need casual clothing. Joggers and such. Some jeans, as well."

"Ooh... love the accent!" She gave him a thorough up and down look as he fidgeted. "You’re about a 36-32, aren’t you? Hope you’re a Levi’s man, ‘cause that’s what I see you in. Nice shoulders... shirt size Large, too. Follow me."

He looked around for Buffy, but she was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped him for a moment, then her thoughts met his reassuringly. ‘Diaper time, babe... I’ll be right back. There’s a restroom down the next hall. Don’t be scared... they won’t hurt you!’

‘I’m not worried about being hurt, just embarrassed,’ he responded, fighting a chuckle.

‘Don’t do anything embarrassing, then, and I’ll be back in a minute.’

He followed the salesgirl to a rack of brightly colored wind suits. Immediately, he began stammering. "I-I-I don’t th-think these are wh-what I’m looking f-for..."

She reached into the garish pile of polyester and pulled out a black outfit with a subtle electric blue stripe on the sides. "You gotta trust me a little, dude. I wouldn’t put you in day-glo, okay?" She eyed him carefully. "Not that you wouldn’t look tasty."

He grabbed the hanger from her. "I-I’ll take this, then. Ring it up."

"Oh, no, not so fast. I have my orders. Wifey said sweats, jeans and casual shirts, too. We’re just getting started."

"Oh, dear Lord."

Debbie laughed and steered him toward the back of the store.

By the time Buffy got back, Giles was laden with an impressive stack of clothing. She came up behind him at the counter as he paid for his purchases and watched him banter hesitantly with the kids that worked there, an adorably self-conscious smile on his face. She grinned. They’d won him over.

She slid an arm around him as he fumbled with his wallet. "I see you’re still alive. Did the crew take good care of you?"

He grinned and turned into her embrace. "Yes, as a matter of fact, they did."

"You like your stuff?"

"Yes. These two were very helpful."

Buffy beamed at the pair behind the counter. "You guys are incredible."

Derrick grinned widely. "Just doin’ our jobs. You two come back soon, okay?"

They said their good-byes and left the store. Giles seemed much more cheerful, and Buffy commented, "So, wha’d you think? Weren’t they just the best?"

"I have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised. Reminded me of the shops back home."

"I knew you’d like them. It’s been a while since I was in there, but I recognized those two before we went in. They own the place."

He stared at her. "Those two young people? They’re hardly old enough to be out of college!"

She laughed at his dumbfounded look. "They’re husband and wife, and they’ve been running the place for his dad since he retired. They worked every summer there during school. They know their stuff."

He looked impressed. "I shall not underestimate your opinion of clothiers again, my dear."

Marcus whined softly and stirred in his stroller, then fell silent again. They sat on a convenient bench for a moment, waiting to see if he was going to stay asleep. Giles leaned back, suprisingly content. "I seem to be enjoying this more than I should."

Buffy leaned against him. "It’s my good influence. And, maybe the pizza."

"It was excellent pizza."

She laughed softly. "So far, so good. Are you still scared?"

"Not as much, now. Um, are we finished?"

She got up reluctantly. "No, I have a few things I want to get. Do you want to stay here? I won’t be very long."

"Go on, then. Just leave the packages here with me. We’ll be fine." He looked down at his sleeping son and smiled happily. He watched with slightly lecherous glee as she sashayed down the mall. She was very aware of him watching, so she deliberately made the view worthwhile. He decided to exact his revenge when they got home. ‘Little vixen,’ he thought to her, lovingly, before turning his attention back to Marcus.

He studied the tiny face in the stroller, fighting the urge to gather him up and hold him close. It wouldn’t do to disturb his nap, Giles thought sensibly. A grumpy Marcus was not a pretty sight. He looked at his watch. The nap should be over shortly. The time spent with his growing son was well worth the effort necessary to keep up with him when he was awake.

"He’s so cute." A voice from nearby startled Giles out of his reverie. He looked up to see a trio of young ladies beaming at him. He stood politely, and the owner of the voice pointed at Marcus and restated her compliment. "Your little boy, Professor Giles. He’s so cute." The other two girls giggled behind her.

He recognized two of the girls from his Freshman Ancient History class. It had been the largest of his classes, and he couldn’t put names with all the faces... unless they sat close to the front. "Thank you, yes, he is. Miss... ah, I’ve forgotten your name, but if you tell me what row you were in, I shall have it in an instant."

She looked skeptical, but complied. "Third row, second seat."

"Miss Miller, Ancient History. Ah, yes, and you were right behind her, weren’t you, Miss Nash?"

The second girl gaped at him. "Wow. How do you do that?"

"Months of staring at the same alphabetized seating charts. How are you both getting on? I don’t think I know your friend."

"Oh!" Miss Miller turned and pulled the new girl up beside her. "This is Angie Davenport, my cousin. I saw you sitting there, and I had to introduce her to my favorite Professor."

"Hello, Miss Davenport. Favorite, you say? I’m quite flattered."

The three girls giggled again, then one of them spotted a group of boys across the corridor. "Oh, there’s Scott! We gotta go. It was nice talking to you, Professor Giles. Bye!"

He watched them skitter over to the boys with amusem*nt. Some things never changed.

"You’re a popular guy, Giles."

Giles jumped again as Xander’s familiar voice caught him off guard. "Hello, Xander. Shopping?"

"Nah, I’m just waiting for Anya. She wanted an ice cream cone, so I told her I’d meet her here."

"Ah. And are the two of you on... a date?" Giles smiled. A trip to the mall could be taken as such, according to Buffy.

"I have no idea," Xander stated matter-of-factly.

"Ah, again. Well, enjoy your ice cream."

"That will depend on whether Anya actually shows up." Xander kicked at the floor briefly. "Can I wait here with you? Just in case she doesn’t show, then I won’t look like such a loser."

"You’re not a loser, Xander. Please, sit."

Xander looked down at Marcus. "He’s growing fast, isn’t he?"

"Yes. It makes me sad, at times."

"Yeah." Xander kept his eyes on the child, but his gaze was far away. "Things change, don’t they?"

Giles wondered if the young man was thinking of Cordelia, or possibly even Willow. "They do, indeed. Such is life."

"Yeah."

They sat for a moment in silence, understanding and sympathy flowing between them. Xander couldn’t hold still for long, however, and he finally sat forward and stared at Marcus for a little while, as if memorizing the tiny features. "Hey, Giles. You know what?"

Giles raised an eyebrow, the gesture plainly a question.

"I think your changes turned out pretty good." Xander smiled as he looked up at his mentor and friend. "I think you and Buffy both did good."

Giles smiled fondly at the young man who’d had to do so much of his growing up on his own. "I quite agree with you, Xander."

"I never thought I’d want kids, because of..." The dark head dropped in shame. Giles only knew bits and pieces of what Xander’s home life had been. He had, on more than one occasion, offered the boy sanctuary in his own apartment. Xander had always refused, with a joke and a casual expression of gratitude. Giles had never seen physical evidence of abuse, although he’d suspected it many times. He often wondered if he should’ve been more insistent, tried harder to gain access to that secret hardship.

Somehow, it wasn’t in his nature to pry, and Xander seemed grateful. Giles only hoped he hadn’t let the young man down.

Xander swallowed hard, then finished, "But, anyway, seeing you two with Marcus, well, it sorta makes me think. Maybe there’s hope, after all."

"There’s always hope, my friend."

A fleeting, sweet smile crossed the younger man’s face. "Being around you guys, I can almost believe it."

"Xander!"

His head whipped around at the sound of a female voice. "Anya?"

"There you are. I’m late. I’ll save the ingratiating apologies for after you buy me ice cream."

"Fine with me." He jumped up, excited and slightly nervous. "Uh, see ya later, Giles. I’d better split while the little guy is still asleep. You know how he loves his ‘Unca Than-ner’. Bye!"

"Good-bye." Giles’ gaze followed the couple out of sight. "And, good luck to you both," he added softly.

Chapter 6: Things Unsaid

Summary:

Marcus learns about lying, and his parents learn something about truth. Oh, and there’s a birthday party, too.

Chapter Text

"Marcus! Did you spill that Kool-aid on the carpet?" Buffy pointed at the large purple stain soaking into the twisted pile. Usually, if he had an accident, he would call her immediately. This time, however, she found him hiding behind the couch, looking guilty and fearful. She’d told him not to go into the living room. As is the usual case when a child disobeys, that child finds himself in a jam.

Marcus was definitely in a jam. His face was set in a stubborn frown. He shook his head firmly. "No!"

Buffy sighed. This was a new development. Marcus had never lied to her before. She remembered something her mother used to tell her father in times like this... when she’d been caught and tried to weasel her way out of trouble by fabricating a story to suit the situation. She could hear Joyce’s exasperated voice saying, "If children were born honest, they wouldn’t need parents."

She never understood what that meant... until now.

"Marcus Everett, look at me." She fixed him with a stern glare. "Tell me the truth. Did you spill that Kool-aid?"

‘Great, I sound just like my Mom!’ she thought ruefully. ‘I always hated it when she asked something so obvious... I was the only kid in the house... of COURSE I was the one that did everything!’ She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, watching his face as a fierce battle waged behind it. She felt the swirl of emotions, anger, fear, and finally, sadness because he’d disappointed her.

Finally, he looked up at her, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. He nodded slowly. "I sowwy, Mummy. I sowwy."

She sighed. Another small victory. "Come here, baby." He shuffled towards her, sniffing and rubbing his eyes, his entire body stiff with distress. She picked him up and gave him a kiss. "Marcus, you must always tell Mummy and Daddy the truth. It hurts us when you lie. Telling the truth makes me happy, even if I don’t like what you did."

Her mind was whirling. His first birthday was two days away, and she was already having to deal with two-and three-year-old issues. He was learning to assert his independence day by day, and had a strong sense of self. He was still extraordinarily unselfish, for the most part, but he knew what he wanted, and made it abundantly clear when his will was violated.

Still cradling the baby in her arms, she headed into the laundry room for the carpet cleaning machine. Her wise and forward-thinking husband had purchased one as soon as Marcus began to walk, and she’d used it a hundred times. It sure beat renting a steam cleaner!

"C’mon, let’s get this all cleaned up before Daddy gets home." She put him down and let him trail behind her as she filled the machine with cleaning solution. When she turned around again, he was looking up at her sadly, pouting.

"What’s wrong, sweetie? Mommy’s not mad." She squatted down until she was eye level with him. "Tell me what’s wrong."

A wave of guilt struck her, and she almost fell backwards in her shock. He felt guilty? A little child? No, this was too much... no one-year-old baby should have to deal with that kind of heavy emotion. "Oh, Marcus, honey, it’s okay. Mummy forgave you already. After you’re forgiven, you don’t have to feel bad anymore."

He couldn’t articulate his feelings, but he knew his mother would feel them with him, so he gave up and just threw himself in her arms. He knew Mummy would make him feel better.

She forgot about the carpet stain and concentrated on comforting her son.

********

"He’s asleep."

Giles sighed heavily as he sank onto the couch. "Finally. It’s nearly nine thirty. I was beginning to think we’d fall asleep before he did."

"I know. He’s been in high gear for the past week." She sighed as she joined him, collapsing against him wearily. "It’s gonna be a wild birthday party, I can tell already."

"Indeed." He pulled her closer to him and handed her a cup of mint tea. "Now, relax yourself a bit. You said we needed to talk." He kissed her temple gently, not wanting to cause her to spill the hot drink.

"Sure do. Okay... we’ve been so busy tonight I didn’t get a chance to tell you... Marcus lied to me today."

Giles groaned, then chuckled softly. "The little dickens. How did you react?"

She sipped the soothing liquid for a minute, then answered, "I told him that lying hurts Mummy and Daddy, and then he started crying and said, ‘I sowwy.’ But that wasn’t the worst part. He felt so guilty afterwards I had to hold him for a half hour before he would get down and play again." She didn’t have to tell him how that made her feel... the worry and fear that their son would grow up to be unhappy... Giles could feel it the moment she did.

"Love... Marcus’ being gifted doesn’t exclude him from going through the same growing stages as other children. We must teach him right from wrong and light from darkness, just as all parents must. It seems that, with his gifts, he should be able to feel his way to truth, but I don’t think any child can... not even an extraordinary child such as Marcus. He has the Bond within him, but it is up to us to teach him to follow its leading."

Buffy snorted softly. "You’re so smart, it makes me crazy sometimes. We’re supposed to teach him, and we don’t even understand what to do ourselves!"

"That’s what makes life so exciting," Giles said with a perfectly straight face. Buffy poked him in the ribs teasingly, and they both began to grin.

"Wise guy."

"I’m so glad you recognize my wisdom, love."

Buffy rolled her eyes, then gave up and sank back against his side. They sat quietly for a while, sipping tea and sharing loving thoughts. Finally Giles sighed and placed his cup carefully on the coffee table.

"What is it?" She felt his feeling of disquiet arise beneath the calm exterior.

"How would you feel if I went to see Father Denning tomorrow? Concerning Marcus?" He looked at her sincerely, his eyes begging her indulgence.

"Uh... how come?"

"Well, Denning isn’t your run-of-the-mill cleric, or he would never have lasted forty years above a Hellmouth. He understands our somewhat... unique situation. He might provide some insight on... ah... how to teach Marcus about... well, spiritual matters."

She looked surprised, but not upset. "Oh. Okay, I get it. I mean, Doctor Liebermann is great, and he knows the clinical stuff, but..." She looked down, smiling slightly. "...I don’t think he believes in angels, or supernatural callings, do you?"

Giles shook his head slightly, marveling at her perceptiveness. "No, I imagine not. I’m don’t think he believes in a God at all."

Buffy looked up at him, surprised. "You asked him?"

"Not exactly. During one of our interviews, I touched on my belief as to what has happened to us. He seemed... skeptical." Giles’ face grew solemn. "He told me, in so many words, that it would give him great comfort to believe in a higher power, but that he did not."

"That’s sad. Maybe someday he will... I mean, neither of us were raised with any religious training, but look at us now! We have God-sent, super-power Bonds and funky-looking angels showing up left and right."

He smiled at that, then added, "True enough. I feel I should speak with Denning now, before Marcus begins asking us about our beliefs." He ran his hands through his hair in mild exasperation. "I have no idea how to explain such matters to a one-year-old!"

Buffy started laughing at him, despite her matching concern. "Yeah, you can’t use charts, overheads and globes, can ya?"

"No, I suppose not. A globe would probably end up being used as a basketball."

"He sure loves throwing things... I found a sock on the ceiling fan earlier today."

"How original. Perhaps he shall invent a new game of it... should spark an entirely new athletic-wear market."

"Not to mention a whole new ceiling fan revolution."

"Perhaps he’ll make his first million in sock and ceiling fan futures."

"Ceiling fans with racing stripes... I can see it now."

She laughed again at the silliness of their conversation, and snuggled happily against his side. His arm slid into place around her, and peace descended on the living room once again. His decision made, Giles began to relax, and their soft conversation turned to things of the home... mundane things like groceries, bills, and class schedules. Above them, Marcus slept contentedly, safe in the protective aura that his parents projected.

********

The next day after breakfast, Giles bundled Marcus into the van and drove to St. Mary’s church on the outskirts of town. Marcus seemed happy to make the trip, and babbled happily as they drove through the shade-dappled streets of the older parts of Sunnydale. Marcus loved pointing out things and asking what they were, and Giles answered each query patiently as he drove, encouraging his son to learn new words.

When Giles pulled into the parking lot, he was surprised to find several cars already there, and caught sight of children playing in the yard out front. ‘The church school’s out for the summer,’ he thought, with some confusion. Then it hit him. Church league baseball... of course. And, of course, Father Denning, with his love of athletics, would certainly be right in the middle of things.

He broke into a knowing grin when he rounded the parking lot and approached the playground. Amidst the youngsters, looking like a silver-haired bear surrounded by tiny hounds, Father Denning crouched, his hands expertly guiding a future slugger in how to swing a bat. The ball rested on a short post, negating the need for a pitcher. Seeing the size of the children, Giles surmised that they wouldn’t be coordinated enough to hit a pitched ball, no matter how gently it was thrown.

Father Denning led his little charge through the motions several times, then backed away. The child tried valiantly to imitate his coach’s movements, and, on the third try, connected solidly, sending the ball bouncing into the infield. The little boy shrieked with joy, and instead of trying for first base, ran back the dugout and traded hi-fives with his teammates. The parents, sitting in the stands, cheered wildly. None of them seemed concerned about him actually getting to home plate!

Giles watched for a few minutes, then looked over at Marcus. The child was mesmerized by the action. He broke into a grin when the little crowd began cheering again. A chubby-faced little girl was pounding towards first base, barely ahead of the rolling ball she’d just clobbered with all her might.

Giles grinned and gave Marcus a quick kiss. "You’ll be with them before too long, love. I think this just might be a good place for you to go to school. At least here, you won’t have to worry about keeping secrets."

Father Denning finally noticed Giles standing there, and turned his charges over to a younger man in casual clothes. He crossed the field quickly, a smile creasing his broad face.

"Rupert! Hello! I’m running late, sorry..."

Giles laughed again. "Oh, no... you were engaged in much more important business..." He nodded towards the field of happy children, his face taking on a look of wonder. He never thought he’d have children of his own... and yet, here he was, holding his son. It was a bit overwhelming at times.

"Come on in. I need a cool drink right now." Denning led them into the gym, heading straight for the kitchen. He pulled out a sports drink and finished half of it before Giles could react. Seeing his friend’s look, Denning began to chuckle. "This stuff’s supposed to be good for a body, but it tastes horrible. Want some?"

Giles held up a hand and replied, "Oh, no... thank you. Buffy tries to get me to drink that appalling concoction after our workouts. I prefer diluted fruit juice, actually. It’s stood me in good stead."

"I’ll have to try that... it can’t be any worse than this." He held up a half-empty bottle of blue fluid.

Giles made a face. "No, it certainly can’t."

"Hi, Fa’ Denny." Marcus suddenly said. The child didn’t seem afraid, only respectful.

"Hello, there, Marcus. How are you today?" The priest made it a practice to speak to Marcus as an equal, much to the little boy’s delight.

"I go i’cweam!" Marcus broke out into a happy smile. "I wike i’cweam!"

"That sounds awfully good to me, too." Denning laughed.

"I promised him ice cream after our visit... he’s positively mad for the stuff. Buffy is going to kill me. It will undoubtedly ruin his lunch." Giles shook his head in resignation.

"Oh, I think a growing boy like Marcus can handle a little mid-morning snack."

Marcus nodded vigorously. "Yeth. Fa’ Denny wike i’cweam? It berry good!"

Denning’s eyes widened. "Yes, I like ice cream. You certainly are adding to your vocabulary daily, aren’t you, son?"

Marcus frowned, not completely understanding. He looked at his father, then, catching the meaning behind the words, beamed happily and looked back at the priest. He nodded vigorously and answered, "Yeth."

"Good lad! Well, let’s go on to my office. I’m ready to sit for a little while!" The priest shook his head in amazement, then gestured towards the doors leading to the church proper.

Just as they reached the exit, a young nun entered, breathless, and seeing Father Denning, she immediately bowed. "Monsignor Denning! Good morning... I’m sorry, but you have an important telephone call."

"Thank you, Sister Edwardine. And please, call me Father, at least around the general public."

"Of course, Mons- I mean, Father. The call is in your office..."

"I’ll be right there... Sister, would you mind showing Mister Giles and Marcus around the school? I don’t think they’ve seen it."

Giles smiled understandingly. "I’d love to see the school. Perhaps when Marcus is older he will attend here."

Sister Edwardine beamed up at him. She couldn’t have been over five feet tall. "That would be wonderful, Mister Giles. He will get the best of care at St. Mary’s. It’s a wonderful school."

"I go skoo’, Daddy?" Marcus’ eyes lit up at the idea. The other children seemed to be having a grand time.

"Not yet, love, but soon, perhaps only a few years from now, you shall go to school."

"Yay!" Marcus seemed delighted.

Sister Edwardine seemed awestricken. "How old... I’m sorry, that was rude of me." She ducked her head slightly, and Giles smiled. She was so young. Buffy’s age, perhaps even younger.

"No, it’s quite all right. He will be a year old tomorrow, actually."

She didn’t comment, but her eyes grew impossibly wider.

"I know. He’s quite precocious. That’s one of the reasons I’m here... to talk with Father Denning about Marcus’ education."

"Oh! I see! Well... come this way, and I’ll show you the classrooms." She gathered her wits and regained her polite hostess attitude, and they went along on their impromptu tour, chatting amiably as they visited the empty classrooms. Giles was suitably impressed with the clean, neat cubicles, and surprised at the computers that graced nearly every room. St. Mary’s was certainly keeping up with the times!

After a short while, Denning finished his call and intercepted them just as they were heading for the playground. A new, older batch of children had taken over another part of the field, and when they saw the young nun watching them, they began to call to her.

"Sister Eddie! Sister Eddie! Come and umpire for us!"

She flushed at her nickname, then looked at Father Denning for approval. He nodded, and she mumbled an apology before heading for the playground. Denning beamed proudly as the children surrounded her.

"We have a wonderful staff here."

"I can see that... Monsignor."

Denning shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Not you, too."

"When did you become a Monsignor? You haven’t said a word."

"A few weeks ago... but it isn’t all that important. They had to do something. Nobody in their right mind wants to live above a Hellmouth, so they probably promoted me to keep me here."

"I’m sure it’s much more than that, my friend." Giles glanced at his watch. "Oh dear, we’d better hurry our meeting a bit... Buffy will be home soon, and I have to leave for work shortly thereafter."

"Well, then, Rupert, let’s try this again, shall we?"

They finally made it to Father Denning’s office without incident. The visit took just under a half hour. Giles left feeling much better about Marcus... and about himself.

********

"So, wha’d Father D say?"

Giles looked up from his spot on the couch as Buffy breezed in, cheerful and happy. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy just looking at her. A tiny smile crooked the corner of his mouth as Marcus toddled over to her, shrieking happily. She swung him into her arms and began peppering his little face with kisses. Giles rose to his feet slowly, not willing to disturb the sweetness of the moment.

"Ooo, yummy kisses... Mummy loves you, Marcus... Rupert, one more time...what did Father D say?"

"Sorry. I was preoccupied. You came into the room, you see," He explained, smiling down at her as he approached and raising his hand to stroke Marcus’ head. "And, being the red-blooded males we are, we were completely carried away by your presence," he finished, smiling even wider as the little boy clung to his mother’s neck, hugging her for all he was worth.

Buffy laughed up at Giles. "Oh, you! You’re just a big ol’ mush-head, you know that?"

"Yes, I’m aware of that. But I can justify it easily."

"You can, huh?"

"Oh, yes. I have two excellent reasons for being a ‘mush-head’." He placed a kiss against Marcus’ hair. "One..." He then leaned forward and gave Buffy a thorough, searching kiss that caused her heart rate to soar into the stratosphere. As he released her lips and gazed into her eyes, he murmured, "Two."

"Free!" Marcus cried happily.

Both adults burst into laughter.

"The advantages of educational television," Giles commented wryly.

Buffy finally caught her breath and fixed Giles with a stern look. "Three strikes and you’re out, babe..."

"Oh! Sorry. You wanted to hear about my talk with Father Denning. Come and sit, and I’ll get us some tea."

"Uh oh... sounds like this is going to take a while." She put Marcus in the floor with a few toys, and curled up on the couch, getting comfortable.

"No, not really," Giles called reassuringly from the kitchen as he filled the kettle with water. "I just thought we might need a quiet moment... tomorrow night there will be a rather boisterous crowd about."

Buffy smiled, then groaned at the thought. Marcus’ birthday party... every aunt, cousin, and acquaintance of theirs would be in attendance. They’d counted twenty-five adults and at least ten children that were planning on being there. "Oh, man... it’s gonna be a madhouse. Thank God Will and Xander are coming to help."

"Your mother, as well... she’s quite capable of handling a crowd."

Buffy laughed. "Yeah... she’ll have everyone organized into interest groups before you can say "Marcus is one year old!"

Marcus looked up at her curiously. "I one yea’ o’, Mummy?" He held up one finger carefully.

She laughed and nodded. "That’s right, honey. You’ll be a big one-year-old boy tomorrow."

The toddler grinned broadly. "I big! I man!"

She heard Giles chuckle from the kitchen. "Doesn’t forget a thing, does he?"

"Not if you say it, babe. Daddy’s word is law."

"Only to Marcus. Daddy’s word often comes into question where Mummy is concerned..." The kettle’s whistle interrupted Buffy’s snappy comeback, and she giggled as her husband came in, looking smug, with tea mugs in hand. It was a rare thing for him to get the last word, and he relished every second. She lovingly allowed him that small victory, and patted the couch beside her in invitation. He sat carefully and began to sip his tea, putting Buffy’s cup on the coffee table to cool. She liked her tea tepid, but he preferred his steaming.

Marcus toddled over and looked at the mugs with interest, then remarked, "Hot, Daddy."

"The tea is very hot, that’s right. You must be careful with hot things."

"Burn me."

"Yes, it could burn you, and that would be quite painful."

Marcus thought deeply for a moment, his face a picture of concentration. He looked up at Giles with concern.

"Burn oo’, Daddy. Be tareful."

Giles face relaxed into the most beautiful smile Buffy had ever seen. "Oh, I shall be careful, love. Thank you."

"Wec-come."

Giles pulled the little boy into his lap, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Usually Marcus was intent on playing, but he sensed his father’s mood and leaned into his chest, fiddling with his tie. With a sigh, Giles rested his cheek against his son’s soft curls. His voice was rough with emotion as he whispered, "Marcus, my son, you are truly a Godsend."

They sat there as the minutes ticked away, unwilling to break the spell of quiet joy. Finally, Marcus decided he’d been still long enough, and he squirmed away, sliding to the floor and heading off to play.

"That’s my cue... it’s time for lunch." Buffy got up, mug in hand, and started for the kitchen. "We can talk while we eat."

Amid sandwiches and Marcus’ spirited attempts to feed himself, Giles discussed his conversation with the priest. They hadn’t talked for very long before Buffy interrupted by saying, "Father Denning thinks we both worry too much, doesn’t he?"

"Well, not exactly. I think he merely meant to be reassuring." Giles finished the last bite of his sandwich and looked at his watch. "Just in time... I’d best get to work." He stood and gave Buffy a kiss on the forehead. "I’m giving two exams this afternoon... testing always makes me feel a bit like a prison guard."

"Eat and run... just like a man."

She made a face at Marcus, and he giggled appreciatively before demanding, "Down, Mummy!"

"See what I mean?" She unlatched the tray from the high chair and held it steady as Marcus clambered down and headed for the living room.

"Oh, there is one thing Denning said that seemed... highly comforting," Giles said from the hall as he collected his briefcase and pulled on his coat.

"What’s that?" Buffy paused with her hands full of dishes.

"He said that Marcus’ sense of morality, and of God, as well, will come from us, what we teach and show him. When he is ready, he will want to know more, and then we can explain to him what we believe."

"That’s good to know. It’s also a little scary."

"Yes, it is, somewhat. He also said that, when Marcus is ready, he will be welcome at St. Mary’s."

"Well, he’s a little young for school right now!"

Giles looked at her with a smile. "Perhaps, but in a year... who knows?"

"A two-year-old in school?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Pre-school, if you will. Look at the time! I must go. We’ll discuss this tonight." He strode over to give her another kiss, then dashed over to the baby playing in the living room. "Good-bye, Marcus. I’ll see you soon." He dropped to his knees and kissed the baby’s forehead, smiling at the child’s concentration.

As he stood to leave, Marcus looked up and beamed. "Wuv ‘oo, Daddy. Buh-bye!"

Giles looked at his wife, shook his head in fond amazement, then left the house grinning from ear to ear.

********

Marcus’ birthday was a bright, cheerful day, and Buffy breezed through her morning classes with her mind full of party details. Joyce and Wilton arrived just before Giles got home, bringing decorations and a still-steaming casserole for dinner. They ate, chattering happily about the party and their expected guests, then adjourned to the living room to transform it into a child’s delight.

As Wilton went to the car to gather Marcus’ presents, Joyce stepped back and surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. "Finished! Buffy, you better come take a picture quick... the decorations will be gone two seconds after your little guests arrive!"

Buffy appeared with a disposable camera, grinning as she snapped a quick picture of her mother’s self-congratulatory look. "The artist at rest. I think I’ll have it blown up and exhibited in your gallery."

"Silly! I mean take pictures of the decorations... not me!" Joyce lunged out of range as the flash went off again.

Buffy stopped chasing Joyce with the camera and dutifully took several pictures of the balloons, streamers, and candy table. They’d been working most of the afternoon, and the guests were just about due to arrive.

Just as she finished the last snap, Giles came downstairs with Marcus in his arms. She grinned wickedly and took a quick picture of her two favorite men in all the world, then laughed at Giles’ pained expression. As he came towards her, he teased, "Oh, dear, I think I must have the wrong living room. It certainly didn’t look like this when I went upstairs."

Buffy made a face at him, then grinned happily. "Marcus, look! Balloons for you and your friends."

Marcus cooed and squealed as he pulled one of the helium balloons by the string. It bobbed back to the ceiling and bounced gently. "B’woon, Mummy! Wook!"

"Yep, and do you know why we’re celebrating, sweetie baby?" Buffy wanted to be sure he understood that the hullabaloo was in his honor.

"I one yea’ o’!" he crowed happily, holding his arms out to Joyce. "G’ammy, wook! I big!"

Joyce took Marcus from Giles and gave him a proud hug. "Yes, you are, darling, you are a big boy. You’re Grammy’s big boy!" She gave him a couple of kisses, then let him down to explore the decorations. "Don’t pull the ribbons off, baby... you want all your friends to see the pretty ribbons and balloons."

"O-kay." Marcus carefully touched every bow along the table, testing the velvet ribbon with his little fingers, a serious look on his face. "Ooo, Mummy..." He looked up at Buffy with a wondering look.

Buffy reached over to let the soft material slip between her fingers, and nodded. "It’s soft, and pretty, too. I like it."

"I wike..." He tried to come up with the word, but couldn’t get his mouth around it.

"Ribbons," Joyce supplied helpfully, still having a hard time comprehending her grandson’s rapidly increasing mastery of language.

Marcus smiled happily. "Wibbons. Pwetty wibbons." A knock on the door distracted him, and he dashed to the front, anxious to see who was there. Giles opened the door to admit Wilton and an armload of packages. "G’ampa! Wook! B’woons! Pwetty wibbons!" He waved his arms wildly, taking in the whole room.

Wilton laughed heartily as he put the packages down. "Hello, Marcus! The decorations are very pretty. Who did all this, I wonder?" He winked at Joyce, smiling, then reached down to stroke the toddler’s head with a gentle hand.

Marcus looked up, happy to supply the answer. "G’ammy an’ Mummy!"

"Ah! I see... they’re very smart ladies, aren’t they?"

"Yeth!" Marcus was so excited he began to hop up and down in place. "I one!"

More people began to arrive, and soon the little house was filled to overflowing with noisy adults and even noisier children. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the windows, eliminating the need for lighting. The children played happily, alternating between the brightly colored living room and the large back yard. Joyce had simple games for the children to play, so she enlisted some of the amused relatives as helpers, leaving her daughter with the less nerve-wracking task of playing hostess. Buffy quickly became accustomed to the sound of the screen door banging shut, but after an hour or so, Giles made his way into the exercise room for some peace and quiet.

He was surprised to find Bill standing in the center of the room, looking lost. Giles gestured with his paper cup and said, "Hello, Armstead. I thought you’d be in the back yard with Willow and Xander."

Armstead smiled hesitantly. "I was, for a while, but I found I needed a bit of a break. One child is hardly a problem, but eleven of them..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to think of a tactful way to make his point without sounding like the consummate bachelor. "...eleven is rather overwhelming."

Giles chuckled. "Oh, yes, I quite agree... as is evidenced by my own personal escape."

At Giles’ inviting gesture, the two men sat on the steps leading into the sunken area of the room. Armstead looked around curiously for a moment. "Lovely room. Not to seem forward, but why have you left it unfurnished?"

Giles smiled behind his cup and took a sip of Willow’s special punch before replying. "This is our training room. Furniture would only get in the way."

Armstead’s eyes lit up. "I say... a training room..." He looked around with a new appreciation.

"Buffy may not be an active Slayer, but she... ah, we... still keep in shape. One never knows what one might encounter on a Hellmouth."

"Indeed." The Observer thought silently for a moment, then said earnestly, "Willow didn’t spike the punch, did she?"

The question caught Giles completely by surprise. "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Because I find myself wanting to ask you another terribly personal question, and I have no idea why."

Giles shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Ask, then. I may not choose to answer, but I shan’t take your head off for asking."

Armstead smiled, and after collecting his thoughts, asked, "Why have you and Buffy stayed in Sunnydale? Would it not be safer for Marcus somewhere away from here?"

The sincerity in the younger man’s voice kept Giles from bristling at his words. Of course he’d thought about leaving! He thought about it every day. His family’s safety and well-being were always uppermost in his thoughts. He wanted Buffy to enjoy her retirement. He wanted Marcus to be able to chase glow bugs in the back yard at night without fear. He wanted safety and security... but was any place on earth really secure?

He focused back on Armstead, who had bowed his head, looking embarrassed at his own boldness. Giles cleared his throat, took a quick breath, and gave the man an honest answer. "If Buffy wished it, I would begin packing before the birthday decorations were taken down. She... she is not ready to completely sever her ties with her home town, and neither am I, truthfully. There is much good here, people we love, and there is a new and active Slayer on the job. I suppose we still feel as though we might be of some help from time to time. Our world is fraught with peril, no matter where we might choose to live... who’s to say, in this era of violence, if we would be any safer elsewhere? I can’t state that we will never leave... but for now, Sunnydale is home to us."

Armstead considered his words thoughtfully before replying. "I see. When you come down to it, there is no truly safe place, is there?"

Giles shook his head ruefully. "No, there is not. Darkness is everywhere. But I must believe that the One who called us to this life will keep us safe until our journey is complete." Suddenly, he decided the room had become much too quiet. He stood smoothly, with Armstead joining him after a beat. "Shall we dive back into the fray? I think I hear Buffy calling the children in for ice cream and cake."

"Marcus does love ice cream, does he not?" Armstead followed his host to the door, smiling.

"Yes, he does. He’s inherited Buffy’s love of sweets." Giles’ expression was amused as he added, "And I will admit to having a certain fondness for jelly donuts. The poor lad hasn’t a chance."

The instant the door swung open, a wall of noise struck them with almost physical force. Buffy dashed to Giles’ side and grabbed his free hand, her face insistent. "C’mon, babe, Marcus is gonna open his presents! Daddy needs to be there to see."

"Coming, love..." Giles obediently trailed her back into the living room. People were perched on every available chair and seat in the house. The floor was alive with squirming, ice cream-sticky children ranging in age from three to ten. Several were distant cousins, but most were children from the neighborhood, or acquaintances, like Miguel, the little Hispanic boy Marcus met in the mall playroom. Wherever Marcus went, he made friends. Giles made a mental note to add that thought to his personal journal.

When Buffy handed the first present to Marcus, he held it awkwardly for a moment. Buffy turned it over and showed him where the paper had been taped. "Here... you can tear the paper off. It’s okay to tear this paper... that’s what it’s for."

Marcus looked skeptical, but he began to rip the brightly colored paper away, growing more enthusiastic with each gift. There were several toys, most of them pre-school age appropriate, bright alphabet blocks, a tape of sing-along songs, and several large books of children’s stories. He seemed the most delighted with the books, hugging each one to him as he unwrapped them and asking his mother, "Mine, Mummy?"

Each time, Buffy replied, "Yours, baby. All yours."

Giles was quietly thrilled with Marcus’ response to the books. He caught Buffy’s eye as she gathered the remnants of the wrapping paper into a trash bag, and they both smiled happily. ‘He’ll be reading those books himself by this time next year,’ Giles thought to her, transmitting his pride so strongly that she almost teared up in front of everyone.

After the presents were properly examined by all the children and most of the adults, it was time to bring the party to a close. Giles spoke affably with Miguel’s mother in a mix of Spanish and English as she waited for Miguel to thank Buffy and Marcus for inviting him.

The dark-skinned boy smiled up at Buffy shyly. "Thank you, Senora Giles, for let me visit Marcus."

Buffy beamed down at the child. "Muy bien, Miguel! You are learning English!"

"Si. It is not so hard." He looked at Marcus, and was silent for a moment. Both boys smiled, then Marcus went to his mother without another word.

"Adios, Miguel, Senora Navarro, come and see us again!" Buffy called. They both waved, smiling brightly as they left.

Marcus looked a little sad as his last friend left. "Buh-bye," he said, softly, then yawned.

"Someone’s tired, I think." Giles left his cup on the table and gathered the little boy into his arms. "Did you have fun, Marcus?"

The baby nodded, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I s’eepy, Daddy."

"I can see that you are, love. Come on, then, we’ll get ready to sleep, and I’ll read you a story from one of your new books, all right?"

"Aw wight."

After Marcus dispensed sweet, sleepy good-night kisses to everyone in the house, Giles took the tired toddler upstairs, leaving Buffy and her mom to clean up. Wilton graciously pitched in, and before long, the living room was nearly back to normal. After Joyce and Wilton left, Buffy started tying up the trash bags. She had just finished securing the last one when Willow, Bill Armstead and Xander strolled in from the kitchen.

"We finished cleaning up the back yard, Buffy." Willow’s voice was smugly satisfied, and the looks on the two men’s faces clearly indicated that they’d been pressed into service. "I left the garbage bags on the deck. Oh, and I lit some candles... it’s a beautiful night. You and Giles should go outside and sit for a little while." She winked at Buffy. "It’s romantic."

Buffy grinned, then looked up as Giles came back downstairs. "Is the birthday boy down for the count?"

He replied, "Yes, he didn’t last through the first few pages of the story."

"You wanna make some tea and take a break, then?"

"That sounds wonderful," he breathed gratefully, causing everyone to laugh at his obvious relief.

"Great eats, Buff," Xander commented around the last mouthful of potato chips.

"Thanks for cleaning them up for me, Xand. I knew I could count on you."

"You guys go on, and I’ll stay here just in case Marcus wakes up," Willow offered. She gave Bill a shy, yet beguiling look. "You could stay with me, if you want."

Xander caught Willow’s mood after a beat, and swallowed hard. He definitely was the fifth wheel in the room tonight. He recovered quickly though, and said in a casual tone, "Well, five’s a crowd, people, so I’m gonna go... you guys have fun." He thought about it for a second, then pointed at Willow accusingly. "Not too much fun, though." Something else occurred to him, and he grinned at Buffy. "Except you married guys can have all the fun you want. Uh... I just realized that I’m making a big assumption, here... you still have fun, don’t you?"

Buffy looked up at her blushing husband, and grinned wickedly. "Oh, yeah. Big fun." His blush doubled.

Xander held up his hands in a defensive posture. "Y’know, I don’t think I really wanted to know that. I’m gonna leave before I find out anything else I don’t wanna know. Bye!" He was out the door before anyone could reply.

Buffy patted Giles’ chest soothingly and led him towards the door. "So, big guy, you wanna have some fun?"

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in lawn chairs on the deck, staring up at the sky, happily worn out from the evening’s activities. they sipped their tea, finding the hot liquid strangely soothing, even in the lingering warmth of the night. Finally, Buffy spoke drowsily, "Remind me to never have a child’s birthday party on a school day."

Giles snorted softly. "Count on it. I’m completely knackered, and I still have some paperwork to do. There goes my Saturday. I shall probably go to bed early."

"Poor baby." Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder in sympathy. "But you can’t conk out on me... we still haven’t had fun yet."

"Perhaps in the morning..." he said, teasingly.

She pouted slightly. "I can’t believe you’re that tired."

He looked down at the blonde head resting against his arm, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "We’ll see."

"You bet we will." She gazed up at him, and his breath caught at the love in her eyes.

He raised his arm and drew her close. "At times, the fact that you love me quite takes my breath away."

"So will this." She sat up, took their tea cups and placed them next to her on the railing, and kissed him thoroughly, relishing his immediate and ardent response. After a few minutes of exploration, Buffy rose from her chair and moved to carefully straddle his lap. The aluminum frame of the lawn chair creaked dramatically, so she broke the kiss and started giggling.

Giles chuckled softly, then admonished, "It wouldn’t do to over-tax the furniture, love. I doubt this chair was made for more... ah, vigorous activity."

"Probably not." She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed happily. "But there’s some furniture upstairs that could probably stand the strain a little better."

"Yes, so there is. Are you ready to say good night to our friends inside, then?"

"In a minute. I’m liking it where I am right now." She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his arms encircling her, his breathing moving her gently up and down against him, his cheek against her head. "I’m liking it a lot."

Giles smiled, supremely content. "I’m in no hurry."

Buffy giggled. "I don’t know... you seemed pretty enthusiastic a minute ago."

"I’m pacing myself."

"Mmm hmm."

Silence reigned again. They just sat quietly, listening to the sounds of an urban street at night. Suddenly, they heard Willow squeal from inside, and Buffy sat up, surprised. "Hey, sounds like there’s a little slap and tickle going on in there!"

Giles looked a bit nonplused himself. "Ah... as much as I approve of their relationship, I don’t think I wanted it advanced in our living room."

Buffy burst out laughing, then rose smoothly, holding out her hand. "Let’s go shoo them away, then do some relationship advancing of our own, okay?"

He stood with her, then bent and kissed her lovingly. "An excellent idea."

Buffy blew out the candles one by one, then they went back into the kitchen. They both stopped just inside the door, because Willow and Bill were on their hands and knees in the floor, laughing and mopping spilled punch amid scattered cups, plates and napkins.

"What happened?" Buffy blurted.

Willow glanced up, her face red with embarrassment, as well as effort. "Oh, hey, sorry... we were carrying the trash in here from the living room, and this bag broke just as we came in. Stuff went everywhere! We were just cleaning it up."

Armstead looked a bit sheepish himself, but he added, "Terribly sorry... but at least it held until we were in the kitchen before giving way. I shouldn’t like to try to get this out of the carpet."

Buffy shrugged dramatically. "Hey, I do Kool-aid stains nearly every day of the week. It’s no big."

Willow grinned. "Well, at least it wasn’t us that did it, uh, dropped Kool-aid on the carpet, I mean. I would feel bad."

Buffy nodded, remembering. "So does Marcus when he makes a mess, but that’s what carpet cleaning machines are for." She gave her friend an encouraging smile. "Really, it’s not a problem. Let us help..."

The four of them made quick work of the spill, then Willow and Bill said their good-byes and started down the porch steps to Bill’s car. Just as Buffy began to shut the door, she heard Willow say to Bill, in a soft, conspiratorial tone, "I wasn’t gonna tell them we were busy kissing when the bag broke..."

Buffy laughed as she turned out the light and started towards Giles. "I knew there was more than general clean-up going on!"

He just smiled and held out his hand. She took it and followed him upstairs. They stopped to look in on Marcus. The tiny tot was sleeping deeply, worn out by his exciting evening.

"Do ya think he’ll stay asleep this time?" She smiled as Giles slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She stroked the back of his hand and waited for his response.

"He was quite tired... I believe so." He bent and nuzzled her neck softly, causing her to moan in appreciation.

"Good." She turned in his arms and grabbed his shirt front. "C’mere, handsome. I’ve got big fun planned for you."

He growled softly, and let her pull him into the bedroom. They kissed languidly as they undressed each other and settled in the middle of their bed. There was no need to hurry... their usual little ‘interruption’ was snoring softly across the hall, and showed no signs of waking.

Marcus continued to sleep soundly as his parents slowly made love, expressing their need in hushed words and stifled cries. They talked quietly for a little while afterwards, just enjoying each other’s company. Finally, Buffy began to doze in her husband’s arms, relaxed and satisfied.

In the warm, drowsy moments just before sleep claimed them, she murmured, "Y’know what, babe?"

He smiled and grunted, knowing she’d interpret it as an answer.

"You’re my best friend."

"That is a high compliment, my love."

"S’true." She snuggled against him. "My friend, my husband, my lover... the best guy on earth. I’m sooo happy." Her voice was sleepy and slurred, but the words were plain enough.

For a moment, he was overwhelmed. Her words and her thoughts were identical, revealing her true feelings for him so strongly he could hardly breathe. He tightened his hold on her, and finally managed, "As am I. I do so love you."

"Mmmm... love you, Rupert." Her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.

He was awake for some time after that, just listening to her breathing and feeling her warmth against his chest. Silently, he thanked God for the precious gift of his wife and son, and prayed that he would never do anything unworthy of them.

********

"Mummy? Mummy!"

Buffy groaned and turned away from the insistent voice for a split second before bolting upright with a sharp intake of breath. "Marcus? What’s wrong?"

"I not s’eepy now, Mummy. I p’ay." The sun streamed into the bedroom window, indicating it was early morning. Beside her, a tiny figure stood peering over the edge of the bed, still in his pajamas, looking bright-eyed and full of anticipation. "Come on, Mummy!"

She slid to the edge of the bed, staring blearily at the clock. Six-thirty. On a Saturday morning. After a frantic evening of chasing other people’s children... She reached behind her without looking and nudged her still sleeping husband. "Hey, Daddy... your kid’s awake." If she had to be up, then so did he.

"Ohhh... s’too early." His voice was a mere grumble under the covers.

"Tell that to Marcus."

She watched with a grin as the toddler clambered onto the bed and crawled over to Giles. Marcus got as close to his father’s ear as he could, took a deep breath, and demanded, "Daddy! Det up!"

Giles jumped violently, then rolled over and started laughing. "Marcus, what are you doing out of your bed?"

Marcus laid his head on Giles’ chest and stated, "I not s’eepy, Daddy."

"All right, love. Give Daddy a moment, will you? Then we’ll go downstairs and have breakfast."

"Aw wight." Marcus didn’t move from his comfortable place, and Buffy curled up beside him to rest her head on Giles’ pillow.

A few precious, contented minutes passed before the energetic toddler decided he’d had enough quiet time. He jumped up and crawled for the foot of the bed. "O-kay, Daddy, huw-wy!"

Giles sat up, stretching slowly, then stood and reached for his robe. "Buffy, you do know what this means, don’t you?"

She paused, one robe sleeve on and one off, and asked worriedly, "What?"

He tied the belt around his waist and said solemnly, "Marcus can climb out of his crib now."

She froze.

"He can come in here any time he chooses to," Giles continued.

"Oh... uh-oh. This is not good." She looked totally unnerved.

"Agreed. Perhaps we need to work a bit harder on our mental shields."

"Definitely." She snatched Marcus up suddenly and blew on his belly. Over his delighted shrieks, she called, "And, put a lock on the bedroom door to keep curious little boys out! I’ll make you a deal, babe... I’ll keep the troops entertained, and you handle the chow."

"That sounds like an excellent ‘deal’, love. I am getting a bit hungry." As he passed, he growled and pretended to nip at Marcus’ neck. "Grrr.... perhaps I’ll just eat you up!"

Marcus dissolved into giggles, not worried in the least about being eaten up. Buffy shot her husband a challenging glare, then grinned wickedly. "Hmm... save that thought until tonight, babe."

He chuckled all the way to the kitchen.

********

Saturday mornings were precious to Giles. With the weekend ahead, stretching out like a blanket of promise, he felt content and relaxed as he stirred a mass of eggs and vegetables into an omelet. He listened, his better than average hearing picking up the sounds from upstairs, as his wife chattered happily, with occasional replies from their son. She sounded so full of life and joy...

So young.

He sighed, suddenly feeling his age in more than just physical years. Granted, he didn’t look his age, but still... Saddling a vivacious girl such as Buffy with a stodgy, middle-aged researcher with a fondness for cross-referencing seemed so cruel. How could she possibly remain content with him? His thoughts turned morose, and he tried to head them off before they became depressing. This time, however, the gray cloud of worry pressed down on him insistently.

As he swirled the skillet, forming the omelet carefully, he found himself thinking about the Council, wondering about their hidden agendas. From its inception, the Council had been shrouded in mystery and magic. Occult. Hidden. Secretive. And, as they had proved over and over, unreliable. They often chose tradition over what was right! What was in store for his family as Marcus grew older? Were there evil ones out there, biding their time, waiting for them to drop their guard? He wouldn’t put it past them to wait for evidence of some extraordinary ability, then swoop in and take him from them, again...

He put the bubbling pan down for a moment and gasped, "Dear God... please keep him safe... keep us safe..."

Suddenly, from upstairs, he felt something strike him, something that could only be described as a mental slap. He yelped in response, then began to grin as his wife’s angry scolding penetrated his funk. ‘Sorry, love. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left me alone down here.’

He could hear the aggravation in her voice as she came up behind him. "You are so weird. After cake, ice cream and a night of super hot sex, you wake up all depressed."

"Perhaps it’s the result of the cake and ice cream... see what a wretch you’ve married? Before you came along, I used to think depressing thoughts all the time. One can’t spend one’s life immersed in dark prophecies and demon lore without becoming morbid."

"Yes, one can." She reached up and gave him a kiss, carefully avoiding the hot pan. "One is not supposed to be morbid. Morbid is not allowed. It’s against the rules."

He chuckled as he gazed down at her, seeing love and concern reflected in her dark blue eyes. "What rules are you referring to?"

"The ‘Happily Ever After’ rules. That’s how it’s supposed to be, prophecies and demons notwithstanding."

She glanced down at the stove, frowning. "I think the eggs are ready to flip, Emeril."

He grabbed the skillet, trying to salvage the meal as best he could. He slid the scorched mess onto a plate and stared at it in dismay. "Oh, well, I’ll eat these. They’re a bit over done." Still fighting his gloom, he said softly, "We were never promised ‘Happily Ever After’, you know."

"Sure, I know." She began to pull plates and mugs from the cabinet. A sudden burst of childish laughter, emanating from the living room, caused her to stop and smile. "It’s something we have to choose every day."

He was stunned by her words. He cleared his throat and stepped to her side, pulling her into a one-armed embrace. "My wise little wife... what on earth have I done to deserve you?" He gave her a grateful, lingering kiss, then proceeded to start on omelet number two, his mind buzzing with happiness.

Before long his head snapped up, a thought occurring to him. Behind him, Buffy began to smile knowingly. He turned to see her smirking up at him. "Uh... you feel last night qualified as... ah, super hot?"

"Wondered how long it would take you to notice that." She was grinning full out now.

"Yes, well, and I quite agree that it was... uh... hot. And wonderful. And... ummm... thank you."

Her clear laugh echoed around the small room. "You’re welcome. Very welcome." She slid closer to him, her eyes serious. "Let me make myself very clear on this, Mister Giles. I love you. We’re supposed to be together... even God likes us together, you goofy man. I love loving you, and cuddling with you, and living with you, and I love our son, and how you love both of us with everything in you... there’s nothing about being married to you that I don’t love. I have no intention of living without you. Even if you do things I don’t like, I still love you." She poked him firmly in the chest. "You, Mister Worry Wart I’m-not-good-enough-for-anybody Guy. You. Got that?"

He looked down at her, so small and resolute, her fists moving to her hips in a pose of determined authority. The dark thoughts fizzled away from his mind, banished by the love of his soulmate. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes lit with gratitude and affection. "Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear."

"So, no more cobwebs?"

He stifled a laugh. "No, no more cobwebs." They smiled at each other until they heard a sudden crash and a startled cry from the next room. For an instant, they both reached out with their minds, checking to see if their son was injured. They felt only surprise, dismay, and a tinge of temper, and they both rolled their eyes. Giles barely avoided a chuckle as he commented, "Ah... I think a certain young man might need some parental supervision right about now, love."

"I think it’s a little late for that... I’d better go pick up the pieces."

"Go ahead. Oh, you might want the dustpan." He handed it to her, smiling at her resolute face. "I’ll finish the food and, if you like, we’ll go out to the deck."

"Okay by me. At least there’s fewer breakables out there."

He watched her move away with a sense of profound peace.

********

A half hour later, as Giles was carrying the breakfast plates back to the kitchen, he heard a tentative knock on the front door. Since most of the people he knew would have either barged in or rung the doorbell, he frowned and left the dishes on the counter, intending to get a quiet look at the intruder through the peep hole.

He was even more confused when the peep hole revealed an empty porch. He was just about to attribute the interruption to a prank by the neighborhood children when the door rattled again. He heard vague scuffling noises, a few muffled curses, and then the doorbell rang loudly, startling him. He jumped away, hearing Buffy’s concerned voice in his head, then steeled himself and yanked the door open, bracing for a confrontation.

His squinted eyes saw only sunshine in front of them. What the...?

"Hey, Watcher! Bet you thought you’d seen the last of us! By the way, your doorbell’s way to high for some of us."

His gaze dropped about two feet, and he began to grin. "Good morning, Gerard... Madvehkar. Good to see you both again." His voice was conversational and calm.

"Typical human. Alwayssss sssspoiling our fun. We thought you’d be sssshocked!" Mad shook his bewhiskered head sagely, then grinned despite himself. The Watcher actually seemed pleased to see them! It was a bit of a novelty.

"I was, actually, but pleasantly so. Are you both well?"

"We’re doing jusssst great. We came to wish Marcussss a happy birthday. We waited until the other humanssss left." The speaker winked hugely, grinning. "Didn’t want to sssscare what few friendssss you have away!" The gray-skinned, wrinkled troll known as Madvehkar, or Mad, for short, was dressed in his best doeskin leggings and vest, and looked as dapper and neat as a troll could possibly look. He held his hat in his hands, rolling the brim between his fingers unconsciously, and his shiny bald head glinted in the sun.

Gerard, the blue goblin, was wearing a blue dress suit, but in deference to this being a more casual visit, he’d left off the tie. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable.

Giles stood back, holding the door open, his Watcher training keeping him from an outright invitation despite the brilliant daylight. The two creatures stepped in, surveying the house with curious interest. They’d never been in a Chosen One’s home before. It was something of an honor.

Giles moved to close the door, glancing briefly at the nearby houses as he did. Luckily, it was fairly early for a Saturday, and none of the other residents were about. Not that he minded the troll and the goblin visiting, but he didn’t fancy explaining their odd appearances to the rest of the neighborhood.

"How have you been since we saw you last?" Giles led them down the hall towards the deck, noting that the two lower creatures were dressed in their best in honor of the occasion. "You both look as though you’ve been doing quite well."

Gerard rose up to his full three-feet-seven-inch height and puffed out his thin chest proudly. "Things are going great! Mad’s been too busy to spit lately... he’s got seven more nieces and nephews to baby-sit... dang, his family’s prolific! And Richard just got promoted! He’s a stevedore down at the docks, and he’s makin’ a killing at it. Nobody can beat an earth demon for stamina. He said to tell you hi! Oh, and the fairies from behind the Sunset Motor Inn all say hi, too, and they want you to know they’re up for choir practice any time you are!"

Giles laughed at that. The fairies had certainly helped save Marcus from Travers and his mercenaries. He reminded himself to visit them some evening soon.

Gerard cleared his throat nervously, then asked, "Do ya think the Slayer will mind us visiting? It’s been a year, and we haven’t exactly kept in touch..."

"Buffy will be delighted to see you both, and so will Marcus. You won’t recognize him... he’s quite the little man." Giles eyes twinkled with humor as Gerard and Mad both smiled in relief. Any of the beings that helped in the battle for his son’s safety were welcome in his home, as far as he was concerned. They had certainly developed unusual friendships living near the Boca del Infierno! He herded them through the door out onto the deck and grinned when he heard Buffy’s happy squeal.

"Mad! Gerard! Oh, wow, guys, how are you?" She gave them both an enthusiastic but gentle hug, and both creatures seemed embarrassed by the affection. "I would offer you some cake, but Xander ate every bit of the leftovers. But, I still have punch!"

She dashed into the house for refreshments, more to get rid of the extra in her fridge than out of any genteel hostess instincts. Giles watched her go, his eyes following her until she was out of sight. The two visitors smiled knowingly at one another... even after two years of marriage and a baby, the Watcher was still plenty Slayer-whipped!

Before Mad could sit down, he was attacked by a tiny form. He toppled over, knocking Gerard to the deck with him, and they both started laughing as their assailant started shrieking, "Fwiends! Fwiends! My fwiends!" He gave them both a smacking kiss, then patted their faces gently. "Wook, Mummy! Fwiends. He’ped me! Hew-wo, fwiends!"

"He remembers you both," Giles said kindly. "He doesn’t know your names, but he knows you kept him safe."

Marcus looked on with a smile as the two creatures hauled themselves to their feet and sat beside him on the deck steps. Marcus struggled mentally as he tried to express his emotions with his limited vocabulary. He finally blurted, "What’s your name?"

As the three grownups began to laugh, Buffy came in with a pitcher and two glasses. "Here, guys, drink up. There’s plenty more where that came from. Willow doesn’t do anything by halves." She stopped, shocked at her turn of phrase. "Rupert, you are corrupting my English something fierce."

"The word is ‘improving’, my dear."

Mad concentrated on Marcus as Buffy glared at her smirking husband. The troll held out his wide hand to the tiny human that had made such an impression on him. "Call me Mad. Sssshort for Madvekhar."

"Mad?" Marcus repeated. The ancient creature nodded, and Marcus shook the callused hand solemnly. He turned to Gerard, anticipation plain on his little face.

"My name’s Gerard. Can you say that? It’s kinda hard."

"Gew-waad?"

"Close enough, little buddy."

Marcus beamed, and the blue goblin beamed back. They shook hands like visiting dignitaries, and then the two mythical creatures settled back and began trading stories from the previous year as the humans listened and laughed. They interspersed their narrative with questions about Marcus, some of which he was able to proudly answer for himself. Mad and Gerard seemed quite impressed with the little human’s progress, declaring he was as smart as a baby goblin or troll.

Buffy pulled her chair closer to Giles’ as they talked, and they ended up with their fingers entwined without being conscious of the act. It just felt necessary to be touching whenever possible. The Bond between the three of them hummed with affection and love, and just a touch of awe at the way their lives had become entwined with the creatures in front of them. It was a truly magic time.

Soon Mad and Gerard said their farewells and left via the back alley to avoid neighbors, dogs and lawnmowers. As they strolled away, Mad gave one last wave at the little figure in the Watcher’s arms. Marcus waved back happily, calling their names until they were out of sight. The troll looked at his goblin friend and said reverently, "He’ssss a sssspecial child, that Marcussss."

"Boy, he sure is! You can almost feel the power oozing outta him. Do you think the Watcher and Slayer know what it is they’ve got there?"

Mad shook his head doubtfully. "Probably not. But they will ssssoon."

Gerard glanced back at the little house with its fenced yard, resting in the middle of a block full of almost identical yards and houses. A typical family home, to the outside world, but he and Mad knew different. "I hope they find out before..."

Mad growled. He still felt protective over the little human baby. He was so innocent and good. There were so many dark forces that would love nothing better than to corrupt the power of the Bond and turn it into something debauched. If Madvekhar had anything to do with it, no harm would ever come to Marcus Giles or his stalwart parents. He wasn’t a prophet by any stretch of the imagination, but as a relatively long-lived being, he’d learned to recognize signs and portents. He squared his shoulders and looked at his goblin friend. "I think we might need to keep an eye on our friendssss, Gerard. What do you ssssay?"

Gerard grinned at the troll, his multi-faceted eyes lighting up in anticipation. He loved having a job to do. "I say we’d better get started!"

They turned and marched back up the alley like tiny soldiers advancing on the front lines. Once they reached the Giles’ property, they blended into the bushes and began their protective surveillance.

It was the least they could do for the most important child in the world.

The End

Chapter 7: Things Revealed

Summary:

A surprising discovery presents the Giles family with a new and frightening challenge.

Chapter Text

The room was dark, save for a single reading lamp set in the center of an ancient writing desk. The man that bent over the desk was almost as dark as the room... his skin leathery and folded with age, his broad face reflecting his Mongolian background, his black, straight hair only slightly shot with gray. His charcoal eyes were aided by thick lenses held together with the narrowest of wire frames. The book he was examining with such fearsome concentration was so large that it overlapped the slanted portion of the desk on both sides. Yellowed, curled, parchment thin pages protruded in uneven fashion from the hand-bound spine.

From time to time, the man turned to a notepad resting on a smaller table beside him. Ancient words, words translated--from an unnamed language now known to only a scant few on Earth--first into Sanskrit, and then into English, slowly appeared under his pen. A myriad of scratched out phrases indicated that he had rejected much of his original work. Translating into an intermediate language was a tedious process, but he was the best of the best: The Translator to the Watcher’s Council. He had served them proudly for more than one hundred years.

His was the longest lived of any of the remaining races of men. He himself could remember a disturbance in the colonies known as the Civil War. He’d been with the British Expeditionary Force on the Western Front in World War I. He had watched the second World War unfold with a sense of despair borne of the understanding of Destiny. Now, his attention was focused on the book in front of him. Unlocking its secrets was his lifelong passion, his driving force, and he was nearing the culmination of a century of effort.

He knew his life was slowly leaving him, precious molecules of vitality escaping his body with every exhaled breath and dissipating into the dank air of the Council Catacombs. Above him, the streets of London teemed with life, unaware of the struggle being played out beneath them. The Translator clung to life with the tenacity of a man with a terrible purpose. He had to finish his last, his greatest translation... the documents that had eluded the finest minds of the ages... until now. He had been blessed with a touch from the thirty-third heaven. His innate ability to instantly parallel syntax and meaning across seemingly unrelated language structures had enabled him to do what none had done before.

He finished his writing and stared at the spidery scrawl covering the notepad.

"There shall be one born of the Chosen
who was not to be but is
He shall fulfill the purpose and restore the plan
He shall command living creatures
and restore the beautiful land
He shall live in awareness
He shall be the brave defender
Repelling darkness with light
He shall make the way straight
for one who will come
The Eternal One’s leading shall lead him
Deceiver and unbeliever
shall strive against him
His enemies shall draw a line of war
but shall not stand
Priest and sorcerer
shall give place to him
Parent and friend shall join him
His power shall not diminish while the Earth stands
And after him shall come the end

The Translator breathed a prayer of thanks. It was as he suspected. The long, rambling prophetic poem began by citing predictions about future Slayers. Verse after verse described the beauty, grace, and innocence of the Chosen down through the ages. The pronouns, if they could be called such, were consistently female. Over and over, they referred to The Slayer, the one girl in all the world that had the strength and skill to stand against the vampires...

But, in these final few lines, the words were consistently male.

The Translator turned in his seat and reached underneath the desk. He unearthed a surprisingly modern telephone, one with no discernible dial or buttons. He lifted the receiver to his ear and listened briefly. At the sound of a familiar voice at the other end, he uttered the most important... and the final... words of his life.

"Director. I have succeeded. It is exactly as we believed."

He returned the instrument to its cradle and leaned back in his wooden chair. His eyes closed wearily, and he whispered to the quiet room, "Now, I can rest."

His life’s work accomplished, he smiled, breathed his last breath, and passed into Eternity.

********

Giles knew the instant Buffy’s little red convertible rounded the corner and started down the block to their house. Pride and delight were swelling before her like the leading wave in front of a massive freighter. He chuckled to himself, hearing the screech of tires as she whipped into the driveway. Despite his almost constant, well-meant suggestions, her driving had never progressed beyond... well, precarious.

His uncanny connection with her allowed him to trace her movements as she exited the car and started up the front sidewalk. He could almost see her in his mind’s eye... dancing up the steps with arms full of books, her purse dangling carelessly from her bent elbow, wisps of blonde hair escaping from both sides of her casual ponytail, keys rattling as she struggled to drop them into her open and already overflowing purse, her eyes shining with the anticipation of sharing her good news with him, despite the fact that he already knew it. He would pretend to be surprised, and she would be ever so grateful that he had...

"Daddy! Mummy home! Mummy happy!"

"Yes, she is. Shall we go downstairs and greet her?"

"No!"

Giles was taken aback by Marcus’ reply, until he saw the little boy hide behind the dresser, his face alight with gleeful anticipation. Marcus held a finger to his lips, making a shushing noise, and then Giles understood. He smiled and turned just as his young wife bounded into the room. Her attention was completely on him, and she didn’t sense her son creeping up behind her until he was almost within touching distance. Her knowing look made Giles smile broaden even more, and she kept her back turned until Marcus pounced.

"Boo!" he shouted, dissolving into giggles as his mother gasped in mock fright. She then grabbed him up in a hug and lavished kisses all over his face.

"I ‘care you, Mummy?"

"Yes, you scared me, you little rascal."

He squealed with delight and threw his arms around her. They traded loud smooches for another few seconds before he began squirming.

"I want down!"

"Okay, don’t get your diapers in a wad, kiddo."

She set the happy child back on his feet, turning to Giles with a wry grin. "We’ve gotta stop letting Xander baby-sit, babe. He gives Marcus too many wild ideas."

"Yes, he does, but Marcus adores him. I suppose we can live with one or two idiosyncrasies. Xander’s heart is in the right place."

"If by that you mean thumping almost out of his chest every time a good-looking girl walks by, it’s definitely where it’s supposed to be in a drooling, hormonal, almost over-the-hill teenager body."

Giles laughed in surprise. "You count Xander as over-the-hill??? You’ll probably have me in my grave before long, at that rate!"

"Not you, babe, you’re gonna live forever. And I’m running late, so we’d better start lunch."

She turned to dash for the door, but stopped when Giles said softly, "Aren’t you forgetting something?"

"Oh! Yeah, I am." She regained some of her enthusiasm, and bounced in place as she continued. "I got the grades back on my finals, and I made the Dean’s List! I’m a three-point-three-three and above kind of girl now!"

"Buffy! That’s wonderful! Congratulations, and I knew you could do it." He beamed proudly down at her.

"Thanks, babe, for letting me tell you, even though you already knew. You’re just the best."

"Thank you. But love... you’re still forgetting something." Even Marcus looked up at his plaintive tone.

"What?" She stared at him for a few seconds, then began to smile. "Oh. That." She tilted her head to one side and shook a finger at him. "You’re both spoiled rotten, and it’s all my fault. I’ve been waaay to generous with the smoochies in this house."

Giles shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze sadly to the floor, knowing full well his masculine version of ‘The Pout’ would turn her into complete mush. "Well, if you’re unwilling to greet me properly, I certainly won’t insist..." The rest of his sentence remained undelivered as Buffy made up for her oversight by kissing him passionately. She didn’t release him until his mind was fogged with desire and his heart was racing until it was almost audible.

She looked into his eyes and commented, "I think you’ve just zoomed past Xander in the Heart Thumping category."

********

That same afternoon...

William ‘Bill’ Armstead was in a quandary. He paced down the length of his cramped living room, turned on his heel with military precision, then retraced his steps. Again. And Again. He had been given the dubious job of messenger for the Council. Mister Giles, Senior, made it very clear that Rupert would be privy to all the information that could be gathered. What was a mere Observer to do but obey? Whatever the Council knew, Rupert would know. But this news concerned Rupert’s beloved son, Marcus.

"I cannot believe this is happening," he stated out loud, almost startling himself with the sound of his own voice. "Steady on, old man, you’re talking to yourself." He began to laugh. "Of course I am, silly twit... there is no one else to talk to!" He stopped in front of the telephone for the twentieth time, staring at the instrument as though it would give him some sage advice. The telephone had nothing to say.

He continued his conversation with himself internally, but no less fervently. ‘The poor man... this will be such a shock. And Buffy... good Lord, what will she do? They are both so fearful... with good reason, granted... of the Council’s influence on Marcus, and now to hear this... A cruel twist of fate is what this is.’ He took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his reverie, and seized the telephone with a firm grip. He dialed the number that he had memorized before ever setting foot on American soil. He counted the rings as they echoed in his ear. Just after the third ring, a cultured male voice greeted him.

"Mister Giles? Armstead here. Your father has just relayed some disturbing news to me, and I’m to relay the same to you. I have the information stored on my laptop computer... no, I don’t mind coming over right away. I shall see you in ten minutes."

He replaced the receiver and picked up his laptop, smiling as Willow’s delighted face appeared in his memory. He had her to thank for this convenience. The documents that were stored on his hard drive could very well change the world. That thought wiped all trace of a smile from his face.

He let himself out and locked the door securely behind him. He was on a mission.

********

Madvehkar the troll sniffed the air in front of him like a bloodhound hot on a trail. "They’ve got company, Gerard." He moved along the hedge until he and his fellow guardian could see the Giles’ front door clearly.

The blue goblin’s keen eyesight confirmed Mad’s sense of smell. "Yeah. It’s the baby Watcher."

Mad chuckled at Gerard’s turn of phrase. "Do you mean, the Watcher who issss a baby, or the Watcher who just watchessss babiessss?"

"Yep." Gerard grinned, agreeing to both statements. He turned back to his target and focused in carefully. "He’s carrying a laptop. Looks like things are starting to hit the fan."

"If the news is bad, the baby Watcher might, too... hit the fan, I mean. The real Watcher doesn’t take kindly to the Council’s interference."

"You got that right, Mad. I feel kinda sorry for th’ baby Watcher."

"I don’t. He’s just another Council clone."

Gerard stared thoughtfully as Armstead rang the Giles’ doorbell, then fidgeted nervously with his tie until the door opened and he was able to go inside. "I dunno, Mad... there’s something different about this one."

Madvehkar decided to pay more attention to the baby Watcher in the future. Gerard was seldom wrong in his assessments of character.

********

Buffy flounced down the stairs, hollering at the top of her lungs, "Babe-o-mine, Marcus is down for the count. Do you wanna take advantage of the time and take advantage of m..." She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Armstead standing beside her husband. "Whoops! Uh, hey, Bill. I didn’t hear the doorbell... obviously." ‘Sorry,’ she thought to Giles, seeing his red face.

"Mister Armstead has news for us." Giles gave the Observer a dark look. "From the Council."

"Oh." Buffy didn’t look happy, either, and Bill grew more nervous and regretful by the second.

"I’m dreadfully sorry, but Mister Giles... that is, Mister Giles, Senior... just sent me a packet of information that he felt you should both examine. It has to do with prophecy."

Buffy’s face shifted from distrustful to downright fierce. "I hate that word. I really do."

Armstead shuddered at her expression, hoping desperately that she’d never look directly at him with that much anger. "Perhaps... perhaps we should sit and let me show you the files. Mister Giles is always quite thorough. He’s given us a great deal of information..."

Giles motioned to the dining room table, and the three of them arranged chairs along one side. The laptop was the latest model, with a crisp, clear screen that was admirably easy to read. The minute he brought up Cedrick Giles’ letter, Giles gasped. Armstead remained respectfully silent.

"What’s wrong, babe? You haven’t even gotten to the prophecy part yet."

Buffy looked at him with concern as tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked rapidly to dispel them, then sighed heavily. "An old friend has died, love. That’s all."

"That’s all? Hey, even stuffy Brits are allowed to shed a tear in memory." She slipped an arm around his waist.

"I know." He forced a smile as her loving, sympathetic thoughts engulfed him for a few seconds. "Back to the matter at hand."

"Who was it? Did I meet this person at the retreat?"

"No, he was far too old and frail to make the trip. He was in London, at Council Headquarters. I doubt seriously that he even left the building in his latter years."

Armstead nodded in agreement. "I’ve been told that same thing myself. He was waited on hand and foot for five decades. No one could bear the thought of him being injured or kidnapped, and since he was in no condition to defend himself..."

"Right. He was far too valuable... and far too good a friend to a poor, frightened school boy who’d managed to alienate everyone in the building with his hell-raising." Giles’ smile grew wider, and his eyes got that far-away, reminiscent look. "He will be missed."

Buffy’s voice interrupted his reverie. "Rupert? Not that I mind the trip down down memory lane, babe, but we can do that later."

"Oh, sorry. His name, as best we could pronounce it, was Cho-je Sho-tsen. He was a Tibetan man who served the Council as Translator for over a century. There will never be another like him... he had an almost divine ability to translate obscure languages. Spoken or written, he could make sense of things when no one else could. He was a wonderful fellow, always full of fun and entertaining stories, despite being privy to some of the most depressing and dark prophecies known to man."

"Wow. Sounds like you thought a lot of him... hey, wait... over a century? Just how old was this guy?" Her voice held a note of suspicion, as though Giles and Armstead were trying to pull a fast one on her.

Armstead answered her matter-of-factly. "As near as the Council can surmise, he was born in a small Himalayan village, high upon the slopes of Mount Everest, in the year of our Lord 1849."

Buffy’s brain boggled at the date, but she rallied quickly. "One hundred and sixty-something years old? That’s impossible!!"

"He was raised in a Tibetan temple, and had an extraordinary gift for languages. He was already fluent in three when an English mountain climbing expedition arrived. He picked up their language almost instantly upon hearing them speak. They thought he was a genius. That assumption proved correct. School records in London show he was brought back as a teen-ager by the expedition leader, Samuel Crocker, and educated in the finest schools in England. He achieved quite a bit of notoriety as an adult, and was recruited by the Council when their expert translator died. Cho must’ve been nearly sixty, by then."

"He left home when he a kid, and never went back? That musta been harsh."

"Perhaps, but it is fortunate for us that he did," Giles said gently.

"Yeah, but..."

"Buffy, dear, we need to concentrate on the prophecy first." He pointed at the screen. "I’ll fill you in on the life and times of Cho later, all right?"

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in agreement, then bent over Armstead’s shoulder again. Giles leaned over the other one, and together, they read Cedrick’s terse message.

"Cho-je Sho-tsen died early this morning. He had just completed the translation of the Prophecies of Enosh in its entirety. The work was done in secret, as it was believed to contain the history of every Slayer that has ever lived or will live. The final section tells of a male child that, from all appearances, will herald the beginning of the Apocalypse. The pertinent section of the document and its translation are attached. Use decryption as per previous instructions. Giles."

"The Prophecies of Enosh," Giles breathed reverently. "I was told they could not be fully translated."

"As was I," Armstead agreed. "Apparently, Cho found it to be an ancient form of his native language, and the rest began to fall into place. A traveling scholar had translated it into Sanskrit centuries ago, as the languages were vaguely similar, but Cho made it a point to return to the original document and retranslate it to verify its accuracy."

Giles chuckled. "Cho was nothing if not a perfectionist."

"Even at croquet. It was always ‘every man for himself.’"

The two men chuckled fondly for a few seconds, then Giles steeled himself for what was to come. "I think we’d best see what is to be found in those encrypted files."

"Yes. The decoding will probably only take a few moments... bless Willow and her ability to cut through the technological jargon and lead me to the fastest machine on the market."

Buffy grinned at the mention of her computer literate friend. "She loved every minute of it, Bill. Believe me, she was in her element."

"Indeed." Bill’s eyes softened as he thought of Willow. He never expected her to return his affection. The past few months had been a delight... his work was progressing nicely, Mister Giles and Buffy were tolerating his constant presence without protest, and Marcus seemed to like him quite well. Then, there was Willow, and her gentle manner, her tender kisses...

A beep from the laptop brought him back to reality. In a stilted female voice, it stated, "Your decryption sequence has been completed successfully. Do you wish to store the documents in secure files?"

Bill’s finger reached out and touched the ‘Y’ key, and the program automatically password protected the files and left them open for inspection. He turned the laptop slightly towards Giles, slid his chair back, and rose. "There you are, sir. You may study them at length, if you like."

"I’d very much like. Did Cedrick mention supporting documents? Writings of that approximate time period that would substantiate Cho’s translation?"

Armstead stared at Giles as though he’d just thumbed his nose at the Queen. "You doubt Cho’s translation? But there is no other authority on this language! All previous translations were into Sanskrit, and have never been verified."

"Nevertheless, Armstead, I want to see those documents. Where my son is concerned, I shall leave no stone unturned. If you don’t wish to request them, I shall do it myself." Giles voice was quiet, but determined.

"No, no, sir, I shall place the request immediately. If you would allow me..." Giles made a ‘be my guest’ gesture, and Bill slid back into his chair. It was the work of only a few minutes for him to send his request across the ocean to Council Security HQ. "There. I should hear something shortly. The mail program will announce itself when the new message comes in. And now, sir, ma’am..." He stood, then noticed Buffy’s warning glare. She hated to be called ‘ma’am’, but he couldn’t bring himself to address her less formally, in light of the gravity of his information. "...I promised Willow I would accompany her and Xander to the Circus this evening..." He tilted his head slightly at Buffy’s smile, recognizing the incongruity of his statement.

Giles smiled, himself, after catching Buffy’s amusem*nt. "Perhaps a bit of light entertainment is just the thing."

Buffy added brightly, "Hey, we’re taking Marcus to the Circus, too. We’ll probably see you guys there."

Armstead nodded, smiling. "Excellent."

"Willow got our tickets for us. I believe our seats are right in front of yours," Giles added.

Buffy frowned suddenly. "I sure hope this Council crap doesn’t ruin everything."

Giles slid his arm around his wife and gave her a kiss on the temple. "We must make sure it doesn’t, love."

Armstead knew himself fairly well. He knew he was no scholar, not when it came to interpretation of ancient texts. He would be of no use to Mister Giles in that respect. As he left the house, he hoped that things proved to be less dire than he had at first thought.

Only time would tell.

********

Buffy, with her intimate knowledge of Giles’ psyche, left him alone for several hours. Marcus awoke from his nap, and she took him outside to play. From time to time she would wander through the living room and look at her husband as he studied the information Armstead had given him. The pertinent verses were short and succinct. The supporting documents were few. The meaning was clear. She didn’t have to ask. She knew.

Marcus was the last of the line. The last Chosen one. If you could ever take any prophecy at face value, it meant her son was a harbinger of the end of the world.

She returned to the back yard, where Marcus was having a grand time in his new sandbox. Xander had helped Giles build it one weekend, and Marcus never tired of running his toy trucks and cars around, through, and sometimes under the sand. He would sit for hours, creating little worlds of his own, carrying on conversations with unseen friends as he played.

She sat on the deck steps and watched him. He was carefully scraping sand into random piles, then driving his trucks and cars around them one by one. His play was orderly and methodical, totally unlike a typical one-year-old’s. She didn’t know whether to be proud or worried about it. She finally decided she had enough to worry about, and concentrated on Marcus and his contented recreation.

After a while, she looked at her watch, and realized they had to leave for the Circus soon. She needed to take her son inside for a quick wash up, but he was having so much fun, she hated to interrupt him. He knew his parents were in a sad mood, but shortly after his first birthday, they had learned to block most of the emotional spill-over that caused Marcus so much confusion. As soon as they were able to shield the toddler from their confusing adult emotions, Marcus began to come into his own. He was stronger, more independent, more articulate now. At almost a year and a half, Doctor Stevenson had rated him at the level of the average four-year-old. In some areas, he surpassed even that.

They still hadn’t told Armstead about Marcus’ newest talent. His ability to sense human emotions and intent from increasingly greater distances was not readily apparent during the course of a normal day. Armstead’s time with Marcus was limited, Giles saw to that. Now, in light of the prophecy her husband was studying so closely, Buffy wasn’t so sure they’d be able to hide the boy’s developing gifts much longer. There was no telling what super power would surface next...

"Mummy? C’mere an’ wook!"

The toddler’s happy voice broke through her gloomy thoughts, and she smiled. "What is it, sweetie baby?" She obligingly strolled over to the sand box and squatted beside Marcus, watching with interest, and a little squeamishness as well, as he allowed a bright red ladybug to crawl over the surface of his hand.

"Pwetty wadybug, Mummy." He looked up at her for confirmation, and she nodded. "Daddy says wadybugs are good bugs."

"That’s right. We like ladybugs. They eat aphids, and aphids are bad bugs. They kill Grandma’s roses unless the ladybugs eat them."

"Yeth. When I wearn to wead, I gonna wead about wadybugs."

For some reason, the quiet anticipation in Marcus’ voice brought tears to her eyes. "Yes, baby, you’ll find out about everything in the world, when you learn to read."

"Ev’wyfing?" He struggled with the new word, catching its meaning from his mother.

"Everything," she asserted confidently.

"Yay! Wanna hear my ABCs?" He launched into the alphabet song, running the letters together hurriedly, but getting them all in. He ended with, "Won’t you come and sing wif me!" then started all over again.

Buffy made herself comfortable, glanced at her watch again, and decided there was plenty of time to get ready for the Circus. She joined the song just before the letter ‘E’, and sang with him the rest of the way through. They broke into cheering applause when they finished, and Buffy looked up to see Giles watching them from the back door. He was smiling that quirky little smile that she loved so much, and he was clapping with them.

"Well done, you two."

Buffy blushed slightly, then stood and offered Marcus her hand. "Come on, Marcus, let’s go get ready for the Circus, okay?"

"Okay, Mummy. I want to see eff-fants!" He took her hand happily, and the Giles family went into the house, all three of them smiling.

When the back door slammed, a broad, gray skinned creature stuck his head out of the hedge and sighed. "That little human is so cute. What are we gonna do, Gerard? I bet they know about the prophecy by now."

"I don’t know, Mad. Nothing we can do, except keep an eye out, and help them when they need it."

Madvehkar thought about things for a couple of minutes, then he crawled out of the hedge and started down the alley, calling over his shoulder, "I have an idea. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Want me to bring you a burger?"

"Sure. Make it a double, with fries... say, where are you going?"

"To get some legal advice."

Gerard watched the troll march out of sight, then sighed. "Legal advice? That Mad... he’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen." That statement seemed a bit extreme, so he corrected himself. "No, I take that back. The weirdest thing I’ve ever seen is that truck driver on the side of the road trying to scrape demon innards off his front grill." He disappeared back into the hedge and continued his vigil, chuckling softly to himself.

********

After entering the big tent, Buffy spotted Willow, Armstead, Xander and Anya about three rows from the front of the center ring. As soon as they saw her, they waved wildly, pointing to the bleachers in front of them. She contacted Giles through the Bond and let him know where she was, then carefully made her way to her friends.

"Wow! This place is packed! I didn’t know it would be this crowded. You guys got the best seats in the house!" She let out a huge breath and plopped down, grinning at the cotton candy and snow cone Willow was holding. Sometimes Will was just like a little kid... all enthusiasm and innocence.

"What’d you do with the guys, Buff?" Xander leaned forward with his characteristic smirk. "You feed ‘em to the lions?"

Buffy ignored the jibe, and said, "You know Giles... he and Marcus are looking at every exhibit on the Midway. They’ll be here in a second..." She spotted Giles with Marcus riding on his shoulders, and began to grin. Marcus was in total heaven, his chubby face aglow with delight. "...there they are, now. Uh oh... cotton candy, again... I’m sure glad I brought wet wipes."

Anya commented, "I may need to borrow them if Xander starts drooling at the aerialists in their skimpy costumes."

Willow giggled, and Buffy grinned. Anya might be an ex-demon, but she did have a sense of humor.

"Hello, all. These are excellent seats. Thank you, Willow, for getting them all together for us." Stepping easily between benches, Giles climbed up to their row, sat beside Buffy, and carefully removed Marcus from his neck.

Armstead beamed proudly. "She’s very thorough, isn’t she?" He said it as though it was the most wonderful attribute she could possibly have.

"Wih-dow! I saw horses, and wions, an’ a big b’woon, and..." Marcus babbled excitedly, trying to tell Willow about all the wonderful things he had seen outside. She couldn’t understand most of it, but she did her best, making encouraging comments and reminding him to slow down from time to time.

Buffy snuggled closer to her husband and listened to her happy toddler’s chatter. She shifted and looked up at Giles’ face. "I was afraid he’d be too young to enjoy this, but he’s eating it up."

"Yes, he is. He may not understand all of it, but he’ll never forget his first trip to the Circus." He smiled in fond remembrance. "I never have."

"I remember, too... although Mom and Dad were fighting the whole time... that sorta put a damper on my fun."

"I’m sorry, love. This time will be better."

She smiled up at him. "Yeah, it will. ‘Cause my two favorite guys in the whole world are here with me. No fighting this time."

"None whatsoever." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and she sighed happily and rested her head against his shoulder. She was still for a only few seconds before Marcus grabbed her arm.

"Wook! Mummy, Daddy! Wook! Eff-fants!" With a blare of music, the Circus began.

As stilt-walkers, ponies, elephants, aerial performers, clowns and various wildly decorated vehicles paraded past, Giles and Buffy tried valiantly to answer Marcus’ rapid-fire questions.

"Mummy! What’s dat?" He pointed, then looked at her, convinced that his mother knew everything.

"Those funny looking people in the little car?" Buffy pointed to the brightly colored trio squeezed into an impossibly tiny fire engine.

"Yeth."

"They’re clowns," she answered, raising her voice over the noise. "That’s why they’re dressed funny."

"Oh." Something else caught his eye. "Wook, Mummy! What’s dat?" A pair of shaggy, humpless camel-like creatures passed them, giving the crowd a placid, liquid-eyed stare.

"Those are... llamas?" She looked at Giles. He nodded.

"Oh. What’s dat?"

He pointed at a human figure, and suddenly Buffy was stumped. She stared for a minute, then turned to Giles again. He grinned at her confusion. "That’s the Bearded Lady, love."

It was Buffy’s turn to say, "Oh. And... ewww."

Giles laughed heartily at her expression of dismay.

The procession completed its circuit around the big top tent, and the ring master introduced the first act with a flourish. Buffy was quickly lost in the masterful blend of showmanship, death-defying acts, clowns, and animals. She found herself enjoying the show for herself as much as she was for Marcus. Even Giles was wearing a quietly happy expression as he held Marcus in his arms. Buffy knew he was enjoying the return to childhood as much as she was.

It was good to be a child again, for a while. The Slayer and the Watcher took so much of the world’s burden on their shoulders, they sometimes forgot the simple things. Like a little boy’s wondering face as he watched acrobats tumble and balance themselves with fluid grace. Or his delight with the introduction of the stars of the Circus, two relatively small baby elephants, tagging along behind an older behemoth as she placidly circled the outer ring.

Marcus loved elephants. He was enchanted with them the first time he saw a picture of one. Seeing one in the flesh made him giddy. They were so...

"Daddy! Eff-fants sooo big!" He said it so matter-of-factly that the entire group erupted in laughter.

"Yes, they are, love." Giles made a mental note to see if he could let his son see one up close before they left. He felt Buffy’s agreement in his head as soon as the thought surfaced, outdistancing the mild ‘eww’ that crossed her mind when she thought about the up-close smell of an animal the size of a greyhound bus. He chuckled at her dainty reaction, then concentrated on enjoying the happiness in his child’s eyes.

As soon as the pachyderms vacated the ring, another act took their place. The fast pace seemed to suit Marcus, as he always had something new to look at, point to, and ask about. The little family remained enthralled throughout the rest of the show, looking for all the world like a normal family on a regular weekend outing with their friends.

When the final act was over, the extended Scooby Gang reluctantly gathered their souvenirs and followed the throng to the nearest exit. As they shuffled along, pressed on all sides by the crowd, Willow sighed, "I used to dream of joining the Circus when I was a little girl."

"I remember," Xander said scornfully. "You wanted to do the thing with the horses, except you were terrified of horses. It was a little weird."

"If I had learned when I was just a kid, like that girl did, I wouldn’t be afraid anymore." Willow’s voice was reasonable... so far.

"No, you’d be dead, with hoof prints down your back. You’re just not graceful like that, Will."

"I could be graceful! I’m just... not... usually. But I’m a quick study... I could learn." Willow’s ‘resolve face’ was beginning to make itself known. "You know how good I am at learning."

"Being Learn Girl doesn’t automatically make you Fancy Horseback Stuff Girl."

"Xander! I bet I could do fancy horseback stuff if I really wanted to."

"You fell off the horsie in front of the grocery store, remember? I’m skeptical of the entire horse thing."

"I was only six! I can do anything that sequined show-off can do!"

"Only if you had enough quarters."

Armstead opened his mouth, not understanding the jibe about the quarters, but ready to defend his girlfriend. A warning look from Buffy stopped him. She was grinning from ear to ear, and he got the distinct impression that their bickering was a common occurrence.

"Hey! Insult radar is pinging like mad, here!" The tone changed to defensive as she poked Xander in the chest.

Xander yelped and jumped away. Anya stepped back to avoid getting her foot trampled, then shrugged her shoulders and kept walking. She’d seen the two friends teasing each other before. It was nothing new. Xander recovered quickly, and patted Willow on the head, knowing it would make her furious. "Sorry, cute buddy... just stating cold, hard facts. You trip over your feet crossing a room!"

"I can do anything I want! I am empowered! I am Woman! Hear me roar!"

"Thank you, Helen Reddy." Xander winced as she poked him again. "What’s with the Toby Tyler routine, anyway? It’s not like your life turned out so bad."

"I didn’t say it did! My life is great! I love my life! I just wanted to do horseback stuff when I was a kid!"

"Well, when I was a kid I wanted to be Spiderman! At least the web stuff was cool."

"You don’t see me making fun of your childhood dream, do ya?" They passed through the tent door and out into the cool night air, all five of the adults breathing a sigh of relief.

"You should be... it was really dumb."

Willow stopped in surprise, then broke into snorting laughter. "So... so was me joining the Circus! I mean, really!"

"I can see you now, knee deep in horse hockey..."

"And you’d probably web yourself to the nearest lamp post..."

"Am I ever glad we grew up and got over all that stupid stuff."

"Yeah... except joining the Circus isn’t really that stupid, not like wanting to be a comic book hero."

"I’ll have you know I learned a lot from comic books..."

Buffy rolled her eyes as her two best friends continued to rag on each other. Armstead followed as closely as he could, not sure if he wanted to laugh or get angry. Anya ignored the exchange and clung to Xander’s arm, keeping an interested eye on the passing crowd. Buffy fell behind the two unusual couples, still grinning, then turned to her husband and son. Marcus was happily clinging to his father’s neck, amazed at the activity around them. She touched his arm gently, and said, "Let’s go see the elephants up close, okay?"

The toddler erupted in a high-pitched cheer that caused people to turn and smile all around them.

********

Soft snoring came from the baby seat behind them as the dark green van made its way home that evening. It had been a perfectly enchanted time for the little family. Everything they’d wished for had come true, right down to one of the animal handlers letting Marcus behind the scenes to see the elephants up close. The handlers all laughed at Marcus’ unwavering fascination, then turned respectful as the tiny child showed no fear of the huge creatures. As the child spoke softly to the great beasts, they seemed to respond with equal civility.

Buffy held the little camera carefully in her lap as they turned down their street. It contained a picture that she fervently hoped would turn out... a shot of Marcus in his father’s arms, touching his fingertips to the prehensile end of a huge female elephant’s trunk. The gargantuan animal was amazingly gentle, examining the tiny fingers with careful curiosity. Buffy shivered still at the memory of the fear she felt, but Giles and Marcus were completely at ease, more confident with the great beasts than they were with most humans.

It was the picture of a lifetime. She couldn’t wait to have it developed.

The perfection of the night suddenly gave way to a sense of anticipation that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. She shifted in her seat and turned to check on her baby, frowning slightly. Giles felt her unease instantly, and matched her expression with a frown of his own. A cold hand gripped his heart, and he fought the urge to slam on the brakes, jump out of the van, and square off against an unseen foe. With deliberate control, he managed to guide the vehicle into the driveway and shut off the engine.

The only thing Buffy could compare this new sensation to was the vamp awareness that being a Slayer had given her. She knew for a fact that there were no vampires around, yet her skin was crawling and her stomach aching. She knew Giles felt it, too, for his face had gone deathly pale in the light of the street lamp. Neither of them could bring themselves to open the doors and step out into that foreboding presence.

As the intensity of the sensation began to fade, Buffy turned to him with a fearful look. "Did you feel that?" she said unnecessarily.

"Highly unpleasant, wasn’t it?"

"We passed something really bad back there, didn’t we?"

"So it would seem." Giles craned his neck and tried to see all around the van, looking for whatever had set their supernatural awareness into overdrive.

"What was it?"

Giles took a deep, nervous breath. "I have no idea, love."

"It’s not completely gone, either. We gotta get Marcus in the house, quick. If I don’t know what it is, and you don’t know, either... how do we fight it?"

"I think I know a way." Giles’ hand closed over hers, and he closed his eyes in concentration. She complied at once, adding her strength to his, and the Bond expanded into the darkness, pushing the dread away until there was a comfortable sphere of safety surrounding them.

As the terror dissipated, she smiled, amazed at his instinctive use of the Bond. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his surprised expression matching her own.

"The Force is strong in you, young Skywalker," she teased, then took a deep breath and climbed into the back to retrieve their sleeping son. Chuckling softly, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the van, rounding the front to help Buffy with Marcus and their various bags and souvenirs from the Circus.

After they got inside the house, Buffy immediately went upstairs to put the baby in his crib, leaving Giles to sift through the cups, banners, and plastic elephants that proved to all and sundry that they’d seen the ‘greatest show on earth.’ As she changed the still sleeping child’s diaper, she mused, ‘I wonder why Marcus didn’t wake up. That felt like big time evil, out there!’

Giles came up the stairs, thinking about what they’d felt. Buffy had posed an excellent question. Why had Marcus, who showed every indication of being sensitive to evil in any form, been unaffected by the sudden sensation that so unnerved them?

As he came into the nursery, an idea struck him. "Perhaps Marcus reacts to evil primarily when we are not actively resisting it. When we are unaware of danger, he feels it necessary to warn us, however..."

"...when we know it’s there, he just figures Mummy and Daddy will handle it," Buffy finished softly, covering the tiny boy with a light blanket and moving back to watch him sleep for a minute.

"Yes, that’s the impression I get, as well." Giles stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. A strong sense of comfort emanated from him, soaking into her very soul, and she basked in the sensation for a moment before smiling up at him. They stepped across the hall to their bedroom to keep from waking Marcus, hoping they could mute their unease enough to allow his sleep to remain uninterrupted.

Once inside the room, she turned and looked into his eyes, seeing the concern and uncertainty behind the calm exterior. She knew he was still unsettled... she was, too. "Rupert, this is entirely too wiggy for me. I mean, just today, we hear this moldy ol’ prophecy and suddenly everything goes to hell in a handbasket."

"Yes, I know, love. I had hoped..." His voice trailed off, and she felt the swirl of emotions coming from him as he tried to gain command of himself.

"Me, too, babe... I hoped we’d at least have a couple of years before we had to fight the ol’ End-of-the-World badness again." She snuggled into his chest, comforting and taking comfort at the same time. "Why can’t Marcus just be a kid for a while? Why does it all have to be so friggin’ serious? Why can’t the world save itself once in a while?"

"I don’t know... I really, truly don’t." He took a shaky breath and held her as tightly as he could, fighting the gloom that threatened whenever he let down his guard. His mind resigned itself to the fact that they would never be free of the terrible responsibilities that were their respective birthrights. Still, he had been given so much... it seemed reasonable that, proportionately, much would be required. No matter what joy he was given in life, it was always stripped shortly thereafter from him...

"Oh, no..." Buffy murmured against him, shaking her head slightly, still in contact with his shirt front. "No, babe, you’re not allowed to wallow in all that yucky depression stuff." She kissed his chest through the thin material, then rested her head against him again. "Don’t you see? We can’t win if we stop fighting."

Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew her statement to be true. His own self-doubts, however, were not so easily banished. "Oh, love... if I only had your unfailing optimism..."

She tilted her head and looked into his tortured eyes. "The way I see it, we keep each other in balance. My Slayer strength, your Watcher brains... my ‘unfailing optimism’, your ‘the world is doomed’ outlook... my spazziness, your calmness... my shortness to your tallness..." With each comparison, his eyes grew wider and wider until she got to the size comparison, and he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Your youth, my age..." he managed, chuckling.

"Yeah... you’re, like, so old." She drawled, hugged him tightly, listening to the rumble of good humor deep in his chest.

"My linguistic abilities..."

"My complete lack of command of the one language I do speak..."

"Actually, I’ve noticed a vast improvement of late."

"I’m starting to sound more like you. No wonder you think it’s an improvement."

He gazed down at her shining face, so sure that she’d dispelled his fear with sheer force of will. His expression turned tender, and he stroked her face as he said softly, "My fear, your bravery... my despair, your hope..." He leaned forward and kissed her thankfully, and felt her smile against his lips.

"Mmm... you forgot something..." Her tone was light, teasing.

"What?"

"My female... your male... and the fact that the kid is asleep."

"Oh." He kissed her again, his voice becoming slightly hoarse. "I hadn’t forgotten that at all."

********

Gerard stirred from his light doze as the presence of magic assaulted his consciousness. He immediately turned toward the source of the disturbance, frowning, his body tensing for a confrontation. Blue goblins weren’t known for their physical prowess, but Gerard was determined to defend his little friend’s territory with all his might. He could see pretty well, even in the early morning darkness, and he could make out two shapes moving towards him.

"Who goes there?" As he spoke, he fought the urge to giggle nervously. He’d heard that line a million times in those cheap war movies... now here he was, sounding like a twitchy private guarding an obscure outpost.

"Relax, Ger, it’ssss me," Madvehkar’s welcome voice replied.

"Whew, Mad... I’m glad you’re back. Things got a little tense here a few hours ago... major mojo going on, but it seems to be quiet now." Suddenly, it registered that there was someone with the troll, a slight figure, standing back, just watching. "Uh, who’d you bring? This the lawyer?"

"Nah. I already talked to Lionel. He ssssuggessssted I call a Sssseer. And, here the Sssseer issss!" The troll waved a meaty hand at the slender figure standing behind him. As soon as Mad moved out of the way, Gerard recognized the newcomer.

"Zehdlaf! Long time no see! How are the grandchildren?" Gerard grabbed the elf’s hand and pumped it heartily.

Zehdlaf smiled the ethereal smile that was common to all elves, and stroked his shining silver beard before answering. "It has been a year, Gerard, and my grandchildren, for the most part, are well."

"That’s good, Zed. My cousins still talk about the party at your place... that was one for the record books, wasn’t it?" Gerard felt a sense of giddy relief in the presence of the elf... elves were the oldest of all the lower races... surely things would turn in favor of the Watcher’s family, with such a creature on their side.

Zehdlaf smiled at the memory of the gaggle of goblins that descended on his home to celebrate Gerard’s cousin’s wedding. Goblins were nothing, if not enthusiastic. "You and your cousins are always welcome in my home, Gerard. As are you and your nieces and nephews, Madvehkar, if you ever wish to visit an abode that is above ground."

To a troll, such an invitation was a sign of trust and comradeship, and not to be taken lightly. In gratitude, Mad bowed, sweeping his hat from his bald head. It was a grand gesture that would have been comical if not for the serious look on the troll’s face. As he straightened, he replaced the hat and said, "Thank you, Zzzzehdlaf."

"We’re awfully glad you’re here, Zed," the goblin said earnestly. "We really didn’t know what to do next."

"And you believe that I do?" the elf queried calmly.

Gerard looked directly at the wizened creature, his complete conviction showing in his multifaceted eyes. "I can’t speak for Mad, but I sure as heck hope so."

"Well, then." The elf clapped his thin hands together soundlessly. "I suppose I should begin."

"Begin... uh... what?" Gerard tried to sound calm, but his voice squeaked a little bit on the ‘what’.

"Doing something, of course."

"Oh. Well, we’ll just stand back and let you get on with it." Suddenly, Gerard’s stomach rumbled. "Hey, Mad... where’s my cheeseburger?"

The troll handed the goblin a grease-stained paper sack, and the two beings waited to see what the elven Seer would do next.

********

Giles stirred in his sleep, his dreams bizarre and disturbing. Yellowed parchments, a thousand times larger than life, chased him through cobweb infested catacombs. All around him, chanting voices grew louder and louder as he ran, but he could not make out the words they were saying. All around him, objects distorted and writhed until he was dizzy and slightly sick to his stomach. Every turn and twist of the corridor seemed to lead toward light and freedom, but he found only dead ends and frustration. He kicked the covers away in his agitation, and Buffy sat up, grumbling at the sudden draft on her bare skin.

"Hey, babe... wake up." She whispered, shaking him gently. She knew how jarring it was to be suddenly snatched out of a nightmare into the real world. He continued to moan softly, and she began to get a little worried. "Rupert, wake up... you’re dreaming, it’s okay, you’re safe..."

She stroked his face and murmured words of comfort until he stopped tossing and blinked his eyes open. He was sweating freely, his breath coming in short gasps. He searched the dark room until his eyes fell on her anxious face, and he managed a shaky smile. She sat back, relieved.

"Finally. You were beginning to worry me. You haven’t had one of those since before Marcus was born."

He sighed and reached for her hand, barely able to disguise his trembling. "Yes, I know. I fear the recent prophecies we’ve been studying have invaded my dreams. I was dreaming in Sanskrit... which, in itself, is unusual, since I’m not fluent in Sanskrit, by any means."

"How did you know it was Sanskrit, then?" She grinned suddenly. "You been checking out the Kama Sutra online again?"

He chuckled for a moment, then sat up. "Ancient sexual texts notwithstanding, the only time I recall trying to decipher Sanskrit was in my days at Oxford." He frowned suddenly, remembering something. "No, I’m wrong... I did work on a few things while I was at the British Museum. Come to think of it..." He sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up. "... I was working on back-translations of some religious texts... from Sanskrit to its antecedent language... oh, Dear God!" He sprang up and began pacing in excitement.

Buffy jumped up as well, watching him move around the room. She glanced at the clock. Almost three-thirty. Leave it to Giles to have a brilliant idea in the middle of the night. "What, babe? Do you know something about that prophecy book that that Cho-whosit guy didn’t?"

"Perhaps not, but back then I was using, as a reference, a rather disreputable anthology of social rules from a Hindu scholar named Putamanharji... I was the only one at the museum brash enough... or perhaps ignorant is a better word... to do so... and in the process, found several errors that were later verified by more established researchers as mistranslations of the original language. Why didn’t I think of that immediately? The sutras of Putamanharji were taboo to the Tibetans... I’ll wager old Cho would have never used them in his work... it would be akin to a Moslem using Salman Rushdie’s "The Satanic Verses" to translate the Koran into English..."

Buffy shook her head in confusion, unable to process all the strange-sounding names. "Sooo... without all the unpronounceable words... this means what?"

"That Cho could have been mistaken in his translation."

"You mean, before you came to Sunnydale, you accidentally found something a one-hundred-sixty-year-old Tibetan guy spent his life searching for, but missed? I know you’re smart, and all, babe, but forgive me for being skeptical."

Giles didn’t seem to take offense. If anything, he became more sure of himself. "If there is the slightest chance that the wording of this prophecy could be misleading, it’s worth looking into, don’t you think?"

"Well, yeah..." Suddenly, she smiled. "Yeah, I guess it is! What if, instead of Marcus being the harbinger of the end of the world, he’s just the harbinger of something else? Like... the end of polyester, or something?"

Giles began to laugh, then caught himself at Buffy’s quick hiss. There was no need to wake the baby. "I have to get to work... I’m sure Braithwaite still has the Putamanharji somewhere..." He looked at the clock, mentally calculating the time difference. "He should still be at the office, if he hasn’t taken an early lunch. I’ll just ring him up. Then, I’ll get Armstead and his laptop over here..." He dashed out the door, but was gone less than a minute before reappearing at the bedroom door with an abashed grin on his face. "Um... would you hand me something to wear...?"

Buffy giggled helplessly at her completely nude husband, muffling the sound with one hand. When she caught her breath, she rasped, "I was wondering if you were gonna go streaking through the house with all the curtains wide open."

She handed him his robe and the bottoms of the night clothes they always shared. He pulled on the clothes then disappeared down the hall again. After a bit, Buffy reluctantly donned the top and a pair of shorts. Realizing sleep was no longer an option, she started downstairs.

"Oh, God, why is prophecy such a pain?" she moaned softly, then thought about what she’d said. She looked up apologetically. "I guess it’s kind of a pain for you too, isn’t it? Sorry."

********

Giles waited impatiently while the telephone on the other end of the line rang. After the fourth ring, the line clicked and a very groggy voice answered, "Yes, Armstead here."

"Good morning, Armstead. It’s Rupert Giles. I may have some new insights into the prophecies of Enosh. Can you meet us here in a few hours, and bring your computer?"

Armstead fumbled for his bedside clock and winced at the early hour. Watcher discipline took over before he could moan, and he said as crisply as possible, "Of course, sir. Would eight o’clock be too early?"

"Eight is fine. I’ll see you then." He hung up abruptly, leaving Armstead to wonder just what kind of insight Giles could possibly have at three-thirty in the morning. He shrugged slightly, deciding that there was no predicting the elder Watcher’s behavior, then set his alarm for seven o’clock.

********

Gerard and Madvehkar stood just inside the hedge, staring at the motionless elf with growing concern. After his declaration that something must be done, he simply closed his eyes and froze. No hand gestures, no magic dust, no waving wands... nothing. A cool breeze caught the ends of Zehdlaf’s silver beard, but otherwise, there was no movement at all.

Mad looked over at Gerard uncertainly. "Uh, what do you think he’ssss doing?" he whispered.

"I dunno. Don’t know much about elf magic. But Zed’s been around forever, and he knows what he’s doing... whatever it is..."

"I guessss sssso." Mad squinted at the robe-clad figure in front of them. The elf was like a statue. "We need to get back to guard duty, Gerard. He’ll probably call ussss when he’ssss done."

"Yeah, you’re right." Neither of them moved from their spot.

"So... you take the back yard, and I’ll go up front." Gerard finally said.

Mad nodded. "Fine with me."

The pair reluctantly left the elf to his unseen task, and took up stations once again. Each of them wondered what possible good the elf could be doing, just standing there.

Several minutes passed, then suddenly, inside the house, lights began to pop on downstairs. Gerard, from his vantage point in the hedge, could see the Watcher pick up the telephone and carry on a short conversation. This was followed by a second call, a much longer one, that seemed to please him greatly. He turned as the Slayer came down the stairs and caught her up in a happy embrace, spinning her around until she began to laugh.

Whatever it was that Zehdlaf was doing, it must’ve worked. The goblin turned to the smiling elf at his side, his face curious. "Hey, Zed... wha’d you do? They seem awfully happy about something."

Zehdlaf opened his silver-gray eyes and looked at Gerard with a pleased expression. "Nothing difficult. A memory... an idea... nothing that wasn’t already there. But, I think..." His smile widened at the sight of their unwitting hosts kissing passionately, oblivious to the open curtains. "...I think the greatest gift is hope."

********

At exactly eight o’clock the next morning, Bill Armstead knocked on the Giles’ front door, unaware that he was being scrutinized by an elf, a goblin, and a troll. The three lower beings began to discuss Armstead’s place in the little drama unfolding before them, but it was Madvehkar that spotted the compact little laptop case gripped tightly under the Observer’s right arm.

Mad pointed triumphantly. "That’ssss it! He’ssss gonna look ssssomething up for them, ssssee?"

Zehdlaf smiled. "There is much research and study ahead of them."

"That’s what these guys do best," Gerard affirmed with a satisfied nod. "The Watcher’s the best I’ve ever seen at uncovering stuff. Not to mention that him and the Slayer have that Bond thing going on."

"Ah, yes... the Bond," Zehdlaf said thoughtfully. "Remarkable. I remember its presence during the battle for their child."

"Who could forget?" Gerard snorted. "It was like World War Three out there for a while."

"But they ssssaved the tiny human," Mad stated proudly.

"Yeah, and it looks like they’re gonna have to do it again." Gerard settled himself into the hedge and resumed his vigil as three figures became visible through the living room window.

********

Armstead stared at his laptop, willing the thing to hurry up. "I’ve sent my address to your friend Braithwaite, Mister Giles. Now, all we can do is wait until he returns the information you need." In just a scant few minutes, the computer began to receive information at an amazing rate. "Ah, here it comes now."

Giles frowned at the small screen. "It makes me distinctly uncomfortable to transmit such sensitive material over a public system such as this."

"Rupert, babe, it makes you distinctly uncomfortable to program the VCR. Get over it." Buffy plopped down into the floor to play with Marcus, scooting his toys away to make herself a roomy spot. "Daddy’s a technophobe, Marcus. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you."

Marcus laughed, sensing his mother’s teasing mood.

A knock at the door caused Buffy to jump up, but Giles was already halfway to the door, so she relaxed and returned to playing with Marcus. She heard Willow’s cheerful voice, and smiled... the resident computer whiz was here... if there were any snags in getting the stuff from England, she’d know what to do.

"Hey, Buffy, you called? Hi, Marcus, honey, whatcha doin’?" The slender redhead squatted to receive an enthusiastic hug and kiss from the youngest person in the room. She reciprocated with equal enthusiasm, then rose gracefully and moved to Armstead’s side. "Hi, Bill. How’s the transfer going?" She unconsciously caressed the back of his neck as she bent over to read the screen.

"Hello, Willow. It’s going well, I think. All of the pages are scanned at high resolution, or so Mister Giles’ friend tells me, but we’ve only received seven pages so far."

"Hmm. How many more do you have to... oh, my... this is gonna take a while, you know that, don’t you?"

Armstead and Giles both nodded, then Buffy asked, "Just how long is a ‘while’, Will?"

Willow stared at the screen again, thinking. "At least another hour."

"An hour?" Giles began to pace. "So much for the instantaneous transmission of information!"

Buffy stifled a giggle, then patted the floor beside her. "Come here and play with us."

"Yeth, Daddy! P’ay wif us!" Marcus’ voice pleaded, and Giles’ heart melted instantly.

"Yes, all right, for a little while..."

Giles came around the couch and knelt beside his wife, and was nearly bowled over by an excited little boy. Marcus hugged his father tightly, then handed him a toy car. "Heah, Daddy. Dis cah fo’ you."

"Thank you, son."

Willow couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her very proper, professorish friend playing with Matchbox racers on the carpet. Now, Buffy seemed right at home, for some reason...

Just as Giles got comfortable, another knock came at the door. Buffy heard Xander’s voice as he let himself in, and waved him over. "Hey, guys... hey, Marcus... oh, cool! A Corvette!" He made himself right at home, stretching out full length on the carpet to watch Marcus as he transformed the living room carpet into an Indy 500 racetrack.

Time passed quietly as Willow and Armstead sat discussing computer terminology and the Internet and Marcus entertained everyone else. Suddenly, the computer beeped, signaling the end of the transmission. Giles jumped up and ran around to the table, followed closely by Buffy and Xander, and they crowded around Armstead to see what Braithwaite had sent them.

"That’s it! The Putamanharji Sutras... and there are my notes. They kept them all. Amazing. The pictures are clear as a bell! Now, I need those original files that Father sent..."

"Right here, Giles." Willow leaned over and touched a few keys, bringing up the documents in a separate window. "Sit down, and I’ll show you how to compare them."

As Giles slid into the seat vacated by Armstead, Buffy felt her heart flutter with anticipation. Giles had always managed to put things right. This would be no exception.

Giles fell silent as he studied the notes and translations before him, feeling a sense of deja vu at seeing his own work again after almost fifteen years. He was so driven back then, his sense of destiny side-lined by a lack of active Watcher duties, and he had poured himself into his work at the Museum wholeheartedly. The idea that his past dedication would had an impact on his present... and future... seemed unbelievably symmetrical.

"Buffy, this may take some time. Would you...?"

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Buffy headed for the kitchen, a smirk on her face. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot. Aye, aye, Captain Picard."

Willow giggled, and even Armstead smiled. Giles gave him a quick glare, and Armstead said mildly, "I have managed to watch a bit of television in my day, sir."

"I seem to be plagued by constant comparisons to science fiction characters. I can’t imagine why."

"If only you weren’t so Picard-ish at times, babe..." Buffy’s voice floated in from the next room.

"Yeah, but sometimes he’s more Spock-like, with all his logic and stuff." Willow grinned down at the back of Giles’ neck, noting the slight flush of embarrassment showing there.

"He has Data-like moments, too, like turning his head when he’s thinking... very android-like behavior." Xander demonstrated with a jerk of his neck, and Willow burst into giggles again.

Buffy chortled from the kitchen, feeling Giles’ mixture of irritation and affection. He tried to act like he hated being teased, but in reality, it made him feel like a part of the family.

The morning passed, and Willow sent Xander out to get Chinese food for lunch. The little group ate at the table, occasionally asking Giles how things were going. He gave minimal response, engrossed as he was in his research. Buffy tried to get him to eat something, but he only managed a few bites before returning to the task at hand. Finally, they left him alone, wandering into the back yard to sprawl on the deck furniture in the warm sun. When Buffy came through the house to put Marcus down for a nap, she received a dissatisfied grunt when she asked about his progress.

Somewhere around two that afternoon, Giles stopped working and stared at the screen, lost in thought. The first set of lines were completely correct. He began to feel a niggle of doubt. What if Buffy was right? What if he was being terribly presumptuous about his ability to out-do Cho-je’s gifted translation?

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Almost instantly, Buffy appeared at his side and began rubbing his stiff shoulders. His second sigh was more of relief than exhaustion. Buffy’s massages were heavenly. As she worked the soreness out of his muscles, she queried, "No luck, huh?"

"None at all."

"How far have you gotten?"

"Just through the first few lines. It’s slow going, and Cho’s work is absolutely impeccable. I don’t know what I was thinking..."

She shushed him softly and continued her ministrations. "You were thinking about, and I quote, ‘leaving no stone unturned where my son is concerned,’ unquote. I’m proud of you."

The praise caught him by surprise, causing a tide of gratitude and love to well up where moments before there had been only frustration. He turned his head and looked up at her, his lips quirking into a tender smile. "Thank you, love. That means a great deal to me."

"I know." She kissed his temple and patted his shoulders. "I have an idea... let’s take a break, and then you can start in with a clear head." She tilted her head, smiling, and said, teasingly, "I’ll even make more tea."

"Well! In that case... I must agree." He grinned, stood, stretched, and followed her to the back yard, where an impromptu game of badminton was underway. They had dredged up an old net and four rackets, and the competition had grown pretty fierce.

"Time out, guys!" Willow seemed a bit out of breath and willing to call a halt to the action. She and Buffy had been playing against the guys, but when Buffy deserted her to check on Giles, she found herself at a disadvantage, and was having a hard time keeping up. It didn’t help that Xander was doing his best to spike the shuttleco*ck at every opportunity. She waved herself out of the game, and came over to the deck steps to rest. "So, any luck?" she asked Giles brightly.

"A popular question today. I’m afraid not. I’m not even half-way through. Perhaps there’s something in the latter verses." He sank into a lawn chair, trying not to sound completely dejected.

Xander, determined to keep the game going, was trying his best not to be trounced by his new friend. Armstead had obviously played badminton before. As Xander concentrated on the flying shuttleco*ck, he said, almost offhandedly, "Say, Giles... why don’t you start at the end and work backwards?"

"Hmm?" The words barely registered in Giles’ brain, as tired as he was. A minute or two passed, and he had began to relax in the warm afternoon sunshine, when suddenly something clicked and he sat straight up. "What did you say?"

Xander missed a diving return completely and landed on his stomach in the grass with a loud ‘oof!’ He sat up carefully, sweat dripping from his face. He looked a bit confused. "About what?"

"Did you say something about working backwards?"

Understanding dawned on the young man’s face. "Oh, yeah! I mean, the guy worked on this for a long time, right? And he was way old, too... so it sorta stands to reason."

Giles obviously wasn’t following Xander’s train of thought at first, but something was niggling at him, and he intended to follow it. An idea began to form, and he focused on his young friend. "You mean to say that Cho might have made more mistakes toward the last, because of his age?"

"Not just because of that. You said he died just after he finished, right? Maybe minutes after, right?"

Giles nodded.

"Well, maybe he was too sick to get the last part right." Xander got to his feet and stood there uncertainly while Giles stared at him. He stared so long that Xander began to get uncomfortable. "Uh... hey, Giles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your friend."

"No, no... it’s all right." Little by little, Giles’ face began to light up from within as he considered the idea. "No, as a matter of fact, my friend, I think yours is the most astute statement that has been made since this whole thing started!" He jumped out of the chair, turning it over in his haste, and flew back into the living room, leaving the screen door to slam loudly in his wake.

Xander looked at the others, disbelieving. "I was astute?"

********

Giles worked feverishly, convinced that an revelation was imminent. Instead of continuing with the second stanza, he moved to the last one and began the meticulous work of comparing one symbol with another. It barely registered when Xander left for his latest job, and when Willow and Armstead left for a dinner date, he waved slightly, intent on finding something... anything... He couldn’t accept that Marcus was the end of the Slayer line, that his birth heralded the Apocalypse.

The shadows grew long, and Buffy made dinner for them as he worked. She felt every twinge of excitement as he began work on a new word, only to feel the echo of disappointment as Cho’s translation held true. Over and over she rode the mental roller coaster with him, sighing as he resolutely moved on to the next word. It was slow going, since there were two languages to work from, but he persisted.

At length, he sat back, blinking his strained eyes and rubbing his nose where his glasses rested. Buffy knew that gesture well. It meant that he was too tired to continue, but was too stubborn to admit it. She filled a plate and slid it next to his elbow, nudging him slightly, and he grunted in acknowledgment as she sat Marcus in his high chair and started their meal.

She fixed him with a stern glare the minute he looked up at her. "Rupert Giles, eat your dinner. Starving yourself won’t make the words any plainer."

She felt his sigh to her very soul, and he reluctantly complied with her command, lifting his fork as though it weighed a ton. She watched him carefully, making sure he ate everything on his plate, then gave him a kiss as she cleared the table. Marcus watched his father, a pensive look on his little face. He’d stayed out of the way all afternoon, and he obviously felt he’d been ignored long enough. The minute Buffy set him on his feet, he toddled to Giles’ side and lay his head in Daddy’s lap.

Giles immediately came back to the real world. "Hello, son. I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? I’m sorry." He stroked the baby’s soft hair gently before gathering him into his arms. He gave Marcus a kiss on the cheek, and chuckled as the child returned it expertly.

"I wuv you, Daddy." His chubby arms stretched around Giles’ neck and held on for dear life.

"I love you, too, Marcus. I’m sorry Daddy has to work right now. It’s very boring, but also very important."

"I he’p you." He squirmed around until he could see the computer screen, his face serious. Buffy could feel his intense concentration cloud their connection momentarily, then the Bond reasserted itself, and she relaxed slightly. It made her awfully nervous when she wasn’t in emotional contact with him.

"What’s dat?" Marcus pointed to a squiggle on the screen.

Giles chuckled again, and answered, "That’s the symbol for friend, love."

Marcus tilted his head and stared at the ancient writing, reminding Giles so much of Buffy that his eyes misted over for a moment. The Bond between the three of them throbbed with emotion. Then, the toddler frowned. "Dat’s not fwiend, Daddy."

"What?" Giles couldn’t believe his ears. Marcus spoke with absolute conviction. The link between them was humming so strongly it was almost audible, and the child’s intent was identical to his words. Giles knew, in his heart, that the child was right, but his mind refused to accept it. "Marcus, surely you can’t read that."

At that moment Marcus seemed to lose interest. He slid to the floor and headed over to his toys. Giles stared after him, his mouth hanging open. "Marcus?"

"Wook, Daddy! I make a bwidge!" He started happily stacking his blocks, and seemed to have completely forgotten his sudden bout of insight.

Giles continued to stare at the child. He didn’t even hear Buffy come up behind him, and jumped when she said, "Wonder why he thinks that word isn’t ‘friend’? He barely knows what a ‘word’ is."

"More importantly... if that word truly isn’t ‘friend’, then how many other words are incorrect, as well?"

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "You aren’t gonna take a little baby’s word over that Translator guy’s, are you?"

He looked up at her, determination in his face. "Something extraordinary is happening, and Marcus is at the center of it. The Bond has never led us astray, Buffy. The answers are all right here." He tapped the computer screen gently. "It seems I have more work to do."

"I wish I could help you, Rupert," Buffy said in a forlorn voice.

"You have, dearest. Just by being here." He pulled her into his lap and gave her a tender kiss. With his face buried in her shoulder, he murmured, "Perhaps I should have started exactly as Xander suggested... with the very last word."

Buffy snorted softly. "The fact that you’re taking something Xander said while playing badminton so seriously totally freaks me out."

"It frightens me, as well. But, something has to work, and so far my methods haven’t been too successful."

Buffy sat up and touched her husband’s forehead, trying to smooth away the worry lines that had gathered there. "It’s gonna be okay, Rupert. You’ll find a way."

"We’ll find a way, love."

"Yeah." She gave him a confident smile. "We will."

He looked up, his eyes searching the ceiling briefly. "If you’re going to intervene, God, now would be a good time."

********

Zehdlaf the elf, the elder in his clan, stood hidden in the shadows just outside the Giles’ living room window. Elf hearing allowed him to easily follow the human’s conversation, and he smiled at the Watcher’s words.

Nodding to himself, he said softly, "Divine Intervention has already begun, my friend."

The End

Chapter 8: The Hedge

Summary:

Prophecy is studied, the Giles family learns more about Marcus' destiny... trouble is brewing... and some unexpected help arrives. Part one of a two-parter.

Chapter Text

"Mad!!!"

The hissing voice in his ear woke the troll instantly, and he sprang to his feet, club at the ready. He relaxed instantly when his blue goblin friend give a defensive leap backwards. "Ssssorry, Ger. I'm a light ssssleeper."

"Sure, Mad, sure." Gerard looked skeptical. The troll had been sawing logs like a lumberjack. "Any lighter and you'd've woke up the neighborhood with your snoring."

Madvehkar the troll scowled and grunted in denial, then looked around for the third party of their threesome. "Where'ssss Zehdlaf? It'ssss hissss sssshift."

"Dunno. Around. You know elves... they love being all mysterious." Gerard winked knowingly.

Mad grunted again. Mystery was highly overrated, in his book.

He turned to see Gerard staring past his shoulder at the dark street with a look of quiet horror. "What'ssss wrong, Gerard?" He whirled, then growled. Something was coming... something *bad*. Several somethings, by the look of things. He squinted at the black, billowing, oily shapes that were approaching. "Oh, no. Are thosssse what I think they are?" He grasped his club firmly in both meaty hands, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Yeah, Mad. Shadow Assassins... looks like a hunting party. Let's get ready."

"Ssssure wissssh I knew where Zehdlaf wassss."

"Yeah, me, too. Here they come!"

Thunder rolled across the darkened sky, momentarily illuminating the shapes in front of them. They were two dimensional, vaguely rectangular in appearance, with eyes that glowed a sulfurous red. The sky writhed and rolled in anticipation of the coming conflict, and Gerard suddenly felt very alone.

The Shadow Assassins seemed spurred on by the sudden gust of wind that the storm above them supplied. They floated towards the unassuming house, twisting, disappearing and reappearing like huge flakes of ash fresh from the fires of Hell. Their ghostly, malevolent laughter floated ahead of them. They kept coming... and coming...

There were too many.

Far too many for one blue goblin, one troll and one elf... wherever he was... to overcome.

"Great Maker... too many!" Gerard gasped, hoping his fellow creatures had not heard his despair.

Suddenly, the wind shifted. It blew against the supernatural specters in front of them, causing their cackles to turn to shrieks of protest.

Gerard heard Zehdlaf exclaim, in a voice filled with awe and terror, from somewhere behind him, "By the Power...!"

Gerard echoed the exclamation wholeheartedly. He moved from his hiding place without even realizing he'd done so. Something in him insisted that they take full advantage of this sudden reprieve. The sword that Zehdlaf had given him flashed with every lighting bolt, and he pulled himself up to full height and brandished it, shouting, "*Begone*!" in his most theatrical voice.

What he didn't see... couldn't see, from his position near the perimeter of the lawn, was the true reason the Shadow Assassins hesitated in their assault. A figure, many times larger than the vertically challenged goblin, had appeared just behind him, holding a huge sword that was taller than Gerard himself, and nearly as wide. The sight of the ghostly, glowing white warrior, standing at attention behind the tiny blue creature, was enough to completely demoralize the Assassins. Their red eyes widened in abject terror, and they seemed to shrink before the startled goblin's eyes. Their shrieks became cries of fear and protest, and they began to break apart, scattering like leaves caught in a summer whirlwind.

With a final, concerted screech, they were gone.

Gerard took a few deep, shaky breaths, and finally broke out of his stance to glance around him. No attackers remained. The street was empty, and the clouds began to clear. Timid stars began to shine their light in the early morning sky.

Madvehkar approached Gerard cautiously, since his friend was still at battle ready. "Uh, Ger... they're gone. You can sssstand down."

Gerard sighed with a whoosh and wiped his forehead, dropping his arm to rest the sword tip on the ground beside him. "Wow... I didn't think they'd stop." Suddenly, it dawned on him what had just happened. "Hey, they stopped... did I stop them? *How* did I stop them?" He whirled as a silver-bearded elf joined him, coming up from the left side of the house. "Zed? Did YOU do that?"

Zehdlaf was already shaking his head, his hands spread wide in denial. "No, my friends. I do not have the power to summon a Guardian."

Gerard's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "GUARDIAN? There was a *Guardian* here? Where?" He spun, giving the area a complete 360-degree examination. "I don't see a Guardian!!"

"Nevertheless, a Guardian appeared. Behind you, between the house and the road. Appeared, then disappeared as soon as the danger was past."

Gerard's voice turned wistful. "A Guardian. I wish I coulda seen it. I mean, *him... her*, whatever. I've heard stories..."

"We all have," the troll added.

"In theory, there should be three Guardians," Zehdlaf mused thoughtfully. "One for each human in the house."

Gerard slid back into the hedge, looking fearfully over his shoulder. "Uh, Zed, these Guardians... they know we're on the 'Good Guy' side, right? I mean, they're for humans, but they don't have anything against goblins, do they? Or trolls... or elves? They know we're helping... right?"

Mad was quick to reassure his friend, since Zehdlaf seemed lost in his own thoughts. "Ssssure, Ger, I bet the Guardianssss know all about ussss."

They both looked to the ancient elf for reassurance, but other than a slight nod, he said nothing.

The three lower beings returned to their posts, more nervous than before.

********

A single cry brought Giles immediately awake. He reached for his wife instinctively, finding her curled up next to him, trembling.

"Buffy? Love, wake up..." He wrapped his arms around her briefly, then pulled her face up to his to examine her eyes. They were sleepy and frightened, but not terrified. "What? Did you have a bad dream?"

She nodded, then moved even tighter against him. "Sometimes being clairvoyant really bites, babe."

He smiled, despite his concern. His sleep had been restless as well, full of foreboding and ominous voices that mumbled just out of hearing range. "I know it does, darling. What was it this time?"

She sighed heavily, blowing a strand of blonde hair away from her forehead. "Weird stuff, as usual. Black square-ish things, like sheets of paper, with red eyes, that blew apart like ashes. I don't know how I knew, but they were bad news. Very surreal. Oh, and they shrieked a lot." She snorted softly. "Sounded kinda like that old Led Zeplin album of yours."

He had to chuckle at that. "Poor love. You do have the most befuddling dreams." He pulled her head to his chest, relishing in the feel of her resting safely against him. He checked on Marcus, briefly sending out a strong length of the Bond's awareness, and was reassured when he felt, as well as heard, his son sleeping soundly across the hall. He felt Buffy's power join his, and together they checked the house and yard for signs of danger.

The neighborhood was quiet, both physically and psychically. "Whatever they were, they're gone now." He relaxed, letting the strong, defensive link dissolve into something tender, soothing and slightly erotic. "I think we need to go back to sleep..."

She leaned up and kissed his stubbly cheek, then, deciding she wanted more than that, she proceeded to find his lips in the darkness. When at last they broke the kiss, he stroked her cheek lovingly, and added, "...unless, of course, you need help becoming drowsy again..."

She grinned and kissed him again, sliding astride him. She gazed down at his handsome face. Despite the dim light, a playful challenge was plain in her eyes. "I just might. You think you can do something about that, big guy?"

"Why don't we find out, hmm?"

"Mmm hmm."

********

Early the next morning the man of the house, clad only in pajama bottoms and his favorite robe, ventured onto the front walk to retrieve a poorly thrown newspaper. He was mentally fussing about the new paperboy as he turned back to the house, and in his inattentive state almost fell over a small, stocky, gray-faced, leather-clad figure that had appeared out of nowhere.

"What on earth...! Oh... Madvehkar... good morning... perhaps you should make more noise when you approach."

"Ssssorry, Watcher. I wassss bringing Gerard ssssome breakfast." Mad held up a small, white sack, grinning widely. Giles knew the grin was meant to be reassuring. To an unlearned individual, the expression would certainly seem to be just the opposite.

"Gerard is here as well?" Giles lifted his head and scanned the yard carefully.

From his hidden spot in the hedge, Gerard sighed tolerantly, his cover blown by his loose-lipped friend. He slipped from his hiding place, allowing the human to see him clearly as he came forward. "Mad, Mad, Mad. You weren't supposed to tell them we were here, remember?"

Mad dropped his oversized head in chagrin. "Ssssorry, Ger. I panicked."

Giles smiled at the two crestfallen lower beings. "Are you two guarding Marcus?"

Gerard nodded slowly. "Sure enough, Watcher. We wanted to do something for the little guy, and this was the only thing we could think of." The multifaceted eyes blinked beseechingly at the much taller human. "Are you mad?"

"No, *he's* Mad." Buffy's cheerful voice caused all three males to whirl in place. She pointed at the troll with glee, then bounced off the front porch, wide awake and beautiful, clad in a comfortable short set that made her look about sixteen. The two self-appointed guards took a deep breath, squared their shoulders, and grinned goofily up at her.

"Very amusing, love," Giles stated, with a slightly goofy smile of his own.

"*I* thought so. You guys wanna come in and have some... whatever it is that you guys drink in the morning? If we have it, you're welcome to it."

"Coffee," Madvehkar said, reverently.

"Good, hot coffee that doesn't taste like yesterday's grounds," Gerard added with a wistful look. The donut place was famous for its pastry... *not* its java.

"With, perhaps, a touch of cream?" The melodious, yet unfamiliar voice startled the two humans, but Gerard and Mad began to wave the newcomer over. Giles stifled a gasp. He'd been told there were elves working with Angel when Marcus was kidnapped, so he knew they were around. He'd never seen one in the flesh before, though he'd seen enough paintings and drawings to know that this, most assuredly, was an elf. An old one, judging from the beard and the beautiful silver eyes. A revered one, by the look of the elegant, embroidered white robe he wore. A wise one, denoted by the delicate thread of silver than encircled his head... a Mage's circlet was a symbol of power and knowledge in the Elven world.

Gone was the rough leather jerkin and pants that the elf had donned during his reconnaissance work for Angel. Gone, too, was the subservient demeanor. The elf was showing his true self to the humans, and they were properly impressed.

Zehdlaf stopped three paces from the little group and bowed gracefully, his silvery beard brushing the grass before he straightened. Giles surprised everyone by repeating the gesture, bowing until his head came within inches of touching his slightly bent knees. "Welcome, Ancient. You honor my home above ground."

If anything, Gerard and Mad grinned more widely than before, and Buffy looked amused. Her husband seemed to know *something* about almost *everything*.

"Watcher," the elf intoned, giving the title great weight. "You honor me, and my kind, with your welcome."

"You fought for us the day our son was born." It wasn't a question. The Watcher knew a kindred spirit when he saw... and felt... one. This elf was definitely on the side of Light.

"Yes, proudly." Zehdlaf raised his chin, remembering the battle well.

Giles pulled Buffy to him with one arm, still smiling. "And this my wife, my Slayer. We owe you and your kind a debt of gratitude."

With a mental nudge from Giles, Buffy held out a hand to the delicate creature in front of her. Zehdlaf gave a courtly bow over their clasped hands. "Slayer." He gave her title equal significance. "It is an honor to serve the Chosen."

"Thank you, Ancient." She copied her husband's way of greeting the elf instinctively.

Zehdlaf tilted his head slightly, listening. "And now, I fear, we must either return to our posts or accept your hospitality. Your neighbors are beginning to awaken."

Giles started chuckling. In Sunnydale, most long-time residents had seen so many odd things that they no longer gawked openly at them. Time and practice had honed their abilities to ignore what could not be explained, so it took quite a lot to make a Sunnydaleian stare. He concluded that conversing with an elf, a troll, and a goblin on his front lawn might just cross the line.

He ushered his visitors inside, forcing himself not to wave jauntily at old Mrs. Schotz across the street. She made the most wonderful cookies, but was also quite the busybody, the dear thing. If she was watching now, he surmised the entire block would be buzzing within minutes.

Strangely enough, he didn't care. These beings were *friends* in the truest sense of the word.

While their guests made themselves comfortable in the living room, Buffy went to brew a fresh pot of coffee, and Giles headed upstairs to fetch Marcus. As she puttered around the kitchen, Buffy sent a silent question to him through their shared connection. It seemed perfectly normal to converse through the Bond from different rooms... and floors... of the house.

She grinned at her casual acceptance of something so blatantly supernatural. Just one more thing in the Slayer handbag... 'Rupert, did you know those guys were outside?'

Giles wrinkled his nose at Marcus as he thought about the question. The lad was in definite need of a change. 'No. I discovered them completely by accident. I literally stumbled over Madvehkar while retrieving the newspaper.'

'What's with the elf guy? He looks old.'

Giles chuckled, and Marcus giggled up at him from the changing table. "Mummy is quite funny, isn't she?" he said to the toddler before turned his thoughts back to his wife. 'He most likely is very old, Buffy. Elven Mages don't usually earn their circlets until well into their second century.'

'Second... century? And you're not kidding either, right?' She stopped at his affirmative, empty mugs in hand, to contemplate having a two hundred-plus year old elf in her living room, deciding that, as her life usually went, it wasn't too unusual.

She dismissed that thought easily, then moved on to another. 'How come you didn't tell him your name, or mine? And you didn't ask his.'

Even though he was still upstairs, she felt Giles shift mentally into Lecture Mode. The sensation made her grin. 'To the Elven people, one's name has power... one doesn't offer one's name to another lightly.'

'But you'd us think being on the same side would be good enough.' She watched the shining black liquid as it trickled into the waiting carafe, her mind on the elf and not on the coffee maker. Suddenly she grinned. 'And that's way too many 'ones' for a single sentence, British Guy.'

'Correct English can, at times, be cumbersome. As to the giving of names... that is entirely up to the elf.' Giles, still smiling, returned his attention to Marcus, and Buffy stopped badgering him and concentrated on setting a tray for her guests.

********

"I really think we should have telephoned first." Armstead eased his rental car alongside the curb in front of the Giles' house and killed the engine. Beside him, Willow shook her head and unbuckled her seat belt.

"It's fine, Bill. I go over on Thursday mornings almost every week and visit and have brunch. It's kinda like a tradition."

Armstead gazed down at his lovely girlfriend as he helped her out of the car, his frown relaxing into a smile. "I'm sure Mister Giles is far more lenient with you than he would be with me."

"You're a worry-wart, just like Giles."

"Part of the job."

"Worry-wart or not, we need to tell Giles about the email from that Museum guy." She hefted her laptop case pointedly as they walked.

"It is rather important, but I should have rung them first."

"Waste of time. Trust me."

"Oh, I do." 'With my life and heart, dear Willow,' his mind added enthusiastically.

"Good!" She skipped up the porch steps and knocked three times, bouncing in place as she waited for an answer. When it didn't come right away, she began to frown. "Hope we're not interrupting anything naked."

Armstead flushed bright red, choked, and began to cough helplessly. Willow grinned wickedly at him, unrepentant. "Nah, couldn't be. It's after eight. Marcus gets up early to watch cartoons, see, so there's no way any nakedness could be hap... oh, hey Buff!" Willow's face almost matched Armstead's for a brief moment, then she got control of herself and held up the softside case that held her computer. "We have news."

"Well, come on in, then. Bill? You need some water?"

Armstead controlled his coughing with great effort. "No thank you. I'm fine."

"We sorta have company, but since it's you two, it'll be all right." Buffy ushered them down the hall toward the living room, wondering what Willow's reaction would be when she saw...

"Oh, wow." Willow's eyes widened at the sight of Madvehkar, Gerard, and Zehdlaf sitting on the sofa, calmly drinking coffee and eating jelly donuts. "Uh, hi." She gave her trademark wave, and Giles smiled at her with affection. Marcus bounded over to her and held his arms up, crying her name happily.

"Hey, Marcus, sweetie!" She put her case on the table and pulled the child into her arms, exchanging enthusiastic kisses.

"Wih-dow! Wook! Fwiends!" The toddler pointed to the trio on the sofa, smiling proudly.

"Willow... Armstead... come and meet Marcus' champions," Giles said with equal pride.

The goblin blushed bright blue at the compliment, and the troll looked equally embarrassed. The elf's face never changed from its pleasant expression. The three creatures slid to their feet, placing their cups carefully in their saucers on the coffee table, moving almost as one. They bowed gravely, waiting for the new humans to adjust to their unusual appearance.

"Willow Rosenberg, William Armstead, meet Madvehkar, Gerard, and the Ancient." Giles deliberately avoided using Zehdlaf's name, even though both the troll and the goblin had referred to it, and the elf nodded his approval.

Armstead, a bit inexperienced with actually *meeting* representatives of each race, nodded uncertainly and said, "Hello to you all." He stopped with a grimace. "I fear I lack the knowledge to greet you properly, if you will forgive my ignorance."

Giles was surprised. At least the young upstart had sense enough to recognize what he didn't know.

His thought made Buffy giggle, and he raised a warning eyebrow her way. Marcus gurgled happily, then allowed Willow to put him down as she reached for her computer case. He toddled over to Armstead, stopping to squat and pick up a bright yellow truck from the floor on his way. "Wook, Beooh! Twuck!"

"I see, that, Marcus. It certainly is a very nice truck."

"Yeth." Marcus headed for the center of the living room, intent on being the center of attention, no matter what.

"Willow has something to show us, Rupert." Buffy waved Willow and Armstead into the two armchairs adjacent to the couch, and she waited until her unusual guests reseated themselves before claiming the arm of Giles' chair as her perch. She kept a watchful eye on Marcus, waiting for Willow to begin.

Her best friend wasted no time. She mentally congratulated herself on remembering to charge the unit's batteries, then whipped the tiny contraption out of its case and powered it up. "We got this email from your Museum buddy, Giles. When you requested all your notes and stuff on that no-name language to Sanskrit conversion, Mr. Braithwaite got curious and started poking around..."

She stopped and waited until her mail program finished loading, then tapped a few keys, using her thumb to work the trackball until she had her target selected. "In addition to the stuff you asked for, he found a whole 'nother complete translation of that last prophecy that he hadn't heard of before. See here?"

Giles sprang to his feet and strode over to Willow's chair, grabbing the back to steady himself as he peered over her shoulder. Everyone else gathered around, with the three mythical creatures staying a respectful distance away. "Well, we already have Cho's translation, of course. It is the most complete, and it contains the entire prophecy." He waited as Willow scrolled down, the scans dutifully duplicating the ancient, yellowed pages, followed by a notebook's worth of modern scribbles. "...Ah, there are my notes from that dreadful Putamanharji manuscript... a sort of dictionary, I suppose you'd say. Good Heavens, look at that. How on earth could I have translated "goat" and "travel" from the same word...?"

Buffy elbowed her husband, and he cleared his throat. "Ahem. Moving on... where did this other translation come from?" He pointed at the screen, and Willow dutifully scrolled upwards, allowing him to scan the introductory paragraphs. "The writings of... who is that? Taraybian? I've never heard of him."

"*Taraybiana*, Watcher, is feminine," the elf corrected softly.

"Ah, yes. I missed the inflective mark. Thank you, Ancient. Do you know of her work?" Giles spoke with great respect, and Armstead stared at the older Watcher in amazement. How had this odd creature garnered such esteem from a man like Rupert Giles?

"I do. The work is very old."

Giles paused a moment, holding his breath, before asking his next question. "Are you familiar with this...ah... proto-Sanskrit language?"

"Yes." The elf didn't elaborate, but it was stated so confidently the entire room gave a sigh of relief.

Giles looked up, the fire of discovery in his eyes. "Willow, would you mind if we borrowed your machine for a bit?"

"You can use it all you want, Giles. That's why we came over." Willow handed him the computer, smiling slightly at his obvious discomfort in holding it. He carried it carefully to the dining room table and placed it in front of a barstool. Zehdlaf pulled himself onto the elevated seat, and began studying the documents with great concentration.

Giles rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now, finally, we may be getting somewhere."

What followed was a thorough, delicate, and completely technical lesson in ancient languages. Less than fifteen minutes into the text, Zehdlaf had already discovered three rather simple inaccuracies in Cho's translation, and several in Giles' as well. It was plain by the look on Armstead's face that he wasn't ready to accept the word of an elf, or of a heretofore unknown writer, in place of the opinion of a revered member of the Council.

To Buffy, that just made it all the more certain that the elf was right. She had never held the Watcher's Council in high esteem.

Zehdlaf seemed to take the two Watchers' questions and contradictions in stride, never blinking as Giles defended his own work and Armstead defended Cho's. In fact, it seemed to amuse him. Gerard and Madvehkar excused themselves a few minutes into the discussion, stating they had to return to their posts outside. Giles was sufficiently engaged that he only spared them a brief smile and nod before returning his eyes to the small screen on the table.

"Mister Giles..." Armstead's voice cut into the silence, startling Buffy out of a near doze. She looked around for Marcus, and found him curled up beside her on the couch, fast asleep. She smiled to herself. All that stuffy talk about whether the ancient language had branched into Vedic or Indic had put him to sleep easily.

"Mister Giles, may I ask an impertinent question?"

Giles snickered. It wasn't the first time Armstead had done so. "Of course. I suppose you'll ask with or without my permission."

Armstead grinned sheepishly, then continued, "You're quite right, sir. I was wondering... how *did* you get the words 'goat' and 'travel' from the same root?"

Giles growled in frustration. "Frankly, I have no idea. I'm not sure I was sober when I wrote this."

Buffy started giggling from the sofa, and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from waking the baby.

"You must have more faith in yourself, Watcher," Zehdlaf admonished carefully. The word 'traverse' does come from the same root as the word 'goat'... it refers to the wanderings of a goatherd amongst the mountains as he follows the animals from pasture to pasture. A most logical deduction."

"Wow, babe, you did good." Buffy seemed pretty impressed, giving Giles a huge grin.

"Yes, Mr. Giles, I apologize for doubting you," Armstead sounded relieved.

"No, it's all right." Giles straightened and stretched his protesting back, groaning softly. "For every two words I have right, a third one is completely off. Ah, if you don't mind, Ancient, I'd like to take a break and review what we've found."

The elf nodded slowly. "Always a wise thing to do, Watcher." He sat back and waited for his host to continue.

Giles grabbed his notebook and started pacing, causing both Willow and Buffy to smile. Pacing meant his mind was working as rapidly as his feet.

"All right. Here's what we have so far. The first section of Cho's translation reads:

'There shall be one born of the Chosen who was not to be but is He shall fulfill the purpose and restore the plan He shall command living creatures and restore the beautiful land'

"My translation, based on my previous work, is quite similar, but I left out the word 'born' because it was implied, not written... 'chosen' was the same... and I changed the third phrase to read 'all things shall be restored by his purpose.' Um... and... 'living creatures'... I had 'beings'. I substituted 'earth' for 'land', and the rest is essentially the same." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I never imagined that terrible text would ever come in handy, but it appears it may have."

Zehdlaf said gently, "No sincere effort is truly wasted, Watcher."

"That is true, Ancient." Giles nodded at the elf, then continued, "And now, here is the Taraybiana translation... and it is different, still." He strode back to the computer, and read,

'From the congress of the ones comes one who was not expected His will be the purpose and plan from above to command life and create beauty everywhere'

"Granted, the differences are subtle, but when dealing with prophecy, one must be extremely careful of each nuance..." Suddenly, Giles threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "I don't know which one to support and which two to discard! It's maddening!"

Zehdlaf raised his head and stared at the exasperated man for a moment. "Must we discard any of them? Perhaps all of them are correct."

"How can that be? Dear Lord in Heaven. I don't know whether these lines are describing a child or a demigod."

From the couch, Marcus snorted loudly and snuggled closer to Buffy with a contented sigh. Despite his irritation, Giles began to chuckle. His eyes fixed on his sleeping son, he whispered, "You are *my* child, first and foremost, Marcus, love. Prophecy notwithstanding, godhood can wait." His soft tone made the elf smile.

More discussion followed, more speculation, more eye-straining work that seemed to go around in circles. Giles ignored the sandwich and potato chips that Buffy placed at his elbow during lunch, and remained at the table with Armstead and the ancient elf through dinner and until well after dark. They did not discover anything new, despite Zehdlaf's apparent ease with the obscure language.

Giles found himself biting his tongue to keep from snapping at everyone in the room. This was going nowhere. Even if one understood proto-Sanskrit perfectly, it was impossible to correctly surmise the ancient writer's true intent. The words were too ambiguous, too easily misinterpreted!

Zehdlaf could tell the worried father was exhausted. "Watcher, let us stop and rest. You would do well to begin with fresh thoughts tomorrow. Great revelations do not often come to men in a single day."

Giles rubbed his face tiredly and grinned. "Wise words, Ancient. I shall take your advice. Perspectives change dramatically when one is fatigued." He glanced at his wife, sound asleep on the couch. She had put Marcus to bed hours ago, then returned to the living room, refusing to be left out of the process despite her inability to contribute to it. He smiled, his face softening with love. His family was worth the effort.

Weary in mind and body, Giles escorted his inhuman ally to the back door and watched him disappear into the night shadows. He then bid goodnight to his two human friends, accepting a comforting hug from Willow with a smile as they exited through the front door. With a yawn and a stretch, he made his way to the couch where Buffy lay sleeping quietly. He satisfied the urge to hold her by gathering her into his arms and cradling her against his chest as he climbed the stairs.

Behind him, the blue glow of the still-active computer kept vigil throughout the night.

********

"Do you realize what day it is? I need to put some thought into getting ready for classes." Giles speared the last bite of his breakfast thoughtfully. "I should go in for a bit... see what's on the agenda. We have staff meetings next week, but I prefer to be ahead of the game, whenever possible."

Buffy stared at Giles over her plate of pancakes. She hadn't even been aware of the passage of time this summer. Too many distractions had caused her to completely miss out on most of her down time. "School. Yeech. I almost forgot. I have to register tomorrow."

"I go skoo, Mummy?" Marcus managed to get the words out despite the amazingly large bite of pancake he had in his mouth. Blueberry syrup, his favorite, decorated his cherubic face from cheek to cheek, and Buffy fought the urge to laugh at him.

"Not yet, baby. Believe me, there'll come a day when you won't be so eager for school." She tapped his nose and he crowed happily, losing part of his mouthful down his shirt.

Giles snorted softly and reached over to wipe the toddler's messy face. "Marcus, I look forward to the day when learning table manners will be on the agenda."

"Oooo, Daddy, 'ticky!" Marcus held up his syrupy hand.

"You certainly *are* sticky." Giles began wiping his son with the wet washrag that was their constant companion at mealtime.

Buffy giggled at Marcus' serious expression. He didn't mind being clean, but, as a typical male child, he didn't really have time for *getting* clean. He tolerated his father's ministrations until he was reasonably syrup-free, then squirmed out of his chair with maddening ease.

As she cleaned the table, Buffy watched Marcus run around the room, making all kinds of high pitched screeching noises. Her face showed her confusion at his noisy behavior. "What's up with him today? He's not usually so noisy."

Giles studied the child for a few seconds, a bemused smile on his face. "I don't know."

Buffy paused in her stacking of dishes, and smiled with him. "Me neither."

"Perhaps we should ask him?"

Buffy almost laughed at the simplicity of his statement. She finished loading the dishwasher and came back into the living room where Giles was rummaging through his notes from the evening before.

"Hey, Marcus, what'cha doin'?" She slid down to the floor, cross-legged, and waited for his answer.

"P'ayin', Mummy."

"Playing what? You're making funny noises."

"P'ayin' mons'ers."

Buffy threw a shocked look at Giles, and he seemed just as surprised. He abandoned his notes and moved over to sit beside her on the couch, a frown of concern on his face. "What kind of monsters, love?" He tried to keep his voice steady.

"I dunno, Daddy. Wook, I wun de mons'ers away." He demonstrated by tearing around the room again, keening in that same eerie voice. He made slashing motions with his hands, looking for all the world like he was shadow boxing. Something clicked in Buffy's mind, and she gasped.

"Oh, no... Rupert... he saw the things in my dream the other night!" Cold terror gripped her heart as she realized what it meant. Tears sprang to her eyes despite her attempt to keep them at bay. "My poor baby..."

Marcus immediately came over and locked gazes with his mother, his face solemn, but unafraid. "No, Mummy, don't be 'cared. Bad mons'ers aw gone." He threw his hands in the air for emphasis. "Aww gone! De angel wun dem away."

Giles goggled at the little boy in sheer disbelief. "Did you say an *angel* ran the monsters away?"

"Yeth! Biiiig angel! 'Care de mons'ers away!" He made swooshing sounds to accompany his sweeping gestures, and suddenly Giles recognized the movements as swordplay.

A huge grin split his face wide open. "Buffy... love... this is... do you realize what he's *saying*?"

"No, I don't get it!" She jumped up, horrified. "If you do, please translate for me, 'cause I'm freakin' out here! My little baby is seeing monsters in his sleep, and you act like it's *neat*!!" She tore the dishtowel in two in her anguish, but the action didn't even register with her.

"Oh no, Buffy, that's not what I'm... that's not it at all." Marcus began to whimper, catching his mother's fear, so Giles scooped the tiny boy into his arms and gave him a kiss and hug. "It's all right, Marcus, love. The angel is protecting us, isn't it?"

Marcus nodded enthusiastically, his tears forgotten. Daddy understood! "Yeth! Biiig angel!"

Giles' acceptance of the matter began to calm Buffy's frazzled nerves. He soothed her much as he had soothed his son, holding his arm away from his side until she finally slid down beside him and relaxed into his embrace. He pressed his lips to her forehead and left them there for several minutes.

Marcus felt suddenly protective of his mother, and he sat up straight and declared, "Mons'ers not 'scare me, Mummy. I *big*!"

Giles began to chuckle. "That's good, son, but you must always be careful about monsters, all right? If you see a monster, please come and tell us." He looked up at Buffy, caught between a grin and a grimace. "This is a most disturbing conversation to be having with a one-year old child."

"I know, babe, but you're sooo good at it. All I can do is freak." She accepted a sloppy baby kiss before asking. "Marcus, when did you see the angel?"

The child frowned, unable to come up with the right word. He finally resorted to the Bond, and she got the impression of sleep, nondescript dreams, and a sudden flash of lightning that revealed a silvery silhouette standing in their front yard.

"Did you dream this the other night, sweetie?"

"No, *outside*," Marcus said emphatically. "De mons'ers wun' away."

"It wasn't a dream?" Buffy still didn't want to believe it.

"No, Mummy! De angel outside." He pointed at the front door.

"Is the angel there now?" Giles asked calmly. The child thought about it, then nodded before slithering out of his father's arms and resuming his play.

"Oh, this is simply extraordinary." Giles was completely enthralled. "Buffy, love, Marcus has seen a Guardian Angel. Astounding! Of course, I 'd always believed there were such things, but to actually have one materialize in our midst..."

"Well, not exactly 'in our midst', but in our front yard. And he didn't actually materialize, really, if he's still out there somewhere... oh, this is just too weird."

"It certainly is fantastic! I should ring Father and tell him his grandson is seeing angels in the front garden!"

Buffy burst out giggling at his rapt expression, causing Giles to stop and stare at her for a minute. He suddenly realized the humor in what he had said, and started laughing, too. Marcus ran to them and threw his arms around Giles' leg, adding his voice to the sounds of relief and love.

"Oh, dear... I just realized how silly that sounded. Perhaps I shouldn't disturb Father... he has seen far stranger things in his lifetime..."

"Yeah... I know. He was seeing angels a long time ago. It's no big deal to him." She giggled again, leaning back against his chest as he moved to accommodate her. "That was so cute, babe... you wanting to call Daddy with your big news..."

"Well, yes. I see how that could be amusing, coming from an old relic like me."

She sat up and slapped his arm, making a face at him. "I kinda like my old relic, so hush." She kissed him on the nose. "Besides, he's cute." He reached around and gave her another comforting hug, and Marcus clambered onto his lap to get in on the affectionate exchange. Buffy leaned forward and gave the child a matching smooch on his tiny button nose, causing him to giggle wildly. "Hey! Looky here what I found! This one's kinda cute, too. I think I'll keep you both."

"I'm very much afraid you're stuck with the both of us," Giles murmured into her hair.

Buffy sighed happily. "Lucky me."

********

The telephone rang just before two that afternoon, interrupting Marcus' nap and making Buffy a little cranky at the intrusion on her quiet time. She gathered up the whimpering child and dashed into the bedroom, snatching the receiver up on the fourth ring. Over the baby's sobs, she snapped, "Hello, you woke the kid, so you're gonna have to talk loud."

"Buffy?"

She stopped being irritated and started being curious. "Cordelia? Where are you? In LA?"

The former cheerleader on the other end of the line took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm at Angel's... at the office. Angel is here, too."

"What's up? You don't sound so good."

"I had a vision."

Buffy didn't know what to say to that. Cordy was having visions? It sounded just bizarre enough to be true. "What kind of vision?"

"Hang on... this whole vision thing comes with a migraine. It's not pretty." Cordy sniffed into the phone, smiling up at Angel as he handed her a glass of water and a few pills. She gulped the pain reliever quickly.

"Eww... painful visions... bummer. Sunnydale sure turns out some interesting graduates... a Slayer, a Witch, a Werewolf, and a Visionary."

"Seer, actually. Angel calls me a Seer. Actually, he mostly calls me grumpy, because that's what these stupid headaches make me!"

Buffy chuckled as she heard the returning humor under her friend's pain. It sure was weird, Cordelia being all responsible and gifted.

"Anyway, the vision. You guys have been having a lot of things go bump in the night lately, right?"

"Well, yeah." Buffy acknowledged with surprise.

"Not to seem callous, or anything, but you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"Oh, *great*."

"Is Giles there?" The voice on the other end of the line was a little stronger.

"Not right now. He went to his office to start getting ready for classes."

"He's taking classes? Oh, right, he's *teaching* classes. I can't believe it's almost that time. You lose track when you're a townie."

"At least you're an LA townie and not stuck here in Sunnyhell."

Cordelia laughed carefully. "At least here the shopping's decent."

"So... are you guys coming down, or is this just a friendly warning that the boogey-man is out to get us?"

Cordy snorted. Typical Buffy, straight to the point. "We're coming after dark. Be there about nine or so. We'll probably have books. And charts."

"Okay, then I'll have cookies and coffee."

"Sounds great! Um, well, I gotta go gather my makeup. See ya tonight."

"Sure, it'll be like old times. You need a place to stay?"

"I think Angel's gonna clean up the Mansion. It's still his."

Buffy shuddered involuntarily. "But you guys are coming here, right? I'm not asking Giles to go back there."

"We're coming there, Buffy. Angel wouldn't do that to Giles." Cordelia soothed.

Buffy smiled sadly. "I know. Be careful, okay? No pile-ups on I-450, okay? My 'Jaws of Life' are in the shop."

"Right. Angel's driving anyway, so no worries. He's almost as much of a little old lady as Giles."

Buffy laughed. "Well, good then. Except that you might get run over by a truck driver with road rage."

Cordelia laughed, sounding progressively stronger. "I'll shoot his tires out with my crossbow. See ya later, okay?"

"Okay, bye Cordy." Buffy hung up, only then realizing that Marcus wasn't crying. She had set him down in the middle of the bed, and he was watching her silently, his tears almost dry. "So, sweetie baby, we're gonna have more company tonight. Too bad it'll be past your bedtime."

********

Giles returned to a suspiciously quiet house. He dropped his briefcase on the hall bench and started sending out feelers of awareness, searching for his family, although he could tell when he turned onto their street the house was empty.

'Where are they?' He began searching for a note, and found one on the dining room table next to his research papers. He smiled at the location... Buffy knew it would be the first place he would head when he arrived home.

The scrap of paper, written hastily in Buffy's looping scrawl, read '*Gone to the grocery store... we're having company from LA tonight. I'm making cookies for Cordelia. Big smooch! B*'

He looked up and took a deep breath. Cordelia's presence meant that Angel would probably be coming, as well. He squared his shoulders. He could tolerate Angel's presence for a little while. Hopefully.

He puttered around for a while, straightening and dusting, all the while waiting for that familiar twinge in his consciousness that let him know his family was returning. He wondered what would happen if they were ever separated by enough distance to negate the Bond's connection completely. He hoped they'd never find out. He didn't think he'd survive it.

His head snapped up and he grinned as he sensed their approach. He returned the feather duster to its hanger in the hall closet and headed for the door, unreasonably eager to see his wife and son after being gone most of the day.

He grasped the doorknob and pulled just as she arrived on the porch. Her face was obscured by several heavy, brown grocery bags. He relived her of a couple of them and followed her into the kitchen, grinning down at Marcus, who was dutifully carrying... or rather, dragging... a loaf of bread. It was probably being mashed beyond salvage, but the lad was trying!

Marcus held up his burden with pride and beamed at his daddy. "I he'p!"

"I'm sure you're a big help to Mummy, love." He rescued the bread from further damage and gave Buffy a tender kiss. "What a long day. The only thing wrong with summer break is that it must end."

"Yeah, babe. At least I'm eventually gonna graduate and escape from prison. Looks like you might be stuck forever, Professor Giles."

"Good thing I love teaching. It's... it's the paperwork I can't stand."

Buffy started laughing. "Maybe you'll win the lottery."

He snorted in disgust. "One would have to buy a ticket first, wouldn't one?"

Buffy kept giggling and reached in her pocket. She held up a California lottery ticket and he groaned. "Buffy, surely you didn't buy that thing."

"Nope. Xander gave it to me. He was at the checkout stand the same time we were, so he bought two and gave me one. He said he hoped his generosity would bring him good luck."

Giles shook his head. "Poor chap. That's not the kind of luck he should be searching for. It's a waste of good money."

"What kinda luck do ya think he needs, then, O Wise One?" She let out a surprised shriek and giggled as he suddenly pulled her back against his chest, hugging her fervently.

"The kind that results in having a wonderful wife and lovely child, and a home filled with love." He nuzzled her neck, his words buzzing against her skin. The sensation caused the most delightful goose-bumps to rise all over her.

She hummed happily for a moment, then slid out of his grasp. "You're a sweetie, but we have cookies to bake."

"Cookies!" Marcus cheered.

"I'll give you a hand." He captured her again, holding her lightly against the shelves and finding the sensitive spot on the back of her neck easily.

"Ohhhh... oh, no, you don't, mister. We'll never get any cookies baked." She pulled away again, flashing him a teasing smile. "Patience is a virtue, remember?"

"One that is vastly overrated," he complained, but left her alone as she began to gather ingredients on the counter. "Marcus, would you like to go outside and play in the sandbox for a bit?"

The toddler cheered almost as loudly for that as he had for the cookies. Almost.

********

There were caves riddling the ground underneath Sunnydale. Not just the labyrinth of sewer tunnels so familiar to the Slayer and Watcher, but natural caves created by the retreat of underground rivers and streams. This particular cavern was lightless, damp and cool, difficult to access and easily defensible.

An ideal place for evildoers to hang out.

The cavern was roughly oval, with a raised central area that appeared to have been fashioned from solid rock. In the center of the structure was an ornate dais, and on the dais sat a figure. It would have been relatively unimposing, had it not been for the waves of pure evil emanating from it.

The light from a few strategically placed torches flickered across the face of the enthroned evildoer. It wasn't apparent at first whether the creature was human or demon. A casting robe obscured much of the face, and the red light seemed to avoid those depths, reluctant to illuminate such an abomination.

"Arvraxius. Approach me." The voice was British, surprisingly cultured and well-modulated. Human.

One of the shadows disengaged itself from the wall and approached slowly. It was a demon, a small creature, and it was obviously terrified. It knelt near the edge of the rocky platform, head bowed. "Yes, Master."

"Your Shadow assassins have failed."

Arvraxius began to shake from the force of the man's displeasure. He looked up pleadingly. "But, Master, there was a Guardian..."

"I am not interested in fairy tales!" the robed man snapped. "I am interested in results! You have not provided them! ABI IN MALAM REM!"

The human waved his short arm in a dismissive gesture, and the demon cried out in horror before going up in flames. Before the creature's cries had stopped echoing through the tunnels, its body was gone.

Quentin Travers snorted in disgust at the slight whiff of sulfur still clinging to the damp air. "You just *cannot* get good help these days. I would have been better off with Danson and his band of imbeciles." He turned more fully into the light and dropped the cowl off his head, revealing the black eye patch he wore over his left eye. "Still, Arvraxius did manage to spirit me away from that hideously confining cell at the Yard. I suppose it did serve its purpose." He snapped his fingers impatiently, and a second cowering figure lurched forward with a heavy, leather-bound book. The servile creature, vampiric ridges showing plainly on his face, placed the volume, open, on Travers' lap, then kowtowed backwards until he was again lost in the relative safety of the shadows.

Travers thumbed through a few pages for a few minutes, murmuring to himself. Searching for new and destructive ways of eliminating the heretic Watcher and his allies always put the ex-Councilman in a good mood. He read several of the entries aloud to amuse himself. "Hellhounds... no, too stupid. Hmm. Nightwings? No... devilishly hard to house and feed, and the stench is overpowering... Those ridiculous Shadow Assassins didn't work... I need to locate something nastier."

"You'll not find anything in that bloody comic book nastier than yourself, mate." He turned at the familiar voice, its owner approaching from the darkened tunnel behind him.

Travers smiled broadly as his partner in crime sauntered into view, looking a little wilted. "Ah, David. How was the reconnaissance? Enjoying the weather? The California air is a bit thin and dry this time of year."

"Like a bleedin' sauna, *Quentin*." He obviously resented the other man's use of his first name. They were *not* friends, by a long shot.

"And what did you see?"

"What do you think I saw? Palm trees, cars, more wretched pavement than all of London, sweating aborigines courting melanomas... oh, it was a lovely sight."

"Stop your blithering and report!" Travers spat, annoyed. "Have you located the house?"

Witnessing the recent demise of Travers' demon pet made the younger man reign in his sarcasm... slightly. "Yes, of course, *boss*. I've got the address and directions written down. Even a complete left-brainer like yourself can follow them. I can't believe you wanted to come back to this abominable desert, revenge or not."

"Ah, but it's more than revenge. Much more." The disgraced Watcher fingered his eye patch thoughtfully. "I owe those two much, much more than revenge."

The accomplice made a derisive sound. "Repetition for emphasis... nice, dramatic touch, that. It's just jolly old revenge for me, and I don't fancy spending another night in this fetid tomb." He eyed Travers with thinly veiled disgust. "And yet, it seems to suit you perfectly, sahib." He executed a perfect kowtow, in deliberate mockery of the terrified vampires that skulked in the shadows.

"Your motives--and your juvenile comments--don't concern me in the least, Post. Your cooperation does. We move when I say we move, not a moment before. Is that understood?"

Post tugged at the front of his hair in mock deference. "*Oh, yessir, of course, Cap'n... wha'ever ye say, Guv'nor*, since your previous attempts have been ever so successful. If I hadn't happened along, you'd have probably lost another body part by now."

Travers felt his blood pressure rising, and clamped his teeth together until his fury was under control. He wasn't looking for a best mate when he started this campaign, but David Post was the most insulting, foul-tempered fool he'd run across since that traitor Ethan Rayne. Still, the man had talent and wasn't afraid to use it. Post had created the only known protection spell that would render a human completely invulnerable to vampires and demons... one that wouldn't wear off or dissipate in the daylight. It remained in effect until the spell caster revoked it. An amazing feat of dark magic. Add to that his insane hatred for Rupert Giles and his Slayer, and those were resources Travers intended to tap.

"Very witty. If you're quite finished playing up to me, boy, you might want to set your wards in place. We don't want the Slayer's little red-headed witch riding in on her broom at the eleventh hour."

Post sneered. "Already in place, m'lord. I'm quite out in front of you on that one."

"Excellent." 'Quite out in front, eh? Perfect position to draw the enemy's fire while I execute my plan. Perhaps I'll watch you die afterwards.' Travers almost chuckled at the thought. He'd been sure to select an expendable partner, and it would be a joy to see this dim-witted idiot suffer.

"What did you do with that execrable demon that brought you here? Something horrible, I hope." Post wrinkled his well-bred nose in disgust, thankful that his trip to the States had been by more conventional means. "The redolent creature near turned my stomach."

"I was finished with it, so I returned it to Hell," Travers said casually, his attention focusing back on the tome in his lap.

"You did?" Post seemed surprised. "That seems bloody wasteful. He was powerful. We could have made some use of him. He could have even gone out in the day, unlike these maggot-brained corpses you've employed."

Travers snapped the book shut impatiently. "Will you CEASE your incessant yapping, you young fool? I can call up a dozen of those sexless, brainless vassals if need be! I didn't want to feed that demon, and I didn't want to hear it caterwauling at all hours. If you continue to annoy me, I'll send you down after it!"

Despite his insanity, Post wasn't stupid. He knew Travers was a powerful warlock, and he reminded himself to tread more carefully, at least until Giles was dead. Then, he'd show that shriveled little fuehrer the difference between parlor magic and a well placed crossbow bolt.

He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Sorry, guv, sorry, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm going doolally lurking about in these putrid caverns. So... have you decided what your plan will be... just so I can keep out from under the wheels, so to speak."

Travers' face moved back into a self-congratulatory smirk. "Ah, well, you see, we've tried kidnapping the child and his mother, and neither of those ideas worked. Giles is too smart, too educated in magic, and too determined, and he managed to rescue them. Therefore, we are going to try another tactic."

He paused dramatically, slapping the book in his lap for emphasis. "We're going to take Giles instead. He's a mere human, so he'll be less of a bother. Without his leadership and interference, the Slayer will fall apart. We should be able to scoop her up at our leisure..." His eyes glowed madly. "...and the child will be mine."

Post considered the idea for a few seconds before nodding. "That actually sounds workable, Sahib, but I want to be the one to chin the blighter. I owe the Slayer a blow or two, but he'll be next best."

"You'll get your chance at our dear little Buffy, boy," Travers said nastily. "But, for now, we must keep a low profile."

Casting a disdainful eye at his surroundings, Post grumbled, "And, of course, this profile is the lowest of the low. I'm getting soddin' tired of wading through demon dung while you sit up there in your little howdah and cast your little spells."

"You must have patience. All the elements must be in place. By tomorrow night, Rupert Giles will be on his way to Hell."

********

Angel's heightened senses picked up the aroma of baking cookies before he reached the front porch. "Yum. Something smells good!"

"Back off, fang-boy, those cookies are *mine*." Cordelia elbowed her way in front of him jokingly, then stopped as a thought occurred to her. "Unless they're gross and disgusting, then you can have them. It'll be just like your regular diet." She half-turned, facing him. "Now, mind your manners. No personal questions, okay? Stay out of Giles' face, and don't go moon-eyed over your ex, or you'll get us both kicked out."

Angel suppressed a smile. "No third degree, no moon-eyes, and no baiting the host. Got it."

She gave a satisfied nod and rang the doorbell, shuffling her armload of books and folders to keep from dropping them. Angel grabbed a rolled-up chart before it escaped and gave her a grin. She certainly had come a long way... from Queen C to Research Girl, but she was still Cordelia Chase. If he broke his promise, he'd be in serious trouble.

He looked up with a half-smile still on his face as the door opened and the great love of his life appeared. The sight of her made him gasp for unnecessary breath. If his heart had still been beating, one look at her would've stopped it. Cordy's elbow in his side caused a second gasp.

"Hi, guys. C'mon in. Giles is finishing up the last batch of cookies, and I think we have some hazelnut supreme coffee for you, Cordy." Buffy stood back to let her former schoolmate enter, then turned and started down the hall.

Angel cleared his throat as she walked away, embarrassed. "Hello... uh, hey, Buffy... you forgot something."

She spun around, her face showing surprise, then regret. "Oh, Angel, I'm sorry." She sighed. "Come on in."

He relaxed visibly. It would've been hard to do research on the front porch. "Thanks."

Cordelia grinned broadly at the sight of Giles taking a sheet of fresh chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. A dishtowel was thrown casually over one shoulder, and she realized he still looked years younger than he should have. He looked good. Apparently, the incident with the Hellmouth beacon, Ethan Rayne, and the age reversal thing had some lasting effects.

"Cordelia!" He put the cookie sheet on the stove and came towards her, a welcoming smile on his face. He grasped her outstretched hand in both of his, the warmth of them startling her until she remembered he'd been handling hot pans just seconds before. "It's good to see you." He looked beyond her, his smile wavering, but remaining in place. "Angel."

"Hey, Giles." Angel didn't offer his hand, and Giles didn't seem to expect it. "Um... where do you want us to set up?"

"Dining room table, I think." Giles pointed towards the doorway, and Angel nodded in acceptance. He took the rest of the books from Cordy's arms and disappeared.

Despite his careful facade, Giles relaxed visibly when the vampire left the room.

Buffy pretended not to notice, chatting happily with Cordelia as she gathered food and drink. Giles helped her carry, and the four of them retired to the dining room, alternately eager and reluctant to get into more serious talk.

The instant they were settled, Angel blurted, "Is Marcus asleep?" He had never seen Buffy's child. He felt a sudden longing to, but he suspected that Giles wouldn't be comfortable with that.

"Yeah, his bedtime's around seven-thirty or eight. A sleep deprived kid is a cranky kid."

"So, he's doing good?"

Buffy answered seriously, "Yeah, he's doing good. He's a great kid, smart, sensitive, loving... and he's stronger in the Bond than we are at times."

"And... you're doing good?"

Cordelia gave her boss a disbelieving look. If she'd been closer, she would 've kicked him. The expression on Giles' face was carefully neutral, but she knew the former Watcher had very little patience where Angel was concerned.

Buffy sighed. This was uncomfortable. "Yes, Angel. I'm doing good."

"Great. I'm glad. For both of you. All of you, I mean. You three." He gestured vaguely at Giles, feeling like an idiot.

Angel couldn't seem to get over his nervousness, so Buffy decided to give him a break and change the subject. "So, Cordy. Visions, huh? Not of the fun."

Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of fragrant liquid and sighed, thankful for the shift in conversation. She had been about ready to throw Angel out the door. "You are so right. I don't know how you stood it all through school, getting these awful pictures in your head about hideous stuff that's going to happen."

"I wasn't too thrilled, believe me. But you didn't come all the way here just to swap war stories... although that would be fun later. What did you see that has to do with us and Marcus?"

Cordy steepled her fingers and pressed them against her lips, a gesture that spoke more plainly about the seriousness of her subject than anything she could have said aloud. "Okay, I'll give it to you front to back, then we can start looking through Angel's mold and mildew collection."

Using her fingertip to draw random designs on the tabletop, she began. "First, after the baseball-bat-in-the-face effect, of course, I saw a man in a three-piece tweed suit casting spells before a black altar. Then I was at an airport, with a plane sitting there, and there was a guy with a crossbow... he was wearing a robe like a monk's... he turned around and shot at Giles with it. The vampires behind him applauded like it was a three-act play."

Buffy gasped, grabbing her husband's hand in fear. He covered her hand soothingly. "Go on."

"It didn't kill you, Giles, I don't *think*. Probably hurt like hell, but anyway... I saw Marcus playing in a sandbox and some guys came up behind him like they were gonna grab him, but I didn't see if they did or not. Buffy, you were looking for something, I don't know what, but you looked awfully scared. I saw me and Angel and all these books and junk, and I saw a guy in white waving a big sword and yelling something Latin sounding. I saw Giles again, sitting all alone in a room, and there was a drawing of a stairway on the wall, so that makes me think he was alive after the crossbow thing."

She paused for another gulp of coffee, then finished, "I saw a bunch of people fighting, and it didn't look like they were all human people. There was lots of blood and ick and slashing. It was all dramatic, lightning and thunder and leaves blowing. I'm not sure about the leaves... it could've been ashes. When the battle was over, I saw something standing up in the middle of all those dead... whatever-they-weres, but I couldn't see what it was. That's it."

Buffy was chilled to the bone. Cordelia's calm recitation was more horrifying than all the bluster and drama in the world would have been. So many elements seemed to be taken from the past, but how many of them pointed to the future?

That's what they were desperate to find out.

********

It was a typical research session, lasting into the wee hours of the morning. Only Angel's need to avoid daylight curtailed the earnest group from making it to breakfast. Angel finally got past his abysmal attempts at small talk as they delved into identifying the shapes and impressions from Cordelia's dream, and Giles managed to be courteous without being condescending. The four of them were startled to find all their dreams had been similar for several nights. Giles carefully transcribed each dream, hoping that a careful comparison would give them some insight into the dangers they were facing.

Around four o'clock, Angel and Cordelia stood to say their good-byes, leaving the most relevant volumes and drawings with Giles for further study.

"We're at the mansion if you need us. Phone?" Cordy looked over at Angel expectantly.

"Not connected. Use the cell."

"Yeah, if it works." The former cheerleader gave Giles the number, then leaned towards Buffy and said in a confidential whisper, "It doesn't work two blocks from the office, but it'll probably work here. Go figure."

After exchanging brief pleasantries, Angel and Cordelia left. Buffy leaned into Giles' side as her two friends drove away. He pulled her close, locked the door behind them and led her upstairs. They traded yawns until they finally got undressed for bed, but neither of them wanted to talk about what was happening.

Giles climbed into bed and waited for Buffy to join him. He watched as she fidgeted, her thoughts in turmoil. Finally, she picked up the large white family Bible that sat on their dresser and came over to his side of the bed. She sat down and grinned at him, hearing his unspoken question.

"You believe the Bond is a gift from God, right?"

"Yes."

"And we're fighting on the side of Light?"

"Of course, love, I've always believed that."

"And, so, God has got to be seriously interested in whether or not we survive the next couple of days, if we're sorta like his special agents down here, right?"

Giles was thoroughly bewildered by her questions. "What are you driving at? Are you having doubts about whether or not God cares about what happens to us?"

"No, not really that. I just need a little confirmation on this one. Wasn't there a guy in the Bible that put out a sheep skin and asked God to rain on it, or something?"

"Something like that," Giles agreed with a smile. "I believe it was Gideon. In the morning, the fleece was wet, but the ground around it was dry. The next night, he asked for the reverse, and God granted it."

"Do you remember *everything* you read?"

"Well, not everything, but that was unusual enough to stick with me."

"Okay, I'm doing a Gideon, then. I'm seriously freaked out about fighting things we can't even see."

"That makes two of us."

"Maybe, but you're the brains of the family. I run on gut instinct, and my gut is screaming for backup."

Giles remained silent, though he sat up against the headboard and watched her face intently.

"I wanna try something." She took a deep breath and put her hand on the Bible's front cover. "Not a sheep skin, because... eww... but I saw this on TV once. There was a guy who really needed to know what to do in a hurry, and he didn't have time to think, so he just opened a Bible and stuck his finger down on a verse at random. It was just what he needed." She gave her husband a questioning look. "D'you think I'm nuts?"

He smiled at her serious face. "No, I don't. Go ahead."

Buffy looked surprised. "I expected more resistance, actually. But, okay... here goes." She slid her thumb over the gold-edged pages, eyes closed, until suddenly she plunged a finger between the pages. Looking away, she circled a pink fingernail closer and closer to the page before suddenly jabbing down.

Instead of looking right away, she peered at Giles through squinted eyes. "Okay, now I have to look. What if it doesn't work? What if I hit a part where God is zapping someone for being stupid?"

"Buffy."

"Okay, okay... I'm looking, I'm looking."

She carefully scanned the area just under her finger, silently taking in the words. She reread them three times to be sure she was seeing it properly.

"Well? What does it say?" Giles scooted closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder even though he couldn't see the words without his glasses.

She glanced at him, obviously impressed. "It's Jeremiah 1:19. It says, 'And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, saith the LORD, to deliver thee.'"

"I'd say that was pretty clear and concise."

"Yeah." She returned the Bible reverently to its resting place and came to bed, looking a little dazed. She crawled under the covers and lay down, still thinking about the passage and what it meant to them.

He propped himself up on an elbow beside her, waiting for her to comment. When the silence dragged on and on, he had to say something. "Buffy? You're blocking me, love."

Her eyes flicked to his. "Sorry babe. I was just thinking of all the times I thought I was gonna buy the farm... and wondering if God rescued me all those times."

"What if it *was* some sort of... Divine Intervention?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Then... I don't know. It would be kind of weird."

"I would find it rather comforting, myself."

"You would?" She shifted towards him, searching his face.

He nodded, then leaned over and gave her the gentlest of kisses. "We should sleep. Marcus will be waking us in less than four hours."

"Okay, sleep sounds good to me." She snuggled up against him and sighed. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"It already is tomorrow." His voice was already sounding low and drowsy.

"Picky, picky," she murmured against his chest. They were both asleep in minutes.

********

Marcus woke up and looked around the room, seeing all the familiar walls, toys and furniture. He played with his feet contentedly for a little while, counting his toes. "Onetwofreefo'fi" was almost always one word right now, but he knew the sequence by heart. He liked "Onetwofree," as well, because grownups laughed when he said it. That made him feel good.

He counted his toes several times, alternating feet until he was bored with the procedure. He sat up and peered over the edge of the crib, trying to decide if he wanted to climb down and explore or just cry until Mummy or Daddy came in and got him out. There were advantages to either course of action, but mainly he just wanted to do *something*.

He could feel his parents in the next room, sleeping soundly. They were tired. He decided to let them sleep, so he slid a chubby leg over the safety gate and slid to the floor. He eased carefully down the stairs, bracing himself against the wall to keep his balance, just like Daddy said to do. He reached the ground floor without stumbling, and was very proud of himself. Too bad no one was around to praise his accomplishment!

He crossed the living room and located the remote control. It was out of reach, sitting atop the television, which was sitting on its stand. Marcus contemplated the problem for a few minutes, then his face brightened. He bobbled into the dining room and started dragging his high chair back with him. The carpet made it slow going, and the chair wobbled precariously several times, but he persevered, and finally got it stationed in front of the darkened screen.

He knew the high chair well, from being in it three times a day since he was old enough to sit up on his own, and he knew how to keep his balance going up and down. He clambered up, kneeling uncertainly as he reached for the slender black device. It was almost too far to reach, owing to the slanted legs of the high chair. He whined in frustration, then braced himself against the front of the TV screen and successfully grabbed the remote. Pushing himself back to a sitting position, he caused the television to scoot backwards, giving an alarming screech as it scraped along the top of the stand.

Marcus froze, fearful that the noise would wake Mummy and Daddy. It didn't occur to him that he was doing anything wrong. He just thought they needed to sleep some more.

The TV, though displaced by several inches, remained upright and stationary, so he relaxed and gave a tiny sigh of relief. It was the work of a few more minutes to get the high chair out of the way, but he managed it. He at first thought to return it to the dining room, but watching TV seemed much more important, so he left it at the end of the couch. Finally, he ran and clambered onto the couch with a giggle, then solemnly aimed the remote at the screen.

With a blare of orchestral music and a flash of color, the television came alive. Marcus grinned happily and settled himself down to watch.

His favorite character was counting bats. "One! Two! Three beautiful bats!" The Count intoned.

"One! Two! Free boofu' bats!" Marcus echoed happily.

********

"Babe."

Giles grunted.

"Marcus is up."

"Hmm?" Having his face buried in his pillow caused the sound to come out more like a groan.

"He's downstairs watching Sesame Street reruns."

Music and childish singing from the closing credits wafted up from below. '*Sunny days, chasing the clouds away...*'

"Good."

"Babe." She gave him a not so gentle shake. "It's nine o'clock. Sesame Street goes off at nine on Saturdays."

He turned his head and gazed at Buffy with a bloodshot eye. "It's a tribute to having a small child in the house that you know this."

She began to giggle. He was so cute first thing in the morning. She leaned over to his half-buried face and kissed his nose and cheek. "We gotta get up and feed the offspring."

"And ourselves, as well," Giles agreed. He shifted to his back and pulled Buffy to him, sighing. "But first, I need a wake-up kiss."

"You're pitiful," she teased, but complied happily, converting one kiss to many. He moaned as their kisses grew passionate. After a few minutes, he growled and rolled until she was underneath him, continuing his assault on her mouth and neck until she started having trouble thinking about breakfast.

"Ahh... babe, we gotta go... d-d-downstairs..." His tongue was sliding along her neck to her collarbone, making conversation difficult. "Boy, you sure did recover from that late night in a hurry... I thought you'd be wasted this morning."

"What would be wasted..." He punctuated his statement with a gentle nip, grinning happily at Buffy's sharp intake of breath. "... is this opportunity to make love, if we were to go downstairs right now."

She laughed at his complete sincerity between soft moans. "Waste not, want not, that's what Mom always said."

"She's a very wise woman, love. You should listen to her."

"I think I will."

"Do you think we should shut the door first?"

"Nah... Marcus is happy downstairs for now. Don't worry..."

********

When the doorbell rang, Marcus jumped up and answered it dutifully. Just before he opened the door, he leaned his head against it and closed his eyes, taking an impression of the person behind the wood and veneer surface. His eyes snapped open and he fumbled with the knob until it opened. The deadbolt was a little more difficult to reach, but he managed by standing on tip-toe and leaning up against the frame. He threw the door open and launched himself into his grandmother's arms.

"G'amma! G'ampa! I wuv you!" he cried repeatedly, giving them both several enthusiastic kisses. He pointed back into the house proudly. "I watch Teebee! Wook!"

Joyce glanced around the living room, expecting to see her daughter or son-in-law bustling around as usual. She spied the high chair first thing, and put two and two together. "Wilton, I think Marcus got up by himself this morning."

Wilton grinned and ruffled Marcus' hair. "You little Houdini! Did you get out of bed and down the stairs by yourself?"

"Yeth! I watch Seth-me Stweet!"

The grandparents chuckled, and Wilton looked around much as Joyce had. "Where are Buffy and Rupert?"

"My guess? Still asleep. They didn't even hear the doorbell! Look at all these old books and papers... and printouts, too... Willow must've been here. They probably are researching something demon-y." She chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, dear, that was a complete Buffy-ism. Out of my house almost three years, and she still affects my speech patterns."

"Why don't we make breakfast, then? We can surprise them when they come down. Rupert keeps a well-stocked fridge."

"Great idea! Marcus, would you like bacon and eggs for breakfast?"

"I wike bac'n'edds, G'ama!"

Joyce took command of the kitchen as Wilton set the table and watched Marcus. Soon the delectable aroma of cooking permeated the room.

********

"Wow." Buffy blew her bangs out of her eyes and looked down at her panting husband.

"I agree."

"Research agrees with you, babe."

Giles chuckled, and Buffy felt the sound vibrate through her from her position lying atop his chest. "I don't think it was the research, love... good Lord, look at the time."

"We need to get up and feed the kid now, for real. We haven't stayed in bed this late since... well, since I don't know when."

"Quite possibly, since Marcus was born."

"Wow."

"That was quite a different 'wow' from the previous one."

"Yeah, well, the first one meant, 'oh, you sexy thang!' and the second meant 'life sure did change when Marcus came along.' But in a *good* way, mostly."

"I rarely slept late *before* he came along. That was your preference, lolling about until midday."

Buffy ticked his ribs, causing him to yelp, and they both started chuckling. Suddenly, she pushed herself up and sniffed the air cautiously. "Hey, do you smell something?"

Giles imitated her gesture, his eyes growing round with fear. "Surely you don't think..."

"Oh, my God, Rupert, what if Marcus has set something on fire?"

"It doesn't smell like something burning... actually, it smells like bacon and toast."

"Both which require *hot things*! We gotta get down there!"

She scrambled up and began throwing on clothes. Giles did the same, leaving his pajama top unbuttoned and grabbing his robe. They sprinted down the hall to the stairs, barely dressed. They were halfway down the stairs, calling Marcus' name frantically, before Wilton's presence registered on them.

Buffy came to a complete halt, causing Giles to run full tilt into her. She stumbled down the remaining steps, consciously checking to see if she was decent, and Giles ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair. They both gave huge sighs of relief, then began to wonder how their relatives had gotten in.

"Hi, Daddy! Hi Mummy!" Marcus chirped from the living room floor. His toys were scattered everywhere.

"Good morning, Rupert. Sleep well?" Wilton couldn't resist the jibe.

"H-hello, Wilton," Giles said, collecting himself visibly. "Um... ah... I'm s-sorry, how did you get here?" He looked decidedly uncomfortable, standing barefooted and barely clothed in front of his father-in-law and boss. Not to mention still breathing heavily from fear and from... earlier exertions.

Wilton, enjoying the moment tremendously, said in a dry tone, "We drove the New Yorker. The Caddy's in the shop."

Joyce sputtered gleefully from the kitchen.

Giles blushed redly. "No, I meant to say... how did you get *in* here? Not that you're not welcome, of course, but I bolted the door."

Buffy made a strategic retreat to join her mother, leaving Giles to his own devices.

Wilton patted his grandson on the shoulder. "Marcus let us in."

Giles stared at him in disbelief. Finally, what Wilton said sunk in, and he raised his eyes to the ceiling in silent appeal. "Buffy?" he called, his voice sounding almost plaintive. "Were you aware that Marcus can open the front door now?"

"Oh, great." She answered from the kitchen. "No, I wasn't. It's time for a trip to the hardware store for more locks."

"Indeed." Giles folded his arms across his bare chest and winced. "Wilton, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to change into something less... drafty."

Wilton laughed and waved jauntily. "Go on, Rupert. We're just fine down here, aren't we, Marcus?"

"Uh-huh, G'ampa p'aying twucks wif me, Daddy."

"Good for you both." Giles dashed back up the stairs, hoping he didn't appear as red-faced as he felt.

In the kitchen, Joyce was flipping eggs with practiced ease as Buffy held the plates ready to accept them. "Sorry about not being present and accounted for when you got here, Mom. We had a late night."

"I could see that from the stuff on the table, which, by the way, I put in the front room so we could eat."

Buffy watched Joyce put the finishing touches on the meal with a broad grin on her face. "Sure seems like old times, me watching you cook breakfast."

"Sure does, honey. Grab the butter, would you? So... what does all the research have to do with Marcus?"

The grin left her face, and Buffy swallowed hard. She so not ready for this discussion. So far, it had just been the old Scooby Gang members involved... people who were used to the weirdness, plus the newcomers like Watcher Bill and the three mythical creatures that had proved to be very real.

Moms were supposed to be supportive... and clueless. She hated her mother finding out about the Slaying, and she hated her being involved when the Council baddies tried to kidnap Marcus the day he was born. But, to tell her mother that a prophecy foretold that Marcus' life was going to be filled with demons, battles, and the end of the world... she had a feeling she was gonna hate *that* most of all.

"What made you say that?"

"The stuff on the table has his name scribbled all over it. What's going on?"

"Can we talk about it after we eat?" Buffy gave a little apologetic laugh as she gathered plates and started out the door. "I don't wanna ruin your appetite."

Joyce eyed her daughter sharply, then nodded. "Don't think I'm going to forget about it, though."

She followed Buffy into the dining room with a sinking heart.

********

'Lovely timing you've got, old man,' Giles berated himself as he searched the closet for something to wear. Actually, if the truth were told, the prize for timing should go to Joyce and Wilton. As he pulled on a clean shirt, he thought, with a chuckle, that in-laws seemed to appear at the most inconvenient moments.

In-laws. Oh dear.

He stopped with his fingers on his shirt buttons, feeling Buffy's sudden surge of sadness welling up inside him. His supernatural connection fed her emotions to him like water through a conduit, and he knew Joyce was asking questions... questions with no easy answers. Knowing Joyce, answers would have to be given, whether he had them or not. He had learned that hiding things from Joyce only produced more friction and worry than any of them needed at this point.

The familiar cloud of fear, anxiety and self-recrimination descended over him once again. He was, both by nature and by training, taciturn and melancholy. Only Buffy's cheerful disposition, and the presence of her irreverent and stubbornly inclusive friends, had kept him from becoming a lonely, withdrawn person... especially after Jenny's death.

As the weight of destiny and prophecy descended on him, he began to lose himself in despair. He fought it bravely, knowing Buffy and Marcus would feel the repercussions, but it was a losing battle. He turned, almost blinded by his emotions, and his eyes fell on the family portrait sitting on the dresser. A sob caught in his throat, and he reached for it, blinking rapidly, somehow seeking comfort in the beloved faces.

The picture, taken at a local photo shop, was of the five of them, dressed in their Sunday best. The two men were sitting, hands in their laps in carefully arranged casual ease. The two ladies stood behind them, Buffy's hands on Wilton's shoulder, Joyce's on his. Between them, as if cocooned in love, was Marcus, his golden brown curls shining in the artificial light. He had the most deliciously mischievous expression on his face, as if he was contemplating a rapid escape. All of them looked so proud, so happy...

He stroked the picture, tracing the tiny face that was almost obscured by his large finger. He wondered if they would ever again be that happy, that blissfully unaware of what lay ahead.

"Marcus, my son..." He whispered brokenly. It wasn't right! They had already fought their battles, won their wars. Why, after all they'd been through... after all *she'd* been through, couldn't the Army of Light find itself another champion, and leave their son the hell alone? He was inundated with guilt at the thought, and apologized silently to the heavens, but the feeling was still there.

A surge of love, tinged with concern, caught him by surprise, and enveloped him in mental warmth. A second sob was torn from him, and he almost dropped the photograph as his body relaxed under Buffy's tender assault. It reminded him of why he fought, why he continued to fight the Darkness. He fought because of those he loved.

He sent reassuring thoughts back to his wife and finished dressing slowly, still shaking a bit from the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. With a last glance at the photograph, he left the room. As he started down the hall, he hoped fervently he could once again be the calm, rational Watcher, the man with all the explanations... because his family needed them. Needed him.

As much as he needed them.

********

"Joyce, that was a lovely breakfast. Thank you." Giles pushed away from the dining room table with a satisfied sigh. "I'm certainly lucky that Buffy inherited *some* of your culinary skills."

"Inherited? I practically had to force them down her throat," Joyce quipped.

"I wasn't that bad." Buffy came to her own defense quickly. "I got really good at waffles, remember?"

"I remember when the waffle iron caught fire."

"Mo-om!"

The easy banter did nothing to dispel the underlying tension in the room. As if the end of the meal was a signal, Buffy and Giles stood and gathered the plates and silverware, taking them to the kitchen. As soon as they were out of earshot, Buffy turned a pleading gaze up to her husband. "What do we do now? Mom's gonna freak, royally."

"We can't lie to her, but if we tell her everything we know, it won't be much." He sighed heavily. "These obscure prophecies are so difficult to decipher... I wish I had more time to work on this one."

"We have all the time we have," Buffy said whimsically, then her face fell again. "I hate this. I really do."

"I know. Well... once more, into the breach!"

Buffy snorted and followed him through the door.

Joyce was waiting in her classic nervous pose, leaning against the table, her hands stretched out in front of her, fingers clenched tightly to hide the trembling. Giles fought a smile as he recognized the position... Buffy did the same thing when she knew they were going to have a 'discussion.' Wilton sat next to her, his attention on Marcus, who was finishing his toast. Actually, Marcus was wearing most of it, but that was okay. Giles knew the older man would be listening, regardless of what Marcus was doing.

Buffy paused long enough to take a deep breath, then sat, grasping her mother's hands in hers.

"You wanna ask questions. Go ahead."

Joyce looked at Wilton for moral support, and got a gentle squeeze of the shoulder for a confirmation. He turned to clean Marcus' face and hands as she took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. "Okay. I know you both have a destiny, or calling, or whatever it is. I accepted that, as well as I could, I guess, but there's something going on with Marcus now, and I want to know what it is." She looked at Buffy, then Giles, her eyes searching. "I can tell it's not good news. I want to know."

"I want down!" Marcus declared imperiously, and the adults stopped to smile at him. Wilton obligingly released the catches on the high chair, and helped the toddler to the floor. Marcus made a beeline for the living room and his toys, while Wilton took up a watchful position in the doorway, letting the three of them continue talking.

Giving Wilton a thankful glance, Giles cleared his throat and began, "I don't know if it's bad news, or not, really. I suppose, at this point, you'd call it unsettling. We've recently come in contact with a... well, a manuscript, for lack of a better word, that seems to prophesy certain things."

He paused to whip off his glasses and polish them with his handkerchief, and Buffy smiled at the familiar gesture. He often did that to give himself time to think... a holdover from the old, shy librarian Giles she first fell in love with. She could hear him going over various phrases in his mind, selecting his words carefully. When he'd finished, he replaced the frames on his nose and continued. "This manuscript is... is ancient, fragile, and written in a language that predates anything I'm comfortably familiar with. It's so long and obscure that it has only been translated twice in known history, but since it concerns Marcus, I myself, along with some...ah... colleagues, are attempting our own translation. It's an arduous process, and we've only finished the first few lines. It would be wise to withhold final opinion until we've finished working on the entire segment."

Wilton was leaning back into the room by the time Giles finished, fascinated by the great age of the document. He wasn't a linguist, but he knew artifacts. "Rupert, if I may butt in briefly... have you seen the actual manuscript?"

Giles gave the older man a surprised look. "No... no I have not. I'm working from computer scans transmitted from the British Museum and Council Headquarters in London."

"Ah. Well, I'm just throwing this in, but if it were me, I'd want to get my hands on the original... just for my own peace of mind. If I can, I'll be glad to assist in any way possible."

"It's... it's a very good point, Wilton," Giles admitted, looking at Buffy with some embarrassment. "In all the excitement, I hadn't thought of it. And... thank you. I'll let you know."

"Just what does this manuscript have to do with Marcus?" Joyce wasn't making the connection, and was getting impatient.

Giles gave his mother-in-law a gentle smile. "The manuscript is an exhaustive list of Slayers, past, present, and by all accounts, future. Translators have worked for centuries... literally... to unravel its mysteries. In every instance, when a translation was made, the words described a known Slayer. The Council has just now caught up and gotten the last stanzas translated."

Joyce's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "And the last stanza mentions Marcus? But, Marcus isn't a Slayer! He's a boy, he's exempt!" She shook her head. "That's too fantastic, even for *this* family."

"It *appears* to refer to Marcus. Every Slayer, since the beginning of Slayers, has been female, and the verses support that fact, except for this last section." He stopped, looking the disbelieving woman straight in the eyes, trying to convey the absolute sincerity of his words. "Joyce, you must realize something. This is not a recent revelation, but it is a difficult one. Scholars have attempted rough translations in years past, but it's a monumental task. There are thousands upon thousands of lines in the Prophecies, some devoting only one phrase to a particular Slayer, some giving several lines of descriptions. The length of the reference would seem to coincide with the...ah... tenure... of the Slayer." He stopped, wondering if he'd said too much.

Joyce closed her eyes painfully, but her voice was steady. "So, if a Slayer didn't... wasn't going to... last very long, the writing was brief?"

"Yes." Giles swallowed a lump in his throat. To this day, the Council refused to allow him access to Buffy's verses. It wasn't something he even wanted to see, now. Retired or not, Buffy was still a Slayer, and would be until she died. He didn't want to know the manner of her death, or how soon it might be.

Joyce must have been thinking along the same lines, because she asked with a quiver in her voice, "How many lines does Buffy have?"

"Mom! Geez, don't ask him that!" Buffy couldn't stand sitting still one second longer, and she jumped up and circled the room slowly, trying not to show how jittery the conversation was making her.

"It's all right, Buffy," he soothed. "I can honestly say I don't know. I've never seen them, none of the potential Watchers have. The Council seals it as soon as each section is translated. The last one that mentions a female Slayer was finished nearly thirty years ago... long before they knew that Buffy and I would be together."

"But they'll happily let you see the part that tells about your son's *death*?" Joyce's voice was nearing a shout.

Buffy had a sudden revelation, and she held up a hand for silence. "Mom, I just realized something. The prophecy doesn't say anything about his death."

"What?" Joyce and Giles exclaimed at the same time.

"It doesn't! Rupert, you read it to me yourself! It predicts his *life*, but not his death!"

"Yes, of course, you're right, love!" 'Giles sat up straighter, feeling a surge of hope well up inside him. "It doesn't mention his death at all."

"No, just the end of the world," Buffy added softly, her face falling.

"Now, love, we don't know for certain the exact meaning of..."

Joyce's eyes narrowed suspiciously as they talked, and she suddenly snapped, "The end of the *world*? How do you know all this claptrap isn't made up? You haven't even seen this thing up close. It could be the product of one of those stark raving lunatics like the one that tried to kidnap Marcus... that Travers." She shuddered at his name. "How do you know it isn't something they made up to keep you two in line?"

"I suppose we don't," Giles admitted.

"Then, how can you just assume this is real? It could be a plot by those regimental madmen to get their hands on Marcus! They could tell you anything, and you'd have to believe them, because you can't see for yourselves what it says! What if they decide he's too important to their stinking 'cause' to leave with alone? What then? Are you just gonna let them take him away? How can you trust them, after everything they've done?"

Giles knew Joyce would resist their story, but he did expect her to wait until he'd told her what the entire prophecy said. She hadn't even gotten that far, and already she was rejecting the idea hands down.

"Joyce," Giles said softly, "Somewhere along the line, I *must* trust someone. I don't know the language well enough. I can't be here with my family and in England at the same time. I can't spend my entire life working on one single translation to the exclusion of everything else. I'm not a-a superman, and I'm not God."

Joyce leaned across the table towards him, her face completely set. "Then trust your heart. Trust your instincts, like I do mine... because they're telling me that something is rotten in Denmark. But don't trust the Council!" She waved her hands in frustration, not able to articulate her feelings adequately. "This is all wrong! You've given enough! My daughter and my grandson deserve to be left alone!"

"Joyce, the information came directly from my father. I can't just dismiss it."

"Yes, you can!" The overwrought woman slammed her hand down on the table and stood, breathing heavily. "You're supposed to be taking care of them, Rupert. Protecting them! Don't follow blindly. Father or no father, they're leading you down the garden path, can't you see it?"

Giles stood with her, his face sad. "Perhaps they are, Joyce. I'm not blindly falling in line. I'm doing my best to find the truth and protect my family, please believe that."

Buffy had pressed herself up against the wall as Joyce's voice rose in volume and pitch. When her mother stood, she took a few steps forward. She put her hand on Joyce's arm and smiled, hoping to defuse her rising temper. "Mom, please, don't. This is why we didn't want to say anything just yet... there's still too much we don't know about all this."

Joyce stared at Buffy for a moment, then drew away. "I hope you're not going to let them... let *him*..." She nodded at Giles curtly. "...talk you into believing all this without some kind of proof."

Buffy's face fell at Joyce's implied exclusion of Giles from the good guys, but she bravely pressed on. "I have all the proof I need, Mom. Too much weird stuff has come up, both before and after we found out about the manuscript. But we're not just gonna sit around and let Fate happen to us... we're gonna find out as much as we can. Okay?"

"It's not okay, Buffy. This terrifies me, but I'm not going to browbeat you two in your own home." Joyce tossed her hair back and started for the door. "But I can't just sit here and talk calmly and rationally about throwing your son's life away. You just think about what you're doing... what you're accepting... and what it's going to do to your son. You'll see I'm right. Wilton, it's time to go."

Wilton clearly wanted to discuss the mechanics of the matter, but he knew from his wife's angry eyes that the more prudent action would be to get her out of there before things got ugly. He shot Giles an apologetic look before escorting her out the front.

The instant the door slammed, Buffy collapsed into the nearest chair. "Oh, yeah, that went well."

Giles remained standing, staring thoughtfully at the closed front door. "She's angry and frightened, love, and I don't blame her one bit."

"Yeah, I know, but sheesh, you'd think she'd care about what this is doing to *us*, wouldn't you?"

"She will, after she calms down."

From the living room, they heard a plaintive voice calling, "Mummy? Where's G'ama?"

Buffy sniffed back a tear and dashed into the living room. The child was standing at the end of the sofa, looking abandoned. She reached for him, gathering him into her arms lovingly. "I'm sorry, baby, Gramma had to go. She'll be back some other time." She buried her face in his soft curly hair, and whispered, "I hope."

********

Armstead popped a cherry Lifesaver into his mouth as he worked, his attention fully on the papers in front of him. He and Giles were continuing their translation of the Prophecies of Enosh, but it was slow going. The author of the ancient text must have been a professional writer, because he rarely used the same word more than once. Each line forced them to pour over the available material in an effort decipher the original meaning.

Giles seemed near desperation when he called that afternoon to ask Armstead for his assistance. Buffy had hinted that her mother had been less than supportive when she'd learned of the Prophecies. He knew Giles was very protective of Buffy's relationship with her mother, and therefore felt responsible for clearing the matter up as quickly as possible. He did not envy the older man's position at all.

He sucked thoughtfully on the candy as he read, and it wasn't long before he reached for the roll and helped himself to another Lifesaver. He was putting the package back in his pocket when he caught Giles looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"Trying to quit, are you?" Giles sounded amused.

"Ah... well, yes. Willow detests smoking."

"And you feel popping candy is the way to stop?"

The Observer grinned sheepishly. "I have it on good authority that cherry Lifesavers are the very thing."

Giles chuckled, relenting. "I prefer butterscotch, myself. Always had a taste for burnt sugar. Comes from having a mum who cremated *everything*."

Armstead laughed with him. "I have a feeling Lifesaver stock is going to go through the ceiling before I'm done."

"You'll be fine, as long as you're properly motivated."

"Willow is attempting to see that I am."

"Buffy once called Willow 'a force of nature.' I'm inclined to agree."

Armstead smiled thoughtfully. "I shall remember that. It might keep me out of trouble."

Giles chuckled and returned to his work. The thought of Willow kept a smile on Armstead's face for a long time.

The front door banged open, startling the two men from their concentration. Buffy's cheerful voice echoed from the hall. "Can you guys fend for yourselves a little while? Will and I are gonna take Marcus to the mall..." Her voice changed to a teasing sing-song. "You wanna come with us?"

Both men looked up as their respective significant others entered the room. They looked back at each other fearfully for a few seconds, then shook their heads firmly. Giles rose to accept a kiss from his wife, then stated, "You go right ahead without us, love. We've almost completed another stanza."

"Such dedication. I'm glad we don't get a new prophecy every week, or I'd never see your face. Just the top of your cute little head." He made a face at her comment, so she kissed him again for good measure, then patted Armstead on the back. "You think you can keep up with the Research Machine, Bill?"

"Ah... probably not, but I shall do my best." Armstead smiled up at Willow, affection plain in his eyes.

"Bill, you're learning at the feet of the master, there. Just don't strain your eyes. Remember, we have a movie to go to later!" The petite redhead leaned over and gave her boyfriend a kiss on the forehead, enjoying his slight blush at her familiarity.

"See ya later! Come on, Marcus, we're going to the mall!"

The toddler dashed up to her, babbling happily, then reached for his father. Marcus never liked to leave either parent without a good-bye kiss. Giles complied, ruffling the tiny boy's hair and giving him a fond smile. "Take care of your mother and Willow, all right?"

"Aw wight, Daddy. I big!" Marcus accepted the mandate with great pride.

The ladies left with their pint-sized protector, and the men returned to their study.

********

It was nearly dusk before either of the two men looked up again. There had been minimal communication, only a word or two, or an exclamation about a newly discovered word, for almost two hours. Giles leaned back in his chair, stretched carefully, and announced, "I'm ready for tea. Would you care for a cup?"

"Oh, yes, sir...that would be quite welcome." Armstead slid his chair back and stood, stretching his own back and shoulders to relieve the tension brought about by the intensity of their work.

Giles shook his head and grinned. "Are you ever going to stop calling me 'sir' or 'Mister Giles' and start calling me Rupert? I'm not your superior officer."

Armstead grinned back. "No, you're merely older, more experienced, more knowledgeable, a much better fighter, and married to a Slayer who could easily rip my head from my shoulders if I showed you the slightest disrespect. I don't know why on earth I should be intimidated."

Giles burst into hearty laughter, then headed for the kitchen.

Armstead took a moment to look around the room a bit, taking in the eclectic mix of old world antiques and more modern fixtures that seemed to blend together as seamlessly as the owners. He was admiring a particularly fine Hepplewhite chair that held a place of honor in the corner of the room when he heard the sound of a cup shattering on the kitchen floor.

********

"Mummy! 'Ticky." Marcus held up his red-smeared hands for Buffy to wipe. He didn't mind being dirty, but sticky bothered him a little.

"I hope that sucker was worth it, kiddo," Buffy teased as she massaged the stain on his palms. "Because it's gonna take Mummy a long time to get this off." She tickled him surreptitiously as she worked, causing him to burst into happy giggles. After most of the mess was removed, she gave up and put the wash rag back in the handy plastic bag she'd brought with her. 'Thank God for zip-locks,' she thought with good humor, as she set Marcus on his feet again.

"Buffy, I think I wanna check out the shoe sale at Maxxes... you wanna wait here or come with me?" Willow tossed the last of her pretzel in the trash and brushed off her lap as she stood.

"We might as well tag along. We gotta hurry, though, it's almost dark. C'mon, sweetie baby, let's go with Willow."

Marcus dutifully took Buffy's hand and marched along between the two girls, gathering smiles from all sides as he attempted to keep pace with them. They had almost reached the store entrance when Marcus stopped, frowning.

"What's the matter, Marcus?" Unease began pouring out of him, and Buffy's skin began to crawl with the sensation.

Willow turned and gasped at the fearful look on her best friend's face. "Buffy?"

The redhead's concerned voice barely registered. Buffy was concentrating, sending out streamers of awareness, trying to place the worried feelings that had invaded both her mind and her son's. Within seconds, her eyes widened in horror, and she snatched Marcus into her arms and started back towards the car at a dead run, scattering startled shoppers left and right. Marcus' voice rose in a shrill wail, the sound bouncing off the walls in the huge corridor.

"Buffy!" Willow ran after her, knowing there was no way she could catch a Slayer in full flight. "Wait! What is it?"

Marcus' screams grew fainter as Buffy outdistanced Willow. She followed s best she could, thinking to herself, 'this is bad, whatever it is... it's really bad.'

A few strides from the car, Buffy gave a horrific cry and dropped to her knees, almost dropping Marcus and the diaper bag with the impact of it. Marcus was in full blown hysteria by now, screaming at the top of his lungs, his hands clutching Buffy's shirt with whitened knuckles, and Buffy seemed dazed and in pain. By the time Willow reached her, Slayer strength had returned, and together they were able to stand. Willow tried to take Marcus, but he clung to his mother with amazing strength, and she gave up and took the bag instead.

When they reached the car, Willow was thankful she'd left the doors unlocked, or she would've probably had to buy a new window. Buffy threw open the door and buckled Marcus into the baby seat despite the fact that he was fighting her the whole way. Willow slid into the driver's seat just as Buffy finished, jumped into the back seat and shouted, "My house! Break laws! NOW!"

Willow complied instantly, years of Slayerette experience coming to the fore as she screeched out of the parking lot and sped towards the other side of town. Luckily it was a quiet evening, with few cars on the road, or they might have collided with something as they careened around corners and ignored stop lights. Willow prayed to all the deities she could think of to help her avoid a ticket as she broke every traffic law she'd ever read. Marcus' screams and Buffy's silent tears frightened her like nothing she'd ever seen... not even the Hellmouth Beast could compare. Her friends were in severe mental anguish, and all she could do was drive. So, she drove.

They turned down Buffy's street unimpeded, Willow was finally brave enough to ask, "Buffy, what is it? Is it demons?"

Buffy's entire being was concentrated on her house as it came into view. Next to Willow, Marcus whimpered, plucking at the safety catch of his carrier impatiently. Buffy reached between the front seats to rest a hand on the shaking child, soothing him slightly. She didn't reply to Willow's questions, and that worried the redhead even more.

Willow whipped into the driveway behind Buffy's convertible and slammed her car into park, headlights outlining the garage doors in the growing dusk. Buffy shot out of the car, shouting over her shoulder, "Stay here! Watch Marcus!" She was inside before Willow could respond.

Willow sat there, stunned. The engine was still idling. Marcus was merely crying now, exhausted by his earlier screams. The sound broke her heart, and she bent over the baby and caressed his reddened face, cooing softly. Seconds ticked away, and she began to get more and more frightened. Finally, she couldn't stand it any more, and she killed the engine, rolled the windows partially down, and got out.

"Marcus, I'm gonna go check on Mummy and Daddy and Bill, and I'll be right back."

"Daaaaddeeeeee, noooo..." Marcus wailed, heartbroken, and Willow almost turned around and came back to him. Another eerie wail from the house caused her to break into a run. It sounded like a soul torn in two...

The front door was standing open, so Willow ran up and looked inside. She heard someone in the kitchen, and started to check it out, but slid to a stop when the familiar shape of Bill Armstead appeared in the doorway. She cried out his name in horror when she got a good look at him.

"Ah, Willow," he said, sounding completely reasonable, even though blood was dripping from a massive cut on his face and he couldn't stand up straight. "Where's Marcus?"

"Bill, ohmygod..." She reached for him, but he held up a hand. "W-what happened?"

"We were attacked. Please Willow, go get the baby and come inside. It's almost dark. We've already called Emergency Services. They should be here shortly."

Willow dazedly complied, gathering an exhausted baby from the car and taking him inside. She passed the dining room and looked in. It looked exactly as it did when they left earlier... papers scattered everywhere, Armstead's laptop waiting for the next command...

Then she looked over her shoulder at the kitchen.

Blood was everywhere, spattered on the neat cabinets and smeared on the floor in almost impossible quantities. Broken china broke the surface of red in several places, and one of the drawers had been pulled out, utensils scattered across the floor in haphazard fashion. It looked like a battle had taken place there. In the middle of the floor, completely ignoring the hideous scene around her, Buffy knelt, her head bowed as if in prayer. Willow began to sob, clutching the baby as if to protect him from the view.

"There, there, we need to get the little fellow comfortable and see to Buffy." One of Armstead's warm hands rested on her shoulder and the other held a towel to his forehead. He smiled tightly and escorted her away from the carnage. He seated her on the couch and went back for Buffy just as the sirens signaled the arrival of the paramedics, and, she hoped, the police.

"Come on, Buffy, dear, and sit down. You know how the authorities are... they will want to go over the scene with a magnifying glass and you'd just be in the way." Armstead lead a completely unresponsive Buffy to the couch and sat her down next to Willow. Marcus immediately crawled over to her and put his head in her lap. She had enough presence of mind to begin stroking his hair, and he gave a hitching sob and was quiet. No one commented on the fact that the knees of Buffy's slacks were stained with blood.

Armstead quietly left to meet the paramedics, deliberately ignoring the brown-red streaks and footprints that led from the kitchen to the back yard door.

"Buffy?" Willow touched her best friend's hair gently, her fingers shaking with reaction. "Buffy? Do you know what happened? You felt it, didn't you?"

The blonde Slayer didn't look up, but she nodded. "Someone... something... took him. He fought like crazy, but they took him." She finally met Willow's terrified eyes, and said softly, "He's gone."

Chapter 9: The Gap

Summary:

Giles is missing, faith is tested, and family ties are stretched to the limit. Conclusion of a 2 parter.

Chapter Text

Captain Larry Stockton surveyed the scene with professional detachment. Mr. Giles had put up quite a struggle. Judging from Mister Armstead's condition, he had, too. It had taken a half-dozen assailants to bring the two of them down. He had no illusions about the Giles family... he knew they were supernaturally gifted, even though he didn't know the details. Since the perpetrators were able to overpower this man in his own home and kidnap him, they must be formidable, indeed.

He left the forensic team to do their work and went to do his.

The sight of the tiny blonde woman sitting with her pretty little boy asleep in her arms made Larry want to cry. He thought of his own child, just a few days older than Marcus, as he squared his shoulders and moved into the room. Locating an armchair and lowering himself into it, he scooted closer to the victim's wife and said softly, "Mrs. Giles? I'm Captain Stockton... remember me?"

She looked up at him, eyes red and swollen, then smiled thinly. Her voice trembled as she said, "You w-were there when the Council guys kidnapped Marcus."

"That's right. And I'm gonna help find your husband. Can I ask you a few questions? I talked to Mr. Armstead before the paramedics took him to the hospital, but I need to get your statement, too."

"He was brave."

Marcus whimpered softly and stirred, his face still wet with tears.

Larry didn't know which man she was referring to, so he just agreed with her. "Yes, he was. Very brave."

"Where's Willow? Did... did she go with Bill to the hospital?"

"No, she's here. She's waiting in the dining room while I talk to you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Can you tell me what you know?"

"Um." She rubbed her face with a tired hand, then nodded. "The guys... Bill a-and Rupert, I mean, were doing some research, and s-so we went to the mall..."

"You, your friend Miss Rosenberg, and your son?" His pencil moved decisively over the small notebook he held in his hand.

"Yeah. We were almost done shopping, when Marcus went ballistic... and I just knew s-something was wrong, so we came home right away." She began to shiver violently, and one of the officers picked up an afghan off the back of the couch and gently wrapped it around her shoulders.

"So, you came home at... what time was this?"

She sighed thoughtfully. "About eight. Yeah, eight."

"And you just *knew* something was wrong?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Rupert... we're... c-connected. I just knew."

Larry wrote thoughtfully, wondering how much editing this report would get before it was recorded. "Go on."

"I got here, and Bill was trying to get up off the floor in the hall. There was s-s-so much b-b-blood..." She started crying silently.

Larry reached out and grasped her shoulder. "Easy, now... we're almost done. Who called 911?"

Buffy sniffed several times, then whispered, "Bill did. I was in shock, I guess. They knocked R-rupert out and carried him out the back door, he said... musta gone down the alley, he said. Where were G-gerard and Mad? They were s-supposed to be watching the house!!" The last two sentences came out as a plaintive wail.

"You had people watching the house?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, n-not people."

Larry stared at her, then shrugged. The statement didn't surprise him too much. This was Sunnydale, after all. Larry motioned an officer over. "Look for more victims outside." He turned his attention back to Buffy, his face carefully neutral. "Okay, people or not, if they're hurt, we'll take care of them, okay?"

"They're our friends."

"I know. Now, is there anything else you can remember?"

Buffy sat back against the couch, thinking through the haze of fear and separation. Rupert must still be unconscious, because she couldn't feel him at all. She refused to think of any other explanation. "Uh, I don't think so... wait, Bill said something when... when I first came in... he said 'Ninjas,' or something like that. I was too f-freaked to ask him what he meant."

Larry nodded. Armstead had mentioned the assailants were dressed in classic Ninja garb... black ghis, red belts, face and hair tied with black cloth, and they moved swiftly, like trained fighters. He also mentioned that they didn't appear to be human. Any other cop in the world would've dismissed it as a descriptive term, but with everything he'd seen, he took them at their word.

So, he was looking for six demon Ninjas capable of taking down one of the toughest men in town.

Wonderful.

He called another officer as he stood, patting Buffy on the shoulder. "Thank you, Mrs. Giles. We're on it." He turned to the officer and whispered, "Spread out from here, and send a team to check out the nearest sewer entrances... we may have another non-human problem on our hands. One that could turn out to be a hostage situation."

The officer grunted. "Great. And at night, too."

"We're gonna check out the back yard and alley, Mrs. Giles, and see if your friends are out there."

"Thanks." Her words were barely audible.

Larry went through the sliding glass doors at the back of the house, watching the flaring and beaming of flashlights as the police searched the yard for clues. Willow flew back into the room and slid down next to Buffy, hugging her fiercely. "We'll find him, Buffy. We'll look night and day, and we'll find him. The bad guys can't win this one."

Buffy leaned against her friend, too emotionally drained to do anything else. "Maybe they already have... I can't feel him, Will. He's gone." Her voice was barely audible as she added, "Where was that guardian angel when Rupert needed him the most?"

********

"Captain? We found uh... someone... uh... something..."

Larry strode over to the hedge and knelt by the still form of a pale, blueish creature. His torch played over it, and he recognized it as a goblin. Two goblins had helped the Gileses when their baby was kidnapped. He remembered that day clearly. The small, slender beings had crawled through the air vents, and one of them had managed to distract the ring leader just enough to keep Mr. Giles from being shot at point blank range with a large caliber weapon. It's not something you forget.

He couldn't see any movement. "Is it dead?"

The officer shrugged. "Beats me. I don't recall any first aid courses that covered blue critters."

"Goblins," Larry corrected, scowling at the man's flippant tone, then reached out and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He was about to give up when the creature stirred and moaned. "It's still alive!"

"Captain! We found another... well, we found another one!" Larry stood and turned to see one of his men escorting a hobbling gray monstrosity towards them... at gunpoint.

"Put your sidearm away, Tom," Larry commanded. He knelt down as the troll approached, limping badly. On his knees, he was eye level with the newcomer. "Hello, I'm Captain Stockton. Are you a friend of the people that live in this house?"

Madvehkar nodded, then his eyes grew wide and he gulped, "Gerard? Issss he okay?"

"I don't know for sure. He's just waking up. I didn't see any wounds."

"Ow... they didn't leave any, Captain. Hit me on the head." The goblin's weak voice rose to meet them.

Mad broke into a huge, slavering grin. "Your head musssst be assss hard assss the Watcher'ssss."

"Shut up, Mad." Gerard sat up, blinking his multifaceted eyes rapidly. "Oh, no, the Watcher! Did the bad guys get the Watcher?"

Larry nodded soberly. "It looks like it."

"Oh, man... we failed. We're failures! Some protectors we turned out to be!"

Larry sighed. "From what I hear about the... things that took him, you guys got off lightly."

Mad nodded. "They were Ninja demonssss. Never ssssaw anything like them before."

"But... but they were protected by a Guar... I mean, a you-know-who," Gerard amended, glancing at the policeman warily. This Stockton guy might be okay, but he probably didn't want to hear about angels.

Mad shook his shaggy head despondently. "I don't get it, Ger. I thought it was here to protect them."

Larry watched as the blue goblin got up and moved to join his troll friend. He sighed again, wondering how he was going to write *this* up. "Okay, you two, I need a statement from you both. Let's try to make it as believable as possible, okay?"

********

"Oh, this is a true feast for the eyes!"

Giles recognized the voice, even though he couldn't yet open his eyelids. He couldn't believe it. Quentin Travers had somehow escaped... *again*... from Council custody. His father was obviously *not* as good at his job as he should be.

The hateful voice continued to cackle madly, seemingly coming from all directions at once. The pain in his head made it impossible for Giles to determine where he was. He was horribly nauseated, dizzy despite having his eyes closed, and thoroughly disgusted with himself for letting a mere half-dozen men best him. He'd even had Bill Armstead to back him up, yet here he was. A prisoner.

He lay still, hoping his captors thought he was still out cold. He vaguely remembered being injected with something as he struggled... wonder how long ago that was? That was probably the reason his brain was so foggy. His first thought was for Marcus and Buffy... what would they come home to? Hidden assailants? A kitchen covered in blood? He moaned, in spite of his best effort not to.

"He's coming 'round a bit, guv."

The second voice wasn't familiar to Giles... or was it? Something about it rang little warning bells inside his brain, but he couldn't think straight. Whoever it was, he was in cahoots with Travers, and that meant he was an enemy. Probably another sorcerer, a black magician of some sort. Evil. Dangerous.

Travers leaned over the manacled form of his bitter enemy and smiled, watching the hated face for signs of awareness. "I do hope so. I'm rather anxious to get things in motion. I detest waiting. I did quite enough of that in prison."

"Oh, yes, I agree. I've had enough of languishing in the bleedin' Council's 'Rehabilitation Center,' myself, old boy."

"They do seem to have a problem securing their 'guests,' don't they?" Travers chuckled at his own joke.

The other man did not. He looked around, singularly unimpressed with the surroundings. "Lovely spot, sahib. But, where are the demons that brought our charming Mr. Giles in?"

Travers growled, then took a deep breath. "The instant I had the heretic chained, they vanished."

"Oh, *good show*, old man! We don't have a chance in hell of standing against the Slayer without at least a dozen demons at our disposal! What kind of senile old fool are you?"

"Be silent, idiot. I will simply call others."

"Ah, I see. And what if *they* decide to bloody vaporize at an inconvenient time?"

Travers turned and advanced on the younger man, causing him to back up in sudden fear. "Do you wish to survive this little encounter?" he hissed. "Or are you so mad you care nothing for your own skin?"

"Oh, I value my skin, all right, old chap. Every bit as much as you value yours."

"Then cease your prattling and wake the heretic before I tire of your insults and turn you into an ant."

"All right, all right, keep your robe on, Quentin, please do." Post reached for a bucket, barely hiding his disgust, and drew a dipper full of liquid as he stepped up to the bound man.

Something cold and vile smelling poured onto Giles' face, causing him to gasp, cough and wince. 'So much for the element of surprise,' he thought ruefully as he tried, unsuccessfully to avoid being splashed again. His head was bound with a chain across his forehead, and the slightest movement caused the heavy links to dig into his skull.

"Rupert, old friend, it's time to wake up and face your doom."

"Oh, Quentin, dear thing, what a abominably trite thing to say. You sound like the bloody villain in a shilling thriller."

That sarcastic voice seemed so familiar...

"Shut up, David. Your attitude could cost you your freedom, or perhaps even your *life*, if you're not careful."

Giles would have gasped if he'd had strength to do so. David? *David Post*? It was definitely time for Father to retire... the Council's worst prisoners kept escaping!

"I know you're aware of us, Rupert. Open your eyes."

More of the slimy liquid dripped on Giles' face, and he screwed his eyes more tightly shut. Hoping he wasn't about to get a mouthful of the stuff, he said groggily, "Can't. Bit of a headache, at the moment. Don't s'pose you know anything 'bout that, d'you, Quentin?"

"Why, of course, I do. You have, as you so delicately put it, a 'bit of a headache,' because I sent six demon warriors to your house while your lovely Slayer and your offspring were amusing themselves at the shops. Said demons repeatedly bashed you in the head until you lost consciousness, and then brought you here, where you are quite at my mercy."

"I do recall. They were very rude, Quentin... didn't even knock."

Post snorted in amusem*nt. At least Giles had the same low opinion of Travers that he did. This might be actually be fun.

"Cling to your sarcasm as long as you can, heretic." Travers slipped back into his fervent, tradition-fed cult fanatic persona. "Soon you will cease to annoy me in any form, and your slu*t Slayer and her hellspawn will be mine!"

Giles fought down his urge to defend his wife, opting instead to annoy his tormentor. "Never knew you were th' jealous type."

"Jealous? Of the likes of you?"

"Let me see... why would you be jealous of me?" Giles was feeling more in control by the moment, his tongue finally beginning to obey his brain's commands. "I was reinstated by th' Council, assigned to th' Slayer, managed to keep her alive, marry her, and have a beautiful son. You, on t'other hand... you've managed to grow old and unappealing..."

"Silence, heretic!"

"...an' a bit thick round th' waist, as well..."

"SILENCE!" Travers' voice quavered with hatred, and he began to pace. "You have mocked our ways quite long enough, Rupert Giles! You, and your ridiculously ineffective father, have tormented me for the last time! Soon there will be a new Ruling Council, one that reveres tradition and respects the old ways..."

Travers' diatribe was cut short by the sound of derisive laughter. The captive man shook with it, his chains rattling with the motion. He was beyond caring about the other man's reaction. "Oh... excuse me..." he said, between guffaws, "Quentin, old boy... coming from you, that's such a load of crap!"

Travers whirled and slapped Giles' battered face as hard as he could, cutting the laughter short as Giles tasted fresh blood in his mouth. "I said, be *SILENT*! Don't try and provoke me again, you fool, or I shall find a way to keep you alive and in pain for much longer than originally planned!"

"'E's ever so scary when 'e's loike that, guv'nor," Post mocked, tugging his hair again in the subservient gesture that seemed to drive Travers crazy. Well, crazier than usual.

Giles tongued the corner of his mouth gingerly, his eyes shut against the vertigo Travers' blow had restored. "I'm shaking in me Wellies," he agreed, adopting the sassy co*ckney accent that Post was using to goad his partner.

Post's crackle of delighted laughter ended abruptly as Travers threw his hand back. Sparks of dark fire burst from his fingertips, and the younger man found himself flying backwards. The rough wall of the cave stopped him in mid-flight, knocking him breathless. He lay crumpled against the slimy rock, gasping and chuckling at the same time. Painful though it was, baiting Travers was his only form of amusem*nt in this dank hole.

"You've no sense of humor at all," Giles said conversationally. His didn't see what Travers had done, but he heard the spat of magical discharge and the sickening thump of a body against a solid object, and he could guess what had happened. If he could just goad Travers into spilling his plans... preferably without getting himself injured, maimed, or killed...

"You're both fools," Travers hissed venomously. He produced a syringe from somewhere out of Giles' range of vision, holding it up as he allowed a few drops of the mysterious liquid to escape from the needle's tip. He seized Giles' arm and injected him roughly. Giles fought the urge to cry out as the sedative burned its way into his bloodstream.

Travers chuckled nastily as he finished the shot. "That should silence you for a while. I will have the child, and that is certain. Whether or not your precious little Buffy survives is entirely up to me, *Watcher*. Perhaps I will be magnanimous. Perhaps not. It depends on my mood." He let the threat hang in the air, grinning triumphantly for a long moment before whirling and leaving the chamber.

Post, holding his sore ribs carefully, rose and followed, not even so much as glancing at Giles.

As soon as his ears told him he was alone, Giles pried open his eyes, ignoring the flashes of pain that accompanied that effort, and surveyed his surroundings from his nearly immobile position. He was in a cave, roughly round, with only one exit. Kerosene lamps hung from several iron posts driven into the walls, casting flickering, yellowish light over the room. The slab of stone on which he lay was in the center on a raised area. It reminded Giles of a rough altar.

He looked down at himself as best he could. He was neatly bound with chains from forehead to toe. Laid out in perfect sacrificial position, probably with his head at the point of a pentagram. He was swathed in a rough textured black robe. The whole setup reminded him very strongly of something that wasn't good at all.

He closed his eyes and concentrated fiercely, trying to send a message to his soul-mate before Travers' little shot knocked him out again. There was a buzzing in his head that grew louder by the second. 'Buffy... Buffy... be careful... it's a trap... don't try and rescue me... protect Marcus...' He sent the thoughts over and over, oblivious to the passage of time, hoping she could feel his thoughts and understand them.

In less that a minute, he was no longer conscious.

********

Willow hoped fervently that the doorbell hadn't disturbed Buffy and the baby. She ran down the hall and checked the peephole before throwing the door open and admitting a distraught Joyce and Wilton.

"Where is she? Where's Marcus? Have they found..."

Willow shushed her sharply, then whispered, "I just got Buffy to lie down. With her Slayer hearing, you have to be quiet. Marcus conked out hours ago... he cried himself to sleep."

Joyce pressed her fists to her mouth to hold back a sob. Willow ushered them into the living room and watched as they sank onto the couch. Joyce looked completely traumatized, and Wilton looked helpless and frustrated.

"We came as soon as you called, Willow, and thank you for thinking of us." Joyce tried to keep her voice level, but the guilt and self-loathing about her performance that morning caused it to tremble. "How is Buffy?"

"Not good. She spent the last half hour scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom. I tried, but I couldn't stop her... it was like, if she got rid of the mess, she wouldn't have to think about him being gone..." Willow's resolve collapsed, and she began to sob again. She was too tired to keep it together.

Joyce enfolded the slender girl in her arms, holding her with a mother's compassion until the storm of tears had passed. She grabbed a box of Kleenex off the side table and helped the girl compose herself. Wilton moved to sit on the other side of Willow, his presence meant to reassure her.

"I don't know what Buffy would do without you, Willow," Joyce said earnestly. "You and Xander have done so much for her..."

"Buffy and Giles have done a lot for us, Mrs. Sum... I mean, Mrs. Bernard..." Xander's voice startled them, and they all looked up. "Sorry, but the door was unlocked. I saw you guys come in, so I knew someone was awake. I just got off work and got the message from Mom."

Willow rose to give her best guy friend in the world a soggy hug. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered.

"Xand-man goes where he's needed," he joked softly. "What can I do?"

"We have to find Giles. Buffy thinks the Council guys have him, and she's scared to death they'll hurt him, or even kill him, if we don't find him soon. I almost couldn't get her to lay down and rest until it gets light and we can start searching..."

The doorbell rang, causing Willow to bolt towards the front again. "Buffy's never gonna get any sleep if people don't stop ringing that stupid bell!"

She checked the peephole, stepping back with a confused look on her face. She opened the door to admit Faith and Wesley. "Hey, guys..."

Faith said immediately, "What's the plan to find Tweed Man?"

"How did you...?"

"I called them." Buffy came down the stairs, rumpled but alert. "Faith... Wes... we need to get to work."

"Right, then, let's start at the beginning, shall we?" Wesley's voice was all business. Willow shelved her questions and sat down, knowing this group was Giles' best hope of survival.

Wesley launched into full lecture mode, droning on and on about tactics and adequate backup procedures, when Buffy snapped to attention and gave an anguished cry. Waves of pain enveloped her, and she could dimly hear Rupert 's thoughts through the haze.

Faith shuddered, then knelt at Buffy's side. "Hey, B... that's Giles, isn 't it?" She couldn't make any sense of what she felt, but she knew it was the Bond, and there was only one person she knew strong enough to make that kind of mojo.

"He's hurt..." Buffy sobbed, head high as she tried to focus on him. "He's... it seems like miles from here... he's in a cave... underground... under the sewers... that way." She pointed southwest with a shaking finger. "Oh, thank God... he's *alive*..."

Upstairs, Marcus began to cry again, and Joyce jumped to her feet, torn between comforting her daughter and going to her grandson. She finally decided on Marcus, and dashed upstairs.

Wesley sat by the distraught ex-Slayer's side and took her hand with surprising gentleness. "Buffy... tell us... we can't feel it as clearly as you do. What is he saying? Does he know exactly...?"

She was panting with the effort to reach out and capture the ethereal tendrils of thought. Rupert was weak, she knew that for sure. She couldn't dwell on that now... she had to find out where he was. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was trying to convey. "NO! He doesn't want us to come! It's a trap... No, Rupert, tell us where you are..." As suddenly as it had begun, the connection was severed. She screamed and slumped, defeated in spirit. There were few things that could disrupt the Bond... unconsciousness, deep concentration... powerful black magic... and...

"He's gone again..." Tormented blue eyes looked into Wesley's, and he fought the urge to flinch away. "What am I gonna do, Wes? I can't not go!"

"I know," he countered soothingly. "We will go, but we'd best be prepared."

"Yeah. I know. Preparation, preparation, preparation."

Faith snickered at that... Wesley's favorite expression was excruciatingly familiar to her.

"Yes, well, let's prepare."

*********

"Are you sure this stuff worked?" Post idly picked up the small bottle of clear liquid on the table as he spoke. In front of him, Travers hovered like a vulture guarding a particularly fresh corpse. "He seemed pretty aware to me."

"That's why I gave him another dose, idiot." Travers snapped impatiently as he checked his gathered spell ingredients for the tenth time. "The Slayer is nothing if not prompt in her response to a threat to her loved ones. He was only awake long enough to send a weak call for help via his accursed Bond. The last shot should keep him unconscious for several hours. It will take time for the rogue Slayer to locate him in the caverns, and by then, all will be ready."

"I hope you're right, old thing. I wouldn't want an angry Slayer to burst in before we're ready!"

"I have a great deal more experience in these matters than you. If you'd managed to finish your Watcher training, you'd be familiar with dozens of drugs, sedatives and poisons. Council training is very thorough in those areas."

"Pardon me for being skeptical, Cap'n. I may not have all your lofty training, but one thing I know, having been on the receiving end of most of the items you've mentioned, courtesy of Council 'doctors'... you best know your dosages. Otherwise, you could very well get unexpected results." Post raised up to full height, then winced at his sore side. "I don't like to rely on 'should be, could be' when my life is at stake, and you certainly haven't done anything to bolster my confidence."

"I removed you from that hellpit of an insane asylum, didn't I? I transported us to Sunnydale in one piece, with absolutely no trace, didn't I? I have the heretic in my power, don't I? Seems my record is rapidly improving, boy."

"Oh, you've done well, sir. Smashingly. I was merely offering a word of caution. It's my bloody neck, as well, you know."

"You would do well to remember that, *boy*."

"Yessir, guv'nor, 'deed I will," Post sniped.

Travers ground his teeth. 'That's what I get for choosing a certified lunatic as a second,' he thought to himself. 'If he continues to annoy me, I'll feed him to Thoniak myself.' The idea made him smile. "I suggest you leave now, boy. My patience is wearing thin. I will call you when the time comes."

Something in Travers' evil smile convinced Post that the older man meant business. "Oh, right-o, Guv," Post mocked, then slouched away.

As soon as Post left the cave, Travers began an incantation. It was risky, but he needed more power if his plan was to succeed.

"Ich rufe Thoniak! Ich rufe den Prinzen der Unterwelt! Ich rufe die Macht der Grube und die Feuer der Hölle! Erscheine Thoniak! Ich flehe Thoniak an zu erscheinen!"

*translation:"I call on Thoniak! I call on the Prince of the Underworld! I call on the power of the pit and the fires of Hell! Appear, Thoniak! I beseech Thoniak to appear!"*

With a melodramatic puff of sulfurous smoke, a large, black, warty, foul-smelling demon blinked into sight, its eyes bright red, its fangs bared in anger. It growled, in a voice so deep that the cavern vibrated with the sound, "You call Thoniak? You dare?"

"I have called. I have commanded you," the small man said imperiously.

The demon laughed, belching a fog of hot breath into the human's face. "You *commanded* me? We had a deal, little worm. My power in exchange for the heart of a Watcher! I did NOT agree to a fireside chat!"

"I am aware of that, Thoniak. I have the Watcher, and the ritual is almost complete."

"Then why are you risking my wrath?" Thoniak's voice rose, shaking the ground under Travers' feet.

"Because I believe the Slayer will try to rescue her Watcher."

"As any Slayer would. Deal with it, worm."

"How can I? The Ninja warriors I summoned have vanished into thin air. You assured me of success, oh Prince of the Underworld! Where is my army? Where are my guards?"

Thoniak actually chuckled. "Fool human. I did not promise you an army! I merely allowed you to tap into my power. It is not my fault you have no idea how to wield it."

Travers blanched visibly. This was not going well. "I must succeed in all aspects of my plan, Thoniak, or your sacrifice will not be made." He paled even more as the demon loomed over him, its face irate. "That is not a threat, oh Prince. Surely you must realize... without an army, I have no hope of defeating the Slayer!"

The demon lord paused thoughtfully. "Yes, that is true. This Slayer *is* blessed. In order to defeat her, you will need an army."

Travers waited anxiously as the demon considered. Finally, it nodded. "Very well, human. I will grant your request... for a time. However... you must complete the sacrifice by midnight, and a single heart will no longer be sufficient payment. I now require *two*."

"Two? Pardon me for asking, but I want to be sure of what I'm agreeing to. Does the second heart have to be a Watcher, as well?"

The giant demon considered, stroking his chin with a clawed hand. "I suppose not. Once I have a Watcher's heart, any old additional heart will do."

Travers began to chuckle underneath his breath. This was the perfect opportunity to rid himself of Post and appease the demon simultaneously. "Then it is done. I already have someone in mind."

Thoniak laughed stertorously. "You shall have your army, and I shall have my hearts. It is done."

The dark shape vanished, leaving curls of acrid smoke in its wake.

Caught up in thoughts of his eminent victory, Travers didn't notice that Post was lurking in the shadows just outside the cavern, listening to every word.

"And just who does he intend to add to his little massacre? Five'll get you ten it isn't himself!" Post snarled to himself, his paranoia coming to the surface, then took off into the darkness. He was going to plan a little surprise of his own for Quentin Travers.

********

The scrub-covered hills and valleys surrounding Sunnydale seemed endless as Buffy's little scouting party searched for the vast underground labyrinth Buffy had sensed from Giles' all too brief message. The sun crawled across the sky, and tempers grew short. Buffy was beginning to despair. Time flew by, shadows began to lengthen, and her soulmate was still in enemy hands.

Faith and Wesley split from the rest of the group, hoping to increase their chances of finding the entrance before dark. Buffy felt Giles' absence more keenly than ever as Willow and Xander argued over inane ideas and half-baked schemes to make the search go faster. He could always manage to pull things together.

After an exhaustive exploration of yet another dead end cavern, she whirled on her two dirt-encrusted friends and shouted, "Will you two SHUT UP!!!"

They did, their expressions hurt.

"I'm sorry, guys... this is really getting to me, not being able to feel him..." She lay a grimy hand over her heart. "We're getting nowhere!"

"I know, Buffy, it's okay. We're all grumpy and hot and stuff." Xander pulled Willow away as he said, "We're just gonna check the next cave. Why don't you take five and... um... chill?" They disappeared into the relentless sunshine, leaving the Slayer to stare at the rock wall in front of her.

She rested her head against the cool stone and began to cry, letting her fear and misery out. "God? Hey, God, you gotta help me find Rupert, okay? I mean, he's really one of the good guys, y'know, and he's gotta be there for Marcus..." A sob caused her voice to break. "... and for me, too. I can't go on without him... I don't even want to..."

Suddenly, rage welled up inside her at the complete unfairness of it all, and she screamed as loudly as she could, the sound starting from deep inside her and pushing its way out until the world was filled with pain. She swung a fist at the cave wall in front of her, ignoring the warning in her head that said, 'That's *really* gonna hurt!' She could hear the scrabbling of footsteps as Xander and Willow rushed back down the trail to see what was the matter.

To her vast surprise, her fist broke through the wall easily.

She stared stupidly for several minutes at the hole, her arm still imbedded up to her shoulder. She flexed her hand, and encountered only air. The two Slayerettes skidded to a stop behind her as she withdrew her fist, the beginnings of a grin on her face.

"Hey, you found a way in. Way to go." Xander tried to sound casual as his friend began attack the wall like a madwoman.

"Help me, you knuckleheads!" she commanded, not even looking up from her task.

Xander stepped out of the cave and gave a loud whistle, then rejoined the girls. Faith and Wes would be there in minutes. He and Willow began to pull at rocks and scoop dirt out of the way as Buffy dug.

It was almost show time!

********

Joyce held her grandson in her arms, rocking him gently. The minute Buffy left, he began to cry, and it was almost thirty minutes before she could calm him. He'd barely eaten anything all day, his face so solemn and sad that it broke her heart. He refused to play, sitting at the sliding glass door, staring into the distance as if he was watching some distant action. The only time he seemed to be at peace was when Joyce held him, so she'd held him most of the day.

"Wilton?"

He started out of his light doze, tired already from being up for almost thirty-four hours. "Yes, honey?"

"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

He frowned at her in disbelief. "What?"

"I didn't believe them. I thought Rupert was making all this prophecy stuff up, or that he was being duped by the stupid Council. How could I think that, after everything I've seen... everything he's done to protect her?" She sniffed morosely. "I'm a bad person."

"No, you're not." His arm slid around her, holding her loosely so as not to disturb the motion that soothed the tiny boy in her lap. "They've been dealing with this kind of thing on a daily basis for a long time. It's hard to see it when it isn't right there in front of you, twenty-four-seven."

"But it was! It has been... oh, I'm so blind sometimes..."

He kissed her brow comfortingly. "Only where the people you love most are concerned, sweetheart. We're all that way."

She looked down at the sleeping baby. "I once was blind... but now I hope I can see."

*********

Travers waved his bundle of noxious herbs in an intricate pattern, trailing smoke in a large arc. He was outlining the door by which his dark army would enter. He didn't complete the ritual, leaving the last word unspoken. When the Slayer was almost upon him, he would finish it, and then, all Hell would literally break loose.

He loved a theatrical casting, and this would definitely be a grand one.

He chuckled to himself as he waved one of his favorite demon servants to his side. "As soon as it is dark, gather all the demons and vampires you can find and surround the Watcher's house. The child will be there, guarded by ordinary humans. Here's the address... break in, kill anyone that interferes, and bring the boy to me. As soon as the child is mine, you are free to go and feed. Just bring the child, untouched, to me, or face my wrath." He had more faith in the demons in his employ than he had in his human co-conspirator. Humans were dreadfully unpredictable, and Post was mad, so that made things even worse.

The little demon, having witnessed Travers' magic first-hand, nodded enthusiastically. "Right, Master, the kid's as good as yours."

The instant the servile creature was out of sight, Travers began puttering around, cheerfully checking his spell ingredients. Suddenly, his happy humming was interrupted as he was jerked off his feet by a long, slimy looking tentacle. "What the...ack!"

He was hoisted into the air, his stomach doing a heaving flip-flop as his head brushed roughly against the ceiling wall. He heard his double-crossing partner laugh as he struggled against the muscular appendage. The demon was behind him, and he couldn't get a look at it, but he assumed from the tentacle that it was an immature hell monster. Only a mere infant would be weak enough to be controlled by the likes of Post! Still, it was strong enough to immobilize the average human, as Travers was painfully aware.

What happened to the protection spell? Post had cast it... he'd probably created a loophole in it somewhere...

He caught enough breath to snarl, "Post! What is the meaning of this?" He hoped to buy time while he thought of a simple combustion spell that would fry his captor to a crisp well-done.

"I think you know exactly what this is, ducks," the irritatingly nasal voice answered. "You thought you'd off me and give my innards to the cracking big demon you're indebted to, didn't you, you bleedin' double-crosser! Oh, and in case you're wondering... your version of the protection spell doesn't cover hell monsters. I had a feeling you'd sell me out."

"David! Listen to reason! You must release me! The Slayer is on her way here... perhaps at this very moment! You don't stand a chance against her without me!"

"You were going to let it cut out my heart!"

Travers rolled his eyes. The lunatic's timing couldn't be worse. Post must've eavesdropped on his conversation with Thoniak. The sorcerer focused on making his voice calm and hypnotic. "David, be reasonable. There will be several hearts available when this is all over. Do you really think the Slayer will come alone?"

The idea hadn't occurred to Post, and he stopped and thought about it for a bit. "Hmm. You think the Slayer will bring back-up?"

"It's a near certainty." The hell monster's grip was becoming uncomfortable.

"You might be right," Post said reluctantly, then nodded at the monster. It began to lower Travers to the ground.

"I'm glad you can see reason," Travers said sarcastically as his feet touched the dirt floor. "I was beginning to wonder."

"I"m not crazy, you know."

"Of course not." Only completely crackers, the ex-Councilman thought.

"I'm not! If Gwen..." The sound of his ex-wife's name caused Post to shiver, and he became glassy-eyed and rigid. The monster kept its grip steady, waiting for its master's next command.

"David! This is no time to go catatonic..."

"NO!" Post whirled, his trance-like state gone instantly. "I'm not catatonic! I'm not crazy! It was all Gwen's doing!"

"David, you must calm yourself..."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"David, now is not the time..."

"You do! You think it's all very amusing, don't you, you great filthy sod? I'll show you... I'm a far better sorcerer than you..."

Post began chanting, forming a ball of vibrant energy between his hands. His hair began to stand away from his head, reacting to the static in the air.

"Oh, for... Post! Stop this! We've no time for theatrics! The Watcher..."

"...Is drugged. He isn't going anywhere, you weasel. And neither are you!" The younger man launched the energy bolt at his erstwhile partner, missing completely. The baby hell monster howled pitifully before melting into a rank puddle of black goo.

Travers almost laughed out loud at Post's incompetence. "You truly are a fool, if you think your parlor tricks have any effect on me! It's time you learned your place!" He threw his hand out, and Post felt a giant, invisible fist impact his jaw. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he 'd been smacked like a disrespectful child. His fury grew until his vision was tinged in red.

They began to trade insults, psychic blows and lightning bolts, causing the earth to shake and debris to rain down upon them.

********

A hundred yards away, Buffy braced herself against the earthquake. She was definitely getting warm.

********

In a side chamber set up as a sacrificial altar, Giles coughed weakly as dirt spattered down onto his face, waking him. "Augh... God, please... at least let me fall off and land on my stomach... I'm getting tired of getting muck in my eyes." Actually, he was just plain tired... couldn't seem to stay awake...

He fell back into the drug-induced coma despite his best efforts.

********

"You ingrate! You stunted juvenile delinquent! You traitor!" Travers ducked flying energy and the occasional dislodged rock to fire back at his tormentor with all of his power.

"You old fool! Sagging, fetid old warlock! Meglomaniacal faker!"

"Cretin!"

"Soddin' old geezer!"

"Reprobate!"

"Wanker!"

Buffy stepped into the cave, surveying the sight. The two sorcerers were battling each other, oblivious to her presence. The room was scorched, smoke from a dozen magic-created fireballs hanging in the air.

"I can't believe this. I make an entrance, and nobody even notices. What's this underworld coming to?" She threw her head up and shouted, "HEY!"

The two enraged men froze, then turned to stare at the tiny blonde, her fists resting on her hips like a mother catching her children doing something naughty.

She shook her head. "Didn't your mother tell you to play nice?"

With a cry of rage, Travers forgot about Post and drew himself up to his full height. He screamed the last word of the summoning spell, and the cave wall began to waver and dissolve into a passageway to Hell.

Post was impressed, despite his hatred of his evil partner. It was a clever trick, completing all but the last word of the spell... it made for a quick conjuring, all right, so long as the proper safeguards were in place. The younger man sidestepped as demonic footsteps began to echo into the chamber, coming from the hole in the wall. Things were about to get interesting.

He didn't have time to decide whether to fight or flee, because the Slayer whirled and backhanded him into the wall. He saw stars, sliding down to a sitting position. That gave him a rather distorted view of the action in front of him.

Apparently, Travers had miscalculated... again. The doorway was only large enough for one demon at a time to come through. Post snorted in disgust... the man was powerful, but exceedingly stupid! 'If only I could concentrate,' he thought, 'I might be able to correct his mistake.' His head was ringing too loudly for that at the moment. He decided to watch for a bit until the ringing stopped.

"Hey, looks like a party!" The tiny blonde grinned as the first demon, an arachnoid with massive jaws, emerged from the hole, barely having room to get through. She whipped her crossbow from behind her back and nailed the creature between the eyes. It died with a rough scream, falling into a heap at the entrance, effectively blocking the way. Buffy grinned as she leisurely reloaded.

Travers, realizing he hadn't finished his own protection spell, began to frantically gather his spell ingredients. He began an incantation that would allow him control over the advancing hellspawn, but Buffy made the point moot as she casually strode over to him and punched him in the nose.

Suddenly, he was as vulnerable as the rest of the world. Why hadn't he completed the spell? He was too angry at Post to concentrate. His rage had betrayed him!

She stood over him, smirking, as he stared up at her from the floor. "Whatsamatter, Quentin? You forget something? Lose your recipe? Misplace a bitter herb or two?" She raised her voice and called, "I need this guy tied up. Any volunteers?"

Wesley's patient voice answered her. "Once again, it falls to me to restrain the madman. I suppose it's my lot in life." The young Watcher appeared at the door, holding a sizable coil of strong rope. "Oh, dear, I forgot to bring a gag. I suppose my tie will have to do... again."

"Where's Faith?"

"With Xander and Willow. She didn't want to leave them unguarded."

"Good idea. Nothing here I can't handle. So far."

Wesley knelt and began to bind Travers' hands behind his back. He could hear the sound of Buffy taking apart another demon as it tried to crawl over the giant spider, and wondered how long it would be before Faith and the others arrived.

********

"C'mon, you guys, we're gonna miss all the fun!"

Xander, from his bent position, tried to catch his breath. "We're just human, Faith... can't run any faster... especially carrying half... of Giles' armory with us!"

Willow was faring a little better, but not much. "Yeah... what he said."

Faith rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh as she easily shouldered a backpack that was at least twice as heavy as the ones the ordinary humans were carrying. "If I didn't have to baby-sit, I'd already be there." She whirled and staked an unfortunate vampire just as he strode around the corner. "This place is crawling with vamps. You wouldn't last two seconds without me."

"And we appreciate it... believe me we do." Xander straightened slightly. "Okay... I can see again. The gray fog of oxygen deprivation has lifted."

The three of them resumed their jog down the tunnel. As they approached a branching of passages, Faith could hear the sounds of demons screaming. "Oh, man, B started without me!" She took off so fast that Xander barely had time to establish which corridor she'd taken.

"Come on, Will, we gotta stick together..."

Willow held her best friend's hand as they tried to follow the over-eager Slayer. "So much for baby-sitting..."

"Remind me to tell Buffy... leave Faith off your parents' night out rotation list..."

"Definitely!"

They were concentrating on tracking Faith and almost ran headlong into a huge, bug-shaped creature that was scuttling towards them at surprising speed. Willow clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her instinctive shriek... she hated bugs with a passion... almost as much as she hated frogs. Xander pulled her into a side passage, hoping it was too narrow for the giant insect to negotiate. They clung to each other, panting, as the horror moved past them as if they weren't there.

After the sound of chitin scraping against rock had faded, they stared at each other in amazement.

"It wasn't interested in us, was it? It was trying to get away," Willow theorized.

"Or maybe it was on a mission."

"Oh, no... I really liked my idea better." Willow shivered.

"I bet Buff and Faith are kicking some serious demon booty right now."

"Yeah, but how did that thing escape? It wasn't all that fast... well, not as fast as a Slayer, anyway."

"Beats me. I think we need to move on, though... much as I hate getting closer to the door that thing came out of!"

They started down the tunnel again, certain they were going in the right direction. They simply followed the scuff marks in the dirt floor where the hellbeetle had dragged its heavy abdomen along.

********

Buffy ducked a leaping demon that resembled a kangaroo, allowing it to impact against the wall behind her. "Somebody down there believes in variety," she quipped as she staked a tall lanky demon that was trying to wrap its long arms around her. She was holding her own, but barely. She'd let a few of the creatures by her despite her best efforts. They didn't seem all that interested in her, really. They just tried to get past her, which was starting to make her worry. With every new wave of hellbeasts, the gash in the earth grew wider and wider. Pretty soon, there'd be room for something *really* nasty to come out.

"Buffy! I think I can close the rift! That is, if our man Travers has his grimoire handy." Wesley straightened suddenly as a vicious punch from Buffy sent a hapless demon spinning towards him. He sidestepped, holding Travers' spell book high to avoid wrinkling the pages, then drove his foot down sharply, breaking the creature's neck with a loud snap. "And, by the way, the man you knocked down earlier is attempting to flee."

David Post had finally recovered from Buffy's blow, and was crawling toward the passageway. Buffy was about to grab him, when a glistening tentacle beat her to it. *This* hell monster wasn't a baby.

Post screamed horribly as he was pulled back towards the doorway to the underworld, his hands trying unsuccessfully to find a purchase on the crumbling dirt floor. His loophole in the protection spell had backfired... he'd been too busy fighting with Travers to realize that he'd left himself vulnerable to the same kind of monster. He hadn't conjured it, therefore, he had no control over it!

"Slayer! Help me! Please!"

Buffy zig-zagged between two fire demons, grabbing her battle ax and raising it high. It took three slashes to sever the appendage, the last one delayed by a few seconds as she defended herself against a trio of demon soldiers wearing pseudo-Nazi uniforms. When she finished the job, she turned to Post, then her face fell.

"Oh, no..."

The man's chest had been severely crushed by the death-spasms of the tentacle creature. The oily black thing she'd severed lay twitching, its grip loosened, but the man was dying anyway. The sound of his fighting for breath was awful... no one could survive having his chest caved in like that. She fought back tears for the man, despite what he had done to her. His soul would be lost forever, and there was nothing she, or anyone on earth, could do about it.

"Oh, God... I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough..."

"Buffy! It's not your fault! You can't save everyone! Remember that!" Wesley's Watcher voice reached her ears, and she straightened. "Look out! Another column is approaching!"

There was still work to be done. If she couldn't help Post, she still had others to protect. Just as she moved to engage the next wave of demons, she felt a familiar presence move beside her.

"Hey, B. Mind if I cut in?" Faith was grinning like a child in a toy store. "Oooo, look! You saved me some! Thanks!" With supernatural speed, the younger Slayer tore into the demons, aiming a leaping kick at the closest one. They tumbled to the ground like dominoes.

"Am I ever glad to see you!" Buffy admitted, a bit breathless. She felled a bear-like monster by breaking both its kneecaps simultaneously. "I hate hogging all the glory."

"Yeah, right. You just hate gettin' dirty."

They fought for a few minutes, perfectly attuned to each other's styles. The Bond's connection between them, while not as strong the Watcher/Slayer version, still allowed them to accommodate each other's movements with little effort. They were able to eliminate all the visible demons without allowing a single one to escape.

"That was fun. Did we get 'em all?" Faith tossed her dark hair back nonchalantly.

"I think a few of them got away while I was by myself. Not many. There was a big, black beetle-thing and a couple of green slimy ones that were too slick to hold, and maybe a hellhound or two. Nothing a routine patrol or two can't handle."

"Cool." Faith rotated her shoulders and waited for the next batch of demons to pop out of the oven. The cavern continued to widen as they watched.

Now that she had a moment to think, Buffy began to search for Giles using the Bond. She'd felt... something... while she fought, but didn't have time to concentrate on it. Now she was pouring all her emotional power into a searching signal that penetrated the walls, the earth, through rock and hidden passageways... homing in on the faint trace of...

Passion flared instantly, following the lines of psychic communication like a spark follows a lit fuse. Wesley's head snapped up as Buffy locked onto the mental scent of her husband, and Faith flinched visibly.

"Oh, my! That's quite a rush!" Wes blurted, then colored slightly in embarrassment.

"Yeah, I felt it, too." Faith looked surprised and a bit uncomfortable at the intimacy of the feeling.

Buffy turned wordlessly, following the trace into the dark corridor.

"That's okay, B... you go right ahead and find Tweed Man... I'll stay and play nursemaid for the good, the bad, and the really, really ugly..." She grinned as shapes started to move into the gaping hole that Travers had created. "Speaking of really, really ugly... here they are!"

Buffy moved down the dark corridor as if it were daylight in the park. He was here... maybe around the next bend... she could feel him fighting to awaken more fully. She began to run, and nearly trampled Xander and Willow as she rounded a curve. She slid to a stop and steadied them absently, her eyes fixed on a point beyond Willow's shoulder.

"Buffy! Is the fighting over? We were coming to help!"

"Not over... looking for Giles... Faith's fighting." Even her voice sounded distant.

"Are you okay? Because a non-functioning Buffy is not a good thing right now," Xander said earnestly.

"I can feel Giles. Have to find him..." Buffy started around her stunned friends, then paused, blinking. Her face cleared for a moment, and she said with urgency, "Willow, Wesley is trying to close a portal to the underworld. He might need help." She turned and resumed her blank expression, searching for the tiny sensations that would lead her to her mate.

"Oh... okay, we're on it, Buff. You go find Giles and get back here quick, okay? I don't like us being all divided like this." Willow's voice trembled slightly.

Buffy turned back to them, smiling. "We're not." Then she was gone.

Xander shivered suddenly, hiding it with a shrug. "Was that of the 'weirder than usual' variety of Buffy conversations?"

"Oh, yeah... let's go, Wes needs my help." Willow actually sounded eager.

"Yeah, and Faith might need mine."

Willow snorted loudly, and Xander said defensively, "It could happen!"

"Yeah, right."

They began to look around the passageway. Rocky corridors branched off in three directions from where they were standing. They hadn't even noticed which way they'd come. Finally Xander threw up his hands. "Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants... is it tunnel number one, number two, orrrrrr... number three?"

********

It was never a good idea to regain consciousness with a whacking great headache. Still, Giles seemed to do so with astonishing regularity, and only slightly less so since his retirement. As he fought nausea and pain on his way to awareness, the emptiness he'd felt when he lost contact with Buffy begin to lessen. He stopped trying to force his dampered senses to the surface, concentrating instead on the inner tug on his heart. Unexpected joy blossomed as he made contact with the source of the tug.

"Buf..." His cracked voice couldn't manage the second syllable.

She was coming for him, despite his warning. Despite the danger... despite the dark magic.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Awareness faded, and he was engulfed in senselessness once more.

********

There were three vampires guarding a cave entrance just ahead, and Buffy stopped in the shadow of a rocky outcropping to watch them. She was certain Giles was in that cave. He was out cold again, and badly hurt. Only the fact that he *was* unconscious spared her from his agony. She took a slow, deep breath as she fought down a burst of panic, calming her racing heart until she felt in control again. She didn't want to lose the fight with Travers' pathetic minions when she was this close to freeing her husband.

She carefully tossed a pebble at the feet of one of the vamps. He looked stupid enough to fall for that old trick.

He was. "Hey, what was that? Did you guys hear something?"

"Aw, you're hearing things, Leon." The largest of the three shrugged his beefy shoulders. He must've been a line backer for somebody's football team before he was turned.

"No, really... I think there's something out there."

The skinny vamp snorted. "So, go see what it is, doofus."

Leon snarled, then stomped off in Buffy's direction.

'This is too easy,' she thought, moving soundlessly after the doomed creature.

Before the other two could get suspicious, a second pebble fell at Beefy Vamp's feet.

"Hey! Did you hear that?"

Skinny Vamp sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not you, too. Next time, I'm gonna demand the guys I work with have more brain than brawn."

"If you're so sure there's nothing out there, shrimp, why don't you go check it out?" Beefy loomed over Skinny, showing his fangs.

"Because, idiot, I don't *care* what's out there. I was told to stay here and guard this cave. I'm not lookin' to be staked by that wizard because I left my post."

"You're just chicken."

"Am not."

"Are, too."

"Am *not*!"

"Are, *too*!"

Buffy almost started giggling from behind her rock.

Skinny threw up his hands. "All right, all right. I'll go check it out. *I'm* not chicken. At least I won't get lost in the tunnels like Leon did."

Beefy strained to see down the tunnel. "Are you sure he got lost? Maybe something got him."

"He got lost coming down here, remember? He wandered around for three days."

Beefy gave Skinny a shove. "Go check it out, and hurry. The wizard should be here any minute to start the ceremony."

Skinny slouched down the dark tunnel, muttering angrily.

After dusting vamp number two, Buffy counted to one hundred in her head, then tossed another pebble at Beefy's feet. The vamp tensed instantly, going into a defensive stance. He wasn't prepared for the sight of a slender, attractive blonde wandering up to him, looking for all the world like she was going to the mall instead of clambering around in a dark cave.

Beefy squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. He might have been dead, but he knew a babe when he saw one. "Hey, cutie. You lost?"

Buffy gave him a sweet smile. "No, big boy, I'd say I just found what I'm looking for."

He grinned lecherously and took a step towards her. "So, what's a nice girl like you..."

She whipped her hand from behind her back and staked him before he could finish. "Darn. Now I'll never know what line he was gonna use. Oh, well... I've probably heard it a dozen times."

She followed the flickering lamp light into the twisting entryway, hair rising on the back of her head as she realized it was probably a dead end. If Giles wasn't here, she could be trapped. No way out.

She hadn't gone too far when she heard labored breathing coming from deep inside the cavern. "Rupert!"

Shafts of pain lanced at her through their mental link. He was beginning to wake up again. She fought the sensation, controlling it until it was only a sickening throb in the back of her mind. She ran the rest of the way, her heart hammering wildly.

********

Joyce felt a little strange about answering the doorbell in her daughter's house. She left Marcus with Wilton and went to the front, peeping through the security lens to see who she would be admitting. She recognized the silver-haired man wearing a clerical collar... Father Denning!

She threw open the door with a soft cry. "Father Denning! Oh, I'm very glad to see you!"

"Hello, Mrs. Bernard, God be with you during this trial. I wish we were meeting again under more pleasant circ*mstances."

"I know, but please, come in. We're just waiting for word..."

Denning followed her to the living room and nodded at Wilton, not offering his hand since the man was holding Marcus. He then seated himself across from them. "Where is Buffy?"

"She..." Joyce's voice caught. "...went to find Rupert. I tried to tell her it was too dangerous, but she never listens to her mother..."

"Oh, dear God," Denning breathed. "Has she sensed him somehow?"

"I think so. She told us they were going to the desert south of town."

"Southwest," Wilton corrected in a soft voice.

Joyce nodded. "She's gonna get herself killed, too, and then there'll be nobody left for the baby." She said the words so calmly they almost didn't register with Denning.

"Buffy seems to know what she's doing," Denning stated emphatically. "But, you said... 'they'?"

"She has Faith and Wesley with her. And Xander, and Willow."

He nodded. "The Slayer and Watcher... and her loyal friends. They are all very brave." A smile danced across his face as he added, "And, of course, God goes with her wherever she goes."

Joyce nodded again, sniffling a bit. "I hope God does better with her than he did with Rupert... no blasphemy intended, Father."

"God's not afraid of honesty, Mrs. Bernard."

Wilton commented, "Buffy also said something about her ex-boyfriend being in town to help, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Angel will help, too... at least, after dark, he will."

Denning's eyes narrowed. "Angel? The vampire with a soul?"

"Well, yes. Do you know him?" Joyce seemed surprised.

A grim smile crooked across the priest's face. "Only from the confessional."

At that, both Joyce *and* Wilton looked startled.

Denning held up a hand. "I know, it sounds strange, and I couldn't offer him any sort of absolution. I have no idea what the Church's policy is on vampires with souls, and I was a little hesitant to ask. He came by one night... just wanted to talk. So he talked and I listened."

"Then, you know he was in love with Buffy."

Denning nodded, knowing Angel's feelings for the Slayer weren't a secret. "Yes." He didn't correct her verb tense, but he personally doubted Angel's feelings were relegated to the past. He thought about the horrible things Angel had confessed... knowing the priest would never repeat them.

"That was such a confusing time, when I found out about Buffy being the Slayer. I didn't know what to do... I made some really stupid decisions, said some hurtful things... but she finally forgave me."

"She's a forgiving person." Denning took in the tired faces of the two people in front of him, wondering what he could do or say that would comfort them in the face of the unknown. Suddenly, he stood to his feet. "I'm not too familiar with Rupert and Buffy's kitchen, but would either of you care for some tea?"

Joyce stood smoothly. "I am. Familiar with the kitchen, I mean. You sit, I'll boil water. It'll give me something to do."

She gazed out the small window as the water began to heat, watching the last vestiges of light disappear from the night sky. She let her eyes go unfocused for a moment, and it was then that she saw movement on the street.

Something was coming towards the house. Not some*one*. Some*thing*.

"Wilton!"

The urgency in her voice drove both men to their feet, Wilton still cradling Marcus in his arms. The baby began to whimper.

Denning ran to the kitchen, with Wilton right behind him, and saw the blonde woman staring at something outside. "What is it?"

"I don't know... but it looks evil."

Denning closed his eyes briefly, saying a prayer for guidance. Yes, there it was, a malevolent presence was approaching. His eyes snapped open. "It *is* evil, Mrs. Bernard. Step away from the window, please."

She obeyed stiffly, and Denning focused his attention on the thing he did best... praying.

********

Deep inside the earth southwest of Sunnydale, the demons kept on coming.

"You'd think Hell would be runnin' short by now!" Faith decapitated two burly monsters with a single arc of her bloody sword.

"There is an endless supply... unfortunately," Wesley answered as he managed to sink his sword up to the hilt into an arachnid's thorax. "Dear God! What a stench!" He leaped backwards to avoid getting rancid black blood on his white shirt, then eased forward to retrieve his soiled blade.

Faith laughed at his fastidiousness in the face of grave danger, imagining him holding a pressed and monogrammed handkerchief to his nose as he fought. The next instant, she was too busy kicking the next demon's face in to watch her Watcher.

A billow of black cloth caught Faith's eye, and she dispatched her opponent quickly, turning to meet the challenge from behind. She pulled her blow as she recognized the man... no, vampire...

"Angel! Long time no see!"

"Faith." He used an impressive, spring-loaded staking device hidden in his coat sleeve to take out a demon, his face expressionless.

"Angel! Good of you to join us." Wesley ducked the armored fist of a creature that looked to Faith like a cross between Conan the Barbarian and a warthog. "You certainly got here in a hurry. We're quite a ways from the road, and it hasn't been dark for long."

Angel broke the neck of the creature that was attacking the Watcher. "I took the sewers, and listened."

"For what?" Faith couldn't resist asking as she spun with her sword.

"Fighting." He sidestepped a falling monster... or, at least half of it.

"Ah, I see." Wes ducked another blow, this time from an enormous battle ax. "Your help is greatly appreciated."

"No problem." Angel dived into the fray, spinning, kicking and punching so fast that his motions were a blur. Despite their combined efforts, the horde began to advance, and Wesley realized that they would soon need to abandon the cave and fall back.

Angel realized it, as well, and said, "Wes, a strategic retreat would probably work right now."

"Retreat? No way, Fang Boy!"

"Faith!" Wesley snapped, his Watcher voice getting her full attention. "We need to fall back."

"Do your spell, Watcher-Man! Me and Darkman here can hold 'em."

"I've already attempted the spell," Wesley gasped as he traded blows with something slender, orange and slimy. "It didn't work."

Travers, who had been watching the fight in relative calm, suddenly realized something, and his eyes grew wide and terrified above the makeshift gag that kept him quiet. He began to shout, as best he could with his mouth covered. He twisted and fought desperately until he was able to dislodge the gag.

"Pryce! The demons have no directive! They're free to kill everything in their path, then move to the next available target!" He pictured the town above them with horror... all those innocents... a Watcher was supposed to protect the innocent! He was still cloaked in the protection spell, but the others...

Angel and Faith paused in their combat, dancing out of the way of the latest hellbeast, a creature with tentacles instead of arms. The Slayer shot him a look of complete contempt. "You really screwed up, didn't you, chubby? I always knew you were nothing but a loser!"

Travers was too frightened to argue with her. "I have to close the portal, or it will continue to expand! The demon army will keep coming!"

Wesley gritted his teeth as he realized what the former Watcher was saying. "You're an idiot, Travers! You forgot to complete the incantation, didn't you?"

"I can correct it! I can stop them!" the little sorcerer cried.

"Then do it!" Angel pulled him up and snapped the rope binding him like it was twine. "And no tricks, or..." He vamped out, snarling, and Travers went pasty-faced at the sight, despite the magical armor of protection he wore.

Ignoring his broken nose, Travers began to chant, gathering his scattered herbs and paraphernalia for the counter-spell.

********

"Rupert!"

He lay on a rock slab, covered with a black cloth and looking horribly pale. He tried to raise his head to see her, but the chains covering his forehead held him firmly in place. "Buffy," he whispered weakly. The Bond was literally singing in his veins, the joy at their being reunited overshadowing his pain.

She yanked the covering away and gasped, "Oh, babe..." He was slashed in a dozen places... more, probably, that she couldn't see right away. He looked like one solid bruise. What was left of his shirt clung to him in tatters. His forehead and cheeks were encrusted with blood, as was his chest and abdomen. She could feel his pain through their shared connection... so intense that it was impossible to tell what his specific injuries were. She began to cry again.

"Shhhh... no time for that," he said lovingly, his voice strengthening her. She bounded to his side and began pulling the chains apart, breaking the massive links with adrenaline-reinforced ease. She winced each time a loop of metal fell away and revealed the state of the skin underneath. When he was finally free, she fell across him, hugging him as gently as her agitated state would allow. She kissed his swollen lips gingerly and put her arms under his neck, intending to help him sit.

"Can you move everything? Is anything broken?"

"I don't know... don't think I have any broken bones, but I will be well and truly sore tomorrow."

Buffy began to grin. "That's my sweetie, tough as nails. Can you walk?"

"I don't know. I can try." He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. "Buffy? Marcus..."

"He's okay. He's with Mom and Wilton."

"We have to protect him... Travers intends to take him..."

"We will. Right now, Travers has other things to worry about... there's a hole in Hell, and it's leaking."

She supported him carefully as he slid his feet to the earthen floor. He groaned and winced several times as the tears on his back reopened, but he was soon upright, swaying in her grasp.

"If I have to, I can carry you," she said, her voice thick with worry.

Her touch seemed to revive him, and he straightened with wary confidence. "That shouldn't be necessary." His head swam, but he managed to sound lucid when he asked, "Did you say there was a hole in Hell?"

"Yeah. There's this huge... doorway-thing back in another cave... and demons are pouring out of it like crazy. It might be a good idea to fix that."

"A portal... the lunatic's opened a portal... chances are he's got no idea how to control it," Giles said with disgust.

"Gee, he's more fun than a barrel of monkeys, isn't he?"

Behind them, Buffy suddenly heard heavy breathing and approaching footsteps. She propped Giles against the wall in a shallow indentation that offered a small bit of protection, and whirled into a fighting stance. She relaxed when she recognized Xander and Willow. "What are you guys doing way over here? I thought you were following Faith!"

"We were!" Xander panted. "When we left you, we lost her trail..."

"Then we lost us," Willow finished.

"Well, come on. You can catch your breath on the way back. Giles can't move very fast anyway."

"Giles? You found him?" Willow squealed.

"What's left of him," a dry voice answered. He pushed away from his hidden spot in the wall and was immediately enveloped in a relieved hug by his two young friends. "Ow, ow... easy, watch the ribs..."

They released him instantly, apologizing, and the four of them began to move slowly down the tunnel. Ahead of them, they could hear a dying demon's scream.

********

"Can demons call demons?"

"What?" Denning looked up from his rosary, confused by Joyce's question.

"Can demons call demons," she repeated patiently, her eyes glued to the window despite Denning's repeated warnings to stay away.

"I suppose they can." He looked down... was that seven or eight repetitions?

"Then one of them just did." Joyce's voice was calm and steady, as if she were commenting on the weather. "There's a bunch of Ninja-looking things, and a horde of Nazi soldiers that look like they'd just been dug up. Oh, and something in the back that looks like a walking mountain. It even has trees growing out of it."

He didn't really *want* to look, so he went back to his protection prayer. A dozen of those, then a dozen prayers for help from St. Algernon, the patron of all helpless victims, then he'd have to improvise.

"They're almost here. Shouldn't we be doing something?"

Denning wanted to grab her and shout, 'Pray, woman, pray!' Curiosity finally won out, and looked up and out. He was instantly sorry he had.

"Oh, dear Jesus... please help us..." The heartfelt words tumbled out before he could stop them. He swallowed, bowed his head, and returned to the Victim's Prayer.

"Um... Father Denning?"

Obviously Joyce didn't know that interrupting a desperate prayer to St. Algernon borderlined on rudeness. "Yes?"

"Did you just... um... call something?"

"What?" Confusion seemed to be a common state for him tonight.

She pointed outside. "Something else just appeared. It's big, it's white, and it's got wings."

"It's got WHAT?" Wilton's voice came from the cupboard under the stairs, where he'd taken Marcus. It seemed to be the safest area in the house... at least there weren't any outside walls or windows.

Denning abandoned his prayers and joined Joyce in staring through the glass. He gaped at the sight for a few seconds, then said, in an awestricken voice, "Wings. And a sword."

"A *big* sword."

Denning nodded dumbly. He'd seen a lot of things in his time near the Hellmouth, but he'd never seen a regular old angel, much less a twenty-foot-tall, white-robed, golden-armor-wearing one . He began a prayer of thanks in a hushed whisper, completely forgetting about form and repetitions.

Lightning flashed as the angel's sword met the advancing demons.

********

Buffy was almost carrying her husband by the time they reached the battle scene. His legs trembled as he stumbled along. Xander supported him from the other side. His hand, resting on the ex-Watcher's waist, suddenly slipped, and the young man realized Giles was still bleeding. He wanted to warn Buffy, but he had a feeling she already knew.

Willow led the way cautiously, peering around bends and corners to be sure there weren't any more bug-demons to contend with. When they came to the cavern entrance, a fresh shower of dirt and rock greeted them as a basso howl emerged from the cave.

Buffy left Giles leaning against Xander and stuck her head into the doorway. There was a huge, armor-plated monster stuck in the crumbling mouth of the portal. It was bellowing as it fought to tear itself free, and from the looks of the cracking rock around the beast, it wouldn't be long before it achieved its goal.

She looked around for Faith. She was wiping her sword with Travers' spell-casting robe. For a split second, Buffy wondered if the younger Slayer had killed the sorcerer for being annoying. She heard the excommunicated Watcher swearing from behind his makeshift worktable, and relaxed a bit. He was still alive... and still annoying.

Angel grunted, whether in pain or annoyance, Buffy couldn't tell. "Didn't work, did it, Travers?"

Travers continued to swear. The demons were ignoring him. He had no idea why.

Angel shrugged at Faith with a slight grin on his handsome face. "Never trust a evil sorcerer."

The armored beast suddenly wrenched its shoulders free of the sides of the opening, and roared its triumph. Buffy, Angel and Faith immediately snapped to attention and raced to meet the intruder. Their coordinated attack ended in Buffy being tossed across the cavern and Faith nursing a cracked jaw a few feet from her. Angel received a blow to the side, but remained standing, albeit at a safer distance than before.

"This thing is really strong. We need firepower." Faith proceeded to pull a sawed-off shotgun from her bag.

Buffy threw a glance at Wesley, who was still trying to read Travers' grimoire. "You let her carry *guns? How come I never got to carry guns?"*

The armored beast narrowly missed gutting the blonde with a clawed hand, and Faith let loose both barrels just as the creature shifted its weight to swing again. The pellets found their mark, but the beast didn't seem the slightest bit inconvenienced.

"It wasn't a question of 'let', actually..." Wes looked up, looked sheepish, then startled. "Buffy, look out!"

Faith swore and reloaded as Buffy danced just out of claw tip reach. The second blast hit the beast directly in the face, and its eyes disappeared in a splash of golden ick. Apparently, the thing didn't need eyesight, because it caught Buffy on the backswing and sent her tumbling into the tunnel. Angel moved in to distract the thing, barely able to stay away from its claws.

"Wes! Conjure up somethin' quick, or we're all toast!" Faith tried blasting a massive leg, hoping it would slow the creature, suddenly realizing there were more demons coming out from behind the behemoth. "Sorry, Angel... toast and dust..."

Buffy picked herself up off the dirty floor and would have launched herself back into the room, but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her. "Buffy... the Bond. It's the only way." She looked up into beloved green eyes, groggy and filled with pain, yes, but still determined.

"But Faith..."

"We must hurry!" Giles grabbed her hand and pushed away from Xander, standing under his own power. They began to concentrate, feeling the familiar tingle of awareness as it grew into a flame. The walls of the cave seemed to melt into fog, and the fog enveloped them. Xander's shouts and Willow's fearful face faded into the distance.

*Each time it grows stronger, like our faith in each other, and in the Power that called us.*

*I wish I had as much faith as you.*

*You don't need my faith. You have your own. God has never let us down.*

*I... It isn't easy. I'm not used to believing in anything but me. And you.*

*You will. It's there.*

*I love you.*

*And I love you.*

*Oh! That's the key...*

"Yes," they intoned in unison. To the two friends standing close by, Buffy and Giles seemed to be in a trance. They began, slowly, to move towards the cave, their hands firmly linked.

Xander stared at them as they began to glow faintly in the darkness. "Will? Tell me you know what's going on, because I'm getting some really weird vibes right now." The light winked out as his friends disappeared into the doorway.

"Sorry, Xand. I have no idea. Buffy said something about the Bond..." She started towards the cave, her face showing shock as she bounced off an invisible barrier. "Hey! I can't go in!"

"And you're calling this a BAD?" Xander cowered to one side as a blue-skinned demon sailed past them and impacted against the far wall.

"If I can't get in, how did they get in?"

"Walked, looked like to me."

She tried to push against the unseen force, but it held firm. "Oh, no!" She pressed her face against the barrier like a child looking through a store window. "Buffy, I can't get in!" She beat against the force field until Xander grabbed her from behind. He held her back against himself as he reached out a hand and wiggled it at the entrance of the cave. It encountered nothing.

"Must just be for those of the Witchy persuasion."

********

Wilton, Joyce and Father Denning watched with open mouths as the Guardian defended the house against unspeakable creatures. Wilton, still cradling Marcus, tried several times to say something, but there weren't any words adequate to the occasion. It was too dark to see much, but what they did see bordered on hallucination. Joyce, for one, was glad of the darkness; in flashes of lightning and bursts of energy, she'd seen things that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. She didn't need a clearer view.

There was a sudden lull in the action, and the angelic figure resumed his at-attention stance, sword held in front of him. She could just see the glowing tip showing just past his shoulder as his wings folded back onto themselves until they blended into the shimmering fabric of his robe.

"Oh, my God..." Joyce breathed.

"You said it, hon," Wilton agreed in a whisper.

"Amen." Denning crossed himself fervently.

Marcus hiccupped and sighed, then snuggled back into Wilton's neck. He'd slept through the whole thing.

The Guardian turned and looked at the trio of humans as they gaped through the little window. With a gentle smile, he bowed deeply, then disappeared.

********

Faith and a rather nondescript demon with a sword were going at it great guns when Buffy and Giles entered the cavern. Wesley was behind the creature, trying to get to his Slayer's side. Travers was firing energy bolts from his hands at the rift, trying to slow the stream of demons as they got close to the surface. His magic had little effect, coming as it was from the same source as the monsters themselves. At best, he managed to make them sneeze and shake their heads.

Travers looked up as the Bonded pair stopped and braced themselves, still holding hands. A flash of clarity suddenly overwhelmed him. The very people he had fought, conspired against, and tried to kill countless times were about to save his miserable life. He stopped his ineffective pyrotechnics and sat down, his back against the cold rock wall of the cave.

Faith finished her sparring partner off with a swift beheading and ran to Wesley's side. They imitated the Giles' stance, grabbing hands and facing the portal. Power gathered around the four of them, raising a wind that scattered the sorcerer's herbs around the room. Buffy turned her head and looked up at Giles, smiling at the look of love he gave her in return. Faith grinned and yanked Wesley over until she could reach Buffy, nodding at her sister-Slayer as they linked their hands.

"You two. Makin' with the goo-goo eyes again... don't you ever run down?"

Buffy's smile broadened. "Nope."

Giles chuckled, then turned as a fresh wave of demons spilled into the room. The gash in the rock wall was about twenty feet wide and at least ten feet tall, and the monsters that were emerging had to bend almost double to come through it. As the first one straightened, its head brushed against the roof of the cave, some twenty feet above. Giles estimated, his never-truly-dormant Watcher instinct calculating rapidly, that the creatures probably weighed close to six hundred pounds each. The floor shook as they advanced into the long room. Giles felt no fear, only urgency, and he mentally gave the signal to his wife and his friends... 'Now!'

Travers could only stare. Surely the Slayers and Watchers would be annihilated. He felt a strange sensation well up inside him. He couldn't identify it at first, but after a few seconds' thought he realized it for what it was.

Regret.

It was a first for him. He had, for so many years, been convinced of the rightness of his actions, despite advice from fellow Watchers and commands from the Director himself. His descent into dark magic and evildoing had seemed perfectly justified in his warped mind. The scope of his self-deception began to dawn on him, and he could only stare at the ex-Watcher and ex-Slayer and hope that their gifts would be sufficient to rescue them all.

He realized he had some serious apologizing to do... and on *both* sides of the Atlantic.

Quentin Travers curled himself into a tight ball and tried to shrink into the shadows... not from fear of demons or vampires, but from pain of remorse.

The huge, glittering demonoids were stopped in their tracks as they encountered the leading edge of the power bubble. They began to roar as they were inexorably pushed back, their claws scrabbling for purchase on the rocky floor. Buffy leaned forward slightly, and the demons tumbled back into the crevasse, howling furiously.

She looked over at Giles, then turned her head to Faith and Wesley. "We're not home free yet," she said, in an almost cheerful voice.

"Here comes another batch," Faith said, trying to match Buffy's upbeat tone, "and it looks like Satan's sending in his ugliest troops this time!"

Giles tightened his grip on Buffy, who in turn squeezed Faith's hand.

'Get ready. Clear your minds... this will be much worse than before,' Giles' warning was firm and confident.

Buffy had seen some hideous critters crawl out of the Hellmouth, but nothing compared to these. 'Batlike' was the only description that seemed to fit... at least, it would if bats were covered with slimy, leathery skin instead of fur, and had wings that were tipped with venomous stingers. The creatures' eyes glowed orange-red in the lamplight, and hellish heat seemed to singe the air in front of them. They met the crystal clear leading edge of the Bond, and the battle was joined.

Travers couldn't see through the haze of smoke and lightning produced by the meeting of Good and Evil. He heard things, though... screams, cries, curses, thunder... it was overwhelming, and he found himself covering his ears to block the sounds.

*'I caused this. I brought this into the world...'*

He began to sob. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He rocked and repeated the words as his former enemies battled to save the world.

Buffy had never felt the Bond's power so completely. She extended a hand, mirroring Giles as he did the same, and the bat creatures screamed as they winked out of existence. More of them appeared, and she realized they needed close the rift. They turned slightly, facing the corridor to the underworld, and concentrated, letting the supernatural connection feed them the knowledge they needed. She reconnected with Faith's hand briefly, drawing power from her sister Slayer as she prepared for the next step.

Faith, with her hands encased by Buffy on one side and Wesley on the other, felt frustration begin to build. She was action-oriented, and this concentrating made her nervous. She fidgeted until Wesley whispered, "Love, you must stop trying to act and start trying to think."

She snapped her head towards him, eyes wide. 'Love', he called her... Their eyes met, and his sincere gaze seemed to calm her. She took a deep breath, and forced her attention back to the matters at hand. A smug, delighted smile rested on her face for some time.

Buffy suddenly released Faith's hand, startling the younger girl with the sudden loss of power. Faith steadied herself against Wesley, clutching his arm with her tingling free hand, and watched as the Bonded pair raised their hands towards the gaping hole in the world. As if they were physically pushing the sides of the rift together, Buffy and Giles began to move their opposing hands closer together. Faith and Wesley added their determined thoughts, doing their best to help. Rock and earth groaned in protest, but the entrance began to knit itself back together, narrowing until there was only a crack. They could hear horrible screams as the monsters caught in the throat of the rift were slowly crushed. With a final grunt of effort, the pair pushed their palms together, and the crack disappeared. The wall was solid once again.

The four of them stood for a moment, breathing heavily as though they'd been running a marathon. In a way, they had.

Faith was the first to stir. "Way cool, you guys," she said, in a softly awed voice.

"Indeed," Wesley agreed, looking at his Slayer intensely. Such power... would he and Faith ever be able to tap that reservoir?

Suddenly, there was a thunderclap, and a tall, black-skinned demon with blazing red eyes appeared in a cloud of acrid smoke. Its roar rattled the earth beneath their feet, but none of the Chosen Ones even blinked.

Thoniak lifted its arm, and a huge, comically proportioned hourglass appeared on its wrist. The demon grinned evilly at the quivering sorcerer still huddled in a corner.

"Your time is up, and I expect payment, little worm." It took a step towards Giles, eyes gleaming in anticipation. Giles casually held up a hand, and the demon froze. Astonishment covered the warty, deformed face. "What is this? They are protected! I can't steal the Watcher's heart if he 's protected!" It bore down on Travers, furious.

"I... I... your army... they wouldn't obey my commands... then I couldn't do it... I changed my mind..."

Thoniak tilted its horned head and stared at Travers. "You *changed* your mind? You don't have that prerogative, FOOL!" It reached over and grabbed the startled sorcerer by the shirt. "And your petty protection spells don't work for a Dark Prince. You should've read the fine print." It tossed the man to the ground casually, a hideous smirk on his face.

"Regardless of what you say, I *have* changed my mind." Travers sat up, his mind firming in its resolve despite his spinning head. "I'm not going to deliver a Watcher's heart to you, beast. I'm not going to deliver *any* hearts to you at all. I denounce you, Thoniak, Prince of the Underworld, Ruler of Nothing!"

Thoniak roared again, trying to fight its way into the bubble of safety the Bond projected to get the heart it had been promised. It was like trying to walk through solid steel. All it managed to do was bruise its nose.

It turned back to Travers, slavering with fury. "It isn't wise to renege on a pact with the Prince of the Underworld, as you will soon find out!" Its eyes fixed on the small man in sudden recognition. "Well, little worm... since my first choice for a Watcher's heart has been denied me... I'll just have to settle for second best. You were once a Watcher, weren't you?"

Before either Watcher/Slayer pair could react, a long black arm reached for Travers and penetrated his chest. There was a horrific scream that was cut short, and the demon held up its bloody prize with a vengeful laugh. The heart quivered in its grasp, then was still.

Buffy screamed in horror, but it was too late. Travers' body hit the floor with a moist thump.

"No, no..." A red haze of fury covered her vision, breaking Giles' mental contact with her for a brief second.

Giles held her hand firmly when she tried to break free, whether to attack Thoniak or to rush to Travers' side, he didn't know. His voice rang out commandingly, "Buffy! Stay with us! You cannot help him now!"

"But, he's dead..."

"By the hand of a demon he conjured to kill me! He made his choice... we can't change that."

Thoniak laughed again. "The worm chose... you are correct, Watcher. He promised me two hearts, and one of them was yours! I should think you'd be grateful. Now as to the second heart.... this one was also a party to the worm's plan, so I'll just take his..." It casually violated the laboring chest of David Post with a gleeful chuckle, as both Buffy and Giles cried out in dismay. "... as the rest of my payment, and be on my way. Good-bye, Chosen Ones. If we meet again, beware!"

"If we meet again, you're toast," Buffy vowed between clenched teeth as the demonic Prince disappeared.

"Buffy!" From outside the cave, Xander's frightened voice galvanized her back into action. She clung to Giles' hand, supporting him as they stumbled for the cave entrance together.

In the tunnel, Xander was grappling with one of the beetle-like demons, and Willow was holding off another by mentally hurling rocks at it. Both insectoids disappeared with a hollow pop as the power of the Bond sent them back to Hell.

"Whew... thanks, Buff... Giles... I could never work for Terminex. I *hate* bugs." He limped over and gave Willow a reassuring hug, then turned to his other friends. "Hey, G-man, you don't look so good."

"I'll be fine, Xander," Giles said confidently, then collapsed.

********

Three days later...

Joyce squirmed in the hard plastic visitor's chair. She hated hospitals, and hospital chairs in particular. The hospital only had two chairs in each room, so they'd gotten two more from the lounge. None of them were comfortable. When she grimaced at her protesting derriere, Wilton patted her shoulder. They would have to go soon, or she'd have to borrow one of the wheelchairs until feeling returned to her legs and bottom.

Willow and Xander were busy trying to 'cheer Giles up'. Actually, they were mostly arguing with each other. The older people in the room tried to keep a straight face at their banter.

"Giles sure has a lot of nurses checkin' up on him."

"Yeah, everybody in the ER knows him." Willow patted the hand that didn't have an IV in it. Giles rolled his eyes. They were talking about him like he wasn't there... again.

"He's got more friends in here than out there."

"Xander! No he doesn't!" Willow glared at him. "He's got a ton of friends out there!"

"Okay, it just seems that way. I mean, there were six different nurses that came in to say hi this morning... um, not that I'm implying anything, just because they were all really cute..."

"Xan-der..."

The dark-haired young man turned slightly red, then apologized, "Sorry, G-man, but you get all the babes."

"Naturally." Giles chuckled, then said automatically, "And don't call me that."

"Admit it, Giles, you get more than your share of nurse-ly attention."

Willow rolled her eyes. "They're just friendly people, Xander. Giles is a nice person. People like to visit other people who are nice. It's one of the perks."

Xander shook his head thoughtfully. "No... it's more than that." He suddenly snapped his fingers. "It's the accent. The girls go nuts over the accent."

"Xan-*der*!!"

Buffy came in just then with a tray full of drinks, saving her best guy friend from being strangled by Willow *and* Giles both. She started distributing the Styrofoam cups like an experienced waitress. "Here, Mom, coffee with cream. Wilton, lemonade... Xander, Dr. Pepper... Willow, Sprite... me, ice water. Whew." She plopped down beside her husband on the bed and sipped gratefully at the cool liquid. For a few seconds, only gulping sounds were heard.

Giles seemed disappointed, but tried to hide it. Buffy fought a smile at his deliberate silence, knowing from their connection that he wanted to demand his drink request.

Finally, she leaned over, whispering, "Your hot tea is on the way. They didn't have Earl Grey... you have to settle for English Breakfast."

"That's fine," he said quickly, smiling at her. "And thank you, love." If only Marcus could be here, he would be perfectly content. The doctor was weakening under their combined assaults... he'd very nearly said yes the last time Buffy pouted at him about letting the toddler into the room. The best they could get out of him, however, was "We'll see in the morning."

It was morning, nearly eight o'clock, and the doctor hadn't been in. Giles was growing impatient. You couldn't hug your son from a distance, and he longed to do just that.

Bill Armstead was keeping Marcus during the day, turning him over to Joyce and Wilton at night. Buffy had been the first to recover, being the Slayer and having much lighter injuries than Giles. The instant she was released, she glued herself to her husband's side, leaving only to check on Marcus.

Giles' injuries had been terrible, but he'd only spent two days in ICU before being moved to a private room. Even Doctor Stevenson remarked about how well he was doing. He was getting anxious to go home and be with his son. He missed Marcus more than he could've imagined. He vowed to be more diligent, more protective than ever, to make sure that Marcus remained safe.

Doctor Phil Stevenson breezed in, looking cheerfully pleased as he examined Giles' chart. "Good morning, Rupert. How are you feeling today?"

"He's doing a lot better, Doctor Phil," Willow chirped.

Buffy and Giles exchanged smirks.

"I see. Other than an inability to speak for himself, I gather."

"Oh! No! He can talk! Show him, Giles, and maybe he'll let you go home!"

Xander leaned over to Buffy and stage-whispered, "Somebody stopped for an illegal cappuccino this morning, I betcha."

Willow stuck her tongue out at him. "It was a cafe latte, smart aleck."

"See?"

The doctor cleared his throat, hiding a smile. "Everybody out. Much as I appreciate the comedy routine, I'm sure Rupert would rather be examined without an audience."

Buffy waved at the hall and commanded, "You guys take a walk. I'll let you know when it's okay to come back in."

"But..." Xander cut off Willow's protest by hauling her out of the room by the hand. Joyce and Wilton followed discreetly.

"Before you have to ask again, I'm feeling quite well. A bit sore." Giles shifted uncomfortably, and Buffy slid off the bed to let Doctor Phil check him over. When the physician slipped the IV out of his arm, Giles breathed a sigh of relief. No more dragging that silly metal stand into the loo...

"Is he ready to go home yet?" Buffy couldn't keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

"We're getting there. That bruised hip is going to cause you some trouble for several weeks, Rupert."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Still, you've made remarkable progress. Your dehydration is gone... you're eating well..."

Giles scowled. He hated hospital food.

The doctor noticed, and grinned before continuing. "You're up and walking with crutches..."

"Awkwardly."

"Soooo... if you continue to improve at the current rate, you should be able to go home Friday evening."

"Great!" Buffy said, not too enthusiastically. "What about letting Marcus come and see him? It'd make him heal faster."

The doctor looked at the two pleading faces. He had a surprise planned for them. They'd been so adamant about letting Rupert see his son...

"We'll see."

Both sets of shoulders slumped. Doctor Phil turned to go, his eyes back on the chart in front of him. He stopped just outside the door and motioned before continuing his rounds. A satisfied grin covered his face.

"Dad-deeee! Mum-mee!" Marcus burst into the room, holding up his arms. Bill Armstead strolled in right behind the toddler, grinning widely.

Buffy scooped up the toddler and hugged him tightly. "Baby, we sure are glad to see you!"

She passed the excited child to his father, and Giles was inundated with childish hugs and kisses. Despite the impact on his sore side, the man was ecstatic. "Marcus, I've missed you so. Armstead! How did you manage this?"

"Actually, Willow and Doctor Stevenson cooked this one up. I merely smuggled Marcus in at the appointed time."

"Thank you," Buffy and Giles said, in unison, both of them beaming with gratitude.

"Daddy! I bisit you! Bee-oo gots me ice cweam! I seed de angel! I seed G 'ama..." Marcus continued to babble as tears welled up in the ex-Watcher's eyes. Marcus was all right. His son was all right.

Everyone filed back in, blinking back tears of their own at Giles' happy expression. He talked earnestly to his son for several minutes, giving his full attention to the baby-talk and half-understood words that meant so much to him.

Their attention was on Marcus as he suddenly stopped talking and looked at the door. Buffy was surprised to see Cordelia enter the room. She gave them all a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm just gonna close the blinds for a minute, if that's okay..." She proceeded to do just that, and everyone in the room saw why as Angel appeared, shifting his weight uncomfortably in the doorway.

Xander wasn't thrilled to see the vampire, but he at least tried to be civil. Civility consisted of a sarcastic "Hey, Dead-boy. How'd ya manage the not-burning-to-a-crispy-crunch-in-broad-daylight thing?"

"I have a... tarp."

"A tarp?"

Cordelia roller her eyes. "Black vinyl tarp. Y'know, like you put over a boat or a car? He made it into a robe-thing that keeps the sun off. He still smokes a little, which is gross, and he looks like a monk with a really sick fetish."

Xander and Willow chortled at the inference, and Armstead looked shocked. Buffy ignored the exchange and gave her ex-lover a gentle smile. "You don't have to lurk around the halls. Come in and say 'hi'."

"Thanks. Cordy didn't want to leave without saying good-bye."

"Yeah, right," the brunette snorted. "Angel didn't want to leave without seeing the baby. Willow spilled the beans on her little plan. Hi, Giles. How're you doing?"

"Better every day, thank you," Giles answered cordially.

Angel stared at Marcus, who stared right back. The vampire's face was gentle. "Hey, Marcus."

Marcus smiled, suddenly shy. "Hi."

Buffy took Marcus' hand, sending him soothing thoughts. "Marcus Everett Giles, this is Angel."

"Angel?" Marcus looked confused.

"Remember your friend Mad? He isn't really mad, that's just his name. Angel isn't really an angel, it's just his name."

"Hi, Angel," Marcus said clearly, then leaned over to his father. "He not a weal angel, Daddy," he informed Giles seriously.

Giles managed to answer with a straight face, "Yes, love, I know."

Cordelia, Willow and Buffy both snickered, Xander laughed a bit too loudly, and the rest of them smiled.

"Smart kid. Um... he's... he's..." Angel gestured helplessly at the toddler. "He looks like both of you."

Buffy nodded sagely. "My face, Rupert's eyes, my natural hair color and his curls."

"Is he strong... like you?"

"Yeah. Getting stronger every day. And smart, like his daddy."

Angel nodded dumbly.

"He's learning his ABC's already," Willow added. "I'm helping him."

"Wanna hear me sing de ABC song, Angel?"

The vampire smiled sadly. "You can sing it for me next time, okay?"

Cordelia saw the doom and gloom descending, and she knew she had to get him out of there quickly. She couldn't resist stepping over to the bedside for a minute, though. "Hey, Marcus, me and Angel have to go home. Can I have a hug before I go? I haven't had one since you were little."

Marcus beamed and held up his arms. Hugs were his favorite gifts, next to kisses. Cordy pulled the little body into her arms, grunting slightly. "You're heavier than you were last time, kiddo. You must be growing!"

"I *big*, Coh-dee-ya," Marcus confirmed.

"You're really getting better at saying my name. Pretty soon you'll say it better than Angel." He giggled and hugged her again. She took a moment to relish the maternal warmth that holding a small child brought her. Reluctantly, she allowed him to return to his daddy's lap.

"Look at the time! We gotta go, boss, if we wanna get back to LA tonight. I have to pack, y'know." Cordy started dragging him out the door, but he stopped and turned back one last time.

"Um... it was good to see everyone..." Angel's eyes focused on Buffy, but she'd looked down at Giles the instant before. The look of complete devotion on her face ripped at his undead heart. He found his voice after a couple of false tries, and said hoarsely, "...But I guess we gotta go."

"Okay. Thanks again, Angel. You were a big help." Buffy looked up and gave him a genuine smile.

Angel he knew was no longer a part of her life, but it stung, anyway. She was Giles' now, for the rest of her life... or at least, for the rest of Giles' life. 'Giles isn't a young man... if I'm patient, maybe...'

He gritted his teeth, horrified at his train of thought. It was definitely time to leave.

"Well, um... see ya 'round, and if you ever need anything..."

Cordy gave him a push. "Yeah, they know, the number's on the card. Get going." She favored them all with a bright smile. "Bye! Call me sometime, so long as it's not about demons or dead things!" They were out the door before anyone could reply.

Joyce watched the door swing shut with a pensive look on her face. She turned to her daughter and son-in-law and watched as they interacted with their son. Marcus sat on Giles' lap happily, with Buffy sitting next to them, touching them both. It was a wonderful sight.

"Honey? We need to go. Wilton's got a meeting..." Joyce steeled herself and looked into her daughter's eyes. "I'm sorry. I was wrong." The two most difficult sentences in the world, and she'd managed to say them both without passing out. Good work, Joyce.

Buffy smiled a completely open and forgiving smile. "It's okay, Mom. You didn't sign up for the weird life."

"Neither did you," Joyce replied softly, then sighed as Buffy sprang off the bed and enveloped her in a bear hug. "Oof, easy, honey, I'm a mere mortal."

"No you're not. You're my Mom."

Joyce untangled herself from her only child's arms and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Thank you. Rupert..."

He looked up, surprised she would include him after her earlier behavior.

"I'm sorry I doubted you. It's not like you have anything to prove." She met his gaze honestly, and saw his relief at her acceptance of him.

"We're all right, then, as far as I'm concerned," he said gallantly.

"Yes, we are." Joyce took Wilton's arm. He'd been silent the whole time, letting her deal with her family in her own way.

"Good-bye, Rupert, Buffy... bye, Marcus." She reached down and gave her grandson a kiss and a hug. The little fellow reached for Wilton, including him in the embrace.

"Bye-bye, G'ama an' G'ampa. I wuv you."

"We love you, too, Marcus, honey." The older couple left, hiding their sniffling until they reached the hall.

Willow, sensing the strong emotion in the room, decided to give her friends a bit of privacy. "So, you guys wanna go get some coffee?" She grabbed Xander and Armstead, tugging them out the door before they could protest.

Buffy watched them go with a smile. She sank back onto the narrow bed, relieved that their family was back on good terms again. "I hope they don't give Willow any coffee... we'll never get her to go home then."

Giles chuckled as Marcus picked at his hospital gown, trying to untie the knot holding it together in front. "Speaking of going home... Doctor Phil mentioned Friday?"

"Yeah, I can't wait. I hate hospitals."

"So do I." He reached around her waist to hug her against his side. "If you hadn't stayed with me, I think I might've gone mad." He gestured at the darkened television set. "They don't even have BBC-USA here."

Buffy laughed at his disgusted expression. "I stand by my man," she teased, then bent slightly to kiss him. Marcus gave up on the knot and leaned against his father's side, content to be with his parents again. The kiss continued for some time, uninterrupted by friends, family or hospital staff. Marcus was uncharacteristically quiet as they reveled in their mental and physical closeness.

Buffy broke the kiss to give him some air, and said softly, "I'm glad I married you. Have I ever told you that?"

He smiled happily. "Once or twice, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"Then let me repeat myself." She grabbed the top of the bed frame to keep her weight off his bruised side, and kissed him again.

********

Willow peered through the partially opened door at her friends. Her face relaxed into a mushy smile, and she backed up, waving Xander and Armstead to the other side of the hallway. "They're makin' with the smoochies. Let's just go back to the cafeteria. I don't think they need company right now."

Xander rolled his eyes, and Armstead looked surprised as Willow linked her arm with his and led him away. His voice echoed behind them as he sputtered, "But... in a hospital wardroom? Have they no sense of decorum?"

The End

Chapter 10: Redefinition

Summary:

An unexpected visitor at the holidays.

Chapter Text

The decommissioning of a Watcher wasn't an elaborate ceremony... but it was a long one.

The new Director, with his razor sharp features, quoted the old text from memory with all the evangelistic fervor of a true believer. Before him stood a shorter, slightly stocky man with immaculately trimmed gray hair. Besides the convicted man and the Director, there were only three other men present: the man's accuser, his defender, and his replacement.

The man had been accused, tried, and convicted. All that remained was the sentencing. It was a minor blessing that the Council no longer conducted trials in Latin. That would be the ultimate irony, since the accused was a Latin scholar of some note, and would not only understand the language, but all the intrinsic, obscure meanings that were behind it. No, it was enough that the man was to be condemned in his native tongue.

The words droned on and on until the accused man felt like screaming. Why didn't they just get on with it? Everyone in the room - a room designed by sixteenth century stonemasons to resemble a bleak cathedral, complete with lofty arches and gargoyles - knew the text by heart. It was drilled into trainees almost from the first day as a warning to those who would betray the Council and its precepts. He recalled how nervous he was the first time he was commanded to present the ceremony in its entirety to his schoolmasters. Of course, he had performed brilliantly. They would accept nothing else.

His current situation was a case in point.

The other men in the room knew the charges against him almost as well as they knew the ceremony, as both sides had argued their cases for weeks, with his career... his *life*... in the balance. Without using the precise words, they cast him in a most unpleasant light. Incompetent. Neglectful. Unstable. Infirm. They'd all but called him a doddering old git with a penchant for nepotism... but at least, they never branded him a traitor. Or, worse... a heretic.

A sudden clearing of a throat brought him back to the present. The Director was finished with the recitation of charges.

"Cedrick Giles, do you understand, and agree to, the charges presented before and against you?"

'What a ludicrous statement,' he thought impatiently. 'Of course I agree to them. I wrote most of them. Of course, they were meant to be a defense, not an indictment.' "Yes, I do." His voice sounded reasonably firm. At least he wasn't blubbering like an idiot. That would most likely come later.

"And you are bound, by your foresworn allegiance, to accept the ruling of this Council Committee, without remonstration, retribution, or remorse?"

Cedrick chuckled bitterly, causing his four companions to frown in disapproval. No doubt they thought him senile. "Yes, of course, to the first two. As to the last, to be quite honest, I very much doubt it."

For a brief moment, the Director's face reflected a certain degree of understanding. He agreed with the sentiment, even while eschewing the manner in which it was delivered. The impassive mask of Judge and Jury then quickly reasserted itself across his face, and he continued in his Executioner's tones, "By your acceptance and agreement, Cedrick Giles, the Royal Council of Watchers hereby formally relieves you of your duties as Security Chief of the Royal Council of Watchers, and of your official title thereto, and are hereby disbanded from the Inner Circle, the Ruling Council, and all its departments, committees, and advisory boards.

"Because of your inability to carry out your duty, you are a Watcher no longer. You will, from this day onward, no longer be allowed access to Council Chambers. You will not, from this day onward, sit on any Council board. You will, from this day onward..."

Cedrick tuned the requiem out, and thought of more pleasant things. There were but few of them in his mind. One of the brightest was his last recollection of his family in America, and their warm, welcoming faces when he last saw them.

He had no other place to go, really. But would they want him there... permanently?

At long last, the dirge of defeat was finished, and as a final blow, the Successor held out his hand, palm up, and waited as Cedrick wrestled with his last vestige of Council identity... his ornately carved onyx ring. From the time it was given to him until now, it had never left his hand; not when he married, not when he trained his Slayer, not when he was carted off to the nut house and left to the doctors' completely inadequate treatment, not even when he was reinstated and given the position of Chief of Security.

It wasn't an easy task, the removal of a lifetime career.

Finally, the thick silver band gave in to his insistent twisting and slid away from his finger. He palmed it briefly, considering what giving up this final token truly meant. He was saying goodbye to almost fifty years of service... to his purpose in life.

He tipped his hand above the Successor's, and the ring left its place of pride forever.

********

"'Relieved of duty.' It sounds so innocuous. Like I've taken early retirement instead of getting sacked."

"Ced, old thing, ya mustn't dwell on such. Ye'll go all broody and morose, like Uncle Clive."

Cedrick snorted drunkenly. "Uncle Clive was an old fool." He raised his glass unsteadily in remembrance, sloshing a golden ribbon of ale onto the table in the process. "And, apparently, I've joined his ranks with a few years to spare."

>From across the table, Nathaniel Croom stared at his oldest and dearest friend. He and Cedrick were distant cousins, having been raised in close proximity and friendship until they went their separate ways as young men. Nathaniel had opted for a military career, and had done well. Cedrick's career, while not as visible, had seemed to be of equal value. Now, Nathaniel was retired, Cedrick was fired, and their fond and foolish 'Uncle' was dead and gone. "Now, Ced, 'tis not wise to speak ill of th' dead, even though 'e *was* an old fool."

They both chuckled, then fell silent for a moment. Finally, Nathaniel looked around and commented, "They didn't even come ta see you off, did they? Ta lift a pint for a fellow soldier?" He shook his craggy head in disbelief. "'Tis a shame and disgrace."

A snort of derision answered the question. "All my true friends are dead. All my remaining relatives, with the exception of yourself, are in America."

Nathaniel cleared his throat, motioning to the barmaid to bring another round. "So, then, what'll ye do? Go ta America?"

Cedrick stared at his mug for several minutes before answering. "I don't know, Nate. I just don't know."

"What'd yer boy say when y'told him?"

Cedrick hesitated, and his friend instantly understood, despite the veil of inebriation that was falling heavily on them both.

"You 'aven't told him."

"No. Not sure I shall."

"Well, then... you've property 'ere. Ya could retire to the countryside and grow fat n' lazy."

More snickering accompanied that idea. Cedrick drained his glass and reached for the fresh round that had appeared at his elbow. "Right now, all I want to do is forget."

"Fat chance o'that here. Ya can't drink enough'a this swill to forget."

"I can try." The formerly esteemed Chief of Council Security tipped his mug again, hoping for a miracle of oblivion. He very much doubted he'd find it at the bottom of *this* glass.

********

A few days later, the telephone rang a continent away. The shrill electronic tone was accompanied by the organic... and very enthusiastic... sounds of a toddler at play. Running around the room while yelling at the top of his lungs seemed to be an engaging way to spend an afternoon, and Marcus Giles was giving it all he had.

The father of the noisy boy appeared, bounding down the staircase to grab the telephone. He paused for a moment and gathered his poise about him, years of training asserting itself effortlessly. One must always answer the telephone with dignity.

"Hello?" Giles stated calmly, ignoring the turmoil of sound around him.

A crackle of static answered him as the overseas operator announced herself. "One moment, sir, while I connect you."

Giles waited patiently while various beeps and tones signaled the operator's efforts. Finally, there was a loud click, and the woman's voice said, "Go ahead, sir."

"Hello?" Giles repeated unnecessarily. "Who's there?"

"Rupert?"

"Father?"

"Well, at least we recognize each other's voices." Cedrick said dryly.

Giles chuckled. "It would seem so. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How is my grandson? I can hear him in the background. It sounds like World War Three over there."

"He's doing quite well. He's developed a fascination with fighter jets in the past few days. He's dropping bombs on his toy trucks and cars at the moment, with no signs of stopping. That's the last time we let him watch The Discovery Channel unattended."

"Like Father, like Son. You always had your head in the clouds as a boy."

Giles smiled at the reserved fondness in his father's tone. "When are you coming for a visit? We all miss you terribly."

"Actually, that is why I called. I would like to come over, soon, for a bit. What are your plans for the holidays?"

"We have none, really. Both of our schedules have been rather hectic this year, and we thought to spend a few quiet weeks recuperating."

"Ah. Well, if having the old man for a visit won't disrupt your relaxation too much, I might come on, if that's all right."

"Splendid! It'll be wonderful having you here for Christmas! Marcus will be thrilled."

"It's settled, then. I'll ring again with flight and time."

"Wonderful. I must say, Father, I'm rather surprised. But, delighted, of course. How long will you be staying?"

"I'm not sure at the moment. I might do some sightseeing, whilst I'm there. I've never taken the time."

"That would be lovely." Despite his gladness, something bothered Giles about this unexpected call. His father sounded strange... falsely jovial and unconcerned. He wasn't the type to just pop over for a visit... he only came to the States on Council business. Of course, he made time to see his family, but still.

"Well, then, goodbye, Rupert. Give my best to Buffy."

"I will, Father. Goodbye."

Giles replaced the receiver thoughtfully, and turned to his son. Marcus instantly stopped his noise making and looked up, sensing his father's surprised and happy mood.

"Marcus, your Grandfather Giles is coming for a visit."

Marcus frowned slightly, trying to put a face to the name. Giles obligingly fed him a mental picture of Cedrick. Marcus studied the image for a few seconds, then he smiled. "Gwanfadder Giles? I wemember him."

"You do?" Marcus hadn't seen Cedrick since he was a tiny baby... Giles sighed, once again reminded of just how different Marcus really was. "Of course you do." Giles stepped to the boy's side and ruffled his hair affectionately. "I just wish we saw more of him. He's almost a stranger in this house."

"Can I gets him a Cwissmuss pwesent?"

Giles' eyes misted slightly at his son's generosity. Since he was tiny, Marcus had always been a giving sort. "*May I get* him a Christmas present." Giles emphasized the correct words, always the teacher. "Yes, you may. We'll go together, and get him a present from all of us. Would you like that?"

"Yeth, Daddy! Can I... I mean may I... get him a twuck wike mine?" He reached down and picked up his favorite toy, holding it out for his father to see. It seemed to the boy to be the ultimate gift.

Giles laughed and pulled the boy to his side, giving him an awkward hug around the bulk of the plastic vehicle. What a joy he was! "We'll see, love. We'll see."

Giles was very thankful he was going to share that joy with his own, often-distant father. He hoped this Christmas would bring them closer together.

********

Buffy arrived home, sailing through the front door with her usual brisk pace, her arms full of packages. She stopped and accepted a husbandly smooch from the tall man that greeted her in the hall, then was seized around the knees and almost capsized by her small son.

"Mummy! Mummy! Gwanfadder Giles is bisiting for Cwissmuss! We gots to get him a pwesent!"

"What's this?" At that particular moment, the couch was unoccupied by toys and people, so she dumped her shopping spoils and turned to take Marcus into her arms. "Grandfather Giles is coming? When did this happen?"

"Today, just an hour or so ago, actually." Giles joined her, slipping an arm around her and placing a hand on the toddler's head. "He said he wanted to come for Christmas. I found it a bit odd."

"You would." Buffy shifted Marcus slightly, noting that he was getting heavier every day. "Anyone else would cheer."

"I'm cheering, but it's still odd. How many times has he visited us?"

"Um... twice. And we visited him once." She gave Marcus a kiss on the nose, causing him to giggle. "Of course, our visit wasn't intentional, as I remember," she mused, remembering their visit to the Watcher's Retreat in England and their unexpected introduction to Cedrick.

"Only twice. And both times because he was sent by the Council. It just seems odd that he would visit now."

"Maybe he just misses his little boy," she teased, batting her eyes up at her much taller husband.

"Oh, right." He leaned over until his forehead touched hers. "His *little* boy."

"I'm a *big* boy, Daddy!" Marcus announced, throwing his hands around his father's neck.

Giles chuckled taking him easily into his arms, and Buffy actually gave a sigh of relief at having her small burden lifted. "Whew, I'm beat. Shopping is not for the faint of heart."

"Which is precisely why *you're* doing it. I'm a mere mortal... it's all too much for me."

Marcus wiggled to get down, and Giles allowed him to slide from his grasp, smiling as the sound of a toddler imitating a jet fighter resumed. He turned back to Buffy, watching fondly as she collapsed onto the sofa. "Rough day at the mall?"

"The worst." She blew out a long breath. "I want to do the traditional Christmas thing, but Geez, it gets to be such a nightmare."

"I know, love." He sat beside her and drew her against him with a gentle arm. "Have you finished, then?"

"Except for Cedrick, I have. I wish I'd known a little sooner that he was coming."

"Somehow, I got the impression it was a sudden decision."

His internal curiosity was still turning Cedrick's words over and over, looking for clues as to their true meaning. Buffy smiled as a preoccupied look transformed his face. He was never one to ignore a puzzle. She gave him a kiss just below the curve of his jaw and commented, "Somehow, I get the impression you think something's wrong."

"It's not exactly that... well, perhaps it is. Father didn't sound like himself."

Buffy snuggled against her husband's side, resting her head on his shoulder. She ran a comforting hand across his chest and up to his neck. "Well, there 's only two weeks until Christmas. He'll have to show up pretty soon. Then, we'll find out."

"Yes, you're right." He gave her a grateful squeeze. "You're quite often right, you know."

She giggled softly. "Try to remember that, babe." She turned her head and eyed the pile of packages next to her. "And, now, my sense of rightness is telling me I need to wrap presents." She sighed dramatically and pulled herself to her feet.

Giles stood with her, unconsciously polite in the presence of a lady, and offered, "I can help with that, if you like."

"That's very sweet, but yours is in the pile. This is something I have to do aaaall by myself."

"All right. I'll stay here and let the RAF bomb my feet." He shifted slightly as Marcus, with a loud swoosh, aimed his toy jet fighter at the top of his father's shoes. Buffy laughed as she gathered her bags and boxes, side stepping to avoid colliding with her son as he rounded the couch to make another sortie.

********

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation and planning. Cedrick called to confirm his flight number and time, and there wasn't much time to get ready. Buffy made sure the largest guest room was available... the one with an adjoining bath. She badgered Giles for details on how to make his father more comfortable, but he wasn't much help in that department. He and his father had been strangers for years, and Giles was as apprehensive as Buffy about how to make the older man feel at home.

They enlisted Joyce and Wilton to help, hoping to introduce Cedrick to some of the University faculty at one of the many Christmas parties held on campus. A life-long Watcher had little in common with ordinary people, and they thought that he might enjoy more erudite company after being around Xander and Willow for a while. The Antiquities Department had a party every Christmas, and they were just the people to accept Cedrick without preconceived ideas about his somewhat unusual academic background.

The whole family thought long and hard about how they could show this near stranger that he was welcome, and hoped that he would recognize and appreciate their efforts as sincere.

The Saturday of his arrival, the American branch of the Giles family waited nervously at the LAX terminal. The flight was due to arrive at 3:10 p.m., but it had been delayed due to bad weather in the Midwest. There was talk of an extra layover in Dallas, but that was cancelled at the last minute, and the flight headed for Los Angeles, already forty-five minutes late.

By the time they announced the arrival of the flight just before 5 o'clock, Marcus was cranky and hungry, and Buffy was feeling frazzled. Giles helped her as much as he could, taking the toddler for walks along the concourse and trying to amuse him with the toys in the airport shop windows. There were times, however, when a little boy could only be soothed by his mother, so Buffy was disheveled and exhausted when the New York and overseas passengers began to deplane.

Marcus spotted Cedrick first, pushing away from Buffy and running through the crowd until he was at his grandfather's feet. He beamed up at the man and, to Giles' great surprise, held out a chubby hand as formally as an adult. "Hi, Gwanfadder Giles. I'm happy to see you."

Cedrick stooped over and took the proffered hand, shaking it gravely before favoring the tiny boy with a smile. "Hello, Marcus. I am happy to see you, too." He straightened and looked up at his taller son, his face surprised and pleased. "Well, Rupert, a proper greeting. Amazing. You must be an excellent teacher."

Grinning happily, Giles engulfed his father in a bear hug, catching the man by surprise. It was brief, but heartfelt, and Cedrick found himself fighting back tears. He stiffened as Giles backed away slightly, feeling embarrassed by the show of emotion, and Buffy took that opportunity to give her father-in-law a gentle kiss on the cheek. She patted his arm affectionately, allowing Giles a moment to compose himself.

"Cedrick, it's great to have you here. Come on, we'll help you with your luggage. Did you eat on the plane?" She picked up her son and settled him against her hip as they started towards the escalators.

Cedrick shouldered his carryon bag more comfortably and frowned. "There was a meal, of sorts, when we left New York. I refused to eat it. It looked dreadful, and the trip was so rough that those who did eat were soon sorry they had."

Giles chuckled sympathetically. "We shall find a decent restaurant shortly, then. I think Marcus is getting hungry, as well."

Marcus nodded in agreement. "I'm bewy hungwy!"

********

At the restaurant, Buffy watched with amazement as Marcus calmly talked to Cedrick as if he'd known the man all his short life. Marcus' ability to converse was amazing, even for an advanced child. He used complete sentences, didn't often confuse past and present tenses, and was beginning to grasp the principle of contractions. At times, his size and babyish lisp were all that distinguished him from children three times his age.

And, unlike most children between the age of one and six who merely mimic adult conversation, repeating the things they've heard, most of her son's phrases were entirely his own. People often were startled by his candid comments, causing her to react with over-protective zeal in trying to explain his intelligence away. She envied Giles and his matter-of-fact approach to child rearing: If the child isn't misbehaving or endangering himself and others, then leave him be.

Marcus had insisted on sitting next to Cedrick, and with some trepidation, his parents allowed it. The tiny boy perused the menu, identifying the letters of the alphabet as they decided what to eat, eager to show off his knowledge to his grandfather. He kept them all amused until the waitress had taken their order, then grew quiet as the adults conversed, listening as they caught up on each other's lives.

Giles watched his father thoughtfully, knowing he was holding something back. The older man held himself stiffly, only the slightest of smiles altering the rigid, controlled expression on his face. His entire demeanor was that of a man in pain. He kept his hands in his lap whenever possible, which seemed a strange affectation to Giles. Yet, Cedrick chatted nonchalantly, neatly avoiding all polite queries about home and work, steering the conversation back to his son's family each time.

Finally, after the food had been delivered, Marcus could contain himself no longer. "Gwanfadder?" Marcus craned his neck to see Cedrick's face. "Why awe you sad?"

Cedrick gave his grandson a surprised look. "What makes you think I am sad, Marcus?" He smiled at his son and daughter-in-law carefully. "I'm actually quite pleased to be here." He gave a deliberate chuckle. "After the rough weather our plane negotiated, I'm quite pleased to be on the ground, as a matter of fact."

Marcus thought carefully about his next words, then stated, "You happy-sad, Gwanfadder. Mummy's happy-sad a wot, too." He leaned over to Cedrick and whispered loudly, "So is Daddy." He maneuvered a french fry to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Buffy didn't know what to make of that, so she smoothly changed the conversation, but watched her father-in-law carefully for the remainder of the meal. The usual sub-vocal buzz that accompanied him was missing, and there was a certain melancholy air about him.

'Something's wrong,' she told Giles through the Bond's connection.

'I know. He's hiding something.'

'Why doesn't he just tell us?' She bent and wiped catsup from Marcus' face as he squirmed in place.

'Perhaps he's afraid. We Giles-es aren't known for our forthright manner.'

Buffy stifled a giggle, then sobered. 'He's better at hiding his thoughts now.'

'Yes, I can barely sense him.'

Suddenly, a burst of mental energy overrode their silent conversation, stopping Buffy and Giles' sub-vocal conversation as neatly as a piercing whistle would silence a noisy room. In the sudden quiet, Marcus exclaimed, "Mummy! I want ice cweam!"

The three grownups stared at him like he'd grown two heads. Cedrick recovered first.

"Dear God! Has he always had that kind of psychic power?"

Giles cleared his throat nervously. "N-no... as a matter of fact... that was the first time he's ever done such a thing."

Buffy and Giles both fixed Marcus with a glare that only a parent could produce. He immediately shrank down into his seat, knowing he'd done something wrong, but not being sure what it was. His lower lip jutted out, and he performed the most perfect pout Cedrick had ever seen.

"Marcus Everett Giles," Buffy said in a chilling tone. "It is very rude to interrupt people when they are talking, even if they aren't talking out loud."

Giles added, fighting laughter all the way, "And it is also disrespectful to shout when a polite word would do."

"I'm sowwy, Mummy. I'm sowwy, Daddy." The toddler's cherubic face was red with remorse. "I fo'got to be powite."

Now even Cedrick was having trouble keeping a stern face. The boy was just too cute.

"It's all right, honey, you're forgiven. Just try to remember, okay?" She smiled, unable to keep from it.

"Otay." A tentative smile began to creep across his face, followed by a look of confusion. "Mummy? I didn't know tawking in my head could be so WOWD!"

********

After they arrived home, Giles quickly gave his father a tour of the house while Buffy put a sleeping Marcus in his bed. After showing him to the guest room, Giles said goodnight, leaving Cedrick to unpack and gather his wits about him. The tired traveler gazed around the bedroom for a bit, orienting himself to his new surroundings. It was a pleasant room, neither frilly nor frothy, and it had an adjoining bathroom with a large tub. He checked the dresser, feeling slightly disreputable in doing so, and found that the majority of the drawers were emptied in anticipation of his arrival. He began to unpack, finding an adequately sized closet ready for his suits, shirts, and shoes.

As he bent to tidy his footwear, he noticed something red and fuzzy in the back corner. He grunted with surprise as he pulled out an odd shaped device, turning it this way and that in his hands. It was oblong, about eleven inches high, and had a black sleeve of soft, black, synthetic fur-like material stretched over one side. The other side was red. It was heavy, and the two rounded protruding ends rotated slightly as he examined them.

Suddenly, its purpose came to him, and he began to shake his head in amusem*nt. A shoe-polisher. An *electric* shoe polisher. My, didn't they have every convenience in America? He considered plugging it in, just to see it work, then decided against it, not knowing how noisy it might be. He returned it to its place in the closet, and continued to unpack, wondering if they'd purchased the polishing machine solely for his visit. It spoke a great deal about their opinion of him. They were expecting the consummate Watcher, from his tweed shoulders to his immaculately polished shoes.

They were certainly in for a surprise.

When his clothes were hanging neatly and his shoes were lined up underneath, he turned and carried his small shaving kit into the bathroom. He tipped the contents carefully into the top drawer and looked at himself in the mirror. A sad, old man looked back at him, his face haggard with jet lag and the weight of failure.

"Well, old boy... welcome home," he said to his reflection, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. A guest in his son's home, that's all he was now. Truth be told, he *had* no home. The fingers of his right hand absently caressed the indentation that marked the absence of the Watcher's signet. He caught himself after a scant few seconds, and dropped his hands by his side in disgust.

Looking in the medicine cabinet, he noted the presence of a new toothbrush, still in its packing, a tube of toothpaste, a man's bristle brush, a can of shaving cream, and an unopened bar of deodorant soap. Rupert had never been one to overlook details.

It was late, and he felt weariness settling over him like a suffocating blanket. He stripped and folded his travel-wrinkled clothing neatly, leaving them on the dresser to be dealt with in the morning. He donned his dark gray pajamas, his fingers automatically working the buttons as his mind went blank with exhaustion. He barely had enough presence of mind to turn back the covers before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

********

In the front bedroom, Buffy climbed into bed and snuggled up to her husband. Giles was sitting with his back against the headboard, a pensive look on his face. The swirl of emotion that came from him washed over her, and she hugged him close, soothing him with her presence. She knew he was thrilled to have his father with them and that he longed for a closer relationship with him. She also knew that he was worried to the point of distraction about the reason Cedrick had come to them without a backward glance at his Council duties.

"Penny for your thoughts, big guy," she said softly, teasing him with soft kisses on his bare chest.

His arm tightened around her briefly, then he sighed. "He's hurting. I know it and you know it. Even Marcus seemed to sense it... I've never seen him so deliberately reserved, emotionally. It's as if he knows Father is fragile and must be handled carefully."

"I know, babe. Even the little echo in my head is off-kilter. He's all shut down inside."

"Perhaps he'll talk to me about it in the morning. I can't bear to see him like this."

"At least he's here, where we can help, instead of way-the-heck over in England."

"True," Giles agreed, smiling in spite of his concern.

"Not that I'm trying to be heartless, or anything... but we don't know all that much about him, not really. We don't know him well enough to start messing with his head."

"Yes, I know that, but it's eating him up inside, whatever it is. I can't just... blow it off."

Buffy giggled unexpectedly. He tilted his head to look at her as she patted his chest comfortingly. "That was a very American way to put it, babe."

He snorted softly. "You've corrupted me from the very beginning, love."

She leaned up and wrapped her free arm around his neck, pulling him down for a languid kiss, drawing it out until he responded to her liking. She hummed happily as he broke their lip-lock, panting slightly, his expression both surprised and pleased.

She winked and gave him a saucy grin. "I like corrupting you. It's so much fun."

"It's rather enjoyable for me, as well." He molded his lips to hers again, smiling as he rolled them both over until he was on top. He sent a wordless inquiry her way, and she responded with a rush of love and wanting that left him with no doubt as to her intentions. He smiled even wider as they continued to arouse each other with gentle kisses and touches.

He murmured her name quietly, the Bond enabling him to express himself completely without fumbling for words. He preferred that form of communication, anyway, because he'd never been good with romantic words. At least, he wasn't before Buffy came into his life. Now romance was in the air, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and he loved it.

He was moving his lips down her neck, slowing covering every inch of skin with kisses, when Buffy stiffened. "What is it, love?" he murmured aloud.

"Um... do you think he can... y'know... hear us?"

"Who can... oh. No, of course not. The guest room's too far away, and he's not that gifted... um... I don't think. No." He thought about it briefly, reaching out with his mind. There was nothing, no sense of another mental presence, only the sleeping hum of their baby in the room across the hall. He then dismissed the idea completely and returned his attention to her collarbone. "I feel sure he cannot," he mumbled against her skin, making her giggle.

"You're probably right," she agreed dreamily, giving a pleased squeak as he found a particularly sensitive spot. They both forgot about Cedrick for a good long while.

********

"Mummy!"

Buffy moaned and tried to burrow deeper into the pillow. Since Marcus had learned to climb out of his crib, they'd allowed him to sleep with one side lowered, to keep him from falling and hurting himself on the trip down. He used the lowered rail as a foothold, making his descents much more stable. He was able to go downstairs and turn on the television to watch early morning cartoons without his parents' help. That was the advantage. The disadvantage to his newfound freedom, at least for his parents, was his customary visit to his parents' room on his way down.

A tiny hand tugged at the covers, and Marcus repeated, "Mummy!"

"Wha... what is it, honey?" She reached out, blinding searching for his head, and ruffled his hair gently. She peered at the clock. Six-thirty on a holiday morning. Ah... the joys of motherhood.

"Mummy, Gwanfadder wants to know how to wuk de micwowave."

Suddenly, Buffy was awake. She shook Giles gently as Marcus climbed onto the bed. "Babe? Will you get up and help Cedrick with the kitchen appliances? I need a little getting-beautiful time before I face him."

Giles yawned and stretched, groaning slightly at the effort it took to wake up. "You're always beautiful, my love. Um... did you say Father is downstairs already? It's early." He suddenly realized he was nose-to-nose with his wide-awake son. "Good morning, Marcus."

"Gwanfadder's in de kitchen," Marcus said matter-of-factly, grabbing one of his father's large hands and tugging until Giles chuckled and rolled to the side of the bed.

Giles stood reluctantly and pulled on his robe, then padded over to the closet to find a pair of slippers. He rubbed his head sleepily and started for the door. Buffy's delighted giggles stopped him just as he put his hand to the doorknob.

"What is it *now*?" he asked, a resigned tone in his voice.

"You're just... so *cute* when you're all sleepy and rumpled."

He snorted, unable to form a coherent response, then shuffled out the door with Marcus trailing after him.

'Well, you *are*,' she whispered into his mind as he started downstairs.

'I will deal with you later, when I've regained my reason via large quantities of caffeine,' he replied huffily, then grinned at her mental laughter.

Marcus, having had enough of Giles' trudging pace, dashed around him once they reached the living room and ran to join his grandfather. Giles padded onto the tiled floor, still smiling at Buffy's happy teasing, and cleared his throat to greet Cedrick. As he did, he looked at his father clearly for the first time, and realized something astounding.

Cedrick Giles was *not* wearing a tie!

Cedrick, unaware of Giles' surprise, beat him to the first word. "Good morning, Rupert. Do you have a proper kettle about the place, or am I forced to use this unfortunate contraption to brew my tea?" He indicated the microwave with a smirk, knowing Giles would appreciate the irony. Cedrick, as head of Watcher Security, used the most sophisticated espionage equipment available, and was more comfortable than his son with modern conveniences. Still, standards must be maintained, and tea must be brewed in a proper kettle, complete with a steam whistle to announce its readiness.

"Kettle's in the cabinet, here..." He pulled the item from under the counter and moved to fill it with water. "Sorry, I should've set the alarm. At home, you're probably finished with breakfast and on your way to the office by this time of morning."

Something flickered across Cedrick's face, but he turned it into a smile. "Nonsense. We're on holiday. If not for this little fellow..." He ruffled Marcus' hair slightly, and the boy beamed up at him, totally content with the company. "...I might have gone back to bed. He was already downstairs, watching a rather noisy program on the television."

"Marcus hasn't learned the joy of sleeping late, as yet. If Buffy was any indication during her teen years, I would imagine he'll figure it out very soon."

Cedrick gave a deliberate look around the room. "It seems the practice has followed her into her twenties," he said lightly, making sure to convey a non-judgmental tone.

Giles gave a short laugh. "Oh, she's awake. She's 'making herself beautiful', as she calls it. Not that there's the slightest need."

"No," Cedrick agreed easily. "Your Slayer... your wife... is quite lovely. You're a lucky man, Rupert."

Giles didn't know what to make of that statement, so he chose to take it at face value. "I agree completely."

"Daddy? May I have hot choc'wate for breakfuss?"

"Another indication of my luck," Giles said with a smile as he removed the requested item from the cupboard. As he reached for Marcus' cup, he told the boy, "You must eat all your eggs and toast. Chocolate alone does not a breakfast make."

"Otay. I eat dem aaaw up!"

"Good lad," Cedrick said, showing the first genuine smile Giles had seen since his father's arrival.

Giles began preparing breakfast, remembering to increase the fare by one person. He quickly loaded fried eggs, bacon, toast, tea, and hot chocolate on a tray and brought it to the table just as Buffy came down the stairs, looking radiant.

"Ooo... I timed that just right, didn't I?" She followed him into the dining room, sharing a knowing smile between them as they set the table together. She was giving him a loving smooch when Marcus toddled in with Cedrick right behind him. The couple broke apart, blushing slightly.

Buffy recovered first, and showed her father-in-law to his chair with a sweep of her hand. "Cedrick, you can sit here, if you like. I need to be next to Marcus. He can get kinda messy."

"If last night was any indication, I'd say he manages his meals better than some adults I've known." Cedrick gave Marcus a wink, causing the boy to smile broadly.

Buffy held the highchair until Marcus climbed into the seat, then quipped, "Those were company manners. These will be at-home-in-your-own-chair manners."

Giles and his father both chuckled, and the family began their breakfast, talking superficially, avoiding more difficult subjects for the moment.

Buffy was almost finished eating when the telephone rang, and she excused herself to get it. Before she could get her 'hello' out, an excited voice interrupted her.

"Hey, Buffy! Did Mr. Giles get here okay? Is everything all right? Bill's not in trouble, is he? Of course he's not. He's a good Watcher. The best! It shouldn't matter that Mr. Giles is Bill's boss... I shouldn't even be worried... I'm worried, Buffy. Has Mr. Giles said anything about Bill?"

Buffy started giggling. Willow had matured a lot in the past two years, but a nervous Willow was *still* a babbling Willow. "Calm down, Will! Take a deep breath. Take several deep breaths. Cedrick hasn't said anything about work at all. Nothing. He's on vacation, remember?"

Buffy heard Willow exhale deeply, doing her best to follow Buffy's calming-down instructions. "Oh, that's good, then. Bill doesn't want to talk about it, see, and that makes me want him to. Talk about it, I mean. Because, hello, dating, and all, so I should be in on the secret stuff... well, not all of it, 'cause I don't wanna know some of the secret secret stuff..."

"Will!"

"Okay, okay. Calming down some more. I don't think I've reached the level of calmness I was aiming for just yet."

"Cedrick isn't here to spy on your boyfriend, Willow. He's here to see Marcus. He's barely spent five minutes away from him since he got off the plane."

"That's so cool, Buff. He's doing the Grandpa thing."

"He is. And we were eating breakfast, which I'd like to get back to, if you don't mind. We'll have everybody over for an extended family dinner this weekend, okay? You can see for yourself how not about business this whole trip is."

"Okay, that sounds fun! I'll tell Bill he's off the hook!"

"You're not supposed to know anything, remember?"

"Oh! Right! So I won't say anything. Mum is me."

Buffy laughed at that. "He'll know for sure something is wrong, then. Just chill for a couple of days, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry I spoiled your breakfast."

"You didn't. In fact, Giles is probably ducking flying eggs and toast as we speak. I should thank you for getting me outta there."

"Marcus isn't so bad."

"No, he really isn't, but spills are just waiting to happen when you're a kid. I gotta go. Talk to you later."

Buffy hung up with a sigh. Willow really had it bad for the young Watcher. And, from the look on his face whenever she was around, he was head-over-heels, too. A small smile rested on her face as she returned to the dining room. Giles looked up at her, seeing her gentle expression.

"Good news, love?" He looked down at Marcus as he spoke, busy wiping breakfast residue off the boy's face.

"Just Willow... being Willow." She gave him a quick rundown subvocally, and he nodded with a grin. Cedrick looked up sharply, as if he'd caught his name being transmitted through the Bond's psychic channel, but quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression.

Giles caught the look, and his face grew concerned. "Father? Something wrong?"

Cedrick waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, nothing at all. I was just wool-gathering." He moved his chair back and stood smoothly. "I think I shall stroll about the shops downtown this morning, if you haven't made other plans. Do some Christmas shopping. I've only seen the seedier bits in my earlier visits."

"Um... shopping? Ah, well, if you like, I can drive you over in a few minutes."

"How far is it? A mile? Perhaps two? I suppose I could walk."

"Nonsense. We'll take the van. Buffy, would you...?"

Buffy waved a hand dismissively. "No, that's all right, you two go ahead. I've done enough shopping to last me for a couple of days, at least. I'll stay with Marcus and do the cleanup."

"If you're sure..." Giles said uncertainly.

"I am." Buffy punctuated the statement with a mental confirmation, 'You go and find out what's wrong with your dad. Marcus and I would just be in the way.'

Giles' eyes caught hers momentarily, and gratitude was plain in his. "Then, I'll join you, Father, if you don't mind the company."

"Not at all. It will give us a change to chat."

Buffy couldn't figure Cedrick out. He was entirely too casual, too carefree, as if nothing was important to him anymore. Not his work, his homeland... the man just never wasted time *strolling*.

Something occurred to her, but she kept it to herself, shutting Giles out temporarily as she filed the thought away for future contemplation. If Giles didn't find out what was wrong on their little shopping spree, she had some theories to propose.

She freed Marcus from his highchair and smiled as he darted into the living room to gather his toys. He looked back at his grandfather as if expecting him to join the play. When Cedrick started up the stairs, Marcus' face fell.

"Gwanfadder?"

Cedrick turned instantly. "Yes, Marcus?"

The boy suddenly turned shy, looking at his feet and mumbling, "Will you p'ay with me?"

Cedrick looked stunned for a moment, then relaxed slightly. "Rupert? I... ah... seem to have a prior engagement."

Giles smiled at Marcus fondly. "The stores don't open for another hour or so, I believe."

"Well, then, Marcus, I will be back in a moment, and then you and I will play for a while."

Marcus looked up, beaming, and cried, "Yay!"

"You shall have to teach me how to play with your toys, however."

"Otay, Gwanfadder. I show you my twucks! And my jet pwane, too!"

"All right." Cedrick turned up the stairs once again.

"Father?" For the second time that morning, Giles fought back tears as he realized the effort Cedrick was making on Marcus' behalf. He took a few quick steps in Cedrick's direction, and said quietly, "Thank you, Father."

"No, thank *you*, for my grandson. He's a gift."

The two Giles men shared a momentary look of perfect agreement, and then Cedrick finished climbing the stairs and went to his room.

********

*He's a gift...*

Cedrick's own words echoed in his ears as he brushed his teeth. He knew about the prophecy, of course. He knew the child of a Watcher and Slayer was something both revered and feared by the Council. He understood that Marcus was unique, valuable, and intrinsic to the continuation of life on Earth... but at the moment, he didn't care one whit about prophecy, legends, or divine callings.

His only concern was his family. His son... a remarkable individual who'd overcome incredible odds to become a fine, solid, responsible husband and father... and his grandson... a precious, delightful child with a generosity of spirit that surprised Cedrick to no end. And, of course, his remarkable daughter-in-law, the Slayer, who could forget her? Saucy, determined, bright, loving... she was a surprisingly good match for Rupert. She was strong where he wasn't, and vice versa. It was an impressive combination.

This child-woman had given him a grandson. Perhaps the only one he would ever have. He had no idea what their future plans were, nor was he inclined to ask such a personal question. Still, he wondered if they'd discussed having more children. Rupert couldn't know the extent of the prophecy concerning the last of the Slayer line... that the Slayer would not be alone in the final fight... that the Slayer wouldn't even be female. The prophecy seemed to indicate...

"No, enough speculation, old man," Cedrick told his reflection sternly. "You're on holiday."

Holiday. The idea made him snort in disgust. This holiday was permanent, courtesy of the younger members of the Inner Circle. Replacing the old guard. A new day, a new regime. New ideas. All very normal in the course of history. It was just the way of things.

And still, he knew that the brash, progressive thinkers in the Council were not the instigators of his ouster. They were lead by an old hand... a man who had almost as many years on the Council as Cedrick. His so-called Successor was calling the shots on Marcus' surveillance now, and the idea made the boy's grandfather very nervous.

The man might have the title of 'Successor', but whether or not he would actually succeed at the position remained very much to be seen.

Unconsciously, Cedrick rubbed his left hand again, the strangeness of the bare finger bothering him even when he wasn't thinking about it. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, still feeling underdressed without a tie. Still, he felt that casual attire was best in this winterless country, so he sighed resignedly and started back to the living room to 'play trucks' with his grandson.

He was surprised to find himself looking forward to it.

********

Later that morning, the Giles' green van pulled into a parking space on Sunnydale's main street, and the two men exited, moving with similar grace and economy of motion. The older man scanned the area, habitually evaluating it for potential ambushes, then shook his head and snorted at his own folly. Here he was, in broad daylight, looking for vampires. True, demons had no problem with daylight, but still...

"It certainly can't compete with Knightsbridge, but there's enough here to entertain us for a few hours." Giles looked around as he spoke, smiling softly as he realized that this foreign country had become home.

"No, no, it's very nice. I'm looking forward to a pleasant stroll without having to fight huge throngs of impatient shoppers." Cedrick matched his son's pace easily, his face relaxed and curious, his hands jammed into his pockets in a perfect imitation of Giles' posture. "I understand you have a... what do you call it... ah, yes, a mall."

Giles couldn't believe his ears. The entire conversation was completely surreal. His father had never cared about shops and malls and crowds and strolling. What on earth had happened to change the man's life focus so dramatically?

"Y-yes, we have a mall. It's... it's interesting." Giles' stuttered, totally befuddled at Cedrick's behavior. "F-father?" He suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to ignore his worry any longer.

"Yes, son?" Cedrick answered calmly.

"What's wrong?" He said earnestly.

Cedrick stared at his son for several moments, ignoring the flow of foot traffic around them. Finally, he made a decision, and his shoulders slumped visibly. He looked down at the sidewalk and nodded ruefully, admitting defeat.

"Father... if there's anything I can do..." Giles began.

"No, there isn't, and I'd rather you didn't try."

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "But you must tell me. You're carrying such a heavy load."

That was a strange way to put it, but Cedrick found himself agreeing with the assessment. He had been carting the guilt around in a wheelbarrow, and it was time to be free of it.

He clapped his son on the shoulder, attempting a smile. "Let's find somewhere to sit, and I'll tell you how my life has changed in the past few months."

Giles headed down the street, looking for an uncrowded outdoor café or coffee shop. Now he was going to get some answers.

********

The Expresso Pump was sparsely populated on weekday mornings, even during the holidays, and Giles quickly found a corner booth that offered a view of the street with enough privacy to carry on a serious conversation. They ordered and made small talk until the waitress brought their drinks, then Cedrick gathered his courage and told his son that he'd been fired. His left hand, barren of jewelry, attested to Cedrick's tale as he cradled his coffee mug with both hands.

Predictably, Giles was livid. "How *dare* they insinuate that you allowed these things to happen? Even the old man himself couldn't keep Travers in line! And putting *Connors*, of all people, in your place! The very least they could have done is allow you to retire with dignity... and taking your ring... that was a blatant act of disrespect! If you ask me, this smacks of a conspiracy!"

"Now, Rupert, calm yourself. I've done enough ranting and raving for the both of us. I'm past that now."

"I don't see how you can be! This is your *life* we're talking about!"

"Yes, it is. *My* life. Not yours. I don't want you ruining your career trying to repair mine. I've been at the beck and call of the Council for most of my life. It's high time I retired and started relaxing a bit."

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not thrilled you're here, and that you finally have time to spend with us. I am, however, very concerned about the swiftness of all this. A few months ago, you were in charge of the surveillance on Marcus, and suddenly there is a... a stranger in charge of my son's future! It's all too conveniently out of our hands now, and I don't like it one bit. Someone wants my family out of action, and I shan't stand by and let it happen."

"You're absolutely right to be worried. I don't have much confidence in Connors. Call me old-fashioned, but this was always more than a nine-to-five job, in my opinion. That opinion seems to be one that Connors does not share." Cedrick looked down at his cup, ashamed that he'd let his opinion spill out. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, no, it's all right. From what I recall of the man, I quite agree with your assessment. And, if he poses any danger to Marcus I will have some... difficulty... keeping quiet."

Cedrick chuckled quietly at Rupert's understatement, sipping at his coffee for a minute before continuing. "I can't imagine him doing anything alarming, at the moment. He's going to have to select his new agents, put his new policies in place, rub elbows with the proper people to garner support. That should take him a while."

"I hope so. It's been a trying year. We need a bit of time off before the next apocalypse."

"True. So, Rupert..." Cedrick shifted slightly, as if the subject he was broaching was equally unpleasant as the previous one had been. "I seem to be at loose ends, at the moment. I haven't decided whether to return home..." he glanced up, trying to read his son's reaction. Giles' face was impassive. "...or to try and find a place here, close by, perhaps. I thought you might give your input on the matter."

Giles' broad grin surprised Cedrick. "Father! Of course you'll stay here! You may certainly stay with us as long as you wish. There's plenty of room."

"Oh, I shouldn't want to put you out. I have my own means, of course, and there is a stipend from the Council. The senior members wouldn't have it any other way. They're all seeing their own ousters approaching, I suppose."

"I know that, but you're most welcome, all the same. And, if you wish to find something to occupy yourself, I have excellent resources at school..."

Cedrick interrupted Giles' enthusiastic statement with another bemused chuckle.

"What is it?"

"You've become an American, Rupert. You said, 'School,' not, 'University.' It struck me as amusing."

Giles grinned sheepishly. "I suppose I've picked up a few Americanisms. Buffy may be the world's worst at butchering the language, but she manages to get her point across, nevertheless."

"Ah, well, there are certainly worse things than the occasional slang term."

"I suppose. Well, it's settled, then. You'll stay with us until you decide what you want to do."

There seemed to be nothing more to say. They sat in the sunshine and finished their drinks, each of them wondering how long the respite would last.

********

It was a pleasant afternoon, the sun warming the air until it was shirtsleeve comfortable. There was a slight breeze, causing a low hum of moving grass and leaves in the Giles' backyard. Cedrick was stretched out comfortably in a lounger on the deck, smiling and making occasional comments to his grandson as he played in the sandbox. The scene couldn't have been more idyllic.

Buffy watched through the sliding glass door, her face thoughtful as she digested what her husband had told her. She shifted on the couch, leaning against Giles' arm, saddened and angry. Cedrick, fired? No longer a Watcher? No longer their link to the Council... the assurance of their security? It was mind numbing.

"This Connors guy... you don't like him, do you?"

"I don't know him that well, but no. I don't particularly like him."

Buffy sat for a moment, watching as Marcus chatted happily with Cedrick. Her son was instinctively drawn to the man, and that was enough for her. Cedrick was a good guy. "So, how is he taking all this? He's probably depressed, right?"

"I don't know. He seems all right. Very matter-of-fact about things. But I'd imagine depression is there, below the surface."

"What can we do?" Buffy turned to look at Giles, compassion plain in her eyes. "We gotta do something."

"Very little we can do, at the moment," he said calmly. "Until he comes to us, that is. He's a proud man."

"Yeah. It runs in the fam, doesn't it?" She nudged him softly in the side, causing him to smile.

"It might, but living with someone who reads my mind has taken the edge off that."

A sudden idea struck her. He stopped her with a look before she could articulate it. "Now, Buffy, we're not going to push Bonding on him. He'll resist."

"I'm not saying 'push', I'm saying 'offer'. Let him know we'd be willing to. If, and when, he is. A burden shared..."

"... is a burden halved... yes, I know. It's actually a good idea. I just don't know if he'd go for it."

She watched the object of their discussion as he moved from the lounger to the edge of the sandbox, his face plainly showing his delight as he interacted with the tiny boy. "He needs us, whether he knows it or not. And I think we need him, too."

Giles' throat tightened as he thought about the lonely years without his father's presence. He silently agreed with her. "We'll make the offer, and leave it up to him."

********

"Gwanfadder?" The somewhat sandy child next to Cedrick had suddenly appeared at his elbow while he was lost in his musings.

"Hmm?"

"I can't heah you. How come?"

"What?"

Marcus pointed to the older man's forehead, touching him lightly. "How come I can't heah you? I can heah Mummy and Daddy, and Wih-dow and Fadder Denny." He gave a sorrowful sigh. "You don't tawk to me."

Cedrick looked at the boy with dismay. "I don't know, Marcus. Perhaps I'm not as powerful as your parents and your friends."

"Do you want to tawk to me?"

Cedrick thought seriously about the question. Did he really want his grandson, also his son and daughter-in-law, by default, listening to his thoughts? Said thoughts were bleak, dark, self-deprecating and horrid. Yet, dwelling on the past wasn't going to get his job - or his life - back for him. The idea of sharing minds with this precious child was a tantalizing dream.

"Yes, I would like to talk with you. Perhaps I will learn how while I am here."

"Otay. I show you."

"Thank you, but not now." For some reason, he wasn't ready for that kind of unadulterated sharing.

"Otay, Gwanfadder." Marcus seemed to understand, and he smiled fleetingly before ambling back to the sandy superhighway he'd constructed for his trucks. Cedrick relaxed carefully, surprised at his intense reaction. His shoulders positively ached. He concentrated on relaxing the overtaxed muscles, working his way from his neck to his fingers, then down his back to his toes. The tension flowed away slowly, and he let out a sigh of relief.

The sound of the sliding glass door broke his reverie, and he almost tensed up again. Forcing himself out of alert mode, he smiled up at the young woman approaching him with a full glass of... something.

"Hi, there, Grandpa. Rupert thought you might like a cool drink. All we have at the moment is herbed tea, but it isn't too awful."

"I'm sure it's fine, my dear. I was getting a bit thirsty. Thank you." He took the proffered glass and sipped carefully. "It's delightful. I shall enjoy it." He took another sip, and smiled at the unusual, but pleasant taste.

He noticed, after a few seconds, that Buffy was still standing beside him, shifting her feet nervously. "Buffy, did you want to say something else?"

She nodded and plopped down in front of him on the deck steps, resting against the rail. "Yeah, I do, but I don't know exactly *how* to say it, so I'm stalling until I have a flash of inspiration from above."

After staring at her briefly, he began to laugh, surprising them both. She joined him hesitantly, and Marcus crowed happily from his sandbox. When the chuckling was over, Cedrick said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, my dear. I don't mean to be rude, but I don't often hear that particular turn of phrase."

"No, it's cool. I was trying to make with the funny, so the laughing was much appreciated."

He chuckled again. "Good. I shouldn't want you to be uncomfortable around me."

"Same here." She shifted slightly towards him. "Y'know, I can't hear your echo very well, even this close. That's different."

Cedrick dropped his gaze. "So Marcus said. It seemed to disturb him."

"He noticed?" Buffy said incredulously. "He's growing up waaaay to fast!"

"He's remarkable," Cedrick agreed sincerely.

"About the missing echo... is that deliberate?"

That was the question, wasn't it? The moment he exited the Watcher's Compound, the fragile mental connection seemed to wither away. Had he become so disillusioned that his inner strength, the Bond that had enabled him to fight back from a mental institution to become head of Council Security, been silenced? And more worrisome still... was it a permanent affliction?

"It isn't deliberate, Buffy. I don't know what has caused it to subside. I haven't felt this... hollow... since before..."

"...before Leila died?" she finished for him, gently.

"Yes." The word was almost a groan.

"I'm so sorry... the job thing... it's another loss, just like Leila, and maybe you're going through the same reactions. Not that I'm any expert, but..." She gestured helplessly, unable to continue.

He smiled at her sincere effort to reassure him. "You may be right."

"Well, what I'm working around to saying is, we're here for you, if you want to try and get it back. To... um... try to reconnect with us. "

Cedrick nodded. "Marcus has said the same thing, in his own way."

"He did? Sheesh! Upstaged by my own kid!"

Sensing her attention shifting to focus on him, Marcus looked up and laughed. "Mummy's funny!" he declared.

"Mummy's a laugh riot, if you two are any indication. C'mere, kiddo, and let me wash you up for dinner. You're all sandy."

Marcus scrambled to his feet, clutching as many toys as he could handle, and marched up the steps to his beaming mother. "I need to wash de twucks, Mummy, 'cause dey comin' inside wif me."

She rolled her eyes, but helped him with his burden, and they entered the house with Cedrick only a few steps behind.

As soon as the door closed and the occupants of the house were out of sight, a bulbous-nosed gray face peered out from the hedge. Madvehkar the troll stared at the closed door for a moment, lost in thought.

"What do you think of the new Watcher, Gerard?" he hissed as the leaves rustled beside him.

A blue goblin face popped into view, and the multi-faceted eyes sparkled with humor. "He's not a Watcher anymore, and he's a Giles, so I'm banking on him being on our side."

"Maybe sssso," Mad agreed reluctantly. "I jusssst hope he'ssss not bad newssss."

"Me, too, buddy. They've had enough excitement for a while."

Mad rubbed his head, remembering the beating it took when they were trying to defend the Watcher in their last adventure. "Yeah... and sssso have I!"

********

That evening Cedrick leaned back from the table and sighed happily. "Buffy, you and Rupert make an excellent culinary team. That was wonderful."

Buffy flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. I was wondering if you would like plain old American food."

"I seem to like it very much. I’m entirely too full."

Giles grinned at his father and arose to help Buffy gather plates. Marcus climbed down from his highchair and, after accepting a few swipes with a washcloth from his mother, dashed into the living room. Not knowing exactly what to do, Cedrick followed the child and sat on the sofa to watch him play.

He never tired of watching Marcus’ imagination unfolding. If there was any doubt in his mind about the uniqueness of his grandson, the first few moments spent with him erased it completely. At a year and a half, Marcus could surpass most kindergarten age children in verbal skills and physical coordination. He wasn’t quite reading as yet, but he was well on his way, and he had curiosity to motivate him in his learning.

The most amazing thing was his completely selfless attitude. Cedrick thought about how Rupert had fought with other boys over toys, bicycles, and various other possessions. Sometimes they just fought over who would choose the next game. Marcus seemed to have a strong sense of community, and he was more than willing to share what he had with anyone around him. He strove to bring harmony instead of discord.

********

The next few days passed as the ex-Watcher slowly began to regain his equilibrium. He shopped with Rupert, amazed at his son’s ability to remember what everyone had wished for during the year. He met Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and his Slayer, Faith, and recognized the beginnings of the Bond’s closeness in them. He found a certain satisfaction in that, knowing that he’d been a part of bringing the precious connection back into the mainstream of Council approval. He even coaxed Rupert into playing a couple of rounds of golf. They hadn’t played since before Cedrick lost his Slayer, and it brought back so many bittersweet memories they were both hard pressed to keep from becoming lost in emotion.

Due to everyone’s busy holiday schedules, Buffy decided to have the gang over that Saturday afternoon. They’d planned to make an outdoor barbecue of it, but the weather refused to cooperate, clouding up early in the morning and spreading a slightly chilly rain over the entire California coast. Giles improvised by moving the grill to the garage and leaving the large door open. He had just finished lighting the coals when Willow and Armstrong arrived, ignoring the front door in favor of the garage’s more straightforward access.

"Hey, Giles! You shouldn’t leave the garage door up! No telling what kind of people will walk in!" Willow cried cheerfully as they shook out their umbrellas at the threshold.

"Hello, Willow... Armstrong... come inside and warm up a bit."

"Please, Mister Giles, after all we’ve been through, call me Bill," the young Watcher said earnestly.

"Only if you’ll stop calling me Mister Giles, young man. It makes me feel quite ancient."

Armstrong laughed shortly, then nodded. "All right... Giles."

Willow stifled a laugh, but Giles smiled happily. "Much better."

"Before I forget... Merry Christmas, Giles," Willow bestowed a loving kiss on his cheek. He grinned, blushing slightly despite the warmth of his feelings towards her, and repeated her holiday greeting. He clapped Armstrong on the shoulder in comradely fashion, and led them both into the kitchen where Buffy was busily preparing herbed corn on the cob. Cedrick was nowhere in sight.

Willow was about to ask about him when Joyce and Wilton bustled in, and of course everything stopped as Marcus noisily greeted his grandparents. Before she could get her bearings, Buffy was grabbed from behind by someone who proceeded to spin her around and plant a noisy kiss on her lips before she could protest. As she glared at Xander in mock anger, he pointed up to the doorway at a hastily hung sprig of mistletoe and said quickly, "Look! The mistletoe was already there! I was just keeping with tradition!"

Anya marched up right behind him and snapped, "Xander is off limits to other women, Buffy, married or otherwise. Don’t forget that."

"Buffy gets one kiss from all the men, Anya," Willow reasoned. "It’s her house and her party. That’s the rule."

Anya didn’t like that at all. "Your man hasn’t kissed Buffy, and he was here before we were."

Willow, with admirable dignity, declared, "Bill can kiss anyone he wants to, as long as it’s just one kiss, and it doesn’t last very long. Oh, and no tongue. And he goes home with me! And also besides, I already gave Giles a kiss."

Everyone smiled, but Anya’s frown grew even deeper. "That doesn’t seem fair. If Buffy gets a kiss from all the men, then Giles should get a kiss from *all* the women." Suddenly, she brightened and disappeared down the hall.

"Uh oh," Willow gulped. "I think that backfired... poor Giles..."

Buffy started giggling, which turned to a loud guffaw as she heard a mental yelp of surprise and pain from her husband. Anya had attacked him as he was leaning over the grill. Buffy collapsed into fits of mirth at his subvocal cursing. "It’s too late, Will!" Buffy gasped, holding her sides. "He’s already been nailed!"

"Oh, no... Buffy, he’s gonna kill me!"

"Relax, Will... he’ll get over it. At least he was wearing an apron."

"Oh, that’s good... oh, God, you don’t mean... the grill... oh, my God!" Willow ducked into the downstairs bathroom, horrified. Buffy, still giggling, went to see if her poor husband needed any burn ointment.

It took the rest of them several minutes to calm down. They had just started on the corn again when Anya strolled back into the room, smirking wickedly. She curled her fingers into Xander’s hand and gave him an affectionate squeeze. "Now. We’re even."

It was into this laughing crowd that Cedrick descended, and he seriously considered turning around and going back to his room. They were all so... excruciatingly happy. He wasn’t sure he could muster that much bonhomie.

Willow spotted him before he could disappear, and waved happily. "Oh, hey, Mister Giles! Merry Christmas!" She beamed as he took a deep breath and came on down, almost gasping at the thick blanket of positive emotions that covered the room. ‘At least that part of the Bond is still functioning,’ he thought with a mental snort. It was somewhat ironic. Negative emotions had knocked his psychic ability for six, and he wasn’t quite ready for the ‘happily ever after’ mentality that seemed to mark Buffy’s friends and family.

He slowly became aware that Willow was speaking, and he forced himself to pay attention to her.

"I hope you don’t mind, but we got you a little something to put under the tree. It’s nothing big, but you still can’t open it until Christmas Eve, okay?"

"A present?" He was stunned. Why would they be giving him presents? They barely knew him.

Willow blushed slightly, but took a deep breath and continued. "It’s kind of a Scooby Gang tradition, see, that everybody gets together and opens a present on Christmas Eve. So... now you have at least one to open then, and you can do the rest the next morning with Buffy, Giles and Marcus." She giggled and leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, "I always have to sneak out. My dad thinks celebrating Christmas is anti-Jewish."

"Ah, well..." Cedrick shrugged, not knowing how to comment on that. Buffy’s voice floated in from the kitchen, beckoning him, and he escaped Willow’s presence with a brief apology. He turned into the small room and was immediately handed a tray covered with aluminum foil wrapped cylinders.

"Could you take the corn to Gi... Rupert?" She amended with a smile.

He took the tray and smiled back, arching an eyebrow at her amended sentence. "Certainly. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please allow me."

"I will. You’re family, which means you get stuck with the chores, just like the rest of us."

After delivering the tray to its intended destination, he stayed around the grill, listening to Giles and his younger friends converse with the ease of familiarity. He saw the genuine affection that passed between them, amazed that even William Armstrong seemed to be a part of the closely-knit group. He watched as it became obvious that Buffy’s friend Willow exhibited a strong affection for the young Watcher that he’d sent to look after his grandson. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or worried.

The afternoon swirled around him like a storm around an outcropping of rock. He reacted appropriately, smiling, talking, even chuckling a few times at one silliness or another. Slowly, as the day wore on, Cedrick Giles began to enjoy himself. The people Rupert surrounded himself with were genuine, warm, and accepting. It was hard to believe that this noisy crowd contained a core group that had closed the Hellmouth, fought demons and warlocks bent on their destruction, and saved Humanity time and again from the terrors of the night.

They were all so... excruciatingly *normal*.

The evening ended with a visit from Faith and Wyndam-Pryce, fresh from their patrol. They chatted and discussed the demon of the week, with the two Slayers trading war stories until his head was spinning. As normal as these people appeared, they were on the forefront of the battle against Evil, and it wouldn’t do to forget that fact. Not for a moment.

Marcus drifted off to sleep in Willow’s lap while they were talking, and Giles carried him up to his crib as their friends began to say their goodbyes. Buffy’s mother and stepfather were the last to leave. Joyce had stayed behind for the last of the cleanup detail, leaving Cedrick, Rupert, and Wilton in the living room to visit. Whether that was deliberate or not, Cedrick didn’t know. He quickly took a liking to Wilton Bernard, and the three men found themselves discussing the latest exhibition of artifacts from a recent University-sponsored dig in Macedonia.

"You say the exhibit will be in town until just after Christmas, Wilton?" Cedrick leaned forward, his enthusiasm for the subject causing Giles to smile.

"Yes, you should come down and examine some of the rune stones. We’ve picked out three separate languages, and it’s been a fascinating study. Nothing prophetic, of course, or we would still have them under lock and key. Still, I’ve learned more about the buying and selling of sheep than I ever wanted to know."

They all chuckled, then looked up as the ladies entered the room with a tray of steaming mugs.

"Coffee or tea, take your pick, guys," Buffy announced, as she placed the tray in front of them on the coffee table.

The instant they were all equipped with mugs in hand, Buffy said innocently, "So, did you tell him about the party?"

Giles and Wilton froze, cups halfway to their mouths.

"I guess that’s a no," she surmised with a wry grin. "What is it with guys and details, Mom? They always forget something."

"Don’t know, dear, I think it’s all that testosterone."

The two accused men looked down guiltily, and Giles managed to say, "I’m sorry, love, we were discussing the exhibition, and forgot about the party."

Cedrick sighed deeply. "I take it this party is supposed to be of some interest to me?" He was already figuring out that his son and daughter-in-law were not going to allow him to wallow in his despair, at least, not without a fight. "And, that it has something to do with the University?"

Wilton grinned and nodded. "We have the Mythology and Antiquity Department’s joint Faculty and Family get-together next Friday night. We were supposed to invite you to join us. Rupert has only been once, but it wasn’t too awful, was it, Rupert?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I enjoyed getting to know the others. Buffy was a bit bored, I’m afraid."

"Not too bad," Buffy inserted quickly. "I did meet some really nice people who were into aerobics."

Giles chuckled. "As you say. Well, Father, what do you think? They’re not as entertaining as Xander and Willow..."

"...but you might actually have fun," Buffy finished, looking at him expectantly.

Cedrick felt overwhelmed for a few seconds, then he realized what his son was trying to do. He found the only group of people in the area that could possibly have anything in common with his Watcher-trained father, and was willing to put up with an extremely trying evening to allow said father to be with that group of people. Even Buffy seemed eager for him to go.

Despite the fact that he didn’t feel like going to a party, he decided it couldn’t hurt to humor them. "It sounds very interesting."

"Good. We’re taking that as a yes, by the way," Buffy said seriously.

"It was. Yes, I will go to your Faculty party. Perhaps I’ll get a glimpse of your exhibit, as well."

Wilton smiled easily and nodded. "I’ll see that you get the grand tour, Cedrick." He stood, holding out his hand. "It’s been a pleasure, but I think we should be getting home."

Joyce rose with her husband and gave Buffy a hug and kiss. She brushed Giles’ cheek with her lips, then they gathered their empty dishes and left.

Buffy glanced around the kitchen, smiling. "Nothing much left to do in here, thank God. I love having Mom over for a party. She’s a clean-up wizard."

"She certainly is. Were you taking notes?" Giles ducked as a damp washcloth missed his head by a few inches.

Cedrick sat in the living room, listening to his children banter back and forth. He was suddenly very tired, feeling old and useless, and he hauled himself to his feet and announced, "I think I shall retire, Rupert... Buffy... if you don’t mind."

Giles came out of the kitchen, looking concerned. "Is everything all right, Father?"

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m adjusting to the time change, that’s all."

"If you’re sure."

He smiled and nodded, then made his way upstairs. Passing Marcus’ room, he couldn’t resist peaking in on the tiny boy. Marcus was sleeping soundly, his breathing even in the quiet room. Cedrick watched for several moments, a ghost of a true smile on his face, then he headed for his own room. As he prepared for bed, he found himself keenly envying his grandson for the oblivion of innocent sleep.

********

As each day passed, Cedrick Giles felt himself beginning to come to terms with his new life. Despite his own stubborn adherence to his despair, he was responding to his family's concern and love. He wondered, briefly, before settling in to sleep, if he would ever be truly whole again. Finally, he drifted away, the Bond remaining quiet within him.

The next morning when he came downstairs, he was surprised to find Buffy and Giles awake and dressed. The smell of something wonderful cooking assailed his nostrils, causing him to smile. Giles was setting the table, and Buffy was bustling about, bringing food from the kitchen.

"Good morning. You're both up early." He squatted to accept an enthusiastic hug from Marcus, then straightened with the boy in his arms.

"We goin' to chu'ch, Gwanfadder!"

He looked up at Buffy and Giles, surprised. "You attend services regularly?"

Buffy started to answer, but an electronic ding from the kitchen took her attention. "I have cinnamon rolls in the oven. Be right back!"

Giles answered for her. "Yes, we do. We've become respectable."

Cedrick chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "You've always been respectable, Son."

"Not always," Giles said ruefully, thinking about his rebellious years. That was something his father knew very little about, since they occurred while Cedrick was in the Council-sponsored mental institution.

Cedrick let the matter drop, knowing his son was uncomfortable discussing their years apart.

"Would you like to go with us, Father? The service begins at eleven."

"Yes, I think I'm in need some spiritual guidance," Cedrick said lightly, letting Marcus down.

"Aren't we all?" Buffy quipped as she came back into the room with a pan full of fragrant rolls. "Now, let's eat this stuff before it gets all cold."

After mass, the four of them paused at the church doorway to speak to Father Denning. Marcus greeted the cleric enthusiastically, and Cedrick could see how comfortable his family was with the priest. Denning recognized Cedrick from Marcus' christening, and smiled broadly as they shook hands. "Mister Giles, it's a pleasure to see you again, and under much more pleasant circ*mstances. I hope you don't think we have demonic intrusions on all our services."

"Judging by how you handled the one I witnessed, I doubt you have much repeat business."

Denning smiled broadly. "Thank you, but it wasn't anything I did. Our God commands the universe... a little thing like a wayward wizard is no trouble for Him."

Cedrick's mind flashed back to those frantic days when he was trying to contain Quentin Travers and his malevolent evil. He could have certainly used a fellow like this one at his side.

"Amen to that, Father," he said with feeling.

Father Denning sensed a deep sorrow in Cedrick, and his heart immediately went out to the man. "Please, if you feel like visiting, come by some time. I'm either here, in the office, or on the grounds, all day."

Cedrick felt a spark of kinship with this sturdy, religious man. The feeling surprised him and brought his natural suspicious nature to the fore. "Perhaps I will, one day," he said evasively, then changed the subject. "I understand Marcus will be attending school here, at least, when he is old enough."

"Rupert and I have discussed it, and we're looking forward to having him here. I'm sure his special gifts won't surprise our faculty too much. Living on the mouth of Hell has somewhat tempered our reactions to the unusual."

It occurred to Cedrick that this priest knew his son's family very well. This man lived in Sunnydale. He obviously knew of their calling, and was accepting of it. Cedrick's curiosity about Father Denning was piqued, and he resolved to make good on his promise to visit, if for no other reason than to pick the man's brain about his knowledge of the Slayer.

After a relaxed lunch at a local restaurant, the Giles' family returned home. Marcus was fast asleep before they pulled into the driveway, so Giles took him upstairs to put him down, hoping to take a nap himself. That left Buffy and Cedrick alone downstairs.

They looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment, then Buffy sighed and said, "Cedrick? Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He sat down on the couch, curious, as his daughter-in-law joined him, looking a bit hesitant. He smiled at her reassuringly. "Of course, Buffy. Please, go ahead."

"Why weren't you there when we first went to England and met with the Council?" At his blank look, she added, "When we were trying to get them to let us retire."

"Ah." He nodded, the slight movement almost imperceptible. He was silent for a minute, then replied, "It was the Director's opinion that my presence would exacerbate the situation. He wasn't entirely sure the vote would be favorable, or that I could remain neutral while the decision was being made. So, I stayed away."

"But you didn't really want to, did you?"

He sighed heavily. "No. I didn't really want to."

"I just wonder... but it's not important, now."

He leaned forward slightly. She always had the ability to surprise him, and he wasn't going to allow her to hide her thoughts after all they'd been through. "What do you wonder, my dear?"

"I wonder if things might have been different if you had been there. The interrogation, the vampires, David Post..." Cedrick winced, but she continued stubbornly, "...the traitor Watchers plotting to take over... there was just a lot of things that might have gone better if you had been there, looking out for things."

It was an honest statement, although blunt. It deserved equal honesty. "Perhaps it would have been better. Perhaps not. I don't know. I spent years trying to defend my sanity and regain my position in the Council. Once that was achieved, I was so relieved that I... well, for lack of better words, I bowed to whatever dictates the Director demanded. I never questioned them, never refused or questioned an order, no matter how difficult or... personally distasteful it was."

"I guess I can understand that," Buffy acknowledged with a small smile. "Giles... Rupert was the same way for a long time."

His eyebrows went up at her use of the surname, but he said nothing. She was his son's wife, and she could call him anything she wished. He'd noticed she called him 'Giles' when talking to her friends...

"Some time I'll explain the 'Giles' thing to you," she promised. "But, back to the story... He was totally devastated by the Council's refusal of our request... it was like they'd cut his heart out. He lived his whole life, with the exception of the 'Ripper years', being the best Watcher he could be, and they shot him down without hesitation. I just wanted to fly over there and kick some tweed-covered butt!" Her eyes flashed angrily. "It's probably lucky you weren't there. If you'd been in on it, I would've kicked yours, too, future father-in-law or not!"

Cedrick laughed shortly, his mind playing the image of the tiny blonde thrashing the three-hundred-pound Chairman thoroughly and knocking the entire Ruling Council about like ten pins. In the next instant, Buffy's declaration jolted his mind. He'd actually been a bit worried about his son 's marriage to this youthful, undisciplined slip of a girl. Every Slayer he'd ever met had been so very young. Even Leila had been willful, selfish, and in desperate need of a guiding hand. To his Watcher's mind, a Slayer was a child with a supernatural gift, one that had to be restrained, trained, and redirected into proper channels.

This young lady sitting next to him was nothing like that. She was self-disciplined without being stiff and cold, powerful without being intimidating, and thoroughly loving and warm to her family. She was a complete person, not an icon or an instrument. She was his daughter by marriage, and she loved his son and grandson with fierce loyalty. Her understanding of Rupert's psyche was much deeper than his own, brought about by time and the effort to learn what was important in his life.

"At the time, I deserved a good kicking, Buffy," he acknowledged sorrowfully. "But I've gotten past that."

She smiled warmly and reached over to grasp his hand. "I know. One thing about sharing the Bond, however briefly... I knew you were a good man. You still are. And I'm awfully glad you're here, for Rupert. For all of us."

Unexpected tears sprang into the corners of his eyes. "Thank you, my dear. What a lovely thing to say."

She surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. "I meant it. You probably don't think so, but there's a reason you're here, now, without all the Watcher baggage dragging you down. It may take a while, but we'll find out just what that reason is. One thing I've learned about being a soldier of the Light... God never gets in a hurry, but he's always right on time with stuff."

'She never ceases to amaze me,' he thought proudly, squeezing her hand in gratitude.

"And now, I'm gonna go disturb my husband's nap," she said playfully, gracefully rising to her feet.

Cedrick stood with her, smiling. "Go ahead. I think I shall find something to read." He glanced around the book-lined room with a wry grin. "I believe I can find something to occupy me down here."

"Cool."

Buffy bounced up the steps, relieved that her talk with Cedrick had gone so well. She sent a mental warning to Giles as she approached, telling him of her happy mood, and warning him that there would be smoochies involved when she got there.

Giles grinned at her loving mood and bent to take off his shoes. 'There goes my nap,' he thought, teasingly.

She came in the door just as he was straightening. "Oh, you'll get your nap, babe," she promised as she reached up to help him with his tie. "You're gonna sleep *real* well after I get through with you."

********

All his life had been books. Textbooks, law books, treatises on demonic possession, books about witchcraft and wizardry, books about Heaven and Hell. Cedrick stared at the rows of books in the living room, wondering if Rupert actually had a title that he hadn't read before. So far, everything he'd looked at was crushingly familiar. He turned away from the shelved, disillusioned and weary.

His eyes fell on the neatly stacked pages on Giles' desk. That looked interesting. If it was personal, he'd immediately put it down and go on to something else. He scanned the first page, his interest further captured as he realized what the sheaf of papers represented.

Rupert had been working on the Prophecies of Enosh, the section about the male Chosen One and his part in the Apocalypse. He had the entire section printed out, from scans of the originals, most likely. There were other pages, scanned from other translations, as well as a religious document that Rupert himself had worked on when he was at the Museum.

Cedrick had transmitted Cho-je's translation to Bill as soon as the Director had given it to him. In doing his duty, he'd failed to give the documents a thorough going over himself, intent as he was to complete his task. The Director had placed the verses under lock and key the moment the scans were complete, not giving Cedrick the chance to study them. He decided to remedy that oversight immediately. He sat down at the desk, withdrawing a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, and began.

After just a few minutes' reading, he realized something. The verses that directly preceded this section were missing. He stopped in his perusal, puzzled, then realized why Rupert wasn't privy to that information. It was the practice of the Council to restrict the current Watcher from seeing the verses that seemed to refer to the current Slayer. It was believed that the descriptions of the Slayer's demise would demoralize the Watcher, rendering him unable to continue his role as leader and teacher. Up until now, he'd agreed wholeheartedly. If he had known how swiftly Leila was going to die, he'd have been paralyzed with grief.

After a quick scan of the documents in front of him, he rose and began to pace, frowning. Something in those previous verses stood out in his memory. The manner of the Slayer's death was recorded. What was it, now... drowning? He wished fervently for access to the Council Archives. He wanted to check his memory, but he felt sure that the verses he'd read indicated the Slayer would drown in her attempt to block the Master's arrival.

A sudden shock caused him to pause in his pacing.

Buffy had drowned once already. Young Xander had revived her. The Master had already been destroyed. That was all very old news.

If he was right, then Buffy's death was NOT in the Prophecies.

"Oh, dear God..." he said aloud, his voice shaky.

If Buffy's true death was not recorded in the Prophecies, then there was no reason to seal them. There was no reason to restrict Rupert's access to them, and there just might be something in them to help sort through the maze of ancient words and meanings.

And Cedrick's heart leaped inside his chest. He'd just found a new purpose in life.

He reached for his wallet, digging out a plastic phone card. He studied the instructions carefully, not wanting to charge an expensive overseas call to his son's number. When he was satisfied that he understood the process, he returned to the desk and lifted the handset. Within a minute, he was connecting to the new Director's secretary, hoping that he would still be allowed access to the man without question.

When the sharp-edged voice of the Director reached his ears, Cedrick Giles smiled, the first genuinely happy smile since his credibility had first been called into question.

"Director, thank you for taking my call. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

He paused, listening for a moment. "It involves the Prophecy. I shan't keep you long."

The long-distance conversation continued for several minutes, and by the time Cedrick broke the connection, he was ecstatic. The Director had agreed with his assessment, and promised to verify the facts from Rupert's Watcher Diaries as soon as possible. If it appeared that Buffy was exempt from the Prophecy, then there would be no reason to keep it from him. They would transmit the verses immediately once they were certain.

Cedrick opened the sliding glass door and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. He strode to the railing of the deck and rested his hands on it, breathing deeply.

Somewhere, deep inside him, the Bond stirred, and suddenly his life was his once again.

Chapter 11: A Time to Heal

Summary:

Cedrick and Marcus. Miracles occur.

Chapter Text

"Hi, Cedrick! Right on time... Ooo, fudge!" Buffy’s hand shot out and liberated a good-sized chunk from the plate in front of him.

"Help yourself, of course," Cedrick said dryly, unable to keep from smiling as he entered the house. He knew Buffy couldn’t resist anything chocolate.

"And thank you for sharing. You’re a gentleman and a scholar." She followed him into the living room, still eyeing the heavy-laden plate as she chewed happily.

Cedrick gave a longsuffering sigh and sat down on the couch, putting the fudge on the coffee table in front of him. "Isn’t it almost time to pick up Marcus? I could dash over, if you like."

"Rupert’s already gone. He got out of class early for some reason. I think they were spraying the halls for bugs." She shuddered, much to his amusem*nt. Demons, Vampires and slimy things from Hell didn’t faze her, but she drew the line at roaches.

"And how is Marcus adapting to his first week at preschool?"

Buffy beamed and plopped down on the couch beside her father-in-law. "He loves it. Of course, thanks to the two British schoolmasters in our family, he’s already way ahead of everyone else, but he loves it."

"Am I early? I thought Rupert said four o’clock."

"He did, but he’s late, because of picking up the kid. Where’d you get the fudge, by the way? Or have you started taking Martha Stewart lessons from HGTV?"

Cedrick chuckled. Really, once you understood a bit about popular culture, Buffy’s quips were quite amusing. "I’m much more inclined to watch "Emeril Live", actually. But no, Señora Ortega made these for me."

"Señora who? Oh, you mean Mrs. Ortega? From the Laundromat?"

"Yes. She’s an excellent cook. She’s taken it upon herself to educate me in quality Southern California cuisine... in addition to preventing me from ruining my shirts."

"Quality Southern California cuisine includes fudge? A woman after my own heart!"

"Ah, yes. She does seem a pleasant woman."

"Smart, too. She has a hefty degree from some university in Mexico. Rupert was even impressed."

"An advanced business degree from the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, to be exact."

"Wow, that’s a mouthful... are all Giles-es multi-lingual?"

Cedrick smiled. "All the ones I know are at the very least bi-lingual."

"Makes me feel totally uneducated."

"Not at all," he said kindly. "I suppose you could call psychic communication a second language."

Buffy snorted, but looked pleased.

"At any rate, Senora Ortega speaks French, as well, with a charming accent, I might add."

Buffy began to look smug. "I’ll bet she does. She’s a widow, did you know?"

"Yes, you’ve mentioned that a time or two."

"And she owns a bunch of Laundromats, did you know that?"

"Ah... yes, I did."

"She’s kind of an entrepreneur, too. Helps people get started with their businesses... gives people jobs when they need them."

"Yes, she’s very generous." Cedrick caught the sly look in Buffy’s eyes. He instantly knew he was in trouble. Buffy’s matchmaking efforts on his behalf were becoming embarrassingly blatant.

Buffy ignored the subtle warning in Cedrick’s voice. "I think she’s got the hots for you, Mister Sophisticated Foreign Guy. Next she’ll be inviting you to her place for a genuine home-cooked Mexican feast."

"Well, actually..."

Buffy’s smile nearly split her face in two. "Get out! She did? What’d you say? Are you going? When?"

Cedrick’s stuttering response was interrupted by the sound of an opening door and the appearance of a tiny, tousle-haired tornado named Marcus. The boy made a beeline for his grandfather, while his smiling father followed at a more sedate pace. Buffy jumped up and met him, her face lifted for a kiss.

"Gwanfadder! I dwawed a picture fo’ you!" The happy little boy bounced into Cedrick’s lap and presented him with a wrinkled sheet of construction paper. On it was a two-year-old’s rendition of the Giles family... a large, wobbly stick figure with smaller circles representing glasses, a crooked smile, and the vestige of a body, arms and legs. Its disproportionate hands were linked on one side with a smaller circle with yellow streaks for hair, and on the other with an even smaller, brown streaked figure. A mid-sized shape with gray streaks finished the portrait.

"This is very good, Marcus. I see you have drawn your father, your mother, yourself and me."

"Yeth! I dwawed..."

Giles, with his arms still around Buffy, said mildly, "Drew, Marcus. The past tense of ‘draw’ is ‘drew’."

"Otay, Daddy. I dwew my family. Dat’s what Sisser Anne told us to dwew."

Giles rolled his eyes and started to correct the boy again, but Buffy poked him in the side. "Teacher mode off, buster. Let him be a baby sometimes. It’s okay, and kinda cute, too."

"He understands more than you think, love."

"I know, but still..."

Cedrick cleared his throat, effectively stopping the discussion before it blossomed into a disagreement. He turned to Marcus, a serious look on his face. "May I keep this?" He placed the picture on the table beside the brownies and smoothed it carefully.

"Yeth, Gwanfadder. I dwew it fo’ you." He snuggled into Cedrick’s side. "So you can wemember what we wook wike."

Cedrick chuckled. "It’s a very good likeness. You’ve included your father’s glasses."

Marcus shyly eyed the candy on the table and looked up at Cedrick with guileless eyes. "What’s dat?"

"It’s fudge."

"Oh. What’s fudge?"

"It’s a type of chocolate candy. Would you like some?"

"Yeth."

As Marcus sampled the fudge, Giles looked at his watch. "Well, are we ready to go?"

Cedrick nodded, smiling as his grandson finished the candy with obvious relish. "Do you like fudge, Marcus?"

A huge grin appeared on the boy’s face. "Yeth! It berry good!"

"C’mere, kiddo." Buffy held out her hand, and he squirmed off Cedrick’s lap and came to her side. She wiped the chocolate off his face with her ever-present washcloth and looked him over with a mother’s eye, smiling in satisfaction. "You stayed pretty clean today, sweetie, so you don’t have to change clothes. Do you need to go to the restroom?"

Marcus shook his head ‘no’.

"Okay, if you’re sure."

"I sure, Mummy," he declared proudly.

"Good boy. Now, we’re gonna help Grandfather Giles pick out furniture for his new house." She picked Marcus up and balanced him on her hip. "We’re ready, then, I guess." She started for the door, snagging her purse along the way. "I am sooo glad I don’t have to carry a diaper bag around any more!"

"Amen," Giles agreed.

As they went out the front door, Buffy said mischievously, "Hey, sweetie, did you know your dad has a date?"

********

"Dis one, Gwanfadder!" Marcus leaped onto his choice of couch, wiggling around until he was comfortably seating in the center. "Dis is soft."

Marcus seemed delighted with the furniture showroom, and he kept the salesman amused with his questions and opinions of the pieces they were shown. He didn’t seem to realize that picking furniture was a ‘grown up affair’, and he cheerfully added his two cents worth at every opportunity.

Cedrick tried the couch, staring seriously off into space as he evaluated its potential. "It’s very nice. Why do you like it, Marcus?"

"’Cause it wooks wike mine!" He slid down until his face was against the plush fabric. "An’ it’s soft wike mine."

The salesman, eager to get things moving, offered, "This model has twin recliners, Mister Giles." He indicated a button just under the arm, and to Cedrick’s surprise, a footrest appeared. "Just lean back as far as you want to... it’ll stay where you put it until you’re ready to get up. Perfect for watching TV."

"I’m not much of a television watcher," Cedrick said doubtfully.

"Say, I like this," Buffy commented from the opposite corner of the sofa. She reclined the seat back and closed her eyes. Marcus clambered into her lap, laying his head on her chest and going completely still, imitating her relaxed pose. "Marcus likes it, too," she observed, tickling her son until he giggled and squirmed down.

"Comes with a loveseat/hide-a-bed combination and a side chair..."

The salesman looked down as Marcus marched up to him and stated matter-of-factly, "We want dis one."

"You’re awfully free with your grandfather’s money, son," Giles said with a smile.

"No, he’s absolutely right. This is just the thing. I shall take this suite." Cedrick stood decisively and nodded, satisfied with the boy’s choice. The salesman disappeared to fill out the paperwork, and Giles grabbed Marcus before he saw anything else he thought his grandfather should buy.

"Do you need anything else, Cedrick?" Buffy asked, still reclining comfortably.

"No, I believe that is all. We can move the rest of my furniture in this weekend, and I believe I shall be quite comfortable."

"I’m sorry we couldn’t have found a more suitable place earlier, Father." Giles shifted Marcus higher in his arms and frowned. "There aren’t that many houses available for the short term."

"Not at all. Having the apartment first allowed me time to decide where I wanted to live. The house is just right for me, and there’s room for Marcus to play. I’m quite content."

"You’ll have to invite Mrs. Ortega to your housewarming party, Cedrick," Buffy said smoothly.

Cedrick just glared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "I wasn’t aware of a housewarming party."

"That’s because we haven’t gotten around to planning it yet. But you’ll have to get everything fixed up and invite everyone over to trash the place. It’s traditional."

"I see." Somehow, he managed to convey the fact that he didn’t see at all.

Giles, ever the peacemaker, said evenly, "We’ll discuss it later."

Cedrick nodded, amused in spite of himself. "I suppose I should get used to you two planning my social calendar, yes?"

"Sure, because we’re so good at it."

Cedrick chuckled, wandering off to examine some floor lamps. Buffy didn’t move, but her thoughts turned wistful as she sent a non-verbal message to her husband. ‘Now if he could just re-establish his connection with the Bond, everything would be perfect.’

‘Yes, it would,’ Giles agreed silently. Strangely enough, his father seemed reluctant to be drawn back into the realm of the supernatural.

The salesman returned and motioned them towards the office, so there was no time for further extra-sensory communication.

********

"I’m worried about your dad."

"As am I. He will agree that we need to try to reestablish our Bond, but he won’t agree to a set time and place."

"He’s just putting things off so he won’t have to think about them."

"Perhaps. He’s been through so much... I can’t seem to bring myself to insist."

"I know. He’s been so sweet... in his gloomy British way."

Giles raised an eyebrow at her description. "Gloomy?"

"Well, yeah. He’s just so... down... all the time. And still won’t listen to us where the Bond is concerned."

"Father has never been the cheery sort, Buffy."

"Well, yeah, but before he was canned, he was all right."

"At least, that’s what he told us. I’m not entirely sure he was all right, truly. Being sequestered away from his family for more than two decades has to leave lasting trauma."

"Yeah, but it’s our job to help him. We’re his family now. He belongs to us, and vice versa."

Giles hummed his agreement, then reluctantly lifted his head from his wife’s belly to squint at the digital clock on their nightstand. Eleven-fifteen, it was, and they hadn’t heard from Cedrick at all since they left the furniture store. He sighed again, placing a quick kiss near her belly button before sliding to his side and scooting up to rest his head on his pillow. Buffy moved into her usual pre-slumber position at his side, arm across his waist and head fitting comfortably into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

"Rupert?"

"Mmm?"

"Are we weird?"

The question was so unexpected, and brought forth such vivid images of the various demons and magical forces they’d battled, that he barked a quick laugh before he caught himself. "Why do you ask that, Love?"

"Because, lately, nearly every time we make love, we end up talking about your father afterwards. Even when it was... wow, which it was tonight, you sexy thang, you."

Giles thanked her for the compliment with a gentle kiss. "Every time with you is amazing, love."

She smiled, then frowned again. "I was afraid the talking about your dad might be... y’know... a weird thing."

He didn’t suppress the chuckle this time, and pulled her into a tight hug with one arm. "It isn’t weird, dearest. We’re just... um... relaxed at this point. All the more urgent matters..." He frowned in mild disapproval as she waggled her eyes suggestively. "...I didn’t mean that, silly girl. The trials of the day, so to speak, are settled. At any rate, now is an optimum time for quiet reflection. It isn’t strange that we would turn to Father’s troubles, since we care about him."

"Yeah, I guess. I just want him to be happy, hon."

"So do I, but not at the risk of ruining our own happiness. Whatever is done about his mental trauma, it must be his decision. Not ours."

"I know. I just want it to be fixed right now. You know me and my non-patient-ness."

"Yes, I do." He kissed her on top of the head and reached for the lamp switch. "Good night, light of my life."

Buffy giggled into the darkness and replied saucily, "Good night, stud muffin."

It was Giles’ turn to giggle, then quiet contentment settled over the room.

Two hours later, the telephone rang, shattering the silence, and Giles reluctantly disengaged himself from his wife’s embrace and rolled over to fumble for the receiver. He mumbled a near-incoherent greeting, and waited for the person on the other end to justify his or her existence.

The person did, quickly.

"G! You an’ B untangle the sheets, okay, ‘cause I need major help right now!"

Giles was instantly awake. "Faith? Where are you? What..." Beside him, Buffy sat up with a worried frown.

"No time, Watcher-man. You guys gotta come to Twenty-third and Holloway with some major armament and a book on trashing a demon that looks like the Incredible Hulk."

"The incredible what?"

Faith sighed. Obviously Giles never read comic books. "Big, green, red eyes, grunts a lot, smashes through walls, has my Watcher. That enough for ya? Now shake your booty!"

"Dear God... Wesley’s been taken? Just now?"

"You get a gold star, G. Green and Ugly was taking Willie’s Bar apart as we came by on patrol, so we stopped by to make sure no humans got hurt. Hulkie took a liking to Wes, I guess. I hope it’s not gay."

Giles was instantly all business. "Faith, physical description, in detail."

The terse command triggered her ingrained reporting skills. She cleared her throat and recited, "Seven feet, maybe more. Appears to be male. Built like a weight lifter, all shoulders and pecks, small waist and legs. No body hair, no fangs that I could see. Reacts to painful stimulus by going into an even deeper rage. I barely dented its fenders. Knocked the breath outta me in just a few minutes. Caught Wes with a backhand and knocked him out. Then it picked him up like a baby and ran off. By the time I got to the door, they were outta sight. That thing was fast!!"

"Any distinguishing marks? Tattoos? Jewelry?"

"Just a ratty pair of gym shorts that were busting at the seams."

"Barefoot?"

"Yep."

"Injuries? Scratches?"

"Not that I could see. I managed to land a few kicks... its ears may be ringin’."

"Thank you, Faith. I have what I need. Continue to search, but try to stay near the bar. You have my cell number?"

"Yeah, no problem. See ya soon."

"Right."

They stared at each other, suddenly realizing...

"Marcus!" They cried in unison.

"Giles, we can’t leave him..."

"I’ll call Father. We can take Marcus to him quicker than he can come to us."

She smiled in relief. "Sounds like a plan."

********

The entire block was cordoned off by police tape, marked and unmarked police cars. The surrounding buildings alternately appeared and disappeared as the rotating lights touched their surfaces.

"I don’t see her."

Giles skirted the police tape cautiously, trying not to look like a criminal returning to the scene. He spotted a slight figure striding purposefully down the middle of the street, and gave a quick nod in her direction. Buffy dashed away, leaving Giles to follow at a more... human... pace.

"Faith! Any luck?"

The attractive brunette shook her head angrily. "Not even a breath of the Bond, either. He’s gotta be out cold."

"I know what that’s like."

Faith came out of her funk and looked Buffy straight in the eye. The intermittent lighting didn’t hide the spark of kinship between the two girls. "I know you do, B." She relaxed suddenly and enveloped the blonde in a rib-crushing hug. "I’m glad you’re here, really glad. We have to find him." She sniffed fiercely and added, in a nearly inaudible whisper, "I can’t do this without him."

Buffy let the girl cling to her until she stopped shaking. The crusty, devil-may-care exterior slowly crept back into place, and Faith wiped her face stubbornly as she pulled away.

Giles approached slowly, Buffy’s thoughts warning him to ignore Faith’s tears. "Faith. Any sign of the creature?"

His calm voice brought a slight smile to Faith’s tightly closed mouth. "Just a path of destruction that leads away from here. I didn’t wanna get too far away."

"Good thinking. Let’s take the car. We can arm ourselves as we drive."

After rounding the block and following Faith’s directions, the path of the demon was plain to see, even in the moonless night. It had simply punched its way through any obstacle it found, leaving broken fences and walls with huge holes in which the dust was still settling. They drove for about fifteen frustrating minutes as Giles tried to find the most direct way to follow the trail and still keep the little red convertible on the street.

Finally, they came to the end of the destruction. They left the car, arms loaded with all the weapons they could carry, and started to backtrack until they came to an undamaged wall.

"He has to be in there. There’s no exit hole." Buffy’s blood was singing in her veins, a Slayer’s natural response to the hunt. "Let’s go kick his hiney, and we’ll all be home for breakfast."

Surprisingly, Faith shook her head in the negative. "No way, B. He’s too tough for simple Slayage. We gotta have an edge before we go in."

"Besides our usual charm and quick wit?"

Faith nodded grimly. "Yeah, we need a plan."

Both girls looked at Giles. Faith shifted anxiously, her eyes pleading. "Well? Any ideas, Big G?"

"Not this instant, no..."

"Aw, shucks. I thought maybe ‘Big G’ stood for ‘Big Guns’, which we really could use."

Giles gave Faith his most exasperated look. "Please, both of you... let me think."

Buffy shut her thoughts away from his, giving him a quiet mind to work with. She returned to her cautious patrol of the building’s exterior, carefully avoiding the rubble at the entry point. Beside her, Faith almost paralleled Buffy’s movements, too rattled to be still. Buffy shushed her several times as her voice rose in nervous chatter. Finally, Buffy gave up and led her sister-Slayer back to the car. Giles was sitting in the passenger’s seat pouring over the books he’d brought with them.

As they approached, Giles gave a triumphant cry and threw the car door open. "Here it is! But, I don’t understand... Dwordian demons aren’t usually aggressive."

"This one is," Faith snapped. "And he’s got my Watcher, so dig out the good stuff and let’s get him out."

"All right... it seems... well, a simple beheading should do it."

"Rupert, sweetie, you know darn well there’s nothing simple about a beheading," Buffy stated huffily.

"Nonsense. Nothing to it. Just dash in there and..." He demonstrated with a few elegant motions, grinning down at her as she stood with hands on hips, a mock glare on her face.

"Guys! Sometime this century, okay?" Faith’s voice held an edge of desperation. Now that she had a semblance of a plan, she was ready for action.

"Sorry. Let’s move." Buffy grabbed her favorite sword took the lead, hoping to keep Faith calm enough to get Wesley back in one piece. Faith followed with a battleaxe, which was much more in keeping with her personal style. Giles brought up the rear, holding his well sharpened, highly polished broadsword at the ready.

Just before plunging into the dark cavern, Buffy turned to her fellow warriors and said quietly, "Backup?" She held up her hand, her wrist displaying a cleverly designed dart bow and three darts. The fourth was held in the spring loaded firing mechanism. She also had various smaller stakes and knives stashed at her waist, in case the fighting got close.

"Crossbow," Giles said tersely, holding it up and patting his waist. He also had a few hidden items in reserve.

Faith slapped her jacket. "Got my throwing knives and a really cool dagger."

Buffy grinned at Faith, and with a nod, the three of them went in for the rescue.

********

Cedrick listened with absent attention to the Westminster chimes that emanated from the small clock on his mantelpiece. With his back to the clock face, he counted. One, two... two o’clock... entirely too late for his grandson’s parents to be out after large, dangerous demons. After all, they were retired, weren’t they? Yet they came, at half past one in the morning, to hand over a grumpy Marcus to him and dash off to engage in deadly battle.

He snorted softly at himself. Wasn’t that precisely what he’d trained his son to do? Must be getting old, mate. There was a time when you would have cheerfully offered Rupert’s life up to this madness. Yes, times had certainly changed.

Marcus shifted, whimpering softly, and Cedrick shifted the sleeping boy’s weight to another position on his shoulder. With his parents in danger, the child did not return to sleep until Cedrick had rocked him for over half an hour. Now he was reluctant to disturb the baby’s rest.

"Daddy..." The tiny voice sobbed, and Cedrick’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. He shushed Marcus softly, pulling him in for a reassuring hug.

Where were his children? For surely, even in this short time, Buffy had become his concern, just as Rupert was. Fury boiled inside him, for in his damaged, depressed condition, he was unable to connect with them through the Bond, even briefly. What had happened to him that he no longer felt even the faintest familial connection with them? They’d tried, more than once, to help him, to heal the breach, but he’d been to busy wallowing in his own mire to accept.

Too busy pitying yourself, Ced, old man. Poor you. Poor, sacked, disgraced you. Never mind that your son needs you, that your grandson looks at you with sad, bright eyes. No, you had to maintain your aloof distance, keep yourself locked away from the sun, from the light, from love..

And now, when you need it, the Bond is silent. Serves you bloody right!

Fighting his self-disgust, he concentrated as Marcus quieted, trying to find the mental and spiritual centering that Rupert had taught him several years back at that fateful Watchers’ Retreat in the forest.

His head began to throb, but he persisted. He couldn’t just sit around waiting. Something simple, he told himself. Just to see that they’re all right.

********

"Faith!"

The clash of metal on armor-plated flesh seemed to be all around them. Not only was the Dwordian strong, it was fast, much faster than it should have been. Within less than ten minutes, the three would-be rescuers were breathing hard, sporting scrapes, bruises, and in Faith’s case, a serious-looking slash that ran from shoulder to elbow. The hole in the sleeve of her new leather jacket gaped as she maneuvered around the room, keeping her weapon between herself and the not-so-jolly green giant in front of her.

The Dwordian roared in frustration and batted at her with a huge paw, missing her by a scant few inches as she danced away. Behind him, Wesley was slumped against the wall, unconscious. At least Faith hoped he was only unconscious.

"Thought G said these things were docile!" She barely avoided another blow as Buffy feinted from the other side, drawing the beast’s attention for a moment. "Say, B? I think a three-point attack would be a good thing right now!"

Buffy surveyed the dark room. There wasn’t any way to mount a three-point attack when the attackee was sticking in the corner. She snorted and moved farther away from Faith, hoping a two-pointer would be good enough until Rupert could join them.

"Any luck, babe?" She could hear him behind her, growling under his breath as he struggled.

The scratching sounds ceased, and he gave a huge sigh as he stood and surveyed the pile of plaster and wood that covered his weapon. "None at all. It’s well and truly buried."

His plaintive tone made her smile into the darkness. "I’m sorry babe, I know that was your favorite crossbow."

Giles joined the two Slayers, his remaining weapon drawn. "Perhaps we can return when it’s light, and bring a crowbar."

"Might not need one, once our big green distraction is outta the way," Faith said cheerfully, taking another swipe at the creature’s chest as it reacted to the new threat.

"Quite right! I might be able to... Ow! Blast!" Giles snarled as he tumbled across the ruined floor, courtesy of a blow from the Dwordian’s fist. He instantly rolled to his feet, clutching his shoulder, and scrabbled for his sword as the creature began to advance.

Suddenly, Giles noticed that the huge being was trembling. The green face, neck and chest seemed darker than the rest of its body, indicating a flush of fever. Giles forgot about being in imminent, mortal danger and began to put clues together.

Before the Dwordian could act on its opponent’s sudden immobility, it was blindsided by two very determined Slayers, striking it in the chest and side with such force that the huge creature was lifted off its feet and slammed into the one remaining uncracked wall. The wall, bowing to a superior force, shifted several inches amid a rush of plaster dust. The entire structure began to creak and groan.

"We have to get out of here!" Giles shouted at the girls.

"Not without Wes!" Faith shouted back.

"We might have a chance if we attack simultaneously!"

"Sounds like a plan, G! Let’s GO!" She dove at the addled Dwordian, her battleaxe held high.

"No, Faith! Wait for us!" Buffy scrambled after Faith, with Giles right on her heels.

********

Cedrick’s meditation was interrupted by a sudden cry. Marcus twisted in his arms, suddenly awake and frightened. "Mummy! No, Mummy!" Small hands clutched at Cedrick’s robe, wrinkling the fabric in terror.

"Marcus, it’s all right. They’re all right."

"No, no, Mummy wook out!" The child was becoming more agitated, and Cedrick was having a hard time holding him.

"Marcus, please! Try to stay calm! Can you feel Mummy and Daddy?"

Marcus looked up, his eyes bright with tears, and nodded.

"Can you see them?" Cedrick had never experienced a visual connection with anyone, not even Leila. He was surprised, then, when Marcus nodded even more vigorously than before.

"De monster gonna hurt dem! Dey need to wun away!"

Cedrick’s mind began to click like a Geiger counter. "Marcus, can you warn them?" He wasn’t sure if what Marcus saw was past or future, but the child’s urgency made him think the latter.

"I don’t know how!" the toddler wailed, bursting into heartbroken sobs.

Congratulations, old man, Cedrick said to himself. Due to your stubbornness, you may very well have sealed Rupert’s fate!

"Marcus? Do you remember talking to me about the Bond?"

Marcus hiccupped and looked at him questioningly.

Cedrick sighed. "About not being able to hear me in your head, and me not hearing you," he amended patiently.

"I wemember."

"You said you could help me hear you again."

Marcus smiled tentatively. "I he’p you."

"Yes, that’s right. You said you could help me hear in my head again. Do you remember how to do that?"

Time passed as Cedrick waited, fighting his desperation. Was it too late?

Finally, the tiny boy nodded. Cedrick sighed in relief. "Please, Marcus, help me hear in my head again."

"Otay." Without hesitation, the two-year-old reached for his grandfather’s temples, placing both tiny hands against his face. His short arms brought them almost nose-to-nose, and Cedrick held his breath as the child frowned in concentration. Something tickled at his subconscious, and fear shot through the ex-Watcher’s brain. There was such darkness inside him... how could an innocent bear it...

His inner diatribe suddenly stopped as he was bathed in sensation. The feel of the soft fabric of the sofa beneath his hands, the sweet, baby smell of Marcus in front of him, the soft ticking of the mantle clock... It was as if his senses had suddenly been heightened and enhanced. He drew in a surprised breath as he became aware of the shifting currents of psychic energy surrounding them, and realized with a start that most of the waves came from the tiny person in front of him. He’d never sensed such power, not even from Buffy and Rupert combined!

Marcus, he thought desperately, I don’t know what to do!

Reassurance flowed into him, reminding him of his wife’s gentle touch. It had been years since he’d thought of Mary. She always sought to comfort him after a hard night’s Slaying... How he wished she was here!

As he fought the urge to burst into tears, the feeling of loss and sorrow was slowly diluted with another, stronger emotion. He couldn’t define it... a sense of belonging, of being needed and wanted, of being loved. One word came to his mind, overshadowing everything else.

Family. He’d lost his family, at one time. Suddenly, unexpectedly, it had been given back to him during that fateful Retreat in the Cotswolds. Nothing the Council could do to him would negate that truth. No matter what happened tomorrow, he had this. He was loved.

Marcus smiled and moved his hands. "Aw better, Gwanfadder."

Cedrick cleared his throat. Could it have been that easy? "I don’t feel any..."

Inside his head, a tiny, innocent voice said playfully, Do you want to play trucks with me, Grandfather?

A tentative grin crept across Cedrick’s face. "I can hear you!"

"Yes! You awww better!"

Cedrick looked at the tiny boy, amazement filling his mind. Such power resided in that small frame! Power that he suspected would only increase with time and training. The expansive prophesy that he had been studying, the one that he couldn’t bring himself to believe, suddenly became more plausible. Physically, Marcus was a two-year-old child. Mentally, he was something else entirely.

Cedrick took a deep breath, ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face. "Thank you, Marcus."

"You weck-come."

"Now, we need to warn your Mummy and Daddy about the big monster."

"Otay!" Marcus bent his head and touched his forehead to the weathered, wrinkled brow in front of him. The line of communication flared and opened, as if it had never been broken.

Just as he had done in the Watcher’s camp three years before, Cedrick reached for Buffy’s mind...

********

"This thing is speeding!" Faith slashed down on an iron forearm, causing the Dwordian to roar and take a few steps forward, splattering the brunette Slayer with pinkish blood. "Gross, and on my leather pants, too."

"This thing is persistent. Did your books say anything about that, Rupert?"

Giles ducked a roundhouse punch and stepped away. "No, they didn’t. Dwordians aren’t known for their tenacity."

"Well, this one has tenacity coming out its... look out!"

Faith ducked as a large chunk of plaster hurtled over her head and slammed into the floor, raising a thick cloud of dust. She coughed a few times and gasped, "We’ve been beating it up for an hour, and it’s still coming. It’s gotta be high."

Buffy feinted to one side, drawing the demon’s attention away from Faith. "It’s gotta be something. Even Hellhounds need a break every now and then."

Giles was too busy concentrating on keeping out of the range of those oversized fists. He’d already imbedded three bolts in the creature’s side and chest, but they had little effect. Instead, the monster grew more belligerent, tenaciously guarding his corner and human captive from all comers. Giles briefly remembered a line from an extremely silly movie Xander had once forced him to sit through... ‘Don’t shoot him, it just makes him mad.’

His Watcher training allowed him to sift through possible solutions as he fought, but he was coming up empty. His concentration became so intense that Buffy, after executing an impressive back flip to avoid another powerful swing, stopped and looked at her husband in irritation.

"Don’t shut me out, Rupert! I need you!"

He snapped back into contact and she sighed with relief. She didn’t enjoy being out of mental touch with him, even for a brief moment. "Better."

She turned back to the giant, which stood panting and growling, waiting for the next attack. "Okay, guys... we’re gonna do this right this time. On the count of three..."

"One..." She reloaded her wrist dart thrower, and held her sword up.

"Two..." Faith swung her axe over her shoulder.

"WAIT!" Both Buffy and Giles cried, holding up a hand. Faith was too busy focusing on the thing that stood between her and her man, and she took a step forward. One more step, and she’d be in range...

Someone grabbed her and practically yanked her off her feet. Before she could turn on her new assailant, Buffy hissed in her ear, "Back off a second. I’m getting a message from Cedrick."

Faith stared at Buffy, incredulous that she’d interrupt a battle for a psychic signal from her Dad-in-law. "So what??"

"Shhh!"

Buffy and Giles froze, their eyes glazing over briefly before they broke the unseen connection and stared at each other in shock.

"Marcus saw..." Buffy blurted, and Giles answered before she finished.

"He said..."

"Your Dad is..."

"Yes, thank God."

"Then he’s okay!"

"Yes, and now we must..."

Faith, her head spinning from trying to follow the fragmented conversation, suddenly shouted, "STOP IT!"

The Dwordian snapped its head up at the sound of her voice, and began to growl.

"Now you’ve done it, big mouth," Buffy said sarcastically as they began to slowly back away from the disgruntled giant.

"What? You were talking, too!"

"Not at the top of our lungs!"

"You mean, like now?"

"Faith?" Buffy said seriously.

"Yeah?" The brunette answered.

"RUN!!!"

The Dwordian charged. The three humans scattered, vaulting the rubble and trying desperately not to break an ankle on the uneven terrain. They exited the building almost side by side, and once they reached the end of the alley, turned to face the monster.

"That’s what the old man said? Run??" Faith sniped angrily.

"Yeah. Pretty good advice, huh?" Buffy looked around, but aside from the three of them, the alley was empty. The reassuring hum of the Bond told her that Giles was right behind her. She smiled without turning around. "Your dad came through, babe."

"Yes, he did, didn’t he?" Giles said happily.

Faith seemed surprised when they realized the demon wasn’t following them. "Where’s the Hulk?" she said, watching for signs of movement inside.

Giles cleared his throat as thundering roars and shrieks from inside the building caused more plaster dust to rain down from the ruined ceiling. "The creature is ill."

"DUH! It’s totally insane!"

"Precisely. There must be a reason."

"How about, ‘I’m an evil demon, I think I’ll go smash something?’ It works for all the other evil demons." Crashing sounds came from inside and Faith’s worried look intensified.

Buffy snorted.

"I saw it trembling." Giles squinted into the darkness, edging cautiously closer.

It was Faith’s turn to snort. "How sad. It must know I’m getting’ ready to kill it reaaally dead."

"Faith, a Dwordian isn’t usually violent."

"This one is. I’d say violence is pretty much it’s reason for living."

"But that isn’t logical. And why would a violent, crazed lower being kidnap Wesley?"

"Because it’s CRAZED! I don’t have to listen to this! You guys stay out here and baby-sit your little theories. I’m gonna go get my Watcher." With that, Faith strode back towards the ruin.

Before Buffy could grab her crazed sister-Slayer and talk some sense into her, the Dwordian stumbled into view and began to howl, causing Giles to high-tail it back towards Buffy. Instead of sounding fierce, it sounded... pitiful. Uncertain of her target’s continued belligerence, Faith stopped a few feet away, axe at the ready, and said, "Uh, Giles? What’s it doing?"

The demon flailed to one side, narrowly missing the remaining wall plaster, and began to hold his head with both ham-sized hands. It was foaming at the mouth. It looked up at the Slayers, its eyes pleading.

"Pain. Pain..." it mumbled, and collapsed.

"Whew," Buffy breathed gratefully.

Without another word, Faith ran towards the demon, vaulted over it with effortless grace, and headed into the rubble. A scant few minutes later, she reappeared, half-dragging, half-supporting Wesley. She maneuvered him over to Buffy’s convertible and eased him into the passenger seat, alternating between soothing murmurs and accusations of how stupid being a macho man really was.

Buffy’s relief was cut short as she realized her husband was inching towards the fallen foe, his face openly curious.

"Uh, babe, I don’t think you should get too close," Buffy warned nervously.

"It’s all right, love. It’s quiet for the moment." He stopped just out of arm’s reach, which for the huge being in front of him, was several yards. "Dwordian. Can you understand me?"

The creature moaned. Giles took it as a "yes".

"Why do you destroy?"

Faith shook her head. "Dumb question, Big G."

Giles ignored her. Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. "Why do you crush?"

The rumbling started again, and the huge being raised his head. The rumbling changed into a guttural, coarse voice. "Crush... Pain... too strong. Not want Pain. Crush Pain. Stop Pain."

Giles looked startled. "What caused your pain?"

Another rumble preceded the Dwordian’s words. "Striker."

Faith snapped to attention. "Did it say ‘Striker’?"

Buffy nodded. "Who, or what, is Striker?"

"He’s scum," Faith said distastefully. "A pusher."

Giles pushed his glasses up and said mildly, "A dealer in illegal drugs? Oh, dear."

"Right, G. I guess he wasn’t making enough cash off humans. He picked a winner here, didn’t he? It’s a lucky break the bum’s in jail right now, or he’d be toast."

"The side effects of human drugs on a demonic physiology... it’s mind-boggling that anyone could be so stupid!"

The demon whined. It was beginning to realize it was, indeed, a very stupid demon.

Giles turned his attention back to the trembling green hulk and snapped, "What did you want with the Watcher?"

"Watcher fix."

"Watcher fix? How could Watcher fix when you’ve knocked him unconscious?" Giles wondered, his voice still cold and demanding.

It was too high a concept for the Dwordian. It looked puzzled, then grunted, "Watcher fix. Stop pain. Family afraid."

"Whose family? Yours?"

"Yes." The creature hung his head in shame.

"So. You experimented with drugs to make you stronger and faster, and instead, you became a horror, terrorizing your family and destroying other people’s property. Then, instead of going off and hiding in safety until the drugs wore off, you decided to kidnap a Watcher to get you out of your predicament? Exactly how did you propose he do that while nursing a concussion?"

Buffy winced. This was Giles at his most scathing. She remembered when that tone had been turned on her. It was not a pleasant memory.

The Dwordian whined, either from discomfort or from confusion at the complicated words Giles had used.

"Dwordian, you might have killed someone tonight. Do you realize that?"

A whimper answered him.

"What could be worth becoming evil?"

"Strong. Fast. Females like. Not strong, Striker make strong. Not good. Much pain, much pain. Had to run. Pain. Not like. Not evil. Not evil!" A huge fist slammed into the ground, causing a minor earthquake.

"Taking drugs to get laid? Definitely male," Buffy said sarcastically.

"Ya mean, you took out five blocks of the Sunnydale warehouse district to impress CHICKS?" Faith stalked toward the downed monster, her eyes flashing. Buffy held her back, a sympathetic look on her face. "What are you, sixteen?"

The Dwordian attempted to draw himself up with dignity. A sudden stab of pain made him howl. Failing in his bravado, he slumped down and said sullenly, "Forty summers."

"You’re forty?" Faith goggled at the creature, aghast.

"Well, that certainly explains one thing," Giles said matter-of-factly.

Both Slayers turned to him, the question unspoken but plain.

He shifted, trying to work the soreness out of his injured shoulder. "Dwordians do not mature until they are at least sixty. We’re dealing with a youth."

"A teenie-bopper demon?" Both girls blurted at once.

"Yes, actually. Dwordians keep their young at home for at least that long. No wonder this one had no idea about drugs, policemen, or hiding places. He’s probably a runaway."

"Rupert, is there someone we can call about this demon? Some kind of underworld detox unit he can stay in until his parents come and get him?" Buffy, having seen that the younger Watcher’s injuries seemed relatively minor, was inclined to give the ungainly monster a break. The young Dwordian didn’t have the corner on doing dumb things. Buffy could certainly vouch for that.

"I suppose... we could call Doctor Phil."

"Ooo! Good idea! Except that thing’s gotta promise not to hurt him. He has kids."

"No crush Doctor. Doctor good. Doctor fix." The Dwordian seemed eager to reassure his former enemies that he was, indeed, a good demon.

Buffy looked skeptical and stepped forward, hands on her hips. Giles smiled at the sight... a five-foot-three blonde scolding a four-hundred-pound monster.

"No crush Doctor, no hit Doctor, no slapping Doctor on the back once he fixes you, or I’ll come back and kick your butt," she said imperiously.

The Dwordian nodded weakly. "No crush. No hit. No slap. Gnurlag promise."

Buffy looked at Giles, and relaxed at his nod. Dwordians were known for keeping their word, at least, to the best of their understanding.

"Okay, Gnarly, I’m gonna hold you to that promise. If you break it, I’m sooo gonna tell your parents." She turned around and held out her hand. "Cell phone?" Buffy demanded, and was amused when both Faith and Giles tried to hand her one.

She took Giles’ phone and smiled at him. She could feel waves of happiness emanating from him, despite his disheveled appearance. "Feels good, doesn’t it?"

His eyes took on that special soft glow that was reserved for the most precious ones in his life. "Yes, love, it does."

"What feels good? I want in on that." Faith looked up from her guard post at Wesley’s side, grinning.

Giles turned to her as Buffy dialed Dr. Phil’s home number. "The broken Bond between my father and the rest of us has been restored."

"Cool. How?"

"I don’t know, exactly, but I’m sure we’ll find out when we get home."

"What about the Hulk?" Faith pointed at the Dwordian, who was trying to get to his feet.

"You take Wesley to the emergency room and get his noggin checked out. Get your arm stitched up, too, while you’re at it. You may be a Slayer, but you’re not above getting that cut infected. We’ll make sure ol’ Gnarly gets where he’s going." Buffy tossed her keys to Faith, smiling at Giles’ startled expression. He wasn’t too keen on Faith driving Buffy’s car... he’d seen Faith drive before.

"Wicked, B! You can pick it up at the apartment later."

Before Faith could climb into the driver’s seat, Buffy stopped her with a firm grasp on her arm. "Drive carefully. Giles doesn’t need heart failure on top of everything else tonight." She tossed the weapons into the back seat and stepped back to allow them to drive away.

"I’ll treat it like it was my very own, I swear," Faith called, waving gaily.

"That’s what I’m afraid of," Giles complained.

********

"Mummy! Daddy! You back! I wuv you! You back!"

Giles’ heart almost burst as Marcus tackled them both around the knees, beaming happily. They both knelt and put their arms around their son, so relieved to be back with him, safe and sound. After spending a few precious seconds rejoicing with his soul-mate and his son, Giles felt a brief, but distinct mental touch. He recognized the psychic signature instantly, caught a sob before it escaped, and looked up at his Father with wonder.

"Rupert? The most amazing thing happened while you were gone." Cedrick looked a bit sleepy and dazed, but his face reflected more life and hope than Giles had seen in a long time. "Marcus..." He looked at the smiling toddler with wonder. "Somehow, he healed me."

Giles straightened with a smile, unable to hide his misty eyes. "Yes, we know. Congratulations, Father, and welcome home."

Cedrick’s face broke into a wide smile, and he pulled his taller son into a genuine embrace. Buffy looked up, tears trailing unnoticed down her face. She gathered Marcus into her arms and stood, leaning against her husband’s side. Marcus reached out, wanting to include all three adults in his embrace but lacking the arm length to accomplish it. He settled for clinging to his parent’s necks.

"So," Buffy grated, her voice rough with emotion. "All that ‘stiff upper lip’ British stuff is just a myth. You guys are just as mushy as us barbaric Americans."

Giles laughed soggily and loosened his grip. He kept a steadying hand on Cedrick’s arm, and when the older man looked up, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You’ve sussed our secret, love. We English are an emotional lot."

"We simply hide it better than you colonials," Cedrick finished with a chuckle, wiping his eyes with a pristine handkerchief.

"I always knew you were a mush-head, Rupert Giles," Buffy retorted lightly.

"Yes, well, being linked with you has increased my capacity for mushy behavior tremendously."

"Oh, by the way, Cedrick, can we borrow your car? Faith took ours to the hospital to get Wesley fixed up."

‘Against my better judgment," Giles added.

"Faith’s a good driver."

"Faith is a lucky driver."

"She had Wesley in the car. She’ll behave."

"It’s not just her behavior I’m worried about. It’s her fondness for chocolate shakes, as well."

Buffy paled a bit at that. "She’ll be too busy with Wes to stop for ice cream. She knows I’d kill her if she spills anything my car!"

Giles fought to keep a straight face. "Ah, well, perhaps you’re right. At any rate, once the seats are stained and the paint is scratched, you won’t be as particular about your car, will you?"

"Rupert!"

He gave her his most innocent look, and she glared at him, knowing he was baiting her. She chose to ignore his teasing and go back to her original argument.

"Don’t change the subject. There wasn’t even room for the four of us and Gnarly. He was, like, ten feet tall!"

"More like eight, actually," Giles corrected with a grin. "And his name was Gnurlag."

"Whatever. Do you mind, Cedrick?"

The elder Giles waited a few seconds to be sure the rapid fire exchange had come to a halt. He snatched the car keys from their hanger near the kitchen door, and handed them to his daughter-in-law with a tolerant smile.

"Thanks. We’ll bring it back tomorrow morning, okay?"

"That will be fine. I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow during the day."

"Oh? And there’s a where you have to be tomorrow during the night?" Buffy’s face brightened with gossipy interest.

Cedrick cleared his throat. "Hadn’t you best be getting Marcus to bed?

"You’re going to Mrs. Ortega’s!"

"Yes, if you must know."

"All right!!"

Before Cedrick could raise a defense against Buffy’s nosiness, Marcus yawned widely. Buffy shifted him to a more comfortable position her arms. He rested his head against her shoulder with a sigh, and immediately fell sleep.

Buffy said softly. "Cedrick, you got lucky this time, thanks to Marcus. I’ll just have to harass you about this later." She turned to Giles with a happy smile. "We need to go home and put the kid to bed, babe. And us, too. I’m not used to this late-night Slaying stuff anymore."

"Nor am I, love. Father..." Giles looked up at Cedrick and once again found himself without words to express himself. Instinctively, he sent a burst of warm emotion to his father. The reaction he felt in return was equally as loving.

"We’ll see you later, Cedrick. We have a housewarming to plan, remember?"

"Ah, yes. We do. Goodnight, children. I believe I shall sleep quite well tonight... that is, this morning." Buffy and Giles started towards the door, and after a moment, Cedrick followed. He waved to them as they got in his car and left for home, then carefully closed and locked the door. He was still smiling as he headed to bed.

********

Buffy was easing Marcus back into his bed, when he awoke and rubbed his eyes. "Mom?"

Buffy smiled. He’d started calling her ‘Mom’ after he heard the word from the other children at preschool. He still used ‘Mummy’, but they were almost interchangeable now. "What is it, honey bear?"

She gave him a kiss as he fought against sleep. "I want a baby brudder."

She was so startled, she burst out laughing. "What??"

"Jeremy gots a baby sisser. I want a baby brudder. Debbie gots a baby brudder, and I want one, too."

She sent her amazement to Giles, who was already in the bed. She got a sleepy, amused reaction that made her smile. She carefully tucked the little boy in, and said softly, "Maybe soon, honey. Maybe soon."

"Soon, Mummy." Marcus smiled a secret smile, and surrendered to Mister Sandman.

Buffy quietly slipped into the master bedroom, her face thoughtful. Giles was dozing, his arm outstretched as if to save her place beside him. She dropped her clothes where she stood, too weary to worry about appearances, and slipped between the sheets to his side. He murmured softly as she settled against him, content to be alive, safe, and with the love of her life.

Just before sleep claimed her, she heard her husband say, "If all our children are like Marcus, I shall want a dozen."

She snorted without opening her eyes. "I had the first one. It’s your turn."

His soft chuckle was the last thing she heard before descending into sleep.

Across the hall, Marcus smiled in his sleep. Having a baby brother was going to be so much fun.

The End

Chapter 12: The Developing Child

Summary:

Life in the Giles house goes on, but things are about to change.

Chapter Text

A shrill little-boy voice calling good-byes alerted Buffy to the end of her solitude, and she looked up with a smile. With Giles having late classes today, her father-in-law Cedrick had volunteered to fetch her son from school. Buffy was in the middle of dinner preparations, so she'd accepted the offer gratefully. She heard the front door slam, and her smile grew even wider.

"Mom! Mom! I gots a new book today!"

Knowing what was coming, she quickly stepped away from the dining room door. It flew open and a tiny human whirlwind blew in, the momentum from his run through the house propelling him into the room. His blue-green eyes sparkling with delight, Marcus slid to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. He realized he'd overshot his target, and he whirled and threw himself at his mother, laughing.

"Mom! I gots a book at school! It has aminals in it!"

Buffy grinned at his mangled word, but let it go as she examined the book dutifully. "Cool pictures, kiddo. Where's Grandfather Giles? I told him to come in and have supper with us."

"He said he couldn't come. He had to have dinner with a fwiend."

"A friend, huh? You know what I think? I think your Grandfather's friend is a lady, and he has a date!"

Marcus giggled happily. "He was ‘cited."

"I bet he was," she said dryly, then changed the subject. "Lemme see this book of yours. How many animals are in there?"

"I don't know yet! Lots! Dat's what I wanna find out!" He dropped his backpack on the floor and began to scramble up to his favorite perch in front of the counter. Giles had been forced to anchor the barstools to the floor to keep his precocious son from hurting himself, and it took a mere few seconds for the boy to settle himself in a studious reading position. He frowned in concentration, his expression so like his father's that Buffy had to fight the urge to smother him in a loving hug.

"Before you start reading, honey, you need to tell me about school today. Did Sister Edwardine tell you a story?"

Marcus eagerly launched into a three-year-old's rendition of one of Aesop's fables, his rationalizations of parts he didn't quite understand making Buffy giggle at his imagination. She listened with great contentment as she moved to fix him an after-school snack, the cookies and milk quickly disappearing as he continued his narrative. As soon as he was finished, he grabbed his animal book and began to study the pictures on the front.

Something caught his eye, and he whooped with joy, startling her momentarily. "What is it?"

"Dere's wadybugs in here, Mom!" His chubby finger pointed to the glossy picture on the back cover.

"There sure is, sweetie."

"I told you I was gonna wead about wadybugs," he said matter-of-factly.

The statement stunned her, and she recalled the conversation in the garden when he was less than a year old. "You remember that?"

"Uh huh." He bent over his book once again, dismissing the conversation as his mother gaped at him.

********

"I don't know why I should be surprised," she told her husband that night after putting their son to bed. "He seems to remember everything, and while that's amazing and wonderful, it's also scary."

"Yes, it is a bit," Giles agreed. "But it does make teaching him a bit easier, at times."

"And gives Mummy the wiggins."

He chuckled, agreeing with her in principle, if not in word.

"I mean, you're like, Mister Encyclopedia, and you don't remember every single thing you ever read, did, or said."

He laughed louder as he carefully put his shoes away in their walk-in closet. His voice was slightly muffled as he replied, "There are people in this world without supernatural abilities that have near-photographic memories, love."

"Yeah, maybe, but not at three years old."

"Almost four, now."

"Not even at four. Not even at forty."

He stuck his head out of the closet, one arm of his suit jacket still hanging from his shoulders. "Actually, at forty, memory functions tend to get worse instead of better."

She snorted. "You're fishing, babe. You know you're still A-1 in the memory department, compared to me."

"I trained a long time for it." He finished hanging up his suit coat and started undoing his shirt buttons, causing Buffy to giggle. He favored her with a patient smirk before continuing to disrobe.

"Oh, yeah, baby, take it all off," Buffy said teasingly, earning a glare from her tired husband.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line? You're sitting there completely dressed."

"I was hoping to get some help with that in a minute."

He laughed again and deposited his shirt in the closest hamper. Bare-chested, he turned and gave his wife a considering stare. "You want help with your clothing, eh?"

"Yes, please."

He started towards her, but was brought up short by a distinctive, familiar psychic voice.

'Mummy? What's a carnivore? The book says lions are carnivores.' Marcus' childish lisp almost disappeared when he used the Bond to communicate.

'Marcus Everett Giles, it's way past your bedtime, and you're supposed to be asleep. Put the book away.' Buffy thought back to him, her mental voice firm.

'But Mom...'

'No buts, child of mine, or I'll have to come in there and convince you.'

She felt his acquiescence, and he grudgingly agreed. She could almost see him, rolling over to one side in his twin bed, grumbling softly. 'Love you, little man. Good night.'

Within a minute, the boy was asleep, and Buffy smiled up at her much taller husband. "Honestly, I think he takes after you with the no-sleep-cause-I'm-too-busy-reading thing."

"Poor fellow. Of course, I always had a very good reason for staying up late..."

She gave him a loving smile. She knew the reason very well...keeping her alive. "You're both too smart for your own good. Now c'mere and help me slip into something more comfortable."

"Yes, ma'am."

********

"Marcus, wait up!"

The tiny boy turned and looked up with a smile as his new school friend joined him beside the monkey bars. Daniel Wright was almost six and several inches taller, but the two boys were inseparable. For some unknown reason, David delighted in teaching Marcus his version of playground games, enjoying the younger boy's quick reflexes and intelligence. Marcus loved the challenge of keeping up with his more active friend.

"Hi, Dabid! Wook, I can go upside down, just wike you!" Marcus demonstrated, his shirt sliding away to reveal his chubby belly. "I'm not 'cared at all!"

"Cool. Can you do this?" David swung up to a nearby bar, and climbed the structure from the inside, sliding through the top opening to rest at the apex with a flushed grin.

"Cool!" Marcus carefully maneuvered himself until he was hanging from the inside, just as David had done, but he had difficulty reaching the next rung with his undersized body. He had to hang from his knees, his short arms putting him at a disadvantage. "Dat's hard. I can't weach it."

"It's okay, go on the outside. When you get big like me, you can do it."

Frustration tugged away at Marcus' mind, but he took a determined breath and lowered himself to the ground, ducking under the bottom pipe to the outside of the dome. In just a few minutes, he was seated beside his friend, surveying his domain with a satisfied smile.

"Dat was fun."

"Yeah. Race you to the slide!"

"Okay!"

Both boys hurriedly scrambled down, David waiting impatiently while Marcus inched the last few feet onto the ground. The instant Marcus' feet touched the grass David grinned and launched himself across the playground with Marcus right behind him.

Across the yard, Father Denning leaned against the side of the building and watched the pair with interest. He had taken it upon himself to keep Marcus' progress under close scrutiny, knowing his extraordinary heritage would provide both opportunity and obstacle as he grew. The aging priest was determined that his special charge would get the very best of care, but he had no idea just how challenging that determination would be.

Marcus was a three-year-old already reading on a fourth grade level. He eagerly devoured every book he was allowed to read, often bringing them to his teachers for explanations of things he didn't understand.

On a social, emotional and spiritual level, however, he was much more advanced than that. The child understood almost everything he was told. His limited vocabulary kept him from effectively explaining what he knew, but you could see it in his eyes. He got things. Sometimes got them the first time. His behavior proved it, even though his words could not.

For some time, Denning had been struggling with a way to stay ahead of the Giles boy. Standardized tests were useless, highlighting the lad's limited communication skills rather than concentrating on his level of intelligence. He needed help, specialized help, if he was going to educate Marcus as he deserved to be educated.

The cleric pushed away from the wall and headed back to his office. He had a phone call to make. Hopefully, he would find his answers soon.

********

Several weeks later, Buffy met Giles at the door, waving something at him. He took it and stared for a moment before blurting, "Mensa? Why are we getting mail from Mensa?"

Giles looked down at the envelope in his hand in disbelief. Buffy stared up at him accusingly, but he shook his head. "Don't look at me. I didn't contact them. Why should I?"

She gave him a stern glare. "Marcus, why else?"

"Perhaps we should open it before we begin accusations, all right?"

"Sorry, babe." They seated themselves on the couch and Buffy tore the embossed envelope open, carelessly destroying the delicate logo that graced the upper left hand corner. "Here, you read it. I'm not the Mensa type."

"You're far more intelligent than you let on, love," he told her with a smile, then turned his attention to the pages in his hand. He read silently, frowning. When he was finished, he sighed and looked up at her with a bemused expression. "It was Father Denning who contacted them."

"Why? Where does he get off telling Mensa about our kid?"

"Buffy! You know he has Marcus' best interests at heart..."

"Yeah, right, but he doesn't know how hard it is to keep Marcus out of 'official' hands, babe! Something like this could bring the Council running!"

"I don't think so, but just listen before you condemn our friend for his concern."

She sat back, but kept her rigid, displeased posture.

"It seems that the school teachers are having trouble keeping up with our son."

She brightened at that. "Really? He's that smart?"

"Apparently he is. The problem stems from not having the right curriculum to challenge him at his current level. He cannot take tests designed for older children because they don't take into consideration his language level, yet the lessons designed for his age group are completely inadequate."

Understanding began to dawn on her face. "So, they don't know what to do with him, right?"

"Precisely. Denning wrote the local Mensa chapter to see if their Gifted Children Foundation might be able to create a unique curriculum for him. Something that would challenge him while allowing him to progress at his own pace."

"Oh, well, that's pretty cool, actually. So what do the eggheads say about that?"

"They want to meet with us and talk to Marcus themselves. They have several educators that would be willing to help us and still allow Marcus to stay at St. Mary's. He's made so many friends there, it would be traumatic if he had to leave."

"You got that right! I don't want him to go to some sterile, cold think-tank place with a bunch of heartless, manipulative mystery guys with hidden agendas."

Giles had to laugh at the imagery her words produced. "Love, you've been watching Pretender too long. There's nothing like that, really."

"Yeah, and there's nothing like a secret Council that trains Watchers and Slayers, either."

He snorted softly, turning to take one of her hands in his. "Do you want to meet with these people?" His expression was calm, but his mind revealed his nervous anticipation of her answer.

"Yeah, sure, why not? At least they're not two-headed Throsch demons."

Giles began to chuckle, but sobered quickly. "I certainly hope not."

"Sorry, forget I mentioned them. They were gross anyway."

"I think I can safely say that Throsch demons would not be welcome in Mensa society. Despite having two brains, they're not that bright."

Buffy snickered at that. "That makes me feel a little better."

"Good." He crossed the living room to pick up the rest of the mail that Buffy had dropped on the coffee table. There were a couple of bills, a Publisher's Clearing House envelope stating, "You may have won $1,000,000!!" and something surprisingly familiar...

He picked up the manila envelope with trembling hands, his sudden terror transmitting itself through the Bond to his mate. She was at his side in an instant, staring in disbelief at the insignia on the heavy paper. The Watchers' Council.

"They didn't waste any time, did they?" she stated calmly, knowing that hysterics wouldn't help. Her husband was already nervous enough for the both of them.

He carefully opened the envelope, ignoring Buffy's demands to just rip the thing to shreds and get on with it. He smoothed the letter slightly before lifting it to read. His sigh was accompanied by a short chuckle, and Buffy hopped to her knees to see what he was reading.

"What did they say? Oh... it's an invitation to the Watchers' Retreat! Thank you, God."

They both laughed in relief, then Giles stared for a moment at the letter. "It's only a few months away, but I think we can arrange to be there."

"I don't mind going, so long as they leave Marcus alone."

"We'll make sure of that." He sat back with a happy sigh and pulled Buffy to his side. "It's only for two weeks."

"I know, and I want to go. I love England. It's where they make Giles'es," she teased, kissing his cheek fondly.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to both of them at the same time. Buffy voiced it. "What about Cedrick?"

"I very much doubt he'd be invited. After all, he was sacked."

"Yeah, I know. I hate them for that, Rupert. He tried so hard..."

"Yes, he did, but he made mistakes, as we all do. Even if they asked, I don't know that he'd accept."

"I wouldn't blame him. They ruined his life because he told the truth."

"I know. We had better discuss it with him soon. He'll know we're hiding something, even though he won't be able to tell what it is."

"He's getting better at the Bond thing, babe. Pretty soon you'll have to stop sending me dirty thoughts at the dinner table."

He laughed again, standing. "It's my turn to pick up Marcus, love, and I'd best be off."

"I'll start dinner. Pork chops okay?"

"Lovely." He kissed her briefly, and then paused with a frown.

"What's wrong?" she said, noticing the look.

"I think we can do better than that," he replied with a smile, and kissed her again, firmly. The familiar twinge of arousal flashed between them, and as they parted, both of them were wearing a grin.

"Just you wait until tonight, buster. I'll be expecting your best."

"And you shall have it, love." He kissed her again briefly before striding out the door. A happy hum enveloped her, and she turned to the kitchen.

"Pork chops, beware. The Slayer's in the house today," she quipped.

********

Marcus spotted his father from across the playground and waved goodbye to his friends. He dashed across to greet him, holding his arms up as he got within a few steps. Giles felt a familiar surge of pride and love as he scooped the tiny boy up into his arms and gave him a heartfelt kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Marcus. How was school today?"

Marcus returned the kiss with enthusiasm, then leaned back and began telling his father all about his day. Giles listened with delight as his son regaled him with stories of discovery and fun. To Giles, picking up Marcus at preschool was the highlight of his day.

As he was musing over his extreme good fortune, something Marcus said caught his attention.

"...and Fadder Denning said I could wead any of the books I want, if you say okay. Can I?"

"May I," Giles corrected automatically.

"Sowwy. May I?"

The expression on Marcus' face was completely beguiling. Giles smiled, putting him down as he opened the car door. "Yes, you may. But if Father Denning tells you any of the books are off limits, you must obey him. Just like at home, where there are books you cannot read. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Daddy. I won't get a book unless Fadder Denning says so."

"Good lad." Giles tightened the belt on Marcus' child seat, noting that he was going to outgrow it soon. He'd have to purchase a booster seat in the near future. "You're growing, son. Soon you'll be too big for your car seat."

"I have to get big, so I can cwimb inside the monkey bars like Dabid."

As Giles drove home, he listened to Marcus' happy narrative about his day at school. He seemed completely unaware that he was different from the other children, giving their thoughts and opinions equal weight to those of his instructors. Giles was fascinated by his son's mental processing. He considered everything, weighing new ideas against what he already knew and deciding if he agreed with them.

The subject of getting taller seemed to be foremost in Marcus' mind, however, and he was soon back to his conversation on the playground. "I'm too small to cwimb inside the monkey bars like Dabid. But I won't be small awways. I'm gwowing up all the time, wight, Dad?"

"Yes, you are, son. You're very tall for a three-year-old, and you will continue to grow for many years."

"Good. I don't wike being widdle. My arms are too short."

Giles chuckled, and Marcus gave him a sheepish smile. When he had parked in the driveway at home, Giles went around and opened the door to help Marcus out of his seat. The boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck as Giles lifted him easily. He turned for the door, grabbing his briefcase on the way, and something occurred to him.

"Marcus, your arms aren't too short, at all," he said softly, giving the boy a squeeze. "As a matter of fact, they're just the right length."

Marcus laughed and hugged him back in delight. "Yeah, Daddy, dey're hug-sized, huh?"

"Yes, they are."

They both laughed happily as they entered the house.

"Mom! Mom!"

Buffy turned just in time to catch a glimpse of her son's tousled head. She bent over to catch him, laughing at his enthusiastic greeting. Several rather sloppy smooches later, she settled him at the counter as he began retelling the events of his day. Giles leaned against the doorframe and watched his family interact. These were what he deemed 'perfect moments'... times when the rigors of Slaying and fighting evil seemed very far away.

Buffy glanced up from Marcus' happy face to that of her husband. He was radiating contentment, and she took a moment to bask in the feeling. Living on the Hellmouth had taught her to cherish the small, quiet moments every bit as much as the huge, emotional ones.

Dinner was a pleasant, if haphazard affair, with some of the dishes being new to Marcus. He tried each one skeptically, deciding he liked green bean casserole but didn't like spinach/artichoke dip. Buffy and Giles cleaned up together and joined Marcus in the living room, where he was happily playing with his cars.

"Marcus, we need to talk to you about something. Would you come here for a moment?"

"Okay, Mummy." The boy sprang up without hesitation, seating himself between his parents. Buffy smoothed his tousled hair back with a slight smile, nodding to Giles to continue.

"Marcus, there are some people who want to meet you. They are from an organization called Mensa. They believe they can help you learn more in school. Father Denning asked them to talk to you."

The guileless little face turned up to his father with a smile. "Okay, Daddy."

Buffy couldn't leave it at that. "Honey, when they talk to you, if they ask any questions that make you feel uncomfortable, that you don't want to answer, you don't have to. Okay? It's not a test. You don't have to answer every question."

"Okay, Mummy," Marcus agreed slowly, not completely understanding his mother's reluctance. "Don't be 'cared. I'll be good."

She gave him a comforting hug. "I know you will, little man. I just wanna be sure the people from Mensa behave themselves, too."

That made Marcus giggle. The idea that adults would misbehave struck him as funny. "When are dey coming to see me?"

Buffy glanced at the letter. "They want to see you on Saturday." She looked up at Giles. "Saturday is Cedrick's day with Marcus. He may not want to give that up."

"He's welcome to sit in, if he chooses. This shouldn't be a secret. I think, in this instance, the more people that know about it, the better."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, because it'd be hard to do something sneaky with Cedrick watching."

"Exactly," he said with a warm smile. "Imagine a special ops group trying to sneak up on the house with a former Head of Security on guard."

"Ooo, and we could let Anya relieve him sometimes." Buffy giggled at the thought. "She'd spot 'em a mile away. Nothing gets by Miss Suspicious Eagle Eye. They could take shifts."

"I often wonder what Xander sees in her. She can be a bit... abrasive."

Marcus chose that moment to get bored with the adult conversation. He slipped off the couch and took off across the room to his toys. Buffy watched him play for a moment, concerned and proud at the same time. "I have no idea. But Xander's sure grown up a lot in the last year. If he sees something special, then who are we to doubt that it's there?"

Giles reached over and pulled her close. "Well said, my wise little wife. I retract my statement."

She leaned against him with a sigh. "I won't feel so wise with all those Mensa egg-head geniuses in my house. I guess I'd better prepare myself."

"Nonsense. They're just people. Give me practical knowledge, and your wonderful sense of humor, any day."

She flashed him a grateful smile. "Sweet talker."

"I'm merely aware of my good fortune."

That earned him a thorough, grateful kiss that would have become something else entirely, had Marcus not chosen that moment to rejoin them. His enthusiastic bouncing broke them apart, and they decided that a game of 'tickle the kid' was just the thing.

********

"I'm not sure I understand," the tall black man complained.

The man behind the desk gestured peevishly at his subordinate. "A man with your IQ should be able to figure it out."

"If it made any sense at all, that would be true," the slender brunette woman said earnestly, stepping in to defend her colleague. "Your orders are contradictory."

"They are not. They are, however, your orders. Or have you added insubordination to your long list of accomplishments?"

The two shifted their weight nervously, unwilling to further confront their superior. They had been called into the boss' office without preamble a few hours ago. Their assignment was so bizarre and confusing that neither of them had the foggiest idea of how they were going to succeed. Both of them had been with the company for years, and had seen their share of odd projects. This one was at the top of the list, for sure.

"Let me get this straight," the subordinate said carefully. "You want us to pretend to be examiners from Mensa and interview a three-year-old child?"

"That's right." The boss remained impassive.

The female added, "And you want us to ask specific questions that have to do with..." She consulted her notes quickly. "... supernatural abilities?"

"And question his parents, as well?" the male subordinate said incredulously.

The 'boss' nodded.

"And just what are we going to do with this information once we've gathered it?"

"That is not your concern."

The two subordinates looked at each other, disbelief showing on their faces. It was obvious that their boss was not playing with a full deck. The writer of the questionnaire in their hands probably wasn't, either.

"Now, Susan, you have the best presence, so I'd like you to head the project."

She smiled weakly. Nothing in all her psychology training had prepared her for this. It was worse than being in a class play at school. She was terrified.

"Andrew, you take the notes and document everything that happens, no matter how small and insignificant it seems. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now get out of here. I've got work to do." The boss dismissed them by looking down at the paperwork on his desk. He didn't look up as the two junior officers left the room.

The door had barely closed behind them when another man entered the room from another office. This man was short, graying, and exuded a confident air of authority.

The boss stood at loose attention, deferring to the newcomer. "Will they do?" he asked calmly.

"I believe so."

"Good. They're the best I have at the moment."

"Then they will have to do, won't they?"

The 'boss' smiled grimly. "Yes, they will."

"You realize what is at stake here, I trust?"

"Yes, sir. National security, or sovereignty, or whatever you call it."

"Exactly." The short man eased himself into a comfortable leather chair. "All this activity between England and a tiny town in California... it's all too suspicious. It smacks of conspiracy and espionage."

The 'boss' sighed. "But do we really need to be involved? None of these British citizens have done anything wrong."

"They've been involved in suspicious activities." He held up a folder. "For example, this Rupert Giles has been in the hospital no less than thirty times in seven years. I believe that is enough to raise suspicion."

"Maybe he's clumsy," the 'boss' said with a smile.

"Maybe he's not. Maybe he gets into trouble on a regular basis because that's his job. If so, I want to know what that job is. This is my state, and I'm not going to let something like this go on under my nose."

"But sir," the man resumed his seat, letting his superior's casual attitude lead him. "All this talk of amazing powers... special abilities... it sounds like an episode of the X-Files."

The short man snigg*red and said, "You have no idea, Mister Grayson. No idea at all. What happens in Sunnydale on a regular basis just might make the wildest show on television. And I intend to put a stop to it, and soon."

"All right, but if this ever gets out, we'll never see another dime of grant money."

The real boss of the operation stared pointedly at the man behind the desk. "Then I suggest you make sure it doesn't."

Grayson blanched at his superior's unwavering stare. "I will, sir. No problem."

********

Buffy eyed her watch nervously. "They're late." She paced up and down the short hallway, her heels clicking on the tiled surface. Her husband slumped casually against the wall, hands in pockets, and watched her from the living room entry.

"Your watch is fast, love," Giles reminded gently. Her penchant for being late had prompted her to set her various watches five minutes fast, much to his amusem*nt.

She made a face at him. "I thought really smart people would be really early people, too."

He gave her a disbelieving look. "Whatever gave you that idea? I'd imagine highly intelligent people would be as disparate as the general population. That would include circadian rhythms."

She pointed at him. "Case in point, Professor Giles. You like to get up early. You use words like 'disparate' and 'circadian' in everyday conversation. Ergo..." She spread her hands expressively, her point made.

From his position on the living room couch, Cedrick chuckled softly. He was beginning to appreciate Buffy's humor more and more. "Touché, Rupert," he called over to his son.

"Eight o'clock on a Saturday morning is not what most people consider early. And thank you so much for your support, Father."

"Even an old bachelor like myself knows better than to disagree with the lady of the house," Cedrick said lightly before turning his attention back to his grandson. Marcus was completely immersed in his toys, seemingly unaware of his parents' nervousness. The adults knew, however, the moment any strong emotions flared, he would be dashing to their side to see what was the matter. Cedrick felt a bit of light-hearted banter was just the thing to keep them from frightening the child.

Buffy seemed to sense the same thing, but her subject changed suddenly, much to Cedrick's dismay. "A little bird told me that you had a date tonight, Cedrick."

He rolled his eyes. "Or, rather, a large and unusually talkative bird, I suspect. Rupert..."

Before his father could continue, Giles held up his hand. "I was under duress, Father. I had no choice."

The persuasive powers of a woman were not to be maligned... especially those of a Slayer. Cedrick chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose you're going to tell me you couldn't help yourself."

"Oh, I could have. But it would have been unpleasant to do so."

"Actually, it was Marcus who spilled the beans. I just interrogated Rupert for the details," Buffy admitted with a teasing grin.

Cedrick looked at his son, who was looking a bit uncomfortable. "Poor chap. You never stood a chance."

It was Buffy's turn to laugh. Marcus looked up at his smiling parents and commented, "Mummy and Daddy are happy, Gwanfadder."

"Yes, they are. We all are."

"I know." Marcus suddenly hopped to his feet. "Dey're here, Mom."

The doorbell confirmed his statement, and he beat both his parents to the door. Giles took his place behind Buffy as she greeted the well-dressed man and woman standing on their porch.

"Mister and Mrs. Giles, I'm Susan Williams and this is Andrew Culverson. We represent the California Mensa group. I believe you're expecting us?"

Marcus frowned as Buffy started to let the strangers in. He looked up at Giles and stage-whispered, "Daddy, dey're de wong people."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. The entire family stared at the newcomers with sudden distrust. Susan almost swallowed her tongue. Beside her, the dark-skinned man was doing a credible imitation of a fish out of water. He seemed to find his voice before his companion however, and forced his face into a nervous smile.

"And you must be Marcus. I'm very pleased to meet you." He extended his hand to the tiny boy, and Marcus took it with hesitation.

"I'm Ma'cus Ev'wett Giles," he said solemnly. He had been taught to be polite, even if they were the wrong people. His parents watched cautiously for any signs that the man was a threat to the child, but he simply shook the little hand and then sat back on his heels.

"You can call me Andrew."

"I may call you Andwew," Marcus corrected firmly. Buffy covered her mouth to hide her grin. Giles looked smug... he'd been trying to teach his son the difference between can and may for a long time. It never seemed to soak in... until now. Perhaps his misuse of grammar was due to choice and not confusion. The father in him filed that thought away for future reference.

Susan barked a shaky laugh. This was going to be a tough one.

"This is my father-in-law, Cedrick Giles. He's here to observe." Buffy stepped back to allow Cedrick to shake hands with the two very nervous visitors. His grip surprised Andrew, who was much taller and more obviously muscled.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I watch," Cedrick said firmly, and they had no choice but to agree.

Buffy, Giles, and Marcus took the couch, presenting a unified front to the strangers. Cedrick returned to his armchair, diagonal to the action, and settled in with steepled fingers to watch the proceedings. The interviewers were left with two straight-backed chairs in the center of the room. They felt very much on display.

Less that fifteen minutes into the interview, it was obvious to the Gileses that the interviewers had no connection whatsoever with Mensa or any other legitimate organization. Their questions had little to do with intelligence and a great deal to do with supernatural powers. Buffy had grown tense and silent, Giles was asking all kinds of leading questions, Marcus was putting everyone to shame with his amazing intellect and intuition, and Cedrick was simply watching the imposters dig themselves further and further into a very deep hole.

Finally, Giles had heard enough. He stood, surprising Susan, who was dutifully ticking off each question as she asked it, whether she got an answer or not.

"I think we've played this little game long enough," he declared in his deceptively soft voice.

Andrew's face fell. "I don't know what you mean, Mister Giles..."

"Yes, you do. Who sent you?" Buffy stood to flank her husband, and Marcus slid off the couch and went straight to Cedrick, an accusing look on his face.

"Dey're 'cared, Gwandfadder," he confided.

Cedrick nodded in agreement. "As they should be," he said softly.

Buffy inspected her nails casually as she asked, "Are you from the military?"

"No!" both Susan and Andrew blurted. They looked at each other, deciding that there was no point in keeping up the pretense.

"Are you from the Council?" She hoped the title would be vague enough if they weren't, but specific enough if they were.

"What Council...?" Andrew began, but his partner interrupted him.

"We... we work for a consulting firm. We were hired to do this. We don't even know by whom or why!" Susan's voice began to shake.

"We're not gonna hurt you guys... although we could, and probably should," Buffy said matter-of-factly. If possible, the two fake interviewers looked even more frightened. "But you'd better come clean. When it comes to people messing with my baby, I'm not exactly a lenient person, and I'm a lot stronger than I look."

"We don't want to hurt Marcus," Andrew said earnestly, spreading his hands in front of him in self-defense. "I've got two kids of my own. I'm sure it's really nothing serious. I mean, look at these questions!" He snatched the questionnaire from Susan's lap and waved them derisively. "This has to be a joke!" He read from the rumpled page in a sarcastic voice. "'Have you observed any acts of levitation, telekinesis, or telepathy in the past six months?' I mean, c'mon!"

Cedrick cleared his throat, and five pairs of eyes focused on him. "I suppose I'm speaking out of turn..."

"No, Father, please." Giles gestured to him, giving him the floor.

"Were you aware that NID have requested all police records of our encounters with Quentin Travers?" He paused and explained, "I still have connections with Interpol, you know."

Andrew and Susan looked at each other with blank faces, but Buffy and Giles both reacted differently. Their eyes wide, they turned to each other and began a mental conversation that only Cedrick and Marcus could hear.

When they were finished, Giles addressed his 'guests'. "I think you should leave now. This interview is over."

The two fakers stood gratefully, glad to have escaped with their skins intact. They babbled apologies as they left the house, but wasted no time in jumping in their car and making a quick getaway.

They had just pulled out of the driveway when an inexpensive compact car pulled up to the curb. A tall, gangly man unfolded himself from the low-slung vehicle and called across the lawn, "Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, but is this the Giles residence?" He pushed his thick glasses further up on his nose and squinted at them with friendly interest. "I'm afraid I'm totally lost."

Buffy gave Giles a knowing look. "Now that looks like an egghead to me." She gave him a comforting smile. "Present company excluded, of course. You don't get lost very often."

"Thank you, I think." He plastered a pleasant smile on his face and stepped off the porch to greet what he hoped was the real genius.

********

After the man displayed a membership card that bore the same insignia as the envelope in Giles' hand, Buffy was happy to let him into her home. While they exchanged pleasantries and passed out coffee, Buffy and Giles mentally discussed whether to tell this newcomer about the people that had just been ejected from their home.

"I'm really sorry Doc Polanski couldn't come, but he's got a sick kid at home, and his wife is exhausted." The Mensa examiner, who had introduced himself as Mason Reid, seemed to make himself at home in the Giles' living room. "He's the real expert on educational literature. I'll fill him in when I get back to LA."

The interview went smoothly, with the primary conversation being held by Reid and Marcus. The man seemed quite at ease with small children, and Marcus liked him immediately. There were no lists of questions or overt mental tests, just talk and observation. It was clear that Reid had some experience with children, for he never exceeded Marcus' verbal level while at the same time challenging the boy's mind with interesting ideas.

After about an hour, Reid announced that he was finished with Marcus. They sent him into the back yard to play, and began to discuss what the examiner had found.

Giles cleared his throat. "Mister Reid, this may sound a bit cloak-and-dagger, but there were two people here just before you came that also claimed to be from Mensa."

Reid was stunned. "Really? That's too strange for words. Why would anyone want to impersonate a Mensa member? It's not like we get discounts at the mall."

Buffy giggled. "They were asking a bunch of really strange questions. Marcus spotted them right away. He told us they were the wrong people."

Reid nodded, unsurprised. "Children can often see right through an adult who is lying to them. It's an amazing talent."

Buffy relaxed a little. The man wasn't going to attribute Marcus' insight to anything supernatural. "Yeah, Marcus is pretty smart. Do you think you can help him with school? Or should we back off and let him be a kid?"

Reid knew concerned parents when he saw them. He leaned forward with a smile. "I'm sure we can help without disrupting his life. He's way above average, that's for sure, but his speech isn't quite as advanced as it should be. That's not a big deal; it just means he's developing at his own pace. That's what we have to go by, so for now, just let him go to school and be with his friends. We'll probably design something like an extra fifteen-minute English and reading lesson a couple of times a week to start with. That should be just enough to keep that little brain busy. Later, when his language skills develop, we can do something more extensive, like math and science."

"Sounds good to me," Buffy declared. She didn't want anything disrupting her son's happy life. He loved school, and he loved his friends.

"Do you suppose you could make some... ah... discrete inquiries about our mysterious visitors?" Giles asked cautiously. He needed information, but he wasn't ready to provide any himself. Better for the Mensa group to remain uninvolved with the Council, the NID, Interpol and the powers of Darkness.

Reid stood. "No problem. I'll ask around, but don't expect much. We're a loosely organized group. They could have been members of some fringe offshoot with delusions of grandeur." He got an uncomfortable look on his face as he re-examined his own words. "Not that there's a lot of those around, you understand."

Buffy didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Just let us know if you find out anything cloak-and-dagger-y. Weirdos come out of the woodwork when you have a smart kid."

A sad, faraway look came in their visitor's eyes. "I know what you mean. I'll be in touch." He stepped to the back door to say his goodbyes to Marcus, and then left without another word.

Giles looked at his wife as she flopped back onto the couch, relief plain in her face. "That went relatively well, didn't it?"

"What're you talking about? If you don't count mystery Mensas, it went great!"

"You were worried," he said gently, sitting down beside her. She snuggled into his side gratefully.

"A little."

He chuckled softly. "Marcus will be fine, love."

Her voice was muffled against his shirt. "You betcha. Or I'll have to kick somebody's butt."

"I would be happy to help with that, should the need arise," Cedrick offered seriously, making both parents smile.

"You'll be the first person I call," Buffy promised.

********

A week later...

In an elaborately paneled office in one of the tallest office buildings in LA, a gilded telephone rang. The short, immaculately dressed man at the desk answered it confidently. "Carson here."

He listened briefly, frowning. "You're sure you checked their ID? Well, Charlotte, let them in, by all means. We shouldn't keep our international counterparts waiting."

He looked up as two men and one woman entered his inner sanctum. They were dressed as carefully as he, with expensive, tailored suits and perfectly knotted ties... even the woman was wearing a neat collar bar. He stood and offered his hand, wondering why Interpol would have any interest in his little corner of the country.

Before he could offer a pleasant greeting, the woman stepped to the fore and fixed him with an evaluating glare. He withdrew his hand unconsciously and waited for them to speak. Obviously, they were not interested in meaningless courtesies. Something about the woman's eyes made the sweat pop out all over his face. He pulled at his collar helplessly, but could not look away.

Finally, the woman glanced at her companions. "He is not the leader," she said with a distinct German accent.

The tallest man nodded in agreement. "You are Absolom Carson of the NID," he said with a deep, resonating voice. His accent was harder to place... middle European, perhaps.

It wasn't a question, but Carson answered with a nod.

"Mister Carson," the third visitor said with a heavy Southern Alabama drawl, "I'm afraid you've been playing in someone else's sandbox."

It was then that Carson realized he was in deep trouble. His superiors had made it clear that if any fallout came from this project, he would bear the brunt of it alone.

It looked like nuclear winter had just arrived.

********

When Giles arrived home the following Monday, he almost tripped over a kneeling Buffy when he entered the kitchen. She was scrubbing furiously at the floor, muttering angrily. There was a huge splotch of something dark purplish-red on the floor, the cabinet and the stove. Apparently there had been some sort of cooking mishap. A cloud of mental irritation hung over her head.

"I was going to say 'Good afternoon,' but it appears that assumption might be premature."

A vivid curse exploded in his mind, and he took a step back and shook his head. "I think I'm going to go upstairs and change clothes," he said defensively, and backed out of the room.

Buffy's mental tirade followed him upstairs, but he kept himself carefully neutral as he removed his suit and pulled on his comfortable jeans and flannel shirt. He sent her wordless comfort via the Bond, and by the time he returned to the kitchen, she had calmed down considerably.

He stepped up behind her at the sink, and gave her a warm hug. "Are you better?" he asked lovingly, giving her a kiss on the back of the neck.

She hummed with pleasure, momentarily distracted, and turned in his arms to hug him back. "Yeah, sorry about that. I think I need a new pressure cooker, though."

"I wasn't aware we had an old pressure cooker."

"It was Mom's," she explained, pointing at the ruined utensil in the sink. "She hasn't used it in years, apparently. I've had it a while. I think it was rusted out or something."

"Why were you using a pressure cooker in the first place?"

She pointed again, indicating the dozen or so canning jars sitting on the counter. "I was gonna make jelly."

His eyebrows shot up. "Jelly? Whatever for?"

She shrugged. "'Cause I was hungry for something sweet and I felt like making it myself. Mom had a recipe, and the cooker, from when she was a total flower child and wanted everything all organic, and I thought it would be fun. I bought all these berries..." her face crumpled. "...and now they're ruined."

He looked around the kitchen. She'd been busy all afternoon, apparently. "Tell you what, love, I'll help clean up, and you go call your mother and see if she has an alternative plan. We may be able to salvage some of your efforts."

"You are a total genius, Rupert," she declared, giving him a grateful kiss. "The Mensa people should be begging you to join, too. I'll call now, before Wilton gets home."

She bounced out of the room, her mental aura 180 degrees opposite of what it was just moments before. Something about the sudden shift of her emotions seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He sighed and pulled out another washcloth, grinning slightly. He could help her clean and still pick up Marcus on time. After a few ineffective attempts to get the stain off the cabinet, he reached under the sink for the spray cleaner, and began to work in earnest.

Across the city, in a small schoolyard behind a community church, a small boy smiled happily as he played with his friends. He had a secret, a big one, but it wasn't going to be a secret for long.

********

In a quiet neighborhood several blocks away, Cedrick was deeply engrossed in his study of the prophecies of Jonas. He had been almost motionless for hours, lost in his concentration, when suddenly he straightened.

"Good Lord," he said breathlessly. This was something new. Or was it? The original prophecy had mentioned...

He sprang to his feet and reached for the original emailed manuscript from England that William Armstead and Willow had provided him. There was something familiar about this new passage, something that sparked a trace of a memory.

The Giles tendency to complete concentration soon took over, and he forgot about supper as he immersed himself in ancient prophecy.

********

For the third night in a row, Giles found himself waking his wife from a nightmare. She recoiled away from him when he touched her. He just managed to duck as she flailed an arm backwards, and then slid behind her to hold her comfortingly. Her heart was thumping against his wrists as he pulled her back tightly against his chest. He murmured softly into her tangled hair, bringing her slowly back to earth.

"Shhh, love, it's all right... are you awake now? Buffy?"

She moaned and rolled in his arms until she had her face buried against his chest. She took several deep, shaky breaths before she said groggily, "I think I'm awake... good grief... I thought I was over these."

He shifted until her head was pillowed under his chin. "Comes with the territory, I'm afraid. Slayers have always had dreams and visions, whether they wanted to or not."

She chuckled sarcastically. "If this is prophetic, then I'm in serious trouble. I dreamed a layer cake was chasing me through Restfield Cemetery. Dripping chocolate icing, no less."

Giles couldn't help laughing at that. "It sounds very much like this is an ordinary, garden variety anxiety dream, dearest. Brought on by the... um... cooking incident earlier today."

"Yeah, you're probably right. The last couple of dreams were more of the 'ooo, scary!' variety. This was just annoying."

"Perhaps you should've turned around and taken a bite," he joked.

He could feel her relaxing, both mentally and physically, and her natural humor began to come to the fore. "If jelly donuts start chasing me around, I'll know it's time to go on a diet."

"Your figure is perfect, love." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "But, of course, that goes without saying."

"Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you say it."

"Ah, yes. You enjoy making me say it, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah." Her voice was slow and slurred. She was already drifting back into sleep. "No more sweets after 10:00 p.m. for me."

********

The next morning started out perfectly normal. Giles arose early, gently persuading Buffy to get out of bed and greet the day, and they began their usual morning routine. Since Buffy's class schedule allowed her to go to school at 9 am, she donned her robe and padded into Marcus' room to wake him. He snuggled against her neck as she started downstairs, waking up fully just as they passed the television. She left him to watch his early morning cartoons and headed for the kitchen to start on breakfast. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

The day went downhill from there.

After Giles had left with Marcus to begin their respective school days, Buffy began to wonder if she'd lost her mind. Within the space of an hour she'd lost a shoe, burned her toast, managed to de-program the remote control, spilled most of her favorite shampoo down the shower drain, and had acquired a particularly nasty stubbed little toe due to the missing shoe.

She was almost ten minutes late for her first class. When she slid into her seat, blushing at the teacher's teasing grin, she blew out a sigh of relief and tried to relax. Surely things would settle down now.

The end-of-class bell woke her from a sound sleep. Her friends sitting next to her sweetly assured her she hadn't been snoring. She managed to stay awake for her next two classes, but the third was a chemistry lab, and she dropped two test tubes before her lab partner took over the measuring and pouring. She escaped from her study period early, too nervous and fidgety to concentrate, and decided to do a little minor housecleaning before her husband got home.

That didn't work too well, either.

By the time Giles came home that afternoon, there was an aura of irritation hanging over the house that was detectable for nearly a block away. He drove into the gray cloud with a worried frown, thankful that the average human was blind to such phenomena. Since his usually chipper wife was not at the door to greet him, or in the kitchen starting dinner, he began to worry. He dashed upstairs and checked all the rooms, but she wasn't there. He found evidence of her aborted housecleaning attempt, but couldn't feel her thoughts through the negative aura. He knew she had to be close by, since she was obviously the one generating the feeling of misery.

He found her outside, blinking up at the hazy sky. It was a cool afternoon, but she wasn't even wearing a sweater.

"Buffy? What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" she asked in a deceptively casual voice.

"Perhaps it's the fact that you're pretending to look at something that is invisible to the naked eye."

"How do you know what I'm looking at?"

He stepped right next to her and fixed his eyes on the air. "Because whatever is there can only be sensed with the Bond, and you're not using it at the moment."

"So logical," she said with tired irritation. Her nervous eyes shifted to focus on him. "Except for one thing: Why did you marry such a ditz?"

"A ditz?" He searched his memory for a few seconds before latching onto the rough definition. "Ah. You think you're a ditz? I don't think so, obviously." He smiled down at her flushed face. "As a matter of fact, I was just thinking how lucky I am to come home to someone like you."

She snorted, but a small smile crept across her face. "It's just been one of those days, babe."

"Then let's go inside and warm up a bit before it's time to pick up Marcus, shall we?" He looped an arm around her shoulders and she let him escort her back to the living room sofa. He settled into the corner cushion and turned to take her into his arms. She sighed and melted against him, relieved at his reassuring touch.

"Now, tell me what has my poor wife so flummoxed."

"It's been a totally icky day, is all. One minor disaster after another. I'm thinking at this point you'd better make dinner even though it's really my turn. It's been that bad."

"If you don't mind waiting a bit, I'll be happy to." The tension was still plain in her shoulders, and he knew she wasn't through with her litany of mishaps. "What else, love? You've still got me blocked out up here."

He reached up with both hands and touched her temples, gently massaging in small circles. As she relaxed, their strained connection clicked back into place and he was finally able to glean the answers he wanted from her swirling conscious mind. She showed him her day as it had gone so far, and he sent waves of sympathy and love to her at all the right intervals. She leaned into the soothing motion, sighing. "And, finally, I broke a lamp dusting..."

"Oh? Which one?" He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. There was one particular lamp he actively despised...

"No, it wasn't the belly dancer lamp Xander gave us for Christmas," she retorted with a giggle.

"Well, that's all right. You can try again tomorrow." Disappointment laced his words and his thoughts. She giggled again, which had been his intention.

"I'm just being silly, Rupert, I know it."

"Nonsense." He tucked her more firmly into his side. "If something is bothering you, then it bothers me as well. Wasn't that in our vows?"

"You mean, 'In sickness and in health, your bothers are my bothers'? Yeah, I seem to remember that." Her voice was light.

"Right. Now, are there any bothers that must be dealt with immediately? Such as cleaning up a broken lamp?" He couldn't remember finding any lamp fragments in his search upstairs.

"No, I did that already." She thought about it for a moment. "Nothing else, I guess... I just wanted to vent."

"And are you finished venting?"

"Yep."

"Good. Feel better?"

"Um... yeah, I do." She twisted around and gave him a short kiss. "Thank you, Doctor Giles. You should hang out a shingle and charge a hundred bucks an hour."

"Then you couldn't afford me..." He yelped as slender fingers dug into his sides, and they wrestled playfully for a few moments before settling back into their comfortable embrace.

After a few quiet, restful moments, Buffy shifted. He sensed a pang of discomfort through their connection. "Something else?" he asked solicitously.

"No, not really, I'm just... antsy, or something." She squirmed again before settling back into place.

"We could take Marcus to the mall after dinner," he said tentatively. "Some brisk walking might ease the tension a bit."

"The mall and I are extremely compatible," she agreed happily.

He sent her a mental image of an empty wallet, and she laughed.

"Now, we should talk about going to England this summer. I've checked my schedule with the University. I don't have anything pressing in June."

She made a face. "I haven't even thought about that. I'll check with the counselor's office tomorrow. They usually have the latest scoop on summer classes."

He considered the matter settled for the moment, and was content with holding her. The silence stretched on until he was nearly dozing. He glanced at his watch and decided they could both use a catnap before Marcus' school was out. He looked down to suggest his brilliant idea with Buffy, but she'd beaten him to the punch. She was sleeping soundly against his chest. He smiled, enjoying the quiet. With an active three-year-old around, quiet moments were at a premium.

He managed to slide off the couch without waking her, and began searching the kitchen for something to prepare. Buffy had done the last round of grocery shopping, but she'd managed to come home without something resembling a main course. He finally settled on his old standby, spaghetti and steamed vegetables. Before long the pasta was boiling and there were bowls of vegetables neatly chopped into bite-sized chunks waiting for their turn in the hot water. He set the table, glancing over at Buffy each time he made a disturbing noise. She remained motionless.

He finally had to wake her when it was time to get Marcus. The meal was nearly ready, and he'd turned everything down to a simmer to wait until he was home. He was back within fifteen minutes, and Marcus' usual noisy entrance assured that Buffy's nap was well and truly over. They relaxed and ate, listening to Marcus and his usual recitation of the day's events. She seemed happier now that her son was home, so Giles began to relax a bit.

The mall was fairly quiet, and they enjoyed their trip without too much hassle. Buffy seemed to regain her cheery disposition with the light exercise, and Giles mentally chided himself for letting their training slip again. Buffy always grew 'antsy', in her words, when they didn't work out regularly. She picked up on his thoughts and defended their inattention with images of school, home, and Marcus. They were so comfortable with the non-verbal communication they'd developed over the past few years that actual words weren't strictly needed.

By the time they arrived home, Buffy was feeling herself again. Giles flushed at the decidedly suggestive turn her thoughts had taken as he got Marcus ready for bed. He mentally promised her they'd discuss the matter thoroughly – very thoroughly – after their son was asleep. It took a little while to accomplish his task, but she made sure he didn't forget his promise.

Peace, a complete change from the afternoon's atmosphere, gently settled on the house. Marcus slept the sleep of the innocent, and his parents slept the sleep of the sated. All was quiet.

Until the nightmares began again.

********

The outer office at Doctor Phillip Stevenson's downtown clinic was fairly crowded. There were a number of children, some of them playing and screeching loudly, some of them huddled on their parent's lap sniffling sadly. Buffy felt a pang of sympathy for the kids and an accompanying empathy for their weary moms and dads.

Her stomach lurched again, and she took a deep breath and reminded herself just why she was here. The past few nightmares had taken a sad*stic twist, and she'd found herself nauseated upon awaking. A couple of times she'd actually thrown up. Giles was worried sick, of course, and that was the reason for the check-up.

"Buffy Giles?" the nurse called from the inner doorway, and Buffy rose stiffly. The lack of an uninterrupted night's sleep was telling on her. She felt achy and tired, like she was coming down with the flu. She hoped it wasn't that... she didn't want to give some icky bug to Rupert and Marcus.

The exam went quickly, far faster than Buffy expected. A little bloodletting, a little prodding, the usual embarrassing pelvic exam, and soon she was dressed and waiting for Doctor Phil to bring her the results. She wished for Rupert's comforting presence, but he was giving mid-term exams, and couldn't leave his classes. She sighed heavily and passed an idle glance over the walls. Doctor Phil had added some new cartoons to his bulletin board, and she wandered over and read them with a smile until the man entered the room with her chart in his hand.

"Well, Buffy..." he began. "You know, it would be a lot easier to monitor your health if you'd come in regularly."

"Cut to the chase," she commanded. "You have 'big news' written all over your face."

He chuckled. "Yes, it is big news, but, I hope, not bad news."

"Well, me, too."

He sat on the corner of his desk and motioned for her to sit opposite him. She did so, linking her fingers nervously. "Okay, lemme have it."

He smiled broadly, and complied with her wish.

********

The little red convertible was waiting at the schoolyard when Marcus came out of his classroom. He whooped with joy and said a quick goodbye to his friends as he dashed for the gate. He loved riding in Mummy's car with the top down, even when it was cold.

He skidded up to her just inside the fence and threw his arms around her legs. "Mom! How come you picking me up today?"

"'Cause I wanted to, kiddo." She picked him up and gave him a quick hug and kiss. "I skipped classes today, so here I am, coming to get my favorite short guy."

He giggled happily and climbed into the car, obediently sitting still while she fastened his seatbelt around his new child seat. "Mom, I dwew a picture for you today." He held out a construction paper sheet with bright colors all over it. "Wook!"

It seemed that her big news wasn't news at all to her son. It was a picture of his family – his favorite subject – and there were more than four figures in the composition.

There were six.

"Marcus? What are these?" She pointed to the two tiny circles next to her son's self-portrait. They were small and had barely visible arms and legs. Both of them had yellow streaks radiating from their heads like over-sized halos.

"I don't know yet, Mummy," he answered calmly.

'Oh, God,' she thought desperately, looking down at her seatbelt encased middle. 'Twins?'

The End

Chapter 13: Turning the Page

Summary:

Buffy’s news has everyone in an uproar... and Cedrick has some news of his own to share.

Chapter Text

Giles looked up as the familiar sound of Buffy's little car dropped to idling level and stopped abruptly. If he concentrated, he could almost hear the sounds of seat belts being unbuckled, books and carry-alls being shifted, and above it all the prattle of Marcus' happy voice. He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the nearness of his family in anticipation of their actual presence.

A few seconds later, his eyes snapped open, and he gulped for air so suddenly that he began to cough. He lurched to his feet and dashed for the kitchen, grabbing a tumbler and filling it halfway with water. He managed to get himself under control with a few anxious gulps, and then he paused, gasping, trying to get his mind around what he had just heard through the Bond.

The doorknob turned and within seconds his knees were captured by Marcus' surprisingly strong embrace.

"Daddy! Daddy! We gots a secwet now! All of us!" he sang happily, his face beaming with joy.

"We have a secret," Giles corrected automatically, looking up into his young wife's face, his eyes tearing from his bout of choking and from the sudden, blinding rush of emotion. "Buffy?" he questioned her gruffly. Her thoughts were too active for him to pin down at that moment. The one he recognized above all others was fear.

She nodded, trying to smile. She was visibly shaking. Giles knelt to loosen his son's grip, saying softly, "Hello, Marcus. Welcome home." He hugged the precious little body against him for a moment then held him away. "Will you let me talk to Mummy for a moment while you play with your toys? I think Mummy needs a hug, too."

"Okay, Daddy," Marcus agreed kindly, running into the living room to search out his favorite playthings.

The one thing that Giles feared more than Buffy's news was her reaction to it. For a despairing moment, he thought she might be wishing it wasn't so... then he caught a flash of pride and burgeoning happiness that made him smile in relief. He could never contemplate ending a new life... it just wasn't in him, but for Buffy to be unhappy... that wasn't bearable either.

He stood gracefully, holding out his arms. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply let the perfect communication of their psychic connection do the talking for him. She responded immediately to his instant joy and fell into his embrace, sighing deeply as the tears she'd been fighting at last began to fall.

She sobbed for several minutes before sniffing and pulling away. One hand swiped ineffectually at the tears on her face. He tenderly took over the job, slowing encouraging her to look up at him. The pride on his face almost made her cry again, but she managed a trembling smile.

"Go, Daddy Giles," she said thickly, a silly giggle catching the end of their surname and turning it into a laugh.

"I can't be sorry, love. I know we weren't planning on having another child this soon, but I can't be sorry." He continued to stroke her face with his sensitive fingers. The action seemed to calm her. This time the smiles came easier to both their faces. His hand slid down to rest over her perfectly flat stomach, and the smile on his face widened.

"Marcus knew," she said softly, leaning into his caress.

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he's been bugging me about a baby brother for weeks now. He kept saying he doesn't want a baby sister, just a baby brother."

Giles chuckled at that, but Buffy sighed heavily. "Don't laugh just yet. Look at what he drew for me today."

She held out the folded bit of construction paper, and he took it with a curious look. She wasn't sharing the meaning of the drawing with him, for some reason. He unfolded it and smiled again at the comical figures. Suddenly the significance of the number of stick figures in the picture struck him, and his jaw dropped.

"Wh...wh... you don't think that... Buffy... oh, my dear God in Heaven!"

She put a hand over his mouth. "I don't think anything. It's way too soon, and the doctor didn't mention... but it was Marcus' idea, and you know how he is about knowing things he shouldn't."

Slowly the shock began to dissipate, and the slow, almost co*cky smile returned to his face. "Twins?" he asked with awe.

"Maybe. You are such a stud," she teased, still tickling his lips with her fingers.

"Twins..." he repeated softly.

"Twice the work, twice the expense, twice the dirty diapers..."

"...And twice the joy..."

"Right now, twins are a big 'maybe'," she repeated carefully. She burrowed into his chest, clutching his shirt with shaking fingers. Suddenly, she stiffened and pushed away. "My God, Rupert, if I got huge with Marcus, just imagine what I'm gonna look like with two in there!! I'll be elephant-sized... whale-sized!"

As enthralled as he was by the news, he recognized her insecurity and pulled her back into his arms. He had learned a long time ago that Buffy, despite her outward confidence, was deeply self-conscious about her personal appearance where he was concerned. He still had to work at convincing her that his devotion ran deeper than that.

"Love... my sweet love... there is nothing that can happen to your body that will cause me to stop loving you, don't you know that? The fact that you carry my child... or even children... dear God in Heaven, it makes you even more beautiful and sexy to me."

"So lumpy, fat pregnant women turn you on, huh? You're weird," she muttered into his chest, then giggled. "Good thing I'm weird, too."

He buried his nose in her hair and hummed softy. "Oh, yes. A very good thing."

They gave up talking and just held each other, eyes closed and hearts open. A tiny voice interrupted their silent communication. "Mom! Can Gwandfadder Giles come over?"

They pulled apart and stared at each other in surprise.

"Did you hear the telephone...?" he began.

"Nope." She leaned into the hall and looked into the living room. Marcus was standing by the couch with the phone receiver to his ear. He was grinning.

"Did Grandfather Giles call us?"

Marcus shook his head negatively. "No. I call him," he announced proudly.

Giles giggled, and Buffy gave him a surprised look. "I suppose it's my fault. I showed him how to use the telephone book a few days ago."

She felt his approval for the visit instantly, and agreed via the Bond. Before she could speak, Marcus said into the phone, "Come over now, Gwandfadder. We gots... I mean, we have, a secwet!"

Not for long, Buffy thought, feeling like she was caught up in a whirlwind. "I guess I'd better change my plans for dinner."

********

The moment Cedrick Giles stepped foot on his son's porch, he could feel the conflicting emotions emanating from the house. Marcus' unusual telephone call surprised him. His use of the Bond was still something of an effort, so instead of concentrating on untangling the web of feelings and thoughts, he decided to wait until his son told him what was going on. It was easier.

He pushed the doorbell once, fighting a smile. Something interesting always came up at the Giles household. Once could always count on that.

"Cedrick! Come in, we're just about ready to eat."

"Thank you, Buffy, although I wasn't expecting to be fed..."

"It's no problem. We have to eat, so you might as well eat, too."

Giles looked up as his father entered the dining room, smiling a greeting. His eyes seemed a bit... dazed.

"Rupert?" Cedrick's voice dropped a bit, taking on an unconsciously paternal tone.

"It seems we have news, Father."

"I see." Cedrick turned to Buffy, who was blushing furiously. A sudden insight struck him, and he smiled. "You're expecting again, are you?"

She nodded, blinking back sudden tears. The elder Giles gave her a warm smile and stepped over to hug her. Both she and Giles reacted with pleased surprise at the expression of affection.

"And to think those fools at the Council wanted to keep you two apart," he said gruffly, releasing her with a smile. "Look what I would have missed."

Giles smiled at his father. "It would have taken far more than the Council's displeasure to keep me from Buffy," he declared firmly. She moved into his arms and looked up at him with complete trust and confidence.

"I can see that," Cedrick acknowledged seriously. "Congratulations to you both. Now that the news has been delivered, where is my grandson? I certainly was surprised that he dialed the telephone by himself."

"He's in the back yard, probably covered with sand." Buffy made a face at Giles and patted him on the chest. "His father showed him how to use the telephone."

"He's a quick one, Rupert. Speaking from experience, anything he learns can and will be used against you, at any time, when you least expect it. I'll just go and check up on him, then." The ex-Watcher started for the patio door, still smiling.

"Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes," Buffy informed him. As Cedrick went out the door, Buffy looked back at her husband. "He said, 'Speaking from experience...' Care to share any childhood moments? Just so I can be prepared for Giles, the next generation?"

He looked down at her with feigned annoyance. "I have no idea what he was referring to."

"I'll just ask him later, then," she promised with a coy smile, then released her husband and dashed for the kitchen before he could come up with a suitable remark.

Outside, Cedrick stood on the deck steps, his eyes on Marcus. The boy called him forward, inviting him to sit on the sand beside him. The older man chose a less sandy spot on the edge of the sandbox, and said quietly, "Hello, Marcus."

"Hello, Gwandfadder. I'm gonna be a big brudder."

"Yes, you are. Are you excited?" He eased himself down onto the wooden edge, brushing the sand away to save his trousers.

"Uh huh. I don't want a baby sisser, though." He frowned seriously, but continued to plow his little dump truck through the sand.

"And why not?" The workings of Marcus' mind always fascinated Cedrick. It was so unpredictable.

"'Cause I'm gonna have to save her," the boy said matter-of-factly.

"From what?"

Marcus sighed. Grownups just didn't understand. "From de bad things. Dey make her cwy."

"Won't the bad things make a little brother cry as well?" Knowing what he did about the prophecy he'd been studying, the conversation was nothing short of incredible. It was as if Marcus was reading his mind.

"No, because he won't be 'cared."

"Why won't he be scared?"

Before Marcus could answer, the patio door slid open and Buffy called them both to the table. Cedrick bit back an exclamation of frustration and stood, offering Marcus his hand as they entered the house.

He kept his news to himself until they had nearly finished eating, but he had to share what he'd learned.

"Rupert, I've been studying the Enoshian prophecies."

Giles' eyes lit up, making Buffy smile. Knowledge was like an aphrodisiac to him. It the news was good, maybe she might get lucky tonight. "Really? Have you found anything new?"

"I have some theories on a few of the translations..."

Before Buffy could react, the two of them had dashed off into the study to discuss Cedrick's ideas. Buffy let them go, cleaning up with Marcus' limited help, and had everything put away in short order. Marcus began playing in the living room, his voice occasionally rising above the din of the television. By the time the two Giles men had finished their conversation, Buffy was filled with more trepidation than she cared to admit.

Giles was excited, of course. The Bond was fairly vibrating with it as he began to share his thoughts with her. 'Buffy, Father thinks the prophecy goes beyond Marcus."

"Beyond him to what?" she said aloud, unable to stop herself. Marcus looked up for a moment then returned to his play, convinced she wasn't addressing him.

'Other siblings.'

Silence met Giles' answer. When it stretched out into several minutes, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Buffy?"

She was leaning on the counter, her hand against her flat stomach. Her hair hung down to hide her face from him. He came to her immediately, catching her sob against him as he held her.

"I'm sorry, Love, I'm so sorry... I was so involved in the prophecy I didn't think about how it would affect you..."

She drew a shuddering breath and exhaled, "Us. It affects us. This is an 'us' effect."

"Yes, it does. But the more information we have..."

"I know, but I can't help it. They're my babies, and it scares me to death."

"I know," he soothed, holding her close, hands in her hair. He rubbed her scalp lightly, whispering to her through the Bond, showing her his heart, and that he would protect his family... his wife and his children... with his last breath, and he knew she would do the same.

Buffy got herself composed in a relatively short time, and Giles followed her back into the formal dining room that had become their unofficial research center. Cedrick looked up as they entered, taking in his daughter-in-law's drawn face, and immediately stood to offer her a chair.

"It's okay, Cedrick. I'm just being hormonal. You get to experience the joys of dealing with a pregnant Slayer right along with Giles this time. I should warn you; it won't be pretty."

"Oh, I can't imagine that to be true," he said gallantly, and Buffy smiled in spite of her anxiety. Once they were all seated, he passed a handwritten sheet over to her, turning it so she could read it. "Here are our current corrections, based on our research and your Elven friend's recollections. As you can see, where most translators tried to translate this word as friend or friends, it now appears that the word should be 'sibling' or 'siblings'. The language doesn't identify the sex. It would be much the same as using 'child' or 'children'."

Giles nodded in agreement, and Buffy could feel his concentration clouding their connection for a brief second as he leaned forward. "That brings to mind something Marcus said when we were first working on the prophecy. He wanted to 'help', so I put him in my lap for a bit. He pointed at that word and said, 'That's not friend, Daddy.' I was absolutely stunned, but he lost interest and went off to play before I could question him." He ran a hand through his hair and grinned sheepishly. "Not that I expected to get anywhere questioning a one-year-old."

Cedrick stared at his son, smiling. "You were reading at a remarkably early age yourself, Rupert, if I recall correctly."

"Not proto-Sanskrit, and not at one year old."

"No, you were a bit older, and it was English and Latin, with a smattering of French, which was enough."

Buffy stared at Giles in surprise. "I knew you remembered stuff from when you were, like, two, but you never mentioned reading languages that I still don't understand at twenty-four." Giles raised his eyebrows facetiously, and she grinned again. "So all this smart Mensa genius-ness is your fault!"

"And the strength and unusual physical ability is yours."

"Well, yeah, but that's cool."

"Being intelligent isn't cool? You wound me, love."

Cedrick impatiently reached across and tapped the paper in front of her, forestalling the inevitable clash of good-natured put-downs. "I think you should read this carefully. I've combined the three translations as completely as I can. It's a bit verbose, but I believe it to be accurate."

"As far as you know," she added skeptically.

"Of course," he conceded readily.

She tilted the paper slightly and stared at the careful handwriting. It looked so much like Rupert's. "Okay, here goes...

And in that day shall be born of the congress of Chosen Ones
one who was unexpected, but is destined.
He shall fulfill the purpose from above and restore the plan for Earth.
He shall control living creatures
and create beauty that restores the land.

He shall live in full awareness of his purpose.
He shall be the brave defender of the weak
Repelling darkness with brilliant light sent from Heaven.
He shall make the ways straight and prepare the paths
for what will come.

The Eternal One's spirit and wisdom shall lead him.
Deceiver, usurper and unbeliever (heretic?)
shall strive against him.
His enemies shall draw a line of war (start a war, bring war) to bring him down
but they shall not prevail (shall be destroyed, shall fall).

Priest (clergyman?) and sorcerer (witch/warlock)
shall recognize the authority (power?) in him
Parent (adult, adults) and sibling (child, children) shall join (assist/aid/stand with?) him
His power shall not diminish (be broken) while the Earth shall stand (exist, flourish)
And after this (after him?) shall come the final end (closure? Cessation? Is this an apocalyptic reference?)

"I see we're not quite through with our translation, are we?" she said with mild sarcasm as she slid the paper back to his side of the table.

Cedrick chuckled at her jibe. "Not quite, but the word 'sibling' or 'child' does change the entire tone of the final verse, doesn't it? From a lone warrior to a leader whose family supports him in all he does? Perhaps fights at his side?"

Her eyes widened. She hadn't considered that angle. "Maybe... yeah, maybe..." She frowned as a thought came to her. "I wonder how many more 'siblings' I'm gonna have to push out before this prophecy thing leaves me alone. Don't ever let anyone tell you childbirth is a piece of cake." She gave her husband a sweet smile. "Not that I'm hating having your babies, Rupert, but twins? I mean, gimme a break! I'm gonna have three kids before I'm twenty-five!"

Giles chuckled sympathetically, then jumped as Marcus suddenly appeared at his side and tugged on his sleeve, his voice shrill with excitement. "Daddy, Mummy... dere's horses on teebee. Come and see!"

"Just a moment, Marcus..."

"No, son, go and be with your family. I've stirred up enough unease for one night." Cedrick rose, gathering his papers into his small briefcase. Giles stood with him, wanting to say something comforting, but Buffy beat him to it.

"Cedrick, you are family. Why don't you stay and have some chocolate pudding? It's Marcus' current favorite dessert. He actually gets most of it in his mouth now."

He gave her a grateful smile, but declined politely. The three of them watched the older man get into his car and drive away. Marcus watched his parents' wistful faces as the vehicle turned the corner and disappeared from sight. He began to wiggle, wanting to make sure he had their attention. Finally, Giles had to put him down, which suited Marcus just fine.

He planted himself in front of them with a sad face. "Daddy, Mummy, don't be sad, pweese?" he pleaded in his best wheedling voice.

Giles squatted in front of his son as Buffy closed the door. "Marcus, sometimes adults can be sad and happy at the same time. Do you remember Mummy telling you that?"

"Yes, but you more sad now, and I want you more happy."

Buffy took his hand as they started back into the living room. "We're worried. We don't want anything bad to happen to you, honey, can you understand that?"

His eyes grew round with surprise. "I'm not 'cared, Mom. You don't be 'cared."

"That's a bit easier said than done," Giles commented.

"No," Marcus said stubbornly, climbing onto the middle of the couch. His position forced them to sit on either side of him.

"What do you mean, no?" Buffy said cautiously. She had read about toddlers who said 'no' to everything, but Marcus had always been fairly well behaved.

"Don't be 'cared, 'cause we gonna win."

Buffy couldn't help herself. Before she could stop, she blurted, "How do you know that?"

"De angel tode me."

Giles barked a short laugh, his heart suddenly lighter because of his boy's unshakable faith. "I wish your angel would come and tell your mother and I, then we might be more happy than sad."

"I ask him to tell you."

It was Buffy's turn to snort with laughter, but she stopped after a moment and thought about everything that had happened in their lives since she became the Slayer. Conversations with angels were definitely part of the picture.

Giles agreed with her thought and turned to Marcus again. "You must forgive us if we worry now and again, all right?"

"Okay." He turned his attention back to the TV, secure in his comfortable position between them. "Wook, Daddy! Horses, see?"

********

The next evening was designated Scooby Night by the expectant mother. She invited everyone over for snacks after supper, making it early enough for them to visit Marcus before he went to bed. She wanted to tell her friends all at once and enjoy their reactions. When good news was the order of business, the gang really knew how to celebrate.

A few minutes before seven, Willow and Bill Armstead arrived, carrying a plate of cold cuts and some sparkling grape juice. The men retired to the living room with Marcus, and Willow joined Buffy in the kitchen to unwrap her offering. The redhead was highly curious, but not even her resolve face could persuade her best friend to spill the beans.

Xander and Anya arrived next with a grocery sack full of chips, dip and sodas. He dropped the bag on the nearest level surface, which happened to be a chair in the hallway, and headed for the sound of little boy toys being used. Now there were three girls in the kitchen, two of them begging for hints and one growing more secretive as the minutes ticked by.

Joyce, Wilton, and Cedrick arrived almost simultaneously. They made small talk in the hall as the younger groups continued their chatter. The doorbell interrupted everyone's talk for a few seconds until Joyce called out, "I'll get it... I'm closest to the door!"

She was surprised to see Wesley and Faith standing on the porch, looking uncomfortable in the glare of the safety light. She grinned widely as she threw open the door, happy to see the second Slayer again.

"Faith! It's been ages! The party's starting without you."

Faith stepped through, nodding with approval that Joyce hadn't given them a verbal invite. "Hey. Mrs... um..." She looked up at Wesley as if to say, 'Well, help me out!'

"Bernard," he supplied readily, shaking hands all around. Faith headed for the sound of girl talk, while Wes stayed with Cedrick and joined the discussion of the college's latest museum exhibit.

"Hey, B, what's up?"

"Faith!" Buffy gave the younger girl a quick hug, knowing how she felt about outward displays of affection.

"Gang's all here..."

Buffy shook her head. "Not yet." Before she could clarify, the doorbell rang again. Several people looked around, trying to figure out who was missing. Joyce did door duty again, peering out at the new arrivals. She gasped as she recognized them.

"Hey, Mrs. Bernard," Cordelia said politely, elbowing Angel. Apparently she'd been coaching him, because he blurted, "Joyce, it's wonderful to see you again."

Joyce fought back a giggle. Angel had never been at ease around her, at least, not since his frightening relapse into Angelus. He seemed more the uncomfortable young man than ever, despite his reported success as a demon hunter and private eye in LA.

She waved them in, and was about to close the door, when she heard someone clear their throat and say gruffly, "Excuse me, madam."

She looked up, then down. A startled 'eep!' escaped her mouth before she covered it with a restraining hand. She wasn't expecting to see a troll in leather breeches and a goblin in a dark blue suit. In the living room, Marcus jumped to his feet and sprinted down the hall to hug them both, calling their names happily.

"Ah, Buffy, perhaps you should formally introduce your mother to our friends," Giles said warningly.

"Mom! Um... you remember Madvehkar and Gerard, don't you? They were at Marcus' Christening." She indicated the newcomers with a welcoming smile. "They're good guys, I promise. They help us watch out for Marcus."

"Well... ah... um... h-hello," Joyce stuttered. Wilton watched calmly, wondering how she would deal with a troll and a goblin visiting her daughter's home.

"Where's the Ancient?" Buffy asked as she took Mad's hat and Gerard's coat. "He's an elf," she said to her mother softly. Joyce's stutter didn't improve with that information.

"He sssaid he didn't need to be here at thissss time. Whatever it issss you have to ssssay, he probably already knowssss it, anyway," Mad stated decisively as he followed his hostess to the living room.

"Aw, gee, that's no fun," Buffy said teasingly as she put their things in the dining room.

Gerard nodded vigorously. "Yeah, it kinda ruins Christmas, too."

Buffy giggled as Giles went rummaging for chairs that would fit their diminutive guests. He seated the troll on a step stool and the goblin in Marcus' plastic chair from his play set.

"You sure know how to make a goblin feel at home," Gerard said happily, noting that his toes reached the ground easily.

The step stool was wide and solid, and Mad relaxed as he realized it would bear his weight easily. "Ahh... room to move my armssss. Very nicssse."

"I'll be right back with two strong coffees, guys. How will that be?" She headed for the kitchen, grinning as both of the lower beings groaned with pleasure.

"Watcher, if you weren't my friend, I'd give you ssssome sssserioussss competition for that woman," Mad said dreamily.

Giles couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he settled for a husbandly glare. Wilton seemed to find it funny, and he slapped his step-son-in-law on the back with a low chuckle. "Easy, Rupert, you know Buffy's completely yours. Not even a handsome fellow like Mad here could woo her away from you."

Madvehkar beamed widely at Wilton, causing Xander and Willow to shiver at the sight. The rest of them had seen the expression before and were used to it.

"Who's wooing who?" Buffy asked as she returned with a tray with various mugs of coffee and tea. None of the men would answer her, so she shrugged slightly and threaded her way into the room. Placing the tray on the low coffee table, she then handed the two non-humans their drinks, clearing her throat for attention.

"I think, before the party starts swingin' and we forget why we're all here, that Giles should tell you, um... why we're all here."

"Not that we ever need a reason to eat," Xander interjected, his mouth almost full of chips.

"True, but... babe?"

The conversation about Buffy's desirability had already gotten Giles flustered, and now, with every eye turned in his direction, he found himself almost speechless. "Buffy... I'm not... exactly... um..."

"It's okay, Giles," Willow said soothingly. "We're family. Extended. Way extended. But, still, family."

"I bet I know what it is," Xander teased, noting Giles' sudden nervousness.

Before he could say anything more, Marcus jumped to his feet and blurted, "We gonna have mo' babies!"

"Buffy, you're pregnant again?" Joyce cried, throwing her arms around her teary-eyed daughter. In seconds both of them were sniffling helplessly.

"Another baby? Wow, G-man, you manly man, you!" Giles accepted Xander's enthusiastic slap on the back with only a slight wince.

"Congratulations, Rupert." Wilton reached out and shook Giles' hand firmly, smiling broadly. "The second one is a tad less strenuous, in my experience."

"One can hope, but..." Giles began, but stopped to catch Buffy's eye before continuing. "We may have more news shortly."

"What could be better than a new baby?" Willow asked.

Faith, who had been hanging around the edge of the action, caught a glimpse of their news through the Bond. Her two hosts were broadcasting their emotions like a million-watt tower. She grinned suddenly and drawled, "Two babies?"

Buffy spun around, surprised. "How did you know?"

Faith grinned. With some effort, she sent Buffy a quick thought. 'Slayer Power.'

Buffy giggled and held out a hand. Faith slapped it heartily.

"Twins?" Everyone in the room shouted, once they'd recovered from the shock.

"I'm gonna have a baby brudder and a baby sisser," Marcus declared gravely.

"Oh, congratulations, Markie, sweetie," Willow cooed, squatting to give the little boy a hug.

Both his parents automatically corrected, "Marcus."

The room erupted with laughter and loud congratulations. The party had begun.

********

As was often the case in gatherings such as this, Giles slipped away to find a moment of peace after about an hour. He had never been overly fond of crowds, preferring a group of four or less, or even the orderly confusion of a school classroom. In order to achieve the various diplomas he held, he'd managed to sublimate his shy nature, but he often needed a breather when things got too raucous.

He watched through the sliding glass doors for a moment, standing just far enough back to be unobtrusive. Buffy, Joyce and Faith were in the corner talking and laughing. Wilton and Cedrick had perched themselves on opposing chair arms and were deep in discussion, with Wesley watching from the couch, obviously enthralled with the two older men. Giles idly wondered if the young Watcher had ever been close to his father. It seemed he craved the stability of someone older and wiser than himself. Mad, Gerard and Angel were entertaining Cordelia, Anya and Xander with stories of some of their wilder adventures. The troll was clearly in his element, his arms waving expressively as he told his tale. In the subdued lighting of the hall, he could just see Willow and Bill, their eyes locked together as they conversed. Marcus was wandering from group to group, drinking in the instant attention he received from everyone.

He sighed with satisfaction at the scene. His extended family was here, safe and sound. He turned and stepped to the rail, enjoying the cool air and the quiet.

As he stood on the back deck, staring at the stars, he thought back to the first time they'd announced that Buffy was expecting. The crowd was smaller, then, but no less supportive. He admitted to himself, as he had done thousands of times before, just how lucky he really was. From a man destined to live, fight, grieve, and die alone, he had been transformed into a man with a home, a future, and the love of family and friends.

He looked back into the house, smiling at the absurdly cozy scene. Having family and friends made him happy, but it also made him vulnerable. Love and concern tightened his throat suddenly, and he turned back to watch the stars. These wonderful, caring people had been called upon to fight some of the most horrible foes in history, and thanks to their involvement with him, would most likely be forced to do so again. It wasn't a pleasant legacy.

Armstead noted the Watcher's escape, and gave him about fifteen minutes of solitude before slipping out the door to stand beside Giles. He focused on the stars, turning ever so slowly in the night sky, and sighed. "Lovely night," he remarked quietly.

"Indeed."

"Am I disturbing your reverie?"

"Not too much," Giles admitted. "I grow terribly morbid if left to my own devices for long."

"Ah, good, then. Cedrick was anxious to discuss his latest findings on the prophecy. I couldn't help wondering when you learned of your wife's... condition."

"You're wondering if we read about the prophecy involving more children and decided to help things along?" Giles voice was even, but cool.

"Not exactly, well, not in so many words, but..."

"We didn't know," he said flatly.

"It's not that I'm simply curious, you understand. Now that your father is retired, I must answer to the new Head of Security. I have reports to write, and I must have my facts straight, you see." The younger Watcher was obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, but determined to finish what he'd started.

"Of course. And I have given you your facts."

"Yes, you have. I'm sorry I even had to ask, but the timing... it was highly suggestive."

Giles shrugged indifferently. "In matters of this importance, I would hardly lie."

"I wasn't inferring..." Bill started defensively, then took a deep breath and relaxed. "Mister Connors might view my report differently. That is all I'm saying."

"Then it's up to you to write it in such a way that the chronology of events are very clear to your Mister Connors." Giles could barely disguise the contempt in his voice when he spoke of his father's successor.

"I suppose it is," Bill said thoughtfully, the frown leaving his face. "This should be an interesting report."

"I'm sure."

Bill stepped closer, stopping just in front of Giles, and caught the older man's eye. "My position in this matter has not changed, Mister Giles, regardless of who holds the office of Security Chief. I would never allow myself or my reports to be used to manipulate you, your wife, or any of your children, in any way."

Giles favored him with a smile. "I know you wouldn't."

"Good." Armstead shifted slightly from one foot to the other, then nodded. "I'll leave you to your contemplation of the stars, then." He turned smartly and went back into the house without a backward glance.

Giles watched him go, wishing he could find the center of peace he'd been seeking when Armstead first interrupted. Peace seemed to be a long way of at that moment.

He soon returned to the living room, drifting from one conversation to another until he finally took a seat on the couch to relax and watch. Marcus immediately crawled into his father's lap and fell soundly asleep. Giles was content to hold his son as his family and friends interacted.

As the party began to wind down, Cedrick came to a decision. He'd been watching Buffy and Giles all night, and he sensed that they needed some quality time together without the demands of a child. Soon it would be difficult to find those moments with two, possibly three children to tend to.

He put a hand on Giles' shoulder as people began to leave the house. "Son, you and Buffy need a break. Why not let me take Marcus to my house for the night? I can bring him home tomorrow afternoon."

The expression on Giles' face was priceless. "That... that would be, um, very nice. Buffy...?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure. Marcus likes his 'grownup bed' at your house, Cedrick. I just hope he doesn't freak when he wakes up in a different place than when he went to sleep, though."

"He'll be fine," Cedrick insisted. "I've become quite practiced at looking after him."

"Give me a minute to get some things together," Buffy said with a nod, bounding noiselessly up the stairs. The two men continued to watch the sleeping boy, their faces both reflecting love and parental protection.

"He's remarkable, Rupert," Cedrick said finally.

"Yes, he is. A gift from God, and a reminder that there is something worth fighting for."

"He will be a warrior in his own right, one day. You named him well."

Giles nodded, his expression both proud and sad. "Marcus Everett. Strength in battle."

"Indeed."

Buffy was back with Marcus' overnight bag in just a few minutes, and Giles rose to hand the sleeping child over. Marcus stirred grumpily as Cedrick settled him against his shoulder.

"Gwandfadder, am I goin' to your house?" he said sleepily.

"Yes. Would you like that?"

"Uh huh. I wike my gwownup bed." With that, he settled back and was sound asleep once more.

Cedrick shook his head in amazement. "Truly remarkable."

"He takes after me," Buffy said, looking affronted when both men stared at her. "What? I meant my sunny disposition..."

Giles chuckled and kissed her forehead. "You are remarkably good-natured, my dear."

"Well, duh!"

Giles smiled and turned to Cedrick, who seemed completely content with his little burden. "Father, thank you."

"All parents need a moment to themselves, Rupert. The memory is dim, but still accessible."

Buffy giggled softly, aware of her sleeping child. She ran a gentle hand through Marcus' tousled hair and kissed her father-in-law on the cheek. "You guys have fun. I'll be home all day if you get tired of spending your Saturday chasing a three-year-old around."

"We'll be fine. There's a lovely park in my neighborhood."

Giles helped Cedrick bundle all the supplies and the child seat into his car, then watched as they drove away. He turned and looked up at the house. A suggestive smile came to his lips as he gazed at Buffy silhouetted in the doorway. There were only two words in his vocabulary at the moment, and he sent both of them to her via the Bond... 'alone' and 'mine'.

'Oh, yeah, big boy, bring it over here,' she sent back to him with affectionate amusem*nt.

That sounded like a very good idea, so he did.

The moment the door closed, Madvehkar looked out of the hedge with a chuckle. "Watcher'ssss gonna get lucky tonight," he sing-songed.

"Since she's expecting again, I'd say he's gotten lucky already," Gerard giggled softly. "They're kinda cute, for humans."

"Yessss. But Marcussss beatssss them all."

"Oh, yeah. He's almost as cute as a baby goblin."

"Almosssst." Mad tilted his large gray head to one side with a toothy grin. "He remindssss me of my nephew."

"Except that Marcus has hair on top of his head."

Mad nodded in agreement, and the two lower beings settled in to guard the house, determined that their friends would have a peaceful night.

********

"Are you worried?"

"Worried? Not at all." He looked up at her incredulous face and sighed. He shifted slightly in the bed, curling his arm around his wife. "Perhaps a bit," he admitted.

Buffy snorted softly. "More than a bit, babe. You think the Council's going to want to get re-involved when they find out, aren't you?"

"Perhaps." He contemplated for a moment, trying to sort his uneasy thoughts. "This is all happening so fast. When we first heard of the prophecy, it seemed so far away. Now, with everything we've been through, it seems very close... and threatening."

"You think the prophecy is like some dark cloud on the horizon, waiting to turn into a huge thunderstorm when we least expect it, don't you?"

"Very poetic, love, but essentially correct." He absently stroked her hair, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Why does fulfilling prophecy have to be so scary?" she whimpered, burying her head against his neck.

"I don't know, love." Suddenly a thought came to him. 'Perhaps it shouldn't be.'

"Shouldn't be what?" she said aloud.

"Scary. Frightening. Prophecy is meant to guide us, not hinder us." He sat up straighter, causing her to slide lower on his side. She adjusted her pillows and sat up beside him.

"What are you talking about?"

"We've been looking at this in a negative way, trying to find loopholes... ways to thwart the prophecy, when we should be looking for ways to fulfill it."

"Again, with the 'what'?"

He turned to her eagerly, the familiar light of discovery in his eyes. "The ending of the prophecy tells of a cataclysmic battle and the end of something. We assumed this was the end of the world. But that would contradict the first verse entirely." He smacked the flat of his hand against his forehead, startling Buffy. "How could I have been so utterly stupid?"

"Rupert, you're scaring me, now." She sat back on her heels and stared at him.

He smiled gently. "I'm fine, love. Don't you remember the first part of the verse? 'He will create beauty that restores the land,' it said. Doesn't sound like an apocalypse to me."

"Me, neither," she acknowledged carefully. "But who knows how many years it will be between the first verse and the last?"

His face fell. "I suppose that's true."

His sudden sadness made her kick herself mentally. They had been having a wonderful, intimate evening, and she had to go and rain on his parade. He tended to look at the dark side of things enough without her help. "I guess my point is, we don't know. We don't know when, or where, or even if. We don't know how long. I just think we should be cautious."

He smiled at her again, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ears. "Always a good idea."

She scooted back against him and tilted her head up for a kiss. "I have another good idea."

"I'm sure you do."

"It involves a whole lot less prophecy and a whole lot more smoochies."

"Lovely."

"Thought you'd like it."

He kissed her again, stopping to look deep into her eyes. "Buffy, I love you."

"I know. I can read your mind, remember?"

He shook his head stubbornly, trying to express himself with words. It seemed important to say them aloud. "This is my heart. I want you to read my heart."

Her expression softened. "Every time we make love, I read you loud and clear." She kissed him softly. "But... on the off chance that I misread you, maybe we should do it again just to be sure."

He chuckled and rolled her over on her back, attacking her neck until she whimpered, then murmured against her neck, "I'll make very sure you don't misunderstand."

She laughed in delight, and he returned his attention to her neck. Contentment seeped into him as he reveled in the feel of her, and she let go of her worries and held him close.

********

The next morning, Cedrick rose at his usual time to find Marcus already up and partially dressed. He had a clean shirt over his pajama bottoms, and was watching the television as if he owned the place. After getting him into the rest of his clothes, Cedrick made a quick breakfast. When they finished eating, he glanced at the clock and decided it was time for their outing.

The day was brightly sunny, and Cedrick walked Marcus over to the little park just down the street from his house. It had been built by several families in the little neighborhood, and consisted of rustic looking swings, slides, jungle gyms, and various structures that easily conformed themselves to a child's imagination.

Marcus threw himself wholeheartedly into playing the moment he arrived, leaving Cedrick to watch from a comfortable bench on the sidelines. There were about a dozen children of various ages enjoying the warm morning, and Marcus was soon interacting comfortably with several of them. He was growing more athletic every year, and was already begging to join the organized sports activities at his school. Cedrick watched as Marcus mingled with children of various ages with ease, marveling at his ability to connect with them despite his size.

After about an hour of play, Marcus suddenly turned and headed back to his grandfather. His face was determined, but relaxed. As he climbed up beside him, Cedrick asked, "Are you tired of playing, Marcus? We have plenty of time."

"I'm not tired, Gwandfadder. I just don't want you to be by yo'self." He rested his head against Cedrick's arm, and the man found himself experiencing a sudden outpouring of sweet emotion.

"It's quite all right, I'm having a lovely time watching you. It's very peaceful here."

"Okay, den, I'm gonna go play some more."

"Enjoy yourself. That's why we're here."

"I wike it here. It makes me happy." Marcus held his face up to catch a soft breeze, his face a picture of childish joy. Then he leaned over to Cedrick with a mischievous look. "Mummy and Daddy are happy, too. Dey still asleep."

Although that was perhaps more information than Cedrick would have wanted, he smiled and caressed Marcus' head with a roughened hand. "That's good, then. Go and play."

"Okay!" Marcus bounced away, scattering pea gravel everywhere with his eager feet. Cedrick decided to practice using the Bond while he waited, and reached out with his mind, focusing on his son. The little park was less than a mile from their home, and he easily reached the familiar sensation of Rupert's consciousness. A hum of non-thought answered his inquiry, and he smiled to himself.

Marcus was right. Rupert was still asleep, at least. He didn't even consider trying to reach Buffy... it would be ungentlemanly to intrude upon a lady's rest. He relaxed his concentration and turned his attention back to the cheerful sight of Marcus at play.

It wasn't too long before he was back, climbing up on the bench beside his grandfather. Cedrick looked down, curious as to why the child was so reluctant to leave him by himself.

"What's wrong now, Marcus?" he asked with some amusem*nt.

"I was finking."

"Oh? What about?" Cedrick suppressed a grin.

"De babies." He looked up at Cedrick, his small face intent. "Daddy says we don't know yet if dere's two babies. But I do."

"Yes, you've told me your mother is going to have twins."

"Twins." He said the word carefully. "I told Mummy it's okay if I have a sisser."

"I'm sure she's pleased. There isn't much she can do about whether the child is a girl or a boy."

"I know. Daddy said God decides. He said babies come fwom God."

Cedrick had to think a moment about that, but he found himself nodding. "I suppose your father is right."

"He said God decides where de babies need to go, so if God wants Mummy to have a girl baby, den it's okay wif me."

Cedrick couldn't help grinning at that, but said carefully, "Did you tell God of your approval?"

Marcus nodded. "I told Him it was okay, but I still needed a baby brudder to play trucks wif."

Cedrick didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Marcus sat for a while, then looked up, his face solemn. "Daddy says we're not s'posed to be mad at God, even when He does somefing we don't want Him to."

"Sound advice," Cedrick said uncomfortably. The conversation was heading in a direction that, frankly, he had no desire to pursue. His own beliefs had been sublimated by the Council's dogma, and he wasn't sure what he believed, now that he was no longer a part of them. Despite his growing friendship with his son's priest, he wasn't sure of where he stood. It seemed easier to just ignore religion in general. However, with Marcus around, discussions about God seemed to be a regular business.

"Yes. I was mad because I didn't want a sisser, but den I said I was sowwy."

"And what did God say to that?" The question tumbled out before he could stop it.

"He said it's okay now. We fwiends. Fwiends fo'give each udder." He looked up as if catching a familiar scent, and his little face lit up with a happy smile. "Mummy's here!" He slid off the bench and barreled across the park, almost knocking Buffy down as she came across the grass. Cedrick rose slowly, still overwhelmed by Marcus' suddenly very mature conversation.

Buffy bent down for a hug, smiling. "Hey, tiger, what's the big excitement?"

"I wuv you, Mom. I told Gwandfadder about de babies, dat dey came fwom God."

She looked embarrassed as she stood and hefted her son to one hip with practiced ease. "I just hope you weren't explaining how they got here from Heaven." She had been horrified a few days before when she came home and heard Rupert explaining the facts of life to their three-year-old in very technical terms. She made her displeasure known, but he just shrugged and told her, 'He asked. I answered.'

Marcus gave her a scornful look. "Mom! He's Daddy's daddy, wemember? Daddies know dat alweady!"

Buffy couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter and hugged him close. Cedrick was grinning widely, an expression she had seldom seen on her taciturn father-in-law's face.

"I guess you survived," she observed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Quite nicely. We've had a lovely morning."

"Great. How's about I take you guys to lunch, my treat?"

Marcus bounced excitedly in Buffy's arms. "Oh! Can we have pizza?"

"At the place with the singing bear?" she guessed. He nodded vigorously, and she sighed. "Yeah, we can go there. Unless your grandfather is allergic to noise and pepperoni."

Marcus turned appealing eyes towards Cedrick. "Can we have pizza, Gwandfadder? It's berry good."

"By all means, let us have pizza, then."

"Yay!"

Luckily, Buffy had driven the van. Cedrick wasn't prepared to ride around Sunnydale in a tiny, flashy red convertible. He fastened Marcus into the built-in child seat and slid into the passenger's side. Remembering Rupert's comments on Buffy's driving, he carefully pulled on his seat belt.

As she drove, they chatted comfortably about inconsequential things for several minutes. Suddenly, Buffy frowned and stared up at the rearview mirror.

"Something wrong?" Cedrick asked.

"I don't know... the Bond's pinging like radar, and I think there's someone following us."

He knew enough about surveillance not to turn and look. Instead, he shifted slightly and adjusted the right outside mirror until he could see behind them. "Keep driving, even if you have to go in circles. I want to watch for a moment."

"It's what you Giles-es do best," she quipped, unable to hide the nervous quiver in her voice.

It didn't take very many miles for Cedrick to positively mark the car that was tailing them. It was a nondescript dark blue sedan with dark tinted windows. He immediately thought of several entities that might find the Slayer and her son interesting.

"How long do I keep driving?" she asked after about ten minutes. "Sunnydale's not that big."

"I think we should go on to the restaurant now. No need to let them know we've spotted them."

"Right." She made a couple of turns and pulled into the pizza place. Cedrick watched casually as the sedan drove right past them. He could just make out the silhouette of two people in the car before it passed out of sight.

"Two of them, probably men. I have the license number. Do you have your cellular telephone with you?"

"Never leave home without it... here."

He took the tiny instrument and dialed it with complete familiarity. Within seconds, he was conversing with someone from the LAPD. Buffy was constantly amazed at Cedrick's technical knowledge, especially since it was such a total contrast to his old-world demeanor.

The conversation took less than five minutes, and he returned the phone to her with a satisfied smile. "Unregistered. It must be a government agency, then."

"You said something about the NID when those fake Mensa guys showed up."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I think I need to do some in depth research. I intend to know who is stalking my family, and why."

"Now I know where Rupert gets it," she said with a grin as she started to get out of the car.

"Pardon me?"

"The research thing. He loves it, too."

"Ah. It's gratifying to know that I have passed something useful to the next generation."

She giggled as she unbuckled Marcus from the seat.

"Gwandfadder is funny," Marcus commented happily.

"Yes, he is. And he's smart, too, just like your Daddy. How did we get so lucky, huh, kiddo?"

********

Cedrick delivered the information at his son's house a week later. It didn't take him long to find some interesting tidbits about the NID and Sunnydale. It wasn't just Marcus that held their interest... the surveillance was on Sunnydale in general because of the Hellmouth and its accompanying activities. The death rate, the unusual occurrences, some of which had made the news over the years, had led the local NID officials to post extra agents in the area. When something unusual happened, they checked into it.

Since unusual things happened to the Giles family all the time, they became a target of observation. They all agreed on one thing; something had to be done.

After dinner that night, they sat in the living room discussing various ways of coping with this new inconvenience.

"You realize that the NID's interest is not going to diminish unless the Hellmouth is closed for good," Cedrick warned.

"I know. If only we could seal it permanently..." Giles agreed with a sigh.

"Hey, I wonder if that's what the prophecy means!" Buffy said with a sudden smile.

After a stunned moment, Giles' eyes lit up. "It would fit what we know now."

"Wouldn't it be amazing if Marcus is the one to zap it out of existence?"

Marcus, who had been playing quietly in front of his parents, looked up. "Bang, bang, Mommy! I shoot de demons, and dey wun away!" He jumped up and started using his fingers for guns, aiming at the floor and pretending to shoot. "Bang, bang!"

Buffy felt a sudden rush of despair and fear. Despite what she knew to be true, despite the prophecy and Giles' belief that everything would work out in the end, it terrified her to think of her baby fighting demons. She looked up at Giles, her eyes pleading. "Rupert, do something... I can't stand this..."

He immediately turned and pulled her to his side of the couch, tucking her against him. "What would you have me do, love? Tell our son lies? Pretend that this isn't a dangerous world? That evil doesn't exist? Leave him vulnerable and unprepared? Please don't ask me to do that."

She began to cry, and Cedrick looked away to give them a moment of privacy. After a few minutes of sobbing, she managed to calm herself. Giles offered her his handkerchief, and the familiar gesture made her giggle through her tears.

"Always prepared, babe. That's my Rupert."

"I try, love. I try." He rested his forehead against hers and sent wordless comfort and love to her through the Bond. "Please try to remember that God leads our fight. His timing is perfect. Marcus will be ready to face whatever comes his way, as will we."

She nodded, almost bumping chins with him. "Sorry, babe." She looked up and caught Cedrick's eye. "Sorry, Cedrick. Your daughter-in-law is a basket case of hormones."

"Nothing to apologize for, Buffy," He said thickly. He cleared his throat and continued, "We're all rather shaken by this."

"At least you guys aren't turning on the waterworks every five minutes."

"Neither of us is pregnant," he pointed out.

"Well, yeah, there is that." She sat up and gave Giles a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, honey."

"You're quite welcome," he replied warmly.

She looked down to see Marcus, his face solemn, standing next to her knees. "Mummy? Don't be 'cared."

She hugged him as gently as she could, considering the sudden rush of maternal caring that threatened to start her tears all over again. She released him with a quick kiss and ran her fingers through his thick hair. "Mummy's okay, sweetie. Go ahead and play."

He looked at her intently for a few seconds, then smiled and walked over to his toys.

"I do have one more suggestion to make." Cedrick steeled himself, knowing the response he would likely evoke.

"What is it, Father?" Giles adjusted his arm around Buffy's shoulders and turned his attention to Cedrick again.

"We need to avail ourselves of the Council's resources in dealing with the NID surveillance. Since I'm no longer an active Watcher, we have limited intelligence on who stands with the Slayer at this point. I believe we should involve Mister Armstead in a little counter-espionage."

Buffy sat up, intrigued despite her initial distaste. "You mean, get Bill to find out who's naughty and who's nice?"

Giles chuckled, and Cedrick smirked as he nodded. "Exactly. We must know where the Council stands. Armstead is just the man to find out."

Giles pursed his lips and thought for a few seconds. "He is in direct contact with Connors and his camp. If he hasn't alienated them with all his positive reports, it could work."

"I believe he is still on their 'good side'," Cedrick mused.

Giles and Buffy looked at each other, then smiled. "Sounds like a plan," she said cheerfully.

"Excellent. I'll go round and have a talk with him later."

"Better call first," Buffy warned. "It's Saturday night."

"Call? Ah... of course. Miss Rosenberg should be... um... visiting."

"You got it." She turned her head and caught the twinkle in his eyes. Regarding him with sudden insight, she said accusingly, "Hey, you're not nearly as crusty and clueless as you pretend to be, Cedrick Giles."

He blushed slightly, something she'd never seen him do before. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and her breath caught slightly. There... she'd never seen it before... but that's where Rupert got that wry, sexy grin. Amazing.

Cedrick looked up at her, his head still slightly bowed. Another Giles move, she thought.

"I'm afraid you've found me out, my dear."

She smiled in delight. "Your secret's safe with me, Dad. No wonder the women of Sunnydale are all smitten with you. You've got the accent and the charm... a dangerous combination."

He sighed. "Thank you, my dear. But... Dad?"

She leaned against Giles with a smirk. "It's a small price to pay for me keeping my mouth shut. There's some serious teasing just begging to come out right now."

"It's no good, Father. You might as well accept your new appellation with grace."

"Yeah, Dad." Buffy agreed, before leaning back and staring at her husband. "New what?"

********

Willow looked up with excitement as her best friend approached, winding her way through the tables at the Expresso Pump. 'Two iced mochas, extra chocolate and coffee, the biggest ones you've got'... that was their standard order since they were in high school. Iced mochas had been their favorite choice of bonding beverage, no matter what the circ*mstances were.

When Buffy called and wanted to get together for an old-fashioned girl-chat, Willow had agreed readily. They had both been so busy, with Willow taking extra hours to graduate early and Buffy going to school and having a husband and baby to look after. Yet the bonds of friendship were still strong.

Willow bounced a couple of times in her chair when Buffy sat down. "This is great... we haven't done this in ages. I've missed doing the girl talk... y'know, without the world coming to an end in two days, or anything like that."

"I know, Will, and I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize how much time having a kid would take. The older he gets, the more time he takes. I always thought it would be the other way around."

"It's okay, really. I know you're still there, in best friend position. And I can always come to your house."

"Yeah, but I never show up at your place anymore," Buffy said with real regret.

"So, come over next Friday! We're doing a Health and Wellness Fair for Women at school... we could get ready and go together. It's gonna be fun!"

Buffy smiled widely. "A chick-fest? I am so there."

They exchanged a quick grin as the waitress came up to take their order. Willow blurted out their usual without thinking, but Buffy held up a hand. "Uh... make mine a decaf, and go light on the chocolate."

Willow was instantly horrified. "Oh, I forgot... I'm sorry... caffeine's bad for the baby!"

"It's okay. I keep forgetting, myself. I'm only about seven or eight weeks along."

The waitress looked up from her order pad. "Don't I know you guys from school?"

Willow recognized her, vaguely, but she didn't know her name. "Good old Sunnydale High," she joked.

"Yeah, may it rest in pieces. I'm Carol Bonner, and you're Willow and Buffy." She smiled shyly. "I remember... from prom... and Graduation."

Willow nodded solemnly. "Yeah."

The girl turned to Buffy. "Did I hear you right? You're pregnant?"

Buffy blushed, but nodded.

"For the second time, and she's still going to college. 'Course, it helps that her husband is a saint. He's kinda like Mary Poppins without the umbrella." Willow giggled as Buffy glared at her.

The girl seemed amazed. "Gee, I haven't even found the right guy yet, and you're working on number two!"

"And number three," Willow blurted. Buffy shushed her quickly.

"Twins?" Carol crowed, beaming from ear to ear. "You are way lucky!"

"Until about the seventh month, then lucky isn't the word," Buffy said with resignation.

"Yeah, but you have a family... that is so important." The girl looked up as more people came into the restaurant. "I gotta go... be right back with your drinks."

"It might be easier if you took out an ad, Will... or maybe a billboard."

"Oh, you're proud and you know it," Willow teased. "You and your studly older guy."

"Hey, no drooling over the spouse!"

Willow giggled. "Don't worry about that... because I'm definitely taken."

Buffy leaned forward. "And how is Bill these days? Haven't seen him much lately."

Willow's smile turned dreamy. "He's just great. Doing the big time research. Him and Cedrick are always studying the Prophecy of Enosh. Cedrick says Bill is a lot of help. Bill's boss has been cutting him some slack, y'know, because of the research."

"Bill's a great guy."

"Yeah."

"And you're totally in love with him."

Willow beamed and nodded. "Totally."

"That's so great." Buffy sat back with a sigh. "You're good together." Her face fell as she thought about the prophecy.

"Hey, you don't look so chipper all of a sudden, Buff. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, exactly, it's just... I wish things would sorta... I don't know... slow down or something. My life has always been one cataclysm after another, but you'd think I'd catch a break now and then."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to depress you by bringing up the prophecy thing. This is supposed to be light banter... nothing heavy or filling-with-gloomy-ness."

"Nah, it's okay. I guess I need to vent a little."

Willow patted her hand. "Vent away. My turn will come along soon, I bet."

"It's just that..."

Carol interrupted them with their drinks, and they both took a long swig before Buffy continued. "It's like, ever since I found out I was the Slayer, I've been going from one major thing to another. I mean, it was Lothos, Merrick dying, burning down the gym at Hemery, coming here, then it was the Master and Angel and Acathla and..." She ducked her head, grasping Willow's hand tightly for a moment.

"Yeah," Willow replied softly. "And there was Giles and the Bond and happiness and big smoochies, and your Mom getting married and being happy, too, and a fairy-tale wedding in England, and Marcus..."

Buffy had to smile at her friend's optimism. "And nutcase Watchers and kidnapping and prophecies about the end of the world... but, yeah. The good definitely outweighs the bad. I just wish..." She broke off, trying to explain her feelings. It was so much easier with Giles... he just read her mind. "Okay, it's like one of those scary novels you read while you're waiting for a plane... you know the ones. I think Stephen King used to spend a lot of time in airport waiting areas."

Willow chuckled. "Yeah, most of those books are so out there it's hard not to laugh."

"Except that you get caught up in the story... things are going good, everybody's happy, then you turn the page, and wham! The hero gets captured. Or wham! Something happens to his family, or there's something out to destroy the world, or the government's after him... or war breaks out, or the aliens land..." She waved her hand helplessly. "Every time you turn the page, things get worse, until you almost can't read any more..."

Willow's forehead crinkled with concern. "Oh, sweetie, has it really been that bad?"

"Oh, you know me," Buffy scoffed lightly, trying to compose herself. "Miss Drama Queen 1999. I have a lot to be thankful for... Giles is... well, there isn't words for what he is. He's just the best. And my baby... I love him so much, and I wouldn't trade him for anything. It's just..." Her voice dropped. "Sometimes... I'm scared of what's coming next. I'm scared to turn the page."

With wisdom beyond her years, Willow soothed, "But when you get to the end, it always turns out okay, somehow. You have to remember that."

"I do... I just don't like all the stuff in between."

Willow gave Buffy's hand another squeeze. "Nobody does, Buffy. Nobody does. But we just keep turning the pages."

********

"Unbeliever is definitely the correct translation," Armstead stated with satisfaction. He looked around Cedrick's comfortable home, taking in the sparse furnishings at a glance. Beside him at the dining room table, Cedrick nodded.

"I concur," the ex-Watcher agreed. "And I do believe that the next line is correct, also. Do you agree, Ancient?"

Sitting across from them at the table, perched on Marcus' high chair, the white-bearded elf nodded. "It is consistent with Tarabiana's translation. I believe we have the true meaning of the phrase."

"Excellent!" Cedrick slid his chair back and stood. "I believe this calls for a small celebration. Coffee, Ancient?"

The elf nodded regally. "Yes, and thank you, Watcher."

"Armstead? Tea?"

"That would be much appreciated, sir."

Cedrick moved to the kitchen, losing himself in the soothing ritual of tea preparation as the coffee pot burbled and spat out a fresh pot of dark liquid. He was feeling positively energized. These sessions with young Armstead and the centuries old Elven mage had been thoroughly enjoyable. He felt useful again.

"Mister Giles?" Armstead's voice cut through his reverie. "I'm heading over to the gym this afternoon... would you like to ride along?"

Cedrick had been meticulous about keeping fit since his dismissal from the Council. He'd visited several gyms and spas, but Armstead seemed to have hit on one that suited them both quite well. It catered to martial artists, and most Watcher training drew from Chinese and Japanese disciplines. He felt comfortable there.

"An excellent idea. Work the mind, work the body... the essence of balance," he quoted, and heard the elf chuckle.

"A very human philosophy, Watcher."

"Yes, it is, but we humans have neither the longevity or the physical stamina of an elf. We do what we must."

Zehdlaf chuckled again. "As you say, Watcher." He slid gracefully to his feet and picked up his staff. "We have made progress today. The same time again tomorrow?"

"Yes, and thank you, Ancient." Cedrick came around the corner, carrying a steaming cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup. "Here you are... for the road, so to speak."

"You are most kind." The elf bowed deeply and took the cup. Cedrick returned the bow. Armstead stood, repeating the gesture, and the elf let himself out the back door and into the warm sunshine.

"It constantly amazes me... he seems to disappear the moment he gets outdoors."

"It's the Elven way. They couldn't have survived without great skill at camouflage."

"True enough." Armstead sipped his tea with relish. "I should finish this and run by the flat to change."

"Apartment, Armstead, apartment," Cedrick corrected casually, grinning over the edge of his cup.

"Right. Apartment." He finished his tea with a happy sigh and stood. "I shall return at three, if that's all right."

"Fine. I'll be waiting."

Armstead hadn't been gone more than half an hour when Cedrick's telephone rang. He answered it with a frown, wondering who would call in the middle of the afternoon.

"Mister Giles? It's Armstead."

"Is something wrong?" Cedrick's heart skipped a beat.

"'I've just finished speaking with the Director. I have wonderful news."

Cedrick sat on the couch, his heart beating wildly again. "They are going to support us?"

"Wholeheartedly. All the Ruling Council members are in agreement. The Director even went so far as to speculate that the Powers That Be orchestrated your dismissal so that you would be in place for this event."

Cedrick snorted, but calmed himself immediately. "Thank God the man has some sense. It would make things difficult if he were to oppose us."

"One more thing, sir. The problem with NID? Connors is going to look into it, discreetly, of course. He thinks some of the rogue Watchers that left the Council during the purging might have something to do with the surveillance." Armstead chuckled. "I believe Mister Connors is enjoying the subterfuge. He would make an excellent spy."

"Possibly. However, I agree with his assessment. It pays to cover every angle," Cedrick agreed. "If I could, I would thank the Director personally. My family's safety is far more important than my non-existent career."

"The Director knows that saving the world and saving your grandson go hand in hand. Well, I'd best be getting changed. See you in about half an hour."

Cedrick rang off and sat there, smiling to himself. Success with their translation, success with the Council... today was a good day.

********

The weeks passed far quicker than any of them could believe. Doctor Phil Stephenson's office was full that day, and mostly of Buffy's family and friends. At the doctor's advice, she had waited until her fifth month to have an ultrasound test done. She was healthy, still very active, but was showing quite a bit, and the doctor was almost convinced that she was carrying twins.

The first time she mentioned two babies, Doctor Phil had been skeptical. However, due to the unusual nature of his patient, he agreed to run an ultrasound to set everyone's mind at ease.

As she climbed onto the table, he grinned at her and palpated her swollen abdomen. "Buffy, you are the slimmest pregnant woman I've seen all week. You're only five pounds heavier now than you were with Marcus."

"I know, Doc, but I feel different. More off balance, or something. Giles has to help me out of bed sometimes already."

He patted her tummy lightly. "Well, let's see what's going on in there."

The nurse came in with the machine and started prepping Buffy's stomach. They were almost ready when a knock came at the door and Giles peered into the room.

"May we come in now?"

"Certainly," Doctor Phil said. Giles entered the room carrying Marcus.

"Mom, what's dat?" the boy asked, pointing at the ultrasound machine.

"It's an ultrasound machine. It's going to let us see inside Mummy's tummy, honey." She held out a hand and Giles moved closer, taking her hand and smiling proudly.

"We gonna see de babies?"

"I don't know if we'll see one baby or two, Marcus," Doctor Phil warned.

"Dere's two babies, Dod'tor Phil," Marcus said decisively.

The nurse started the procedure, and all eyes were glued to the screen. In just a few seconds of searching, she found something.

"Look, Mrs. Giles, there's a hand... and a foot..."

"And two heads!" Giles blurted.

"Four feet..." Buffy agreed breathlessly.

"Two babies!" Marcus crowed and clapped his hands. "We gonna have two babies!"

"It certainly looks like it," Phil agreed with a huge grin. "Debbie, take the measurements, if you can figure out which parts go with which baby."

They watched with awe as the two images moved, flexed tiny arms and legs, and fought for room in the confines of Buffy's stomach. Marcus took great pleasure in counting the tiny fingers as they appeared on the screen. As Debbie moved the scanner, they could also make out perfectly formed feet and toes.

"Amazing," Giles breathed. He loved them already, but seeing them made it so much more real.

"They're a bit small, but everything seems to be in place. Look... you've got a boy there, no doubt," Debbie said with a smile.

Giles squinted at the screen, trying to see what the nurse was indicating. He couldn't see anything but static.

She worked for about five more minutes, trying to get the sensor into position. "Oh... here... I think this is a girl."

"Hello, my babies..." Tears were streaming down Buffy's face.

"Happy babies," Marcus observed, watching as one of them sucked its thumb.

"Happy Mummy and Daddy," Giles said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

"Happy Marcus," the boy added throwing his arms around his father's neck. "When dey gwow up, I will have someone to play wif."

Phil watched with amazement. Marcus had no trouble grasping the concept of fetuses in his mother's stomach, growing and developing into little people like himself.

"I... I need to let everyone know," Giles finally said, unwilling to let go of Buffy's hand.

She gave him an encouraging smile and pulled him down for a kiss. "Go. Brag. Hand out cigars."

"The cigars can wait until our children are born," he said happily, and left the room walking on air.

Willow looked up as he approached. As one, the four of them stood. Cedrick could tell by the waves of happiness coming off his son that the news was positive, and he felt his shoulders relax as uncertainty gave way to relief.

Giles decided not to make the non-Bonded people wait. "Twins. A boy and a girl, both healthy and possessing the proper number of fingers and toes." He hugged Marcus briefly. "We know, don't we, son?"

"Yeah, Daddy, we counted dem!"

The room exploded with congratulations, laughter, and words of happiness.

Marcus, from his perch in his father's arms, watched the celebration with a smile. Armstead was caught by how calm the little boy was.

"Marcus, what do you think about being a big brother?" Xander asked with a wide smile.

"I wike it." He frowned suddenly. "I'm a big brudder, now. I need to talk like a big boy."

Willow was surprised. "Marcus, you've always talked like a big boy."

Giles didn't know whether to smile or frown. "Marcus can speak much more correctly than he usually does. It suits him, at times, to talk like the other children his age, especially at school."

Bill was fascinated, his instincts for observation suddenly kicking in. "How are you going to talk like a big boy, Marcus?"

The child looked at the Watcher for a few seconds, as if to gather the words he wanted in his mind. With complete sincerity he said clearly, "Well... I'll have to stop lisping, won't I?"

The entire room gasped, and Giles almost fainted, but Marcus wasn't through.

"I can't be a baby any more, because babies can't save the world."

The End

Chapter 14: End Games

Summary:

It's time for the twins to be born and there's evil afoot, as usual.

Chapter Text

"It's astounding, Mister Giles."

"Yes, it is rather, isn't it?" Giles agreed. Marcus grinned up from his comfortable perch on his father's knee. "He did tell us he was through being a baby."

Mason Reid, the Child Evaluator for the MENSA Children's Foundation, scribbled frantically as he tried to comprehend what had occurred in the tiny boy in front of him. It was astounding. In less than six months, Marcus Giles' communication skills had gone from a first grade level to at least junior high standards. He was displaying an astonishing increase in strength and agility. His schoolwork had evolved from reading and basic science to studying physics, geometry and biology. The four-year-old had already been incredibly advanced for his age, but this new leap was nothing short of incredible.

"Marcus, I know you've already told me, but do you mind explaining again how you decided to be more grown up?"

"I don't mind, Mister Reid," the boy said calmly. "Mom and Dad are a little bewildered, too. I realized that they were going to need a lot of help with my new brother and sister, so I stopped being a baby and started being a big brother."

"And how did you accomplish this?"

Marcus thought for a moment. "I don't know, exactly. I just thought about what it would take to be sure Mom and Dad were safe and what I would need to do when the babies come. How I could be stronger and smarter. Dad helped me study after school, and Xander helped us build some neat exercise equipment in the back yard." He leaned forward and reached for the baseball laying on the coffee table. He rolled it between his hands, obviously itching for more physical activity.

"You've done very well. I see strong improvement every time I visit."

Marcus didn't smile at the praise. Instead, he stated seriously, "Mom and Dad need me."

Reid gripped the pencil firmly to still his shaking hand. This was the most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen. If he hadn't done the initial evaluation, he wouldn't have believed it himself. "I'm sorry, but I'm still flabbergasted. I've never seen a child just decide to grow up before."

Marcus looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, Mister Reid, but it was important to be more grown up."

"Don't apologize, Marcus. People will often be incredulous when they meet you," Giles said with a loving smile. "Adults tend to become rigid in their thinking as they grow older. Surprises tend to take them aback."

"Not you, Dad. You have an open mind. Mom, too." Marcus thought about that statement for a moment, then grinned. "Well, most of the time. You guys still can't get over the homework thing. You keep making me do it."

Giles chuckled and gave him a quick hug. "No, and we shan't be over that for quite some time, I'm afraid."

"Darn the luck," Marcus commented with an exaggerated frown. He tossed the ball gently into the air, catching it easily. His father's frown reminded him that the house was off limits to throwing things. "Sorry, Dad, I forgot for a second. Oh, hey, Mom's home. She's got Grandpa Cedrick with her."

"How on earth does he do that?" Reid said with consternation. He scribbled frantically on his notepad, trying to get everything down. Giles didn't answer, hoping the man wouldn't pry. It was getting more difficult to hide Marcus' true abilities from him.

"Mister Reid, why don't you bring a tape recorder next time? Or a video camera? Then you wouldn't get writer's cramp."

"Good idea, Marcus. I just might do that next week." Reid looked up after making a note of Marcus' idea. "Say, these sessions aren't bugging you, are they? I know they're probably boring."

"No, it's okay. You're just trying to help." He was palming the ball again, keeping his hands busy, but he smiled as he answered.

"Good. Thanks. I'll have the new lesson plans for you at school on Monday. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Do I still have to move up to fourth grade?" The boy's voice was cautiously hopeful. It was obvious he didn't want to change classrooms again. He made friends easily, but was very loyal to them once he did.

"I'm afraid so. You're just too advanced for third. But you should be able to stay in fourth grade for a while. We'll only have one or two hours of advanced work per day for you this semester."

"That's okay, I guess." Marcus slid down to the floor and stretched. "Dad, may I go outside, please? I'm gonna wig out if I don't get some exercise." The two-hour MENSA evaluation sessions usually made him fidget.

Giles nodded with a grin. Marcus' mix of Buffy's vocabulary and his father's made for some interesting sentence structures. "Go on. We'll be a bit late for supper tonight anyway." Marcus' increased activity level had forced the Giles to look for more sophisticated backyard playing equipment. The sandbox and swing set had evolved into a maze of trampolines, tire swings, ropes, a jungle gym and a large climbing wall that was construction worker Xander's pride and joy. It looked like a military training field. Marcus loved it.

"Thanks! Bye, Mister Reid!" Marcus ran for the door as the two men stopped in the front hall to talk a bit more.

"Do you want a clinical report, or just my impressions, Mister Giles?"

"Both, I think. Your instincts are quite good, I've discovered."

"All right. In six months, Marcus has accelerated from second grade level to well over sixth grade. His reading is actually somewhere in the high school range... it's changing too rapidly for me to chart. He's grown almost two inches. He's gained ten pounds, and it all seems to be muscle. His physical coordination is extraordinary. He's the fittest four-year-old I've ever seen."

Giles sighed. "Yes, and he keeps forgetting to watch himself. When I went to pick him up from school today, he was walking the jungle gym. Practically bouncing from bar to bar. I had to remind him what the words 'low profile' meant, and that other children imitating him could be seriously injured."

Reid laughed. "It's only going to get worse. Right now he has a child's respect for authority. Wait until his body catches up to his brain. Hormones have a negative effect on rational thinking, I'm afraid."

"I prefer to cross that bridge when I come to it," Giles said ruefully. He had no idea how he would handle a teenaged Marcus.

"Now for my impressions. If he stays at this rate of improvement, he's going to shoot past high school level in a year, two at the most. I've spoken with Doctor Polanski. He thinks Marcus should go on to UC Sunnydale satellite classes when he graduates. He will probably test out of most of the basic courses, but we could really get going on Science and Tech training. We're dealing with a possible Einstein here."

Giles looked a bit shocked. A child doing college schoolwork at six years old? It didn't seem right.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Giles said slowly. "As advanced as Marcus is now, there are times when he is still very much a four-year-old. He prefers the company of children closer to his age. He may come to resent being thrust into a more adult situation."

"We've thought about that. Doctor Polanski's degree is in children's psychology, and he's extremely cautious with his recommendations. He is willing to work with the University to come up with a specialized program for Marcus, perhaps even off campus. Of course, we have access to some of the finest children's counselors in the country if he has trouble coping with anything along the way. Where your son is concerned... well, to use a tired old cliché, the sky's the limit."

"More realistically, my checkbook's the limit." Giles lamented. His further protests were preempted as the front door opened. "We'll give it some thought," he said with an air of dismissal, turning away from the MENSA evaluator. He smiled a welcome at his father and stepped forward for an off-balanced hug from his very pregnant wife. Cedrick had a large grocery bag in his arms. Giles deduced that they would have a visiting chef for dinner.

"Hi, Mason," Buffy greeted cheerfully. She maneuvered her gravid bulk around them and settled herself on the arm of the nearest chair. "Whew... these kids are getting' heavy." She looked up at Giles and added, "I think it's your turn to carry them for a while."

"Gladly, love." He moved over to her, and she stood with her back to him. He eased his arms under her swollen belly and tightened them, effectively taking the weight of the twins off her protesting abdominal organs. He'd thought the idea ridiculous when the Lamaze teacher first suggested it, but Buffy appreciated the relief greatly.

"Oh God, that feels sooooo good," she moaned, leaning against him. "Almost better than sex."

"I think that's my cue to scram," Reid said with a good-natured blush. "I'll talk to you next week, Mister Giles. I'm sure we can come up with something suitable."

Giles nodded, satisfied for the moment. Buffy called out her farewell as Mason left. Cedrick immediately headed for the kitchen. "Duty calls," he quipped as he unloaded the bag on the counter. "How does baked chicken sound?"

"Wonderful," Buffy breathed.

Giles chuckled behind her. "Anything you don't have to prepare sounds wonderful, love."

"Exactly what I said," she insisted happily.

"Shouldn't be too long, then. Everything is thawed," Cedrick promised with a smile.

"You're the best, Dad," Buffy declared. "Next to Rupert, of course."

"Of course."

Giles nuzzled Buffy's neck, his arms beginning to feel tired. He wondered how such a tiny woman could carry such a heavy load all day without collapsing with exhaustion. "This might be easier upstairs."

"Why, Mister Giles, are you trying to take advantage of me?" She turned in his arms, grunting slightly as the twins resumed their pressure on her bladder.

"Absolutely."

"Well, in that case... Cedrick, we're going upstairs for a little while. If you need anything, 'Bond' us."

"Certainly. Go right on. That's why I'm here."

As they started up the stairs, Buffy whispered to Giles, "Bathroom first, then snuggles."

"We must have our priorities straight," he agreed with a smirk. She poked him in the side and started up the stairs, her steps surprisingly light for a woman in her eighth month of double pregnancy.

Cedrick puttered around the large kitchen, humming to himself. He couldn't imagine being happier. His son had become a wonderful person, despite his father's twenty-four year absence. His daughter-in-law was a complete joy. And Marcus... he had to admit he mourned the loss of the open, childish personality that had disappeared six months ago, but the new Marcus was equally as loving and fascinating.

The boy was an absolute genius, no doubt. The MENSA people were practically salivating. He had blown all their previous learning curves completely out of the water. Intuition, learning, decision-making, math, science, language... Marcus was absorbing them all with equal ease, and seemed to be enjoying himself in the process.

The back door slid open and closed, and Marcus bounded into the kitchen, snatching a carrot from the counter. "Bonjour, Grand-père," he said cheekily over his munching. His wavy dark blonde hair fell into his eyes, and he flipped it back with an impatient shake of his head. Cedrick noted the fact, and decided to take him for a haircut on Saturday.

"Bonjour, Marcus. Comment s'est passée ta journée?"

Cedrick enjoyed testing Marcus' ability to think and speak in French, German, or Spanish at every opportunity. One never knew what language would come into the conversation. Cedrick was convinced that the downfall of modern education began with the de-emphasis of language studies.

Marcus grinned. He'd had a French lesson today, so he was nicely warmed up. "Génial. Aujourd'hui nous avons étudié le Mont Everest à l'école."

Cedrick gave a satisfied nod. "You studied Everest? And what is so remarkable about Mount Everest?"

"You mean, besides being the tallest mountain on earth?" the boy quipped with a grin. He reached up for another carrot, still needing to stretch to gain his prize from the countertop.

"C'est discutable. Many still hold that K2 is taller."

"Not according to the latest satellite measurements," Marcus insisted. "You should read National Geographic."

"Ah, well. Of course, we must bow to technologie moderne."

"Only when it's used correctly, Grandpa."

Cedrick chuckled. He missed baby Marcus, but this grandson of his had the most intriguing sense of curiosity. He loved learning with all his heart. In that, he took after his father completely. "Bon argument, mon petit-fils." Cedrick wiped his hands and reached over to ruffle Marcus' unruly locks. "Now get out of this kitchen. You're going to finish off the meal before I get it cooked."

"Oui, monsieur." Marcus moved away from the counter and then stopped to listen. "So, Mom's taking another 'nap'?"

"Yes."

"And Dad's 'helping'?"

"I suppose."

"Gee whiz." Marcus made a disgusted face and headed for the sofa, picking up the TV remote as he went. He brightened as the TV came on. "It's time for Batman! I'll have to interrupt them later."

********

Buffy sighed as her husband carefully rubbed her abdomen. He was propped up against the headboard, and she was sitting between his spread legs. His chin rested on her shoulder and her top was pushed up to allow him full access to their twins' resting place. As she leaned back against him, relaxed and drowsy, he alternated holding her belly and rubbing it with oil. She had read that Vitamin E oil would prevent stretch marks. With Giles being diligent to apply it every day, it had.

"So, the MENSA guy thinks Marcus is a mega-genius?"

"Apparently." Giles grunted slightly as he tightened his arms around her stomach, fighting gravity for her. She sighed in pure bliss, relief outweighing her anxiety at Marcus' future for a few moments.

"And he wants Marcus to go to college in two years? So much for the college fund! I need to get busy on my degree. I have a feeling we're gonna be needing some extra cash, and soon. College is way expensive, which is not the main issue, but..."

"We'll manage," Giles said softly, but firmly.

"I know. It's just that... he's a kid, no matter how smart he is. He needs time to be a kid."

"That is exactly what I said to Mason. He's our son, and it will be our decision."

"Yeah, ours and Marcus'. It's his future."

"You amaze me," he said with pride. "Some mothers would be pushing their child to be smarter, faster, and more famous than everyone else, without regard for what the child wants or needs."

"Marcus is too smart, fast, and well-known for me already. Sometimes it's kinda... you know... overwhelming."

"We'll manage," he reiterated as he nuzzled the back of her neck, deciding that the conversation needed a turn toward more peaceful subjects. The Bond sent her his complete contentment, and she couldn't help smiling in response. He breathed heavily against her skin and noted with satisfaction that she immediately shivered with pleasure. "Have I told you lately how absolutely beautiful you are?"

"Not in the last five minutes."

"Let me remedy that oversight, then. You are the most radiant, beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"I think the glow comes from climbing the stairs a little while ago."

He laughed behind her. "I don't think so. Your kind of beauty can only come from within."

She smiled and turned her head until she could kiss his cheek. "You're such a sweet-talker."

"I only speak the truth."

He closed his eyes and held his family close. Mentally, he added, 'If Marcus were here, it would be...'

"Batman's over and here I am!" A small body jumped on the bed, giggling.

'...perfect,' he finished with a burst of love and pride.

Giles moved his arm up and Marcus crawled over to slide into place beside him. He cuddled into his father's side, exhaling in contentment. Afternoon snuggles were more difficult since his mom had grown so large, but they managed somehow. In this strange, often dangerous life on the Hellmouth, private family time was sacred to them.

"Perfect," Marcus echoed softly.

"Indeed."

"Did you hear us talking about school downstairs?"

Buffy opened one eye as Marcus kissed her cheek. To a boy born with the ability to communicate through the Bond, talking encompassed both mental and verbal speech. "Yep. Mount Everest, huh?"

"Yeah. Mountains are cool."

"I guess you wanna go climb it now."

"Not me. Too cold, thin air and no TV."

The two adults laughed. They sat there peacefully for several minutes, the Bond sending feelings of warmth and security back and forth between the three of them.

"Pretty soon I'm going to be too tall to fit under your arm, Dad." This was said with a slight tinge of pride. Marcus had always chafed at being 'too little'.

"Then I shall have to sit up a bit," Giles replied mildly.

"Maybe I'll get tall enough to fit you under my arm."

"I don't know about that, but it shouldn't be long until your mother will fit."

"Hey, no short jokes in the presence of the pregnant lady," Buffy huffed.

"When I'm bigger than either of you, can I still come in here and snuggle?"

Giles tightened his arm around the boy. "Until your feet hang off the edge, love. And then we shall get a larger bed."

"Good." Marcus sighed with satisfaction and leaned his head against his father.

Giles looked down at Marcus for a moment, then slipped into 'Teacher Mode.' "Hast du an deinem Deutsch gearbeitet?"

Marcus winced slightly at his father's accented German pronunciation, but understood him easily. "Nein. Schwester Anna war krank. Wir haben Französisch mit Schwester Edwardine." Marcus accent was almost nonexistent, much to Giles' constant delight.

"Stop it, you two. In English, please, for the poor Slayer who didn't study forty languages in High School."

"Sorry, Mom. Sister Anna was sick today, so I went to Sister Edwardine's French class instead of German."

"Thank you. Was it fun?"

Marcus grinned. "Ja, Sehr, Mutter. It was fun. We talked about English shows on French television and how some of their voice dubbing isn't very good. Sie ist nicht sehr gut."

Giles smiled at Marcus' German translation, obviously done for his father's benefit, and Buffy giggled. Her boy had a definite taste for TV, no matter what language was broadcast. "They're really bad, huh? Did you watch some clips?"

"A couple. But the German ones we saw last week were worse. Almost as bad as those dubbed Japanese movies Xander watches all the time."

Buffy looked up at Giles with a smile. "And to think I was worried about sending him to a private school. The nuns are really up on their stuff."

Marcus grinned happily. "Sister Edwardine is cool. She can really throw a fastball, too. She smokes Father Denning every time."

"And that is ever so much more important than language lessons, isn't it, my son?" Giles tempered his gibe with a gentle kiss to Marcus' forehead.

"It doesn't hurt."

"Ouch. That does!" Buffy put her hand on her side, grimacing. Giles immediately slid his hand over to share the feeling. "One of our kids is practicing high kicks in there."

Marcus smiled and put his hand on his mother's belly, moving it slightly upward. An answering kick made her gasp.

"That's my little brother," Marcus said softly, a proud smile on his face. He moved his hand to another spot, causing another internal response. "And that's baby sister."

"Stop inciting the troops to riot, kiddo. My tummy takes enough abuse." Buffy picked up Marcus' hand and gave it a kiss on the back, carefully avoiding the bitter oil on his palm. Vitamin E was great for the skin, but it tasted awful.

Cedrick's non-verbal announcement that dinner was ready caught them by surprise. His use of the Bond still made them a bit uncomfortable, but they were getting used to it. He rarely called them out loud when they were some distance away, preferring the much more civilized use of silent telepathy.

"Grandpa makes the inside of my head itch," Marcus complained as they began to slide off the bed. Giles stopped to help his awkward wife, supporting her until she was vertical and helping her rearrange her maternity top so it hung properly.

"Yes, he does. But the alternative doesn't bear contemplating," Giles agreed.

"I'm glad he's happy and the Bond is fixed."

"Me, too, sweetie baby," Buffy added, throwing an arm around her son as they started downstairs. The mother in her prompted her to add, "Don't forget to wash your hands."

"Oh, Mom," Marcus complained. He looked up at his father, changing the subject. "Dad, when can we have weapons practice again?"

"This evening. That is, if your mother doesn't need me to help her carry the twins again."

"I can make the sacrifice, babe," she assured him. "You boys can go off and play with swords. Just don't put anyone's eye out."

"Yes, Mother," both male Giles chorused.

********

A few hours later, Giles and Marcus stood in the training room, clad in traditional ghis. Giles wore a black belt around his waist, Marcus a green belt. They had been training for two weeks in the first of many styles taught by the Council. Cedrick watched from a folding chair in the corner. It had been a while since he trained, but he still knew the moves.

"Otagai ni rei," he commanded his son and grandson, and the two bowed in perfect harmony. "Yoi?"

"Dad doesn't make me do all the ritual stuff, Grandpa," Marcus said impatiently.

"Tradition should never be slighted, Marcus. It is tradition that makes this an effective form of fighting. I'm disappointed that your father chooses to ignore that fact."

Giles rolled his eyes at his son, causing him to giggle softly. "Be thankful I didn't turn your training over to him," he said warningly. "The man is a tyrant."

"Rupert, stop distracting the boy and take your position."

Giles smiled. "Yes, Father." He snapped into an aggressive stance as Cedrick barked, "Haijime!"

"Hai!"

They began the careful ritual practice using two people, attacker and defender, as Cedrick's sharp eye picked out the faults in Marcus' technique. This was Aikido Karui-geiko, the easy practice, suitable for warming up and cooling down. Their great difference in size made Giles' moves more awkward. In Cedrick's opinion, however, that was no excuse to be sloppy. In a style very familiar to Giles, Cedrick barked instructions to them as they worked.

"Marcus, haiyaku! You are moving too slowly."

"Don't compensate for your father's timing. Maintain your form."

"Rupert, that shomen uchi was weak."

"Don't leave yourself unguarded, Marcus!"

"YAME!"

Giles and Marcus froze obediently. Cedrick considered them for a few seconds, then commanded, "Ato haiyaku."

They subtly shifted stances, with Marcus taking the role of attacker.

"Haijame."

He watched the boy's fluid movements as Marcus began to spar with Giles again, this time moving more aggressively. It didn't take long for Cedrick to realize that Marcus had only been expending enough energy to match his father's moves, but not enough to disable him.

"Yame! Marcus, what are you doing wrong?"

The boy thought for a moment and then looked sheepish. "I'm going easy on Dad, aren't I?" He looked up at Giles. "Sorry."

Giles smiled. "My bones appreciate it, son, but it does little to advance your training. If you continue to do well, I might ask your mother to train with you once the twins are born."

"Really?" Marcus sounded elated. "That'd be great! Mom is so cool!" He realized what he'd implied, then blushed slightly. "I didn't mean you aren't cool, too, Dad."

Giles ran a hand through his damp hair. "It's all right, son. We all know your mother is far stronger and faster than I. She's also a bit closer to your height," he added with a grin. "Let's continue, shall we?"

They began again, and before long Cedrick was nodding in satisfaction. When they completed their practice, Giles strode to the nearest locker and pulled out two bamboo practice swords. He tossed one to Marcus, and they began again.

Cedrick watched with swelling pride. His children were magnificent. He still felt the need to say, with as little emotion as possible, "Rupert, when you finish, I would like to talk to you about involving Marcus in other disciplines."

Giles wiped his face and set his sword point on the floor. "Shouldn't he learn Aikido thoroughly before branching out?"

"Did you?" Cedrick replied.

"Well, no, but..."

"Marcus is far more gifted than you were. You were barely able to hold a shinai at his age. I believe he can handle different forms... perhaps Tai Kwon Do and Muay Thai."

"He's a bit young for such aggressive techniques!" Giles argued. "Muay Thai is brutal!"

"Nonsense. It will give him balance. Keep him unpredictable."

"Dad... Grandpa..." Marcus interrupted. "Kid in the room, remember?"

The two men, properly chastened, looked at him.

"I'm sorry, son," Giles apologized. "What would you like to learn next? You already have most of the Aikido moves memorized, and should be proficient within the next few weeks."

Marcus' eyes shone as he said, "I want to learn to fight like Bruce Lee!"

Giles turned a despairing eye to his father. "Television will be the ruin of him, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps not," Cedrick disagreed mildly. "After all, Jeet Kun Do is a viable art."

"Yeah, Dad, Bruce worked on it all his life. It's good Kung Fu."

Giles refrained from rolling his eyes again. "You realize that I won't be able to teach you? That you'll have to find a dojo and start from the beginning?"

"That's all right with me. I want to learn Jeet Kun Do. I can do it."

"In addition to your Aikido studies," Giles added.

"I can do both," Marcus said confidently.

"With the addition of a new discipline every few months, as soon as you are ready," Cedrick amended with a note of finality.

Marcus pursed his lips, but nodded. "Sure. I can do it."

"And, if I or your father decide that you are spreading yourself too thin, you shall have to suspend your outside training until you have mastered the disciplines we teach."

Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. He sighed and nodded. "Yes, Grandpa."

"All right," Giles acceded. "I'll start calling round tomorrow."

Marcus threw his arms around Giles' waist and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Daddy! I won't disappoint you!"

Giles stroked the boy's damp hair and said softly, "I know you won't."

"Time for a shower." Marcus stepped away from his father, executed a perfect bow, repeated the gesture with Cedrick, and dashed out the door.

Cedrick couldn't help chuckling. The tiny figure, so serious and yet so childlike, made him laugh. He sobered quickly, other thoughts on his mind. He looked over at his son, still putting things away in the lockers.

"Rupert?"

Giles straightened. "I know that tone of voice, Father. It can't bode well."

Cedrick chuckled again, softer than before. "Not everything I say is as dire as it is important."

It was Giles' turn to smile. "If you say so, Father."

"I had a question."

"Yes?" Giles waited, arms at his sides, his full attention on Cedrick.

"You are training Marcus as a Slayer."

"That's not a question."

"True. But are you aware that your actions could draw attention to him from, shall we say undesirable elements?"

Giles folded his arms across his chest. "Such as?"

"Such as the Council. The Circle of Amondeu. The Order of Taraka. Even your own government has an unnatural fascination with Sunnydale. That could easily lead to closer scrutiny."

Giles frowned. "The Council? They are aware of the prophecy. There is no heresy involved. The followers of Balthazar destroyed the Circle. And The Order are assassins that do nothing without being hired. They have no personal agenda. As to the US government..." He fought the urge to laugh. "Which, by the way, is only mine by marriage... I doubt their interest extends beyond seeing that I pay my taxes on time."

"I am aware of all this, son. But bringing about the Apocalypse without interruption from a supernaturally gifted family is a subject of interest to all evil organizations, even those hidden by the most honorable of purposes."

That got Giles' attention. He straightened unconsciously. "Are you calling the Council evil?"

"Not as a whole, but I was witness to many a power struggle even in my short tenure as Head of Security. I am not advocating panic. Merely caution and discretion."

"I have always attempted to employ both."

Cedrick stepped forward and laid his hand on Giles' shoulder. "I know you have, son. Continue to cultivate those virtues. Your family has a Destiny. They, and it, must be protected."

Giles stepped away, slightly irritated. "That is always foremost in my mind, Father!"

"I know," Cedrick said placatingly. "But I am hearing 'rumors, rumblings, and ruminations', to quote your dear departed mother, and they come from several reliable sources. We cannot ignore them completely."

Giles' annoyance disappeared, replaced by worry. "What have you heard?"

"I'm not at liberty to say..."

"Father!" he snapped, just this side of anger. "Where it concerns Marcus you are at liberty to say whatever is necessary."

Cedrick nodded reluctantly. "Some of my... contacts have been intercepting some strange correspondence of late. Questions about the Council and its history. Research into California's mystical past... and one disturbing query about the 'Boca del Infierno'. The queries seem to come from governmental agencies, but the real concern is that some of the answers they have been getting are near enough to the truth to be... uncomfortable."

"Can these correspondences be traced?"

"They are trying. These contacts must remain anonymous, of course, since they represent both Council and International law. Please, son, don't ask me for details. I promise I will tell you the moment I hear anything new."

Cedrick obviously was referring to agents working within Interpol, as he himself had done in the past. Giles shoulders sagged. He had been hoping for at least a few years of peace for his little brood. "I understand, Father," he said at last. He turned to go upstairs, his steps heavy. One thought crossed his mind.

Would it never end?

********

The telephone woke Giles from a sound sleep, and he fumbled for the clock at his bedside before answering it. A quarter past midnight... who on earth would call at this hour? The phone rang again. He stared at the digital numbers until a whine erupted from beside him.

"Are you gonna get that?" Buffy's sleepy voice helped him snap out of his confusion. "My back hurts."

"I'm thinking about it," he replied irritably, then gave a loud 'Oof!" as an annoyed Buffy hauled herself over him to pick up the receiver.

She shot him a glare, then turned her attention to the phone. "Giles residence. Hope it's good, whatever it is. It's way too late for phone pranks."

Embarrassment flamed into her face as she said, in a more dignified tone, "Oh, Angel. Sorry. What did you...? Oh, you found a prophecy? What? Cordelia found a prophecy? Hang on, this doesn't sound good. You need to talk to Book Guy."

She handed the phone to Giles, who was sitting up by now. "Sorry, babe, this calls for Super Watcher. Super-sized Slayer is no good with the mystical at midnight."

"Angel?" Giles said hesitantly. "What's this about a prophecy?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Giles, but this couldn't wait."

"It's all right. What have you found?"

"We were searching the Black Chronicles for some information about a Sabot demon and Cordy came across a reference to the future that we didn't remember seeing before. We followed up with the Codex Referendum and the Journal of Maximillian Strong, and according to their timetable, we're in for some sort of psychic episode."

"Episode? What kind of episode?"

"Near as we can figure, it's going to be something that will affect everyone around the Hellmouth, and not in a good way."

"That sounds bad."

"You're telling me. Cordy's been having visions about it already. In fact, that's what it's about. Nightmares. Here... I'll read you what Strong's Journal says..." Angel fumbled with something for a few seconds, then read, "At the beginning of the end time shall come a confusion upon the Children of Light. The mouth of Hell shall spew forth atrocities like has never before been seen upon the Earth. Men shall kill without reason or thought. Women shall dash their children against the cobblestones. Children shall run in terror, but a child shall lead them into the light."

"Dear Lord, that sounds awful. Are you sure of the timeline?" Giles began a rapid-fire conversation filled with historical terms and dates, adding the years up in his head. After five minutes of talk, his face blanched and he nodded slowly. "You're correct, Angel. It points to the exact month and year that the twins are due to be born."

Buffy sat up at that. "What's going on? Are my babies in danger?"

Giles shushed her gently, listening with great care to Angel's words. "I certainly appreciate the offer. Let me ask Buffy." He held the phone away with his hand over the mouthpiece. "Angel wants to come and stand guard, as he did when Marcus was born."

Buffy shrugged. "Great. Let him. You can't have too big an army when Slayer-Watcher kids are born."

"He could be here a while. You aren't due for another three weeks, and he would have to stay until the end of the lunar month, just to be safe."

"Hey, he can have the basem*nt, if he wants. I can stand having blood packets in my fridge for a while."

"Right." Giles turned back to the phone. "It's agreed, then. You'll come up tomorrow night, so we can do some additional research? Do you have somewhere to stay? The mansion?" He shuddered involuntarily, but Buffy noticed and placed a soothing hand on his arm. He smiled stiffly and returned to his conversation. "Yes, we have a cellular phone. We can stay in touch easily. Angel... your help is most welcome. Thank you."

Giles replaced the receiver slowly. Another prophecy? It was too much.

"How are we supposed to sleep now?" Buffy complained, rubbing her sore back.

"Angel is bringing the pertinent documents. Until he arrives, there's little we can do."

"So we just wait?"

"Yes." He pulled her into an awkward hug and settled down with her in his arms. "I very much doubt that anything will happen tonight."

"Probably not, but I think we should call Cedrick first thing in the morning. He's as good at this musty book searching as you are. Maybe better."

********

It was impossible to get Buffy out of bed the next morning, so Giles made breakfast for himself and Marcus, and then called Cedrick. He explained the situation, knowing Cedrick would want to be in the thick of the research. He called Bill Armstead, Willow, and Xander, as well. They made plans to come over that evening at eight and start checking references, hoping that Angel would be there with his books shortly thereafter.

Humming quietly to himself, he prepared a tray for Buffy as Marcus dashed out the back door with his juice glass still in his hand. He eased into the bedroom, not wanting to wake her if she was still asleep. She wasn't. She was sitting up in the bed with the pillows at her back, looking miserable.

"Morning, love. Bad night?"

"Bad morning," she corrected with a moan. "Oh, you sweetie... breakfast in bed!"

"Just doing my part as a doting husband."

"And you dote so well." She tackled the food with enthusiasm, finishing her plate in record time.

"I'll take this down and then we can discuss our meeting tonight, yes?"

She nodded, even though she felt terrible. Her back was killing her, but at least her stomach had quit cramping. "Sure thing, babe," she said breezily, blowing him a kiss. The moment he left, she slid over to the side of the bed, looked down at her bothersome belly and growled, "You guys listen to Momma, now, and stop tap dancing on my bladder."

She stood carefully, wincing as she straightened. Grousing and mumbling to herself, she made her way to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Marcus was putting his empty glass in the dishwasher. He looked up as Giles came down the stairs and said matter-of-factly, "Mom's going to the hospital today."

Giles looked amused. "Doctor Phil assures us that it's weeks away."

Marcus just smiled and shrugged. "Five bucks says it's today."

Giles gave him a startled look. "Who taught you to bet?" He put the dishes away, shaking his head. "No, don't tell me. It was Xander."

Marcus grinned wider. "He usually wins, too. But today, I will."

Someone knocked on the front door, and Marcus said with a smirk, "I bet that's Grandpa. And I'd win that bet, too."

"I never bet on a sure thing, son!" He opened the door, still shaking his head. "Hello, Father."

"Rupert. Hello Marcus," he called into the house.

"Hey, Grandpa. I was just betting Dad that the twins would be born today."

"Oh, really?" Cedrick gave Giles a sharp look. Giles shrugged. "And did your father agree to the wager?"

"No. He's no fun." Marcus lip jutted out in a perfect imitation of Buffy's pout.

"I believe I will take your bet," Cedrick said with a wink. "How much?"

"Five bucks!" Marcus crowed gleefully.

"Father!" Giles admonished. "I can't teach the boy to avoid gambling if his grandfather encourages him!"

"It's better than learning it on the street," Cedrick deadpanned. "This way the money stays in the family."

"I know when I'm outgunned. I'm going to check on Buffy. She's not feeling well this morning. You two carry on extorting each other's money."

"It's hardly extortion, Rupert." Cedrick followed Marcus out the back door, grinning.

Giles waved a hand in disgust and headed up the stairs. Buffy met him at the top, looking pale.

He helped her navigate the stairs and led her to the sofa, suddenly concerned. "Are you in pain?"

"Kinda. My back has been killing me since I woke up last night."

"Would you like me to rub it for you?"

Buffy moaned softly. "Would you? That'd be great." She slid down on the sofa with her back facing outwards. "I barely fit on the couch anymore."

Giles knelt beside her, his face sympathetic. As he began rubbing, he noticed how tightly her muscles were clenched. "Love, you're terribly tense. Are you sure you slept all right?"

"Sleep isn't the problem. It's the waking up and going 'ouch' that's the problem."

He had a sudden thought, and he slid one hand around to her abdomen. It was rock hard as well. "Oh, dear."

"What?" Buffy was too engrossed in her massage to read his mind.

"Love, I believe you're in labor."

She rolled to her back and stared at him. "No way. I remember labor. I remember severe pains followed by a lot of messy water breaking... oh God oh God... we're gonna need a new couch!" Her back arched as a true contraction hit her, and the stain from her escaping amniotic fluid spread beneath her hips.

Giles jumped to his feet and yelled for his father at the top of his lungs. He just had time to register Cedrick placing a five-dollar bill in Marcus' hands before Buffy began to howl in pain. He left the morality lesson for later and called Doctor Phil.

Behind him, he could hear Marcus telling Cedrick, "I have to be with Mom and Dad, Grandpa. I have to protect them."

Intent on his telephone conversation, Giles didn't take time to wonder what sort of protection Marcus meant to provide.

********

"Hurry, Rupert..."

"I'm driving as fast as I can!"

Of course it would be raining. Here in Southern California they called it 'liquid sunshine'. Right now, he was calling it a bloody nuisance. People in California didn't know how to manage a car in the rain. Giles had almost forgotten how, himself. Just in case the other motorists didn't notice the emergency flashers as he sped down the street, he leaned on the horn, warning the people around him to get out of his way.

Buffy moaned again, arching back against the seat. Marcus whimpered, and Giles threw a quick look at him through the rearview mirror. The boy looked miserable and determined at the same time.

"It's all right, Marcus. Mummy will be just fine."

Marcus nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Buffy's face. "I know, Daddy," he whimpered. "But she hurts."

"Rupert..." Buffy panted as she rode out another contraction. "They're awfully close together."

"Almost there, love, hang on..." Giles heard the screech of tires behind him. Cedrick, Armstead and Willow rounded the corner barely three feet from his bumper. He absently wondered who was driving. He intended to have a word with them later about endangering his family's life... along with everyone else's. "Ah, here we are..." He slid into the parking lot and noted that there were several cars and an ambulance blocking the emergency room entrance. Lovely. They'd have to unload in the rain.

"Here we are," he soothed, killing the engine. He jumped out, ignoring the downpour, and ran around to grab her bag from the back seat. He barely had time to hope it was waterproof when he saw a car pulling up beside them. Cedrick sprang out, holding a large umbrella over Giles as he helped Buffy out of the car. Marcus took her other side, trying his best to support her despite his small size.

"I knew you wouldn't have time to find one," the older man explained as the four of them staggered towards the entrance. "You've been in California too long. No self-respecting Englishman should be caught without his brolly." Bill nodded just behind Cedrick, his umbrella carefully shielding Willow.

"Rupert, I don't remember hurting this much last time," Buffy moaned, suddenly frightened. Her vision swam as several nurses met them just inside the automatic doors.

"You weren't having twins last time," Willow offered, raising her voice over the low roar of the busy emergency room.

"Call Doctor Stevenson," Giles explained quickly as they moved towards one of the exam rooms. "Three weeks early, fraternal twins, water broke about twenty minutes ago." His wet shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he slid to a stop at the nurse's command.

"You probably have plenty of time, honey," one of the nurses soothed as they helped Buffy onto the bed. "We'll check to be sure, but don't worry. Babies come out when they get ready."

"I think at least one of them is ready," Buffy panted. "The contractions are, like, minutes apart."

They wheeled her into a curtained exam room and waved everyone out except Giles. The moment they examined her, the head nurse began barking orders. "Delivery room one, stat! Page Doctor Stevenson! This is happening NOW!"

Giles winced as Buffy crushed his hand and began panting again. He looked down at her with a sudden grin. "Marcus told me the babies would be born today."

"And we should always listen to a four-year-old." She sat up, looking around. "Where is Marcus?" "He's fine, love. He's with Father. They're in the waiting room now with Willow and Armstead."

"Oh. Good. Just because I'm having new babies doesn't mean I'm not concerned the one I already have. And why don't you call the guy Bill instead of Armstead? He's been around for years."

"It's a British thing," he assured her with a smile.

She sat up again, worry creasing her forehead. "Did you call Mom?"

"Yes, love, I haven't completely panicked."

"Good. She'd kill us both and take the kids if we forgot to call her."

Giles began to chuckle, then had to step away as they transferred her to a surgical gurney.

"Rupert? Don't leave!"

The nurse patted her arm gently. "He's not going anywhere, honey, we just have to get you fixed up. We're taking a trip down the hall, and he's gonna be right behind us."

An attendant attached a drip bag to the hanger on the side of the gurney. Two of them rolled her down the hall with the nurse and Giles hurrying along behind them. Several bewildering twists and turns later, she was looking up at the familiar lights of the delivery room. She craned her neck to look for Giles, and he instantly appeared at her side, his hair still damp from the rain and beginning to curl adorably. His shirt was soaked, but he was smiling down at her with love in his eyes.

"Rupert, you poor thing," she said softly. "You look like a drowned rat. I look worse, though."

"You've never looked lovelier," he countered gently, stroking her hair back from her face. He sucked in a breath as another contraction took her, and he looked up as the delivery room staff began to dash around like mad. "Nurse? Is everything all right?"

The head nurse never stopped her preparations, but answered gruffly, "Everything's just fine, but this baby is coming out, and somebody's gotta be in position to catch it. Push, honey, you're almost there!"

Giles blanched, but clenched his jaw and said bravely, "I can help, if you need me to."

Several of the women nurses chuckled, but the head nurse smiled and continued working. "You're a brave man. Let's hope Doctor Stevenson gets here in the next five minutes, or you might just get the chance to deliver your own children."

Just then Doctor Phil burst through the operating room doors, his hands held high in sterile gloves. "Woah, hello, there, you two! You started without me!"

He replaced the head nurse and began checking Buffy's progress. "You're doing great, Buffy, just like last time. You can push whenever you want."

"Great! Right now, I want! Oooooooooohhh!"

"Doing great, doing great..." He looked up at Giles, suddenly remembering something from his last Giles baby delivery. "Rupert? Why aren't you writhing around on the floor in pain?"

Giles looked stunned for a moment. "Buffy?" he asked softly. "Are you shielding me?"

"No, I haven't even thought about it," she said through gritted teeth. "But things happened so fast that I haven't had time to worry about you. Sorry, babe."

They stared at each other, thinking about Marcus' tortured face in the car, then said in unison, "Marcus."

"The little rascal. I didn't know he could do that."

"Why didn't he shield me, too? AwwwwwooooooooGod, it hurts!" Buffy howled. She began to pant as the contraction passed.

"He may be trying, love. He's never attempted anything like this before. Perhaps he can only affect the sympathy pains I feel through the Bond."

Doctor Phil looked at Giles, dumbfounded. "Marcus can shield another person... persons... from pain? Is he that powerful?"

"It would seem so. He kept saying he had to protect the babies. I suppose making sure both parents aren't incapacitated during their birth falls into that category. It's extraordinary, actually..."

"Rupert, the non-shielded person in the room really needs some help..."

"I'm right here, love. Breathe." He stepped behind her, supporting her back.

"You breathe. As a matter of fact, you have these babies. I'm tired."

Doctor Phil looked up over Buffy's sheet covered belly. "Hey, now! What happened to that super strength?"

"It's on vacation in Tahiti. Auughhhhh!"

"All right, Buffy, this is it. Give me a big push and hold it as long as you can." Doctor Phil's voice calmed her and she pushed, barely feeling Giles' arm around her.

"Grrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Again," the doctor commanded, and she obeyed, gritting her teeth from the effort.

"Remind me about this part the next time I start wanting more babies," she begged as she sagged against her husband's chest.

Dr. Phil's voice pulled her attention back to the task at hand. "One more time, Buffy, I promise this is the last one."

Buffy let out a hearty yell and pushed. Doctor Phil gave a satisfied "There we are!" as the first of the twins was expelled into his waiting hands. "It's a boy," he said with relief. A tiny cry accompanied his announcement.

"I want to hold him," Giles said instantly, giving Buffy's sweaty face a kiss as he stood. She sagged back onto the gurney, breathing heavily.

"One son, coming right up. Just have a few details to take care of."

"Mister Giles?" One of the nurses held up a pair of surgical scissors. "Do you want to do the honors?"

"What? Oh. You mean c-cut the c-cord?" Giles stammered. "I d-don't believe I did that b-before."

"New perks for return visitors," the doctor said jovially. "Here. I've already clamped it. Just give it a snip."

"Hurry up, Rupert... number two is on the way," Buffy commanded, needing him back at her side.

Giles reddened and gave the cord the required snip. It wasn't too bad. He wasn't aware that he'd been swaying until a nurse pushed a chair under him and made him sit. Behind him, he heard a nurse announce, "Five pounds, six ounces. A big, healthy boy!"

"Looks like someone was a few weeks off on this little lady's due date," the head nurse teased Dr. Phil.

Someone handed Giles a wrapped, partially cleaned baby. His grin of proud delight made everyone in the room... except the still contracting mother... smile.

"How come he gets to see him first?" she complained, trying to sit up. "I'm the one that did all the work, here!"

"You're otherwise occupied," the head nurse told her, pushing her back onto the gurney.

"All the more reason to let me see what I've been working for..."

While Buffy argued with the nurses, Giles got acquainted with his new son. "Hello, David Alexander," he crooned, touching the tiny, angry face. David was crying, his little forehead wrinkling in protest at being forced out of his comfortable home. Giles shushed the child gently, and within seconds, the baby was quiet, his large eyes trying to focus on his father's face.

"Look, love, he has your nose." He stood and held the tiny child up to Buffy.

"I'll get a better look in a little while," she growled, caught in the middle of another contraction. "Right now, I'm busy birthing baby number two."

Giles talked softly to his son until the staff began their frantic routine again, then he handed David to a waiting nurse and took his place at Buffy's side.

"This one doesn't hurt so bad," she commented as Doctor Phil told her to push. "Which is good, because I'm tired."

"I'm here, love." Giles fed her his love and reassurance through the Bond and wiped the sweat off her brow as she strained. It seemed to take forever, but finally a second tiny wail caused them all to break into smiles again. Once again, Doctor Phil allowed Giles to cut the cord while the baby was whisked away to be weighed and cleaned.

Buffy, still flat on her back, gave a tired sigh. The nurses continued to work around her as her strength slowly began to return. "Thank God for Slayer healing," she murmured groggily, ignoring the younger nurse's curious look.

"Five pounds, one ounce," Doctor Phil declared, and Giles took a chair as the nurse handed him a second red-faced bundle. A smaller, but no less alert baby looked up at him, making small snuffling noises. She didn't cry once she was in her father's arms, but regarded him with solemn interest.

"Hello, Abigail Anne, my sweet daughter," Giles said, unmindful of the tears coursing down his face. "You are so beautiful."

Despite her fatigue, Buffy began to giggle. "The man's delirious. First he calls me lovely, then he calls our red-faced monkey children beautiful. Newborns are anything but cute!"

One of the nurses stepped to Giles' side and held David close so they could all examine the twins together. "I don't know about you," she said brightly, "But to me, this is cuteness times two."

"Well, get over here and let me see for myself," the new mother commanded as a nurse helped her sit up. Giles stood with Abigail and the nurse brought David to Buffy's side. She examined each of them closely, checking their features and tiny fingers. The smile on her face was tender even as she said teasingly, "Hello, Munchkins. Yeah, Rupert, they're cute, all right. We make pretty babies."

Giles suddenly laughed, unable to contain the bubbles of joy that were exploding inside him. "Thank God! I have three beautiful children!" he declared into the room. The nurses, the doctor, and even an exhausted Buffy began to laugh with him.

********

"I've already called headquarters, sir. Mister Connors is willing to sending a detachment to help guard Mister and Mrs. Giles once the children are brought home."

Cedrick looked at Armstead with suspicion. "And what do you hope to gain by involving more Watchers?"

The younger watcher looked uneasy. "I would hope to gain the safety and security of the Giles household, of course."

"By surrounding them with men we do not know, whose motives we cannot guess, whose loyalties we cannot guarantee?"

Armstead took a deep breath. "I hadn't thought of it that way, sir. Strength in numbers, I was thinking."

Willow came up and put an arm through Armstead's. "I know you meant well, honey, but you haven't fought weirdos nearly as much as we have. No offense, Cedrick, but the Council sure has more than their share of weirdos."

"None taken, Willow. I'm in total agreement with your assessment." Cedrick inclined his head towards the OB ward and said tersely. "Let's not upset the new parents with word of this possibility just yet, shall we?"

"Of course," Armstead agreed nervously. It wouldn't do to have any of the Giles family upset with him, no matter what the circ*mstances. "Once we summon them, they will stay out of sight unless they are needed. Mister and Mrs. Giles won't even know they're in place."

"We don't need them," Willow said reasonably, "Angel will be here tonight, and he can guard the hospital. When we go home, Madvekhar and Gerard can guard the house."

"A vampire, a troll and a goblin as first line of defense? I know these fellows mean well, but really, Willow, I'd be far more comfortable with a human task force."

She sniffed and retorted, "Yeah, because we all know that humans never make mistakes or have evil agendas."

"Children," Cedrick interrupted. "Let's not quibble over human versus non-human, shall we? Connors knows we are vulnerable right now. Whether he chooses to help or simply take advantage of the situation remains to be seen. I know you believe he is trustworthy, Armstead, but I have reservations. We will simply have to remain on our guard."

"Always prudent," Armstead conceded, still wanting to defend his superior. Willow nodded, putting her head against Bill's arm. He smiled down at her, lost in her eyes for a moment.

Behind them, they heard Xander say, "Hi, Joyce! Glad you could make it. Buffy didn't wait for you this time."

"We went to the Emergency waiting room first," Wilton explained. "They let us cool our heels for almost thirty minutes before they sent us up here."

Cedrick stepped aside to shake Wilton's hand and give Buffy's mother a generous smile. "Congratulations are in order, Mrs. Bernard. I'm told Buffy made it through with flying colors."

"Boy, Marcus took a long time to get here, but these two only took a couple hours. She'll probably pop the next one out like a human toaster." Xander stepped back as everyone in the room gave him a disbelieving glare. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Sorry. I was just sayin'... never mind."

They all looked up as Father Denning arrived. Happy greetings were exchanged, as well as information about the two newest members of the Giles family.

"They always put such consideration into their children's names," Denning commented.

Cedrick nodded. "David Alexander... beloved helper."

"It may also be translated as 'beloved helper of mankind."

"Yes, indeed. Both translations are equally meaningful."

"I like Abigail Anne," Willow interjected.

"A father's love is full of grace," both Cedrick and Father Denning quoted, smiling at each other.

"It's so pretty. Buffy always liked her middle name."

"With a name like 'Buffy', who can blame her?" Xander quipped, then recoiled at Joyce's glare. "Sorry, Mrs. B. I didn't mean it was a bad name."

Willow gave Xander a firm punch in the arm. "Shut up, Xander."

"Shutting up, yeah."

"Have you seen them yet?" Joyce finally asked, turning back to the rest of the group.

"Not yet. Two babies are probably twice the fuss," Willow reasoned with a grin. "I'm going to ask you a question, Xander, so you can talk now. Where's Anya?"

Xander faked a regal bow, then answered, "She figured the babies are gonna be around for at least eighteen years, so she'd be able to see them without taking time off work. You know how she hates to get a short paycheck." He shrugged. "Anya logic. Don't try to follow it."

Armstead chuckled. "Quite a woman you have there, my friend."

"Quite an ex-demon, you mean. But, yeah, there's something special about her. Even if she's a little... um... brash."

"Good word, Xand," Willow said with raised eyebrows. "You're getting kinda literate."

"Anya has an interesting vocabulary," Xander explained with a sheepish grin.

"I'll just bet she does."

Joyce let out a small cry as Giles appeared in the viewing room, flanked by two nurses. He turned and carefully took a bundle from each of them and strode to the glass grinning from ear to ear, his arms full. The nurses stayed close, watching for a sign that he couldn't handle two infants at once.

"Oh, my..." Joyce's voice failed her, and she leaned against Wilton for support. "I'm a grandmother twice more!"

"You're catching up to me, darling," Wilton joked, steadying her with an arm around her waist.

"Oh, they're so beautiful," Willow breathed, touching the glass in awe. "Hello, babies!"

"They're so... little," Xander added. He didn't comment on their looks. He'd learned his lesson on that.

"Twins are usually smaller than an individual child," Armstead said knowingly, ignoring Xander's snort.

"Remarkable," Cedrick stated with a smile.

"More gifts from God," Denning added, reciting a blessing under his breath. From what he knew of the Giles' life, these little ones would need all the blessings they could gather.

Giles kissed each tousled head, careful not to jostle the sleeping infants. His precious babies. He ignored the tears as they began to slide down his cheeks again. Such miracles had never been a part of his life before he met Buffy.

Marcus leaned against the glass, his nose almost level with his new brother and sister. 'Hey, babies,' he thought to them proudly, 'I'm your big brother, and I'm gonna take care of you.'

********

The remainder of Buffy's hospital stay went without a hitch. Angel arrived sometime after dark with a half-dozen earth demons to watch the hospital. The hidden guardians didn't see anything even remotely unusual, and even the fairies in the woods nearby reported that everything was quiet. After seeing that everything was under control, Angel left to set up his headquarters in the old mansion. He decided to give Giles the documents about the prophecy when Buffy got out of the hospital.

When Buffy was released the next day, a small entourage was there to escort David and Abigail home. Cedrick followed the two parents in his car, while Bill and Willow, Xander and Anya, and Joyce and Wilton followed in their own cars. It was quite a procession. They weren't aware of the extra car that followed them at a discreet distance. Their minds were occupied with more pleasant things.

Several days passed without too much excitement. Giles took several days' leave from school with Wilton's jovial approval. He studied Angel's documents, cleaned house and trained with Marcus, leaving Buffy to spend most of her time with the twins.

She quickly settled into a routine. Wake up when a baby cries. Feed baby. Change diaper. Go back to sleep. Wake up when the other baby cries. Feed second baby and change. Go back to sleep. Wake up and eat when husband insists on it. Come downstairs when there were guests cooing over babies. Hug oldest child from time to time so he won't feel left out. Look over husband's shoulder occasionally as he researches. Go back to bed. She wondered why both babies couldn't just be awake at the same time and save her all that running around.

Giles did his best to help Buffy with the babies' care, but breastfeeding them both was a bit overwhelming for her. She was determined to give them the same advantage as Marcus, and she'd breastfed him for several months. With two nursing children, she didn't always have enough milk to express, so Giles wasn't able to feed them as much as he would have liked. He held them as often as he could, making sure the bond between father and child was strong. Giles' days of leave were over too soon, and he reluctantly returned to his classes. At Father Denning's suggestion, Giles hired a housekeeper to stay with Buffy for the weeks leading up to final tests. Buffy protested, but she knew her limits. She accepted the help gratefully. The housekeeper was a member of Father Denning's church, and was wonderful company while Buffy was getting herself organized again.

Giles called and made arrangements with her teachers to tape the remaining lectures so she could take her finals by mail. Wilton offered to administer the tests so Giles could concentrate on his own classes, and Buffy accepted eagerly. She really didn't want to retake the entire semester just because she missed her due date.

Once Giles' classes were done and Buffy's tests were taken and turned in, they sighed in relief and looked forward to a peaceful, baby-filled summer. Angel went back to LA, thinking his mission was over, leaving his books and manuscripts with Giles for continued study. The little family almost forgot about the prophecy, Cordelia's vision, and the reason that Angel had come to Sunnydale to protect them in the first place. The babies turned one month old, and they held a small party in commemoration.

Then the attacks began.

********

The moon was bright and low in the sky as Giles woke with a start. He heard something moving in the hall near the nursery. He listened, reaching out with the Bond until he made contact. Whatever it was, it reeked of evil.

He slid from the bed, not registering the fact that Buffy was still sound asleep. He reached under the bed for his sword and made his stealthy way down the hall. Marcus hadn't awakened, either. He wondered if it was some sort of spell. He then wondered why he was immune.

He peered into the nursery. Both babies were safely asleep, completely unaware of their peril.

He started back down the hall, but stopped wondering when he felt something brush against his back. He whirled, snarling, as a black shape appeared in his path. He brandished his sword and attacked, grunting with effort. Pieces of the demon, or whatever it was, flew in all directions. When it was completely dismembered, he stopped, taking gulping breaths.

The second brush made him spin again. He fought like a fury, defending his family with all his might. Sweat poured from him as he battled the darkness. How dare they invade his home, his sanctuary? More monsters threatened, and he destroyed them with mindless efficiency.

Another touch at his shoulder made him whirl again. He was about to strike when he faintly heard Buffy calling his name. He froze, squinting in the eerie moonlit hall. Something hit him on the arm. Hard. He winced and almost lifted the sword again, but her familiar voice stopped him.

"Rupert Giles! Wake up! You almost gutted me, you big goof!"

He stared at her stupidly, wondering where she'd come from. "Buffy?"

"The one and only, almost becoming the 'late' one and only. What is wrong with you? I've been calling your name forever. It was like you didn't even see me."

He put a hand out and touched her. Solid. Real. The sword clattered to the floor. "You didn't see them?"

"See what? You were shadowboxing. Or shadow-swording. Whatever it's called."

"You didn't see the demons? Black, oozing creatures with malevolent red eyes and fetid breath?"

She stared at him. "Way too descriptive, Rupert. Yuck. No oozing. No halitosis. Just you and your sword." She listened for a moment and then relaxed. "Good thing you didn't wake the babies, Daddy. Mummy would have been miffed."

"I... I..." He looked around, bewildered. "How did I get out here?"

"Beats me, babe. Just be careful with that sword. I don't want anyone getting decapitated in the hall."

"Oh, my God..." Giles moaned, realizing what he'd just experienced. Violent shivers began to run up and down his spine. "It was a dream. Buffy... I didn't see you come down the hall. I didn't even see you standing next to me... I could have killed you!"

"I doubt that. Slayer speed and all."

"But you wouldn't have ducked, would you? Because it was me... you would have believed that I would stop before I hurt you!"

"Rupert, honey, you're making a really big deal out of this."

"You don't understand," he said desperately, grabbing both her hands. "I was seeing something that wasn't there, and I wasn't seeing what was real. I could have killed you and never realized... or Marcus... or... or... God!" He began to cry silently, tearing himself away from her and standing with his shoulders hunched.

"Babe, you wouldn't hurt me." It was the wrong thing to say.

"You still don't understand!" he snarled. "I didn't see you! I didn't sense you! It was as if you weren't there!"

She gasped as the meaning of his words began to soak in. The Bond was no longer their perfect defense. Someone, or some thing, had found a way to penetrate their shield. To separate them.

"Oh, God in Heaven," Giles groaned, falling to his knees. "The prophecy!"

A door clicked behind them, and a sleepy Marcus padded to his mother. Rubbing his eyes, he asked, "Mummy? Daddy? What's wrong?"

The full impact of their situation hit her. Even her gifted son wasn't aware of what was going on.

"Daddy had a really scary nightmare," she said shakily. "We need to call Grandpa Cedrick. Daddy needs help."

Marcus felt her fear, and he began to get worried. "Let me call him," he offered. "He won't get mad if I call him." He turned and shuffled back to his room to use his new telephone.

"I don't... I'm not sure what time it is, exactly," Giles said weakly.

"Me, neither."

They both heard Marcus through the Bond. 'It's one o'clock, Daddy.' He shifted to verbal and said, "Hey, Grandpa, I'm sorry to wake you up, but Mummy and Daddy need you over here right now." He dropped his voice and said into the mouthpiece. "Daddy had a bad dream."

********

"This is unbelievable." Cedrick pushed his book back on the dining room table and rubbed his tired eyes. "A nightmare that can circumvent the Bond?"

"Believe it," Buffy stated flatly. "I didn't even hear him get out of bed. Marcus didn't wake up. The babies didn't wake up. Only Giles was affected."

"It's... I've never heard of anything that powerful."

Giles was sitting hunched over in his chair, looking lost and miserable. "I had no idea it was a dream, Father. I brandished my sword in the hall."

"Of course you did, son. You saw danger, and you reacted. It's perfectly normal."

"Unless there's nothing there," Giles insisted with distaste. "Then it's perfectly, completely mad."

"What did Bill say when you called him?" Buffy asked her father-in-law, deliberately avoiding her husband's assertions of madness.

Cedrick didn't look up.

"You didn't call Bill," she accused.

"No, I didn't. Young Armstead is a steady fellow, but I still find it difficult to trust Connors."

"You think because his boss is a crook that Bill is, too?"

"No. I think Connors' motives are suspect, and that means that Armstead's orders are suspect as well. I don't doubt the young man personally. If Armstead knows, he will call his superior, as he was trained to do. And Connors will send reinforcements, no matter what Armstead says."

"That's all we need. More Watcher guys hanging around, getting in the way."

"I know," Cedrick said with thinly disguised anger. "Far be it from any of them to pay attention to advice from the man on the field."

"Or the woman on the field," Buffy said with a small snort. Giles put his head down into his hands, exhausted. Buffy began to stroke his hair gently, hurting with him. With clenched teeth, she grated, "Do you think they're doing this? The Council guys, I mean?"

"Hardly," Cedrick scoffed. "Connors is the only one with enough connections to hide this sort of activity from the Director, and while he agrees in theory that the Bond exists between Slayer and Watcher, he continually scoffs at anything overtly supernatural. He believes only what he sees, and prefers brute force over finesse."

"I wonder how many Watcher guys he'll send?"

"A task force normally consists of ten."

Giles groaned. "Ten suspicious Watchers to reckon with. How lovely."

"Yeah, I know. Like we need something else to worry about."

"Do you want me to stay and keep watch tonight, Rupert?" Cedrick offered. "I've had a rather decadent amount of sleep lately."

"I'm afraid that's about to change," Giles said gloomily. "Yes, Father, I'd very much appreciate it if you would prevent me from killing my family in their sleep."

"Rupert!" Buffy exclaimed, shocked at Giles' fatalistic attitude.

"I'm sorry, love. The idea that I could unknowingly harm one of you... it turns my stomach."

"I know, honey."

Just then, a thin wail from upstairs was accompanied by an insistent nudge from the Bond. Instantly all three adults jumped to their feet. They stared at each other in amazement, smiles spreading across their faces as they realized what had happened.

"David just called us!"

"I felt it!"

"Extraordinary!" Cedrick exclaimed, feeling suddenly warm all over.

"Mom?" Marcus called from the top of the stairs. "David's hungry again!"

"We know," all three adults chorused.

********

When Buffy awoke the next night, she was completely unaware that she was caught in a dream. The room looked perfectly normal, right down to the pile of unfolded underwear on the chair. One of Rupert's socks hung limply over the edge, barely defying gravity. Her hairbrush sat on the dresser in its usual place. It was so normal that she pinched herself to see if she was awake.

"Ouch. I guess that's not a good test," she said to herself. She looked over at Rupert. Sound asleep. How could he sleep through all that racket?

A low thumping noise was coming from downstairs. She knew Cedrick was in the house somewhere, but this noise was too heavy sounding to be human. She decided to investigate, just in case. She reached under the bed, forgetting that Cedrick had confiscated the more dangerous weapons. Finding nothing, she grimaced and eased herself across the room to peek out the door. The hall was empty, but the thumping was getting louder.

"I hope Cedrick isn't watching late-night TV," she commented, sounding more light-hearted than she felt.

She crept down the hall, every nerve screaming. Marcus' room was quiet except for his steady breathing. She ducked her head into the nursery, but David and Abigail were fast asleep. She paused to marvel at that miracle, then shook herself and started downstairs. The thumping was coming from the living room area.

When she stepped off the last step, the noise resolved itself into more of a chopping sound. It wasn't in the living room. It was in the kitchen. Her stomach began to lurch as she heard soft accompanying noises that went with the thumping.

Something being dragged across the floor.

Something wet.

She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Easing along the wall, she made her way across the darkened room until she was across from the doorway. The sound was almost overwhelming here. Moonlight streamed into the room at a low angle. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have wondered about that. The moon was in wane at the moment.

When she gathered her courage and looked around the wall, she almost threw up. Something large, black, and billowing was wielding a large meat cleaver. The rhythmic thumps were caused by the knife's impact against the vinyl floor. She couldn't see what was being chopped, but there was a spreading stain of blood pooling around and underneath the horrible figure. The pristine white walls of the kitchen cabinets were spattered in random patterns. As if it sensed her presence, the hideous thing stopped its hacking and turned evil, narrow red eyes towards her. It grinned. She let out a desperate cry and pushed into the room.

"Cedrick!!!"

In the living room, the man being called bolted out of his chair. He hadn't even heard Buffy pass by him. He took a few steps towards the kitchen but realized how foolish that would be. He decided to hide instead.

It turned out to be a wise choice. He dove behind the entertainment center, calling Buffy's name via the Bond. He couldn't contact her at first, so he bore down, concentrating with fierce determination. It made his head ache terribly, but he persisted. In her anguish, Buffy dismantled most of the downstairs before Cedrick could get through to her. He couldn't see her, but when he finally heard the ring of metal hitting the floor, he stood and carefully and began looking for her.

"Buffy? My dear, are you all right? You're safe. We're all safe. Where are you? It was another dream! Please, speak to me!"

A sudden silence answered him. He cautiously left his hiding place and found her in the dining room. The table and chairs had been chopped into kindling wood. She was standing in the middle of the destruction with tears running down her face. A badly blunted butcher knife was lying by her feet. She looked so very small and alone.

"Buffy? Are you awake?"

She began to sob.

"Oh, my dear..." he said brokenly and reached for her. She fell into his arms, nearly hysterical.

"What are we going to do, Cedrick? I can't stop this! What if I hurt you, or Rupert, or one of my babies? How can I protect you from me?"

He realized that this was something they couldn't handle alone. It was time to call in the troops. He only hoped that he wasn't playing into enemy hands.

"Father? What on earth... oh, my God." Cedrick heard his son's footsteps coming down the stairs. Giles skidded to a halt in the living room, looking around at what was left of the furniture. "Dear God in heaven... Father? Buffy?"

"In here," Cedrick called hoarsely. Giles ran to them, ignoring the rest of the rubble as he focused on Buffy's heaving shoulders.

"The dreams got to her, didn't they?" His voice was hollow. These faceless, nameless attackers made his skin crawl and his stomach turn, but there was no one to fight, no target to eliminate. He'd hoped somehow that she would be immune, that her power was greater than his. If he went mad, she could easily contain him.

But what could they do against a demented Slayer?

"Those cowards," he spat venomously. "Attacking us in our sleep. Father, we need help."

Cedrick nodded dumbly. Buffy's sobs shook him both physically and mentally. What could they do? It was only a matter of time before someone got hurt.

"Call Connors," Giles commanded, his voice thin and icy. "Let's not wait on Armstead. Call him yourself."

Cedrick nodded again. He turned Buffy into her husband's arms and went to find an undamaged telephone. He had to go upstairs. There wasn't much left on the main floor except the television and the curtains.

He met Marcus in the hall.

"It happened again, didn't it?" the boy said sadly, still rubbing one eye.

"Yes, it did. Go back to sleep now, it's over." He walked up to Marcus, putting a gentle hand on his head.

"It isn't over, Grandpa. Not until you stop the evil people."

"The what?"

"The evil people. The ones casting the spell."

"You can sense the spell, Marcus?"

Marcus shook his head slowly, trying to put into words what he was feeling. "No, just the evil people that cast it. I think I dreamed about bad stuff coming in the house while we were asleep, but then I couldn't wake up until it was already gone again." He looked at his grandfather in sorrow. "I wish I could just wake up."

"So do your mother and father," Cedrick said, patting Marcus' shoulder. "Go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay, Grandpa."

Cedrick went on to his son's room and sat on the rumpled bed. With a giant sigh of apprehension, he dialed the man that had removed him from office to ask for help.

Cedrick calmly explained the situation as it stood, hoping that Connors would overlook personal dislikes and do his job. Once convinced of the imminent threat of danger, Connors became surprisingly solicitous, agreeing at once to send help. Regardless of whether or not Connors liked Cedrick Giles, a threat of this magnitude could hardly be ignored. Assisting a Watcher and Slayer, retired or not, was a matter of pride. Connors promised to send as many qualified Watchers as he could spare, confident that sheer numbers could search out the source of the nightmares and break its hold.

While Cedrick was hanging up the phone, he heard muffled sounds in the hall. He went to the doorway, seeing Giles coming towards the bedroom with Buffy curled up in his arms, weeping like a small child. Giles' voice was low and soothing, whispering gentle reassurances to the traumatized Slayer. Giles looked up at his father, his eyes desperate and fearful.

"I'll be in the guest room if you need me," Cedrick said softly, moving towards his own room. "I'll talk to Armstead in the morning. There's nothing he can do at the moment." Giles nodded gravely, catching the implied statement, 'there's nothing any of us can do,' and turned into the master bedroom. Cedrick could hear Buffy's sobs until he closed his door.

********

The dream attacks continued, and each night was worse than the last. Warding the house did no good. They were afraid to stay in a hotel. There were too many innocent people that they could injure during the attacks. They tried staying awake at night, but somehow one of them would always manage to fall asleep and become vulnerable. The dreams seemed to concentrate on Buffy and Giles individually at first, but by the fifth night both of them were caught in the web of illusion the moment they succumbed to fatigue. They tried sleeping during the day, but it was impossible to rest. Remembered snatches of the previous night's horrors kept them jittery and unable to relax.

After the third evening of horror, Buffy insisted that Xander and Anya or Willow and Bill start taking the children home with them just before dark. Even though she knew it was for the best, and that it would be just over eight hours before she saw them again, she was barely able to hold back her tears as the car pulled out of their driveway.

There was no predicting the exact time of the attacks, which made them all the more terrifying. The nightmare came to Giles at just past midnight the first night. The next night, when Buffy was affected, it came at one o'clock. The third night eleven. Then twelve forty-five. Then twelve fifteen. The moment one of them succumbed to sleep, the nightmares began. Each night, the dreams lasted longer than before. Each night the victims had more difficulty waking up to reality.

Cedrick was a godsend, managing to stay out of their way at night while trying every way he could to wake them. Once the dreams began, they were completely unaware of him. During the day, Buffy desperately wanted to contact her mother, but she and Wilton were away on a few weeks in the northern part of the state, and Buffy was determined not to ruin their first real vacation since their honeymoon. She still felt confident that the next day would bring them the solution to their dilemma.

A few days stretched into a week. They methodically emptied the house of anything that could be used as a weapon, a fact that made Giles extremely nervous. Leaving his home vulnerable to a physical attack was something he could barely tolerate, but there was no other option at that point. What was meant as protection could be turned on a loved one.

Buffy's formerly immaculate home was a shambles. It looked like something out of a war zone, with barely a stick of furniture surviving. The walls were full of holes and scratches. The tile in the entry was cracked. Several windows were broken. Each morning they attempted to clean up the debris from the night before and make what repairs they could.

The eighth night Buffy disappeared from the house while Cedrick was watching his son. She returned at dawn, and none of them were brave enough to ask where she'd been. Cedrick called Angel again, asking him to bring back his non-human helpers to contain his dream-mad family. Buffy and Giles lived in fear that some of the neighbors would call local authorities, who would immediately send them off to the psych ward before anyone could figure out what was really going on. Once Angel's crew arrived, Cedrick no longer stayed with them at the house. It was too heartbreaking... and dangerous. He immersed himself in research, hoping to find something that would break the chains of darkness that threatened to strangle his only son and his family.

During the day, the two harried parents tried to carry on with life, taking the children to the park, to the mall, for a short drive, or whatever would get them out of the house. Their afternoons and evenings were spent in research at Angel's mansion, since it was far more secure than Giles' gutted home. Even Giles could ignore the memories the place evoked when his family's safety was at stake. When darkness fell, Angel and his guards drove Buffy and Giles home and surrounded the house to prevent the two humans from leaving.

Research began to take on a desperate quality. Bill Armstead called Council Headquarters on the ninth day to find out why the promised help had not arrived. Security Chief Connors apologized profusely for the delay in sending assistance, but explained that resources had to be gathered. He vowed that the team would be at their doorstep within twenty-four hours, then hung up without further explanation.

As he put down the phone, Armstead wondered if his friends would survive even that long.

It galled him to think that a man like Cedrick Giles, certainly one of the most effective Security Officers the Council had ever known, had been so thoroughly disgraced in his dismissal that his personal request for assistance would be considered low priority. It was a sign of how far the Council had strayed from their original objective that the threat to a Slayer, inactive or not, did not bring immediate and swift action. The potential threat to Faith and Wyndam-Pryce could not be ignored. How could the Council ignore the possibilities?

Or, perhaps it wasn't the Council as a whole. Surely Security Chief Connors had no personal vendetta against the man whose place he had taken... Armstead shook his head with irritation. Speculation wasn't a fruitful pastime. Connors had promised that help was on its way, and Armstead fastened his hopes on that promise.

********

The Watchers arrived the tenth day just before dusk just as Connors promised, driving up in a nondescript white van. The driver got out and came to the front door. He was going to knock, but the door opened before he could connect.

"Rupert Giles?" he asked the exhausted looking man in the doorway.

"Yes. And you are...?"

"Team Leader Raymond Sampson, sir, from the Council. May we come in?"

Giles stood away from the door, leaving the invitation unspoken out of long habit. Sampson signaled to the rest of his people, and they began exiting the van.

There were ten of them in all, seven men and three women. They began to make their way around the rubble to the interior of the house. Buffy met them in the living room, looking around at the bare floor.

"Sorry about the mess," Giles said perfunctorily as the team filed into the room.

"Unusual circ*mstances, Mister Giles," Sampson said briskly. He waved his people into a circle and sat down cross-legged on the floor. The others followed suit, with the three females kneeling gracefully in their straight tweet skirts.

Rather than stand on ceremony, Sampson immediately began asking questions.

"How long have the incidents been occurring?"

Giles delegated himself spokesman for his family, and answered, "Ten days."

Sampson gave a disgusted grunt. "We could have been here in two."

Cedrick nodded in agreement. "We did expect that Connors would act more quickly than he did. Apparently my family isn't as important to the Council as they once were."

"Your family is of utmost importance," Sampson declared firmly. "Mister and Mrs. Giles represent the future of the Council. I was ready to leave the moment I got the call. I can't imagine why Mister Connors didn't notify me immediately."

"Neither can I," Giles said quickly. "But this isn't getting the job done. We can grouse at our leisure once the threat has been eliminated."

"Quite so," Sampson agreed. He made a mental note to himself to investigate Connors' motives as soon as the crisis was over. Petty agendas must never get in the way of serving the Slayer.

Taking a notepad from his pocket, he faced the two exhausted Chosen Ones. "Now, to business. Have you noticed anything that would help us identify the source? Any signatures? Phenomena that directly precede the attacks?"

Giles shook his head and Buffy looked like she might start crying. "None at all. We've tried wards, linking with each other via the Bond, leaving the house and going to my father's place. I'm afraid all that accomplished was a second living room full of ruined furniture." He looked down, defeated. "I haven't a clue what to do next."

Sampson continued his questions, and Giles, Cedrick, Buffy and Bill Armstead answered them as best they could. The Team Leader was thorough. The Q&A lasted almost an hour.

Finally, Sampson stood. His team stood with him, ready for his commands. Despite his distrust of the Council, Giles was mildly impressed. You could tell a lot about a leader by the response of those who followed him. These people seemed confident in Sampson's abilities.

"We can't set up here, Mister Giles. There simply isn't enough room for all of us, and I don't wish for our strength to be divided. Is there somewhere we can go...?"

"Angel's," Buffy said instantly. Giles frowned, but didn't disagree. "It's big, it's sturdy, it's easily defensible, and it's got lots of bedrooms." At Simpson's surprised look, she explained, "It's a mansion. A real, castle-like mansion."

"Right, then, shall we get started?" Sampson made for the door, but Buffy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Uh, I sorta have to tell you... Angel's a vampire," Buffy said with a wince.

"I am aware of Angel." Sampson smiled. "I've read your file, Mrs. Giles, and I know that Angel has a soul. We shan't stake our host. It wouldn't be polite. So long as he doesn't threaten any of us, he shall be quite safe."

The Watcher team left the house and moved over to Angel's mansion to begin their research. Angel noted that they were a serious bunch. Sampson quickly worked out a schedule of rest and study that would leave all of them refreshed in the evening. While half of them napped, the rest would read. After a few hours, the rested Watchers would come downstairs to relieve their coworkers. The study group would discuss what they'd read with the others and then retire upstairs to sleep. After everything was settled, they gathered in the great room, hoping to gain some insight into what they were up against.

When the ancient Westminster chime clock on Angel's mantle began to sound eleven o'clock, all ten Watchers' heads snapped up. All of them felt a dark force gaining strength, but it had little direct effect on them, besides making them uncomfortable. A quick phone call to Angel at the Giles' house confirmed that the inhabitants were once again out of their minds. They immediately went to work trying to identify the source of the nightmares. They tried various methods of tracing the evil energy, but grew frustrated as they realized they were unable to zero in on the origin.

Several more nights went by as the team worked around the clock. They knew the spell was the work of an experienced Sorcerer. The origin seemed to change location, which made it extremely difficult to trace. Both Buffy and Giles were growing weak from the nightly bombardment, and even Cedrick was feeling desperate as each new idea proved ineffective. This magic didn't behave like anything they had ever seen before.

Sampson theorized that blocking or neutralizing the spell would be the most effective first step. Once the immediate threat of an out-of-control Slayer and Watcher was contained, they could then trace the evil back to its source.

********

It was surprising that neither Wesley nor Faith was actively affected by the spell. The Bond alerted them to its onset each night, but they remained aware of their surroundings. As the active Watcher on the job, Wesley theorized that the evil forces that surrounded the Hellmouth would jump at the chance to take advantage of this handy distraction. He believed the Hellmouth had to be involved in some way, and that this new activity would draw evil like a flame draws moths. His assumption had proven sound. Faith had been a busy Slayer ever since the second night, fighting an increasing number and variety of demons as each night passed. Wesley called Armstead every morning to report the number of monsters she had vanquished... and to be sure that Buffy and Giles had survived.

Armstead arrived at the Giles home bright and early, bringing coffee and donuts to the exhausted people inside. Angel's troops had already melted into the shadows with the morning sun. When Buffy finally came to the door, he couldn't believe that it was the same woman he'd met almost four years before. Her eyes were tortured and sunken, her hair unkempt. Dark circles under them testified to many sleepless nights. From somewhere behind her, he heard Cedrick say, "Hello, Armstead. I hope you brought good news. We could certainly use some."

"Yes, I believe I have. And breakfast, as well. Jellies." He held up the sack and came into the hall. "If you have a place to put them..."

The sight of Giles and Cedrick kneeling face to face in the middle of the living room carpet stunned him. Giles was wrapping a long gauze bandage around Cedrick's head. Blood was seeping through the layers.

"Good God, sir, what on earth...?" He dropped the donuts and coffee on the pitted countertop and went to them.

"I assumed that the nightmares would end with dawn," Cedrick said wearily. "My timing was... inappropriate, to say the least."

Giles sighed. "I thought he was a Gnurr. I nearly took his scalp off the moment he walked in."

Cedrick gave a wry grin and grimaced as Giles put pressure on his wound to staunch the bleeding. "I shall never enter your house without knocking again, Rupert."

Giles gave a strangled laugh that did nothing to hide his anguish.

Armstead was appalled. "Where were the guards?"

"It's all they can do to keep us inside the house, Bill," Buffy explained, her voice full of self-loathing. "I jumped through a window night before last to chase after an imaginary Polgara." She sat down, cross-legged, next to her husband. "The good thing about this whole deal is the demon blood disappears with the nightmare."

Giles smiled over at her, loving her ability to joke in the face of such fearsome events. Armstead caught the smile and his heart broke for them. These were the bravest people he'd ever met, and it was appalling that something like this had come upon them. Blinking back his emotions, he announced, "I may have some small good news. Sampson thinks he might have found a way to block the spell that causes the nightmares."

"There's a way to block it?" Buffy's voice rose happily.

"Might have found a way?" Giles queried as he finished Cedrick's bandage and sat back.

"Block, but not counteract?" Cedrick added, his security training causing him to pick up on what had not been said.

"I'm sorry not to have anything more concrete, but if the spell can be blocked, we will have a breather. We will be able continue the research at full strength then, without having to worry for our sanity."

"You mean, our sanity," Buffy corrected.

"Our men at the mansion experience some... ah... discomfort each time the spell takes effect."

Cedrick nodded. "I feel it as well. The onset is rather abrupt, but the spell wanes slowly. I suppose that is why I failed to sense it this morning."

"Since the team were not directly affected, they were able to conduct some experiments as to its nature. It took some time, but we've learned a great deal about what's going on."

"What did you find?" Giles asked eagerly. Armstead noticed the man's face was badly scratched and bruised, but didn't ask how Giles had gotten the wounds.

"Sampson believes placing very specific wards around the mansion will filter out some of the spell's influence. They believe that combining these with the Bond will create an impenetrable barrier. Sampson proposes to use the technique you demonstrated at the Retreat during the summer of 2000."

"You mean, hold hands and get really, really indignant?" Buffy said doubtfully.

"I believe indignation must come first, but that's hardly difficult, given the circ*mstances."

Unexpectedly, Buffy began to laugh. It wasn't a healthy laugh.

Giles stood stiffly, favoring his right side. "I believe Buffy is expressing a certain... incredulity... at the answer being so simple. If wards and the Bond were a deterrent, we should have been able to shield ourselves."

"That's not the way this spell works," Armstead said earnestly. "This spell is cast in cascading increments, over and over, with specific targets in mind. You two cannot shield each other because one of you is constantly being weakened by the spell, and there must be at least two working together for the Bond to be effective. You need to come to the mansion, since we have everything prepared there. We shall have two men utilizing the Bond to shield you and your family and two Watchers. Two more will protect the two shielding you, and a final two will be protecting the first two. The rest will serve as backup."

"Say that again. Slower," Buffy demanded.

Armstead opened his mouth, flushing slightly. "I'm not sure I can."

"Overlapping circles," Giles said with sudden comprehension. "Overlapping protection against overlapping attacks."

"Exactly," Armstead agreed with relief. "In a nutshell."

"But why do the children have to be there? I don't want them in danger."

"They will be in far more danger if they are attacked outside our perimeter of defense," Armstead pointed out.

Giles and Buffy exchanged a few seconds of silent communication. They both hated the idea, but couldn't come up with a reasonable alternative. They both nodded their assent.

"Do your Watcher guys know how to use the Bond?" Buffy asked, still not convinced.

"Of course. Mister Connors did say 'qualified' Watchers," Armstead said with dignity.

"Did you call and ask him?"

"Of course not. Once Mr. Giles explained the situation, I do believe that Mister Connors would have sent the appropriate personnel."

"The Council doing something appropriate? I'll believe that when I see it," she scoffed.

"I believe... I need to lean against something," Cedrick said faintly, swaying from his kneeling position. He caught himself with one hand before toppling headfirst into the carpet.

"Here, Dad," Buffy said fondly and helped the older man to prop himself against the wall. "I don't know what I'm going to do with these two macho men. They're both hurt, but they won't call the doctor."

"It would not be wise to involve anyone else," Cedrick continued weakly. "They would be at risk."

Armstead nodded in agreement. "If the shielding works, we shall be able to trace the spell back to its origin and put a stop to it. This could very well end tonight."

Another knock interrupted Giles before he could voice any further doubts. Xander and Anya, each with a baby in their arms, came in without waiting for an invitation. Abigail was crying loudly on Anya's shoulder. Xander carried a fussy David, whispering soothing words. Marcus came in behind them, his arms full of baby carryalls and blankets. The load was almost too tall for him to see over.

"Hey, everyone," Xander called over the babies' protests. "It's official. Buffy, these kids of yours hate formula." He eyed her with resignation. "Every time I try to feed them, I end up wearing formula. So now, officially, I hate formula."

Giles gave Xander a knowing look. "Don't feel too badly, Xander. They don't eat well for me, either. They want their mother, poor loves."

"Hello, my sweet babies," Buffy crooned tearfully, kissing David and taking Abigail with a sigh of relief despite the infant's wails. She tilted her head at Giles as she gently bounced her daughter. "Since you're injured, babe, I'll take the noisiest one for now."

Giles gave her an almost imperceptible grin, followed by a grimace of pain. "So kind of you, dear."

Abigail immediately quieted in her mother's arms, her face solemn. Giles took David with a smile, cuddled him close for a moment, and squatted carefully to give a clearly disturbed Marcus a comforting hug.

"Hello, son. Did you have a nice night?"

Marcus didn't answer, just dropped everything and hugged his father desperately, tears running down his face. Xander apologized sadly, "I tried everything I could think of, but the little guy wouldn't sleep. He kept trying to get me to bring him home. The babies cried all night, too. I think it's safe to say nobody at my house had a nice night."

Buffy knelt down on one knee, holding Abigail carefully and putting an arm around her sobbing son. "Honey, we only send you away at night to keep you safe."

"But I can't protect you when I'm not here," he managed to say between sniffs.

"Marcus, love..." Giles began. "You couldn't stop the nightmares before. What makes you think you can stop them now?"

"I couldn't do anything before, but I can later," the boy said, as if that was the most reasonable answer in the world.

Buffy kissed his head and wiped his face with one hand. "You need to get something to eat, and you'll feel better, sweetie. Speaking of eating..." She bounced her whimpering daughter and tilted her head towards the upstairs. "I need to feed these two before they turn up the volume. We need to get over to Angel's as soon as possible. I'm feeling lucky today. Maybe we'll find some answers." Buffy and Giles stood and headed for the upstairs so Buffy could nurse her babies in private.

Marcus watched them go, and then turned to Armstead with a solemn face. "Mom always makes me eat, even when I don't really want to. Did you bring any jelly donuts?"

"Of course. Enough for everyone." He handed the bakery box to the boy, who half-heartedly fished out a pastry and began nibbling with reluctance.

"Dad really likes these things," he confided to Armstead. "So does Mom."

"And so do I. I'm starving." This came from Xander. "I gotta go to work, so this is breakfast."

From his seat on the floor, Cedrick commented, "At least we shall have a little over thirteen hours before anything happens."

Bill looked at his watch, frowning in disagreement. "No, we actually have just over fifteen hours."

Cedrick shook his head gingerly. "No, we don't. Last night's episodes began at ten fifteen."

"But that's... I thought they occurred between eleven and two."

"The onset has become rather unpredictable," Cedrick informed him.

"When did the time begin to vary?"

"The past few nights have caught us all by surprise," Giles added as he came down the stairs and paused on the bottom step as if he could go no further. He put his hands to his face for a moment, then dropped them and explained, "I thought it was just... that I was forgetting to watch the time as I went into the dream state. But yesterday I smashed the grandfather clock upstairs. The face barely remained intact. It stopped at fifteen past ten, over an hour earlier than we had anticipated."

"Then... we're not sure when the attacks will begin."

"Yes." Cedrick's head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. "We have no idea."

Instead of replying, Armstead took the bag of the counter and offered Cedrick a donut. As he took one, Cedrick smiled wearily. "Quite right, Armstead. First things first."

********

Buffy and Giles moved to Angel's mansion that afternoon. They managed to salvage the babies' cribs and set up a makeshift nursery in one of the dining rooms. Once they had been fed and changed, both Abigail and David were a hit with everyone. Nearly everyone took a break to play with them, even the stuffiest of the Watcher team. The three women were the most help to Buffy, taking over diaper changing and holding a child when she needed an extra hand.

Giles was immersed in research, but he managed to hold a baby from time to time while he read. Buffy had to laugh as she watched her worried husband soothing his fussy daughter as he argued with one of the Watchers about whether or not the casting involved blood sacrifice as a catalyst.

By late afternoon, the people at Angel's mansion were exhausted. Wesley and Faith had promised to come by before patrol to see if they could help with research. Actually, Faith was hoping that they'd find out who was messing with her sister Slayer's mind so she could go and beat the offender to a pulp. Neither of them had been hampered by the spell, but they knew that if these attacks succeeded in killing Buffy and Giles, it would most likely be leveled at them next.

As night drew closer, tensions in the room began to rise. This was the first time Giles and Buffy had been away from their home at night since they trashed Cedrick's living room. They didn't know what to expect. The Watchers wandered in a few at a time, giving each other worried looks as they took up positions around the edges of the room. Sampson seemed calm as he turned the pages of his book.

Footsteps startled the shaky group as Angel came down the stairs from the second floor. He smiled slightly at his houseguests and announced, "We have company. I saw them from the window."

Giles stood to his feet, still holding a sleeping Abigail. "Madvekhar! It's good to see you!" he said softly.

"Hello, Watcher. We've come to help ssssave the babiessss," the troll said bravely.

"We?"

"Yeah, we. Mad and me... and someone else, too," a blue-skinned goblin said as he bounced into the room.

A slender, white-robed figure strode in behind him, and Buffy's heart skipped a beat. "Ancient!" she cried, forgetting her sleeping babies for a moment. David stirred, whimpering, and she shushed him softly, looking apologetic.

"Slayer, Watcher... I am here to offer what help I can," Zehdlaf said humbly, bowing his head, the silver circlet glinting in the lamplight.

"I say, is that...?" Sampson began, but Giles held up a hand.

"Ancient," he said formally as he executed a careful bow, trying not to upset Abigail. "Your presence honors your friends above ground."

Angel wasn't new to dealing with elves, so he bowed and added, "You honor my home above ground, Ancient. Welcome."

"I am always honored to serve," Zehdlaf replied with an equally deep bow. "Watcher, may I meet your new arrivals?"

Sampson stepped forward, his hand extended, but Giles waved him back again. "He was referring to my children," he corrected gently.

"Oh. Sorry." Sampson backed up, his face sheepish.

Giles knelt down and held Abigail for the Ancient to see. She opened her eyes and stared up at the elf without fear.

"She is beautiful, Watcher," Zehdlaf said softly.

"Yes, she is."

"Hello, Ancient," Buffy said equally softly as she knelt down with David.

"They both are beautiful. The circle is complete."

Buffy opened her mouth to ask "What circle?" when to her surprise, Zehdlaf leaned forward and touched her forehead with the tips of his fingers. He repeated the gesture, touching Giles in the same fashion. "Blessings on you and your beautiful family, Watcher and Slayer," the elf intoned solemnly. He straightened, looking directly at Giles with a hint of a smile. The stunned parents stood, overwhelmed by the gift of a blessing from such an ancient and wise mage.

He bowed again, his white beard brushing his feet. He then sketched a sigil in the air before him, and Giles gasped, recognizing its meaning.

"I am Zehdlaf," he intoned, offering the Watcher the gift of his name.

Giles inhaled deeply, calming himself. He returned the deep, ritual bow. "I am Rupert," he replied, giving a single name in answer.

"Well met, Rupert. You and your family may use my name freely."

"Well met, Zehdlaf. You and your family may do likewise, and thank you."

"Wow," Buffy exhaled, realizing just how important this gesture was to the elf.

Zehdlaf wasn't finished. He tilted his head to look behind Giles and said with a smile, "Hello, Marcus."

Marcus eased out from behind his parents and came forward, his face shy. He bowed as gracefully as a four-year-old could. "Hi, Zehdlaf. I'm different from the last time you saw me."

"Yes, you are. You are becoming. It is good."

Marcus beamed and stepped forward to hug the fragile creature. "I'm so glad you guys are here," he said softly. Mad and Gerard crowded around him, getting and giving hugs to the child that was almost the same height as they were.

Sampson was getting impatient. "I'm sure this is a wonderful reunion, but it is getting rather late," he complained.

Zehdlaf fixed Sampson with a thoughtful stare. "You are also a Watcher."

"Yes, I am. My name is..." behind him, Angel grabbed an arm and swung him around. Sampson stared at Angel. Angel shook his head.

Finally, Sampson got the hint. "Oh, I see. Apologies. I've had very little contact with elves." He looked at Angel and extricated his arm from the vampire's grasp. "Please feel free to tell me if I am about to commit another faux pas."

Angel shrugged with a half smile. "Sure thing, Raymond." He had no awe for Watchers. In two and a half centuries, Giles was the only one he'd ever met that he respected.

Buffy couldn't help smiling as she looked at the three mismatched creatures. Every time things had gotten rough, they had pitched in and helped them. Seeing them, here and now, gave her a sense of hope. The Ancient glanced over at the large table that dominated the room, where research materials lay scattered over the entire surface.

"I would be happy to offer my assistance with your research," he offered. "I have knowledge of many languages and customs."

"That would be much appreciated, sir," Sampson said with surprise.

"Ancient," Angel corrected with a crooked grin. At Sampson's glare, he held up his hands in mock surrender. "You told me to correct you, Raymond."

Sampson swallowed a retort and turned back to the elf. "Ahem. Thank you, Ancient." The two of them immediately went to the table and began discussing the documents in low voices.

"It's time we got something to eat and began to prepare for tonight's battle," Cedrick reminded them, looking at his watch. "It's almost eight o'clock."

"Eight?" Buffy said, surprised. "Where are Xander and Anya? They were coming over after work."

"I'll call," Giles volunteered, handing Abigail to Willow. He dialed his cell phone but closed it a minute later, frowning. "No answer."

After he'd tried several times, Armstead volunteered to drive over to the apartment to check on them. While he was gone, Gerard and Mad decided that since research wasn't their forte, they would see that everyone was well supplied with drinks and food. The two diminutive lower beings busied themselves with playing waiter, bringing snack food and drinks from Angel's surprisingly well-stocked kitchen. Everyone took something, but nobody was really hungry except David and Abigail, who both woke and started wailing at the same time.

"Be careful what you wish for," Buffy exclaimed as she and Giles each gathered up a crying child. "For weeks now, I've been wishing they'd both wake up at the same time." They took the two hungry infants into an upstairs bedroom to feed them. When they came back down, both babies were full, changed and quiet.

Willow kept glancing at the clock as she waited, wondering when Bill would be back. Most of the Watchers were meditating in preparation for their planned defense. Buffy and Giles huddled on one end of the couch, holding each other for comfort. Cedrick was at the other end, trying to read German text through tired, blurry eyes. The twins were asleep in their salvaged cribs. Pages rustled from time to time as some of the Watchers checked their resources, and occasionally two of them would leave the room to cast wards of protection around the mansion, but otherwise, the room was silent.

Bored, Marcus wandered into another room, found Angel's television and turned it on, the sound barely audible through the thick walls.

After half an hour, Sampson looked up and announced, "We're ready. The wards are in place. It is time to begin."

Giles nodded his approval. "Yes, it is. High time."

"Bill's not back yet," Willow protested. "I don't know what's taking him so long!"

"He'll be back soon, I'm sure. We don't want to risk falling under the spell's influence," Giles explained gently. Willow looked frightened, but she sat down and swallowed her protests.

Sampson nodded at his colleagues. The designated Watchers stepped forward and grasped hands in groups of two. They closed their eyes and began to concentrate. A sense of power began to fill the room. To Buffy, it felt like a gentle breeze. As it slowly grew stronger, she took a deep breath.

Beside her, Giles commented, "Ah. That's a relief. I feel more alert."

"I believe we are ready for tonight's challenge," Sampson informed them. "The shields are holding."

"Go, Watcher Guys," Buffy exclaimed, rolling her head around on her shoulders to ease the tension she'd been fighting. "I had no idea how on edge I was."

"Yes, it is refreshing, isn't it?" Giles said, giving her a fond smile.

The sound of footsteps caused everyone to look up. Armstead entered the room, his face set in an unsmiling mask.

"Hey, Bill, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Willow asked, going to him and threading her arm through his.

"I might have," he replied unsteadily. "Actually, I'm not sure what I saw."

"Report," Sampson ordered gruffly, and the young Watcher immediately came to attention.

"I drove to Xander's apartment. He should have been off work long before now, but the place was dark and locked up tight. All the curtains were drawn. It felt... wrong, somehow. So, I drove to Anya's. No answer there, either."

"Okay, I'm worried about them now. Xander hasn't missed a night since this whole thing began, and Anya's been here a lot, too." Buffy stood and began to pace.

"That wasn't all," Armstead continued. "There were people in the streets all the way there and back... and I don't mean strolling alongside the road. They were lying in the middle of the lanes, or milling about with blank faces in all sorts of... ah... inappropriate attire. One poor confused fellow tried to climb on top of my car as I drove away from the apartment. I nearly flattened him, but he shrugged it off and walked away. It was eerie, as if they'd all been turned to zombies."

"Mom? Dad? I think you'd better see this," Marcus called in a frightened voice. The adults dashed into the other room. Marcus was watching news footage of people all over town going bonkers, walking off bridges and in front of cars, climbing out the windows of tall buildings and falling to their deaths, or driving their vehicles into brick walls.

The reporter was speaking over the images, his voice nervous. "These scenes were recorded over the last three nights in a small coastal town near Santa Barbara. A name like Sunnydale conjures up images of quiet urban life... however, tragedy has this quiet burg reeling in shock. What began with a few isolated incidents has grown steadily worse each evening, and is now being called a genuine emergency situation. Is it mass hysteria, biological warfare, environmental pollution or perhaps even mind control? At this moment, no one knows."

"Oh, dear," Giles breathed in his calmest voice, the one he used before recounting the latest apocalypse.

"Rupert," Buffy warned, "It's never good when you say, 'oh, dear'."

"I'm afraid it isn't good. It's very bad."

The Bond never wavered, despite Giles' sudden horror, and Buffy heard his thoughts. She couldn't think of anything to say. She sat on the arm of the couch beside Marcus and reached out to touch him, as if that touch would reassure them both.

Cedrick stepped closer. "You believe it's the spell."

Giles nodded. "Yes."

"This is a side effect?" Buffy asked incredulously. "I thought it was aimed at us!"

"Originally, it was." Giles' face was as grim as Buffy had ever seen it. "But it seems the one casting this spell has made a fatal mistake. He, she or... it... failed to allow for the Hellmouth. The evil intent of the spell is being strengthened by it. The effect is growing each time the sorcerer casts, the sphere of influence expanding bit by bit. It's being fueled by an inexhaustible source and the backlash is bleeding over into the surrounding area. I'm not sure the caster is even aware... it could soon be utterly out of control."

"And people are being affected... how?"

"I believe it takes them in their sleep. It can't make them fall asleep as it does us, because it is specifically aimed at us. However, once a person is asleep, their subconscious mind is open, and the spell can slip in and take control."

Willow's hand flew up to cover her mouth. "You mean, everyone's going crazy when they fall asleep?"

"If you're right, Mister Giles, this madness will spread until the entire town will be living their worst nightmares," Armstead added in a hollow voice.

"If we don't stop this, the entire state might very well go insane. If not from the nightmares, then from sleep deprivation," Giles finished roughly. He rubbed his bleary eyes. "I'm two steps away from madness, myself. It's been a fortnight since I've had a good sleep, and even having an afternoon nap, I'm almost done in. Not everyone in the general populace can sleep during the day. Most people have jobs that don't allow for a summer holiday."

"Hey, this is California," Buffy said in a falsely cheerful voice. "Nobody will notice if we all go insane."

"What do we do?" Willow pleaded, her voice catching slightly.

Giles looked down at the book in his hand. He hadn't even been aware he'd held on to it. "We fight this thing with every means at our disposal."

On the TV screen, the scene changed as a reporter announced his interview with Acting Police Chief Larry Stockton. The familiar name caused Buffy, Cedrick and Giles to take notice.

The reporter didn't mention what had happened to the man Stockton had replaced.

"I say, wasn't Stockton the fellow that helped us during Marcus' kidnapping? The one with the new baby?" Giles squinted at the TV, wondering where he'd put his glasses in all the confusion. He hadn't had them on in several days, and had a blinding headache from reading through squinted eyes.

Buffy nodded. "That's him. He must've got a promotion."

"That isn't difficult around here."

"Sure isn't. All you have to do is wait until your boss does something stupid, like walk around outside after dark, and boom! Pay raise."

"I'm quite sure he deserves the position, Buffy." Giles thought a moment and added, "And I'm reasonably sure the previous Chief did not deserve whatever happened to him."

"At least this Stockton guy has some idea of what goes on in Sunnydale."

On the television, Stockton's name and title flashed along the lower part of the screen as he was saying, "The important thing to remember right now is: Don't panic."

********

The television in the psych ward at Sunnydale General blared out Chief Stockton's words as several people watched. The people in the room were restrained to keep them from harming themselves or others and drugged to keep them quiet. The inmates giggled at the Police Chief's suggestion. The cop was right, of course. It was far too late for panicking. Screaming was much more appropriate. Through bleary eyes, they watched their town tearing itself apart, not even reacting when the night nurse came in.

"Mister Harris?"

A young man looked up at her, his brown eyes vacant, his face pale against the stark white of his straightjacket.

"It's time for your medicine." She smiled brightly, ignoring the drool rolling down his chin as she administered a needle full of false serenity. She had no way of knowing that once her patients fell asleep, their nightmares would begin again.

"My name is Xander," he insisted groggily, but the nurse ignored him, bustling around the room to dose the rest of his fellow patients.

********

Anya carefully barricaded herself into a dark corner of her tiny apartment. She pulled as much furniture as she could physically handle into a protective barrier around her and didn't come out, even to answer the phone. She had taken a short nap while she waited for Xander to get home and come to get her. She didn't intend to sleep very long. Things had been so unsettled because of Buffy and Giles, and she was just tired. She awoke and saw demons everywhere, but none of them looked familiar, not like D'hoffryn or Halfrek or any of her other demon friends. She wasn't sure if she should try to kill them, but she knew for certain that she was afraid of them, so, being the sensible girl she was, she compromised and hid. She had no idea she was still asleep.

She didn't know where Xander was. Someone came and knocked on the door, but she didn't make a sound. Xander wouldn't knock because he had a key. Anya knew from experience that demons could knock on doors, too, so she cringed in her hiding place and prayed for daylight.

********

"The police have cordoned off the entire town, and it looks like the armed forces have been called in as well," Wesley informed Giles the moment he and Faith arrived. "We had to cut across Restfield Cemetery to get here."

"Yeah, you shoulda seen 'em, B. There were big tanks parked in the street right behind to the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. It was pretty cool. Lots of hardware. I'd love to try out some of those big guns they were sporting. Vamps may be fast, but they can't outrun a bullet." She insolently pointed a finger at Angel and imitated a hammer strike with her thumb. "Bang!"

The vampire shook off a shiver as he moved out of her imaginary line of fire.

"Bullets don't kill vampires," Wesley said with a frown. He was still all business when it came to Slaying.

Faith gave him a knowing smirk. "I know, cute stuff. Stakes kill vampires. But... bullets make them easier to catch."

Buffy chuckled and gave Faith a fond smile. Faith had always been a brash, straightforward girl, but something about her resonated with Buffy. Perhaps it was their close kinship as sister Slayers, or maybe it was her defiance of convention. Buffy was pleased to see that Faith's years as the active Slayer on an active Hellmouth hadn't dampened her spirits one bit. Her smile turned into a heavy sigh as she sat on the couch, suddenly exhausted.

Giles came over and sat by Buffy, putting an arm around her shoulder. "You look so tired, love," he said with a sad smile.

"I am," she admitted. "But I'm okay. We're gonna get through..." Her sentence was interrupted by a huge yawn.

Giles looked alarmed. "Buffy?" He grabbed her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.

"Sorry, I got drowsy for a second, there. I'm okay." She yawned again.

Gerard, who had been watching the pair keenly, jumped up from his seat on the floor. "Coffee," he said quickly, and dashed for the kitchen as fast as his short legs could carry him.

"We shouldn't be feeling anything at all," Giles said angrily, turning to Sampson.

"The shields are holding," the Watcher insisted, looking over at the Watchers fighting the spell.

"They bloody well are not!" Giles snarled. "Buffy can barely hold her eyes open!"

"Rupert?" Buffy stood, but sagged against him before she could take a step.

Cedrick stepped up to Sampson and took a fistful of the man's tweed vest. "Do something, quickly, or you will shortly be dead."

"Don't threaten me, sir!" Sampson said with great distain, holding himself up very straight and proud.

"That wasn't a threat, you fool," Cedrick hissed. "If my son and his Slayer lose consciousness, you will simply be in the way. You saw the interior of their house a few days ago. That should be motivation enough."

Sampson swallowed hard. He nodded, pulling away from Cedrick's grasp. "Thornton... Spencer... take position and reinforce the shield."

The two men stepped forward, clasping hands in what would have been a rather embarrassing way, had it not been so essential. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes, looking for all the world like priests at prayer.

Behind Sampson, Zehdlaf shook his head sorrowfully. He looked at Madvekhar and Gerard sadly. "The Watchers do not understand," he whispered in a voice that only a lower being... or a Slayer... could hear. "Perhaps Rupert will see it soon."

Since Faith was a Slayer, she looked over at the elf, a pensive look on her face. She didn't know much about elves, but she wasn't impressed with Sampson's tactics, either. Until her Watcher openly disagreed with the man, however, she wasn't going to say anything. Wes knew how she felt, anyway. He was getting really good at using the Bond to read her mind, when she let him.

However, he couldn't read her mind if she wasn't sure what she thought about the elf. He was an unknown. She could only hope he was one of the good guys.

********

Several miles away, Father Denning was roused out of a sound sleep by an urgent nudge. He sat up, blinking, wondering why he'd been disturbed. He looked around, bewildered. There was no one in the room. He listened. No sounds broke the silence. It finally dawned on him what had happened. He'd been awakened at night only a few times before, and it usually meant trouble.

He looked up to the ceiling and whispered. "Yes, Lord, what is it?" he said, trying not to sound weary. It wasn't wise to ignore the call of God, no matter what the time.

The feeling was insistent. He got out of bed and began to pull on his clothes. Another late night prayer session seemed to be in order. For some reason, Rupert Giles and his family came to mind. He decided to pray for them until God directed him otherwise.

********

An angry burst of Bond energy roused Buffy out of her near-stupor. "David's crying," she said groggily. She staggered over to his crib and checked him, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Oh, sweetie, I just changed you a little while ago," she complained, reaching into the diaper bag for supplies. Giles hovered behind her, fighting fatigue.

"I'll check Abby," Willow volunteered, cringing briefly as both parents corrected her.

"Abigail!"

She strode past them, going to the crib. "Abigail is fine. No poopy pants," Willow said in a singsong voice as she straightened with the baby in her arms.

Giles looked around, wondering where Marcus had gone. He couldn't see the small figure among the rest of the people in the room. He looked into the next room. The TV was on, still booming out its tale of gloom and misery, but the couch was empty. He began to get worried. "Marcus?"

He stepped around the concentrating Watchers, calling his son's name again as Abigail began to whimper. Torn, Giles finally turned and took the fussing baby from Willow. The growing drowsiness fled as he concentrated on finding his oldest son while soothing his daughter. "Marcus, where are you?" He tried to reach out with the Bond, but he couldn't sense him at all.

Buffy was completely agitated by now, picking up on Giles' fear and adding her own to it. She picked up David and began to call Marcus herself, moving around the room and looking into doorways. Before either of them got very far, Sampson's voice stopped them. They looked over at the team leader. His head was still bowed over his book.

"We've got a magical signature! I believe we can trace the spell now."

"How did you find it?" Giles asked, surprised that Sampson was the one to solve the puzzle.

Sampson looked up, grinning. "The Ancient found it. A Sumerian reference... very obscure."

Zehdlaf nodded regally, acknowledging Sampson's praise. "The information was there. I merely pointed it out."

"We have to find Marcus," Buffy said desperately.

Willow stepped forward and held out her arms. "C'mon, let me take her, Giles. You go look for Marcus."

"I need to look, too, and you can't hold them both," Buffy said hesitantly. David continued to whimper, needing more comfort than the past weeks had allowed his parents to offer.

"Bill can hold David for a little while. Can't you, Bill?"

Armstead looked up, startled. "Ah... um, yes, I suppose so." He stood, taking the baby awkwardly from Buffy.

"Hold his head, here, like that. You're doing fine," she encouraged. Armstead sank onto the couch next to Willow, holding David like he was about to break. It was obvious the man had little experience with children this small.

"Relax, honey, he won't bite," Willow teased, cuddling Abigail easily. "Just look at how cute he is, and the rest will come naturally."

Armstead looked down at David's big, dark eyes and fussy face and smiled. "Hello, little fellow," he said softly. "I do hope we can get along." He felt so large and clumsy holding such a tiny thing. Marcus had been four months old already when Armstead had first met him, and it took months before he was comfortable around him.

"Piece of cake." Willow smiled and took one of Abigail's tiny hands. Miniature fingers closed around her thumb. "Awww, you're such a cutie, Abby baby," she cooed, forcing her mind not to dwell on the invisible battle surrounding them. Abigail forgot her complaining and tried to pull Willow's finger to her mouth.

"Marcus? Please, son, don't hide from us," Giles pleaded as they began to a serious search of the mansion's rooms. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he stumbled against a chair.

"Rupert?" Buffy ran to him, steadying him. "This is no time to nap. We have a missing kid."

"I know." He shook his head, causing his headache to reassert itself.

"He's not on the ground floor."

"Upstairs, then."

The Watchers trying to hold the psychic shield were beginning to tire. The spell was battering against them as if it knew they were weakening. Sampson and the last Watcher stood to reinforce the shield. It helped for several minutes, then they began to feel groggy and weak themselves.

Sampson could feel the battle through the Bond. It was as if they were pushing uphill against a gigantic boulder, one that was growing heavier by the minute. He looked over at Wesley and Faith, who were deep in whispered conversation at the other end of the room.

"Could you two perhaps... help?" he asked, standing. He felt like a complete fool for not enlisting the active Watcher and Slayer the moment they came into the room. Bonded or not, Slayers had tremendous power, and Sampson was in sore need of some at the moment.

Wesley straightened his tie and stepped forward. He had been wondering if the Team Leader was ever going to acknowledge their presence. "Possibly. We have assisted Buffy and Giles a time or two..."

"We've saved their butts twice," Faith said honestly. She looked over at Zehdlaf, smiling slightly at his nod.

"Please," Cedrick added without a hint of formality. "If you can help..." He cleared his throat loudly, and continued, "I don't wish to lose my family."

"Of course, Mister Giles, we'll do what we can. Faith?" Wesley reached for his Slayer's hand, and she took it with a wink and a sultry look.

"Always told you we were hot together," she drawled.

Wesley flushed, but held her hand firmly. "I'm more concerned about us being effective at this point. Once we join the battle we will very likely be targeted ourselves."

"Whoever's doing this would get around to us sooner or later. I'd rather kick their butts first, myself, so hang on, cute stuff. We're fixin' to burst into flames." She closed her eyes.

A fresh wave of power expanded out into the room, fueled by Faith and directed by Wesley. The concentrating Watchers' eyes flew open in shock as power from the Bond poured into them through their connections. The Watcher team members relaxed slightly, exhausted from their efforts.

"Dear Lord," Cedrick said quietly, his head throbbing with the strength of it. This Chosen pair had incredible potential.

Upstairs, Buffy felt the shockwave take her fatigue and wash it away. She bounced a few times on her feet and looked up at Giles, who had been supporting her while trying to fight off his own exhaustion.

"Now that's the Bond we all know and love," she said with relief.

"Wesley and Faith," Giles said with a smile.

"They're just so cute together."

"Just like we are," he reminded her. "And just as naïve about the Bond's true depth as we were a few years ago."

"Yeah. Now that our brains have stopped turning to mush, let's go find our oldest kid."

"Sounds like a plan," he quipped, taking her hand. The moment their fingers touched, they could feel Marcus again.

"Ah, there you are," Giles whispered. He turned and went straight down the hall to one of the rooms and turned the knob.

They found Marcus standing by a window, his hands on the glass. He appeared to be looking out into the street, but his eyes were unfocused.

"Son, come back downstairs," Giles ordered gently, stopping just inside the doorway.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Faith and Wes are helping. It's better now."

Marcus didn't move. "I can't stop it. It's too strong still." His voice faded, and he continued through the Bond, 'I'm supposed to protect the babies. I have to do something, but I don't know how to stop it. I can block it a little, but I can't find it and I can't stop it.'

"Marcus, honey..." Buffy knelt beside his stiff body, putting her arm around him. "You don't have to protect them all by yourself. There are a lot of people helping down there."

"Their help isn't the right kind. If I don't fix this, bad things will happen. The babies are important."

"I know you love them as much as we do, honey..."

"Not just to us. To the world."

Giles and Buffy looked at each other, their eyes wide. Giles recovered first, refusing to be sidetracked. "I understand, son, but right now, this evil must be stopped. Mister Sampson is working on tracing the spell..."

'He won't be able to,' Marcus thought firmly. 'The current is too strong. It's forcing him away. And... there's something else. Something I don't understand yet. I can't stop it if I can't figure it out.'

"Then come down and let's all try to figure it out," Buffy suggested. "We can help Faith and Wes shield the mansion, and you can help the Watcher guy trace the spell back to the sorcerer."

Marcus considered the idea for a moment. "I have to keep concentrating."

"That's fine. You can still concentrate, just come with us."

Marcus turned to face his parents, and the terrible, completely adult look of responsibility and sorrow caused Giles to gasp and Buffy's eyes to fill with tears.

"Mom... Dad... you don't understand. I'm supposed to be able to stop this. The prophecy said so. This is what I came here for... to save the babies and you... so we can save the world... and... and..." He thrust a knuckle into one eye, fighting tears. "I don't know what to do!"

"Oh, honey..." Buffy cried brokenly, hugging her tortured son. "I'm so sorry, baby... sorry that you have to go through this. I hate all this prophecy mumbo-jumbo! If you weren't my son..."

A large warm hand fell on her arm and a brush of calm certitude bathed her. With conviction that rang in both his tone and his thoughts, he said, "If Marcus wasn't your son, he would not have the strength... the courage... to do what must be done. But he is. And he does." He stepped forward, putting his other hand on Marcus' shoulder. "Marcus."

The boy looked up at his father's calm face. "Help me, Daddy," he whimpered.

"With everything I have, I will, son." Giles knelt beside Buffy and pulled Marcus into his arms. "But you know what you must do. You can feel it already. I can tell." He sighed as one of Buffy's arms snaked around his neck and the other embraced the small, sobbing child with fierce, motherly love.

"Marcus, you are the most amazing person I've ever met, no matter what age. If a thousand-year-old prophecy says you can do this, who am I to argue?" She kissed his hair firmly and then stood. Giles stood with her, his hand dropping from her shoulder.

"Let's go kick some bad guy butt, sweetie baby," she said lightly. Her damp face belied her teasing words.

Marcus scrubbed at his face in embarrassment, smearing away his tears. "Oh, Mom." He sounded mildly annoyed at her use of his babyish pet name, but his voice was much firmer than before.

He reached for Giles' hand. Buffy took the other, and they started back downstairs together.

********

A sudden movement caught Sampson's eye and he turned just in time to see one of his Watcher's drop into a defensive crouch. She surveyed the area, her eyes sliding right over him as if he wasn't there. His stomach lurched as he realized what had happened. Despite Wesley and Faith's reinforcement the shield was wavering, and one of his people had fallen asleep where she stood.

"Anderson, Gilbert, see to Miss Van Horn," he ordered calmly, although his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

The two Watchers closed on her, but she sprang past them with a surprising snarl and started up the stairs at a dead run. They ran after her.

********

About half way down the winding staircase, Marcus stopped.

"What...?" Giles barely had time to say before the fleeing Watcher came into view. She paused on the stairs, her eyes unfocused, and then began to creep towards them, one hand holding a small dagger.

"She doesn't see us," Marcus whispered.

"Oh God," Giles answered. "I don't want to hurt her."

"I'm more afraid of her hurting us," Buffy said bluntly, pulling both of them behind her.

Mom... Dad... danger! Something clicked in Marcus' mind. He took a deep, shaking breath as he summoned the Bond and pushed it out ahead of him. Buffy saw what he was doing immediately and grabbed Giles' hand. Together they concentrated, and the Watcher seemed to run into a solid, invisible wall. She cried out in bewilderment and began pushing against nothing. The barrier held until the two men pursuing her came up behind her and immobilized her arms.

Giles looked at Marcus with amazed pride. "Well done, love," he said with a smile.

Marcus allowed himself a small smile. It had been instinctive, his use of the Bond. Maybe he was worrying when he should be doing what came natural to him... He straightened his small shoulders and tightened his grip on his father's hand.

"We have her, sir," Anderson panted, grimly holding his snarling comrade's arm behind her back. "She won't be any more trouble."

"Don't count on it," Giles answered tiredly. They passed the struggling trio and went back to the main floor. The heavy weight of weariness was falling on them again, and they had to fight to make each step.

"What's wrong, Rupert?" Buffy mumbled, turning her face into his chest as they leaned against each other. "It's never been like this... we've always just used the Bond and poof!"

He chuckled weakly and tightened his arm around her. "Not everything in life is simple, or easy. This is something we've never faced before."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "But the Bond thing... it's supposed to be from God, right? Why doesn't He do something?"

Giles looked ahead of them into the room full of concentrating Watchers. An idea began forming in his head. "Perhaps it's because we haven't asked Him yet. We're going about this all wrong."

He stopped and pulled the cell phone out of his pocket.

"Who are you calling this late?"

"Our priest."

"Oh." Comprehension stole across her face and she smiled. "Oh! Good idea, babe."

********

The telephone rang just as Father Denning got into the church office. He picked it up on the second ring. "St. Mary's Rectory, Father Denning speaking."

"Denning? Are you awake at this hour?"

"Rupert! I was just thinking about you. I was going to say a prayer for you and your beautiful family."

Giles chuckled. "I don't believe in coincidences, Father. We are under some form of psychic attack and have been for about two weeks. Our usual defenses are crumbling. I believe Marcus is the key, but he's only a child. We need help and guidance. Isn't it ironic that we always wait until we've exhausted all other avenues before we turn to God?"

"I've noticed that. It must be human nature. However, I am prepared to help in any way I can."

Giles outlined the problem briefly, giving the priest enough information to pray specifically, then closed the cell phone with a smile.

"I should've thought of praying," Buffy said, disgusted with herself. "It's so obvious, what with all the big brewing evil going on."

"Yes, it should have been. I'm afraid I've been rather blind. Marcus?"

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Can you shield the room the same way you protected us on the stairs?"

Marcus nodded slowly. "Yes, I can. Now I know how."

"Excellent." They continued on into the main room and Giles stopped next to Sampson, who looked up immediately.

"Mister Sampson, I need to address your Watchers for a moment."

Sampson looked skeptical. "We're rather busy." All of them were now fighting against the rising tide of magic, bolstered by the addition of Wesley and Faith.

"This is more important."

"All right, but if either of you suddenly fall asleep, I will be forced to chain you." He turned to his group and said firmly, "May I have your attention? Mister Giles wishes to speak with you."

Giles felt the weight of the spell increase when the Watchers looked up, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Behind him, Marcus gripped Buffy's hand and thought about protecting his family and friends from the badness surrounding them. In just a few seconds the oppression began to lessen. Giles smiled, causing the Watchers to look at each other as if they were concerned for his sanity.

He stepped in front of the group. "Are any of you religious? Do you believe in God?"

The stunned Watchers looked at each other. Three of them slowly raised their hands.

"Good. I need you to pray."

"What?" Sampson sputtered. "That's preposterous!"

"No, it isn't. We've been fighting this battle on the wrong level. This is not simply a psychic attack, it is also a spiritual one. Our enemy is trying to defeat our spirits, for then he can destroy us. The only way to win is to engage the enemy on both planes at once. For now, we..." He indicated himself, Buffy and Marcus. "...will provide the protection whilst you three ask for Divine guidance. The rest of you must locate the spell casters and find a way to stop them."

Sampson continued to mutter in disbelief, but one of the lady Watchers stepped forward with a hesitant smile. "Grace Satterfield, Mister Giles. I will pray for you and your family."

"Thank you, Miss Satterfield. Your name is certainly appropriate." He smiled back at her, and she flushed slightly before kneeling beside the wall. She bowed her head in classic prayer position, which wasn't much different from the posture she had taken while using the Bond earlier.

"We will help... my wife and I," one of the men said, holding his hand out to the remaining female in the group. "We've prayed for you and your Slayer, and now, your children, ever since we met at the Watcher's Retreat. You saved our lives."

"Thank you," Giles said sincerely, his eyes moist. He put a hand on both their shoulders, squeezing slightly. "You will never know how much that means to me."

The pair stepped slightly away and clasped hands, facing each other. Their heads bowed, but they did not kneel. Giles knew the position didn't really matter anyway.

He turned to Sampson. "This is the true power of the Bond, Mister Sampson. Not raw, undirected energy, but direct power from Above."

"If you say so, Mister Giles," Sampson replied skeptically.

Giles looked back at the remaining Watchers, smiling. "We're going to help Marcus with the shields. Some of you may help us, if you like. Every bit of help is appreciated." He held out his hand for Buffy, and they bowed their heads together, foreheads almost touching. The room fell silent.

Sampson's mind cleared rapidly and he returned to his seat, working furiously to trace the spell. Each time he thought he had it pinpointed the thread of magic twisted and turned in another direction.

Marcus' eyes snapped open, and he broke away from his parents and stepped to Sampson's side. He didn't notice Marcus watching him intently.

"More than one!" Marcus said suddenly, startling Sampson badly. "I can see them now. When Mom and Dad started using the Bond, I could see everything."

Sampson began sternly, "I thought you were to be helping your parents... what do you mean, more than one spell?"

"More than one spell, and more than one caster," Marcus said firmly.

Wesley stepped forward, his eyes on the map. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am." He took the Watcher's hand and held the other one over the map. It suddenly sprang to life before them. The other Watchers, including Sampson, saw nothing, but Wesley saw the dark bands of power swirling before him, taking a direct path from the four directions to their location at the mansion.

"Good Lord," he exhaled, feeling slightly disoriented from the contact. "Steady now... I should be able to follow these threads easily."

"One at each compass point," Sampson exclaimed, realizing the implications at last. "Of course!"

Without opening his eyes, Giles smiled. "Well done, son," he said softly.

Marcus looked over at his parents, smiling. "Daddy was right, Wesley. I do know how. I just didn't know I knew."

Wesley reached out with his free arm and grasped Faith's hand. "Perhaps we can help pinpoint the exact location of the casters. Alone, my power is rather weak, but with Faith at my side we should be able to aid in your search."

He smiled confidently at his Slayer, and she blushed slightly, giving his hand a sharp tug. Sly innuendo was her stock in trade, but she was flustered by honest praise. "Stop embarrassing me, Watcher mine, and let's get this thing done." He released Marcus' hand and pulled two chairs to Sampson's side, still holding on to Faith. Marcus moved to closer to Wesley and placed his palm on their clasped fingers. Wesley sat down, reached out and placed his free hand on the team leader's shoulder. Sampson jumped, but Wesley kept his grip firm.

"Don't be squeamish," Wesley ordered. "It's is the only way to stop this."

Sampson stilled himself with some effort. He was obviously uncomfortable with the contact and with its supernatural nature. What he had felt while fighting the spell was nothing compared to this raw power. Surrounded by the effects of the Bond, he had no choice but to give his best efforts to help. He stared at the map, trying to will it to reveal the positions of their enemies.

"I've almost got it..." Wesley said.

Sampson closed his eyes and concentrated. Maybe there was something there... just at the edge of his consciousness... "I'm beginning to see..."

Behind him, he heard one of the Watchers begin to moan. The three that were praying ignored him. "It's getting stronger again," the man Giles identified as Spencer whined, his voice defeated. He made a sprint for the door and Giles left Buffy's side to stop him. The man struggled, half-crazed with fear. "We're going to be crushed!"

"It's the Hellmouth," Giles said instantly, recognizing the surge of blighting power. He'd been exposed to it before. The feel of the Hellmouth, raw and cold, was familiar to him. Once, a few years ago, he'd been completely immersed in its grip. He shuddered with the memory, but forced himself to concentrate on the present. "Apparently the sorcerers have completely lost control of their spells. Don't give in to it." He kept one hand on Spencer's shoulder and held the other one out. "Buffy? I need you, love."

She stepped up to him and took his hand again. They both knew that the battle was at the critical stage. The connection flared between them, so potent that everyone in the house felt the result. Not a mere wave, but a full-blown tide of power began to emanate from the Bonded pair, joining with their son's in a seamless unit. Now the battle was fully engaged.

"Mister Giles!" Sampson cried, leaping to his feet despite Wesley's attempt to hold him down. "Behind you!"

"It's a trick," Giles declared as several of the Watchers began to move, taking up weapons as they watched the imaginary specters approach. "Don't give in to the illusion! The Enemy wants you to give up hope!"

"Don't stop now," Wesley agreed, hauling Sampson back into his chair. "We've almost located the sources. Just a few seconds and we'll have them. Concentrate on the map."

"And when we find them, then what?" Sampson said desperately. "How are we going to stop them? Just drive over and give them a stern talking-to?"

"You won't have to," Marcus said reasonably. Sampson had completely forgotten about the child. Marcus climbed into a chair beside him and sat down, looking completely calm. "I know how to stop them now. My friends will help."

"Friends?" Sampson echoed dumbly. "What friends?"

Another surge of Bond power hit them. "There!" Giles shouted, his voice elated. "Look! The threads of darkness are plainly visible!" A glowing band of light began to expand around the group, growing steadily wider. Near the ground, dark smears of evil extended towards them from four directions, their tendrils squirming around Buffy and Giles' feet, recoiling each time they came in contact with the illumination that surrounded them. The glow of the Bond was pushing them back slowly as it grew in size and intensity.

"I see it, too, Big G," Faith said, her voice full of awe. "Plain as day."

Willow and Armstead, still holding the babies, were astounded. Willow could see swirls of shimmering, color-streaked power surrounding her friends and the Watcher team, holding the creeping darkness at bay. "Is it just me, or are you seeing what I'm seeing, too?" she asked Armstead hesitantly.

"If what you're seeing is utterly impossible, then yes, I do see it," he answered. David hiccupped and sighed, his eyes closing in sleep. Armstead looked down at the completely relaxed baby. "These two certainly seem unconcerned about all this."

"They're Bond babies. This kind of stuff is normal for them." In Willow's arms Abigail was cooing softly, one hand waving and clasping.

Armstead watched the battling supernatural forces with growing unease. "I find it hard to believe that this would be considered normal in any circles."

********

At his post upstairs observing the perimeter of the house, Angel could feel the Bond crackling around him. He could see the wave of power approaching. The demon inside him howled in pain, but his soul was doing happy flips. He tried a couple of times to descend into the lower room, but the presence of the Bond held him back. He stood at the top of the staircase and watched in amazement as the three Watchers on the stairs were enveloped by the expanding luminescence.

The moment the light touched her, the lady Watcher stopped struggling. She straightened, looking bewildered. "Jason? What on earth is going on?" She squinted her eyes. "And why is it so bright in here?"

Anderson was afraid to release her arm, but he stepped closer, looking at his colleague's face. "Emily? Do you know where we are?"

"Don't be silly. We're in a rather run-down mansion in Sunnydale, California, battling evil forces that are attempting to destroy the Bonded Watcher and Slayer. Is that concise enough for you?"

On her other side, Gilbert dropped her arm with a sigh of relief. "She's awake!"

"That's definitely our Emily." Anderson released her other arm with a smile. "I believe we should go assist the others."

Miss Van Horn gestured down the stairs, looking slightly impatient. "Let's not waste time in discussion, then. The Slayer needs us!"

They headed down the stairs at a run.

The multicolored wave approached Angel, and he began to back away, fearing its effect on his undead flesh. The light passed over him and around him, leaving him completely untouched. He smiled down at himself with relief, turning his attention back to the outside of the house. His earth demon guards would see little action tonight. The real action was happening on another plane.

He lifted his cell phone and pressed a speed dial number. A deep, rumbling voice answered after the first ring. "Richard? You guys might wanna step back from the house. The Light..." He looked out the window and down into the yard. Light was beginning to leak from the windows. "I don't have time to explain. Let's just say you don't want to get caught in the middle of this light show."

Richard's gnarled red brow furrowed deeply as he frowned at the house. He was so looking forward to fighting by the Slayers' sides again. "Whatever you say, Boss," he growled into the phone. Angel rang off quickly, and Richard raised his voice to his troops. "Get back," he ordered. "And don't step into that light!"

********

"It's time." Marcus' calm statement made the hairs on Sampson's neck rise. Or was it the almost physical presence of a power he could never hope to understand? He wasn't sure which one was more accurate.

"Mom? Dad?" Marcus left his post beside the map table and walked calmly towards them, his face shining. "It's time."

"Yes, it is, son," Giles said calmly. Buffy looked over at her husband, feeling the absolute conviction with which he'd made that statement.

Marcus closed his eyes and raised his hand slowly, as if it was sliding through a viscous liquid. His fingers drew into a fist. "No more nightmares," he said in a low, strong voice. "No more dreams. No more fear."

Almost automatically, Giles mirrored Marcus' actions. "Deliver us from Darkness, for we fight on the side of Light," he added with confidence, lifting his voice as the sound of a rising wind filled the room.

Buffy added, "And keep my babies safe!"

Wesley suddenly took his hand away from Sampson's shoulder and stood. Faith, sensing his purpose, moved with him and took Buffy's free hand in hers. She looked up to the ceiling and said, "Hey... um... what Giles said goes for me, too." She nodded her head to emphasize the point.

"And me," Wesley added uncertainly, feeling a little foolish talking to the air despite the Bond's presence.

"Help us!" Marcus shouted. "Free us!"

The answering pulse of pure power almost drove the supplicants to their knees.

"They're here!" Marcus cried happily. Sampson, still reeling from his contact with the Bond, slid his chair back and stood as the aura filling the mansion began to coalesce. He heard something that sounded like thunder, and suddenly the room became very crowded.

Five ten-foot Guardian Angels in full golden armor tend to take up a lot of space.

Their wings shimmered with a light of their own, and their armor glinted brightly, reflecting rays of white light into every dark corner of the room. Four of the Guardians took up positions at each compass point. They were solidly substantial, despite their ethereal appearance, and a broad wing tip brushed against Sampson as the Angel moved around him. Each of them held a beautifully carved sword with a dazzling, almost transparent blade. The fifth Guardian took a step into the middle of the room and smiled gently down at Marcus. The boy was supremely unafraid.

"Hi, Michael," he said with great familiarity. "The call has been made."

The Angel spoke, and his voice rolled through the room with such depth and volume that several of the adults held their hands over their ears. "Hello, Marcus. The call has been answered."

Michael raised his sword, the point almost touching the fifteen-foot ceiling. Beams of pure white light sprang from it, blanketing the room with its rays. Instantly, everyone in the room breathed deeply as the oppressive weight of the evil spell was completely lifted. It was as if a protective shield had been suspended from the weapon's tip.

The four Guardians raised their swords, turning to face away from the group.

Sampson couldn't keep quiet. He turned to Giles, still standing several feet away. "What... who... where...?"

It was Marcus that answered. "Guardian Angels. Michael is the boss. He's mine."

Sampson's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Marcus raised his hand and pointed to the north corner of the room. With footsteps that made the mansion rumble and shake, one of the Guardians stepped up until he was facing the wall and raised his sword. The darkness retreated in front of the imposing figure, swirling angrily, trying to find a way to get past the brilliance the Angel emanated. It could not.

Three more times Marcus pointed, and each time a winged figure took position. When all four compass points had been covered, Giles and Wesley looked at each other with dawning comprehension. Buffy and Faith just stood there and grinned at each other, giddy from the rush of power and the certainty of victory.

Michael remained motionless for several seconds. Sampson's frightened mind began to calculate the nearest sword's path, and he carefully slid his chair a few feet to the left. Marcus closed his eyes, smiling a sweet, knowing smile, and whispered, "Now."

All five Angels shouted, and the sound shook the foundations of the mansion until the heavy granite walls rattled. It was a single word, drawn out until each syllable was a force of its own.

"Mik-ha'-el!"

The battle cry grew in volume until Sampson fell from his chair. He was vaguely aware that all the adults around him were writhing helplessly on the floor except the two holding the babies and the two Watcher/Slayer pairs.

He managed to look up, his eyes streaming with tears, as the Angel standing just in front of him moved his sword in a downward arc, the motion so swift it was a mere blur. The four Guardians followed suit, and sparks of blue light flew as their weapons collided with something invisible but obviously very real. The swords continued, cutting through the obstacles with the sound of a great implosion.

The instant the impact was over, Sampson's head stopped ringing and he felt a great sense of relief pour over him. It was like being drenched in a cleansing stream of cool water. He sat up, shaking violently.

Michael held his sword up in a salute and then smartly returned it to the golden scabbard hanging at his belt. The four Angels turned and followed suit. Sampson was still frightened, but no longer frozen in place. He crawled to the table and stood, holding onto the edge for support.

Marcus stood in front of Sampson, completely at ease. Sampson looked around for his group. They were getting to their feet, dazed but unharmed. Willow and Armstead still held Abigail and David, but their eyes were streaming with tears. Cedrick looked positively enthralled.

Giles was the first to move forward. He stepped up to the nearest Angel, his face open and unafraid. He knew this being. Stopping a few feet from the towering figure, he looked up into a face that was as familiar as his own mother's.

"I know you," he said with wonder. "Ira."

Cedrick gave a sudden bark of hysterical laughter, swallowed and dutifully translated the Hebrew word. "The Watcher."

Buffy turned to the second Angel, more confident now that her husband had taken the lead. She named her Guardian with a smile. "Gabriel."

Cedrick intoned, "Strength of God."

Sampson's heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. This was impossible. He'd been taught all his life that Angels didn't exist, and that God, if there was such a being, had little to do with the affairs of men. Apparently, his upbringing had been sadly lacking.

The two remaining warrior Angels moved to stand beside Willow and Armstead, looking with proud faces down at the two tiny babies that were their prime responsibility. Marcus casually pointed at the babies and said, "His is Jedidiah. And hers is Uriel."

Giles didn't wait for Cedrick to translate. "Beloved of the Lord. God is light."

"And Michael..." Sampson croaked, finding his voice for the first time since the Angels had shouted. "His name is a battle cry... 'Who is like God?'"

"An excellent question," Cedrick commented dryly.

"We did it, Michael," Marcus said softly. "Thank you." Michael looked down at Marcus with a smile, and nodded. He glanced around at the room full of stunned people. Saluting with his right hand held straight out from his chest, he smiled and vanished. The four Guardians vanished with him, leaving the room eerily dim.

Softly, Giles whispered, "...But a child will lead them into the light..." He straightened his tie with barely concealed pride. "The prophecy was correct. Well done, Marcus. Well done."

Marcus took a couple of sideways steps and leaned against his father's leg, sighing deeply. Buffy put a hand on his head and threaded her fingers in his wavy hair, then knelt and wrapped her son in a warm embrace. Giles laid his hands on them both, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears.

Nobody else moved for quite some time, their brains engaged in processing what they'd just seen. Gerard broke the silence, finally as he exclaimed to the Ancient, "I finally got to see a Guardian!"

The elf nodded sagely. "Yes, you did. And I witnessed a miracle far greater than that, I believe." He smiled at the little family he had chosen to befriend. "A child has saved the world."

The cell phone in Giles' pocket rang, causing them all to jump. He grinned sheepishly down at Buffy as he fished the tiny instrument out and answered it with a lilt to his voice.

"Giles speaking... hello, Denning. Yes, it's over. You were a great deal of help. Yes, everything is back to normal, I suppose, although what passes for normal in this town is often appallingly abnormal..." He chuckled at the priest's fervent agreement. "I promise to fill you in later. God's blessings on you, my friend. Goodbye."

In the background, the reporter on the TV screen was stammering as he tried to describe the scene unfolding in front of him. The people who had been blindly staggering around the town were waking up and wondering where they were and how they got there. The streets cleared almost immediately as the sleepwalkers fled for their homes. The newscast was little more than background noise to the exhausted victors as they began hugging each other and shaking hands, weak with relief.

Sampson finally recovered enough of his wits to realize that there were still unanswered questions. "Mister Giles, we still don't know who cast these spells."

"But we know where they are." Wesley strode over to the map of Sunnydale and grabbed a pencil off the table. "Here... here... here... and here." He quickly circled four points on the map. "I suppose you'd best send someone to look in on them. I doubt they escaped the backlash from the severing of the spells. Black magic has a way of backfiring when it is aimed at those who walk in Light."

"Thank you, Mister Wyndam-Pryce. Ah... gentlemen, ladies," he addressed his team, gathering his dignity as he spoke. "Teams of two, one to each point on the map. Gather as much information as you can without involving the local authorities. Anderson, you're with me. I want to do some additional research into the way this spell was cast."

Anderson nodded and took one of the vacant chairs.

Cedrick leaned over the table to look at the documents the two men were perusing. "Care for another pair of eyes on the subject?" he volunteered casually.

"Of course, Mister Giles. Please," Sampson indicated the chair next to him. "I'd very much like to prevent this from happening again."

"As would I, Mister Sampson. As would I."

Armstead stood, carefully handing David to Giles. "If you don't mind, Mister Giles, Mister Sampson, I believe I should make my report to Security Chief Connors. If there's nothing else...?" Sampson waved him on, already engrossed in reading. Armstead looked over at Willow, who was still holding Abigail. "Ready to call it a night, Willow?"

"More than ready."

Marcus leaned close to Cedrick's ear, grinning mischievously. "I'll bet you five bucks the bad guys will be all zapped when the Watchers get there, Grandpa," Marcus said in a loud whisper.

"That, I believe, would be a 'sucker bet,' young man," Cedrick retorted with a straight face.

Giles groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to kill Xander when I find him."

"Speaking of Xander," Buffy began as Willow stood handed Abigail to her.

"We'll go by and check on him and Anya," she volunteered. "You guys need a break."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said gratefully. "You've got about a dozen hugs coming, you know that, right?"

"Don't think I'm not gonna collect, but I'm not saying from whom," Willow said loftily, then almost skipped from the room.

Giles' phone rang again, and Buffy laughed giddily. "I told you that phone would make all the difference in the world," she reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at her and flipped the phone open with one hand, juggling David with the other. After a few brief words, he handed the phone to Buffy.

"Mom? How was your trip? Yeah, yeah, we're fine. I know it was on TV that things were all crazy, but it's over now." She looked up at Giles with a knowing smile. "Yes, it was Hellmouth-slash-Slayer stuff. No, we don't need anything right now..."

Giles cleared his throat, and Buffy stopped and put the telephone to her chest to mute it. "Actually, we could use a place to stay for a few days," he reminded her. "We have no intact beds except those." He pointed with his elbow to the two tiny cribs with a smile.

"Say, now that you mention it, Mom, we could use some time away from Sunnydale. We have a lot of...um... remodeling to do. Can we stay with you and Wilton? You can overdose on baby sugars." She walked away, one shoulder cradling the small phone, and cooed at Abigail as she talked.

"We must go," Zehdlaf intoned, standing. "There will be a season of peace, Rupert. Enjoy this time with your family." The silver head inclined towards the Watcher, smiling.

"Rest assured, Zehdlaf, that I shall not take this gift lightly."

"Then it is good. Be well, my friends." He turned to the active Slayer and Watcher. "Wesley. Faith. The Power is within you. Use it wisely." He smiled at the young man's stunned face. He hadn't realized that they were included in the naming of Giles' family.

Wesley's mouth moved a few times before he was able to say, "Th-thank you, Zehdlaf. It was an honor to serve by your side."

Faith grinned at the elf and gave him a passable nod. "Likewise. Stop by and see us any time." She looked at Madvekhar and Gerard with a smile. "You guys, too."

The troll and the goblin beamed at her, then bowed low.

"Farewell," Zehdlaf stated. He swept out of the room with his two non-human friends right behind him.

"Thank God it is over," Giles said almost to himself. He sighed and walked over to the couch, collapsing on it with David in his arms. Marcus crawled up next to him and wrapped his arms around Giles' neck. Giles rubbed his nose against Marcus', causing the boy to giggle. "New furniture, extensive repair work... ah, well, your mother has been wanting to redecorate for years."

The idea of shopping for new furniture thrilled Marcus. He always loved going to the store. He looked down at his tiny baby brother and let him wrap a chubby finger around his thumb. "Can I have one of those neat bunk beds in my room now, Daddy? 'Cause when David gets big, he's not gonna want to stay in a girl's room."

********

"Stop hogging the chips, Willow," Xander ordered, holding out his hand.

She stuck out her tongue briefly and handed him the bowl. Squeezed on the Giles' newly delivered loveseat between her best guy friend and her boyfriend, Willow was feeling supremely content. Beside her, Angel occupied one of a pair of armchairs with Cordelia on the floor beside him, her arm resting on the vampire's knee with easy familiarity. Cedrick took the chair between Giles and Angel, unconsciously separating the vampire from his family in a protective gesture that came from an instinct buried deep in his psyche.

The circle was complete in Buffy's mind. Everyone was there, except for Faith and Wesley, who were still fighting the good fight in the cemeteries and alleyways of Sunnydale. This impromptu party was Buffy's way of combining a repaired-house-warming with a victory celebration. Thanks to Wilton and Joyce's advice and influence, the restoring of the Giles home had taken just under two weeks.

Willow leaned back against Armstead's shoulder with a smile before turning her attention back to her hostess. "Okay, Buff, start at the beginning for Xander's sake."

"And Anya's," the ex-demon at his side added. "Start at the beginning for me. I went crazy, too, you know."

Buffy leaned against Giles on the full-size sofa with a small sigh of contentment. To her left, Marcus was happily munching on a cookie. David was in her lap, Abigail in Giles', and both babies were in a cheerful mood. David blew a spit bubble at his mother, making her laugh softly. Next to Giles, Cedrick was watching his family with a proud smile.

She watched her husband and daughter for a few more seconds, loving them with everything in her heart. "Okay. Apparently, the Watchers Council ticked off some really bad guys at the N.I.D. who were hooked up with a bunch of nasty demon lawyers in LA."

Angel sat up straight. "You mean, Wolfram & Hart?"

"One in the same," Giles agreed with distaste.

Angel shook his head slowly. "They're bad news."

"We figured that out," Buffy said ruefully. "The demon lawyer guys sent some evil witch guys to bring us down. Sort of a package deal... kill the Slayer... Slayers, really... and get back at the Council for messing up their little playhouse on the Hellmouth."

"Wolfram & Hart are quite famous in the demon world. They're expensive, but they get the job done," Anya added matter-of-factly. Xander and Willow looked at her strangely, and she gave them a surprised look. "What? You don't hang out with other demons for a thousand years without picking up the local gossip."

"Wow. I wondered why the N.I.D. guys would be interested in a dumb little town like Sunnydale. It's easy to forget about the Hellmouth." Cordelia reached over to Xander, who reluctantly handed over his chip bowl.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "I wondered the same thing. I guess normal N.I.D. guys wouldn't care, but these were power-hungry, bad-magic N.I.D. guys, and the Hellmouth must be a pretty big draw. Anyway, the witch guys decided to attack us first and go after the active Slayer and Watcher later. They did this spell-on-spell thing..."

"Overlapping circles," Giles corrected, still looking at Abigail. "Each spell reinforcing the other from the four compass points, utilizing four equally powerful mages, drawing on the spirits of Earth and Chaos. A multi-layered approach. Very effective."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "My description was a whole lot simpler."

"Yeah, for those of us who don't speak Watcher-ese," Xander agreed with a sarcastic smirk.

Amused, Cedrick couldn't help coming to Giles' defense. "I thought your description was rather well said, Rupert."

"Thank you, Father," Giles said pointedly.

Buffy gave her father-in-law a look of mock disapproval. "Don't encourage him. You know how he gets. Anyway, the witch guys started giving us big time nightmares. We were afraid we'd hurt someone, and Giles..."

"Why do you call him Giles?" Cordelia interrupted curiously.

"She calls him Giles unless she's talking to Giles, then she calls him Rupert," Willow explained. "Or babe," she added facetiously.

"That's weird. And, sort of cute. In a weird way."

Buffy turned to Willow with a glare. "Guys, guys, you're losing the plot. No control, big danger. We could've killed each other and a bunch of other people, too."

"That musta been bad," Angel said, leaning forward. "To be that out of control."

"You've no idea," Giles declared heavily, unwilling to look up at his guests as the memory of his nightmares danced in his mind.

Angel shifted uncomfortably and said, "I think I might."

Giles did look up, then, searching the vampire's face. He saw a glimpse of the depth of remorse Angel would carry with him for the rest of his existence. He nodded. "Yes, you would know."

Angel shrugged. It was his burden, his business. "Go on, Buffy," he encouraged, wanting the attention off himself.

"We got worried about the kids. I never said thank you, guys, for keeping my babies safe for me." She looked at the two couples across from her, her eyes shining. "Cordy, you know how bad it was. You had the vision." Buffy shifted David slightly, resting him against her other arm for a change.

"I'm just sorry I couldn't control the visions better. Maybe I could have saved some of Giles' antiques." Cordelia looked around the newly furnished room. "But Joyce has good taste. Everything looks great."

"Thanks Cordy." Buffy accepted the compliment gracefully. "I couldn't have done it without her. Moving right along... the Watcher Head Security Guy..."

"Connors," Cedrick supplied.

"...Sent in the tweed troops. Not as quick as we thought he should, but he did send them. They, of course, knew squat. They tried to block the spell, but it didn't work for long because they didn't know how to really use the Bond. It's less of a technical knowledge thing, and more of a down-and-dirty instinctive thing. And this was some serious mojo we were fighting. Even Marcus kinda freaked for a little bit, until he figured out what he was supposed to do."

"I was scared, but I had to protect the babies," Marcus said dutifully.

"Way to go, little G-man," Xander asked. "I woulda been there, but I went off the deep end the night before, after I went to bed. Anya thinks she dozed off on the couch the next afternoon, because she was seeing boogey-men everywhere. She was lucky. I woke up in the psych ward with a head full of happy juice."

"Right where you belong," Angel muttered under his breath. Cordelia heard him, and gave him an indignant swat on the leg. After all, Xander was an ex-boyfriend, and only she was allowed to trash him.

"Ow," Angel complained.

"Yeah, shut up, Dead-boy," Xander added. Cordelia turned her famous Queen C glare on him, and he subsided immediately. She deliberately turned her attention back to Buffy, raising her eyebrows and waiting for her to continue.

Buffy complied. "Marcus was amazing! We were all doing the Bond thing, and Marcus realized there were four spells and four casters. Even Giles didn't realize that. The Hellmouth decided to add fuel to the fire, and just for a split second, I was worried we wouldn't be able to fight it. But then Marcus called for help through the Bond and..."

"And the Angels came," Marcus piped up, unable to contain himself, and then clapped his hand over his mouth. Buffy ruffled his hair affectionately, pride evident in her eyes.

"Angels? Real ones?" Cordelia asked breathlessly. "You called Angels, Marcus?"

"Not just any Angels. Guardians," Angel confirmed. "I was at the top of the stairs. Couldn't go down into the room because of the power... it was amazing. Straight from Heaven. I thought the energy would destroy me, but it just passed right through me."

"The Bond knows what to look for," Marcus explained succinctly. "You weren't a bad guy."

"What does an angel look like?" Xander asked eagerly. Anya looked bored. She'd seen Angels before.

"Ten feet tall, white togas, golden armor and wings. Swords as long as I am tall and some serious muscle development," Buffy answered. Giles looked up at her description, raising an eyebrow in mock protest. She looked back at him and blushed slightly. She wasn't supposed to be checking out the 'heavenly bodies' in the middle of a fight. "Hey! It was kinda hard not to notice," she said in self-defense.

Xander was obviously impressed. "Wow. I always thought Angels were kinda wimpy."

"Hey!" Angel protested. "I am not..."

Cordelia hit him again. "You are so not the point of this story," she scolded.

Anya turned to Xander, her voice threatening. "Shut up, Xander, or I'm going to hit you, too."

Buffy shook her head, grinning. "Nothing wimpy about these guys. They were total warriors. The head angel talked to Marcus a little bit, then they used their swords to cut the evil spell off, and hey, presto! No more evil witch guys."

"The witch guys died?" Angel said incredulously.

Giles looked up. "They were demons. The feedback of power destroyed them instantly."

"Yeah, the Angels made it look easy, but without Marcus and the Bond, I don't know if we could've survived until they got there."

"They came as soon as I called, Mom," Marcus said firmly. "It was the right time. I had to find out where the bad guys were so the Watchers could go pick them up. And it wasn't just me. You and Dad and Wesley and Faith helped, too."

"Okay, little man, I stand corrected," Buffy agreed.

"How'd you find out about all the evil lawyer guy stuff if the witch guys were toasted?" Xander asked.

"Every witch guy had an N.I.D. goon with him... it... whatever... guarding them. When the witch guys exploded the N.I.D. goons didn't know what to do."

"That is amazing," Xander said with feeling. "So... what happened to the N.I.D. goons?"

"The Watcher team members... ah... detained them until the police arrived," Cedrick said helpfully. "I managed to... persuade one of them to give us the information before they were arrested. I believe the charge was arson."

Buffy giggled. "The witch guys sorta caught stuff on fire. The goons were standing around outside like big, guilty jerks, watching the buildings burn."

"Amazing," Xander repeated, sitting back.

"You forgot something, love," Giles said softly. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He sat quietly for a moment, a gentle smile crossing his face. "The prophecy."

Buffy looked totally blank and not a little worried.

"Zehdlaf's prophecy," he prompted, looking at her over his glasses.

"I thought we were through with prophecy," Xander protested.

Buffy's face relaxed as she remembered. "Oh," she said suddenly. "Yeah, the elf guy!" She beamed at Giles, ignoring the confused looks from the rest of the room. She leaned forward and gave him a light, happy kiss. "How could I forget? That's the best part."

"What prophecy? What elf guy?" Xander was still lost. "What did an elf do?"

"An elven mage..." Giles explained patiently, "...is capable of some astonishing prescience."

"That means he can see the future," Buffy explained to an increasingly confused Xander. His face cleared instantly.

Smiling, Giles continued, "He came with some of our... ah... non-human friends, to help us. His knowledge of ancient languages and magic was very much needed and appreciated. As he left, he gave us this prophecy, 'There will be a season of peace.' I, for one, shall welcome it wholeheartedly."

Buffy looked into her husband's eyes. "Me, too, babe. Big time."

Angel sat up straight and held up his glass. "A toast, then... to peace, in the hope that the season lasts a long, long time."

Everyone agreed, clinking glasses with more enthusiasm than accuracy, and the room fell into the easy hum of conversation.

"Abigail's asleep. I should put her down for the night," Giles said quietly to Buffy, rising carefully to his feet. He crept up the stairs and eased the slumbering baby into her crib. She didn't wake, but softly protested the loss of her father's warmth until he wrapped her in a crib blanket. "Good night, my lovely," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her downy head.

He started downstairs but was brought up short by a tingling sensation from the Bond. He knew he was being watched. He continued down the stairs and into the living room, past the happily chattering group, and stopped at the sliding glass window. Someone was in the yard. Without a word, he slipped outside, his hand reaching in his pocket for a weapon. Unfortunately, all he had was a penknife. He palmed it, tensing.

"You won't need that, Ripper."

Giles was startled. "Ethan?"

The slender Brit stepped from the shadows with a saucy smile. "Hello, old friend. Miss me?"

"Where have you been? I haven't seen or heard from you since Marcus was Christened!" Giles pulled the smaller man into a quick hug.

"I certainly didn't expect that kind of welcome," Ethan quipped when Giles released him, but it was plain that he was moved by Giles' open affection.

"If you come in peace, you are always welcome."

Ethan squinted, looking closely at Giles' face. "You've forgiven me."

"Of course. In the end, you helped us defeat Travers. You did what was right."

"Don't rub it in, Ripper," Ethan said uneasily. "It's taken some time to come to terms with my 'good' side."

"Not to offend, old friend, but why are you here now?"

"I was in the neighborhood. While I was debating with myself over coming to visit, I sensed all this lovely sparkling energy hovering above Sunnydale. I knew it had to be you and your little brood, somehow. I was... curious."

"We've had a bit of a dust-up with some evil sorcerers."

Ethan sighed. "There was a time when I would have been one of them."

"Be glad you weren't. The Bond utterly destroyed them. Fire of God, and all that."

"Ah. So that's what I've been sensing. The residual effect left over from Good triumphing over Evil. So cliché."

"But so true."

"Yes." Ethan stood awkwardly for a moment, his eyes on the decking below his feet. "Do you think... I know I've been a thorn in your side for more than two decades, Rupert. But... I've got nowhere else to go. I need to find a place for myself again."

"Why, Ethan. Is that an apology couched in an appeal for help?"

Ethan looked up, a wry grin on his face. "I believe it is."

Giles put a hand on his former enemy's shoulder. "Come inside. It's time you were properly introduced."

Ethan hesitated. "I'm not sure I'm quite ready to join the party."

"Come on, now," Giles encouraged. "No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back..."

"...Is fit for the kingdom of God," Ethan finished. He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Now you've got me quoting the Bible again. It used to drive me mad when you did that in London... usually just before you did something daft."

"If I'd been paying more attention to what I was quoting, I might have saved both of us a world of pain."

Ethan looked pensive for a brief moment, and then he grinned. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. We'll never know, will we?"

"No. Our lives, as they are now, have been forged by what we were. What we shall be... that is the challenge."

"One you've met admirably," Ethan said, not hiding the jealousy in his voice. "You were always better than me, and I hated you for it. Better at being bad... and better at being good."

"What good I have done in this life is not my own work." Giles looked down at his feet, knowing this moment would determine the outcome of their friendship. "I am still learning about what it means to walk in Light. What it means to be responsible for raising children in the Light." He looked up. "Join me, Ethan. Become a student of power beyond your imagination, as I have. It will change you."

"I'm afraid I'm too old to learn new tricks."

"You said you wanted to find a place for yourself. I'm offering one, for as long as you like."

Ethan turned away, his throat tight. "And what will your little Slayer think of my hanging about?"

Giles tilted his head slightly, listening. He smiled. "She says, 'Get your skan*y rear in here and eat something before Xander finishes it all off.'"

Ethan laughed suddenly, surprised and delighted at her acceptance. "I suppose I must, then. The lady of the house has spoken." He stepped forward, pausing at the doorway. He turned and faced Giles with open gratitude. "Thank you, Rupert."

"Come on in, my friend," Giles said, holding the door open with one hand. "Come home."

The End

The Threefold Cord - BuffyGiles_Archivist (2024)

Chapter 1: The Ceremony

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Chapter 2: Keeping Up

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Chapter 3: Increments

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Chapter 4: The Larger View

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Chapter 5: Home and Hearth

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Chapter 6: Things Unsaid

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Chapter 7: Things Revealed

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Chapter 8: The Hedge

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Chapter 9: The Gap

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Chapter 10: Redefinition

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Chapter 11: A Time to Heal

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Chapter 12: The Developing Child

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Chapter 13: Turning the Page

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Chapter 14: End Games

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