Spike strode into the living room from the kitchen with little Grace snuggled against his chest, the barest hint of light tawny curls poking up over the top of the baby carrier.
Buffy accepted a fresh glass of water from him. "Thanks, hun," she murmured gratefully, taking a sip before setting it on the end table next to her seat on the couch with Lily laying in her lap.
He leaned over to give her a peck on the lips with a hand supporting Grace's back. "Course, gorgeous, got to keep Mummy hydrated," he said before turning toward Giles. "Take it the Magical Menace is still out cold?"
Giles shot him a withering glare. It had been three days since they had dumped Ethan onto Giles's couch. "I managed to get him to take a bit of water but he hasn't regained full consciousness as of yet. Willow and Tara are with him now."
"Didn't figure you would leave him alone," Spike replied.
"Quite right," Giles cleared his throat. "Tara thinks she's found something that might help speed up the recovery process," he answered, extending his hands in a "may I" gesture.
"What's the recovery plan or the after recovery plan, I guess?" Buffy asked, scooping Lillian into her arms and carefully handing her over to her grandfather.
"I don't honestly know. I feel rather obligated to help him get back on his feet. Beyond that— I haven't got a clue. Willow has assured me that his body is simply recovering from the magical trauma," Giles said as he adjusted the tiny girl in his arms, watching as she peered through her eyelashes to see who was holding her before opening them fully to take in the change of scenery. "Well hello there, sweetheart, lovely to see those pretty blue eyes," he cooed.
"I keep hoping they're eyes stay blue," Buffy murmured, smiling at the sight of her daughters being held by the two most important men in her life.
"Could, looks like they might've got my hair," Spike replied, running a hand over Grace's wispy little curls.
"Hard to tell through the bleach, I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," Giles smirked at him.
"And what about you? How are you doing after everything?" she inquired, pulling them back onto the topic of Ethan.
"The day after was particularly difficult. I could barely get out of bed myself, the body aches were horrendous. Although now that I say it aloud, I'm sure it's far less than what you've been dealing with of course."
She laughed. "Ahh, yeah we're definitely not comparing. But eh, yeah, Will told us you were feeling some side effects from the spell," Buffy replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
Seeing the wince on her face, Spike moved over to sit next to her, pulling a throw pillow over to put behind her back. "You know, the girls are having a kip, you sure you don't want to have a lay down yourself, pet?"
Slayer healing was already working wonders but it was clear it would still be some time before she would be back in fighting shape.
"He's quite right, you really should get as much rest as possible you know," Giles agreed.
Buffy took a long drink of water, drained the glass and gave a nod. "This whole disrupted sleep thing is exhausting," she huffed as she pulled herself up, kissed Spike, squeezed Giles's shoulder affectionately and headed upstairs.
Giles gazed down at Lillian who had indeed fallen back to sleep. "Simply beautiful, aren't they?"
"Utterly stunning," Spike replied, gazing down at little Grace as she stretched in her sleep, her little fingers gripping into her daddy's shirt.
The oddly comfortable silence was soon interrupted when Dawn came in the front door. "Hey I'm ho—" she cut herself short when she saw the two of them with the sleeping babies. "Sorry—" she said in a carrying whisper, looking around. "Where's Buffy?"
Spike pointed up the stairs toward their bedroom.
"Wow, I'm surprised she's not hovering or trying to sleep on the couch," Dawn replied as she set her book bag on the floor and came over to sit next to Spike on the couch.
"Think we're both trying to navigate the whole broken sleep ferris wheel, nonsense. Didn't take much convincing to get her to go upstairs if I'm being honest," Spike said.
"In that case, I think I'm gonna go throw in a load of towels and maybe call Janice," Dawn stated matter of factly, bouncing up from the couch and heading for the stairs.
"Oi, hang on a tic, don't you have homework?" Spike asked firmly.
Dawn lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "I know it's been super big with the crazy with the loony and the cuties and all but it's still the last week of school. I had most of my finals last week, one today and I have a paper due tomorrow that I already finished. I'm good to go."
"Need a grammar check? Got my red pen round here somewhere," Spike offered.
She gave a brief shake of her head. "It's alright I had Will check it out yesterday when you guys were busy with babies and I already printed out the final draft at school. So you know, I figured laundry and friendness," she finished with a shrug.
"I'm sure your sister will appreciate the help, it's very thoughtful of you," Giles interjected.
Dawn preened a little giving them one of her most dazzling smiles before turning on her heel and bounding up the stairs. She returned a few moments later carrying a basket of towels, whisking them away to the basement leaving Spike gaping.
"Why do you seem so shocked?" Giles asked Spike. "I thought Buffy told me she was getting better about doing things around the house."
Spike blinked, closing his mouth. "Well yeah a bit. But more in the way that we only have to ask her three times instead of twenty before she actually does it. That-" he pointed in the direction Dawn had gone, "-is an 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' level, right there."
"Ahh, yes, teenagers showing responsibility, a sure sign of the apocalypse. Please keep me abreast of any other portents you discover," Giles grinned.
"Har har- I'm sure it'll wear off soon enough. In the meantime it's just bloody strange."
As though something Spike said had jogged his memory, Giles suddenly turned his gaze toward the clock. "I suppose I really ought to be getting back to Ethan, I'd prefer to be there when he finally comes to."
Spike gave him a knowing smirk. "Best watch yourself, he's libel to want you to play Doctor. Course who knows, a little roleplay could be just the thing he needs to get him up on his feet. Or maybe just up."
With a roll of his eyes, Giles stood, laid Lillian down in the bassinet next to the coffee table and straightened himself up. "Must you be so crude? I hardly think now is the time to even entertain thoughts of romance. The man isn't even conscious."
Spike rolled a shoulder. "You know as well as I do that he'll be up and around soon enough, but whatever you do or don't do, take it easy, yeah? And make sure the bloke at least treats you to dinner first."
(*)
Willow pulled the tea kettle from the burner as Tara finished grinding blessed tulsi, rosemary, and peppermint, along with a few other choice herbs, with a mortar and pestle, carefully scooping them into a tea ball. According to Tara's research, the infusion would have restorative properties for body, mind, and spirit.
Willow added a healthy amount of honey to the cup before pouring water over the herbs and letting the infusion steep with a saucer on top to keep the heat in. "Do you think this will do the trick?"
Tara bit her lip nervously. "As long as we can get him to take all of it, I think it should at least get him vertical. If it doesn't, we're not going to have any other choice but to take him to the hospital."
"I guess this is just going to have to work," Willow answered simply, casting her girlfriend a meaningful look.
In the living room, Ethan lay on Giles's couch with a soft blanket pulled over him. One arm rested over his chest while the other lay at his side. He was deathly pale and the sight was starting to make Willow's insides squirm uncomfortably. If not for the occasional twitch of a muscle or the clench of a hand and the odd murmured word he might have been mistaken for dead. Willow couldn't help thinking it was no wonder Giles had taken their visit as an opportunity to slip away.
She watched as Tara took a seat on the coffee table and began feeding the infusion between Ethan's parched lips, using a large syringe; the needleless kind used for giving pets and children liquid medication. Willow took the first successful "dose" as her cue to start chanting a healing spell under her breath while lighting the candles she had placed around the room earlier.
Willow continued chanting softly while Tara fed Ethan syringe-full after syringe-full, watching his throat muscles work to swallow the liquid. By the time the cup was finally empty he had regained enough strength to lift his head for a few seconds looking around with confusion and mumbling something that could have possibly been "Rupe-?" before resting back on his pillow once more, eyes closed.
It hadn't exactly been a miracle cure, but his breathing and color had drastically improved. He seemed less tense, as though whatever unknown pain he had been in had suddenly evaporated. Ethan now looked more like a man having a Sunday nap rather than someone on his deathbed.
Willow moved behind Tara to grasp her shoulders lovingly. "You did great, baby. I think that spell is one we need to keep in mind," Willow sighed, giving her a grateful smile.
Tara watched Ethan shift himself onto his side (the most movement they had seen out of him in days) and Tara looked up at Willow, beaming. "I'll stay with him if you want to go get Giles. He should probably see this."
"Yeah, totally," Willow nodded. She bent to give her girlfriend a kiss before heading out the door and down the street. She stopped abruptly when she saw Giles coming up the sidewalk toward her.
"Willow? Is everything alright? Is Ethan—" Giles began as he drew near, concern etched on his face.
Willow met him with a wide smile. "He's not out of the woods yet, but I think the English patient is going to pull through."
His shoulders relaxed visibly as Giles drew her into a hug. "Thank God, and thank you my dear," he sighed.
Willow had tensed slightly with the unusual show of affection but returned the hug. They had come a long way, repairing their relationship since Buffy had been back but there had still been a certain amount of strain between them; until now.
Giles tilted his head back, to look up at the sky for the briefest of moments before gesturing her toward his house. "I'd like to see him for myself if you don't mind."
Willow nodded. "We thought you might. How's Baby-ville?"
"Perfect, if not a bit sleepy at the moment," he smiled fondly. "I rather thought it might be best if I excused myself. I don't like the idea of leaving Ethan for long in his state."
"Well if the results of this spell were any indication I'd say you should be able to get Gargamel off your couch in no time," she grinned.
Giles replied with a questioning gaze at the odd nickname but let it go as they re-entered the house together. Tara was leaning over Ethan, a look of mild concern on her face.
"What's happened?" Giles asked, coming around the edge of the couch stopping short.
Ethan weakly withdrew from the straw and the glass of ice water Tara was holding out for him. His head collapsed back onto the pillow and turned his gaze toward Giles. "Were you worried about me, darling?" he rasped.
"Far less now and swiftly moving toward irritation," Giles muttered, taking a seat in his favorite chair.
Tara set down the glass, standing up and catching Willow's eye. "I think we're gonna get going, we have a couple of things we need to take care of at home."
Willow nodded, though the expression on her face was less than convincing. "Oh, eh yeah, Tara's right. We have an appointment at the animal shelter, we're hoping to give the whole pet parent thing another try since we're actually allowed to have pets where we are now, so…" she trailed off apparently only then catching onto the tension hanging in the air. "So, eh yeah, we're gonna— just call if you need anything."
"I certainly will, thank you ladies," Giles said in farewell as Willow and Tara left them.
The corners of Ethan's mouth ticked up with the ghost of a smile as he closed his eyes once again.
Giles studied Ethan's face for several minutes, uncertain whether he had fallen asleep again or not.
"Are you going to tell me how I ended up on your surprisingly comfortable couch?" Eathan questioned without opening his eyes.
Giles shifted forward to sit with his elbows pressed into his thighs. "What do you remember?"
Ethan's brow furrowed in concentration. "I… remember you finding me in the middle of the spell— I—" he wet his cracked bottom lip, "—you hit me, and you're Slayer's pet vampire—"
"Fiancé," Giles corrected.
"Interesting… Fiancé then. He came in and then… I- I was warm— hot. Unbelievably hot and then— nothing…" he trailed off, opening his eyes and staring at Giles as though he had never really seen him before. "What happened? Why am I so weak?"
"You must understand, I had no other choice… you left me with no other choice, Ethan…"
Ethan's eyes widened as he attempted to lift his head again. Apparently he had reached his limit though because his head dropped back instantly. "You forced the magic out. That's why I'm so weak," he murmured, closing his eyes again.
"You were out of control, Ethan… I— I couldn't just let you go through with it. You might have killed us both," Giles explained.
Ethan pressed his eyelids shut harder. "Don't you understand what I was trying to do?"
A hard lump formed in Giles's throat and he worked hard to force it down. "I couldn't go back to being the man I was before, Ethan, don't you see? I've acquired a rather lovely little family here. I'm a grandfather now. This house is paid for. I'm happy with my life here."
"You're telling me you're happy being alone?"
Giles sighed, shaking his head. "What you were asking for— and then what you tried to do—"
"I just wanted to be happy too. It took me a long time to realize that the only time I was ever truly happy was with you, in that ridiculous little flat of ours. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted to be happy with you," Ethan finished quietly.
Giles stood up, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry, Ethan—"
"I'm tired."
"Of course," he replied, hands on hips, looking around the room as though for something else to say. He pressed his lips together in thought.
The events of the past several days and the memories of the life they once shared had started to mix together in his mind, the result was an ache in his chest that he normally associated with the loss of a loved one and yet there he was, in front of him.
Despite his denial and unwillingness to believe him, the truth was that Ethan had been clear in his intentions. Mad with desperation that had driven him to act unimaginably rash when Giles refused to believe him (As well as a plethora of other adjectives he could think of; foolish, irresponsible, and dangerous were at the top of a very long list).
The entire ordeal angered him.
How could I ever hope to trust him? Why am I even entertaining the prospect?
Even as he asked himself the question, the answer seemed to prickle in the back of his mind and he tried his best to push it away, to beat it down with a mallet and yet there it was.
He stood there, weighing his next words heavily against his heart, then with a nod said, I can't make any promises…" he hesitated, "…let's just focus on getting you on your feet, shall we?" He dipped his head, waiting for a reply and looked up when none came.
Ethan's gaze had settled on the floor, eyes half closed and empty looking, his face an incomprehensible mask that sent Giles's mind spinning. There was something in his countenance that begged his mind to put a name to it, but try as he might he simply couldn't. Words that normally came to him readily seemed to evade him.
Giles turned his gaze to the ceiling, taking a deep breath trying to steel himself and force his mouth to work properly before turning back to Ethan. "You deserve a chance at happiness… as much as anyone else does."
Ethan looked at him hopefully. "Do you really mean it?"
Giles felt like he could bite off his own tongue, and cleared his throat in agitation. "I— I need to think about what to make for dinner. You need your strength… I'll see if I have everything for that curry I used to make."
"The one with the coconut?"
"Only if you think you can stomach it," Giles replied simply.
"I'll certainly give it a try."
Giles strode into the kitchen, bracing his palms against the sink where he knew Ethan couldn't see him.
Curry. Why did I have to say curry?
Because it's simple and I have everything in stock and… it shouldn't be difficult for him to eat in his condition and… and because it's Ethan's favorite…
He brought a hand up, lifting his glasses away to pinch the bridge of his nose. The tap turned, allowing cold water to flow as a cupboard opened and a glass floated over to him landing lightly in the sink to catch the water. Giles let it fill before turning it off himself. "Thank you," he murmured, downing the entire glass at once before turning toward the refrigerator to pull out boneless chicken breast and the vegetables, setting them out and turning to the cupboard to get the rest of the ingredients he would need.
Giles pulled a notepad and pen from a drawer and laid it on the counter next to the cutting board as he began chopping vegetables. "I know you want to say something so go on, if you can move everything else around then surely you can write," he said in an almost amused tone.
There was a beat before the pen stood poised on the paper. Giles began chopping an onion as flowing words started to appear on the paper.
This isn't as much fun as Scrabble, now is it?
Giles chuckled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. "I suppose not, though, it is much easier to read."
I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about his current state. Magic is a bit out of my purview from a counseling standpoint but I may still be able to help you both. If you think he would talk to me that is.
He let out an exasperated sigh as he chopped the onion into quarters. "I appreciate the offer, Kimberly, I really do, but— I wouldn't even know where to start…"
Should I assume this was the equivalent of a near death by overdose following a stint in rehab?
"To put it succinctly, yes. Though, I hardly think he sees it that way, it was all rather forced. None of it was his choice," he huffed, attacking the onion with more furosity than strictly necessary as the pen danced across the paper once again. He glanced up, eyeing the paper wearily.
And it's the lack of choice that bothers you?
"Among so many other things, yes," he murmured, continuing his ill treatment of the innocent vegetable.
Can you describe how you are feeling? I can't really help unless you're honest.
He paused in his dinner prep, pressing his eyes shut (against the onions of course) as he swallowed the sting in the back of his throat. "At this direct moment?"
There was a long pause in the conversation as Giles thought while he finished chopping the onions and deposited them into the pot with some oil before starting on the garlic and ginger.
His heart and mind were at war debating his exceptionally rocky past with Ethan, at odds with the current situation they found themselves in.
He was already cubing the chicken before he finally spoke. "Confused and angry… and a bit curious I suppose… Oh hell, I don't know!" he spat vehemently, slamming the knife down on the cutting board. His voice was much softer when he spoke again, "Mostly confused."
The pen stood poised for a moment before it started to move again.
Let's see if we can untangle some of that confusion. Go on, talk to me.