Title: Going Back 2/8
Author: Gail Christison
Pairing: B/G
Rating: PG-15 for romantic stuff and mildy scary bits.
Summary: First of all, this is a sequel to a post Tabula Rasa fic I wrote a long while ago called "The Visitor,"
http://www.wickedsky.com/oncemore/omwf/fanfic_visitor.html in which Buffy goes to England to reconnect with Giles and to tell him something. They do indeed 'connect' and their relationship evolves into a ..well a relationship <g>. This sequel was written purely to explore the dynamics of that new relationship but it turned into an exploration of Giles' past, and an introduction to it for Buffy, as well as a mystery [not sure how that sneaked in there <g>] that needs to be solved.
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy, Joss..yadda yadda
Distribution: If you want it, please just ask.I like to share <g> Anyone who already has permission...go for it :-)
Feedback: After the length of the birth of this thing? Oh, Ghhhod yesss :-) chriscln@iinet.net.au

Author's notes: Following on from the summary, I should explain that this story was started in 2002. Three pages sat for 12 months before being resumed in 2003 and a healthy chunk written, Emily and Gregor arriving with it :-). Annnnd yet I managed to get stuck again...I've still only just finished it. It was one of those kind of fics. More hiccups than a Saturday night drunk <vbg>

Thanks: At this point I have to thank some people. I'm pretty sure that Ruth and Karen checked out the Scottish accents for me a long time ago, and Gileswench has been great at keeping me going on this thing as well as providing early beta-ing and feedback on parts of it. I also have to thank Karesia for the final beta at short notice and amidst great adversity. It was profoundly appreciated. :-) With over 2 years to cover I'm sure I've forgotten someone who helped or who got shanhai-ed to provide a spot-beta along the way. Whoever you are, I love you...please don't shoot me :D

Dedication #1 Happy birthday, Kim and thanks, my friend

Dedication #2 For Dawn M. B/Gers like you keep me writing. :-)

"Rupert," he said softly. "Ye've grown, lad."

She looked up at Giles, who was kind of mirroring the old man.

"Gregor," he finally managed. Buffy could tell he wanted to smile, even to grin dopily, but was afraid of what would happen if he gave his mouth too much freedom. "It...it's good to see you again. You look fine. Better than fine."

"Aye," the old lady said over her shoulder as she transferred her baking to a storage tin, "tough as auld boot leather, that one, and still straight as a die."

Gregor smiled fondly at his wife, aware of the pride in her voice despite the admonishments, chuckled and inclined his head toward her wide beam as she bent. He winked at Buffy. "And that one'll be the death of me yet," he told her, "God bless her heart."

The old woman turned. "Awa' wi' ye," she scolded affectionately. "We'll need a fire in the parlour, and in the guest room in the east wing and the main dining room-"

Giles had raised his hand in a staying gesture. "We didn't come to make work for you, Em'. I came to show Buffy where I grew up."

"Tis no' work this day, Rupert Giles. Ye've come home at last, and home it still is." Her voice, though fierce, had a catch in it. "Dinna deny me the chance to tak' care of ye after all this time."

Buffy heard a noise in Giles' throat and wasn't entirely surprised when he moved forward and gathered the old lady in his arms again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Gregor cleared his throat again, turned and went to light the fires.

Feeling a little lost, as though she was intruding, Buffy followed him. The fireplace in the dining room was big and stately, with dark, polished wood all around it and a big heavy mantelpiece of the same dark wood with various items made of coloured glass displayed on it.

"Um...can I help?" she asked as he bent to the copper wood box.

He cleared his throat without looking up and his voice wasn't entirely steady when he spoke. "Thank ye lassie, but it'll no' take but a moment."

Buffy carefully didn't notice the wobble.

He was right. The kindling had already been laid. He simply and swiftly laid the wood from the box so that the flames would funnel up from the kindling into the small pyre, then lit the screws of newspaper underneath.

Buffy watched, impressed, as the fire roared to life, a part of her wanting to ask a million questions, and another somehow knowing that it wasn't the time, or her place.

Gregor rose slowly and dusted his hands off before turning to her. "So...an American lass? Such a long way from home."

"Home is where Giles...Rupert, is." Her reply surprised her as much as it did him.

The blue eyes bore into hers for a long moment. "Slayer," he said finally, Buffy deciding she liked the way it sounded in the strong Scots burr.

She grinned self-consciously. "Bingo."

"So that's where the laddie's been this long while..."

"Well yeah, kinda. Sunnydale, California...where I live. You know, all Hellmouthy and needing of Watcher and Slayer attendance? You...do...know?"

He smiled and nodded, then tilted his head and contemplated her for a moment: the rosy cheeks and the way her eyes kept sliding toward the kitchen, the way she'd said 'Giles.'

"Ye love him."

"What?" Buffy squeaked, startled, and ducked her head, making the old man chuckle. She lifted it again only to look up into the expectant blue eyes. "Well, yeah, sorta...a lot. Are you going to be mad with him, about me being, well...younger?"

He gave a shout of laughter and looked at her with merry eyes. "Emily is seventy-three come spring. How auld d'ye tak' me for?"

Buffy really looked at him, then shrugged. "About the same, I guess."

"Ninety-six winters, I've seen. About a ha' dozen too many by these old bones, but for as long as ma Emily bides, so shall I, the good Lord willing."

"Wow. Do all Scotch people look as good as you when they're almost a hundred?"

He laughed again. "Scotch is a drink, lass," he told her gently. "But I thank ye for the compliment."

Buffy laughed then too, amazed at how at ease he could make her feel even though she knew she was reinventing the term 'faux pas' every time she opened her mouth.

At that point Giles appeared, walked up behind her and curled his arms possessively around her shoulders, to hold her snug against him.

"I see you two have been getting acquainted."

Buffy leaned back into the warmth and strength of his chest. "Gregor's been telling me why he's not having a cow about you being such a cradle-snatcher." She frowned, suddenly realizing that she'd made another gaffe, and looked up at the old man. "I...um ...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you by your..."

Gregor lifted a large, weather-beaten hand. "Gregor will do fine. I like it just fine that ye can still think of me in such a way."

Buffy processed that for a moment then grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"Emily says that my old room is still in tact, and that the nursery hasn't been dismantled either," Giles said softly above her head.

Gregor nodded. 'We've done just as ye mother would have wished. Everything is just as it was when ye left, as it was when he went..."

A heavy silence fell, and Buffy turned in Giles' arms when she felt him tense. "When who went?"

It took a moment for him to meet the inquiring, and quite innocent, gaze with shuttered eyes.

"My father."

"Oh," she said softly and shifted from his embrace, slipping her hand into his instead.

"I was sent away to school," Giles continued after a beat. "A few years later, my mother ...died. By the time I came home again, my father was no longer the man I knew. We, well...we clashed. Things became intolerable. Not even Gregor and Emily could help. I left without ever speaking to him again. He died a few years later."

"Aye. He was a broken man after his Alice died, and in his bitterness he almost broke Rupert. Then, after he lost Catriona, all the fight, all the strength left him and he just faded away."

Giles' fingers were tightening around Buffy's. She looked up and saw the jaw working way too hard, yet again.

"It was better that I was gone. He needed to focus on training Catriona, and all I was, was a distraction."

Gregor looked sad and shook his head. "He loved you, laddie. Loved you more than any man could love a son, but he couldn't look at ye and not see her in those eyes, that brow...even the tilt of yon sweet smile, precious few of those though there were to be had around here by then. He was never the same after ye walked oot. Even Catriona could'na bring the vitality, the life back into him again, though Lord knows how that lass tried."

"You mean she loved him?" Buffy asked softly.

He shook his head. "Aye, she worshipped him, but no' the way the two of ye love each other. For Catriona, Thomas were everything...father, mother, elder brother, teacher, friend...comrade in arms. After Rupert left, he went oot wi' her each night on patrol and they trained here each day. They took meals together and he tended her schoolin' each morning. Love there was in plenty, but passion there was not. When his Alice died, part of Rupert's father died wi' her. After Rupert went away, all Thomas had left in him was a desire t' protect and nurture Catriona, t' keep the lassie from dyin' young...from dyin' at all, if he could but find a way, in spite of the Council."

"And then she died..." Giles's voice was low and hoarse, a note Buffy couldn't quite identify making it sound even more haunted.

Gregor's eyes clouded. "Aye. And he was too proud to look for ye. Thomas knew ye finally acceded to the Council's wishes and went up to Oxford. You were safe, and that was all that mattered to him."

Giles let go of Buffy's hand and went to stand right in front of the fire. " 'All that mattered'," he growled. "For as long as I knew him, I never knew what really mattered to him, except for the Council line. Everything was about the Council. And bloody 'destiny'!"

Buffy was surprised at the pain and anger in the otherwise quiet voice. She wanted to go to him, but even from where she was standing, she could feel the self-made wall radiating around him. She turned to look to the older man for guidance, but Gregor had faded away, probably to the kitchen.

Finally, she ignored the barrier, walked up behind Giles and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the middle of his back.

"The destiny thing...it's not all bad," she said very softly. "See, your destiny and my destiny: they sorta made one big *'our'* destiny, which, personally, I've gotten kinda attached to."

The big shoulders drooped a little. "I know," he said without turning. "But the cost..."

*******

Dinner was finally had in the big kitchen. Emily convinced Giles that they were to stay the night, prepared or not. As was the custom of the stately old home in its heyday, it was still stocked to cater for the odd guest or two...or more.

"Gregor Callum MacKenzie! Ye'll no be sitting down t' ma table and our guests, wi' those boots on!"

Buffy, who was laying silverware on a beautiful damask cloth Emily had insisted on using on the big breakfast table when Giles had been equally as insistent about eating there instead of the intimidating dining room, tried hard not to smile too much when the old man winked mischievously at her and went to change his work boots for more civilized footwear.

Giles, who was still very subdued, managed a sentimental smile at the old, straight back before he continued with his job of carving the evening meal, made possible at such short notice by Gregor's continued tradition of hanging fresh-killed meat for a number of days before it was packed for freezing, or eaten.

Buffy, however, had been less than excited by the sight of a side of venison being brought into the kitchen by the old Scot, to be cut up.

When they finally sat down to eat, a couple of hours and many wonderful aromas later, Giles set a delicious-looking joint on the table, ready to carve.

Buffy looked up at Gregor, trying hard not to think of Bambi.

"Tell me you didn't kill it, too?"

He smiled. "No' this time, lassie. But I ha' taken ma fair share over the years, 'tis true. Ye must remember that time and caircumstance are no' always so kind...Back in the Depression, many's the poached rabbit, hare, venison, grouse or salmon a man took, t' bring home to his hungry family...to see them through the bad times and mebbe even stop the bairns from crying quite sae much."

Buffy couldn't help looking at Emily at the mention of 'bairns'.

Giles saw her glance as he sat down. "How many great-grandchildren is it now, Em?"

"Bless ye, seventeen and counting," she grinned. "Our Fiona's youngest girl, Kirsty, is expecting again."

Gregor was watching Buffy. "Emily gave me five bonny bairns: two strong, healthy boys and three wee girls: Alasdair, Alec, Fiona, Mhairi and our baby...Catriona," he added, watching the initial shock in Buffy's eyes, then the assimilation and finally their path back to his, and the empathy in them.

"So...so you came here for...?" Buffy finally ventured when she found her voice.

"Ye might say t'was foreordained," Gregor told her. "The older ones were grown and either wed or attending to their chosen work, and bye and bye t'was becoming more and more apparent that Catriona was a different kind of bairn: one of whom neither we, nor our village, had e'er seen the like. She needed far more than we could gi' her back on our wee croft. And then came her ninth birthday, and Thomas Giles into our lives."

"But...I thought the Watcher's Council took potentials away from their parents if they found them...even if they were still little girls, you know, like Kendra?"

"If they find them early enough, it does happen, with consent," Giles confirmed. "Not all potentials are located or removed at a very early age, however, as you know. Still, Catriona was rather special, even at that young age, and father made concessions to that. She was seventeen when she died, after less than a year as the active Slayer. You're actually very like her: both of you headstrong, wilful, wonderful women who should have had..."

"Hush, Rupert," Emily said softly. "The past is done and our lass is at rest. Ye must look to Buffy now; ye must make certain ye both have the future the Good Lord no' saw fit to gi' our Catriona."

Giles and Buffy looked at each other for a moment, both back in that same dark place they'd visited the last time they'd faced Buffy's mortality: in the year Glory was to finally take her from him. Giles remembered it vividly. The exchange had, as always, been incredibly subdued given the fear he saw in her eyes as they spoke that day, over Watcher diaries that owned their own despairing pain; their writers almost to a man...or woman...unable to describe in detail the moment of loss, of failure to protect ...or the crippling grief that followed.

Buffy's gaze shifted back to the others. "I'm sorry...a-about Catriona."

"Don't be," Gregor said softly, then smiled just as gently. "Ye've brought Rupert home. Tis more than enough, lass."

*******

"Why haven't you been back before now?"

Giles looked up from checking all his boyhood drawers while Buffy absorbed the details of the room that was once a retreat for the child she could barely imagine him to have been.

"I corresponded with Emily when I travelled."

"Not too blabby, though, if they didn't even know you stayed in the States all this time...or why."

"Yes...well, it was more of a desire to know they were all right. And to let them know I was still breathing...all in the guise of keeping abreast of the state of this place. Everything to do with the running of the estate and their welfare has been taken care of by lawyers and trusts since my father died. When the time came for it to be handed to me, I was, naturally, preoccupied with my duties so I simply organized for that arrangement to continue."

"You really do love them, don't you? Sorta having trouble imagining you as 'the child' of the house, though...even if it is kinda nice." She half shrugged. "Somehow, all this time I always thought of you as being really, really alone in the world."

Giles straightened, closing a drawer still filled with his folded jumpers and scarves and gloves and smelling of lavender and camphor.

It was clear from his expression that she had it right the first time.

"It was wrong of me to stay away...but, until now I couldn't face...I couldn't face this place: the memories...the...."

Buffy struggled with a sudden wave of emotion as she watched him battle with the enormity of that failure. 'Pain', he was going to say. And in all the time they'd known each other, the one thing Giles never really acknowledged or owned up to without being pressed, was pain...of any kind. *Not that she'd really hung around long enough to hear most times, anyway*, she thought morosely. Somehow, there always seemed to be something or somewhere more important to do, or be...

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