Standard Disclaimer -- None of the characters in here are mine. The ones that don't belong to themselves belong to Joss Whedon. Since I don't know of anything to contradict the existence of the OC's in canon, they might belong to Joss as well.
Willow walked towards the suite of rooms that Giles kept at the coven's mansion in Devon. She couldn't sleep -- every time she closesd her eyes, she saw Tara's murder and Warren's skinless corpse, and she wanted to talk to Giles.
She knocked on his door. Just when she was about to turn away, thinking him already asleep, he opened the door. He looked haggard and worn, and she could feel his own grief rolling off of him. Suddenly, her own nightmares were less important. "What's wrong," she asked. "Did something happen to Buffy? Or Xander? Dawn? Anya? Spike?"
"No, everyone in Sunnydale is as safe as they can possibly be. And there is still no on word on Spike," he said. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged. "It's not Ethan, is it? Is he out and up to his old tricks?" Through the open door, she saw an opened bottle of Scotch and an open photo album on the coffee table. "You've been drinking," she accused, slipping into his living room.
"I'm an adult, Willow." He closed the door behind her, and walked towards the bottle and the album. He closed it and poured himself another glass. "I can do as I damn well please."
She took the bottle and the glass away from him. "Oh yes, and doing as we pleased has always worked so well for us. You raised a demon, and I skinned a man. Talk to me, Giles." When he didn't speak, she sat down next to him. "Fine, drink yourself into a stupor. Don't mind me." She picked up the photo album and opened it to the middle. She saw a fading eight by ten of a young couple taken in the mid- to-late seventies. The man looked a great deal like a young Giles. He was dressed all in black leather, and couldn't take his eyes off the woman next to him. She couldn't have been much past eighteen and had straight hair that was longer than she was. About Buffy's height, she thought. The young woman's dark eyes were fixed on the young man. She was wearing a white mini-dress, was holding flowers, and looked about six months pregnant. A wedding picture, she guessed. "Who are they, Giles? She's pretty, and your cousin or whatever is quite the hottie."
He finally looked at her, and then at the picture. A smile ghosted around the edge of his mouth. "Her name was Susan, and the 'hottie,' is me."
Willow stared at him. This was Giles, her mentor, her friend. She had thought his youth consisted of raising demons, not children. "You're married! And have a kid!"
"Were and had," he said, sitting down next to her. He had always chosen to be alone tonight, preferably to drink himself into oblivion. In over twenty years, Jenny Calendar had been the only one who had known.
"Oh." Willow knew how much pain could live behind those two little words. "What happened?"
"They died. No, Eyghon did not get them; a pair of faulty brakes did."
"How did you meet her," she whispered. "That's Ripper gear -- it wasn't a Council meeting. And I never thought the demon killed them."
He looked at Willow solemnly. Even Jenny had stopped pressing after he had told her that Susan and Sean had died. Everyone who had known them, really known them, was dead. Afraid to pass the memories on, Ripper, he asked himself. She's had so much pain in her life, why add mine to it? Because she's shared hers with you, and it's time to trust her with yours. He took a deep breath. "Promise not to breath a word of what I'm about to tell you -- not to Buffy or Dawn or Xander. No being, living, dead, or other, unless I expressly give you permission." His pained and haunted eyes met hers. "Ever."
"I swear."
He sighed, and flipped back until he reached a page of three by threes, the kind with the rounded edges popular back in the seventies. Willow recognized an even younger Giles and a young Ethan Rayne in a few of the snapshots. "Spike told me what that gesture means," she said, pointing to one of the pictures that included Daphne and Philip and a few others from the coven.
"Yes, I'm sure he did. Before or after you caught Dawn using it?" He pointed to a picture in the lower right hand corner. "That's Susan not long after we first met."
"You've seen Dawn using it? She's going to be in so much trouble," she muttered as she looked at the picture. She took in the skimpy clothes and the too much make-up. "Giles, I hate to say this, but she dressed like a prostitute."
"She was a prostitute," he said.
"She, she was?" Willow was incredulous.
"Yes. I was nineteen and we had just raised Eyghon for the first time."
"Wait, I thought that Buffy said that you were twenty-one when you did the demon thing."
"I was twenty-one when Randall died. Nineteen when we started our little cult. Anyway, we stumbled out of the building, all intent on finding our lodgings. Ethan and I were going to my flat to augment our feelings of euphoria when we saw her." He tapped the photograph. "She was gorgeous, beautiful, and looked like sex personified. All thoughts of alcohol and angel dust --" Willow choked, "fled our minds as we flipped a coin to see who would secure her services for the night."
"You hired her. You were high on demon breath and you hired her." Willow knew cerebrally that Giles had done a lot of things as a youth. She even knew that Eyghon worshipping included orgies. Knowing about it and hearing him calmly state using cocaine and picking up prostitutes was a whole different story.
"Actually, no. I lost the coin toss," he said. "I think Ethan magicked the coin. The next time she worked our corner though I made sure to make arrangements with her before Ethan got there."
"If this is going to turn into a play by play," she said, "that is so in the category of not need to know."
He almost smiled. "I found out that her name was Susan, that she was sixteen, and had been in her current line of work for two years."
When he took her back to his place, he really hadn't intended on finding out her name or any other type of personal information, but with his senses heightened by the demon, he could smell her previous customers on her, so he told her to get cleaned up first. When she emerged from the bathroom, sans makeup or anything else, she looked so very young, younger than sixteen, that he had to know.
"Now, are we gonna talk, or play?"
"So what happened? How did you two end up all Pretty Woman?" Giles as Richard Gere, Willow thought. Just when she thought she knew everything about him, something new popped up.
"One night, her procurer had beaten her bloody, had even managed to break a rib. She wouldn't tell me why, or even if there was a reason. Given the concentration of bruises on her abdomen, it might have even been his idea of a cheap abortion. She had no business being out on the street in her condition," he continued, with heat in his voice. "None at all, and I told her so. Her exact words were, 'I gotta pay up one way or th' other, Ripper. This way hurts less.' The pain and the sorrow and -- I just wanted to hold her and make it all better. I couldn't, of course, but I realized at that moment that I loved her. Then, since every bloody monster in the bloody universe seems to enjoy using my body as a punching bag, a big, meaty hand descended onto my shoulder and spun me around to face its gorilla of an owner," he shook his head, sounding rueful. "One of those days I'll find out how to turn off the hit me sign above my head."
"Was it her pimp," asked Willow, who had often wondered where the switch was herself.
"Who else?"
"How many rounds did you go before you were knocked out?"
"You would be quite proud of me actually. After the man, and though he was technically human, I use the term loosely, accused me of 'hassling' his 'girl,' I told him that 'his girl' was far to injured to work."
Willow giggled. "Tell me you didn't, in your nice plummy Oxford tone, say 'far too injured.' If you did, I'm not surprised he hit you."
He glared at her. "No, I didn't. However, there are words that I have no doubt that you know what mean that I am not going to introduce you to, just in case you don't. In any case, after a string of curses that not even an American censor would allow to air, he decided that my stomach was as good a place as any to place his fist. As I regained my breath, he decided to start slapping Susan around, to prove that he could and that I couldn't do a bloody thing about it." Giles grinned his Ripper grin. "So I smashed his face in for him -- it really was an improvement -- and left him unconscious on the pavement. One of my few proud moments from that time period. I took Susan home with me; I could keep her safe if he decided that he wasn't through with her."
"Go Ripper!"
He chuckled. "Quite. Susan worried that he would come after her."
"What the hell did you think that you were doing back there," she screamed when he put her down about two blocks away. "Don't you know that will just make it worse the next time?"
"There won't be a next time," he told her firmly.
"Oh, and what exactly are you going to do to stop him? The only home I have belongs to him," she told him. "It's not like I have any other place to go."
"You will stay with me." His tone brooked no questioning.
She didn't let that stop her. "Like bloody hell I will!
"And she questioned my motives."
"I'm not hangin' out at your place givin' out freebies to you and that friend a yours!"
"Of course, you're bloody well not!" He looked completely aghast.
"Nor am I interested in gettin' myself another Eddie. One is bad enough."
"I would never -- look," he told her, "just stay until you heal up, all right? That's the only demand that I will make upon your person or your time. Just rest and heal."
"You'll not be after me for sex." She was wary.
"Sorry, I like my partners whole and healthy," he said dryly, "and able to breathe without pain."
"I'll stay just until the bruises fade, then."
"Just until you can breathe properly, then." He smiled. "And by then, we will have come up with a way to protect you from Eddie."
She snorted, but followed him home.
"I convinced her to stay with me until her ribs had healed. I found out that she was intelligent and had a ready mind that just soaked up knowledge. She was also kind and sweet and I fell even further in love with her. After she was better, I had to come up with excuses to keep her with me. In the end, I found her a job."
Actually, she had demanded one. "Ripper," she had said one night after dinner, about two months after she had come to live with him, "tomorrow night I'm going back to work."
"Like hell you are, Susan," he nearly dropped the guitar he had been practicing on. "I'll not have you out there on a street corner selling yourself again!"
"Let's get a few things straight here, Ripper," she emphasized his name to remind them of how they had met. "You may, may have saved my life that night, but you don't own my life. If I want to make some money doing something you know I'm damn well good at then I will. I'm sick and tired of being your bloody charity case. It was well and good when I was hurt, but I'm not hurt anymore. And you aren't my bloody keeper!"
"Look, if it's a job want, you don't have to go back to the streets for that," he told her. "There are plenty of positions that don't involve you on your back."
"There certainly are," she said. "And I make extra for a couple of them."
"That's not what I meant," he muttered. "Look, I just don't want --" other men touching you, looking at you, paying you for the magic that you weave -- "you to get hurt again. Eddie is still out there and I have no doubt that he would kill you if he found you again. I just worry about your safety. You needn't snort at me Susan," as she did just that, "it's true. If you really are serious --"
"And I bloody well am."
"You know that pub that I play at Friday nights? The one a few streets over?"
"What about it?"
"One of the waitresses just left to get married. I'm sure that they'll hire you." Since she wanted tease, "It will mean long hours on your feet. Are you sure that you are up to it?"
She shrugged, a glint in her eye. "Been on my feet before, but most men preferred me on my knees, if I was to be vertical at all."
He should have known better. The images were doing horrid things to his nervous system. "I - I have to down tomorrow to work out the details regarding Friday. Come with me and you can inquire about the position."
"Back to positions again," she chuckled, trailing her finger down his cheek. It was part invitation, part dare, and entirely something he wanted to take her up on. But he wouldn't. She was still questioning his motives and he wanted more from her than just sex. "I'll think about it," she said, moving away.
"You said that you were tired of living of my 'charity,'" he asked, seizing this as an opportunity to keep her longer.
She spoke over her shoulder. "Yeah, what of it?"
"You can help me with the rent then," he picked his guitar back up and began playing chords again. "It would certainly be a help." He looked up at her. "We starving musicians can use all the help we can get."
She rolled her eyes and threw a wadded up burger wrapper at him. "Talk to me about starving when you know what you are talking about."
"She became a waitress at a pub where I played a great deal. I told her that she could help me with the rent money because she was concerned about living on my charity. She could be so proud sometimes," he said wistfully. "But she would never put pride in front of survival." He sighed.
"So what convinced her that you were on the up and up," Willow asked, completely absorbed in his story. "What convinced her that you loved her?"
"She came home late one night from work and Ethan was there. Usually she was in bed by the time we got home or she simply ignored him. We were having our usual post-demon drinks, but weren't as far in our cups as usual -- me because of my worry about Susan being late, and Ethan because Susan had thrown out the cocaine the second she found it. 'I refuse to live with either a junkie or a supplier to junkies,' she said. Well, she walked in and Ethan made insinuations, then more than simple insinuations."
"Join us for a drink, luv," Ethan cried out as she entered the flat. "Since you have your old man to whipped to offer more."
"I'm going to bed," she announced, ignoring Ethan.
"Night, Susan," Giles murmured into his glass, relieved to see her but trying not to let Ethan see that. Ethan would have latched onto that little tidbit and not let it go.
Ethan caught her arm as she walked passed him. "Who can resist an offer like that?"
"Bugger off." She shook his hand off.
"If that's the way you want it." He grabbed her again, holding tighter.
"Leave her alone Ethan," Giles said mildly, sipping his Scotch, not expecting it to go any further.
Ethan stood, grabbing her other arm. "I just wanna taste of what you get every night, mate. I liked it before."
Giles stood too. "I said, let her alone. And I want you out of here."
"C'mon Ripper, old man. Be a sport and share." With his demon augmented strength, she couldn't squirm free.
"Leave me alone, Rayne." She tried to knee him in the groin, but he jumped just out of her reach.
"Lively little bit," he said with a grin.
Giles put his hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Sod off, Ethan." Many years later, Ethan would call that Giles' "put-Ethan-in-traction" voice, but he hadn't learned that yet.
"I'll pay ya."
"When he wouldn't stop, even offering in fact to pay me for her services, I used the demon's magic to throw him against the wall. I held him there magically until he apologized."
"Did you do the finger pinching thing and crush his windpipe like Darth Vader," she asked.
"Willow, really."
Giles didn't "do the finger pinching thing," but he did use magic to crush his windpipe. The increased magical ability was a side effect that Giles missed. "You are going to apologize to Susan and then you are going to get the hell out of my flat! Understood?" He released just enough of the pressure on Ethan's throat to let him catch his breath and speak.
"C'mon, mate, she's just a common --" Ripper increased the pressure, cutting him off.
"Rupert," Susan, wide eyed, deliberately used his given name to try to snap him out of the killing rage he seemed to be in. "He's not worth it. Let him go."
"Not until he apologizes. Well, mate?"
"I'm sorry, Susan," Ethan singsonged. "I'll go home now like a good little boy." Giles released him and he crashed to the floor. He stood and brushed himself off. "Really Ripper, you've become such a prude since you started tupping her." He swaggered out the door, massaging his throat. Then he opened it again and stuck his head in. "See ya tomorrow, mate?"
"Get out!"
Ethan shrugged and closed the door again.
"You threw him out? Against the wall and then out?" Willow was delighted. "Just like Richard Gere and that fat guy from Seinfeld. That is so romantic."
"Something like that. Only Susan didn't leave me and I did have to deal with Ethan again. Not too mention, that Gere fellow didn't have to explain to that Roberts woman just how he managed to throw the other guy out the room." His mother had dragged him to see Pretty Woman. She thought that it would cheer him up.
"You've seen Pretty Woman?"
"It's late Willow. Don't you have lessons with Mrs. Crumb tomorrow?" If he could get her out now, maybe she would forget this and leave him alone.
"Actually, Mrs. Crumb is visiting her sister in Aberdeen," she shrugged. "Now, what happened next? How did beating up Ethan, something you do quite well by the way, convince her that you loved her? How did she react to the magic thing?"
He leaned back on the couch, and sighed. "She had never had anyone fight for her before and she asked me why I did. I told her it was because I loved her." He busied himself with the tea.
After Ethan left, he turned and faced Susan. Her eyes were wide with fright and she was rubbing her arms, staring at the rapidly forming bruises. Still channeling the demon's magic, Giles ran his hands over her arms and healed them. "Susan --"
She jerked away from him. "No, don't. Not yet. Not until you bloody well tell me what the hell just happened here. How you did whatever the hell it was that you did and why you bloody well did it."
"I was defending your bloody honor, woman." Attempting to dispel the demon's power made his answer sharper than he intended. "And I was trying to keep his filthy hands off of you."
"I could have handled it," she protested.
"Oh yes, you were doing so well," he snorted. "He was using strength funneled off the demon we raised today."
"So were you," she realized.
"Yes," he admitted, rather ashamed, which surprised him. Wasn't that the point of raising the demon, to relish in the debauchery that everyone said was evil? Relishing meant not being ashamed of it.
"Why," she asked. "It's not like I have any honor to defend." She turned away from him. "Raine's right. I am just a common whore. You've both paid me to make time with you before, and I was turning tricks long before I knew either of you."
He stepped in front of her, honored that she still trusted him enough to turn her back on him. He tilted her chin up until her could look into her eyes. Gently, "You were never a common anything, Susan Parker. I knew that the minute I saw you, standing in my doorway, dressed in a smile. You were a child who had to eat and didn't know what else to do. You became a young woman who saw no way out that wasn't fraught with just as much peril and uncertainty as the present currently held. You are intelligent, beautiful, and brave. But common, no, anything but that."
"Raine didn't say a word that wasn't true," she protested, unable to look away.
He kept eye contact with her. "Have you whored in the last six months, since coming here?" She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "Would you want to go back to that life?"
"No," she whispered, still staring into his eyes.
"If I had accepted Ethan's offer of payment, would you have done it?" He smiled into her eyes, knowing her answer would prove his point.
She looked at the floor, swallowed, then back up at him. She no longer met his eyes. "Yes."
He was in shock. His hand fell back to his side, and he just stared at her, all his senses reeling from the blow.
She didn't stop to give him time to recover, hitting him with questions. "Why are you doing this? Why are you defending me from everyone, including myself? Why the hell do you raise demons? You can actually raise demons? And why do you think so bloody highly of me?"
The pain and hurt and confusion shone through his eyes. "I love you. I think I love you more than you love you. Why? Why would you sleep with him?"
"You love me?" Her eyes grew bright. "You love me." She smiled and chuckled. "You bloody well love me!" She twirled around the room and he was reminded that she was only sixteen years old.
But he still wanted an answer. "Yes, I'm bloody well in love with you, but answer my God damned question! Why would you have slept with Ethan Raine?"
She looked at him puzzled. "You mean you don't know? I thought I couldn't have been more obvious these last few months. Good Lord, I did everything but spell it out for you!"
"Susan," his voice drifted off warningly.
"I would have slept with Ethan if you had accepted his money because you would have been the one who asked me to do so. I would have been out the door the next day, but I would have done it." She cupped his face with her hand. "I love you, Rupert Giles. Even if you do raise demons and are a little slow."
His mouth dropped open. "You, you love me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Fashion tip -- mouths look better closed, unless you are doing something that requires them to be open. If I didn't love you, why the hell would I have stayed here all this time? It certainly wasn't your lame excuses keeping me here, or the sex, seeing that I haven't been getting any."
"I was trying to be a gentleman, and n-not scare you away." He couldn't believe it. She was in love with him. And had been. For months.
"I appreciated it at first. In fact it was one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But you can stop now."
And he did.
Fashion tip, she had said. Suddenly, Giles chuckled.
"What's so funny," Willow asked.
"It was when Wesley was Buffy's Watcher. Someone had said or done something and it surprised Wesley to the point that his mouth dropped open. Buffy said --"
"Fashion tip -- mouths look better closed." She looked at him oddly.
"When Susan told me that she loved me -- loved me even though I did raise demons and was slow picking up all the signals she had been throwing at me for months, I couldn't believe it. This beautiful, witty, intelligent girl was telling me that she loved me. My mouth hit my chest. She said, 'Fashion tip -- mouths look better closed unless you are doing something that requires them to be open.'" He resumed his seat next to Willow on the couch and handed her a cup of tea. "I had forgotten about that. She danced around the room when I told her I loved her. Just twirled in circles, like the sixteen year old that she was. I sometimes forgot how very young she was. I do the same with you sometimes." He looked down at her. "Then you do something foolish to remind me."
"Thanks," she grimaced. "How old were you, anyway? You weren't all that much older than her."
"Oh, I was an all grown-up twenty year old by then. My birthday had been the month before." He smiled. "So ancient, she would remind me. Robbing the cradle, seducing a kid like her." He shook his head. "I would ask her then who seduced whom."
"This is getting really close to the whole not-need-to-know thing," she reminded him. "She was okay with you raising demons though?"
"She wasn't fully aware of what it entailed, and I suppose my conscience was getting the better of me about it as well. I didn't tell her what all went on when we called on Eyghon." He sighed, remembering those last few months before his friend's death. "I didn't want her to know. And then when he died, I think I might have died too, if it hadn't been for her. I know I certainly wanted to."
"Go ahead," she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "Die of alcohol poisoning. That's right. That's really helping everyone!"
"I killed him, Susan!" Giles was huddled against the front door, with Susan standing over him. He had been trying to leave the house to go to the liquor store, but she had locked the door and he was too far gone to remember how to unlock it. "Goddammit, I have trained in the occult most of my bloody life! I knew what we were doing better than any of them! I should have foreseen this!"
"Oh yes, the almighty sorcerer is now supposed to be omniscient. I was hooker for two years before I hooked up with a pimp, so I guess it's my fault that Eddie beat me up. I should have known that he would," she countered.
"Don't be ridiculous!" At least that's the word his memory supplied; he was sure he wasn't actually that coherent.
"Don't you be then." She kneeled in front of him, looking into his eyes. "I'm not letting you drink yourself to death."
"And why in God's name not?"
"Because I love you, more than you love yourself right now."
"After our coven broke up and I swore off sorcery, I threw myself into my music. I didn't want anything to do with magic, not even the Watcher or Slayer kind. And then my mother called." Giles looked at Willow. "She told me that my father had had a heart attack. He had just gotten out of the hospital and wanted to see me. I agreed to come. It was difficult, coming so close on the heels of the Randell's death, to see someone else I cared about ill. Especially my father. Even though we did disagree about almost everything in those days, I did still care about him. The doctors said that as long as he watched his diet, took his medication, and reduced stress in his life he could live many more years. I figured two out of three weren't unlikely and seeing me again would probably reduce some of his stress. Even if I was still practicing rocker chic."
"Is that when Susan met your parents?"
"Oh yes," he chuckled. "My mother said that she would send a car around for me -- that way I wouldn't have an excuse not to come. I decided to bring Susan with me, but I didn't tell Mother that. It wasn't that I was trying to make things difficult for them; Susan was just such a normal part of my life that I had forgotten that they didn't know that the other existed. I think that she was surprised when she saw the car my mother sent, but I was so concerned about Father that I wasn't paying much attention. Then when she saw the estate, it finally dawned on me that I hadn't told her anything about them, or me."
"This place has been in the family since Brian the Blessed roamed this isle," he had chuckled. "It's really much grander than the house in town, but my parents love the gardens here and live here pretty much year round."
"House in town," she gasped. "But live here? I knew that you had money; no one could survive on what you bring in without help, but this place is huge! It's like out of one of those regency novels where everyone has fifteen houses and a million servants and no discernible means of income! And you grew up here? Tell me your parents are ogres, and that's why you left. Or that you burned down the stables or something. That there was a reason you fled the lap of luxury to live in a one bedroom flat in East London."
"Well," he stalled. He hadn't told her about his Watcher destiny either. "I was fleeing my destiny. I didn't want to grow up to be what they wanted me to be."
She just shook her head and muttered something about idiotic rich people with more money than sense.
"She was rather shocked, although not as much as my mother when I introduced Susan to her as my girlfriend. Alicia Giles was a woman of infinite grace and charm however, and simply had a room made ready for her. Then she ushered me into their bedroom, where Father was resting, and disappeared with Susan."
"You never told me anything about your parents either," Willow reminded him. "Other than your father and grandmother were both Watchers."
"You never asked. Anyway," he continued. "Father and I talked for hours. I told him about the band, and Susan. He asked me if I was serious about her and if I was going to marry her. I told him that I hadn't thought about marriage, but now that he had put the idea in my head, maybe I would. He told me about the Council, and Quentin's designs on my father's position. He asked me to come back, said that the Council needed me and that if I was there, Quentin didn't stand a chance of becoming the head. We talked until we were called to dinner."
"Your father was the head of the Council," Willow exclaimed. "But you rejoining the Watchers didn't prevent Quentin from taking over."
"That's another story and one of the reasons I was more than willing to move to Sunnydale six, almost seven, years ago." He sighed. "A long story. Anyway, dinner was an interesting affair. Father asked Susan what she did for a living."
"He didn't."
"He did. She told him that she was a barmaid. He asked if that was how we met. My mother was trying to hide a smile and I knew that she knew at least part of the truth. 'Oh, no,' Susan said, her eyes bright with mischief. She was going to make me squirm. 'Tom would never have hired a girl like me if it wasn't on Rupert's word.' I wondered if the floor would conveniently swallow me whole.
"'So how did you meet my son?'
"I interrupted before she could tell my father, whom I was convinced never had a wild or improper thought in his life, that I had hired a prostitute. 'Really, Dad, don't grill the poor girl.'
"She refused to let me off that easily. 'Come now Rupert, don't be so modest. I'm sure that Lord Giles will be happy to know all about your accomplishments.'"
Willow laughed. When she caught her breath, "She didn't tell, did she? Because I really don't want to know how 'accomplished' you are!" She burst out laughing again.
"I'm glad to know that this amuses you," he smiled. "I was mortified. Especially when she said, 'You see, sir, I was a prostitute.' I could have died. A tray dropped in the kitchen. My father dropped his fork, and my mother started to choke, although I think that was laughter. 'I had been working the corner across from where his band practiced for a couple of weeks, when he noticed me looking pretty battered and bruised. My pimp had beaten me up pretty good the night before. Well, Rupert marched over and told me that I had no business working in my condition, and when Eddie came over to see what the trouble was, Rupert told him the same thing. Well, Eddie, my pimp, sucker punched Rupert right in the gut, knocking the breath clean out of him. Then he proceeded to beat me up again. Rupert straightened himself up, walked over to where we were, and knocked Eddie out cold. It was a gorgeous sight, really it was. Rupert all in black, fire shooting out of his eyes at my mistreatment, like some hero in a dime store novel. He hauled me back to his flat and wouldn't let me budge until my broken ribs had healed. Then he found me a job, a respectable one, so that I wouldn't have to go back to the streets again.'
"She called me her knight in black armor, her hero, and I called her my love. Then, just so no one would get complacent, she added, 'You really ought to be proud of him for the hero bit, but he is rather slow in some respects. It was a whole six months before we became lovers, and I had been trying to seduce him forever.'
"Another tray crashed in the kitchen, and my mother said, 'I hope that wasn't dessert.'"
Willow laughed again and Giles smiled. It had been a long time since he had heard her laugh. "My Susan would sometimes go out of her way to say the most outrageous thing possible. Jenny would do the same thing."
Something had been puzzling Willow. "You said that Susan called your dad Lord Giles? Your parents were nobility? And you had servants and stuff?"
"Yes," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "The position of Head of Council carries a title, and, as my family were founding members of the Council, there is a knighthood as well."
"So you are actually Lord Giles?" She began to giggle again.
"Sir, actually. As I said, only the knighthood is hereditary." He looked at her over his cup, pretending to be irritated. "It's not that funny."
"Sorry." She was laughing so hard that she began to hiccup, "Sir Giles." Giles rolled his eyes and brought her a glass of water. When she was able to speak again, she said, "I just never pictured you as the lord type, Giles. It's just so," she paused, unable to find the right word. "Funny?" Which sent her into another round of giggles. "Let me tell Buffy, please," she begged. "Or Xander. Just the lord part, please?"
"I am not Lord Giles because I am not the head of the Council," he explained, "and no you may not. "
"Fine," she sighed. "But wouldn't Wesley have known about all that? How come he never called you Sir Giles or whatever?"
"He assumed that when I was fired from the Council, they also stripped me of my title. They didn't, couldn't actually," he explained. "Only the queen can do that and that would mean reminding her that the Council exists; knowledge that was conveniently lost during the Protectorate. I never corrected him because you children called me Giles and I saw no reason to change that. As anal as he was then, you can be sure he would have corrected you at every turn. On the other hand, it might have made him a little more respectful towards me." He shook his head. "I do like him ever so much better since he has grown up. Although it concerns me that I haven't heard from him lately."
"Did your parents like Susan," Willow asked.
"Immensely. They loved her, and she them. She never understood that when I left, I wasn't rebelling against them -- I was rebelling against the Council, fate, destiny, and all of that -- not my parents. I left them because they were representatives of that fate, not because I didn't love them." He stared into his teacup. "She was so attached to my family, because she had none of her own, that she would have done anything for them. I decided to return to Oxford and the Council."
"So you left London and rejoined the Council. Ripper vanished and Giles was born," Willow recapped.
"Not quite," Giles frowned. "Because I was young and not yet convinced that I could not have my cake and eat it too, I stayed with the music. I still spent weekends playing gigs wherever I could find them. I was also making plans to marry Susan. What Father had said made sense -- I loved her and as soon as she turned eighteen I wanted to make her my wife. I decided to ask her to marry me on her eighteenth birthday."
"So you two had been living together since she was sixteen," Willow said. "You know, had Buffy moved in with Angel then," Willow trailed off.
"Her mother and I would have staked him so quickly that no one would even remember him now. And the circumstances were different," he reminded her. "Buffy had her mother; Susan didn't have anyone. Susan had been distracted for several weeks before her birthday, but I thought that it had to do with her photography classes and the photography assignments she had been taking from the local newspaper. We went out to dinner that night and then returned to our flat. I gave her her birthday present -- a state of the art 35 mm camera, fully automatic with manual overrides. I think that I still have it in storage somewhere. She played with it for at least half an hour -- I thought that she had forgotten that I was even in the room -- then looked up at me and announced that she was pregnant."
She had been fiddling with gauges and muttering about shutter speeds and light apertures and other things that Giles had no clue what were. Then, without warning, she looked up. "I'm pregnant."
Giles stared, "You -- you're preg --," then sprang up off the couch, picked her up, and whirled her around the room, trying not to step on the camera. He began speaking, punctuating each sentence with a kiss. "A baby. Our baby. I love you. A father. I'm going to be a father. Thank you. A father. We have to get you to the doctor. Have to make an appointment to make sure that everything is all right."
"Ripper," she took deep breaths. "If you don't put me down, or at least stop slinging me around the room, I'm going to throw up on your shoes." She had her eyes closed, concentrating on keeping down dinner. He lay her down on the couch and sat next to her on the floor. "I've been to the doctor already and she said that the baby is fine and that I am fine. We can expect him or her to make an appearance in seven months." She looked at him, not quite trusting his reaction. "You really are fine with this? You aren't upset or, or anything?"
"My darling, beloved Susan. I love you and the idea of having a baby with you -- God, I still can't quite believe it." He held her close as she started to cry. "This is your birthday; I'm supposed to be making you happy and giving you gifts. Instead, I can't remember when I've been happier or been given a better present. I want a little girl who looks just like you."
"A little boy," she smiled. "With your eyes and your honor. Oh Ripper, I was so worried. Worried that you didn't want children, or at least didn't want them with me. Alicia told me to stop being a silly goose and just tell you already but --"
He pulled away. "My mother knew. Mother knew and didn't tell me? How long has she known?"
Susan giggled through her tears. "About three weeks. She went with me to the doctor."
Giles pulled her close to him again. "Blasted woman. Always could keep a secret," he muttered into her hair. "What else did my mother tell you?"
"That if any of my fears came true and you proved to be no son of hers and rejected me, I'd have a home with her and Edmund until they bludgeoned some sense into you." She kissed him. "I suppose I'll have to tell her that violence is unnecessary."
"She'll be very disappointed." He deepened the kiss. Then he broke off and pulled away. "I almost forgot."
"Forgot what," she pouted.
"Your other birthday present, little girl," he grinned, pulling a jeweler's box out of his back pocket, keeping his hand behind his back.
"I thought that was what that kiss was about," she flirted.
"Oh, we'll finish what we started with that," he told her, "but that is not the birthday present I was talking about." He repositioned himself on one knee and showed her the box. "Susan Parker, I've been carrying this box around since you went to 'lunch' with my mother. Will you marry me?"
"O-open the box," she said. "I want to see the ring."
Giles stood up.
Willow asked, "Where are you going?"
"When Susan told me about Sean, I was so excited that I forgot about the ring that I had been carrying around for three weeks. When I finally remembered it, Susan wanted to see the ring before she answered me. I thought you would too." He disappeared into his bedroom.
Willow flipped idly through the photo album. "Did you go down on one knee?"
"Yes," he called out.
"Traditionalist," she smiled. "Did Susan take most of theses pictures?"
"Yes, she did," he called back before reemerging with a small, wooden jewelry box.
"She was good." Willow stopped at the wedding picture.
"Yes, she was." He lifted the lid and pulled out two thin gold bands, one with a diamond solitaire. "Mother saved these. I wanted to bury them with her, but Mother said that I might want them one day. I carry them with me, wherever I go."
"God, Giles," Willow breathed. "They're beautiful."
"That's what Susan said about the solitaire, just before she agreed to marry me. I found out that she was pregnant and she agreed to marry me the same day." He shook his head. "I have never been so happy and surprised and - and blissful in my life. Nothing could possibly go wrong ever again, because Susan agreed to be my wife and was carrying my child."
"Nothing will ever be wrong ever again."
"Don't tempt fate, Rupert."
"I love you little girl."
"I love you old man."
"When were you married," Willow asked quietly, anticipating the answer.
"The date -- the date is inside her wedding ring," his breathing had become ragged.
July 17, 1977. "That's --"
"Twenty-five years ago," he glanced at his watch, "yesterday." He ran his hand through his hair. "Twenty-five years. We are supposed to be surrounded by our children and maybe even our grandchildren right now, trying to explain what sort of statement we were making by getting married in black leather and a white mini-dress. Sean was born October 5, 1977. I -- God. Do you know how I spent my fourth wedding anniversary?" He neither waited for nor wanted an answer. "I was at the hospital, learning that my healthy, happy three year old son had died in an auto accident, of wounds so severe that he would have to have a closed casket funeral. The doctors wouldn't let me see his body; they said that it would be, that I couldn't, that no father needed to see that. My wife, my beautiful twenty-two year old wife wouldn't live through the night. I held her hand as she died, telling her that Sean was fine and that I loved her." He sobbed, a huge gut-wrenching sob. "They were driving to meet me in Liverpool. I had ridden up with a friend and was opening for some American band, and Susan and Sean were driving up in our car to meet me because Sean loved to hear Daddy sing and then we were going to celebrate our anniversary. If I had stayed home -- if I hadn't agreed to that damned concert, Susan and Sean would be alive. They would not have been in that damned accident. They've been dead twenty-one years, Willow, as long as you have been alive." He cried. For the first time in twenty-one years, he cried sober tears for his long lost wife and son, while Willow held him.
"You have a son," the doctor said.
"A son," he whispered to his exhausted wife.
"A wife and son taken too early from their family," the preacher intoned, "are now safe in the arms of God where nothing can ever hurt them again."
"With your eyes and your honor, remember," she whispered back. Louder, "I want to hold him. Now."
The sight of his baby, his son, Sean Edmund Giles, in his wife's arms.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
"Baby boy Giles. See that Susan? He's ours."
Sean Edmund Giles
Beloved Son
1977-1981
"I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Rupert Giles."
"Mmm, I like the sound of that Ripper. Mrs. Giles."
Susan Parker Giles
My only love
1959-1981
"Congratulations, old man!"
"I'm - I'm sorry, old man."
"I won't tell you that their deaths weren't your fault," she murmured into his hair while he clung to her, "because you won't believe me. But I will tell you that you do have a bunch of children who love you. Buffy, Dawn, Xander, me. Even Anya and Spike. We all love you and care for you. And we would gladly ask what you two were thinking wearing black leather and a mini-dress. Anya would ask the loudest, and Xander would try to hush her up. Spike would make some off color remark and Buffy and I would glare at him. Dawn would sing that silly rhyme about love, marriage, and a baby carriage. You'd be so busy trying to kick us out --"
"Not that you would go," he remarked, pulling out of her embrace.
"That you might forget to try to drown yourself."
"But Willow --" she cut him off with a hand to his mouth.
"But we aren't Susan or Sean," she agreed. "Well, none of us are gonna take Susan's place, which is good, because that's kinda ick, or Sean's, but that doesn't make us any less your kids. You've held us while we cried over lost loves, talked to us about major moral quandaries. You've even told us bedtime stories. Of course, those bedtime stories were usually trying to kill us, but that's just the weird Sunnydale life we led. You're the only real father Xander's ever had. Back when Buffy was dead, Dawn told me that she almost wished that Anya was a vengeance demon again, because then she could wish that you were her dad, and then they wouldn't need the BuffyBot in case her dad actually bothered to acknowledge her existence. I can't even begin to describe what you mean to Buffy. You even know where Oz is; I've seen the postcards. And who is here, with me, in England, holding my hand through magic rehab? Who was the first one to call me on it? Not my parents, who still can't remember Buffy's name and ignore the fact that I am a witch, despite trying to burn both of us at the stake. You are, Sir Rupert Giles, knight of the realm. You've done everything a father is supposed to do except contribute DNA. Don't lock us out," she hugged him close. "If we can survive the plural of apocalypse, we can survive an anniversary."
"The next time I forget," he kissed her hair, "remind me?"
"Anytime, Sir Giles. Anytime."
Somewhere, five heads were clustered around a view screen. "You know, he never told me all of that. I just knew that he had been married and had a son," Jenny Calendar said to Susan Parker Giles.
"You know Rupert. If he can get out of saying something, he will. Besides, he really wasn't ready yet," she said.
"I wish I could be there for all of them," Joyce Summers said.
Alicia Giles looked up from the image of her son and his witch and saw a young blond woman carrying her own view screen and running towards them. "Rupert didn't tell her a moment too soon either."
The others followed her gaze. Her husband said, "He always did wait until the cat was out of the bag."
The young woman stood in front of the six and panted, "It's starting. Are any of them prepared?"
"Willow is the only one that knows," Jenny said.
"God help them all."
The six repositioned themselves to see both screens and watch the show.
Edited 3-10-04 to fix one glaring mistake that I missed the first twenty times through, one minor grammar misstep, and reworded two lines that always irritated me. For anyone who is re-reading this, the reason that the line "Alicia Giles looked up from the image of her son and his witch . . ." originally read ". . . the image of her son and his Slayer" is because when I wrote this between seasons Five and Six Buffy was his confessor (I had decided to both ignore her death and attempt a Giles/Buffy fic, and this was the result. I couldn't do the G/B vibe though). After seeing season Six, and since it was set between Six and Seven, I decided to change it to Willow. Don't know how my sister (aka my beta) and missed that. Sorry! Read and review if you like.