ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 13, 2001
TITLE: The Ticking Clock
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in “Death Brings Clarity.” Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers? I got this idea from a challenge on the Watching You, Watching Me website. I won’t tell you which challenge, because that would give it away. :)
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.
SECOND DISCLAIMER: I’m not usually a big fan of songfic, so now I can’t believe I wrote some. I deeply apologize. And here are the necessary credits: “Someone to Watch over me” by Gershwin, “She” by Elvis Costello, and “I Love You” by Sarah McLachlan.
EMAIL: . Would love feedback. This is only my second fanfic. :)
MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
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Part 5: Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

“Dad, maybe you should have a seat. We need to talk.”

Hank frowned and approached the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything, honey.”

Buffy snuck a glance in Giles’s direction, hoping to give herself the strength to go on. “It’s about me and Giles.” Hank’s mood darkened noticeably, and Buffy plunged ahead. “He’s not just living here because of Dawn’s custody agreement. We’re kind of living together, like in the same bed.”

“What?” Hank took a step forward, and Buffy took a step back. She realized a second too late that she shouldn’t have done that. She had stepped back from the protection of the island counter, and her father’s eyes immediately fell on her pregnant stomach. She laid one hand across it, as if to protect her children from his anger.

Giles was the one who needed protecting, though, because a moment later and without warning, Hank decked him straight across the jaw, sending him stumbling back into the refrigerator. He caught himself on the handle, but the door opened when he tried to pull himself up.

“I knew it,” Hank snarled. “I knew you weren’t just trying to play father figure to my girls. I should have appealed the judge’s decision. I should never have let you--”

“Dad!” Buffy stepped between her father and her lover. “Stop it! This isn’t his fault.”

Hank gave his daughter an uncomprehending look. “You mean he’s not the father?”

“No,” she said. “I mean yes. Yes, he is. But I was the one who fell in love with him. I started this relationship. There was no advantage-taking on his part.”

“Is that what he’s got you believing? Dear Lord, Buffy, you’re only 20 years old, and he’s got you pregnant already.”

“Dad, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated, my ass!” Hank started pacing the floor. Buffy felt Giles’ hand on her shoulder, and she turned to give him a sympathetic look. His other hand was massaging the right side of his jaw, and he gave her a wry I-told-you-so grin. Hank glared at her watcher and pointed an accusing finger. “This man is using you, Buffy. You’re just a fling to satisfy his mid-life crisis. I’ve seen the red convertible in the driveway. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on here.” Hank stepped closer, right in Buffy’s face. But it was Giles that received the full fury of his gaze. “The man’s my age, for pity’s sake. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. He hasn’t even married you, has he? I’m telling you, you’re just a phase for him, Buffy, and when he’s had his fun, he’ll leave you.”

“Why? Because that’s what you did?”

At first Buffy didn’t know why her head had snapped to the side. Her father couldn’t have hit her. He had never hit her before. But when her cheek began to smart, she realized that he had indeed slapped her for her remark.

“How dare you speak to your father like that,” he said coldly.

She felt Giles pull her behind him. She looked up with watery eyes, not because her father had hit her all that hard or because it hurt very much, but because she couldn’t believe he had hit her at all. Giles’ image wavered through her tears. Her watcher had placed himself between her and her father and spoke now with a deadly calm.

“Mr. Summers, I’m willing to forgive you striking me. It’s probably what I would have done in your position. But if you ever touch Buffy again, I will get a restraining order, and you will not come near your children or your grandchildren again. Do I make myself clear?”

Hank searched his daughter’s eyes, but she quickly bent her head to rest against Giles’ back.

Giles continued very calmly. “I suggest you go say goodnight to Dawn and leave this house. Don’t come back until you can sit down and discuss this with us like a reasonable adult. And I expect you to have an apology prepared for your daughter when next we meet.”

There was a long period of silence, and then Buffy felt herself drawn into Giles arms. She began to cry against his chest.

“Shhh... Your father’s gone now.” He smoothed the hair along the back of her head and down her neck. He showered kisses across her forehead and crown. “Everything will be alright. You’ll see. Your father just needs some time to cool off. He’ll come around.”

“He hates me,” she wailed.

“No, luv, he hates me. And that’s only because he loves you so much.”

She pulled away and sniffled. Giles handed her his handkerchief to wipe her tears. As she did, her fingers found the mark her father had left on her cheek, and she sighed. “I feel like such a wuss. Here I am the Slayer; I’ve taken some pretty good beatings, even got kabobbed through the gut, and now I wimp out from a little slap. Your slayer’s turned into a complete wussy wuss.”

Giles chuckled and rubbed his own jaw. “You’re not the Slayer at the moment, don’t forget. And I must admit that my jaw’s rather sore too.”

Buffy started laughing then at the sight of the two of them nursing their wounds. She opened the freezer and tossed him a bag of frozen corn. She placed a bag of frozen peas against her own cheek. “So are you saying that after vampires and giant snakes and gods and way too many apocalypses, that my brave Watcher has been defeated by his girlfriend’s father?”

Giles looked down guiltily. “Buffy, what your father said before... About me not marrying you...”

“Pish-tosh,” she said, waving off his concerns. “My father’s a big hypocrite. He lived with his secretary for like three years before he got around to marrying her. Don’t pay him any mind.” And then she gave him a deep and passionate kiss as if to prove that she didn’t.

“Hey now,” a voice called out from behind them, “give a fella a bit of warning ’fore you get all naked in the middle of the kitchen. Wouldn’t want to walk in on that.”

“Spike,” Buffy grumbled, “when did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Not long. Said hello to your dad.”

“Great, just great.” Buffy sighed. That was just the thing to smooth things over with her dad, to have him find out the surprise witness that botched his custody case was now spending Christmas evening with them.

“He didn’t seem to be much for the holiday spirit. ’Course five minutes with the two of you’s likely to bring anyone’s mood down. You over the parent panic attack yet? ’Cause let me tell you, that’s getting old.” He ambled past them and opened the fridge, grabbing a packet of blood. “Thanks, mate, knew I could count on good ole Rupe to keep me in blood and beer, seeing as you have me out doing the Slayer’s job every night ’til she pops out those kids. And when will that be, by the way, ’cause from the look of you, Slayer, you’re ready to burst.”

“Spike,” Giles said as if he were using the very last of his patience, “what are you doing here?”

“Dawn invited him,” Buffy answered. “For Christmas.”

“Ah, of course, because it wouldn’t be Christmas without undead vampires coming for a visit.”

Buffy pulled him down for a quick kiss. “Be nice.” She frowned at their new guest. “That goes for you too, Spike.”

And then Buffy rejoined her friends in the living room, intending to put all unpleasantness behind her and enjoy the remainder of the holiday.

***

New Year’s Day and another doctor’s appointment. Buffy was at the end of her second trimester, although with twins and her petite frame, she looked closer to the middle of her third. Giles was now getting to experience the full range of her mood swings, her constant complaining about backaches, stretch marks, and fatigue, her cravings that had him up twice now at three in the bloody morning to get cookie dough ice cream from the local 24-hour grocer. The second time he’d bought a gallon of the stuff, hoping to avoid similar trips, but the next day she’d sent him out of the Magic Box for something called peanut butter moose tracks. He was beginning to be grateful for their shortened timetable as well, because nine months of this would have been exhausting, and he wasn’t even the one having the babies.

The clinic was again empty, being a holiday and all, which was again how they preferred it. A routine visit, except for the doctor setting them straight on the due date. Turned out twins generally came earlier, and Watcher and Slayer had a week or more cut off their timetable. They had perhaps another two weeks, and then they should be ready for the big event to happen at any time. Giles decided that he would have preferred nine months after all.

He left the clinic in a darker mood, after Buffy had teased him with images of her going into labor during her father’s wedding. They stopped in the lobby, so Buffy could catch her breath and use the bathroom, two more things she complained about on a regular basis. Giles waited patiently, trying to push away the thought of Hank Summers and a full church all in an uproar as Buffy’s water broke while standing at the altar.

They reached the car in silence. Giles opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her get in. But Buffy took a large step back and made a face. “Eww! Have you been smoking again, Giles?”

“Not since the ER, Buffy, I promise.” Giles poked his head in the car. The top was up and the doors were locked. And yet, in the car ashtray, a cigar was still burning. Giles recognized the scent. He hadn’t smelled it in twenty-five years, and yet it seemed like only yesterday. Randall hadn’t liked the cigarettes that he and Ethan smoked. Randall had preferred this particular brand of cigar.

Giles reached in and extinguished the cigar, throwing it in the grass when he’d finished. He rolled the windows down and brought the top down. “Come on, Buffy, get in. You won’t be able to smell it in a minute.”

“Okay, this is really beginning to freak me out. Spill already! Does this have something to do with the phone calls and the photos and the mysterious Christmas present? You gotta let us help.”

He held out his hand again to help her in the car and said firmly, “No. I said I would take care of this, and I will. I think I might be close to an answer, and maybe the solution.”

“Good, ’cause the Caller ID didn’t help with the phone calls. It only ever says ‘unavailable.’ ” Buffy took his hand and maneuvered herself down into the passenger seat with a grunt. Giles smiled in spite of the mysterious cigar. His poor slayer wasn’t being afforded the time most women got to accustom herself to her growing body. It made her more awkward than most.

They drove home. Most of the way Giles kept one hand on her stomach. She had placed it there when she realized one of the babies had hiccups. A few moments and the other side started in the same rhythm. They both had hiccups. By the time they’d pulled in the driveway, it had gone from cute to irritating, and Buffy pushed his hand away, shifting in her seat to try and relieve the sensation.

“Maybe you could give them a good scare,” she said as he handed her out of the car.

He guided her to the door, one hand resting on her lower back, but when Giles slid the key into the lock, he realized the bolt was not engaged. Someone had been in their home. “Buffy, wait out here.”

“Giles, maybe we should-”

“I said wait out here,” he snapped. He pushed the door open and entered tentatively. Things looked pretty much untouched, as long as you didn’t look at the walls. But across every wall he could see, someone had painted a symbol in red, over and over again. A symbol he would give anything to forget.

He undid the childproof latch on the closet and took a longsword, even though he knew in his heart that a sword would offer no protection against the one who had done this. He swept quietly through the house, checking closets and locks. He walked upstairs, the symbol filling his field of vision on both sides of the hallway. He entered first Dawn’s room and then the nursery. Both untouched. Thank God for small mercies.

He met Buffy in the hallway. She was carrying a crossbow. “I thought I told you to wait outside.”

“You did. I didn’t.” Her eyes hadn’t moved from the vandalism painted across the walls. “This symbol. It’s the one from your tattoo.”

“Yes,” he affirmed. “The mark of Eyghon.”

She sighed. “At least it got rid of the babies’ hiccups.”

He moved past and paused at the threshold to their bedroom. “Please stay there, Buffy.”

He turned the handle and stepped inside. Again, the mark of Eyghon painted several times on three walls. The fourth wall, the one behind their bed, bore another message. Directly above the headboard and in large letters from one corner to the other was written, Why didn’t you come back for me?

Giles reached out with trembling fingertips and touched the ghostly message. His fingers came away wet. The paint hadn’t had time to dry.

The phone rang. The caller ID flashed “unavailable.” He knew before he even lifted the receiver. This time he was ready. This time he filled his voice with rage and screamed one word into the phone. “RANDALL!”

But all he heard on the other end was what he always heard.

***

“RANDALL!”

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” Click. And then a second click as the man from the black Accord shut off the tape recorder and turned to his accomplice.

Ethan Rayne still felt chills every time he heard Randall’s voice. This time he got double goosebumps when he also heard Giles scream the name they had been tormenting him with.

“The Boss should be here any minute,” Sulla reminded him.

Sulla. It was the only name Ethan knew the man by. No last name. Just Sulla.

On meeting, he had been informed that Lucius Cornelius Sulla had been the lowest of Roman citizens, and through cunning, ruthlessness, and murder, he had earned the highest honor of the Roman army and raised himself to Rome’s highest office. As consul, he had ruled with an iron fist. Men had lived and died at his word.

Great, Ethan had thought, a history lesson.

Ethan imagined that the man’s real name was Morton or Humphrey or Reginald the Third or some other name that no self-respecting bad ass would use. Maybe even Rupert.

God, Ripper had hated it when anyone called him that. Once, they’d all been pretty drunk, and Philip had been goading Ripper into a temper. The final straw had been the use of his real name. When some other customers got in the middle, it had turned into a full fledged bar fight, fists and chairs and glasses flying. A large man with a baldhead and a tattoo of a skull across his scalp had thought he could best dear old Ripper in a knife fight. Didn’t bother him much that Ripper wasn’t carrying a knife at the time.

In the end, the guy had landed a blow on Ripper, gave him the long scar he now carried across his forehead, but Ripper had done far more damage with his fists. He had snapped the wrist holding the knife, and then the arm as well for good measure. The fool had to be taken out by ambulance after Ripper was finished with him, and Ripper himself wouldn’t even go in for stitches.

Ethan wondered if Sulla would be able to hold his own against Ripper. Not Rupert Giles, the librarian, the Watcher, but Ripper, the man that Ethan remembered.

“When the Boss gets here,” Sulla informed him, “you keep your trap shut. Let me do the talking.”

“Yes, of course,” Ethan said with some amount of disdain. “From what I’ve seen talking is definitely your strong suit.” The man had barely said more than three sentences to him in the three weeks they’d been reluctant partners.

“Look, if it were up to me, you wouldn’t even be here.” Sulla spun in his chair, facing the monitors once again. Surveillance cameras gave them a view of each door and a couple of interior shots of the house as well. Giles was still surveying the damage they had done with a cold fury.

“Yes,” Ethan agreed, “if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here either. But you have to admit it, mate, you need me.” Ethan was feeling some amount of pride over his handiwork, and he wanted the credit. After all, who had listened to hours of Randall’s tape recorded letters home to his family and found the perfect line which, when taken out of context, could elicit the desired effect in his old friend? Who had been able to dredge up after nearly twenty-five years the skills necessary to forge Randall’s penmanship on each photo and envelope? Who had fed Sulla all the dirty details for their little game: the mark of Eyghon, the talisman for summoning him, and even the brand of cigar that Randall smoked for God’s sake?

Sulla needed him, and by God, he was going to admit to it. Ethan pressed his point. “You would have never gotten this far with him without me. You could have set yourself up as some dark stalker, but it’s so much more frightening this way. I’ve made it personal. You could have had some fun with the stuff the Boss gave you, but he would have thought it was blackmail or a cruel prank. I’ve got him actually believing that it’s Randall.”

Sulla didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, and Ethan sat down on the edge of the hotel bed dejectedly, flipping on the TV. He gave one last attempt at convincing his cohort that he was indispensable. “You would have never gotten past the two witches’ protection spells without me. Ripper would have more than likely come home to find you unconscious on his front step. And if not, it would have at least raised suspicion when they found their wards broached. No, without me this whole operation would have been a dismal failure. And without my magic, you would have never defused the witches’ wards or been able to reset them.”

Sulla gave no response, just continued watching the surveillance feed as they waited for their Boss.

***

Buffy made Giles sit on the bed. She gently lowered herself down to sit next to him. “Okay, I’ve been patient, but now it’s time to share. What’s going on?”

He had told her the story of Eyghon before, back in high school, back when the demon had returned to Sunnydale to finish what it had started. He had confessed to her his rebellious past, revealed for her how he had turned to dark magic and sorcery to escape his destiny as a watcher. She knew about how they had gotten off on the euphoric high of being possessed by Eyghon, taking turns allowing the demon to come into them in their sleep as the others stood guard with the proper precautions and protections. Willow had found mention of people using possession for bacchanals and orgies, but Buffy really didn’t want to think about that.

With shame and regret, he had also told her the end of the story: how his friend Randall had lost control during one such encounter and had paid for their fun with his life. And then for twenty years they had each thought themselves free of Eyghon, until the demon had returned to claim them one by one, drawn like a homing signal to the mark they each bore, tattooed in the bend of one elbow.

Buffy had always thought that was the whole story. Lately she had begun to wonder if there wasn’t more. She suspected that now she was about to hear the something that he had left out.

“Giles, please,” she asked again. “Who painted over our walls? Who’s been doing this to you?”

He dropped his head into his hands and answered very softly. “It’s Randall. The photos, the phone calls, this, all of it. It’s Randall, and he’s haunting me.”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know, Giles. This seems more like a living stalker guy. Are you sure that Randall’s not alive, and doing this to you?”

“I saw him die, Buffy. I killed him with my own hands.”

Buffy placed her hand beneath his chin and made him look at her. Would her watcher never stop carrying the blame for everything on his shoulders? “Look, I know you feel responsible for what happened, but things just got out of control. It was an accident. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

Giles took her hand and kissed it before enfolding it with his own. His head remain bowed, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No, I mean, after we couldn’t exorcise the demon from Randall… He was… He was going to kill Diedre… I had to… We had tried everything we knew to save Randall, but we couldn’t. There was nothing left but to save Diedre. In the end… It was my sword, my hand, that dealt the deathblow. I killed the demon that had taken control, and Randall with him. He dissolved, like Philip in the library.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“This could only be Randall. His voice on the phone. The photographs that he took. All of this. He’s haunting me. And maybe I deserve it.”

Buffy shifted sideways on the bed and made him face her. She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. “Giles, stop it. No one deserves this, least of all you.” But Buffy knew in her heart that he would never stop blaming himself, just as he had blamed himself for Jenny’s involvement with Eyghon, for Jenny’s death, probably for Buffy’s running away, and for her death as well. She had a sudden thought. “Could it be Ethan?”

Giles shook his head. “This isn’t Ethan’s style. He regrets what happened to Randall as much as I do. He would never torment me with it. Besides, he’s still in that government facility in Nevada.”

Buffy accepted Giles’ reasoning. “So you think this is Randall’s ghost? That we can somehow exorcise him?”

Giles nodded.

“What did he mean then… The photos, the phone calls, our bedroom wall… What did he mean by ’Why didn’t you come back for me?’”

Giles glanced up at the message above their headboard. “I don’t know, Buffy. I truly don’t. Maybe there was something we missed, something we could have tried. Maybe we could have somehow gone back for him, somehow reached him past Eyghon. In the end, I was the one who gave up trying… I was the one who didn’t go back for him… I was the one who killed him.”

Buffy pushed herself off the bed, and Giles automatically offered out his hand to steady her balance. He really was so sweet to her, with all the little things he had done in the last few weeks: the back massages, the loving words, the midnight runs for ice cream, the unending patience with her mood swings and crabbiness. Buffy vowed that whatever was tormenting her beloved watcher would end, one way or another.

“So,” she said, “sounds like the first thing we try is an exorcism. If that doesn’t work, we’ll move on to possible living scum.”

And she picked up the phone to gather the Scoobies together for said exorcism.

***

Ethan Rayne studied his Boss. He didn’t really want to be working for the guy, but hey, he’d gotten an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Everett Longsworth walked with a limp and a cane. Ethan judged the man to be in his late sixties, possibly early seventies. Mr. Longsworth (Ethan intended to show the man the proper respect) still owned a full head of white hair and the kind of classic good looks that only deepened with age and made him seem mature rather than old. Ethan imagined the man must have had the ladies lined up for him when he was young.

“Are we ready for the grand finale?” Mr. Longsworth asked Sulla. Their Boss didn’t address Ethan. Ethan Rayne was only there because they needed him to accomplish the plan. Longsworth had made it plain that if he’d had his druthers, Ethan would be right there beside Giles. As it was, Ethan had received his freedom from the government facility in Nevada and his life had been spared, as Giles’ would not. An equitable trade for his small part in this affair, Ethan thought. He still had some lingering affection for his old pal, would be sorry to see him fall to such a fate. But as Ethan had told Buffy once, he liked himself much, much more.

“Ready to go,” Sulla answered. “Just give the word.”

“Good.” Mr. Longsworth smiled and leaned in to watch his prey on the monitors. Then a puzzled frown crossed his face. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to an open doorway in the picture frame. “Is that a crib?”

Sulla enlarged the image. “Yeah, your man and his girlfriend are having a baby. She looks to be getting pretty big.”

Mr. Longsworth smiled and touched the image of the crib on the monitor. “You say he’s planning to exorcise Randall’s spirit?” Sulla nodded. “Let him. We’ll stop with our games for the time being. Let them think they’ve won. Let them become happy and complacent once more. And then at the moment of his greatest joy, I will take everything from him.”

Buffy walked into the frame of the video. Longsworth smiled when he saw the curve of her belly. One finger traced it reverently. “Find out when she’s due. And after that, we’ll have a lot of work to finish if we want to be ready. Yes, I’m liking this plan much better.”

Ethan wanted to say something, but he didn’t dare. He had never agreed to this. Buffy and her baby were innocents in this. As much as he’d been willing to betray an old friend, the thought of harming a child left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had standards. And then Ethan imagined what Longsworth would do if he refused anything that was asked of him. Ethan Rayne decided that standards could sometimes be lowered.

***

Willow and Tara performed the exorcism that very same day. Giles assisted, but he was adamant that Buffy be out of the house, so she went to stay with Xander and Anya for the evening. When he thought it was safe, she was allowed back. It seemed to work, because they had no more disturbances that day or the next.

Thursday, Xander called in sick to his job along with one of his construction buddies. Everyone would think they were hungover from his bachelor party the night before anyway. While Buffy and Giles were at the Magic Box, he and his buddy, along with Dawn, Tara, and Willow, repainted over all the walls that had been desecrated with the mark of Eyghon.

The women mostly pointed out the spots the two men had missed, and fetched them lemonade. Although Willow tried to help with a little spell, in the end her magicked paint brush made a mess across the dining room floor. Xander needed to get paint remover and reseal the finish, and Willow was relegated to lemonade duty with the others. Tara, on the other hand, showed a flair for the fine details of painting along the edges and corners, and she was promoted to working with the men. Dawn complained that she wanted to paint too, but she spilled on the newly resealed dining room floor as well, and after Xander fixed the floor again he sent her to the kitchen with Willow.

So Willow and Dawn made the crew lunch, grumbling about men and their intolerance for small accidents.

When the work was done, and the walls looked better than new, and the tarps pulled off the furniture and edges of the floors, the group assembled at the magic shop to surprise the expectant parents with news of what they’d done. Of course, it meant Buffy would have to stay at a hotel overnight until the fumes could air out. She smiled at Giles in a way that made him blush as she suggested that she wouldn’t mind as long as Willow and Tara could take Dawn.

“Ewww,” Dawn commented. “Aren’t you like too huge for that stuff?”

“Oh no,” Anya informed Buffy’s sister. “Pregnant women are perfectly able to have sexual relations right up until the baby’s born.”

The group turned and looked at the ex-demon, but her fiancé spoke up quickly. “An, honey, you would know this because…?”

She smiled brightly. “Giles has all those kinds of books lying around, and sometimes I read them on my breaks.” Xander’s eyes grew round, and she patted him on the chest. “Breathe, Xander, breathe. I’m not having a baby. But with our imminent marriage, it is the next logical step. I thought I should begin researching for when we decide to procreate.”

Xander began coughing, and then turned to take her by the shoulders. “How ’bout a house, Anya? A house would be the next logical step. Then maybe a puppy. Babies a long, long time from now. We’re like way too young.” He looked towards Buffy with a panicked expression. “Not that you’re too young, Buff. I mean you’re like our age, but special circumstances, and you got Giles, and… Willow, help.”

Buffy smiled tolerantly. “It’s okay. Just don’t say that kind of stuff in front of my dad. He’s liable to think he has people on his side.”

In the end, Hank did know when he was outnumbered. He showed up Friday morning, fiancé in tow, to apologize to Buffy and listen to her side of the story. He was frankly quite surprised to see how much she’d grown in just the week and a half since Christmas, but seemed to buy the explanation of twins. He sat patiently and quietly through Buffy’s tale of her mysterious medical condition, which the doctors had attributed to the five weeks she’d spent in a coma. The looks he gave to Giles were full of nothing but contempt, and it was obvious that Hank didn’t believe this was her one shot to have a baby. They offered the number of their OB to back up their story, but whether he called was another matter.

The due date nearly blew their whole story. The twins could come anytime after Hank’s wedding, although hopefully not during, which meant any idiot could count back nine months. Hank was not an idiot, and nine months made Buffy pregnant before her coma. They convinced him that she would only be seven months along, since twins came early. Hank didn’t know enough about pregnancy to question their figures, but even still that put conception awfully close to the time she had returned and he had been in town fighting for custody of Dawn. Hank continued to glower at Giles at every opportunity, knowing the man had wasted no time in taking advantage of Buffy’s vulnerability.

Susan, however, seemed thrilled about the new babies, asking Buffy about names and touching her stomach when they kicked. She tried to get her fiancé to show the same enthusiasm, which won her some points in Giles’ book, but Hank couldn’t bring himself to demonstrate any pleasure at the thought of becoming a grandfather. She gave up after a little bit and asked Buffy to show her the nursery. As they walked up the stairs, Susan told her future stepdaughter that she hoped the twins would come before she and Hank had to return to Spain the week after their wedding. It would be such a shame if they didn’t get to see them while they were still small.

That left just Giles and Hank standing awkwardly together in the living room.

“So the wedding’s a week from tomorrow?” Giles attempted to ease the tension with lame small talk. “I know Buffy’s looking forward to it.”

“So you’ve saddled my daughter with twins?” Hank contributed his own lame small talk. “That must make you proud.” Giles sighed, but Hank continued on without letting him speak. “Let’s just get this straight. I don’t like you. I frankly think you’ve ruined my daughter’s life. Nearly seven months and neither one of you have had the guts to call and tell me about it. And in all that time, you haven’t even had the decency to marry her. Now maybe Buffy doesn’t care about that. But you and I come from a different generation, the same generation in fact, but that’s a whole different conversation. And the way I was raised, a man doesn’t just knock up his girlfriend and run off.”

Giles pulled off his glasses in a quick gesture and began polishing them in frustration. “No, sir, you had the decency to wait fifteen years before you ran out on your family.” Before Hank could respond to that, Giles slipped his glasses back on and vented all the things he had wanted to say, but couldn’t in front of Dawn or Buffy. “Mr. Summers, I have no intention of leaving Buffy. I will be here as long as she and Dawn and the twins need me. I know that you are the girls’ father, and for their sakes I have been trying. But over the years, I have seen you do nothing but neglect them. There were times when I wondered if they even had a father. So don’t you dare lecture me on parental responsibility.

“Now the girls want you in their life, and Buffy wants you in our children’s lives, and that means the two of us will have to get along. All I want is a little civility, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Especially right now when Buffy doesn’t need any extra stress in her life. Do you think you could pretend not to hate me?”

Hank crossed his arms and looked away. “I still think she’s too young. And I’m not happy about it. But for Buffy’s sake, I will make an effort to be supportive.”

Giles nodded. “Thank you.”

At that moment their women returned, and Hank and Susan bid adieu. Hank gave his daughter a hug and even brought himself to lay a hand on her stomach as they pulled apart. He smiled sadly. “Congratulations, Buffy. See you at the wedding next week.”

When the door closed, Buffy smiled up at her watcher. “See, that didn’t go so bad.”

“No, it didn’t,” he agreed.

***

Giles opened his gold pocketwatch. Buffy smiled to know that he carried it with him always. She touched her fingers across the engraved letters. Daddy.

He frowned down at her. “Buffy, will you please concentrate. This is important. I’m supposed to be timing you.”

She had imagined him timing her patrols and slaying and training. She never pictured sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, surrounded by twenty other pregnant couples while he timed her fake contractions and encouraged her to breathe. She giggled.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure you find Lamaze very amusing at the moment, but the time may come when you might wish you’d paid attention. Not to mention that our instructor is becoming very irritated by your snide remarks.”

She tipped her head backwards against his chest to look up and upside down at him. “Can’t you do the homework, Giles, and you know, give me like the Cliff notes version? Besides, aren’t you supposed to be my coach? Isn’t paying attention supposed to be your job?”

The Lamaze instructor passed by them, offering a scolding glare.

“Okay, okay,” Buffy said under her breath. “I’m panting. I’m blowing. Happy now?”

The instructor, a short plump brunette woman, stepped up to the front of the classroom. Buffy knew that Giles thought they should be there, but frankly she didn’t feel like she had that much in common with the couples around her. Granted, she was pregnant, but beyond that… No one else was having twins off a two-month pregnancy and returning to a livelihood of nightly near death hi-jinks after giving birth. Plus, they all looked at her and Giles like there was something wrong with… well… her and Giles. When the lady pulled their registration, she mistook him for Buffy’s father. A lot of people seemed to do that, and it was really beginning to tick her off. She really thought they could do without the Lamaze. She was the Slayer, after all. How bad could it be compared to nightly thrashings? She’d even been stabbed in the gut with her own stake once and hadn’t needed to go to the hospital.

“Okay, students,” the instructor gathered everyone’s attention. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed our class today. Now, before we send you home, we’re going to finish with a video, so you can see how everything you’ve learned fits together.”

The lights dimmed. The video started. Fairly quickly Buffy found herself hoping that Giles had paid really good attention in class.

They walked to the car in silence, and he helped her into her seat, but when he moved to start the ignition, she stopped him.

“I don’t think I thought this baby thing all the way through, Giles. I think maybe I’d like to change my mind. I can still change my mind, right?”

He smiled kindly and squeezed her hand to offer some amount of courage. “A little late for that, Buffy. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You can do this.”

She clutched his hand and turned wide eyes in his direction. “You were watching the same video I was, weren’t you? I can’t do that.”

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand soothingly and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “You can do this, Buffy. Women do it all the time.” He took back his hand and started the engine. “Besides, maybe you’ll be lucky. A nine-month pregnancy shortened to about eight weeks. Maybe your labor will be similarly reduced.”

“Like five minutes?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Giles paled, and his hand missed the gearshift. He met her gaze again, and this time it was his green eyes that held fear. “M-m-maybe I should research emergency delivery procedures,” he stammered. “Just in case.”

Then they drove home to pick up Dawn for Xander and Anya’s rehearsal dinner.

***

It rarely rained in Sunnydale. Hence the name. When it did rain, it never lasted. The day of Xander and Anya’s wedding, it poured all day long. The bride was oddly pleased by this, knowing that rain on one’s wedding day was believed to be a portent of good luck. She would have been more concerned by a beautiful cloudless day with little bunnies hopping around in the sunshine.

She waited in the side room of the church with her bridesmaids, Buffy and Tara, and her flower girl. Dawn had complained at first about being too old to be a flower girl, but she got to wear the same dress anyway, and Anya didn’t know any small children to ask. She didn’t want to wait for Buffy’s twins to be old enough, and Anya really wanted a flower girl.

The bridesmaids’ dresses were orange. Bright orange orange. Buffy hadn’t been exaggerating when she told Giles that she would look like a giant pumpkin. The cut would have perhaps been flattering in any other color, on Dawn and Tara at least. Nothing would have really flattered Buffy’s round figure at the moment.

Anya herself looked radiant in white. She had chosen a traditional dress with a full skirt and a long train. It was made of simple satin, tasteful beading decorating the low neckline and trailing into the long sleeves. She spun again in front of the mirror and smiled.

It was when she spun that Tara got a glimpse of what was under the dress. “Anya,” she asked, “why are you wearing blue socks?”

The ex-demon lifted the hem and looked down. “They’re so my feet won’t get cold. I’ve heard that’s a problem for some brides. And they also fit two of the four criteria for good luck.”

“Something blue and…?” Dawn prompted.

“Something old?” Buffy joked.

“No,” Anya replied in irritation. “They’re new. They’re something new. The something old is me. I’m over eleven hundred and twenty years old. I figure that’s old enough. And the something borrowed… Well, I’ll give them back to you, Buffy, after the honeymoon.”

“Anya?” Buffy was growing suspicious.

Anya smiled and bent over for her white pearl handbag. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from inside.

Buffy blushed and stuffed them back in Anya’s purse, hopefully before Dawn could see them. “Where did you find these, and how did you know I had them?”

Anya shrugged. “At the mall before Thanksgiving. You made a joke to Xander about them. And the nightstand was the logical place to look. I would have put them back, probably before you even noticed they were gone.”

Buffy cast an eye in her sister’s direction. Dawn was smothering a giggle behind her hand. “You know they don’t have a key,” the slayer whispered.

The bride smiled. “Then they’ll be even more fun.”

Moments later the organist began to play, and Anya headed for the aisle and for the love of her life.

***

Xander was pacing. Poor boy was nervous.

“So you didn’t see any trolls or ogres or other ex-boyfriends of the demony persuasion?”

“No, Xander,” Giles assured him for the hundredth time. “I had a look just a minute ago. Only friends and family.”

“Yeah well, if they’re my family...” Xander tilted his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “Kind of fit in that gray area. Some days I wonder if they’ve been living near the Hellmouth too long, you know what I mean?” He clapped his older friend on the shoulder enthusiastically. “I’m counting on you, G-man. Now that Buffy’s on temporary slayer mommy leave, you’re my man. When the minister gets to the part asking if anyone has cause why these two should not be joined... You see trolls, you see demons, you have my permission to slay them.”

Giles chuckled. “Your faith in me is humbling. I will endeavor to keep uninvited guests from ruining your big day. But really, Xander, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Right. Fine. No sweat.” He didn’t seem to be convincing himself.

“What about me?” Willow asked. She was waiting with the men and dressed in the woman’s equivalent of a tux. Long black satin lines and coat tails suited her slender frame. Giles thought she looked quite elegant and had complimented her. “Me, your best man. Best woman, or person, or whatever. Anyway, I could help out with a little magic.”

Xander smiled and pulled her in for a quick kiss on the forehead. “Sure, Will. And remind me again whose spell unleashed Anya’s ex-boyfriend the troll?”

“Well, that wasn’t my fault,” Willow countered. “If Anya hadn’t… Okay, shutting up now. Giles has demon duty. Got it.”

The minister entered a moment later to inform them he was ready to start the service.

Giles followed Willow out the side door to the altar, and they both stood beside Xander as the organist played the wedding processional. Dawn came down the aisle first, hanging on the arm of Xander’s little cousin Michael, who kept trying to wriggle his arm away from her. She dropped rose petals, and he held proudly the pillow bearing the rings. The scent of roses still made Giles slightly nauseous, even after all these years. But he pushed away his thoughts of Jenny as he watched the bridesmaids glide down the aisle. First Tara, giving Willow a private little smile and wink, and then Buffy, who did the same for him.

Then the traditional bridal march began. Anya had never looked more lovely or more happy as she reached Xander’s side. They faced the minister and exchanged vows, but their eyes never left each other. Buffy cried through the whole service, which thankfully for her poor back and feet lasted a brief twenty minutes.

After the bride and groom kissed for several long moments, the church burst into applause and the wedding recessional echoed into its arches. Dawn and Michael exited first, followed by the happy couple. Willow stepped up to take Tara’s arm, and they left next. Buffy slid her arm into the crook of Giles’, and they left last, her watcher passing her his handkerchief to dry her tears.

They stood in the reception line, shaking hands as they were introduced to various members of Xander’s extended family and their friends. Xander’s construction buddies each clapped him enthusiastically on the back as they offered their heartfelt congratulations. Giles thanked them all as they passed for their help with the nursery and for painting over the vandalism across the walls. He realized a moment too late that he had made a crucial slip when one of the men teased Xander for it.

“I knew you weren’t sick!”

Xander just shrugged and smiled.

The guests numbered between fifty and seventy-five, a nice small wedding, and all were from the groom’s side. A moment later, though, and the bride had her own guest.

A large boom echoed through the church lobby, followed by a pillar of smoke. From the smoke stepped a large cloaked man with pointed ears, goat-like features, and horns protruding from his bald head.

“D’Hoffryn!” Anya exclaimed.

“Anyanka,” he addressed her with a sly smile as he stroked his long white beard.

Giles attempted to step between them, not really sure what he would do without any weapon, but Buffy pulled him back.

D’Hoffryn approached the bride and groom, his hands outstretched towards Anya. “Don’t worry. I haven’t come to spoil your little celebration. I’m only here to offer my congratulations. After eleven hundred years in my service, you feel almost like a daughter to me, Anyanka.”

Some of the other guests were discussing the strange new arrival in loud whispers. Buffy informed them confidently, “He’s one of Xander’s friends. From a Babylon 5 convention. Some kind of weird role playing thing they’re doing now, I think.” She dismissed the whole thing with a wave and tried to guide the crowd some distance from the scene. Giles stayed with the wedding party, ready to offer whatever assistance they needed of him.

But there seemed to be little cause for concern. D’Hoffryn only held Anya’s hands against his chest and brushed back one blond lock with his scaled hand. “You look very happy.”

Anya nodded. “I am.”

“Good,” he responded, as he drew something from inside his cloak. “It would appear that making you mortal was a gift rather than a punishment. Perhaps the best wedding gift I could give you. But still, I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t honor your union with something more tangible.”

He handed her a jeweled necklace covered in rubies and diamonds. Anya gasped as she took it. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s magic,” he informed her. “Wear it, and your young man will… Well, he will be physically unable to commit adultery against you.” Xander coughed violently, and D’Hoffryn grinned as he continued. “It would be a shame for you to fall to the same fate as so many of the scorned women you have visited through the centuries.”

Anya ran her fingers across the glittering gems, but then she handed it back to her former boss. “It is a thoughtful gift, but I don’t want it. I trust Xander completely. I don’t need magic to know that we will love each other forever.”

Xander melted at this, and turned his bride’s head to claim her in a passionate kiss. Anya leaned into him and smiled back at D’Hoffryn. “See?”

The demon nodded and slowly stepped back towards the scorching hole in the carpeting that marked the place from which he had arrived. “Then I wish you a long and happy mortal life, Anyanka.” With a puff of smoke, he disappeared just as he arrived.

“That was so cool!” one of Xander’s construction buddies commented. “Is he going to be doing more magic tricks at the reception?”

Xander shook his head. “No, he has his own gig to go to.”

The wedding party and guests adjourned to the Bronze for the reception. They had rented the club for the evening and hired a DJ who came equipped with karaoke. Giles groaned when Buffy pointed it out to him. An evening of drunken amateur singers was just the thing if you wanted a headache.

Watcher and Slayer curled up in a corner booth with their dinner, Giles massaging Buffy’s bare feet with one hand as he ate with the other.

She sighed. “Heels are just not meant for pregnant women. And neither is standing. Think dad will let me bring a chair?”

Giles smiled as he fed Buffy a french fry.

The Bronze was decorated in orange and green, the colors Anya had chosen for her wedding. They had tried to tell her that those were Halloween colors, but she liked Halloween and she liked orange and green. So her bridesmaids wore orange, the cake had green frosting, and the whole place was covered in streamers of both colors.

The evening passed with the usual wedding events. The bride and groom had their first dance, followed by a dance for the entire wedding party, which Buffy and Giles quickly realized was their first dance ever. Buffy informed him he looked incredible in a tux, even better than prom, because this time he was hers. She also warned him that any snide remarks about his arms not fitting all the way around her, and he could expect to be sleeping on the couch. He chuckled as he took her in his arms for the slow song, pulling her close, and saying, “See, perfect fit,” after he easily wrapped his arms around her. They swayed to the music for the length of the song, dancing cheek to cheek until a fast song came on, and Giles quickly exited the floor.

Buffy pouted at him, but joined in with Willow and Tara and all the others. She moved a bit awkwardly with the weight of twins in front of her, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

The DJ cleared the floor again for the groom to dance with his mother. The boy looked rather uncomfortable, and Giles remembered that the two were not always on the best of terms. In fact, Giles doubted that anyone out of their group besides Willow and Anya had even met her before. The song ended, and the DJ called for the father/daughter dance for the bride. Giles thought that was rather odd, considering Anya had no mortal father. But then she held her hand out to him, and he was moved beyond words.

“I hope this okay,” she said to him as they danced. “I don’t remember what it was like to have a father when I was mortal, before I was a vengeance demon. But I think if I did remember, it would feel a lot like you do.”

Giles kissed her tenderly on the cheek and allowed her to settle against his chest as they swayed in time to the music. “I’m honored, Anya. And I’m so very happy for you and Xander.”

Anya closed her eyes and sighed against his chest. “After Buffy died, you talked to me about death and mortality. You told me about different religions and their beliefs about the afterlife. And you listened to me when I was scared and when I was sad. I never thanked you for that. I never told you that it helped, that it made me less scared.”

Giles simply patted her back and rested his head against the top of hers. The song ended, and he returned to a teary Buffy, who immediately pulled herself into his arms and began sobbing. He again offered her his handkerchief.

The couple cut the cake, Anya dutifully smearing her bite across Xander’s face. They had the toasts, and the obligatory drunk relation that everyone tried to ignore. They tossed the bouquet and the garter to a sea of single guests. Anya tossed the bouquet in Buffy’s direction, and was extremely irritated when one of Xander’s cousins reached up and caught it instead.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I want to do it over. Buffy was supposed to catch it.”

But Buffy bowed out, saying she didn’t care that much about the bouquet anyway.

Spike showed up after he’d finished patrol. He sprawled out in a dark corner with a beer, despite Dawn’s best attempts to get him to join in. And as the evening wore on, and people got more alcohol in them, there were more and more trips up to the stage for karaoke. Giles grimaced through terrible renditions of “I Will Survive” and “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” He flinched as someone slaughtered half the notes of whatever Celine Dion song was popular at the moment. They all sounded rather the same to him. Some of the Scoobies themselves tried out their singing voices, which were somewhat better than the others who had tried. It could also be because they were mostly sober while attempting it. After each person left the stage, Buffy would always prod him into going next.

“Come on,” she begged. “I’ve never heard you sing.”

“Nor will you tonight,” he replied.

“Please. I’m the only one of the Scoobies that didn’t get to see you at the Espresso Pump. They all said you were really good. You used to sing for total strangers, and you can’t sing for me?”

“Total strangers being the key phrase in that sentence, Buffy. People that I never had to see again. I was rather embarrassed when the others walked into the coffee shop that evening. It’s not an experience I would care to repeat.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and gave him the puppy eyes for which he usually had no defense. “Here I am, bearing your children, and you can’t give me one song?”

He rested his head against her forehead, for once not willing to give in. “You first,” he answered, as if that would end the discussion. He knew Buffy would never get up on stage and sing.

Barely half an hour later he was proved wrong.

She had disappeared on one of her many trips to the bathroom. He never expected to hear her voice carried to him through the sound system. He especially never expected it to be singing. He recognized the melody immediately as an old show tune, and he groaned at her choice.

“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who’ll watch over me.”

He faced the stage and found her standing there with a mic in one hand and the other resting against her belly. She gave him a devilish smile when she saw that he saw her.

“I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood. I know I could be oh so good to one who’ll watch over me.”

Her singing voice was nice, if not very practiced. She only missed a few notes and not by so much that he cringed.

“Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key.”

Whatever she lacked in singing talent, she made up for in enthusiasm, and he found himself smiling at her in return. If she wanted him to sing that badly, then perhaps he would sing.

“Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh how I need someone to watch over me.”

Willow was at his shoulder then, giving him a playful nudge as Buffy finished her song.

“Where is that someone to watch over me?”

And then his slayer blew him a kiss and mouthed the words, “You’re next.”

“You gonna sing, Giles?” Willow asked him.

“I suppose. In a little while. Distract Buffy for me so it will at least be a surprise.”

Buffy returned to their table and sulked as soon as she realized Giles still had no intention of singing. Suddenly she doubled over. “Oww!”

Giles jumped off his chair so fast, it tipped over behind him. “Buffy?”

She took his hand and placed it against her stomach. The babies seemed to be quite active. “I’m fine, Giles. They’re just moving a lot. Must be all the music. Maybe my singing. One of them just kicked me really hard. Must be your son.”

“My son?” he asked with a wry grin, still holding his hand against the moving mound of wriggling babies.

“My son would never be so mean to his mother. Must be yours.”

“Yes, well, in any event,” he said, “you’ll not get me on stage through any attempt to fake labor.”

Willow bounced on her feet, staring eagerly at Buffy’s stomach. “Can I?”

Buffy threw up her hands. “Have at it.”

An awed smile slipped over the witch’s face as she laid her hands on the pregnant tummy. “Wow, Buffy. I can feel them. Real, live people inside you. You and Giles made people. This is better than magic.”

Giles took the opportunity to slip away as Willow kept Buffy occupied. He asked the DJ for the list of karaoke songs and skimmed through his options. He chose and stepped up to the microphone. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this. But then the music was starting, and there was no backing out.

“She may be the face I can’t forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, may be my treasure or the price I have to pay.”

Buffy had turned in her seat to watch him, and he focused on her eyes. Let the rest of the room fall away. He was singing just for her.

“She may be the song the summer sings, may be the chill the autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day.”

His voice resonated through the Bronze, every note hit perfectly. The background chatter quieted. Giles performed so rarely in public that he forgot how much others enjoyed his voice. To him, it was just his voice, nothing special, just something he had always possessed. And now he filled that clear voice with everything he had ever felt for his beautiful slayer, but hadn’t been able to put into words. It leant his crystal tenor the power to move even the coldest of hearts as they watched him from the audience.

“She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, may turn each day into a heaven or a hell.”

Tears flowed down his sweet slayer’s cheeks now, and her arms curled to embrace the twins she carried inside her, the proof of their love.

“She may be the mirror of my dreams, the smile reflected in a stream. She may not be what she may seem inside her shell.”

He took the mic from its stand and moved closer to the edge of the stage, closer to Buffy.

“She who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can always be so private and so proud. No one’s allowed to see them when they cry.”

He closed his eyes at the next part, closed them against the memory of her death, against the knowledge that he was certain to lose her once again.

“She may be the love that cannot hope to last, beckons indeed from shadows of the past that I’ll remember ’til the day I die.”

He opened his eyes again and found her. Only her. She was his sole audience. He knew that tears shimmered in his own eyes now as well as hers.

“She may be the reason I survive, the why and wherefore I’m alive, the one I’ll care for through the rough and ready years.”

He drew breath to fill his lungs, to give power to his voice for these final lines. And through his voice, he bared his soul.

“Me, I’ll take her laughter and her tears and make them all my souvenirs. For where she goes I’ve got to be. The meaning of my life is she.”

He held the last note until the audience began to scream and applaud. And then he held it even a little longer, letting it fade away with the music. He had forgotten he had an audience. He had let himself be drawn so far into Buffy that he noticed no one else. Now he was quickly reminded of everyone else in the Bronze as they continued to applaud and scream and pound on their tables. Of course, some of that enthusiasm could be attributed to the empty bottles and glasses littering nearly every table.

Giles made his way back to their table, shyly accepting praise from the other guests he passed. The embarrassment factor was now kicking in, and he would be glad when they left. Ah, the things his slayer got him to do.

He reached their table and received an enthusiastic and passionate kiss, which left him winded. Buffy was still crying, and he dried her tears with the back of his hand.

The evening ended far less pleasantly than it began. Xander’s parents had consumed enough alcohol to start screaming at each other about whether or not his father had his eye on another female guest. Luckily, two other relations were able to split the pair up and take them both home in separate cars.

Xander appeared embarrassed by the whole scene, and it put a damper on the festivities. People began to take their leave of the newlyweds in pairs and small groups, until just the Scoobies were left sitting around a table. Buffy was dozing against Giles’ shoulder, completely exhausted after the full day and after skipping her usual nap. Dawn was totally wired, having consumed an equal amount of caffeine to the amount of alcohol Xander’s relations had put away. She was the only one still talking, the only one still left with the energy, and she complained about having to start back at school on Monday after such a nice Christmas break. She tried to convince Giles that she should stay home the next week as well, so she could help Buffy through the last week or two of her pregnancy. Giles only shook his head. Dawn wouldn’t be missing any school if they could help it, even after the twins came, he added when she started to ask him that very thing.

They all said goodbye to Xander and Anya, wished them a happy honeymoon on their cruise, and went home to their beds.

***

Her father’s wedding turned out to be far more grand and far less fun. Giles grumbled about having to wear a tuxedo again when he wasn’t even in the wedding. Buffy explained to him just exactly what seeing him in a tux made her want to do to him, and he stopped complaining.

Her father’s wedding was a dull black tie affair. All the men in tuxes, all the women in evening gowns. The wedding party wore white tuxedos with tails, and the bridesmaids were dressed in slinky red silk dresses. Of course, Buffy’s dress had much more fabric than any of Susan’s anorexic friends, but still it flattered her. The spaghetti straps and low-slung back showed off her well-toned arms and back. The front draped across her pregnancy-enhanced cleavage in such a way, that even Buffy found herself looking down and thinking, Wow, where did those come from? And then the simple, elegant lines of the skirt fell across her stomach in the most flattering way it could. Giles had called her a vision in red.

The wedding went off without a hitch, although Buffy’s back was killing her by the time the priest finished the service. Apparently, Susan’s family was Catholic, and Catholic weddings were long. Not to mention that all the stand up, kneel down, stand up, kneel down, and so on was not so easy to accomplish while she was nearly ready to burst with twins. Buffy was the equivalent of 32 weeks, which Giles informed her made her the same size as a full term woman with one baby. That didn’t improve her mood to know that she could only get bigger. The babies could come anytime, then again it could be a week or more as well, the doctor had told them. A week or more meant a whole month, month and a half worth of getting bigger. She couldn’t imagine that she could stretch anymore than she already had.

The reception was a formal dinner at a local country club. During the meal, Buffy sat back with her feet on a chair Giles had pulled up for just that purpose. Poor guy was off sitting by himself, since she and Dawn were at the head table with the wedding party. Besides the three of them and the newlyweds, Buffy didn’t know another soul out of the 500 or so that filled the hall. She had told Giles knowingly that her father’s wedding would be a business function. Besides Susan’s family and friends, the majority of guests were colleagues, clients, associates, and potential business allies. Hank sometimes seemed almost irritated to be pulled away from productive networking conversations only to perform some wedding duty like cutting the cake or dancing with his new wife.

And you could be sure that there would be no karaoke here tonight. Just a classic swing band and a DJ who played during their breaks.

Giles, Dawn, and Buffy sat at a table together, watching the guests dance around them, and wondering how early they could leave without being rude. A slow song came on, and Giles led Dawn out onto the floor, making her laugh when he twirled her a few times. The next slow song was Buffy’s turn. She needed some extra help getting out of her chair, and this time his arms couldn’t fit all the way around her as they had the week before at Xander’s wedding. She waited for him to tease her, but he wisely kept his tongue.

The babies didn’t seem to get as energized by the music this week as they had the last at the Bronze. Maybe it was because the music generally sucked. She called it elevator musack, but Giles actually liked it. Maybe they just didn’t move as much because there simply wasn’t enough room. As it was, they were sitting right on her bladder, so she had to go every 15 or 20 minutes, and were pressed right up to her lungs, so she had to catch her breath halfway up a single flight of stairs. She was tired and achy, and her back always hurt, and she was completely ready for it to be over. How did women do this for nine months? It had only been two months for her, and she had totally forgotten what it felt like to have her body all to herself.

She laid her head down against Giles’ shoulder, tucked beneath his chin, and sighed. They swayed back and forth to the music, lost in their own little world.

“Thomas or Philip?” he said.

“Naw, too many bad connotations. You’ll always think of Eyghon. Austin or Dawson?”

“You watch too many soap operas,” he scolded. “Andrew or Charles?”

“Aren’t those British royals? Hmm… Let’s try girls. Haley or Monica?”

He shook his head. “Haley, again soap opera. Monica… the whole Clinton scandal.”

“Good point,” she said. “Amber or Charlotte?”

“Amber sounds too much like a stripper. Not the idea I want people to get about my daughter. Charlotte’s pretty, though.”

She slid her arms around his neck and turned slightly sideways, so she could nestle closer against him without her stomach getting in the way. “Michelle or Jenny?… Maybe not. Bad connotations there too.”

He laid his head against the crown of hers. “No, actually I kind of like the idea of Jenny.”

“I’ll think about it. Marshal or Mitchell? For the boy.” When he didn’t answer right away, she nuzzled him under the chin. “Giles?”

There was a long silence, and then he asked softly, “Will they have my name?”

Buffy cringed. “Rupert Jr.? No offense, but I really never liked your first name. I mean, it is okay that I call you Giles, right? Rupert would just be too weird. That’s what the old guys from the Council call you. I look around for Travers every time I hear it. Nope, Giles is definitely who you are to me.”

“That’s what I meant. Will they be Summers or Giles?”

She pulled back to look at him. Where was this coming from? “They could be one of each, I guess. Or is this about all the weddings we’ve been to? Is this about marriage?”

He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “Maybe I’m being old fashioned, maybe it’s just the difference in our generations, but I always imagined I’d be married to the mother of my children.”

“Are you asking? Is that a proposal?”

“Well yes, I suppose it is. Will you?”

She chuckled. “I gotta tell you, that’s one lame ass proposal.”

He stopped dancing, stopped swaying with the music, and dropped to one knee. “Buffy Summers-”

“Omigod!” she interrupted, hauling him to his feet. “What are you doing? People are looking at us.”

“I thought you wanted-”

“I was kidding, Giles.” She examined him more closely. “You’re totally serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

She smiled. If that’s what he wanted, then that’s what he would get. “How ’bout now? Let’s get married right now.”

“Here at your father’s wedding?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. Come on, Giles. We’ve been to two weddings in the last two weeks. I’m not really feeling a big hankering for white dresses and chapels, are you? Not to mention, we have twins coming any day now. We don’t exactly have a lot of time to plan a big wedding. So here we are. You’re dressed up. I’m dressed up. There’s like a whole slew of photographers running around. What do you say we grab Dawn, a couple of witnesses, steal my dad’s preacher, and duck in the back room to get ourselves married?”

Giles frowned, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know. We could have a real wedding later, if you liked.”

“I could care less one way or the other. But this is important to you, isn’t it? And you really kinda would like it to happen before the babies come, wouldn’t you?” He nodded reluctantly. “All right then. It’s settled.” She kissed him, as if to seal the deal. He was still frowning. “What?” she asked.

“Isn’t it rather bad form to take over someone else’s wedding?”

She laughed. “It’s my dad. You guys barely tolerate each other. Don’t deny it. There’s a part of you that enjoys the idea of crashing my dad’s wedding.” He smirked and looked away. She knew him too well. “Besides, we don’t have to tell him. Just go find the priest or preacher or whatever. I’ll get Dawn and a couple people we don’t know for witnesses. Meet back in the gift room in ten minutes.” She covered his eyes. “Don’t look at me anymore. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.” She spun him away from her and gave him a little shove. “Go on. Baby clock’s ticking, and I wouldn’t like to go into labor at our wedding.”

When Buffy told her sister, Dawn screamed, garnering curious looks from all those around them. The two stepped off to the side for more privacy and continued the conversation in hushed whispers.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Buffy answered. “And you cannot tell Dad.”

Dawn beamed. “Awesome! But you know Xander and Willow are going to totally kill you for leaving them out. Tara and Anya too.”

Buffy shrugged and patted her stomach. “We’re on a deadline.”

***

The priest had at first balked when Giles asked him. There were too many things that had to be done first: couples counseling and blood tests and marriage certificates. Plus, he couldn’t possibly marry them outside a Christian church. He advised the watcher that marriage was a holy institution and not to be entered into on a whim.

And then Buffy joined them in the gift room, and when the priest saw her condition, he decided to make an exception. Giles may have also hinted to him that she had already gone into labor.

The service was brief, containing only the bare necessities. Buffy placed her hands in his, and they each vowed to love, honor, and cherish the other, as long as they both should live. Sealed with a kiss, and as quickly as that, they were husband and wife.

The priest pulled out a spare marriage certificate he had brought for Hank and Susan just in case. He fudged on the blood work for them and directed the two witnesses Buffy had brought, members of the swing band on a break, to sign in the appropriate places. He informed them that he would file the certificate and mail them a copy, that there might be more paperwork for them to take care of later, but that in every way that mattered they were now married.

Dawn kissed them both, skipping ahead of them into the reception hall. Buffy and Giles followed at a more leisurely pace, holding hands and gazing adoringly at each other. It had all happened so fast and in such a blur, he could still hardly believe that his slayer was now also his wife.

They reached the dance floor just as the DJ started a slow song. Giles took his new bride in his arms, and the two moved as one.

I have a smile, stretched from ear to ear, to see you walking down the road.

“This would be our first dance, then, wouldn’t it?” She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

We meet at the lights. I stare for a while. The world around us disappears.

“Yes, it would, Mrs. Giles,” he answered, leaning down until their foreheads touched. The slow, sensual rhythm of a Sarah McLachlan song drowned out the background chatter of those around them. Her eyes hypnotized him. His world narrowed until there was only her.

It’s just you and me on my island of hope. A breath between us could be miles.

“Kiss your new wife.”

Giles caught Hank’s glare out of the corner of one eye. “Your father’s watching us. He doesn’t look too happy.”

Let me surround you, my sea to your shore. Let me be the calm you seek.

“Well here’s your chance to show him how much you love me.”

And Giles did just that, losing all track of time as his lips met hers, as his tongue gently traced the contours of her mouth until she opened for him.

Oh and every time I’m close to you, there’s too much I can’t say, and you just walk away.

He drank deeply of everything she offered him, of her love and her passion and her trust.

And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night’s too long and cold here without you.

He opened in turn for her as well, and she explored his secrets with her tongue, tasting his honor and his courage and his terrible fear of the fate he could not shield her from.

I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so.

They parted breathless and hungry for more. He brushed her hair back from her face, amazed that such a little ritual could make him feel such a deeper connection to her. She completed him. She was in his very soul.

Oh and every time I’m close to you, there’s too much I can’t say, and you just walk away.

He felt his children move between them, where her stomach pressed against his. A son and a daughter. As he gazed into their mother’s blue eyes, he prayed that they would each share that shade of azure. To be able to look into Buffy’s eyes until he died, that would be heaven. Giles certainly thought he deserved a little heaven. Burying his slayer had been the worst kind of hell.

And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night’s too long and cold here without you.

They kissed again before the song ended, drawing apart on the final note. In short order, the slow melody was replaced by a fast Latin rhythm, something by Ricky Martin. Giles groaned. “Shall I get Dawn to come dance with you, or are you leaving the floor with me?” She didn’t respond. “Buffy?”

He tipped his head to try and look at her face where it rested now against his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and deep. She had one hand against the side of her belly, and he placed his against it as well. It was very tight and hard as a rock. “Buffy?”

A moment, and then her stomach softened under his hand, and she sighed as she turned up wide frightened eyes to him. “That was a contraction, wasn’t it? Not one of those little hiccupy things that the doctor said was okay to get sometimes?”

“Braxton Hicks,” he reminded her. “And no, it seemed a lot stronger than that. Perhaps we should go to the hospital now.”

***

They walked from the car to the house in silence. Dawn was disappointed that she didn’t have a niece and nephew coming tonight. Buffy was both impatient to be finished and relieved to not be in labor yet. Giles didn’t really know what he was.

The doctor had held her for a couple hours before deciding that it was probably false labor. They both felt somewhat embarrassed for running off to the hospital at the first twinge, but the doctor assured them that given their unusual circumstances, it was probably a wise choice.

Giles stopped her at the doorway with a wry grin and hoped to lighten her mood. “I’d carry you over the threshold…”

It worked, and Buffy chuckled. “But we’d probably end up at the hospital again if you tried. I’d put your back out for sure.”

He followed her inside, and the three of them went to bed after their long and eventful day. Any hopes Giles might have had about consummating his new marriage were dashed when his pregnant wife promptly fell asleep. He smiled and spooned up behind her, laying one hand across her full belly.

She woke him at nearly 3:30 in the morning.

“Giles?”

Groggy at first as she shook him, when he came to himself, he bolted upright. “Buffy?” He was suddenly wide-awake. “Is it time?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Time for ice cream?”

He groaned and sank back into the pillows. “What kind?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“Could you go to the store and get me some chocolate peanut butter?”

This was really getting to be too much. “Buffy, there must be fifteen different flavors in the freezer already. Wouldn’t you like any of those?”

She stuck her lip out and pouted at him. “Your new wife wants chocolate peanut butter.”

He looked at the clock and then scowled at her. “It’s 3:30 in the morning.”

She tugged on the sleeves of his pajamas. “Your son and daughter want chocolate peanut butter.”

“Very well,” he said as he pulled himself out of bed. “But when I get back, you bloody well better eat it. The last two times you fell asleep while I was gone.”

He put the top down on the drive there and back, just to keep himself awake. When he returned, sure enough, she was already dreaming. He slipped the carton in the freezer with the others and returned to bed. Just another week at most, he reminded himself. Then you’ll be getting up at 3:30 in the morning to take care of your babies instead of your wife.

***

The next few days passed very slowly. Giles felt like he was on a constant state of alert for the slightest signal that Buffy’s time had come. He insisted on bringing her to the Magic Box everyday, where she spent most of her time napping on the sofa in the back training room.

His poor slayer was constantly uncomfortable, never finding the right position to relieve the pressure on her back or ease the weight of the twins from her muscles. She cried at the drop of a hat.

On Wednesday afternoon he received just another example of this as she screamed his name, and he dashed back into the training room, only to find her watching a commercial on TV. She was sobbing and pointing at the screen.

“Look, that old woman doesn’t get any mail, and she’s lonely, and her neighbor put a card in her mailbox, and now she’s happy.”

It was a Hallmark commercial.

He turned off the TV and handed her his handkerchief. It seemed to be spending more time in her hands than in his pocket of late. Perhaps he should buy her some of her own.

“I have to pick up Dawn from school now. Will you be okay until I get back?”

She reached up for him to help her off the couch. “Can I get her?”

“I don’t know, Buffy.”

“Please, Giles, I’m going batty here. I just need to get out for a little while. It’ll be like ten minutes. You’ve been driving the Jeep all the time, ’cause it has the car seats all ready to go in it and stuff for the hospital. I can drive the Jeep. Please.”

“Be careful,” he said finally, kissing her softly. “Be very careful.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She beamed at him and bounced up to reward him with a more passionate kiss.

He didn’t notice the time until he realized a half an hour had passed, and Buffy had not yet returned. After an hour, he called the school, but no one at the office could track down Dawn or Buffy. He was beginning to panic.

When Dawn finally walked through the door after over an hour and a half, he quickly snapped at her, “Where’s your sister?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Dawn answered as she stormed into the shop. “I waited for her to pick me up from school for like an hour. Finally I just walked.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his heart was beating too fast. But he didn’t want to upset the girl in front of him. Maybe it was nothing. “Dawn, go in the back and start your homework.” He kept his voice neutral, lest he worry the girl, but his face had already betrayed him, and he could see that she was becoming concerned.

“Giles?”

He smiled at her in what he hoped would be a reassuring way. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just go start your homework.”

Dawn didn’t believe him, but she also read his mood and didn’t press the issue, but instead obediently went in the back to start her homework.

Giles couldn’t help but be concerned. Any number of scenarios filled his head. He pushed those images away and reached for the phone again. Maybe she had gone into labor. Maybe she was at the hospital and hadn’t been able to call yet. He startled when the phone rang before he could lift the receiver. Anya emerged from the back room to answer, but stopped when she saw him standing there.

It rang a second time.

“Aren’t you going to answer it? It could be a customer. With money.”

It rang a third time.

There are moments in your life when you know the person on the other end is going to change your life forever. Giles just knew. And he didn’t want to pick up the phone.

After the fourth ring, he gave into the inevitable.

“Magic Box… Yes, I do. I’m her husband… Yes, she does… Yes, those are her plates… Are you sure?…”

No, no, this wasn’t happening.

“I see… of course, right away… Yes, I know where that is… Thank you, officer.”

Click.

He couldn’t get the receiver to stay in the cradle. He tried to adjust it, but his hands were shaking so badly, he knocked it right off the counter.

He heard Anya’s voice, but couldn’t comprehend anything she was saying. He was numb. He felt her hands on his shoulders, steering him over to a chair, and he found himself sitting without the memory of having gotten there.

Buffy was right. This time was a hundred times worse.

He needed to go, needed to get to her, but his body wouldn’t move. His body belonged to someone else. His mind was merely trapped inside it, waiting for this nightmare to end.

“Giles!”

Xander’s voice cut through the fog. When did Xander get here? Anya must have called him. Giles looked blankly at his young friend. Xander was still wearing his work clothes and his little orange vest. He smelled of sweat and dust and sun.

“I have to go,” Giles murmured.

“Where? Is it Buffy? Is she in labor? I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Giles stood. He stumbled slightly. His knees were weak, and Xander steadied him. “No, to the docks. The police called.” Giles didn’t realize he was speaking. The words seemed to be coming from someone else. “They pulled her Jeep from the bottom of Crystal River. There was blood in the driver’s seat. They’re dragging the bottom for…” He choked. This was the moment he realized the words were coming from his mouth. When he spoke again, it was softer. “They’re dragging the bottom for her body.”

***

DBC Home Back: Part 4: The Ghost of Christmas Past Next: Part 6: And the Cradle Will Fall

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