(no subject)
New All Over, Part Eight
Giles had hoped to escape with Wesley so they could have a quiet evening together but found that Oz and Xander had been allocated as their escorts for the night. Buffy looked pleadingly at her mother when it came to saying goodbye and Joyce said tentatively that perhaps Wesley could come and sleep over for a few nights during his stay? And after another begging look from Buffy sighed and said that perhaps also Buffy could stay at Giles’ another night or two if she really felt that Wesley needed her.
“Oh, he does,” Buffy said urgently.
By the time Giles had managed to get Wesley back from the inevitable round of hugs and kisses as they took their leave, he seemed to have been handed some kind of rota for all the things they were going to do over the next week and who would be staying with him and who Wesley would be staying with.
Joyce crouched down to say goodnight to Wesley, checking the buttons of his coat as she did so and feeling his hands to make sure that they were warm. He gazed at her shyly and said: “Thank you for having me and for cooking such a lovely dinner, Mrs Summers.”
Joyce did that melting thing again. “You’re very welcome, Wesley. And I look forward to seeing you again on - is it Wednesday?”
“Thank you, Mrs Summers.”
Giles thought it was probably just as well that Wesley had no idea what it did to even quite sensible females when he gave them the big shy eyes or he could have grown up to be the world’s worst Lothario. Thinking of his utter ineptitude with Cordelia as an adult, even when the girl was practically throwing herself at his feet, he felt another pang. Clearly no one ever had told Wesley, even once, that he was attractive. He had thought it rather amusing when Wesley had observed that he hadn’t got this job through his looks and Buffy had so emphatically agreed but now it rather made him wince. Wesley had been an extremely appealing little boy with perfect manners and a great deal of sensitivity towards others and that didn’t seem to have been encouraged by anyone around him. It had certainly not been encouraged by Giles or any of the ‘Scoobies’ he had to admit. Not that he could think of any way to tell one’s young male replacement that he was really not bad looking at all without it sounding like a come-on, but he could perhaps have found something to praise that might have helped the boy with his self-esteem issues.
Wesley said politely: “Goodnight, Mrs Summers.”
Joyce said, “Goodnight, Wesley” then looked over his head to mouth to Giles: He’s adorable.
Giles nodded and forced a smile, but was still imagining Wesley talking to Joyce in the library, covering for the fact that Giles had been fired and Buffy had been unkind to him. Why? It was very difficult to imagine the young man he thought he knew doing either of those things. Was the young man he thought he knew not then who Wesley actually was? Was that just the disguise Wesley wore when he and the others were around because they made him nervous and flustered him and he imagined that if he betrayed weakness in front of them they would somehow turn on him and tear him apart. As they walked to the car, Giles remember the pack that Xander and those other children had turned into; not so different really from ordinary bullies at first. Had Wesley been bullied at school? He did seem to have evolved some of the strategies that powerless people learned. He thought about people picking on the physically fragile, very sensitive, easily cowed little boy, holding his hand, and felt something jolt inside him. A desire to protect him that was entirely illogical because, of course, whatever had happened to Wesley at school, had already happened.
Even a few days ago he had thought it quite amusing to imagine that Wesley had probably had to dress up as a girl at some point. It seemed to be a tradition of the school he had attended. Now the thought filled him with anger. The last thing this boy needed were any aspersions cast on his masculinity. He was already too inclined to think himself at fault or weak or stupid. He had to bite down a lot of reassurances that Wesley hadn’t asked for and didn’t need right now. The boy had enjoyed his evening. Joyce had been wonderfully kind to him and had won him over a great deal faster than Giles had managed to, and he had been surrounded by people who adored him and whom he adored. He didn’t need to be told that people were just horrible sometimes and it wasn’t a reflection on him when he was feeling perfectly contented.
“We seem to have a busy week,” he observed to Wesley as he buckled him into the car. “Perhaps I should start charging people by the hour when they want to spend time with you.”
Wesley smiled shyly and then said: “Well, Buffy says that she saw me first.”
“Actually, I think I saw you first, and I am your uncle. Buffy’s not even a relative.”
Wesley snickered about that because Giles was being silly. Giles wondered if he had even known that adults could make jokes or say silly things until the last few days.
Xander tapped on the car window. “We’ll follow you.”
“I really don’t think it’s necessary…” Giles began but Xander was already climbing into Oz’s van. Rolling his eyes, Giles slid into the driver’s seat.
Another tap on the window was Buffy saying plaintively: “You’ll remember to call this time?”
“Yes, I’ll call. Now, Goodnight, Buffy.”
He drove away quickly again, and Wesley waved to the girls more cheerfully as they stood on the pavement. “I hope they don’t get cold,” he said in concern. “Buffy isn’t wearing a coat.”
“They’ll be fine,” Giles assured him.
As they drew up outside Giles’s house, Giles saw someone waiting across the street. He looked human but one could never be sure. As he went to open the car door, Oz appeared on the pavement saying urgently: “Wait.”
Xander was already strolling across the road. “Hey, Buddy. We’re a little lost, could you maybe give us some directions…?”
Giles’s instinct was to go after Xander, but before he could open the door, the man turned around to reveal a demonic visage. He snarled: “Sure, you’re going straight to hell…”
“I don’t think so.” Xander threw the holy water and ducked at the same time. As the vampire screamed and clawed at its face, Xander staked it with a brisk efficiency that Giles had rarely seen him display before. He walked back across the road, wiping the dust from his hands.
Oz said: “Okay, you can get out now.”
Giles did so in some irritation. “That was somewhat reckless, Xander.”
Wesley was gazing up at Xander wide-eyed. “That was really brave.”
Xander started preening and then grinned, and picked the little boy up. “Want to listen to my still-hammering heart?” Wesley eagerly did so, pressing his ear to Xander’s chest, and then looked up at Xander in even greater surprise. “You were scared?”
“No, I was terrified.”
A smile spread across Wesley’s face. “Then it was even braver.”
Xander stroked the boy’s disordered hair back from his forehead. “Everyone gets scared, Wesley. Even Buffy.”
“Even Angel?”
“Well, he’s not exactly a person…” Seeing the boy’s expression, Xander sighed. “Yes, even Angel.”
“Let’s get inside,” Oz urged. “Just in case there are any more hanging around.”
Giles found himself and Wesley being ushered in like celebrities past lines of adoring fans, despite the fact that the only thing he could see threatening them at the moment was next door’s shrubbery.
The phone was ringing as they stepped inside and Giles picked it up, saying wearily: “Yes, Buffy, we’re home.”
“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
Not feeling up to dealing with her paranoia, Giles wordlessly passed her over to Oz and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle while Wesley sidled over to where Cuthbert was sitting and gave him a furtive hug of relief. After five minutes of Oz and Xander trying to calm Buffy down, Giles handed Wesley his tea, took the phone from Xander, and said: “It was probably a ploy to get you to come running over here, thereby leaving Willow undefended.”
“You’re right!” Buffy sounded breathless with anxiety. “I’ll call Angel. Send him over to you while I guard Willow. Good thinking, Giles.”
“But…” She had already put the phone down. Sighing, Giles turned to Xander. “Apparently we’re getting a vampire bodyguard for the night.”
“Oh, joy.” Seeing Wesley’s expression, Xander said. “And I really meant that.”
Wesley looked at him sorrowfully. “I wish you wouldn’t fight with Cordelia and Angel.”
Xander looked stricken and Giles noted with interest that Wesley clearly had nothing to learn even from Willow when it came to ‘whammying’ people with the sad reproachful eyes.
“I won’t, I swear,” Xander assured him. And kept to his word, practically falling over himself to open the door for Angel when the vampire arrived in what seemed to Giles to be about five minutes flat. “Hey, Buddy.” He slapped Angel on the shoulder. “How are you doing? Good of you to come over like this. Appreciated.”
Angel looked at Xander for a moment. “Wesley asked for us not to fight?”
Xander nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay then.” Angel nodded to Giles. “I’ll do a sweep.” He turned with a swirl of coat and strode back out into the night.
“That coat is so cool,” Xander observed.
“Oh, do give it up, Xander,” Giles pleaded. “You’re not convincing anyone.”
“No, I actually do think it’s kind of…cool.” Xander slumped down on the sofa and Giles wordlessly handed him and Oz their tea.
Wesley gave Xander a hug. “Thank you for trying.”
“So, what are we doing this evening?” Xander enquired.
Wesley answered brightly: “Well, Uncle Giles and Angel played with the boats last night so perhaps we could put the kite together tonight?”
Giles turned to find Xander and Oz both looking at him open-mouthed, and awkwardly loosened his collar. “Well… When Wesley says ‘played’, it was really more of a session of military strategizing, using the boats as representatives of opposing forces.”
“Isn’t that what ‘playing’ is?” Oz enquired.
“Uncle Giles won,” Wesley added.
Seeing the surprise on Oz and Xander’s faces, Giles found it wasn’t quite so bad for them to know about his playing with boats with Angel.
“Go, Giles,” Oz observed.
Wesley gazed up at Giles. “Is there time for us to put the kite together, Uncle Giles?”
Giles looked at the clock on the wall automatically, and then wondered why he was worrying about bedtimes for a child who was actually twenty-six, would be twenty-six again in less than ten days, and who, in any case, did not have to attend school on the following day, on account of already having several University degrees. “I think we can make time.”
Xander looked at him. “Wow, you’re like wild and crazy no rules guy today.”
“Yes, it’s Wesley’s influence,” Giles deadpanned, delighted to see that Wesley got the joke and got that it wasn’t a joke at his expense, and smiled about it.
The kite turned out to be fiendishly difficult to assemble, being a very complicated Chinese dragon that needed gluing together with the enclosed glue that seemed remarkable for its adhesive qualities in sticking together anything but unpainted balsa wood. Xander surprised Giles by being very good with wood, and Oz and Angel - who had returned from his sweep, wiping some dust from his coat while blandly assuring Wesley that there was absolutely nothing outside to be frightened of, no one out there at all - gradually handed over the assembling to him.
“I like making things,” Xander explained. “It’s satisfying. That’s the problem with schoolwork - too abstract. Now, researching demons, I get. You look up the baby-eating demon, Buffy go kills the baby-eating demon, there’s a result - space where evil baby-eating demon used to be - world a safer place for babies. But x plus y equals z - what the heck is that about? Is z happier for knowing it’s the sum total of x and y? Do x and y resolve their differences knowing they equal z? I don’t think so. I don’t think z even exists. So, who is helped by me doing that sum, eh? This is different. This is - pieces of wood that form no function, now put together in manner to make something that has a function and brings pleasure to a small boy. That, I get.”
Giles had been expecting to be making a snappy retort at the end of Xander’s dismissal of schoolwork but found himself momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then patted the boy on the shoulder. “Xander, I think you just told me more about your motivation than I have ever understood before.”
Xander looked panicked. “I can shut up. See me shutting up.”
“No.” Giles frowned. “I suppose a lot of schoolwork must seem rather pointlessly abstract, especially when you live on a Hellmouth.”
“Well, yeah. When your best friend gets turned into a vampire and your other best friend’s first date is a robot and your other best friend is dating a vampire with a soul and a gypsy curse and - man, I know we’re being friendly and all - but really pretentious hair, dissecting frogs is still really…gross. And also pointless. Which, I think was the point I wanted to make at the beginning of that sentence.”
Oz frowned. “Willow dated a robot?”
Xander patted him on the shoulder. “It was way before she knew you. If she’d known you - that robot wouldn’t have gotten so much as a look in. Also, he was freakishly unattractive.”
Oz considered the point. “Was he taller than me?”
“Yes, but he had absolutely no musical skills of any kind. And also - digitally challenged. No way was he ever going to make that diminished ninth. How’s that coming by the way?”
Oz nodded. “It’s still a distant dream at present but I think there’s been some progress.”
“I could show you if you like…?” Giles offered tentatively. “It’s not as difficult as some people believe.”
Oz sadly shook his head. “Thanks but that would be like - parachuting Lewis and Clark to the source of the Missouri - it’s the journey that counts.”
Xander said: “Who?”
Giles grimaced. “Xander, perhaps there might be a way to maintain a better balance between the theoretical and the practical in your life?”
Wesley whispered to Xander: “I don’t know who they are either.”
“Well, they’re Americans, Wesley,” Giles said dismissively. “It’s not something you would have been taught.” Oz and Xander looked at Giles who cleared his throat. “We do have rather more of our own history to study. Not having come into being five minutes ago like some people’s cultures I could mention there is rather a lot of British history to cover.”
“Really?” Angel put in. “I would have thought it was pretty simple really: England sees a country with something it wants, steals it, kills or enslaves all the locals, robs it of all natural resources, forces it to choke on whatever brand of religion England happens to be peddling at the time, bans the country’s native language, culture, sport, religion, you name it, England probably outlawed it, gets bored, leaves country to its own resources, and then when its torn apart by civil war either divides the country up or gives it ‘Independence’ or both.”
“I know America was a colony at the time of George the Third,” Wesley said helpfully. He frowned. “I think that’s the only time I remember it being mentioned though. Except Daddy said that they spell as if they’re using a Scrabble board that’s run out of ‘u’s.” As Oz and Xander moved their quizzical looks to him, Wesley ducked his head. “I’m sure he meant it as a compliment.”
Giles cleared his throat. “So - the Chinese Dragon. How does that differ from the Welsh Dragon, Wesley…?”
The kite looked spectacular when it was finished. It still needed painting, but Xander assured Wesley that wouldn’t take long.
“We can get you some paint tomorrow, munchkin. And then you can go and fly this baby.”
Wesley looked at Angel. “I only want to fly it at night so Angel can see it too.”
There was an awkward pause and then Angel said, “Wes, I don’t mind. I want you to have a good time. And you won’t be able to see it at night. Neither will anyone else.”
Wesley looked mournful. “But you helped build it. I want you to see it too.”
Giles sighed and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Wesley really was a very nice little boy. Far nicer than he would have expected from meeting the adult version. Was the difference that this boy hadn’t been hardened by his experiences at school? Except it was ludicrous to think of the adult Wesley being in any way ‘hardened’. He was a boy in adult’s clothing. That was one of the many annoying things about him. Perhaps it was just because this Wesley, the child version, was being included, rather than excluded, and felt wanted and needed, not extra to everyone’s needs.
“Suggestion.” Everyone turned to look at Oz, who was wearing that quiet little smile of his. “Phosphorescent paint.”
Xander slapped him on the shoulder. “Genius at work.”
Wesley beamed up at Angel. “Everyone will be able to see it then and you can come with us.”
Angel looked so touched that Wesley wanted him there that Giles saw Xander actually swallow the snarky comment he had been about to make.
Giles carried in some hot chocolate for everyone and pointed out that it was getting rather late. “If you’re planning to go to school tomorrow…”
“But we’re not,” Xander assured him, accepting the hot chocolate.
Giles sighed. “I’m really not comfortable about being an accessory to your truancy, Xander but I suppose as you’ve already taken your exams…”
Somewhat to Giles’ surprise, Angel took the mug he had made for him too and sipped it quietly. “Who gets to read Wesley’s story tonight?”
“Me!” Xander’s hand shot in the air.
“Is that all right with you, Wesley?” Giles asked.
Wesley nodded. “Yes.”
Xander reached for Cuthbert. “And is that okay with you?” He made Cuthbert nod eagerly and Wesley giggled.
Giles watched as Oz and Xander got Wesley into his pyjamas, and carried him upstairs. Oz set up the nightlight while Xander read him his story. He and Angel both sort of drifted up after them to stand in the doorway and watch the two young men sitting on Wesley’s bed; Oz tucking Cuthbert under the covers and Xander reading the next chapter of The Magician’s Nephew with every sign of enjoyment.
When he snuggled down to go to sleep, Xander bent down and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”
Oz touched Wesley’s hair gently and then they were both backing out of the room.
“He’s so cute,” Angel observed.
Everyone looked at him. “Stop doing the doting thing,” Xander warned him. “It’s freaking me out. You’re a vampire. Try to act like one - only not so much with the killing and maiming.”
Giles realized that he was exhausted. “You all know where everything is, don’t you?” There were murmurings of assent, the tramp of them going downstairs, muffled snipings from Angel and Xander, quiet commonsense from Oz, then the low murmur of the television. Giles went into Wesley’s room, said goodnight, tucked his hand under the covers so it wouldn’t get cold, and then headed out.
Wesley murmured sleepily: “Good night, Uncle Giles.”
Giles was in bed when the phone rang. There was a time when a midnight phonecall would have had him leaping out of bed expecting the worst, but now he just turned over, and let Angel answer it downstairs.
“Buffy, he’s fine…”
Still smiling, Giles drifted into sleep.
***
Xander surprised Giles the next day by offering to read up on the properties of phosphorescent paint and applying it to the kite. Giles gave him the money to pay for the paint - it was ludicrously expensive - but then left him to it, and he and Wesley had a very happy time painting the kite with the glow-in-the-dark paint. As it was then lunchtime, Giles suggested that they went to the zoo where Xander could explain to Wesley all the reasons why one didn’t go into the areas marked ‘no entry’ and they could have lunch.
Xander’s way of giving Wesley information was to make things up and not pretend he was doing anything other than making things up, which made Wesley howl with laughter.
“Lions don’t come from Australia!”
“How do you know? Did you ask them? They could have been…touring there. Next you’re going to be telling me that elephants don’t come from South America.”
“They don’t!” Wesley giggled helplessly as Xander lifted him up so he could see better. “They come from Africa and Asia.”
“Prove it!” Xander countered.
Wesley pointed triumphantly to the information posted outside of the enclosure. “It says it right here. It says these are Indian elephants and you can tell that because they have smaller ears and tusks.”
“Okay, so they should just say these kind are the ones in the ‘Jungle Book’ and the other kind are the ones in ‘The Lion King’. These people are just not hip with the contemporary culture references.”
Watching Xander and Wesley together, it occurred to Giles that he knew too many people who were unwanted sons. Angel, Xander, and Wesley clearly all had daddy issues to burn, although, thankfully, both Xander and Wesley had, as yet, refrained from eating their fathers to pay him back for their lack of love.
“Okay, and here’s where we talk about why hyaenas are really not very nice at all and how you should never ever let them put their mystical mojo on you because it never goes well…”
Giles managed to get lunch for all three of them with minimal interference from the other two, so rapt was Wesley by Xander’s account of what had happened when he was possessed by an evil hyaena spirit.
“I thought you had no memory of those events, Xander?” Giles enquired.
Xander grimaced. “Oh yes, that’s right. We don’t actually tell Buffy, Willow or Cordy - or anyone, really, about the whole me remembering it thing.”
Wesley was still gazing at him wide-eyed. “You were mean to Willow?”
“It wasn’t me! It was the evil hyaena spirit - because I would never be mean to Willow.”
“No one should be mean to Willow. Or Buffy. Or Cordelia.” Wesley noticed the tray of food and smiled shyly at Giles. “Thank you, Uncle Giles.”
“Okay - Buffy and Willow, I’m definitely on board for that, but I think there should be special dispensation for people being mean to Cordelia if she’s mean to them.”
Wesley sipped his chocolate milk and looked disapprovingly at Xander. “It’s not nice to be mean to girls.”
“But sometimes girls are really mean!”
“Are they?” Wesley looked surprised by that. “When?”
Xander blinked in confusion. “The girls at your school aren’t mean to you? I figured they would be beating you up and stealing your lunch money for sure.”
“There aren’t any girls at my school, just boys.”
Xander looked at him carefully. “Are they mean to you?”
“Sometimes. But I’m good at hiding.” Wesley picked up the sandwich Giles had bought for him and ate it slowly, savouring every bite. “This is really nice.”
“It’s something with peanut butter and jelly that Buffy made me promise to buy you. Do you really like it?”
Wesley nodded emphatically. Xander was still looking at him in concern. “So, these boys who are mean to you…? You want to - give me their names…?”
Giles rested a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Wesley was at school eighteen years ago, Xander, remember? Those little boys would now be older than you.”
“So? I’m allowed to beat them up then, aren’t I?”
“You don’t think that continuing the cycle of violence is something to be avoided?”
“Sure, in theory. I just think sometimes it’s nice, when you’re the guy everyone else picks on, if someone stands up for you for a change.”
Giles had a sudden memory of their exasperation with Wesley after he had interfered with Angel’s plan to try to get through to Faith. He grimaced. “Sometimes, bullies don’t know that’s what they’re being. They’re just angry or feel threatened in some way.” He met Xander’s eyes and saw the blank confusion in Xander’s brown eyes turn to comprehension.
He winced. “Yeah, well, I suppose we all have it in us to be bullies.”
“When we’re possessed by evil hyaena spirits?” Wesley asked.
“Or not.” Xander sat back in his chair and summoned a smile with difficulty. “So, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, what do you want to do to work off that peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Want to watch the monkeys? How about the gorillas.”
“I was trying to learn a spell to let them out,” Wesley admitted.
“Let whom out?” Giles asked.
“The gorillas. They’re higher primates, which means they’re really like our relatives, so I thought they should be let out, really.” He looked up at them innocently. “It was a spell for dissolving iron but it was really tricky.”
Xander said blankly: “Wesley, you’re eight.”
“I know.”
Giles took off his glasses. “I think what Xander is saying is that eight is - rather young to be learning spells.”
Wesley sighed. “Daddy was cross.” He rubbed his right hand over his left reflexively. “He doesn’t like me learning spells.” He looked up at Giles anxiously. “Are you cross?”
“No!” Giles shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“But - still don’t do it,” Xander added.
Wesley transferred his anxious gaze to Xander. “Are you cross?”
“No.” Xander looked as horror stricken as Giles had felt when that question was addressed to him. “Never, Wes. I’m so not cross that I’m going to have to buy you an ice cream.”
They spent the rest of the day in the zoo - Xander watching carefully to be sure that Wesley wasn’t attempting any spells - with Wesley being fed a great deal of ice-cream, and getting so that he hardly flinched when it dripped onto his clothes by the end of the day. Xander was kind, patient, and endlessly good-natured with the little boy, and had to be prevented from spending all his allowance on toys for the boy in the gift shop. Giles put a restraining hand on Xander’s arm, knowing that the boy was not exactly well off. “Let me get it.”
Xander sighed. “Okay, but you have to let me carry him back to the car.”
Giles smiled. “Deal.”
They arrived back at Giles’s house at 5pm to find Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia all standing outside with their arms folded.
“What?” Xander demanded defensively.
Buffy tapped her watch. “We were supposed to get him from 3pm onwards. You’ve had two hours of our time.”
Wesley said: “Buffy!” and, as Xander put him down, ran to her. Buffy immediately forgot all about being angry and swooped him up into her arms for a cuddle and the inevitable feeling of his forehead. She was only allowed the briefest hug before Cordelia snagged him from her and gave him a hug of her own.
Xander looked at Giles. “See? Grabby.”
Willow was kissing him gently, while stroking his hair back from his forehead. “Did you have a nice day with Xander and Giles?”
“Oh yes, it was so much fun. We went and looked at the hyaenas and Xander told me about when…” Noticing Xander shaking his head and making rapid throat cutting motions, Wesley remembered and said: “…when he was possessed by a hyaena spirit, but unfortunately, he doesn’t remember anything that happened so he couldn’t really tell me about it…” His voice trailed off.
Oz smirked into his shirt and murmured: “Good save,” to Wesley.
Buffy gave Xander an amused look and plucked Wesley back from Cordelia. “I think you’ll find I saw him first and that gives me first dibs on the cuddling.”
Giles went indoors and put the kettle on, now quite used to everyone trampling over his floors and stealing the best places on his chairs. The girls were very impressed with the kite.
Buffy patted Xander on the shoulder. “You’re like total woodworking guy.”
“Well, he has to make a start on his life in the construction business sometime,” Cordelia sniffed.
Wesley whammied her with the reproachful eyes. “Xander is really clever at building things. I hope he does build houses and things for people. I bet they’d never fall down.”
Cordelia looked stricken. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean to be…mean. I’m sure Xander would build the best houses ever.”
Wesley looked mollified and Xander had to work hard not to look smug. Buffy made admiring noises about the kite. “So, are we going to fly this then?”
“When it’s dark,” Wesley explained. “So, Angel can be there.”
“Glow-in-the-dark paint,” Xander explained. “Oz’s idea.”
“We couldn’t fly it in the light first and then fly it for Angel after…?” Buffy suggested.
Wesley shook his head. “He has to see the first time.”
“The kid’s big with the Angel love,” Xander shrugged. “The only flaw in an otherwise perfect child.” Wesley looked at him in shock and Xander said hastily. “Teeny weeny flaw. Hardly a flaw at all really.”
Giles said quietly, “I think it’s the ‘perfect’ Wesley is having trouble comprehending, Xander.”
Buffy looked at Wesley’s face and then lifted him up. “You don’t know you’re perfect? Sheesh. And I thought you were smart.” She pulled him against her chest and kissed his hair. “You’re completely perfect.”
Wesley said tentatively. “Buffy…?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I think I just got ice cream on your blouse. There was some on my jumper and…”
Buffy peeled him off her a little stickily and Cordelia and Willow hastily began to check their own clothes for ice cream. Buffy dabbed at her front. “Okay, you’re completely perfect in a kind of sticky ice-creamy sort of way - but perfect nevertheless.”
Wesley dabbed at her blouse apologetically. “I’m sorry about the chocolate sauce.”
Giles sighed and fetched a flannel to wipe off Wesley’s face, hands, and clothing, then passed it onto Buffy and Cordelia who both attempted to remove the stains from their no doubt very expensive clothing, in between cooing at Wesley that it wasn’t his fault, and pressing kisses into his hair.
Xander shook his head. “Now, how come no one just kisses me when I do that?”
“We’re blaming you,” Buffy told him. “You bought Wesley the ice cream.”
“Would you like to go home and change your clothes?” Giles suggested. “Wesley could probably do with a bath…”
“Don’t you dare bathe him!” Buffy pointed an accusing finger. “We’ve been looking forward to bath-time for two days.”
“I’m sure it can’t be good for the boy to be shuffled from pillar to post…” Giles began.
Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I won’t use force. We get him for tonight and all of tomorrow and tomorrow night. That’s the deal.”
“Buffy, I’m not trying to - steal your privileges, but as he’s going to need a change of clothing…”
“Okay, but we get to bathe him. You can go and…play boats or something.” Buffy took Wesley firmly by the hand and led him towards the bathroom. He ran along beside her, looking up a little anxiously.
Oz looked at Xander. “Like I said the first time I met her - a tense person.”
“But you’ve been able to play with Wesley for days, and we’ve hardly seen him,” Willow protested.
“We weren’t ‘playing’,” Xander said loftily. “I’ll have you know that both Giles and I have been concentrating on expanding his mind with educational field trips.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Giles handed Xander a cup of tea. “Entirely educational.”
Willow plucked a furry tiger from the gift shop bag and held it up wordlessly. Cordelia peered into the bag and retrieved a selection of plastic dinosaurs. “Yes, because tigers are so often fluffy and dinosaurs pink and spotted.”
“They may have been,” Giles countered. “Really any colouring for dinosaurs is entirely guesswork on the part of the palaeontologists. They could have been day-glo orange for all that anyone knows. There are some species of lizards with remarkably bright colouring after all.”
Cordelia’s lip curled. “No way was this an educational field trip! You just had fun all day and got to stuff Wesley with ice cream!”
“We were practising our parenting skills,” Xander returned. “Like with those egg-babies. Only not so much with the hard-boiling and eating him.”
“Oh, like either of you two losers are ever likely to be parents…” Cordelia snorted and then, remembering Wesley, put a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean that in a mean way - and I’m going to go and help with the bathing now.”
Oz waited until Cordelia was out of earshot before asking quietly: “Are you going to be okay this evening? Without Wesley, I mean?”
Giles thought of there being no little boy in the bed upstairs and none of their routine before bedtime, of hot milk and reading C.S. Lewis together and sighed. “Well, you know, it’s not as if I usually have a child here.”
Xander put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Want us to stay over?”
Giles grimaced. “If you wouldn’t mind…?”
They watched the sun go down together; Buffy holding Wesley in his arms as they watched it sink behind the sea.
“Does Angel ever get to see any sunsets?” Wesley asked.
“I think so, sometimes,” she said. “If he’s indoors and in the shade, I think he can watch them.”
“Does he miss seeing things in the daylight?”
“I suppose after two hundred years you probably can’t remember living any other way.”
Wesley cuddled in against her; the temperature already noticeably cooler as the sun sank and the darkness came in. Giles watched them and thought that Buffy could either have this, motherhood, someone to take care of who wasn’t just the faceless public, and who would love her in return; or she could have this half a life with Angel.
When Giles turned around, he saw that Angel was watching Buffy and Wesley, and the expression on his face was so full of yearning that Giles had to look away. Joyce had said that Angel had ‘made his choice’ but he somehow doubted that Darla would have asked before she bit. He had been murdered and damned, that was the reality of it; and then had murdered and damned others, before being punished with the restoration of his soul. He had probably been rather a stupid young man; the records seemed to suggest he had been a sorrow to his father - a god-fearing and hard-working linen merchant - and had no doubt been a drunken useless layabout; but he had still not been offered a choice before he was robbed of his life and his soul and doomed to walk in darkness.
Then Wesley turned around and Angel plastered a smile onto his face that looked as if it had always been there and walked forwards to say, “Hey, Wes. Did you stop Xander getting hexed by any evil hyaena spirits at the zoo?”
“Yes, Xander said the secret is to eat lots of ice cream.” Wesley let himself be lifted into Angel’s arms, then sat on his hip as if there had never been a time when he didn’t have an Uncle Giles who shared his parenting amongst a Slayer, the Scoobies, and a vampire with a soul. “It works really well too.”
Angel frowned. “Your hair is damp.”
“I had a bath.”
“Before coming out at night?”
“In California,” Giles pointed out. “It’s not exactly Alaska.”
Buffy said anxiously: “Do you think he’s going to catch a chill?”
“He is wearing a t-shirt, a shirt, a sweater, and a jacket, Buffy,” Oz pointed out. “The chill is going to have to work some to reach him.”
“Still, damp hair at night…” Angel murmured.
Cordelia said: “You know, it’s probably a good thing that vampires can’t breed, because quite apart from never being able to get the kids to daycare when the sun’s out - totally paranoid.”
Wesley licked his finger and held it up. “It’s quite windy. Do you think it’s dark enough for the paint to show up?”
“Only one way to find out.” Oz held up the kite.
Xander gave Wesley the kite string to unwind and carefully smoothed out the long carefully-painted tail. It was clear that the paint was going to show up admirably as they could only just see each other’s faces but they could see the Chinese dragon undulating very well.
“You know what to do?” Xander asked him. “You throw it up into the wind and then you let out the string. Okay? And don’t worry if it takes five or six attempts because it usually does. Well, it does when I do it anyway. It’s really down to luck if the wind catches it right and no one knows when that’s going to happen.”
Giles watched the tension that had been building up in Wesley lessen a little as Xander added that last couple of sentences.
Wesley said tentatively: “There isn’t a right way to do it?”
Oz shrugged. “Well, maybe, but none of us know it so you may as well just - toss and hope.”
Wesley looked a little less stressed about being the cynosure of all eyes. He took a deep breath, put his shoulders back, and tossed the kite up. It immediately fell onto the beach with a dull thud. Wesley bit his lip.
“I’m so glad it isn’t just me that always happens to,” Buffy said.
“Me too!” Willow added. “I used to think my kites were cursed.”
Angel said, “Do you think it’s windier when you’re up higher?”
Wesley picked the kite back up, Buffy crouching down to make sure the string wasn’t tangled. “It could be.”
“Shall we try it from my shoulders?”
Wesley smiled in relief. “Okay.”
Angel picked him up and swung him onto his shoulders. “Does it feel any windier?”
“Much,” Wesley told him.
“Okay, do you want to try throwing it up into the air again and see what happens? Try to get it to hit Xander if it falls down because that would just be really funny.”
“Angel…” Wesley gave him a reproachful look.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, big guy, but a really big stake jammed into your heart still turns you to dust every time.”
Oz murmured quietly: “You do know that doesn’t rhyme or in any way scan, right?”
“Please throw the kite, Wesley,” Giles pleaded. “And if you could somehow injure both Xander and Angel with it while doing so, I would be eternally grateful.”
Wesley threw the kite up into the air and a breeze snatched it up and whisked it up into the air. Giles was only just quick enough to see that little finger waggle and toss of herbs from Willow and didn’t know whether to be glad she had done that or to worry about her using magic frivolously.
Except it didn’t look like a ‘frivolous’ use of magic when he saw Wesley’s face. The boy was letting out the kite string while gazing up at the shimmering pale dragon undulating in the wind, its tail waving sinuously, and the pride and pleasure on his face as the kite climbed higher and higher made it seem as if there could be no better use for magic. Angel lifted him down carefully so he would be standing on his own two feet while flying the kite, and the wind caught at the kite even more strongly, making it surge upwards, Wesley with his feet planted on the sand, his thin wrists braced against the pull of the kite.
Giles just enjoyed the pleasure on the little boy’s face for moment; his wonder at something working for a change; the kite doing as kites were meant to do, only this one being so much grander and the glowing paint giving it a beautiful, supernatural appearance. Then Giles looked at Angel and immediately wanted Wesley to see it too. He walked around behind them and gently put his hand on Wesley’s arm, then when the boy look at him in enquiry nodded his head at Angel. Wesley turned and saw what Giles had seen: Angel gazing up at that kite with as much wonder as Wesley, watching it gyrate and float in the wind, the long body of the dragon seeming to ride out the wind with perfect rhythm, the glowing kite tail sinuous as a snake, and behind it the starlight. Giles wondered how long it was since Angel had seen a kite and how much longer still since he had flown one.
Wesley seemed to have the thought at the same time and held up the handle. “It’s a bit strong for me, Angel. My hands are tired. Can you hold it?”
Angel took the kite string from him almost dazedly, still looking up at the kite riding out the breeze, shimmering backwards and forwards in the wind, a glow of white light against the velvety midnight blue backdrop. He smiled as the wind caught at it and the dragon appeared to be floating there, beautiful and strange, and Wesley gazed at him with so much compassion and pleasure because Angel was happy.
Giles turned to see that Xander and Oz and Willow and Buffy were also all watching Angel fly the kite and Wesley watching him and smiling. After a moment Buffy slipped her hand into Xander’s and said softly: “Thank you.”
Xander was still looking at Angel’s face as the kite was snatched up by the wind and then left to float on another eddy, that wonder and pleasure on his face because he hadn’t done this for more than two hundred years and thought he would never be able to again. “For what?”
“Putting the kite together. Painting it so carefully.”
Xander looked back at Angel and Wesley watching Angel before he turned to Buffy. “It was worth it.”
Giles had hoped to escape with Wesley so they could have a quiet evening together but found that Oz and Xander had been allocated as their escorts for the night. Buffy looked pleadingly at her mother when it came to saying goodbye and Joyce said tentatively that perhaps Wesley could come and sleep over for a few nights during his stay? And after another begging look from Buffy sighed and said that perhaps also Buffy could stay at Giles’ another night or two if she really felt that Wesley needed her.
“Oh, he does,” Buffy said urgently.
By the time Giles had managed to get Wesley back from the inevitable round of hugs and kisses as they took their leave, he seemed to have been handed some kind of rota for all the things they were going to do over the next week and who would be staying with him and who Wesley would be staying with.
Joyce crouched down to say goodnight to Wesley, checking the buttons of his coat as she did so and feeling his hands to make sure that they were warm. He gazed at her shyly and said: “Thank you for having me and for cooking such a lovely dinner, Mrs Summers.”
Joyce did that melting thing again. “You’re very welcome, Wesley. And I look forward to seeing you again on - is it Wednesday?”
“Thank you, Mrs Summers.”
Giles thought it was probably just as well that Wesley had no idea what it did to even quite sensible females when he gave them the big shy eyes or he could have grown up to be the world’s worst Lothario. Thinking of his utter ineptitude with Cordelia as an adult, even when the girl was practically throwing herself at his feet, he felt another pang. Clearly no one ever had told Wesley, even once, that he was attractive. He had thought it rather amusing when Wesley had observed that he hadn’t got this job through his looks and Buffy had so emphatically agreed but now it rather made him wince. Wesley had been an extremely appealing little boy with perfect manners and a great deal of sensitivity towards others and that didn’t seem to have been encouraged by anyone around him. It had certainly not been encouraged by Giles or any of the ‘Scoobies’ he had to admit. Not that he could think of any way to tell one’s young male replacement that he was really not bad looking at all without it sounding like a come-on, but he could perhaps have found something to praise that might have helped the boy with his self-esteem issues.
Wesley said politely: “Goodnight, Mrs Summers.”
Joyce said, “Goodnight, Wesley” then looked over his head to mouth to Giles: He’s adorable.
Giles nodded and forced a smile, but was still imagining Wesley talking to Joyce in the library, covering for the fact that Giles had been fired and Buffy had been unkind to him. Why? It was very difficult to imagine the young man he thought he knew doing either of those things. Was the young man he thought he knew not then who Wesley actually was? Was that just the disguise Wesley wore when he and the others were around because they made him nervous and flustered him and he imagined that if he betrayed weakness in front of them they would somehow turn on him and tear him apart. As they walked to the car, Giles remember the pack that Xander and those other children had turned into; not so different really from ordinary bullies at first. Had Wesley been bullied at school? He did seem to have evolved some of the strategies that powerless people learned. He thought about people picking on the physically fragile, very sensitive, easily cowed little boy, holding his hand, and felt something jolt inside him. A desire to protect him that was entirely illogical because, of course, whatever had happened to Wesley at school, had already happened.
Even a few days ago he had thought it quite amusing to imagine that Wesley had probably had to dress up as a girl at some point. It seemed to be a tradition of the school he had attended. Now the thought filled him with anger. The last thing this boy needed were any aspersions cast on his masculinity. He was already too inclined to think himself at fault or weak or stupid. He had to bite down a lot of reassurances that Wesley hadn’t asked for and didn’t need right now. The boy had enjoyed his evening. Joyce had been wonderfully kind to him and had won him over a great deal faster than Giles had managed to, and he had been surrounded by people who adored him and whom he adored. He didn’t need to be told that people were just horrible sometimes and it wasn’t a reflection on him when he was feeling perfectly contented.
“We seem to have a busy week,” he observed to Wesley as he buckled him into the car. “Perhaps I should start charging people by the hour when they want to spend time with you.”
Wesley smiled shyly and then said: “Well, Buffy says that she saw me first.”
“Actually, I think I saw you first, and I am your uncle. Buffy’s not even a relative.”
Wesley snickered about that because Giles was being silly. Giles wondered if he had even known that adults could make jokes or say silly things until the last few days.
Xander tapped on the car window. “We’ll follow you.”
“I really don’t think it’s necessary…” Giles began but Xander was already climbing into Oz’s van. Rolling his eyes, Giles slid into the driver’s seat.
Another tap on the window was Buffy saying plaintively: “You’ll remember to call this time?”
“Yes, I’ll call. Now, Goodnight, Buffy.”
He drove away quickly again, and Wesley waved to the girls more cheerfully as they stood on the pavement. “I hope they don’t get cold,” he said in concern. “Buffy isn’t wearing a coat.”
“They’ll be fine,” Giles assured him.
As they drew up outside Giles’s house, Giles saw someone waiting across the street. He looked human but one could never be sure. As he went to open the car door, Oz appeared on the pavement saying urgently: “Wait.”
Xander was already strolling across the road. “Hey, Buddy. We’re a little lost, could you maybe give us some directions…?”
Giles’s instinct was to go after Xander, but before he could open the door, the man turned around to reveal a demonic visage. He snarled: “Sure, you’re going straight to hell…”
“I don’t think so.” Xander threw the holy water and ducked at the same time. As the vampire screamed and clawed at its face, Xander staked it with a brisk efficiency that Giles had rarely seen him display before. He walked back across the road, wiping the dust from his hands.
Oz said: “Okay, you can get out now.”
Giles did so in some irritation. “That was somewhat reckless, Xander.”
Wesley was gazing up at Xander wide-eyed. “That was really brave.”
Xander started preening and then grinned, and picked the little boy up. “Want to listen to my still-hammering heart?” Wesley eagerly did so, pressing his ear to Xander’s chest, and then looked up at Xander in even greater surprise. “You were scared?”
“No, I was terrified.”
A smile spread across Wesley’s face. “Then it was even braver.”
Xander stroked the boy’s disordered hair back from his forehead. “Everyone gets scared, Wesley. Even Buffy.”
“Even Angel?”
“Well, he’s not exactly a person…” Seeing the boy’s expression, Xander sighed. “Yes, even Angel.”
“Let’s get inside,” Oz urged. “Just in case there are any more hanging around.”
Giles found himself and Wesley being ushered in like celebrities past lines of adoring fans, despite the fact that the only thing he could see threatening them at the moment was next door’s shrubbery.
The phone was ringing as they stepped inside and Giles picked it up, saying wearily: “Yes, Buffy, we’re home.”
“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
Not feeling up to dealing with her paranoia, Giles wordlessly passed her over to Oz and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle while Wesley sidled over to where Cuthbert was sitting and gave him a furtive hug of relief. After five minutes of Oz and Xander trying to calm Buffy down, Giles handed Wesley his tea, took the phone from Xander, and said: “It was probably a ploy to get you to come running over here, thereby leaving Willow undefended.”
“You’re right!” Buffy sounded breathless with anxiety. “I’ll call Angel. Send him over to you while I guard Willow. Good thinking, Giles.”
“But…” She had already put the phone down. Sighing, Giles turned to Xander. “Apparently we’re getting a vampire bodyguard for the night.”
“Oh, joy.” Seeing Wesley’s expression, Xander said. “And I really meant that.”
Wesley looked at him sorrowfully. “I wish you wouldn’t fight with Cordelia and Angel.”
Xander looked stricken and Giles noted with interest that Wesley clearly had nothing to learn even from Willow when it came to ‘whammying’ people with the sad reproachful eyes.
“I won’t, I swear,” Xander assured him. And kept to his word, practically falling over himself to open the door for Angel when the vampire arrived in what seemed to Giles to be about five minutes flat. “Hey, Buddy.” He slapped Angel on the shoulder. “How are you doing? Good of you to come over like this. Appreciated.”
Angel looked at Xander for a moment. “Wesley asked for us not to fight?”
Xander nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay then.” Angel nodded to Giles. “I’ll do a sweep.” He turned with a swirl of coat and strode back out into the night.
“That coat is so cool,” Xander observed.
“Oh, do give it up, Xander,” Giles pleaded. “You’re not convincing anyone.”
“No, I actually do think it’s kind of…cool.” Xander slumped down on the sofa and Giles wordlessly handed him and Oz their tea.
Wesley gave Xander a hug. “Thank you for trying.”
“So, what are we doing this evening?” Xander enquired.
Wesley answered brightly: “Well, Uncle Giles and Angel played with the boats last night so perhaps we could put the kite together tonight?”
Giles turned to find Xander and Oz both looking at him open-mouthed, and awkwardly loosened his collar. “Well… When Wesley says ‘played’, it was really more of a session of military strategizing, using the boats as representatives of opposing forces.”
“Isn’t that what ‘playing’ is?” Oz enquired.
“Uncle Giles won,” Wesley added.
Seeing the surprise on Oz and Xander’s faces, Giles found it wasn’t quite so bad for them to know about his playing with boats with Angel.
“Go, Giles,” Oz observed.
Wesley gazed up at Giles. “Is there time for us to put the kite together, Uncle Giles?”
Giles looked at the clock on the wall automatically, and then wondered why he was worrying about bedtimes for a child who was actually twenty-six, would be twenty-six again in less than ten days, and who, in any case, did not have to attend school on the following day, on account of already having several University degrees. “I think we can make time.”
Xander looked at him. “Wow, you’re like wild and crazy no rules guy today.”
“Yes, it’s Wesley’s influence,” Giles deadpanned, delighted to see that Wesley got the joke and got that it wasn’t a joke at his expense, and smiled about it.
The kite turned out to be fiendishly difficult to assemble, being a very complicated Chinese dragon that needed gluing together with the enclosed glue that seemed remarkable for its adhesive qualities in sticking together anything but unpainted balsa wood. Xander surprised Giles by being very good with wood, and Oz and Angel - who had returned from his sweep, wiping some dust from his coat while blandly assuring Wesley that there was absolutely nothing outside to be frightened of, no one out there at all - gradually handed over the assembling to him.
“I like making things,” Xander explained. “It’s satisfying. That’s the problem with schoolwork - too abstract. Now, researching demons, I get. You look up the baby-eating demon, Buffy go kills the baby-eating demon, there’s a result - space where evil baby-eating demon used to be - world a safer place for babies. But x plus y equals z - what the heck is that about? Is z happier for knowing it’s the sum total of x and y? Do x and y resolve their differences knowing they equal z? I don’t think so. I don’t think z even exists. So, who is helped by me doing that sum, eh? This is different. This is - pieces of wood that form no function, now put together in manner to make something that has a function and brings pleasure to a small boy. That, I get.”
Giles had been expecting to be making a snappy retort at the end of Xander’s dismissal of schoolwork but found himself momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then patted the boy on the shoulder. “Xander, I think you just told me more about your motivation than I have ever understood before.”
Xander looked panicked. “I can shut up. See me shutting up.”
“No.” Giles frowned. “I suppose a lot of schoolwork must seem rather pointlessly abstract, especially when you live on a Hellmouth.”
“Well, yeah. When your best friend gets turned into a vampire and your other best friend’s first date is a robot and your other best friend is dating a vampire with a soul and a gypsy curse and - man, I know we’re being friendly and all - but really pretentious hair, dissecting frogs is still really…gross. And also pointless. Which, I think was the point I wanted to make at the beginning of that sentence.”
Oz frowned. “Willow dated a robot?”
Xander patted him on the shoulder. “It was way before she knew you. If she’d known you - that robot wouldn’t have gotten so much as a look in. Also, he was freakishly unattractive.”
Oz considered the point. “Was he taller than me?”
“Yes, but he had absolutely no musical skills of any kind. And also - digitally challenged. No way was he ever going to make that diminished ninth. How’s that coming by the way?”
Oz nodded. “It’s still a distant dream at present but I think there’s been some progress.”
“I could show you if you like…?” Giles offered tentatively. “It’s not as difficult as some people believe.”
Oz sadly shook his head. “Thanks but that would be like - parachuting Lewis and Clark to the source of the Missouri - it’s the journey that counts.”
Xander said: “Who?”
Giles grimaced. “Xander, perhaps there might be a way to maintain a better balance between the theoretical and the practical in your life?”
Wesley whispered to Xander: “I don’t know who they are either.”
“Well, they’re Americans, Wesley,” Giles said dismissively. “It’s not something you would have been taught.” Oz and Xander looked at Giles who cleared his throat. “We do have rather more of our own history to study. Not having come into being five minutes ago like some people’s cultures I could mention there is rather a lot of British history to cover.”
“Really?” Angel put in. “I would have thought it was pretty simple really: England sees a country with something it wants, steals it, kills or enslaves all the locals, robs it of all natural resources, forces it to choke on whatever brand of religion England happens to be peddling at the time, bans the country’s native language, culture, sport, religion, you name it, England probably outlawed it, gets bored, leaves country to its own resources, and then when its torn apart by civil war either divides the country up or gives it ‘Independence’ or both.”
“I know America was a colony at the time of George the Third,” Wesley said helpfully. He frowned. “I think that’s the only time I remember it being mentioned though. Except Daddy said that they spell as if they’re using a Scrabble board that’s run out of ‘u’s.” As Oz and Xander moved their quizzical looks to him, Wesley ducked his head. “I’m sure he meant it as a compliment.”
Giles cleared his throat. “So - the Chinese Dragon. How does that differ from the Welsh Dragon, Wesley…?”
The kite looked spectacular when it was finished. It still needed painting, but Xander assured Wesley that wouldn’t take long.
“We can get you some paint tomorrow, munchkin. And then you can go and fly this baby.”
Wesley looked at Angel. “I only want to fly it at night so Angel can see it too.”
There was an awkward pause and then Angel said, “Wes, I don’t mind. I want you to have a good time. And you won’t be able to see it at night. Neither will anyone else.”
Wesley looked mournful. “But you helped build it. I want you to see it too.”
Giles sighed and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Wesley really was a very nice little boy. Far nicer than he would have expected from meeting the adult version. Was the difference that this boy hadn’t been hardened by his experiences at school? Except it was ludicrous to think of the adult Wesley being in any way ‘hardened’. He was a boy in adult’s clothing. That was one of the many annoying things about him. Perhaps it was just because this Wesley, the child version, was being included, rather than excluded, and felt wanted and needed, not extra to everyone’s needs.
“Suggestion.” Everyone turned to look at Oz, who was wearing that quiet little smile of his. “Phosphorescent paint.”
Xander slapped him on the shoulder. “Genius at work.”
Wesley beamed up at Angel. “Everyone will be able to see it then and you can come with us.”
Angel looked so touched that Wesley wanted him there that Giles saw Xander actually swallow the snarky comment he had been about to make.
Giles carried in some hot chocolate for everyone and pointed out that it was getting rather late. “If you’re planning to go to school tomorrow…”
“But we’re not,” Xander assured him, accepting the hot chocolate.
Giles sighed. “I’m really not comfortable about being an accessory to your truancy, Xander but I suppose as you’ve already taken your exams…”
Somewhat to Giles’ surprise, Angel took the mug he had made for him too and sipped it quietly. “Who gets to read Wesley’s story tonight?”
“Me!” Xander’s hand shot in the air.
“Is that all right with you, Wesley?” Giles asked.
Wesley nodded. “Yes.”
Xander reached for Cuthbert. “And is that okay with you?” He made Cuthbert nod eagerly and Wesley giggled.
Giles watched as Oz and Xander got Wesley into his pyjamas, and carried him upstairs. Oz set up the nightlight while Xander read him his story. He and Angel both sort of drifted up after them to stand in the doorway and watch the two young men sitting on Wesley’s bed; Oz tucking Cuthbert under the covers and Xander reading the next chapter of The Magician’s Nephew with every sign of enjoyment.
When he snuggled down to go to sleep, Xander bent down and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”
Oz touched Wesley’s hair gently and then they were both backing out of the room.
“He’s so cute,” Angel observed.
Everyone looked at him. “Stop doing the doting thing,” Xander warned him. “It’s freaking me out. You’re a vampire. Try to act like one - only not so much with the killing and maiming.”
Giles realized that he was exhausted. “You all know where everything is, don’t you?” There were murmurings of assent, the tramp of them going downstairs, muffled snipings from Angel and Xander, quiet commonsense from Oz, then the low murmur of the television. Giles went into Wesley’s room, said goodnight, tucked his hand under the covers so it wouldn’t get cold, and then headed out.
Wesley murmured sleepily: “Good night, Uncle Giles.”
Giles was in bed when the phone rang. There was a time when a midnight phonecall would have had him leaping out of bed expecting the worst, but now he just turned over, and let Angel answer it downstairs.
“Buffy, he’s fine…”
Still smiling, Giles drifted into sleep.
***
Xander surprised Giles the next day by offering to read up on the properties of phosphorescent paint and applying it to the kite. Giles gave him the money to pay for the paint - it was ludicrously expensive - but then left him to it, and he and Wesley had a very happy time painting the kite with the glow-in-the-dark paint. As it was then lunchtime, Giles suggested that they went to the zoo where Xander could explain to Wesley all the reasons why one didn’t go into the areas marked ‘no entry’ and they could have lunch.
Xander’s way of giving Wesley information was to make things up and not pretend he was doing anything other than making things up, which made Wesley howl with laughter.
“Lions don’t come from Australia!”
“How do you know? Did you ask them? They could have been…touring there. Next you’re going to be telling me that elephants don’t come from South America.”
“They don’t!” Wesley giggled helplessly as Xander lifted him up so he could see better. “They come from Africa and Asia.”
“Prove it!” Xander countered.
Wesley pointed triumphantly to the information posted outside of the enclosure. “It says it right here. It says these are Indian elephants and you can tell that because they have smaller ears and tusks.”
“Okay, so they should just say these kind are the ones in the ‘Jungle Book’ and the other kind are the ones in ‘The Lion King’. These people are just not hip with the contemporary culture references.”
Watching Xander and Wesley together, it occurred to Giles that he knew too many people who were unwanted sons. Angel, Xander, and Wesley clearly all had daddy issues to burn, although, thankfully, both Xander and Wesley had, as yet, refrained from eating their fathers to pay him back for their lack of love.
“Okay, and here’s where we talk about why hyaenas are really not very nice at all and how you should never ever let them put their mystical mojo on you because it never goes well…”
Giles managed to get lunch for all three of them with minimal interference from the other two, so rapt was Wesley by Xander’s account of what had happened when he was possessed by an evil hyaena spirit.
“I thought you had no memory of those events, Xander?” Giles enquired.
Xander grimaced. “Oh yes, that’s right. We don’t actually tell Buffy, Willow or Cordy - or anyone, really, about the whole me remembering it thing.”
Wesley was still gazing at him wide-eyed. “You were mean to Willow?”
“It wasn’t me! It was the evil hyaena spirit - because I would never be mean to Willow.”
“No one should be mean to Willow. Or Buffy. Or Cordelia.” Wesley noticed the tray of food and smiled shyly at Giles. “Thank you, Uncle Giles.”
“Okay - Buffy and Willow, I’m definitely on board for that, but I think there should be special dispensation for people being mean to Cordelia if she’s mean to them.”
Wesley sipped his chocolate milk and looked disapprovingly at Xander. “It’s not nice to be mean to girls.”
“But sometimes girls are really mean!”
“Are they?” Wesley looked surprised by that. “When?”
Xander blinked in confusion. “The girls at your school aren’t mean to you? I figured they would be beating you up and stealing your lunch money for sure.”
“There aren’t any girls at my school, just boys.”
Xander looked at him carefully. “Are they mean to you?”
“Sometimes. But I’m good at hiding.” Wesley picked up the sandwich Giles had bought for him and ate it slowly, savouring every bite. “This is really nice.”
“It’s something with peanut butter and jelly that Buffy made me promise to buy you. Do you really like it?”
Wesley nodded emphatically. Xander was still looking at him in concern. “So, these boys who are mean to you…? You want to - give me their names…?”
Giles rested a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Wesley was at school eighteen years ago, Xander, remember? Those little boys would now be older than you.”
“So? I’m allowed to beat them up then, aren’t I?”
“You don’t think that continuing the cycle of violence is something to be avoided?”
“Sure, in theory. I just think sometimes it’s nice, when you’re the guy everyone else picks on, if someone stands up for you for a change.”
Giles had a sudden memory of their exasperation with Wesley after he had interfered with Angel’s plan to try to get through to Faith. He grimaced. “Sometimes, bullies don’t know that’s what they’re being. They’re just angry or feel threatened in some way.” He met Xander’s eyes and saw the blank confusion in Xander’s brown eyes turn to comprehension.
He winced. “Yeah, well, I suppose we all have it in us to be bullies.”
“When we’re possessed by evil hyaena spirits?” Wesley asked.
“Or not.” Xander sat back in his chair and summoned a smile with difficulty. “So, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, what do you want to do to work off that peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Want to watch the monkeys? How about the gorillas.”
“I was trying to learn a spell to let them out,” Wesley admitted.
“Let whom out?” Giles asked.
“The gorillas. They’re higher primates, which means they’re really like our relatives, so I thought they should be let out, really.” He looked up at them innocently. “It was a spell for dissolving iron but it was really tricky.”
Xander said blankly: “Wesley, you’re eight.”
“I know.”
Giles took off his glasses. “I think what Xander is saying is that eight is - rather young to be learning spells.”
Wesley sighed. “Daddy was cross.” He rubbed his right hand over his left reflexively. “He doesn’t like me learning spells.” He looked up at Giles anxiously. “Are you cross?”
“No!” Giles shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“But - still don’t do it,” Xander added.
Wesley transferred his anxious gaze to Xander. “Are you cross?”
“No.” Xander looked as horror stricken as Giles had felt when that question was addressed to him. “Never, Wes. I’m so not cross that I’m going to have to buy you an ice cream.”
They spent the rest of the day in the zoo - Xander watching carefully to be sure that Wesley wasn’t attempting any spells - with Wesley being fed a great deal of ice-cream, and getting so that he hardly flinched when it dripped onto his clothes by the end of the day. Xander was kind, patient, and endlessly good-natured with the little boy, and had to be prevented from spending all his allowance on toys for the boy in the gift shop. Giles put a restraining hand on Xander’s arm, knowing that the boy was not exactly well off. “Let me get it.”
Xander sighed. “Okay, but you have to let me carry him back to the car.”
Giles smiled. “Deal.”
They arrived back at Giles’s house at 5pm to find Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia all standing outside with their arms folded.
“What?” Xander demanded defensively.
Buffy tapped her watch. “We were supposed to get him from 3pm onwards. You’ve had two hours of our time.”
Wesley said: “Buffy!” and, as Xander put him down, ran to her. Buffy immediately forgot all about being angry and swooped him up into her arms for a cuddle and the inevitable feeling of his forehead. She was only allowed the briefest hug before Cordelia snagged him from her and gave him a hug of her own.
Xander looked at Giles. “See? Grabby.”
Willow was kissing him gently, while stroking his hair back from his forehead. “Did you have a nice day with Xander and Giles?”
“Oh yes, it was so much fun. We went and looked at the hyaenas and Xander told me about when…” Noticing Xander shaking his head and making rapid throat cutting motions, Wesley remembered and said: “…when he was possessed by a hyaena spirit, but unfortunately, he doesn’t remember anything that happened so he couldn’t really tell me about it…” His voice trailed off.
Oz smirked into his shirt and murmured: “Good save,” to Wesley.
Buffy gave Xander an amused look and plucked Wesley back from Cordelia. “I think you’ll find I saw him first and that gives me first dibs on the cuddling.”
Giles went indoors and put the kettle on, now quite used to everyone trampling over his floors and stealing the best places on his chairs. The girls were very impressed with the kite.
Buffy patted Xander on the shoulder. “You’re like total woodworking guy.”
“Well, he has to make a start on his life in the construction business sometime,” Cordelia sniffed.
Wesley whammied her with the reproachful eyes. “Xander is really clever at building things. I hope he does build houses and things for people. I bet they’d never fall down.”
Cordelia looked stricken. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean to be…mean. I’m sure Xander would build the best houses ever.”
Wesley looked mollified and Xander had to work hard not to look smug. Buffy made admiring noises about the kite. “So, are we going to fly this then?”
“When it’s dark,” Wesley explained. “So, Angel can be there.”
“Glow-in-the-dark paint,” Xander explained. “Oz’s idea.”
“We couldn’t fly it in the light first and then fly it for Angel after…?” Buffy suggested.
Wesley shook his head. “He has to see the first time.”
“The kid’s big with the Angel love,” Xander shrugged. “The only flaw in an otherwise perfect child.” Wesley looked at him in shock and Xander said hastily. “Teeny weeny flaw. Hardly a flaw at all really.”
Giles said quietly, “I think it’s the ‘perfect’ Wesley is having trouble comprehending, Xander.”
Buffy looked at Wesley’s face and then lifted him up. “You don’t know you’re perfect? Sheesh. And I thought you were smart.” She pulled him against her chest and kissed his hair. “You’re completely perfect.”
Wesley said tentatively. “Buffy…?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I think I just got ice cream on your blouse. There was some on my jumper and…”
Buffy peeled him off her a little stickily and Cordelia and Willow hastily began to check their own clothes for ice cream. Buffy dabbed at her front. “Okay, you’re completely perfect in a kind of sticky ice-creamy sort of way - but perfect nevertheless.”
Wesley dabbed at her blouse apologetically. “I’m sorry about the chocolate sauce.”
Giles sighed and fetched a flannel to wipe off Wesley’s face, hands, and clothing, then passed it onto Buffy and Cordelia who both attempted to remove the stains from their no doubt very expensive clothing, in between cooing at Wesley that it wasn’t his fault, and pressing kisses into his hair.
Xander shook his head. “Now, how come no one just kisses me when I do that?”
“We’re blaming you,” Buffy told him. “You bought Wesley the ice cream.”
“Would you like to go home and change your clothes?” Giles suggested. “Wesley could probably do with a bath…”
“Don’t you dare bathe him!” Buffy pointed an accusing finger. “We’ve been looking forward to bath-time for two days.”
“I’m sure it can’t be good for the boy to be shuffled from pillar to post…” Giles began.
Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I won’t use force. We get him for tonight and all of tomorrow and tomorrow night. That’s the deal.”
“Buffy, I’m not trying to - steal your privileges, but as he’s going to need a change of clothing…”
“Okay, but we get to bathe him. You can go and…play boats or something.” Buffy took Wesley firmly by the hand and led him towards the bathroom. He ran along beside her, looking up a little anxiously.
Oz looked at Xander. “Like I said the first time I met her - a tense person.”
“But you’ve been able to play with Wesley for days, and we’ve hardly seen him,” Willow protested.
“We weren’t ‘playing’,” Xander said loftily. “I’ll have you know that both Giles and I have been concentrating on expanding his mind with educational field trips.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Giles handed Xander a cup of tea. “Entirely educational.”
Willow plucked a furry tiger from the gift shop bag and held it up wordlessly. Cordelia peered into the bag and retrieved a selection of plastic dinosaurs. “Yes, because tigers are so often fluffy and dinosaurs pink and spotted.”
“They may have been,” Giles countered. “Really any colouring for dinosaurs is entirely guesswork on the part of the palaeontologists. They could have been day-glo orange for all that anyone knows. There are some species of lizards with remarkably bright colouring after all.”
Cordelia’s lip curled. “No way was this an educational field trip! You just had fun all day and got to stuff Wesley with ice cream!”
“We were practising our parenting skills,” Xander returned. “Like with those egg-babies. Only not so much with the hard-boiling and eating him.”
“Oh, like either of you two losers are ever likely to be parents…” Cordelia snorted and then, remembering Wesley, put a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean that in a mean way - and I’m going to go and help with the bathing now.”
Oz waited until Cordelia was out of earshot before asking quietly: “Are you going to be okay this evening? Without Wesley, I mean?”
Giles thought of there being no little boy in the bed upstairs and none of their routine before bedtime, of hot milk and reading C.S. Lewis together and sighed. “Well, you know, it’s not as if I usually have a child here.”
Xander put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Want us to stay over?”
Giles grimaced. “If you wouldn’t mind…?”
They watched the sun go down together; Buffy holding Wesley in his arms as they watched it sink behind the sea.
“Does Angel ever get to see any sunsets?” Wesley asked.
“I think so, sometimes,” she said. “If he’s indoors and in the shade, I think he can watch them.”
“Does he miss seeing things in the daylight?”
“I suppose after two hundred years you probably can’t remember living any other way.”
Wesley cuddled in against her; the temperature already noticeably cooler as the sun sank and the darkness came in. Giles watched them and thought that Buffy could either have this, motherhood, someone to take care of who wasn’t just the faceless public, and who would love her in return; or she could have this half a life with Angel.
When Giles turned around, he saw that Angel was watching Buffy and Wesley, and the expression on his face was so full of yearning that Giles had to look away. Joyce had said that Angel had ‘made his choice’ but he somehow doubted that Darla would have asked before she bit. He had been murdered and damned, that was the reality of it; and then had murdered and damned others, before being punished with the restoration of his soul. He had probably been rather a stupid young man; the records seemed to suggest he had been a sorrow to his father - a god-fearing and hard-working linen merchant - and had no doubt been a drunken useless layabout; but he had still not been offered a choice before he was robbed of his life and his soul and doomed to walk in darkness.
Then Wesley turned around and Angel plastered a smile onto his face that looked as if it had always been there and walked forwards to say, “Hey, Wes. Did you stop Xander getting hexed by any evil hyaena spirits at the zoo?”
“Yes, Xander said the secret is to eat lots of ice cream.” Wesley let himself be lifted into Angel’s arms, then sat on his hip as if there had never been a time when he didn’t have an Uncle Giles who shared his parenting amongst a Slayer, the Scoobies, and a vampire with a soul. “It works really well too.”
Angel frowned. “Your hair is damp.”
“I had a bath.”
“Before coming out at night?”
“In California,” Giles pointed out. “It’s not exactly Alaska.”
Buffy said anxiously: “Do you think he’s going to catch a chill?”
“He is wearing a t-shirt, a shirt, a sweater, and a jacket, Buffy,” Oz pointed out. “The chill is going to have to work some to reach him.”
“Still, damp hair at night…” Angel murmured.
Cordelia said: “You know, it’s probably a good thing that vampires can’t breed, because quite apart from never being able to get the kids to daycare when the sun’s out - totally paranoid.”
Wesley licked his finger and held it up. “It’s quite windy. Do you think it’s dark enough for the paint to show up?”
“Only one way to find out.” Oz held up the kite.
Xander gave Wesley the kite string to unwind and carefully smoothed out the long carefully-painted tail. It was clear that the paint was going to show up admirably as they could only just see each other’s faces but they could see the Chinese dragon undulating very well.
“You know what to do?” Xander asked him. “You throw it up into the wind and then you let out the string. Okay? And don’t worry if it takes five or six attempts because it usually does. Well, it does when I do it anyway. It’s really down to luck if the wind catches it right and no one knows when that’s going to happen.”
Giles watched the tension that had been building up in Wesley lessen a little as Xander added that last couple of sentences.
Wesley said tentatively: “There isn’t a right way to do it?”
Oz shrugged. “Well, maybe, but none of us know it so you may as well just - toss and hope.”
Wesley looked a little less stressed about being the cynosure of all eyes. He took a deep breath, put his shoulders back, and tossed the kite up. It immediately fell onto the beach with a dull thud. Wesley bit his lip.
“I’m so glad it isn’t just me that always happens to,” Buffy said.
“Me too!” Willow added. “I used to think my kites were cursed.”
Angel said, “Do you think it’s windier when you’re up higher?”
Wesley picked the kite back up, Buffy crouching down to make sure the string wasn’t tangled. “It could be.”
“Shall we try it from my shoulders?”
Wesley smiled in relief. “Okay.”
Angel picked him up and swung him onto his shoulders. “Does it feel any windier?”
“Much,” Wesley told him.
“Okay, do you want to try throwing it up into the air again and see what happens? Try to get it to hit Xander if it falls down because that would just be really funny.”
“Angel…” Wesley gave him a reproachful look.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, big guy, but a really big stake jammed into your heart still turns you to dust every time.”
Oz murmured quietly: “You do know that doesn’t rhyme or in any way scan, right?”
“Please throw the kite, Wesley,” Giles pleaded. “And if you could somehow injure both Xander and Angel with it while doing so, I would be eternally grateful.”
Wesley threw the kite up into the air and a breeze snatched it up and whisked it up into the air. Giles was only just quick enough to see that little finger waggle and toss of herbs from Willow and didn’t know whether to be glad she had done that or to worry about her using magic frivolously.
Except it didn’t look like a ‘frivolous’ use of magic when he saw Wesley’s face. The boy was letting out the kite string while gazing up at the shimmering pale dragon undulating in the wind, its tail waving sinuously, and the pride and pleasure on his face as the kite climbed higher and higher made it seem as if there could be no better use for magic. Angel lifted him down carefully so he would be standing on his own two feet while flying the kite, and the wind caught at the kite even more strongly, making it surge upwards, Wesley with his feet planted on the sand, his thin wrists braced against the pull of the kite.
Giles just enjoyed the pleasure on the little boy’s face for moment; his wonder at something working for a change; the kite doing as kites were meant to do, only this one being so much grander and the glowing paint giving it a beautiful, supernatural appearance. Then Giles looked at Angel and immediately wanted Wesley to see it too. He walked around behind them and gently put his hand on Wesley’s arm, then when the boy look at him in enquiry nodded his head at Angel. Wesley turned and saw what Giles had seen: Angel gazing up at that kite with as much wonder as Wesley, watching it gyrate and float in the wind, the long body of the dragon seeming to ride out the wind with perfect rhythm, the glowing kite tail sinuous as a snake, and behind it the starlight. Giles wondered how long it was since Angel had seen a kite and how much longer still since he had flown one.
Wesley seemed to have the thought at the same time and held up the handle. “It’s a bit strong for me, Angel. My hands are tired. Can you hold it?”
Angel took the kite string from him almost dazedly, still looking up at the kite riding out the breeze, shimmering backwards and forwards in the wind, a glow of white light against the velvety midnight blue backdrop. He smiled as the wind caught at it and the dragon appeared to be floating there, beautiful and strange, and Wesley gazed at him with so much compassion and pleasure because Angel was happy.
Giles turned to see that Xander and Oz and Willow and Buffy were also all watching Angel fly the kite and Wesley watching him and smiling. After a moment Buffy slipped her hand into Xander’s and said softly: “Thank you.”
Xander was still looking at Angel’s face as the kite was snatched up by the wind and then left to float on another eddy, that wonder and pleasure on his face because he hadn’t done this for more than two hundred years and thought he would never be able to again. “For what?”
“Putting the kite together. Painting it so carefully.”
Xander looked back at Angel and Wesley watching Angel before he turned to Buffy. “It was worth it.”