( RIPOSTE ][ A Watchergirls Archive )

__Redefinition__
By Jolene Beasley

The decommissioning of a Watcher wasn't an elaborate ceremony... but it was a long one.

The new Director, with his razor sharp features, quoted the old text from memory with all the evangelistic fervor of a true believer. Before him stood a shorter, slightly stocky man with immaculately trimmed gray hair. Besides the convicted man and the Director, there were only three other men present: the man's accuser, his defender, and his replacement.

The man had been accused, tried, and convicted. All that remained was the sentencing. It was a minor blessing that the Council no longer conducted trials in Latin. That would be the ultimate irony, since the accused was a Latin scholar of some note, and would not only understand the language, but all the intrinsic, obscure meanings that were behind it. No, it was enough that the man was to be condemned in his native tongue.

The words droned on and on until the accused man felt like screaming. Why didn't they just get on with it? Everyone in the room - a room designed by sixteenth century stonemasons to resemble a bleak cathedral, complete with lofty arches and gargoyles - knew the text by heart. It was drilled into trainees almost from the first day as a warning to those who would betray the Council and its precepts. He recalled how nervous he was the first time he was commanded to present the ceremony in its entirety to his schoolmasters. Of course, he performed brilliantly. They would accept nothing else.

His current situation was a case in point.

The other men in the room knew the charges against him almost as well as they knew the ceremony, as both sides had argued their cases for weeks, with his career... his life... in the balance. Without using the precise words, they cast him in a most unpleasant light. Incompetent. Neglectful. Unstable. Infirm. They'd all but called him a doddering old git with a penchant for nepotism... but at least, they never branded him a traitor. Or, worse... a heretic.

A sudden clearing of a throat brought him back to the present. The Director was finished with the recitation of charges.

"Cedrick Giles, do you understand, and agree to, the charges presented before and against you?"

'What a ludicrous statement,' he thought impatiently. 'Of course I agree to them. I wrote most of them. Of course, they were meant to be a defense, not an indictment.' "Yes, I do." His voice sounded reasonably firm. At least he wasn't blubbering like an idiot.

"And you are bound, by your foresworn allegiance, to accept the ruling of this Council Committee, without remonstration, retribution, or remorse?"

Cedrick chuckled bitterly, causing his four companions to frown in disapproval. No doubt they thought him senile. "Yes, of course, to the first two. As to the last, to be quite honest, I very much doubt it."

For a brief moment, the Director's face reflected a certain degree of understanding. He agreed with the sentiment, even while eschewing the manner in which it was delivered. The impassive mask of Judge and Jury then quickly reasserted itself across his face, and he continued in his Executioner's tones, "By your acceptance and agreement, Cedrick Giles, the Royal Council of Watchers hereby formally relieves you of your duties as Security Chief of the Royal Council of Watchers, and of your official title thereto, and are hereby disbanded from the Inner Circle, the Ruling Council, and all its departments, committees, and advisory boards.

"Because of your inability to carry out your duty, you are a Watcher no longer. You will, from this day onward, no longer be allowed access to Council Chambers. You will not, from this day onward, sit on any Council board. You will, from this day onward..."

Cedrick tuned the requiem out, and thought of more pleasant things. There were but few of them in his mind. One of the brightest was his last recollection of his family in America, and their warm, welcoming faces when he last saw them.

He had no other place to go, really. But would they want him there... permanently?

At long last, the dirge of defeat was finished, and as a final blow, the Successor held out his hand, palm up, and waited as Cedrick wrestled with his last vestige of Council identity... his ornately carved onyx ring. From the time it was given to him until now, it had never left his hand; not when he married, not when he trained his Slayer, not when he was carted off to the nut house and left to the doctors' completely inadequate treatment, not even when he was reinstated and given the position of Chief of Security.

It wasn't an easy task, the removal of a lifetime career.

Finally, the thick silver band gave in to his insistent twisting and slid away from his finger. He palmed it briefly, considering what giving up this final token truly meant. He was saying goodbye to almost fifty years of service... to his purpose in life.

He tipped his hand above the Successor's, and the ring left its place of pride forever.

********

"'Relieved of duty.' It sounds so innocuous. Like I've taken early retirement instead of getting sacked."

"Ced, old thing, ya mustn't dwell on such. Ye'll go all broody and morose, like Uncle Clive."

Cedrick snorted drunkenly. "Uncle Clive was an old fool." He raised his glass unsteadily in remembrance, sloshing a golden ribbon of ale onto the table in the process. "And, apparently, I've joined his ranks with a few years to spare."

From across the table, Nathaniel Croom stared at his oldest and dearest friend. He and Cedrick were distant cousins, having been raised in close proximity and friendship until they went their separate ways as young men. Nathaniel had opted for a military career, and had done well. Cedrick's career, while not as visible, had seemed to be of equal value. Now, Nathaniel was retired, Cedrick was fired, and their fond and foolish 'Uncle' was dead and gone. "Now, Ced, 'tis not wise to speak ill of th' dead, even though 'e was an old fool."

They both chuckled, then fell silent for a moment. Finally, Nathaniel looked around and commented, "They didn't even come ta see you off, did they? Ta lift a pint for a fellow soldier?" He shook his craggy head in disbelief. "'Tis a shame and disgrace."

A snort of derision answered the question. "All my true friends are dead. All my remaining relatives, with the exception of yourself, are in America."

Nathaniel cleared his throat, motioning to the barmaid to bring another round. "So, then, what'll ye do? Go ta America?"

Cedrick stared at his mug for several minutes before answering. "I don't know, Nate. I just don't know."

"What'd yer boy say when y'told him?"

Cedrick hesitated, and his friend instantly understood, despite the veil of inebriation that was falling heavily on them both.

"You 'aven't told him."

"No. Not sure I shall."

"Well, then... you've property 'ere. Ya could retire to the countryside and grow fat n' lazy."

More snickering accompanied that idea. Cedrick drained his glass and reached for the fresh round that had appeared at his elbow. "Right now, all I want to do is forget."

"Fat chance o'that here. Ya can't drink enough'a this swill to forget."

"I can try." The formerly esteemed Chief of Council Security tipped his mug again, hoping for a miracle of oblivion. He very much doubted he'd find it at the bottom of this glass.

********

A few days later, the telephone rang a continent away. The shrill electronic tone was accompanied by the organic... and very enthusiastic... sounds of a toddler at play. Running around the room while yelling at the top of his lungs seemed to be an engaging way to spend an afternoon, and Marcus Giles was giving it all he had.

The father of the noisy boy appeared, bounding down the staircase to grab the telephone. He paused for a moment and gathered his poise about him, years of training asserting itself effortlessly. One must always answer the telephone with dignity.

"Hello?" Giles stated calmly, ignoring the turmoil of sound around him.

A crackle of static answered him as the overseas operator announced herself. "One moment, sir, while I connect you."

Giles waited patiently while various beeps and tones signaled the operator's efforts. Finally, there was a loud click, and the woman's voice said, "Go ahead, sir."

"Hello?" Giles repeated unnecessarily. "Who's there?"

"Rupert?"

"Father?"

"Well, at least we recognize each other's voices." Cedrick said dryly.

Giles chuckled. "It would seem so. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How is my grandson? I can hear him in the background. It sounds like World War Three over there."

"He's doing quite well. He's developed a fascination with fighter jets in the past few days. He's dropping bombs on his toy trucks and cars at the moment, with no signs of stopping. That's the last time we let him watch Discovery Channel unattended."

"Like Father, like Son. You always had your head in the clouds as a boy."

Giles smiled at the reserved fondness in his father's tone. "When are you coming for a visit? We all miss you terribly."

"Actually, that is why I called. I would like to come over, soon, for a bit. What are your plans for the holidays?"

"We have none, really. Both of our schedules have been rather hectic this year, and we thought to spend a few quiet weeks recuperating."

"Ah. Well, if having the old man for a visit won't disrupt your relaxation too much, I might come on, if that's all right."

"Splendid! It'll be wonderful having you here for Christmas! Marcus will be thrilled."

"It's settled, then. I'll ring again with flight and time."

"Wonderful. I must say, Father, I'm rather surprised. But, delighted, of course. How long will you be staying?"

"I'm not sure at the moment. I might do some sightseeing, whilst I'm there. I've never taken the time."

"That would be lovely." Something bothered Giles about this unexpected call. His father sounded strange... falsely jovial and unconcerned. He wasn't the type to just pop over for a visit... he only came to the States on Council business. Of course, he made time to see his family, but still...

"Well, then, goodbye, Rupert. Give my best to Buffy."

"I will, Father. Goodbye."

Giles replaced the receiver thoughtfully, and turned to his son. Marcus instantly stopped his noise making and looked up, sensing his father's surprised and happy mood.

"Marcus, your Grandfather Giles is coming for a visit."

Marcus frowned slightly, trying to put a face to the name. Giles obligingly fed him a mental picture of Cedrick. Marcus studied the image for a few seconds, then he smiled. "Gwanfadder Giles? I wemember him."

"You do?" Marcus hadn't seen Cedrick since he was a tiny baby... Giles sighed, once again reminded of just how different Marcus really was. "Of course you do." Giles stepped to the boy's side and ruffled his hair affectionately. "I just wish we saw more of him. He's almost a stranger in this house."

"Can I gets him a Cwissmuss pwesent?"

Giles' eyes misted slightly at his son's generosity. Since he was tiny, Marcus had always been a giving sort. "May I get him a Christmas present." Giles emphasized the correct words, always the teacher. "Yes, you may. We'll go together, and get him a present from all of us. Would you like that?"

"Yeth, Daddy! Can I... I mean may I... get him a twuck wike mine?" He reached down and picked up his favorite toy, holding it out for his father to see. It seemed to the boy to be the ultimate present.

Giles laughed and pulled the boy to his side, giving him an awkward hug around the bulk of the plastic vehicle. What a joy he was! "We'll see, love. We'll see."

Giles was very thankful he was going to share that joy with his own, often-distant father. He hoped this Christmas would bring them closer together.

********

Buffy arrived home, sailing through the front door with her usual brisk pace, her arms full of packages. She stopped and accepted a husbandly smooch from the tall man that greeted her in the hall, then was seized around the knees and almost capsized by her small son.

"Mummy! Mummy! Gwanfadder Giles is bisiting for Cwissmuss! We gots to get him a pwesent!"

"What's this?" At that particular moment, the couch was unoccupied by toys and people, so she dumped her shopping spoils and turned to take Marcus into her arms. "Grandfather Giles is coming? When did this happen?"

"Today, just an hour or so ago, actually." Giles joined her, slipping an arm around her and placing a hand on the toddler's head. "He said he wanted to come for Christmas. I found it a bit odd."

"You would." Buffy shifted Marcus slightly, noting that he was getting heavier every day. "Anyone else would cheer."

"I'm cheering, but it's still odd. How many times has he visited us?"

"Um... twice. And we visited him once." She gave Marcus a kiss on the nose, causing him to giggle. "Of course, our visit wasn't intentional, as I remember," she mused, remembering their visit to the Watcher's Retreat in England and their unexpected introduction to Cedrick.

"Only twice. And both times because he was sent by the Council. It just seems odd that he would visit now."

"Maybe he just misses his little boy," she teased, batting her eyes up at her much taller husband.

"Oh, right." He leaned over until his forehead touched hers. "His little boy."

"I'm a big boy, Daddy!" Marcus announced, throwing his hands around his father's neck.

Giles chuckled taking him easily into his arms, and Buffy actually gave a sigh of relief at having her small burden lifted. "Whew, I'm beat. Shopping is not for the faint of heart."

"Which is precisely why you're doing it. I'm a mere mortal... it's all too much for me."

Marcus wiggled to get down, and Giles allowed him to slide from his grasp, smiling as the sound of a toddler imitating a jet fighter resumed. He turned back to Buffy, watching fondly as she collapsed onto the sofa. "Rough day at the mall?"

"The worst." She blew out a long breath. "I want to do the traditional Christmas thing, but Geez, it gets to be such a nightmare."

"I know, love." He sat beside her and drew her against him with a gentle arm. "Have you finished, then?"

"Except for Cedrick, I have. I wish I'd known a little sooner that he was coming."

"Somehow, I got the impression it was a sudden decision."

His internal curiosity was still turning Cedrick's words over and over, looking for clues as to their true meaning. Buffy smiled as a preoccupied look transformed his face. He was never one to ignore a puzzle.

She gave him a kiss just below the curve of his jaw and commented, "Somehow, I get the impression you think something's wrong."

"It's not exactly that... well, perhaps it is. Father didn't sound like himself."

Buffy snuggled against her husband's side, resting her head on his shoulder. She ran a comforting hand across his chest and up to his neck. "Well, there's only two weeks until Christmas. He'll have to show up pretty soon. Then, we'll find out."

"Yes, you're right." He gave her a grateful squeeze. "You're quite often right, you know."

She giggled softly. "Try to remember that, babe." She turned her head and eyed the pile of packages next to her. "And, now, my sense of rightness is telling me I need to wrap presents." She sighed dramatically and pulled herself to her feet. Giles stood with her, unconsciously polite in the presence of a lady, and offered, "I can help with that, if you like."

"That's very sweet, but yours is in the pile. This is something I have to do aaaall by myself."

"All right. I'll stay here and let the RAF bomb my feet." He shifted slightly as Marcus, with a loud swoosh, aimed his toy jet fighter at the top of his father's shoes. Buffy laughed as she gathered her bags and boxes, side stepping to avoid colliding with her son as he rounded the couch to make another sortie.

********

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation and planning. Cedrick called to confirm his flight number and time, and there wasn't much time to get ready. Buffy made sure the largest guest room was available... the one with an adjoining bath. She badgered Giles for details on how to make his father more comfortable, but he wasn't much help in that department. He and his father had been strangers for years, and Giles was as apprehensive as Buffy about how to make the older man feel at home.

They enlisted Joyce and Wilton to help, hoping to introduce Cedrick to some of the University faculty at one of the many Christmas parties held on campus. A life-long Watcher had little in common with ordinary people, and they thought that he might enjoy more erudite company after being around Xander and Willow for a while. The Antiquities Department had a party every Christmas, and they were just the people to accept Cedrick without preconceived ideas about his somewhat unusual academic background.

The whole family thought long and hard about how they could show this near stranger that he was welcome, and hoped that he would recognize and appreciate their efforts as sincere.

The Saturday of his arrival, the American branch of the Giles family waited nervously at the LAX terminal. The flight was due to arrive at 3:10 p.m., but it had been delayed due to bad weather in the Midwest. There was talk of an extra layover in Dallas, but that was cancelled at the last minute, and the flight headed for Los Angeles, already forty-five minutes late.

By the time they announced the arrival of the flight just before 5 o'clock, Marcus was cranky and hungry, and Buffy was feeling frazzled. Giles helped her as much as he could, taking the toddler for walks along the concourse and trying to amuse him with the toys in the airport shop windows. There were times, however, when a little boy could only be soothed by his mother, so Buffy was disheveled and exhausted when the New York and overseas passengers began to deplane.

Marcus spotted Cedrick first, pushing away from Buffy and running through the crowd until he was at his grandfather's feet. He beamed up at the man and, to Giles' great surprise, held out a chubby hand as formally as an adult. "Hi, Gwanfadder Giles. I'm happy to see you."

Cedrick stooped over and took the proffered hand, shaking it gravely before favoring the tiny boy with a smile. "Hello, Marcus. I am happy to see you, too." He straightened and looked up at his taller son, his face surprised and pleased. "Well, Rupert, a proper greeting. Amazing. You must be an excellent teacher."

Grinning happily, Giles engulfed his father in a bear hug, catching the man by surprise. It was brief, but heartfelt, and Cedrick found himself fighting back tears. He stiffened as Giles backed away slightly, feeling embarrassed by the show of emotion, and Buffy took that opportunity to give her father-in-law a gentle kiss on the cheek. She patted his arm affectionately, allowing Giles a moment to compose himself.

"Cedrick, it's great to have you here. Come on, we'll help you with your luggage. Did you eat on the plane?" She picked up her son and settled him against her hip as they started towards the escalators.

Cedrick shouldered his carryon bag more comfortably and frowned. "There was a meal, of sorts, when we left New York. I refused to eat it. It looked dreadful, and the trip was so rough that those who did eat were soon sorry they had."

Giles chuckled sympathetically. "We shall find a decent restaurant shortly, then. I think Marcus is getting hungry, as well."

Marcus nodded in agreement. "I'm bewy hungwy!"

********

At the restaurant a half hour later, Buffy watched with amazement as Marcus calmly talked to Cedrick as if he'd known the man all his short life. Marcus' ability to converse was amazing, even for an advanced child. He used complete sentences, didn't often confuse past and present tenses, and was beginning to grasp the principle of contractions. At times, his size and babyish lisp were all that distinguished him from children three times his age.

And, unlike most children between the age of one and six who merely mimic adult conversation, repeating the things they've heard, most of her son's phrases were entirely his own. People often were startled by his candid comments, causing her to react with over-protective zeal in trying to explain his intelligence away. She envied Giles and his matter-of-fact approach to child rearing: If the child isn't misbehaving or endangering himself and others, then leave him be.

Marcus had insisted on sitting next to Cedrick, and with some trepidation, his parents allowed it. The tiny boy perused the menu, identifying the letters of the alphabet as they decided what to eat, eager to show off his knowledge to his grandfather. He kept them all amused until the waitress had taken their order, then grew quiet as the adults conversed, listening as they caught up on each other's lives.

Giles watched his father thoughtfully, knowing he was holding something back. The older man held himself stiffly, only the slightest of smiles altering the rigid, controlled expression on his face. His entire demeanor was that of a man in pain. He kept his hands in his lap whenever possible, which seemed a strange affectation to Giles. Yet, Cedrick chatted nonchalantly, neatly avoiding all polite queries about home and work, steering the conversation back to his son's family each time.

Finally, after the food had been delivered, Marcus could contain himself no longer. "Gwanfadder?" Marcus craned his neck to see Cedrick's face. "Why awe you sad?"

Cedrick gave his grandson a surprised look. "What makes you think I am sad, Marcus?" He smiled at his son and daughter-in-law carefully. "I'm actually quite pleased to be here." He gave a deliberate chuckle. "After the rough weather our plane negotiated, I'm quite pleased to be on the ground, as a matter of fact."

Marcus thought carefully about his next words, then stated, "You happy-sad, Gwanfadder. Mummy's happy-sad a wot, too." He leaned over to Cedrick and whispered loudly, "So is Daddy." He maneuvered a french fry to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Buffy didn't know what to make of that, so she smoothly changed the conversation, but watched her father-in-law carefully for the remainder of the meal. The usual sub-vocal buzz that accompanied him was missing, and there was a certain melancholy air about him.

'Something's wrong,' she told Giles through the Bond's connection.

'I know. He's hiding something.'

'Why doesn't he just tell us?' She bent and wiped catsup from Marcus' face as he squirmed in place.

'Perhaps he's afraid. We Giles aren't known for our forthright manner.'

Buffy stifled a giggle, then sobered. 'He's better at hiding his thoughts now.'

'Yes, I can barely sense him.'

Suddenly, a burst of mental energy overrode their silent conversation, stopping Buffy and Giles' sub-vocal conversation as neatly as a piercing whistle would silence a noisy room. In the sudden quiet, Marcus exclaimed, "Mummy! I want ice cweam!"

The three grownups stared at him like he'd grown two heads. Cedrick recovered first. "Dear God! Has he always had that kind of psychic power?"

Giles cleared his throat nervously. "N-no... as a matter of fact... that was the first time he's ever done such a thing."

Buffy and Giles both fixed Marcus with a glare that only a parent could produce. He immediately shrank down into his seat, knowing he'd done something wrong, but not being sure what it was. His lower lip jutted out, and he performed the most perfect pout Cedrick had ever seen.

"Marcus Everett Giles," Buffy said in a chilling tone. "It is very rude to interrupt people when they are talking, even if they aren't talking out loud."

Giles added, fighting laughter all the way, "And it is also disrespectful to shout when a polite word would do."

"I'm sowwy, Mummy. I'm sowwy, Daddy." The toddler's cherubic face was red with remorse. "I fo'got to be powite."

Now even Cedrick was having trouble keeping a stern face. The boy was just too cute.

"It's all right, honey, you're forgiven. Just try to remember, okay?" She smiled, unable to keep from it.

"Otay." A tentative smile began to creep across his face, followed by a look of confusion. "Mummy? I didn't know tawking in my head could be so WOWD!"

********

After they arrived home, Giles quickly gave his father a tour of the house while Buffy put a sleeping Marcus in his bed. After showing him to the guest room, Giles said goodnight, leaving Cedrick to unpack and gather his wits about him. He gazed around the bedroom for a bit, orienting himself to his new surroundings. It was a pleasant room, neither frilly nor frothy, and it had an adjoining bathroom with a large tub. He checked the dresser, feeling slightly disreputable in doing so, and found that the majority of the drawers were emptied in anticipation of his arrival. He began to unpack, finding an adequately sized closet ready for his suits, shirts, and shoes.

As he bent to tidy his footwear, he noticed something red and fuzzy in the back corner. He grunted with surprise as he pulled out an odd shaped device, turning it this way and that in his hands. It was oblong, about eleven inches high, and had a black sleeve of soft, black, synthetic fur-like material stretched over one side. The other side was red. It was heavy, and the two rounded protruding ends rotated slightly as he examined them.

Suddenly, its purpose came to him, and he began to shake his head in amusement. A shoe-polisher. An electric shoe polisher. My, didn't they have every convenience in America? He considered plugging it in, just to see it work, then decided against it, not knowing how noisy it might be. He returned it to its place in the closet, and continued to unpack, wondering if they'd purchased the polishing machine solely for his visit. It spoke a great deal about their opinion of him. They were expecting the consummate Watcher, from his tweed shoulders to his immaculately polished shoes.

They were certainly in for a surprise.

When his clothes were hanging neatly and his shoes were lined up underneath, he turned and carried his small shaving kit into the bathroom. He tipped the contents carefully into the top drawer and looked at himself in the mirror. A sad, old man looked back at him, his face haggard with jet lag and the weight of failure.

"Well, old boy... welcome home," he said to his reflection, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. A guest in his son's home, that's all he was now. Truth be told, he had no home. The fingers of his right hand absently caressed the indentation that marked the absence of the Watcher's signet. He caught himself after a scant few seconds, and dropped his hands by his side in disgust.

Looking in the medicine cabinet, he noted the presence of a new toothbrush, still in its packing, a tube of toothpaste, a man's bristle brush, a can of shaving cream, and an unopened bar of deodorant soap. Rupert had never been one to overlook details.

It was late, and he felt weariness settling over him like a suffocating blanket. He stripped and folded his travel-wrinkled clothing neatly, leaving them on the dresser to be dealt with in the morning. He donned his dark gray pajamas, his fingers automatically working the buttons as his mind went blank with exhaustion. He barely had enough presence of mind to turn back the covers before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

********

In the front bedroom, Buffy climbed into bed and snuggled up to her husband. Giles was sitting with his back against the headboard, a pensive look on his face. The swirl of emotion that came from him washed over her, and she hugged him close, soothing him with her presence. She knew he was thrilled to have his father with them and that he longed for a closer relationship with him. She also knew that he was worried to the point of distraction about the reason Cedrick had come to them without a backward glance at his Council duties.

"Penny for your thoughts, big guy," she said softly, teasing him with soft kisses on his bare chest.

His arm tightened around her briefly, then he sighed. "He's hurting. I know it and you know it. Even Marcus seemed to sense it... I've never seen him so deliberately reserved, emotionally. It's as if he knows Father is fragile and must be handled carefully."

"I know, babe. Even the little echo in my head is off-kilter. He's all shut down inside."

"Perhaps he'll talk to me about it in the morning. I can't bear to see him like this."

"At least he's here, where we can help, instead of way-the-heck over in England."

"True," Giles agreed, smiling in spite of his concern.

"Not that I'm trying to be heartless, or anything... but we don't know all that much about him, not really. We don't know him well enough to start messing with his head."

"Yes, I know that, but it's eating him up inside, whatever it is. I can't just... blow it off."

Buffy giggled unexpectedly. He tilted his head to look at her as she patted his chest comfortingly. "That was a very American way to put it, babe."

He snorted softly. "You've corrupted me from the very beginning, love."

She leaned up and wrapped her free arm around his neck, pulling him down for a languid kiss, drawing it out until he responded to her liking. She hummed happily as he broke their lip-lock, panting slightly, his expression both surprised and pleased.

She winked and gave him a saucy grin. "I like corrupting you. It's so much fun."

"It's rather enjoyable for me, as well." He molded his lips to hers again, smiling as he rolled them both over until he was on top. He sent a wordless inquiry her way, and she responded with a rush of love and wanting that left him with no doubt as to her intentions. He smiled even wider as they continued to arouse each other with gentle kisses and touches.

He murmured her name quietly, the Bond enabling him to express himself completely without fumbling for words. He preferred that form of communication, anyway, because he'd never been good with romantic words. At least, he wasn't before Buffy came into his life. Now romance was in the air, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and he loved it.

He was moving his lips down her neck, slowing covering every inch of skin with kisses, when Buffy stiffened. "What is it, love?" he murmured aloud.

"Um... do you think he can... y'know... hear us?"

"Who can... oh. No, of course not. The guest room's too far away, and he's not that gifted... um... I don't think. No." He thought about it briefly, reaching out with his mind. There was nothing, no sense of another mental presence, only the sleeping hum of their baby in the room across the hall. He then dismissed the idea completely and returned his attention to her collarbone. "I feel sure he cannot," he mumbled against her skin, making her giggle.

"You're probably right," she agreed dreamily, giving a pleased squeak as he found a particularly sensitive spot. They both forgot about Cedrick for a good long while.

* * * * *

"Mummy!"

Buffy moaned and tried to burrow deeper into the pillow. Since Marcus had learned to climb out of his crib, they'd allowed him to sleep with one side lowered, to keep him from falling and hurting himself on the trip down. He used the lowered rail as a foothold, making his descents much more stable. He was able to go downstairs and turn on the television to watch early morning cartoons without his parents' help. That was the advantage. The disadvantage to his newfound freedom, at least for his parents, was his customary visit to his parents' room on his way down.

A tiny hand tugged at the covers, and Marcus repeated, "Mummy!"

"Wha... what is it, honey?" She reached out, blinding searching for his head, and ruffled his hair gently. She peered at the clock. Six-thirty on a holiday morning. Ah... the joys of motherhood.

"Mummy, Gwanfadder wants to know how to wuk de micwowave."

Suddenly, Buffy was awake. She shook Giles gently as Marcus climbed onto the bed. "Babe? Will you get up and help Cedrick with the kitchen appliances? I need a little getting-beautiful time before I face him."

Giles yawned and stretched, groaning slightly at the effort it took to wake up. "You're always beautiful, my love. Um... did you say Father is downstairs already? It's early." He suddenly realized he was nose-to-nose with his wide-awake son. "Good morning, Marcus."

"Gwanfadder's in de kitchen," Marcus said matter-of-factly, grabbing one of his father's large hands and tugging until Giles chuckled and rolled to the side of the bed.

Giles stood reluctantly and pulled on his robe, then padded over to the closet to find a pair of slippers. He rubbed his head sleepily and started for the door. Buffy's delighted giggles stopped him just as he put his hand to the doorknob.

"What is it now?" He asked, a resigned tone in his voice.

"You're just... so cute when you're all sleepy and rumpled."

He snorted, unable to form a coherent response, then shuffled out the door with Marcus trailing after him.

'Well, you are,' she whispered into his mind as he started downstairs.

'I will deal with you later, when I've regained my reason via large quantities of caffeine,' he replied huffily, then grinned at her mental laughter.

Marcus, having had enough of Giles' trudging pace, dashed around him once they reached the living room and ran to join his grandfather. Giles padded onto the tiled floor, still smiling at Buffy's happy teasing, and cleared his throat to greet Cedrick. As he did, he looked at his father clearly for the first time, and realized something astounding.

Cedrick Giles was not wearing a tie!

Cedrick, unaware of Giles' surprise, beat him to the first word. "Good morning, Rupert. Do you have a proper kettle about the place, or am I forced to use this unfortunate contraption to brew my tea?" He indicated the microwave with a smirk, knowing Giles would appreciate the irony. Cedrick, as head of Watcher Security, used the most sophisticated espionage equipment available, and was more comfortable than his son with modern conveniences. Still, standards must be maintained, and tea must be brewed in a proper kettle, complete with a steam whistle to announce its readiness.

"Kettle's in the cabinet, here..." He pulled the item from under the counter and moved to fill it with water. "Sorry, I should've set the alarm. At home, you're probably finished with breakfast and on your way to the office by this time of morning."

Something flickered across Cedrick's face, but he turned it into a smile. "Nonsense. We're on holiday. If not for this little fellow..." He ruffled Marcus' hair slightly, and the boy beamed up at him, totally content with the company. "...I might have gone back to bed. He was already downstairs, watching a rather noisy program on the television."

"Marcus hasn't learned the joy of sleeping late, as yet. If Buffy was any indication during her teen years, I would imagine he'll figure it out very soon."

Giles gave a deliberate look around the room. "It seems the practice has followed her into her twenties," he said lightly, making sure to convey a non-judgmental tone.

Giles gave a short laugh. "Oh, she's awake. She's 'making herself beautiful', as she calls it. Not that there's the slightest need."

"No," Cedrick agreed easily. "Your Slayer... your wife... is quite lovely. You're a lucky man, Rupert."

Giles didn't know what to make of that statement, so he chose to take it at face value. "I agree completely."

"Daddy? May I have hot choc'wate for breakfuss?"

"Another indication of my luck," Giles said with a smile as he removed the requested item from the cupboard. As he reached for Marcus' cup, he told the boy, "You must eat all your eggs and toast. Chocolate alone does not a breakfast make."

"Otay. I eat dem aaaw up!"

"Good lad," Cedrick said, showing the first genuine smile Giles had seen since his father's arrival.

Giles began preparing breakfast, remembering to increase the fare by one person. He quickly loaded fried eggs, bacon, toast, tea, and hot chocolate on a tray and brought it to the table just as Buffy came down the stairs, looking radiant.

"Ooo... I timed that just right, didn't I?" She followed him into the dining room, sharing a knowing smile between them as they set the table together. She was giving him a loving smooch when Marcus toddled in with Cedrick right behind him. The couple broke apart, blushing slightly.

Buffy recovered first, and showed her father-in-law to his chair with a sweep of her hand. "Cedrick, you can sit here, if you like. I need to be next to Marcus. He can get kinda messy."

"If last night was any indication, I'd say he manages his meals better than some adults I've known." Cedrick gave Marcus a wink, causing the boy to smile broadly.

Buffy held the highchair until Marcus climbed into the seat, then quipped, "Those were company manners. These will be at-home-in-your-own-chair manners."

Giles and his father both chuckled, and the family began their breakfast, talking superficially, avoiding more difficult subjects for the moment.

Buffy was almost finished eating when the telephone rang, and she excused herself to get it. Before she could get her 'hello' out, an excited voice interrupted her.

"Hey, Buffy! Did Mr. Giles get here okay? Is everything all right? Bill's not in trouble, is he? Of course he's not. He's a good Watcher. The best! It shouldn't matter that Mr. Giles is Bill's boss... I shouldn't even be worried... I'm worried, Buffy. Has Mr. Giles said anything about Bill?"

Buffy started giggling. Willow had matured a lot in the past two years, but a nervous Willow was still a babbling Willow. "Calm down, Will! Take a deep breath. Take several deep breaths. Cedrick hasn't said anything about work at all. Nothing. He's on vacation, remember?"

Buffy heard Willow exhale deeply, doing her best to follow Buffy's calming-down instructions. "Oh, that's good, then. Bill doesn't want to talk about it, see, and that makes me want him to. Talk about it, I mean. Because, hello, dating, and all, so I should be in on the secret stuff... well, not all of it, 'cause I don't wanna know some of the secret secret stuff..."

"Will!"

"Okay, okay. Calming down some more. I don't think I've reached the level of calmness I was aiming for just yet."

"Cedrick isn't here to spy on your boyfriend, Willow. He's here to see Marcus. He's barely spent five minutes away from him since he got off the plane."

"That's so cool, Buff. He's doing the Grandpa thing."

"He is. And we were eating breakfast, which I'd like to get back to, if you don't mind. We'll have everybody over for an extended family dinner this weekend, okay? You can see for yourself how not about business this whole trip is."

"Okay, that sounds fun! I'll tell Bill he's off the hook!"

"You're not supposed to know anything, remember?"

"Oh! Right! So I won't say anything. Mum is me."

Buffy laughed at that. "He'll know for sure something is wrong, then. Just chill for a couple of days, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry I spoiled your breakfast."

"You didn't. In fact, Giles is probably ducking flying eggs and toast as we speak. I should thank you for getting me outta there."

"Marcus isn't so bad."

"No, he really isn't, but spills are just waiting to happen when you're a kid. I gotta go. Talk to you later."

Buffy hung up with a sigh. Willow really had it bad for the young Watcher. And, from the look on his face whenever she was around, he was head-over-heels, too. A small smile rested on her face as she returned to the dining room. Giles looked up at her, seeing her gentle expression.

"Good news, love?" He looked down at Marcus as he spoke, busy wiping breakfast residue off the boy's face.

"Just Willow... being Willow." She gave him a quick rundown subvocally, and he nodded with a grin. Cedrick looked up sharply, as if he'd caught his name being transmitted through the Bond's psychic channel, but quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression.

Giles caught the look, and his face grew concerned. "Father? Something wrong?"

Cedrick waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, nothing at all. I was just wool-gathering." He moved his chair back and stood smoothly. "I think I shall stroll about the shops downtown this morning, if you haven't made other plans. Do some Christmas shopping. I've only seen the seedier bits in my earlier visits."

"Um... shopping? Ah, well, if you like, I can drive you over in a few minutes."

"How far is it? A mile? Perhaps two? I suppose I could walk."

"Nonsense. We'll take the van. Buffy, would you...?"

Buffy waved a hand dismissively. "No, that's all right, you two go ahead. I've done enough shopping to last me for a couple of days, at least. I'll stay with Marcus and do the cleanup."

"If you're sure..." Giles said uncertainly.

"I am." Buffy punctuated the statement with a mental confirmation, 'You go and find out what's wrong with your dad. Marcus and I would just be in the way.'

Giles' eyes caught hers momentarily, and gratitude was plain in his. "Then, I'll join you, Father, if you don't mind the company."

"Not at all. It will give us a change to chat."

Buffy couldn't figure Cedrick out. He was entirely too casual, too carefree, as if nothing was important to him anymore. Not his work, his homeland... the man just never wasted time strolling.

Something occurred to her, but she kept it to herself, shutting Giles out temporarily as she filed the thought away for future contemplation. If Giles didn't find out what was wrong on their little shopping spree, she had some theories to propose.

She freed Marcus from his highchair and smiled as he darted into the living room to gather his toys. He looked back at his grandfather as if expecting him to join the play. When Cedrick started up the stairs, Marcus' face fell.

"Gwanfadder?"

Cedrick turned instantly. "Yes, Marcus?"

The boy suddenly turned shy, looking at his feet and mumbling, "Will you p'ay with me?"

Cedrick looked stunned for a moment, then relaxed slightly. "Rupert? I... ah... seem to have a prior engagement."

Giles smiled at Marcus fondly. "The stores don't open for another hour or so, I believe."

"Well, then, Marcus, I will be back in a moment, and then you and I will play for a while."

Marcus looked up, beaming, and cried, "Yay!"

"You shall have to teach me how to play with your toys, however."

"Otay, Gwanfadder. I'll show you my twucks! And my jet pwane, too!"

"All right." Cedrick turned up the stairs once again.

"Father?" For the second time that morning, Giles fought back tears as he realized the effort Cedrick was making on Marcus' behalf. He took a few quick steps in Cedrick's direction, and said quietly, "Thank you, Father."

"No, thank you, for my grandson. He's a gift."

The two Giles men shared a momentary look of perfect agreement, and then Cedrick finished climbing the stairs and went to his room.

********

He's a gift...

Cedrick's own words echoed in his ears as he brushed his teeth. He knew about the prophecy, of course. He knew the child of a Watcher and Slayer was something both revered and feared by the Council. He understood that Marcus was unique, valuable, and intrinsic to the continuation of life on Earth... but at the moment, he didn't care one whit about prophecy, legends, or divine callings.

His only concern was his family. His son... a remarkable individual who'd overcome incredible odds to become a fine, solid, responsible husband and father... and his grandson... a precious, delightful child with a generosity of spirit that surprised Cedrick to no end. And, of course, his remarkable daughter-in-law, the Slayer, who could forget her? Saucy, determined, bright, loving... she was a surprisingly good match for Rupert. She was strong where he wasn't, and vice versa. It was an impressive combination.

This child-woman had given him a grandson. Perhaps the only one he would ever have. He had no idea what their future plans were, nor was he inclined to ask such a personal question. Still, he wondered if they'd discussed having more children. Rupert couldn't know the extent of the prophecy concerning the last of the Slayer line... that the Slayer would not be alone in the final fight... that the Slayer wouldn't even be female. The prophecy seemed to indicate...

"No, enough speculation, old man," Cedrick told his reflection sternly. "You're on holiday."

Holiday. The idea made him snort in disgust. This holiday was permanent, courtesy of the younger members of the Inner Circle. Replacing the old guard. A new day, a new regime. New ideas. All very normal in the course of history. It was just the way of things.

And still, he knew that the brash, progressive thinkers in the Council were not the instigators of his ouster. They were lead by an old hand... a man who had almost as many years on the Council as Cedrick. His so-called Successor was calling the shots on Marcus' surveillance now, and the idea made the boy's grandfather very nervous.

The man might have the title of 'Successor', but whether or not he would actually succeed at the position remained very much to be seen.

Cedrick ran a hand over the back of his neck, still feeling underdressed without a tie. Somehow, he felt that casual attire was best in this winterless country, so he sighed resignedly and started back to the living room to 'play trucks' with his grandson.

He was surprised to find himself looking forward to it. Unconsciously, he rubbed his left hand again, the strangeness of the bare finger bothering him even when he wasn't thinking about it.

********

Later that morning, the Giles' green van pulled into a parking space on Sunnydale's main street, and the two men exited, moving with similar grace and economy of motion. The older man scanned the area, habitually evaluating it for potential ambushes, then shook his head and snorted at his own folly. Here he was, in broad daylight, looking for vampires. True, demons had no problem with daylight, but still...

"It certainly can't compete with Knightsbridge, but there's enough here to entertain us for a few hours." Giles looked around as he spoke, smiling softly as he realized that this foreign country had become home.

"No, no, it's very nice. I'm looking forward to a pleasant stroll without having to fight huge throngs of impatient shoppers." Cedrick matched his son's pace easily, his face relaxed and curious, his hands jammed into his pockets in a perfect imitation of Giles' posture. "I understand you have a... what do you call it... ah, yes, a mall."

Giles couldn't believe his ears. The entire conversation was completely surreal. His father had never cared about shops and malls and crowds and strolling. What on earth had happened to change the man's life focus so dramatically?

"Y-yes, we have a mall. It's... it's interesting." Giles' stuttered, totally befuddled at Cedrick's behavior. "F-father?" He suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to ignore his worry any longer.

"Yes, son?" Cedrick answered calmly.

"What's wrong?" He said earnestly.

Cedrick stared at his son for several moments, ignoring the flow of foot traffic around them. Finally, he made a decision, and his shoulders slumped visibly. He looked down at the sidewalk and nodded ruefully, admitting defeat.

"Father... if there's anything I can do..." Giles began.

"No, there isn't, and I'd rather you didn't try."

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "But you must tell me. You're carrying such a heavy load."

That was a strange way to put it, but Cedrick found himself agreeing with the assessment. He had been carting the guilt around in a wheelbarrow, and it was time to be free of it.

He clapped his son on the shoulder, attempting a smile. "Let's find somewhere to sit, and I'll tell you how my life has changed in the past few months."

Giles headed down the street, looking for an uncrowded outdoor caf� or coffee shop. Now he was going to get some answers.

********

The Expresso Pump was sparsely populated on weekday mornings, even during the holidays, and Giles quickly found a corner booth that offered a view of the street with enough privacy to carry on a serious conversation. They ordered and made small talk until the waitress brought their drinks, then Cedrick gathered his courage and told his son that he'd been fired. His left hand, barren of jewelry, attested to Cedrick's tale as he cradled his coffee mug with both hands.

Predictably, Giles was livid. "How dare they insinuate that you allowed these things to happen? Even the old man himself couldn't keep Travers in line! And putting Connors, of all people, in your place! The very least they could have done is allow you to retire with dignity... and taking your ring... that was a blatant act of disrespect! If you ask me, this smacks of a conspiracy!"

"Now, Rupert, calm yourself. I've done enough ranting and raving for the both of us. I'm past that now."

"I don't see how you can be! This is your life we're talking about!"

"Yes, it is. My life. Not yours. I don't want you ruining your career trying to repair mine. I've been at the beck and call of the Council for most of my life. It's high time I retired and started relaxing a bit."

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not thrilled you're here, and that you finally have time to spend with us. I am, however, very concerned about the swiftness of all this. A few months ago, you were in charge of the surveillance on Marcus, and suddenly there is a... a stranger in charge of my son's future! It's all too conveniently out of our hands now, and I don't like it one bit. Someone wants my family out of action, and I shan't stand by and let it happen."

"You're absolutely right to be worried. I don't have much confidence in Connors. Call me old-fashioned, but this was always more than a nine-to-five job, in my opinion. That opinion seems to be one that Connors does not share." Cedrick looked down at his cup, ashamed that he'd let his opinion spill out. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, no, it's all right. From what I recall of the man, I quite agree with your assessment. And, if he poses any danger to Marcus I will have some... difficulty... keeping quiet."

Cedrick chuckled quietly at Rupert's understatement, sipping at his coffee for a minute before continuing. "I can't imagine him doing anything alarming, at the moment. He's going to have to select his new agents, put his new policies in place, rub elbows with the proper people to garner support. That should take him a while."

"I hope so. It's been a trying year. We need a bit of time off before the next apocalypse."

"True. So, Rupert..." Cedrick shifted slightly, as if the subject he was broaching was equally unpleasant as the previous one had been. "I seem to be at loose ends, at the moment. I haven't decided whether to return home..." he glanced up, trying to read his son's reaction. Giles' face was impassive. "...or to try and find a place here, close by, perhaps. I thought you might give your input on the matter."

Giles' broad grin surprised Cedrick. "Father! Of course you shall stay here! You may certainly stay with us as long as you wish. There's plenty of room."

"Oh, I shouldn't want to put you out. I have my own means, of course, and there is a stipend from the Council. The senior members wouldn't have it any other way. They're all seeing their own ousters approaching, I suppose."

"I know that, but you're most welcome, all the same. And, if you wish to find something to occupy yourself, I have excellent resources at school..."

Cedrick interrupted Giles' enthusiastic statement with another bemused chuckle.

"What is it?"

"You've become an American, Rupert. You said, 'School,' not, 'University.' It struck me as amusing."

Giles grinned sheepishly. "I suppose I've picked up a few Americanisms. Buffy may be the world's worst at butchering the language, but she manages to get her point across, nevertheless."

"Ah, well, there are certainly worse things than the occasional slang term."

"I suppose. Well, it's settled, then. You'll stay with us until you decide what you want to do."

There seemed to be nothing more to say. They sat in the sunshine and finished their drinks, each of them wondering how long the respite would last.

********

It was a pleasant afternoon, the sun warming the air until it was shirtsleeve comfortable. There was a slight breeze, causing a low hum of moving grass and leaves in the Giles' backyard. Cedrick was stretched out comfortably in a lounger on the deck, smiling and making occasional comments to his grandson as he played in the sandbox. The scene couldn't have been more idyllic.

Buffy watched through the sliding glass door, her face thoughtful as she digested what her husband had told her. She shifted on the couch, leaning against Giles' arm, saddened and angry. Cedrick, fired? No longer a Watcher? No longer their link to the Council... the assurance of their security? It was mind numbing.

"This Connors guy... you don't like him, do you?"

"I don't know him that well, but no. I don't particularly like him."

Buffy sat for a moment, watching as Marcus chatted happily with Cedrick. Her son was instinctively drawn to the man, and that was enough for her. Cedrick was a good guy. "So, how is he taking all this? He's probably depressed, right?"

"I don't know. He seems all right. Very matter-of-fact about things. But I'd imagine depression is there, below the surface."

"What can we do?" Buffy turned to look at Giles, compassion plain in her eyes. "We gotta do something."

"Very little we can do, at the moment," he said calmly. "Until he comes to us, that is. He's a proud man."

"Yeah. It runs in the fam, doesn't it?" She nudged him softly in the side, causing him to smile.

"It might, but living with someone who reads my mind has taken the edge off that."

A sudden idea struck her. He stopped her with a look before she could articulate it. "Now, Buffy, we're not going to push Bonding on him. He'll resist."

"I'm not saying 'push', I'm saying 'offer'. Let him know we'd be willing to. If, and when, he is. A burden shared..."

"... is a burden halved... yes, I know. It's actually a good idea. I just don't know if he'd go for it."

She watched the object of their discussion as he moved from the lounger to the edge of the sandbox, his face plainly showing his delight as he interacted with the tiny boy. "He needs us, whether he knows it or not. And I think we need him, too."

Giles' throat tightened as he thought about the lonely years without his father's presence. He silently agreed with her. "We'll make the offer, and leave it up to him."

********

"Gwanfadder?" The somewhat sandy child next to Cedrick had suddenly appeared at his elbow while he was lost in his musings.

"Hmm?"

"I can't heah you. How come?"

"What?"

Marcus pointed to the older man's forehead, touching him lightly. "How come I can't heah you? I can heah Mummy and Daddy, and Wih-dow and Fadder Denny." He gave a sorrowful sigh. "You don't tawk to me."

Cedrick looked at the boy with dismay. "I don't know, Marcus. Perhaps I'm not as powerful as your parents and your friends."

"Do you want to tawk to me?"

Cedrick thought seriously about the question. Did he really want his grandson, also his son and daughter-in-law, by default, listening to his thoughts? Said thoughts were bleak, dark, self-deprecating and horrid. Yet, dwelling on the past wasn't going to get his job - or his life - back for him. The idea of sharing minds with this precious child was a tantalizing dream.

"Yes, I would like to talk with you. Perhaps I will learn how while I am here."

"Otay. I show you."

"Thank you, but not now." For some reason, he wasn't ready for that kind of unadulterated sharing.

"Otay, Gwanfadder." Marcus seemed to understand, and he smiled fleetingly before ambling back to the sandy superhighway he'd constructed for his trucks. Cedrick relaxed carefully, surprised at his intense reaction. His shoulders positively ached. He concentrated on relaxing the overtaxed muscles, working his way from his neck to his fingers, then down his back to his toes. The tension flowed away slowly, and he let out a sigh of relief.

The sound of the sliding glass door broke his reverie, and he almost tensed up again. Forcing himself out of alert mode, he smiled up at the young woman approaching him with a full glass of... something.

"Hi, there, Grandpa. Rupert thought you might like a cool drink. All we have at the moment is herbed tea, but it isn't too awful."

"I'm sure it's fine, my dear. I was getting a bit thirsty. Thank you." He took the proffered glass and sipped carefully. "It's delightful. I shall enjoy it." He took another sip, and smiled at the unusual, but pleasant taste.

He noticed, after a few seconds, that Buffy was still standing beside him, shifting her feet nervously. "Buffy, did you want to say something else?"

She nodded and plopped down in front of him on the deck steps, resting against the rail. "Yeah, I do, but I don't know exactly how to say it, so I'm stalling until I have a flash of inspiration from above."

After staring at her briefly, he began to laugh, surprising them both. She joined him hesitantly, and Marcus crowed happily from his sandbox. When the chuckling was over, Cedrick said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, my dear. I don't mean to be rude, but I don't often hear that particular turn of phrase."

"No, it's cool. I was trying to make with the funny, so the laughing was much appreciated."

He chuckled again. "Good. I shouldn't want you to be uncomfortable around me."

"Same here." She shifted slightly towards him. "Y'know, I can't hear your echo very well, even this close. That's different."

Cedrick dropped his gaze. "So Marcus said. It seemed to disturb him."

"He noticed?" Buffy said incredulously. "He's growing up waaaay to fast!"

"He's remarkable," Cedrick agreed sincerely.

"About the missing echo... is that deliberate?"

That was the question, wasn't it? The moment he exited the Watcher's Compound, the fragile mental connection seemed to wither away. Had he become so disillusioned that his inner strength, the Bond that had enabled him to fight back from a mental institution to become head of Council Security, been silenced? And more worrisome still... was it a permanent affliction?

"It isn't deliberate, Buffy. I don't know what has caused it to subside. I haven't felt this... hollow... since before..."

"...before Leila died?" she finished for him, gently.

"Yes." The word was almost a groan.

"I'm so sorry... the job thing... it's another loss, just like Leila, and maybe you're going through the same reactions. Not that I'm any expert, but..." She gestured helplessly, unable to continue.

He smiled at her sincere effort to reassure him. "You may be right."

"Well, what I'm working around to saying is, we're here for you, if you want to try and get it back. To... um... try to reconnect with us. "

Cedrick nodded. "Marcus has said the same thing, in his own way."

"He did? Sheesh! Upstaged by my own kid!"

Sensing her attention shifting to focus on him, Marcus looked up and laughed. "Mummy's funny!" he declared.

"Mummy's a laugh riot, if you two are any indication. C'mere, kiddo, and let me wash you up for dinner. You're all sandy."

Marcus scrambled to his feet, clutching as many toys as he could handle, and marched up the steps to his beaming mother. "I need to wash de twucks, Mummy, 'cause dey comin' inside wif me."

She rolled her eyes, but helped him with his burden, and they entered the house with Cedrick only a few steps behind.

As soon as the door closed and the occupants of the house were out of sight, a bulbous-nosed gray face peered out from the hedge.

"What do you think of the new Watcher, Gerard?" he hissed as the leaves rustled beside him.

A blue face popped into view, and the multi-faceted eyes sparkled with humor. "He's not a Watcher anymore, and he's a Giles, so I'm banking on him being on our side."

"Maybe sssso," Mad agreed reluctantly. "I jusssst hope he'ssss not bad newssss."

"Me, too, buddy. They've had enough excitement for a while."

Mad rubbed his head, remembering the beating it took when they were trying to defend the Watcher in their last adventure. "Yeah... and sssso have I!"

* * * * * That evening Cedrick leaned back from the table and sighed happily. "Buffy, you and Rupert make an excellent culinary team. That was wonderful."

Buffy flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. I was wondering if you would like plain old American food."

"I seem to like it very much. I'm entirely too full."

Giles grinned at his father and arose to help Buffy gather plates. Marcus climbed down from his highchair and, after accepting a few swipes with a washcloth from his mother, dashed into the living room. Not knowing exactly what to do, Cedrick followed the child and sat on the sofa to watch him play.

He never tired of watching Marcus' imagination unfolding. If there was any doubt in his mind about the uniqueness of his grandson, the first few moments spent with him erased it completely. At a year and a half, Marcus could surpass most kindergarten age children in verbal skills and physical coordination. He wasn't quite reading as yet, but he was well on his way, and he had curiosity to motivate him in his learning.

The most amazing thing was his completely selfless attitude. Cedrick thought about how Rupert had fought with other boys over toys, bicycles, and various other possessions. Sometimes they just fought over who would choose the next game. Marcus seemed to have a strong sense of community, and he was more than willing to share what he had with anyone around him. He strove to bring harmony instead of discord.

********

The next few days passed as the ex-Watcher slowly began to regain his equilibrium. He shopped with Rupert, amazed at his son's ability to remember what everyone had wished for during the year. He met Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and his Slayer, Faith, and recognized the beginnings of the Bond's closeness in them. He found a certain satisfaction in that, knowing that he'd been a part of bringing the precious connection back into the mainstream of Council approval. He even coaxed Rupert into playing a couple of rounds of golf. They hadn't played since before Cedrick lost his Slayer, and it brought back so many bittersweet memories they were both hard pressed to keep from becoming lost in emotion.

Due to everyone's busy holiday schedules, Buffy decided to have the gang over that Saturday afternoon. They'd planned to make an outdoor barbecue of it, but the weather refused to cooperate, clouding up early in the morning and spreading a slightly chilly rain over the entire California coast. Giles improvised by moving the grill to the garage and leaving the large door open. He had just finished lighting the coals when Willow and Armstrong arrived, ignoring the front door in favor of the garage's more straightforward access.

"Hey, Giles! You shouldn't leave the garage door up! No telling what kind of people will walk in!" Willow cried cheerfully as they shook out their umbrellas at the threshold.

"Hello, Willow... Armstrong... come inside and warm up a bit."

"Please, Mister Giles, after all we've been through, call me Bill," the young Watcher said earnestly.

"Only if you'll stop calling me Mister Giles, young man. It makes me feel quite ancient."

Armstrong laughed shortly, then nodded. "All right... Giles."

Willow stifled a laugh, but Giles smiled happily. "Much better."

"Before I forget... Merry Christmas, Giles," Willow bestowed a loving kiss on his cheek. He grinned, blushing slightly despite the warmth of his feelings towards her, and repeated her holiday greeting. He clapped Armstrong on the shoulder in comradely fashion, and led them both into the kitchen where Buffy was busily preparing herbed corn on the cob. Cedrick was nowhere in sight.

Willow was about to ask about him when Joyce and Wilton bustled in, and of course everything stopped as Marcus noisily greeted his grandparents. Before she could get her bearings, Buffy was grabbed from behind by someone who proceeded to spin her around and plant a noisy kiss on her lips before she could protest. As she glared at Xander in mock anger, he pointed up to the doorway at a hastily hung sprig of mistletoe and said quickly, "Look! The mistletoe was already there! I was just keeping with tradition!"

Anya marched up right behind him and snapped, "Xander is off limits to other women, Buffy, married or otherwise. Don't forget that."

"Buffy gets one kiss from all the men, Anya," Willow reasoned. "It's her house and her party. That's the rule."

Anya didn't like that at all. "Your man hasn't kissed Buffy, and he was here before we were."

Willow, with admirable dignity, declared, "Bill can kiss anyone he wants to, as long as it's just one kiss, and it doesn't last very long. Oh, and no tongue. And he goes home with me! And also besides, I already gave Giles a kiss."

Everyone smiled, but Anya's frown grew even deeper. "That doesn't seem fair. If Buffy gets a kiss from all the men, then Giles should get a kiss from all the women." Suddenly, she brightened and disappeared down the hall.

"Uh oh," Willow gulped. "I think that backfired... poor Giles..."

Buffy started giggling, which turned to a loud guffaw as she heard a mental yelp of surprise and pain from her husband. Anya had attacked him as he was leaning over the grill. Buffy collapsed into fits of mirth at his subvocal cursing. "It's too late, Will!" Buffy gasped, holding her sides. "He's already been nailed!"

"Oh, no... Buffy, he's gonna kill me!"

"Relax, Will... he'll get over it. At least he was wearing an apron."

"Oh, that's good... oh, God, you don't mean... the grill... oh, my God!" Willow ducked into the downstairs bathroom, horrified. Buffy, still giggling, went to see if her poor husband needed any burn ointment.

It took the rest of them several minutes to calm down. They had just started on the corn again when Anya strolled back into the room, smirking wickedly. She curled her fingers into Xander's hand and gave him an affectionate squeeze. "Now. We're even."

It was into this laughing crowd that Cedrick descended, and he seriously considered turning around and going back to his room. They were all so... excruciatingly happy. He wasn't sure he could muster that much bonhomie.

Willow spotted him before he could disappear, and waved happily. "Oh, hey, Mister Giles! Merry Christmas!" She beamed as he took a deep breath and came on down, almost gasping at the thick blanket of positive emotions that covered the room. 'At least that part of the Bond is still functioning,' he thought with a mental snort. It was somewhat ironic. Negative emotions had knocked his psychic ability for six, and he wasn't quite ready for the 'happily ever after' mentality that seemed to mark Buffy's friends and family.

He slowly became aware that Willow was speaking, and he forced himself to pay attention to her.

"I hope you don't mind, but we got you a little something to put under the tree. It's nothing big, but you still can't open it until Christmas Eve, okay?"

"A present?" He was stunned. Why would they be giving him presents? They barely knew him.

Willow blushed slightly, but took a deep breath and continued. "It's kind of a Scooby Gang tradition, see, that everybody gets together and opens a present on Christmas Eve. So... now you have at least one to open then, and you can do the rest the next morning with Buffy, Giles and Marcus." She giggled and leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, "I always have to sneak out. My dad thinks celebrating Christmas is anti-Jewish."

"Ah, well..." Cedrick shrugged, not knowing how to comment on that. Buffy's voice floated in from the kitchen, beckoning him, and he escaped Willow's presence with a brief apology. He turned into the small room and was immediately handed a tray covered with aluminum foil wrapped cylinders.

"Could you take the corn to Gi... Rupert?" She amended with a smile.

He took the tray and smiled back, arching an eyebrow at her amended sentence. "Certainly. If there's anything else I can do to help, please allow me."

"I will. You're family, which means you get stuck with the chores, just like the rest of us."

After delivering the tray to its intended destination, he stayed around the grill, listening to Giles and his younger friends converse with the ease of familiarity. He saw the genuine affection that passed between them, amazed that even William Armstrong seemed to be a part of the closely-knit group. He watched as it became obvious that Buffy's friend Willow exhibited a strong affection for the young Watcher that he'd sent to look after his grandson. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or worried.

The afternoon swirled around him like a storm around an outcropping of rock. He reacted appropriately, smiling, talking, even chuckling a few times at one silliness or another. Slowly, as the day wore on, Cedrick Giles began to enjoy himself. The people Rupert surrounded himself with were genuine, warm, and accepting. It was hard to believe that this noisy crowd contained a core group that had closed the Hellmouth, fought demons and warlocks bent on their destruction, and saved Humanity time and again from the terrors of the night.

They were all so... excruciatingly normal.

The evening ended with a visit from Faith and Wyndam-Pryce, fresh from their patrol. They chatted and discussed the demon of the week, with the two Slayers trading war stories until his head was spinning. As normal as these people appeared, they were on the forefront of the battle against Evil, and it wouldn't do to forget that fact. Not for a moment.

Marcus drifted off to sleep in Willow's lap while they were talking, and Giles carried him up to his crib as their friends began to say their goodbyes. Buffy's mother and stepfather were the last to leave. Joyce had stayed behind for the last of the cleanup detail, leaving Cedrick, Rupert, and Wilton in the living room to visit. Whether that was deliberate or not, Cedrick didn't know. He quickly took a liking to Wilton Bernard, and the three men found themselves discussing the latest exhibition of artifacts from a recent University-sponsored dig in Macedonia.

"You say the exhibit will be in town until just after Christmas, Wilton?" Cedrick leaned forward, his enthusiasm for the subject causing Giles to smile.

"Yes, you should come down and examine some of the rune stones. We've picked out three separate languages, and it's been a fascinating study. Nothing prophetic, of course, or we would still have them under lock and key. Still, I've learned more about the buying and selling of sheep than I ever wanted to know."

They all chuckled, then looked up as the ladies entered the room with a tray of steaming mugs.

"Coffee or tea, take your pick, guys," Buffy announced, as she placed the tray in front of them on the coffee table.

The instant they were all equipped with mugs in hand, Buffy said innocently, "So, did you tell him about the party?"

Giles and Wilton froze, cups halfway to their mouths.

"I guess that's a no," she surmised with a wry grin. "What is it with guys and details, Mom? They always forget something."

"Don't know, dear, I think it's all that testosterone."

The two accused men looked down guiltily, and Giles managed to say, "I'm sorry, love, we were discussing the exhibition, and forgot about the party."

Cedrick sighed deeply. "I take it this party is supposed to be of some interest to me?" He was already figuring out that his son and daughter-in-law were not going to allow him to wallow in his despair, at least, not without a fight. "And, that it has something to do with the University?"

Wilton grinned and nodded. "We have the Mythology and Antiquity Department's joint Faculty and Family get-together next Friday night. We were supposed to invite you to join us. Rupert has only been once, but it wasn't too awful, was it, Rupert?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I enjoyed getting to know the others. Buffy was a bit bored, I'm afraid."

"Not too bad," Buffy inserted quickly. "I did meet some really nice people who were into aerobics."

Giles chuckled. "As you say. Well, Father, what do you think? They're not as entertaining as Xander and Willow..."

"...but you might actually have fun," Buffy finished, looking at him expectantly.

Cedrick felt overwhelmed for a few seconds, then he realized what his son was trying to do. He found the only group of people in the area that could possibly have anything in common with his Watcher-trained father, and was willing to put up with an extremely trying evening to allow said father to be with that group of people. Even Buffy seemed eager for him to go.

Despite the fact that he didn't feel like going to a party, he decided it couldn't hurt to humor them. "It sounds very interesting."

"Good. We're taking that as a yes, by the way," Buffy said seriously.

"It was. Yes, I will go to your Faculty party. Perhaps I'll get a glimpse of your exhibit, as well."

Wilton smiled easily and nodded. "I'll see that you get the grand tour, Cedrick." He stood, holding out his hand. "It's been a pleasure, but I think we should be getting home."

Joyce rose with her husband and gave Buffy a hug and kiss. She brushed Giles' cheek with her lips, then they gathered their empty dishes and left.

Buffy glanced around the kitchen, smiling. "Nothing much left to do in here, thank God. I love having Mom over for a party. She's a clean-up wizard."

"She certainly is. Were you taking notes?" Giles ducked as a damp washcloth missed his head by a few inches.

Cedrick sat in the living room, listening to his children banter back and forth. He was suddenly very tired, feeling old and useless, and he hauled himself to his feet and announced, "I think I shall retire, Rupert... Buffy... if you don't mind."

Giles came out of the kitchen, looking concerned. "Is everything all right, Father?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm adjusting to the time change, that's all."

"If you're sure."

He smiled and nodded, then made his way upstairs. Passing Marcus' room, he couldn't resist peaking in on the tiny boy. Marcus was sleeping soundly, his breathing even in the quiet room. Cedrick watched for several moments, a ghost of a true smile on his face, then he headed for his own room. As he prepared for bed, he found himself keenly envying his grandson for the oblivion of innocent sleep.

As each day passed, Cedrick Giles felt himself beginning to come to terms with his new life. Despite his own stubborn adherence to his despair, he was responding to his family's concern and love. He wondered, briefly, before settling in to sleep, if he would ever be truly whole again. Finally, he drifted away, the Bond remaining quiet within him.

The next morning when he came downstairs, he was surprised to find Buffy and Giles awake and dressed. The smell of something wonderful cooking assailed his nostrils, causing him to smile. Giles was setting the table, and Buffy was bustling about, bringing food from the kitchen.

"Good morning. You're both up early." He squatted to accept an enthusiastic hug from Marcus, then straightened with the boy in his arms.

"We goin' to chu'ch, Gwanfadder!"

He looked up at Buffy and Giles, surprised. "You attend services regularly?"

Buffy started to answer, but an electronic ding from the kitchen took her attention. "I have cinnamon rolls in the oven. Be right back!"

Giles answered for her. "Yes, we do. We've become respectable."

Cedrick chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "You've always been respectable, Son."

"Not always," Giles said ruefully, thinking about his rebellious years. That was something his father knew very little about, since they occurred while Cedrick was in the Council sponsored mental institution.

Cedrick let the matter drop, knowing his son was uncomfortable discussing their years apart.

"Would you like to go with us, Father? The service begins at eleven."

"Yes, I think I need some spiritual guidance," Cedrick said lightly, letting Marcus down.

"Don't we all?" Buffy quipped as she came back into the room with a pan full of fragrant rolls. "Now, let's eat this stuff before it gets all cold."

After mass, the four of them paused at the church doorway to speak to Father Denning. Marcus greeted the cleric enthusiastically, and Cedrick could see how comfortable his family was with the priest. Denning recognized Cedrick from Marcus' christening, and smiled broadly as they shook hands. "Mr. Giles, it's a pleasure to see you again, and under much more pleasant circumstances. I hope you don't think we have demonic intrusions on all our services."

"Judging by how you handled the one I witnessed, I doubt you have much repeat business."

Denning smiled broadly. "Thank you, but it wasn't anything I did. Our God commands the universe... a little thing like a wayward wizard is no trouble for Him."

Cedrick's mind flashed back to those frantic days when he was trying to contain Quentin Travers and his malevolent evil. He could have certainly used a fellow like this one at his side.

"Amen to that, Father," he said with feeling.

Father Denning sensed a deep sorrow in Cedrick, and his heart immediately went out to the man. "Please, if you feel like visiting, come by some time. I'm either here, in the office, or on the grounds, all day."

Cedrick felt a spark of kinship with this sturdy, religious man. The feeling surprised him and brought his natural suspicious nature to the fore. "Perhaps I will, one day," he said evasively, then changed the subject. "I understand Marcus will be attending school here, at least, when he is old enough."

"Rupert and I have discussed it, and we're looking forward to having him here. I'm sure his special gifts won't surprise our faculty too much. Living on the mouth of Hell has somewhat tempered our reactions to the unusual."

It occurred to Cedrick that this priest knew his son's family very well. This man lived in Sunnydale. He obviously knew of their calling, and was accepting of it. Cedrick's curiosity about Father Denning was piqued, and he resolved to make good on his promise to visit, if for no other reason than to pick the man's brain about his knowledge of the Slayer.

After a relaxed lunch at a local restaurant, the Giles' family returned home. Marcus was asleep before they got home, so Giles took him upstairs to put him down, hoping to take a nap himself. That left Buffy and Cedrick alone downstairs.

They looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment, then Buffy sighed and said, "Cedrick? Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He sat down on the couch, curious, as his daughter-in-law joined him, looking a bit hesitant. He smiled at her reassuringly. "Of course, Buffy. Please, go ahead."

"Why weren't you there when we first went to England and met with the Council?" At his blank look, she added, "When we were trying to get them to let us retire."

"Ah." He nodded, the slight movement almost imperceptible. He was silent for a minute, then replied, "It was the Director's opinion that my presence would exacerbate the situation. He wasn't entirely sure the vote would be favorable, or that I could remain neutral while the decision was being made. So, I stayed away."

"But you didn't really want to, did you?"

He sighed heavily. "No. I didn't really want to."

"I just wonder... but it's not important, now."

He leaned forward slightly. She always had the ability to surprise him, and he wasn't going to allow her to hide her thoughts after all they'd been through. "What do you wonder, my dear?"

"I wonder if things might have been different if you had been there. The interrogation, the vampires, David Post..." Cedrick winced, but she continued stubbornly, "...the traitor Watchers plotting to take over... there was just a lot of things that might have gone better if you had been there, looking out for things."

It was an honest statement, although blunt. It deserved equal honesty. "Perhaps it would have been better. Perhaps not. I don't know. I spent years trying to defend my sanity and regain my position in the Council. Once that was achieved, I was so relieved that I... well, for lack of better words, I bowed to whatever dictates the Director demanded. I never questioned them, never refused or questioned an order, no matter how difficult or... personally distasteful it was."

"I guess I can understand that," Buffy acknowledged with a small smile. "Giles... Rupert was the same way for a long time."

His eyebrows went up at her use of the surname, but he said nothing. She was his son's wife, and she could call him anything she wished. He'd noticed she called him 'Giles' when talking to her friends...

"Some time I'll explain the 'Giles' thing to you," she promised. "But, back to the story... He was totally devastated by the Council's refusal of our request... it was like they'd cut his heart out. He lived his whole life, with the exception of the 'Ripper years', being the best Watcher he could be, and they shot him down without hesitation. I just wanted to fly over there and kick some tweed-covered butt!" Her eyes flashed angrily. "It's probably lucky you weren't there. If you'd been in on it, I would've kicked yours, too, future father-in-law or not!"

Cedrick laughed shortly, his mind playing the image of the tiny blonde thrashing the three-hundred-pound Chairman thoroughly and knocking the entire Ruling Council about like ten pins. In the next instant, Buffy's declaration jolted his mind. He'd actually been a bit worried about his son's marriage to this youthful, undisciplined slip of a girl. Every Slayer he'd ever met had been so very young. Even Leila had been willful, selfish, and in desperate need of a guiding hand. To his Watcher's mind, a Slayer was a child with a supernatural gift, one that had to be restrained, trained, and redirected into proper channels.

This young lady sitting next to him was nothing like that. She was self-disciplined without being stiff and cold, powerful without being intimidating, and thoroughly loving and warm to her family. She was a complete person, not an icon or an instrument. She was his daughter by marriage, and she loved his son and grandson with fierce loyalty. Her understanding of Rupert's psyche was much deeper than his own, brought about by time and the effort to learn what was important in his life.

"At the time, I deserved a good kicking, Buffy," he acknowledged sorrowfully. "But I've gotten past that."

She smiled warmly and reached over to grasp his hand. "I know. One thing about sharing the Bond, however briefly... I knew you were a good man. You still are. And I'm awfully glad you're here, for Rupert. For all of us."

Unexpected tears sprang into the corners of his eyes. "Thank you, my dear. What a lovely thing to say."

She surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. "I meant it. You probably don't think so, but there's a reason you're here, now, without all the Watcher baggage dragging you down. It may take a while, but we'll find out just what that reason is. One thing I've learned about being a soldier of the Light... God never gets in a hurry, but he's always right on time with stuff."

'She never ceases to amaze me,' he thought proudly, squeezing her hand in gratitude.

"And now, I'm gonna go disturb my husband's nap," she said playfully, gracefully rising to her feet.

Cedrick stood with her, smiling. "Go ahead. I think I shall find something to read." He glanced around the book-lined room with a wry grin. "I believe I can find something to occupy me down here."

"Cool."

Buffy bounced up the steps, relieved that her talk with Cedrick had gone so well. She sent a mental warning to Giles as she approached, telling him of her happy mood, and warning him that there would be smoochies involved when she got there.

Giles grinned at her loving mood and bent to take off his shoes. 'There goes my nap,' he thought, teasingly.

She came in the door just as he was straightening. "Oh, you'll get your nap, babe," she promised as she reached up to help him with his tie. "You're gonna sleep real well after I get through with you."

********

All his life had been books. Textbooks, law books, treatises on demonic possession, books about witchcraft and wizardry, books about Heaven and Hell. Cedrick stared at the rows of books in the living room, wondering if Rupert actually had a title that he hadn't read before. So far, everything he'd looked at was crushingly familiar. He turned away from the shelved, disillusioned and weary.

His eyes fell on the neatly stacked pages on Giles' desk. That looked interesting. If it was personal, he'd immediately put it down and go on to something else. He scanned the first page, his interest further captured as he realized what the sheaf of papers represented.

Rupert had been working on the Prophecies of Enosh, the section about the male Chosen One and his part in the Apocalypse. He had the entire section printed out, from scans of the originals, most likely. There were other pages, scanned from other translations, as well as a religious document that Rupert himself had worked on when he was at the Museum.

Cedrick had transmitted Cho-je's translation to Bill as soon as the Director had given it to him. In doing his duty, he'd failed to give the documents a thorough going over himself, intent as he was to complete his task. The Director had placed the verses under lock and key the moment the scans were complete, not giving Cedrick the chance to study them. He decided to remedy that oversight immediately. He sat down at the desk, withdrawing a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, and began.

After just a few minutes' reading, he realized something. The verses that directly preceded this section were missing. He stopped in his perusal, puzzled, then realized why Rupert wasn't privy to that information. It was the practice of the Council to restrict the current Watcher from seeing the verses that seemed to refer to the current Slayer. It was believed that the descriptions of the Slayer's demise would demoralize the Watcher, rendering him unable to continue his role as leader and teacher. Up until now, he'd agreed wholeheartedly. If he had known how swiftly Leila was going to die, he'd have been paralyzed with grief.

After a quick scan of the documents in front of him, he rose and began to pace, frowning. Something in those previous verses stood out in his memory. The manner of the Slayer's death was recorded. What was it, now... drowning? He wished fervently for access to the Council Archives. He wanted to check his memory, but he felt sure that the verses he'd read indicated the Slayer would drown in her attempt to block the Master's arrival.

A sudden shock caused him to pause in his pacing.

Buffy had drowned once already. Young Xander had revived her. The Master had already been destroyed. That was all very old news.

If he was right, then Buffy's death was NOT in the Prophecies.

"Oh, dear God..." he said aloud, his voice shaky.

If Buffy's true death was not recorded in the Prophecies, then there was no reason to seal them. There was no reason to restrict Rupert's access to them, and there just might be something in them to help sort through the maze of ancient words and meanings.

And Cedrick's heart leaped inside his chest. He'd just found a new purpose in life.

He reached for his wallet, digging out a plastic phone card. He studied the instructions carefully, not wanting to charge an expensive overseas call to his son's number. When he was satisfied that he understood the process, he returned to the desk and lifted the handset. Within a minute, he was connecting to the new Director's secretary, hoping that he would still be allowed access to the man without question.

When the sharp-edged voice of the Director reached his ears, Cedrick Giles smiled, the first genuinely happy smile since his credibility had first been called into question.

"Director, thank you for taking my call. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

He paused, listening for a moment. "It involves the Prophecy. I shan't keep you long."

The long-distance conversation continued for several minutes, and by the time Cedrick broke the connection, he was ecstatic. The Director had agreed with his assessment, and promised to verify the facts from Rupert's Watcher Diaries as soon as possible. If it appeared that Buffy was exempt from the Prophecy, then there would be no reason to keep it from him. They would transmit the verses immediately once they were certain.

Cedrick opened the sliding glass door and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. He strode to the railing of the deck and rested his hands on it, breathing deeply.

Somewhere, deep inside him, the Bond stirred, and suddenly his life was his once again.

* * *