Ten Years Later

ONE FAMILY

At dusk, out beyond the patio and strings of lights, Buffy saw two figures sitting under one of the bigger trees. One figure was the dog, and the other figure was one she would recognize anywhere—she'd recognize him by his shadow, his voice, the sound of his footsteps, or his "English" scent. He had become more familiar to her than her own father.

She kicked off her heals and walked through the cool grass, squeezing her toes around the soft blades. When she got to him, he smiled sleepily up at her and patted the ground next to him. He scratched behind the dog's ears and his was tie loose. She settled down and watched the party. The candles incased in glass mason jars glowed in a soft yellow light. The soft plucking of guitars was distant and warm.

It usually happened like this: in moments where everything was calm and right and happy, she would suddenly think of her mother and her heart would collapse all over again. She tried to imagine what her mother would look like had she still been alive. Would she have aged very much? Probably not. Her soft curly hair would be a little shorter, her wrinkles a little more evident, but she'd still be beautiful. She was always beautiful.

Her mother would have planed the wedding. Her mother would have walked Dawn down the aisle. The wedding would have been in her mother's backyard. Her mother would have helped Dawn choose the right lipstick, and her mother would have given Dawn a gift just before the ceremony. Her mother would have dealt with her father. Her mother would be sitting under the tree next to her. Her mother would have handled everything, and her mother would have been beautiful.

That is how things should have been.

Buffy felt old, so very old. She had lived many lifetimes over—birth, death, and birth again and again. She had saved the world many times, she had loved and lost, and she was still living. The wrinkles around her eyes were becoming more evident. She was dying her hair to hide bits of gray. Her reflexes were slowing, and she knew there would come a time when she would only be as strong and agile as an Olympian during her gold winning performance. She was so very old.

Buffy looked at Giles next to her. His arms were folded across his chest, his head was pressed against the trunk of the tree, and his eyes were closed. He had aged quite a bit since she first met him. He was getting heavier and thinner in all the wrong places. His hair was thin and gray. His glasses were getting thicker. He'd had knee and shoulder surgeries, and his back gave him problems. The years of abuse were taking a toll.

Someday she will be the one to drive him to his doctor's appointments, to run his errands, to help him up the stairs at night, to remind him to take his heart medicine—to help him get things in order.

She watched the party again. People were starting to get quite drunk, and this made Buffy strangely glad. One of Buffy's cousins was laughing loudly and stumbling slightly. And her aunt was sitting quietly watching it all.

"Everything looks different from this angle," Buffy said.

"Yes," Giles murmured.

"Are you sleeping?"

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Just resting."

Dawn was dancing with the laughing-stumbling cousin. He and Dawn were about the same age and had recently developed an email relationship.

"She looks happy."

"She is happy. You've done good work, Buffy." He nudged her lightly. "You could be a wedding planner."

"No, thank you. I deal with enough demons; I don't want to deal with bride-demons, too." She nudged him back. "Thanks for letting us use the house."

"My pleasure. We're building memories here."

She nodded. "My dad left."

"Oh?" He removed his glasses and put them in his jacket pocket. "Did he leave on good terms?"

"I think so." Buffy rethought this. "Actually, I don't know. He wants me to go and stay with him in L.A. He says he wants things to be how they used to be."

"That's a tall order."

"Yeah." Buffy shook her head emphatically. "I don't even know what he means by the way things used to be. Does he mean like when all he had to do to win my love was buy me things and take me trick-or-treating?"

"I imagine he does. It was probably the only way he knew how to relate to you. They were simpler times for him."

"When I was his little girl? Before I grew breasts and starting burning gyms down."

Giles laughed. "Exactly."

"I like that he's trying, but at the same time I wonder why now?"

Giles took a drink of champagne. "He's getting older. I imagine he's starting to worry about—" Giles took another drink. "—dying alone."

Buffy chuckled. "He can get in line. Isn't that what we're all worried about?"

He finished his glass and said softly, "You'll find someone."

"We're not talking about me, Giles."

"Sorry."

She sighed. "You'll find someone, too."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I have enough."

A gust of wind came over the hill and rustled the leaves on the tree. There was a brief moment where the only thing Buffy could hear was the wind in the leaves.

"Do you think you'll go back to Los Angeles?" Giles asked.

She shrugged.

"It may be your only chance to connect with him again."

"It sounds scary and hard."

"Yes." His voice was nearly frail. "Well, you know that whatever you decide, you'll always have a home here."

"I know."

Since she'd moved to Fort Giles a few years ago, he'd taught her and Dawn how to cook, how to maintain a garden, how to drive a stick-shift, how to build a greenhouse, how to manage a savings account, how to fix the plumbing, and so on. It seemed he was constantly teaching them something new and practical. Buffy loved it. He was still training her.

"I like it here," she said.

"Good. I like having you here."

"Really?" She played with the dog's collar. "You don't want to have the place to yourself?"

He looked into her eyes. "No. I don't want the place to myself."

She looked away.

"This is your home, Buffy. Even when you move out and start a family of your own, you'll always have a home wherever I am."

She smiled sadly.

He caught the fade in her expression. "I like having you around—all of you. Remember when I came back from Australia a few months ago? When I came home, I witnessed one of the happiest sights I've ever seen: the driveway full of cars."

He tried to stand up, but even while bracing himself against the tree, it was slow going. Buffy stood and helped him to his feet.

"You were all here." He stretched his legs. "All of your cars were in the driveway: Willow's car, and Xander's and Dawn's and yours. Everyone was home. It made me happy."

She too stretched her legs. "We all played cards that night."

"Yes," he whispered.

"Willow won every game. I think she cheats."

"Probably." He paused, "how are you doing?"

"Me?" she pointed to herself. "Fine."

He waited.

She shrugged. "It's been a tough day, Giles."

"I know. You've done well. I know Dawn is grateful."

The sun had fully disappeared and the lights from the party left Giles in a silhouette. No matter how much he had aged, he was still tall, angular, and ruggedly handsome. She was proud of him. She was thankful for him.

"Giles," she asked, "can I have a hug?"

Even in shadows, she could see his face soften. He took a step forward and they embraced. She rested her cheek against his chest and let her shoulders relax. He was warm and the smell of his tweed jacket instantly took her back to the library. They held each other. They didn't hug often, but it had never been awkward. This was the hug she had wanted from her father—the hug she didn't know how to ask for.

Giles kissed the top of her head and whispered: "My little girl."

She finally started to cry. The tears that had been on the surface all day—her entire life—finally emerged. Into his lapel, she sobbed without hindrance; she sobbed without worry; she sobbed without trying to stop. "I miss my mom" was all she could say.

He rubbed her back lightly. "I know, sweetheart. I miss her, too. We all miss her."

She felt like a loved child in Giles' arms—she was the favorite daughter. Safe. Protected. Challenged. Understood. After some time, they pulled apart as stars began to emerge in the dark sky.

He handed her a handkerchief and looked into her eyes.

Buffy nodded. "I'm okay."

She sat down again and he did the same—though much slower.

He pressed his head against the tree and closed his eyes. She wiped away tears and tugged at the hem of her dress. The air was not still anymore. A light breeze teased her hair.

"Tell me about the album, Giles."

"There's not much to tell. Your mum and I listened to it a few times."

"Yeah, that's what gets me. When were you alone with my mother a few times?"

He opened his eyes. "Buffy."

"No, Giles, I want to know." Her voice was small. "All I have left of my mom are memories and stories. Seeing my dad makes me long for my mother—if that makes any sense. I'm desperate to hear about her. Tell me about the album."

He nodded. "The first time we listened to it, she was at my house. It was when we had that chocolate from the marching band."

"Oh…"

"Yes."

"I already know too much about that."

"There were a few times after her surgery, too."

She lifted her eyebrows and said slowly, "So what you told Dawn was true." She thought about that time after the surgery and her heart tightened. "You were in love with our mom, weren't you?"

He nodded slowly. "I loved her, but we didn't have time to really fall in love."

She brushed tears away from her eyes. "Oh, god. I had no idea."

He was quiet, waiting for her to calm.

"You were sleeping together?"

In the darkness, she could see his chest deliberately rise and fall.

He whispered. "It was only for a short time after her surgery. We found solace in each other. We cared about each other deeply."

"Were you in a relationship?"

He seemed to really think about this. He said slowly: "We were just in the beginnings of something."

"Why did you two keep this from me?"

"We never meant to keep anything from you, it just happened that way. Honestly, Buffy, we just starting talking and spending more time together. It wasn't planned."

She watched the party for a moment. Willow and Xander were dancing with far too much arm movement. She loved them.

"Giles, explain it to me—you and my mom." Her voice was level and calm. "I'm not upset, honest. I just want to hear you talk about her. It's been so long since I've heard anyone really talk about her."

"Well—" He stretched out his legs. "When we were at hospital waiting for her to get out of surgery, all I kept thinking was that I'd never been to her gallery. I'd never set foot in there, not even once. I was consumed by this thought. I mean, Joyce and I had a great deal in common. She loved art and artifacts and worked in a gallery. Before I went to Sunnydale, I worked in museums. And we both loved you more anything else in the world. It struck me as ridiculous that I'd not been to her gallery."

"So you went."

"Yes, after she went back to work, right after Christmas. Remember when you lot trashed the Magic Box when I was in England?"

She nodded. "Good times."

"Yes, well, I was so stressed about the impending Council visit and putting the shop back together, that I just up and left the shop one afternoon and went for a walk. I walked all the way to the gallery. I didn't intend to, but I ended up there."

She smiled.

"Your mother—in her head scarf—gave me a little tour." In the dim light, his eyes glowed. "It was lovely, really. She was still rather weak at the time, but when she talked about the exhibits, she was radiant and vivacious. She calmed me. I was so enthralled by the experience that I went back the next day. And I just continued to go back—day after day—during her lunch. I started bringing her food, or sometimes we'd go out to eat, or take walks. Or she'd just come over to my place."

Buffy pulled at the grass around her. "What'd you talk about?"

"You and Dawn. The shop and the gallery. But there were other things. I told her stories from my Ripper days. She told me about her American college experience. She wanted to know about the Council and my training as Watcher. We'd talk about life and love and regret. It was lovely. She captivated me, truly."

She sighed. Her mother was captivating.

He laughed.

"What?"

"I remember one time we had lunch at your house, and we looked through baby pictures."

"Ohmygod."

"Yes. She told me a story about you taking a jump off the bed head first. You wanted to be a dolphin?"

She tilted her head toward him. "Busted my head open on a Barbie play house. Look right here." She parted her hair. "I still have a scar."

He ran a finger over the top of her head. "My lord."

"I guess even at four I was getting ready for my calling—if only my trusty Watcher had been around to tell me that I wasn't a dolphin."

He smiled. "Your mother was a saint."

"I don't know how she put up with me."

He gave her that patient smile. "She was so proud of you," he said. "She loved telling me stories about you, and I loved listening."

"I remember that she was happy during that time after the surgery—I thought it was because she was better. But I think it was you."

He pulled his lips into a thin line.

"You two always had a thing for each other, didn't you?"

"Yes, I was rather attracted to her, and I'd like to think that she felt the same way about me."

"And then you had a secret love affair."

"But it was more than that," he said enthusiastically. "For the first time in a long time I had someone to talk to about you and how much I worried. She understood—she worried more than me. We made an effortless connection. It was a different kind of love—not the lusting or aching—"

"Giles, we can skip this part."

"No, Buffy, you wanted to know—you're not a child anymore."

"I'm sorry I asked."

"I'm trying to explain: It wasn't lust, it was communication. We slept together as a continuation of our conversations, as an act of teaching and learning, of understanding and knowing. It was fulfilling and symbiotic."

"If you weren't talking about sex with my mother, I'd find this romantic."

"It was rather romantic, and it was more than romance. It was better than sex. We formed a connection and a bond." He stared off into the darkness. "There was a short window of time where I felt as though I could've fallen helplessly in love with her."

The what-ifs began circulating in Buffy's head. Instead of thinking of her own, she asked Giles: "If you could've picked the outcome, what would it have been?"

"With your mom?"

"Yes."

"We would have fallen in love. She would have married me," he said confidently. "At that time, I wanted nothing more than to be loved. I wanted a family and a home."

She closed her eyes.

"And I didn't want just any family. I wanted you three."

Tears slowly trickled down Buffy's cheeks. "That would have been perfect." She brushed away tears.

"Perfect," he whispered.

"Would you have wanted kids?"

He chuckled. "Besides you two? Oh, I don't know."

"Oh, come on, Giles, would you have wanted to have kids with her?"

He didn't answer immediately. "Yes, I suppose. I think I would've liked having a house full of children."

"I would've moved out," she said dryly.

"But," he said, "I kind of did have a house full of children. You and the others came in and out of my place as if you lived there."

"You made the mistake of giving me a key."

"It was for emergencies. I didn't want you kicking down my door once a week."

She smiled. "I kind of like kicking down doors—I don't do it nearly enough."

He shook his head.

"What happened?" She asked. "With my mom. She was dating before she died—and it wasn't you."

He inhaled. "It just didn't work. We both realized that I would forever be sending you into danger, and she would always want to stop you. I would have to keep secrets from her. It never would've worked."

Buffy's voice cracked, "I would've been okay with it. I know I always gave you two a hard time about sleeping together, but if she loved you, I would've been okay with you and her. All I wanted was for her to be happy."

"I know. We both knew."

"Really, Giles," she tried to keep her voice steady. "I would've given you a hard time, for sure, but I would've been okay with it—happy, even."

"I know. I know. It was your mum who pointed out that we were more in love with the idea of us than we were actually in love with each other. But those few weeks were good. She healed something in me that had been broken for a long time."

Buffy fixed her hair. "I still don't understand how I didn't know about this. You had the shop and I was at the shop a lot—and so were the others. Someone would've noticed you sneaking around."

He laughed. "It mostly was in the middle of the day. Dawn was at school. You, Willow and Tara had classes. Xander was at work. It was just me and Anya, and she loved when I was away. It was easy to slip out for a few hours."

She lifted her eyebrows. "A few hours?"

He laughed. "For a few weeks, she was very late returning to work after our lunch breaks."

"Oh my god, Giles."

He was still laughing. "Sometimes she'd just call in to work and say her head hurt and we'd stay in bed until she had to pick Dawn up from school."

She covered her ears but couldn't help but laugh with him. "I can't believe I didn't walk in on something. I was always barging in to your house."

"Oh." He stopped laughing. "You know, I never thought about that. Small miracles."

"God." She pressed the back of her head against the tree trunk. "So, Giles, did you just give Dawn the music you and our mom used to play while you where—you know."

He ran his hands through his hair. "No, we never played it at those times. I promise." He stared off at the wedding party. "Are you going to tell Dawn about this?"

"Yes."

He grumbled.

"You brought it up with that gift."

"I was thinking that perhaps we could add this to our slayer/watcher confidences."

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Not likely."

"I've kept a number of Buffy secrets. Some of which I didn't want to hear in the first place."

"And that's why I love you."

Willow and Xander trekked across the grass with champagne glasses and two unopened bottles.

"We come with the bubbly," Willow said.

Xander held out a tray with an assortment of crackers, cheese, grapes, scones and a few other odds and ends. "And I scrounged up what's left of the food."

"What?" Buffy asked. "We're out of food?"

"Almost."

"It's fine," Giles said.

Xander and Willow sat in the grass with them and poured everyone a drink.

"Should we make some toast?" Buffy asked.

They all nodded, but no one offered anything.

"To us," Xander said, "I think we should toast ourselves."

They were quiet.

"You know, because we're alive. I don't think we've ever sat around and formally marveled at this fact."

"That's not a bad idea," Giles said. "I think we've earned it."

"Okay." Xander held up his glass. "To us, for fighting the good fight and not dying in the process."

"And," Willow added, "I think I'd like to include the ones who aren't here. They died fighting the good fight, and we miss them."

Buffy chimed in: "To the happiness of our little family—including Jeffery who I guess is part of the gang now."

"To us," Giles said, and they chinked their glasses together.

Sometime after the band left and the first bottle was finished, Willow and Buffy were on their backs in the grass, staring through the branches and leaves to the night sky. Except for the voices of the remaining guests, it was quiet.

"I feel so powerful," Willow said. "It's like, bam, you're married and you're married. I can make two people stuck together for life."

"Or most likely until divorce," Buffy said.

"Oh, that's just pessimistic," Willow said. "Or! I can refuse to marry people. That's a lot of responsibility."

Xander was sitting against the tree next to Giles. He leaned close to Giles and whispered loudly, "She's scaring me with this power talk. Also, I think she can literally make two people stuck together."

"Oh, come on," Willow said, "you try to destroy the world once, just once, and no one lets you live it down."

"Yeah," Giles said to Xander. "Don't piss her off—she never forgets."

"What's she going to do—deny marrying me?"

"She'll torture you while saying some really hurtful things."

"Anyway," she said, propping an arm under her head, "maybe I should marry other people—like volunteer work or something."

Buffy thought about this. "Do you really think there's a need? You should just volunteer at a soup kitchen."

"But that's not fun. No, that's not what I mean. I just want to keep making people married. I think I have a natural talent."

"Yes, you are very talented, Willow."

"Thank you, Buffy."

Giles grabbed the second bottle of champagne. "Are we ready for another round?"

He filled their glasses, and they ate what was left of the food. Most of the guests had gone, but the ones that remained were in it for the long haul.

"Oh," Buffy said, "ask Giles the thing."

Giles moaned. "I have a feeling I don't want to hear it."

"So, Giles," Xander said, "Willow and I want to fix up the guest house."

There was a second, smaller house about one hundred yards from the main house. It was the original house on the property. It had been neglected: it needed new plumbing, electricity, and a new roof.

"Why do you want to?" Giles asked.

Willow chimed in. "We've got our apartments, sure, but we travel all the time and we're here a lot. Buffy is here."

"You want to live here?"

"Yes," Xander said. "And our deal is this: we will pay to have it fixed up, and I'll do most of the work, if you let us live there rent free."

Giles took a drink. "Rent free for how long?"

"Forever." Xander shrugged.

"How about ten years?" Willow said.

Giles shook his head. "You want to live here for ten years? Don't you have prospects of having a family and your own home?"

Willow and Xander looked at each other.

Giles caught the look in their eyes. "I'm Sorry. I was just thinking…"

"It's okay," Willow said. "I think we've all given up on that fantasy a long time ago."

They were all suddenly quiet. The realities of their lives and futures were always things that they tried to keep from talking about. It was sometimes just too hard to know that come of the little things other had would not be for them.

"I don't want to talk for Buffy and Xander, but I don't see that in my future."

"You're right, Willow," Buffy said.

Xander nodded.

Giles looked to each one of their suddenly sullen faces. None of them would have a normal life. This was the closest thing to normal they would ever have.

Xander continued his pitch. "It's going to cost us a lot of money to fix that place up—not to mention a lot of time."

Giles shrugged. "Fine. Ten years rent free, but you have to pay for utilities."

Willow shook her head. "If we have to pay for utilities, we should have free rent for twelve years."

Giles smiled. "You can have everything for free forever as long as that place is gorgeous after you're done. And Willow can't use magic on it."

"Awww," Willow and Xander groaned.

Soon, Dawn came and sat next to them away from the party and under the tree. She drank straight from the bottle.

"So," Buffy asked, "do you feel different now that you're married?"

Dawn smiled. "I don't know. I'm really exhausted."

"Where's Mr. Dawn?" Buffy looked off toward the other guests.

"He's getting stuff ready. We're probably going to take off soon. Our fight leaves early."

Willow sighed. "Dawn, have we told you that we love you."

"Repeatedly, but I can never hear it enough."

In the distance, music began to play. They all looked as Jeffery came running over to them.

When Giles heard it he inhaled and finished his drink.

Jeffery stopped next to them. "Is this it, Giles?"

"Yes, it is."

Xander looked around. "Is it what?"

Dawn took Giles hand. "The music he gave me. 'Tales of Brave Ulysses,' Right?"

Giles nodded and wiped a tear from his eye. Buffy starred at him. She was shocked to see such emotion on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that he had fallen in love with her mother. Maybe he loved her long before the candy. It seemed he still loved her.

"So Giles," Dawn asked softly, "do I get my father-daughter dance?"

"Absolutely."

As they danced, Willow stood next to Buffy and took her hand. Soon Xander took her other hand. They watched Giles and Dawn laugh as tried to dance to a song not terribly well suited for a father-daughter dance.

"So," Xander said, "We're going to be living together again."

Buffy nodded. "Like old times."

Willow said, "I'm going to use magic. He'll never know."

"He said not to," Xander scolded mockingly.

"I hate painting—I'm using magic to paint the walls."

Buffy squeezed their hands and asked: "Do you think this will be forever? Like we'll all live at Fort Giles until we die?"

Willow and Xander looked at each other with Buffy between them.

Xander spoke first. "I kind of hope so. Since Sunnydale I haven't really felt like I've had a home. With everyone traveling and living here and there, it's been difficult."

"Yeah," Willow said, "we used to see each other every day. It was nice. I think we can do that here—I think we can have what we used to have. We were better when we were together."

Buffy continued to watch them dance. She said, "Will, use lots of magic to get that house ready. And Xander, start making a plan for what needs to be done. I'll help carry heavy things. We can start next week, just as soon as my aunt and cousins head home. I want you two to move in as soon as possible."

Xander and Willow nodded.

Their next mission was about to begin.