( RIPOSTE ][ A Watchergirls Archive )

__The Ceremony__
By Jolene Beasley

"Buffy... where is Marcus’ gown?"

"I thought you had it!"

"If I had it, I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!"

"Oh, sweetie baby, you’re wet again? You must’ve inherited your daddy’s tiny bladder..."

"Ha bloody ha. Xander, help me find the wretched gown, would you? We’ve got just over three hours to go!" Giles charged down the stairs and into the kitchen, calling out his request over his son’s plaintive wails as he passed. He continued to himself as the door began to close, "We’ve got to drive all the way to bloody Encinada..." The door closed, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

Xander raised his voice so Giles could hear him in the kitchen. "I’m scared to leave the living room, Giles. It’s like World War Three in this house!"

Buffy appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a diapered, but otherwise unclothed Marcus. He had stopped his screaming and was merely whimpering, tiny tears trickling down his face. "Xand, the stupid robe never left the downstairs, I’m sure of it. It just didn’t grow legs and walk away... uh, well, at least I don’t think it did... around here, ya never know. Oh, Marcus, honey... don’t cry again..."

She placed her fussy son against her shoulder and patted his back soothingly. "Shhh, shhh... Marcus, you’re supposed to be a happy baby... what happened to my happy baby?"

Xander straightened from where he was turning the couch cushions over, and sniped, "He’s feelin’ the love in this house, I bet."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at Xander before heading back to change her soggy child. In the kitchen, Giles suddenly shouted, "AH HAH! Found you!" He entered the living room at a near gallop, waving the carefully wrapped package in his hand. He bounded up the stairs, leaving Xander caught between a groan and a laugh.

"Only Giles and Buffy could go this bananas about a christening." Xander punched the cushions back into place and sank gratefully down, trying not to wrinkle his dress shirt too badly. The doorbell rang just as he got comfortable, and Giles’ harried voice floated down from above. "Xander, could you get the door, please? There’s a good lad."

Xander muttered under his breath as he lurched to his feet and trudged to the front door. "...Xander, find this! Xander, carry that! Xander, where’s the wet wipes? Xander, get the door... Oh, hi Will! Gee, you look great! C’mon in!"

His best friend grinned as his face went from sullen to friendly, and back again. She patted Xander’s arm in sympathy. "What’s the matter, Xand? Trouble in the Castle of Love?"

He smirked as they went back and sat on the couch. "They’re going nutso. Certifiably, commitably nutso. It’s been ‘backstage at "A Chorus Line"’ since I got here... clothes flying, people yelling, Marcus crying..."

Willow listened for a minute. "He’s not crying now."

"He’s recharging. Just you wait."

"I don’t think I’ve ever heard him cry. Well, whimper a little, maybe, when he needs changing. He’s such a happy baby."

Xander shook his head sagely. "You haven’t been here for the last hour... he’s developed some serious lung capacity in three months. I’m surprised they haven’t called 911 from the Quick Mart a block over."

"He’s probably reacting to Buffy and Giles being all nervous and excited."

"Yeah. This is a big deal, and they’re kinda worried that the Council might still try to mess with them."

"I bet those ol’ Council baddies won’t even come near Sunnydale after the beating they got last time!"

********

"I thought surely you’d have more sense than to check us in here!" The prim British voice hissed at his companion. They sat across from one another in the small restaurant attached to the Sunset Inn. "I never wanted to lay eyes on this miserable establishment again!"

The second man shrugged. "It’s the only game in town, Quentin, dear boy. I know how Ripper thinks. He’d never look for you here. It would be too obvious."

"You assume a great deal, Mr. Rayne... and I’m not your dear boy."

Ethan spread his hands widely in surrender. "Certainly, Mr. Travers, sir. You, of course, are the man in charge here. I am merely the one who knows Ripper better than you ever will. I know how he thinks, I know what aftershave he prefers... I can tell you what he likes to wear to bed at night, if you wish."

Quentin Travers’ face screwed up in disgust as he eyed his accomplice. "I don’t care how the man thinks. I don’t care if you were fourth form chums. I don’t care if you were shagging each others’ brains out in London. I don’t care about your opinion. I only want the child. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal, Mr. Travers. Now, can we get down to business? I have no love for Sunnydale, and the sooner I’m away, the better."

Travers leaned closer, moving his cup of over-boiled coffee to the side. "Now... here’s my plan..."

When the two had finished their discussion, Travers paid their bill, leaving a minimal tip. Ethan watched with thinly veiled amusement as Travers struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. They nodded curtly at each other and left, going in opposite directions.

From the booth behind them, a neatly dressed young man rose to his feet. He thanked the waitress warmly, pressing a five dollar bill into her hand. He left the restaurant, a frown of concentration on his face.

When he got into his modest car, he reached for his cell phone, dialing a familiar number. "Hello? Who is this? Xander? It’s Doctor Phil. Is Rupert there? I need to talk to him, now!"

********

Cedrick Giles watched the laptop’s monitor with delight. The tracking device was working perfectly. So far, they’d been able to apprehend seven more conspirators by allowing Quentin Travers to ‘escape.’ He was amazed that the man hadn’t realized it was a set-up, what with his injury making him surpassingly clumsy. Still, Travers, stubborn, blinded by hate and misplaced zeal, had taken the bait, and Cedrick was itching to reel the traitor in.

He didn’t approve of the Director’s plan to endanger his son’s family all over again, but despite his protests, the Director had spoken. As soon as Cedrick knew he’d been overruled, he set about to make sure that the plan was executed perfectly. He might not be able to stop Travers from coming back to Sunnydale, but he intended to make sure this was the last time.

He picked up his telephone and carefully dialed an unlisted overseas number. After the connection was finally made, he said tersely, "Giles here. Let me speak to the Director." He waited a moment more, then continued, "Director? He’s in Sunnydale at this very moment. It worked perfectly. Such a clever idea, using the Internet to transmit the bounder’s coordinates. Yes, sir, my little conversation with Willow Rosenberg certainly sparked some interesting innovations. I’m in the vicinity now. He’s been contacted by his current ally... Ethan Rayne. I hope we can clear this up before Rupert sees just who Quentin’s brought into the game."

He listened carefully, making cryptic notes in an obscure, dead language. "Yes, you guessed correctly, sir." He chuckled into the telephone. "Yes, I do remember our wager... I owe you a pint. The ceremony? It’s today at one. I’m merely a few blocks away at the moment. No, I haven’t told Rupert. I won’t let anything happen to my son’s family, sir. They’re not just Destiny to me... they’re family. Yes, thank you, I will." He hung up carefully and shut down the laptop, returning it to its case. There was just enough time to scour the town for a decent brunch. Then he had a christening to attend. He suspected that Travers would make his move then. The man had always been overly dramatic, and he loved an audience.

Cedrick left the hotel room, unaware that he himself was being observed. From inside a large trash can set just outside the door, a wizened, bewhiskered face appeared. The elf climbed out, dusting his leather pants and vest off, and strolled slowly behind the neatly dressed Englishman. Elf hearing assured that he’d caught every word spoken in the small room.

The small creature found a pay phone, pulling himself up with one hand until he could reach the dialing buttons. When the other telephone rang, an operator intoned, "Collect call from a Mr. Zehdlaf... will you accept the charges?"

Rousing a sleeping vampire in mid morning was never a quick process. After receiving groggily issued permission to reverse the charges, the operator made the connection and rang off. Zehdlaf waited patiently until Angel woke up enough to say, "yes? What did you find out?"

"Hey, boss, gotta hurry, my target’s getting away. I know I was supposed to watch the bad guys, but guess what? The diapers are about to hit the fan!"

********

Buffy finally got the diaper bag loaded. Marcus was in his playpen, swatting at the musical fish mobile and cooing as the music started each time he connected. She watched him for a few seconds, smiling, then went back to her last minute inventory. "Bottle, gown, change of clothes, extra diapers, Wet Wipes, pacifier, blanket, burp rags, oh, no, where’s his rattle toy? Here it is... Oh, God, we’re never gonna get through this..."

Giles came into the bedroom, a bit more relaxed now that he was dressed and his son’s christening gown was safely tucked away. "Buffy, we need to go. Your Mother wants us all there for pictures... I haven’t the first idea why."

"Because she’s a mom, Giles, and mom’s take lots of pictures of their babies, and their baby’s babies. Right, Marcus? Are you gonna smile for Grandma? Yes, you are..." She reached over and picked up the clean, sweet smelling infant, smiling as he responded to her familiar face. Marcus had developed a surprising range of sounds in the last few weeks, and he shrieked with delight as Buffy held him high and nuzzled his tummy.

The telephone rang just then, but before Giles could dash into the master bedroom to answer it, Xander called from the living room, "I got it!"

Buffy turned and looked at Giles for the first time since he’d gotten dressed. "Oooo... for an old married guy, you sure do look yummy."

"Thank you. For an old married girl, you look spectacular. Um, I’ve got the bag, love, and everyone’s downstairs waiting. Do you need a moment before we go?" He felt her uncertainty through the Bond. She was worried, and it was affecting both him and their son. Giles didn’t think she was being silly, however. He himself had a certain sense of foreboding every time they left the protective shell of their home. There were still malcontents from the Council that were convinced Buffy, Giles and Marcus were going to personally bring about the Apocalypse.

She crossed the room and gave her concerned spouse a gentle kiss. "No, babe, I’m fine. Let’s go."

Just then, Xander yelled from the bottom of the stairs, "Giles! Phone! Doctor Phil wants to talk to ya!"

********

The trip to Joyce and Wilton’s Encinada home took about thirty-five minutes... slightly longer than it should have, since the driver was a cautious Rupert Giles. He’d never been a careless driver, and he’d become even more deliberately cautious since Marcus was born. Buffy and the others teased him about it, but they all knew he took his responsibility seriously when it came to his child’s safety. The Giles’ new minivan was equipped with baby seats and all kinds of safety features. His young friends might laugh at him, but they depended on his protective nature more than they realized.

In the back, Willow and Xander talked, playing with Marcus until he fell asleep. Buffy and Giles kept their conversation nonverbal, since it mainly consisted of possible scenarios with Quentin Travers. They weren’t ready just yet to tell their friends that trouble had arrived... once again.

The phone call from Doctor Phil had warned them that their enemy was back, and that he had an accomplice with him. In the diner, Phil had recognized Travers from the kidnapping attempt, but he didn’t know the other man. A mercenary of sorts, Giles suspected. Phil hadn’t been able to hear the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough to know that his friends were in danger once again.

During a quiet moment, the cell phone in Giles’ jacket pocket rang. He reached for it, answering it awkwardly, still not comfortable holding the tiny device. He kept his voice low, letting road noise cover most of his conversation. "Hello? Oh, hello, Angel. What news... my father? Yes, I knew he was here already. For the christening, of course. I knew Travers was here... he was seen in town this morning with another man, an accomplice. Who? Oh, dear. No, I didn’t know he was here... yes, I’m aware of his talents in that area. How did you know... elves, you say? How clever. Yes, we’ll be cautious, believe me. He’s fine. She’s fine, of course. Don’t worry about us... we will be ready."

Being privy to Giles’ thoughts as he talked, Buffy followed his side of the conversation easily, and reached out to touch his arm when he severed the telephone connection. ‘How did Angel find out about your dad being here?’

‘He had elves following every British visitor to Sunnydale... which totaled exactly three contacts.’

‘Three who? Travers, your dad, and...’

‘Ethan.’

Buffy looked at him, shock on her face. Out loud, she said, "Oh, great."

Xander piped up from behind them, "Okay, you guys are playing Psychic Connection again, and it’s not fair... remember, we speaka de English back here."

Buffy snorted. "Would you rather we just whispered? Would that make you feel better?"

"No, but at least it wouldn’t freak me out like the mental telepathy thing does."

Willow looked up as Marcus began to fuss. "Hey, is something going on? You two are upsetting the little guy here."

Buffy turned in her seat to stroke Marcus’ head. He calmed and stopped whimpering. As they turned off the highway and into the exclusive residential section where her mother now lived, Buffy said, "Here’s the sitch. The baddies are back, but we’re gonna deal with them. We’re gonna have lunch with Mom, do the ceremony thing, maybe kick some butt along the way... then, have cake. Don’t sweat it, okay?"

Turning to Giles, she commented, "Y’know, it’s weird. I could hear what you were thinking, and what you were saying, while you were on the phone, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, or what you were thinking about what he was saying while he was saying it. Did that make sense?"

As she babbled, Giles eased into the wide driveway, pulled up to the three-car garage, and turned off the engine. Facing her, he looked amused. "I followed your every word... which frightens me as few other things have done."

She laughed as the four of them piled out of the minivan, gathering baby things, as well as a drowsy baby, before starting down the curved sidewalk towards the house. Willow and Xander had never been to Joyce’s stately new home, and they were both in awe.

Xander grabbed Willow’s arm and hissed in her ear, "columns. The front porch has columns! Only rich people have columns!"

Willow gave him a tolerant smile. "Don’t be silly. Lots of homes have columns."

Xander shook his head and started down the walkway again. "Not three-story-tall, Lincoln Memorial-type columns!"

When they came within a few feet of the front door, Joyce came out of the house smiling broadly. "Buffy! Your father just called. I think he’s actually going to show up this time!"

She pulled Buffy into a gentle, one armed hug and bestowed several kisses on her sleepy grandson. Marcus blinked at her, yawned, then closed his eyes against the bright sunlight. Joyce greeted Willow and Xander like family, giving each one a quick hug.

As Giles gathered the diaper bag and a few other odds and ends from the van, he noticed a small blue car drive slowly by. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the driver hunch over to avoid being recognized. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he realized they’d been followed. The car pulled over to the curb a few houses down, and parked. ‘So. It has begun.’ He communicated silently with Buffy, hoping to keep the matter quiet for Joyce’s sake. Forcing a placid expression on his face, Giles rounded the van to join the others.

As he approached, Joyce marveled at how comfortable he seemed with the whole baby thing. She’d been worried that, at his age, he wouldn’t have the energy or the inclination to be an equal partner in taking care of an infant. Boy, oh boy, had she been wrong! Buffy had told her repeatedly how amazing he was... how he didn’t shirk from changing diapers, how he’d jump up in the middle of the night to feed Marcus so she could stay in bed, how he seemed to instinctively know what to do. Joyce knew the Bond between the three of them made him more responsive, but she also suspected that he was just a naturally nurturing individual. Since Marcus was born, she had become more and more convinced that he was a great partner for her daughter.

The man in question smiled charmingly at her now. "Hello, Joyce. It was so nice of you to have us here. I think Buffy needs a breather before the ceremony." He congratulated himself on sounding so calm... if she only knew...

"I wouldn’t dream of letting you get ready for such an important occasion all by yourselves." She grinned, letting him know that she knew full well they could handle just about anything.

The group filed into the house, with Willow and Xander trying to act as though the luxurious surroundings didn’t amaze and intimidate them. Buffy still couldn’t believe that her mother was wealthy. Wilton didn’t seem like the type, in a way... and yet, in a way, he acted like he was born to money. Judging from this place, he certainly knew what to do with it!

Joyce, Buffy, and Willow immediately headed for the kitchen with the baby. Buffy was still breast feeding, but was slowly weaning Marcus to a bottle so she could return to school. Despite being close to all her friends, she still felt embarrassed about nursing with the men around. Joyce had already planned for Buffy’s sensitivity, and Wilton met them in the front hall, shaking Giles’ and Xander’s hands firmly. He then led them towards his den to give Buffy some privacy. As soon as they were out of Joyce’s hearing, Giles asked quietly, "Wilton, would you mind if I used your telephone? I believe we are being followed by some rather unsavory characters."

Wilton didn’t doubt his step-son-in-law’s statement in the least, in light of what he’d seen when Marcus was born. "Of course. There’s an extension just down the hall."

"I shan’t be long."

"Rupert..." Wilton caught his arm. "... is something going on... again?"

Giles smiled thinly. "I’m afraid there may be. Not to worry, though... we’ve been rather expecting it."

In the kitchen, the man of honor was wide awake. After his nap in the car and a tummy full of milk, he was in a jovial mood, laughing, playing with his rattle toy, and generally being on his best behavior.

Willow spoke up as she played with the baby. "So, what’s the plan? I mean, why did we come here before the ceremony?" Buffy glanced at Willow sharply, but her friend was smiling at Marcus, totally unaware of the impending danger.

Buffy relaxed slightly, telling herself, ‘Rupert has it under control... just act normal... well, not normal, that would be way suspicious... but regular.’ Joyce still had no idea that the evil Watcher had returned. "Mom insisted. She was afraid that after the reception we’d all be tired and ready to go home, and she wouldn’t get to play Grammy. We’re just gonna have a little lunch, then all go to the church together." She tickled Marcus’ tummy, listening to his happy gurgles. "I hope he stays happy... it’s impossible to think when this little guy starts screaming. He’s got a great set of lungs, no doubt."

Joyce laughed. "He definitely takes that after you, then! I’ve never heard a baby cry as loudly as you did."

Willow’s eyebrows went up. "I’ve never even heard him cry."

Buffy rolled her eyes as Marcus seized her finger and guided it to his mouth. He bit down enthusiastically, and she winced slightly. "Take my word for it, Will, he can. I hope we can get this Bond thing worked out so he won’t have to cry so much. Sometimes it takes us a while to figure out what the problem is."

Joyce patted her daughter’s shoulder comfortingly. "Parents have been dealing with that since the dawn of time, Buffy!"

"Well, I know, but... hey, ow! Marcus, you bit me, sweetie!" She held up her finger, and froze, staring at the narrow red mark just below the first joint. "Mom... he’s getting a tooth!"

"Already? Honey, he’s only three months old!"

Marcus fidgeted as his mother pried his mouth open and rubbed his upper gum gently. A tiny incisor was just breaking the surface. "He is! Mom, that’s so... amazing! I gotta tell Giles!" She picked up the baby and started into the den, yelling, "Rupert! Marcus bit me!"

Giles came out of the room with a bewildered look on his face. "I’m sure he didn’t mean to, love."

"No, silly, it means teeth! He’s getting a tooth, look!"

The rest of their time was spent munching finger sandwiches and taking turns feeling of Marcus’ gums. He seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

********

Across the street from the beautiful home, a very disgruntled Quentin Travers and a highly amused Ethan Rayne sat in their rented car, keeping watch over their targets. Travers had been livid when the Giles and their friends drove a half hour out of town and ended up in the high-rent district of Encinada.

Travers couldn’t believe it, and he voiced his opinion--loudly. "What on earth are they doing here? The ceremony is in just over two hours... back in Sunnydale! Why would anyone do such an inane thing? This proves that Rupert is a first-class idiot. That insolent little whore of his isn’t much better, but at least she was good enough to fool me with her ‘I’m just a helpless little mother’ act. I do believe I’ll just kill her and be rid of the nuisance. The child alone will be enough. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Kill the fool parents and keep the boy for myself." He chuckled evilly, ignoring Ethan’s disgusted expression.

Ethan had decided after the first hour with Travers that he’d made a monumental blunder aligning himself with this madman. He enjoyed a good bit of mayhem as much as the next person, but this was ridiculous. The man was obsessed, and that was never good. Besides, Ripper was much more fun alive than dead, in his opinion, and to off the delectable little Slayer... well, that was entirely too much of a waste.

He cleared his throat and commented mildly, "Perhaps if one knew exactly who was living in this fine abode, one would have the answer as to why they made their way here."

Travers looked at the sorcerer with distaste. "And if one were to ask you that question, would one receive an answer?"

"Of course. If one would ask."

Travers ground his teeth together. "Then who lives in the bloody house?"

"Buffy’s mother."

Travers was stunned. "Her mother? But she lives in Sunnydale!"

"No, dear boy, you’re very much behind the times. Joyce married Mister Wilton Bernard a few months before Buffy married Ripper. The new husband is quite well-to-do."

"Isn’t that interesting." Travers fell silent for a moment, thinking furiously. "I wonder if her home is warded as thoroughly as Rupert’s?"

Ethan’s eyes shone with anticipation. "We could find out. It might save us some time."

"We need to sabotage their vehicles. Wouldn’t want them making an escape."

"Let me take care of that. I’ve brought my switchblade."

Travers nodded, and Ethan slid away to do his dirty work. He hadn’t been gone very long when the disgruntled Watcher heard a tap on his window. He looked up, confused, and saw a rather large policeman peering in at him. He moved immediately, rolling down the window and putting on his best smile. "Hello, Constable. What can I do for you?"

"Please step out of the car, sir. Several of the residents have called to complain that a strange vehicle was parked on their street. This is a nice, friendly neighborhood. Everybody knows everybody. When someone they don’t know parks in front of their house, they don’t like it."

Travers sighed impatiently. "Constable, I have an injured foot. Is it completely necessary that I get out of my car?"

"I’m afraid I have to insist, sir." The officer actually put his hand on his weapon, and Travers cringed before complying. He’d had no luck with handguns lately.

He struggled to brace himself on his good foot, and glared at the policeman as he checked him for weapons. How utterly embarrassing to be frisked in view of anyone who happened to be looking! Of course, the kinds of weapons Travers would employ were not the kind that created suspicious bulges in one’s clothing, but the fool copper had no way of knowing that.

The cop stepped away as Travers turned, smirking as he leaned against his rental. "I trust you are satisfied, Constable. Now, you can be on your way. Thank you for your vigilance."

The policeman smiled slightly. "I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not quite finished. This car is registered as a rental. I need to see some ID, please."

Travers sighed patiently. "Of course. Just a moment." He turned to reach in the car window. The cop stopped him, his hand hovering over his weapon again. "Oh, really, Constable. I’m merely reaching for my wallet. It is quite uncomfortable to sit on for any length of time."

"I have to be careful, sir. There have been a rash of break-ins around the area lately. Now, please hand me your wallet... slowly."

"This is ridiculous. Young man, I have no intention of burglarizing these fine homes."

"Then you won’t mind telling me why you’re sitting in a rented car outside a seven-hundred-thousand dollar home in the middle of the day."

"Of course not. I am resting. I’ve had rather a long drive, and I needed a short break before I continued on to my destination."

"And what is your destination, sir?"

Travers couldn’t think of a good lie, so he told the truth. "Sunnydale. I believe it is close by."

"Sunnydale? You’re way off the main road, sir!"

"I wanted to find a quiet street, Constable. Driving on the wrong side of the road is tiresome."

The cop didn’t seem convinced. "Wait here, sir." He stepped to the side of his squad car and spoke into his radio. Travers fidgeted uncomfortably. The sun was hot, the air still and cloying, and his foot ached abominably. Would the cretinous policeman ever leave? He gritted his teeth, barely able to suppress his rage as his targets came out of the house, piled into their undamaged vehicles, and drove away. He watched helplessly as they disappeared around the corner. Ethan was nowhere in sight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the cop came back to Travers’ side. "I’m sorry, Mr. Travers, for putting you through the wringer like this, but It’s my job to be sure you’re not an ax murderer or a burglar."

"Of course, Constable. I understand completely. Now, may I return to my vehicle? My foot feels dreadful."

"Yes, sir. Everything is in order. Just don’t stay too long, or I’ll start getting calls again."

"Count on it, Constable. I’ll just rest for a moment, then go."

The policeman gave him a little salute, which seemed to Travers to be slightly mocking. "Have a nice day, Mr. Travers."

Travers eased himself into his car, relieved to have his weight off his throbbing foot. The patrolman drove slowly away, still talking into his radio. Travers had no sooner rolled up the window and started the engine when Ethan slipped in beside him. The cool blast from the car’s air conditioner caused them both to sigh in relief. When Travers began to feel comfortable again, he turned in anger towards Ethan, his voice little more than a caustic snarl. "And just where were you, dear boy, while I was being interrogated by Encinada’s finest?"

Ethan smiled broadly. "Why, I was hiding, of course. I couldn’t be expected to slash the tires of those vehicles while there was a copper right across the street, now could I? I would’ve been arrested. How could that have possibly assisted you in any way?"

Travers fought down his fury, put the car in gear, and began to drive back towards Sunnydale. "It would’ve gotten you out of my hair."

********

As Giles drove, he constantly checked the rearview mirror. Buffy watched as Willow played with Marcus in the middle seat. In the built-in rear-facing baby seat, Marcus giggled and shrieked as Willow and Xander made faces and noises that would’ve shamed them completely three months ago. As she watched them, smiling softly, Buffy caught Giles’ thoughts and sent him a question in return. ‘Are they still on our tail?’

He smiled, and answered her through the Bond, ‘No, I think our policeman friend delayed them long enough for us to have a good head start.’

‘Good. Are we ever going to be finished with this?’ Her face turned sad as she watched the side of his face.

‘I dearly hope so.’

********

Inside the gymnasium behind the church proper, Father Denning was setting out folding chairs in the reception area. The gym had been transformed by Cordelia into a festive, blue, white and silver reception hall. Denning smiled as the tall brunette critically surveyed every inch of the place, frowning and adjusting bows and tablecloths until she was completely satisfied. He hefted the extra chairs he’d borrowed from a classroom in the church and began adding them to the seating area, carefully placing them in a row. He made sure there was elbow room between each chair... in his own way, he was as meticulous as Cordelia. He knew people hated to be crowded.

Willow and Xander came in just as Cordy smiled in satisfaction. She turned to them happily. "There. It doesn’t look like a smelly old gym now, does it?"

"Nope. It looks like a smelly old gym covered in tissue paper and ribbon." At the self-appointed decorator’s glare, Xander added, "But, festive. Verrrrry festive. Looks great! Really!"

Willow went straight to the kitchen and started mixing punch. "This needs to be refrigerated for an hour or two... I think we’ve got just enough time. I don’t want it to taste all blah."

"Your punch could never be described as ‘blah,’ Will."

"I’ll take that as a compliment, Xand, and move on."

"Good idea. I’m going to check on the snacks..."

"Look, but don’t touch!"

Xander gave Willow a pouty face, but she ignored him.

Buffy and Giles, looking for Father Denning, came to the gymnasium doors and peered in. They grinned as they saw the decorations, and Denning waved them over to discuss some last minute details about the ceremony. Once inside, Buffy stood with Marcus in her arms and watched as her friends completed their voluntary tasks. She smiled happily as she realized just how lucky she and Giles were. They were both thinking the same thing, and they smiled at the same time, sharing their gratitude silently. They talked briefly with the priest, warning him quietly about Travers, then went back to get in place for the service to begin.

People were already gathering inside the church. Buffy and Giles went in and waited nervously in the side room, watching as more and more people arrived. Buffy noticed her mother and Wilton close to the front, and gasped in surprise as Hank slipped into the pew behind them. She fought back tears. This was the first major milestone of her young life that he’d managed to attend. Giles came up behind her and rested warm hands on her shoulders, giving his support and love with the simple gesture. She looked up at him, smiling happily through the haze that was filling her eyes.

Marcus hiccuped. Buffy looked down at him, smiling. He looked surprised, then hiccuped again. His expression was halfway between crying and frowning. Upon the third hiccup, he started to whimper, tight fists waving in protest. He didn’t like having the hiccups.

"Marcus, sweetie baby, you’re not gonna go ballistic on us, are you?" Buffy set him against her shoulder and rubbed his back, hoping to stop the involuntary spasms that were making him angry.

Fat baby hands were grasping for Buffy’s hair, and Giles was afraid he’d pull it out of the neat French knot her mother had fastened it into. He took the squirming baby from her, and Marcus quickly seized his father’s long finger and pulled it into his mouth. "Ouch! He’s biting me!"

Buffy smirked as she straightened her dress. "Told ya. He’s gonna do some damage with those teeth pretty soon." She giggled softly as Marcus quieted down, happily sucking and chewing on Giles’ finger.

"His gums must be a tad sore... he’s trying to get some relief. Ow... well, if my finger must be sacrificed in order for my son’s christening to actually be heard by the congregation, then so be it."

"We’ll have to buy a teething ring, pronto. I’ll give him a bottle during the reception, and he should be fine."

"Yes, good idea. One would hardly expect to need a teething ring at three months, yet he’s obviously cutting a tooth... ouch..."

They heard organ music, and realized the ceremony was about to begin. Giles handed Marcus to Buffy, removing his now quite reddened, thoroughly chewed finger and easing the pacifier into his son’s mouth. He watched through the slightly open door, and Buffy felt his happy relief as Cedrick Giles slid into a pew dressed, as usual, in his heavy tweed. The elder Giles noticed Joyce and Wilton, and smiled in his reserved manner, receiving two answering smiles in return. Giles felt a sudden joy at his father’s presence. His family--at least, everyone he cared about as family--was complete.

As they waited, Buffy reflected on their choices as godparents. She desperately wanted Willow and Xander to be part of Marcus’ life, but she needed a couple that would actually be able to raise their son if something happened to the both of them. She knew that her two best friends wouldn’t be in a position to do that for quite a while, even though they would certainly be willing. Although she planned to live a long and happy life in the company of her husband and child, Buffy knew full well that might not be the case.

Buffy was new to Church practices, but she had carefully considered this one, and was absolutely certain she wanted this for Marcus. So, after a long talk in Father Denning’s office, she and Giles had agreed... Phil and Carla Stevenson would be godparents, and Willow and Xander would be witnesses. It seemed right that the doctor who had helped bring their son into the world would be involved. He knew about their Destiny, as well, and that was a big check in the plus department.

Buffy had begun to actually calm down when Giles froze beside her. He watched as the congregation, seemingly moving as a whole, shifted to one side of the church. She couldn’t see anything but people whispering frantically. "What’s wrong?"

Giles sighed. "We have some unexpected guests." He pointed, and she sighted along his finger to the back pew. There, sitting tall and solemn, or at least as much so as was allowed by his diminutive height, was a small blue goblin named Gerard. He was wearing a child-sized blue suit with white shirt and matching striped tie. He eyed the crowd calmly, finally spotting Joyce and Wilton, then nodded pleasantly, as if to say, "hello, there, we meet again!"

"Oh... my... God..." Buffy couldn’t believe that a goblin could actually enter a church. She made a mental note to ask Giles about it... but later, after all the other stuff was over.

Hank Summers looked as though he might have a heart attack. Wilton nodded back at Gerard, and Joyce waved. Hank’s incredulous stare shifted back and forth from the weird blue creature to his ex-wife. His eyes widened even more when Madvehkar, one of the ugliest trolls on God’s green earth, slid into the pew beside the blue goblin. He was wearing his finest doeskin leather shirt and breeches, in honor of the special occasion.

After he sat there for several minutes, Gerard elbowed Mad with a look of disapproval. Mad looked chagrined and snatched his hat off in a belated show of respect. His completely bald head shined as caught the light.

Joyce and Wilton looked pleased to see the creatures. Hank looked positively apoplectic.

The goblin might have passed as an extremely short, slender human with a strange complexion and odd eyes... but Madvehkar stood out in any crowd. Three and one half feet of gray-skinned, broad-faced, wrinkle-browed, white-haired, snaggle-toothed troll was hardly a common sight, even in Sunnydale. The two lower beings tried to ignore the horrified stares they were getting from Buffy’s father, but it wasn’t easy. He was doing a surprisingly accurate imitation of a fish out of water. People in the congregation quickly stopped staring at the troll and the goblin and started staring at Hank.

Faith and Wesley arrived about that time, the expression on his face plainly showing his displeasure with their being late. They took the first seat available to them, which happened to be right next to Madvehkar. Faith didn’t even twitch as she looked at the two odd creatures. She just grinned and said, "Hey. Nice leather." Wesley leaned slightly forward, smiling a strained smile, and then sat back rigidly. He really couldn’t remember ever seeing a troll and a goblin in church before.

Phil, looking handsome and proud in his best suit, put his arm around Carla as Father Denning came down the aisle towards them. The doctor had met the goblin and the troll the day Marcus was born, and Carla figured that if her husband wasn’t worried, there was no need for her to be. Father Denning didn’t seem to mind them being there, either, so the congregation began to relax as well. Next to the Stevensons stood Willow and Xander, both looking nervous despite Giles’ careful coaching. Buffy beamed a smile at them as she gently bounced Marcus. He had been quiet for a long time, and she was getting worried.

The ceremony began, the priest’s words rising clearly in the small room. Phil and Carla spoke their part calmly, and even Willow and Xander did fine. Joyce and Wilton held their breath as Father Denning took Marcus out of Buffy’s arms. If he was going to scream, he’d probably start now. Denning paused in his carefully spoken litany, and gazed down into the boy’s clear, blue-green eyes. Something deep inside him responded... this was a special child, of special parents. He smiled, and Marcus gazed up at him and smiled back.

He continued smoothly, moving the group down the aisle and over to the baptismal font. As Father Denning lead them through the ancient rite, Buffy kept glancing at the doors. Giles was a little more surreptitious about it, but he, too, was monitoring the exits carefully.

********

Three blocks away, Quentin Travers, the leader of the revisionist movement within the Watcher’s Council, the scourge of the Giles’ existence, the man who’d almost pulled off the most daring double abduction in the organization’s long history... Quentin Travers was standing along the side of the road, cursing in every language he knew. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped into his eyes as he kicked the rental car’s flat tire. "Rayne," he rasped after he’d run out of appropriate terms, "find the things in the boot and fix this, and hurry!"

Ethan opened the trunk, muttered to himself, "He thinks I’m a bloody mechanic. Now, if I were a spanner, where would I be? Ah, here you are... now, we must have a jack. Can’t remove a bloody tyre without a jack..." He listened with amusement as Travers’ unabridged cursing began all over again. He recognized all but just a few of the words. Travers was quite the linguist. Spell casting required it.

After a futile search, Ethan straightened. "I don’t seem to have the proper tools for tyre removal in the boot. You’ll have to call Recovery... it looks as though we’re going to be late for the ceremony."

"Bugger it all... this is the biggest cock-up I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing played out!"

Considering what had happened the last time Travers was in Sunnydale, Ethan thought that an extreme statement, indeed.

Travers stopped kicking the tire when his good foot began to throb in response. "Ethan, you’ll have to bloody walk. It’s only three blocks more. Go and set the plan in motion, and I’ll join you as soon as I can arrange for alternate transportation."

"Now, that’s all right for you, old boy, but if you’re further delayed, I’ll be the one left holding the dirty nappies." Ethan didn’t like that idea at all. Ripper could probably think of all kinds of ways of making him wish he’d never been involved with Travers. One slip-up, and Ethan would be finding those things out first hand.

Travers whirled on him in fury, nearly falling down as he set his weight on his bad foot. "Unless you have a death wish, Rayne, you’d best be on your way." The cold, flat tone was far more menacing, despite the speaker’s precarious balance, than all the previous outbursts of cursing had been. Ethan shivered, spread his hands in compliance, and nodded. Despite his dislike of the man, he respected, even feared, the man’s devilish power. He reached in the back seat for his bag of spell ingredients, then made a hasty departure towards St. Mary’s.

********

Back at the church, things were proceeding smoothly. Marcus had been as good as gold, even cooing when Father Denning poured the cool holy water on his head. Everyone in the building was caught up in the simple beauty of the ceremony, and their eyes were glued to the front altar area. No one noticed when Ethan slipped through the doors in back and begin setting up his magic circle on the foyer floor.

Marcus began to whimper softly.

The moment the sorcerer began his dark spell, Father Denning, Buffy and Giles, Faith, Wesley, and Cedrick all snapped their heads up and turned towards the back of the church. Denning reacted instantly, and his strong voice rang through the building as though it had been amplified. "NO! In Jesus’ name, BE SILENT, and BE GONE!" His eyes blazed with anger at the profane intrusion.

Ethan suddenly found that he couldn’t speak, his throat constricting dramatically until his breath was a mere rattle. In all his life, he’d never encountered a priest with such supernatural authority. He almost lost his footing as he scrambled for the door, gasping for air as he exited the small foyer. He grabbed a stair railing outside and forced air into his lungs so his head would clear. He stumbled away from the church, fleeing from that terrifying power.

The thought occurred to him as he ran, ‘This is not going to be the walk in the park Travers described.’

As Ethan ran out of the church, Giles made a start down the aisle, only to be restrained by Doctor Phil. Giles half turned and sought Buffy’s eyes, locking onto them in desperation. Rapid thoughts flew back and forth between the Bonded pair... they were almost finished with the ceremony. The evil had been banished from the church. A confrontation could wait. Giles acknowledged the wisdom of that course in his mind, and returned to his place.

********

Father Denning took several deep breaths and continued, lighting the symbolic candle with a surprisingly steady hand. Gerard the goblin kept his multi-faceted eyes on the back door, his expression clearly protective. Several people stirred nervously, not sure of exactly what had happened. Denning’s steady voice slowly soothed everyone, and collectively, the crowd began to relax. The priest brought the ceremony to its conclusion, keeping a steady tone. After the final charge and blessing, they began the short procession down the aisle.

Everyone in the group knew they had to exit the church building in order to get to the gym. That meant facing whatever awaited them on the outside. Father Denning, realizing the danger, dismissed the crowd and directed them towards the side doors and out to the walkway that lead to the gym. The small church emptied quickly.

Hank Summers at first followed the crowd, but when he realized Buffy wasn’t with them, he tried to reenter the church. Wilton and Joyce stopped him, but he was too freaked out and confused to listen to reason. "What’s going on with Buffy? Why are we leaving? I haven’t even seen the baby yet! What were those weird people? I’m going back in..."

Cedrick, hearing the disturbance, stepped close enough to take Hank’s arm. "Mr. Summers, forgive me. I’m Cedrick Giles, Rupert’s father. I assure you, nothing shall be gained by going back inside. The reception is in the other building."

"But, why are you all acting like there’s some big secret club here? And what the heck was that little blue man... was he a clown? And the gray one... he looked like a dwarf, or something! Listen, something’s going on, and I want to know what it is!"

Cedrick looked towards Joyce. She knew the man better than anyone there. She stepped forward and said soothingly, "Hank, if you want answers, you’re going to have to come with us. I’ll tell you the whole story then, okay?"

Hank made an attempt to break the older Giles’ grip, and was astonished to find that he could not. Hank was a good-sized man, strongly built, and still athletic. But the small, tweed-clad senior held him in an iron claw and didn’t seem inclined to let go until Hank complied.

Hank might have been confused, but he wasn’t stupid. Rather than test Cedrick’s strength further, he let the others lead him towards the gym. He determined to get his answers once they were inside.

As the Giles’, their friends and Marcus’ godparents stood by the back pew, Gerard and Madvehkar jumped to their feet, edging in front of Faith and Wesley as the two humans shifted to let them pass. Like diminutive soldiers, the two creatures took up stations ahead and to either side of Buffy and her loved ones. Faith and Wesley both stood then, feeling a little embarrassed that a goblin and a troll had outmaneuvered them. They flanked Giles and Buffy, standing just behind them and in front of Willow and Xander.

Faith caught Buffy’s eye as she turned to acknowledge her sister-Slayer. The dark-haired girl winked at her predecessor, and, in a cheery tone, quipped, "Slayer solidarity." She nudged Wesley sharply, and he blurted, "Um, yes, Watcher, too, as well."

Buffy pivoted on her heel and handed Marcus to her best girl friend in the world. Willow’s face reflected her sudden fear, but Buffy just smiled. Her gaze took in Doctor Phil and Carla, as well as Xander. "You four get to take turns watching him. You’d better get to the gym, it’ll be safer there. Me and the Monster Squad here have a little business to conduct, then we’ll see ya, okay?"

Phil swallowed hard, and nodded. He led Carla back down the aisle and towards the back exit. Xander opened his mouth to protest, but decided it was his place to protect Willow and the baby. As Xander began to pull Willow away, she looked down at Marcus with wet eyes. The little fellow didn’t seem a bit worried. A tentative smile crossed her face. "Yeah, you know your mom kicks bad guy butt for breakfast, doncha, Markie?"

Just before pushing open the front doors, Buffy and Giles stopped, and spoke firmly in unison, "Marcus."

Willow didn’t have time to even look up and smile before the six of them, the two Slayers, the two Watchers, and the two mythical creatures stepped out into the sunlight.

********

It took a few seconds for their eyes to become accustomed to the mid-afternoon glare. Buffy sought her husband’s hand instinctively. Something inside them began to stir and grow, filling them with a confidence they hadn’t felt before. "The Bond, Rupert." She tilted her head up at him, watching his face as he scanned the area.

"Yes." He never wavered from his careful watching. His hand tightened over hers possessively. Mad and Gerard fanned out slightly on either side, allowing Faith and Wesley to step slightly forward onto the small porch area.

Faith started slightly as she felt Wesley’s hand capture hers. In nearly two years as her Watcher, he had never touched her in a familiar way before. She looked up at him, shock in her eyes. He smiled shyly. "If there is the slightest inkling of our sharing this Bond, now would be a good time to find out."

She found herself smiling back. "Yeah. First, we zap the baddies, then, we party!"

They followed Giles and Buffy as they carefully descended the concrete steps. Just as they got to the sidewalk, a red skinned figure rose from a stand of bushes and waved cheerfully. Buffy smiled as she recognized him.

Gerard wasn’t so generous. "Richard! You’re late!" He fixed his earth demon friend with an accusing stare.

"Sorry, Ger, I was watching the head bad guy. He’s been trying to fix a flat for a half hour now... apparently his Triple-A membership has expired." Richard chuckled heartily, then froze. "Uh oh..."

Buffy and Giles turned to him and said in one voice, "What?"

Richard turned and nodded towards the street. "I guess he gave up and walked."

As the man approached, they all felt it... the stifling breath of hate, malevolence, and pure evil, and they knew that Travers was pulling out all the stops. His intent was clear. This time, he meant to kill them both... to annihilate them with dark magic.

Hidden by a low planter that marked the property line of the house next door, Ethan lay gasping, still fighting to regain his strength. Sensing something new, he rolled to his elbow, his trained eyes observing the almost invisible cloud of evil that was approaching the people on the church lawn. Travers might be mad, but he was powerful. Truth be known, Ethan had complied with the man’s requests more out of fear than out of a need for revenge. Actually, Ripper and his little tart had never done anything to him unless he provoked them... and they’d spared his life each time. Odd, that...

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then, he blinked again. ‘Have I gone mad, myself?’ he thought. No, there was definitely something building around the two couples in the yard. He stared as an answering field of power, clear but still visible to Ethan’s trained vision, began to expand outward from Buffy and Giles, encompassing the pair behind them as it grew. Their power was impressive. "Hullo, this is new..."Above them, thick clouds appeared out of a clear sky, boiling and rumbling with increasing energy.

The battle had begun.

Buffy couldn’t see Travers at the moment... only the obscuring wave of dark power preceding him. She knew it was the Councilman, though. His venomous magic was nauseatingly familiar. She instantly remembered the scene at the Watcher’s retreat the summer after their marriage when Travers and his men had tried to murder their fellow watchers, and herself and Giles as well. She felt the same gathering of forces, the same clash of elemental power that she’d experienced that day. Her heart swelled with love and pride as she remembered Giles standing with her in the clearing, defying the poisoned darts from the enemy... boldly invoking the Heavens... standing for Right and Truth... just as he was today, only on a much more personal level.

Something unfolded in her mind, and she began to smile. The awareness of the Bond enveloped her and her husband, and she began to be conscious of everything around her. She sensed Father Denning shepherding the frightened guests into the gym, steering them away from the area of conflict. She saw Willow, holding Marcus close, flanked by Xander as she waited in the gym doorway. Her green eyes were anxiously scanning the area at the front of the church, hoping for a sign that her friends were okay.

Marcus. Buffy focused in on her son as he dozed in Willow’s arms. Yes, we’re doing this, we’re fighting this, for him. ‘God, give me strength to do the right thing,’ she prayed silently, and heard Giles echoing her sentiment. Then there was no more time for sentimentality, for the impact of Travers’ spell caused her to rock on her heels.

She turned her mind back to the battle, mingling the faith and love in her heart with determination and using them as a weapon. She could feel emotion pouring off the man at her side, for despite his reserved demeanor, Giles felt more strongly and cared more deeply than anyone else she’d ever known. The sky grew dark above them, the wind rising in response to the power of the Bond.

As the impact zone spread outward, people driving by in their cars suddenly threw on their brakes, backed up and turned around. Without knowing why, they suddenly felt the urge to get out of Dodge, and get out they did, tires screeching as they sped away. Soon the street was deserted.

Minutes passed, ten, twenty of them, and still, the battle raged. To Ethan, observing from the relative safety of the next yard, it appeared as a clash of forces, dark against light, accompanied by the very real rumbling of thunder, the hiss of lightning and the crackle of electricity. If an average person had been watching, he would have only seen four wind-swept people and three strange-looking creatures facing a tired-looking, crippled old man in a rumpled suit. The change in weather was the only physical sign of the war that was raging on the spirit realm.

Ethan knew that appearances were deceiving. That tired old man was immersed in dark power, and alone he was almost a match for his old chum and his little wife. The operative word, of course, being almost. He watched as time crawled by... watched a practiced, crafty man with a heart of evil do battle with a younger, more uncertain one. Aiding Ripper in his battle was a laughable trio; a slip of a girl with only the most elementary knowledge of her own power, and a fledgling Watcher and Slayer who had no inkling of what the Bond truly was. Despite the uneven odds, the good guys seemed to be doing quite well.

It was a classic conflict: Good against Evil, Light against Dark. Ethan had always rooted for the darkness, had worshipped Chaos. Today, he wasn’t so sure he was pulling for the winning side.

He jumped as a shadow crossed his face. He scrambled back and looked up into the face of Father Denning. "How... how did you know I was here?" Ethan sputtered, cringing from the man who’d banished him with a mere few words.

Father Denning smiled. "I sensed you... you’re a seeker. It’s my job to help seekers, you see."

Ethan snorted. "Surely you’re joking... I’m not a seeker. I’m a sorcerer."

Denning chuckled as though they were sitting on a park bench having a casual chat. "Before, perhaps. Now... we shall see."

He offered a hand to the man seated on the ground. Ethan took it, wondering just why he’d done so. Denning hauled him to his feet and beckoned for him to follow. The slender Brit complied again, still not sure why. They rounded the back of the church and disappeared.

Willow looked around as the two men approached, looking at first glad, then suspicious. The isolated area of clouds were still roiling and spewing lightning bolts down around the church. She knew her friends were still in danger, but the sight of Father Denning leading Ethan Rayne towards them caught her attention immediately. "Father D., do you know Ethan? I do, and he’s ‘trouble with a capital T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for...’ well, something I can’t think of right now, but he’s bad."

Denning chuckled. "I thought he might like to meet Marcus, child."

Willow drew back against Xander’s side and the two of them shook their heads. "No, no way, I’m not letting him near Buffy’s baby... he’s bad, and mean, and he hurts people." Behind them, Doctor Phil and Carla were drawn to Willow’s frightened tone, and came up to present a unified front to their friend’s nemesis.

Denning, in a most reasonable tone, explained, "but, child, he is no longer a threat to Marcus, or Buffy, or Rupert. He has been... well, let us just say ‘defused’ and leave it at that."

Ethan looked at the unassuming face of the priest in disbelief. "What did you say? I can still conjure up a spell any bloody time I choose!"

Denning stepped away from his side and gestured with his open hand, as if to say, ‘be my guest.’

Ethan opted for a simple elemental spell, and opened his mouth to form the familiar words. They would not come. He shut his mouth, irritated, then tried again. He couldn’t do it. He could remember the words, he just couldn’t say them. It was infuriating!

Xander gaped as Ethan dropped his head in defeat. In a voice tinged with awe, he breathed, "Cool..."

Ethan grabbed the priest by his arm. "What did you do to me?"

"The evil spirit possessing you is gone, my friend. There is no connection with the dark forces. You are free."

"What if I don’t want to be free? What if I like the dark forces? You had no right..."

"You brought it on yourself, my son. You invaded God’s house and threatened God’s people. Evil cannot stand in God’s presence."

"Now, see here.. I have no intention of going all soft and lily-white..."

"You have been freed, but the rest is up to you. If you choose to return to evil, you may do so. I suggest you don’t wait too long to decide, though. I recommend you read Matthew chapter twelve, verse forty-three and following. It will explain your situation quite clearly."

Ethan muttered under his breath, but didn’t contradict the priest again.

Marcus decided to wake up, and he did so with a yawn and a huge sigh that made everyone, except Ethan, who was still grumbling, smile tenderly. Willow started in with the baby talk, and despite his reticence, Ethan was drawn to the tiny thing. He stepped closer to Willow’s side and stared at Marcus. Marcus stared back, his curious eyes focusing in on the former sorcerer. Suddenly, the baby’s face broke into a smile, and he began to make happy baby noises.

Ethan found himself smiling, too, despite his best efforts not to.

********

Halfway across town, Sergeant Larry Stockton looked up from his late lunch at the local drive-in restaurant as a call came in over his two-way radio. Something weird was going on at St. Mary’s church. He sighed and began to wrap his half-eaten sandwich back up. When the call was ‘something weird,’ it nearly always meant that he’d have to be involved. Rather than wait until they called him, he took a quick slurp of his soda and cleared his throat. As he backed out of the parking space, he spoke into his radio. "This is Sergeant Stockton, I’m on my way to the scene... don’t the nut cases around here ever take a lunch break?"

********

Travers was unable to break the invisible shield that surrounded his targets. He was growing tired, and yet he hadn’t even been able to cause the slightest waver in the Giles’ power. It was inconceivable... these puppies hadn’t the first idea of how to wield supernatural powers, and yet, they were standing against him with little or no effort at all.

He was certainly glad he’d developed a backup plan. As he continued to batter the protective covering the Bond had extended around the two Slayers and their Watchers, he began to summon other forces. Then, he would see if their concentration held while they were fighting on two fronts at once.

********

Cedrick Giles watched from his vantage point in front of the gymnasium as his son and daughter-in-law held one of the Council’s most powerful sorcerers at bay. His barely perceivable connection with them was humming with the force of their shared Bond. He allowed himself the merest glimmer of pride before returning to the task of scouting the area for signs of further danger. He was sure, in his heart, that Rupert would prevail... his son had one of the strongest wills he had ever encountered. And Buffy... well, she wasn’t one to back down from a fight, that he knew quite well.

Despite his vigilance, Cedrick was surprised when his own weak Bond began to tingle in an entirely different way, warning him of new danger. He squinted into the bright afternoon, trying to see what was advancing. At first, he could only make out shapes, but soon he recognized the forms approaching them...

"Miss Rosenberg, Mr. Harris, into the gymnasium, if you please. There are approximately one dozen Mhara demons heading this way. They are quite ferocious... and they will not require an invitation to enter this building. We must close the doors!"

Willow backed inside, but slowly. "Buffy and Giles, and Wesley and Faith... they’re all still out front... we can’t leave them!"

Cedrick put a hand on her arm. "They can handle themselves, Miss Rosenberg, while you, your friends, and Marcus cannot. Now, please, come inside quickly!"

She complied, and Father Denning began to pull the metal doors closed. Ethan stood uncertainly, caught between self-preservation and an unfamiliar sense of wanting to help Ripper beat the stuffing out of Quentin Travers. The desire for violence won out. "Go on inside, priest. I think I’ll have a little fun out here. What use is all this new-found freedom of mine without a purpose?"

Denning smiled. He reached out and touched Ethan’s forehead with the palm of his hand. The point of contact tingled briefly, and Ethan found the gesture curiously comforting. He was puzzled by it, but didn’t take the time to ask questions. He turned, grinning broadly, and strolled around to the front of the church.

Instead of bouncing off the seemingly impenetrable shield that surrounded the good guys, Ethan strolled right up to his former friend, hands in pockets, exuding casual ease. "Hullo, Rip, Slayer, and you lot. Nice afternoon for Armageddon, wouldn’t you say?"

Faith stared at Ethan for a long moment before saying, "Hey, Buff, he’s clean. I don’t know how... man, I don’t even know how I know, but he’s clean."

Giles cleared his throat calmly, never taking his eyes off Travers. "Ethan. Have you come to help, or merely to mock?"

"Oh, I’m going to help. I’ve seen the light... well, not exactly, but close enough for the moment. I should warn you though, that cretin over there..." He nodded towards Travers. "...has set a dozen Mhara demons on the gym. The priest has his hands full, I’m sure."

Buffy instinctively whirled and started for the gym, breaking her contact with Giles. His knees buckled instantly, and he cried out in pain. She realized her mistake, and grabbed his hand, holding him up with sheer physical strength. "I’m so sorry, babe... I know the creep is trying to divide us. It almost worked, too... sorry..."

Wesley spoke from behind Giles, the annoyingly precise voice bringing the older man back to reality. "Buffy’s quite right, Mr. Giles. You must continue to fight Travers. Let Father Denning and Mr. Giles handle the Mharas. From what I’ve seen, Denning is passably adept in emergency situations, and as for your father, well, he certainly wouldn’t be Head of Council Security were he not competent. I’m sure they’re both capable of..."

Faith jerked his hand, silencing him. "Shut up, Wes... geez, don’t you ever know when to stop talking?"

Behind the humans, Richard volunteered, "Hey, guys, let me and the shrimps go play with the Mharas. They’re a lot of fun to beat up."

Gerard and Madvehkar didn’t seem to mind being called ‘shrimps’. They both nodded eagerly at the larger creature’s suggestion.

Giles almost smiled. "By all means, please do. And... enjoy yourselves."

Richard’s ridged face split into a huge grin. "C’mon guys, let’s party!" The three mismatched beings dashed around the building and ran towards the marching column of demons, whooping gleefully. Madvehkar pulled his gnarled club out from beneath his coat and waved it like a scimitar. Gerard bounded into the line of Mharas, using his momentum to bowl them over like tenpins. Richard began punching demons left and right, the cheerful grin never leaving his face.

Back at the church entrance, Ethan stepped up to Giles and hesitantly offered his hand, moving slowly enough that the beleaguered warrior could see that he meant no harm. "Ripper, I’d like to help, if you’d allow me. I rather despise old Travers. I’d like to see him set on his tweed-clad derrière."

Giles glanced at his one-time friend, seeing only sincerity in his eyes. "For the moment, I will believe you. The Bond has shown me that you’re telling the truth." Giles reached out and took the smaller man’s hand, and as one the trio turned their attention back to Travers.

The instant the three of them focused back on him, Travers staggered. Intent on his struggle, he didn’t realize at first what had made the difference. When his eyes quit watering, he stared ahead, and was infuriated to find his so-called accomplice facing him, openly opposing him beside the heretic pair.

A roar of outrage was torn from Travers’ lips, and he lurched forward, forgetting his cane momentarily. As he put all his weight down on the injured foot, the pain lanced upwards, breaking his concentration. The force of the Bond’s power instantly invaded the unprotected space, expanding like the shock wave of a nuclear explosion. Travers went flying back, traveling ten or fifteen feet in the air before landing on his back in the street. The air left his lungs with a startling whoosh.

Faith let out a war-whoop of victory, scaring Wesley so badly he snatched his hand back and stepped away, flinching. Buffy threw her arms around her husband and gave him a huge, sloppy kiss. When she released him, he looked down at her, a dazed and slightly goofy grin on his face.

"Ethan sidled up to Buffy, his voice seductive. "Hullo, there, cutie... do you have one of those for me, too?" Giles’ fist hit his jaw solidly before he could react, and he found himself sitting on the ground in a stunned heap.

Giles’ voice was conversational, but firm. "Don’t ever forget, for even the slightest moment, that Buffy is my wife. You will treat her with proper respect."

Ethan worked his sore jaw carefully. Ripper had pulled his punch... nothing was broken. "I shall remember that, old friend. Believe me, I shall." He stood shakily. "My apologies, Mrs. Giles. I meant nothing by it."

Buffy’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of fighting behind the church. "Faith, you wanna have some fun? Wesley, can you watch the bad guy, maybe tie him up or something? We gotta go pick up litter." The two Slayers and Giles headed around the building, eager for the outlet of a physical fight after such an intense mental and spiritual one. That left Wesley to walk out into the middle of the street and peer down at an out-of-breath ex-Watcher.

Wesley sighed as he loosened his tie. "Quentin, you old fool... If you ruin my best Churchill I’m going to have to have to submit a wardrobe reimbursement form to the Council." He crouched down and began tying the groggy man’s hands behind his back with the sturdy silk. "If you don’t mind, I’ll just borrow yours for a bit, as well. Actually, it doesn’t matter if you mind or not. Wouldn’t want you suddenly spouting nasty spells at me." He chuckled to himself as he untied Travers’ tie and used it as a gag. "This would be an excellent time for the authorities to appear..."

Larry Stockton screeched around the corner, right on cue, his squad car skidding sideways as he threw on his brakes. The metallic emblem of the Sunnydale Police Department caught the sun briefly as he came to a halt directly in front of Wesley and Travers. Larry had to stop quickly... the two men were right in the middle of the street.

The cautious police officer exited his vehicle and put a hand to his weapon, unclipping it carefully. You never knew in Sunnydale just what you might encounter, even in broad daylight, in the middle of the street. He vaguely recognized Wesley, but as he came closer, his eyes narrowed. He drew his 9mm and trained it on the man on the ground, eyeing the younger man carefully. "Sir, I’d advise you to move away. This man is wanted for kidnapping and attempted murder."

Wesley complied happily, glad to be rid of his former superior. "I’m well aware of that, Sergeant. That is precisely why he is bound and gagged."

Larry reached down and checked the knots, impressed that a simple necktie could be used so effectively. "Good job, too, Mister... uh..."

"Wyndam-Price. Wesley Wyndam-Price."

"Thank you, Mr. Wyndam-Price... I know I’ve seen you before."

"I’m a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Giles."

"Oh!" That was good enough for Larry. He’d about decided the quiet Englishman just about could walk on water if he wanted to. And that young wife of his... well, he didn’t want to dwell on that. Hannah would probably kill him. He busied himself with handcuffing the dazed man on the ground, then carefully untied the expensive piece of silk. He handed it back to Wesley, a little scuffed, but otherwise unharmed.

"Thank you, Sergeant. This is one of my favorite ties." He looped it around his neck, feeling a bit underdressed with his top button undone.

A clatter and crash caught their attention, and they turned to see a huge, greenish gray creature come barreling around the corner of the church with a small blue being chasing it. Gerard, the heretofore reticent fighter, had discovered the beast within, and was whacking the giant demon in front of him with a long two-by-four board. Since the goblin was well under four feet tall, his blows had the effect of a good spanking. The demons howled pitifully as he ran.

As the two weird looking individuals passed, Larry commented, "Ouch... I bet that smarts."

Wesley watched Gerard’s technique with interest. "Yes... I suppose it does."

"That little guy’s fast."

"Indeed."

With nothing further to say, Larry shrugged and dragged his prisoner towards the squad car, intending to put him in the back seat. He almost drew his weapon again when a cultured British voice close to his shoulder said, "Pardon me, Sergeant, but I believe that’s my prisoner you’ve got there."

********

Mhara demons were big, strong, and hideously ugly. The one thing no one bothered to tell Buffy, as she squared off against the nearest one, was that they stunk to high Heaven. "A little advice..." She dodged the creature’s sharp claws as it swiped at her. "...toothpaste... deodorant... facial cleanser... these are not just meaningless words." As she traded blows with the seven-foot-plus creature, she began to wonder just what would kill a Mhara demon.

She sent a mental message to Giles, albeit disjointedly, due to the fact a second Mhara had joined their private party. ‘Rupert! How to Kill? In ten words or less!’

‘Beheading, impaling through the heart, cutting off the center horn, putting out any one of its three eyes... sorry, more than ten words.’

‘You’re such a comedian.’ She leaped high in the air, executing a split kick that knocked both demons on their backs. "You said impaling..." she commented aloud. "Will a stake do?"

"Nicely," he panted, as he sank his into his opponent’s heart. Gray-green blood covered his hand as he retrieved his wooden weapon and watched the demon sink to the ground. The instant Giles was certain of the creature’s demise, he picked another target and continued to fight.

Faith was actually laughing out loud, she was so stoked. "Fighting these things is a kick!" She punctuated the sentence with a physical manifestation of her words, sending a demon back towards Giles. Instead of staking it, Giles gave it a push and sent it back to Faith. He knew how much she loved fighting, and he was getting just a little tired.

"Sorry, Faith, I’m a bit busy at the moment," he huffed, then yelped as he was tackled from behind. As he fell, he angled his stake back and upwards, impaling the demon and getting thick, rank blood all over his suit coat. "Good Lord, our cleaning bill is going to be enormous... Should’ve packed my sword... from now on, I’ll never leave home without it."

Buffy took a backhand to the face, went down, flipped back to her feet, and staked her giant assailant in one long fluid move. "You sound like an American Express commercial, babe."

Richard, the stocky red earth demon, was in his element as he used brute force to vanquish his opponents. He’d fought Mharas before, and they weren’t all that intelligent. He was more than a match for them. They were persistent, though, and he kept having to pull them away from the gym doors. Given enough time, the powerful creatures would be able to break through the metal doors and get to their target inside. He figured they were after the little human baby, and that made Richard very angry. His preferred method of killing Mharas became a stiff finger through an eye. It made him feel a little better.

Madvehkar the troll wasn’t adept at killing Mharas, not at all. He had no sharp weapons, only his gnarled club, but he wasn’t entirely useless. Mharas were warriors; they weren’t accustomed to fighting three foot opponents. Mad, however, was quite used to fighting things that were taller than himself. He saw to it that any bad demon that approached the exit he was guarding went away dragging an injured leg. You stick with what you know.

"Five down, everyone! We’re making progress." Buffy staked another demon, dancing to the side as it fell.

"Six down, Slayer..." Gerard hopped around the church, a big grin on his face. He leaped on the nearest Mhara, using the technique of wrapping his hands around the creature's eyes to blind it so someone could take it out. It was a little harder to do, since the thing had a third eye to cover. Somehow Gerard managed, and Faith whirled to stake the monster before it was able to shake the little goblin off. He looked up at Faith as he released his demon and sprang back. "I guess I should say, ‘Slayers,’ plural... and that makes seven down!" He hopped off to help Giles, who was rapidly being backed against the building by a roaring Mhara.

"You’re pretty tough for a regular human," Gerard commented as he tripped the demon in front of Giles and jumped on its back.

"Thank you so much... ah, Gerard, wasn’t it?" Giles waited until the huge creature rose to its knees. "Gerard, remove your hands, please." The goblin obliged, and Giles then sank his stake into the Mhara’s center eye. "Arrgh, that is hideously messy." He gave up wiping his blood-stained hands and started across the lawn to help Buffy with the last of the creatures.

The rest of the slightly battered group stopped to watch in awe as the Bonded Slayer and Watcher confronted the last four Mhara demons. Out of respect, Faith stayed back, leaving the final victory to the parents of the double-blooded child who had been the center of conflict from his conception.

To see two people fighting as one was an amazing sight. They could not have been more perfectly in sync if they had been choreographed by a master. When Giles moved, Buffy also moved in perfect counterpoint. Giles aimed most of his blows high, and Buffy simultaneously snapped a kick to the knee, back, or stomach.

Giles dodged a potentially deadly clawed hand, and Buffy used the Mhara’s momentum to spin it around and use it as a shield against another attacker. The creature was nearly gutted by its own fellow demon as Buffy tore the magical horn from the center of its forehead. They kept the odds in their favor by knocking the creatures against each other at every opportunity. Faith could almost see the golden glow of the Bond’s influence as it surrounded them, binding them together in soul, body, and spirit. The Mharas never stood a chance. The remaining demons were soon dispatched. Giles rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air, and Buffy slowly scanned the grounds to be sure all the monsters were dead.

The second he caught his breath, Giles went immediately to his wife’s side, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe a splash of gore from her face. His gentle movements, after the savage way he defeated his opponents just seconds before, seemed to be almost in slow motion. Richard got a goofy, sentimental look on his face as the human bent down and gave his lady a tender kiss. "Awww... that’s sweet."

Gerard snorted, but he secretly agreed. It was kinda sweet.

Madvehkar suddenly thought of something. "Hey, Gerard... what happened to your demon? The lasssst time I ssssaw you, you were tanning hissss backsssside!"

Gerard starting giggling... a strange sound, coming from a goblin. "He got hit by an eighteen-wheeler... yuck, what a mess! He tried to run across the highway while I was chasing him. Very dumb. That truck driver’s never gonna get the Mhara guts outta his grill."

Buffy and Giles were walking back towards the gym when they overheard the goblin’s statement. Giles looked vaguely ill. Buffy made a disgusted face and commented, "Ewww."

Faith brushed the matted hair out of her eyes as she eyed the pair in front of her. "Are you guys gonna go inside like that?" She gestured at their ruined clothes and blood spattered faces. ‘Cause, I don’t know if you realize it, but you reek. Seriously." She started across the lawn, tossing her good-bye over her shoulder. "And so do I. I’m gonna go take a shower. Ciao, everybody!"

Giles reached in his pocket for his glasses, but they weren’t there. "Oh, bother... must’ve lost them in the fray. Um, we have a change of clothes in the van... Buffy, could you get them while I look for my glasses?" As she started back around the church, he began searching the ground, hoping for a glint of metal that would identify his missing eyewear.

Gerard hopped over to the distracted ex-Watcher. "Me and Mad are a lot closer to the earth than you are, Watcher. Why don’t you let us look? I bet there’s a tiny human inside the gym that would be glad to see you two... well, after you clean up, that is..." Gerard grinned, and Giles grinned back.

"Splendid idea... and thank you, all of you, for your help... once again." He headed off after his wife, anxious to rid himself of the purveying odor of demon blood and dirt.

********

The restrooms inside the church entryway were small, but functional. After a quick wash-up, a few strokes of the comb, and a change of wardrobe, Giles was feeling much more himself. He was tired, but so elated at their decisive victory that his adrenaline was keeping him wired. He left the restroom, shrugging his sore shoulders as he walked. Buffy came out of the Ladies room at almost the same instant, and he smiled affectionately as he realized she’d put on fresh makeup and a gauzy spring dress. She looked wonderfully relaxed and happy. The Bond between allowed them to share a moment of complete relief.

She held up her makeup kit in triumph. "Told ya I wasn’t crazy for carrying this thing around with me... saved the day, in my humble opinion."

He chuckled and offered her his arm. "Quite so. You look... ravishing."

She gave him an abashed smile at the compliment. "Oh, silly, you’d think I was ravishing if I was wearing a paper sack."

"I’d think you were ravishing if you wore nothing at all. Particularly so, then..."

She giggled and nudged the church doors open. For the first time, she and Giles noticed the squad car, Cedrick, and Travers, the latter in handcuffs. Wesley waved at the Giles’, then started down the sidewalk until Faith joined him. The retired Watcher and Slayer watched with restrained delight as the young Watcher took his Slayer’s chin in his hand, checking her for injury under all the demon slime. She held out her arms for examination, and smiled as if to say, ‘I’m fine! Not a scratch!’ Wesley responded by touching her cheek fondly. The gesture was gentle, and Buffy put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

Giles smiled. "I think those two are certain to have an interesting future."

"They’re so cute. I wonder if we were that cute, y’know, at the start of all this."

"Cuter, I’d imagine. After all, it was you and I..."

"Yeah. We were probably way too cute."

"There’s no such thing..."

Buffy echoed him as he finished, "...as too cute!"

Buffy did laugh, then, and they started towards the squad car to see what was to be done with their enemy.

Ethan watched from the corner of the building until he was sure the danger was past. Then he strolled over to where his former partner-in-crime was being held between the Head of Watcher Security and the Sunnydale police officer. He smiled insolently and waggled his fingers at Travers before addressing Sergeant Stockton and Cedrick Giles. "If you two would like a former co-conspirator’s confession, I’m available at the moment. I should be able to tell you some interesting stories." He held out his wrists calmly, and when neither officer tried to restrain him, he shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides.

Cedrick said gravely, "Mr. Rayne, if you would be so kind as to accompany us back home once the extradition paperwork on Mr. Travers is complete, I’m sure the Council would be quite interested."

"Certainly. Does this mean the Council is paying my way? You could tell them I’m a prisoner as well."

"I’m sure they’ll cover the airfare and lodgings... I’m afraid, though, that meals are your own responsibility."

"Pity. Travers there was going to take me to La Pointe tonight to celebrate." Ethan sighed. "Their beef Wellington is quite famous."

Travers began to shake with barely contained rage. "You!!" he spat. "You... you traitor! You villain! You... you..." he was so angry he couldn’t even think of the proper expletives.

Ethan smiled happily at his former business associate. "Mr. Travers, our partnership has been dissolved, I’m very much afraid. I dislike doing business with anyone that has even less scruples than I."

"You’ve just forfeited a king’s ransom, you fool!" Cedrick’s firm hold on Travers’ neck prevented the man from lunging at Ethan, but the attempt made everyone jump slightly, even though the man wore handcuffs. Cedrick sighed, and pulled the makeshift gag back up around Travers’ mouth. He did not want to listen to the prisoner swear.

Ethan shook his head in mock amazement. "Do you think this has been about money? How unforgivably shallow of you! This was never about money. It was about getting even. Now, I feel I’ve done so, thanks to your unbending obsession with my old chum, Rupert. I certainly appreciate your giving me such a golden opportunity."

Larry took control of the prisoner again, ungagging him and draping the tie around his neck so it wouldn’t get lost. These Brits and their fancy neckwear... Travers began to struggle, Cedrick stepped up to assist, and between the two of them, they manhandled Travers into the squad car. They both let out a breath of relief when the door finally closed, muffling the raw language that came from the man inside.

Buffy walked up to Ethan, still a little wary of her husband’s former hell-raising partner. "Hey, Ethan, what did you mean about ‘getting even?’"

He favored her with his most charming smile. "My dear, nothing horrible, I assure you. The last time we met you saved my life, although perhaps the more correct term would be ‘spared my life.’ I’d hoped to return the favor. It seems my timing was more than good."

Giles still couldn’t ease his suspicions, despite Ethan’s complete cooperation. "Your timing was impeccable, as usual. Thank you."

As Cedrick and Sergeant Stockton discussed extraditing Travers for the second time in three months, Ethan chuckled as their prisoner interspersed their conversation with curses and dire threats. His voice was muffled inside the car, but both Ethan and Giles heard and understood almost everything he said. Giles listened briefly as Travers spouted forth a particularly offensive string of words in Italian. "Interesting company you’re keeping lately, Ethan." He turned to Buffy, his face completely sincere. "Darling, I’m ever so glad you don’t speak Italian at this point."

"Rupert, I wanna check on Marcus." Her voice was tinged with worry. She hadn’t seen him since the battle began.

"Father... Sergeant... if you don’t need us..."

Larry waved them away. "Go enjoy what’s left of your party, folks."

Cedrick smiled his usual restrained smile. "I’ll join you in a moment, Rupert, Buffy. I need to tie up a few loose ends here."

The anxious parents practically jogged away, heading for the gymnasium and their baby. Gerard met them halfway, triumphantly holding up Giles’ slightly warped glasses. "Here they are, Watcher! A demon kinda fell on them."

Giles took them and began straightening out the earpieces. "It was time for a new pair anyway... I seem to be thanking you quite a lot lately, Gerard, Richard, Madvehkar... would you care for some cake?"

Richard looked interested, but Gerard grabbed him by the arm and started leading him away. "Thanks for asking, but we better go. Maid’s gotta get back to San Bernadino... he’s baby-sitting for his sister tonight. And you don’t wanna watch Richard eat, believe me! You guys have fun, and if you need us, just tell the nearest elf. We’ll be there in a flash!"

********

The small crowd inside the gym waited tensely as the sounds of fighting subsided. Willow tried not to worry... Buffy and Giles were the best. Faith was almost as good... and if Ethan was really sort of a good guy now, then maybe everything would be all right. And if Marcus wasn’t scared or crying, then things couldn’t be too bad. She bounced Marcus automatically, not really conscious of her movements. The minutes dragged by as she waited for her friends to reappear.

She let out a joyful cry when she heard Buffy’s voice through the doors. "Will? Father Denning? You guys need to let us in... the weirdness is all gone now. Well, except for the lawn decorations... and the goo."

The metal doors of the gym were badly warped from demon fists, but they had held. After Denning and Xander unlocked them, Buffy used her Slayer strength to straighten them enough to be opened. She went right to Willow, giving her a one-armed hug before taking Marcus and giving him a relieved kiss. "Hey, sweetie baby! You sure do cause a lot of trouble, don’t you?" Marcus squealed happily and grabbed a handful of her hair. He gurgled at his father as Giles came up and peered over Buffy’s shoulder. The instant he reached out and tickled Marcus’ face, the baby grabbed a finger with his other hand and bit down on it... hard.

Giles yelped, then started laughing. "Teething ring, as soon as possible. Absolutely."

Joyce rushed up to her daughter with Hank and Wilton just a few steps behind, tears of relief replacing the earlier tears of fear. Buffy shifted Marcus to her shoulder so she could return her mother’s hug, and he began fussing at the loss of something to chew. Willow fished around in the diaper bag until she found a pacifier, and Marcus accepted it as a temporary substitute for Giles’ irritated finger. The mollified child endured the remainder of the round of hugs without complaint.

The small crowd surrounded the tired conquerors. Everyone started talking at once, trying to convey what they’d experienced, and trying to find out what the others had been through. The tension had been released, and the reception finally began.

Hank pulled Giles to the side as the ladies began discussing how much Marcus looked like Buffy. Giles had not had much contact with Buffy’s father, since he had only visited Sunnydale once since they’d married. Buffy had gone to see him a few times, always coming back a bit depressed at having to lie to her father, and knowing that he couldn’t begin to understand her life unless he knew the truth.

Now Giles turned to face the man who had brought Buffy so much sadness. He didn’t know whether to be angry or to feel pity. Hank’s face was sincere as he asked, "Mr. Giles, is the fantastic story Joyce told me really true? Are you and my daughter... for lack of a better phrase, the ‘Chosen Ones?’ It just sounds too fantastic... and still, it explains a lot."

"Mr. Summers, every word is true. I know it’s hard to believe, but for Buffy and Marcus’ sake, please try. She misses you terribly."

Hank looked at the floor. "I know. I’ve been a lousy dad. Maybe I can make it up to her by being a great grandfather." He looked up at Giles, grinning in bewilderment. "I can’t believe I’m a grandpa... I’m only forty-eight."

Giles almost laughed. "I can’t believe I’m a father. I’m forty-seven, myself."

Hank’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You look a lot younger than that... oh, man, this is too strange... my son-in-law’s only a year younger than I am..."

Giles smiled generously. "Age, like so many other things, is relative, isn’t it?"

Before Hank could reply, Ethan wandered into the room, hands in pockets, taking in the frothy decorations with barely disguised amusement. He came within a few steps of Buffy, his eyes on the white-clad bundle in her arms. Giles instinctively moved to her side, keeping between them. "Do you mind... I’m really rather fond of babies. Oh, Ripper, don’t roll your eyes so." He maintained a respectful distance, but bent slightly down as Marcus gurgled up at him. A gentle smile began to change the features on the man’s face until it was nearly unrecognizable. "Hello, again, lad... you’ve quite a mum and dad, don’t you?" Marcus laughed around the pacifier and waved his fists happily. "He’s a cheery one."

Xander was beginning to get frustrated. No one believed him when he mentioned Marcus’ screaming fit. They all thought he was the perfect baby, and that Xander was being sarcastic. If they only knew.

Buffy handed Marcus to Giles and started fumbling in the diaper bag for a bottle. If they were to attempt to have a reception, it wouldn’t do to have a hungry baby in their midst. Marcus spit out the pacifier, reclaimed his daddy’s finger, and began gnawing enthusiastically. As he winced, Giles looked over at his old friend, and had to ask, "Just how did you get in with Quentin Travers, Ethan? I would’ve thought you two ran in completely different circles."

"Actually, the old boy has been dabbling for years in the black arts, more heavily in the last decade. He has become quite adept. I met him a month ago... in a bar, actually, just after he got out of hospital. He said he was looking for a powerful sorcerer to be his second, one who wouldn’t balk at a little carnage."

"And, of course, you offered your services."

"Of course. The pay was quite attractive. I knew in fairly short order that he was off his nut, but I didn’t realize how completely until we arrived here. You should have seen him, Ripper... he was out of control... leaking emotions, leaving traces all over town. A mere apprentice could have tracked him with a bowl of herbs and a shilling spell book. And did you know he made reservations at La Pointe for this evening? He had every expectation of offing the lot of you, stealing your son and being back in LA in time for dinner."

Giles snorted. "That sounds exactly like Travers... too arrogant to plan for contingencies. It will all go his way, or no way at all."

"At least he has excellent taste in restaurants. You should go sometime.. take the Slayer... the cuisine is five-star, believe me."

Giles considered Ethan’s recommendation. The man did know about good food, and he had expensive tastes. "Perhaps I will, after things settle down a bit here. Right now, I just want to go home."

"Well, I don’t want these reservations to go to waste, dear boy. However, since I despise dining alone..." Ethan scanned the room until his gaze rested on Willow. A glint came into his eyes, and he gave the redhead an appreciative glance, taking a few steps to stand by her side. Using his smoothest tones, he crooned, "Willow, my dear... I have two reservations at one of the finest restaurants in Los Angeles. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? I can be charming, or so I’m told. And I promise no spells, no conjuring... unless you want me to, of course."

Willow’s eyes grew wide. "Who, me?" she squeaked. "Oh, no, no way, nuh uh, leave me out of this." She grabbed Xander’s arm, much to his surprise. "I’m staying right here. With Xander. He’s my friend. I’m staying with my friend. You... you go away."

Ethan sighed. "There’s really no cause to be afraid of me, I’m quite harmless... at the moment. But, if you insist..." His eyes came to rest on Cordelia, and the glint in them returned. "How about you, my dear? Certainly an evening in a fine dining establishment with a world-renown sorcerer would appeal to you!" He gave her his most devastating smile.

Cordelia snorted in disgust. "As if! I’m not falling for that, no matter how classy you sound. One cradle-robbing, former-bad-magic-dealing, extra-smart British old guy in my life is enough. No offense, Giles."

Giles sighed and bounced Marcus slightly, keeping him quiet. "I’ve considered the source. None taken."

Cordelia turned her attention to the baby, touching his arm as if she thought he might break from the contact. "Good, then. Well, I gotta get back to LA. Angel needs me." She began addressing the baby in higher, softer tones, though her words were still directed at Giles. "I’m going home... Whistler can not make a decent cup of coffee to save his little demon behind. No, he can’t..."

Marcus blew spit bubbles around Giles captive finger, grinning cheerfully. Cordy broke into a huge grin. "He is just the happiest little guy, isn’t he?"

It was Xander’s turn to snort derisively. "If you only knew, Cordy. If you only knew!"

Ethan looked disappointed. He really didn’t want to eat alone. He sighed heavily, then started for the door. Just as he reached it, a slender hand grasped his arm. He turned around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar female. Dark blonde hair, intelligent eyes... an almost other-worldly look about her. He was instantly charmed.

The girl smiled seductively. "Hello, I’m Anya... I hear you’re going to La Pointe alone tonight... it seems such a shame, a big, strong, nicely shaped man like you... alone..."

He offered her his arm. "I’m sure we can do something about that, my dear." They strolled out the door, with the girl gushing and batting her long lashes at the enamored man.

Willow looked up at Giles. "What do you think he’ll do when he finds out she used to be a vengeance demon with a history of inflicting serious nasties on the male of the species?"

Giles looked amused. "If she begins regaling him with tales of her exploits, he might attempt to leap from the nearest tall building..." He held Marcus up and jiggled him gently, laughing as the wiggly infant grabbed his nose, nearly unseating his glasses in the process. Buffy came to the rescue at that moment by handing Giles a warm bottle. Marcus focused on that immediately, and left his father’s battered eyewear alone.

Xander shivered at the sudden memory of Prom night with Anya. "And if she starts in about parts withering and falling off, he’ll probably just slice his throat with a bread knife and be done with it."

Giles grinned at the thought. "Somehow, I don’t think Ethan will ever forget this evening."

********

Later that evening, as Buffy finished putting away the last of the baby presents she’d gotten at the reception, she thought about the events of the afternoon. Despite the bad magic stuff and the gross demons, it had been a pretty okay day. Her father had apologized to her several times, promising to keep in closer contact. Rupert was going to have a nice visit with his father tomorrow. The reception had been fun. Her mother and Wilton seemed really happy together. Nobody had gotten hurt. She hummed to herself as she started back upstairs to check on her menfolk. It was entirely too quiet up there.

The sight of a man cuddling a small baby does something to a girl, way down deep inside... especially if that man is her husband, and the baby is her son. As Buffy stood in the nursery doorway, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. A shirtless Giles was pacing the floor with Marcus, murmuring in a voice so quiet she could barely hear the words, even with her enhanced hearing. She focused on him, and suddenly realized he was singing a lullaby to the sleepy child in a lovely, soft tenor. He was nearly finished with the song, but the words brought both a thrill and a warmth to her.

"...Race you to top of the morning,

Come sit on my shoulders and ride.

Run and hide, I'll come and find you,

Climb hills to remind you,

I love you, my boy at my side."***

"You have such a great voice." She said softly when he stopped, hoping to preserve his warm mood.

He smiled down at his dozing son, maintaining a soft tone as Marcus drifted into sleep. "It depends entirely on the song, and the reason for singing."

She leaned her cheek against the door frame and sighed. "Do you know how big a turn-on this is, Rupert? I mean, handsome man holding baby equals yummy already, and then throw in the singing thing..."

He looked up at her and smiled.

Her breath caught. "Okay, and the smile... God, I’m hot..."

The smile remained, but the look in his eyes transformed into something that made her insides quiver in anticipation. "Always, my love, always..."

Buffy crossed the room, taking Marcus from him, relishing the feel of soft baby in her arms before gently placing him in his bed. As she made sure he was safely and comfortably asleep, Giles came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulder. She looked up at him, love pouring from her like waves through their mental link. "He’s beautiful, isn’t he?"

Giles gazed down at the slumbering baby, his heart full. "Just like his mother."

"I can’t believe it sometimes... we did this. We made a new life, together, you and me... it’s incredible."

"Yes, it is." He slid his arms around Buffy’s waist and pulled her against him. They stood that way for several minutes, just taking in the sight of their son and the sound of his breathing. Slowly, the heat of their contact began to distract them from the little crib, and she slowly slid her arm up and around his neck.

He began to nuzzle her, removing his hand from her waist to slide her long blonde tresses out of his way. He placed soft, slow kisses on every inch of her neck and shoulders that he could reach. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, knowing that she might wake the baby. He seemed determined to undo her resolve, however... moving his hands up and down her body until she felt like screaming his name at the top of her lungs. He breathed into her ear, causing trembling gooseflesh to rise in response. "Still hot, love?"

A whimper escaped her lips. "Practically melting."

He hummed against her neck, holding her upright as her knees gave way. "Shall we continue this in a more... horizontal position? You seem a bit unsteady."

"That would be good..." He swept her feet out from under her, and she found herself cradled in his strong arms. He lifted her to him and moved his lips over hers, starting with a feather soft touch, then deepening the kiss to entangle his tongue with hers. He turned without looking up, moving from familiar habit into their bedroom across the hall. When they finally came up for air, she gasped, "ooo... way good..."

In his crib, Marcus roused slightly. Mommy and Daddy were happy, so he was, too. A contented smile crossed his face, and he cooed softly before falling asleep once again.

* * *