Jacqui - The Surrogate 13/19

Title: The Surrogate 13/19
Author: Jacqui
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles and all other assorted Buffy candies belong to Joss Whedon, WB and ME. Elizabeth, and everything from her world, belongs to me (the real me, not the ‘grr aargh’ ME .Oh, also, the lyrics (and I can’t believe I’m doing this) belong to Bette Midler.
Notes: The wedding bells are ringing, it’s a sweet day for them both, let’s not ruin it with angst (pfft, hee hee).

Feedback: Give me a happy. wily_one24@yahoo.com.au

12.

She sat with her knees huddled to her chest, her bare toes pressing into the coarse tile, her face bared to the cool breeze. The sun was only starting to heat up, hinting at warmth on her shoulders and the parts of her back bared by her singlet top.

It was six am and Buffy watched the last traces of night and darkness bleed away as she sat on the roof outside her window, perfectly aware that this might be the last chance she would ever have to do so. Behind her lay the last pieces of her childhood that she hadn’t packed away, a few ravaged items left on the shelf.

Beneath her, spread out amongst pillows and blankets, the women of her life lay sleeping. Joyce, Willow, Anya, Cordelia and even Elizabeth, all exhausted by the week’s planning, the previous night’s celebration and the anticipation of the day ahead.

Buffy could not sleep. Instead, she sat as she had so many times before, her eyes naturally sought out the direction of the apartment, she stared at the roofs that spanned between them. Slowly, and without her knowledge, Giles’ apartment had become ‘the’ apartment and, in her secret, delicious thoughts, ‘their’ apartment.

Nameless aches ate at her. A curiously sad sense of loss twisted her stomach, yet at the same time she was almost trembling with expectancy, anticipation and joy. She wanted to cry and laugh together. Most of all, she wanted to be able to speak without her throat closing up, which she severely doubted she could.

Her hand left her knees to lightly caress the package beside her. Wrapped in light green paper with silver ribbon in a confection of loops and bows and twirls, the tag read "To Sir, With Love" and nothing else.

She’d gone the day before, with Joyce, all the way to LA, to collect it. She’d tried so hard to find something she deemed worthy as a gift. To her surprise, the search hadn’t been as hard as she’d suspected. Her initial thoughts being ‘how the hell am I supposed to know what he wants?’, but she soon found that she knew exactly what to get. The smile that graced her lips at the thought of his face when he opened it, was wasted upon the rising sun.

"Hey!"

A voice startled her from below and she craned her neck to look at the boy who had called up to her. Her brain took this opportunity to remind her that he was hardly a boy, he was probably almost the same age as her, but she ignored it. She felt older than she supposed she had a right to.

"Are you Buffy? I’ve got this delivery for you. The guy said you’d probably be on the roof."

Buffy smiled to herself, knowing instantly that the flowers the boy held were from Giles. Only he could know that she’d be awake and thinking. It was as if he could feel her. The confused expression on the boy’s face only made her smile wider.

"Stay there, I’ll be down in a minute."

True to her word, Buffy grabbed the guttering and leapt over the edge. As she savored the familiar feel of the fall, the thought again occurred to her that this would be the last time she’d do this. Her feet landed firmly on the earth and she stood up, her face flushed with achievement.

"Here."

The boy thrust a bunch of mixed roses at her. It wasn’t rudeness, but an awkwardness borne of confusion, that made him want to flee as fast as he could. Having to deliver flowers this early was not a regular occurrence, neither were the circumstances surrounding this delivery.

"Thank you."

Buffy’s smile was so bright as she dug her nose into the blooms, inhaling their scent, that the boy blushed before he backed away. In her distraction, she forgot to notice him, her attention focused squarely on the dozen roses in her hand.

* * * *

Giles happily fried bacon in the pan as he kept an eye on the alarmingly still form on the sofa. Before long, it moved, groaning heavily.

"Ugh."

"Good morning, Xander. How do you feel today?"

"Grmphhh." A hand crept out of the covers and held an eyelid open, the white that should have been underneath was heavily streaked with red and flinched with the sudden light. "Aargh!"

"Articulate as ever, I see?" Giles grinned to himself as he placed a large, greasy plate of eggs, fried tomatoes, bacon and sausage in front of the boy. "Are you hungry?"

"I. Hate. You." Xander couldn’t ever remember glaring so viciously at Giles before. He struggled to a sitting position and pushed the plate away. "How come you’re not hung over?"

"Trade secrets of the old and wise, dear boy." Not noticing what he was doing, Giles reached over Xander and picked up a slice of bacon between his fingers and bought it up to his grinning mouth. "Besides, I am marrying the most beautiful woman in the world today. Now get up, we have much to do."

"Much to do?" Xander ran his hands over his face, checking for shaved eyebrows. He knew what he’d had planned, but apparently, Giles had lasted longer the night before. "The wedding’s not ‘til five. You have to get dressed. What else do you have to do?"

Suddenly looking panicked, Giles stood straight up and his eyes went wide.

"Five o’clock? That’s ten hours away!"

* * * *

11.

"What time is the make up artist due to arrive?"

"Forget the make up, the flowers aren’t here yet and they won’t answer the phone!"

"Ugh, I broke a nail!"

"Cordy! Forget your nail!"

"Did you get in touch with the caterers? I can’t remember if…"

"It’s all done, relax."

Buffy sat on the sofa, the one still person in the storm of bodies that ransacked the house. She watched the roses as they sat in the vase, a smile teasing her lips. There was no need for all this fuss. The day was going to happen, no matter what. She might as well enjoy it. Her reverie was not at all disturbed by the commotion made by everyone else in the house.

"Buffy? How can you sit there? Don’t you know it’s seven o’clock? You still have to…" Joyce’s words were cut short by the doorbell, suddenly she veered away from her daughter and ran to the door. "The flowers must be here!"

"Excuse me?" The same, nervous, shaky voice from before caught Buffy’s attention. "Is Buffy here? I have a delivery…"

She took the bunch of eleven champagne roses and this time remembered to thank the boy heartily, ignoring the confused look on Joyce’s face.

"They’re not the bouquets we ordered."

Buffy looked up.

"They’re from Giles."

"Oh."

Willow, coming down the stairs with a robe wrapped around her and her hands busily drying her hair with a fluffy blue towel, saw the bunch of flowers and let out an exited squeak. Buffy turned to her and squeaked back. She couldn’t stop the smile.

* * * *

"Have you got Spike secured? The last thing I want today…"

"Relax, Giles, Cordy arranged it all."

"Oh." Giles paused, his face became stretched with understanding. "Oh no. She didn’t?"

Xander realized his mistake moments too late, he grinned nervously.

"It’s okay. Really. It’s not like he’s actually going to BE there. He’ll be watching Spike."

"Of all the…" Giles’ rant was stopped by a nervous tapping on his door. When he saw who was behind it, he nearly choked. "Wesley?"

In a moment of insecurity on both parts, Wesley, unsure of being welcomed and Giles, suddenly nervous of the council’s disapproval, silence hung in the air. The younger man, already groomed for the occasion, it seemed, in a crisp tuxedo, was almost biting his lip.

"Yes, Mr. Giles. I hope I’m not too forward in coming, I thought…"

"Oh for goodness sakes, Wesley, stop fluttering about and come inside." The two men grinned at each other. "Maybe you can help Xander with his tie later on."

"Hey! I resent that!" The voice carried through the apartment. "I can tie my own tie, thank you very much. Um, it’s one of those ready made ones, right?"

They both laughed, softly, a polite laugh of relief.

"How did you find out?"

"I have my sources." Wesley lifted his head, slightly, proudly.

"The Council?" Giles couldn’t help the nervous catch in his voice.

"Oh no. I detached myself from the Council, there was no need for my services there, what with no Slayer to guide. I’m a Rogue Demon Hunter now."

Xander walked up to them and lightly tapped Wesley’s shoulder with sympathy.

"You were fired and now you work with Angel and Cordelia?"

"Why, no! I…" He paused, unable to look either Giles or Xander in the eye. "Yes."

Giles had to bite his lip.

"Well, at least we can rest assured that if a Rogue Demon attacks the wedding, we’ll be well covered."

* * * *

10. 9. 8.

"Here, open."

"I don’t wa… nmph!"

Buffy sat at the kitchen table, not that it looked like a kitchen table anymore. Bottles, jars, tubs and brushes jostled for space among a myriad of sponges and applicators and pungent formulas. A towel was wrapped around her head and her left hand was soaking while her right was being held hostage by a woman who seemed determined to scuff the enamel right off her nails.

As she had opened her mouth to protest, Joyce had stuffed a small, neat triangle of a sandwhich inside, not taking no for an answer. Buffy had no choice but to chew and swallow, though her eyes said volumes of her disgust as she glared at her mother.

"Look, trust me, daughter dear." Joyce seemed unperturbed by the stubbornness in Buffy’s gaze, she continued to fuss over her like a mother hen, totally enjoying herself. "You’ll thank me later. Here, eat some more."

"Yes, Mom." Her voice was obliging, but her eyes rolled dramatically towards the ceiling. She took the offered food, though, surprised at how hungry she found herself.

"Don’t you ‘yes Mom’ me, young lady. I have exactly…" Joyce couldn’t help but smile as she checked her watch and saw the little hand on the ten. "seven hours left to nag you into oblivion and trust me, I plan to use them wisely."

The doorbell rang.

"Ooh!" Buffy almost forgot herself and jumped up. Joyce’s firm hand on her shoulder held her down, not to mention the firm grip that the makeup lady had on her hand. "That’ll be more roses from Giles!"

"I’ll get it!" Anya’s voice floated into the room.

By the sink sat several more bunches of roses, one having come every hour on the hour since six am. There was a certain excitement to be drawn from them, Buffy found, as each bunch counted down. Somehow Giles had found the perfect thing to keep Buffy from losing her sanity. She was grateful.

"Uh… Buffy? I don’t think it’s more flowers."

She looked up, questioningly, as Anya stood in the doorway. Before anyone could ask, a thin man in a shiny silver shirt pushed his way through. He lifted his hands to his mouth and caught his breath dramatically.

"Oh, somebody slap me! You must be her! Aren’t you a dah-ling?"

Silence as the women looked at each other, finally Buffy ventured forth.

"And you are?"

"Why," He immediately looked crestfallen. "I am Raffael! Only the best photographer in the world! I shall make beautiful memories for you! Beautiful!"

"Hey Raph?" Cordelia walked into the kitchen, her hair in curlers. "Quit it, okay? You don’t need to give them the act."

"Fine." He pouted, then straightened his face. "If that’s the way you want it. But all the best photographers are gay, you know that, don’t you?"

"You’re not gay." She turned and leaned in to Joyce. "I can attest to that. The amount of times he hit on me…" Cordelia then turned back to the man. "You’re straight, but you are a genius. Get over it and take good photos."

"Nobody appreciates effort these days." He turned to wink at Buffy. "Oh, I almost forgot. Some delivery boy outside told me to give you these."

Eight butter yellow roses were suddenly in front of her eyes and she let her breath out, surprised to find she had been keeping it.

"Oh! My dear, your eyes! I shall love to photograph those eyes!"

"Ra-pha-el!" Cordy drew out his name threateningly.

"Fine, fine." He mumbled to himself. "Point, shoot, click. That’s all I’m here for."

* * * *

Spike looked up from the chair to see Angel in the entrance. He stood with his arms folded over his chest, scowling. With little jumping movements, Spike turned the chair around and tried to spit out the gag. Having the big punce see him like this was beyond humiliating.

"Having a little trouble there, Spike, my boy?"

Angel couldn’t help smiling to himself, though it was a strained smile, as he drew the gag out of Spike’s mouth.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? This is fun to you, isn’t it?"

"You could say that."

"Yeah, well." Spike thought that Angel was way too smug for his own good, he watched the other vamp straddle a second chair in front of him, resting his arms on the back and raising his eyebrows at him. "I suppose it’s only fair, you findin’ fun torturing me. Can’t be that jolly watching good ol’ Buff marry that sod, now, can it?"

"It’s not… I don’t…" Angel lifted his arms from the chair, he seemed flustered. "I’m happy for Buffy."

"Yeah, Mate, sure you are. Happy as clams, I can see it." Spike’s face suddenly cleared, he just had a thought. "Pity you’re not goin’ to the festivities. To wish them luck and all."

"I’m just here to make sure you don’t ruin the day, in any way, shape or form."

"Oh great, so I get babysat by broody boy. Now that’s fair."

"Besides," Angel didn’t seem to notice the barb. "the ceremony’s at five. The sun’s still up."

"The gallery has sewer access." Spike noticed Angel’s head snap up. The bait had been set. "You find all sorts of interesting things when you’re researching how to kill a Slayer and her kin."

"And you wonder why they’ve tied you up?" Angel paused for a second. "Sewer access, you say?"

* * * *

7. 6.

Buffy closed the door behind her, snapping the lock closed with not a small sense of satisfaction. All day, since they had woken before seven, people had been around her, talking, preening, stressing, wanting, needing, slowly stripping away at her calm.

It seemed everyone in the whole world was here in the house. She wondered just how many more could be fitted in without it bursting from the seams. Did houses even have seams? Screaming was a good possibility, if she didn’t get some time to herself.

In her hand she held the portable phone. A blessed relief in itself. Her skin was itching with details and minute problems and wordless fussing by well intentioned hands. Automatically, her fingers dialed the numbers she knew by heart. Her breath seemed hot against the mouthpiece.

"It’s twelve o’clock! Where are you? If you think you can just…"

"Giles?" Her voice was small and tired, but full of warmth. She wanted to reach through the lines and smooth back the lock of hair she knew would be tussled due to his stress. "It’s me."

"Buffy?" Immediately the tension in his voice melted and Buffy imagined she could see his shy smile. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah." She admitted guiltily. "I don’t care what they say. I can’t wait ‘til five to see you."

"Your mother will kill you if she finds out, you know that, don’t you?"

"It’s a possibility." She had heard the admonition in his voice, but also the indulgence, the relief, and knew he was as nervous as she was. "But one I’m prepared to take. I wish it were all over, you know?"

"Yes. I do believe I have some idea."

"Yeah, but, I don’t believe you have Mom and Willow and Anya and Cordelia and Elizabeth and Aunt Arleen and all manner of well meaning relatives nagging you."

"No, no I don’t." He laughed softly, as if in sympathy with her. "I just have Xander and Wesley."

"Wesley? He came?" Buffy felt herself get surprisingly choked up. She hadn’t thought Wesley would care about such a day. "Giles?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for the roses," She felt a tear rise as she looked at the six peach colored roses in her hand. The house had started to smell like a glass house, with all the bunches that had arrived. "they’re beautiful."

There was more emotion in her shaking voice than she had meant and Buffy was sure that the pause he left was because of his sudden embarrassment. She imagined the blush that would be seeping into his cheeks and down his neck.

"Oh god, Giles. I can’t stand this."

"A little bit of patience, Buffy. That’s all."

Buffy wondered if he had taken her statement to mean the day itself, or the whole situation they were in. Either way, she realized, his answer would be, could be, should be the same. She only hoped that she’d have enough patience. To last the day, to last until everything was all over.

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

"You don’t really mind if I keep calling you Giles, do you? Even in the vows? I mean… it’s not that intimate, but I can’t… not after Elizabeth, I can’t call you Rupert."

"No." His voice was quiet, thoughtful, reassuring. "I don’t mind at all."

"That’s good. And, about Elizabeth, you don’t mind? You know, the thing with the birth certificate?"

"If that’s what she really wants, Buffy, I’d have it no other way. Actually, I’d be proud to have my name on it."

"Rupert Giles. It’s such a strong name to have on a certificate, don’t you think?"

"I suppose. You do realize that your name will be right there alongside mine, don’t you?"

"My name? Why… oh." At that moment, Buffy realized that she hadn’t thought about it at all. Of course, it made perfect sense. Suddenly a warmth grew within her, a pleasant ache that also yearned. "Well, your name is better."

"I wouldn’t exactly say that."

"Are you arguing with me on our wedding day, Mister?"

" No, I wouldn’t dare. I am wrong. You are perfectly right. Giles is the perfect name. But you are also, partly, wrong."

"I am? How? Why?"

The sudden indignation in her voice made him laugh again.

"It is intimate. The way you say it. You know, you could call me anything and I’d answer."

"I love you, Giles."

* * * *

Ethan looked at the photograph one more time. He sighed, knowing that an era was coming to an end. So many things fought for, so many things lost. Aw, hell, at least some fun had been had along the way. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it? He threw the image in a box and closed the lid. Then he looked at the map again, a deep red line in texta marked the path he had come to know well in the last few days.

"Soon. It will all be over soon."

* * * *

5. 4.

"Oh, Honey."

Joyce was nearly in tears, her throat constricted and tight. Before her, Buffy stood, arrayed in masses of white, suddenly looking grown up. She knew this day would have had to occur, sooner or later, and she certainly had known about it all week. At this moment, however, Joyce knew she had not been prepared, not in the slightest, to see Buffy in a wedding gown.

"Mom."

Buffy looked up, her hands frozen in the movement of smoothing out a non existent wrinkle at her waist, her face seemed to melt. They looked at each other for several seconds. A smile, nervous and scared, graced Buffy’s lips, seeming to ask Joyce a million things.

Barely daring to breathe, Joyce stepped forward, capturing Buffy’s hands in hers and lifting them high and out from Buffy’s body. Buffy stood there, compliant under her mothers gaze. She spun, slowly, so that the whole of her gown was shown to its best. She felt like a doll, being dressed for someone else, for show.

"Are you ready?" The words were quiet, inquisitive.

"Will I ever be?"

Unbidden, memories came to Joyce. A fleeting image of a fragile little four year old, her chin thrust out in self assurance, ‘When I get married, I’m going to be the prettiest girl in the world and my husband will be the handsomest. Even the fairies will be jealous.’

A baby, with a wrinkled, furious face, placed beside her on the bed, the tiniest gurgle escaping from the impossibly small mouth as the wizened eyes stared back at her. A sudden rush of warmth and love.

Desperate paces of the supermarket, eyes frantically searching the crowd for the familiar brown hair, the cheery face, the bright pink sneakers. Anything. Confused glances from other shoppers as she tore through the mall, screaming out the name. The sudden flooding of tears when she spotted the girl’s face, streaked with tears, standing still, oh so still, among the jostling crowd.

An angry thirteen year old, her face red and flushed, her arms thrown out in defiance. ‘I don’t care! I’m going to find some guy as soon as I can and then I can move out of here! Away from you! I’ll change my name and you won’t ever see me again. I’ll change it to… to… Winters!’

Crying, so hard she didn’t know how she’d ever stop, her body buried deep into the covers of the bed. She felt the mattress dip, felt the deceptively thin arms surround her. ‘Don’t worry, Mom, I’m still here. You still have me.’

"Buffy? I…" She found she couldn’t talk.

"It’s okay, Mom." Buffy answered with an understanding smile. "I know. It’s two o’clock, you should go to the gallery now. Make sure everything’s going okay. You’re itching to, I can tell."

"I’m so proud of you, Buffy, I want you to know that." She took one last look at Buffy, holding her out at arms length, before pulling her in for a tight embrace. When she drew back, she pressed something into Buffy’s hand. "Here, these were your grandmother’s. I’ve gotta go before I cry."

After Joyce had left, Buffy looked down at the box in her hand. When she opened it, she felt close to crying herself. A pair of pearls sat nestled into gold earrings. They gleamed inside the velvet and Buffy touched them with one hesitant finger.

* * * *

"Man, how’d you get us into this gig?"

Forrest stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the little black bow tie of his tux. Next to him, Riley ran his fingers through his hair, on the other side, stood Graham, winking at his own reflection.

"You heard Professor Walsh, we have to keep a keen eye on them."

"But ushers at their damned wedding?"

* * * *

3. 2.

Elizabeth fingered the blooms as she walked softly up the stairs. Three perfectly formed peach roses. There was no need to even wonder who they were from. Two hours left. She wondered how she would manage, how she had already managed, without breaking down.

Pushing open the door, she saw her answer. Buffy stood, her hands fumbling with the earring in her right ear, in front of the mirror. Willow stood with her back to Anya, while Anya fastened a necklace around her neck. Cordelia was placing last minute touches to her already flawless make up.

The girls’ dresses were a deep burgundy, with a low, but modest, neckline, tapering in at the waist and then flowing down to the floor, a split up the left leg. Anya had decided to go all out, wearing a fitted tuxedo that pinched her waist and flared out at the tails. It matched the guys’ suits in color and contrast, but had a feminine touch to it. Buffy had laughed when she saw it.

"Argh!" Buffy’s frustrated growl made them all look up. The ring on her finger had snagged on the side of her hair. She gave one vicious tug and her hand came free, along with several strands of hair. "Oh. Oh no. Ohmygod, guys look!"

"It’s okay." Willow’s voice was quick, but it wasn’t very reassuring with the high pitch. "We can fix it!"

"Your hair’s ruined." Anya paled visibly. "It doesn’t fit the veil anymore."

"What am I going to do?" She wailed. "The hair lady’s gone already!"

Placing the roses in Buffy’s hands, to prevent her from tugging at the crumbling masterpiece more than anything else, Elizabeth reached up and deftly tucked the strands back into place, rearranging them slightly.

"See? It’s okay. Just these last few bits that won’t stay put…"

"Oh! Hey!" Cordelia raced across the room and dug inside her purse, pulling out a plastic packet victoriously. "I’ve got it! I bought this last week, but haven’t opened it yet."

She quickly opened the packet and handed Elizabeth a slender hair pin, the end of which glinted softly in the light, a small fake jewel. With a few practiced moves, Elizabeth slid the pin into place, covering the decoration as best she could and then disguising it further with the veil.

"There you go, all fixed."

Buffy tried to smile, but failed.

"I think I’m going to be sick."

"Don’t worry." Elizabeth looked her in the eye. "You’ll get through it."

"I’ll get through it, I’ll get through it, I’ll…" Her eyes widened and she looked afraid, but Elizabeth held her gaze and soon the panic ebbed away. "You’re right, I’ll get through it. I’ll completely forget my vows, but I’ll get through it."

"Here," Willow pulled a colored thread from somewhere Buffy couldn’t quite see and reached over, pulling aside the right shoulder of Buffy’s dress and twining it with her bra strap. Her eyes must have looked a lot more confused than she felt, because Willow smiled shyly.

"It’s a charm, for good luck and happiness. I… you can borrow it. No one will see."

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, or if the thing actually worked, but Buffy could feel warmth emanate from where the charm touched her shoulder, like somebody was pouring heated water from a cup. A smile was pointed at the red head.

"I knew there was a reason you’re my best friend." Her left hand rose and covered her shoulder. "Where’d you get it?"

"Tar… a friend made it for me."

A moment passed, in which Buffy teared up again.

"Thanks Will." She looked each woman in the eye, saying their names softly. Willow. Elizabeth. Cordelia, Anya. "I know this has been hard, but I’m not sorry you were here. I love you all."

* * * *

Joyce counted under her breath as she took the steps, retraced them, then breathed in. Her eyes scanned the foyer of the gallery, transformed from its usual airy openness, it now held an intimate feeling. Rows of chairs, thick, deep red carpeting down the middle that formed the aisle, a dais stood in lieu of an altar, the flowers filling the air with a sweet scent, broken by the perfumed wax of the candles.

Tears that had threatened to break all day continued their threat as Joyce struggled to keep them under control. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, at least, not until the ceremony had begun. Just over an hour. She could do it.

Ahead of her, Xander and Anya were talking softly with the minister, Father Thomas, their heads bowed as they whispered. She needed to walk, to move, to breathe. Her mind immediately ran off a list of things that she felt should be checked.

Moving from the foyer, she entered the gallery itself. This is where the reception would be held. Usually, for occasions held here, they didn’t open the full gallery, but tonight, tonight was special. Her staff had gone all out, Joyce noticed with a warm flush of pleasure, to make sure everything was perfect and magical.

She did not notice the other figure until it was too late to turn back.

Whispering frantically to himself, pacing back and forth, Giles was shocked into silence when he saw Joyce there. He had thought himself alone, indeed, that was why he had spirited himself back here, away from everyone.

"Joyce." He nodded his greeting, hoping that she’d understand the lack of proper greeting. He felt lucky just to be able to manage that one word.

"Giles." She smiled sadly, offering him his own single nod of the head as a return greeting.

"How is she?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Fine, she’s…" Joyce paused, wanting to say a million things. "She’s beautiful."

Giles smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly, she noticed this and couldn’t help but smile back.

"I never doubted it for a second."

"No. You wouldn’t, would you? It’s just…" She struggled to find the words that wanted release. "She’s so young. She’s almost a little girl."

"No." His eyes took in her trembling form and the desperate way her eyes begged him to reassure her, to make everything be alright, to let her know that her daughter would be taken care of. He took her elbow and led her to a nearby bench underneath a painting he barely noticed. "She hasn’t been a little girl for a long time, Joyce."

"But… but…" Her mind floundered and she tried to reel it in. "She acts so young, sometimes, so foolish."

Had anyone else said these words to him, indeed, had Joyce said these words under different circumstances, he would have been offended on Buffy’s behalf. Yet, now, it all seemed so natural, that Giles was almost grateful for the opening Joyce had just given him.

"Sometimes, yes, Buffy can be quite immature, but it’s something that I am only too glad to allow her. Do you know how many times she has sat alone in her room, grounded by you for some imagined deed, or sat in detention after school, stood there and listened while Mr. Snyder, you and even Hank told her how much of a disappointment she was? How much she had failed you all?"

He did not say this to hurt her, but he could see the understanding growing in her eyes and he couldn’t help it.

"All the while she could only guess at what little time she had left. Every misdemeanor you berated her for, was actually her saving your life. And she took it all, Joyce, she stood there and took it all. That speaks to me of a maturity that few people will ever know. So, yes, I know she can be extremely immature at times, but I am grateful for it."

Joyce blinked, then looked up at him with gratitude.

"You always understood her better than me."

"I promise you," His voice was serious and did not shake once as he offered her his hand to help her up. "that I will look after her as well as you ever could."

"Mr. Giles." She looked at him as she took his hand, a smile quirking the corner of her lips. "I had hoped you could do much better than that."

"I’ll look after her, Joyce, as much as I ever have, as much as she ever needs me to."

"Thank you."

* * * *

"Is that it? That’s it. Ooh. I can’t believe this is happening."

"Calm down, Will." Cordelia took her place at the window, peering between the blinds. "It’s only a limo."

"Only a…?" Willow turned and narrowed her eyes. "You’re not fooling anyone with this jaded LA chick routine. You’re just as excited as the rest of us."

"Yeah." Cordy giggled.

There was a silent pause for a moment, then they both sighed together.

"It’s five past four." Buffy rushed into the room, a gale of white swooshing in after her, stopping its movement several beats after Buffy stopped hers. "Where is he? Why isn’t he here yet?"

"Five minutes, Buff, I’m sure he’ll get here soon. Give him a break."

"It’s not…" Buffy began, her voice high and pinched with panic, then she stopped herself. Breathing in, she held her arms in close to her body, to stop their erratic gestures and near uncontrollable fluttering. "Yeah. He’ll be here. He’s got to be here."

Then she walked out of the room again.

"Nervous much?"

Willow gave Cordy a glare, but she did giggle.

They were alone in the house, the three. Elizabeth and Anya had gone ahead to the gallery. Suddenly, without all the people, Buffy’s nerves began to fray. Both Willow and Cordelia had given up trying to ease the jitters, they now let Buffy roam the house, focusing on one trivial thing after another.

Neither expected Buffy to return and barrel between them, pushing them aside as she wrenched the blinds open, peering out to the street. She was desperately waiting for the next bunch of roses from Giles. And they were late.

"Dammit." Buffy’s eyes scanned the street, barely even noticing the sleek black car in her drive way. "Where is…? Ooh! Oh! Look! Isn’t that his bike? Lying in the street? That’s the delivery boy’s bike! Oh my god, what happened?"

Her hands clenched the front of her skirt and lifted it as she started to run to the front door.

"Oh hey!" Willow grabbed her. "Where do you think you’re going?"

"The bike! It’s his, I know it. Something’s happened, Will, I gotta go check it out."

"Are you mental?" Cordelia huffed. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes. See that gorgeous hunk of metal out there? That’s your carriage to your fairytale wedding. Now sit down!"

Buffy’s eyes flicked between the two, she weighed her options and then relented, her shoulders losing the tightness that had been there seconds before. The moment Willow and Cordy relaxed their grips, Buffy broke free, running out the door.

"Sorry guys, duty calleth! If I’m not back, go ahead without me. I’ll make it to the gallery, I promise!"

And the door slammed.

"Uh oh." Was Willow’s small comment.

"You think?" Was Cordelia’s reply.

* * * *

"Um, can I go now?"

"Yeah, whatever, leave, just go." Buffy dismissed the delivery boy with a frustrated wave, the two white roses lilting slightly. Here, she’d been so worried, she’d actually ran out on her wedding, and all he was doing was catching a bit of illicit kissage with his girlfriend. A thought occurred to her and she called on after him. "Hey! What time is it?"

"It’s four thirty. You look nice, by the way."

Then the boy and his young girlfriend giggled into each other and ran off, leaving Buffy to look around her, her bottom lip trembling, her limbs suddenly tired. That’s when her eyes focused and told her exactly where she was.

"Oh great, it figures."

She walked up to the entrance and pushed her way in, tripping over the step as she went. Grumbling to herself, Buffy got to her feet, checked to make sure there was no visible damage and stepped inside.

"That just tops it off, I can feel a bruise forming under my dress. Oh well, at least I have the ‘something blue’ part down."

"Buffy?"

Her head snapped up. She’d thought she was alone. The last thing she had expected was for someone to be here in the mansion. Even worse, had she suspected someone would be there, she would never have guessed it would be Angel.

They stood there, looking at each other. There was something wrong, Buffy could feel it, something missing, but she couldn’t think what it was. Her eyes searched him, frantically looking for the change, but he was the same Angel of months ago. There was nothing different about him as he stood there in front of her, still and silent.

And that’s when it hit her. He was still. Too still. He wasn’t breathing. It was something she had never noticed when they were together, but now, now her eyes ached to watch the shoulders of his jacket move up slightly, watch his chest move forward in rhythmic pulses.

"What are you doing here?" It was the only thing she could think of to say.

"Nice to see you, too."

She could tell by the way he said it, the slight proud tilt of his chin, that he was actually hurt by her words. His belligerence annoyed her, but she squashed it down. This couldn’t be easy for him. Dammit, her mind told her, you’ve been through this. He’s the one who left, he’s the one who went away.

"Sorry, I… No. I’d like to know what brings you down to Sunnydale today. Tell me."

"Cordelia, she rang me. To…" He seemed lost, as if he’d forgotten why she’d called him. Gesturing to the back room with an unsure hand, his eyes narrowed and then rose again. "To watch Spike."

"So, you’re… babysitting?"

She tried to suppress her laughter, the nervous bubbles that were trying desperately to escape, a deep ingrained defense against the awkwardness of the situation, but she failed and her mouth twisted up, her shoulders shaking. Angel stared at her for several seconds before his face relaxed and he laughed too.

"Hey!" The indignant voice came from the other room. "I don’t need no bleedin’ babysitter!"

They laughed harder.

"You look nice." Was all Angel trusted himself to say.

"Yeah." She agreed softly, suddenly self conscious. "Thanks."

"Giles is a lucky man."

"I…" Buffy stopped, ducking her head and staring at the floor. "I plan to make that true."

"It is true. Buffy?" He stepped towards her, placing a finger underneath her chin and raising her head so that she had to look at him, had to meet his eyes. He saw the single tear as it rolled down her cheek. His heart, had it been beating, would have broken for her. "What’s wrong?"

"I’m so scared, Angel, I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m so scared."

He didn’t say anything, her eyes searched his, left to right, begging him to say something, to save her from having to continue her thoughts. The silence weighed heavy on her and the words suddenly came tumbling out of their own accord.

"It’s just, you and I, we had… I mean… You were my first, Angel." She noticed the flinch, the spark of pain that flashed through him. "And what we had was passionate and dark and dangerous, you literally took my breath away. I couldn’t think when I was with you. I began to believe it was supposed to be like that, love, that it was supposed to be hot and painful. That extremes were the norm, that to feel anything, you had to feel it all."

Even as the words came out of her mouth, she realized they were true, she hadn’t even known she felt that way. All the past week’s vague worries and doubts suddenly crystallized and she knew now what she needed.

"What we had was sharp, Angel, but what Giles and I have? It’s soft and tender and it surrounds me like a quilt. He’s safe and warm and I can trust him, just like he can trust me." She saw the question forming on his face and rushed to answer it. "That’s why I was so scared, because I was worried I’d hurt him, but I just realized, that I won’t. I can’t. This is it, Angel, this is how it’s supposed to be."

Angel’s lips curled up into a sad smile, he let his hand fall away from her chin.

"I’m happy for you." He saw her eyes widen and knew she was about to apologize to him, explain away her words. "No. You’re right. This is how it’s meant to be."

"Thank you, Angel." Buffy reached out and took his hand, lifting it to her mouth. She twisted it around and placed a light kiss on the inside of his palm. "For finally giving me the chance to say goodbye."

He closed his eyes.

"Don’t you have a wedding to go to?"

"Oh christ!" Buffy’s face paled and her hands flew to her face. "I’m so late and I bet I look a mess, trust me to ruin my own wedding day!"

"Relax, take my car, and your face is unmarked. You’re still beautiful."

"Thank the heavens for waterproof mascara, huh?"

* * * *

His hands nervously adjusted his tie, though from the previous hundred times it had been adjusted, the tie was in perfect place. Then his hands ran over his hair, down his coat, into his pockets, patted the side of his legs, checked the length of his shirt cuffs in comparison to the length of his suit sleeves. Anything to keep them busy.

Giles sighed and his eyes frantically searched the entranceway to the gallery. He caught Willow’s eye and she gave a slight shake of her head. His heart tightened just a little bit more, as it had been doing ever since she and Cordy had rushed in, breathless and flushed, and she had given him a tiny little gesture that resembled staking. He had understood only too well when Buffy had not come in after them.

"Hey G-Man, would you relax? She’ll be here."

He looked to his right, Xander and Anya stood there and though his words had been meant to appease, the expression on the young man’s face did nothing of the sort.

"You’ve still got the ring, haven’t you?" He half whispered, not really seeing him, not really needing to know the answer.

"Since you asked me two minutes ago? Let me think."

Giles wanted to climb the walls, pace the gallery, anything. He could hear the whispers flow through the crown in waves, speculating on the bride’s whereabouts. He could see the confusion on their faces. Joyce and Elizabeth sat in the front row, their faces not worried in the slightest and he took comfort in that, Hank sat next to them with a woman Giles had never seen before but assumed to be Buffy’s new step mother.

His eyes scanned the room for potential enemies and though he thought he saw a few faces that could not be strictly classed as human, there was no outright threat to be seen. No Spike. No Angel. No Ethan. Giles took off his glasses and wiped them with a hanker chief. When he heard the crowd go silent, except for a collective gasp, he put the glasses back on, his hand reaching out for the object that Xander pressed into it, and looked towards the doors, just in time to see Joyce slip out of her seat.

He couldn’t breathe. There stood Buffy. No matter how many times he had thought about it, no matter how many dreams he’d had, nothing could have prepared him for the way she looked in her wedding gown. Simple, but beautiful, the dress contrasted with her golden skin and enhanced her loveliness.

The skirt seemed to float around her, billowing out from a trim waist, it fell to just above the floor, where he could see glimpses of her shoes. The bodice was narrow and it accentuated the curves of her torso, the neckline was low, but not overly so, and the sleeves circled her slender arms, stopping just below her elbows.

Her eyes, though, her eyes were what seized his heart, they’d sought him out instantly and the instant their gazes met, Buffy’s face broke out into a dazzling smile.

Giles thought his heart was going to burst.

* * * *

She wanted to remember this moment for the rest of her life. Standing at the entranceway, looking in at a room filled with everyone important to her, a room filled with Giles. Buffy barely noticed anyone else, not Willow or Cordelia or Joyce standing with her, not her friends or her family, no one, except Giles. There he stood, at the head of the aisle, his face beaming at her, looking at her as if she were the only one as well.

In his hands he held a single, long stemmed, red rose. Buffy immediately pressed her bouquet into Willow’s hand, needing to be rid of it, itching to hold only that one rose. Each bunch that had been delivered to her that day had counted down, counted down to this, the one moment in their lives that they’d been waiting for.

And then the music started.

Buffy did not know how she managed to walk down the aisle, Willow and Cordy ahead of her, Joyce beside her, did not know how she managed to stop herself rushing forward, pushing everyone out of the way, just to reach Giles.

She felt Joyce’s hand on her right arm give a little squeeze and she covered it with her left, pressing softly into the fingers, a shared moment of comfort, then suddenly Joyce was no longer there and she was standing in front of Giles. He held out the rose and Buffy nearly cried when she saw the long, thin, blue ribbon that dangled from it.

Something old. She raised her right hand to touch her grandmother’s earrings. Something new. She moved her hand over her hair, to the spot where the pin sat. Something borrowed. Down to her shoulder, above the charm. Something blue. She reached out and took the rose.

"I love you." Her lips formed the words, but no sound came out.

He captured her free hand in his and lifted it to her lips.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today…"

The words, soft and deep and magical, buoyed her into a trance, she was lost in the magic of it all. Words were spoken, rituals performed, movements inscribed deep into her subconscious, she barely noticed them, performed them on auto pilot. Giles was the only clear thing in her vision, everything else blurred, became hazy.

"I’ve known you only a few short years." Giles’ voice didn’t even catch in his throat, but his eyes were a brilliant green, bursting with the tears he refused to shed. Buffy lifted her free hand and ran it down the side of his face. "But in that time, you have become my life. Together, we’ve lived and loved, suffered and laughed, fought and forgiven, but in the end, we’ve always come back to each other. Buffy, I promise you, I will never let you down. You already have my heart, today, I give you my ring."

Buffy, although admiring Giles for not crying, was nowhere near as resolute. The tears were streaming down her face. She could not, for the life of her, remember anything she had written, or any words she had formed in her head. It didn’t matter, she knew, and she felt like laughing and sobbing and breaking down all at the same time.

"What he said."

Soft laughter echoed around the gallery. The corners of Giles’ eyes crinkled with laughter and his lips spread into a wide smile. He didn’t know anything at that moment, except that she was there and that was all he needed.

Do you, Rupert Thomas Giles, take this woman, Elizabeth Anne Summers, to be your lawfully wedded wife…? Do you Elizabeth Anne Summers, take this man, Rupert Thomas Giles, to be your lawfully wedded husband…? I do, I do, I do…

"With this ring, I thee wed…"

Their words echoed each other, soft and reverent, full of awe. Their touches gentle and conveying more than words ever could. For the whole ceremony, they had not lost contact once, hands had been held, fingers had run down an arm, palms had rested on the small of a back. They both felt warm and safe.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And such a kiss it was. Around them, Buffy and Giles were vaguely aware of the cheers that rose up, Xander’s voice and Cordy’s acerbic answer, Willow’s sigh and Joyce’s tears. Buffy grinned into Giles’ mouth.

"I love you, Mr. Giles."

"I love you more, Mrs. Giles."

The words ran a tingle through her body.

* * * *

Buffy tumbled into a chair and laughed, trying to catch her breath. She reached her hand out and was rewarded when Giles, in the chair next to her, grabbed it, pulling her to him and placing a kiss on her lips.

"I swear, I didn’t know how many people I actually knew! This is exhausting."

"Nonsense, you love the attention."

"Mmm." She placed a hand on the side of his cheek and kissed him back. "Not tonight, though, you think anyone would mind if we left early?"

"They might take it amiss."

"Fine." She pouted. "Then let’s just sit here and not move for the rest of the night. My feet are killing me!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," A deep voice came over the sound system. "It’s time for the first dance of the evening, the bridal waltz, let’s welcome to the dance floor, Mr. and Mrs. Giles."

Giles could not quite cover his smirk as he led his new bride to the dance floor, even after she flashed him a glare, or perhaps because of it. They stood in the middle of the floor, acutely aware of all the pairs of eyes that were centered on them. Buffy leaned into him.

"We’ve only been married an hour, but if I hear Sting or the words ‘watching you’, believe me when I say, I will kill you."

He only laughed at her. Then the lights dimmed and the place was lit by strands of delicate fairy lights, woven around the hall. Gasps of appreciation were heard and then the crowd went silent when the first strains of music were heard and a spot light illuminated the couple.

"Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower, and you it's only seed."

The feel of Giles’ hand at the small of her back was the only thing she wanted to know at that moment, her head about to burst with the whole day’s happenings. She could barely believe it, it was like a fairy tale. She leant her head down upon his chest and let him lead the way.

"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give, and the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live."

Out of the corner of his eye, Giles caught sight of two figures, in an instant the urge to tense up was overcome and he nodded to them, he continued to dance, holding Buffy as close as he could. To the back of the room, Angel nodded back, grabbed Spike and left.

"When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong, just remember in the winter far beneath the winter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose."

The song ended, but they didn’t leave the floor, as the music from another song rose up, they kept swaying, no longer caring if their steps matched the rhythm. Around them, they felt the bodies of other couples come up to join the dance.

"Giles?" Her whispered words caressed his ear.

"Mm?"

"You did realize that song was about heroin abuse when you picked it, didn’t you?"

"Good lord!"

Buffy threw her head back and laughed out loud.

* * * *

"Hey Buffy!"

A hand pulled at her elbow, dragging her away from the crowd and into a deserted alcove. Buffy was grateful for the respite. She turned to Willow and grinned tiredly, feeling a great yawn rising. It had been a long day.

"You looked so beautiful today, Buffy, I was so jealous!"

"You were great, too, Willow. Both you and Cordy, I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you, you know?"

"I love you too."

They sat down on a cushioned bench and Buffy took one heel off, massaging her foot. She leant her head back, closed her eyes and sighed. It was marvelous, just being able to sit here with Will and have no pressure on herself, from anywhere.

"Buffy? Remember how, when everyone was doing something to help your wedding? And I said I wanted to do something too?"

"Yeah?"

"Well I did. Do something. At least, I’m going to do something, as my present. To you and Giles. I’ve prepared it, with some help, and I’ll do it later, after you’ve left. Ok?"

"Willow?" Buffy sat up. "What are you talking about?"

"I’ve prepared a spell, to help, you know, with the honeymoon."

"Oh Will," Buffy sighed again, this time deeper and sadder than before. "You know there’s not going to be any honeymoon in our honeymoon, we’re just going to take a couple of days alone, before the baby’s due."

"That’s what the spell’s for!"

Buffy looked at her friend suspiciously.

"Explain. Now."

"Before, when you and Elizabeth were in the hospital, I found this spell, but then everything got in the way, you know with Ethan and Spike and Riley and all of them. Well, anyway, two hours after you leave tonight, I’ll activate it, and it will last for 24 hours."

"Will!" The day had taken it’s toll and she was getting frustrated. "Just tell me!"

"It separates you and Elizabeth! I didn’t say anything, ‘cause you didn’t want to do Ethan’s spell, and this one isn’t permanent, it’s only temporary and after you’ve done it once, you can’t do it again."

Willow winced and waited for the tirade. And waited. It didn’t come. She opened her eyes and saw Buffy’s face smiling at her, she relaxed.

"You mean, Giles and I, we’ll have a whole day, to ourselves? No connection? And it won’t harm the baby in any way?"

"Yes, yes and no. I’ve checked it out. Me and Tara, we’ve been looking into it."

"Tara?"

"Um… a friend. She helped me, it’s very involved, this spell and I wanted to do it right."

"Thanks Will."

Buffy sat back again, smiling to herself. From her position in the alcove, she could see her friends on the dance floor. Joyce was dancing with Giles, Cordy with Wesley and Xander with Anya, they all looked relaxed and happy, as if nothing could ever touch them, harm them, taint their world. She wished it could always be that way.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the plates being cleared from the tables. Damn. She hadn’t eaten anything that night, except for a pickings she’d managed to salvage along the way. She hadn’t, she realized, eaten anything all day, except for the food Joyce had made her eat that morning.

Why did mothers have to be so right sometimes? She looked over to Joyce, who happened to be looking over Giles’ shoulder at her that very moment. A shared smile, a nod of the head and so many years were looked over and cherished with that gesture.

Buffy didn’t think she’d ever been this happy in her life.

* * * *

She had cried during the ceremony, she had cried during the reception. She honestly hadn’t thought she’d had any more tears to cry that day. She was wrong. When they had all lined up to say their good byes, Buffy had cried in many arms, upon many shoulders. Even Giles had been seen to be wiping away the odd tear.

Now he sat, content to have Buffy in his arms as the limo drove on and on. She leaned against him, sighing every now and again, in a kind of half sleep. She must be so tired, he thought, so exhausted, if she felt anything like him.

It had been the best day of his life, no doubts about that, but he was certainly glad it was over. Weddings always appeared to be so simple, until you were involved in one. His stomach growled and Buffy throbbed against his chest as she giggled.

"Hey husband, you sound about as hungry as I am. I hope there’s food at the hotel."

"Don’t worry, wife, your mother assured me she ordered a large basket of food and wine to be left in the room. She was prepared."

"Mm." Buffy mumbled. "She’s the best mom ever."

"We ought to thank her, thank everyone, for their help today."

"Agreed." Buffy suddenly sat up, took Giles’ arm and looked at his watch. "Why is the car stopped? We’ve only been driving half and hour."

"Excuse me?" Giles tapped on the glass partition that separated them from the driver. "Excuse me?"

The door on Giles’ side opened and a man they’d never seen before, dressed sharply in a suit, bent down to smile at them. Buffy supposed the smile was meant to reassure. It didn’t. All her spidey senses began to tingle.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Giles. This is a surprise organized by your friends, that’s all I’m allowed to say. Mr. Giles, if you would be so kind as to step out of the limousine?"

"Bloody kids." Giles grumbled, but Buffy could hear the amusement in his voice. "What have they gone and done this time?"

He obligingly stepped out, turning around to look at the gentleman closer. Before he could focus, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door being slammed shut. A sharp, blinding pain hit him in the back of the head and as he fell to the ground, he could hear the revving of the engine and feel the specks of gravel from the tires hit his face.

"Buffeeeeeeeee!" Was his last cry as he blacked out.

* * * *

The minute Giles had stepped out, Buffy’s heart dropped. She didn’t like this, she didn’t like it at all. When the door slammed, she started forward and missed the door behind her opening. Her fists banged on the dividing glass, but before she could do any real damage, she felt the body slip in beside her.

As she twisted around, trying to see who it was, she felt the sharp sting of a needle pierce her neck and the slackening of her muscles. There was nothing she could do. She thought she heard the familiar slump of a body outside the car and Giles’ voice, but she couldn’t be sure. Her torso completed the turn she had started, of its own free will, and the last thing Buffy saw before she passed out was a face.

"Ethan!"