Disclaimers found in Chapter One

Chapter Two

Family Dynamics

Giles sipped his tea, grateful for a moment of peace. He felt much better after his shower, but the thought of facing all four of the little demons before he'd finished his first cup of tea was incomprehensible.

Guilt ate at him. Buffy seemed determined that he go to work, and there was little point in arguing with her once she'd set her mind to something, but it didn't change the fact that this felt like desertion.

Again.

He sighed This was no time to get maudlin and weepy—Buffy was right. They had a demon to research, and it wasn't likely to get done standing around here all day.

Just then, Xander emerged, scooting down the stairs on his little, diaper-clad butt. Spotting Giles, the little boy smiled brightly. "Hi, man," he greeted, raising a chubby hand, fingers splayed in an awkward wave.

Something tugged uncomfortably in Giles's heart. "Hi, there," he replied, kneeling.

Xander seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to say something, but for the life of him, Giles couldn't figure out what.

"Breakfast!" he finally declared triumphantly, proud to have come up with an activity that was sure to please. The one thing Giles knew about Xander was…food. Lots, and lots of food.

"Beck-fist!" Xander agreed enthusiastically, holding up his arms. "Beck-fist," he repeated, nodding solemnly at Giles as if to convey the depth of his concern on this issue.

Grinning in spite of himself, Giles scooped Xander up and carried him into the kitchen, where Buffy was looking a little frazzled. Dawn had already left for school, having to run to catch the bus without Xander for her ride today, and the girls were seated at the counter, impatiently beating the countertop with their spoons as Buffy muttered prayers to the Egg God to make the scrambled eggs cook just a little bit faster.

"The Egg God?" Giles asked, amused, as he settled Xander into his chair—now safely away from Anya at all times. Lessons had been learned.

Buffy threw a distracted smile over her shoulder. "There has to be one," she rationalized. "There's a god for everything else….and besides, it worked. These are done!"

Victorious, she waved her spatula around in the air for a moment, and Giles had to fight back a sudden wave of affection so strong he could barely remain standing.

He gazed at her as she moved down the line of children, scooping eggs onto their plates and simultaneously attempting to explain to them the concept of "hot".

"Ouch!" she cried, touching Xander's eggs with the tip of one finger. "Hot," she said slowly, holding the pseudo-injury to her lips and kissing it. "Owie," she added, by way of clarification.

She was a sight. After her brief shower this morning, she had foregone real clothes in favor of what she referred to as "comfort gear". She moved around the kitchen, now, in a pair of soft, baggy flannel pants, a white tank-top, and thick, scrunchy socks. Her hair, still wet from the shower, was piled sloppily atop her head, and beginning to show an alarming tendency toward frizz. She was not wearing one speck of makeup, save a milk mustache he was at least reasonably sure was unintentional.

She'd never looked so sexy in her life.

Giles flushed, berating himself for his thoughts. She was his Slayer, and she was more than twenty years younger than he, on top of which she had never given him any indication that she might appreciate his attention—so, why couldn't he seem to stop thinking of her? Her bravery, her strength, her beauty—beauty which, as now, almost always seemed to him to be the most overwhelming when it was the most unintentional. When dirt smudged her cheeks after a long patrol. When an injury marred the perfect line of her jaw, when she was giving an impassioned speech in her sushi pajamas, hair on end…when she had a milk mustache.

Something must be wrong with him. He was seriously fixated on that milk mustache. What would she do if he licked it off?

The thought was enough to startle even him.

"Eggs?" she asked brightly, interrupting his musings. She settled the plate at the dining room table, safely away from the children. "I made sausage for you, but I didn't know if it was a good idea for the kids or not, so I didn't make any for them. If it gets to a point where we think they might be like this for a few days, I'm maybe gonna need a child nutrition book or something. I figure one day won't matter, though—"

"Buffy." He cut her off, amused. "How much coffee have you had?"

"Three cups so far," she replied innocently. "Why?"

He sighed. "What have you made for yourself to eat for breakfast?" he asked gently.

Just then, Willow's spoon hit the floor with a clatter. The noise startled Tara, who welled up alarmingly. Buffy sprang from her chair, scooping up Willow's spoon and smoothing Tara's hair simultaneously. She made her way to the sink, rinsing the spoon quickly before Willow decided to throw a fit, and within moments, all was well again.

"I'm not hungry," she assured Giles, sitting back down across from him. "And if I sit down to eat, bad things happen. I'm fine," she added, seeing his expression. "Now, hurry up and eat so you can go to work."

With this wifely admonition, she stood, making it back to the counter just in time to prevent Anya's entire plate from flying off the edge. Scooping up Xander and Tara, she made for the door, Anya and Willow following closely at her heels. Before Giles knew what had happened, Buffy had pushed him lightly out the door, stepping out onto the porch to watch him drive away.

As Giles started the ignition, he was treated to a sight he had truly thought he'd never see. Buffy, standing on the porch, surrounded by babies…every last one of them waving goodbye as he headed for work.

The scene was so domestic it physically stole his breath. He didn't fully return to his senses until he was halfway to the Magic Shop, and even so, he knew, that moment would be on his mind all day.

This could be a problem.

Giles's key in the lock sounded like heaven to Buffy's weary ears. She was on her feet in an instant, desperate—actually desperate—just to have contact with another adult. Dawn had come home briefly, but when it became apparent that she would get no homework done amidst the melee, Buffy had ordered her to go to the library and get her work done.

She'd regretted the decision only moments after Dawn walked out the door.

But now, wonder of wonders, here was Giles—the very grown-uppest of grown-ups! And—and was that…Chinese food?

He'd brought home dinner?

Completely undone, Buffy flung herself at him, laughing and weeping and declaring him the King of the Entire World, only barely managing to control herself before she actually proposed. He hugged her awkwardly, chuckling at her obvious distress.

"Was it that bad?" he asked gently, tilting her face up so he could see it.

She shushed him, and led him away from the living room, where the children were currently enraptured by The Lion King. For the third time today.

"We need to eat fast," she told him seriously. "Once that movie ends and they come in here, it's over for us."

Giles blinked, then appeared to try to bite back a laugh. Passing her the bag of food, he stood to go gather plates and forks. "Tell me," he invited,

"It wasn't really that bad," Buffy managed, around the eggroll she'd already stuffed into her mouth. "It's just…there are so many of them, Giles, and you can't be always watching everyone at once, but the minute your back is turned—" She broke off, feeling whiny the longer she went on. "Sorry," she apologized. "It really wasn't that bad. No one is dead or seriously injured, and the house is still standing, so…"

He passed her the plate, the fork, and a soda, which she accepted gratefully. "Don't apologize," he ordered. "It sounds like you've had a rough time of it—what did they do?"

Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "What didn't they do?" she asked wryly. "Xander got hold of a blue crayon and drew murals all over the living room wall. While I was trying to get the crayon away from him, Anya and Willow got into it—a real, knock-down, drag-out fight. There was hair-pulling; it was ugly. Meanwhile, Tara has managed to disappear upstairs and wedge herself into the laundry chute—it took me twenty minutes to get her out of there; I eventually had to dismantle the thing. Xander wanted to use the potty chair like a big boy, and wouldn't let me help him, so he eventually stood up on the toilet seat, slipped, and fell into the toilet, cracking his head against the tank on the way down. I got him cleaned up, but he was still upset about his head, so I gave him a Band-Aid, and suddenly he was happy. While I wasn't looking, Anya or Tara pilfered the Band-Aids. I set all the kids up in the living room with…with that movie—" she couldn't even bear to say the name anymore—"and leave for five minutes to go to the bathroom. When I come back, all four kids are head-to-toe Band-Aids, and scuffling on the floor over the last one."

Here she paused, since Giles looked like he was going to physically explode if he kept trying to hold in his laughter.

"Go ahead," she told him wearily, smiling herself. "Say it."

"X-Xander," her Watcher began, shaking with laughter. "F-fell into…"

"The toilet," she confirmed, nodding wisely.

The last of his restraint melted away, and he laughed out loud—the sort of full, belly-laugh that the group saw from him only too rarely. "I-I'm so sorry," he choked out, trying to get control of himself. "I don't mean to l-laugh at your troubles, it's just…"

"I know." Now that there was someone here to share it with, Buffy was finding the amusement in the entire situation. "Laugh away. I haven't even told you about the part where I had to butter Willow's head to get it out of the banister."

Giles buried his face in his hands, laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks. "Oh, my poor girl," he finally managed, still chuckling. "I shouldn't have left you here to deal with this."

"It's cool, Giles," she assured him. "All's well that ends well. Speaking of which, were you able to find anything?"

He shook his head apologetically. "I searched all day," he assured her. "I found several demon sects that cast spells using blue-white lights, but none that should have this effect. And none that move in packs—at least, not yet. That's where I intend to focus my attention tomorrow."

Buffy nodded, only slightly disappointed. She hadn't really thought he'd find the answers right away, anyway. Things were almost never that easy.

"I did have a thought," she offered. "Could this be Ethan, maybe? With some buddies or something? It's just—this kind of seems like when he turned all the grown-ups into kids…just…y'know, more literal."

Giles hesitated. "I suppose it's possible," he conceded. "In fact, I should have thought of it myself. Although, I cannot fathom what he is hoping to accomplish with this. However, I will devote some research to discovering whether or not he is still being kept by the initiative, as well as what spells might cause this type of reaction."

The movie ended just then, and conversation halted while the pair of them tended to the rather trying chore of feeding four children. Xander fell asleep, face down, in his fried rice, and Anya decided she did not like Chinese food, and overturned her plate on the floor. Buffy retreated to the kitchen to make the little girl a sandwich, while Giles attempted to explain wasteful behavior to a three-year-old.

When the eventful meal was finally over, Giles agreed to take the children outside and let them wear themselves out for awhile, so Buffy could clean the kitchen, for which she was profoundly grateful. It wasn't until Dawn walked in and burst out laughing that Buffy discovered that, while she was cleaning, she was quietly singing the entire score to The Lion King under her breath.

"Not a word," she ordered her sister firmly. "Or I'll show naked baby pictures to your prom date, whoever he may turn out to be. Got it?"

Dawn straightened up, shooting Buffy a dirty look. "You could at least play fair," she said sulkily, but her merry eyes gave her away.

"You're enjoying this!" Buffy accused, aghast. "You're enjoying watching us suffer!"

"Yep," agreed Dawn, clearly unimpressed by her sister's pointing finger. "This is more fun than anybody's had in this house since…" She trailed off. "A long time," she finally finished lamely.

Buffy gave her sister a swift hug. "I know, kiddo," she apologized quietly. "I'm working on it, okay?"

Dawn returned her hug tightly. "I know you are."

The back door flung open, spilling a disheveled Giles and four filthy children into the newly-cleaned kitchen. Giles looked distraught.

"I tried to keep them clean," he told Buffy, bewildered. "But they're so…so fast…"

Buffy laughed, patting Giles's cheek. "It's all right, Giles," she assured him. "I'll give them another bath."

"I'll help you," he offered, and Buffy's heart melted, just a little. She knew from last night that probably nothing in the world terrified Giles more than the thought of bathing these kids, but he was willing to jump into the fray. For her.

She pushed the thought away, scooping up Xander and Willow en route to the stairs. Behind her, she heard Giles chasing Anya around the kitchen, and she laughed to herself.

Belatedly, she realized how much she had been laughing, for the past couple of days. It was…amazing. Her erstwhile Watcher had come back to beg her to let him retire in full, her friends had been hit by some lightning-demon-death-ray thing that had reverted them to tiny children, her home was being torn apart by hellspawn in toddler form—and she'd laughed more since the entire debacle began than she had since Willow had brought her back.

Was she finally moving forward? Moving on? Was it just the sheer cuteness of the kids? Was it having Giles back?

Was it Giles?

Buffy had known that she loved him from the moment he'd stepped into the Magic Box after Willow's spell. Everything had felt so empty—even Dawn—but when he stepped through that door, Buffy had come home.

She hadn't been ready for it, then…the feelings had been clingy, and needy, and desperate. And so strong, she'd driven him away.

Now, though, it was different. She had her feet back underneath her. She'd been trying for weeks to prove she could do it; hoping, somehow, that if she could prove it to him—that she could handle it on her own—then he'd come home again.

Of course, she thought wryly, the first thing he comes home to is a situation I can totally NOT handle on my own. But it was okay. He didn't seem to mind helping her.

And maybe that's what this was—this new lightness in her, this laughter. Maybe this is what being in love with Giles was supposed to feel like.

God, she hoped not. If it was, she'd never be able to let him go back to England.

Bath-time was slightly more efficient this time around. Giles kept control of whichever two were not in the tub at any given moment, and the no-tears shampoo made hair-washing a much simpler feat.

"I wish I'd bought the de-tangler," Giles muttered behind her, and Buffy laughed. He was becoming quite the domestic little Watcher—they'd better get these kids back to normal size before he realized what was happening to him and ran like hell.

Willow screeched as Giles hit a tangle in her long red hair, and Giles cuddled her close for a moment, murmuring comforting apologies until the little girl calmed down. It didn't take long for everyone to be squeaky-clean and ready for cookies. Even the bathroom only looked about half as bad as it had the night before.

Leaving Giles and Dawn to take the kids down for snack-time, Buffy set about cleaning up the mess, before it got any further out of hand. She sighed, surveying yet another pile of towels to wash. Also, the kids' pajamas. For tonight, they'd have to sleep in Dawn's shirts after all.

A quick laundry run to the basement, and Buffy gathered up her stakes. She was falling asleep on her feet, but she needed to do this. If she let the town run rampant while she dealt with the Wonder Quads, the body-count would double in two nights. You couldn't let the vampires think they were getting away with anything, even for a minute.

"Buffy." Giles' voice cut into her reverie. "Would you like me to patrol for you?"

For a moment it was so tempting—"No," she replied firmly. "Thanks, but I got it." No more turning to Giles to take over when things get rough. Be your own woman.

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but she was already out the door.

Patrol seemed endless. No less than six vamps tonight—and they were cocky. Word must be spreading that she wasn't at her best. By the time she'd staked the last one, she was ready to drop. She barely made it home.

Giles was sitting up for her, this time, but after one look at her, he closed his mouth. He didn't even argue about the sleeping arrangements—just took her by the hand, and led her up the stairs. He tried to put her to bed, but she shook her head at him, staggering down the hall to check on the kids. As soon as she had assured herself that all was well in her little world, she stumbled back to the bedroom.

Giles was waiting for her, one of his big pajama shirts and a pair of boxer shorts clutched in his hand. "Change your clothes," he ordered, offering them to her.

"It's okay—" she tried to tell him, but he would have none of it.

"You can't do this to yourself," he told her quietly. "Now, change your clothes and get in bed. I'll be back after I change."

He disappeared into the hall, the pajama pants in his hand.

Too tired to object any further, Buffy changed her clothes, sighing with relief as the comfy clothes replaced her normal patrol "uniform" of jeans and sweater. Falling down on top of the blankets—as promised—she was asleep within moments.

Giles returned from the bathroom, feeling slightly uncomfortable in only his pajama pants. He needn't have worried—Buffy was already sound asleep. With a tender little smile at her sweetly sleeping face, he tugged the covers out from beneath her. She didn't so much as murmur.

Firmly ignoring his body's reaction to the unmistakably intimate sight of her in his pajama shirt and boxer shorts, he covered her gently with the blanket, and then climbed into bed next to her. Pulling the blankets up over himself, as well, he let the sound of her steady breathing lull him to sleep.

Buffy's eyes fluttered open slowly. Morning light poured through the curtains, revealing, not her room, but Willow and Tara's. All at once, she remembered where she was.

And with whom.

Oh, this was bad. Somehow, she was under the covers, with Giles. Her head was pillowed on his arm, his breath blowing softly across her face. His other hand was on her hip in an unconsciously possessive gesture, and, beneath the blankets, their legs were tangled together.

Her heart started pounding. God, don't let him wake up, she begged silently, hoping to find a way to extract herself from this situation before he woke up, saw their intimate position, and ran like hell—possibly all the way back to England.

A shifting behind her caught her attention and she turned her head slowly, heart melting at the sight of Xander—his entire body curled up on the pillow next to her head—with one thumb in his mouth and his other hand clutching a fistful of her hair, as if for comfort.

Xander wasn't the only interloper, she noticed belatedly. Tara was curled against Giles's side, sleeping soundly. Buffy's heart fluttered at the sight. A wave of love for them all crashed over her, so strong it nearly made her gasp out loud. For maybe the first time since it had happened, in that moment, Buffy was so grateful to have been brought home, she could have cried with it.

Before she could get too maudlin, however, she needed to figure out a way out of this mess. Quickly.

But not too quickly.

She berated herself for the thought. Giles was going to wake up any minute, and—too late. Green eyes popped open, maybe one inch from her face. He blinked.

"Hello," he murmured bemusedly.

"Shhh." She smiled at him, wishing she could kiss that adorable, early-morning confusion right off his face. "We have company."

Slowly, he lifted his head, surveying the little intruders with a tender smile. "We should get them back to their room," he murmured. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

Buffy had been waiting for this; the penny had finally dropped.

"Buffy!" he rasped, clearly scandalized. "I'm so sorr—I didn't mean—" His hand slipped away from her hip in a hurry, and she somewhat reluctantly pulled her head away from his arm.

"It's no big, Giles," she assured him, then froze.

Was that…against her thigh…had that been?

The way his face was flaming made her heart race in response. Had Giles been…affected…by their early-morning cuddles? Was it even possible?

He certainly seemed embarrassed enough, but that could have just been because he was currently trying to untangle their legs—a rather intimate task in any event.

She shook her head—she'd have to think about it later. A lot. For now, they needed to get the kids back into bed.

They managed to lift the kids and get them down the hall without incident. Dawn opened her door just as they were walking past, and gave their rumpled appearances, not to mention their attire, a long, thoughtful look. She opened her mouth, but Buffy held up her hand, forestalling her.

Once they had the kids in bed, and Buffy was shutting the door behind her, she turned to her sister. "Make. Coffee," she ordered, her eyes daring Dawn to say so much as one word about it. With a smirk, the younger girl headed downstairs, leaving Giles and Buffy to stare somewhat awkwardly at one another in the hall.

"Go ahead and hop in the shower—I'll try to have breakfast ready when you come down," Buffy offered, hoping her voice sounded normal.

Too groggy—or too embarrassed—to even try to be a gentleman about it, Giles just nodded, and disappeared back into his room to gather up his clothes.

With a slightly giddy grin, Buffy headed down the stairs.