(no subject)
New All Over, Part Seven
The rest of the day passed very fast. Oz and Giles were persuaded to get out their guitars, and Xander kept the junk food coming, but Giles was not exactly surprised that as evening fell, Joyce put her foot down when Buffy tried to get out of going home for the second consecutive night. Buffy gave him a pleading look: “Can you talk to her?”
“I’ll have to tell her about Wesley,” he warned. Buffy sighed and conceded defeat and Giles took the phone and began to explain to Joyce how useful Buffy was being at helping him to take care of his nephew. “He has become…awfully fond of her,” he fumbled for the right words. “And she of him. What was that…? Yes, I’m sure we’d be delighted. I’m sorry, it’s a little noisy in here…hang on a moment….” He glared across at the others. “Could you keep the noise down for five minutes? Sorry, Joyce.” He concentrated on what she was saying and then nodded. “Well, um…pretty much everyone actually. They are all finding looking after a little boy something of a novelty, but he has attached himself particularly to Buffy. Well…Willow, Xander, Cordelia, Angel, Oz, Buffy and myself. Actually, no, he’s a remarkably well-behaved little boy. His…his father is something of a disciplinarian....”
When Giles got off the phone he found Wesley and Buffy both looking at him anxiously. “Does Buffy have to go?” Wesley asked.
Giles sighed. “Would that be so terrible, Wesley? If it were just you and I for one night?”
“No.” Wesley looked up at Buffy. “But she has bad dreams and I can wake her up and tell her that she’s just dreaming.”
Buffy picked him up and hugged him, still gazing at Giles in a ‘make everything be the way I want it to be’ way. “You do. You do that very well.”
“And Buffy can wake me up and tell me I’m just dreaming too,” Wesley added bravely.
“Well, for one night you are going to have to manage without her, but Joyce has suggested that everyone comes round to dinner tomorrow night so she can meet Wesley for herself.” Giles looked around at everyone. “Including you, Angel. Can you eat - normal food?”
“I can.” He nodded. “It just doesn’t keep me alive or taste that…special. But I can eat it.”
“She asked me to check.” Giles looked around at all their depressed-looking faces. “Why don’t you all go home this evening - Angel, you might want to escort Willow to her home and keep an eye on things there. Then perhaps the rest of you could - say - attend school tomorrow, just as a suggestion, and then we can meet up at Buffy’s house tomorrow at seven o’clock. It sounds like quite a…formal dinner, so I suggest that everyone gets themselves…spruced up.”
Everyone looked at everyone else and then down at themselves, Xander apparently noticing for the first time that he was still wearing his pyjamas under his clothes, Angel brushing an imaginary crease from his silk shirt, Cordelia looking around for a mirror in something approaching panic.
“You have twenty-four hours,” Giles pointed out.
“But there’s washing and hair drying and finding clothes.”
Willow looked anxiously at Oz who said, “I was thinking of going for the shirt over the t-shirt and jeans look myself.”
Willow looked at his t-shirt and jeans and shirt and smiled in relief. “Yes, that would look nice.”
Oz looked across at Buffy. “Unless you think your mother wants us to wear…the full evening dress?”
“It’s a dinner party, not the Prom.” Buffy looked around at everyone. “I think as long as we’re all clean and relatively uncreased…” She gazed back at Giles. “Mom really says I need to go home?”
“I don’t think she likes the idea of me using you all as unpaid babysitters while I renege on my duties as an uncle.”
They all looked a little tragic at the prospect of leaving and Giles wondered if they had intended to just camp out in his house for ten days until Wesley was restored to his adult size. “I’m sure your parents would like to see you…” he suggested.
“Why would they? They never have before,” Xander countered.
“I ate my parents two centuries ago.”
Xander looked at Angel sideways. “You really ought to get that put onto a t-shirt.”
“My parents are away,” Cordelia added.
Buffy looked at the tall brunette. “You’d better come and stay with me. I don’t think you should be in your house alone right now. Willow, you should come with me too. Just so we know you’re safe.”
It took a few more phonecalls but in the end it was agreed by all relevant parents that Xander could stay with Oz - Giles still couldn’t see the point of that except that Xander presumably felt safer with someone else around, Willow and Cordelia could indeed stay with Buffy, and Angel was deemed safe to stay by himself. This meant that Giles finally had Wesley to himself again, which he was rather pleased about, but pretended not to be so as to not seem as if he were gloating. Cordelia was driving Willow to Willow’s house and then to her own house so they could pick up more overnight things, and Oz was driving Xander home. Again, Angel was considered safe to make his own way, although one wouldn’t have known he was actually eternal and quite close to invincible from the way Buffy fussed over him when they said their farewells. And then finally, Buffy was in his car with Wesley on her lap, pointing out all the reasons why it wasn’t safe for Wesley to travel in the car alone because the seatbelt wouldn’t fit him.
“It fits him perfectly well, Buffy. We went to the park together, remember?”
“Well, what about bedtime?”
“I think I’m capable of reading him a story.”
Buffy sighed and hugged Wesley closer, but got teary-eyed as they reached her house. “It’s going to be twenty-four hours until I see him again!” she wailed.
“Twenty-four hours, yes.” Giles tried not to let his pleasure at the prospect get into the voice. “Well, I’m sure we’ll struggle by somehow.”
“You’re not going to do…lessons with him tomorrow, are you?” Buffy demanded.
“I’m sure we’ll find some way to fill our time,” Giles assured her blandly. And then they were finally at Buffy’s house and Buffy carried Wesley out so she could say goodbye to him properly, Giles sighing, switching off the engine, and getting out himself.
Joyce looked out in some confusion and Giles gave her an apologetic grimace. “Buffy’s just saying goodbye. Um, Wesley, this is Buffy’s mother, Mrs Summers.”
Wesley held out a hand, looking up at Joyce a little fearfully. “How do you do, Mrs Summers?”
Joyce’s face took on that rapt adoring look that had become so familiar on the face of unwary females over the past few days. “Very well, thank you.”
“This is Wesley.” Giles rested a hand on his shoulder as Buffy wiped her eyes and sniffed.
“Pleased to meet you, Wesley,” Joyce told him warmly, then frowned at Buffy. “Is something wrong, dear?”
“It’s just - what if he has a nightmare and I’m not there…?” Buffy’s face crumpled again.
Wesley said hastily, “There, there, Buffy. I’ll be all right. Uncle Giles will look after me and look - ” He held out Cuthbert. “If you have him with you then if you have a nightmare you can cuddle him.”
Buffy clutched Cuthbert to her and burst into tears. “But then you’ll be all - by - your - self…”
Joyce’s expression revealed her confusion, looking to Giles for an explanation.
“Buffy has been taking care of Wesley,” he explained.
“So, I see.”
Wesley was still patting Buffy’s hand and telling her that he would be fine with Uncle Giles and he would see her tomorrow. She sniffed and hiccupped and then crouched down in front of him to give him another hug, stroking his hair and pressing her cheek against his while looking tearfully up at Giles. “You can call me if you have a nightmare. Giles, you’ll let him have the phone in his room?”
“Yes, of course,” Giles said awkwardly.
“And you’ll call me if there if he doesn’t feel well, or if you hear any noises outside or if…if anything…?”
“Yes, I will.”
“You promise?” she demanded fiercely.
“I promise, Buffy, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Wesley put his arms around her neck and gave her another hug, saying bravely: “I’ll be fine, Buffy, I promise. And look - you’ll have your mummy with you if you are sad…” He gazed up at Joyce who began to melt all over again. Giles could see never being able to get Wesley away from these two if he wasn’t swift about leaving.
Buffy wiped her eyes and stroked her thumb under Wesley’s eyes in case he had been crying too. “Do you miss your…mummy…?”
Wesley gave her a reassuring smile. “Not when I’m with you and Willow - or with Uncle Giles.”
Buffy sniffed piteously and slowly disentangled herself from him, giving Giles an imploring look. “Giles, you’ll…?”
“You know I will,” he assured her warmly. He wasn’t sure if she meant protect Wesley with his life, call her if there were any problems, or remember to put chocolate shavings into Wesley’s bedtime hot milk, but as he fully intended to do all of those things he thought he was covered. He quickly picked Wesley up before Buffy started sobbing on the poor child again or Joyce decided they should keep Wesley with them.
Joyce automatically folded back the sleeve of Wesley’s jacket where it came down below his fingers and winced at the sight of his wrist. “He’s very thin. Has he been ill?”
“Just - naturally skinny.” Giles managed a sickly smile as he tightened his grip on the boy.
Joyce put a hand across Wesley’s forehead and Buffy immediately said: “What? Is he hot? Does he feel feverish?”
“He seems okay,” Joyce admitted. “But he is a little pale.”
Buffy looked anxiously at Giles. “Mom says he looks pale.”
“He’s English, Buffy,” Giles reminded her. He forced a bright smile. “Well, then. You have a lovely evening. So kind of you to take in Willow and Cordelia, Joyce, and I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow evening. Goodnight then.” He turned around and strode back to the car.
“Wait!” Buffy hurled herself after them, gave Wesley Cuthbert, hugged him again, kissed him on the forehead and then stood desolately on the kerb while Giles did up Wesley’s seat belt. “Don’t forget to read him a story…”
“I won’t.” Giles shut the door on Wesley and went around to the driver’s side, by which time Buffy had been joined by Joyce.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to keep Wesley here…?” she offered.
“No, really, we’ll be fine,” he assured her.
“You’ll call me?” Buffy pressed.
“In an instant.” Giles slid into the car and felt a rush of relief. Only for Buffy to immediately tap on his window. Sighing, he complied. “Yes, Buffy…?”
“Maybe Angel should stay with you, just in case....”
“Perhaps another day,” Giles said through gritted teeth. He switched on the engine, sliding his foot onto the clutch.
“I was just thinking....”
He took off the handbrake and put the car into gear. “Goodnight, Buffy. Sweet dreams.” And then he was pulling out into the street and could thankfully ignore the last minute instructions Buffy was calling out to him.
“Do you think Buffy will be okay?” Wesley asked anxiously, turning around in his seat to wave at her and getting Cuthbert to wave to her as well. No doubt he thought he was being kind but Giles suspected that it would just make Buffy start bawling again as the sight of that battered bear waving its little paw was rather poignant.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s not going to be able to carry on like this when you’re big again, after all.”
Wesley looked pensive and Giles hoped he hadn’t upset him. Wesley gazed up at him shyly. “Uncle Giles…?”
“Yes, Wesley?”
“Do you mind me calling you ‘Uncle Giles’ even when no one else is around?”
“No, Wesley. I actually rather like it.”
“Uncle Giles, is being big…nice…?”
Giles thought about it for a moment. “Yes and no. It’s nice not to have to do lessons any more and to be one’s own boss, but it’s not always so nice to have responsibility for others. And, of course, although one acquires more knowledge and experience it’s not always the case that one necessarily gets any wiser.”
Wesley looked despondent. “Do you think I…liked being big?”
Giles thought about that prim, proper young man in his padded suit, all brylcreem and rules. “I’m not sure. I think you were very aware of your responsibilities, but they can feel rather onerous, so I don’t know how you felt when you weren’t in public view. You may have felt you were rather dropped in the deep end, to be honest. From university studies and vampires only encountered under controlled circumstances to being sent off to a Hellmouth and told to Watch for two Slayers....” He shook his head. “That’s quite a lot to ask of someone still a few years shy of his thirtieth birthday.”
“But it wasn’t just me, was it?” Wesley put in. “You were there, too, and you do have experience, so I don’t suppose it was too bad for me really.”
Giles looked at the little boy’s calm happy face, so confident that Uncle Giles would have been as helpful to his adult self as he was to this younger version, and felt a serious pang of conscience. Hoarsely, he said: “I’m not sure I was always as helpful as I could have been, Wesley. And I truly am sorry for that now.”
Wesley looked up at him sleepily, Cuthbert snuggled in against him. “I’m sure you took good care of me. You and Buffy. That’s what you do.”
Giles had to hang onto that image of himself saving Wesley from Balthazar’s people; that sudden awareness mixed in with his exasperation when he realized how frightened the boy was, that Wesley had been given nothing like enough preparation before being tossed into the Hellmouth; a pawn in Quentin’s determination to keep Council control over the active Slayer. But there were too many other memories of sniping at Wesley in front of the children; letting Buffy treat him like dirt; those bruises on his ribs and back where Buffy and Faith had clearly both found it amusing to use their training sessions as an excuse to use him as a punching bag and ‘accidentally’ pound him.
“We - could have done better,” Giles admitted. “Perhaps when you’re big again that’s something we can discuss.” He looked across at the boy for his reaction and saw that Wesley was asleep, his thumb in his mouth. Giles reached across and stroked his hair, feeling the thinness of his skill, the warmth coming through his thin skin. So incredibly fragile, and on a Hellmouth. When he parked his car, he took a moment to get out a stake in readiness, determined that absolutely nothing and no one was going to stop him gaining the safety of his house.
There were no signs of vampires, or any of the Mayor’s people, but he was still on edge. He picked up the sleeping boy and Wesley cuddled in against him, his head resting on the tweed of Giles’s shoulder, Giles tucked Cuthbert in between Wesley and his chest, and then carried them both into the house. Once inside, he laid him on the sofa, covered with him his dressing gown, and did a quick sweep of the house, checking every room, including under the beds and in the cupboards, in case Faith or another human assassin should be hiding there.
Only then did he begin to run Wesley’s bath, leaving the water running so he could pop downstairs and check on Wesley, switching on the kettle so he could have a cup of tea as well. The winking light of the answerphone told him he had a message and he went to look only to see a number ‘6’ blinking at him urgently. Giles couldn’t remember the last time he had come home to so many messages, and wondered if some crisis had occurred of which he was unaware. Anxiously, he stabbed the ‘play’ button:
“Hey, this is Xander, which you probably guessed on account of me sounding like…me. Anyway. I forgot to ask you to call me when you get back home from Buffy’s so I know that you’re…back home.... I’m staying with Oz, remember? Oz’s number is five-five-five-zero-one-four-five…”
Rolling his eyes, Giles pressed the button for then next message:
“Xander again…Oz reminded me that we both wanted to say ‘Goodnight’ to Wesley. So…Goodnight, Wesley…oh yes, and Cuthbert too… And you know, if there’s any problems, any problems at all, you just call us and we can come right over. Let me give you that number again, it’s five-five....”
Giles pressed the button for the next message:
“Hey, it’s me - that’s Cordelia, obviously, oh yes, and Willow’s here too. We just wanted to check before we go to Buffy’s that you don’t need anything because I have the car so it would be really easy for us to just come over and...what...? Oh yes, Willow says, that Wesley likes his own mug, which is the one she bought him, with the Pink Panther on it - Hey, do English kids know who the Pink Panther is? I thought they had to like - watch the radio or something? Anyway...what? Oh right, Willow says you can call us at Buffy’s and I can bring us all over if you want us or if Wesley gets lonely or has a nightmare or anything.... Okay then....”
Rolling his eyes, Giles played the next message:
“Giles, this is Angel. Just calling to say that I did a sweep of the graveyards, staked a couple of vamps, but there’s not much going on. No sign of Faith. And hey, do you want me to swing by later just to make sure everything is okay? I’ll probably do that anyway. So - okay then....”
“What is the matter with you people?” Giles murmured.
“Giles, it’s Buffy. Just checking you got home okay. Call me as soon as you get back.”
Click. Whirr. Click
“It’s me again. Buffy. Cordelia and Willow are here and they said they left a message for you and you didn’t call them back and I’m sure it’s at least half an hour since you left here so we’re thinking maybe we should come over and just check....”
As Giles went to reach for the phone it rang again and he picked it up wearily. “Yes...?”
“Where have you been?” Buffy demanded.
“Buffy, I’ve only been home for ten minutes. It’s taken me longer than the car journey here to wade through all your paranoid meanderings. Could you please tell Willow and Cordelia that we are home safely and in no need of their assistance, and that goes for you, too. Oh, yes, I’d be grateful if you would phone Xander and Oz and inform them of our safe arrival as well. If you could also tell everyone not to call me unless your lives or limbs are in peril, that would be even better.”
“You are so tetchy.”
“I just want a nice quiet evening with Wesley. Now, please just…leave us alone.”
“Oh all right, Mr Testy....” She sounded far from willing. “But you still have to call me if anything at all is wrong.”
“I will. Now just - try to enjoy your evening.” He put down the phone to find Wesley gazing up at him as he sleepily rubbed his eyes.
“They really care about you getting home safely, don’t they?” Wesley asked in wonder.
Giles smirked. “No, Wesley, they care about you getting home safely. I can assure you that all I usually get is a wave. Now, how about a bath, your pyjamas, and then some hot milk with chocolate shavings…?”
Giles had just stopped the bath from overflowing, let out half of it, refilled it with cooler water so there was no danger of scalding the boy, bathed Wesley - with some help from the Playmobil Pirate ship which floated admirably, helped Wesley into his clean pyjamas and the soft warmth of his dressing gown, and given him a mug of hot milk - in his Pink Panther mug. He was now very happily reading aloud The Magician’s Nephew to Wesley when there was a soft tap on the door. Giles thought that he would be slightly less annoyed if it was a slavering demon come to eat his intestines than if it was Buffy, Willow and Cordelia, who had talked Joyce into letting them come over to check on him. Propping the warm little boy up against the cushions and marking their place in the book, he went to the door and opened it.
Angel stood on the doorstep looking stylish, immaculately coiffured, and slightly sheepish.
“Just wondered how you both were?” He craned his neck to see past Giles.
Giles rolled his eyes. “Come in. See for yourself.”
Angel immediately beamed dorkishly at Wesley who had stood up on the sofa to beam back. Angel was across the room in a couple of strides. He swooped him up into his arms, saying, “Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Angel. Did you go patrolling?” Wesley’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Did you see any vampires? Apart from you?”
“Three or four.” Angel sat down in Giles’ place, sitting Wesley on his lap as he did so, and noticed the book Giles had been reading. “Oh this is a great one. How far have you got?”
“Not very far.”
Angel picked up the book and turned to the marked page, then seemed to become aware of Giles and said apologetically, “Is it okay if I…?”
“Fine, go ahead.” Giles slouched into the kitchen, feeling decidedly out of sorts, and put the kettle on. There was still a bag of blood in the fridge and he automatically put it into the microwave and fetched Angel the mug that he had been using - and which no one else would ever want to use again. Wesley’s Pink Panther mug with its hot milk tide line was sitting in the sink. It already felt familiar. So did the little pieces of damp children’s clothing drying on the radiator in the corner. It occurred to him that he had bought far more books than he could read to Wesley in ten days. He wondered if in his heart he really had thought the spell was irreversible.
Angel looked very comfortable on his sofa, Wesley cuddled in against him, both of them reading the book together as Angel read it aloud. Giles knew it was petty to feel that Angel had gatecrashed his party, but he had been enjoying sitting with the boy, reading to him, perhaps trying to make amends for any coldness or unkindness to the adult version.
And then he thought about everything that Angel had done. All the fathers he had taken from little boys like Wesley, not to mention mothers, sisters, brothers, and the lives of little boys themselves; all those victims whose memories he had to live with every day. And of that other great difference between them that although Giles might choose to spend his days researching the Hellmouth, he could still walk in daylight. He might be unmarried and childless, but he could still marry and become a father should he choose to do so. Angel never could.
He watched as Angel automatically kissed Wesley’s soft damp hair as he turned the page, not even aware that he’d done it, Wesley snuggling more comfortably against his chest, Angel holding the book with one hand, the other arm around the boy, reading the passage so well, so vivid and full of life and…pleasure. It occurred to Giles that in all the time he had known Angel, he was not certain that he had ever seen him look so entirely happy as he did now. Unexpectedly moved by the sight of a damned creature of the night finding happiness in something so small, so trivial, and so completely out of his reach, Giles picked up Angel’s warmed up blood and his own cup of tea and walked over to the couch.
Angel finished the page he was reading and then looked at Giles. “Do you want to go on with it?”
“No, it’s okay,” Giles said gently. “You do it. Wesley and I can both listen.”
Wesley smiled at him sleepily as Angel took the mug of blood from Giles, Giles sipped his tea, and, with Wesley snuggled against him, Angel read aloud the description of the mystical wood with its many pools which could lead the two children to so many possible worlds.
***
They put Wesley to bed together. Angel carried him upstairs. Giles carried Cuthbert, whom he placed into the bed, then Angel kissed Wesley and handed him to Giles so he could say ‘Goodnight’ and put him into the bed. Wesley was so sleepy from his warm bath, hot milk, and being read to, that he just snuggled up to Cuthbert and was asleep almost as his head hit the pillow. Giles looked at the doting expression on Angel’s face and realized that his own could well be mirroring his; hastily collecting himself, he whispered: “Shall we…?”
They tip-toed out of the room, leaving the bulb burning on the landing.
“You should get him a night light,” Angel said.
“Yes, I should.”
“They do ones that are especially for kids - in the shapes of balloon and clowns and things.”
“Not a clown one,” Giles said at once. “Xander has a phobia. It may be more common than one realizes.”
They made their way back down the staircase up which Angelus had once carried Jenny’s corpse and Giles had later followed, the bottle of champagne the soulless killer had left for him carried in his hand.
Angel seemed to be as aware of the irony of their current situation as anyone. He said awkwardly: “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go.”
Giles moistened his lips. “I’m sensing a ‘but’…?”
Angel sighed. “We both know how important you are to Buffy. If the Mayor wanted to put her off her game, kidnapping you would probably seem like a good place to start. I just think she’d sleep easier if she knew there was someone here to…”
“Take care of me?” Giles gave him a look of exasperation. “I assure you I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Angel tried to disguise a smirk. “I think you have a hospital record that says otherwise.”
“A lot of those visits were only for suspected concussion. I was released without treatment on several occasions.”
Angel sighed. “Giles, take it from someone who once devoted several months to trying to drive Buffy crazy - the place to start is with the people that she loves. That’s her mom, Willow, Xander, and…you.”
“I refuse to have a vampire babysitter until the ascension!” Giles retorted, having to stick to a fierce whisper for fear of waking up Wesley.
“Well, Xander does have a werewolf babysitter and Willow has a Slayer babysitter, right now, so I think you’re being kind of....” Angel smirked. “Okay. Just let me stay tonight so when Buffy calls you can tell her that I’m here and she can stop worrying about Wesley. Deal…?”
“Oh, all right. You can have the couch. But Buffy’s already phoned and I told her then that....” Giles broke off as the phone rang again. He picked it up. “Yes...?”
“It’s me,” Buffy said apologetically. “I was just concerned....”
“We all were,” Cordelia called from behind her.
“Please don’t be angry....” That was Willow, and of course that ruined any chance of him being angry - possibly ever, as who could be when imagining that face looking at him.
Giles sighed. “Angel’s here. He’s staying the night. On the couch, I hasten to add. Wesley has had his bath, is now wearing his pyjamas - the dark blue ones, the light blue ones are in the wash. He drank all of his hot milk in the Pink Panther mug, and, yes, I remembered the chocolate shavings. He was read a few chapters of The Magician’s Nephew and is now fast asleep with Cuthbert. Anything else you wanted to ask?”
“Nightlight...?” Buffy said apologetically.
“I’ll get him one tomorrow.”
“Not a clown one!” Willow said urgently.
“Angel suggested perhaps a balloon-shaped lamp. Now, is that all?”
“I’m glad Angel’s staying,” Buffy admitted.
“Yes, because God forbid I should have my house to myself ever again.”
“Don’t be tetchy,” Willow pleaded.
“I’m not.” Giles sighed. “I’m really not. I’m just tired and I’d really like to get some sleep.”
“Will you kiss Wesley ‘Goodnight’ from me?” Buffy asked in a small voice.
“And me?” Willow put in.
“And me,” Cordelia added.
“Yes, I probably will,” Giles admitted. “Just - try to remember he’s going to be an adult again very soon. This is just temporary.”
“I will if you will,” Buffy returned.
Giles conceded the point. “Fair enough. No one’s pretending it won’t be something of a wrench....”
“So, let’s not talk about it. Let’s just - carpe diem and carpe whatever ‘night’ is in Latin too.”
“Noctem, Buffy.”
He reassured them for a few more minutes and then put the phone down only to find that Angel was still smirking and Giles narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I was just thinking you could still kiss Wesley goodnight for everyone when he’s an adult again....”
“Don’t try to do humour, Angel.” Giles only just resisted the urge to hit him with the sofa cushion. “It’s not your forte.”
“Well, Principal Snyder did say....”
“I’m well aware of what Principal Snyder believes is Wesley’s purpose in the Library. He can go and take a funny run.”
Still smirking, Angel sat down on the couch. Giles glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be brooding about now? Isn’t that pretty much your raison d'être?”
“I’m taking the night off.”
They both sat on the couch and looked at the Playmobil battlefield still taking up most of Giles’s floor space. The Pirate ship was lying on its side, drying off from bath-time, the Viking ship in some disarray. They exchanged a look.
“We mustn’t,” Angel said.
“Absolutely not.”
“It would be - wrong.”
“We could never tell Buffy. Or anyone.”
“Okay.” Angel sprang across the room to grab the Pirate ship. “You can be the Vikings.”
It was three a.m. before Giles could conclusively prove that Watcher strategy was superior to vampire strategy. Angel sulkily took to the couch, while Giles went upstairs. It was only natural that he should check on Wesley. Finding him fast asleep with Cuthbert under one arm and his thumb in his mouth, it was also completely natural that he should remember Buffy had asked him to kiss Wesley ‘Goodnight’. He did so, whispering “Goodnight, Wesley”.
Wesley stirred sleepily, murmured: “Goodnight, Uncle Giles” and then went back to sleep.
As he climbed into his own bed, Giles reminded himself again, that this was only temporary and Wesley was not going to be a child forever. As he fell asleep he was still mentally calculating how many hours were left and what was the best way to fill them to try to make ten days of happiness make up for an entire childhood of neglect.
***
Angel left before dawn, meaning that Giles could have a peaceful breakfast with Wesley. He had half-expected Buffy and the others to turn up but they had evidently got the message about him wanting a little ‘quality time’ with Wesley and they were left to eat their cornflakes and marmalade on toast in blissful peace. Wesley sipped his sweet milky tea and Giles sipped his nice hot strong tea and they talked about what they were going to do that day.
“I think the first thing we need to do is to buy you a nightlight.”
Wesley looked at him in confusion. “What’s that, Uncle Giles?”
“It’s a light that children have in their rooms, so if they wake up in the night the room isn’t dark.”
Wesley appeared completely bewildered by that concept. “I don’t think we have those in England. And aren’t children supposed to get used to the dark?”
“Buffy wants you to have one. I think we should probably humour her.”
Wesley nodded at that. “I wouldn’t want to upset Buffy.”
“Nightlight it is then. And then we could into LA if you like? Or would you rather have a day in Sunnydale?”
Wesley looked torn and then said, “Sunnydale, please.”
“Museum, library, zoo, beach…?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Can we go to the museum? Does it have…Hellmouthy things…?”
“Most of the people here don’t really admit to living on a Hellmouth,” Giles admitted. “There is a more - realistic museum on the other end of town, but I think we’d need Angel with us to go there. The everyday one is pretty…everyday really.”
“I’d still like to see it. Does it have a box-kite? Or a gypsy caravan?”
Giles dimly remembered how exciting things like that could be when you were still a child. “I’m honestly not sure. When you’ve finished your breakfast, shall we go and take a look?”
Wesley beamed at him. “Yes, please.”
They bought the nightlight in a shop that had been there for sometime and had never yet been involved in any supernatural manifestations. (The last thing Giles wanted was to purchase a haunted nightlight that would throttle the boy in his sleep.) There were several of varying designs and prices. One was in the shape of a ship and was ridiculously expensive. There were less expensive ones, of course, but the ship one was based on an illustration from an old children’s book and was really beautiful. Telling himself firmly that as Wesley was only going to be a child for ten days it was absurd to buy the expensive one, Giles looked around at the others, but the one in prime position kept calling to him. And there was something about the way Wesley looked at it as if it were a museum exhibit - something to be admired but not something there was even a chance of him having - before turning to look at the cheapest lights, that made something rebel inside him.
“I like that one best. What about you, Wesley?”
Wesley looked at him in surprise. “It’s very expensive, Uncle Giles. And I won’t need it for very long.”
“I still like it best.” He nodded to the assistant. “That one please. And a box of bulbs.”
Giles thought that watching Wesley realize that he wasn’t going to have to wake up in the dark again as he tentatively touched the lamp and that look of relief wash over his face, made it cheap at twice the price.
The Museum did not have a gypsy caravan or a box-kite but it had the skeleton of an Irish Elk which Wesley was rapt in front of for at least half an hour. It also had a model railway and a model of Early Sunnydale, various stuffed animals, a coin collection, a model volcano to show why eruptions happened, a visiting exhibition about Ancient Egypt which Wesley found fascinating, some Sumerian artefacts, some half decent paintings, and various odds and sods from different eras and areas of the natural and scientific world.
Giles would probably have been quite bored by the not terribly exciting exhibits - except that Wesley was having such a wonderful time. It was, of course, all new and different for him, and he asked Giles lots of questions about everything they encountered - tentatively, at first - clearly not sure if this was going to be something that Giles would find annoying - and then with increasing confidence as Giles responded warmly to each query.
Giles thought that no doubt Buffy would consider this a perfect day for him - a chance to go into lecture mode all morning with someone who actually wanted to hear him blather on endlessly about really dull things. And she would be right, of course. He smiled inwardly at himself. Wesley didn’t seem to know what it was to be bored. Everything was interesting to him and he moved from exhibit to exhibit wanting to Hoover up every bit of information that could be gleaned about each thing, Giles supplying what he knew. It actually felt useful to know so many things, as Wesley asked his questions and Giles could answer at least ninety percent of them; Wesley gazing up at him with an expression of such happiness at this sharing of knowledge and wide-eyed admiration that Giles knew ‘everything in the world’.
“I wish I did, Wesley.” Giles took his hand. “I know a little, that’s all. For instance, I know where the museum restaurant is situated in the building, but not what they on their lunchtime menu for the day. Shall we go and find out?”
Wesley beamed up at him happily, looking so much less fragile when he didn’t have that anxiety in his oversized eyes. He was still bony and pale but he no longer looked like someone who was regularly locked in cupboards and sent to bed without his supper. At the thought of that, Giles found himself gripping his hand a little more tightly and when they found the cafeteria, lifted the boy up so he could see the hot meals more easily, suggesting that perhaps the lasagne and all the available vegetables might be a good idea, and then some chocolate cake to follow.
He noticed that Wesley dutifully ate all his vegetables first, even the cabbage and the sprouts, before tucking into his lasagne very happily. Giles looked across at him and then mentally saw the little boy crying with terror because he had spilled Xander’s drink. He winced at the memory.
“Is everything all right, Uncle Giles?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, Wesley.” Giles smiled at him reassuringly. “Everything’s fine.”
They ate a leisurely lunch and then spent a fascinating hour in the Museum Shop where Giles found several more things they could buy, including a child-sized watch for Wesley with a velcro strap that could be made to fit even the narrowest wrist. A trip home to drop off their purchases and have a brief rest and a cup of tea, and then it was time to show Wesley the beach, which, as it was a school day, wasn’t filled with the usual blather of irritating teenagers. They made an extremely impressive sandcastle and then watched the sea come in and fill the moat, before finally overwhelming it; smiled at each other, happily, and then went back home to have another cup of tea and a biscuit - so as not to spoil their appetites for dinner - then to shower in Giles’ case and bathe in Wesley’s so that they would be sand-free and sweet-smelling when presenting themselves at Joyce’s. Giles was quite sure that whatever he chose to dress Wesley in would be considered inadequate but did his best to find him a wrinkle free shirt, uncreased jacket and the trousers that needed the least amount of safety pins to keep them up. There was some deliberation about Cuthbert but Wesley decided that he didn’t need to take him with him and he didn’t want Buffy’s mother thinking he was a ‘baby’. So, Cuthbert was left on the sofa. Giles pretended not to notice when Wesley pushed the book they were reading next to Cuthbert, presumably in case the bear felt like reading while they were out.
At Wesley’s suggestion, Giles stopped off on the way and bought some flowers and they presented themselves on Joyce’s doorstep at seven o’clock precisely, both of them checking the time on their watches.
It was Joyce who opened the door, saying, “Hello, Mr Giles” in that rather awkward trying-not-to-be-awkward voice they always used around each other now, post Ethan’s previous little practical joke. Joyce’s face got that now-familiar melting expression when she saw Wesley and she crouched down to his level to say: “And hello, Wesley.”
“Hello, Mrs Summers.” Wesley shyly held out the flowers. “Uncle Giles bought you these.”
She beamed at him and Giles. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“Are you schmoozing my mother?”
As Giles turned around in horror to refute it, he saw that Buffy was beaming at Wesley, and immediately swept him up into her arms for a cuddle. “You are such a heartbreaker.”
“Buffy!” His delight at seeing her again was really touching and Giles found himself beaming at them in a probably rather doting fashion.
“She’s been counting the hours,” Joyce explained. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
“She and Wesley really have...bonded.”
Joyce accompanied Giles into the dining room. “I understand his mother is ill?”
Giles fudged awkwardly. “Yes, unfortunately, yes. And his father’s very…strict. It was felt he would probably have a nicer time if he stayed with me for a little while.”
“Did he fly over by himself?”
“Well, I understand the stewardesses are very good with unaccompanied um…children.”
Giles thought about the adult Wesley flying over to Sunnydale. He wondered if he had been full of anticipation or simply a mess of nerves. It was clear that Wesley had no idea how clever he was at eight. And reading through his school reports, it had quickly become apparent that he had remained riddled with crippling insecurities. Could perform well if he didn’t feel he was being judged or was under the scrutiny of someone whose opinion made him nervous. There were numerous reports from teachers of tasks they knew he was capable of performing being botched because he would become too self-conscious about being watched. Under the hostile gaze of a senior Watcher - albeit one who had been fired - and a group of American teenagers - Wesley had pretty much buckled.
Giles watched as Wesley was greeted with every enthusiasm by Willow, who took him from Buffy to cuddle him thoroughly - Wesley blushed and gazed up at her adoringly until handed over to Oz who told him quietly that he always had just that same reaction to Willow and that Xander was changing in the van but would be in directly. Then Cordelia plucked Wesley from Oz’s arms so she could cuddle him and straighten his shirt and point out to Giles that he should have dressed him in the other one. Then Xander was at the door with a bottle of wine, looking very neatly spruced, saying “Good evening, Mrs Summers. Is he here -?”
Joyce smiled. “Yes, Xander, he’s in the dining room.”
And then Xander was snatching Wesley from Cordelia’s arms and saying: “Hey, big fellow. Missed you today. What did you do?”
“Giles took him to the museum,” Buffy said in tones of withering contempt.
“It was wonderful.” Wesley lit up. “Uncle Giles is so clever. He knows everything. And then we went to the beach and built a really big sandcastle. And the sea came in and washed it away and it was so much fun. Where’s Angel?” He looked around in concern. “Is he okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Buffy looked up at another ring on the doorbell. “And that sounds like him.”
Angel was wearing a beautiful suit and carrying a bunch of flowers that really put the ones Giles had brought to shame; he had also brought a bottle of wine even better than the one Giles had brought. He held them out to Joyce and complimented her on her dress and Giles and Xander exchanged a look.
“Vampires…” Xander snorted. “Always with the compliments and the nice clothes.”
“You could learn from Angel,” Cordelia observed.
“Yeah right.” Xander checked his reflection and then looked smug. “See, that’s something right there that I can do and he can’t.”
“And yet he turns up looking like - that and you look like - this.” Cordelia shook her head.
Wesley said, “Angel!”
And immediately Angel stopped being the suave sophisticated two hundred and fifty year old vampire in the beautiful suit and dropped down to Wesley’s level with a dorky grin on his face. “Wes!”
He swept the boy up into his arms while Wesley wrapped his arms around Angel’s neck and beamed at him. Angel inhaled his scent in relief and Wesley gazed at his hair curiously. “How do you get it to look like that when you don’t have a reflection?”
Angel shrugged modestly. “Practise, I guess. Did you have a fun day with Uncle Giles?”
“So much fun…!” Wesley began to tell Angel about everything he had learned that day.
Giles turned around to find Buffy tugging at his sleeve. “Did you remember the nightlight?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not a clown one, is it?” Xander shuddered.
“A ship.”
“Okay. Cool.”
“Are we ready for dinner?” Joyce asked, turning to give Buffy a look that meant she should be helping. Buffy scampered off to help while everyone took their places; Wesley having a little place-setting that made it clear he should be sitting in between Giles and Buffy on a cushion.
Wesley once again demonstrated his impeccable table manners while Giles felt like a fraud when Joyce complimented him on the boy’s behaviour.
They were halfway through dinner when she said casually: “Has he met the other Wesley yet? I meant to ask you to invite him too, Mr Giles, but it slipped my mind.”
“‘The other Wesley’?” Buffy said awkwardly. “You’ve met him?”
Joyce looked up in surprise. “Yes, such a nice young man. Very polite.”
They all exchanged hunted looks while Wesley looked up at Giles. Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, he is. Did he happen to tell you…?”
“He said he was your assistant.” Joyce helped Wesley to more vegetables. “He was sitting behind your desk and I was worried you’d been…replaced or something and he said, goodness, no, the school couldn’t run without you.” Everyone looked at Giles then except for Wesley, who evidently found nothing surprising in this remark. Joyce continued blithely: “He made me a cup of tea. He was really very kind. I was upset because of Principal Snyder.”
Buffy grimaced. “We’re all upset about Snyder.”
“He was complaining about you again,” Joyce admitted apologetically. “And I know I shouldn’t listen to him but it really upset me. But the young man - I didn’t catch his last name - he told me that as far as he could tell Snyder hated all the children at the school just on principal and that I shouldn’t pay any attention to him. He said that Buffy was under a lot of pressure from her various responsibilities and I should try to be patient and understanding if I could. He said he was often guilty himself of forgetting how much pressure the children were under.”
Willow and Buffy exchanged a hunted look while Giles sighed and looked down at his plate. Wonderful. Given the chance to pay them back for the way they had treated him, Wesley had reassured Joyce and tried to get Buffy out of trouble.
Joyce sighed. “I asked him what he’d seen of Sunnydale so far and he didn’t really seem to have seen any of it. He said he’d been busy with research. I feel bad I didn’t invite him to dinner now. He’s very thin, isn’t he?”
Giles looked at her helplessly, very aware of Wesley’s bony little child-sized wrists next to his. “Is he…? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, he was wearing this suit with lots of padding, but I could see it was just padding. I asked him if he missed English food and he said that no one who had ever had to eat English food would ask that.” Joyce smiled. “He was really very sweet.” She looked at Buffy. “We must have him over for dinner.”
“Yes, we should definitely do that.”
Buffy gave Giles the ‘help me’ eyes and he said hastily: “I’m afraid he’s away at the moment. At a Rare Book fair.”
“Well, Buffy, remind me to ask him over as soon as he’s back. He seemed a little lonely to me.” Joyce looked at child Wesley for a moment, putting her head on one side as she gazed at him. “Have you stayed with your uncle before, Wesley? You look - familiar.”
“No, Mrs Summers.” He looked up at her wide-eyed and Giles saw his fingers start to tremble on the adult-sized cutlery.
He took the knife from his hand as it began to rattle against the crockery. “Shall I cut that up for you, Wesley?”
Wesley gazed up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Uncle Giles.”
Xander quickly leapt in with an anecdote from school in which Snyder played a prominent and unflattering part and Giles carefully cut up all the meat on Wesley’s plate; hoping that the young man hadn’t grown up to be a vegetarian. He was more than a little ashamed that he had no idea about any of the adult Wesley’s preferences, and it now seemed to be the case that the only person, apart from Cordelia, who had shown him any real kindness since his arrival here had been Joyce.
Throughout dinner, Joyce kept heaping food onto Wesley’s plate until Buffy reminded her that he wouldn’t have any room for dessert. Wesley looked absolutely wide-eyed about the trifle Joyce had made - it had some fancy name but it was definitely trifle, and she ladled an extra large portion onto his plate. He ate it very, very slowly, savouring every mouthful and then told her with great sincerity that it was the nicest trifle he’d ever tasted. Giles thought it was definitely going to be touch and go if he got Wesley away from Joyce at the end of the evening.
After dinner when Buffy had carried Wesley off to the sitting room to be cuddled and fussed over some more by her, Willow and Cordelia - and judging by the complaints from the males about not getting their turn - Xander, Oz and Angel also, Joyce put her hand on Giles’s arm and drew him to one side.
Speaking quietly she said, “Is everything - okay at home for Wesley?”
Giles realized that lying was the only way forward here. “Oh yes.”
“He just seems so...nervous of adults.”
“His father’s a little strict, as I said, but he’ll be going away to school soon. He’s looking forward to that.”
“He seems so young to be away from his mother.”
“Well, Buffy’s been filling in admirably. He’s really very fond of her.”
Joyce gazed into the sitting room where Buffy tickling him on the couch. Wesley was giggling helplessly. “So, I see. He’s like a different person when he’s with her.”
As they watched, Angel snatched Wesley from Buffy and sat him on his shoulders. Giles watched the three of them, Wesley gasping with laughter as he gripped Angel’s hair unselfconsciously, and Buffy tried to jump up to reach him and Angel mocked her shortness. Giles felt the smile die on his face as he remembered again that they could never have this; Angel and Buffy and a child. The only way Buffy could be a mother was if she could learn how not to be in love with Angel. Turning he saw the look on Joyce’s face and realized she was thinking exactly the same thing.
“You do know...” she began.
“Yes.” Giles took off his glasses. “I know.”
“Does Buffy?” she asked.
He sighed. “I imagine it’s something she tries not to think about.”
“Then Angel needs to think about it for both of them.”
Giles looked at the vampire who was gazing up at the boy on his shoulders and grinning dorkishly. “It’s difficult for him too. I had no idea - well, he clearly has…paternal feelings also.”
“He made his choice a long time ago,” Joyce said quietly. “Buffy still has her life in front of her.”
Giles thought about how short a Slayer’s life could be. They weren’t encouraged to have children although Nikki had, of course. What could they really offer a child other than the constant possibility of being orphaned? The council didn’t really encourage Slayers to do anything except Slay, and yet Buffy had broken the mould once already by collecting a group of friends around her; and broken it again by falling in love with a vampire. Perhaps she could break it for a third time by managing to live to old age with a husband and children.
Buffy had snatched Wesley from Angel and passed him to Willow. The boy was still giggling helplessly. Giles wondered if he had ever done that before he came here. If anyone had just let him be...silly even for a few minutes.
“I don’t think it’s my place to talk to her about her...romantic attachments,” he offered after a moment.
Joyce looked at him sideways. “Coward.”
Giles couldn’t entirely suppress a smile. “Acknowledged.”
Joyce continued to gaze at him. “I’m just wondering what you’re all not telling me this time.”
Giles looked at Wesley and grimaced.
“I will find out,” Joyce added conversationally. “I always do, sooner or later...”
The rest of the day passed very fast. Oz and Giles were persuaded to get out their guitars, and Xander kept the junk food coming, but Giles was not exactly surprised that as evening fell, Joyce put her foot down when Buffy tried to get out of going home for the second consecutive night. Buffy gave him a pleading look: “Can you talk to her?”
“I’ll have to tell her about Wesley,” he warned. Buffy sighed and conceded defeat and Giles took the phone and began to explain to Joyce how useful Buffy was being at helping him to take care of his nephew. “He has become…awfully fond of her,” he fumbled for the right words. “And she of him. What was that…? Yes, I’m sure we’d be delighted. I’m sorry, it’s a little noisy in here…hang on a moment….” He glared across at the others. “Could you keep the noise down for five minutes? Sorry, Joyce.” He concentrated on what she was saying and then nodded. “Well, um…pretty much everyone actually. They are all finding looking after a little boy something of a novelty, but he has attached himself particularly to Buffy. Well…Willow, Xander, Cordelia, Angel, Oz, Buffy and myself. Actually, no, he’s a remarkably well-behaved little boy. His…his father is something of a disciplinarian....”
When Giles got off the phone he found Wesley and Buffy both looking at him anxiously. “Does Buffy have to go?” Wesley asked.
Giles sighed. “Would that be so terrible, Wesley? If it were just you and I for one night?”
“No.” Wesley looked up at Buffy. “But she has bad dreams and I can wake her up and tell her that she’s just dreaming.”
Buffy picked him up and hugged him, still gazing at Giles in a ‘make everything be the way I want it to be’ way. “You do. You do that very well.”
“And Buffy can wake me up and tell me I’m just dreaming too,” Wesley added bravely.
“Well, for one night you are going to have to manage without her, but Joyce has suggested that everyone comes round to dinner tomorrow night so she can meet Wesley for herself.” Giles looked around at everyone. “Including you, Angel. Can you eat - normal food?”
“I can.” He nodded. “It just doesn’t keep me alive or taste that…special. But I can eat it.”
“She asked me to check.” Giles looked around at all their depressed-looking faces. “Why don’t you all go home this evening - Angel, you might want to escort Willow to her home and keep an eye on things there. Then perhaps the rest of you could - say - attend school tomorrow, just as a suggestion, and then we can meet up at Buffy’s house tomorrow at seven o’clock. It sounds like quite a…formal dinner, so I suggest that everyone gets themselves…spruced up.”
Everyone looked at everyone else and then down at themselves, Xander apparently noticing for the first time that he was still wearing his pyjamas under his clothes, Angel brushing an imaginary crease from his silk shirt, Cordelia looking around for a mirror in something approaching panic.
“You have twenty-four hours,” Giles pointed out.
“But there’s washing and hair drying and finding clothes.”
Willow looked anxiously at Oz who said, “I was thinking of going for the shirt over the t-shirt and jeans look myself.”
Willow looked at his t-shirt and jeans and shirt and smiled in relief. “Yes, that would look nice.”
Oz looked across at Buffy. “Unless you think your mother wants us to wear…the full evening dress?”
“It’s a dinner party, not the Prom.” Buffy looked around at everyone. “I think as long as we’re all clean and relatively uncreased…” She gazed back at Giles. “Mom really says I need to go home?”
“I don’t think she likes the idea of me using you all as unpaid babysitters while I renege on my duties as an uncle.”
They all looked a little tragic at the prospect of leaving and Giles wondered if they had intended to just camp out in his house for ten days until Wesley was restored to his adult size. “I’m sure your parents would like to see you…” he suggested.
“Why would they? They never have before,” Xander countered.
“I ate my parents two centuries ago.”
Xander looked at Angel sideways. “You really ought to get that put onto a t-shirt.”
“My parents are away,” Cordelia added.
Buffy looked at the tall brunette. “You’d better come and stay with me. I don’t think you should be in your house alone right now. Willow, you should come with me too. Just so we know you’re safe.”
It took a few more phonecalls but in the end it was agreed by all relevant parents that Xander could stay with Oz - Giles still couldn’t see the point of that except that Xander presumably felt safer with someone else around, Willow and Cordelia could indeed stay with Buffy, and Angel was deemed safe to stay by himself. This meant that Giles finally had Wesley to himself again, which he was rather pleased about, but pretended not to be so as to not seem as if he were gloating. Cordelia was driving Willow to Willow’s house and then to her own house so they could pick up more overnight things, and Oz was driving Xander home. Again, Angel was considered safe to make his own way, although one wouldn’t have known he was actually eternal and quite close to invincible from the way Buffy fussed over him when they said their farewells. And then finally, Buffy was in his car with Wesley on her lap, pointing out all the reasons why it wasn’t safe for Wesley to travel in the car alone because the seatbelt wouldn’t fit him.
“It fits him perfectly well, Buffy. We went to the park together, remember?”
“Well, what about bedtime?”
“I think I’m capable of reading him a story.”
Buffy sighed and hugged Wesley closer, but got teary-eyed as they reached her house. “It’s going to be twenty-four hours until I see him again!” she wailed.
“Twenty-four hours, yes.” Giles tried not to let his pleasure at the prospect get into the voice. “Well, I’m sure we’ll struggle by somehow.”
“You’re not going to do…lessons with him tomorrow, are you?” Buffy demanded.
“I’m sure we’ll find some way to fill our time,” Giles assured her blandly. And then they were finally at Buffy’s house and Buffy carried Wesley out so she could say goodbye to him properly, Giles sighing, switching off the engine, and getting out himself.
Joyce looked out in some confusion and Giles gave her an apologetic grimace. “Buffy’s just saying goodbye. Um, Wesley, this is Buffy’s mother, Mrs Summers.”
Wesley held out a hand, looking up at Joyce a little fearfully. “How do you do, Mrs Summers?”
Joyce’s face took on that rapt adoring look that had become so familiar on the face of unwary females over the past few days. “Very well, thank you.”
“This is Wesley.” Giles rested a hand on his shoulder as Buffy wiped her eyes and sniffed.
“Pleased to meet you, Wesley,” Joyce told him warmly, then frowned at Buffy. “Is something wrong, dear?”
“It’s just - what if he has a nightmare and I’m not there…?” Buffy’s face crumpled again.
Wesley said hastily, “There, there, Buffy. I’ll be all right. Uncle Giles will look after me and look - ” He held out Cuthbert. “If you have him with you then if you have a nightmare you can cuddle him.”
Buffy clutched Cuthbert to her and burst into tears. “But then you’ll be all - by - your - self…”
Joyce’s expression revealed her confusion, looking to Giles for an explanation.
“Buffy has been taking care of Wesley,” he explained.
“So, I see.”
Wesley was still patting Buffy’s hand and telling her that he would be fine with Uncle Giles and he would see her tomorrow. She sniffed and hiccupped and then crouched down in front of him to give him another hug, stroking his hair and pressing her cheek against his while looking tearfully up at Giles. “You can call me if you have a nightmare. Giles, you’ll let him have the phone in his room?”
“Yes, of course,” Giles said awkwardly.
“And you’ll call me if there if he doesn’t feel well, or if you hear any noises outside or if…if anything…?”
“Yes, I will.”
“You promise?” she demanded fiercely.
“I promise, Buffy, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Wesley put his arms around her neck and gave her another hug, saying bravely: “I’ll be fine, Buffy, I promise. And look - you’ll have your mummy with you if you are sad…” He gazed up at Joyce who began to melt all over again. Giles could see never being able to get Wesley away from these two if he wasn’t swift about leaving.
Buffy wiped her eyes and stroked her thumb under Wesley’s eyes in case he had been crying too. “Do you miss your…mummy…?”
Wesley gave her a reassuring smile. “Not when I’m with you and Willow - or with Uncle Giles.”
Buffy sniffed piteously and slowly disentangled herself from him, giving Giles an imploring look. “Giles, you’ll…?”
“You know I will,” he assured her warmly. He wasn’t sure if she meant protect Wesley with his life, call her if there were any problems, or remember to put chocolate shavings into Wesley’s bedtime hot milk, but as he fully intended to do all of those things he thought he was covered. He quickly picked Wesley up before Buffy started sobbing on the poor child again or Joyce decided they should keep Wesley with them.
Joyce automatically folded back the sleeve of Wesley’s jacket where it came down below his fingers and winced at the sight of his wrist. “He’s very thin. Has he been ill?”
“Just - naturally skinny.” Giles managed a sickly smile as he tightened his grip on the boy.
Joyce put a hand across Wesley’s forehead and Buffy immediately said: “What? Is he hot? Does he feel feverish?”
“He seems okay,” Joyce admitted. “But he is a little pale.”
Buffy looked anxiously at Giles. “Mom says he looks pale.”
“He’s English, Buffy,” Giles reminded her. He forced a bright smile. “Well, then. You have a lovely evening. So kind of you to take in Willow and Cordelia, Joyce, and I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow evening. Goodnight then.” He turned around and strode back to the car.
“Wait!” Buffy hurled herself after them, gave Wesley Cuthbert, hugged him again, kissed him on the forehead and then stood desolately on the kerb while Giles did up Wesley’s seat belt. “Don’t forget to read him a story…”
“I won’t.” Giles shut the door on Wesley and went around to the driver’s side, by which time Buffy had been joined by Joyce.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to keep Wesley here…?” she offered.
“No, really, we’ll be fine,” he assured her.
“You’ll call me?” Buffy pressed.
“In an instant.” Giles slid into the car and felt a rush of relief. Only for Buffy to immediately tap on his window. Sighing, he complied. “Yes, Buffy…?”
“Maybe Angel should stay with you, just in case....”
“Perhaps another day,” Giles said through gritted teeth. He switched on the engine, sliding his foot onto the clutch.
“I was just thinking....”
He took off the handbrake and put the car into gear. “Goodnight, Buffy. Sweet dreams.” And then he was pulling out into the street and could thankfully ignore the last minute instructions Buffy was calling out to him.
“Do you think Buffy will be okay?” Wesley asked anxiously, turning around in his seat to wave at her and getting Cuthbert to wave to her as well. No doubt he thought he was being kind but Giles suspected that it would just make Buffy start bawling again as the sight of that battered bear waving its little paw was rather poignant.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s not going to be able to carry on like this when you’re big again, after all.”
Wesley looked pensive and Giles hoped he hadn’t upset him. Wesley gazed up at him shyly. “Uncle Giles…?”
“Yes, Wesley?”
“Do you mind me calling you ‘Uncle Giles’ even when no one else is around?”
“No, Wesley. I actually rather like it.”
“Uncle Giles, is being big…nice…?”
Giles thought about it for a moment. “Yes and no. It’s nice not to have to do lessons any more and to be one’s own boss, but it’s not always so nice to have responsibility for others. And, of course, although one acquires more knowledge and experience it’s not always the case that one necessarily gets any wiser.”
Wesley looked despondent. “Do you think I…liked being big?”
Giles thought about that prim, proper young man in his padded suit, all brylcreem and rules. “I’m not sure. I think you were very aware of your responsibilities, but they can feel rather onerous, so I don’t know how you felt when you weren’t in public view. You may have felt you were rather dropped in the deep end, to be honest. From university studies and vampires only encountered under controlled circumstances to being sent off to a Hellmouth and told to Watch for two Slayers....” He shook his head. “That’s quite a lot to ask of someone still a few years shy of his thirtieth birthday.”
“But it wasn’t just me, was it?” Wesley put in. “You were there, too, and you do have experience, so I don’t suppose it was too bad for me really.”
Giles looked at the little boy’s calm happy face, so confident that Uncle Giles would have been as helpful to his adult self as he was to this younger version, and felt a serious pang of conscience. Hoarsely, he said: “I’m not sure I was always as helpful as I could have been, Wesley. And I truly am sorry for that now.”
Wesley looked up at him sleepily, Cuthbert snuggled in against him. “I’m sure you took good care of me. You and Buffy. That’s what you do.”
Giles had to hang onto that image of himself saving Wesley from Balthazar’s people; that sudden awareness mixed in with his exasperation when he realized how frightened the boy was, that Wesley had been given nothing like enough preparation before being tossed into the Hellmouth; a pawn in Quentin’s determination to keep Council control over the active Slayer. But there were too many other memories of sniping at Wesley in front of the children; letting Buffy treat him like dirt; those bruises on his ribs and back where Buffy and Faith had clearly both found it amusing to use their training sessions as an excuse to use him as a punching bag and ‘accidentally’ pound him.
“We - could have done better,” Giles admitted. “Perhaps when you’re big again that’s something we can discuss.” He looked across at the boy for his reaction and saw that Wesley was asleep, his thumb in his mouth. Giles reached across and stroked his hair, feeling the thinness of his skill, the warmth coming through his thin skin. So incredibly fragile, and on a Hellmouth. When he parked his car, he took a moment to get out a stake in readiness, determined that absolutely nothing and no one was going to stop him gaining the safety of his house.
There were no signs of vampires, or any of the Mayor’s people, but he was still on edge. He picked up the sleeping boy and Wesley cuddled in against him, his head resting on the tweed of Giles’s shoulder, Giles tucked Cuthbert in between Wesley and his chest, and then carried them both into the house. Once inside, he laid him on the sofa, covered with him his dressing gown, and did a quick sweep of the house, checking every room, including under the beds and in the cupboards, in case Faith or another human assassin should be hiding there.
Only then did he begin to run Wesley’s bath, leaving the water running so he could pop downstairs and check on Wesley, switching on the kettle so he could have a cup of tea as well. The winking light of the answerphone told him he had a message and he went to look only to see a number ‘6’ blinking at him urgently. Giles couldn’t remember the last time he had come home to so many messages, and wondered if some crisis had occurred of which he was unaware. Anxiously, he stabbed the ‘play’ button:
“Hey, this is Xander, which you probably guessed on account of me sounding like…me. Anyway. I forgot to ask you to call me when you get back home from Buffy’s so I know that you’re…back home.... I’m staying with Oz, remember? Oz’s number is five-five-five-zero-one-four-five…”
Rolling his eyes, Giles pressed the button for then next message:
“Xander again…Oz reminded me that we both wanted to say ‘Goodnight’ to Wesley. So…Goodnight, Wesley…oh yes, and Cuthbert too… And you know, if there’s any problems, any problems at all, you just call us and we can come right over. Let me give you that number again, it’s five-five....”
Giles pressed the button for the next message:
“Hey, it’s me - that’s Cordelia, obviously, oh yes, and Willow’s here too. We just wanted to check before we go to Buffy’s that you don’t need anything because I have the car so it would be really easy for us to just come over and...what...? Oh yes, Willow says, that Wesley likes his own mug, which is the one she bought him, with the Pink Panther on it - Hey, do English kids know who the Pink Panther is? I thought they had to like - watch the radio or something? Anyway...what? Oh right, Willow says you can call us at Buffy’s and I can bring us all over if you want us or if Wesley gets lonely or has a nightmare or anything.... Okay then....”
Rolling his eyes, Giles played the next message:
“Giles, this is Angel. Just calling to say that I did a sweep of the graveyards, staked a couple of vamps, but there’s not much going on. No sign of Faith. And hey, do you want me to swing by later just to make sure everything is okay? I’ll probably do that anyway. So - okay then....”
“What is the matter with you people?” Giles murmured.
“Giles, it’s Buffy. Just checking you got home okay. Call me as soon as you get back.”
Click. Whirr. Click
“It’s me again. Buffy. Cordelia and Willow are here and they said they left a message for you and you didn’t call them back and I’m sure it’s at least half an hour since you left here so we’re thinking maybe we should come over and just check....”
As Giles went to reach for the phone it rang again and he picked it up wearily. “Yes...?”
“Where have you been?” Buffy demanded.
“Buffy, I’ve only been home for ten minutes. It’s taken me longer than the car journey here to wade through all your paranoid meanderings. Could you please tell Willow and Cordelia that we are home safely and in no need of their assistance, and that goes for you, too. Oh, yes, I’d be grateful if you would phone Xander and Oz and inform them of our safe arrival as well. If you could also tell everyone not to call me unless your lives or limbs are in peril, that would be even better.”
“You are so tetchy.”
“I just want a nice quiet evening with Wesley. Now, please just…leave us alone.”
“Oh all right, Mr Testy....” She sounded far from willing. “But you still have to call me if anything at all is wrong.”
“I will. Now just - try to enjoy your evening.” He put down the phone to find Wesley gazing up at him as he sleepily rubbed his eyes.
“They really care about you getting home safely, don’t they?” Wesley asked in wonder.
Giles smirked. “No, Wesley, they care about you getting home safely. I can assure you that all I usually get is a wave. Now, how about a bath, your pyjamas, and then some hot milk with chocolate shavings…?”
Giles had just stopped the bath from overflowing, let out half of it, refilled it with cooler water so there was no danger of scalding the boy, bathed Wesley - with some help from the Playmobil Pirate ship which floated admirably, helped Wesley into his clean pyjamas and the soft warmth of his dressing gown, and given him a mug of hot milk - in his Pink Panther mug. He was now very happily reading aloud The Magician’s Nephew to Wesley when there was a soft tap on the door. Giles thought that he would be slightly less annoyed if it was a slavering demon come to eat his intestines than if it was Buffy, Willow and Cordelia, who had talked Joyce into letting them come over to check on him. Propping the warm little boy up against the cushions and marking their place in the book, he went to the door and opened it.
Angel stood on the doorstep looking stylish, immaculately coiffured, and slightly sheepish.
“Just wondered how you both were?” He craned his neck to see past Giles.
Giles rolled his eyes. “Come in. See for yourself.”
Angel immediately beamed dorkishly at Wesley who had stood up on the sofa to beam back. Angel was across the room in a couple of strides. He swooped him up into his arms, saying, “Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Angel. Did you go patrolling?” Wesley’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Did you see any vampires? Apart from you?”
“Three or four.” Angel sat down in Giles’ place, sitting Wesley on his lap as he did so, and noticed the book Giles had been reading. “Oh this is a great one. How far have you got?”
“Not very far.”
Angel picked up the book and turned to the marked page, then seemed to become aware of Giles and said apologetically, “Is it okay if I…?”
“Fine, go ahead.” Giles slouched into the kitchen, feeling decidedly out of sorts, and put the kettle on. There was still a bag of blood in the fridge and he automatically put it into the microwave and fetched Angel the mug that he had been using - and which no one else would ever want to use again. Wesley’s Pink Panther mug with its hot milk tide line was sitting in the sink. It already felt familiar. So did the little pieces of damp children’s clothing drying on the radiator in the corner. It occurred to him that he had bought far more books than he could read to Wesley in ten days. He wondered if in his heart he really had thought the spell was irreversible.
Angel looked very comfortable on his sofa, Wesley cuddled in against him, both of them reading the book together as Angel read it aloud. Giles knew it was petty to feel that Angel had gatecrashed his party, but he had been enjoying sitting with the boy, reading to him, perhaps trying to make amends for any coldness or unkindness to the adult version.
And then he thought about everything that Angel had done. All the fathers he had taken from little boys like Wesley, not to mention mothers, sisters, brothers, and the lives of little boys themselves; all those victims whose memories he had to live with every day. And of that other great difference between them that although Giles might choose to spend his days researching the Hellmouth, he could still walk in daylight. He might be unmarried and childless, but he could still marry and become a father should he choose to do so. Angel never could.
He watched as Angel automatically kissed Wesley’s soft damp hair as he turned the page, not even aware that he’d done it, Wesley snuggling more comfortably against his chest, Angel holding the book with one hand, the other arm around the boy, reading the passage so well, so vivid and full of life and…pleasure. It occurred to Giles that in all the time he had known Angel, he was not certain that he had ever seen him look so entirely happy as he did now. Unexpectedly moved by the sight of a damned creature of the night finding happiness in something so small, so trivial, and so completely out of his reach, Giles picked up Angel’s warmed up blood and his own cup of tea and walked over to the couch.
Angel finished the page he was reading and then looked at Giles. “Do you want to go on with it?”
“No, it’s okay,” Giles said gently. “You do it. Wesley and I can both listen.”
Wesley smiled at him sleepily as Angel took the mug of blood from Giles, Giles sipped his tea, and, with Wesley snuggled against him, Angel read aloud the description of the mystical wood with its many pools which could lead the two children to so many possible worlds.
***
They put Wesley to bed together. Angel carried him upstairs. Giles carried Cuthbert, whom he placed into the bed, then Angel kissed Wesley and handed him to Giles so he could say ‘Goodnight’ and put him into the bed. Wesley was so sleepy from his warm bath, hot milk, and being read to, that he just snuggled up to Cuthbert and was asleep almost as his head hit the pillow. Giles looked at the doting expression on Angel’s face and realized that his own could well be mirroring his; hastily collecting himself, he whispered: “Shall we…?”
They tip-toed out of the room, leaving the bulb burning on the landing.
“You should get him a night light,” Angel said.
“Yes, I should.”
“They do ones that are especially for kids - in the shapes of balloon and clowns and things.”
“Not a clown one,” Giles said at once. “Xander has a phobia. It may be more common than one realizes.”
They made their way back down the staircase up which Angelus had once carried Jenny’s corpse and Giles had later followed, the bottle of champagne the soulless killer had left for him carried in his hand.
Angel seemed to be as aware of the irony of their current situation as anyone. He said awkwardly: “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go.”
Giles moistened his lips. “I’m sensing a ‘but’…?”
Angel sighed. “We both know how important you are to Buffy. If the Mayor wanted to put her off her game, kidnapping you would probably seem like a good place to start. I just think she’d sleep easier if she knew there was someone here to…”
“Take care of me?” Giles gave him a look of exasperation. “I assure you I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Angel tried to disguise a smirk. “I think you have a hospital record that says otherwise.”
“A lot of those visits were only for suspected concussion. I was released without treatment on several occasions.”
Angel sighed. “Giles, take it from someone who once devoted several months to trying to drive Buffy crazy - the place to start is with the people that she loves. That’s her mom, Willow, Xander, and…you.”
“I refuse to have a vampire babysitter until the ascension!” Giles retorted, having to stick to a fierce whisper for fear of waking up Wesley.
“Well, Xander does have a werewolf babysitter and Willow has a Slayer babysitter, right now, so I think you’re being kind of....” Angel smirked. “Okay. Just let me stay tonight so when Buffy calls you can tell her that I’m here and she can stop worrying about Wesley. Deal…?”
“Oh, all right. You can have the couch. But Buffy’s already phoned and I told her then that....” Giles broke off as the phone rang again. He picked it up. “Yes...?”
“It’s me,” Buffy said apologetically. “I was just concerned....”
“We all were,” Cordelia called from behind her.
“Please don’t be angry....” That was Willow, and of course that ruined any chance of him being angry - possibly ever, as who could be when imagining that face looking at him.
Giles sighed. “Angel’s here. He’s staying the night. On the couch, I hasten to add. Wesley has had his bath, is now wearing his pyjamas - the dark blue ones, the light blue ones are in the wash. He drank all of his hot milk in the Pink Panther mug, and, yes, I remembered the chocolate shavings. He was read a few chapters of The Magician’s Nephew and is now fast asleep with Cuthbert. Anything else you wanted to ask?”
“Nightlight...?” Buffy said apologetically.
“I’ll get him one tomorrow.”
“Not a clown one!” Willow said urgently.
“Angel suggested perhaps a balloon-shaped lamp. Now, is that all?”
“I’m glad Angel’s staying,” Buffy admitted.
“Yes, because God forbid I should have my house to myself ever again.”
“Don’t be tetchy,” Willow pleaded.
“I’m not.” Giles sighed. “I’m really not. I’m just tired and I’d really like to get some sleep.”
“Will you kiss Wesley ‘Goodnight’ from me?” Buffy asked in a small voice.
“And me?” Willow put in.
“And me,” Cordelia added.
“Yes, I probably will,” Giles admitted. “Just - try to remember he’s going to be an adult again very soon. This is just temporary.”
“I will if you will,” Buffy returned.
Giles conceded the point. “Fair enough. No one’s pretending it won’t be something of a wrench....”
“So, let’s not talk about it. Let’s just - carpe diem and carpe whatever ‘night’ is in Latin too.”
“Noctem, Buffy.”
He reassured them for a few more minutes and then put the phone down only to find that Angel was still smirking and Giles narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I was just thinking you could still kiss Wesley goodnight for everyone when he’s an adult again....”
“Don’t try to do humour, Angel.” Giles only just resisted the urge to hit him with the sofa cushion. “It’s not your forte.”
“Well, Principal Snyder did say....”
“I’m well aware of what Principal Snyder believes is Wesley’s purpose in the Library. He can go and take a funny run.”
Still smirking, Angel sat down on the couch. Giles glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be brooding about now? Isn’t that pretty much your raison d'être?”
“I’m taking the night off.”
They both sat on the couch and looked at the Playmobil battlefield still taking up most of Giles’s floor space. The Pirate ship was lying on its side, drying off from bath-time, the Viking ship in some disarray. They exchanged a look.
“We mustn’t,” Angel said.
“Absolutely not.”
“It would be - wrong.”
“We could never tell Buffy. Or anyone.”
“Okay.” Angel sprang across the room to grab the Pirate ship. “You can be the Vikings.”
It was three a.m. before Giles could conclusively prove that Watcher strategy was superior to vampire strategy. Angel sulkily took to the couch, while Giles went upstairs. It was only natural that he should check on Wesley. Finding him fast asleep with Cuthbert under one arm and his thumb in his mouth, it was also completely natural that he should remember Buffy had asked him to kiss Wesley ‘Goodnight’. He did so, whispering “Goodnight, Wesley”.
Wesley stirred sleepily, murmured: “Goodnight, Uncle Giles” and then went back to sleep.
As he climbed into his own bed, Giles reminded himself again, that this was only temporary and Wesley was not going to be a child forever. As he fell asleep he was still mentally calculating how many hours were left and what was the best way to fill them to try to make ten days of happiness make up for an entire childhood of neglect.
***
Angel left before dawn, meaning that Giles could have a peaceful breakfast with Wesley. He had half-expected Buffy and the others to turn up but they had evidently got the message about him wanting a little ‘quality time’ with Wesley and they were left to eat their cornflakes and marmalade on toast in blissful peace. Wesley sipped his sweet milky tea and Giles sipped his nice hot strong tea and they talked about what they were going to do that day.
“I think the first thing we need to do is to buy you a nightlight.”
Wesley looked at him in confusion. “What’s that, Uncle Giles?”
“It’s a light that children have in their rooms, so if they wake up in the night the room isn’t dark.”
Wesley appeared completely bewildered by that concept. “I don’t think we have those in England. And aren’t children supposed to get used to the dark?”
“Buffy wants you to have one. I think we should probably humour her.”
Wesley nodded at that. “I wouldn’t want to upset Buffy.”
“Nightlight it is then. And then we could into LA if you like? Or would you rather have a day in Sunnydale?”
Wesley looked torn and then said, “Sunnydale, please.”
“Museum, library, zoo, beach…?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Can we go to the museum? Does it have…Hellmouthy things…?”
“Most of the people here don’t really admit to living on a Hellmouth,” Giles admitted. “There is a more - realistic museum on the other end of town, but I think we’d need Angel with us to go there. The everyday one is pretty…everyday really.”
“I’d still like to see it. Does it have a box-kite? Or a gypsy caravan?”
Giles dimly remembered how exciting things like that could be when you were still a child. “I’m honestly not sure. When you’ve finished your breakfast, shall we go and take a look?”
Wesley beamed at him. “Yes, please.”
They bought the nightlight in a shop that had been there for sometime and had never yet been involved in any supernatural manifestations. (The last thing Giles wanted was to purchase a haunted nightlight that would throttle the boy in his sleep.) There were several of varying designs and prices. One was in the shape of a ship and was ridiculously expensive. There were less expensive ones, of course, but the ship one was based on an illustration from an old children’s book and was really beautiful. Telling himself firmly that as Wesley was only going to be a child for ten days it was absurd to buy the expensive one, Giles looked around at the others, but the one in prime position kept calling to him. And there was something about the way Wesley looked at it as if it were a museum exhibit - something to be admired but not something there was even a chance of him having - before turning to look at the cheapest lights, that made something rebel inside him.
“I like that one best. What about you, Wesley?”
Wesley looked at him in surprise. “It’s very expensive, Uncle Giles. And I won’t need it for very long.”
“I still like it best.” He nodded to the assistant. “That one please. And a box of bulbs.”
Giles thought that watching Wesley realize that he wasn’t going to have to wake up in the dark again as he tentatively touched the lamp and that look of relief wash over his face, made it cheap at twice the price.
The Museum did not have a gypsy caravan or a box-kite but it had the skeleton of an Irish Elk which Wesley was rapt in front of for at least half an hour. It also had a model railway and a model of Early Sunnydale, various stuffed animals, a coin collection, a model volcano to show why eruptions happened, a visiting exhibition about Ancient Egypt which Wesley found fascinating, some Sumerian artefacts, some half decent paintings, and various odds and sods from different eras and areas of the natural and scientific world.
Giles would probably have been quite bored by the not terribly exciting exhibits - except that Wesley was having such a wonderful time. It was, of course, all new and different for him, and he asked Giles lots of questions about everything they encountered - tentatively, at first - clearly not sure if this was going to be something that Giles would find annoying - and then with increasing confidence as Giles responded warmly to each query.
Giles thought that no doubt Buffy would consider this a perfect day for him - a chance to go into lecture mode all morning with someone who actually wanted to hear him blather on endlessly about really dull things. And she would be right, of course. He smiled inwardly at himself. Wesley didn’t seem to know what it was to be bored. Everything was interesting to him and he moved from exhibit to exhibit wanting to Hoover up every bit of information that could be gleaned about each thing, Giles supplying what he knew. It actually felt useful to know so many things, as Wesley asked his questions and Giles could answer at least ninety percent of them; Wesley gazing up at him with an expression of such happiness at this sharing of knowledge and wide-eyed admiration that Giles knew ‘everything in the world’.
“I wish I did, Wesley.” Giles took his hand. “I know a little, that’s all. For instance, I know where the museum restaurant is situated in the building, but not what they on their lunchtime menu for the day. Shall we go and find out?”
Wesley beamed up at him happily, looking so much less fragile when he didn’t have that anxiety in his oversized eyes. He was still bony and pale but he no longer looked like someone who was regularly locked in cupboards and sent to bed without his supper. At the thought of that, Giles found himself gripping his hand a little more tightly and when they found the cafeteria, lifted the boy up so he could see the hot meals more easily, suggesting that perhaps the lasagne and all the available vegetables might be a good idea, and then some chocolate cake to follow.
He noticed that Wesley dutifully ate all his vegetables first, even the cabbage and the sprouts, before tucking into his lasagne very happily. Giles looked across at him and then mentally saw the little boy crying with terror because he had spilled Xander’s drink. He winced at the memory.
“Is everything all right, Uncle Giles?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, Wesley.” Giles smiled at him reassuringly. “Everything’s fine.”
They ate a leisurely lunch and then spent a fascinating hour in the Museum Shop where Giles found several more things they could buy, including a child-sized watch for Wesley with a velcro strap that could be made to fit even the narrowest wrist. A trip home to drop off their purchases and have a brief rest and a cup of tea, and then it was time to show Wesley the beach, which, as it was a school day, wasn’t filled with the usual blather of irritating teenagers. They made an extremely impressive sandcastle and then watched the sea come in and fill the moat, before finally overwhelming it; smiled at each other, happily, and then went back home to have another cup of tea and a biscuit - so as not to spoil their appetites for dinner - then to shower in Giles’ case and bathe in Wesley’s so that they would be sand-free and sweet-smelling when presenting themselves at Joyce’s. Giles was quite sure that whatever he chose to dress Wesley in would be considered inadequate but did his best to find him a wrinkle free shirt, uncreased jacket and the trousers that needed the least amount of safety pins to keep them up. There was some deliberation about Cuthbert but Wesley decided that he didn’t need to take him with him and he didn’t want Buffy’s mother thinking he was a ‘baby’. So, Cuthbert was left on the sofa. Giles pretended not to notice when Wesley pushed the book they were reading next to Cuthbert, presumably in case the bear felt like reading while they were out.
At Wesley’s suggestion, Giles stopped off on the way and bought some flowers and they presented themselves on Joyce’s doorstep at seven o’clock precisely, both of them checking the time on their watches.
It was Joyce who opened the door, saying, “Hello, Mr Giles” in that rather awkward trying-not-to-be-awkward voice they always used around each other now, post Ethan’s previous little practical joke. Joyce’s face got that now-familiar melting expression when she saw Wesley and she crouched down to his level to say: “And hello, Wesley.”
“Hello, Mrs Summers.” Wesley shyly held out the flowers. “Uncle Giles bought you these.”
She beamed at him and Giles. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“Are you schmoozing my mother?”
As Giles turned around in horror to refute it, he saw that Buffy was beaming at Wesley, and immediately swept him up into her arms for a cuddle. “You are such a heartbreaker.”
“Buffy!” His delight at seeing her again was really touching and Giles found himself beaming at them in a probably rather doting fashion.
“She’s been counting the hours,” Joyce explained. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
“She and Wesley really have...bonded.”
Joyce accompanied Giles into the dining room. “I understand his mother is ill?”
Giles fudged awkwardly. “Yes, unfortunately, yes. And his father’s very…strict. It was felt he would probably have a nicer time if he stayed with me for a little while.”
“Did he fly over by himself?”
“Well, I understand the stewardesses are very good with unaccompanied um…children.”
Giles thought about the adult Wesley flying over to Sunnydale. He wondered if he had been full of anticipation or simply a mess of nerves. It was clear that Wesley had no idea how clever he was at eight. And reading through his school reports, it had quickly become apparent that he had remained riddled with crippling insecurities. Could perform well if he didn’t feel he was being judged or was under the scrutiny of someone whose opinion made him nervous. There were numerous reports from teachers of tasks they knew he was capable of performing being botched because he would become too self-conscious about being watched. Under the hostile gaze of a senior Watcher - albeit one who had been fired - and a group of American teenagers - Wesley had pretty much buckled.
Giles watched as Wesley was greeted with every enthusiasm by Willow, who took him from Buffy to cuddle him thoroughly - Wesley blushed and gazed up at her adoringly until handed over to Oz who told him quietly that he always had just that same reaction to Willow and that Xander was changing in the van but would be in directly. Then Cordelia plucked Wesley from Oz’s arms so she could cuddle him and straighten his shirt and point out to Giles that he should have dressed him in the other one. Then Xander was at the door with a bottle of wine, looking very neatly spruced, saying “Good evening, Mrs Summers. Is he here -?”
Joyce smiled. “Yes, Xander, he’s in the dining room.”
And then Xander was snatching Wesley from Cordelia’s arms and saying: “Hey, big fellow. Missed you today. What did you do?”
“Giles took him to the museum,” Buffy said in tones of withering contempt.
“It was wonderful.” Wesley lit up. “Uncle Giles is so clever. He knows everything. And then we went to the beach and built a really big sandcastle. And the sea came in and washed it away and it was so much fun. Where’s Angel?” He looked around in concern. “Is he okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Buffy looked up at another ring on the doorbell. “And that sounds like him.”
Angel was wearing a beautiful suit and carrying a bunch of flowers that really put the ones Giles had brought to shame; he had also brought a bottle of wine even better than the one Giles had brought. He held them out to Joyce and complimented her on her dress and Giles and Xander exchanged a look.
“Vampires…” Xander snorted. “Always with the compliments and the nice clothes.”
“You could learn from Angel,” Cordelia observed.
“Yeah right.” Xander checked his reflection and then looked smug. “See, that’s something right there that I can do and he can’t.”
“And yet he turns up looking like - that and you look like - this.” Cordelia shook her head.
Wesley said, “Angel!”
And immediately Angel stopped being the suave sophisticated two hundred and fifty year old vampire in the beautiful suit and dropped down to Wesley’s level with a dorky grin on his face. “Wes!”
He swept the boy up into his arms while Wesley wrapped his arms around Angel’s neck and beamed at him. Angel inhaled his scent in relief and Wesley gazed at his hair curiously. “How do you get it to look like that when you don’t have a reflection?”
Angel shrugged modestly. “Practise, I guess. Did you have a fun day with Uncle Giles?”
“So much fun…!” Wesley began to tell Angel about everything he had learned that day.
Giles turned around to find Buffy tugging at his sleeve. “Did you remember the nightlight?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not a clown one, is it?” Xander shuddered.
“A ship.”
“Okay. Cool.”
“Are we ready for dinner?” Joyce asked, turning to give Buffy a look that meant she should be helping. Buffy scampered off to help while everyone took their places; Wesley having a little place-setting that made it clear he should be sitting in between Giles and Buffy on a cushion.
Wesley once again demonstrated his impeccable table manners while Giles felt like a fraud when Joyce complimented him on the boy’s behaviour.
They were halfway through dinner when she said casually: “Has he met the other Wesley yet? I meant to ask you to invite him too, Mr Giles, but it slipped my mind.”
“‘The other Wesley’?” Buffy said awkwardly. “You’ve met him?”
Joyce looked up in surprise. “Yes, such a nice young man. Very polite.”
They all exchanged hunted looks while Wesley looked up at Giles. Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, he is. Did he happen to tell you…?”
“He said he was your assistant.” Joyce helped Wesley to more vegetables. “He was sitting behind your desk and I was worried you’d been…replaced or something and he said, goodness, no, the school couldn’t run without you.” Everyone looked at Giles then except for Wesley, who evidently found nothing surprising in this remark. Joyce continued blithely: “He made me a cup of tea. He was really very kind. I was upset because of Principal Snyder.”
Buffy grimaced. “We’re all upset about Snyder.”
“He was complaining about you again,” Joyce admitted apologetically. “And I know I shouldn’t listen to him but it really upset me. But the young man - I didn’t catch his last name - he told me that as far as he could tell Snyder hated all the children at the school just on principal and that I shouldn’t pay any attention to him. He said that Buffy was under a lot of pressure from her various responsibilities and I should try to be patient and understanding if I could. He said he was often guilty himself of forgetting how much pressure the children were under.”
Willow and Buffy exchanged a hunted look while Giles sighed and looked down at his plate. Wonderful. Given the chance to pay them back for the way they had treated him, Wesley had reassured Joyce and tried to get Buffy out of trouble.
Joyce sighed. “I asked him what he’d seen of Sunnydale so far and he didn’t really seem to have seen any of it. He said he’d been busy with research. I feel bad I didn’t invite him to dinner now. He’s very thin, isn’t he?”
Giles looked at her helplessly, very aware of Wesley’s bony little child-sized wrists next to his. “Is he…? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, he was wearing this suit with lots of padding, but I could see it was just padding. I asked him if he missed English food and he said that no one who had ever had to eat English food would ask that.” Joyce smiled. “He was really very sweet.” She looked at Buffy. “We must have him over for dinner.”
“Yes, we should definitely do that.”
Buffy gave Giles the ‘help me’ eyes and he said hastily: “I’m afraid he’s away at the moment. At a Rare Book fair.”
“Well, Buffy, remind me to ask him over as soon as he’s back. He seemed a little lonely to me.” Joyce looked at child Wesley for a moment, putting her head on one side as she gazed at him. “Have you stayed with your uncle before, Wesley? You look - familiar.”
“No, Mrs Summers.” He looked up at her wide-eyed and Giles saw his fingers start to tremble on the adult-sized cutlery.
He took the knife from his hand as it began to rattle against the crockery. “Shall I cut that up for you, Wesley?”
Wesley gazed up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Uncle Giles.”
Xander quickly leapt in with an anecdote from school in which Snyder played a prominent and unflattering part and Giles carefully cut up all the meat on Wesley’s plate; hoping that the young man hadn’t grown up to be a vegetarian. He was more than a little ashamed that he had no idea about any of the adult Wesley’s preferences, and it now seemed to be the case that the only person, apart from Cordelia, who had shown him any real kindness since his arrival here had been Joyce.
Throughout dinner, Joyce kept heaping food onto Wesley’s plate until Buffy reminded her that he wouldn’t have any room for dessert. Wesley looked absolutely wide-eyed about the trifle Joyce had made - it had some fancy name but it was definitely trifle, and she ladled an extra large portion onto his plate. He ate it very, very slowly, savouring every mouthful and then told her with great sincerity that it was the nicest trifle he’d ever tasted. Giles thought it was definitely going to be touch and go if he got Wesley away from Joyce at the end of the evening.
After dinner when Buffy had carried Wesley off to the sitting room to be cuddled and fussed over some more by her, Willow and Cordelia - and judging by the complaints from the males about not getting their turn - Xander, Oz and Angel also, Joyce put her hand on Giles’s arm and drew him to one side.
Speaking quietly she said, “Is everything - okay at home for Wesley?”
Giles realized that lying was the only way forward here. “Oh yes.”
“He just seems so...nervous of adults.”
“His father’s a little strict, as I said, but he’ll be going away to school soon. He’s looking forward to that.”
“He seems so young to be away from his mother.”
“Well, Buffy’s been filling in admirably. He’s really very fond of her.”
Joyce gazed into the sitting room where Buffy tickling him on the couch. Wesley was giggling helplessly. “So, I see. He’s like a different person when he’s with her.”
As they watched, Angel snatched Wesley from Buffy and sat him on his shoulders. Giles watched the three of them, Wesley gasping with laughter as he gripped Angel’s hair unselfconsciously, and Buffy tried to jump up to reach him and Angel mocked her shortness. Giles felt the smile die on his face as he remembered again that they could never have this; Angel and Buffy and a child. The only way Buffy could be a mother was if she could learn how not to be in love with Angel. Turning he saw the look on Joyce’s face and realized she was thinking exactly the same thing.
“You do know...” she began.
“Yes.” Giles took off his glasses. “I know.”
“Does Buffy?” she asked.
He sighed. “I imagine it’s something she tries not to think about.”
“Then Angel needs to think about it for both of them.”
Giles looked at the vampire who was gazing up at the boy on his shoulders and grinning dorkishly. “It’s difficult for him too. I had no idea - well, he clearly has…paternal feelings also.”
“He made his choice a long time ago,” Joyce said quietly. “Buffy still has her life in front of her.”
Giles thought about how short a Slayer’s life could be. They weren’t encouraged to have children although Nikki had, of course. What could they really offer a child other than the constant possibility of being orphaned? The council didn’t really encourage Slayers to do anything except Slay, and yet Buffy had broken the mould once already by collecting a group of friends around her; and broken it again by falling in love with a vampire. Perhaps she could break it for a third time by managing to live to old age with a husband and children.
Buffy had snatched Wesley from Angel and passed him to Willow. The boy was still giggling helplessly. Giles wondered if he had ever done that before he came here. If anyone had just let him be...silly even for a few minutes.
“I don’t think it’s my place to talk to her about her...romantic attachments,” he offered after a moment.
Joyce looked at him sideways. “Coward.”
Giles couldn’t entirely suppress a smile. “Acknowledged.”
Joyce continued to gaze at him. “I’m just wondering what you’re all not telling me this time.”
Giles looked at Wesley and grimaced.
“I will find out,” Joyce added conversationally. “I always do, sooner or later...”