__Things Revealed__
By Jolene Beasley
The room was dark, save for a single reading lamp set in the center of an ancient writing desk. The man that bent over the desk was almost as dark as the room... his skin leathery and folded with age, his broad face reflecting his Mongolian background, his black, straight hair only slightly shot with gray. His charcoal eyes were aided by thick lenses held together with the narrowest of wire frames. The book he was examining with such fearsome concentration was so large that it overlapped the slanted portion of the desk on both sides. Yellowed, curled, parchment thin pages protruded in uneven fashion from the hand-bound spine.
From time to time, the man turned to a notepad resting on a smaller table beside him. Ancient words, words translated--from an unnamed language now known to only a scant few on Earth--first into Sanskrit, and then into English, slowly appeared under his pen. A myriad of scratched out phrases indicated that he had rejected much of his original work. Translating into an intermediate language was a tedious process, but he was the best of the best: The Translator to the Watcher’s Council. He had served them proudly for more than one hundred years.
His was the longest lived of any of the remaining races of men. He himself could remember a disturbance in the colonies known as the Civil War. He’d been with the British Expeditionary Force on the Western Front in World War I. He had watched the second World War unfold with a sense of despair borne of the understanding of Destiny. Now, his attention was focused on the book in front of him. Unlocking its secrets was his lifelong passion, his driving force, and he was nearing the culmination of a century of effort.
He knew his life was slowly leaving him, precious molecules of vitality escaping his body with every exhaled breath and dissipating into the dank air of the Council Catacombs. Above him, the streets of London teemed with life, unaware of the struggle being played out beneath them. The Translator clung to life with the tenacity of a man with a terrible purpose. He had to finish his last, his greatest translation... the documents that had eluded the finest minds of the ages... until now. He had been blessed with a touch from the thirty-third heaven. His innate ability to instantly parallel syntax and meaning across seemingly unrelated language structures had enabled him to do what none had done before.
He finished his writing and stared at the spidery scrawl covering the notepad.
"There shall be one born of the Chosen
who was not to be but is
He shall fulfill the purpose and restore the plan
He shall command living creatures
and restore the beautiful land
He shall live in awareness
He shall be the brave defender
Repelling darkness with light
He shall make the way straight
for one who will come
The Eternal One’s leading shall lead him
Deceiver and unbeliever
shall strive against him
His enemies shall draw a line of war
but shall not stand
Priest and sorcerer
shall give place to him
Parent and friend shall join him
His power shall not diminish while the Earth stands
And after him shall come the end
The Translator breathed a prayer of thanks. It was as he suspected. The long, rambling prophetic poem began by citing predictions about future Slayers. Verse after verse described the beauty, grace, and innocence of the Chosen down through the ages. The pronouns, if they could be called such, were consistently female. Over and over, they referred to The Slayer, the one girl in all the world that had the strength and skill to stand against the vampires...
But, in these final few lines, the words were consistently male.
The Translator turned in his seat and reached underneath the desk. He unearthed a surprisingly modern telephone, one with no discernible dial or buttons. He lifted the receiver to his ear and listened briefly. At the sound of a familiar voice at the other end, he uttered the most important... and the final... words of his life.
"Director. I have succeeded. It is exactly as we believed."
He returned the instrument to its cradle and leaned back in his wooden chair. His eyes closed wearily, and he whispered to the quiet room, "Now, I can rest."
His life’s work accomplished, he smiled, breathed his last breath, and passed into Eternity.
********
Giles knew the instant Buffy’s little red convertible rounded the corner and started down the block to their house. Pride and delight were swelling before her like the leading wave in front of a massive freighter. He chuckled to himself, hearing the screech of tires as she whipped into the driveway. Despite his almost constant, well-meant suggestions, her driving had never progressed beyond... well, precarious.
His uncanny connection with her allowed him to trace her movements as she exited the car and started up the front sidewalk. He could almost see her in his mind’s eye... dancing up the steps with arms full of books, her purse dangling carelessly from her bent elbow, wisps of blonde hair escaping from both sides of her casual ponytail, keys rattling as she struggled to drop them into her open and already overflowing purse, her eyes shining with the anticipation of sharing her good news with him, despite the fact that he already knew it. He would pretend to be surprised, and she would be ever so grateful that he had...
"Daddy! Mummy home! Mummy happy!"
"Yes, she is. Shall we go downstairs and greet her?"
"No!"
Giles was taken aback by Marcus’ reply, until he saw the little boy hide behind the dresser, his face alight with gleeful anticipation. Marcus held a finger to his lips, making a shushing noise, and then Giles understood. He smiled and turned just as his young wife bounded into the room. Her attention was completely on him, and she didn’t sense her son creeping up behind her until he was almost within touching distance. Her knowing look made Giles smile broaden even more, and she kept her back turned until Marcus pounced.
"Boo!" he shouted, dissolving into giggles as his mother gasped in mock fright. She then grabbed him up in a hug and lavished kisses all over his face.
"I ‘care you, Mummy?"
"Yes, you scared me, you little rascal."
He squealed with delight and threw his arms around her. They traded loud smooches for another few seconds before he began squirming.
"I want down!"
"Okay, don’t get your diapers in a wad, kiddo."
She set the happy child back on his feet, turning to Giles with a wry grin. "We’ve gotta stop letting Xander baby-sit, babe. He gives Marcus too many wild ideas."
"Yes, he does, but Marcus adores him. I suppose we can live with one or two idiosyncrasies. Xander’s heart is in the right place."
"If by that you mean thumping almost out of his chest every time a good-looking girl walks by, it’s definitely where it’s supposed to be in a drooling, hormonal, almost over-the-hill teenager body."
Giles laughed in surprise. "You count Xander as over-the-hill??? You’ll probably have me in my grave before long, at that rate!"
"Not you, babe, you’re gonna live forever. And I’m running late, so we’d better start lunch."
She turned to dash for the door, but stopped when Giles said softly, "Aren’t you forgetting something?"
"Oh! Yeah, I am." She regained some of her enthusiasm, and bounced in place as she continued. "I got the grades back on my finals, and I made the Dean’s List! I’m a three-point-three-three and above kind of girl now!"
"Buffy! That’s wonderful! Congratulations, and I knew you could do it." He beamed proudly down at her.
"Thanks, babe, for letting me tell you, even though you already knew. You’re just the best."
"Thank you. But love... you’re still forgetting something." Even Marcus looked up at his plaintive tone.
"What?" She stared at him for a few seconds, then began to smile. "Oh. That." She tilted her head to one side and shook a finger at him. "You’re both spoiled rotten, and it’s all my fault. I’ve been waaay to generous with the smoochies in this house."
Giles shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze sadly to the floor, knowing full well his masculine version of ‘The Pout’ would turn her into complete mush. "Well, if you’re unwilling to greet me properly, I certainly won’t insist..." The rest of his sentence remained undelivered as Buffy made up for her oversight by kissing him passionately. She didn’t release him until his mind was fogged with desire and his heart was racing until it was almost audible.
She looked into his eyes and commented, "I think you’ve just zoomed past Xander in the Heart Thumping category."
********
That same afternoon...
William ‘Bill’ Armstead was in a quandary. He paced down the length of his cramped living room, turned on his heel with military precision, then retraced his steps. Again. And Again. He had been given the dubious job of messenger for the Council. Mister Giles, Senior, made it very clear that Rupert would be privy to all the information that could be gathered. What was a mere Observer to do but obey? Whatever the Council knew, Rupert would know. But this news concerned Rupert’s beloved son, Marcus.
"I cannot believe this is happening," he stated out loud, almost startling himself with the sound of his own voice. "Steady on, old man, you’re talking to yourself." He began to laugh. "Of course I am, silly twit... there is no one else to talk to!" He stopped in front of the telephone for the twentieth time, staring at the instrument as though it would give him some sage advice. The telephone had nothing to say.
He continued his conversation with himself internally, but no less fervently. ‘The poor man... this will be such a shock. And Buffy... good Lord, what will she do? They are both so fearful... with good reason, granted... of the Council’s influence on Marcus, and now to hear this... A cruel twist of fate is what this is.’ He took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his reverie, and seized the telephone with a firm grip. He dialed the number that he had memorized before ever setting foot on American soil. He counted the rings as they echoed in his ear. Just after the third ring, a cultured male voice greeted him.
"Mister Giles? Armstead here. Your father has just relayed some disturbing news to me, and I’m to relay the same to you. I have the information stored on my laptop computer... no, I don’t mind coming over right away. I shall see you in ten minutes."
He replaced the receiver and picked up his laptop, smiling as Willow’s delighted face appeared in his memory. He had her to thank for this convenience. The documents that were stored on his hard drive could very well change the world. That thought wiped all trace of a smile from his face.
He let himself out and locked the door securely behind him. He was on a mission.
********
Madvehkar the troll sniffed the air in front of him like a bloodhound hot on a trail. "They’ve got company, Gerard." He moved along the hedge until he and his fellow guardian could see the Giles’ front door clearly.
The blue goblin’s keen eyesight confirmed Mad’s sense of smell. "Yeah. It’s the baby Watcher."
Mad chuckled at Gerard’s turn of phrase. "Do you mean, the Watcher who issss a baby, or the Watcher who just watchessss babiessss?"
"Yep." Gerard grinned, agreeing to both statements. He turned back to his target and focused in carefully. "He’s carrying a laptop. Looks like things are starting to hit the fan."
"If the news is bad, the baby Watcher might, too... hit the fan, I mean. The real Watcher doesn’t take kindly to the Council’s interference."
"You got that right, Mad. I feel kinda sorry for th’ baby Watcher."
"I don’t. He’s just another Council clone."
Gerard stared thoughtfully as Armstead rang the Giles’ doorbell, then fidgeted nervously with his tie until the door opened and he was able to go inside. "I dunno, Mad... there’s something different about this one."
Madvehkar decided to pay more attention to the baby Watcher in the future. Gerard was seldom wrong in his assessments of character.
********
Buffy flounced down the stairs, hollering at the top of her lungs, "Babe-o-mine, Marcus is down for the count. Do you wanna take advantage of the time and take advantage of m..." She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Armstead standing beside her husband. "Whoops! Uh, hey, Bill. I didn’t hear the doorbell... obviously." ‘Sorry,’ she thought to Giles, seeing his red face.
"Mister Armstead has news for us." Giles gave the Observer a dark look. "From the Council."
"Oh." Buffy didn’t look happy, either, and Bill grew more nervous and regretful by the second.
"I’m dreadfully sorry, but Mister Giles... that is, Mister Giles, Senior... just sent me a packet of information that he felt you should both examine. It has to do with prophecy."
Buffy’s face shifted from distrustful to downright fierce. "I hate that word. I really do."
Armstead shuddered at her expression, hoping desperately that she’d never look directly at him with that much anger. "Perhaps... perhaps we should sit and let me show you the files. Mister Giles is always quite thorough. He’s given us a great deal of information..."
Giles motioned to the dining room table, and the three of them arranged chairs along one side. The laptop was the latest model, with a crisp, clear screen that was admirably easy to read. The minute he brought up Cedrick Giles’ letter, Giles gasped. Armstead remained respectfully silent.
"What’s wrong, babe? You haven’t even gotten to the prophecy part yet."
Buffy looked at him with concern as tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked rapidly to dispel them, then sighed heavily. "An old friend has died, love. That’s all."
"That’s all? Hey, even stuffy Brits are allowed to shed a tear in memory." She slipped an arm around his waist.
"I know." He forced a smile as her loving, sympathetic thoughts engulfed him for a few seconds. "Back to the matter at hand."
"Who was it? Did I meet this person at the retreat?"
"No, he was far too old and frail to make the trip. He was in London, at Council Headquarters. I doubt seriously that he even left the building in his latter years."
Armstead nodded in agreement. "I’ve been told that same thing myself. He was waited on hand and foot for five decades. No one could bear the thought of him being injured or kidnapped, and since he was in no condition to defend himself..."
"Right. He was far too valuable... and far too good a friend to a poor, frightened school boy who’d managed to alienate everyone in the building with his hell-raising." Giles’ smile grew wider, and his eyes got that far-away, reminiscent look. "He will be missed."
Buffy’s voice interrupted his reverie. "Rupert? Not that I mind the trip down down memory lane, babe, but we can do that later."
"Oh, sorry. His name, as best we could pronounce it, was Cho-je Sho-tsen. He was a Tibetan man who served the Council as Translator for over a century. There will never be another like him... he had an almost divine ability to translate obscure languages. Spoken or written, he could make sense of things when no one else could. He was a wonderful fellow, always full of fun and entertaining stories, despite being privy to some of the most depressing and dark prophecies known to man."
"Wow. Sounds like you thought a lot of him... hey, wait... over a century? Just how old was this guy?" Her voice held a note of suspicion, as though Giles and Armstead were trying to pull a fast one on her.
Armstead answered her matter-of-factly. "As near as the Council can surmise, he was born in a small Himalayan village, high upon the slopes of Mount Everest, in the year of our Lord 1849."
Buffy’s brain boggled at the date, but she rallied quickly. "One hundred and sixty-something years old? That’s impossible!!"
"He was raised in a Tibetan temple, and had an extraordinary gift for languages. He was already fluent in three when an English mountain climbing expedition arrived. He picked up their language almost instantly upon hearing them speak. They thought he was a genius. That assumption proved correct. School records in London show he was brought back as a teen-ager by the expedition leader, Samuel Crocker, and educated in the finest schools in England. He achieved quite a bit of notoriety as an adult, and was recruited by the Council when their expert translator died. Cho must’ve been nearly sixty, by then."
"He left home when he a kid, and never went back? That musta been harsh."
"Perhaps, but it is fortunate for us that he did," Giles said gently.
"Yeah, but..."
"Buffy, dear, we need to concentrate on the prophecy first." He pointed at the screen. "I’ll fill you in on the life and times of Cho later, all right?"
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in agreement, then bent over Armstead’s shoulder again. Giles leaned over the other one, and together, they read Cedrick’s terse message.
"Cho-je Sho-tsen died early this morning. He had just completed the translation of the Prophecies of Enosh in its entirety. The work was done in secret, as it was believed to contain the history of every Slayer that has ever lived or will live. The final section tells of a male child that, from all appearances, will herald the beginning of the Apocalypse. The pertinent section of the document and its translation are attached. Use decryption as per previous instructions. Giles."
"The Prophecies of Enosh," Giles breathed reverently. "I was told they could not be fully translated."
"As was I," Armstead agreed. "Apparently, Cho found it to be an ancient form of his native language, and the rest began to fall into place. A traveling scholar had translated it into Sanskrit centuries ago, as the languages were vaguely similar, but Cho made it a point to return to the original document and retranslate it to verify its accuracy."
Giles chuckled. "Cho was nothing if not a perfectionist."
"Even at croquet. It was always ‘every man for himself.’"
The two men chuckled fondly for a few seconds, then Giles steeled himself for what was to come. "I think we’d best see what is to be found in those encrypted files."
"Yes. The decoding will probably only take a few moments... bless Willow and her ability to cut through the technological jargon and lead me to the fastest machine on the market."
Buffy grinned at the mention of her computer literate friend. "She loved every minute of it, Bill. Believe me, she was in her element."
"Indeed." Bill’s eyes softened as he thought of Willow. He never expected her to return his affection. The past few months had been a delight... his work was progressing nicely, Mister Giles and Buffy were tolerating his constant presence without protest, and Marcus seemed to like him quite well. Then, there was Willow, and her gentle manner, her tender kisses...
A beep from the laptop brought him back to reality. In a stilted female voice, it stated, "Your decryption sequence has been completed successfully. Do you wish to store the documents in secure files?"
Bill’s finger reached out and touched the ‘Y’ key, and the program automatically password protected the files and left them open for inspection. He turned the laptop slightly towards Giles, slid his chair back, and rose. "There you are, sir. You may study them at length, if you like."
"I’d very much like. Did Cedrick mention supporting documents? Writings of that approximate time period that would substantiate Cho’s translation?"
Armstead stared at Giles as though he’d just thumbed his nose at the Queen. "You doubt Cho’s translation? But there is no other authority on this language! All previous translations were into Sanskrit, and have never been verified."
"Nevertheless, Armstead, I want to see those documents. Where my son is concerned, I shall leave no stone unturned. If you don’t wish to request them, I shall do it myself." Giles voice was quiet, but determined.
"No, no, sir, I shall place the request immediately. If you would allow me..." Giles made a ‘be my guest’ gesture, and Bill slid back into his chair. It was the work of only a few minutes for him to send his request across the ocean to Council Security HQ. "There. I should hear something shortly. The mail program will announce itself when the new message comes in. And now, sir, ma’am..." He stood, then noticed Buffy’s warning glare. She hated to be called ‘ma’am’, but he couldn’t bring himself to address her less formally, in light of the gravity of his information. "...I promised Willow I would accompany her and Xander to the Circus this evening..." He tilted his head slightly at Buffy’s smile, recognizing the incongruity of his statement.
Giles smiled, himself, after catching Buffy’s amusement. "Perhaps a bit of light entertainment is just the thing."
Buffy added brightly, "Hey, we’re taking Marcus to the Circus, too. We’ll probably see you guys there."
Armstead nodded, smiling. "Excellent."
"Willow got our tickets for us. I believe our seats are right in front of yours," Giles added.
Buffy frowned suddenly. "I sure hope this Council crap doesn’t ruin everything."
Giles slid his arm around his wife and gave her a kiss on the temple. "We must make sure it doesn’t, love."
Armstead knew himself fairly well. He knew he was no scholar, not when it came to interpretation of ancient texts. He would be of no use to Mister Giles in that respect. As he left the house, he hoped that things proved to be less dire than he had at first thought.
Only time would tell.
* * * * *
Buffy, with her intimate knowledge of Giles’ psyche, left him alone for several hours. Marcus awoke from his nap, and she took him outside to play. From time to time she would wander through the living room and look at her husband as he studied the information Armstead had given him. The pertinent verses were short and succinct. The supporting documents were few. The meaning was clear. She didn’t have to ask. She knew.
Marcus was the last of the line. The last Chosen one. If you could ever take any prophecy at face value, it meant her son was a harbinger of the end of the world.
She returned to the back yard, where Marcus was having a grand time in his new sandbox. Xander had helped Giles build it one weekend, and Marcus never tired of running his toy trucks and cars around, through, and sometimes under the sand. He would sit for hours, creating little worlds of his own, carrying on conversations with unseen friends as he played.
She sat on the deck steps and watched him. He was carefully scraping sand into random piles, then driving his trucks and cars around them one by one. His play was orderly and methodical, totally unlike a typical one-year-old’s. She didn’t know whether to be proud or worried about it. She finally decided she had enough to worry about, and concentrated on Marcus and his contented recreation.
After a while, she looked at her watch, and realized they had to leave for the Circus soon. She needed to take her son inside for a quick wash up, but he was having so much fun, she hated to interrupt him. He knew his parents were in a sad mood, but shortly after his first birthday, they had learned to block most of the emotional spill-over that caused Marcus so much confusion. As soon as they were able to shield the toddler from their confusing adult emotions, Marcus began to come into his own. He was stronger, more independent, more articulate now. At almost a year and a half, Doctor Stevenson had rated him at the level of the average four-year-old. In some areas, he surpassed even that.
They still hadn’t told Armstead about Marcus’ newest talent. His ability to sense human emotions and intent from increasingly greater distances was not readily apparent during the course of a normal day. Armstead’s time with Marcus was limited, Giles saw to that. Now, in light of the prophecy her husband was studying so closely, Buffy wasn’t so sure they’d be able to hide the boy’s developing gifts much longer. There was no telling what super power would surface next...
"Mummy? C’mere an’ wook!"
The toddler’s happy voice broke through her gloomy thoughts, and she smiled. "What is it, sweetie baby?" She obligingly strolled over to the sand box and squatted beside Marcus, watching with interest, and a little squeamishness as well, as he allowed a bright red ladybug to crawl over the surface of his hand.
"Pwetty wadybug, Mummy." He looked up at her for confirmation, and she nodded. "Daddy says wadybugs are good bugs."
"That’s right. We like ladybugs. They eat aphids, and aphids are bad bugs. They kill Grandma’s roses unless the ladybugs eat them."
"Yeth. When I wearn to wead, I gonna wead about wadybugs."
For some reason, the quiet anticipation in Marcus’ voice brought tears to her eyes. "Yes, baby, you’ll find out about everything in the world, when you learn to read."
"Ev’wyfing?" He struggled with the new word, catching its meaning from his mother.
"Everything," she asserted confidently.
"Yay! Wanna hear my ABCs?" He launched into the alphabet song, running the letters together hurriedly, but getting them all in. He ended with, "Won’t you come and sing wif me!" then started all over again.
Buffy made herself comfortable, glanced at her watch again, and decided there was plenty of time to get ready for the Circus. She joined the song just before the letter ‘E’, and sang with him the rest of the way through. They broke into cheering applause when they finished, and Buffy looked up to see Giles watching them from the back door. He was smiling that quirky little smile that she loved so much, and he was clapping with them.
"Well done, you two."
Buffy blushed slightly, then stood and offered Marcus her hand. "Come on, Marcus, let’s go get ready for the Circus, okay?"
"Okay, Mummy. I want to see eff-fants!" He took her hand happily, and the Giles family went into the house, all three of them smiling.
When the back door slammed, a broad, gray skinned creature stuck his head out of the hedge and sighed. "That little human is so cute. What are we gonna do, Gerard? I bet they know about the prophecy by now."
"I don’t know, Mad. Nothing we can do, except keep an eye out, and help them when they need it."
Madvehkar thought about things for a couple of minutes, then he crawled out of the hedge and started down the alley, calling over his shoulder, "I have an idea. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Want me to bring you a burger?"
"Sure. Make it a double, with fries... say, where are you going?"
"To get some legal advice."
Gerard watched the troll march out of sight, then sighed. "Legal advice? That Mad... he’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen." That statement seemed a bit extreme, so he corrected himself. "No, I take that back. The weirdest thing I’ve ever seen is that truck driver on the side of the road trying to scrape demon innards off his front grill." He disappeared back into the hedge and continued his vigil, chuckling softly to himself.
********
After entering the big tent, Buffy spotted Willow, Armstead, Xander and Anya about three rows from the front of the center ring. As soon as they saw her, they waved wildly, pointing to the bleachers in front of them. She contacted Giles through the Bond and let him know where she was, then carefully made her way to her friends.
"Wow! This place is packed! I didn’t know it would be this crowded. You guys got the best seats in the house!" She let out a huge breath and plopped down, grinning at the cotton candy and snow cone Willow was holding. Sometimes Will was just like a little kid... all enthusiasm and innocence.
"What’d you do with the guys, Buff?" Xander leaned forward with his characteristic smirk. "You feed ‘em to the lions?"
Buffy ignored the jibe, and said, "You know Giles... he and Marcus are looking at every exhibit on the Midway. They’ll be here in a second..." She spotted Giles with Marcus riding on his shoulders, and began to grin. Marcus was in total heaven, his chubby face aglow with delight. "...there they are, now. Uh oh... cotton candy, again... I’m sure glad I brought wet wipes."
Anya commented, "I may need to borrow them if Xander starts drooling at the aerialists in their skimpy costumes."
Willow giggled, and Buffy grinned. Anya might be an ex-demon, but she did have a sense of humor.
"Hello, all. These are excellent seats. Thank you, Willow, for getting them all together for us." Stepping easily between benches, Giles climbed up to their row, sat beside Buffy, and carefully removed Marcus from his neck.
Armstead beamed proudly. "She’s very thorough, isn’t she?" He said it as though it was the most wonderful attribute she could possibly have.
"Wih-dow! I saw horses, and wions, an’ a big b’woon, and..." Marcus babbled excitedly, trying to tell Willow about all the wonderful things he had seen outside. She couldn’t understand most of it, but she did her best, making encouraging comments and reminding him to slow down from time to time.
Buffy snuggled closer to her husband and listened to her happy toddler’s chatter. She shifted and looked up at Giles’ face. "I was afraid he’d be too young to enjoy this, but he’s eating it up."
"Yes, he is. He may not understand all of it, but he’ll never forget his first trip to the Circus." He smiled in fond remembrance. "I never have."
"I remember, too... although Mom and Dad were fighting the whole time... that sorta put a damper on my fun."
"I’m sorry, love. This time will be better."
She smiled up at him. "Yeah, it will. ‘Cause my two favorite guys in the whole world are here with me. No fighting this time."
"None whatsoever." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and she sighed happily and rested her head against his shoulder. She was still for a only few seconds before Marcus grabbed her arm.
"Wook! Mummy, Daddy! Wook! Eff-fants!" With a blare of music, the Circus began.
As stilt-walkers, ponies, elephants, aerial performers, clowns and various wildly decorated vehicles paraded past, Giles and Buffy tried valiantly to answer Marcus’ rapid-fire questions.
"Mummy! What’s dat?" He pointed, then looked at her, convinced that his mother knew everything.
"Those funny looking people in the little car?" Buffy pointed to the brightly colored trio squeezed into an impossibly tiny fire engine.
"Yeth."
"They’re clowns," she answered, raising her voice over the noise. "That’s why they’re dressed funny."
"Oh." Something else caught his eye. "Wook, Mummy! What’s dat?" A pair of shaggy, humpless camel-like creatures passed them, giving the crowd a placid, liquid-eyed stare.
"Those are... llamas?" She looked at Giles. He nodded.
"Oh. What’s dat?"
He pointed at a human figure, and suddenly Buffy was stumped. She stared for a minute, then turned to Giles again. He grinned at her confusion. "That’s the Bearded Lady, love."
It was Buffy’s turn to say, "Oh. And... ewww."
Giles laughed heartily at her expression of dismay.
The procession completed its circuit around the big top tent, and the ring master introduced the first act with a flourish. Buffy was quickly lost in the masterful blend of showmanship, death-defying acts, clowns, and animals. She found herself enjoying the show for herself as much as she was for Marcus. Even Giles was wearing a quietly happy expression as he held Marcus in his arms. Buffy knew he was enjoying the return to childhood as much as she was.
It was good to be a child again, for a while. The Slayer and the Watcher took so much of the world’s burden on their shoulders, they sometimes forgot the simple things. Like a little boy’s wondering face as he watched acrobats tumble and balance themselves with fluid grace. Or his delight with the introduction of the stars of the Circus, two relatively small baby elephants, tagging along behind an older behemoth as she placidly circled the outer ring.
Marcus loved elephants. He was enchanted with them the first time he saw a picture of one. Seeing one in the flesh made him giddy. They were so...
"Daddy! Eff-fants sooo big!" He said it so matter-of-factly that the entire group erupted in laughter.
"Yes, they are, love." Giles made a mental note to see if he could let his son see one up close before they left. He felt Buffy’s agreement in his head as soon as the thought surfaced, outdistancing the mild ‘eww’ that crossed her mind when she thought about the up-close smell of an animal the size of a greyhound bus. He chuckled at her dainty reaction, then concentrated on enjoying the happiness in his child’s eyes.
As soon as the pachyderms vacated the ring, another act took their place. The fast pace seemed to suit Marcus, as he always had something new to look at, point to, and ask about. The little family remained enthralled throughout the rest of the show, looking for all the world like a normal family on a regular weekend outing with their friends.
When the final act was over, the extended Scooby Gang reluctantly gathered their souvenirs and followed the throng to the nearest exit. As they shuffled along, pressed on all sides by the crowd, Willow sighed, "I used to dream of joining the Circus when I was a little girl."
"I remember," Xander said scornfully. "You wanted to do the thing with the horses, except you were terrified of horses. It was a little weird."
"If I had learned when I was just a kid, like that girl did, I wouldn’t be afraid anymore." Willow’s voice was reasonable... so far.
"No, you’d be dead, with hoof prints down your back. You’re just not graceful like that, Will."
"I could be graceful! I’m just... not... usually. But I’m a quick study... I could learn." Willow’s ‘resolve face’ was beginning to make itself known. "You know how good I am at learning."
"Being Learn Girl doesn’t automatically make you Fancy Horseback Stuff Girl."
"Xander! I bet I could do fancy horseback stuff if I really wanted to."
"You fell off the horsie in front of the grocery store, remember? I’m skeptical of the entire horse thing."
"I was only six! I can do anything that sequined show-off can do!"
"Only if you had enough quarters."
Armstead opened his mouth, not understanding the jibe about the quarters, but ready to defend his girlfriend. A warning look from Buffy stopped him. She was grinning from ear to ear, and he got the distinct impression that their bickering was a common occurrence.
"Hey! Insult radar is pinging like mad, here!" The tone changed to defensive as she poked Xander in the chest.
Xander yelped and jumped away. Anya stepped back to avoid getting her foot trampled, then shrugged her shoulders and kept walking. She’d seen the two friends teasing each other before. It was nothing new. Xander recovered quickly, and patted Willow on the head, knowing it would make her furious. "Sorry, cute buddy... just stating cold, hard facts. You trip over your feet crossing a room!"
"I can do anything I want! I am empowered! I am Woman! Hear me roar!"
"Thank you, Helen Reddy." Xander winced as she poked him again. "What’s with the Toby Tyler routine, anyway? It’s not like your life turned out so bad."
"I didn’t say it did! My life is great! I love my life! I just wanted to do horseback stuff when I was a kid!"
"Well, when I was a kid I wanted to be Spiderman! At least the web stuff was cool."
"You don’t see me making fun of your childhood dream, do ya?" They passed through the tent door and out into the cool night air, all five of the adults breathing a sigh of relief.
"You should be... it was really dumb."
Willow stopped in surprise, then broke into snorting laughter. "So... so was me joining the Circus! I mean, really!"
"I can see you now, knee deep in horse hockey..."
"And you’d probably web yourself to the nearest lamp post..."
"Am I ever glad we grew up and got over all that stupid stuff."
"Yeah... except joining the Circus isn’t really that stupid, not like wanting to be a comic book hero."
"I’ll have you know I learned a lot from comic books..."
Buffy rolled her eyes as her two best friends continued to rag on each other. Armstead followed as closely as he could, not sure if he wanted to laugh or get angry. Anya ignored the exchange and clung to Xander’s arm, keeping an interested eye on the passing crowd. Buffy fell behind the two unusual couples, still grinning, then turned to her husband and son. Marcus was happily clinging to his father’s neck, amazed at the activity around them. She touched his arm gently, and said, "Let’s go see the elephants up close, okay?"
The toddler erupted in a high-pitched cheer that caused people to turn and smile all around them.
********
Soft snoring came from the baby seat behind them as the dark green van made its way home that evening. It had been a perfectly enchanted time for the little family. Everything they’d wished for had come true, right down to one of the animal handlers letting Marcus behind the scenes to see the elephants up close. The handlers all laughed at Marcus’ unwavering fascination, then turned respectful as the tiny child showed no fear of the huge creatures. As the child spoke softly to the great beasts, they seemed to respond with equal civility.
Buffy held the little camera carefully in her lap as they turned down their street. It contained a picture that she fervently hoped would turn out... a shot of Marcus in his father’s arms, touching his fingertips to the prehensile end of a huge female elephant’s trunk. The gargantuan animal was amazingly gentle, examining the tiny fingers with careful curiosity. Buffy shivered still at the memory of the fear she felt, but Giles and Marcus were completely at ease, more confident with the great beasts than they were with most humans.
It was the picture of a lifetime. She couldn’t wait to have it developed.
The perfection of the night suddenly gave way to a sense of anticipation that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. She shifted in her seat and turned to check on her baby, frowning slightly. Giles felt her unease instantly, and matched her expression with a frown of his own. A cold hand gripped his heart, and he fought the urge to slam on the brakes, jump out of the van, and square off against an unseen foe. With deliberate control, he managed to guide the vehicle into the driveway and shut off the engine.
The only thing Buffy could compare this new sensation to was the vamp awareness that being a Slayer had given her. She knew for a fact that there were no vampires around, yet her skin was crawling and her stomach aching. She knew Giles felt it, too, for his face had gone deathly pale in the light of the street lamp. Neither of them could bring themselves to open the doors and step out into that foreboding presence.
As the intensity of the sensation began to fade, Buffy turned to him with a fearful look. "Did you feel that?" she said unnecessarily.
"Highly unpleasant, wasn’t it?"
"We passed something really bad back there, didn’t we?"
"So it would seem." Giles craned his neck and tried to see all around the van, looking for whatever had set their supernatural awareness into overdrive.
"What was it?"
Giles took a deep, nervous breath. "I have no idea, love."
"It’s not completely gone, either. We gotta get Marcus in the house, quick. If I don’t know what it is, and you don’t know, either... how do we fight it?"
"I think I know a way." Giles’ hand closed over hers, and he closed his eyes in concentration. She complied at once, adding her strength to his, and the Bond expanded into the darkness, pushing the dread away until there was a comfortable sphere of safety surrounding them.
As the terror dissipated, she smiled, amazed at his instinctive use of the Bond. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his surprised expression matching her own.
"The Force is strong in you, young Skywalker," she teased, then took a deep breath and climbed into the back to retrieve their sleeping son. Chuckling softly, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the van, rounding the front to help Buffy with Marcus and their various bags and souvenirs from the Circus.
After they got inside the house, Buffy immediately went upstairs to put the baby in his crib, leaving Giles to sift through the cups, banners, and plastic elephants that proved to all and sundry that they’d seen the ‘greatest show on earth.’ As she changed the still sleeping child’s diaper, she mused, ‘I wonder why Marcus didn’t wake up. That felt like big time evil, out there!’
Giles came up the stairs, thinking about what they’d felt. Buffy had posed an excellent question. Why had Marcus, who showed every indication of being sensitive to evil in any form, been unaffected by the sudden sensation that so unnerved them?
As he came into the nursery, an idea struck him. "Perhaps Marcus reacts to evil primarily when we are not actively resisting it. When we are unaware of danger, he feels it necessary to warn us, however..."
"...when we know it’s there, he just figures Mummy and Daddy will handle it," Buffy finished softly, covering the tiny boy with a light blanket and moving back to watch him sleep for a minute.
"Yes, that’s the impression I get, as well." Giles stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. A strong sense of comfort emanated from him, soaking into her very soul, and she basked in the sensation for a moment before smiling up at him. They stepped across the hall to their bedroom to keep from waking Marcus, hoping they could mute their unease enough to allow his sleep to remain uninterrupted.
Once inside the room, she turned and looked into his eyes, seeing the concern and uncertainty behind the calm exterior. She knew he was still unsettled... she was, too. "Rupert, this is entirely too wiggy for me. I mean, just today, we hear this moldy ol’ prophecy and suddenly everything goes to hell in a handbasket."
"Yes, I know, love. I had hoped..." His voice trailed off, and she felt the swirl of emotions coming from him as he tried to gain command of himself.
"Me, too, babe... I hoped we’d at least have a couple of years before we had to fight the ol’ End-of-the-World badness again." She snuggled into his chest, comforting and taking comfort at the same time. "Why can’t Marcus just be a kid for a while? Why does it all have to be so friggin’ serious? Why can’t the world save itself once in a while?"
"I don’t know... I really, truly don’t." He took a shaky breath and held her as tightly as he could, fighting the gloom that threatened whenever he let down his guard. His mind resigned itself to the fact that they would never be free of the terrible responsibilities that were their respective birthrights. Still, he had been given so much... it seemed reasonable that, proportionately, much would be required. No matter what joy he was given in life, it was always stripped shortly thereafter from him...
"Oh, no..." Buffy murmured against him, shaking her head slightly, still in contact with his shirt front. "No, babe, you’re not allowed to wallow in all that yucky depression stuff." She kissed his chest through the thin material, then rested her head against him again. "Don’t you see? We can’t win if we stop fighting."
Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew her statement to be true. His own self-doubts, however, were not so easily banished. "Oh, love... if I only had your unfailing optimism..."
She tilted her head and looked into his tortured eyes. "The way I see it, we keep each other in balance. My Slayer strength, your Watcher brains... my ‘unfailing optimism’, your ‘the world is doomed’ outlook... my spazziness, your calmness... my shortness to your tallness..." With each comparison, his eyes grew wider and wider until she got to the size comparison, and he suddenly burst out laughing.
"Your youth, my age..." he managed, chuckling.
"Yeah... you’re, like, so old." She drawled, hugged him tightly, listening to the rumble of good humor deep in his chest.
"My linguistic abilities..."
"My complete lack of command of the one language I do speak..."
"Actually, I’ve noticed a vast improvement of late."
"I’m starting to sound more like you. No wonder you think it’s an improvement."
He gazed down at her shining face, so sure that she’d dispelled his fear with sheer force of will. His expression turned tender, and he stroked her face as he said softly, "My fear, your bravery... my despair, your hope..." He leaned forward and kissed her thankfully, and felt her smile against his lips.
"Mmm... you forgot something..." Her tone was light, teasing.
"What?"
"My female... your male... and the fact that the kid is asleep."
"Oh." He kissed her again, his voice becoming slightly hoarse. "I hadn’t forgotten that at all."
* * * * *
Gerard stirred from his light doze as the presence of magic assaulted his consciousness. He immediately turned toward the source of the disturbance, frowning, his body tensing for a confrontation. Blue goblins weren’t known for their physical prowess, but Gerard was determined to defend his little friend’s territory with all his might. He could see pretty well, even in the early morning darkness, and he could make out two shapes moving towards him.
"Who goes there?" As he spoke, he fought the urge to giggle nervously. He’d heard that line a million times in those cheap war movies... now here he was, sounding like a twitchy private guarding an obscure outpost.
"Relax, Ger, it’ssss me," Madvehkar’s welcome voice replied.
"Whew, Mad... I’m glad you’re back. Things got a little tense here a few hours ago... major mojo going on, but it seems to be quiet now." Suddenly, it registered that there was someone with the troll, a slight figure, standing back, just watching. "Uh, who’d you bring? This the lawyer?"
"Nah. I already talked to Lionel. He ssssuggessssted I call a Sssseer. And, here the Sssseer issss!" The troll waved a meaty hand at the slender figure standing behind him. As soon as Mad moved out of the way, Gerard recognized the newcomer.
"Zehdlaf! Long time no see! How are the grandchildren?" Gerard grabbed the elf’s hand and pumped it heartily.
Zehdlaf smiled the ethereal smile that was common to all elves, and stroked his shining silver beard before answering. "It has been a year, Gerard, and my grandchildren, for the most part, are well."
"That’s good, Zed. My cousins still talk about the party at your place... that was one for the record books, wasn’t it?" Gerard felt a sense of giddy relief in the presence of the elf... elves were the oldest of all the lower races... surely things would turn in favor of the Watcher’s family, with such a creature on their side.
Zehdlaf smiled at the memory of the gaggle of goblins that descended on his home to celebrate Gerard’s cousin’s wedding. Goblins were nothing, if not enthusiastic. "You and your cousins are always welcome in my home, Gerard. As are you and your nieces and nephews, Madvehkar, if you ever wish to visit an abode that is above ground."
To a troll, such an invitation was a sign of trust and comradeship, and not to be taken lightly. In gratitude, Mad bowed, sweeping his hat from his bald head. It was a grand gesture that would have been comical if not for the serious look on the troll’s face. As he straightened, he replaced the hat and said, "Thank you, Zzzzehdlaf."
"We’re awfully glad you’re here, Zed," the goblin said earnestly. "We really didn’t know what to do next."
"And you believe that I do?" the elf queried calmly.
Gerard looked directly at the wizened creature, his complete conviction showing in his multifaceted eyes. "I can’t speak for Mad, but I sure as heck hope so."
"Well, then." The elf clapped his thin hands together soundlessly. "I suppose I should begin."
"Begin... uh... what?" Gerard tried to sound calm, but his voice squeaked a little bit on the ‘what’.
"Doing something, of course."
"Oh. Well, we’ll just stand back and let you get on with it." Suddenly, Gerard’s stomach rumbled. "Hey, Mad... where’s my cheeseburger?"
The troll handed the goblin a grease-stained paper sack, and the two beings waited to see what the elven Seer would do next.
********
Giles stirred in his sleep, his dreams bizarre and disturbing. Yellowed parchments, a thousand times larger than life, chased him through cobweb infested catacombs. All around him, chanting voices grew louder and louder as he ran, but he could not make out the words they were saying. All around him, objects distorted and writhed until he was dizzy and slightly sick to his stomach. Every turn and twist of the corridor seemed to lead toward light and freedom, but he found only dead ends and frustration. He kicked the covers away in his agitation, and Buffy sat up, grumbling at the sudden draft on her bare skin.
"Hey, babe... wake up." She whispered, shaking him gently. She knew how jarring it was to be suddenly snatched out of a nightmare into the real world. He continued to moan softly, and she began to get a little worried. "Rupert, wake up... you’re dreaming, it’s okay, you’re safe..."
She stroked his face and murmured words of comfort until he stopped tossing and blinked his eyes open. He was sweating freely, his breath coming in short gasps. He searched the dark room until his eyes fell on her anxious face, and he managed a shaky smile. She sat back, relieved.
"Finally. You were beginning to worry me. You haven’t had one of those since before Marcus was born."
He sighed and reached for her hand, barely able to disguise his trembling. "Yes, I know. I fear the recent prophecies we’ve been studying have invaded my dreams. I was dreaming in Sanskrit... which, in itself, is unusual, since I’m not fluent in Sanskrit, by any means."
"How did you know it was Sanskrit, then?" She grinned suddenly. "You been checking out the Kama Sutra online again?"
He chuckled for a moment, then sat up. "Ancient sexual texts notwithstanding, the only time I recall trying to decipher Sanskrit was in my days at Oxford." He frowned suddenly, remembering something. "No, I’m wrong... I did work on a few things while I was at the British Museum. Come to think of it..." He sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up. "... I was working on back-translations of some religious texts... from Sanskrit to its antecedent language... oh, Dear God!" He sprang up and began pacing in excitement.
Buffy jumped up as well, watching him move around the room. She glanced at the clock. Almost three-thirty. Leave it to Giles to have a brilliant idea in the middle of the night. "What, babe? Do you know something about that prophecy book that that Cho-whosit guy didn’t?"
"Perhaps not, but back then I was using, as a reference, a rather disreputable anthology of social rules from a Hindu scholar named Putamanharji... I was the only one at the museum brash enough... or perhaps ignorant is a better word... to do so... and in the process, found several errors that were later verified by more established researchers as mistranslations of the original language. Why didn’t I think of that immediately? The sutras of Putamanharji were taboo to the Tibetans... I’ll wager old Cho would have never used them in his work... it would be akin to a Moslem using Salman Rushdie’s "The Satanic Verses" to translate the Koran into English..."
Buffy shook her head in confusion, unable to process all the strange-sounding names. "Sooo... without all the unpronounceable words... this means what?"
"That Cho could have been mistaken in his translation."
"You mean, before you came to Sunnydale, you accidentally found something a one-hundred-sixty-year-old Tibetan guy spent his life searching for, but missed? I know you’re smart, and all, babe, but forgive me for being skeptical."
Giles didn’t seem to take offense. If anything, he became more sure of himself. "If there is the slightest chance that the wording of this prophecy could be misleading, it’s worth looking into, don’t you think?"
"Well, yeah..." Suddenly, she smiled. "Yeah, I guess it is! What if, instead of Marcus being the harbinger of the end of the world, he’s just the harbinger of something else? Like... the end of polyester, or something?"
Giles began to laugh, then caught himself at Buffy’s quick hiss. There was no need to wake the baby. "I have to get to work... I’m sure Braithwaite still has the Putamanharji somewhere..." He looked at the clock, mentally calculating the time difference. "He should still be at the office, if he hasn’t taken an early lunch. I’ll just ring him up. Then, I’ll get Armstead and his laptop over here..." He dashed out the door, but was gone less than a minute before reappearing at the bedroom door with an abashed grin on his face. "Um... would you hand me something to wear...?"
Buffy giggled helplessly at her completely nude husband, muffling the sound with one hand. When she caught her breath, she rasped, "I was wondering if you were gonna go streaking through the house with all the curtains wide open."
She handed him his robe and the bottoms of the night clothes they always shared. He pulled on the clothes then disappeared down the hall again. After a bit, Buffy reluctantly donned the top and a pair of shorts. Realizing sleep was no longer an option, she started downstairs.
"Oh, God, why is prophecy such a pain?" she moaned softly, then thought about what she’d said. She looked up apologetically. "I guess it’s kind of a pain for you too, isn’t it? Sorry."
********
Giles waited impatiently while the telephone on the other end of the line rang. After the fourth ring, the line clicked and a very groggy voice answered, "Yes, Armstead here."
"Good morning, Armstead. It’s Rupert Giles. I may have some new insights into the prophecies of Enosh. Can you meet us here in a few hours, and bring your computer?"
Armstead fumbled for his bedside clock and winced at the early hour. Watcher discipline took over before he could moan, and he said as crisply as possible, "Of course, sir. Would eight o’clock be too early?"
"Eight is fine. I’ll see you then." He hung up abruptly, leaving Armstead to wonder just what kind of insight Giles could possibly have at three-thirty in the morning. He shrugged slightly, deciding that there was no predicting the elder Watcher’s behavior, then set his alarm for seven o’clock.
********
Gerard and Madvehkar stood just inside the hedge, staring at the motionless elf with growing concern. After his declaration that something must be done, he simply closed his eyes and froze. No hand gestures, no magic dust, no waving wands... nothing. A cool breeze caught the ends of Zehdlaf’s silver beard, but otherwise, there was no movement at all.
Mad looked over at Gerard uncertainly. "Uh, what do you think he’ssss doing?" he whispered.
"I dunno. Don’t know much about elf magic. But Zed’s been around forever, and he knows what he’s doing... whatever it is..."
"I guessss sssso." Mad squinted at the robe-clad figure in front of them. The elf was like a statue. "We need to get back to guard duty, Gerard. He’ll probably call ussss when he’ssss done."
"Yeah, you’re right." Neither of them moved from their spot.
"So... you take the back yard, and I’ll go up front." Gerard finally said.
Mad nodded. "Fine with me."
The pair reluctantly left the elf to his unseen task, and took up stations once again. Each of them wondered what possible good the elf could be doing, just standing there.
Several minutes passed, then suddenly, inside the house, lights began to pop on downstairs. Gerard, from his vantage point in the hedge, could see the Watcher pick up the telephone and carry on a short conversation. This was followed by a second call, a much longer one, that seemed to please him greatly. He turned as the Slayer came down the stairs and caught her up in a happy embrace, spinning her around until she began to laugh.
Whatever it was that Zehdlaf was doing, it must’ve worked. The goblin turned to the smiling elf at his side, his face curious. "Hey, Zed... wha’d you do? They seem awfully happy about something."
Zehdlaf opened his silver-gray eyes and looked at Gerard with a pleased expression. "Nothing difficult. A memory... an idea... nothing that wasn’t already there. But, I think..." His smile widened at the sight of their unwitting hosts kissing passionately, oblivious to the open curtains. "...I think the greatest gift is hope."
********
At exactly eight o’clock the next morning, Bill Armstead knocked on the Giles’ front door, unaware that he was being scrutinized by an elf, a goblin, and a troll. The three lower beings began to discuss Armstead’s place in the little drama unfolding before them, but it was Madvehkar that spotted the compact little laptop case gripped tightly under the Observer’s right arm.
Mad pointed triumphantly. "That’ssss it! He’ssss gonna look ssssomething up for them, ssssee?"
Zehdlaf smiled. "There is much research and study ahead of them."
"That’s what these guys do best," Gerard affirmed with a satisfied nod. "The Watcher’s the best I’ve ever seen at uncovering stuff. Not to mention that him and the Slayer have that Bond thing going on."
"Ah, yes... the Bond," Zehdlaf said thoughtfully. "Remarkable. I remember its presence during the battle for their child."
"Who could forget?" Gerard snorted. "It was like World War Three out there for a while."
"But they ssssaved the tiny human," Mad stated proudly.
"Yeah, and it looks like they’re gonna have to do it again." Gerard settled himself into the hedge and resumed his vigil as three figures became visible through the living room window.
********
Armstead stared at his laptop, willing the thing to hurry up. "I’ve sent my address to your friend Braithwaite, Mister Giles. Now, all we can do is wait until he returns the information you need." In just a scant few minutes, the computer began to receive information at an amazing rate. "Ah, here it comes now."
Giles frowned at the small screen. "It makes me distinctly uncomfortable to transmit such sensitive material over a public system such as this."
"Rupert, babe, it makes you distinctly uncomfortable to program the VCR. Get over it." Buffy plopped down into the floor to play with Marcus, scooting his toys away to make herself a roomy spot. "Daddy’s a technophobe, Marcus. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you."
Marcus laughed, sensing his mother’s teasing mood.
A knock at the door caused Buffy to jump up, but Giles was already halfway to the door, so she relaxed and returned to playing with Marcus. She heard Willow’s cheerful voice, and smiled... the resident computer whiz was here... if there were any snags in getting the stuff from England, she’d know what to do.
"Hey, Buffy, you called? Hi, Marcus, honey, whatcha doin’?" The slender redhead squatted to receive an enthusiastic hug and kiss from the youngest person in the room. She reciprocated with equal enthusiasm, then rose gracefully and moved to Armstead’s side. "Hi, Bill. How’s the transfer going?" She unconsciously caressed the back of his neck as she bent over to read the screen.
"Hello, Willow. It’s going well, I think. All of the pages are scanned at high resolution, or so Mister Giles’ friend tells me, but we’ve only received seven pages so far."
"Hmm. How many more do you have to... oh, my... this is gonna take a while, you know that, don’t you?"
Armstead and Giles both nodded, then Buffy asked, "Just how long is a ‘while’, Will?"
Willow stared at the screen again, thinking. "At least another hour."
"An hour?" Giles began to pace. "So much for the instantaneous transmission of information!"
Buffy stifled a giggle, then patted the floor beside her. "Come here and play with us."
"Yeth, Daddy! P’ay wif us!" Marcus’ voice pleaded, and Giles’ heart melted instantly.
"Yes, all right, for a little while..."
Giles came around the couch and knelt beside his wife, and was nearly bowled over by an excited little boy. Marcus hugged his father tightly, then handed him a toy car. "Heah, Daddy. Dis cah fo’ you."
"Thank you, son."
Willow couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her very proper, professorish friend playing with Matchbox racers on the carpet. Now, Buffy seemed right at home, for some reason...
Just as Giles got comfortable, another knock came at the door. Buffy heard Xander’s voice as he let himself in, and waved him over. "Hey, guys... hey, Marcus... oh, cool! A Corvette!" He made himself right at home, stretching out full length on the carpet to watch Marcus as he transformed the living room carpet into an Indy 500 racetrack.
Time passed quietly as Willow and Armstead sat discussing computer terminology and the Internet and Marcus entertained everyone else. Suddenly, the computer beeped, signaling the end of the transmission. Giles jumped up and ran around to the table, followed closely by Buffy and Xander, and they crowded around Armstead to see what Braithwaite had sent them.
"That’s it! The Putamanharji Sutras... and there are my notes. They kept them all. Amazing. The pictures are clear as a bell! Now, I need those original files that Father sent..."
"Right here, Giles." Willow leaned over and touched a few keys, bringing up the documents in a separate window. "Sit down, and I’ll show you how to compare them."
As Giles slid into the seat vacated by Armstead, Buffy felt her heart flutter with anticipation. Giles had always managed to put things right. This would be no exception.
Giles fell silent as he studied the notes and translations before him, feeling a sense of deja vu at seeing his own work again after almost fifteen years. He was so driven back then, his sense of destiny side-lined by a lack of active Watcher duties, and he had poured himself into his work at the Museum wholeheartedly. The idea that his past dedication would had an impact on his present... and future... seemed unbelievably symmetrical.
"Buffy, this may take some time. Would you...?"
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Buffy headed for the kitchen, a smirk on her face. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot. Aye, aye, Captain Picard."
Willow giggled, and even Armstead smiled. Giles gave him a quick glare, and Armstead said mildly, "I have managed to watch a bit of television in my day, sir."
"I seem to be plagued by constant comparisons to science fiction characters. I can’t imagine why."
"If only you weren’t so Picard-ish at times, babe..." Buffy’s voice floated in from the next room.
"Yeah, but sometimes he’s more Spock-like, with all his logic and stuff." Willow grinned down at the back of Giles’ neck, noting the slight flush of embarrassment showing there.
"He has Data-like moments, too, like turning his head when he’s thinking... very android-like behavior." Xander demonstrated with a jerk of his neck, and Willow burst into giggles again.
Buffy chortled from the kitchen, feeling Giles’ mixture of irritation and affection. He tried to act like he hated being teased, but in reality, it made him feel like a part of the family.
The morning passed, and Willow sent Xander out to get Chinese food for lunch. The little group ate at the table, occasionally asking Giles how things were going. He gave minimal response, engrossed as he was in his research. Buffy tried to get him to eat something, but he only managed a few bites before returning to the task at hand. Finally, they left him alone, wandering into the back yard to sprawl on the deck furniture in the warm sun. When Buffy came through the house to put Marcus down for a nap, she received a dissatisfied grunt when she asked about his progress.
Somewhere around two that afternoon, Giles stopped working and stared at the screen, lost in thought. The first set of lines were completely correct. He began to feel a niggle of doubt. What if Buffy was right? What if he was being terribly presumptuous about his ability to out-do Cho-je’s gifted translation?
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Almost instantly, Buffy appeared at his side and began rubbing his stiff shoulders. His second sigh was more of relief than exhaustion. Buffy’s massages were heavenly. As she worked the soreness out of his muscles, she queried, "No luck, huh?"
"None at all."
"How far have you gotten?"
"Just through the first few lines. It’s slow going, and Cho’s work is absolutely impeccable. I don’t know what I was thinking..."
She shushed him softly and continued her ministrations. "You were thinking about, and I quote, ‘leaving no stone unturned where my son is concerned,’ unquote. I’m proud of you."
The praise caught him by surprise, causing a tide of gratitude and love to well up where moments before there had been only frustration. He turned his head and looked up at her, his lips quirking into a tender smile. "Thank you, love. That means a great deal to me."
"I know." She kissed his temple and patted his shoulders. "I have an idea... let’s take a break, and then you can start in with a clear head." She tilted her head, smiling, and said, teasingly, "I’ll even make more tea."
"Well! In that case... I must agree." He grinned, stood, stretched, and followed her to the back yard, where an impromptu game of badminton was underway. They had dredged up an old net and four rackets, and the competition had grown pretty fierce.
"Time out, guys!" Willow seemed a bit out of breath and willing to call a halt to the action. She and Buffy had been playing against the guys, but when Buffy deserted her to check on Giles, she found herself at a disadvantage, and was having a hard time keeping up. It didn’t help that Xander was doing his best to spike the shuttlecock at every opportunity. She waved herself out of the game, and came over to the deck steps to rest. "So, any luck?" she asked Giles brightly.
"A popular question today. I’m afraid not. I’m not even half-way through. Perhaps there’s something in the latter verses." He sank into a lawn chair, trying not to sound completely dejected.
Xander, determined to keep the game going, was trying his best not to be trounced by his new friend. Armstead had obviously played badminton before. As Xander concentrated on the flying shuttlecock, he said, almost offhandedly, "Say, Giles... why don’t you start at the end and work backwards?"
"Hmm?" The words barely registered in Giles’ brain, as tired as he was. A minute or two passed, and he had began to relax in the warm afternoon sunshine, when suddenly something clicked and he sat straight up. "What did you say?"
Xander missed a diving return completely and landed on his stomach in the grass with a loud ‘oof!’ He sat up carefully, sweat dripping from his face. He looked a bit confused. "About what?"
"Did you say something about working backwards?"
Understanding dawned on the young man’s face. "Oh, yeah! I mean, the guy worked on this for a long time, right? And he was way old, too... so it sorta stands to reason."
Giles obviously wasn’t following Xander’s train of thought at first, but something was niggling at him, and he intended to follow it. An idea began to form, and he focused on his young friend. "You mean to say that Cho might have made more mistakes toward the last, because of his age?"
"Not just because of that. You said he died just after he finished, right? Maybe minutes after, right?"
Giles nodded.
"Well, maybe he was too sick to get the last part right." Xander got to his feet and stood there uncertainly while Giles stared at him. He stared so long that Xander began to get uncomfortable. "Uh... hey, Giles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your friend."
"No, no... it’s all right." Little by little, Giles’ face began to light up from within as he considered the idea. "No, as a matter of fact, my friend, I think yours is the most astute statement that has been made since this whole thing started!" He jumped out of the chair, turning it over in his haste, and flew back into the living room, leaving the screen door to slam loudly in his wake.
Xander looked at the others, disbelieving. "I was astute?"
********
Giles worked feverishly, convinced that an revelation was imminent. Instead of continuing with the second stanza, he moved to the last one and began the meticulous work of comparing one symbol with another. It barely registered when Xander left for his latest job, and when Willow and Armstead left for a dinner date, he waved slightly, intent on finding something... anything... He couldn’t accept that Marcus was the end of the Slayer line, that his birth heralded the Apocalypse.
The shadows grew long, and Buffy made dinner for them as he worked. She felt every twinge of excitement as he began work on a new word, only to feel the echo of disappointment as Cho’s translation held true. Over and over she rode the mental roller coaster with him, sighing as he resolutely moved on to the next word. It was slow going, since there were two languages to work from, but he persisted.
At length, he sat back, blinking his strained eyes and rubbing his nose where his glasses rested. Buffy knew that gesture well. It meant that he was too tired to continue, but was too stubborn to admit it. She filled a plate and slid it next to his elbow, nudging him slightly, and he grunted in acknowledgment as she sat Marcus in his high chair and started their meal.
She fixed him with a stern glare the minute he looked up at her. "Rupert Giles, eat your dinner. Starving yourself won’t make the words any plainer."
She felt his sigh to her very soul, and he reluctantly complied with her command, lifting his fork as though it weighed a ton. She watched him carefully, making sure he ate everything on his plate, then gave him a kiss as she cleared the table. Marcus watched his father, a pensive look on his little face. He’d stayed out of the way all afternoon, and he obviously felt he’d been ignored long enough. The minute Buffy set him on his feet, he toddled to Giles’ side and lay his head in Daddy’s lap.
Giles immediately came back to the real world. "Hello, son. I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? I’m sorry." He stroked the baby’s soft hair gently before gathering him into his arms. He gave Marcus a kiss on the cheek, and chuckled as the child returned it expertly.
"I wuv you, Daddy." His chubby arms stretched around Giles’ neck and held on for dear life.
"I love you, too, Marcus. I’m sorry Daddy has to work right now. It’s very boring, but also very important."
"I he’p you." He squirmed around until he could see the computer screen, his face serious. Buffy could feel his intense concentration cloud their connection momentarily, then the Bond reasserted itself, and she relaxed slightly. It made her awfully nervous when she wasn’t in emotional contact with him.
"What’s dat?" Marcus pointed to a squiggle on the screen.
Giles chuckled again, and answered, "That’s the symbol for friend, love."
Marcus tilted his head and stared at the ancient writing, reminding Giles so much of Buffy that his eyes misted over for a moment. The Bond between the three of them throbbed with emotion. Then, the toddler frowned. "Dat’s not fwiend, Daddy."
"What?" Giles couldn’t believe his ears. Marcus spoke with absolute conviction. The link between them was humming so strongly it was almost audible, and the child’s intent was identical to his words. Giles knew, in his heart, that the child was right, but his mind refused to accept it. "Marcus, surely you can’t read that."
At that moment Marcus seemed to lose interest. He slid to the floor and headed over to his toys. Giles stared after him, his mouth hanging open. "Marcus?"
"Wook, Daddy! I make a bwidge!" He started happily stacking his blocks, and seemed to have completely forgotten his sudden bout of insight.
Giles continued to stare at the child. He didn’t even hear Buffy come up behind him, and jumped when she said, "Wonder why he thinks that word isn’t ‘friend’? He barely knows what a ‘word’ is."
"More importantly... if that word truly isn’t ‘friend’, then how many other words are incorrect, as well?"
Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "You aren’t gonna take a little baby’s word over that Translator guy’s, are you?"
He looked up at her, determination in his face. "Something extraordinary is happening, and Marcus is at the center of it. The Bond has never led us astray, Buffy. The answers are all right here." He tapped the computer screen gently. "It seems I have more work to do."
"I wish I could help you, Rupert," Buffy said in a forlorn voice.
"You have, dearest. Just by being here." He pulled her into his lap and gave her a tender kiss. With his face buried in her shoulder, he murmured, "Perhaps I should have started exactly as Xander suggested... with the very last word."
Buffy snorted softly. "The fact that you’re taking something Xander said while playing badminton so seriously totally freaks me out."
"It frightens me, as well. But, something has to work, and so far my methods haven’t been too successful."
Buffy sat up and touched her husband’s forehead, trying to smooth away the worry lines that had gathered there. "It’s gonna be okay, Rupert. You’ll find a way."
"We’ll find a way, love."
"Yeah." She gave him a confident smile. "We will."
He looked up, his eyes searching the ceiling briefly. "If you’re going to intervene, God, now would be a good time."
********
Zehdlaf the elf, the elder in his clan, stood hidden in the shadows just outside the Giles’ living room window. Elf hearing allowed him to easily follow the human’s conversation, and he smiled at the Watcher’s words.
Nodding to himself, he said softly, "Divine Intervention has already begun, my friend."
* * *