Title: His Wish
Chapter Two: Was It A Dream?
Disclaimer: Same old, same old. Not mine.
Willow looked down at the tear-stained letter she had received a week ago. Judging by the ink blots and mistakes in his normally careful penmanship, he was drunk when he wrote this. Probably still drunk when he mailed it. She wondered if he remembered sending her a letter this personal. Since Buffy's death, she had grown close to her Watcher, keeping her sane and – sometimes – talking him down from suicide. She had received many letters leading her to believe he knew his time had come, even if he had to do it himself. In the past six months, she had flown to England at least once every two weeks to spend time with the lonely man. His haggard appearance broke her heart. She reread the words he had spilled on the page, almost having the words memorized by this point.
Dear Willow,
I am fairly certain you are sick and tired of my self-loathing words, but this will be the last letter I will send to you. Of that, I promise. I would just like to get these words out to somebody who will appreciate them for what they are worth. Well, they are no longer worth anything, but at one point, they were worth more than the world.
I was in love with Buffy Summers. I still am, I suppose. She held herself with the grace and power of someone much older and wiser than her years. I watched her mature into a lovely young woman, one who would never notice her "old" Watcher. It broke my heart to watch her throw herself at these men unworthy of her love and devotion. They would never give her what I could.
But, alas, she is gone now. She has left this world without knowing my true feelings. I was a selfish coward for keeping them to myself. At least they are out in the open now. I trust you with these words, with my secret. I look forward to seeing her again. Maybe I can let her know, then.
I wish I could have given her a normal life. One she could share with me. We would have had a beautiful family.
I love her so much, Willow. Now she will know.
Thank you,
Rupert Giles
With a sad smile, Willow folded the letter up and tucked it away in her purse. She thought back to the evening she had spent with the Scooby Gang. She knew Xander and Anya lay tangled in each other's limbs on the sofa, Xander snoring lightly. Giles had offered Buffy and Willow his bed, offering to sleep on the floor. The young women accepted readily, Willow noticing the Watcher and Slayer sharing secret glances throughout the night. Both fell asleep with smiles on their faces and Willow knew her spell was finally coming through for once.
"Child! Multiple! There are children!"
Anya's terrified voice carried up the stairs and into Giles's bedroom, waking up the sleeping inhabitants. Giles opened his eyes slowly, his body screaming at him for sleeping on the floor. He was no longer the young man he used to be, that was for sure. He scratched his chest sleepily, stopping when he noticed Buffy was watching him through sleepy eyes. He smiled slightly, but it disappeared when Xander joined in on Anya's cries.
"Giles? Did you take up kidnapping as a hobby?"
Confused, Giles crawled out of his makeshift bed and ventured down the steps, freezing when he noticed there were three children who had joined Xander and Anya on the couch. Two boys, who looked like twins, were looking at Anya curiously. The blonde boy wore spectacles similar to the very ones on Giles's face. The other sported shaggy brown hair that constantly fell into his bright green eyes. A little girl, no more than three years old, crawled slowly into Xander's lap. Deeming it comfortable, she snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes in contentment. Giles watched the scene in utter confusion.
"Hey, uh, G-Man?" Xander gestured to the young girl. "This isn't mine."
"Daddy!" The young boys leapt from the couch and latched onto Giles's pajama-clad legs. They looked up at him with the most adoring eyes. They looked to be maybe six or seven years old, and they eerily resembled the man patting their backs awkwardly.
Buffy stumbled down the stairs but stopped in her tracks when she noticed the scene unfolding in front of her. Giles was clumsily clutching to the railing as two young boys attempted to climb onto his back… but he was laughing. Xander was cooing to a toddler on the couch. Anya looked a little uncertain of how to treat this "child thing." Buffy watched her former librarian as he continued down the steps, a brown-haired boy on his back and another sitting on his foot, holding onto his leg like a lifeline.
"What's going on?" Willow had snuck up behind Buffy and was watching the activities with amused eyes.
"Um, there are children here," Buffy offered lamely. "I think they belong to Giles."
"What? I didn't know Giles has kids."
"I don't think he did either. They just kind of showed up… and he seems to like them."
"Well, of course he does. He's always wanted a family."
Buffy turned to Willow with questioning eyes. "How do you know that?"
The Wiccan shrugged. "He told me. We talked a lot after… you know. You died."
Buffy turned back to the living room, where Giles and Xander were discussing breakfast plans. They decided on Giles making pancakes while the Scoobies tried to figure out where the hell these children came from.
"So…" Buffy sat on the coffee table in front of the crammed couch full of children and a very confused couple. "What are your names?"
"Tyler, Spencer, and Emma," Giles called from the kitchen. Buffy caught his look of utter surprise after he offered the names.
"I'm Tyler," the brunette boy said proudly, jutting his chest out in an act of machismo. He pointed to his brother. "That's Spencer. And Emma is the baby."
Caught off-guard, Buffy left the children with her friends and joined Giles in the kitchen. When he heard her approach, a furious blush spread across his features, getting lost under the collar of his t-shirt. He had no idea where those names came from. And then it hit him.
"I dreamed of having children," he started, pouring some batter on the griddle. "Twin boys. Spencer and Tyler. And a little girl, Emma. I was going to spoil my little princess and her brothers were going to protect her. They were going to grow up to be gentlemen, having nothing to do with the Council. Just normal boys. I had a feeling Tyler would be a little heartbreaker, always wreaking havoc. Spencer would be more like me… quiet and reserved." He sighed. "But it was just a dream. This is just a dream. There's no way you could show up at my house, rising up – again – from beyond the grave. And then to have my, my children from dreams just appear from nowhere. This is… this is bizarre, Buffy. Completely impossible."
"Nothing is impossible, Giles." Her own words surprised her, but she believed them with all her heart. After all, she had died three times thus far.
"Buffy, my dreams are coming true. This isn't possible. And why only me? Why not your dreams? Why not Xander, or-or Anya, or Willow?" He flipped a few pancakes onto a plate and handed them to her. "Set those on the table, please?"
Buffy wandered to the dining room, her thoughts racing. Her dreams? She was alive. She was with her friends and family. This was her family, after all. What other dreams did she have? She no longer had to worry about slaying. It was time for her to live a normal life. That was her dream.
"Pancakes!" The children raced to the table, with Xander carrying the little girl, pausing when he realized he had no idea where to put her. Giles brought the final plate of pancakes to the table and sat down, taking the girl from Xander and placing her on his lap. She smiled up at him and clapped happily as he offered her a piece of breakfast. While she munched noisily, Willow watched her family eating. Giles spread an unhealthy amount of butter on his flapjacks, disregarding the syrup entirely. Buffy, however, drowned her portion in maple syrup, so much so that there were a few pieces of pancake floating around her plate. She glanced at the young boys, Spencer smearing butter all over his pancakes while Tyler poured the remaining quarter of a bottle of maple syrup on his plate. Her eyes widened as everything clicked.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, before clamping a hand down on her mouth when everyone gave her strange looks.
Anya, never one to miss something, made a quick sweep of the table. "The children! They have two parents! Giles, are you and Buffy orgasm friends?"
"Anya," Xander chastised. He then looked from the children to the Watcher and Slayer. "My God. It's true!" He paused, blushing a bit. "Congratulations?"
"This can't be happening," Giles repeated for the thirtieth time, pacing the deck behind his house, an "in case of emergency" cigarette dangling from his lips. "I have – We have never – Not to say I wouldn't – These children – Buffy, I just do not understand."
"You said your dreams were coming true," she offered. "Did you dream of this? Of a family?" Her voice lowered. "With me?"
He removed his glasses, polishing the lenses while thinking of an appropriate response. "Um. Well. There were times when… Yes. To put it simply, I did wish of a family with you."
"Why?"
He took a long drag of his cigarette, knowing he would no longer be able these emergency stress relievers if the children were to stay with him. "Since… Do you remember the dancing demon? When Sunnydale was taken over by the embarrassing singing sensation?"
"How could I forget?" She rolled her eyes. "Spike declared his feelings for me, Dawn sang about math, and Anya did a pretty rocking anthem about bunnies."
He chuckled slightly at the memory. "Yes, well, that was… quite an experience. You sang something that stuck with me. You said it didn't matter what was causing the singing, so long as we were together. You looked at me and I saw something different in you. Something that, erm… it was intimate, I suppose. I saw you in a different light. You had just been ripped from Heaven, an afterlife of peace and happiness. But you still believed in us." He looked at her guiltily. "The dreams started that night. It's been almost… almost constant since then."
She gazed curiously at her Watcher. The smoke rising in a haze around his head, its wispy tendrils stroking his face. He was avoiding her gaze, she knew that, but it didn't stop her from watching him. His eyes were focused on something beyond the tree line, a mountain in the distance capped with snow. These past six months had aged his face, adding a few lines around his eyes and mouth. She knew they weren't from laughter, but from frowning.
"Would this make you happy, Giles?" She asked quietly.
He didn't answer. He just flicked his cigarette off the balcony and walked inside, muttering something about needing a shower. Buffy watched him leave, not saying a word. There was something going on with her Watcher. Something not good.
"My intentions never change, what I want still stays the same. And I know what I should do, it's time to set myself on fire."
Willow didn't even bother knocking on his bedroom door. She just barged in and yanked his guitar from his hands. He didn't even put up a fight, just stared straight ahead, continuing his song.
"Was it a dream? Was it a dream? Is this the only evidence that proves it? A photograph of you and I."
"Giles." Willow's voice was quiet, yet stern. "You have three children downstairs wondering where their father went. Buffy still hasn't come inside. Anya is becoming a little jealous of the attention Xander is showing the kids instead of her. What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"
His eyes shot to hers, a hidden glimpse of Ripper trying to break through. "This is exactly what I want, Willow. But it's not real."
"What do you mean it's not real? Buffy is here. Those children want their father. What isn't real about it?"
"All of it! Damn it, Willow, you did this!"
She looked as if he had just slapped her. "So what if I did? I wasn't going to let you kill yourself, Giles. You have something worth living for now. Fucking accept it or I can take it all away."
With that, she spun on her heels and stormed down the stairs. Giles cocked an eyebrow at the wall. Willow had just cursed at him. That wasn't like her at all. He ran a weary hand through his hair and sighed. A glimmer caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The sun was peeking through the curtains and reflecting off a polished silver picture frame on his bookcase. He hadn't noticed it before. He sure hadn't placed it there. The picture was of him and Buffy, happily embracing each other with grins on their faces. She was in a form-fitting dress of lavender, he in a stylish tuxedo. He closed his eyes and looked down at his hand, almost afraid of what he would find. No jewelry. No ring. But a tiny tattoo was etched onto his ring finger. IIX-XIV. Curious. He looked down at the corner of the picture. 14 August 2002. They had gotten married nine years ago? Surely, that was something he would have remembered.
"Daddy, come play with us!"
A smile played at the corner of his lips. Yes, this was his dream life. But why should he wake up?
