XI
When Buffy came out into the kitchen the next morning, Giles was just brewing his tea. He saw her and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning," she replied sleepily.
"Did you sleep all right?"
"Yeah. Thanks to you." His soothing voice had calmed her fears, distracted her. She never even heard him leave.
He smiled again. "All part of the service."
She folded her arms and leaned against the doorpost. "Is it?"
"Pardon?"
"Is that why you do it? 'Cause you're my watcher and you have to?"
The smile still played around his mouth, but left his eyes. "I don't recall bedtime stories being mentioned in the watcher's manual. Some things I do because I can. Others because I want to." He turned to face her. "But I have to tell you, Buffy, self-loathing is not an attractive trait, especially not in a slayer. Learn to work it through, but accept here and now that I will never accuse you, never blame you, never condemn you. I will do everything in my power to help you. Yes, it's my job, but it's also because I care about you, a great deal. And I'd hate to think I was caring about someone who doesn't believe she's worthy of my affection. I think I have better judgement than that."
Buffy opened her mouth, but there were no words. What could she possibly say to that? "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"That's enough," he scolded. Then his voice softened. "Now then, get yourself something to eat and come into the parlour. I have something to show you."
"What is it?"
He smiled gently. "You'll see." He left the kitchen.
She watched him go. She'd upset him, and she hadn't wanted to do that, not ever. It wasn't that she doubted him, but that she.... She didn't want to disappoint him, and she knew he was already so disappointed. He said he wasn't, but she couldn't see how he couldn't be. His disappointment, his disapproval, hurt more than anything else. She needed him so much, and she hated the idea of doing anything to mess that up. With a sigh she poured out a glass of orange juice, broke off half a scone, and headed into the parlour. Maybe she could find some way to make it up to him. Somehow.
He was just coming in with a stack of large books. "Here's the part you've been waiting for," he said.
"Huh?"
"Family photo albums."
"Ooh, keen!" she gushed and plunked down on the sofa. "Gimme."
He chuckled and sat next to her, setting the stack of albums on the floor at their feet. The earlier tension was gone, just like that, and they were back to being friends. How could that be, so easily? But she looked into his face and saw not recrimination or anger or even disappointment. Only affection.
"So," she teased, "are you gonna be embarrassed?"
"I...uh, yes, I rather suspect I am. Though I haven't seen these in probably thirty years. I don't remember most of what's in them." He pulled the first one off the stack.
The first photos were of Mr. Giles as a young man, looking solemn, standing beside a woman Buffy guessed was his mother.
"That's your grandmother? The one who was the watcher?"
"That's right."
"What was her name?"
"Anna. My father was about sixteen there, I think."
"What about your grandfather?"
"He died when my father was just a lad. I really don't know much about him, except that I was named after him."
"Oh, so you're Rupert Giles, Junior?"
"No, a junior is when the son is named after the father. A second has the same name as another relative. But my middle name, William, came from my mother's father, so I'm just Rupert Giles."
"Oh. I never knew your middle name."
He smiled. "You never asked."
The next picture showed Anna and her son with a pretty, young girl. "Who's that, his sister?"
"No, that was...Lucy. Grandmother's first slayer."
Buffy blinked and studied the image carefully. Except for Kendra, she'd never seen another slayer. The diaries she'd read hadn't contained any pictures, so while she knew about Louise Kiefer and Tamara Weigel, she didn't know what they looked like. Lucy, Mrs. Giles's slayer, appeared to be fifteen or sixteen, long dark hair, pale complexion and bright, dark eyes. Buffy wanted to ask how old Lucy had been when she'd died, but realized she really didn't want to know.
Then she frowned. "First slayer? How many did she have?"
"Three. Though the last one, Lizette, she merely trained with another watcher."
"Watcher's apprentice?"
He chuckled at her description. "More or less."
The next page showed more shots of Richard Giles doing various things, including one with him and some friends in black robes much like the photo of Giles on the mantel. "Did he go to Oxford, too?"
"Yes. He was a solicitor-a lawyer who works civil as opposed to criminal cases."
"Yeah, that's what Mrs. Peavey said." Buffy looked closely at the pictures. Richard Giles looked like a younger Giles: similar chin and jaw, same high cheekbones. Though their eyes were different.
Giles turned another page. "Ah, here we are. That's my mother. I believe they were courting here."
Richard Giles's formerly stern expression was softened as he gazed at the girl at his side. And she, in turn, was beautiful. She had the same kind, bright eyes that Giles had, that seemed to twinkle with an inner light.
"How did they meet?" Buffy asked.
"Actually, she was the youngest sister of one of his associates. At the time, he was in London doing what amounted to an obligatory stint with a law office. His mother was in France with her latest slayer, so he was invited to spend the holidays with this associate's family. He always said it was love at first sight." Giles laughed softly. "My mother's version was somewhat different."
"Ooh, good gossip? Tell." Buffy grinned.
"Just that she said it took him almost six months to get up the courage to ask her out. You see, he was almost thirty and she just nineteen. And while he was a shrewd businessman, when it came to matters of the heart, he...."
"Shyness in romance runs in the family?" she said gently, remembering how he was about asking Ms. Calendar out.
He flushed, then cleared his throat. "Yes, well whatever the real story, they were married about a year and a half after they first met." He turned another page. "Here."
The next several pages contained wedding photos. The bride was radiant. Buffy thought she was pretty before, in those other pictures. But here in these photos she looked absolutely beautiful. And her new husband.... Richard Giles had that goofy grin Giles sometimes got when he was especially delighted about something. He used to get it a lot around Ms. Calendar.
She had hardly seen it at all recently.
The next album got into the good stuff. Baby Rupert, from birth to about age five. Like all new parents, the Gileses had taken roll after roll of their baby boy, doing all sorts of things-eating, sleeping, playing, laughing, crying, chewing on his toes....
Giles turned a page, then quickly turned another, but he wasn't fast enough. Buffy got her hand in between the leaves.
"You don't need to see those," he muttered.
"Are you kidding? This is the payoff!" she grinned, teasing.
He frowned and looked away, clearly uncomfortable.
"Look, I promise I won't tell anybody. And if it makes you feel better, someplace my mom has an especially embarrassing picture of me toilet training."
Giles chuckled wryly. "I think there's one like that in here, too."
Buffy laughed. "Why do parents do that? I mean, they must think it's cute, but all I can think of is 'embarrass in front of the boyfriend time'."
That did get a laugh, and reluctantly, he allowed her to turn the page back.
Sure enough, there was little Rupert, with a book, sitting on the potty. She snickered. "With a book yet!"
But the best one, or worst, depending on your point of view, was toddler Rupert, aged two or three, stark naked, running straight for the camera, arms spread wide, a bright, happy grin on his face.
Buffy couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, that's too precious! What were you doing?"
"I have no idea," he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't even know why I was naked."
"You weren't one of those little kids who was always taking off his clothes, were you?" she asked, trying to imagine Giles-her Giles-as an exhibitionist.
"Not that I recall. They probably caught me right after a bath or something." He glanced at her. "There, now I'm thoroughly embarrassed. Can we turn the page, please?"
She smiled. "Yeah, go on."
On the next page was one particular shot that caught her attention. Possibly taken right after the previous one, in this one little Rupert was wrapped in a blanket and sitting on his mother's lap, snuggled up close to her. He was gazing up at her with wide, adoring eyes, and Catherine was holding him gently, a hand stroking through his soft curls as she bent her head to him. It was a perfect illustration of motherhood and Buffy was awed by the impact of that simple image. She touched the photo carefully with a finger.
"That's always been a favorite," Giles said softly, agreeing with her unspoken appreciation.
"You should have that blown up and framed. It's wonderful."
He smiled fondly. "Yes, she...it is." He flushed slightly at his slip of the tongue and she put a hand on his arm in reassurance. She hadn't learned much about his mother, but she knew that her memory was sacred to him. It must be hard for him to look at these pictures, especially now, when he was getting ready for his father's funeral. But he didn't look sad, just...wistful.
He cleared his throat and turned the page. The pictures and albums which followed showed Giles as he grew up: with his mother, with his father, with his grandmother, with friends. One shot was of Giles, around twelve or so, with a beautiful brown horse.
"That was Nimue," he said.
Buffy smiled at the picture. He looked so pleased, so proud. As she'd guessed, Giles at twelve had been tall and skinny, with very long legs and shaggy hair a little lighter in color than it was now. In this photo he had that goofy grin she liked so well.
"You really like horses," she commented.
"Oh, yes. There's a dignity and a majesty to them. All that strength, all that power. And yet there's nothing ferocious about them. They're pack animals who want most of all to follow their leader. Their rider. When horse and rider...connect, when they work together as a team, they become almost one body, one entity. It's truly the most incredible feeling imaginable. Almost like you're no longer just yourself, you're now part of something greater." He stopped, flushed and looked away. "Sorry, I hadn't meant to...wax so rhapsodic."
"No, that's neat. He had such a vivid way of describing things that when he was talking, she could picture the unity of horse and rider, imagining Giles on his brown horse, riding across the fields around Chalworth. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that," she admitted. "The closest I probably ever came was when I used to skate. The first time I landed a jump-actually, the only time, I wasn't very good. But when I landed that jump, it felt like I was flying. I could have raised my arms and soared."
He smiled. "You probably did soar. If only on the ground."
She thought about that for a minute. "Yeah, I guess so." How cool that Giles would understand what she'd meant, what she'd felt.
They returned their attention to the photo albums. Some of the pictures were pretty boring: trips, holidays, family gatherings. People Giles admitted he didn't even know. Family pictures which at one point stopped featuring Catherine Giles.
After that, Richard looked much sadder, older somehow, and there seemed a seriousness about Giles, too. Both of them still smiled for the camera, but it was like there was a tension there, obvious even in the photographs.
The last album had pictures of Giles at Oxford and ended with his graduation. In those, at least, Mr. Giles looked pleased with his son. Both of them wore that same goofy grin. She could see in these photos what she had only guessed at in the nursing home, how much they looked like each other.
Giles closed the last album. "There. So was it worth coming all the way over here to see those?"
Buffy smiled. "Oh yeah. They were fun." Then she looked at him sideways. "Does this mean I have to show you my baby pictures now?"
He laughed. "Only if you want to." He glanced at his watch. "Good lord, we've managed to waste most of the morning."
"Don't think of it as waste. Think of it as...education." His snort told her just what he
thought of that. "How about watcher/slayer bonding?"
He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so. Though I still maintain we could have...bonded...perfectly adequately without your seeing my two-year-old exploits." He stood up. "And I still have to get to the bank before this afternoon."
"Oh." She frowned. "I was hoping we could do some more of that kung fu stuff."
"It's chi kung, not kung fu, and we don't really have time, Buffy. I'm sorry."
"Darn," she pouted. It would have been good to get some training in before they had to sit for so long today. "Tomorrow?"
He smiled. "Yes, all right." He put the albums in one of the boxes he was taking home.