Chapter 2:

The morning dawned clear and bright. On a rare sunny day in London he could see people taking advantage of the circumstances. He would have been happy to join them but had the tiresome task of trying to find the members of the Council that didn't die in the blast. From the list he'd gathered the night before it would be a relatively simple task of comparing the roster of the Council with the list of the dead. It was a grim prospect, to be sure, but one that had to be done. He would just have to suck it up and have done with it properly.

Then there was Liliana. Would she remember him? How would she remember him after all this time? He'd meant to call her many times after the explosion, he was almost sure of it, but never found the time or perhaps the courage to pick up the phone. Now he had her number sitting reverently next to his bed and he found he hadn't the courage to dial the numbers. He could easily get her address if he had to but how could he face her in person if his hesitation didn't let him pick up the phone?

Stiff upper lip, Rupert.

That's what his father would have said to him were he here and aware of the predicament. His father was as famous for giving his stiff upper lip speech as Giles was for giving his speech on the duties of a Slayer. For all the ways they were different sometimes he and his father were just alike. Following his father's posthumous advice he picked up the telephone receiver and dialed the number before his strength could fail him. After two rings someone answered – a male someone.

Oh, bollocks!

Of course she'd be married by now. It's been twenty five years. Still, he couldn't just hang up the phone like a prat. He had to say something now as the voice on the other line repeated their greeting in a less confident manner, as if doubting the call's legitimacy. Taking a deep breath the elder Watcher responded.

"Yes, I'm looking for Liliana Barrows if she's available."

"She's not here. Can I take a message?"

At least they didn't correct her last name. Curious, that. He shook his head to the question though the voice on the other end of the line couldn't see it. He cleared his throat instead.

"No, there's no message. I'll try and ring her again later on. Do you know when I might catch her?"

"I'm not sure. She's running errands."

Right. "Thank you. Goodbye."

He hung up the phone and moved to start his day. At least from here it was all uphill. Even the idea of researching the names of the dead in the Council explosion sounded like a step up from his colossal stupidity. He stepped into the shower and let the water stream on him full blast, scrubbing away his doubt and the memories. It wasn't surprising then that he didn't hear the doorbell ringing. By the time he did he scrambled to get out and almost tripped over himself, throwing his robe around him body and a towel around his shoulders. It was only ten am he noticed and wondered who it could possibly be at his doorstep.

He pulled open the door without a thought, a polite apology on his lips for whoever had kindly waited for him to answer when he stopped short. His heart dropped from its place in his chest down to his feet and for a minute he could only stare dumbly at the figure in the hallway. He felt ridiculous dripping on his carpet in his robe fresh from the shower. Was there no end to his embarrassment?

"Lilla."

She was radiant. Even aged another twenty five years from when he last saw her she was just as vibrant and beautiful as she had been in their youth. Her hair was still the same chocolate brown color and she still kept it long though not to her waist as it used to be. Now it was just past her shoulders and curled slightly. If there were gray strands among the brown he was oblivious. Her eyes were still the same bright blue color like deep water in the sunlight. If there were wrinkles forming around the corners of her eyes he couldn't see them. She looked exactly the way she did when he first saw her face.

It's what drew him to her in the first place, that fire he saw in her eyes and the plain eagerness she had inside of her to be part of something he'd balked at for so long. Where he rejected his calling and ran from it she'd embraced the life with open arms. Being around her helped ease him into the transition when he was still unsure of the choices that had to be made. He'd been only twenty four when they met and still new to the Watcher's Academy. She was nineteen and studying for a first at Cambridge before joining the Academy herself. She was a brilliant mind and looked at him now with the same quiet appraisal she had at their first meeting.

"I thought you'd forgotten that name." she responded, coming in as if she knew he'd offer an invitation if he had the presence of mind to make it. "It's been a long time, Rupert."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, feeling sheepish and remembering the state of his dress or the lack thereof. With a start of surprise he excused himself politely, scurrying into his bedroom to dress in something more appropriate and comb his hair in some passable way. Only a short time later he emerged to find she hadn't left the spot he left her in. Crossing the room he gestured toward the chairs and sofa for a place to sit. "I'm sorry, do come in and have a seat."

She declined politely, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He continued, pressing on. "Would you like some tea, then? I have some Bovril, if you prefer. I seem to recall it being your favorite."

"I would, Rupert, but that's not why I'm here." She sounded a little pained, as if under some stress he couldn't see. He paused, softened, tried to understand. This was a shock for them both. She pulled herself upright, squaring her shoulders as if becoming resolute. She looked at him but her eyes told him that she was still apprehensive.

"Well, I'm having a seat and you're welcome to join me. Why are you here?" he asked kindly, offering her an easy way out of her obvious discomfort. This time she took it, collecting herself to sit opposite him in one of the armchairs. When she crossed her legs he saw a flash of her thigh and that brought back flashes of their time together and memories of his hands running up and down those creamy white expanses of skin. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, waiting on her reply and pushing away his more devious thoughts.

"Felicia called me this morning. She said the account had been claimed. You can imagine my surprise when she told me who it was that claimed it."

"I meant to call you. I did, in fact, call this morning but you weren't home."

"Yes. You must have spoken to Alistair."

"Your husband?"

"No." She looked pained again, her eyes traveling up to his. "Your son, Rupert."

"My..." He trailed off, unable to think of a single thing to say. It was one thing to know of a child but he always thought of it as just that, not the grown man's voice he heard. "I never knew what it was or what you called it."

"Them." she corrected softly. "I had twins, Rupert, boys. Alistair and Roland."

"Twins?" He felt faint for a moment. The information didn't come and settle like a good thought should. It raced around his brain and refused to be processed on a rational level. "I meant to call..."

"Don't, Rupert. Please don't. Not right now, anyway. You have no idea how hard it was on them. They're both grown and I don't want to go upsetting their lives with a father that never existed." She looked upset when she spoke as if an old wound had just broken open again.

"They don't know anything about me?"

"They have my last name if that's what you're asking. When they asked about their father I told them he was a man that I loved very much but in life there are simply some things one cannot have. For years they begged me to tell them the story of how we met. It was their favorite nursery story as children. I never told them how we parted. It was too painful for us all. Better they remember how we met and when we loved more than what happened afterward."

Giles thought he wanted to go back to facing an Apocalypse, thank you very much. Anything would feel better than turning round to find you're nothing more than a passing chapter in the lives of people he should have been there for. He couldn't help but feel more than a little disappointed that he was a mere footnote in the lives of his twin sons. The only children he would ever have in his life by blood and they barely knew he existed. It was enough to make him feel he should have changed history somehow, made more of an effort. He wanted to ask how things had ended but knew very well that story. He dreamed it more than one night since.

He couldn't think of anything to say, lost in his own thoughts for the moment. Liliana noticed this and got his attention with a small sound. She tried to smile but this wasn't easy for either of them, she could tell. He looked much like the young man she'd fallen in love with years go. Though she was trying to keep her distance now, to keep things simple, it was a hardship on both of them. Old scars still appeared on their skin. You couldn't bury them deep enough.

"I didn't come to upset you, Rupert. The past is just that. I came because I was allowed a position in the Council working with their antiquities house and I dealt extensively with the financials for the institution as a whole. I can be an asset to you if you'll let me. I want to build the Council up again if you have a mind to do it. The Slayers must be guided and protected for the good of the world."

Apparently he didn't have to tell her what happened and how they changed the world. She seemed to know already. Apparently, too, Travers had forgiven them both in his own way and allowed her into the Council even if it wasn't as a Watcher. He did the math in his head and realized his boys would be twenty four, or almost twenty five by now. Almost the same age as Buffy was. He felt miserably bereft again and wondered just what the hell he'd done with his life. Thwarting Apocalypse and battling the First seemed to pale in comparison to the potential life he'd imagined too many times to count. On nights when he was buried in up to his nose by the written word he'd close his eyes and for a few moments imagine a life outside of danger with a picket fence and possibly a puppy. Those thoughts made him smile – the promise of a new day. Faced with the life he might have had embodied in a woman he wished he'd been able to keep longer there was utter chaos in his head and his heart.

He'd done his duty, hadn't he? They made the decision together as rash and ill advised as it had been. How could he have known how it would feel to see her again, to smell the apple scent of her perfume? It didn't change after all these years and having the sweet scent wafting to him made him dizzy with remembering. Instead of saying any of these things he was feeling he found other words tumbling from his lips in phrases that sounded awkward to his ears. Or maybe that was just the feeling of surrealism surrounding him.

"I'd appreciate the help."

She nodded, looking awkward. How was he supposed to handle seeing her again let alone working with her closely in order to reestablish the Council? He could barely form a coherent thought in her presence and was sitting here with his mind running a mile a minute without any single rational thought to be had. He felt like a machine running on autopilot responses for all the control he seemed to have over himself but really, what would he do if he had the chance? Beg for forgiveness? He couldn't hop into a time machine and take back what happened. He couldn't change anything.

For her part Liliana was content to allow him the time to cycle through his endless circular thoughts and didn't interrupt him. These feelings were necessary. She'd experienced the same thing when she heard he was alive and back in England and had been through them again standing outside of his door debating on whether she had courage enough just to knock. She was just as quietly accepting as she'd always been and even more patient if that was possible. He'd read somewhere that being a parent did that to a person but he'd never had a chance to know. He looked at her.

"How shall we go about this, then?"

"You have my phone number. If there's anything you need to know then give me a ring and we'll discuss it. Meanwhile I can keep the corporations going to keep generating income."

"Will we never talk about it, then?"

"I can't talk about this with you today. After years of dreaming of seeing you again I've only been here ten minutes. Give me time. You have no idea how I waited for you, Rupert, and what it was like wishing you were there. It took a great deal of strength to put the past where it belonged. Now, there's nothing to be said. What's done is done. I'd spare our boys any pain in the world if I could. I just don't know how they'd take it. They idolize you because of the stories I've told of when were together. To find out you're only a man…"

"They can decide what fairy tales to believe. They're grown men. They must know a man can only be a man even if he's simply in their mind's eye."

"You don't understand. They only stopped asking about you three years ago. When they both turned twenty one and faced finishing university and really becoming men, trying to decide what to do with their lives, they asked incessant questions about you. Most of them I couldn't answer. It was such a short time we had, Rupert, and for all my work in the Council they never told me how you were or where. I didn't receive any reports. When they realized there was nothing I could tell them to help them understand their father any better they gave up. It's like part of them just…" she sighed, looking away. It was a mother's pain to see her children hurt when she can't stop it. "Shortly after Roland demanded to be called Roddy and started getting into his rebellion, much like you did. Alistair took it all in but he doesn't talk about you anymore. I don't know if you're still on a pedestal or you're just a ghost."

"That's all the more reason to introduce myself, to answer their questions once and for all. I don't want to throw their lives into chaos but I deserve the chance to meet my sons and see what comes of this."

"It's for me, too, you know. Do you have any idea how deep these wounds run?"

He looked down, frowning. "Yes, I very well may."

"Then you must know how it feels to open them. Nothing needs to be rushed into. The Council can come first, can't it? Twenty five years…a few more days won't hurt. Think on it, won't you?"

It wasn't fair but he thought it hadn't been fair for her to raise them on her own all this time. "You never married?"

"How could I?" she asked, helplessly, as if he should know the reason for it. He didn't.

"I'll think about it, Lilla, but I won't forget. I want to meet them but I'll think on what's best for us all before I go making demands."

"It's all I ask. For now let's focus on the Council, please." The Council was far less complicated and potentially painful and was therefore more inviting in the woman's mind.

Money wasn't the issue in his mind anymore. He was already making a list of the things he'd have to do to begin this crazy mission of his. The first thing seemed to be to recreate the old Council headquarters built from scratch again according the city record blueprints. He shook his head; things set in his mind much to her insistence. There was nothing more to be said and he was feeling rather useless with all of these things inside of him that he was holding back with the willpower of a titan.

"Well, if that's the arrangement then, is there anything else I can do for you?"

She looked at him, momentarily stunned by his reaction. She looked like she wanted to say something and then stopped. Finally she responded in a voice somewhat weaker than he'd ever heard from her lips. "No. There's nothing. I'll show myself out."

"There's no need for that. I'm still a gentleman." He walked her to the door and opened it for her. She paused halfway through and looked at him one last time before she left.

"They look like you, you know. Alistair has your eyes and your smile and Roland has your strength and your charm. They're both just as smart as you are."

She ducked through the door without saying more and he reached out to stop her two seconds too late. She was already gone, walking down the hallway toward the elevators and he didn't allow himself to go after her. Instead he forced himself to shut the door and leaned heavily on it, only then allowing himself to give into the trembling that had threatened his body the entire time she was in his presence. He didn't remember that cold, that brutal efficiency, in her demeanor before but given their history he could hardly blame her for it. He still saw glimpses of her underneath and the pain this caused her. She was being guarded because she had to be. They both had to be.

The important thing was she was alive and his children – his children – were alive and grown men. Why hadn't he tried harder to find her when she disappeared? Why hadn't he written longer or tried to phone more often? When Travers closed the door why hadn't he sought the window?

Because he'd been scared and still a child in many ways, that's why. She knew just as well as he did but she was younger than he at the time. She was the true child, only nineteen years old to his twenty four and somehow she raised them on her own. He slammed the side of his fist onto his door and the resounding sound echoed in his head. He forced himself to back away. The world wouldn't stop spinning because she'd walked back into his life. The world was still busily slipping away from his fingertips while he paced back and forth in nervous activity inside. This uselessness wasn't a benefit to anyone. As she said: he had her number and could call when he needed help with anything. She gave him room to make his own decision and make it he would, in time. For now she was a resource and he needed to put himself in that mindset before this entire train succeeded in derailing the tracks.

There was still a lot of work to be done.