Title: One Word 2/7
Author: Darcy Galvin
Feedback: will be shellacked and framed. Send good words. Feed a starving artist.
Disclaimer: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton ain't mine and neither are the BTVS characters or the song "Inside Her Eyes" by Thirty Odd Foot of Grunts. This particular fic idea and Tyler Remmington are the only things I own.

Buffy was dumbfounded. She merely stood blinking, her mouth working but no sound coming out.

"Your...*son*?" Buffy breathed. "Why, wha-whe...huh?" Giles shot her a look and she backed up. "I think I'm just going to go home now. We'll talk later." She stood for a moment, then suddenly gave his hand a quick squeeze and was gone. Giles looked after her, then turned his attention back to the young man in front of him.

"Who was that?" Tyler asked. "Was that your...daughter?"

Tyler likely didn't know about Giles' history with the mystical side of the world, so Giles shook his head. "No, no, that was Buffy Summers. She, ah, she's a friend of mine." He had a son. A son with Jill. His flesh and blood.

Tyler quirked an eyebrow in a gesture that Giles suddenly found uncomfortably familiar. Giles moved quickly to the table in the rear of the store. "Would, would you like a seat?" he asked, hastily shifting the spell books and tomes dealing with demons to the shelves reserved for Scooby research. He supposed they wouldn't look out of place in a magic shop but he didn't want to tempt fate.

"I-I'm not sure what to say," Giles murmured, removing his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I had no idea. Your mother and I...we were close, but I only knew her for a year or so. And we didn't even" he stuttered "even become romantically involved until a week or so before I left..." he trailed off, " before I left for school." < For the Watcher's Council. >

"I-I don't quite know where to start," Tyler said, folding his hands. "Well, I was born in April, about nine months after you left. Grandmother told me that she was ...quite sedate in the time between. But she said that she could feel the sadness coming off of her like steam off a hot bath. She acted normally, though, carrying on like always. But, for some reason, after I was born...the depression came." He stopped abruptly, rolling his hands together, back and forth, back and forth, twisting the pale flesh like he was trying to mold it into something he found more acceptable. "She passed away when I was young," he said abruptly. Giles inhaled sharply and fell back in his chair.

"Oh, Jill," he whispered. "I, oh Tyler, I'm sorry." Jillian was dead? Such a beautiful kind woman. She had had her problems like everyone else, but she deserved so much better. Giles ran a hand through his hair. Of course, in retrospect she had probably also deserved better than himself at that age.

Tyler nodded. "I started looking for you about three years ago. Mum gave me your name, but not much else. She didn't like to talk about it. Grandmother didn't either."

"She never much cared for me, Adeleid," Giles said with a rueful smile. "She met me in my...darker days. I suppose I didn't make a very good impression."

"Yeah, she said that Mum was just trying to rebel, trying to make her angry." Giles nodded, remembering the way he used to lounge on Jillian's bed blowing smoke rings at the water-stained ceiling and the fan that had never done more than collect cobwebs. He'd sprawl there, watching Jillian apply the eyeliner with such precise and deliberate movements; he could feel her defiance with each stroke, as if she thought her mother could hear each line through the floors and walls. The leather and the heavy jewelry an attempt to pound her point further and further into Adeleid's brain.

Jillian hid behind a finely manicured wall of scorn and supposed angsty, apathetic abhorrence of authority, but Ripper knew. She was an brilliant young woman with a knack for charcoal drawings and the violin. Adeleid never seemed to care, though. No pride or love for her daughter, the accomplishments only one more thing to add to a list that she lorded over her friends in her attempt at social superiority. If Jillian could make Adeleid angry, perhaps that meant she cared as well. Perhaps then, somewhere, she would find that her mother had some shadow of maternal love.

Tyler smiled nervously. "D'you think there's a Long-Lost-Father-and- Son questionnaire or first conversation guideline sheet somewhere? It sure would make this a lot easier."

Giles chuckled. "Oh, wouldn't that be convenient. No, I don't suppose there is. We'll just have to improvise." His son nodded. "Where did you grow up?" Giles asked.

"Ah, in the same big house on the same long street where Mother did."

"Really?" Giles asked in shock. "You lived with Adeleid all these years?"

"Mmm hmm," Tyler confirmed. "I think Mum didn't want to be alone while she was pregnant and Adeleid told me that she didn't care to live with any of her friends."

Giles nodded. "Well, she didn't have many what you would call close acquaintances," < besides me, > his mind supplied. "Oh, she had friends, but I'm not surprised that she didn't relish the thought of raising a child in their presence." Giles ran over and over his son's face in his mind, storing it away. The strong, straight nose, high cheekbones and changeable green eyes. The shock of dark hair that fell across his smooth forehead.

"It took me quite a while to locate you," Tyler stated. "You'd be surprised at how many Rupert Giles there were. I found you, though, at the museum. They told me you'd moved to America, to California." He laughed, "From all the descriptions Grandmother gave I figured you would have moved to one of the larger cities, not this little place." He looked up at Giles, his eyes sad and somehow distant though they pierced through the Watcher. "Then again, I don't know you at all, do I?"

"But that's why you're here, isn't it?" Giles asked. He reached hesitantly across the table and placed his hand over the younger man's. "You will." This was his son.

Buffy was sprawled across the living room floor, books spread out around her like an academic mine field. Each one, when opened, yielded yet another dangerous assignment that needed to be completed before it exploded bad grades in her face. During Joyce's illness and multiple stays in the hospital, Buffy had put school on hold. She'd called her professors and explained the situation, and though they did not make her exempt from assignments, they extended all the dates. With Joyce now recovering from surgery and Dawn residing occasionally at Xander's or Willow's or some other friend's home (she never complained, though, proclaiming it just a big series of sleep overs) Buffy was free -- or trapped, more appropriately -- to complete all the assignments.

The Slayer sighed in relief, her reading, questions and write ups now mercifully through. She couldn't believe that she'd finished her work. Buffy couldn't stop thinking about the Watcher back in his store talking with a young man who claimed to be his son. Giles had a son? Was this some kind of a joke? It wasn't possible. It wasn't. Giles would have known. She would have known. Wouldn't she? It wasn't possible. Except...it was. Giles had a whole life before...Buffy slammed her history text shut. That's why she'd started homework. Distract herself. Homework. Homework. History done, time for American lit. Buffy picked up the small novel in front of her and resolutely opened it, roughly and doggedly pulling her eyes across lines of text. The doorbell jangled sharply and Buffy jumped up with a muttered, "Allah be praised."

Buffy swung the door open, prepared to embrace whatever solicitor, neighbor, or delivery man had saved her--for a few moments--from school. Instead, her Watcher stood on the step, hands shoved deeply in the pockets of a blue jacket, head down, examining his shoes.

"Giles!"

His head popped up and he pulled a smile. "Hello, Buffy."

"Uh, come on in. You saved me from Ethan Frome, so you're welcome to a seat on the couch and my first born child. Oh," she clapped a hand over her mouth, torn between a nervous laugh and an apology. "Um, sorry," Giles shook his head, accepting her apology with a wan smile. "Is, ah, that why you're here?"

"Yes, it is," Giles said, tilting his chin down and smiling a little at her unsure speech. He stepped nimbly through the litter of books on the floor and settled himself on the couch. Buffy lowered herself onto the coffee table, her knees touching his, hands folded and so near his long, still ones. There was a minute or two of silence when they both attempted to think of something to say. Giles took the initiative, lifting his gaze to Buffy's, his face full of wonder tinged with something like fear. "I have a son." He chuckled and shook his head. "What do you say after something like that."

"You said his name was Tyler?"

"Ah, yes. Tyler Remmington." He spoke slowly, each word placed carefully as if he were still trying to figure out this occurrence called speech. The idea was still reeling through his brain at an incredibly dizzying pace. "I-I had no idea." He pulled a hand across his mouth. "Aside from the fact that he was aware of my existence and I not of his, I think he knows about what I do. He started looking for me a few years ago, he's been living in England; now...now he's found me. I haven't thought about Jill--his mother, Jillian--in...Lord, over fifteen years." He pulled out the picture of Jillian that Tyler had given him. Buffy moved next to him on the couch and took the small square of paper and studied the woman. She gave a little start. < It looks like me. > The resemblance was striking, though it didn't look exactly like Buffy. There was the same heart shaped face, full lips, shining blond tresses and blue eyes. The woman wasn't beautiful in the statuesque and perfectly sculpted way that some women were. Her nose looked like it had likely been broken and there was a small scar crossing her lower lip. But she was very pretty in a way that made you think of kind aunts that hid a wicked sense of humor and a fondness for sweets.

"You know, not having thought about her, I never really realized how much alike you two look," he said, his mouth tilting up a little. "She passed away, though, I'm told," Giles said sadly.

"I'm sorry," Buffy murmured, dropping her chin.

"Jill had our child and I had no idea. I was just resigning myself to my fate and I didn't even realize that she was playing out her own. One I might have been a part of." Buffy nodded and the quiet fell in around them again. "It was right before I went back to the Council to become a Watcher. Your Watcher," Giles said out of the silence. Buffy just kept staring at the picture, running her fingers round the lines of the woman's face and hair. "I don't think I was very good to her. I tried in the end, but I was leaving and the damage was done, I believe. I-I did love her, I suppose, but...I think I might have just been looking for a reason to not go back." Giles was gazing into the distance, a spot somewhere over Buffy's shoulder known only to him.

Something tugged at Buffy's stomach, an uncomfortable feeling that she couldn't have defined if asked. She shifted slightly in her seat. Giles had been with this woman before Buffy had even known him. They had a child together. Things had suddenly shifted and Buffy wasn't sure she liked where they were falling. Giles' past hadn't ever been completely clear to Buffy and because of that distance, she barely associated it with the Rupert Giles she'd come to know these past years. Certainly she'd been introduced to Ripper on occasion, but that was an isolated piece of Giles. Now she could not distance herself from the fact that he'd had a whole life before her. Friends and family, homes and pastimes. Lovers. Buffy felt like someone had suddenly swept her seat from under her, leaving that sharp, nauseating feeling of nothingness in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, the man before her wasn't her Giles anymore and Buffy was left struggling to figure out who he was.

He had told her that he'd wanted to be a pilot or a grocer and she knew he hadn't wanted to be a Watcher the same way she hadn't wanted to be a Slayer. That omission so long ago, however, had been a comfort. This one felt more like a shot to the stomach. He hadn't even wanted to be her Watcher when he began his training. Had he *ever* changed his mind?

"She-she's very pretty." Buffy managed.

Giles nodded with an absent little smile and raised his head. She wasn't looking at him. He had no idea what it was he wanted to say, but he needed...something, anything. Giles reached out to place his hand on her shoulder but she twitched herself out from under his touch. He pulled back sharply, a sick feeling taking him.

Buffy flung her gaze up to his and threw her hands out as if to stop him. "Giles, no, no, wait, I'm sorry," she rambled trying to erase that troubling look from his eyes and assuage the pain she'd so unknowingly caused him. "I didn't mean to do that, you just surprised me."

"I don't know if I've ever surprised you before," Giles spoke.

Buffy pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth. "It's just...I- -" she sighed. She was angry with herself, but she almost laughed. Buffy Summers, for whom a sharp one liner and a plethora of words was never far, was at a loss for what to say. She tilted her head critically and let out a sigh as blunt honesty seemed the only way that she would be able to speak. "I really don't know what to think about all this, Giles."

"Do you think it's horribly revolting?" he queried flatly, the words hanging bitterly in the air.

She shook her head firmly. "No. It's only that I'm not sure how to look at you right now. You were Giles," she said, throwing out her hands. "British guy, first with the tweed and the tea and you were my Watcher, my friend, keeper of the knowledge, all those good things. It was my Giles Vision. And now with...with a *son.* It's like when you get this puzzle," she said, putting her hands out as if holding a phantom box, "and you get to the point where you think you've got it all put together even if you had to change it around a few times. But, you think you've pretty much got it and-and you're comfortable a-and happy and then...someone throws you an extra piece you didn't even realize was missing. You have to figure out where to put it, and to do that you have to shift everything else with it and the whole picture changes. Does that make *any* sense?" she said, her last words somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. "Probably not. Witness me, Bad Analogy Girl."

Giles simply watched her without expression before quirking one brow. "So you're equating me to a children's toy?" Buffy threw back her head with a laugh.

"You're twisting my words. But, I-I guess I am, but it's the best that I could do on such short notice. When I come up with a better one, I'll let you know." She leaned forward and widened her eyes, speaking slowly and with utter sincerity. "It's not bad, Giles, and I'm not going to think badly of you--not that I even have the right-- but it won't happen. I just think that it's going to take me a while to find out who you are again."

Giles held her gaze and they merely looked at each other for a long silent moment. Her eyes went right through him and he felt a slight, airy euphoria as if his lungs couldn't quite pull in sufficient oxygen. He searched her face as if she held the answers to the questions his mind couldn't even formulate; as if she could help him sort out the muddled confusion he suddenly found himself in. "Buffy..." Perhaps that one word was the key.

She tilted her head with an enigmatic expression and stroked his cheek softly before pulling him into her embrace.

< Jillian, Jillian, Jillian. > The name ran through Giles' mind many times that night. The name was at first almost foreign, it had been so long since it had been spoken. As the name returned again and again, so did the memories.

The Council had come to him many times that last year in a heightened attempt to bring him back into the fold after his years of denial about his destiny. They couldn't leave him much longer or irrevocable damage would be done. Their advances had meant nothing to him, however, made no difference. On his own, he'd been relenting slowly, almost undetectably, but surely in those months. Without them, he'd come to the decision that he would return to the Council and play out his destiny rather than fighting it, and would have done so with or without their intervention. He'd loved Jillian in her own way, but she was only a last affair before giving his life up to the Council and the Slayer.

Even remembering the way he'd acted towards her--used her, really--he couldn't help but admit she'd used him as well in her own way. Perhaps that was why he'd chosen her...no obligations, no reason to feel hurt if she left, yet always with possibilities... He had suspected she'd merely chosen him because he was the worst thing she could find at the moment. He was dangerous enough to fool Adeleid, yet somehow she knew he wouldn't tear her apart and damage her the way others would. The best person she could attach herself to and grind the fact into Adeleid. Near the end he had suspicions that she'd come to care for him somewhat more than she had originally intended. Their last night together he'd seen a warm, unguarded shine of love in her eyes. And admittedly it had frightened him. He didn't want to see that look in her eyes for he felt a certain affection for her, but there was no reflection of her love in his own soul. He didn't want her hanging on to him long after he'd forgotten her touch, her smell and shape. Her name.

He later felt that he'd had no reason to worry. Too much alcohol usually figured it's way into their nights together and this one was no exception. She had cried out his name and her love for him at the pinnacle of the coupling and when they'd come down and she lay across his chest she told him again. "Love you, Ripper. Rupert. Always have, always will." He had only laughed and rolled her roughly off of him, telling her not to be so stupid. He turned on his side and felt her small fist strike him ineffectually, glancing off of his shoulder blade. He fell asleep to her teary curses, never answering when she asked him to take it back, to tell her he felt the same.

He'd woken alone in the early afternoon. She'd taken his cigarettes and alcohol, but he was too hungry to care. When he rose and pulled on his jeans and a shirt, ready to go out in search of a breakfast more favorable than the stale crackers and browning fruit in the apartment, he'd felt a sudden flash of guilt. When his stomach rumbled he forgot the sound of Jillian's small voice and walked out into the overcast day.

He later relented and tried to reach her several times before he left, but it was no use. Adeleid turned him away and he wasn't about to fight the old woman. If Jillian didn't want to say anything, he certainly wasn't going to put out the effort to try.

Giles cursed himself mentally as he lay in bed remembering how he'd thought of her from time to time as he trained to be a Watcher. Her face had come less and less to him until he had all but forgotten the lovely petite frame and blue eyes that wanted to smile but never quite could. He had never wondered if she thought of him until this night. She must have, with their child growing inside of her. She must have seen his face in that infant and then small boy. Did she hate the one she saw there? Did she resent that little face for reflecting so much of the man who'd helped create him? Or had she still loved him even after he had retired the name "Ripper" and she had taken off the armor-like makeup and leather? Had she still drunk and swore and smoked? Had she stopped for her child, or had it become worse, progressing as Ripper had seen it progress steadily in the year he knew her? As she tried to punish someone, whether herself, her mother, or both.

Giles couldn't help but wonder if he'd been to blame for that sad small look from the eyes in the picture that she had tried so hard to smile for. And Giles couldn't help but wonder if Tyler saw that look. Did he notice, or ignore it every time he looked at the picture, choosing rather to see the smile for what it tried to be: genuine. And Giles couldn't stop himself from wondering if the son who had suddenly walked into his life harbored some shred of resentment for his lost mother and till-this-moment unknown father.

Tyler needed a drink as well as noise this evening. Maybe the driving base of the band on stage at the Bronze would drown the rushing in his ears. Since he'd first seen Rupert Giles...*his father* stepping from behind those shelves, a whooshing rumble like swift water over rocks had filled him, as if the missing pieces of his past, of himself, were rushing and tumbling back. He had thought he'd steeled himself well before arriving in Sunnydale, but nothing had really prepared him for the sight of the man with eyes the same mercurial shade of green as his.

He propped himself against the polished wood of the bar and ordered a beer. When he was carded, his mind uselessly observed that if he were older, that might seem a compliment to his looks. After the first long swallow, he turned to observe the crowd. The people seemed to range in age here from teenagers certain of their superior social status to self-assured young people in their mid twenties. As he scanned the different groups, his gaze passed, then turned unsurely back to one face. A face that seemed so near a part of his past, yet so different. The young blonde woman from Rupert Giles'-- his father's (the phrase still seemed unreal)--store sat at a small, high table. She swayed unconsciously with the music as she laughed at something a slight redheaded girl had said. Gathered around the table were also a tall dark-haired boy with his arm twined around a serious looking young woman, and on the other side of the blonde girl- -was it Buffy? yes, Buffy--was a timid looking girl with dark honey hair and a shy but genuine smile. Buffy threw her head back and laughed heartily, her blonde tresses flashing and her smooth skin glowing in the soft lighting. She really was an attractive young woman.

Tyler thought it over for a moment before heading over to the table, not quite sure what he intended to do. "Um, hello--Buffy, was it?"

She turned around and froze for barely a moment when she realized who had spoken to her. Her blue eyes widened and her soft precisely painted lips parted, for she wasn't quite sure what to say. The others in her group watched in growing confusion as the two stared silently at each other.

"Tyler," she said, letting his name out on a shocked breath. "Um," she blinked rapidly, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "Uh, hi. Hu-how are you."

"I'm good," he said, his soft accent lending to the shyness of his words. "Although I'm, ah, not exactly sure what I'm doing." He waved his beer in a general indication of the situation.

She watched him for a moment, taking in his dark hair, pleasant voice and eyes that were stunningly like Giles'. Then a smile worked it's way into her features.

"Ah, guys, this is Tyler. I...met him yesterday at the Magic Box. Tyler, this is Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya," she said indicating the redhead, the shy looking girl, the dark boy and the serious--now thoughtful--young woman.

"You're from England?" Willow asked, her face opening up in sweet curiosity.

"Are you a friend of the G-Man's?" Xander asked. Tyler frowned in confusion. "Or should I say, do you know Giles?"

Tyler started a bit and Buffy looked markedly uncomfortable as she became suddenly fascinated by her soda. Did they all know his father? From the familiarity the boy had shown, obviously they did. But they had no idea...

"Ah, in a manner of speaking," he said slowly. "We have a...mutual acquaintance and we just recently met." He took a nervous swig of his beer.

"Well, why don't you sit down?" Buffy asked. Tara, who was closest to him, snagged a chair from the table next to them and Tyler sat down with a grateful nod.

"How do you know Giles?" Willow asked.

Tyler gave Buffy a hesitant glance. "He knows my mother," he said. < Well this is uncomfortable. > "I'm just here for...a visit." Two minutes of awkward silence stretched long and painfully before Buffy stood up.

"Tyler, do you want to dance?"

"Sure," he said, standing and following the young woman onto the floor. A slow song was just beginning and he took her unsurely in his arms. She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and looked up at him.

"Giles told me a little bit about what's going on," Buffy said after a little bit. "It's kind of...it's a little...it's really weird thinking about him having children," she said with a nervous laugh, unable to find a more delicate way to put it. "I never pictured him that way."

Tyler chuckled. "Well, I'm sure he never did either. He told me he's not married and he doesn't have any children." He paused. "Any *other* children. It's still very odd for me too. My mother always told me I had a father somewhere named Rupert Giles, but that was mainly it. She never elaborated."

"It must have been something to see him yesterday then, huh?" she asked softly, a strange look in her eyes. Tyler studied her heart- shaped face with smooth skin and wide blue eyes. She was very beautiful and despite the odd circumstances of their meeting, he was glad he had met her.

"Yes, it was...something. You wouldn't think you would have to get to know your own father, would you."

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised." She smiled up at him. "But I know you'll like him. Giles is very good that way."

"Speaking of which, how do you know my father?" Tyler asked. He was a bit troubled by Buffy's pause and the guarded expression on her face.

"He was the librarian at our highschool--Xander, Willow, Anya and I-- and we were practically the only ones who ever went in there. But we got to know him and we just...became friends. He's practically like a parent to Xander and Willow because theirs are kind of...lacking-- although that's probably saying too much on my part. But we did get to be close to him, he's always there when we need him." She smiled warmly.

Tyler tilted his head, regarding her, "It sounds like you know him very well."

She frowned a little at this, a mysterious expression. "I liked to think so." She chewed on her lip. "He's a good man. You couldn't have a better father." After this, they danced in silence for the next song. They were about to leave the dance floor when Tyler put a hand on her arm.

"Buffy? This may seem a bit of an assumption but...I don't know how long I'll be here for, but while I am, would you consider possibly ah..."

"Going out with you some time?" Buffy supplied, trying to hold back a grin at his nervous stuttering. It was wonderfully adorable. Just like Giles'.

"Yes, that's what I was aiming for...in a very roundabout fashion." He gave a small hopeful smile. "Would you?"

Buffy mulled it over for a long moment. This gave her the strangest feeling, considering a date with Giles' newly found son. On the one hand, he was...Giles' son, and he and his father were just beginning to get to know each other. Was he really in the right state of mind or heart for this? And was she? The bewildered feeling she got when she thought of Giles now was due to Tyler's arrival and the bewilderment extended in part to the young man. Riley had departed from Sunnydale only weeks before Tyler's arrival and though she was healing, she didn't want to become romantically involved with anyone. She had decided that she was going to try out life without a significant other for a while. So, would it really be a good idea to get involved with him? On the other hand, he wasn't asking her to date him seriously. They would merely go out as friends and she could help him to get to know the town and not feel so uncomfortable. And it would very likely help her feel better too. She nodded to herself.

"Due to some circumstances that I don't care to talk about just yet, I don't know if a *date* date would be a good idea. But, yes, Tyler, I'd love to go out sometime so we could get to know each other. Maybe I'll show you around."

"Oh, hopefully so. I managed to find this place on several sets of directions. Population wise this isn't a horribly large town, but you do...sprawl a bit and like to make streets as winding and confusing as possible."

"Well where do you think the term `tourist trap' came from, huh?" she asked with a grin, leading him back to the table.

"You-you're going on a date with Tyler?" Giles asked the next afternoon at training. It was a cool Saturday outside, but inside it felt sweltering. Today had proved to be quite a workout. "He didn't mention anything to me."

"Well, it probably never came up, huh?" Buffy asked, throwing an easy punch. "Gee, Giles," she puffed, "working off some nervous energy?"

"We-well, yes, as a matter of fact," he said, breathing heavily. He swung one more strike at her midsection, which she blocked easily, before proclaiming sparring done for the day. "You would be too if you were in my circumstances," he spoke, tidying up the equipment Buffy had used that afternoon.

Buffy nodded. She moved to help him pick up and they worked in easy silence until the room was back to its original state. Giles sank down onto the couch that had been placed along one side of the room for just such occasions and leaned his head back against the wall. His eyes were closed and his glasses were curled up in one hand. Buffy tilted her head, watching him as she drank down a bottle of water.

"Giles, does it make you uncomfortable? Me going out with Tyler, I mean? It's nothing serious, it's not like a *date.* We're just getting acquainted and all, but...if you want me to, I won't go."

Giles opened his eyes and turned to her with a strange half- smile. "You never let me dictate your social life before," he said as she pulled a grin, remembering the times he'd gotten peeved at her for eschewing Slayer duties for social ones. "Why now?"

"Well, he *is* your son," she replied, "and he just got here and you two are just getting to know each other and I'm your Slayer and all and I thought maybe you'd find it...weird." She gave a sheepish little shrug, berating herself mentally. < Why are you all nervous? > her mind asked angrily. < This is Giles. Just talk to him. > "I know *I* find it kind of weird, but, I can deal."

"Buffy, if Tyler is going to know me, he has to know you too." Buffy's face opened in such happy surprise that something in the pit of Giles' stomach protested fervently. Looking at her smiling face, hair clinging damply to her skin, love rushed in upon him so hard he could have sworn it was a physical force.

The summer between Buffy's high school and college, he'd been visited by the first whispers of a feeling more than protectiveness, duty and friendship for his Slayer. Those he had brushed off hastily as a momentary aberration; odd after effects of the Ascension battle and the changes that were occurring in their little group. Throughout the past year, however, it had become harder and harder to twist those feelings into safer and more acceptable emotions. His resistance and self-imposed blindness were rapidly breaking down and he'd only recently admitted the truth to himself, though he'd surely known it for so much longer. He was in love with Buffy Summers. He'd made his mind to never tell her, for he couldn't bear to foist such a weight upon her and risk damaging such a precious relationship. Watchers and Slayers had become romantically involved for centuries, though the Council disapproved greatly of such things. Painful though it was, Rupert Giles told himself that this was not in the stars for himself and his beloved Slayer. He was content, however, to at least have her in his life.

"So you really don't mind?" Buffy asked. Giles shook his head. "Good, because...I've been having my doubts, but I wanted to, and you just sealed it for me."

< I take it back, > his mind plead, but he merely smiled. "Glad to be of service."

"So, how is it," Buffy queried. "How's Tyler? How are you?"

"It's terribly bizarre," Giles said with a chuckle, running his hand through his already rumpled hair. "But I do believe it's getting better and will continue to do so, I hope." He smiled to himself. "He really is remarkable. There's so much of his mother in him. Apparently he took after her taste for the violin. It feels a bit elementary," he grinned, "We spent most of this afternoon asking questions like `what's your favorite color', and the like. But...I suppose it's really necessary." He looked rather awed in a happy way, saying, "You never realize how important the small details are until you have to build a whole relationship on a moment's notice. We spent the day together."

"You cut your day short for training? Well now you're making me feel bad," Buffy said in a softly only half-joking voice.

"No, no," Giles interjected. "We agreed that though we've been so long apart, it would be too overwhelming to spend too much time together. We'll see a lot of each other, but with...breaks in between to give us time to process all this. I-I'm rather glad I met him now that he's an adult...I've never been horribly good with children and it's much easier when he's thinking about this reasonably and along the same lines as I am." He dropped his head into his hands. "God, I sound terrible." He swung his head and spoke with such painful self deprecation. "I'm glad I didn't have to go through all the parenting and growing up. Yes, I got the good end of the deal, I just abandoned him and now I'll jump in when he's all reared. I just have to introduce myself. Much better for *me*, but what about *him*? Bloody bastard."

"No, Giles, no," Buffy pulled his hands down, gripping them in her own. "This is a shock to you and you have every right to feel that way. You're not a bad person. Think about it, even if you couldn't be there for the beginning of his life, you can be there for the rest of it." She fumbled blindly for words. What did she know about this? The only experience she'd had with absentee fathers was her own and that in no way resembled Giles' situation. "You didn't abandon him. You had no way of knowing you had a son."

"Oh, Buffy, but I did. I just left Jillian without a thought to her well being. I never phoned her, I never sent a letter or a damned post card."

"Giles, you were training to be a Watcher, do you think she would have understood if you sent a picture of yourself practicing staking techniques? `Wish you were here dusting blood suckers with me"?" She grinned, setting herself hard against the growing darkness she felt poking at the edges of her mind. Regret rode in Giles' words and battered Buffy's ears.

Giles smiled a little but shook his head. "Still, I could have written her at least, I didn't have to say what kind of school I was at." He heaved a weary sigh, focusing on his hands entwined in Buffy's.

"Well," she said slowly. "If you're a terrible person, then I am too." He raised his eyes to her face, frowning. She wasn't looking at him, but watching their hands just as he had been. "Because...well, because I'm glad you didn't know about Tyler." For the life of him, Giles suddenly couldn't remember how to breath. Buffy plowed on, "If you'd known you had a son...you probably would have stayed with them. I don't care how big a bad-ass you supposedly were back in those days, I know that deep down part of the Rupert Giles *I* know has always been there, and you wouldn't have just let them be. And if you hadn't gone back to the Council, or even if you'd gone just a little later, who knows if you would have been my Watcher." Buffy was working hard to keep the words coming. They were the truth, but she didn't know if she should be telling him this. She breathed deeply. "All I keep thinking is that you're here with me now because you weren't there with him. I don't want you to hate me, I couldn't stand that, but..." she licked her lips, weighing her next words, "no matter how selfish or awful it is of me to say it," she looked up then, capturing his eyes with her own, "I'm glad I got you. Even if it was just for a while." She released his hands and pulled her legs up under her, resting her hands on her thighs.

Giles' jaw worked tightly, the muscles jumping as he tried to control his wildly racing heart.

"Could you just say something," Buffy asked in a quietly controlled voice. "I'm not a big fan of silence." Buffy was badly startled when Giles leaned forward and wrapped her in a fierce hug that didn't feel so much like affection as desperation. She freed her arms and wrapped them tightly around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered against his neck.

How could he tell her that he felt the same? After Buffy had spoken, both love and rage had washed over him in terribly equal parts, but which was right? It was the most desperately awful feeling Giles had ever experienced. Dark guilt kept trying to sink him for the way he felt. He was thrilled--albeit terrified--at the thought that he had a child, and he was grateful to see him. Yet at the same moment, he knew that he loved Buffy--and all the others, really--too deeply to wish that he could have gone back and changed things. He didn't think he could ever wish that.

When his silence endured, Buffy spoke his name. "Giles?" He didn't reply. "Giles?" she tried again, worry creeping in on her.

He spoke against her hair and her stomach twisted in a wonderfully frightening way as his warm breath tickled over her scalp. "Please don't ask me. I simply can't think of anything to say."