TITLE: The Family Business
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: R (little blurry watercolor detailed sex)
DISTRIBUTION: Not sure what all sites are out there, but if you want it, you can have it.
Just please email me your URL, so I know where my story is going. And of course, give
proper credit.
SUMMARY: After the events of The Ticking Clock, Buffy and Giles are still looking for their
daughter. Can they save her from a terrible fate?
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL: jkphilips@hotmail.com. Would love feedback. This is only my third fanfic.
Well, technically my first if you want to lump Death Brings Clarity, The Ticking Clock,
and this together as one trilogy.
MY WEBSITE: (for archivers) www.geocities.com/jkphilips_fiction/

Part 11: New Beginnings

After Xander assured her for the third time that the twins were just fine, Buffy left him and Spike in charge of cleanup. They didn’t have a whole lot to take care of, not like when they’d had to burn that nest of dead four-eyed demon things, four-eyed in the literal sense of having four eyes and not in the sense of wearing really dorky glasses. Hauling all those demon bodies onto the bonfire had taken most of the night, not to mention ruined one of her favorite halter tops, and the smell was definitely something she would like to forget. This time there was just the body of the Mortog beast. The rest of the cleanup involved taking care of the casualties, something else the gang had much experience with. There was the body of the witch the snipers had shot off the cliff, the one witch who’d taken a crossbow bolt to her side, and the three unconscious witches Buffy had knocked out, who should all probably make the trip to the hospital along with their bleeding comrade.

The fourth witch, the young runaway who had cleared out of Dodge posthaste, was nowhere to be seen. The seven who were left of the circle were only too happy to help after they got a good look at Sabrina’s true form. They were already muttering about being under a spell, something Buffy truly doubted, but sometimes there were certain lies that could be negotiated and agreed upon to make things easier for everyone involved. The vampires that weren’t scattered finer than the sand across the beach had already made a hasty retreat when they saw their boss incinerated by the power of Camela’s sword. And Morgaine had thoughtfully allowed herself to be consumed by the bolt of lightning that had culminated the ritual, leaving no messy cleanup for them after. That accounted for everyone but two.

Buffy’s parting words to Xander were: “Find Faith and Willow” before she set off to meet Giles halfway.

He had just finished climbing down the cliff side when she first saw him. Either that or he had finished a little while before and was now resting. He looked tired. There were fine cuts across his face and hands, a nasty bruise coloring his temple, and a gash just above his collarbone that was slowly turning his shirt red. He smiled when he saw her, and she walked faster until she was practically running the remaining distance between them.

He grunted softly as she claimed him in a crushing hug, which was quickly followed by a passionate and desperate kiss.

“Don’t ever freak me out like that again!” she chastised him through her tears. “You don’t know how scared I was that you’d never wake up.”

He continued smiling at her fondly, and as she looked into his green eyes, she was reminded all over again of everything that she had almost lost. She started to cry in earnest, and he passed her his handkerchief. For some reason, that made everything feel right again.

“I missed you,” he told her, as he reached out one hand to run his fingers through her hair. “I missed you more than you can imagine.”

“Let’s go home.”

His knees started to buckle, but she caught him before he could fall and held him upright. She laughed. “You’re a little wobbly. How’d you manage to get up there without breaking your neck?”

He followed her gaze up the side of the cliff, a more gradual climb than the sheer drop by the beach, but a definite climb nonetheless. “Adrenaline is an amazing thing. I should think the climb down after was the more impressive feat.”

“Will you make it back to the car, or will I have to carry you?”

He laughed, too, a breathy release of the last weeks’ tension. “Heavens, no. That would be devastating to my ego.” He swayed slightly, and she clutched him tighter to prevent him falling. “Although I wouldn’t be averse to leaning on you a bit. I’m afraid the last few hours of spell casting and mountain climbing are more than my body’s been accustomed to lately.”

“Lean on me all you like, Watcher-mine.” She kissed him again, a softer, more tender kiss than the one before. She released him only reluctantly. “The twins?” she asked hopefully.

“To the best of my knowledge, they are both safe with Anya.”

That earned him a smile and another kiss. She ruffled his hair playfully as they pulled apart, and he scowled at her. “Hey, you should thank me,” she scolded as they started back to the car, his arm slung across her shoulders to steady his balance.

“What for?”

“The twins were this close-” She illustrated by holding up her first finger and thumb with only a sliver of light between them. “-to testing out their rainbow assortment of magic markers on your face. Alex thought you might like to have your face painted. Spike would have let them, too, if I hadn’t caught them. Actually, I suspect it might have been his idea.”

“Hmmm…” Giles mused. “Then I suppose I can consider us even for him saving my life.”

Buffy groaned. “No. I think Spike’ll hold that over our heads for a long time.” They both chuckled softly before Buffy urged him into a faster pace. “C’mon, Gimp Boy. With any luck, Xander’ll have found Willow and Faith by the time we get to the car.”

The smile left Giles’ face at the mention of Willow, and he averted his eyes from her questioning gaze. Buffy lapsed into silence then, not wanting to ask, not wanting to know. Soon they passed through the forest, the barrier along its perimeter now fallen without the coven holding it in place. Just at the rise of the hill, they could see the convertible parked on the shoulder of the road, Anya and Xander standing beside it.

“Why is Xander wearing Spike’s coat?” Giles asked.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” Buffy answered, thankful for the momentary distraction from her downward spiraling thoughts.

But the distraction was only momentary, for her heart soon began to beat faster when she noticed the conspicuous absence of any enthusiastic greetings from the children. She picked up her pace, feeling the matching tension through Giles’ arm where it rested against her shoulder.

Their distress must have been obvious, because Anya’s first words when they reached the car were: “The twins are sleeping.”

“Sleeping?”

Anya sighed. “Well they are very young, and it is quite late, and… well, I sang to them a little.”

“You sang?” Giles echoed in disbelief.

She seemed offended. “I’m not totally tone deaf, you know. And I’ve been practicing.” She stroked her pregnant belly fondly. “Lullabies are a proven method for soothing crying babies.”

Buffy peeked in the backseat, where sure enough, both children were curled up together, sound asleep.

The minivan screeched to a stop beside them a moment later, Spike behind the wheel and some of Sabrina’s coven in the back. “We going or what?” he called out.

“Buffy,” Xander murmured softly. That was when she noticed for the first time that her friend had been crying. She dreaded his next words, knowing that in the end the responsibility would rest with her. She had been the one to send Faith. Xander stared at the ground, forcing the words out in one breath: “Willow’s hurt. She’s hurt bad.”

Buffy closed her eyes, the weight of those words sinking like a rock to the bottom of her stomach. What had she thought would come of sending Faith after her friend? She had thought to avoid fighting that battle herself, that’s what.

Giles squeezed her shoulder gently, to offer what support he could. “She fell over the edge, Buffy. Faith tried to catch her, but…” He leaned closer and whispered softly beside her ear for only her to hear, “We all did what we had to do. She left us no choice.”

It was a valiant try, but Buffy’s conscience wasn’t soothed.

Spike was either blind or didn’t care about the somber mood around him. Probably the latter. “Come on, already. I ain’t listening to no whining from you lot if she up and dies on you while you’re dilly-dallying around here.” He honked his horn to punctuate his haste.

Anya jumped in to explain. “Faith called from the hospital while you were all still on the beach. She took Willow to UCLA Medical Center.”

“Right, let’s go,” Xander replied numbly, climbing in the car with Anya and letting her drive for now.

Buffy started for the minivan, her arm still looped around Giles’ waist to keep him upright. He stopped a few steps short of the side door. “I think I’d rather ride with Anya and Xander.”

“Don’t be silly. The twins are in the backseat. You won’t fit.” She studied him thoughtfully for a moment: his face was pale, worry lines drawn across his brow, and the tension through his shoulders and down his back was making his muscles tremble beneath her fingers. “Giles, are you okay?”

He swallowed and nodded, but she wasn’t convinced.

“You know, you’re probably right,” she began, trying to offer him a way to save face. “One of us should ride in the car, in case the kids wake up on the way there.”

“Right, right,” he agreed enthusiastically, and Xander was quickly demoted to the minivan to make room for Giles.

Buffy sat in the passenger seat beside Spike, watching the convertible just in front of them. Giles had put the top down before they’d even pulled away from the shoulder.

“Spike, is Giles okay?” she asked the vampire softly.

“Sure. Sanity’s overrated anyways,” he replied with a casual shrug.

“Spike!”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and his expression softened slightly. He sighed and answered her sincerely this time. “I’m pretty sure he’s a touch claustrophobic now. Easily distracted. Likely to startle if you touch him unexpected. Short temper. A little unsteady on his feet.”

Buffy bowed her head, overwhelmed by that litany. The battle was over, and they had won. Why couldn’t things just go back to normal now?

“It wasn’t just the spell,” Spike continued. “Sabrina messed with him while he was trapped. In fact, he mistook me for her when I first got inside his head. Wouldn’t say exactly what went on, but I imagine she played some pretty sick games with him.”

She stifled a sob with her hand, not wanting to think about it anymore than she had wanted to think about his torture at Angelus’ hands.

Spike did something then that she would have never expected. He reached across and took her hand, holding it gently until she had composed herself again. His eyes left the road for a moment to look at her. Buffy had never imagined that she would see true compassion reflected in his eyes. He had been kind to her during her mother’s illness, and then after her mother’s death while trying to protect Dawn from Glory, and again in the last week and a half while practically living at their house and searching for a cure for Giles. But in the back of her mind, Buffy had always considered those kindnesses to be motivated by an ulterior motive, namely his big ole crush on her.

Now for the first time, she could believe that it was compassion in his eyes and nothing more.

She shook her head and looked out her window. “Wish I could put Sabrina’s head back on and lop it off again,” she muttered bitterly.

Spike chuckled and squeezed her hand before letting go and placing both hands on the steering wheel. He shifted in his seat and stole another glance in her direction. “Don’t fret about it too much. Just give him some time to adjust to being back. I’m sure he’ll be fine before you know it. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “he’s likely to try and go on with the training and research right away like nothin’ happened. You might have to make him take that time.”

She smiled bravely, comforted and amused by Spike’s words. “How do you know my watcher so well?”

He was quiet for a moment, his mood darkening, and she wondered what she had said to upset him. “I know you all better than you think,” he finally answered. “Been standing on the outside, watching you all for years.” And then he leaned forward to turn on the radio and tune her out.

They pulled up to the emergency entrance for the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center less than ten minutes later. Buffy’s stomach was already churning with nerves, and Xander never looked at her as they all climbed out of their vehicles. He didn’t really look at anything but the ground. She had never seen him so subdued.

First, they got the attention of one of the staff, who was lounging in the ambulance bay on a cigarette break. She brought gurneys and doctors for their four wounded, and the rest of the coven stayed with their friends. Spike didn’t wait to be asked before leaving to park the van. Anya looked torn between doing the same and staying with Xander. Giles’ offer to park the car himself decided her, and she made it very clear that she doubted his ability to do so in his current condition, before she pulled away from the curb.

Giles and Buffy were left standing by the emergency doors, holding a sleeping child each.

They followed Xander inside, Buffy making a brief detour to snag a wheelchair for Giles.

“I rather think not,” he huffed as he walked past her.

Buffy could see that he was limping, that even Robin’s light weight was tiring him, as he constantly shifted the girl in his arms. “Stubborn fool,” she muttered.

“Nag,” he retorted with a small smirk.

The admissions nurse directed them to the surgical waiting area, where they found Faith waiting for them.

“B!” She rushed over to them, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I tried to catch her. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just going to knock her out, but she charged me, and went over, and I barely had hold of her.”

“It’s okay, Faith. I get it.”

Faith looked relieved and took a deep breath. Xander had already dropped into a waiting room chair, still staring at the ground. Giles had taken up a seat beside him, Robin snuggled contentedly against his chest.

Buffy licked her lips and braced herself for whatever answer Faith would give her. No point in delaying the inevitable. “How is she?”

Faith shrugged. “Alive. Wouldn’t surprise me if they had her in a full body cast, though. She was busted up pretty good. I got her here quick as I could. Stole one of the vamp’s limos. Might as well go in style, huh?”

An awkward silence grew between them. Buffy was thinking of her own failures, was replaying the evening’s battle a hundred different ways that didn’t end with Willow here. She wasn’t sure what Faith was thinking. Faith probably had plenty of her own regrets to stew over.

“So give me the highlights,” the other slayer demanded. “Was Giles right about the sword? Did it turn Sabrina into a crispy critter?”

“Yes and no. He was right about the sword. But it was the head vampire lawyer who got toasted. Sabrina was actually a demon, the Mortog beast, who had inherited a bit of magic and shapeshifting from the witch who made the sword. But Giles and I beat her. Beheaded her.”

“Cool.”

Anya joined them then, sitting down on Xander’s other side. He leaned his head against her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around him. Buffy ached for her friend. As much as all of them cared for Willow, he was her best friend. They had known each other as children, had been inseparable for most of their lives. If anything happened to her, it would crush him.

“Can I get anyone anything?” Faith offered generously. “Food run? Coffee run?”

No one seemed very interested in food or coffee.

“Maybe you could find Alex some dry clothes? Blankets or something?” Buffy requested, knowing Faith needed something to make herself feel useful. Hell, they all wanted to feel useful. “Xander looks a bit shivery too.”

Faith bounced off, and Buffy took a seat beside her watcher. Sitting four in a row, they all stared at the doors to surgery, as if they could will the doctor to come out and tell them everything would be fine. She leaned up against Giles, and he shifted Robin to one knee before wrapping his arm around Buffy in a matching pose to Anya.

He kissed her temple and whispered again for her ears only, “She left us no choice. We did what we had to do.”

“Then how come I feel so rotten?”

Faith returned soon after with a nurse, who brought them blankets, a t-shirt that was way too big for Alex, and scrubs for Xander. Anya had to coax him into going into the bathroom to change, promising that she would come straight in there, naked men or not, if there was any news.

Alex hardly woke as Buffy stripped off his wet clothes right there in the middle of the waiting room. He yawned and blinked bleary eyes at her as he obediently held his arms out to slide in the sleeves. The hem of the shirt came down past his knees. She bundled him up in a blanket and handed him over to his father’s lap, partly to give herself the freedom to pace and partly to keep his father seated in his chair, pinned as he now was by a child on each knee.

Alex yawned wider. “Daddy no s’eep. Never ever ’gain,” he insisted as he cuddled up close.

Giles kissed the boy on his forehead and smiled. “A rather difficult promise to keep, son. But I shan’t ever sleep for so long again. Will that do?”

Their son nodded and laid his head against Giles’ shoulder. He noticed then the circle of blood sticking his father’s shirt to his skin. “Owie,” he said, pointing to the spot. He kissed his fingers and touched them to his father’s wound.

“Ah, now it is all better,” Giles said, but Alex’s eyes were already closing, and he was asleep in the next moment.

The doors to the OR opened, and everyone jumped to attention, but it was a doctor for someone else waiting in chairs on the other side of the room. Buffy resumed her pacing. Xander came out of the bathroom and modeled his scrubs, still wearing Spike’s coat over them. She wondered then where Spike was, and Anya guessed that he had gone back to the beach to take care of the body of the Mortog beast.

“Yeah,” Buffy said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose waiting in hospitals is really his thing.”

“He did it for you,” Giles responded absently.

“Huh?”

He looked up then, as if surprised that she had heard him. “When you were in the hospital, he waited with me. Quiet, in the background. I guess it was easy to forget he was there.”

Buffy finally stopped pacing and plopped down in a chair facing the others, with her back to surgery. The waiting was driving her mad. She remembered her mother’s surgery: the long hours of sitting in uncomfortable chairs, not knowing if her mother would be okay, and feeling completely helpless. Faith joined her, sitting quietly beside her for several minutes before finding the nerve to speak.

“I’m sorry Willow got hurt. Really, I am.”

Buffy only nodded.

“I’m sorry about… you know, all the other stuff, too.”

“Yeah.”

Faith nudged her gently. “If it’ll count for anything, I’ll let you be the cop to bring me in.”

A small smile played across Buffy’s lips. “I’ll probably get a medal for it. Maybe even a promotion.”

“You’ll tell them I turned myself in, though, right?”

Buffy turned to study her fellow slayer, to see the sincere regret in her eyes, to know for certain that Faith had found her way out of the darkness. “I’ll tell them you saved my life. You did, you know.”

Faith looked away and tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. She and her tough guy exterior, couldn’t give anyone the impression that there might be a soft side underneath. After a moment, she regained her composure and met Buffy’s eyes again. She said it nonchalantly, “So, B, we cool here?”

“We’re five by five, Faith.”

The other slayer accepted that and abandoned her chair for the drinking fountain on the opposite wall.

It was another hour before a doctor came out of surgery to brief them. Xander was out of his chair before Buffy had noticed the doctor’s presence.

“She’s going to be fine,” he told them.

Everyone cheered, and hugs were exchanged. Faith waited on the edge of the group, but even she was smiling. The doctor continued to brief them on her injuries, what they had done for her in surgery, what they could expect for her recovery, but Buffy heard none of it. The doctor’s first words were on repeat inside her head: She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fine. Until now, she’d been hearing a very different version inside her head. She’d imagined the doctor telling them Willow was dead, imagined a dozen different ways for him to tell them.

She began to relax for the first time in weeks.

“Can we see her?” Giles asked the doctor.

“She’s in recovery right now.” He seemed to consider their request. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” Xander answered without hesitation.

“I suppose one visitor, but make it brief. The nurse will take you in.” He nodded towards the young woman shadowing him and then left.

Xander moved to follow the woman, but Giles stopped him with a hand around his wrist, juggling the twins in his lap so he could sit forward in his chair. “Xander, I know you very much want to see Willow. I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t important. But I need to be the one to go in tonight. Please.”

Xander stared at the doors leading to surgery and recovery. The conflict was evident in his face.

“The doctor said she would be fine, and you will more than likely be able to see her tomorrow.”

Xander looked deep into Giles’ eyes, perhaps trying to determine the seriousness of his request, before finally taking Alex from his arms and agreeing to let Giles go first. Buffy took Robin, and Giles gave Xander a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before following the nurse back through the swinging doors.

Xander sat down, deflated.

“She’ll be fine,” Buffy reassured him. “You heard the doctor.”

“Guess I just wanted to see for myself.”

Buffy looped her arm through his, and Anya on his other side softly combed her fingers through his hair. Framed by two women who loved him, he relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Buffy had a sudden, terrifying thought: “Omigod! Did anyone call Dawn?”

“I called her from the car on the way here.”

“Anya, you are a lifesaver.”

“Here’s the phone.” She passed the cell over to the slayer. “You should call her and tell her Willow’s going to be fine.”

***

It was nearly morning by the time they got home. Faith was behind bars once more, and her lawyer was busy making sure no charges were pressed for her escape. According to him, Buffy’s testimony on her heroic behavior and the fact that she had willingly turned herself back in were likely to weigh in her defense. Willow had yet to regain consciousness, but they were assured that someone would call them at home as soon as she had. After she was stable, they would transfer her to the hospital in Sunnydale, nearer her parents and part of their HMO. Medical bureaucrats!

Spike returned with the van and loaded up the gang, their business in LA concluded. Buffy and Giles took the convertible, glancing in the rearview mirror constantly to reassure themselves of their children’s sleeping presence in the backseat. Giles tried her patience with his backseat driving. Good thing he’d never done a ride along while she was on duty. She liked to turn the sirens on and go fast.

Dawn had tried to wait up for them, but they found her asleep on the couch. Spike was allowed in, and so she woke to the sight of him smiling down on her. Buffy and Giles carried the sleeping twins upstairs and grudgingly gave the couple some privacy.

The children slept until a little past noon. Buffy napped on and off during that time. But every time she woke, she would slip out of bed in search of Giles. The first time, she found him sitting on the back porch with a cold cup of tea, staring out at nothing. She remembered what Spike had told her about startling him, so she called his name softly before approaching him.

The other times, she found him busy doing something: putting Tara’s boxes back in the attic, changing the light bulb above the stove that had been burned out for months, even doing the laundry. Once, she found him sorting through the mess they’d made of his books while researching. He had his watcher’s diary open in front of him, and he’d discovered the torn out pages.

“Was this really necessary?” he asked her when she sat down across from him.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he answered, then took his diary and went to sit on the back porch once again.

He was lying, of course. She could see how tired he was. His cuts had been tended, he’d showered and shaved, he’d changed his clothes, all in all a very different man now than the one who had climbed down the cliff after their battle. But his eyes were heavy, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He reminded her very much of their son, desperately trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t fall asleep.

When the children woke, they provided their father with some much-needed distraction. Buffy went back to bed. If Giles wasn’t going to get any sleep, then she would.

They ordered pizza for dinner, rented movies, and spent the evening as if everything was back to normal. Spike was the new addition to that scenario, sitting on the couch beside Dawn, but even he fit in as if he had always been there.

They tucked the children into their parents’ bed that night, Robin not willing to lie down until Giles had lain down beside her. But as soon as the children had fallen asleep, he climbed out of bed and disappeared downstairs. Buffy sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around her sleeping son. Spike said Giles needed time, and so she wouldn’t push him for now. She closed her eyes and slept, still catching up on all the rest she had missed during their last weeks’ ordeal.

Buffy woke at almost three in the morning. It shouldn’t have surprised her, really; she’d slept for half the day.

She tiptoed down the stairs and found him as she had on so many nights before: asleep in the armchair, his neck crooked at an uncomfortable angle, his glasses askew on his face, his lap and the floor around him littered with open books, the desk lamp still lit, although this time he had also carelessly forgotten to turn off the lights in the foyer and dining room as well.

She carefully removed the books from his lap and took their place. He stirred when he felt her weight in his lap, and when he opened his eyes, her arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t you ever get tired of falling asleep in uncomfortable places?” she teased. “The couch at least won’t make your neck sore tomorrow.”

His eyes were guarded, and she could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders where her hands rested.

“Giles?”

He looked away, the tension still coiled in his body. Then it hit her all at once: he thought he was still there, thought she was her.

“Giles, it’s me, Buffy, your slayer.” She attempted to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and he flinched back from her touch. “Spike pulled you out, remember? Big battle? We won? Score one for the home team?” She sighed and laid her head against his chest. “You’re home now. Whatever happened to you with that spell, it’s over.”

She didn’t try to press him any further, just waited him out, holding him in a loving and gentle embrace. After a few minutes, he began to relax in her arms. She heard his heart rate slow to normal, watched his chest as his breathing deepened, and finally felt his soft touch as he combed his fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.”

“It’s okay.” She nestled more comfortably in his embrace. “Come up to bed now. Enjoy the wonders of a soft mattress.”

He tensed again, and she sat up to look into his eyes. She reached out one hand to trace her fingers along the curve of his cheek. “I get it, Giles. You know, if you’re not so fond of beds right now, you can just say so.”

He smiled weakly and dropped his gaze to the floor.

She laid her head back down against his chest. They were quiet for several moments. “You know the couch is very un-bedlike,” she offered finally. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

“It’s only partly the bed. It’s mostly the closing my eyes and sleeping that I seem to find worrisome.” He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes, before tossing his frames onto the side table. “It’s humiliating, really, that such a little thing should bother me so much. That I can’t even get in the blasted car without feeling as if I might have a panic attack. And it’s not exactly like I can just stop sleeping.”

“Hence the massive research session.” She leaned over, far enough that she nearly toppled from the chair, and retrieved a couple books from the floor. “What big evil are we fighting now?” She read the titles with a puzzled frown. “‘The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe’? ‘A Tale of Two Cities’? Did some librarian get vamped into the newest big bad or something?”

He snatched the volumes from her hands and placed them on the side table beside his glasses. “I do happen, on occasion, to read books that have nothing to do with demons or prophecy.”

Buffy mentally counted the stacks of books surrounding them. “Okay, so you’re catching up on your fun reading.” She fetched another older and thicker volume from the ground. “‘Les Miserables.’ Hey, Dawn and I saw this musical.” She flipped through the pages and made a face. “It’s in French.”

He took that book from her as well. “Yes, that is how it was written,” he replied dryly.

“I have traumatic memories of high school French class. I’ve repressed the whole language.” She studied him with a serious frown. He was still trying to be all stiff-upper-lippy, hold-it-all-in guy. “Come on, Giles, give. What’s with the lit refresher course?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. Buffy recognized the look of resignation on his face; she had seen it many times. He rarely failed to give in to her eventually.

“Where I was… those eleven days, I believe Dawn said?” She nodded and indicated that he should continue. “There was nothing, Buffy. It was utterly black and silent. Sabrina made brief… visits… on occasion, but other than that, there was nothing to keep me occupied. I recited what I could remember of different things, just to pass the time. I suppose I wanted to see how accurately I remembered it, now that I’m back.”

“I bet you nailed it, huh?”

He smirked slightly. “Would that be boasting?”

“Nah.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I have an idea. How ’bout we both lie down together on the couch. No sleeping,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “Just get comfy, and I can help with your lit research. I can read to you.”

He chuckled then. “I’m not a child, Buffy, who needs to be read to in order to fall asleep.”

She slid from his lap and padded over to the couch, book in hand. “I believe I said no sleeping. Besides, everyone should be read to every now and then, even bookworm watchers. C’mere.”

He obeyed reluctantly, stretching out on the couch and taking her into his arms. She cracked open the book and began: “‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’ Hmm… That pretty much sounds like our life, doesn’t it?” He smiled, and then yawned. She smiled back at him knowingly and continued. “‘It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…’ Yeah, that pretty much sums up my life. ‘It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity-”

His fingers began rhythmically combing through her hair. “Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“If I happen to break the no sleeping rule, will you… will you keep reading?”

She turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Sure, but if you fall asleep, I’m going to start changing stuff around, spice it up a bit. I think we need a car chase in here somewhere, maybe a few explosions.”

He groaned. “Dickens would turn in his grave.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t rise from it. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah… Life was good and it really sucked, we were smart and also dumb…”

He chuckled softly and slid one arm around her waist. She settled back against his chest, enjoying the soft caresses his fingers started to trail across her bare arms. She had missed him like the other half of herself. If their battle with Sabrina had taught her anything, it was that he was exactly that. Her watcher, her husband, her other half. She continued reading, listening to his breathing and waiting for him to fall asleep.

***

Giles was feeling much better in the morning, well enough for a day at the shop, despite Buffy’s protestations. They couldn’t keep the world on pause, after all. He’d been absent from the shop for nearly two weeks now, and Buffy needed to return to work as well. If anything, it would keep all their minds off of Willow.

She had regained consciousness, but her parents were the only visitors she was permitted for the time being. She would be transferred to Sunnydale tomorrow, and then they would all be allowed to visit. Buffy and Xander were eager to see their friend, to repair the breaks in their relationships, but Giles wondered sadly if Willow would be as eager to see them.

He had spoken to his friend John earlier, slightly embarrassed to have forgotten him amidst all the recent events. John was surprised and delighted to hear from him, although he couldn’t talk long, as April’s hospital room was full of their children and friends, and far too noisy for decent conversation. But April was thankfully recovering nicely, and Giles promised to visit tomorrow when they came to see Willow.

The shop seemed unaffected by his absence. Anya had done very well without him, and Giles skimmed over the receipts happily. Now they had found Robin, there would be no more detectives’ fees, no more lawyers’ fees. If the shop continued to prosper, they might even be able to pay off its mortgage ahead of schedule.

Those were the thoughts that were uppermost in his mind when the bell over the front door rang. He glanced up to see who their new customer was, if it was perhaps one of their regulars. A man in a charcoal three piece suit surveyed the store with an icy stare, adjusting his grip on a briefcase as he stepped down into the main shop area.

Giles came around the counter to greet him, Robin following him like the little shadow he remembered. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mr. Rupert Giles?” The man owned a refined, upper-class, British accent, which would have usually screamed Watcher, except that they were all dead.

“Yes.”

The man’s eyes lingered on Anya, intently pricing their new shipment, and then landed on Robin, standing by her father’s side. He unbuttoned his jacket and smoothed down the line of his tie before addressing Giles again. “May we speak somewhere in private?”

Giles glanced over at Anya, who was staring back at him with the same curious expression. “Will you watch the children for a moment?”

“Sure. Alex is my little helper over here. He’s pretty good with the price gun, although I have to keep reminding him that we only need one tag per talisman.”

Alex peeked out from behind the counter and held up the price gun proudly. He had some price tags stuck to assorted parts of his body as well. “I help,” he informed his father solemnly.

“Yes,” his father replied, equally solemn. “I’m sure you are a big help to Anya.” He steered Robin over to join them. “Perhaps you can teach Robin how to use the price gun.”

Neither twin seemed happy with that idea.

“Do self,” Alex pouted, hugging his toy to his chest.

“Stay wif you,” Robin begged, clinging tightly to his hand.

Giles knelt on the floor in front of her. He was loathe to cause her more trauma after the last days’ events. He should be thankful she hadn’t regressed back to silence or needing him to carry her everywhere. But even so, she must learn that she couldn’t be at his side every minute of every day, that there were other people in her life she could trust too.

“I’ll be right in that room there if you need me. And Anya is here. I won’t be long. Can you stay out here for just a little bit while I talk to this man?”

She focused on him with her wide, blue eyes as she considered his words. Finally she nodded.

“Good girl.” He tapped his finger beneath her chin before raising himself to his feet. “Share with your sister,” he warned Alex sternly before turning to face their mysterious visitor. The man seemed irritated by the delay sorting out the children had caused. Oh well, Giles was hardly going to be brisk with his own children for the sake of this man’s convenience. “My office,” he said, leading the way into the small side office. Normally, he would speak with people in the larger back training room, but not knowing who this man was or what he wanted, Giles wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t find a roomful of weaponry a tad alarming.

The man lifted his briefcase to set it on the desk, stopping short when faced with an array of Legos and matchbox cars. The side office tended to serve as the children’s play area more than anything, and their toys cluttered every surface. Giles quickly swept the offending items to one side to make room.

“My name is Andrew Ludgate,” he said as he set the briefcase on the desk and clicked open the two locks. “I represent the firm of Cole, Oldham, and Watkins. The C.O.W. has sent me here”

“C.O.W.?” Giles interrupted.

Ludgate smiled stiffly. “The Council did have their fingers in everything, didn’t they? But I am not technically involved with them. Cole, Oldham, and Watkins are more what you might consider affiliates to the Council. So I am not truly a watcher, if that was what you were wondering.” The lawyer turned and sized up Giles with a penetrating stare. “No, it would appear, in fact, that you are the last watcher. And that is why I was sent. We have some business to discuss, Mr. Giles. Council affairs to be put in order.”

“What sort of affairs?”

Ludgate flipped open his briefcase with a flair for the overdramatic. “Why, everything. You are, for all intents and purposes, the Council now, Mr. Giles. There are some decisions you need to make regarding the direction you would like to take this organization. And dare I say, some recruitment strategies would not go amiss at the moment.”

Giles held out his hand to stop any further discussion. He took a seat on the desk, jumping up momentarily to remove Alex’s double nine domino from beneath him before sitting back down. He removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead for a moment in thought. “Mr. Ludgate, I am hardly in a position to act as the Council. I don’t have the resources. Frankly, I don’t know that I have the desire.”

Ludgate removed several papers from the briefcase. “I cannot speak to the latter, but as far as resources, you have the Council’s assets at your disposal. Perhaps we should start with the Council’s current fiscal status.” He handed over the papers in his hand. “These are the current bank balances from the Council’s various accounts, the majority held in England, Switzerland, and Austria. Although, there are some in the States, India, and other scattered accounts you’ll find listed on page ten.”

Giles replaced his glasses and scanned over the papers in his hands, mentally adding the columns together. There was some kind of misprint. There couldn’t possibly be this many zeros. The paper started to tremble in his shaking hands. “Dear Lord. This is more money… well, more than a small nation, I would imagine.”

Ludgate laughed heartily. “Oh, far more than that. Those are only the liquid assets. All told, you are now worth more than the entire British treasury… and that of a small nation or two as well, I imagine. I bit of advice, if I may?”

“Yes, please,” Giles breathed, still numb.

“I am not a watcher, but our firm has served the Council for… well, honestly our firm was probably established to serve the Council. If I were you, the first thing I would invest that money in is acquiring a few alchemists. No point in touching the principal if you can continue to pay for your expenses through magic.” He drew out some more papers and began arranging them on the modest amount of space the small desk afforded. He pulled a pen from the front pocket of his three piece suit and clicked it open. “Now, if you will, Mr. Giles, there is some paperwork that needs to be attended to in order to make this inheritance final. Cole, Oldham, and Watkins will, of course, be more than happy to manage your estate as we have done for the Council for centuries. However, if you would prefer to hire on a law firm of your own choosing-?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Giles insisted, still staring in shock at the paper in his hands, as if some of the zeros might just fall off before his very eyes.

“Well then, shall we begin with the line of succession? I assume you shall want your son to follow as head of the Council after your death?”

Giles looked away from the paper in hands for the first time since it was handed to him. Ludgate was watching him intently, and Giles could only stare back blankly.

The lawyer raised one questioning brow. “Or perhaps there is another you would like to name as your direct successor?”

Giles’ mouth was dry. There was really no one else.

***

Lilah Morgan leaned forward and hit the page button for her secretary. “Kelly, get me Richard Zalk on the phone.” She gave her visitor an annoyed once over. “Well?”

The tall, skinny vampire shifted self-consciously in place. “We had a deal.”

“Yeah, you should have gotten it in writing. You used to work here. You should know that.” She made a small shooing motion with her hands. “Now get lost. Frankly, I didn’t like you all that much when you were alive.”

He glowered at her, but obediently turned and left. Jeeze, like she would have looked twice at the mailroom clerk, dead or alive.

The door opened, and she briefly thought that Richard Zalk had gotten there very quickly. But it wasn’t him; it was Nathan Reed, one of the junior partners. She jumped to her feet, quickly and respectfully, although she was somewhat disappointed that he wasn’t Richard Zalk. She had really been looking forward to telling the man his son was dead. Again.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

He strolled around her office and picked up a framed picture from her shelf, one of those motivational scenes: an image of hands linked together and written below were the words, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

“I just had some interesting news, Ms. Morgan.”

“It’s truly a tragedy about Joseph Zalk,” she replied with a straight face.

“I wasn’t referring to him. Are you familiar with the Watcher’s Council, Ms. Morgan?”

She smiled coyly. “I have caught some CNN footage. There’s a rumor that Joseph was responsible for their sudden downsizing.”

“Yes, he did have some hand in that.” Nathan withdrew a manila envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her.

She opened it cautiously, pulling out two photos, recognizing the one immediately. “I know this girl. I’ve seen pictures of her in Angel’s file. She’s the slayer he ran out on back in Sunnydale.”

“Very good. The man is her watcher, Mr. Rupert Giles. They’re the two newest players in our game. He has now been appointed head of the Council, by virtue of being the only candidate.”

She laid the pictures on the desk and reached for the phone. “Should I put a contract out on them? I think the agency we used last month is running a two-for-one special.”

“No.” Nathan laid his hand over hers, keeping the phone in the cradle. For a short, completely bald man, he could be very intimidating. And very creepy. “They are not to be touched.”

“What?” Lilah blew out a frustrated breath. “The senior partners want Angel alive. They want these two alive. Tell me: are we planning on getting rid of any of our enemies?”

“You’re already aware that Angel has been prophesied to be a major player in the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. You just don’t know which side he’s playing for, and you’re hoping to turn him into a Company man.”

Nathan casually slipped his hands into his pockets. “Our translators are logging overtime this week. The same prophesies that mention Angel also seem to refer to these two.”

Lilah shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “You think you can turn them dark too?”

“Oh no,” Nathan said with a laugh. “The prophecies are very clear on that point. When the final battle comes, they will not be on Wolfram and Hart’s side. But they will affect Angel’s role in that battle. The senior partners are hoping that means they can use the watcher and slayer to deliver Angel to our side.”

He picked the photos up off the desk and held them out to her. “Congratulations, Ms. Morgan. We’ve decided to put you in charge of this operation. These two are your newest and most important project. Keep tabs on them. I want to know their plans, who they recruit, any contact they have with Angel, their friends, their family, what they have for breakfast, how many times they go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Everything. I expect a report on my desk the first of every month.”

Lilah glanced down at the photos in her hand and sighed. Her day was rapidly turning to shit. “Great. Glorified spy work. Look, but you can’t touch.”

“I said you couldn’t mess with them. I never said you couldn’t have some fun with their friends.” Nathan turned and walked out of her office.

Lilah looked at the photos one more time before sliding them in her top drawer, only this time she was smiling. Her secretary came over the intercom and announced Richard Zalk. Lilah smiled wider. Her day wasn’t turning out so badly after all.

***

Buffy came home from work, eager for one of Alex’s enthusiastic homecomings and hopeful for some small kind of acknowledgement from Robin as well. And after the children were suitably distracted, she intended to kiss Giles senseless.

The house was dark when she walked in. “Alex? Robin?” She frowned and tossed her purse on the dining room table. Giles’ car was in the driveway, so they had to be home.

She wandered through the kitchen and noticed that the back porch light was on. That seemed to be Giles’ favorite place lately.

Sure enough, he was sitting on the top step, holding a cup of tea and staring out over their backyard. His tea was probably cold, but he wouldn’t notice until he went to take a sip of it, whenever that might be.

“Giles?”

She sat down beside him, careful not to crowd his space. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky turning orange, the light dimming, the porch light seeming to brighten in the growing darkness, and the shadows stretching father across the ground. He still didn’t seem to notice her presence. Good thing it wasn’t completely dark yet, or a vampire could have easily happened by and made him a snack.

“Giles!” she said a little louder.

He turned and looked at her.

“You okay?”

He nodded and resumed his study of the trees fencing their property.

“Where are the twins?”

His answer was slow in coming, as if he were far away in thought. “Dawn took them to the park. They’ll be home soon, I’m sure. She promised to have them back before dark.”

“Robin too?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes. I gave her my pocket watch and showed her where the hands would be when she would see me again. A trick my mother used to use on me when I was small. It was enough to give her the courage to go to the park at least.”

“You gave her your watch?” Buffy already had images of it coming home in pieces.

“Yes, although I think Alex was rather jealous. It might be time to get them both watches of their own.” He took a sip of tea and frowned when he found it cold. He set it on the ground between them. “Buffy, if you could have given Travers a list of demands for the Council, what would they have been?”

She rolled her eyes at the memory of Travers, surprised to find a little sadness for his death mixed in there with all the standard irritation she associated with his memory. “For him to pull the big ole stick outta his butt.”

“Buffy, I’m being serious here.”

“Alright, serious.” She gave it some serious thought for all of a minute. “I think I kinda did give them a list of demands when Travers showed up here with his whole entourage for my ‘review.’ I pretty much told them they worked for me, and they could just shove their ‘review.’ And in case you were wondering, those were my sarcastic air quotes. Oh,” she added brightly, warming up to the memories, “I got to throw a sword at that one watcher who interrupted me. I bet he wet himself. And remember that cool part where I got you reinstated, with your salary paid retroactively?”

“Yes, and I was very grateful for that. But beyond your immediate needs for their assistance against Glory, what would you have asked of Travers?”

“I’m still thinking pulling the stick outta his butt wouldn’t have been a bad idea.”

Giles sighed, exasperated. “Forget about Travers. Let’s make this more hypothetical. As the Slayer, how would you have liked to see things run differently? In what ways were we an asset? In what ways did we fail you?”

Buffy shrugged, having never considered the question before. “I dunno. You were always a really good watcher, Giles. And Merrick was too, even if you were both a little too stuffy at first. I guess I figured the rest of the Council was like you guys. At least until Travers showed up the first time. And then Wesley. After that, I was pretty sure you two were the only good ones outta the bunch.” She looked over at him again. “Why?”

He pulled something from his pocket, a folded piece of paper he worried at with his fingers as he spoke. “I am the last watcher, Buffy. A lawyer came by the shop today with some papers. It appears that I’ve been given the daunting task of rebuilding the Watchers’ Council.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” He handed her the folded piece of paper. “I’ve also inherited the Council’s assets to assist me in that endeavor.”

She unfolded the paper and couldn’t contain the small gasp of surprise that escaped her lips. Her eyes widened, and she placed her hand over her chest to assure herself that her heart was still beating. “My God, Giles, we’re filthy rich.”

“Not we, Buffy. That is the Council’s money. I have an obligation, a duty to spend it wisely.”

“Wisely doesn’t include that new Gucci scarf I’ve had my eye on, does it?”

“Probably not.”

Buffy began to giggle madly. It all seemed so surreal; she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. “Wow. You could buy out Microsoft, you know. That would be one way to move the Council into the 21st century. Oh, and anal-like watcher programmers could probably make a product that actually worked like it was supposed to.”

Giles took the piece of paper back from her and slipped it in his shirt pocket again. “The lawyer suggested I begin by hiring on some alchemists.”

“Are those the ones that make gold or money or whatever?”

He smiled. “Yes, very good, Buffy.”

She frowned. “Why would alchemists work for anyone? I mean, can’t they make all the money they want?”

“Group health insurance.”

“Oh.”

They sat quietly. Buffy understood now why Giles had been so out of it when she first got home. This was all so overwhelming. If Giles was even the tiniest bit of a practical joker, she would have chalked this up to one big farce.

“Give me a little time to think about it, Giles, okay? We’ll figure a way to make it even better this time.”

He nodded. The sun had disappeared past the horizon, and the last lingering rays of light were rapidly fading. That was the cue for the front door to bang open and two rambunctious toddlers to come barreling inside.

***

Willow glanced at the clock. She was getting tired. Today was the first day she was allowed visitors, and she’d had a steady stream of them: some of her parents’ friends she barely knew, some parishioners from the synagogue she vaguely remembered from her childhood, and several of her friends from the sorority, who had all been uncomfortably silent. There was very little they could talk about with her parents sitting right there. It figured. The one time they actually decided to notice her existence, and she wished they were elsewhere.

Now it was just her and her mother. Her other visitors had left, and her father had returned to work to catch up on things, now that they had transferred her back to Sunnydale and he was no longer a two hour commute from the office. Watching daytime television with her mother was rapidly draining what little energy she had left, and she suspected she would need it when the last of her expected visitors arrived.

“This kind of programming is marketed towards young stay-at-home mothers; however, their children are also exposed to these messages. I was reading a recent study that showed that children of mothers who watch an average of-”

“Mom!” Willow rolled her eyes. “It’s just a soap opera. It’s supposed to be meaningless entertainment.”

“Come now, Willow, you’re a smart girl. You can’t tell me the people who produce these shows don’t know exactly what they’re doing.”

The last of her expected visitors chose that moment to walk in. Willow sat up a little straighter in bed, the best she could manage at least, with casts on both her arms and one leg, and her ribs taped tight. Her hand unconsciously went to her head to smooth her hair before she remembered that her head was all bandaged up. She only ended up knocking herself on the forehead with her cast. Ouch. She winced.

“Hello, Xander,” her mother said brightly.

“Hi, Mrs. Rosenberg,” he answered, his eyes focused on Willow, but she lacked the courage to meet his stare. She couldn’t stand to see accusation, disappointment, or worst of all, forgiveness in his eyes. She didn’t deserve it.

Willow noticed the conspicuous absence of the children, of Anya, of Dawn. Just Giles and Buffy and Xander standing in her hospital room. They didn’t trust her. Could she blame them?

Her mother continued to make small talk. “You were a teacher at Willow’s high school, weren’t you? Mr. Giles, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answered with a slight nod.

“And you own that magic store now, the one Willow’s always going to?” Her mother looked back at her with a triumphant smile, as if knowing a few insignificant details of her daughter’s life was an accomplishment. “Willow tells me you were married recently. Congratulations.”

Giles and Buffy exchanged amused smiles. Willow couldn’t help one of her own. It had been over three years.

“Mom, could you see if they’d bring me more Jell-O, the strawberry kind with the marshmallows?”

“Sure, honey.” She paused as she passed Willow’s friends. “So nice to see you again, Bunny.”

Buffy shut the door behind her.

“So how’ya feeling, Will?” Xander pulled up a chair beside her bed.

She shrugged. “You know, like a total idiot.”

Xander nodded in understanding. “Ah, I have much experience with that feeling. I’ve learned that it’s just best to accept that in this case you were a total idiot, and then skip ahead to the groveling.” He pulled something from his pocket and laid it in her lap. It was one of those handheld video games he was so fond of. Yahtzee. “To while away the long hours of bedrest. Your fingers still work, right?”

She wriggled the ten digits that poked out from her casts. “Just my arms broke. Well, my arms and assorted other parts.”

Buffy stepped forward with an offering of her own. “Chocolate. Comfort food. Best when eaten with friends.”

Willow bit her lip not to cry. This wasn’t what she had expected. She had expected them to be angry with her. After all, she had betrayed them as terribly as she had thought they betrayed her. One of her sorority friends had managed to fill her in on all the details while her mother was otherwise involved in a discussion with the other girls about the feminist repercussions of sororities. Willow knew now Sabrina’s true identity. With a sick horror, she had discovered the true intent of the ritual, learned that she had almost gotten little Alex killed, and found that for the first time in her life, she had been fighting for the wrong side.

Why didn’t they hate her? Buffy and Giles should at least. She’d almost cost them their son, not to mention the misery she’d inflicted on Giles.

She did start to cry then, unprepared for their kindness. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“Would you rather we were mad at you?” Buffy asked, sitting on the end of her hospital bed.

“Yes.”

“Well, I am,” she replied. Willow saw the anger glittering in her friend’s eyes, and it was what she wanted, what she deserved. Buffy continued, and Willow braced herself for the lectures and the recriminations. “You should have trusted us. You shouldn’t have just cut us out of your life like that. I know things have been bad since Tara died, but you should have known that we would have helped you if you’d let us.

“But you know what? When I found out you were working with Sabrina, I wasn’t mad at you, Willow. I wasn’t afraid of you or what you’d do. No, the very first thing I thought, the thing that hit me right here…” She touched her chest and paused a moment to compose herself before continuing. “The thing that terrified me was the thought that I might have to hurt you to stop Sabrina. I didn’t know if I could do it, Will. Even knowing what you did to Giles, knowing you had a hand in getting our kids nabbed, I didn’t know if I could fight you. I love you, Willow. We all do.

“So what’s the point of holding grudges? I could stay mad and you could stay guilty for the next year if we wanted, but it wouldn’t do either one of us any good. Everything turned out okay, for us at least. So I, for one, would like to fix whatever’s broken and just try to move forward.” She met Willow’s stare, love reflected in her eyes. The anger was still there as well, and the forgiveness in her words had not yet reached those blue eyes, but the love was enough for now. As long as Willow still saw love in her friend’s eyes, she knew the rest would come with time.

Buffy reached out and, unable to take Willow’s hand, settled for linking her fingers with the digits that poked out from Willow’s cast. “You did some pretty stupid things. But I’ve done some way stupider things, and nine times out of ten, you were there for me after. Sometimes you said the things I needed to hear, the things I didn’t really want to hear, but when it came right down to it, you always stood beside me. Especially that year Angel turned. You were my rock. So I want to do the best friend thing here, or at least I really want to try. I want to be the kind of friend you always tried to be for me. The only question is if you’ll let me. Do you want to be friends with all of us again? I can’t make promises about how long it will take for things to be the way they were, but I want them to be. Do want that too? Do you want to be a Scooby again?”

Buffy realized what she’d just said, and her eyes got wider. “But if you don’t want to do the Scooby thing, that’s okay too. We can just do the friend thing.”

Willow shook her head emphatically. “No, I want to be a Scooby again. I guess I kinda feel like I have a lot to make up for, now.” She brushed her tears away with her fingers and smiled. Buffy smiled back, and Willow felt as good as someone could feel with half a dozen broken bones, bruises in every place that wasn’t broken, and the weight of so many mistakes on her heart. Xander’s arm slid around her shoulders, and she leaned closer to him, their foreheads touching.

When her eyes lifted to find Giles, he was still standing near the doorway, watching them. He would not be so easy to make peace with. She would have to do way more than detail his car to make up for all the pain and grief her spells had caused this time.

Her mother returned then with the requested Jell-O and some magazines for Willow to read. Buffy snagged some of them for herself, disappointed when they turned out to be not fashion magazines, but rather science journals the doctors were willing to loan her. Willow finally convinced her mother to make a run to her own office to catch up on some of her own work, leaving them alone once more.

They talked for an hour or more, catching Willow up on everything she had missed: finding Robin, the Council’s destruction, and the murder of the other potential slayers, for which Willow knew she bore a great deal of responsibility, Sabrina’s manipulations notwithstanding. The Council… the slayers… now that the fallout of her spells with Sabrina were being spelled out for her in such black and white terms, the enormity of what she had done threatened to overwhelm her.

Xander switched topics deftly, to something trivial and amusing, cracking jokes to lighten the mood. For as far back as she could remember, he had always known how to distract her from broody thoughts. In dire straits, he would sometimes resort to doing the Snoopy dance to cheer her up, even if it wasn’t Christmas.

They tried to stay on non-threatening topics: various names Xander wouldn’t let Anya pick for the baby, the blackmail-worthy sight of Spike on his hands and knees inside the fort Alex had built out of blankets, Buffy’s struggles to keep her son in the bathtub while being simultaneously splashed by her daughter. When they finally broke down and told her about Dawn and Spike, Willow thought they were kidding at first. When she realized they weren’t… she would have laughed harder, but it hurt her ribs too much.

“Hey,” Buffy protested.

“I’m sorry,” Willow gasped, holding her side. “It’s just… Dawnie and Spike. It wouldn’t be so funny if… Never mind. It’d be funny no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Xander seconded. “Who knew vampire fetishes ran in the family?”

She was still gasping for breath, enjoying the laughter even if it caused her a little pain. “You think your mom ever got it on with Angel?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Why not? She got it on with Giles.” She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. “Omigod! Did I just say that?”

But it was too late to take it back, and Willow and Xander were staring open-mouthed at Giles, who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, cleaning his glasses and valiantly trying to disappear into the background. The slightest hint of a blush colored his cheeks.

The three friends erupted into a fit of giggles, and Willow wrapped both her arms around her chest in an effort to hold her ribs still. The pain stabbed through her strong enough to stop her giggles and force a moan from her throat.

“Will, you okay?” Xander sat forward and touched her on the shoulder, his own giggles quickly replaced by serious concern.

She nodded, feeling for the first time as though things really would be okay in time. “Just don’t make me laugh so much.”

“Maybe we should go for now?” Buffy suggested. “We promised we’d visit John and April before we go home, and Dawn can only keep the twins occupied for so long, especially Robin. She’s pretty clingy with Giles.”

Buffy and Xander left, promising to visit again tomorrow. Giles stayed behind, saying he would catch up in a few. Willow suspected he had been waiting for the opportunity, and now it was just the two of them. Her previous good mood evaporated.

“You gonna stay on the opposite side of the room the whole time?”

“Maybe,” he answered.

Silence.

“I’m so sorry, Giles.”

“I know.”

“God, what I did to you… It must have been awful.”

“It was.”

She couldn’t read him. He was tight, controlled, closed off. It reminded her of… Oh, God, it reminded her of how he was around Angel after… She started to cry then. She had done as bad or worse than Angelus. Worse, because she had no excuse. She’d still had her soul when she’d done all of it. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you. I can’t say sorry enough… You don’t trust me anymore.”

“You’ll find trust is a hard thing to regain after you’ve betrayed it. But not impossible.”

She sniffled and tried to wipe away some of her tears, but more simply spilled down after. “You came in to see me that first night, after I got out of surgery, didn’t you?”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment, his face inscrutable, his eyes hard as glass. “Yes.”

“The doctor told me.” Her eyes dropped down to her lap. “I had kinda already figured it out myself, though. I tried to do a spell, something small. It was like a part of me already knew, and I just needed to be sure.” She swallowed and closed her eyes, not knowing if she wanted to ask, not knowing what the point would be, since she already knew the answer.

She lifted her eyes and saw him watching her coolly. “You took my magic away, didn’t you, Giles?”

There was only silence between them. Silence, and an intense staring contest. It was like he was waiting for something, waiting to see what she thought of losing her power. She didn’t care about that. If he hadn’t already taken it, she would have told him that she never planned to touch it again. She had made much the same vow after Tara, fearing that magic would only bring back painful memories of her death. Now, Willow knew the taste of power would always remind her of that battle on top of the cliffs, when she had become the monster he needed to fight.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m not mad at you for it.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “How bloody generous of you. You have no right to be angry with me, Willow.”

“I know,” she answered softly.

“You helped them cast the spell to find the potential slayers. Now, because of that, my daughter has lost the innocent parents who loved her, and whom she loved, almost died in the fire that destroyed the only home she’d ever known, and will almost certainly be called as the next slayer. She might have been anyway, but now you’ve sealed her fate, as it were.”

Willow nodded, deeply shamed.

“Alex might have died that night on the beach. You put them both in danger. And you left me locked away in some living nightmare. There were moments that I wished you had simply killed me.”

She nodded again, dazed, unable to refute any of it, nor wanting to, but needing to explain all the same. “I wish I could say I was under a spell, that someone made me do those things. Turns out Sabrina could get in our heads, but the truth is, it wouldn’t have done anything if she wasn’t telling me exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted to believe her. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Tara’s death. I was mad at you. I thought that maybe if you hadn’t tried to keep me from learning the stronger magicks, maybe I would have known a different spell to try, maybe I could have saved her. Or maybe you could have.”

Willow dropped her eyes from his scrutiny. Her voice became very soft. “I wanted to believe that it was your fault. Because as long as it was your fault, then it wasn’t mine.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” His voice was equally soft. “Tara died. It isn’t fair, but it happens sometimes.”

She felt his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head to look at him. He was standing beside her now, no longer entrenched on the opposite side of the room.

“Willow, one of the mistakes I’ve always regretted is turning my back on Ethan. We were very good friends in our youth. But then…”

“Eyghon,” she finished for him.

“Yes. We both made some terrible mistakes. Afterwards, he was a mess, I was a mess, and I simply walked away from him. I’ve often wondered how different things would be if I had forgiven him, forgiven myself, if I had tried to mend our friendship instead of giving up on it.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and focused on a spot just past her. “I miss him sometimes. I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can’t. Things have come too far, and Ethan is no longer the kind of person I could be friends with.”

He focused on her once again. “All I can do now is learn from that experience. I know that I don’t want to repeat it. I don’t want the same thing to happen to us.”

“Neither do I,” she agreed, shaken by his capacity to reach past all that she had done and moved to tears that he could still care for her at all. She should have known him better; she should have known that he would never have done the things Sabrina had accused him of.

He nodded, as if that settled it. “I should leave you to your rest now.” He headed towards the exit, pausing in the doorway and glancing back at her. “I didn’t take your magic, Willow. No one can do that. I’ve just locked it away where you can’t touch it.”

“It’s okay, Giles. You were afraid I would hurt somebody else.”

He tilted his head in confirmation. “I didn’t know how easy it would be to convince you of the facts after you had regained consciousness. It was safer this way.” He pulled off his glasses and began cleaning him, the standard action for situations in which he was struggling to find the words. “That wasn’t the only reason, though. You had almost died. You had just come out of surgery. I was afraid that if you tried anything, you might hurt yourself.”

He replaced his glasses and met her gaze once more. “I’ll remove the spell after you’re well, and after you’ve earned back our trust. I should hope by then that you might demonstrate a modicum of judgment for the use of your not inconsiderable power.”

He shut the door on his way out.

Willow sighed and laid her head back on her pillow. She wasn’t thinking about getting her magic back. She was wondering how she could ever make things right with Giles, how it could ever be the way it was again.

***

When they got home, they found themselves thrust into the middle of a squabble between the children.

“He took,” Robin pouted to her father, pointing at Alex. “Give me.”

“Daddy say share,” Alex protested, ducking behind his mother’s legs.

Buffy sighed and glanced towards the living room, where Dawn, Spike, and Anya were sitting innocently. “Would the babysitting brigade care to fill us in?”

“Alex took Giles’ pocket watch from Robin,” Anya answered. “In his defense, she was looking at it every two minutes. It was beginning to annoy even me.”

“I suggested we let ’em duke it out,” Spike added. “Course no one ever listens to me.”

Giles knelt on the floor, and pulled both children to stand in front of him. He held his hand out in front of Alex patiently until the boy had handed over the pocket watch. “If you’re going to fight over it, then neither of you shall have it.” He slipped it back in his pocket.

Anya pushed herself awkwardly to her feet, stretching and making her way over to the foyer to claim her husband. “Did you have a nice visit with Willow?”

Xander kissed her tenderly, and she smiled against his mouth. “Yeah, I feel a lot better now.”

“Good. Does that mean Willow’s done being evil?”

Xander sighed and closed his eyes. “An, Willow’s not evil. She made some mistakes, and she’s sorry.”

“Oh. Does that mean I should cancel my call for vengeance?” His eyes widened in panic, and she laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“Not funny,” he insisted as he steered her to the door. “Bye, guys,” he called out as they started down the front porch. “So no vengeance spells of any kind, right?” was the last thing they heard him say.

Spike stretched out and plopped his feet on the coffee table. “I’d get out of your hair now too, ’cept you did ask me over ’fore sunrise, and well, daylight now. Give it another couple hours, the sun’ll go down, and you’ll be rid of me.”

“Or you could stay?” Dawn asked hopefully, glancing towards her sister as she said it. “Maybe another movie night like we had the other night? That was nice.”

Buffy ignored the question. “Did the twins take their nap?”

“Yeah, right,” Dawn answered, rolling her eyes. “You try and get them to sit still for two seconds. If they weren’t fighting, they were running laps through the kitchen.”

Buffy glanced sideways at her husband. “Giles, could you…?”

“Of course.”

Alex had already caught the gist of the conversation and started in a run. He’d only made it to the kitchen doorway before his father caught him and hefted him under his arm. The boy started crying and flailing his limbs in an effort to escape naptime. Giles groaned. “I’m too old to chase wayward children.” He held out his hand to Robin, and she was thankfully more compliant.

When they were gone, Buffy took a seat on the couch beside her sister and the vampire who loved her. “We need to have a conversation.”

Dawn sighed and nodded. She straightened in her seat, as if guarding herself against whatever was about to be said. Spike shifted too, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a show of support.

“Giles and I talked about this. Actually, this is one of those things Giles said was up to me. Him not being your father or anything, he didn’t really think he was in a position to make decisions about this kinda stuff.”

“I love Spike,” Dawn said defiantly.

“I know. And I’m starting to believe that he loves you.” Buffy looked past her sister to the vampire she had known for so many years now, as both enemy and friend. She remembered his bruised and bloodied face after the torture he had endured at Glory’s hands, for her, for Dawn. She remembered how he had taken her sister in without question after Tara was brainsucked, how Dawn had seemed more at peace after a few short hours in his company. She remembered inviting him in her home before the battle with Glory, standing in her living room and making him promise to protect Dawn. He had said it so calmly, with such intensity: Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight. Had he loved her even then?

She licked her lips and started with the speech she had mentally rehearsed earlier. “Spike said something to me when we were driving to the hospital from the beach. He said he’s been standing on the outside for years. He’s right. And maybe it’s time to change that. I would be a pretty big hypocrite if I forgave Willow for everything she did without also acknowledging everything Spike’s done for us in the last couple weeks.” Buffy smiled at the vampire, a genuine smile of gratitude. “You saved Giles. Without you, he’d probably still be lying upstairs in a coma, and I might have been sitting down here planning our children’s funerals.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. It was the first time she had put it into words, the first time she truly realized how narrowly she’d avoided that possibility. It made her sick just thinking about it.

She felt Dawn’s hand slide into hers, and she laced their fingers together. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and continued. “Spike, you are welcome in our home anytime you like. And if you want to date my sister… Well, I’m not going to do the dance of joy about it, but I’m not going to stand in the way either.”

Dawn smiled widely and leaned across the couch to give her sister a big hug.

As soon as they’d pulled apart, Buffy shook one finger in her face. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t still rules. You may be eighteen, but you’re still in high school, and you’re still living in our house. That means you still have a curfew, and homework comes first, and I can still ground you if you get in trouble.”

“Okay, I get it,” Dawn assured her.

Buffy glared at Spike. “And if you want to date Dawn, then you will have to remember that she is still living by our rules. No drinking. No smoking.”

Dawn made a face. “Ewww! Like I’d smoke.”

Buffy continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “And you will behave like a total gentleman. Of course, this where I have to tack on the obligatory ‘If you ever hurt her, I’ll use your ashes for fertilizer’ disclaimer.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that song before. We finished?”

Buffy sighed and looked at the two of them. “I guess.” She shook her head. “Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed, Spike, that you’re a hundred and twenty-five years old and your girlfriend has a curfew?”

“Least she’s sane this time.”

Buffy got up off the couch, and spared them one last glance, still shaking her head. “I’d rather not see any kissing, though, if you can help it.” She shuddered. “I’m going upstairs to check on the kids.”

They were both sleeping when she got up there. Giles was lying beside them, just staring at them. His fingers reached out to brush some hair from Robin’s forehead. Buffy slid into bed too, spooning up behind him.

He accepted her arms around his waist, laying his own hands over them. “Thank you,” he murmured softly.

“For what?”

He rolled over onto his back so he could see her. “For giving me two such beautiful and amazing children.”

She smiled and kissed him. “You’re welcome.” She shifted position so she was lying on top of him, her head resting on his chest. “As wonderful as I think they are, I still wouldn’t mind breaking them of sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed.”

He chuckled. “Give it a few more days. Robin still had a terrible nightmare last night. Maybe this weekend we can reacquaint them with their own beds.”

Buffy began kissing him along his neck and chin. “And then Mommy and Daddy can get reacquainted.”

With a hand to the back of her head, he pulled her to his lips and demonstrated just how eager he was for such a reconciliation. Soon their kissing became too passionate, too heated and desperate, and they needed to pull apart or risk not being able to stop.

Buffy laid her head on his chest once more as she caught her breath. She glanced over at their sleeping children and groaned. “The sacrifices parents have to make,” she sighed.

“Indeed,” he agreed, his fingers tracing feather light paths down her spine. “Did you and Dawn have a productive conversation?”

“Yeah, we’ll probably be seeing a lot more of Spike in the future.”

“I suppose I should make some half-hearted jibe at his expense, but the truth is he’s grown on me.”

She nuzzled closer. “Me too,” she muttered softly. They were both silent for a little while as they pondered that revelation. Less than two months ago, Buffy would have never expected it: betrayed by a friend and saved by a former enemy.

“Giles?” She was the first to break the silence and change the subject. “Have you been thinking anymore about how you’re going to rebuild the Council?”

His hand stilled its movements across her back. “I can hardly think of anything else.” He sighed, and his fingers resumed their nervous caresses, this time through her hair. “It’s overwhelming. I grew up surrounded by the Council, its traditions, its beliefs. It seemed so big, so old, so permanent. I don’t know how to even do it justice, starting over with only myself and my modest collection of books. None of the watchers’ diaries I have here date back much farther than the Crusades. Whole chapters of Council history are just gone.”

He tilted his head to see her more clearly. “Did you know the Watcher’s Council used to have a place of honor beside the Roman Emperors at the Coliseum? In fact, they sometimes hired gladiators to help train their slayers.”

“Hmm…” she answered thoughtfully. “Feel free to hire Russell Crowe anytime you like.”

“I’ll consider it,” he retorted dryly.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what you asked before: what would I change about the Council?”

“Yes,” he encouraged.

“First off, I’d get rid of that test, the one from my eighteenth birthday.”

“The Tento di Cruciamentum.”

“Yeah, that.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Never again,” he promised fiercely.

“And you could rehire Wesley. He was technically a watcher.”

“I had considered that. I had actually considered hiring on their entire team.”

A beat. “Angel too?”

“He would be an asset, and I did promise him a clean slate.”

She nodded against his chest. “You should ask Willow, too. I always figured she’d eventually join up with the Council.”

“We’ll see,” he replied, noncommittally.

Buffy raised her head to look at him. She wasn’t stupid. The tension between them in that hospital room had been palpable. The tension now in his frame was an echo of it. She touched her fingers to his cheek and waited until she had captured his gaze.

“We’ve never talked about it, Giles,” she began softly, “but I know it hurt you that I forgave Angel so easily. After what he did to Jenny, to you. You probably wondered how I could do it. God knows it wasn’t easy. But just because I forgave Angel, loved him, doesn’t mean I forgot what it was like when he was Angelus. Now maybe Willow’s the same deal, or maybe it’s even worse this time, because she didn’t just hurt you, she hurt our babies, she could have got them killed. And yeah, I feel angry and betrayed, and it’s hard to reach past that, and if I had lost any of you, then maybe I wouldn’t be able to forgive her. But the way things are now, and even after everything she did, I can’t help how I feel. I still care about her. I don’t want to turn my back on her or cut her out of my life. I guess that’s just how my heart works, Giles: when I love somebody, I love them no matter what.”

He framed her face between his hands. “That is something I’ve always admired about you, Buffy. You offer your heart out with both hands.”

She leaned down and kissed him, as if to erase his pain over Angelus and Willow both.

“Just give me time to mend fences with her,” he begged when they finally pulled apart. As soon as she had nodded her assent, he steered the conversation back to the original subject. “What other ideas have you for the Council?”

“That spell you did when we were fighting Sabrina; that was pretty cool. It was like I could feel you with me, around me, part of me. I felt so safe, so protected, and yet so powerful. It was like I was the Slayer times ten. And when she nailed me with her sword, did you see how it just closed up right away?”

“Yes, I felt it when you were cut.”

“Slayer metabolism is cool, but that was amazing. Is that normal, Giles? Is that a watcher thing, or a magic thing, or is it just you?”

He pondered the question for a moment, his brow lined with concentration. “I’m not sure. It’s something we might need to experiment with. I suspect it might be part of being a watcher, a part that the Council had simply let fall by the wayside. It would make sense, though, if watchers have always continued through family lines, that it might have something to do with them needing this skill, needing to be able to shield their slayers with magic.”

“Well, it sure saved my ass. Think that’s a tradition we could bring back?”

“Most assuredly. It could prove to be an invaluable asset. I would need to accompany you on patrol, of course, but remain at a distance from the front line in order to work the magic properly.” He tilted his head to study her a moment. “You’re certainly a wealth of helpful suggestions this evening. Have you any more?”

She smiled then and traced circles on his chest with her finger. “I thought that since watchers get a salary… I think it’s only fair that slayers get paid too.”

He considered it for a moment. “And if I paid you a salary, would you give up your day job?”

“Give up being a cop? No way! I know you hate it, but I love it. I kinda need it, Giles. To be something besides the Slayer.”

She could see that he was disappointed. She felt a little guilty that she couldn’t give him this. After all, he only wanted to keep her safe. But being a cop was in her blood now too, and she would miss it. She would only grow to resent him if he pushed her to quit. He must have known that as well, or he would have argued with her. But this was the first time he had mentioned anything of the sort since their initial blowout over her enrollment in the Academy, and he let it drop just as quickly as he brought it up.

“You aren’t the first to think of paying the slayer. The Council decided not to, long ago and for many reasons. In the past, her basic needs were always provided for by her watcher. In your case, you were still a dependent of your parents until your mother’s death. And now, you have your job, and I have the store.” He glanced down at her quizzically. “Why? Do you feel you require a salary?”

“It’s more the principle of the matter. Now that I’ve seen their bankbook, I’m just thinking they were a bunch of cheap bastards. So why don’t they pay us? We pretty much get the messy, no-fun, high-risk part of the deal. Seems like a pat on the back, ‘Well done, pip, pip,’ and a monthly check wouldn’t be too much to ask for.”

“Being a slayer is not a job, Buffy, it’s a sacred destiny. It’s not a choice you were given, nor is it something you can ever quit. It’s a part of who you are. To pay you would be to cheapen your calling. Should we receive a salary for being Alex and Robin’s parents? Being the slayer is more than a job, and as the slayer, you can’t afford to ever think of it as such.”

“And watchers don’t have a sacred destiny? What happened to all Travers’ talk about the bloodlines of the Council, a duty passed down through generations? They get to be chosen and paid at the same time.”

She thought she had him when he paused, that maybe for once she might have beaten him at a debate, but after several moments’ thought, he answered.

“There is an element of destiny and birthright for watchers as well, I’ll grant you that. But watchers have left the Council before, or refused to take up the mantle of their calling. If a watcher turns his back on his duty, there is another to take his place. There is only one Slayer. If she decides it is a job she can simply quit, there is no one to take her place.”

“So you don’t pay us, ’cause you’re afraid we might go on strike for better working hours or something like that?”

The shadow of a smile flickered over his lips before he was serious once more. “There is more to it than that, Buffy. A slayer’s essential duty is to kill. If the Council pays her for this, does she become nothing more than a paid assassin? And if so, then how easy does it become for someone else to pay for her services as well?” He paused for a moment and watched her expression as she mulled that over. “A slayer is not something that should be available to the highest bidder. You are the righteous sword in a nightly battle against evil, and there is no appropriate compensation for that.”

She frowned as she thought about his words. Finally, she tilted her head up to look at him, her chin resting on his chest. “Okay, that all makes sense. But you should definitely give yourself a raise if you’re going to be the head watcher dude.”

He laughed deeply then, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Let’s go downstairs before Spike and Dawn get too comfortable by themselves.”

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Giles asked as he loaded the cooler into the back of Xander’s car.

Buffy rolled her eyes. He had been questioning this trip since the first mention. “Come on, Giles, they live in California. You want them to be afraid of the beach the rest of their lives? A little sun, sand, and fun will do them a world of good.”

“Besides,” Xander added, clapping his friend on the back. “It’s Saturday, the sun is shining, and it’s about the warmest day we’ve had this spring. You want to stay cooped up inside with a stack of books all day?” He gave the watcher a quick glance up and down. “Never mind. I forgot who I was talking to.”

Buffy followed her husband into the house for one more load. “My mom always taught me to get back on the ice, and I-”

“Ice?” he interrupted. “I thought we were going to the beach?”

She sighed and handed him the folding chairs and beach towels. “Ice, as in ice skating, as in getting back on the ice after you fall down. Kinda like getting back on the horse, except I never really went horseback riding, unless you count those little pony rides at the fair, which I don’t think you can, ’cause they only really go in circles and-”

“You had a point, Buffy?”

“Right,” she said, grabbing the last of their picnic supplies and a wide brimmed straw hat she tugged on her head. “My point is we take them to the beach today, and we make it fun, and they won’t be scared of it tomorrow. Besides, you and I could stand a little R and R. No thoughts about Willow or the new Council or Spike or the next big bad headed our way… and those better not be research-type books I saw you sneak into one of the bags.”

They loaded the last of their things into Xander’s car, and the Giles family piled into the little red convertible, leaving Xander and Anya to follow in their own, well-stocked car.

“Go park?” Alex asked brightly.

Buffy turned in her seat to face him. “Sort of, honey. There’s a swing set where we’re going and probably lots of other little kids to play with.”

“Go slide?” Robin asked hopefully.

“I don’t think there’s a slide there,” Buffy answered.

“Sure there is.” Dawn was sitting in the backseat between the twins. It prevented them from starting a shoving contest. “They put a waterslide in just off the pier.”

“We’ll see,” Buffy hedged. She was sure Alex would be willing to jump, especially after hearing about his earlier dive off the cliffs, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. The water was probably too deep for him. Robin, on the other hand, wouldn’t dare.

They arrived at the beach and found a place to spread out their blankets and chairs and picnic stuff. The sand was peppered with little islands of blankets and umbrellas, while the waterline was dotted with figures in bathing suits. The weather was warm and conducive to sunbathing, and so it seemed a large percentage of Sunnydale had decided to spend their Saturday taking advantage of it.

They managed to stake out a more secluded portion of beach, and Buffy immediately began lathering Alex with sunblock, even over his squirming protests. Robin, on the other hand, claimed a spot on Giles’ lap and refused to budge.

“Here, do her,” Buffy ordered, passing him the sunblock. “And don’t miss any spots, or she’ll end up polka-dotted.”

Alex was eagerly watching a group of children build a sand castle, but seemed uncharacteristically hesitant to join them. Tethered to the edge of their beach blanket, he stared at the other children wide-eyed, as his thumb slowly found its way into his mouth. Buffy exchanged a significant glance with Giles.

“We can build a sand castle right here,” she told her son, kneeling at the edge of the blanket and beginning to do just that.

He quickly warmed up to the task, his Uncle Xander offering helpful construction suggestions. Dawn was on pail duty, bringing back pails of water to mix with the sand until it was damp enough to pack together. Anya and Giles both reclined on their respective beach chairs, reading. Hers was “The First Year,” his was “Fox in Socks,” for his daughter, of course.

Robin grew restless after a short while, stealing glances at the castle construction currently in progress. Giles encouraged her to join the others, assuring her that he would still be seated right here if she needed anything. Buffy smiled when her daughter finally relaxed enough to begin playing in the sand.

They were devious in how they weaned the twins out of their sheltered alcove and onto the greater part of the beach. The castle’s moat and attached structures stretched closer and closer to the water and farther and farther from their blankets. The twins were too occupied with building to notice until they’d reached the waterline. Robin jumped back slightly when the water washed in almost to her toes. Impulsively, she reached for her mother’s hand, and Buffy felt a rush of joy and promise at the small gesture.

The next wave washed in farther and brushed over the little girl’s toes. She reached her arms up for Buffy to lift her off the sand, her eyes scanning the beach for Giles’ form until he waved back at her. That calmed her, and she turned back to study the waves smoothing the sand. Completely consumed by the water’s movements, Robin absently laid her head against Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy’s eyes misted up with the weight of her daughter’s head against her shoulder. She felt the child’s soft breath against her neck and dared a tender kiss on the girl’s brow. For the first time since getting her back, Buffy felt like Robin’s mother, that there might be some hope of claiming a part of the girl’s heart for herself.

“Why?” Robin asked her softly, pointing one finger at the wave washing in.

“Why what, sweetie?”

“Why move?”

Buffy hadn’t the faintest idea how to explain ocean waves to her daughter; she didn’t really understand it herself. The girl had been silent for so long after her adoptive parents’ deaths, but now that she had regained her tongue, she had turned into a little fountain of questions.

“I think that’s a Daddy question. Here, I’ll show you something cool you can do with it, though.”

She knelt in the sand, just past the highest waterline. She waited for the water to roll out, and then quickly wrote “Robin” in the sand with one finger. A moment later and the next wave washed over it, erasing the letters completely.

“Primitive Etcha-Sketch,” she informed her daughter solemnly.

Robin smiled and reached out her own finger to give it a try. Buffy set her down to give her room. She didn’t time her artwork just right, though, and the water washed over her fingers mid-stroke, splashing some water up into her eyes. She blinked startled eyes in Buffy’s direction.

Buffy had some experience with this. If Alex took a tumble, he looked to his audience before deciding what his own reaction should be. If they laughed, he laughed. If they, and by they Buffy was mostly thinking of Giles, hovered and checked him top to bottom for injuries, Alex figured he was hurt and should cry.

So Buffy laughed and splashed her own hands in the water. Robin echoed the laughter and resumed her attempts at drawing in the sand.

“Mommy!” Alex jumped on her back from behind, his arms circling her neck. “Go swim. Pwease,” he pleaded.

“Alright. But if you get cold, you have to come out.”

“Look!” Robin begged, tugging on Buffy’s hand, apparently competing for her attention now. But the water had washed her artwork away before Buffy could see it. “Watch,” she demanded.

She drew a rather shaky letter R in the sand and pronounced that “R for Robin,” before the water wiped clean her accomplishment.

Alex figured out their game and drew his own letter in the sand. “Omega,” he said proudly. Then he tugged on his mother’s hand and gave her the puppy dog eyes he had learned at her knee. “You swim too.”

Buffy sighed, pulled in separate directions by her two children. She led them both back up to the blankets and took off their outer layer of clothing. Underneath, she had already dressed them in their bathing suits. She’d done the same for herself and stripped off her shorts and shirt. That pried Giles’ eyes from his book long enough to get a good look at her in her bikini.

“Daddy swim,” Alex asked as he climbed on his father’s chest.

Robin climbed up beside him. In this, they seemed to be in agreement.

“I would,” he promised them, “but I’ve forgotten my bathing suit.”

“Conveniently forgotten his bathing suit,” Buffy added. “C’mon, race you.”

She took off at a run, and the twins were soon on her heels, giggling until they’d all run splashing into the surf. Xander came running behind them and dove in once the water was waist high. Dawn was the last one in, tiptoeing along the edges, complaining that the water was too cold, until the twins had both splashed her and she was wet anyway. She started to chase them, but they hid behind their mother, and Dawn had far too much experience in splashing contests with Buffy to even attempt it.

***

“Robin seems to be much less clingy,” Anya commented as she glanced over the top of her book.

The watcher’s diary in Giles’ hands seemed to be more show than anything; he had barely read two sentences out of it. Mostly, he had been watching Buffy and the twins over the top of it. A part of him wanted to join them, but he saw how Robin was beginning to warm up to her mother, and he couldn’t bring himself to intrude on their bonding.

“Yes,” he answered. “I think the time I spent under that spell forced her to rely on Buffy and Dawn. I believe she’s beginning to trust other people again.”

Anya nodded and lapsed into silence, absorbing herself in her book once more.

Giles interrupted. “Anya, if you had so much money, you didn’t know what to do with it, what would you, umm… do with it?”

She turned her head and stared at him blankly. “You can’t ever have too much money,” she informed him.

“Ah, of course,” he answered and resumed pretending to read the watcher’s diary in his hands as he watched the others in the water.

***

Within an hour, the twins were shivering and ready to come in out of the water. Buffy had been ready after the first ten minutes, but children were generally willing to turn blue before admitting to being cold when it came to swimming. Buffy remembered camping trips with Dawn all too well, the pair of them needing to warm up by the campfire after particularly brisk swims.

They all dried off, pulled on dry clothes over their suits, and gathered around their blankets for a picnic lunch. Robin claimed a spot on her father’s lap and regaled him with her swimming exploits, including the wave that had knocked her over from behind. Alex jumped in with his own story, because the wave that had knocked him over was much bigger.

Food eaten, the twins resumed their sand castle building activities. The adults stretched out and enjoyed the afternoon sun.

“Those supplies you ordered were in this morning’s shipment,” Anya remarked offhandedly.

“What supplies?” Buffy asked, as she turned to her watcher.

Giles tilted his head and pursed his lips as if screwing up the courage to tell her something. “When I did that spell, to trace the magic back from Robin…”

“Oh, no,” she insisted. “You’re not trying that again.”

“No, I’m not,” he assured her. “But I discovered something then, a spell that was still on Robin. It’s very likely on Alex as well.”

Buffy sat forward, her eyes growing round with alarm. “What kind of spell?”

He hesitated, dropping his gaze as he said it softly, “A Chaos spell.”

She felt a rush of slayer adrenaline. She wanted to put her fist through something, or rather through someone. “Ethan Rayne. Oh, I hope he shows his face in Sunnydale again, so I can introduce him to Mr. Pointy. He is sooo dead meat. He’s worse than dead meat, he’s… he’s…”

“The fungus that grows on the carcass of dead meat?” Anya offered helpfully.

“Yeah, that.” Buffy pointed enthusiastically at the ex-demon. “I’m so gonna kick his ass right back to that Initiative detainment facility. They’d take him back, wouldn’t they?”

Giles sighed. “Buffy, he cast the spell a long time ago, probably when they were both babies. It might be what prevented us from finding Robin, but it might also be what led us to Alex. And there is also a very good chance that Ethan’s Chaos spell is the only thing that saved Robin from sharing the other potentials’ fate that night.”

She frowned. “So it’s not a bad thing?”

“Not entirely.”

“But you’re still going to get rid of it?”

“Chaos is wild and unpredictable. It might have saved her the last time; it might put her in danger the next. The safest thing would be to remove the spell from both of them.”

“Okay,” Buffy agreed, then began smiling wickedly as she caught sight of something behind Giles. She waved off his curious expression at her inappropriate amusement. “Just thinking about Chaos: unpredictable, wild, bad or good, depending on your perspective.” She inched back from him ever so slightly as she burst out laughing.

He frowned at her suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, you’ll find out in a just a second.”

And just a second later, he shrieked and bolted to his feet. Buffy didn’t know he could shriek like that, all high-pitched and girly. Apparently none of the others did either, as he had garnered the attention of all. He stood stiffly, with water dripping down his hair and shoulders and shirt. Twin giggles chorused behind him, and he turned to see the two children standing innocently with their empty pails.

“Well, that was… bracing.”

They must have seen something flash in his eyes, because they both took off at a dead run. He was on their heels a moment later, foiled when they split off in opposite directions. He caught up to Alex, scooping the child up and tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He turned in Robin’s direction. She had lost her head start when she stopped to laugh at Alex’s capture, but after seeing her father start in her direction, she valiantly struggled to put distance between them. Small legs and small lungs were her downfall, and Giles had her tucked under his arm within moments.

“You want Daddy to go for a swim, do you?”

Both children squealed and laughed, kicking and struggling against his grip as he walked ever closer to the surf. Buffy didn’t think he would actually do it, not fully clothed, not after insisting that the water was too cold. But he did. He waded out knee deep and then dove backwards into a wave, taking both the children with him. The water washed over them, and then he reemerged at the other side of the wave, standing up with a child in each arm. The three of them were thoroughly drenched as they made their way out of the surf. Buffy laughed at the sight. Poor Giles was wearing jeans.

He set the twins down halfway back to their blanket, and they raced back to their mother. She had a dry towel waiting for each of them. Giles stopped just in front of her, and she sized him up and down.

“You could have at least taken your shoes off first.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “My glasses would have been the wiser choice. I appear to have lost them in the surf.” His grin evened out into a full smile. “Care to help me look for them?”

“Huh?”

Alex leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Daddy throw you too.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, and she was on her feet, running.

“You weren’t supposed to warn her, Alex,” he scolded before taking off after her.

The shifting sand beneath their feet put them both at a disadvantage, and Buffy was laughing too hard to keep whatever edge being the Slayer might have given her. He was pulling her back by her wrist before they had gone a hundred feet. She twisted and spun him off balance, and soon they were sparring in the sand. They traded blows, Buffy ever careful of the fact that he wasn’t wearing protective gear, and Giles seemingly in a Ripperish mood: he fought dirty. She found herself actually struggling to stay ahead of him and countering moves that he had never taught her.

They attracted a curious audience. Buffy earned a few “Ooo’s” and “Ahhh’s” as she executed a fairly athletic flip onto her feet after Giles knocked her to the sand. She tried to return the favor, but he caught her leg sweep before it could connect and used her momentum to spin her past him. Unfortunately for him, he also caught her next blow, this time with his chin.

He staggered backwards, bent over with a hand pressed to his jaw.

“Omigod!” Buffy cried, rushing to his side. “I’m so sorry! Giles, are you okay?”

He hefted her over his shoulder before she knew it, and was carrying her towards the ocean as he scolded, “How many times have I warned you not to let your guard down, even when faced with an apparently incapacitated opponent?”

“Ah! That was a dirty trick. Put me down. I already went swimming. Now I’m all dry and dressed. No fair!”

“The forces of evil rarely fight fair.”

He waded out knee-deep, and now she was holding tight so he wouldn’t put her down.

“If you don’t throw me in, I’ll cook dinner for the next week,” she begged.

“Is that supposed to be an incentive?”

“I’ll keep the twins out of your hair all day tomorrow so you can have some peace and quiet.”

“I spent eleven days learning that peace and quiet are vastly overrated.”

“Alright, I’ll talk Dawn into watching the twins tomorrow so we can have some not peace and quiet.”

He seemed to consider her offer.

“C’mon, Giles, it’s been like a month.”

“And whose fault would that be?”

“Well, mine,” she admitted. “But here I am, trying to make it up to you.”

He turned towards shore, and she was sure she had won. “Actually,” he told her, “I’m fairly certain you won’t deny me on account of some harmless fun.”

Turned out he had faced shore only to give himself a better angle for tossing her into an approaching wave.

She stood up, dripping wet and cold and shivering. “Oh, you are going to regret that, Mister.”

He smiled wickedly. “Am I?”

She trudged out of the surf, stalking him as he slowly retreated back towards the blankets. “Oh, not now,” she promised him. “But soon, and when you least expect it.”

***

The sun went down, and the group curled up beside a bonfire they’d built on the beach. Spike had joined them at nightfall, and he and Dawn were taking a leisurely stroll along the waterline. That was one good thing about her sister dating a vampire: she didn’t need to worry about after dark attacks; Spike would protect her. Anya was curled up against Xander’s arm as he attempted to demonstrate for her the proper way to cook marshmallows. She preferred them black and burnt, and he decreed that there was no hope for her. The twins were consuming their uncle’s marshmallows as fast as he could make them, so the graham crackers and chocolate he had waiting never actually became s’mores. Buffy nibbled on the chocolate until only the graham crackers were left, and Xander pronounced his whole s’more making effort a complete failure.

Buffy and Giles were nearly dry, nestled up together near the fire. She had slipped on a light jacket over her bare arms and pair of sweat pants over her shorts. The night had rapidly cooled as the sun set, and the warmth of the fire was more than welcome. Giles was wearing his jacket now too, but the poor man’s jeans were still damp.

The beach was mostly empty, so the figure she spied moving towards them stuck out like a sore thumb. Buffy felt the familiar tingle even at this distance, and looked sideways at Giles.

“Umm… Don’t want to upset you, but…”

He glanced over at the approaching figure. “It’s okay, Buffy. I invited him.”

“You did?”

“I promised, remember? A clean slate.” He stood and took each of his children by their sticky hands. “Come on, Robin, let’s go meet your Uncle Angel, shall we?”

Buffy smiled, knowing that Angel had earned the title Uncle, that he would have a place in their lives, not just as part of Giles’ new Council, but as part of their extended family.

Alex looked at his father and informed him solemnly, “Angel big poof wif lame hair.”

Giles turned to give Buffy an astonished look.

“Don’t look at me. Ten bucks says Spike taught him that.”

Giles laughed. “Yes, well let’s not repeat that in front of Angel, okay, Alex?”

Buffy watched the three of them meet Angel halfway. Whatever brainwashing Spike had managed ran only surface deep. Alex didn’t hesitate to weasel a piggyback ride out of Angel within the first two minutes. Robin, however, stayed close to her father as they walked slightly away from the group. Buffy wished she could hear what they were saying. She and Xander would have taken bets on how long before Giles asked the vampire to join his new Council. Buffy would have won. She knew her watcher, and there was only so much social chit-chat he could exchange with Angel. Giles would have cut to the chase within the first minute.

She asked Angel later, when it was just the two of them sitting alone on the pier. She was right. It had been the second thing Giles had said to him.

“So are you going to be part of this new Council?”

His face was unreadable, as she had always remembered it. The tall, mysterious, brooding stranger who was the crux of every teenage girl’s romantic fantasies. “I’ll have to discuss it with the others, of course. I think Cordelia will lobby for it, mainly because of the steady paycheck. Gunn will be the only one we’ll need to win over, I think. Let him be a freelance operative, though, and he might agree to it.”

“Gunn? I think I met him briefly when we were in LA after the twins were born.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, and then tipped it back to look at the stars. “Seems weird to think of you with this whole separate life, with friends that I don’t even know. It seems like we just got put on pause: you walked off into the mist and nothing changed between us.”

He leaned back to stargaze in a matching pose. “I don’t know. You were pretty angry with me when Faith was there. And I have fond memories of beating up your commando boyfriend.”

She smiled and nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Okay, so we didn’t stay exactly the same. Still, you think we’ve changed enough that we could do the friendship thing? You think it’s been enough years now?” She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet them.

“I left because we both wanted more than friendship, and we couldn’t have it. Things are different now. We would be different.”

She nodded and leaned sideways until her head was resting against his shoulder. “This is nice. I’ve missed you.” She sighed sadly. “It’s too bad about that perfect happiness clause.”

There was a long silence before he spoke. “Why? I thought you were happy with Giles?”

She laughed and looped her arm through his. “Oh, I am, but this is usually the part where the happily married woman tries to play matchmaker for her ex.”

He shrugged and deadpanned, “You could match me up with someone who would make me perfectly miserable.”

“You are being sarcastic, right?”

“Yes, I am,” he assured her with a shadow of a grin.

“I’ll have to get used to that dry wit of yours again.” She placed her head on his shoulder once more, and they sat in companionable silence.

***

She tapped him on the shoulder, and he startled, glancing back first at her and then Angel. “Hey, Giles, let’s go for a walk, just the two of us.”

He checked the time before he considered it. “It’s starting to get late. We should think about getting home, putting the children to bed.”

She exchanged a knowing look with Anya, the two women smirking. Buffy tugged on his hand insistently. “The kids are already all asleep and cozy right here. Angel will watch over everyone. No harm in a little walk.”

He acquiesced, and they walked hand in hand along the beach. She asked him to point out the stars to her, which he did, with a great deal more detail than she had wanted. They ventured past the public beach, and she led him up the embankment to a sheltered alcove, made private by a small rise of boulders.

“Buffy, what are you-?”

He trailed off when she pulled him behind the rocks and he saw the blankets, the wine, the candles. “Anya arranged to have all this set up for us.”

A bemused expression washed over him, and he shook his head. “I should have guessed.”

“She says you get crabby.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist and reached up to give him a gentle peck on the nose. “And I figure, beds or the backseat of a car probably aren’t appealing options for you right now, so…” She tossed her head back, smiling up at the night sky. “So just the stars above us and a blanket beneath, ’cause sand in tender places… not good.”

He laughed and returned her embrace. “The thought is nice, but we really should take Dawn and the children home soon.”

Her eyes lowered from the starlit sky above and found his eyes watching her. Her smile grew wider, and she shook her head. “When Spike and Dawn get back, the gang’ll see everyone safely home, and Dawn’ll watch the twins ’til we get back.”

“Angel?”

“Will be returning to LA, supposedly to talk to the team about joining the Council, but mostly I don’t think he wants to overstay his welcome. We had a nice visit, though. Thank you for inviting him.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered sincerely, rubbing her back as his eyes scanned over the seduction scene laid out before him. “If you’d like to invite him over another time, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Enough talk about Angel.” She leaned forward and kissed him, closing her eyes. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her tight against him. She smiled as their kiss ended, still feeling the lingering tingle of his mouth on her lips. “Enough talk, period.”

He lowered her to the waiting blanket and demonstrated his agreement. His touch was warm against her skin, his fingers sliding up beneath her jacket and shirt. Each kiss became more passionate than the last, as they both tried to communicate without words the full range of their emotions for the other. So much had happened between them since the last time they had made love. She had hated him for giving their daughter away without so much as a word to her on the subject. The hurt had carved itself even deeper when Robin’s return only proved that she was his child alone, when the girl spurned every touch but his. And then had come Willow’s fateful spell, and Buffy had a taste of what her life would be like without him. She didn’t like it. She had regretted her earlier anger towards him, had wanted nothing more than for him to open his eyes, so she could tell him she was sorry, that he was forgiven, that she didn’t care what he had done, as long as they had each other and their children, nothing else mattered. Night after night, she had lain beside his still form, wanting to tell him so many things.

She poured her heart out to him now, with the desperation of her kiss, with her fingers exploring every part of him they could reach, gathering him to her possessively, with her mouth tenderly kissing over all the bumps and scrapes he had earned in battle, had earned defending her, with her tongue memorizing the taste of him, tracing over the lines of collarbone and ribs and hips, with her soft sighs as he touched her in just the right places, with her tears that streaked unbidden down her cheeks as she took him inside her.

It was a reunion of sorts, an affirmation that the past was now firmly behind them, and the future was all that was important. A new beginning.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her as well. There were no words necessary; she could sense it all: his regret for the pain he had caused her over Robin, his need for her forgiveness, his guilt, deserved or not, for all that had happened, for Longsworth’s theft of their daughter, for the other watchers and potential slayers they could not save, and his fear like a raw wound still healing after his ordeal at Willow’s hands: fear of the darkness that forced him to leave the lights on like a small child wherever he went, fear of being closed in, locked in, trapped, so that he rarely shut doors behind himself anymore, so that even Buffy noticed the flooded bathroom floor each morning, sadly aware that he could not bring himself to close even the shower door completely, and greater than any of the others, his terrible fear of the loneliness he had endured. He had missed her dearly, and she knew the true depth of that ache without words ever passing between them. She knew it from his touch, from the way his breath caught as she kissed along his jawline, from the touch of his fingers across her skin as he proved to himself that she was real and not merely a dream, from the way he worshipped her with his body until she was writhing in his arms as if on fire.

She begged him to come for her, and he shook in her arms as he did, desperately clinging to her as if she might disappear in the next instant. He kissed her then and continued to love her and touch her until he’d brought her to her own release, her eyes open and unguarded and looking into his as she came.

The night air rapidly cooled them, so they reached for a second blanket to lay over themselves and shared the warmth of their bodies, snuggled up together beneath the stars. Giles offered to pour them each a glass of wine, but she refused to let him out of her arms long enough to do so. He sighed and pressed her head down to rest against his chest, and they enjoyed a rare interlude of blissful calm.

As all good things must end, it was Giles who finally reminded them of their obligations back at home.

“We should probably head back, make sure Dawn was able to get the twins settled in bed without difficulty.”

“Uh-uh. You promised.”

“Promised what, my love?”

“To tell me your life story, when the world wasn’t falling down around us.” She snuggled closer, gazing up at the night sky. “The stars are bright, not a cloud in sight.” She made a face, and he chuckled. “Ick, that rhymed. My point is we’ve made the world safe for democracy again. So pay up.”

“Very well. I did promise.” He sighed and absently ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke. “Once upon a time, there was a boy, Rupert Giles. Handsome and charming and suave and resembling a young Hugh Grant… Oww!” He jumped as she pinched him. “Or possibly Jude Law?” She began tickling him unmercifully, and he rolled them both several times off the blanket and across the sand as he attempted to evade her assault. Laughing, he caught her hands in his own and pulled her down for another lingering kiss.

She stayed as she was, sprawled on top of him, laying her head down in the crook of his neck. “No fair trying to distract me. I’m serious. I want to hear it.”

He resumed stroking her hair, shaking bits of sand from it. “If you insist. I suppose our hero’s tale begins when he was very young, when his father told him that his life belonged to a girl not even born yet.”

“And he was bummed out?”

“Exceedingly so.”

“Because he wanted to be a fighter pilot?”

He titled his head down and flashed her a wry, embarrassed grin. “You remember that?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. I told Xander and Willow, and they used to salute you when you weren’t looking.”

“I was ten, Buffy. I’ll wager that when you were ten, you wanted to be a princess or a fashion model.”

“Uh-uh. I was going to be Dorothy Hamill.” He stared at her blankly for a moment, waiting for the explanation. “Ice skater.”

“Ah. At any rate, this stalwart and true young lad tried very hard: learning languages and studying the occult, all the while wishing nothing more than to be like other boys his age. Sound like a familiar tale?”

She raised herself up on one elbow to look down on him, her hair falling over them. “I’m sorry. I kinda ruined your life, and I wasn’t even born yet. I guess I’m kinda good at messing stuff up.”

He took her face between his hands, his fingers caressing her cheekbones and brushing over her lips. His expression was open, tender, and forgiving. “Ah, but you must let me finish the story. You see, if he had known at the time the girl he was destined to serve, he would have given up everything gladly.”

“He would have really given up all of his dreams, just for her?”

“She would have been the dream that burned more brightly.”

“Mmmm… mushy talk. You get a kiss for that.” She bent her head slightly to close the distance between them and kissed him deeply, her hand sliding up to touch where his fingers rested against her cheeks. Their eyes closed, and time stopped.

“She would have been his North Star, his light at the end of the tunnel, the promise he clung to in moments of despair-”

“Okay, now you’re bordering on overkill.”

He chuckled. “But here’s the rub: he would have gladly chosen his fate if he had known her, but he didn’t and the choice was not his to make. So he resented the burden of his destiny and grieved for everything it cost him. He hated his father for forcing it upon him, and the two bickered at every opportunity. He turned to his mother for comfort, but she died when he was fourteen, leaving him to his father’s mercies and the man’s desires for a proper education: a private all boys’ school sponsored by the Watcher’s Council and more study than anyone that age could bear.”

“What was she like?”

“Hmmm? My mother?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid my memories of her are colored by my general unhappiness at the time. She was the only thing in my life that had nothing to do with watchers and study, and she often intervened with Father on my behalf. In hindsight, I would have to say that she had a tendency to coddle me.”

“And you loved her for it.”

“Dearly.”

She was shivering in the cool night air, and he guided her back over to their blankets, wrapping them both in soft cotton. She prompted him to continue with his tale, “So your mother died, and you sorta rebelled against the whole watcher thing?”

“Not exactly. You’ll have to let me finish the story. The rebellion came later. No, at first I tried to be the perfect son. I seemed to think I had an obligation to Mother to put the pieces back together and to help Father cope with his grief, even while I was struggling with my own. I had this misguided notion that he might be willing to reach out to me, that her death might bring us closer, but it only pushed us farther apart. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I was never what he wanted. I could never make up for her loss.”

“And then you hooked up with Ethan and dropped out and stuff?”

He frowned at her. “You’re certainly eager to skip ahead to my wilder days.”

She blushed and buried her head against his shoulder. “Sorry. It’s just… I’ve always been curious how you went from this stuffy, proper, traditional, tweed-wearing watcher-in-training to this lock-picking, car-hotwiring, cheating-at-cards little hellion.”

He chuckled and turned his head to kiss her forehead. “It might surprise you to learn that the whole affair with Oxford and Ethan and Eyghon and Randall was not my first such rebellion.”

She raised