Title: My Family and Other Nightmares 3/5
Author: Gail Christison
Pairing: B/G Mostly subtext at first, gradually becoming text
Rating: PG-13
Timeline/Spoilers Not really much in the way of spoilers. Post Chosen

Summary: Luisa asked for a My Family X-over. Giles and Buffy go to meet the Harper side of Giles' family in England, and end up getting roped into helping with the arrangements for Richard's Stag night. A fun fic, not to be taken too seriously :-) Probably much more entertaining if you have seen Tony's episode of My Family, but should still be fun if you haven't. Those who have access to Lynsey's site should be able to get the ep if they haven't seen it.

Disclaimer: Not mine...so not fair <g> BTVS is owned by Mutant Enemy... My Family is probably owned by the BBC...
Feedback: Love to know how I did, especially with the Harpers <g> chriscln@ozemail.com.au
Distribution: Everyone who has permission, Riposte. Anyone else just ask :-)

Author's Note: I have been working on this on and off what must have been well over a year. Apologies to Luisa for taking so long finish it. Thankyous to Ruth and Karen for language and dialect tips, and Gileswench and Luisa for the morale support :D BIG thankyou to Karen for the beta. :-)
Dedication: To Gileswench ...Happy Late birthday, mate :-) And to Luisa. Thanks :-)

"I didn't want to be a Watcher. I didn't want a destiny. I was young and full of dreams and ambitions that had nothing to do with the Council and vampires and sending teenage girls to their death."

"Let me guess: guitar guy in that photograph Xander found...you wanted to play in a band?"

"I did play in a band," he said, smiling a little. "But yes, I did have ambitions, like many others my age, to be the 'next big thing', when I was a young man. Moreover, I wanted to choose my own destiny. The idea that my life was a commodity over which I had less than no control simply overwhelmed me, eventually, along with the workload, the lack of sleep and the dea...a few other factors." Something seemed to occur to him then. "What photograph...and how did Xander...?"

"Oops." Buffy had forgotten that Giles was never told that they'd rifled his things or that Xander had showed her the Xerox he made of that photograph for, he said, blackmail purposes should he ever been that much trouble with the Watcher. "Um, well, we were just trying to find a way to fight Eyghon... anything. We didn't mean to invade your privacy...if it helps, Xander said you keep some mean banking and phone records..."

"Then you knew I was in a band?"

"Nope. I knew you were in that photograph. Now I know you really were in a band. Did you sing?"

Giles blinked at the turn the conversation had taken. "At times, yes. Some songs in our repertoire suited my voice better, some Philip's, and occasionally even Dierdre's."

"So did Ethan sing?"

Giles laughed aloud. "God, no. Ethan couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and he'd never had the time or the inclination to learn an instrument. He supplied the heckling and the recreational...um... activities ...afterward."

"Those I already know too much about," she said dryly. "But I still don't believe you created it all by yourself....Eyghon, I mean."

Giles closed his eyes for a moment. "That, I must take responsibility for. None of them would have known the demon even existed if I hadn't found it in my books and involved them all..." He trailed off.

"Yeah, and did involving them all include a gang pow-wow and you telling them they had to try it, or did you just tell Ethan because you thought it sounded cool, and he did the rest?"

He shot her a speculative glance, eyes narrowed.

She didn't miss it. "I've had a lot of years to think about that stuff, you know, in those annoying times where your brain won't relax...like right before you go to sleep. I figured that one out for myself eventually, a long time ago."

"I would have thought my personal history would be the last thing you'd thought about in the past few years..."

Buffy looked surprised, but conceded the point. "Now that's low...but fair. Of course there were issues: mystical sisters suddenly appearing, mothers dying...the world coming to an end periodically, my sabbatical from the land of the living and then the recall to end all recalls, including the fun subterranean entrance...Willow's whacky...not to mention homicidal...magickal adventures, your big disappearing trick...stuff like that..."

"Yes, yes. Point taken," he growled.

"But," she continued, "I *did* think about you, mostly while you were gone, true, but never let it be said that I didn't think about you, or miss you, or need you..." It was her turn to trail off.

Giles had deliberately not taken his eyes off the road. "And I you," he said quietly. "And yet only one of us seemed to want to do anything about it at the time...or ever, for that matter."

Buffy's lips parted in surprise. It was a long moment before she cleared her throat. Giles had never given such a clear opening before to anything this close to the heart...

"Um, don't hold back there, Giles. You're going to have to spell it out for me. I know the Spike thing sucked butt on so many levels, and we've talked about the badness that was me when we were fighting the First. I already admitted that it was beyond stupid to let Spike loose with the First still basically ready to use him as a weapon at any time, even if he didn't exactly volunteer... And I didn't even argue with your point that everything that was bad between us then was basically about me forgetting somewhere between you guys kicking Evil Willow's butt and Spike becoming an issue again, about us being...us. "

"Exactly. We've been together for so long, and yet not even when Angel returned did it ever occur to you that I might have some feelings with regard to issues concerning you...concerning us. I simply didn't matter...even when it came down to choosing between my wishes and the safety of everyone around you...or being with the pretty vampire of the day. Nothing ever changes, Buffy. In all the time you've been here in Bath we haven't had a single serious discussion. Even talking about the final battle descends into Lord of the Rings analogies and jokes about Sunnydale being flushed down the-"

"Maybe I wasn't ready to talk about it."

Silence stretched for several long moments.

"But I was," he said finally, remembering the kiss. "I need to."

More silence.

Buffy's expression had shifted from defensive irritation to shocked epiphany. "That's it, isn't it?"

Giles finally allowed himself to look quizzically at her.

"I just don't see, do I? I never get what other people need, because I've spent so long being too busy with what I need, what the world needs...what the Slayer needs. I just don't look anymore. I've gotten hard, Giles. Maybe the First Slayer was right: maybe Slayers really are supposed to be alone...so they don't hurt the people they care about, so much."

"She was wrong," Giles said with conviction. "Is she why you forgot what made you the most successful Slayer ever?"

Buffy shrugged. "Why am I always the one who gets blamed for splitting up the group? News bulletin: college, and Giles telling me I have to do it by myself, and everyone getting new lives. Story to follow: a Witch's slow spiral down to world destruction and other fun stuff, with a side journey into the death and life of a Slayer, followed by...surprise, surprise...*everyone* telling me I had to do it *all* by myself, from raising my teenage sister alone to the plumbing, the bills, a job, Slaying...and joy, everyone even saved the dishes for me when I got home. But hey...I learned to be at one with my post-traumatic stress...and sometimes even at two..." she said sarcastically. "Even if it was *way* the wrong 'two' after the piece de resistance: the Watcher vanishing trick..."

"Are you done?" Giles asked quietly.

"Not even started, but it sounded good, so the defence will rest before it gives both of us a migraine."

He resisted the temptation to smile. "I grant you all of that, but you're not on trial here...it's not about you."

"You know I keep hearing that, too... When did I ever want it to be about me? Did you not hear me in high school telling you over and over how much I didn't want it to be about me? And what was I told? That it was all about me... 'The One Girl' ...yadda yadda, tradition, responsibility, destiny...blah-de-blah-blah. A-a-nd yet...was never about me: Buffy Summers. It was only ever about the Slayer, or the daughter, or the sister, or the student...be this, do that...slay this...don't have a life...don't...care."

Giles closed his eyes. She was right on every count, every level, and yet she was still missing the point entirely.

When he hadn't spoken for several seconds Buffy looked up saw him staring straight ahead, at the road, his expression bleak. She knew instinctively that it wasn't about what she'd said. It was about what she didn't say.

"Tell me," she said finally.

That made him glance at her, surprised.

"Tell me," she repeated.

He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I can. If you don't have it in you to recognise...I'm sorry, Buffy."

She recoiled as though slapped. She really didn't have the answers. She closed her own eyes, only to be beset with the image of his face as they argued and the door closed in his face, and her own words echoed back to her. At the time she'd been angry, sleep deprived and...and hurt; it still hurt...like crazy...remembering that he'd walked away, not once, but twice. It didn't matter that she'd given her blessing the second time, knew it was imperative to get Willow to England, and that it was the right thing to do, to let him go...back to the life he'd made for himself. But it had still hurt...and the flicker of resentment and anger that had smouldered ever since, had suddenly been fanned into an inferno by his alliance with Robin Woods: an alliance against her; not against Spike...against *her*. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at him again.

"You never really were against me, ever, were you?"

She saw his expression move from stony-faced, to surprise, to an emotion she couldn't identify, before he spoke.

"No...I never was."

"I should have known that, shouldn't I?"

He nodded silently.

Her fingers touched the hand resting on the stick shift. "I'm so sorry," she whispered in a voice haunted by revelation.

Giles didn't speak, instead taking her hand and putting it on the shifter, before covering it with his own.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. "What do you know about weddings?"

Buffy blinked, then understood. She brushed moisture from her eyes and leaned against his shoulder. "Not nearly enough," she told him. "But I bet you could Google some best man stuff on that new computer of yours..."

Giles' lip quirked upward. "When did you learn to 'Google'?"

"Dawn showed me...in Rome. I needed information about...well I needed information, and she was busy. She told me to Google it...then she had to explain that it wasn't a rude expression involving eggs..."

The air remained charged. He didn't laugh. He didn't even grin, but Buffy saw the flash of amusement in his eyes.

"So you learned?"

"I learned. And I even found out, eventually, that I was about to make another huge mistake, which fortunately I'd had more than enough experience of...so I got Dawn a room on campus and came here, instead."

"So this means I can depend on you to research this assignment for me?" he deadpanned.

"Computer girl at your service," she grinned into his sleeve. "Ben's going to be the greatest Best Man who ever lived...always provided, of course, that Richard and Gina make it to the altar...uh...is there going to be an altar? Can ex-criminals get married in a church?"

"They're villains, not vampires, Buffy. If a minister agrees to marry them, there's no law against it, written or unwritten."

"Okay, so...church wedding. But under no circumstances am I jumping out of any cakes for Stag Night Mark II."

"Why ever not?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Because I'm fussy about who I share my...stuff...with," she mugged, then her expression changed. "Also, I don't do small spaces anymore...not ever."

Giles' sudden grin also faded for a moment, his eyes darkening before he cleared his throat again. "I've decided that since Richard doesn't actually have a lot of...real...friends to make useful numbers at a get-together, that it would be more of an excursion than a party..."

"Sounds like a plan. So where are you taking him? See, I don't think the National Gallery or Westminster Cathedral...or even the British Museum...would light Richard's fire, somehow..."

He chuckled at last. "Very perceptive. No. I've actually already arranged that part. "

"Is it a big secret?"

"Not between us," he said easily. "I inherited membership in a gentlemen's club in London. I've also got connections in several rather more...colourful...shall we say...clubs up there. He will have a night to remember...in terms that he can thoroughly appreciate...and which will hopefully seem to Ben...and Richard...to have been all Ben's idea, when I'm done."

"Okay, my lips are sealed. A Gentleman's Club, huh? Is it one of those 'no women, nobody with really dark suntans' kind of places?"

"It was once. It still doesn't allow women, but no longer matters how dark your 'suntan' is or what language you speak, although since there are very rarely any invitations to new members it's not often an issue."

"So you like this 'gentlemen's club' stuff? You smoke cigars?"

Giles paused for a moment, remembering the last time he'd smoked a cigar...about year after he'd given up smoking...and how close it came to causing him to start again. "Used to once, a long time ago."

"Back when you smoked cigarettes?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. A good cigar, for a smoker, is as pleasurable as gourmet food or fine wine. And to answer your earlier question: it's been a very long time since I had a chance to indulge in any 'gentlemen's club stuff', but whilst I was working at the museum I very much enjoyed a weekly retreat to a quiet corner of the club: by the fire in the winter; near the window in the summer, a cigar, and even occasionally a cognac or a fine single malt...and sometimes even good conversation with even better company."

Buffy was watching the light in his eyes as he recalled what was obviously a good time in his life, and realised with a jolt that there'd been precious few of those for a lot of years.

"Sounds like you miss it," she said softly.

He came back to the present and looked a little sheepish. "Sometimes I get a little nostalgic... everything seems better in hindsight, I suppose...but it was a different time for me."

"But one with a lot more Giles highs...maybe even 'Watchers' Retreats in the Cotswolds' kind of happies?"

Giles looked surprised that she'd remembered. "As a matter of fact, yes. And now that you've mentioned it, I'm going to show you the Cotswolds...once this business is over."

"Count me in," she agreed, remembering how much he'd glowed when he was talking about that Retreat...so long ago. As far as she knew he hadn't attended a single one since the day they first met in the Library. It would be fun to see how pretty it was...but she wasn't so sure about the kayaking. What she was sure of was that for the first time, she really wanted to get to know this man...who he really was, what he loved and, well, what exactly made him...Giles.

*******

"Give it back!"

"Why should I? I'm not paying for landing on something when you quite obviously counted wrong!"

"Mum, Richard's cheating again!"

"It's Cousin Richard to you, and both of you stop bickering. Roll your own dice instead of lying there like stranded seals and there won't be any reason to argue."

Both players made faces at Susan Harper, who hadn't looked up from the newspaper she was pretending to read, whilst timing dinner. She was determined to prove that she could roast beef with the best of them if she wasn't being harassed in several different directions at once.

"I saw that."

Michael rolled his eyes.

Richard looked startled. "When's Ben getting home, again?"

"About an hour and a half. And Rupert and Buffy are arriving about half an hour after that. Hopefully by then one of you will be bankrupt and my living room floor will be tidy again."

"Never thought I'd actually be looking forward to planning one of me own weddings."

Susan's eyes rolled up before she closed them and shook her head. "Abi has gone to visit Janey and the baby. She said she doesn't know when she'll be back."

"That'll be fun for her, then," Richard said without looking up from counting his turn. "Bugger!"

Michael smirked. Richard was in jail again, for about the seventh time in the game. Then he thought of something. "You don't let dad swear in front of us."

"We have to make allowances for your cousin," Susan said acerbically then aimed a look of withering censure at her in-law, who just grinned back and smoothed his hair behind his ears before starting to count Michael's turn for him.

"Bugger!" Michael yelled when his double-six turn also resulted in a swift ride to jail.

His opposition chuckled. "What's the matter? Don't want to do a bit o' stir with your cousin, eh?"

"Michael, if you swear again in this house I'll move Cousin Richard into your room with you and ask your father to put the trundle bed up...for you."

The older Harper smirked. Michael's smug look disappeared and he scowled darkly at his mother's bent head.

*******

"Are you sure Buffy's going to be all right?"

Giles chuckled as he pulled the Mondeo away from the house.

"It's you Susan wants on a spit, not Buffy," Ben muttered from the back.

"Yeah, Mum doesn't bite...much," Nick snickered.

Richard rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, is it my fault Gina decided to have a night out with her girlfriends somewhere instead of taking Susan's offer of an old fashioned Hen's Night?"

"Richard's right. Let's face it...is there anything more boring than a bunch of women sitting around playing party games and giving the poor bride-to-be Tupperware and teaspoons?"

Ben snorted. "Shut up, Nick. Doesn't matter how much you brown-nose to Richard, he knows...we all know...you're the berk who bolloxed the bookings...and the catering..."

"...and the stripper," Richard added, still miffed.

"... last time," Ben finished, shooting an irritated look at his cousin. "Just be grateful you've been invited at all, my boy."

"So where exactly are we going? You and old Rupert have been entirely too secretive for my liking."

Richard half turned his head. "You're just dirty because you aren't cashing in on this one...nobody wanted the services of the world's worst party organiser. Your dad's got more sense than to let history repeat itself. Bleedin' pipe smoker's conventions," he muttered.

Ben puffed up a little and grinned.

Giles picked up the thread. "I think you'll find Ben's made some wonderful choices for tonight. You will enjoy yourselves. What you won't do is mention a word about any of it to Susan, if you know what's good for you," he told them dryly.

Harper gave his son a gratuitously gloating look.

*******

"Whoa...now this is what I call entertainment," Richard beamed when they descended the steps to the club Ben had chosen from Giles' carefully selected list. Giles spoke quietly to the very large guard, who ceased staring at Nick as though he was on the top ten most wanted list, when the name of the party was mentioned. After a few more quiet words, they went in, astonished at the decibel level behind the closed door.

They wove through tables to the one reserved for their group, Ben watching Richard, whose silly, drooling grin was nearly as wide as Nick's. When the latter two sat down without taking their eyes from the stage, Ben hissed at Giles in a stage whisper:

"How on earth do you know people in places like this?"

Giles smiled to himself as Harper sat down . "You don't want to know. First round?"

"Cheers," Richard said, still mesmerized by the glistening, undulating female form a few feet from him on the laser-lit stage. "Pint."

"Two," Nick mumbled.

"Guinness," Ben added.

Giles made his way to the bar and was paying for his order when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Rupert!"

Giles turned to face a balding, middle-aged figure with a slight paunch, wearing a very expensive suit and Italian loafers. "Mark! It's been years."

Jaded grey eyes crinkled into a grin. "That it has, Ripper me old mate; too many years. Last time you were in here was for Ethan's thirtieth."

Giles' expression grew both rueful and distinctly sullen. "Ancient history."

If Mark was surprised, his wizened face showed little more than a flicker of the slate-coloured eyes. "Haven't seen Ethan since. What's he up to?" he asked, well aware that he was poking at a sensitive spot.

"As far a I know, he's enjoying an indefinite retreat in the Nevada desert," Giles replied silkily, finding himself craving a cigarette without knowing exactly why.

As though reading his thoughts, Mark produced a pack and offered one.

Without thinking about it, Giles accepted the smoke and the light that followed, drawing back and allowing the toxic fumes to permeate his psyche; to draw him back to another reality...one brief moment where he touched freedom before it flittered away from him again like a frightened butterfly, leaving him standing there, left behind...alone.

"You look good, Rupert. Life treatin' you well?"

Giles looked his companion up and down. "Not nearly as well as it appears to be treating you, Nobby."

"Leave off. You want to talk ancient history..."

"So you've turned over a new leaf and the nightclub business is booming?"

Mark's eyes narrowed. "Doing fine, thank you very much. And what's the Ripper doing for a crust these days? Last I heard you were gathering dust in some bloody museum or other."

Giles drew deeply again on the filter-tip. "Same thing I've always done." Something was off. He couldn't exactly feel it, not the way Buffy could, but something was subliminally wrong, and it was jangling his nerves. His eyes swept the room as his friend lit a smoke of his own. One by one he picked them out.

"Interesting clientele," he drawled.

The other man's head shot up. "The usual crowd. We don't have much trouble. Leon takes care of any...problems."

"You're sure...?"

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