149

You'll Be the Death of Me

"Lesson plans?" Giles asked.

Oz was pegging away at his own homework. The twins were with Willow. They were going to 'help' her bake some more cookies.

"Actually, this is my homework," he confessed. "I've been taking classes online, and what with one thing and another..,"

"Such as Angel's soul being stolen and traveling to England," Giles inserted. "You've fallen a bit behind?"

"A little," Oz admitted. "I can catch up. I thought I'd better put the priority on keeping the kids up to date."

"Quite rightly," Giles agreed. An idea came to him, and it was too unique an opportunity to pass up. "If you'd like, I could take over with the children so that you can get caught up again."

"I appreciate the thought, Giles." Oz was torn between not wanting to relinquish the responsibility and thereby admit he wasn't up to the challenge, and the fact that it was one hell of a lot harder to catch up with college classes than it had been with high school.

"It will be no trouble," Giles assured him. "If you can just show me the material that you've been working with, we can get right on it."

"It's Saturday, Giles," Oz reminded him. He reached up and absently toyed with the cross hanging around his neck.

"Oh, yes, so it is." Giles had gotten so excited over his idea that something so mundane as the day of the week had slipped his mind. "First thing Monday morning, then. Where are they now?"

"With Willow," Oz replied. "She said she'd take them off my hands for a couple of hours, but then, she has something to do."

"The local coven is hosting a magic symposium," Giles explained. "Willow is slated as one of the speakers. It's quite an honor." He paused. "I could take them after that."

"Would you?" Oz threw his pride to the four winds. He really hated getting behind.

"I'd be happy to," Giles answered, little knowing what he was letting himself in for.

&&&&&&&

Angelus was bored. He needed some kind of diversion, however small, something to break up the tedium. He paced around the apartment, looking at this and that. One wall, it seemed, was devoted almost entirely to his, or rather, Angel's artwork. And it was all of Rose and Spike and their family. Some of the pictures were so sentimentally sweet that it was downright disgusting. But there were others, like the epic food fight when the twins were small. The twins featured in most of the pictures. Except for one. Rose and Spike together, looking at each other adoringly. It was enough to make a grown vampire sick. But it did give him an idea for something to do. It wasn't much, but it was a little something. Just a bit of fun. And wasn't that what the weekend was for?

&&&&&&&

"What would you like to do?" Now that he had the children in his rooms, but without the structure of a lesson plan, Giles was at something of a loss.

"You could play your guitar and we could sing," Ariel suggested. The twins had changed considerably in the past few years, but they hadn't gotten over their love affair with music.

Giles was a little taken aback. He hadn't had to deal with having his mind read since that time Buffy.., Best not to dwell on that, he decided. But even Buffy hadn't been able to pick up on anything that he hadn't been actively thinking about.

"But not that song you were singing when we were being born," Alaric ordered. "That was bloody stupid."

"Watch your language, young man," Giles warned. He felt that he was on fairly safe ground there. He did vaguely remember singing at their births. At Rose's request. But he couldn't for the life of him remember just what he'd sung. He'd had other things on his mind at the time. Like playing midwife to one of The Powers That Be.

"Freebird," Ariel supplied. She looked at her brother. "It's not that bad. And he's got a nice voice." It was the first time that Giles had heard one of them say something positive since they'd arrived. A decided step in the right direction.

"It's okay," Alaric conceded grudgingly. "Not as good as mummy and daddy. Or Uncle Lorne." He paused a moment and laughed, and for once, sounded like the child he was. "But lots better than Uncle Angel."

Both twins sobered at the mention of Angel. They didn't play favorites with their godparents, but Angel was very close to them, and they absolutely adored him. They hoped that the adults they'd left behind could fix whatever was wrong with him.

Giles was touched by the display of devotion. And to think that he'd wanted to take the children away from that. He'd honestly believed then, that it was in their best interests, but now, more than ever, he could see that he'd been badly mistaken on that score. But something else they'd said struck a chord.

"You remember being born?" he asked. To the best of his knowledge, no one else he knew did.

"'Course," said Alaric, a little scornfully. He thought about it a little bit. "But it wasn't that long ago. Maybe we'll forget when we're as old as you."

"You're definitely your father's son," Giles muttered, half to himself. He went to the closet and got out his guitar. He strummed a couple of experimental chords, just to make sure that the instrument was in tune. "What would you like to sing?"

"Do you know 'Early One Morning'?" Ariel asked. Spike had gotten over his aversion of the song, and it had gone back to being one of his favorites. Especially hearing it sung, as it had been so long ago, by someone who loved him. The twins sang it often.

Giles smiled at them. "I think I can fake it," he replied.

&&&&&&

Spike was busy rearranging furniture. He was going to have the twin's belongings in separate rooms when they returned. Besides, he felt a crying need to keep busy right now. But he was moving heavy stuff right now, like the beds, and he adamantly refused to let Rose help with it. Therefore, Rose was the one that was free, and, more to the point, close by, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Rose had become more or less accustomed to living with a telephone, but she still nearly jumped right out of her skin every time its strident tones sounded.

"Hello, Rosie girl," Angelus said. "Feeling better? You were looking a little.., drained, the last time I saw you."

"What do you want?" Rose asked suspiciously, trying to keep her voice steady. It was a battle, though. She couldn't recall ever being so scared in her short life. She felt a brief pang, wondering if she'd ever be able to go back to the easy, comfortable, friendly relationship she'd had with Angel, now that she'd seen him without a soul.

"You know what I want, Rosie," he teased. He could almost imagine the blush on her face, and the scent of her fear. The next best thing to being there, which he couldn't be, at the moment. "And if Eve, and then Spike, hadn't interrupted us, I would have gotten it, too."

"Why are you so set on turning me?" Rose inquired. Quietly, so as not to alert Spike. He'd probably insist that she hang up immediately. But this was a chance to get some answers, even if the effort was taking its toll on her. She was still a little weak. She sat down, before her knees gave way entirely.

Even across the phone line, Angelus' voice managed to convey a shrug. "Because I can," he replied. "Because I want to. I don't see how you can object. You're living with a vampire, your kids are vampires. What's one more?"

"Because I wouldn't have a soul," Rose answered softly. "That's what you really want, isn't it? For me to be as evil as you are."

"That's one of the pluses," he admitted. "I think we could have a lot of fun together, Rosie girl. Think about it."

"I think that when you get your soul back, you'd hate yourself," Rose predicted. "Whether Spike and I survived or not."

"I'm not getting my soul back," Angelus stated flatly. "That thing is safely locked away. No one's putting it back." He gave her a moment to let it sink in before continuing. "Tell me you haven't thought about the other, Rosie. About me laying you."

"I have thought about it," Rose confessed. "And it makes my skin crawl. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?" She'd forgotten caution, and her voice raised in anger. "Do you get some kind of perverse thrill out of knowing that you make me sick?"

"I get a thrill out of knowing that I scare you," Angelus said softly. "As for the sex, I think that if you were honest with yourself, the thought turns you on more than it makes you sick."

"It does not," Rose denied vehemently. Spike came up behind her, wondering who she was talking to, and who was upsetting her so badly. "I can't bear the thought of you..," She choked, unable to say it, but Spike suddenly caught on to who was on the other end of the line, and took the phone from her.

"Sod off," he said angrily. "Leave Rose the hell alone, you miserable, bloody bastard."

Angelus laughed at him. It had actually taken longer for Spike to catch on than he'd thought it would. "What does it do to you, Spike?" he asked in silky tones. "Knowing that your woman thinks about being with me? Think your ego could handle me screwing another woman that you just thought was yours?" He finished the sentence, even though he'd heard the decisive click early on. Spike had hung up on him.

&&&&&&&

Wesley studied his books, and made the occasional note. Fred, realizing that what he was doing was important, didn't interrupt him, but merely thrust food and drink on him at semi-regular intervals. Maybe he could find a way to get Angel's soul back. She hoped so. The atmosphere at work had been so tense the last week, that it was almost like being in a bad dream, where everything you did was in slow motion, because everything felt weighted down.

"Damn," Wesley muttered.

"What is it?" Fred asked. Considering what Wes was studying, damn was definitely not a good thing.

"I was going to suggest the possibility of asking Willow to come here to reinstate Angel's soul," Wesley explained, and Fred felt a surge of frustration that she hadn't thought of it this time, for some reason. "But according to this, the container that was used to capture his soul is impervious to magic by anyone but whoever cast the spell. The only way we can get his soul back is to find that receptacle and break it. And we haven't got the first clue where it is."

Wesley reached out an arm and pulled Fred onto his lap. All things considered, he needed the comfort of her presence right now. "Defied the law of gravity lately, darling?" he murmured in her ear. "Because that would be child's play compared to trying to get Angel's soul out of that containment device without having the person who took it out." He hung his head. "What use is all of this when we can't find the answers we need?"

"You just haven't found them yet," Fred said soothingly. She stroked his face, then gave him a heart-stopping kiss. "Why don't you take a break from this for a while? It might help to clear your head so that you will know what you're looking for when you find it."

"If you insist." Actually, she wasn't insisting, but it made it easier for Wesley to ignore the stern voice of duty for a little while. "I love you, Fred." He felt that he didn't say it often enough. And he probably didn't. Best say it now as often as he could. With Angelus on the loose, who knew how many more opportunities he'd have for it.

"I love you too," Fred replied.

&&&&&&&

"This is my home, not a playground," Giles half-shouted. He had to, to make himself heard. The sing along had gone well enough, followed by the children's afternoon cup of blood. But then, they'd decided to play a game of tag. They were racing around the place with reckless abandon, to the peril of all the breakables. "Can't you play outside?"

"Can't," Alaric grumbled. "The sun hurts." They'd gotten past the point where even sunblock did a lot of good. And they were finding even the gentle English version of the sun to be too much for their comfort.

"We're bored," Ariel complained. "And you won't even let us read your books. Besides, mummy says that growing children need exercise."

"A great many of those books are rare and valuable," Giles said, not for the first time. "I won't allow children to handle them. Some of them are even one of a kind. And the way you're tearing about the place now does nothing to inspire confidence in me that you'll handle them responsibly."

"Uncle Wes lets us read his books," Alaric pointed out. Giles was most certainly falling short, in his estimation. "He doesn't think we're irresponsible."

Ariel was pouting. "Uncle Wes loves us," she added. "You're just a mean, old man."

Both children looked on in shock as Giles suddenly paled and sank to his knees. He couldn't speak, could barely breathe. It felt like a giant hand, clutching his chest.

&&&&&&&

Oz looked up from his books. He thought he'd felt the kids in his head. He must be imagining things. They were perfectly safe with Giles. There was no reason for them to pester him telepathically.

Then, he heard it again, louder, metaphorically speaking, and much clearer.

'Oz help!' He thought he recognized Ariel, and she sounded panicked.

'Mr. Giles is on the floor.' That would have to be Alaric. 'We can't hear his heart beating.'

Oz was up and on his way before the final syllable sounded in his head.