Buffy lowered herself down onto Giles' sofa awkwardly with a hand cupping under her belly. Giles waited a moment while she got comfortable with a throw pillow shoved behind her back, before handing her a glass of ice water.

"Are you sure you're quite alright? You're not having contractions are you?"

Buffy glared up at him, the look somewhat nullified by the fact she was guzzling the water. She handed the glass back to him with a relieved sigh. "I'm pretty sure the girls are just having one of their dance battles. I don't know how they even have the freaking room in there but hey, organs are just there for decoration, right?"

Giles's eyes crinkled at the edges with his smile. "It won't be long now I imagine."

"My insides and I are 200% ready for these two to be on the outside."

Giles sat down next to her, the afternoon sun peeking through the blinds lighting the recently painted sage green walls. He had been taking the last few weeks to get settled into his new home. His things from England had arrived earlier that week and Buffy had come over to see the house now he was mostly settled.

Mostly.

"Any more ghost sightings?" Buffy asked, propping her feet up on the footstool Giles offered her.

"I'd hardly call them sightings. At this point, it's been nothing more than a series of mild oddities."

"Like what?"

Giles gave a small chuckle. "Silly things mostly. I keep finding my umbrella tucked neatly in the corner even though I know for certain I've hung it up. If I leave dishes on the counter at night they're in the sink when I wake up. I keep hoping the spirit will simply wash them."

"That's it?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"There was a bit of spectral drama when I was getting ready to paint. I would hang paint swatches up on the wall to try to get a feel of what color I wanted to use here in the living room, and I kept finding them all in the kitchen garbage. I finally realized that the spirit was trying to tell me what color they wanted. I actually am quite pleased with the compromise we were able to come to. Once I let her know who the living resident was."

"Her?" Buffy asked, shifting in her seat.

"I managed to dig up an old police report. There had been an incident at this address on Halloween a few years ago. One female fatality listed, Kimberly Reed. I suspect it is she who is my housemate."

Buffy grimaced. "Oh let me guess, the Trick-or-treat shenanigans gone completely haywire?"

"I'm afraid so. I knew there had been casualties that night. I just wasn't sure how many. The idea that I should happen to acquire a house belonging to someone on the receiving end of Ethan's chaos was rather interesting I thought."

"Now there's a guy I could live a very long time without seeing again."

Giles hummed in agreement, removing his glasses. "Yes, well for everything that he has done in the past several years, it's hard to believe he and I were quite close at one time." He swallowed and slipped his glasses back in place. "All in the past, as they say, look to the future, and all that."

Buffy frowned, sensing that there was more to the story, but unwilling to push. She looked around the room expectantly as though the ghost might appear suddenly and pursed her lips. "What I don't understand is, if all she's doing is being fussy about where you keep stuff, and apparently super picky about the paint color, why does this house keep going on the market? I mean if that's all that's going on— that's like nothing…"

Well, I'm only just getting settled, I imagine things could pick up, however, I think it's safe to say you and I are rather desensitized to this sort of thing. I don't doubt these seemingly simple actions have proven to be rather effective in scaring off previous residents. I myself find it somewhat amusing."

"Yeah well as long as it doesn't go all 'redrum' or start up with the body possession crap, we should be good."

"I assure you, if the entity starts anything I can't handle, I'll call in reinforcements."

Buffy gave a nod and shifted in her seat, massaging her hands over her expansive belly. Despite being in supernaturally excellent shape, she was having a hard time doing much of anything at this point, including breathing. Her due date was hurtling toward her like a freight train.

"What's in those boxes?" Buffy asked, noticing a cluster of large boxes in the archway that led back to the study and the spare bedroom.

"Just a few things I thought might make my new home more baby-friendly. I plan on having them over as much as you can part with them."

"Which is probably going to be just about every time a baddie pokes its head up," Buffy sighed. There was a weight in her tone that belied her anxiety.

Giles leaned forward a little. "I know you're worried about raising them on the Hellmouth. From what I understand, parenting is among the hardest jobs there is, no matter the location. But you're far from alone."

"Is this the 'It takes a village' thing I keep hearing about?"

He bobbed his head with a grin. "Yes, I suppose it is. We have always been here to support you and your calling, this will be no different."

"Thanks, Giles." One of the babies delivered a particularly hard kick making Buffy grasp her side. "Oomph… holy crap that was a rough one," Buffy grumbled.

"They've been rather active today haven't they?" Giles asked with concern.

She rubbed the palm of her hand over the spot, massaging away the pain. "No kidding, it's a full-on real-estate war in there." She stood up with a groan, checking the clock Giles had placed on the mantle. "Alright, I should get going. Spike will be up soon and he has to work at the Bronze tonight."

"Ah yes, I have a few things I need to get done around here myself," he said, glancing at the stack of boxes.

(*)

Giles clicked the legs of the second bassinet into the designated slot and set it up next to the first one he had put together. He was about to pull out the pieces of the changing table he had bought to keep at his house when there was a knock at the door.

He sighed heavily, pulling himself up from the floor to stand grumbling under his breath. He set the screwdriver he had been using down on the table next to the door before answering it and promptly attempted to force it shut.

"Oh, come now, that's hardly fair. I haven't even said one word yet," the man trying to push his way into Giles' new house complained.

"I'm fairly certain I told you I would kill you myself if I saw you again," Giles growled.

"Oh don't be like, Rupert, please just hear me out!" he pleaded.

"I was under the impression you were supposed to be in some government prison somewhere locked in a cell with no windows, Ethan!" Giles huffed indignantly, opening the door but shoving him back with a flat palm to the chest.

Ethan put his hands out in front of him, palms out in submission. "I was! I completed their so-called rehabilitation program and got out on good behavior."

Giles snorted in disbelief. "As though I'm supposed to believe that. Lies and chaos are as natural to you as breathing. The last time you fed me a line like that you turned me into a demon! You nearly got me killed!" he growled out.

"I promise you, Rupert, I'm not here for anything like that. I've merely come to make amends."

"What a load of rubbish," Giles seethed as he stepped back to close the door.

"I just want to talk." Ethan was getting desperate. "Please let me in so we can talk properly. I promise to be on my best behavior. I won't turn you into anything."

"I must be a bloody idiot," Giles mumbled as he opened the door wider, stepping back to allow Ethan into his new home.

The moment the door was closed the nervous smile fell from Ethan's face and he took a step back. "I eh— this might have been a mistake after all. I probably should have—"

Giles pinned him with a penetrating glare. "You were the one who wanted to talk so badly, what in—" he stopped abruptly when he noticed Ethan eyeing the bassinets still in the middle of the floor.

"Look, mate, I— I didn't realize you'd taken the family route, I just assumed- but I know you've always preferred—"

Giles's shoulders relaxed. "Quit blathering on, I'm still as much a terminal bachelor as you are."

Ethan's brow furrowed. "Then I'd say the bassinets make for rather odd conversation pieces."

"If you really must know, I'm about to become a grandfather," Giles replied as he sat down on the couch, gesturing for Ethan to sit on the chair on the far side of the room where he could easily bar his path if needed.

Ethan took the proffered seat and crossed his legs casually. "I guess I missed more than I thought— unless- Ah… I see. Your precious Slayer is about to become a mother. That's it isn't it?"

Giles shifted forward, eyes narrowed. "Say what it is you wanted to say or get out."

Before Ethan could answer, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh hell—" Giles jabbed a finger angrily in Ethan's direction, "-don't move from that spot."

"Wouldn't dare," Ethan smirked.

Giles pulled open the door to find Spike standing there holding a box of miscellaneous baby items. "Oh, hello, what are you doing here?"

Spike pushed past him to set the box down. "Told Buffy I'd do my fatherly duty and bring this stuff over to you on my way to the club."

"But what is it?"

"Just some things we got more multiples of than we need for the girls. She thought it would be good to keep'em at Grandpa's house."

"Oh, I see—" Giles cut off when Ethan coughed loudly, drawing attention to himself.

Spike's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his head to see Giles's guest. "Ain't that the bloke that went and turned you into a sodding—"

"All in the past, I assure you," Ethan interjected.

Spike shifted his gaze back to Giles. "You want me to see this guy out? Could make it hurt," he grinned.

Giles pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "I don't know if that's entirely necessary. You'd better be off. You certainly don't want to be late."

Spike hesitated, then nodded curtly. "Yeah, alright."

Giles closed the door and turned back to Ethan who was watching him with interest.

"I believe I had asked you a question," Giles prompted.

"Am I to understand your slayer is somehow carrying a vampire's offspring?"

"I fail to see how any of this is your business, do try to focus." Giles resumed his seat, his unwavering gaze pinning him to the spot. "Talk."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "I've had a lot of time to think, Rupert… I've— that is- I've realized that I have been rather unhappy."

"You've made your bed, I suggest you accept that fact and sleep in it."

"That sort of brings me to the point of my visit," he said, his voice quivering slightly, "I'd rather be in yours actually."

"My—" Giles stood up abruptly. "Get out. Now."

Ethan sprang to his feet, mirroring him. "Rupert, please, just hear me out! We had a good thing back then, didn't we? Short-lived as it was, we were good together."

"Whatever may have once been between us has long since passed. You made damn sure of that when you started worshiping chaos!" He pulled his glasses off angrily, eyes blazing.

"I thought you of all people would understand! I'm making an effort to—"

"You must think I'm a gormless idiot if you think I'm going to fall for a line like that. Save it for someone you haven't tried to kill! If you can't find a willing waitress then perhaps the busboy would give you a go, I don't recall you ever being particular."

"You're one to talk," Ethan spat angrily. "We're the same, you and me. Two sides of the same coin."

"I've had quite enough of this conversation. What you're asking for is impossible; we're nothing alike, not anymore. Leave. And don't come back."

Ethan pushed past him to the door. "Maybe you're right, maybe it is impossible…"

(*)

Ethan stumbled onto the front porch as Giles shoved him out and slammed the door behind him. The lock clicked definitively, shoving a lance through his sternum. His heart and head torn.

Impossible, is it?

Nothing is impossible when an impossibility is born.

Make that two.

Ethan smoothed the front of his shirt, regaining some of his swagger, and walked down the steps onto the sidewalk. He studied the rather sweet-looking single-story cottage-style house. For the past several months he had obsessively thought about what he would say to him. How he would tell him that their time together had been the happiest in his life.

I won't give up… not now…

"You won't be rid of me that easily, old friend , not this time. This old warlock still has a few tricks up his sleeve and I'll get what I want one way or another, mark my words, Ripper."

(*)

Giles poured himself a generous amount of scotch, drinking it down quickly. He poured a second glass and strode into the living room sitting down in his chair by the fireplace. The same one Ethan had vacated.

His head was pounding with the blood pulsating angrily through him.

There had to be another reason Ethan was in town.

There has to be another reason. He wouldn't be back just for me… That was ages ago… We've both been with other people since then— He's never indicated he— he can't possibly believe— What the hell is he up to?

Giles sipped his drink, mind spinning until the burn in his throat started to match the sting behind his eyes. He blinked hard, tilting his head back in frustration. He wasn't about to shed tears, not over this. No.

He finished his glass and got up to get the bottle. As he turned to resume his seat, he noticed his Scrabble board had been laid out neatly on the coffee table. That was a first.

Giles set the scotch next to the board, leaning over with his forearms braced on his knees and cleared his throat. "Kimberly?"

Tiles spilled out onto the board and letters started sliding around until they spelled out:

SAME MAN

Giles gave an exasperated sigh. "He hasn't been the same man for many years now. What he's asking is just— it's simply impossible! Too much has passed—" He stood up abruptly, pacing with agitation as he continued his tirade. "He can't honestly think I'd just forgive and forget!"

The Scrabble board spontaneously cleared and the letters rearranged.

NOT

THAT

IDIOT

"No need to be rude," he grumbled and took a deep breath. "What do you mean then?"

MY DEATH

Giles collapsed into his chair, nodding. "Yes, and he could be responsible for dozens more for all I know."

BUT YOU DONT KNOW

"I know what he's capable of and reform isn't exactly one of those things.

BUT WHAT IF

Giles shook his head. "He has been corrupted by magic for far too long."

CAN YOU HELP HIM

That simple question stumped him. Here was the spirit of someone who had lost her life thanks to the chaos Ethan unleashed, asking if he could help him. He thought she would be furious, and yet she didn't seem to be. But then that brought him back to the question spelled out on the board. Could he help him? He cleared his throat. "He would have to truly want it-"

AND IF HE DID

WHAT THEN

Her questions were slicing through his already bruised defenses and he made a mental note to get more tiles, perhaps even make a few with punctuation marks. He shook the thought aside. "I don't even know how to answer that. I wouldn't know where to start."

GONE NOW

Giles laughed darkly. "Every time I think he's gone he turns up like a bad penny."

BUFFY

"She's in no state to see him out of town, perhaps I can-"

NO

DOES SHE KNOW

"This is ridiculous— Does she know what?"

NOT JUST AN OLD FRIEND

Giles poured himself another drink and cleared his throat. "None of them do. It was a long time ago… They've only ever seen me with women. It's not exactly a part of my life I tend to advertise openly."

The board cleared again.

WHAT WILL YOU DO

He sipped his drink, slouching back in his chair. "Keep an eye on things like I always do I suppose. Make sure he's really gone."

(*)

Spike took a long drag from his cigarette as he stood on the sidewalk just outside of Giles's house. He was on his way home from work at the club and was surprised to see a single lamp still on in the living room window. Normally he'd just assume Giles had fallen asleep reading but with the appearance of Ethan Rayne, he wasn't about to take the chance.

Flicking the cigarette to the ground, Spike tread slowly up to the door, pausing a moment to listen for any sign of trouble before knocking on the door.

A shuffling sound came from within and a moment later the door opened revealing a rather disheveled Giles. "Spike," Giles bit out drunkenly.

"Bloody hell, Watcher," Spike grumbled, "half expected to find you less than yourself but this is ridiculous."

Giles turned from the door with a grunt and proceeded to collapse on the couch with much less dignity than was strictly expected from the normally uptight man. "What do you want?"

Spike's eyes shifted around the room, not entirely surprised to see no sign of Ethan. The scrabble board was laid out in plain view with an empty bottle of scotch sitting next to it. "Just saw the light on and figured I'd find out what the hell Ethan Bloody Rayne is doing back in Sunnydale."

Giles gave a manic giggle. "Been asking myself the same question all night. He can't be telling the truth— it's preposterous—" he cut off staring at the Scrabble board drunkenly.

Spike took a step toward the now cleared board examining the heap of tiles laying beside it. "Think you've had your fill, mate, seem to have scrambled more than just your little tiles there."

"Scrabble?" He paused gesturing to the board. "Oh, no she has nothing to do with it—" Giles turned his head up to Spike blinking. "It's very frustrating actually… I don't seem to have enough tiles for a proper conversation, you see, and punctuation is nonexistent."

Spike glanced back at the board and raised an eyebrow. "Ah huh… this the ghostly old bitty then?"

Tiles jumped to the board, shuffling around quickly.

NOT AS OLD AS YOU

Spike chuckled and turned back to Giles. "Right then." He cleared his throat and sat down next to him. "What'd the bloody wanker say this time to get you all twisted up?"

"Doesn't matter, he's gone now— threw him out. Not that it's ever stopped him before—" Giles sighed and laid back awkwardly against the arm of the couch, legs bent to make room for Spike at the other end. "Too much history— Chaos… so much bloody chaos—" he muttered, eyes starting to sink shut.

The throw blanket snaked down from the back of the couch, slipping neatly over Giles's form as his head started to lull to the side.

The sound of a tile tapping against the Scrabble board drew Spike's attention back to it.

NEEDS SLEEP

"Can see that. You know what's going on then I take it?"

YES

PERSONAL

"Right. Very helpful that," Spike replied sarcastically.

HIS STORY TO TELL

WORRY ABOUT BABIES

"Maybe so, but this bloke is bad news. If he's back in town we've got to know what's coming, Buffy especially."

TELL HER ABOUT ETHAN VISITING

Spike nodded. "Was planning on it."

The tiles skittered around some more.

DONT PRY

WILL TELL WHEN READY

IF

NEEDED

"Bloody hell, Casper the sodding over protective ghost," Spike huffed.

CALL ME KIM

A/N: The use of the Scrabble board was 100% Geliot99's brilliant idea!