Disclaimers found in Chapter One

Chapter Three

Revelations

Giles looked up from his research as the bell above the door jingled. At the sight of Buffy, his heart stopped.

"The children?" he asked immediately, already on his feet. Buffy's raised hand calmed him.

"They're fine," she assured him. "Dawn is with them now—we needed more diapers, and the kids need at least another pair of pajamas apiece; I know we're not planning on this being a permanent thing—or even a 'for-very-much-longer' thing—but Xander nearly killed himself tripping over that long T-shirt today, and his PJs are always getting spilled on, splashed on, colored on—"

"Buffy," he interrupted, smiling. "If you needed those things, why didn't you just call me? I'd have been happy to pick them up on my way home."

Home. The word fell between them like a stone, and he wished he could snatch it back. This wasn't his home. England was his home. Maybe if he said that often enough, it would start to mean something.

She gave him a searching look, but apparently decided to let him off the hook. "To be honest, I needed to get out of the house," she offered ruefully. "And while I was at it, I figured you and I should have a talk."

Giles felt his face heat. If she'd come all this way to talk about this morning—he almost groaned. Could there be anything more embarrassing than this? He'd been caught—he knew it, she knew it. But, perhaps foolishly, he had imagined that she was going to let it go unspoken.

She read his face like a book. "Um, I'm here about the Watcher's Council," she said bluntly, clearly in a hurry to get it out before he started apologizing for the morning.

He was torn between mortification and laughter. So far, this conversation wasn't going very well, and he hadn't even started participating in it yet.

"The Council?" he managed, determined to hold onto whatever dignity he had left.

She nodded, and then heaved a sigh. "I know why they sent you here," she told him. "They wanted you to convince me to let them give me a new Watcher, right?"

He nodded mutely, waiting to see where she was going with this.

"I called them this morning," she said quietly, her voice sounding slightly choked. "I told them to go ahead."

Perversely, he felt slightly betrayed. "You're getting a new Watcher, then?" At her nod, he swallowed. So. It was done. He was officially no longer a part of her life. "May I ask what changed your mind?" he asked, trying to sound neutral.

She was quiet for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts. "You did," she said finally.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn't even broached the subject with her yet.

"I know," she replied, in answer to his unspoken question. "But it was you, just the same."

He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. "You have to let me say this," she burst out in a rush, "or I'll never get it all out." She waited for his nod before she continued. "When you left, I felt…so betrayed. I was angry, and bitter, and…and empty. Mostly, I was just empty. For awhile, I just sort of gave up—I stopped caring about anybody, stopped being the Slayer, stopped everything. I…I slept with Spike." She paused, clearly waiting for his disgust, but he was too frozen inside to reply. Looking sick, she continued. "A few times. And I almost lost Dawn—the Social Services people wanted to take her away—and…and everything was bad, very bad. I just kept thinking how unfair it was—how I was supposed to be finished with all of this, but here I was anyway. And how you were supposed to be here for me, but you weren't. And I just…didn't care."

"Something changed?" he ground out, trying not to think of her with Spike.

She nodded. "A lot of stuff—it's a long story, involving Willow, and Buffy-pudding, but the upshot is, I almost died. Again. And it made me realize…I don't want to die again. There's a lot here to care about, and a lot to do—so I started doing it. And I've been doing good, Giles—not counting the last two days and the Brat Brigade, of course—I've been doing okay, all by myself. Only…" She trailed off, frustrated. "This is really hard to explain."

He tilted his head, curiosity momentarily overwhelming his desire to throttle Spike. "Try," he invited.

"I was doing all of this stuff, thinking that if I could just prove to you that I could do it, you'd come home," she said bluntly. "I kept thinking, if I could just be good enough, then you'd know you could come back, and I wouldn't feel so empty anymore." Before he could process that, she had rushed on. "And then, today, it hit me—you were supposed to be finished with this, too. When I died. You went back to England, and you had done your duty, and now you were finished. Except then I was back. And when you left again, all I could see was me, and how much I wanted you around. Even later, when I was doing better, that's all I kept thinking—I wanted my Watcher back." She dropped her gaze for a moment, then met his eyes. "I don't want my Watcher back anymore," she said quietly. "I want my friend. And I figure, if I'm going to be any kind of friend to you at all, then I shouldn't be trying to take away what you've earned. Your chance to be finished. That's no better than what Willow did to me." She shrugged self-consciously. "So I called the Council, and made the arrangements."

"Buffy…" He was overwhelmed. "T-that may be the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me."

She grinned at him wryly. "Don't thank me 'til you've heard the rest," she warned.

"The rest?"

She nodded. "There were…conditions." At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "You have to pick the new Watcher," she told him. "I don't want to have some amateur putting my life in danger all the time, and I won't trust anyone but you to pick the best."

He nodded, flattered. "Of course, Buffy."

She chuckled. "Also, there will be…um, annual performance reviews."

His jaw dropped. "You talked the Council into letting you give performance reviews?" he demanded, incredulous.

She shook her head slowly. "Um, no. Actually…you'll be doing the reviews."

He digested this for a moment, and then it clicked, and a smile started to spread across his face. "Buffy," he chided gently. "Are you by any chance trying to coerce me into mandatory yearly visits?"

She shrugged. "I said I didn't want to ruin your life," she remarked airily. "I never said I had any problem manipulating it."

At this, he laughed out loud. "You should have known I would have come, whenever you asked."

"Sure, but you never would have asked," she pointed out. "It'd get old constantly being the one to do the begging—so this way, I only have to ask the one time, and now you have to come every year. It's genius, if I do say so myself."

"Your terms are acceptable," he told her with a smile.

Her mobile phone rang, startling them both. "It's Dawn," she told him apologetically, answering the call.

As she talked, he studied her. He could barely process everything she'd just said. It was unlike his Buffy to spend much time soul-searching—it was the nature of the beast, he supposed. She didn't live a life that lent itself to an abundance of free time, or positive things to think about.

Here was another piece of the puzzle that was Buffy. In just a few short weeks, she had come so far. How could it be possible for one person to change so much, so rapidly?

Buffy hung up the phone, shooting him a wry grin. "I gotta go," she told him, ruefully. "Dawn's going to lose it, big-time, if I'm gone much longer."

"Are she and the children all right?" he asked immediately, concerned.

"They're fine." Buffy laughed. "Anya just smacked Willow over the head with a wooden spoon, and Xander has decided to become a miniature nudist, but other than that, all is well."

Giles smiled at the description. "In that case, I'll see you this evening—oh, and Buffy?" She paused, glancing up at him. "Did you need me to pick up those diapers and clothes on my way? If Dawn needs you immediately…"

She shot him a grateful look. "Dawn will owe you a cookie for this," she promised. "So will I." At the door, she hesitated, her back to him.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, after a moment.

Without turning around, she said quietly, "I know what you're thinking."

He digested this. "And what might that be?"

"You're thinking, 'when did Buffy become Introspection-Girl?'" She turned around, meeting his eyes. He waited to see where she was going. "Anyway," she continued, "I know I've never been good about that, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Giles. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I'm just…sorry."

He heard the wealth of emotion in her words, and knew she was apologizing for more than just her fairly common teenaged lack of self-awareness.

He stared at the empty doorway for a long time.

Dinner that night was a lively affair. Buffy had been a little afraid Giles would insist on another heart-to-heart when he got home—and frankly, she didn't know if she could take another one right now; she still wasn't very good at that stuff—but he had merely joined her in the kitchen, listening to her ramble about her day with the kids as she bustled around making pasta. After awhile, he'd insisted on helping, and had added a salad, garlic bread, and vegetable medley to her admittedly sad little spaghetti dish.

She shot him a wry look as he helped her clear away the dishes. "If this goes on much longer, I'm gonna have to learn to cook," she muttered.

Wandering in from the living room, where she had been trying to set up the kids with their movie, Dawn made a face at Buffy. "You should learn to cook anyway," she suggested. "Beats the Doublemeat Combo every night of the week."

"Hey," Buffy objected. "Sometimes I bring you fish sticks."

Dawn laughed. "Bad news, by the way," she told them. "The VCR's on the fritz. I've got them watching a cartoon for now."

Buffy gazed at Giles in abject horror. "The VCR? No, no…it's the only thing that keeps them busy during the day!"

Giles had held out his hand in a comforting gesture. "I'll go buy a new one this very evening," he promised.

Blinking, Buffy giggled. "Maybe we could fix the one we have," she pointed out. Giles looked bewildered. It was strangely endearing. "Never fear, Giles—I'll check it out, you won't have to touch the bad electronics." She pointed a finger at him. "But I want you to know—I'm not proud. If I can't fix that thing, I'm taking you up on your offer. I can't do this without a VCR, and you can't make me."

He held up his hands in a gesture of capitulation. "Did I say I was going to try?" he reminded.

Before she could reply, a screech sounded from the living room, signaling the end of peacetime.

"Resume hostilities," she muttered under her breath, catching Giles's quick, hidden smile a moment before four screaming toddlers burst into the room.

Dawn studied her sister and Giles as they scooped the children up neatly and deposited them at the counter. With some surprise, she noticed the practiced ease with which the new nightly ritual began. She didn't think even they were aware of their actions.

"Buffy," Giles murmured, plucking Anya's well-aimed cookie out of the air a second before it hit him in the face, "what, exactly, is a Doublemeat Combo?"

"Hmm?" Buffy was busy frowning at Xander, who was holding his tippy-cup upside down over the counter, watching in fascination as the milk dripped out in single droplets onto the counter. "You don't really want to know," she advised Giles absently, plucking the cup from Xander's hand, and setting it upright on the counter. She grabbed the now-ever-present washcloth from the counter and wiped up the little puddle. "It's a chicken-beef combo burger without any meat in it, but—Xander. No," she said firmly, as the little boy reached again for his cup. Shooting her a reproachful look, he dropped his hand and picked up a cookie, instead.

Giles paused in the act of wiping Oreo out of Tara's hair. "Remind me to ask you later what on Earth you are talking about," he remarked mildly. "But I actually wanted to know why you've been bringing it home so often."

"Well, we found out it didn't have any people in it, so—"

"Pardon me?" Giles snatched Willow by the back of her shirt as she attempted a daring escape. "Sit down," he told the little girl firmly, settling her back on her chair. She glared up at him mutinously for a long moment, then settled for mashing her soggy cookie into mush with her fist. "People?"

"No," repeated Buffy patiently, scooping up Xander and Tara and heading for the stairs. By unspoken consent, Giles grabbed Willow and Anya, and followed suit. "I told you, no people. There was a demon, but it turned out just to be vegetables—it was a whole big thing."

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared into the bathroom, and Dawn hurried to follow, grabbing a bag of Chex Mix on her way. This was setting up to be an excellent show.

"—you work at this place?" Giles was demanding when she showed up, clearly enraged. Damn, she'd missed the best part.

Buffy huffed, plopping Xander unceremoniously into the tub with a splash that made the little boy giggle helplessly. "You told me to handle things—I'm handling them!" she retorted hotly. "I have a job—it pays money. End of story."

"I NEVER meant for you to…to…degrade yourself in this way!" Without missing a beat, the stodgy Watcher helped a squirming Willow out of her overalls and settled her on the potty chair. Dawn had to bite her lip, hard, to keep from snorting out loud.

"Degrade myself?" Buffy demanded, Slayer reflexes in full effect as she snatched the dripping washcloth out of thin air. "Xander, no," she repeated firmly, as the boy reached again for the washcloth, which he appeared to be attempting to use to beat Anya to death. "Please explain to me how paying the bills is degrading," she finished, with a glare for Giles.

"Fast food?" he asked, incredulously. "And you really have to ask?"

In the hallway, Dawn cringed. She would have given the Watcher credit for being a little smoother than this, to be honest.

"You could be doing any one of a number of things, for which you are more than qualified," Giles began, clearly going into Lecture Mode.

Buffy snorted. "I am qualified for nothing," she stressed. "And I don't know why this bothers you so much—"

"It bothers me because it's beneath you!" he snapped. "Why can't you see that?"

"Look." Buffy caught Anya's hand a moment before it disappeared up inside the faucet. "Can we talk about this another time, maybe?"

From the corner of her eye, Dawn spotted Willow tapping impatiently on the Watcher's arm, trying to signal that she was done. She smothered a laugh.

Buffy caught the sound, and looked up. "You know, you could be in here helping, Dawn," she suggested testily, a second before a splash of water caught her directly in the face. Turning, she glared at Xander, but the unrepentant little trouble-maker only grinned brightly at her and raised his hand to do it again. Catching him by the arm, Buffy pulled him out of the tub before he could do any more damage.

"And miss the show?" Dawn retorted, enjoying herself immensely. "I don't think so—you guys are, like, the cutest parents ever."

Giles paused in the act of trading naked children with Buffy. Dangling in mid-air, Tara giggled and squirmed gleefully. "We are not their parents, Dawn," he told her seriously. "We are—er, babysitters."

Buffy plucked Tara out of Giles's grasp before the little girl slipped out of his hands. "And so are you," the Slayer added, with a pointed glance at her sister. "So, babysit already."

"Call it whatever you want, if it helps you sleep at night," Dawn remarked mischievously, standing up and wandering away without a backward glance. "But you look like parents to me."

There, she thought with satisfaction. Let them chew on that for awhile.

Buffy and Giles stared after her departing form with no small amount of dismay. In reality, Buffy mused, it had actually been kind of a cruel thing to say. It wasn't likely that either she or Giles would ever get to experience being real parents.

She'd never really thought about the idea of Giles as a parent before—which was sad. It was becoming more apparent with every passing moment that Rupert Giles had been born to be a father. Belatedly, she wondered if he'd ever wanted a family of his own.

"Giles," she blurted, before she could stop herself, "why didn't you ever have a family?"

He blinked. "Well…I suppose I could say it was my Calling," he offered quietly. "But that would be a lie. Many Watchers have homes and families—my father was a Watcher, and my grandmother as well. Both were happily married." He looked thoughtful. "I suppose the simple answer is that I never met the right woman, at the right time."

There was something cautious in his words that gave her pause.

"What's the complicated answer?" she asked softly.

He studied her for a long moment, and something in his eyes made her heart beat a little faster. Before he could reply, however, Xander squealed loudly, alerting them both to the fact that Willow was heading for the hills. Or, in this case, the hall.

"Bedtime," he murmured evasively, scooping up Anya and chasing the little escapee.

Buffy was disappointed, but unfortunately, he was right. They needed to get the kids to bed, she needed to patrol, there was laundry to do…she felt tired just thinking of it all.

By the time she got Xander and Tara down the hall and into the bedroom, Giles had tucked the other two firmly into bed, and was lecturing Anya, who was trying to climb back out.

Buffy grinned. It cracked her up to see the way Giles spoke to the kids—so seriously, like they were little adults. Which they were, she supposed. But not, y'know, really.

"Maybe you could tell them a story?" she suggested, dumping Xander on the bed carelessly, just to make the little boy giggle. She loved the sound of his little giggle—she should tell him that when he was all grown up again.

"A-a story?" Giles looked as if he had never considered the possibility before.

"Towee!" agreed Xander enthusiastically. Willow clapped her little hands.

Gesturing at the eager children, Buffy smiled. "Sounds like a yea vote to me," she told him, enjoying his bewilderment for one long moment before abandoning him to his fate.

"Where are you going?'' he called after her, sounding a little desperate. She didn't stop—just ducked outside the door and hovered in the hall, waiting to see what would happen.

"Dear Lord," Giles muttered, and she bit her lip to hold in a laugh. The bed creaked, and sounds of childish shuffles were all she could hear for a moment. Finally, his voice reached her again, pitched low, and only slightly hesitant.

"Once upon a time," he said softly, "there were four little children…"

With a smile on her lips and a strange ache in her heart, Buffy slipped away down the hall. She had work to do.

Giles was waiting up for her when she got home that night. The poor girl looked wiped out, as always. He didn't even question her about patrol, just led her upstairs to bed.

Surprisingly, there was no discomfort this time, as he returned from the bathroom to the now-familiar sight of his Slayer curled up beneath the covers, wearing his pajamas and half-asleep. He slid into bed next to her, trying not to disturb her.

"Giles," she murmured softly in the darkness.

"Yes?"

"Tell me a story," she mumbled.

He paused for a long moment, but there was something lonely in her voice he found he couldn't ignore. Feeling only a little silly, he obeyed.

"Once upon a time, there was a woman—a very strong woman, and she was bright and brave and very kind. She had many friends, and many gifts, but very little faith in herself. She was a warrior, you see, and a brilliant one—but she falsely believed that because she was Chosen to fight, she could do nothing else. This woman had a—a friend, who wanted very much to make her see how special she was, but he was old, and fumbling, and didn't know what to say. For many years, he stood beside her, watching her settle again and again for so much less than she deserved." He paused, glancing at Buffy to see if she was still awake. She was—her eyes glittered at him in the moonlight, and he wondered if she was crying.

"What happened to the woman?" she asked quietly.

Giles smiled in the darkness. "One day she woke up and looked into a mirror," he extemporized. "And this was a very special mirror—the kind that shows only the truth. What she saw there was the extraordinary woman she truly was—a beautiful, courageous, intelligent woman. A hero. She saw it, and she believed, and for the first time, she knew, she would never have to settle for anything less than the very best again."

For a moment, there was silence. Just when he was wondering if he'd gone too far—if he'd revealed too much—he heard a muffled sound, and she spoke again, her voice a little husky.

"What happened to her…friend?"

He hesitated. "He watched over her all his days, and never tired of seeing her smile. She was next to him when he died, surrounded by her children, and grandchildren on the way, and she held his hand. Her smiling face was the last thing he saw. And he was able to believe he'd had some part in giving her that life, and so he died a happy man."

A long stillness followed his words, and he'd almost decided she was asleep after all, when suddenly she shifted, bringing her body to rest against his. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she buried her face against his chest, and promptly fell asleep.

He was frozen, unable to breathe. Her slight body fitted perfectly to his bigger one, and all he could do was close his eyes tightly and try to memorize this moment.

Long into the night, he lay awake, doing what he did best. Watching her.