__Things Unsaid__
By Jolene Beasley
"Marcus! Did you spill that Kool-aid on the carpet?" Buffy pointed at the large purple stain soaking into the twisted pile. Usually, if he had an accident, he would call her immediately. This time, however, she found him hiding behind the couch, looking guilty and fearful. She’d told him not to go into the living room. As is the usual case when a child disobeys, that child finds himself in a jam.
Marcus was definitely in a jam. His face was set in a stubborn frown. He shook his head firmly. "No!"
Buffy sighed. This was a new development. Marcus had never lied to her before. She remembered something her mother used to tell her father in times like this... when she’d been caught and tried to weasel her way out of trouble by fabricating a story to suit the situation. She could hear Joyce’s exasperated voice saying, "If children were born honest, they wouldn’t need parents."
She never understood what that meant... until now.
"Marcus Everett, look at me." She fixed him with a stern glare. "Tell me the truth. Did you spill that Kool-aid?"
‘Great, I sound just like my Mom!’ she thought ruefully. ‘I always hated it when she asked something so obvious... I was the only kid in the house... of COURSE I was the one that did everything!’ She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, watching his face as a fierce battle waged behind it. She felt the swirl of emotions, anger, fear, and finally, sadness because he’d disappointed her.
Finally, he looked up at her, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. He nodded slowly. "I sowwy, Mummy. I sowwy."
She sighed. Another small victory. "Come here, baby." He shuffled towards her, sniffing and rubbing his eyes, his entire body stiff with distress. She picked him up and gave him a kiss. "Marcus, you must always tell Mummy and Daddy the truth. It hurts us when you lie. Telling the truth makes me happy, even if I don’t like what you did."
Her mind was whirling. His first birthday was two days away, and she was already having to deal with two-and three-year-old issues. He was learning to assert his independence day by day, and had a strong sense of self. He was still extraordinarily unselfish, for the most part, but he knew what he wanted, and made it abundantly clear when his will was violated.
Still cradling the baby in her arms, she headed into the laundry room for the carpet cleaning machine. Her wise and forward-thinking husband had purchased one as soon as Marcus began to walk, and she’d used it a hundred times. It sure beat renting a steam cleaner!
"C’mon, let’s get this all cleaned up before Daddy gets home." She put him down and let him trail behind her as she filled the machine with cleaning solution. When she turned around again, he was looking up at her sadly, pouting.
"What’s wrong, sweetie? Mommy’s not mad." She squatted down until she was eye level with him. "Tell me what’s wrong."
A wave of guilt struck her, and she almost fell backwards in her shock. He felt guilty? A little child? No, this was too much... no one-year-old baby should have to deal with that kind of heavy emotion. "Oh, Marcus, honey, it’s okay. Mummy forgave you already. After you’re forgiven, you don’t have to feel bad anymore."
He couldn’t articulate his feelings, but he knew his mother would feel them with him, so he gave up and just threw himself in her arms. He knew Mummy would make him feel better.
She forgot about the carpet stain and concentrated on comforting her son.
********
"He’s asleep."
Giles sighed heavily as he sank onto the couch. "Finally. It’s nearly nine thirty. I was beginning to think we’d fall asleep before he did."
"I know. He’s been in high gear for the past week." She sighed as she joined him, collapsing against him wearily. "It’s gonna be a wild birthday party, I can tell already."
"Indeed." He pulled her closer to him and handed her a cup of mint tea. "Now, relax yourself a bit. You said we needed to talk." He kissed her temple gently, not wanting to cause her to spill the hot drink.
"Sure do. Okay... we’ve been so busy tonight I didn’t get a chance to tell you... Marcus lied to me today."
Giles groaned, then chuckled softly. "The little dickens. How did you react?"
She sipped the soothing liquid for a minute, then answered, "I told him that lying hurts Mummy and Daddy, and then he started crying and said, ‘I sowwy.’ But that wasn’t the worst part. He felt so guilty afterwards I had to hold him for a half hour before he would get down and play again." She didn’t have to tell him how that made her feel... the worry and fear that their son would grow up to be unhappy... Giles could feel it the moment she did.
"Love... Marcus’ being gifted doesn’t exclude him from going through the same growing stages as other children. We must teach him right from wrong and light from darkness, just as all parents must. It seems that, with his gifts, he should be able to feel his way to truth, but I don’t think any child can... not even an extraordinary child such as Marcus. He has the Bond within him, but it is up to us to teach him to follow its leading."
Buffy snorted softly. "You’re so smart, it makes me crazy sometimes. We’re supposed to teach him, and we don’t even understand what to do ourselves!"
"That’s what makes life so exciting," Giles said with a perfectly straight face. Buffy poked him in the ribs teasingly, and they both began to grin.
"Wise guy."
"I’m so glad you recognize my wisdom, love."
Buffy rolled her eyes, then gave up and sank back against his side. They sat quietly for a while, sipping tea and sharing loving thoughts. Finally Giles sighed and placed his cup carefully on the coffee table.
"What is it?" She felt his feeling of disquiet arise beneath the calm exterior.
"How would you feel if I went to see Father Denning tomorrow? Concerning Marcus?" He looked at her sincerely, his eyes begging her indulgence.
"Uh... how come?"
"Well, Denning isn’t your run-of-the-mill cleric, or he would never have lasted forty years above a Hellmouth. He understands our somewhat... unique situation. He might provide some insight on... ah... how to teach Marcus about... well, spiritual matters."
She looked surprised, but not upset. "Oh. Okay, I get it. I mean, Doctor Liebermann is great, and he knows the clinical stuff, but..." She looked down, smiling slightly. "...I don’t think he believes in angels, or supernatural callings, do you?"
Giles shook his head slightly, marveling at her perceptiveness. "No, I imagine not. I’m don’t think he believes in a God at all."
Buffy looked up at him, surprised. "You asked him?"
"Not exactly. During one of our interviews, I touched on my belief as to what has happened to us. He seemed... skeptical." Giles’ face grew solemn. "He told me, in so many words, that it would give him great comfort to believe in a higher power, but that he did not."
"That’s sad. Maybe someday he will... I mean, neither of us were raised with any religious training, but look at us now! We have God-sent, super-power Bonds and funky-looking angels showing up left and right."
He smiled at that, then added, "True enough. I feel I should speak with Denning now, before Marcus begins asking us about our beliefs." He ran his hands through his hair in mild exasperation. "I have no idea how to explain such matters to a one-year-old!"
Buffy started laughing at him, despite her matching concern. "Yeah, you can’t use charts, overheads and globes, can ya?"
"No, I suppose not. A globe would probably end up being used as a basketball."
"He sure loves throwing things... I found a sock on the ceiling fan earlier today."
"How original. Perhaps he shall invent a new game of it... should spark an entirely new athletic-wear market."
"Not to mention a whole new ceiling fan revolution."
"Perhaps he’ll make his first million in sock and ceiling fan futures."
"Ceiling fans with racing stripes... I can see it now."
She laughed again at the silliness of their conversation, and snuggled happily against his side. His arm slid into place around her, and peace descended on the living room once again. His decision made, Giles began to relax, and their soft conversation turned to things of the home... mundane things like groceries, bills, and class schedules. Above them, Marcus slept contentedly, safe in the protective aura that his parents projected.
********
The next day after breakfast, Giles bundled Marcus into the van and drove to St. Mary’s church on the outskirts of town. Marcus seemed happy to make the trip, and babbled happily as they drove through the shade-dappled streets of the older parts of Sunnydale. Marcus loved pointing out things and asking what they were, and Giles answered each query patiently as he drove, encouraging his son to learn new words.
When Giles pulled into the parking lot, he was surprised to find several cars already there, and caught sight of children playing in the yard out front. ‘The church school’s out for the summer,’ he thought, with some confusion. Then it hit him. Church league baseball... of course. And, of course, Father Denning, with his love of athletics, would certainly be right in the middle of things.
He broke into a knowing grin when he rounded the parking lot and approached the playground. Amidst the youngsters, looking like a silver-haired bear surrounded by tiny hounds, Father Denning crouched, his hands expertly guiding a future slugger in how to swing a bat. The ball rested on a short post, negating the need for a pitcher. Seeing the size of the children, Giles surmised that they wouldn’t be coordinated enough to hit a pitched ball, no matter how gently it was thrown.
Father Denning led his little charge through the motions several times, then backed away. The child tried valiantly to imitate his coach’s movements, and, on the third try, connected solidly, sending the ball bouncing into the infield. The little boy shrieked with joy, and instead of trying for first base, ran back the dugout and traded hi-fives with his teammates. The parents, sitting in the stands, cheered wildly. None of them seemed concerned about him actually getting to home plate!
Giles watched for a few minutes, then looked over at Marcus. The child was mesmerized by the action. He broke into a grin when the little crowd began cheering again. A chubby-faced little girl was pounding towards first base, barely ahead of the rolling ball she’d just clobbered with all her might.
Giles grinned and gave Marcus a quick kiss. "You’ll be with them before too long, love. I think this just might be a good place for you to go to school. At least here, you won’t have to worry about keeping secrets."
Father Denning finally noticed Giles standing there, and turned his charges over to a younger man in casual clothes. He crossed the field quickly, a smile creasing his broad face.
"Rupert! Hello! I’m running late, sorry..."
Giles laughed again. "Oh, no... you were engaged in much more important business..." He nodded towards the field of happy children, his face taking on a look of wonder. He never thought he’d have children of his own... and yet, here he was, holding his son. It was a bit overwhelming at times.
"Come on in. I need a cool drink right now." Denning led them into the gym, heading straight for the kitchen. He pulled out a sports drink and finished half of it before Giles could react. Seeing his friend’s look, Denning began to chuckle. "This stuff’s supposed to be good for a body, but it tastes horrible. Want some?"
Giles held up a hand and replied, "Oh, no... thank you. Buffy tries to get me to drink that appalling concoction after our workouts. I prefer diluted fruit juice, actually. It’s stood me in good stead."
"I’ll have to try that... it can’t be any worse than this." He held up a half-empty bottle of blue fluid.
Giles made a face. "No, it certainly can’t."
"Hi, Fa’ Denny." Marcus suddenly said. The child didn’t seem afraid, only respectful.
"Hello, there, Marcus. How are you today?" The priest made it a practice to speak to Marcus as an equal, much to the little boy’s delight.
"I go i’cweam!" Marcus broke out into a happy smile. "I wike i’cweam!"
"That sounds awfully good to me, too." Denning laughed.
"I promised him ice cream after our visit... he’s positively mad for the stuff. Buffy is going to kill me. It will undoubtedly ruin his lunch." Giles shook his head in resignation.
"Oh, I think a growing boy like Marcus can handle a little mid-morning snack."
Marcus nodded vigorously. "Yeth. Fa’ Denny wike i’cweam? It berry good!"
Denning’s eyes widened. "Yes, I like ice cream. You certainly are adding to your vocabulary daily, aren’t you, son?"
Marcus frowned, not completely understanding. He looked at his father, then, catching the meaning behind the words, beamed happily and looked back at the priest. He nodded vigorously and answered, "Yeth."
"Good lad! Well, let’s go on to my office. I’m ready to sit for a little while!" The priest shook his head in amazement, then gestured towards the doors leading to the church proper.
Just as they reached the exit, a young nun entered, breathless, and seeing Father Denning, she immediately bowed. "Monsignor Denning! Good morning... I’m sorry, but you have an important telephone call."
"Thank you, Sister Edwardine. And please, call me Father, at least around the general public."
"Of course, Mons- I mean, Father. The call is in your office..."
"I’ll be right there... Sister, would you mind showing Mister Giles and Marcus around the school? I don’t think they’ve seen it."
Giles smiled understandingly. "I’d love to see the school. Perhaps when Marcus is older he will attend here."
Sister Edwardine beamed up at him. She couldn’t have been over five feet tall. "That would be wonderful, Mister Giles. He will get the best of care at St. Mary’s. It’s a wonderful school."
"I go skoo’, Daddy?" Marcus’ eyes lit up at the idea. The other children seemed to be having a grand time.
"Not yet, love, but soon, perhaps only a few years from now, you shall go to school."
"Yay!" Marcus seemed delighted.
Sister Edwardine seemed awestricken. "How old... I’m sorry, that was rude of me." She ducked her head slightly, and Giles smiled. She was so young. Buffy’s age, perhaps even younger.
"No, it’s quite all right. He will be a year old tomorrow, actually."
She didn’t comment, but her eyes grew impossibly wider.
"I know. He’s quite precocious. That’s one of the reasons I’m here... to talk with Father Denning about Marcus’ education."
"Oh! I see! Well... come this way, and I’ll show you the classrooms." She gathered her wits and regained her polite hostess attitude, and they went along on their impromptu tour, chatting amiably as they visited the empty classrooms. Giles was suitably impressed with the clean, neat cubicles, and surprised at the computers that graced nearly every room. St. Mary’s was certainly keeping up with the times!
After a short while, Denning finished his call and intercepted them just as they were heading for the playground. A new, older batch of children had taken over another part of the field, and when they saw the young nun watching them, they began to call to her.
"Sister Eddie! Sister Eddie! Come and umpire for us!"
She flushed at her nickname, then looked at Father Denning for approval. He nodded, and she mumbled an apology before heading for the playground. Denning beamed proudly as the children surrounded her.
"We have a wonderful staff here."
"I can see that... Monsignor."
Denning shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Not you, too."
"When did you become a Monsignor? You haven’t said a word."
"A few weeks ago... but it isn’t all that important. They had to do something. Nobody in their right mind wants to live above a Hellmouth, so they probably promoted me to keep me here."
"I’m sure it’s much more than that, my friend." Giles glanced at his watch. "Oh dear, we’d better hurry our meeting a bit... Buffy will be home soon, and I have to leave for work shortly thereafter."
"Well, then, Rupert, let’s try this again, shall we?"
They finally made it to Father Denning’s office without incident. The visit took just under a half hour. Giles left feeling much better about Marcus... and about himself.
********
"So, wha’d Father D say?"
Giles looked up from his spot on the couch as Buffy breezed in, cheerful and happy. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy just looking at her. A tiny smile crooked the corner of his mouth as Marcus toddled over to her, shrieking happily. She swung him into her arms and began peppering his little face with kisses. Giles rose to his feet slowly, not willing to disturb the sweetness of the moment.
"Ooo, yummy kisses... Mummy loves you, Marcus... Rupert, one more time...what did Father D say?"
"Sorry. I was preoccupied. You came into the room, you see," He explained, smiling down at her as he approached and raising his hand to stroke Marcus’ head. "And, being the red-blooded males we are, we were completely carried away by your presence," he finished, smiling even wider as the little boy clung to his mother’s neck, hugging her for all he was worth.
Buffy laughed up at Giles. "Oh, you! You’re just a big ol’ mush-head, you know that?"
"Yes, I’m aware of that. But I can justify it easily."
"You can, huh?"
"Oh, yes. I have two excellent reasons for being a ‘mush-head’." He placed a kiss against Marcus’ hair. "One..." He then leaned forward and gave Buffy a thorough, searching kiss that caused her heart rate to soar into the stratosphere. As he released her lips and gazed into her eyes, he murmured, "Two."
"Free!" Marcus cried happily.
Both adults burst into laughter.
"The advantages of educational television," Giles commented wryly.
Buffy finally caught her breath and fixed Giles with a stern look. "Three strikes and you’re out, babe..."
"Oh! Sorry. You wanted to hear about my talk with Father Denning. Come and sit, and I’ll get us some tea."
"Uh oh... sounds like this is going to take a while." She put Marcus in the floor with a few toys, and curled up on the couch, getting comfortable.
"No, not really," Giles called reassuringly from the kitchen as he filled the kettle with water. "I just thought we might need a quiet moment... tomorrow night there will be a rather boisterous crowd about."
Buffy smiled, then groaned at the thought. Marcus’ birthday party... every aunt, cousin, and acquaintance of theirs would be in attendance. They’d counted twenty-five adults and at least ten children that were planning on being there. "Oh, man... it’s gonna be a madhouse. Thank God Will and Xander are coming to help."
"Your mother, as well... she’s quite capable of handling a crowd."
Buffy laughed. "Yeah... she’ll have everyone organized into interest groups before you can say "Marcus is one year old!"
Marcus looked up at her curiously. "I one yea’ o’, Mummy?" He held up one finger carefully.
She laughed and nodded. "That’s right, honey. You’ll be a big one-year-old boy tomorrow."
The toddler grinned broadly. "I big! I man!"
She heard Giles chuckle from the kitchen. "Doesn’t forget a thing, does he?"
"Not if you say it, babe. Daddy’s word is law."
"Only to Marcus. Daddy’s word often comes into question where Mummy is concerned..." The kettle’s whistle interrupted Buffy’s snappy comeback, and she giggled as her husband came in, looking smug, with tea mugs in hand. It was a rare thing for him to get the last word, and he relished every second. She lovingly allowed him that small victory, and patted the couch beside her in invitation. He sat carefully and began to sip his tea, putting Buffy’s cup on the coffee table to cool. She liked her tea tepid, but he preferred his steaming.
Marcus toddled over and looked at the mugs with interest, then remarked, "Hot, Daddy."
"The tea is very hot, that’s right. You must be careful with hot things."
"Burn me."
"Yes, it could burn you, and that would be quite painful."
Marcus thought deeply for a moment, his face a picture of concentration. He looked up at Giles with concern.
"Burn oo’, Daddy. Be tareful."
Giles face relaxed into the most beautiful smile Buffy had ever seen. "Oh, I shall be careful, love. Thank you."
"Wec-come."
Giles pulled the little boy into his lap, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Usually Marcus was intent on playing, but he sensed his father’s mood and leaned into his chest, fiddling with his tie. With a sigh, Giles rested his cheek against his son’s soft curls. His voice was rough with emotion as he whispered, "Marcus, my son, you are truly a Godsend."
They sat there as the minutes ticked away, unwilling to break the spell of quiet joy. Finally, Marcus decided he’d been still long enough, and he squirmed away, sliding to the floor and heading off to play.
"That’s my cue... it’s time for lunch." Buffy got up, mug in hand, and started for the kitchen. "We can talk while we eat."
Amid sandwiches and Marcus’ spirited attempts to feed himself, Giles discussed his conversation with the priest. They hadn’t talked for very long before Buffy interrupted by saying, "Father Denning thinks we both worry too much, doesn’t he?"
"Well, not exactly. I think he merely meant to be reassuring." Giles finished the last bite of his sandwich and looked at his watch. "Just in time... I’d best get to work." He stood and gave Buffy a kiss on the forehead. "I’m giving two exams this afternoon... testing always makes me feel a bit like a prison guard."
"Eat and run... just like a man."
She made a face at Marcus, and he giggled appreciatively before demanding, "Down, Mummy!"
"See what I mean?" She unlatched the tray from the high chair and held it steady as Marcus clambered down and headed for the living room.
"Oh, there is one thing Denning said that seemed... highly comforting," Giles said from the hall as he collected his briefcase and pulled on his coat.
"What’s that?" Buffy paused with her hands full of dishes.
"He said that Marcus’ sense of morality, and of God, as well, will come from us, what we teach and show him. When he is ready, he will want to know more, and then we can explain to him what we believe."
"That’s good to know. It’s also a little scary."
"Yes, it is, somewhat. He also said that, when Marcus is ready, he will be welcome at St. Mary’s."
"Well, he’s a little young for school right now!"
Giles looked at her with a smile. "Perhaps, but in a year... who knows?"
"A two-year-old in school?" She shook her head in disbelief.
"Pre-school, if you will. Look at the time! I must go. We’ll discuss this tonight." He strode over to give her another kiss, then dashed over to the baby playing in the living room. "Good-bye, Marcus. I’ll see you soon." He dropped to his knees and kissed the baby’s forehead, smiling at the child’s concentration.
As he stood to leave, Marcus looked up and beamed. "Wuv ‘oo, Daddy. Buh-bye!"
Giles looked at his wife, shook his head in fond amazement, then left the house grinning from ear to ear.
********
Marcus’ birthday was a bright, cheerful day, and Buffy breezed through her morning classes with her mind full of party details. Joyce and Wilton arrived just before Giles got home, bringing decorations and a still-steaming casserole for dinner. They ate, chattering happily about the party and their expected guests, then adjourned to the living room to transform it into a child’s delight.
As Wilton went to the car to gather Marcus’ presents, Joyce stepped back and surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. "Finished! Buffy, you better come take a picture quick... the decorations will be gone two seconds after your little guests arrive!"
Buffy appeared with a disposable camera, grinning as she snapped a quick picture of her mother’s self-congratulatory look. "The artist at rest. I think I’ll have it blown up and exhibited in your gallery."
"Silly! I mean take pictures of the decorations... not me!" Joyce lunged out of range as the flash went off again.
Buffy stopped chasing Joyce with the camera and dutifully took several pictures of the balloons, streamers, and candy table. They’d been working most of the afternoon, and the guests were just about due to arrive.
Just as she finished the last snap, Giles came downstairs with Marcus in his arms. She grinned wickedly and took a quick picture of her two favorite men in all the world, then laughed at Giles’ pained expression. As he came towards her, he teased, "Oh, dear, I think I must have the wrong living room. It certainly didn’t look like this when I went upstairs."
Buffy made a face at him, then grinned happily. "Marcus, look! Balloons for you and your friends."
Marcus cooed and squealed as he pulled one of the helium balloons by the string. It bobbed back to the ceiling and bounced gently. "B’woon, Mummy! Wook!"
"Yep, and do you know why we’re celebrating, sweetie baby?" Buffy wanted to be sure he understood that the hullabaloo was in his honor.
"I one yea’ o’!" he crowed happily, holding his arms out to Joyce. "G’ammy, wook! I big!"
Joyce took Marcus from Giles and gave him a proud hug. "Yes, you are, darling, you are a big boy. You’re Grammy’s big boy!" She gave him a couple of kisses, then let him down to explore the decorations. "Don’t pull the ribbons off, baby... you want all your friends to see the pretty ribbons and balloons."
"O-kay." Marcus carefully touched every bow along the table, testing the velvet ribbon with his little fingers, a serious look on his face. "Ooo, Mummy..." He looked up at Buffy with a wondering look.
Buffy reached over to let the soft material slip between her fingers, and nodded. "It’s soft, and pretty, too. I like it."
"I wike..." He tried to come up with the word, but couldn’t get his mouth around it.
"Ribbons," Joyce supplied helpfully, still having a hard time comprehending her grandson’s rapidly increasing mastery of language.
Marcus smiled happily. "Wibbons. Pwetty wibbons." A knock on the door distracted him, and he dashed to the front, anxious to see who was there. Giles opened the door to admit Wilton and an armload of packages. "G’ampa! Wook! B’woons! Pwetty wibbons!" He waved his arms wildly, taking in the whole room.
Wilton laughed heartily as he put the packages down. "Hello, Marcus! The decorations are very pretty. Who did all this, I wonder?" He winked at Joyce, smiling, then reached down to stroke the toddler’s head with a gentle hand.
Marcus looked up, happy to supply the answer. "G’ammy an’ Mummy!"
"Ah! I see... they’re very smart ladies, aren’t they?"
"Yeth!" Marcus was so excited he began to hop up and down in place. "I one!"
More people began to arrive, and soon the little house was filled to overflowing with noisy adults and even noisier children. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the windows, eliminating the need for lighting. The children played happily, alternating between the brightly colored living room and the large back yard. Joyce had simple games for the children to play, so she enlisted some of the amused relatives as helpers, leaving her daughter with the less nerve-wracking task of playing hostess. Buffy quickly became accustomed to the sound of the screen door banging shut, but after an hour or so, Giles made his way into the exercise room for some peace and quiet.
He was surprised to find Bill standing in the center of the room, looking lost. Giles gestured with his paper cup and said, "Hello, Armstead. I thought you’d be in the back yard with Willow and Xander."
Armstead smiled hesitantly. "I was, for a while, but I found I needed a bit of a break. One child is hardly a problem, but eleven of them..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to think of a tactful way to make his point without sounding like the consummate bachelor. "...eleven is rather overwhelming."
Giles chuckled. "Oh, yes, I quite agree... as is evidenced by my own personal escape."
At Giles’ inviting gesture, the two men sat on the steps leading into the sunken area of the room. Armstead looked around curiously for a moment. "Lovely room. Not to seem forward, but why have you left it unfurnished?"
Giles smiled behind his cup and took a sip of Willow’s special punch before replying. "This is our training room. Furniture would only get in the way."
Armstead’s eyes lit up. "I say... a training room..." He looked around with a new appreciation.
"Buffy may not be an active Slayer, but she... ah, we... still keep in shape. One never knows what one might encounter on a Hellmouth."
"Indeed." The Observer thought silently for a moment, then said earnestly, "Willow didn’t spike the punch, did she?"
The question caught Giles completely by surprise. "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
"Because I find myself wanting to ask you another terribly personal question, and I have no idea why."
Giles shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Ask, then. I may not choose to answer, but I shan’t take your head off for asking."
Armstead smiled, and after collecting his thoughts, asked, "Why have you and Buffy stayed in Sunnydale? Would it not be safer for Marcus somewhere away from here?"
The sincerity in the younger man’s voice kept Giles from bristling at his words. Of course he’d thought about leaving! He thought about it every day. His family’s safety and well-being were always uppermost in his thoughts. He wanted Buffy to enjoy her retirement. He wanted Marcus to be able to chase glow bugs in the back yard at night without fear. He wanted safety and security... but was any place on earth really secure?
He focused back on Armstead, who had bowed his head, looking embarrassed at his own boldness. Giles cleared his throat, took a quick breath, and gave the man an honest answer. "If Buffy wished it, I would begin packing before the birthday decorations were taken down. She... she is not ready to completely sever her ties with her home town, and neither am I, truthfully. There is much good here, people we love, and there is a new and active Slayer on the job. I suppose we still feel as though we might be of some help from time to time. Our world is fraught with peril, no matter where we might choose to live... who’s to say, in this era of violence, if we would be any safer elsewhere? I can’t state that we will never leave... but for now, Sunnydale is home to us."
Armstead considered his words thoughtfully before replying. "I see. When you come down to it, there is no truly safe place, is there?"
Giles shook his head ruefully. "No, there is not. Darkness is everywhere. But I must believe that the One who called us to this life will keep us safe until our journey is complete." Suddenly, he decided the room had become much too quiet. He stood smoothly, with Armstead joining him after a beat. "Shall we dive back into the fray? I think I hear Buffy calling the children in for ice cream and cake."
"Marcus does love ice cream, does he not?" Armstead followed his host to the door, smiling.
"Yes, he does. He’s inherited Buffy’s love of sweets." Giles’ expression was amused as he added, "And I will admit to having a certain fondness for jelly donuts. The poor lad hasn’t a chance."
* * * * *
The instant the door swung open, a wall of noise struck them with almost physical force. Buffy dashed to Giles’ side and grabbed his free hand, her face insistent. "C’mon, babe, Marcus is gonna open his presents! Daddy needs to be there to see."
"Coming, love..." Giles obediently trailed her back into the living room. People were perched on every available chair and seat in the house. The floor was alive with squirming, ice cream-sticky children ranging in age from three to ten. Several were distant cousins, but most were children from the neighborhood, or acquaintances, like Miguel, the little Hispanic boy Marcus met in the mall playroom. Wherever Marcus went, he made friends. Giles made a mental note to add that thought to his personal journal.
When Buffy handed the first present to Marcus, he held it awkwardly for a moment. Buffy turned it over and showed him where the paper had been taped. "Here... you can tear the paper off. It’s okay to tear this paper... that’s what it’s for."
Marcus looked skeptical, but he began to rip the brightly colored paper away, growing more enthusiastic with each gift. There were several toys, most of them pre-school age appropriate, bright alphabet blocks, a tape of sing-along songs, and several large books of children’s stories. He seemed the most delighted with the books, hugging each one to him as he unwrapped them and asking his mother, "Mine, Mummy?"
Each time, Buffy replied, "Yours, baby. All yours."
Giles was quietly thrilled with Marcus’ response to the books. He caught Buffy’s eye as she gathered the remnants of the wrapping paper into a trash bag, and they both smiled happily. ‘He’ll be reading those books himself by this time next year,’ Giles thought to her, transmitting his pride so strongly that she almost teared up in front of everyone.
After the presents were properly examined by all the children and most of the adults, it was time to bring the party to a close. Giles spoke affably with Miguel’s mother in a mix of Spanish and English as she waited for Miguel to thank Buffy and Marcus for inviting him.
The dark-skinned boy smiled up at Buffy shyly. "Thank you, Senora Giles, for let me visit Marcus."
Buffy beamed down at the child. "Muy bien, Miguel! You are learning English!"
"Si. It is not so hard." He looked at Marcus, and was silent for a moment. Both boys smiled, then Marcus went to his mother without another word.
"Adios, Miguel, Senora Navarro, come and see us again!" Buffy called. They both waved, smiling brightly as they left.
Marcus looked a little sad as his last friend left. "Buh-bye," he said, softly, then yawned.
"Someone’s tired, I think." Giles left his cup on the table and gathered the little boy into his arms. "Did you have fun, Marcus?"
The baby nodded, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I s’eepy, Daddy."
"I can see that you are, love. Come on, then, we’ll get ready to sleep, and I’ll read you a story from one of your new books, all right?"
"Aw wight."
After Marcus dispensed sweet, sleepy good-night kisses to everyone in the house, Giles took the tired toddler upstairs, leaving Buffy and her mom to clean up. Wilton graciously pitched in, and before long, the living room was nearly back to normal. After Joyce and Wilton left, Buffy started tying up the trash bags. She had just finished securing the last one when Willow, Bill Armstead and Xander strolled in from the kitchen.
"We finished cleaning up the back yard, Buffy." Willow’s voice was smugly satisfied, and the looks on the two men’s faces clearly indicated that they’d been pressed into service. "I left the garbage bags on the deck. Oh, and I lit some candles... it’s a beautiful night. You and Giles should go outside and sit for a little while." She winked at Buffy. "It’s romantic."
Buffy grinned, then looked up as Giles came back downstairs. "Is the birthday boy down for the count?"
He replied, "Yes, he didn’t last through the first few pages of the story."
"You wanna make some tea and take a break, then?"
"That sounds wonderful," he breathed gratefully, causing everyone to laugh at his obvious relief.
"Great eats, Buff," Xander commented around the last mouthful of potato chips.
"Thanks for cleaning them up for me, Xand. I knew I could count on you."
"You guys go on, and I’ll stay here just in case Marcus wakes up," Willow offered. She gave Bill a shy, yet beguiling look. "You could stay with me, if you want."
Xander caught Willow’s mood after a beat, and swallowed hard. He definitely was the fifth wheel in the room tonight. He recovered quickly though, and said in a casual tone, "Well, five’s a crowd, people, so I’m gonna go... you guys have fun." He thought about it for a second, then pointed at Willow accusingly. "Not too much fun, though." Something else occurred to him, and he grinned at Buffy. "Except you married guys can have all the fun you want. Uh... I just realized that I’m making a big assumption, here... you still have fun, don’t you?"
Buffy looked up at her blushing husband, and grinned wickedly. "Oh, yeah. Big fun." His blush doubled.
Xander held up his hands in a defensive posture. "Y’know, I don’t think I really wanted to know that. I’m gonna leave before I find out anything else I don’t wanna know. Bye!" He was out the door before anyone could reply.
Buffy patted Giles’ chest soothingly and led him towards the door. "So, big guy, you wanna have some fun?"
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in lawn chairs on the deck, staring up at the sky, happily worn out from the evening’s activities. they sipped their tea, finding the hot liquid strangely soothing, even in the lingering warmth of the night. Finally, Buffy spoke drowsily, "Remind me to never have a child’s birthday party on a school day."
Giles snorted softly. "Count on it. I’m completely knackered, and I still have some paperwork to do. There goes my Saturday. I shall probably go to bed early."
"Poor baby." Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder in sympathy. "But you can’t conk out on me... we still haven’t had fun yet."
"Perhaps in the morning..." he said, teasingly.
She pouted slightly. "I can’t believe you’re that tired."
He looked down at the blonde head resting against his arm, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "We’ll see."
"You bet we will." She gazed up at him, and his breath caught at the love in her eyes.
He raised his arm and drew her close. "At times, the fact that you love me quite takes my breath away."
"So will this." She sat up, took their tea cups and placed them next to her on the railing, and kissed him thoroughly, relishing his immediate and ardent response. After a few minutes of exploration, Buffy rose from her chair and moved to carefully straddle his lap. The aluminum frame of the lawn chair creaked dramatically, so she broke the kiss and started giggling.
Giles chuckled softly, then admonished, "It wouldn’t do to over-tax the furniture, love. I doubt this chair was made for more... ah, vigorous activity."
"Probably not." She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed happily. "But there’s some furniture upstairs that could probably stand the strain a little better."
"Yes, so there is. Are you ready to say good night to our friends inside, then?"
"In a minute. I’m liking it where I am right now." She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his arms encircling her, his breathing moving her gently up and down against him, his cheek against her head. "I’m liking it a lot."
Giles smiled, supremely content. "I’m in no hurry."
Buffy giggled. "I don’t know... you seemed pretty enthusiastic a minute ago."
"I’m pacing myself."
"Mmm hmm."
Silence reigned again. They just sat quietly, listening to the sounds of an urban street at night. Suddenly, they heard Willow squeal from inside, and Buffy sat up, surprised. "Hey, sounds like there’s a little slap and tickle going on in there!"
Giles looked a bit nonplused himself. "Ah... as much as I approve of their relationship, I don’t think I wanted it advanced in our living room."
Buffy burst out laughing, then rose smoothly, holding out her hand. "Let’s go shoo them away, then do some relationship advancing of our own, okay?"
He stood with her, then bent and kissed her lovingly. "An excellent idea."
Buffy blew out the candles one by one, then they went back into the kitchen. They both stopped just inside the door, because Willow and Bill were on their hands and knees in the floor, laughing and mopping spilled punch amid scattered cups, plates and napkins.
"What happened?" Buffy blurted.
Willow glanced up, her face red with embarrassment, as well as effort. "Oh, hey, sorry... we were carrying the trash in here from the living room, and this bag broke just as we came in. Stuff went everywhere! We were just cleaning it up."
Armstead looked a bit sheepish himself, but he added, "Terribly sorry... but at least it held until we were in the kitchen before giving way. I shouldn’t like to try to get this out of the carpet."
Buffy shrugged dramatically. "Hey, I do Kool-aid stains nearly every day of the week. It’s no big."
Willow grinned. "Well, at least it wasn’t us that did it, uh, dropped Kool-aid on the carpet, I mean. I would feel bad."
Buffy nodded, remembering. "So does Marcus when he makes a mess, but that’s what carpet cleaning machines are for." She gave her friend an encouraging smile. "Really, it’s not a problem. Let us help..."
The four of them made quick work of the spill, then Willow and Bill said their good-byes and started down the porch steps to Bill’s car. Just as Buffy began to shut the door, she heard Willow say to Bill, in a soft, conspiratorial tone, "I wasn’t gonna tell them we were busy kissing when the bag broke..."
Buffy laughed as she turned out the light and started towards Giles. "I knew there was more than general clean-up going on!"
He just smiled and held out his hand. She took it and followed him upstairs. They stopped to look in on Marcus. The tiny tot was sleeping deeply, worn out by his exciting evening.
"Do ya think he’ll stay asleep this time?" She smiled as Giles slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She stroked the back of his hand and waited for his response.
"He was quite tired... I believe so." He bent and nuzzled her neck softly, causing her to moan in appreciation.
"Good." She turned in his arms and grabbed his shirt front. "C’mere, handsome. I’ve got big fun planned for you."
He growled softly, and let her pull him into the bedroom. They kissed languidly as they undressed each other and settled in the middle of their bed. There was no need to hurry... their usual little ‘interruption’ was snoring softly across the hall, and showed no signs of waking.
Marcus continued to sleep soundly as his parents slowly made love, expressing their need in hushed words and stifled cries. They talked quietly for a little while afterwards, just enjoying each other’s company. Finally, Buffy began to doze in her husband’s arms, relaxed and satisfied.
In the warm, drowsy moments just before sleep claimed them, she murmured, "Y’know what, babe?"
He smiled and grunted, knowing she’d interpret it as an answer.
"You’re my best friend."
"That is a high compliment, my love."
"S’true." She snuggled against him. "My friend, my husband, my lover... the best guy on earth. I’m sooo happy." Her voice was sleepy and slurred, but the words were plain enough.
For a moment, he was overwhelmed. Her words and her thoughts were identical, revealing her true feelings for him so strongly he could hardly breathe. He tightened his hold on her, and finally managed, "As am I. I do so love you."
"Mmmm... love you, Rupert." Her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.
He was awake for some time after that, just listening to her breathing and feeling her warmth against his chest. Silently, he thanked God for the precious gift of his wife and son, and prayed that he would never do anything unworthy of them.
********
"Mummy? Mummy!"
Buffy groaned and turned away from the insistent voice for a split second before bolting upright with a sharp intake of breath. "Marcus? What’s wrong?"
"I not s’eepy now, Mummy. I p’ay." The sun streamed into the bedroom window, indicating it was early morning. Beside her, a tiny figure stood peering over the edge of the bed, still in his pajamas, looking bright-eyed and full of anticipation. "Come on, Mummy!"
She slid to the edge of the bed, staring blearily at the clock. Six-thirty. On a Saturday morning. After a frantic evening of chasing other people’s children... She reached behind her without looking and nudged her still sleeping husband. "Hey, Daddy... your kid’s awake." If she had to be up, then so did he.
"Ohhh... s’too early." His voice was a mere grumble under the covers.
"Tell that to Marcus."
She watched with a grin as the toddler clambered onto the bed and crawled over to Giles. Marcus got as close to his father’s ear as he could, took a deep breath, and demanded, "Daddy! Det up!"
Giles jumped violently, then rolled over and started laughing. "Marcus, what are you doing out of your bed?"
Marcus laid his head on Giles’ chest and stated, "I not s’eepy, Daddy."
"All right, love. Give Daddy a moment, will you? Then we’ll go downstairs and have breakfast."
"Aw wight." Marcus didn’t move from his comfortable place, and Buffy curled up beside him to rest her head on Giles’ pillow.
A few precious, contented minutes passed before the energetic toddler decided he’d had enough quiet time. He jumped up and crawled for the foot of the bed. "O-kay, Daddy, huw-wy!"
Giles sat up, stretching slowly, then stood and reached for his robe. "Buffy, you do know what this means, don’t you?"
She paused, one robe sleeve on and one off, and asked worriedly, "What?"
He tied the belt around his waist and said solemnly, "Marcus can climb out of his crib now."
She froze.
"He can come in here any time he chooses to," Giles continued.
"Oh... uh-oh. This is not good." She looked totally unnerved.
"Agreed. Perhaps we need to work a bit harder on our mental shields."
"Definitely." She snatched Marcus up suddenly and blew on his belly. Over his delighted shrieks, she called, "And, put a lock on the bedroom door to keep curious little boys out! I’ll make you a deal, babe... I’ll keep the troops entertained, and you handle the chow."
"That sounds like an excellent ‘deal’, love. I am getting a bit hungry." As he passed, he growled and pretended to nip at Marcus’ neck. "Grrr.... perhaps I’ll just eat you up!"
Marcus dissolved into giggles, not worried in the least about being eaten up. Buffy shot her husband a challenging glare, then grinned wickedly. "Hmm... save that thought until tonight, babe."
He chuckled all the way to the kitchen.
********
Saturday mornings were precious to Giles. With the weekend ahead, stretching out like a blanket of promise, he felt content and relaxed as he stirred a mass of eggs and vegetables into an omelet. He listened, his better than average hearing picking up the sounds from upstairs, as his wife chattered happily, with occasional replies from their son. She sounded so full of life and joy...
So young.
He sighed, suddenly feeling his age in more than just physical years. Granted, he didn’t look his age, but still... Saddling a vivacious girl such as Buffy with a stodgy, middle-aged researcher with a fondness for cross-referencing seemed so cruel. How could she possibly remain content with him? His thoughts turned morose, and he tried to head them off before they became depressing. This time, however, the gray cloud of worry pressed down on him insistently.
As he swirled the skillet, forming the omelet carefully, he found himself thinking about the Council, wondering about their hidden agendas. From its inception, the Council had been shrouded in mystery and magic. Occult. Hidden. Secretive. And, as they had proved over and over, unreliable. They often chose tradition over what was right! What was in store for his family as Marcus grew older? Were there evil ones out there, biding their time, waiting for them to drop their guard? He wouldn’t put it past them to wait for evidence of some extraordinary ability, then swoop in and take him from them, again...
He put the bubbling pan down for a moment and gasped, "Dear God... please keep him safe... keep us safe..."
Suddenly, from upstairs, he felt something strike him, something that could only be described as a mental slap. He yelped in response, then began to grin as his wife’s angry scolding penetrated his funk. ‘Sorry, love. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left me alone down here.’
He could hear the aggravation in her voice as she came up behind him. "You are so weird. After cake, ice cream and a night of super hot sex, you wake up all depressed."
"Perhaps it’s the result of the cake and ice cream... see what a wretch you’ve married? Before you came along, I used to think depressing thoughts all the time. One can’t spend one’s life immersed in dark prophecies and demon lore without becoming morbid."
"Yes, one can." She reached up and gave him a kiss, carefully avoiding the hot pan. "One is not supposed to be morbid. Morbid is not allowed. It’s against the rules."
He chuckled as he gazed down at her, seeing love and concern reflected in her dark blue eyes. "What rules are you referring to?"
"The ‘Happily Ever After’ rules. That’s how it’s supposed to be, prophecies and demons notwithstanding."
She glanced down at the stove, frowning. "I think the eggs are ready to flip, Emeril."
He grabbed the skillet, trying to salvage the meal as best he could. He slid the scorched mess onto a plate and stared at it in dismay. "Oh, well, I’ll eat these. They’re a bit over done." Still fighting his gloom, he said softly, "We were never promised ‘Happily Ever After’, you know."
"Sure, I know." She began to pull plates and mugs from the cabinet. A sudden burst of childish laughter, emanating from the living room, caused her to stop and smile. "It’s something we have to choose every day."
He was stunned by her words. He cleared his throat and stepped to her side, pulling her into a one-armed embrace. "My wise little wife... what on earth have I done to deserve you?" He gave her a grateful, lingering kiss, then proceeded to start on omelet number two, his mind buzzing with happiness.
Before long his head snapped up, a thought occurring to him. Behind him, Buffy began to smile knowingly. He turned to see her smirking up at him. "Uh... you feel last night qualified as... ah, super hot?"
"Wondered how long it would take you to notice that." She was grinning full out now.
"Yes, well, and I quite agree that it was... uh... hot. And wonderful. And... ummm... thank you."
Her clear laugh echoed around the small room. "You’re welcome. Very welcome." She slid closer to him, her eyes serious. "Let me make myself very clear on this, Mister Giles. I love you. We’re supposed to be together... even God likes us together, you goofy man. I love loving you, and cuddling with you, and living with you, and I love our son, and how you love both of us with everything in you... there’s nothing about being married to you that I don’t love. I have no intention of living without you. Even if you do things I don’t like, I still love you." She poked him firmly in the chest. "You, Mister Worry Wart I’m-not-good-enough-for-anybody Guy. You. Got that?"
He looked down at her, so small and resolute, her fists moving to her hips in a pose of determined authority. The dark thoughts fizzled away from his mind, banished by the love of his soulmate. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes lit with gratitude and affection. "Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear."
"So, no more cobwebs?"
He stifled a laugh. "No, no more cobwebs." They smiled at each other until they heard a sudden crash and a startled cry from the next room. For an instant, they both reached out with their minds, checking to see if their son was injured. They felt only surprise, dismay, and a tinge of temper, and they both rolled their eyes. Giles barely avoided a chuckle as he commented, "Ah... I think a certain young man might need some parental supervision right about now, love."
"I think it’s a little late for that... I’d better go pick up the pieces."
"Go ahead. Oh, you might want the dustpan." He handed it to her, smiling at her resolute face. "I’ll finish the food and, if you like, we’ll go out to the deck."
"Okay by me. At least there’s fewer breakables out there."
He watched her move away with a sense of profound peace.
********
A half hour later, as Giles was carrying the breakfast plates back to the kitchen, he heard a tentative knock on the front door. Since most of the people he knew would have either barged in or rung the doorbell, he frowned and left the dishes on the counter, intending to get a quiet look at the intruder through the peep hole.
He was even more confused when the peep hole revealed an empty porch. He was just about to attribute the interruption to a prank by the neighborhood children when the door rattled again. He heard vague scuffling noises, a few muffled curses, and then the doorbell rang loudly, startling him. He jumped away, hearing Buffy’s concerned voice in his head, then steeled himself and yanked the door open, bracing for a confrontation.
His squinted eyes saw only sunshine in front of them. What the...?
"Hey, Watcher! Bet you thought you’d seen the last of us! By the way, your doorbell’s way to high for some of us."
His gaze dropped about two feet, and he began to grin. "Good morning, Gerard... Madvehkar. Good to see you both again." His voice was conversational and calm.
"Typical human. Alwayssss sssspoiling our fun. We thought you’d be sssshocked!" Mad shook his bewhiskered head sagely, then grinned despite himself. The Watcher actually seemed pleased to see them! It was a bit of a novelty.
"I was, actually, but pleasantly so. Are you both well?"
"We’re doing jusssst great. We came to wish Marcussss a happy birthday. We waited until the other humanssss left." The speaker winked hugely, grinning. "Didn’t want to sssscare what few friendssss you have away!" The gray-skinned, wrinkled troll known as Madvehkar, or Mad, for short, was dressed in his best doeskin leggings and vest, and looked as dapper and neat as a troll could possibly look. He held his hat in his hands, rolling the brim between his fingers unconsciously, and his shiny bald head glinted in the sun.
Gerard, the blue goblin, was wearing a blue dress suit, but in deference to this being a more casual visit, he’d left off the tie. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable.
Giles stood back, holding the door open, his Watcher training keeping him from an outright invitation despite the brilliant daylight. The two creatures stepped in, surveying the house with curious interest. They’d never been in a Chosen One’s home before. It was something of an honor.
Giles moved to close the door, glancing briefly at the nearby houses as he did. Luckily, it was fairly early for a Saturday, and none of the other residents were about. Not that he minded the troll and the goblin visiting, but he didn’t fancy explaining their odd appearances to the rest of the neighborhood.
"How have you been since we saw you last?" Giles led them down the hall towards the deck, noting that the two lower creatures were dressed in their best in honor of the occasion. "You both look as though you’ve been doing quite well."
Gerard rose up to his full three-feet-seven-inch height and puffed out his thin chest proudly. "Things are going great! Mad’s been too busy to spit lately... he’s got seven more nieces and nephews to baby-sit... dang, his family’s prolific! And Richard just got promoted! He’s a stevedore down at the docks, and he’s makin’ a killing at it. Nobody can beat an earth demon for stamina. He said to tell you hi! Oh, and the fairies from behind the Sunset Motor Inn all say hi, too, and they want you to know they’re up for choir practice any time you are!"
Giles laughed at that. The fairies had certainly helped save Marcus from Travers and his mercenaries. He reminded himself to visit them some evening soon.
Gerard cleared his throat nervously, then asked, "Do ya think the Slayer will mind us visiting? It’s been a year, and we haven’t exactly kept in touch..."
"Buffy will be delighted to see you both, and so will Marcus. You won’t recognize him... he’s quite the little man." Giles eyes twinkled with humor as Gerard and Mad both smiled in relief. Any of the beings that helped in the battle for his son’s safety were welcome in his home, as far as he was concerned. They had certainly developed unusual friendships living near the Boca del Infierno! He herded them through the door out onto the deck and grinned when he heard Buffy’s happy squeal.
"Mad! Gerard! Oh, wow, guys, how are you?" She gave them both an enthusiastic but gentle hug, and both creatures seemed embarrassed by the affection. "I would offer you some cake, but Xander ate every bit of the leftovers. But, I still have punch!"
She dashed into the house for refreshments, more to get rid of the extra in her fridge than out of any genteel hostess instincts. Giles watched her go, his eyes following her until she was out of sight. The two visitors smiled knowingly at one another... even after two years of marriage and a baby, the Watcher was still plenty Slayer-whipped!
Before Mad could sit down, he was attacked by a tiny form. He toppled over, knocking Gerard to the deck with him, and they both started laughing as their assailant started shrieking, "Fwiends! Fwiends! My fwiends!" He gave them both a smacking kiss, then patted their faces gently. "Wook, Mummy! Fwiends. He’ped me! Hew-wo, fwiends!"
"He remembers you both," Giles said kindly. "He doesn’t know your names, but he knows you kept him safe."
Marcus looked on with a smile as the two creatures hauled themselves to their feet and sat beside him on the deck steps. Marcus struggled mentally as he tried to express his emotions with his limited vocabulary. He finally blurted, "What’s your name?"
As the three grownups began to laugh, Buffy came in with a pitcher and two glasses. "Here, guys, drink up. There’s plenty more where that came from. Willow doesn’t do anything by halves." She stopped, shocked at her turn of phrase. "Rupert, you are corrupting my English something fierce."
"The word is ‘improving’, my dear."
Mad concentrated on Marcus as Buffy glared at her smirking husband. The troll held out his wide hand to the tiny human that had made such an impression on him. "Call me Mad. Sssshort for Madvekhar."
"Mad?" Marcus repeated. The ancient creature nodded, and Marcus shook the callused hand solemnly. He turned to Gerard, anticipation plain on his little face.
"My name’s Gerard. Can you say that? It’s kinda hard."
"Gew-waad?"
"Close enough, little buddy."
Marcus beamed, and the blue goblin beamed back. They shook hands like visiting dignitaries, and then the two mythical creatures settled back and began trading stories from the previous year as the humans listened and laughed. They interspersed their narrative with questions about Marcus, some of which he was able to proudly answer for himself. Mad and Gerard seemed quite impressed with the little human’s progress, declaring he was as smart as a baby goblin or troll.
Buffy pulled her chair closer to Giles’ as they talked, and they ended up with their fingers entwined without being conscious of the act. It just felt necessary to be touching whenever possible. The Bond between the three of them hummed with affection and love, and just a touch of awe at the way their lives had become entwined with the creatures in front of them. It was a truly magic time.
Soon Mad and Gerard said their farewells and left via the back alley to avoid neighbors, dogs and lawnmowers. As they strolled away, Mad gave one last wave at the little figure in the Watcher’s arms. Marcus waved back happily, calling their names until they were out of sight. The troll looked at his goblin friend and said reverently, "He’ssss a sssspecial child, that Marcussss."
"Boy, he sure is! You can almost feel the power oozing outta him. Do you think the Watcher and Slayer know what it is they’ve got there?"
Mad shook his head doubtfully. "Probably not. But they will ssssoon."
Gerard glanced back at the little house with its fenced yard, resting in the middle of a block full of almost identical yards and houses. A typical family home, to the outside world, but he and Mad knew different. "I hope they find out before..."
Mad growled. He still felt protective over the little human baby. He was so innocent and good. There were so many dark forces that would love nothing better than to corrupt the power of the Bond and turn it into something debauched. If Madvekhar had anything to do with it, no harm would ever come to Marcus Giles or his stalwart parents. He wasn’t a prophet by any stretch of the imagination, but as a relatively long-lived being, he’d learned to recognize signs and portents. He squared his shoulders and looked at his goblin friend. "I think we might need to keep an eye on our friendssss, Gerard. What do you ssssay?"
Gerard grinned at the troll, his multi-faceted eyes lighting up in anticipation. He loved having a job to do. "I say we’d better get started!"
They turned and marched back up the alley like tiny soldiers advancing on the front lines. Once they reached the Giles’ property, they blended into the bushes and began their protective surveillance.
It was the least they could do for the most important child in the world.
* * *