Ten Years Later

THREE FRIENDS

Willow and Xander left first to find Jeffery, and Buffy and Giles waited in the large master bedroom with Dawn. Skip, the dog, was still on the bed. It was Giles' room and was furnished—as most of the house was—with things that had been left after his aunt's death. For some time, it was the only room in the house Buffy had not painted, but after much jeering from Xander, Giles eventually tore out the faded floral wallpaper and painted the walls a light tan.

During her redecoration of the house, Buffy had found several dozen photo albums. Neatly organized and spanning nearly a hundred years, she spent weeks looking through the mostly black and white images of people not even Giles could remember. When there were names or dates written on the back, Giles would do his best to tell her who they were or what part of the family they might be from, but most photos were without markings.

She would sit on the living room floor with Skip and imagine stories about the people in the photos—what their lives were like, what they did for a living, how many kids they had, and who their friends were. All of them, she imagined had lives that were simple—she wanted to believe that there were people who had simple lives. She plucked a few of her favorites from the albums and put them in frames. Some were placed on the walls and others were on top of mantels. When she told Giles the old photos were better than art, he handed over boxes of photos from his parents.

Most of his parents' pictures were from times and people he remembered—many were of him. After a little nudging, Buffy got him to join her on the living room floor to talk her through each photo. He'd lie on his back and examine pictures of a younger him until a memory would spark. He shared stories of his childhood antics, fears, and joys. She listened and asked questions, eager for more history.

Ten years ago, she didn't care about anything outside of her own little world; it seemed pointless and trite. But as she got older, she developed a burning desire to connect with her extended family. Between her new duties as a Slayer, she spent time visiting family she never really knew on her mother's side and tracked down an aunt from her father's side. On her visits, she'd ask for stories about her parents—and her mother in particular. She wanted the comfort of her family. It was something that seemed to slip further away with every passing year.

Sitting on the living room floor with Giles—looking through pictures and learning about his life and family—filled a void. It connected her to a family she never realized she was part of. The Watcher who raised her was a product of the family who raised him, and in there somewhere she felt she belonged. She asked to meet some of his family, but with the exception of a few of his cousins, he didn't have much family left either.

After careful debate, two pictures of Giles as a child were framed despite his protests. Most of the oldest black and whites ended up in the front entry, but a few she put in Giles' room.

As they waited to start the ceremony, Buffy walked around the room staring at the familiar pictures—the pictures of his family, the pictures she felt strangely connected to. One photo was glaringly modern, however. It was a picture of all of them on vacation in Ireland.

Of course, they didn't take vacations; it was more of a business call to a small coastal town being terrorized by two small time vampires. In the picture, they are all standing on one of those imposing Irish cliffs that overlooked the ocean. The sky is orange and red with the setting sun as Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Dawn are standing together near the edge, looking out over the water. Their silhouettes are black against the colors of the sky. Off to the side and in the foreground, Giles is not looking toward the water, he is watching them.

Jeffery took this picture. And for Christmas he had it blown up and framed for Giles. Always the Watcher.

Buffy moved from the photo to the window and saw the guests milling about in the garden below. Most of the people were from Jeffery's family. The Summer's girls did, however, invite their mother's sister and her adult children. They arrived a few days ago and were staying at Fort Giles. For all of them, Buffy had to pay for the plane tickets in order for them to come. Of course, this meant Giles had to pay for most of it.

"Willow is getting everyone to take their seats," Buffy said. "Just a few more minutes."

Dawn took a deep breath and stood next to her, taking her hand. Buffy was shocked by Dawn's calm. Buffy felt like she could burst with energy, emotion, happiness, and sadness. Dawn, however, was more clam than usual. Buffy wondered if this was what love was for some people: calm, confident, and quiet. Was this how love should be? It seemed Buffy's experiences with love were exactly the opposite. As the sun came through the window and across Dawn's face, Buffy felt a rush of admiration for her. Buffy silently wished that she was more like Dawn.

They pointed out people they recognized and Dawn tried to figure out who was who of Jeffery's extended family. Giles remained on the other side of the room in his big arm chair—just listening to the sisters chat.

"Is that Dad?" Dawn pointed down to the guests.

Buffy squinted. "Where?"

"In the back, near the end."

"I can't tell. It would help if I could see more than the back of his head."

"Oh, wait." Dawn pointed to another man. "Maybe that's him."

"I think Dad was taller than that guy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but it's hard to tell from up here."

Dawn squinted. "You're right, that's not him."

They scanned the crowd again.

Buffy squeezed her hand. "I'm sure Dad's here, Dawn."

Dawn nodded and turned around. Giles' glasses were off, his eyes were closed, and he squeezed the bridge of nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah," Dawn said, "Dad is here."

Buffy followed her gaze. "He's always been here."

Dawn smiled. "Giles, are you crying?"

He stood up and coughed a little. "No…well, not exactly." He gazed at the two of them for a moment. "Forgive me; this is far more emotional than I'd expected." He put his hands in his pockets. "I'm feeling rather nostalgic."

"I think we all are."

Buffy and Dawn slipped on their shoes, and Giles followed them to the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room—Skip came along dutifully. Through the windows in the French doors, they could see outside to the guests.

"Just think how messed up you'll be when you have to give Buffy away," Dawn said.

"I am not giving anyone away," Giles insisted. "I'm walking you down the aisle—no one is going away."

Buffy fixed Dawn's dress and handed her the bouquet. "Yeah, I don't like that term 'giving away.' It's so old and creepy."

"Thank you," Giles said. "It's ridiculous, patriarchal, and archaic—and no one's leaving, ever—we're all staying." He softened his voice. "Dawn, flattered as I am, there is still time to have Buffy walk you down the aisle."

Buffy touched up Dawn's makeup.

"We've been over this, Giles," Dawn said. "Your job is to make sure I don't trip. She's my best woman."

"Of course."

Buffy reached up and fixed Giles' tie. "Giles, go like this with your hair." She made a sweeping motion over her own head. "No, the other side."

"Better?" he asked.

"I guess."

"Not the answer I was looking for."

Dawn tugged at his jacket sleeve. "You look great. Buffy, stop fussing."

Buffy tilted her head as she studied Giles. "When did you get so gray? There's like no color left."

"I'm extremely old and nearly dead."

She patted him on the shoulder. "At least you're not bald. Yet."

Dawn squinted up at him. "But that hairline is inching back. He may not have hair for much longer."

He sighed. "Would you please…"

"I don't know." Buffy pushed some hair off his forehead. "I thought he'd be bald by now. Maybe he'll be okay."

Dawn nodded and pulled at some of his hair. "He's lucky. You can fix the gray. Bald, not so much."

"I can hear you," he said.

Buffy's face brightened. "Maybe we still have time for some Just for Men—give him a hint of color."

He took a step back and held his hands out in front of him. "Would you two leave me alone?"

"It could bring back that rugged handsomeness."

Dawn burst into laughter, and the sound made all of Buffy's stress melt away. For a moment Buffy was mesmerized by the sound of Dawn's voice.

Dawn inched toward Giles and Buffy followed.

"Come on, Giles." Dawn said. "Let us fix your hair."

A smiled stretched across his face as he continued to step backward. "You have to get married now. There's no time for this silliness."

They backed him into a corner and they all froze. He took off his glasses and laughter ruptured from him. Buffy and Dawn followed in his uncontrollable, doubled over state.

"Dawn," he said between fits, "it's time to get married. I've spent a lot of money on this day."

It was difficult, but they controlled themselves and gathered their composure.

"Giles." Buffy reached for his hair. "Your hair is really messed up now."

He jerked his head back. "Don't touch me."

"Buffy's right," Dawn said.

He went to a mirror and fixed his hair. "Hate to break it to you, but this is as good as it gets."

"A hint of color," Dawn said to Buffy. "When we get back from the honeymoon, let's take him to get his hair colored."

"No," he said as they walked to the back door.

"Men do that kind of thing now."

"No."

The three of them left the house and stood on the back porch. Suddenly all the guests turned around and stood. Willow, Xander and Jeffery waited front and center—her family and the new addition.

"Okay," Buffy said, "I guess that's my cue."

Music from a string quartet began and Buffy walked slowly down the aisle of guests, smiling and looking for her father. She wasn't sure if she saw him—the man in the back could be him.

When she reached the front, Xander winked at her and smiled. Buffy smiled back at him. Big brother always knew just what to do to make her feel better—he always knew what she was feeling.

Buffy turned around and watched Dawn take Giles' arm and make their regal march to the front. What she will always remember is how happy Dawn looked—her smile was as honest as she's ever seen.

It seemed to Buffy like everything was in slow motion. It seemed like everything happened too fast. It took forever for Dawn and Giles to reach the destination, but Buffy wasn't ready. When Giles kissed Dawn on the cheek before taking his seat, all Buffy wanted to do was go back to a time before she was a slayer, when the world was small and they were young.

The ceremony itself was fast and to the point. Willow didn't stumble over her words, but she did tear up often. Then pictures were taken. There was no professional photographer, just a cousin of Jeffery's who had a nice camera. As the photos snapped, Buffy wondered if these would someday end up on the walls of distant relatives who couldn't name them. Would they look at her and know that her life was chosen? Would they look at Xander, Willow, and Giles and know that they risked their lives not because it was their destiny, but because they were devoted friends. Would they look at Dawn and imagine that her life did not start like any other?

As they stood with the bride and groom for yet another photograph, Buffy whispered to Giles: "We need to make sure all of these pictures are labeled really well."

He nodded and grinned: "We'll do it while they're on holiday."

His smile, Buffy noticed, was all in his eyes. He beamed in every photograph, joked with Jeffery and chatted happily with Jeffery's parents. He was, for the first time in weeks—maybe even years—confident, happy, and content.

"Do you think we should we ask Giles about our plan today? He's in a rather good mood," Willow said.

Buffy watched him talk with Xander. "Sure. He'll be fine with it."

"Well yeah, I guess. I just don't want ruin his good mood."

Buffy said, "he's so happy that everyone is accepting him as—" Buffy paused "—as a member of the family. He gets to be in the family pictures; he gets to be the dad."

Willow brushed away a tear and looped her arm through Buffy's. "That's all he's ever wanted."

Buffy nudged Willow. "You have done nothing but cry today."

"I can't help it. I don't have your slayer strength."

When the pictures were taken, Willow, Xander and Buffy packed their plates with food and sat a one of the many picnic tables.

"My god, I'm hungry," Willow said. "I don't think I've eaten in like three days—there's been so much to do."

"And," Xander said, "I'm sure marring people works up quite an appetite."

"You're not kidding, boy. All that responsibility is taxing."

"Crying is taxing, too."

"You done good, Willow," Buffy said.

"And you, Buffy." Willow pointed at her with a fork. "You didn't trip walking down the aisle—not even a little."

"I'm the slayer."

Xander smiled. "What about me? I stood there for a really long time. Then I patted Jeff on the back."

Willow nodded. "Your standing was unlike anything I've ever seen."

He shrugged. "I learned that from the slayer."

"You're a pro. Really." Buffy smiled.

"So," Willow leaned forward and whispered to Buffy, "did your dad show?"

Buffy glanced around her. "I don't think so. I figured he'd call when he got to town, we haven't heard from him."

"I was looking for him," Xander said, "but then I remembered I don't know what he looks like."

"I haven't seen him. Well, I saw one guy that might be him, but it was from upstairs, looking out the window." Buffy said, "There are way more people here than I thought we invited, so maybe I just missed him."

"I'm sure he's here," Willow said. "And I'd like to meet him."

"Maybe my aunt has seen him today." Buffy looked around. "I'll go ask her later."

"She looks so much like your mom—your aunt does."

"I know. When I picked her and her sons up at the airport, I felt like I was looking at Mom."

Willow patted Buffy on the top of the hand. "I'm glad they came."

"Me too. I try to stay in contact with them." Buffy paused. "I've been thinking about moving closer to them." Buffy waited for a reaction.

Xander looked up. "Back to the States? Permanently?"

"Nothing is permanent anymore. Just a thought."

Willow's eyes go wide. "Well, what would you do out there, away from us?"

"I could help train slayers over there. I can move anywhere in the world and have a job."

Xander lifted his eyebrows. "True, I guess."

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe I'll just visit them more."

"Yes," Willow said. "You should visit them more. Visiting them is a good idea. You should visit family as much as possible—then come back."

"Don't worry Willow, it was just an idea."

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your family, but we only just starting getting things back to the way things used to be—when we all lived in the same country."

Buffy nodded. "Have you talked to your parents lately, Will?"

Willow pressed her lips together and squinted a little. "Mmm. I haven't heard from my dad in a long time, but I called my mom on her birthday."

"How is she?"

"Fine. She was on a tour lecturing. She liked it."

"Does she still think you're in England to study at Oxford?"

"She knows I'm not in school. She just chooses to ignore that fact. Every time I talk to her she asks about Oxford."

Buffy looked to Willow warily. "How about we go visit her some time?"

"You want to visit my mom?"

"Well, I want you to visit her. I don't mind seeing her. I don't think I'll mind her trying to psychoanalyze me anymore."

"She's a handful."

"I know, but you need to keep in touch with her."

"I miss her sometimes," Willow said, "but then when I'm around her or talk to her on the phone, I don't know what to say."

"Everything is awkward?"

"Yep."

"I know what you mean—I get the same feeling with my dad."

Willow set her drink down. "I hate that feeling. It doesn't make sense either—they're our parents—shouldn't we be the most comfortable around them?"

"I don't even try to understand it, but we should still try to stay in touch, right? That's what adults do."

Willow thought about this. "I'll go see her sometime. You have to come with."

"Xander?" Buffy asked, "Have you heard from your parents?"

He smiled. "Nope. Oh, but I do send them a card every Christmas. Just so they know I'm still alive."

"I know you don't like them," Buffy said, "but don't you miss seeing them? I mean, at least your mom?"

"Yeah, I miss my mom. I miss her a lot sometimes."

Buffy played with her food. "Talk to her sometime."

"I know. It's hard with my dad. I always used to think that I would like her a whole lot better if she would just divorce my dad. I even asked her to leave him when I was twelve."

"I remember," Willow said. "I helped you come up with your speech."

"It was a good speech, too." Xander nodded. "Willow even made a pie chart with the benefits of divorce, but my mom just started crying when I showed it to her." He continued to eat. "I know I should call her, but it's hard. I'm out of dealing-with-parents practice."

Willow sighed. "You can't choose your family."

"Well," Xander said, "we're like a family. Basically. We picked each other."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean."

"I guess."

They ate silently for a moment. Buffy marveled at Willow. She had not aged much at all since they were kids. In fact, she thought that Willow just got more beautiful with each passing year. Her bright red hair flowed easily around her face and her smiled was always bright and warm. Xander on the other hand had aged quite a bit. He had lost all of his baby fat in the last ten years. Teaching new slayers how to fight had slimmed his body and built his muscle, but his face had hardened and his hair was getting that salt and pepper coloring. He still sported the eye patch.

Willow looked over to Dawn who was eating with Jeffery. "Who would have thought that little ball of energy Dawnie would be the first Summers girl to get married?"

Buffy shrugged. "I knew."

They all nodded.

"So Buff," Xander said, "as best man and best woman, there is one last thing we have to do for the bride and groom."

"What? A toast?"

"No. Silly. We have to have the sex."

Buffy stared at him.

"You and me, Buff. We need to have sex together—tonight."

She stared at him.

He lifted his eyebrows.

Buffy laughed. "Sure. Just as soon as I finish eating."

Xander nodded and said nothing for a moment. "You are joking, right?"

"Yes, joking. Not going to sleep with you."

"It is tradition. You have to honor the traditions of our ancestors."

"Not mine."

Xander nodded sympathetically. "I just want you to know that the ancient Americans—also known as the Indians—they believed if the sex was not had by the best man and woman, that the bride and groom would be doomed to a life of crops that don't grow."

"Luckily, Dawn and Jeffery don't grow things. They buy their food at a store."

"You misunderstand. By crops I mean kids. They will not be able to have kids."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "They can adopt, or get a cat."

"You misunderstand again: they will not be able to provide the nutrients for the kids that will allow them to grow."

"What?"

"Stunted growth, Buffy. Do you want nieces and nephews who are three feet tall—forever?"

"I am sure their kids will grow."

"But," Xander said solemnly, "If they don't, it will be all your fault."

"I will love them anyway."

Willow chimed in. "But Buffy, what will happen if these tiny kids come to you and say, 'Aunt Buffy, why are we not growing like the rest of our friends? What did we do to deserve this horrible, terrible, miserable fate?'"

"I will tell them that I'll beat up anyone who makes fun of them."

Willow shook her head. "You can't fight Dawn's kid's battles for them."

"I fight everyone else's battles for them. It's my calling."

Xander looked to Willow and they shared a disapproving look.

"What?" Buffy said, "don't do that. It's true; I fight all the battles—why can't I fight their battles too?"

Xander said softly. "They will never grow up if you do."

They all paused.

"Wait," Willow said, "what do you mean 'grow up'? I thought they couldn't grow."

"Oh, right. I don't mean physically—they're already stunted. I mean emotionally."

"Ahh." Willow nodded. "Got it. Continue."

"Well what I was saying was that—"

Buffy put a hand in the air. "What are we talking about, again?"

Willow squinted. "Dawn's kids are doomed to be very short."

"And I want to fight people who pick on them?"

"The sex," Xander said.

Willow and Buffy glanced at each other.

Xander inhaled and exhaled forcefully. "Never mind. I'm going to get more food."

Willow and Buffy put in their order.

"So, Buffy," Willow sat closer to her, "what happened to that Italian guy you were seeing?"

"Oh, Bruno?"

"Yeah. That tall, dark, muscular man."

"I don't know. I went out with him a few times. He's nice and funny. But I think he's mostly funny because his English isn't very good."

"And?"

"I don't know." Buffy played with her napkin.

"And…"

"Same old Buffy story."

Willow watched Buffy tear her napkin in half.

"When I talked to you after the first date, you seemed really into him."

She tore the napkin into smaller pieces.

"Buffy, you just haven't found the right person."

"I did find the right person once."

Willow sighed. "I know; we all did. Wasn't that the point of the gifts?"

Buffy shrugged. "I feel stuck. If that makes any sense."

"Yes, it does. You've been through so much. You still have so much responsibility."

Buffy began balling the small napkin pieces up. "There's nothing wrong with Bruno, but I don't have any desire to see him again. I don't think I've thought about him once since I snuck him out of the house a few weeks ago."

"You did what?"

Buffy smiled. "I didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Ha!" Buffy's mood lifted. "Funny and sad story: I invited him back to the house for…you know. It was great, by the way. Like, really good. But then, after, I just felt strange. I didn't want him to sleep in my bed all night. The thought of him breathing next to me was horrible. So I told him that my dad was coming home soon and he had to leave. There was more to it; I had an elaborate story about my father having a debilitating phobia about germs and I didn't want him to have a literal stroke. But, I made him leave through the back service road that goes to the barn. It was raining."

"Wow, Buffy."

"I know."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"It's okay." Willow took the destroyed napkin from Buffy. "I'm not doing well in the relationship department either. So we can just share our stories without judgment."

Buffy leaned forward. "What's your latest relationship story?"

Willow squinted. "Well, I don't have one. That's my story."

Buffy narrowed her eyes.

"Sorry, Buffy. I haven't been on a date in a while."

"Well that's no fun. I demand that you go on a terrible date so that I get a terrible story."

"Okay."

Xander came back with a plate full of food. "Got the grub."

They dug in.

"So have you two talked to Giles yet?" Buffy asked.

"We're waiting for the right time—catch him in a good mood."

"You're wasting time. He's going to say yes. He'll act like he's terribly troubled by this, but he'll say yes."

"I hope so."

"Yeah," Xander looked to Willow, "we'll talk to him today."

"How about now?"

"Not now. I don't think he'll want us interrupting that," Xander said. "Do you see that woman talking Giles up?"

Buffy and Willow shook their heads.

"Yeah, look over there."

They all leaned and watched Giles—all smiles—indulge in the attention of a tall, dark haired woman.

"He looks happy about it," Willow said. "Good for him."

Xander examined the woman. "She's kinda hot."

"He needs someone in his life."

"Oh," Xander said, "I don't think this is anything long term. My guess is that he'll have her upstairs soon."

Buffy and Willow both groaned.

"Really, Xander?" Buffy said. "We're eating."

"I can't help but be a little envious, okay. He's going to have sex tonight. He's not the best man. I am. He's the father of the bride—he shouldn't get lucky. I should get the sex."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Xander," Buffy said.

"The least you can do is be my wingman and get me a nice woman—any woman."

"Giles doesn't need a wingman."

Xander stuffed food in his mouth. "I hate my life."

Buffy surveyed the guests. "Over there, Xander. In the pinkish dress."

"I don't know, Buffy," Willow said. "I think that is more of a coral color."

"What? No. It's pink. Just a different kinda pink. British pink."

"British Pink?"

Xander studied the woman. "I don't care what color it is. Who is she?"

"I think," Buffy said, "that's Jeffery's cousin."

"Hmm." Xander ate a chocolate covered strawberry. "She's too good looking."

"What?"

Willow nodded. "Xander's right, we need someone less outwardly beautiful."

Xander nodded. "She'd never go for me."

"What about that woman?" Buffy pointed to a forty-something who seemed to be on her own. "She's older than you, if that's fine with you."

"I like older," Xander said. "Who is she?"

"I have no idea."

"I will do some asking around and see who she is," Xander said. "Willow's turn. Let's find someone for her."

They all looked for a moment.

Buffy grinned. "How about the woman in the coral dress?"

"It's pink. And why do I get Xander's leftovers?"

Buffy looked at the woman. "Forgive me for thinking that she's hot and worthy of a night with one of my friends. I mean look at her."

They all leered.

"She is sexy," Xander said, "maybe I should reconsider."

"You had your chance."

"Sorry."

"I don't know." Willow tipped her head. "She's not that sexy."

"God, if you two don't want her," Buffy said, "I'm desperate enough."

Willow shook her head. "She's not even gay."

"Neither am I. Honestly," Buffy said, "I can't tell who might be your type. I don't know how you can tell."

Willow smiled. "Magic."

Buffy stood. "Maybe a drink will help."

She walked over to the makeshift bar—which was really just a table loaded with the massive amount of alcohol the groom's father had purchased—and surveyed her options. As she filled her glass, there was a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, there was a moment of blankness before she recognized him.

As it turned out, Hank Summers had come.