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New All Over, Part Nine

There was something very serene and quiet about Angel even after they went back to Giles’ place. He kissed Buffy dreamily in farewell, and said ‘Goodnight’ to everyone as if partly under the influence of a trance. Cordelia looked at him with narrowed eyes and then elbowed him hard in the ribs, completely jolting him out of his serene place.

“Is another way for you to achieve perfect happiness to let you fly a kite? Because you’re creeping me out.”

Angel winced and clutched his ribs. “I’m not evil. I’m just…happy…”

“How happy?” she demanded.

“Not perfectly happy,” he insisted. “A good way to never achieve perfect happiness is to know that if you do you’re going to turn into a soulless monster who tortures and murders all the people around you.”

Wesley gazed up at him in confusion. “You’re not evil. You’re good.”

“I used to be evil.”

“Long time ago,” Buffy said quickly.

“Water under the bridge,” Giles added quietly.

“We have to take Wesley now.” Buffy looked a little guilty. “Mom said we had to bring him home for dinner.”

Giles tried - and he suspected failed - to not look stricken. Wesley looked a little upset himself. As Giles crouched down to say goodbye, Wesley put his bony arms around the man’s neck and gave him a hug.

Xander held out Cuthbert and Oz handed him The Magician’s Nephew.

“We’ll take really good care of him,” Willow promised. “Extra special care.”

“We promise,” Cordelia added.

“I know you will.” Giles hugged the boy gently and tried to sound bright and cheerful. “Have a good time with Buffy, Wesley.”

The boy looked across at Giles’ books. “Is there something I can look up for you while I’m there? I like looking things up.”

Giles looked around for a book that wasn’t too graphic and was in English. “Well, if you have the time, Wesley, you could look up demons in their pure forms. I think there’s a chapter in here you could read and tell me about later. Would that be all right?”

Buffy had been about to remonstrate when she saw how Wesley lit up at the thought of being useful. He held out his hands for the book eagerly. “Pure demonic forms, Uncle Giles?”

“Yes, it would be useful in dealing with the Mayor to have as much information about that as possible.”

“I’ll do it tonight!”

Buffy grimaced at Giles who said: “Not tonight, Wesley. But if you could find time tomorrow, that would be wonderful.”

“I need to get my notebook.” Wesley hurried off to get it, beaming happily.

Xander shook his head. “Okay, it’s bad enough that they make those Watcher kids work all the time but it’s somehow even worse that they make them think they enjoy it.”

“Maybe he does enjoy it,” Willow put in. “Maybe he gets a tingly buzz from doing good work and getting good marks and knowing things.”

Xander looked at her and sighed. “One day, Will, I need to get you to learn that school work equals Boring. Fun equals - fun.”

“I can do fun.” She looked at Oz. “Aren’t I fun?”

“You’re Fun City in a sombrero,” he returned.

“Why a sombrero?”

“Did you ever see a sombrero that didn’t look as if it was having fun? That’s a happy piece of headgear.”

Cordelia had already collected up Wesley’s toothbrush, pyjamas, slippers, robe, and clothing, and packed it with lots of careful folding. Buffy sat through the debate about what toys to take while Wesley happily packed his little Watcher bag with notebooks, pens, pencils, and a research book from Giles, arriving back at the front door, beaming with accomplishment.

Buffy waited while everyone hugged him and Xander, Oz, and even Angel looked all dorky and woebegone. She felt guilty but reminded herself that they had been having fun with Wesley for the past two nights while she and Willow and Cordelia had been stuck having pyjama parties with all the fun siphoned out of them. And then Giles crouched down to straighten his little jacket and Wesley gazed at him and got tearful and said, “Goodnight, Uncle Giles. Please be careful and don’t open the door to any vampires.”

“I promise I won’t.” Giles smiled at him gently.

They both said: “Well, except for Angel” at the same time and then beamed at one another.

“Blood will out,” Xander observed. “I’m seeing the family connection more and more.”

Wesley gave Giles another hug and then he was holding his arms up to Buffy and she picked him up quickly so he could hide the fact he was crying, and she felt awful about taking him away from Giles.

“I know you’ll be careful with him, Buffy.” Giles accompanied her to the car. “And not let him overeat or get a chill or stay up too late or anything of that kind. So, I’m not going to fuss at you with lots of instructions but just - take a step back and leave you to your own devices, knowing that you’re a responsible person who will take her…responsibilities towards someone so physically and emotional vulnerable very seriously indeed.”

Buffy began to feel a lot less awful about taking him away from Giles. “So glad you’re not going to fuss at me. Giles, nothing and no one is going to hurt Wesley while he’s in my care. Just concentrate on researching the Mayor and generally…chilling.”

And then finally they were in Cordelia’s car, and Buffy was sliding into the back with Wesley who was curled up comfortably in her arms, with his little bag and his teddy bear and Willow carrying his luggage, and he was waving out of the window at the line of four depressed looking males all watching them drive off with him.

“We really need to get Giles a pet,” Cordelia observed.

Buffy sighed with contentment as Wesley snuggled in against her. It had felt just wrong not to have him to cuddle at will for the past couple of days. She stroked his hair and felt his warm bony little body against hers and thought If only he could stay like this forever and then caught herself thinking it and felt ashamed. Wesley was so eager to grow up and be useful and in point of fact already was grown up, although not terribly useful on the last count.

As they were driving home, it occurred to her for the first time that annoying though he undoubtedly had been, adult Wesley had identified those Eliminati swords in no-time flat, and known which book to look in to confirm it. And no one had said ‘Well done’ to him about it, even though, if adult Wesley was anything like child Wesley, he would work all day and all night for a little bit of praise and feel all glowy with accomplishment because of it. He must have thought they were a mean-spirited lot. Always sniping at him because he wanted to do things the Council’s way instead of their way, when the Council was all he knew and he didn’t know them from Adam, Eve or the Garden of Eden.

Wesley looked up at her in concern. “Are you okay, Buffy?”

She stroked his hair. “Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“About you growing up again.”

He grimaced. “Do you think it hurts…? Getting big really fast…?”

“I don’t know. When you woke up and you were small, did you feel achy?”

He thought about it. “Only in my ribs and my back a little bit. Not all over.”

She winced internally at the thought of that bruise on his ribs. “That doesn’t sound as if it hurts when you get bigger or smaller. It should be okay.”

“Did I hurt myself falling over?” Wesley asked. “Because I know I can be really clumsy. It makes Daddy cross. But I was hoping I wouldn’t be clumsy when I grew up, but I suppose I always will be.”

“You’re not clumsy.” She didn’t know if he was or not. She hadn’t noticed the way Wesley moved around or thought about it. He was just the annoying Watcher Guy in the annoyingly neat suit that kept trying to tell her what to do even though he didn’t know anything and should just shut up. “Oh - but, I bet I know why you fall over when you’re little - it’s because you need glasses.”

Wesley looked horrified. “I wear glasses?”

“Like Giles,” Buffy said quickly. “You have glasses like Giles.”

“Oh.” Wesley brightened at that. “Do I take them off and clean them when I don’t want to talk about something?”

“Yes, you do.” She grinned at him. “You see - it’s genetic.”

“Giles isn’t really my uncle, Buffy,” he reminded her gently.

“Would you like him to be?”

“Oh gosh, yes. I’d like that more than anything. Well, I’d like it if you and Cordelia were my sisters too.”

Willow looked hurt. “You don’t want me to be your sister?”

Wesley blushed. “No, because then I wouldn’t be able to…”

“Marry you,” Buffy explained. “When he grows up again.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe this! Now, Willow’s stealing another of my boyfriends!”

“Cordy, he’s eight years old. I think some humouring is in order.”

Cordy looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Okay. Be all quibbly.”

Joyce was delighted to see Wesley again and he went delightfully shy and quiet and terribly well brought up. The accent - so annoying on the older version - was just the most adorable thing ever on the little version of Wesley and his murmured little ‘Yes, Mrs Summers’ turned Joyce pretty much to a puddle of maternal yearnings.

Giles called - of course, on some pretext of checking that they had remembered to pick up Wesley’s coat, and then Angel called to check if they had Cuthbert with them, and Buffy rolled her eyes and said they were a pair of worrywarts, and everything was fine, and they should try to remember how it felt to have lives, and then remembered that those two hadn’t really had lives before, so to scratch that last suggestion.

Then there was the trying-to-stop-Mom-force-feeding-Wesley-to-near-bursting-point dinner, where Joyce could only just be restrained from heaping more things onto Wesley’s plate by Buffy taking her into the kitchen and saying: “Mom, Wesley has been brought up to eat whatever is put onto his plate. He has to eat his vegetables first. If you keep giving him more vegetables, he’s never going to eat the nice steak pie which, incidentally, I notice you never bother cooking for just me. Also, I know you made him more of that pudding thing, and you want him to have room for it, don’t you?”

“He’s just so thin,” Joyce said apologetically.

“Giles says it’s just an age thing. He’ll fill out when he’s older. Now, am I getting a promise of restraint on the force-feeding thing?”

Joyce sighed. “Yes, dear.”

“And don’t ask him too many questions. Every time you do that he has to chew what’s in his mouth, put down his knife and fork, and then answer you. And he’s shy about talking to people he doesn’t know.”

“I’m trying to get to know him. And, frankly, I’m worried about his home-life. Did you see the way his hand started shaking when I asked him about his father?”

Buffy thought about Wesley’s father. Thought about Wesley crying in fear because he spilled a drink, but still coming out when he was told to do so even though he had clearly thought he was being told to come out to be punished. She thought of him clinging to her, his thin little body so warm and pliant, never complaining once about being hugged or cuddled or fussed over, because it was clearly such an incredible treat for him to be shown any physical affection. In a brittle tone she managed, “His father’s just strict. And he has a lot of studies to get through. Watchers have to study a lot more than normal kids.”

“He’s going to be a Watcher?” Joyce looked horror-stricken. “Oh no, Buffy, it’s bad enough that this…Council has you young girls working as Slayers but at least you got the first fifteen years of your life to be normal, but they can’t just choose little boys and little girls at birth and make them be Watchers, can they?”

“They don’t choose, Mom. It’s a hereditary thing. Like with Giles. His father was a Watcher, Giles has to be a Watcher. Same with Wesley. He doesn’t mind. He wants to be a Watcher. No one’s told him it’s this really stuffy thing to be and he’ll just end up wearing tweed and the whole deal.”

“How can you joke about it…?” Joyce protested in a whisper. “That sweet little boy has to learn about vampires and demons and things that go bump in the night? Never gets to have a proper childhood and…?”

“And what else do you propose I do except joke about it as I can’t change it?” Buffy retorted.

“What if I called his father?” Joyce suggested. “I could explain to him what it’s like being the mother of a Slayer and…”

“Mom, he already knows. He’s a Watcher himself. It’s what he’s wants for Wesley and it’s what Wesley wants too.” She thought of that young man in his shiny suit, all wet behind the ears, and eager beaver, shiny hair, shiny face, shiny expectations. “He can’t wait to grow up and start Watching.”

“But if I explained to him that the reality is so much worse…”

“Mom,” Buffy put a hand on her arm. “It’s too late.”

“Buffy, he’s only eight years old!”

“It’s still too late. Just - take it from me.” And then Buffy jerked her head back at the dining room and they went back in while Joyce tried to make bright conversation with everyone while looking at Wesley anxiously as he quietly and very politely ate his way through his dinner.

Then they could finally take him upstairs and Buffy had hoped they could play a game or several but Wesley could hardly keep his eyes open.

“That’s Giles and Xander’s fault,” Cordelia pointed out. “They tired him out at the zoo. Those two are so selfish.”

“I had so much fun at the zoo,” Wesley murmured sleepily. “Please don’t be cross with them, Cordelia.”

He was persuaded to brush his teeth and get into his pyjamas, with his eyes already almost closed, and then he was too sleepy for a story and Buffy had to be content with just slipping him into her bed and then climbing in next to him, and Willow climbing in the other side, and Cordelia looking sad that she didn’t get to cuddle him too. “Don’t smother him,” she warned as she went off to her own room. It was really much too early for adults to go to bed and Buffy and Willow were very clear on that for the five minutes it took for them to tell each other how much too early it was for them to be in bed before falling asleep with Wesley as a sleepy little hot-water-bottle between them.

Buffy woke up a couple of hours later and realized that she had to patrol. Groaning inwardly, she kissed Wesley on the forehead, woke up Willow to tell her she was going out, and then climbed out of the window. She dusted two vamps, saw no sign of Faith or the Mayor’s people, and came back to find that Wesley was looking even more adorable than she remembered and was now curled up in Willow’s arms. Buffy peeled off her clothes, pulled on her pyjamas, and climbed back into the bed. Willow sleepily opened one eye and murmured: “Hey…”

“Hey back.” Buffy smiled at her across Wesley’s sleeping head. “Get in some good cuddle time?”

“He’s so warm and snuggly,” Willow murmured, still sleepily. “And it’s so cute the way he sucks his thumb.”

Buffy sighed and slid over so she could kiss the back of his head. “Let’s face it - little Wesley is definitely perfection.”

Willow whispered: “I feel bad about how we treated him when he was big.”

“You don’t need to,” Buffy pointed out. “You weren’t mean to him, I was.”

“You were just being loyal to Giles. But we can make it up to him, can’t we?”

Buffy nodded and snuggled in next to the warm little boy in the centre of the bed, stroking a hand through his hair gently. “Yes, we can.”

Joyce got up an hour earlier than usual so that Wesley would have home-cooked waffles for breakfast, with maple syrup. He was so fascinated by the waffles that she made another batch so he could watch the batter being poured into the iron, lit up with excitement because he was learning something new.

Then he was sat down in front of a mountain of waffles and invited to tuck in, while Buffy, Willow and Cordelia also helped themselves while looking at him dotingly.

Joyce sighed wistfully as she looked at him. “I miss that - all that eagerness to learn things. Small children are so delightful.”

“And so much nicer than teenagers, eh?” Buffy enquired.

Joyce glanced at her. “Well, that goes without saying. Isn’t everything nicer than teenagers…?”

“Don’t think I won’t get you for that later,” Buffy assured her.

Joyce pointedly gave Buffy her work number before leaving. “Mom, I know your number. I have it on every speed dial, and, look, it’s written right there on the board.”

“Just in case you’re out somewhere and you don’t have your phone with you and you need to call me. That’s all.” Joyce crouched down next to Wesley and looked at him anxiously. “Will you be okay with Buffy, Wesley? Because I can take you into work with me if you’d rather?”

“No, thank you, Mrs Summers.” He gazed up at her. “I’ll be fine with Buffy.”

Joyce had Buffy accompany her to the front door where she murmured: “I know I don’t need to tell you to be extra responsible.”

“No, you don’t - so…don’t.”

Joyce looked anxiously back at the little boy in her kitchen. “Just - call me if there’s any problem. Any problem at all.”

Willow had had the inevitable crisis about missing a day of school and Cordelia had sighed and driven her in, leaving Buffy with Wesley, who, when asked what he wanted to do, asked if he could do that research for Uncle Giles? Reluctantly, Buffy conceded, and had to endure two hours of Wesley happily making notes about the chapter he’d read, before he could be persuaded to come and watch some cartoons.

Then it was nearly lunchtime, and Buffy suggested they baked some home-made cookies - home-made in the sense that they would use the cookie dough already prepared but put it into the oven themselves. Wesley really liked that idea and they spent fifteen minutes watching through the oven door as the cookies turned from chilled bits of dough to chocolatey cookies. Then Willow and Cordelia were back, bearing food; Willow unable to bear to stay away from Wesley for any longer, and so now officially cutting classes. She had brought a spell book and a few ingredients and asked Wesley diffidently if, after lunch, he’d like to learn a really easy non-dangerous spell.

“Oh yes, please!” He was so excited about that even Buffy couldn’t feel it was a bad thing. He could barely eat his lunch in his eagerness to be doing the spell and Buffy wondered how many times he had asked to do spells in the past and been told ‘not now’.

“It’s a very safe spell,” Willow assured her. “It can’t hurt him. But it still feels as if you’re doing magic and it will help him get used to channelling it through him.”

She and Wesley spent a long time carefully making little bags of herbs, adding pinches of things to them, and sprinkling holy water on them, while Cordelia and Buffy watched and ate cookies. Buffy hid the cookie dough roll and told Cordelia they were ‘home-baked’. Cordelia looked unconvinced but ate them anyway.

Then Cordelia and Buffy helped Willow and Wesley set up, and then Willow asked Wesley to sit opposite her and for Cordelia and Buffy to complete the circle and hold their hands. Willow gravely asked Wesley to read the spell, which was in Latin, which he did, while she repeated it in English, and then there was the swirl of coloured lights and Willow’s eyes went dark and Wesley gave a little gasp as the magic passed through him and the little bags in the centre of the circle and glowed for a moment and then Willow sat back and smiled.

“You know what you just did?” she asked Wesley.

“Something wrong?” he returned anxiously.

“You helped make scapulas for everyone. So, we can be protected against mystical dark forces.”

Wesley smiled in relief. “It felt - tingly.”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Buffy admitted.

“Neither did I,” Cordelia said.

“Well, you two were just there to complete the circle. Wesley and I were the ones doing the spell. He has quite the latent magical ability vibe going on.”

Wesley looked happy about that and then his face fell. “Daddy doesn’t like me doing spells.” He rubbed the back of his hand as he talked.

“Daddy doesn’t like you doing anything you might actually enjoy,” Buffy said darkly. She noticed he was still rubbing his hand as if he were smoothing away old hurts. His hands were very small, soft little fingers that it was hard to imagine could ever be adult-sized, let alone already had been once. She thought about someone deliberately hitting him on the back of those hands with a strap or a ruler and then her head was filled with white noise and she just wanted to kill someone. She had to take a deep breath to pull herself back from the edge. She pulled Wesley into her lap and planted a kiss in his hair. “Can we do something fun now…?”

“Time’s up!” Xander bounded in through the front door like an unleashed Irish Wolfhound and rushed over to sweep Wesley out of Buffy’s arms and into his own. “How are you doing, big guy?”

“I researched some demons and then Willow and I made protective…things,” Wesley beamed at Xander.

Xander sat him on his hip and looked around at the girls. “This is your idea of having fun? Homework and…homework. I think I need to confiscate him forthwith.”

“No, you don’t.” Buffy snatched him back. “He’s ours and we’re keeping him.”

“You had your chance, Summers. You blew it. Now he’s ours again.” Xander snatched him back again and Wesley began to giggle helplessly as he was jolted from person to person, while Willow hastily cleared up the spell debris before Giles or Joyce arrived to see it.

Buffy didn’t remember inviting everyone to just come around to her house, but Giles was there half an hour after Xander, saying, “I just thought you might need someone to watch him while you patrol.”

“Uncle Giles!” Wesley threw himself at Giles who swept him up into his arms and beamed at him.

Buffy looked at Giles with a child and realized how weird it looked to her. Giles didn’t play with kids. Giles certainly didn’t look for a minute there as if he was a father. Giles was…Giles. He Watched therefore he Was. But Giles looked years younger and suddenly carefree as Wesley wrapped his bony little arms around his neck, clearly so touched by the child’s enthusiasm and love for him. She wondered with a pang if he had ever thought about marrying Jenny. If he had imagined a future where he Watched during the day and went home to her at night. If they had thought about having children.

“What did you do today, Wesley?” Giles asked him, and Wesley told him with great enthusiasm and a complete confidence that was very nice to see.

“I see.” Giles looked across at the girls. “So, Buffy made you do homework and Willow helped you to dabble in the dark arts. And I get criticised for buying you too much ice cream…”

“I felt the magic go through me.” Wesley tugged at Giles’s hand to show him the scapulas that Willow had been unsuccessfully trying to conceal behind her back. “It was all tingly.”

“He has latent magical ability,” Willow explained apologetically. “When I’m channelling - I can feel it. I think he may have quite a lot.”

“Well, as he got that ‘A’ in Mystical Studies, I imagine that he did. Doctor Pennycade is a notoriously tight marker. But, Willow, please tell me you were careful? These are very powerful forces and…”

Wesley held up a scapula proudly. “Look, Uncle Giles. Willow and I made some for everyone.”

Giles took the scapula he held out to him and smiled gently. “That’s a really good piece of work, Wesley. It’s very neatly tied and you’ve managed to offset a lot of the sulphur fumes while maintaining its integrity.”

“Willow showed me how. Willow’s really clever.”

“Well, that is one of the many reasons why I love her, although on reflection it’s mostly for that little thing she does when she wrinkles her nose that is so indescribably cute…”

They all turned to see Oz carrying donuts. Cordelia said, “Oh, Krispy Crèmes. My favourite!”

“I figured it was probably snacktime,” Oz explained.

Giles clearly thought about remonstrating - Buffy could see him about to say lots of boring things about spoiling their appetites - and then visibly gave up and snagged a donut for himself. Xander was in donut heaven and Wesley was tentatively nibbling on a donut, saying in surprise: “It doesn’t have jam in it.”

Buffy grinned at him. “No, it’s all krispy and creamy instead. Not so much with the jammy.”

Xander shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about all those little English kids queuing for their gruel when the rest of the world is eating Krispy Crèmes.”

Oz looked at Wesley. “Normally I’d think the gruel theory was a little out there but I can see how it would explain a lot.”

Wesley presented his notebook to Giles. “I read about demons for you, Uncle Giles, and I need to cross-reference with this book about Demon Dimensions and this one called Studies in Demonology and this one called A Spirit Guide to the Lowerworlds. It says there’s one in German and one in Latin. If you could lend them to me, I could check these references for you and write some more.”

Xander grimaced. “How come, he stays two days with Giles and he’s party animal Wesley, and then we leave him alone with Buffy for a few hours and he’s mini Watcher research junkie again?”

“I think he can only take short holidays,” Willow explained. “And then his inherent need to be a Watcherness has to find a release in Watcherwork. I totally understand that because I’m the same way. And I think tomorrow Cordelia and Buffy should take him shopping so they can buy him clothes and then they might stop complaining about them and later I could do some more spells with him.”

Xander looked at Oz. “Let’s reclaim him for funsville. You start the van. I’ll grab him.”

Willow put a restraining hand on Xander’s arm. “He likes doing schoolworky things, Xander. He just doesn’t like doing them all the time without a break and still being told he’s stupid and never getting any praise and getting smacked or scolded even though he’s done his best and then being locked in a closet.”

They all flinched at that image, including Willow. Xander said tautly: “Have I mentioned today how much I hate his father?”

Cordelia looked at him and Giles together, Giles reading through what Wesley had written while Wesley waited anxiously. He kept neurotically rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand as he waited, becoming more and more nervous as Giles read on. Giles looked up and smiled at him. “Wesley, this is excellent work. I had completely missed that reference in the Spirit Guide.”

“It was in the next chapter.” Wesley quickly turned the pages so he could see. “Under the woodcut, called ‘fig.27’ it says that it’s taken from a picture in the Spirit Guide and it’s a demon in pure form so I think there should be more references there. Yes?” He looked at Giles nervously, clearly not sure if his work had been thorough or efficient enough.

Giles beamed at him. “Oh, I’m sure there would be. This is very helpful indeed. Thank you very much, Wesley, this is excellent work.”

Wesley lit up at the praise and stopped protecting his hand.

“You deserve another donut.” Giles snagged the last one for him and held it out and Wesley beamed in relief and happiness.

“I wish he could stay little,” Cordelia said abruptly.

They all looked at her in confusion. “But, you said...” Buffy began.

“I know what I said. And I like adult Wesley so much, but...look at him. He’s so happy with Giles and Giles is kind to him and doesn’t tell him he’s stupid or lock him up in the dark. And Giles looks happy too. And if Wesley could just stay little he wouldn’t have a horrible childhood with a horrible father and Giles wouldn’t just be a big loser with no life.”

Xander grimaced. “Cordy, you’re kind of where we all were a week ago. And you’re not wrong. But...it’s not going to happen.”

“But he’ll still look like that when he’s older when he changes back because of all those years and years when no one ever said anything nice to him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t?” Buffy suggested. “Maybe he grew out of it when he went away to school. He probably liked school.”

“He does look like it. I’ve seen him look like that when he’s been working on something and then Giles comes in and he gets all nervous and defensive and Giles tells him he’s done something wrong and he looks so crushed.”

Giles looked across at Cordelia in shock and Buffy had a sudden memory of Giles the night after Wesley had tried to arrest Faith for the Council. She had been exhausted from it all and had gone back to the library to find Giles alone with Wesley. Both of them standing there, all straight-backed and British, arguing with one another. The bruise on Wesley’s cheekbone had looked as if it had really hurt and she’d been glad about that. She had thought Serves you right.

“I don’t care if you thought you were acting for the best! You didn’t know the situation here and neither did the Council. You should have consulted with us, not sneaked off on your own.”

Wesley was all shoulders back and stiff necked. He really did look as if something had been jammed up his...spine, just like Faith said. “I didn’t ‘sneak’ anywhere. I became aware of a situation where a Slayer had accidentally killed a human being and I phoned head office for instructions on how to proceed. It’s standard procedure!”

“Well, it was bloody stupid and it may have done that girl incalculable harm. It’s up to you if you work with us or against us. But if you persist in working against us then you are going to find yourself closed out of all the important decision making.”

“I already am,” Wesley retorted. “At no point did you include me in any of your discussions about what to do about Faith. If you could have presented me with a coherent argument as to why you thought your plan was best then perhaps I would have seen the merit in your strategy but when you plot behind my back when I am the official Watcher here…”

“Oh yes, do let’s rub that in some more.”

“It’s not my fault I was chosen to be your replacement.”

“No, but it is your fault that you’re an insufferable prat. These are people’s lives, Wesley. You can’t just follow the rulebook and be a good boy for the Council. You have to take responsibility.”

“You were fired by the Council. Why should I trust your judgement?”

“Because Buffy does and without Buffy you have no place here. Now, I am trying to keep my patience with you in front of the children but you are testing it to breaking point. Either be useful or be quiet because you are not going to win Buffy’s trust unless you start acting as if you’re on the side of the Slayer, not the Council. There is always going to come a point when you have to choose and if you aren’t prepared to back your Slayer, you aren’t fit to be a Watcher. And, no, you won’t have learned that in the Academy, because they don’t teach it there. And make no mistake, Wesley, you cannot function as Watcher without the trust and respect of your Slayer. And, so far, you have done nothing except alienate both Buffy and Faith since you arrived here. Now, shape up or ship out.” Giles had stormed out of the library and Buffy had seen a brief glimpse of Wesley slumped with his head down, looking shaken up and wretched, rubbing the back of his hand, and then reaching up to rub his aching cheekbone, before Giles had seen her standing shocked in the doorway and pulled her outside.

“You didn’t hear overhear any of that.”

“No,” Buffy said sombrely. “I didn’t.”

“He is the Council’s representative and as such deserves to be treated with a modicum of respect.”

“Is ‘modicum’ one of those words that means a very teeny weeny amount? Because I could probably manage that…”

Buffy and Giles exchanged a glance and Giles hastily picked up Wesley. “Shall we try to get some of this donut stickiness off you before Mrs Summers comes home?”

“Yes, Uncle Giles. Do you have those books? I could look at them tonight if you like?”

“He’s the little praise-junkie, isn’t he?” Xander said fondly.

“Watcher Kids, work for praise,” Buffy sighed.

“Well, I guess anyone looking at Wesley could tell it wasn’t for food,” Cordelia shrugged.

When Giles came back out of the kitchen with Wesley’s coat in his hand, Buffy said, “Oh no, you don’t.”

“I’m just going to fetch those books. I thought Wesley could come with me to help me choose the right titles.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Hey, the fact we’re even letting you do research with him on our time is a concession, that doesn’t mean you also get to sneak him out of here to steal some extra time with him.”

“I assure you, Buffy, I had no intention of...” Giles took his glasses off then shrugged. “Well, it was worth a try. I’ll be back in an hour or so, Wesley. Try to keep Buffy amused until then. You know how she gets when she’s bored.”

Wesley giggled and watched Giles go with an adoring expression on his face. “Uncle Giles is funny.”

“In his dreams, he is.” Buffy scooped him up into her arms. “What do you want to do this evening?”

“Can I come on patrol with you and watch how you kill vampires?”

Buffy looked at him aghast. “No!”

He looked hurt. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous and people would be lining up to kill me if I even thought about it, with Giles at the head of the queue.”

“Trust me,” Xander said grimly. “I would outsprint him.”

Buffy nodded at Xander. “See. It would be all Death to the Slayer time.”

Wesley looked at Xander. “But I want to go. And I’d be very good and quiet and do as I was told, but I’d know how to be a Watcher better if I could see what Slayers do.”

Xander gazed back at him. “You know, you’d think a kid that cute with eyes that big would be able to get his own way on anything, wouldn’t you? But, what do you know, the answer’s still the biggest fattest ‘no’ you can think of.”

Wesley looked sulky and something very like a pout slid onto his face. Oz brightened. “Is that a pout? Because that would be like - resistance to authority, sense of injustice, sense of self, general seeds of rebellion being sown.”

Wesley was definitely pouting now and looked a hair away from a footstomp. “I want to go with Buffy.”

“Well, you can’t,” Xander told him. “You’re not old enough to go out patrolling in graveyards where there are killer vampires around who will bite your throat and suck out all your blood. That’s one of those things eight year olds don’t get to do.”

“But if I’m really grown up…?” Wesley’s eyes lit up. “If I’m really a grown up then I’m older than you and you can’t tell me what to do.”

Xander reached out and high-fived Oz. “Okay, I may need a manly hug.”

Oz nodded. “I think we all need to take a while just to drink in the moment.”

“He’s arguing with authority, he’s sulking, and he’s using sneaky arguments to try to get his own way. Wesley…” Xander picked him up. “You are now officially acting like a normal child.”

“You’re teasing me,” Wesley protested.

“Yes, I am. Because I’m bigger than you and that’s one of the things that I get to do just because you’re really little and can’t hit that hard yet.”

Cordelia said, “Just a thought but we do we actually want Wesley to grow up like Xander because I’m voting for ‘no’?”

“Something else I get to do just because I’m bigger than you? That would be tickling.” Xander proceeded to demonstrate, making Wesley giggle helplessly.

When Joyce walked in, Willow was encouraging Wesley to hit Xander with the couch cushions. Cordelia and Buffy were shouting tactical advice and Oz was saying he would have to be ‘Belgium’ on this one.

Cordelia looked at him in confusion. “Don’t you mean Switzerland?”

“Well, I thought about being Switzerland, on account of the neutrality angle seeming the most appropriate, but then I thought…cuckoo clocks.”

Joyce coughed discreetly and Xander said, “Oh, hi, Mrs Summers. Did you have a nice day at the gallery?”

But Wesley looked absolutely stricken at the sight of authority and immediately dropped the pillow and sat down on the couch. Buffy could tell just by looking at him that his heart was thumping like he’d run a race. As she moved over to him, he looked up at her anxiously. “I stood on the furniture.”

“It’s okay.” Willow rushed over as well. “You took your shoes off first.”

“But I’m not supposed to.”

Xander gave Joyce a pleading look and the woman quickly stumbled into the breach. “It’s fine, Wesley. You took your shoes off. No one minds you standing on the couch when you’re not wearing shoes.”

He hastily smoothed out one of the pillows. “I didn’t mean to crease the cushions.”

“It’s really okay, Wesley.” Joyce sat down next to him and patted his hand gently. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat before supper?”

He was trembling and looked up at her fearfully. “I’m sorry I stood on your sofa, Mrs Summers.”

“That’s quite all right, Wesley.” Joyce gave his hand another tentative pat. “Let me get you a soft drink?”

The thought of soft drinks in proximity to the couch was obviously too much for him after the near-miss scolding of standing on the furniture and he shook his head. “No, thank you, Mrs Summers.”

“Okay then.” She gave his hand another pat and then beckoned to Buffy to follow her into the kitchen. She closed the door. “Why is he so frightened?”

Buffy grimaced. “His father is kind of strict about things like that - spilling things and knocking things over and standing on the furniture. We’re trying to - wean him out of it. He’s much better now but I think he just freaked because he doesn’t know you yet. You’re still - potentially scary adult to him.”

“Mr Giles doesn’t scold him, does he?”

“Oh no, Giles pretty much dotes on him,” Buffy admitted. “He bought him everything Playmobil had ever made and another half a toy store on top.”

Joyce looked a little mollified. “Okay. If you say so.”

“Trust me, Mom. Giles is probably Wesley’s favourite person on the planet.” She grimaced. “Which kind of sucks, because he liked me best a few days ago. Giles has just been buying his affection with toys and games and things. Can I have my allowance early this week? I want to buy his affection too.”

Joyce sighed. “Well, I didn’t like to say anything when Mr Giles was here, but those clothes… None of them fit him.”

“You know, I tried to persuade him to just get something less…mini-Watcherish, but no, he wouldn’t listen.”

“If you wanted to take him somewhere and buy him some clothes - just for his visit, of course - I wouldn’t like his mother to think we were making some kind of value judgement - but it’s a different climate here and I think a few more relaxed clothes might be better for…playing on the beach.” Joyce opened her wallet and handed Buffy a wad of money.

Buffy thought about how Wesley was only going to be a child for a few more days and all those outfits her mother hadn’t bought for herself because she had to budget for the mortgage and the groceries. “He’s only going to be here for a few days.”

“Still…they’re kind of dreadful. I wouldn’t want the other children on the beach to make fun of him.”

“I think it’s just because he’s so skinny. It’s not that easy to find things that fit him. I don’t think Giles would want you spending your money, Mom.”

“Perhaps I could do something with the sewing machine?” Joyce looked through at Wesley and grimaced. “I mean that shirt looks as if it was made for an orang-utan.”

“We did pin the sleeves back,” Buffy protested. “It just must have come…unpinned.” She hurried off to do some more work with safety pins while wondering if her mother had enough food in the house to cook for so many people, or would even have enough energy after a day at the gallery.

Giles phoned a few minutes later to suggest that he brought dinner with him to save Joyce having to cook for so many people. She thanked him and asked for permission to buy Wesley some clothes, which he tactfully refused, and then to make some alterations to the clothes he had, which he accepted after a little persuasion. After a little more discussion with Cordelia and Buffy chiming in it was agreed that Buffy and Cordelia could spend fifty dollars, and no more, which Giles would supply, on purchasing new clothes for Wesley, and Joyce would make alterations to some of those already purchased.

Joyce smiled triumphantly and slipped Buffy another twenty dollars, saying that she seriously doubted ‘Mr Giles’ knew how far fifty dollars went in a children’s clothes store anyway.

Giles arrived bearing books and no food, but explained that it was being delivered, from an Indian restaurant that had recently opened in the area and about which there had been no complaints or reports of supernatural activity. He had ordered a number of different dishes for them to try. He said he doubted it tasted authentically ‘Indian’ as obviously one could only find that in Birmingham, but as they were Americans and didn’t know any better, they would probably enjoy it.

Angel had arrived around the same time as Giles and pointed out that the British only knew about Indian food because of invading their country and trying to turn it into one big grocery store run by the East India Company. He and Giles then had a disagreement about whether or not it was proper to refer to the war they wanted to argue about as the Indian Mutiny or the First Indian War of Independence.

“Well, it was called the Indian Mutiny when I was growing up,” Giles retorted.

“That’s a completely Imperialist name for a completely Imperialist viewpoint.”

Xander said quietly to Willow: “Where is India again?”

“It’s where the elephants with small ears come from,” Wesley whispered.

“I think it’s a whitewash of the British annexing of the country to change the name of it now. That was the perception of the war at the time in Victorian England. If you change the name of it you make it sound as if the perception was objective at the time. If Victorians had been calling what was happening ‘The First Indian War of Independence’ there wouldn’t have been a problem because they would have been in a different mental place to start with. Change history as you like but in all contemporaneous reports it was called ‘The Indian Mutiny’.”

“Of course it was! All the reports you’re referring to were written by Englishmen!”

“You two have some really dull arguments,” Buffy pointed out. “I mean - scarily dull. And Wesley doesn’t like you arguing, so stop it.”

Angel snapped his teeth together with an audible click and looked across at Wesley. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s called ‘The Indian Mutiny’ in all the Sherlock Holmes stories I’ve read too, though.”

Giles looked smug and Angel looked as if he was silently counting to ten. It was a relief to everyone when the food arrived and Giles and Angel could let go a little.

Buffy helped Wesley to a spoonful of everything so he could see what he liked best while Giles passed him the menu so he could learn what ‘agoo’ and ‘sag’ and all the other interesting new words meant in English. By halfway through the meal, Wesley could remember what everything was, the new words filed away in what was evidently the reference library in his mind while Xander was still saying ‘So, which one is the cauliflower again?’

Wesley was passing a dish to Buffy when the disaster struck. The bowl was a little heavier than he had anticipated and it dipped as he passed it, clipping the top of her glass and sending water spilling across the table. Wesley immediately froze in horror and Buffy quickly took the bowl from him, saying, “Wes, it’s okay.”

Xander sprang to his feet and mopped at the spill, saying rapidly: “Hey, no problem. Look at how the water didn’t even hurt anything.”

Willow babbled rapidly: “Xander’s so right! Nothing hurt at all. And no one’s mad with you. Spilling is just something that happens.”

Wesley darted a scared look at Joyce, still riveted to the spot with what were clearly the contradictory impulses to flee under the table and not get into any more trouble.

Willow quickly massaged his shoulders, saying, “Breathe, Wesley. That’s right. Just keep breathing in and out.”

Joyce looked at Giles for an explanation and the man said quickly: “Would you mind telling Wesley that it’s all right that he knocked over that glass? I’ll explain later.”

Joyce frowned in confusion. “Of course, it’s all right, sweetheart. How could you possibly think anyone would be mad at you about that?”

He was still trembling but Willow was rubbing his back gently and Buffy was still murmuring to him that it was fine while Xander tried to get the glass and the proof of spillage out of the way as quickly as possible.

Cordelia looked at Giles. “What is going on?”

“He’s a sensitive little boy, he needs reassurance, that’s all.” Giles took off his glasses so as not to meet anyone’s eyes.

Buffy lifted Wesley into her arms, whispering to him rapidly as she stroked his hair. Angel had risen to his feet and was looking at Oz. Quietly, he said: “What did I miss?”

“There was a previous…spillage,” Giles explained. “In the Library. Wesley was…upset.”

Angel looked at the little boy for a moment and Giles had no doubt that he could sense his fear. It was greatly reduced from last time, but it was still apparent, as was the trembling of his limbs. Angel looked at Giles and Giles saw his expression and grimaced. “Angel, you have a soul now, remember?”

Joyce looked between Angel and Giles and then at Wesley who was still in Buffy’s arms, being kissed reassuringly by Willow, who had ducked down to smile at him comfortingly and reiterate for the fiftieth time that no one was mad at him. Xander was forcing a smile and indicating how tidy the table was now, no more water anywhere. Cordelia was looking as bewildered as Joyce felt but was making reassuring noises. Oz just looked quiet and closed off; Angel as if he wanted to kill someone.

Joyce said, “Could I have a word with you, Mr Giles?” And then jerked her head at the kitchen.

Giles sighed and followed her in. “I’m sorry about the spillage. He’s really very careful…”

“I don’t care about that,” she whispered fiercely. “I care about the fact that you all knew he was going to be that upset by something so trivial. Exactly how ‘strict’ is his father?”

Giles rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache begin to throb. “Joyce, it’s not as straightforward as…”

“Does his father…hurt him…?”

“Joyce, I can assure you that if Wesley’s father was physically abusive to him I would never let him go back to England…until he was an adult.”

“He looked terrified! That isn’t normal.”

Giles grimaced. “I don’t pretend that everything about Wesley’s home-life as a child was - is perfect, but what’s done is done and…”

“For goodness sake, he’s eight years old! He isn’t ‘done’.”

“What I mean is that Wesley’s mother made her choice. She married a Watcher and Wesley’s father has certain expectations of his son. He does subject him to perhaps unreasonable pressure when it comes to schoolwork, and he is a disciplinarian, but you have to trust me on this, Wesley’s father is not…not a problem for Wesley.” As he said it, Giles realized that he was probably lying. No, the man would no longer be able to reduce him to quivering terror by the threat of locking him under the stairs, but he was probably still a problem all the same.

Joyce was looking at him in bewilderment. “I don’t know how you can stand there when that little boy is so terrified and tell me that his father isn’t a problem.”

Giles closed his eyes. “Joyce - you have to trust me on this. I am - very fond of Wesley and if there was any possibility of his father being cruel to an eight-year-old boy I would keep him here. You have my absolute word on that. If…something should happen that means Wesley is… If it should fall out that Wesley’s father…” He held up a hand. “Please, just trust me.”

“I just can’t bear to think of that little boy being - scolded or punished so severely that it leaves him terrified.”

“Neither can I.” Giles thought of the scene in the library. “It’s a…most distressing thing to contemplate.”

“You do recognize that this is different, don’t you? I’m expected to let my only daughter go out and risk her life every night because I’m told it’s her destiny and she’s the chosen one and no one else can do it. And I do accept it. I don’t like it. But I accept it. But this isn’t…hocus pocus or destiny. This is a little boy who I need to know is going to be protected not from demons and vampires but from his father being cruel to him. Now can you give me that assurance?”

Giles gazed at her and felt his guts twist, because the answer seemed to be that no one had protected the child Wesley had once been from his father being cruel to him. He kept using words, in his own mind as well as elsewhere, like ‘disciplinarian’ and ‘strict’ but the boy had been terrorized as systematically through impossible targets and unreasonable criticism as might some poor child of a drunken lout cringing in fear of another alcohol-fuelled fit of cruelty. No doubt Roger Wyndam-Pryce had never lost his temper in his life. No doubt every lesson Wesley had been taught had been measured and, in the man’s eyes, just. Perhaps Wesley’s father thought always of the inevitable challenges that life was going to throw at his son and sought only to prepare him. But any means that led to an eight year-old boy cowering in terror because he spilled a drink were not justified by any end.

Bleakly, he said: “I really am going to have to ask you to trust me.”

Joyce moistened her lips. “Just tell me if there’s more to this than meets the eye. Is something…Hellmouthy going on?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I’d rather have the permission of the person whom it most closely involves and at the moment he isn’t here to give it.”

Joyce looked at him aghast. “Please don’t tell me that nice young man I met in the library is Wesley’s father?”

Giles blinked. “Good God, no. Wesley barely knows how to say ‘good morning’ to a woman, let alone how to go around making babies with them, and thank goodness for that.” He winced. “Did I just say that out loud?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you certainly did.” She looked at him for a moment. “So - baby-making not something that gets taught in the Academy then?”

Giles had a vivid memory of the two of them on that police car. He cleared his throat. “Um - no. Any studies on that subject are strictly extra-curricular.”

Joyce took a deep breath, turning away as the moment between them became a little heated and potentially embarrassing. “I will try to trust you. But, if I ever find out that Wesley’s father has laid a finger on that little boy and that you let him go home to him just because the Council needs more Watchers and it’s Wesley’s mythic destiny…well, I won’t answer for the consequences.”

Giles nodded. “Fair enough. If I did do that I think I’d probably deserve any consequences it brought me.”

They went back into the dining room where Buffy was rocking Wesley on her lap, whispering to him gently, Willow still rubbing his back. Wesley still looked pale and shaken up but less scared than before. Buffy stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead while Xander had Cuthbert do a tap dance along the table top which summoned the glimmer of a ghostly smile from the boy. Angel was pacing the room, very much the caged tiger, practically thrumming with pent-up rage.

“Would anyone like some dessert?” asked Joyce brightly. Her gaze softened still further as it fell on Wesley. “Would you like some, sweetheart? It has toffee in it.”

“I’m having some,” Xander said at once. “And if you don’t you’ll just regret it later because Joyce’s dessert with toffee in it - not to be missed.”

Willow and Buffy also expressed enthusiasm for the toffee-related dessert while Cordelia beamed as brightly as if auditioning for a toffee-dessert commercial. Joyce crouched down by Wesley, smiling up at him while her eyes were full of concern. “Would you like to come with me and help?” She held out her arms to him.

Wesley gazed at her and evidently realized that the scary adult was positively radiating love and sympathy for him. He nodded shyly and Joyce immediately swept him from her daughter’s lap and carried him into the kitchen, talking to him with the same warmth and kindness.

Buffy held out her empty hands. “Mom stole my child substitute.”

“That’s Moms for you. Mine just pretends not to know who I am even when she’s looking right at me. I wouldn’t mind so much except I’m an only child.” Xander frowned.

“Can you have a child substitute who’s actually a real child?” Willow asked. “Isn’t he just a…child?”

“Well, he’s not my child,” Buffy pointed out. “So, he’s kind of a child-substitute.”

“What’s the deal with the spilling?” Cordelia hissed.

Giles interrupted quickly. “Cordelia, I really think that Wesley should have the option of telling you himself if he wants to share. I’m already having qualms about… well, some of the…intimacy he’s been forced into with the rest of us.”

Buffy looked sulky. “Are you saying that when Wesley’s a grown up again we’re not allowed to bring up Bath Night?”

Giles just looked at her. “I’m presuming he will have no recall of these events in the same way that he had no recall of any of us when he became a child again. So, perhaps the less he knows about certain things the better.”

“You just don’t want Big Wesley to know you played boats in the bath with him.”

Angel stopped his pacing in front of Giles, saying tautly. “Did you know? About Wesley’s father? Before, I mean…? When he was a child before, did you know?”

“Of course not,” Giles retorted. “I’d never met Wesley until he turned up in the library, and on the one occasion when I met his father, Wesley would already have been an adult and the question of child rearing methods never came up. It’s not as if the man wears a t-shirt emblazoned with ‘I burnt my copy of Doctor Spock and bought a set of leg-irons instead’.”

“What about his teachers at school? Didn’t they think it was a bit odd the way he jumped to attention every time they cleared their throat? Didn’t they wonder what the price was for him knowing so many things so damned young?”

“I have no idea. If they did they didn’t mention it in his school reports. Perhaps he was happy at school. He was certainly very successful there.”

“Yes, he made no friends and learnt how to fold under pressure every time anyone who looks or sounds or acts anything like his father asks him a question or sets him a task. Let’s strike up another success for the Watchers’ Council.”

“Would you both mind shutting up?” Buffy demanded in a hiss. “I don’t want Wesley hearing any of this. And neither should you. Angel - stop taking it out on Giles just because there’s no one else here from England for you to blame. And Giles…stop being reasonable all the time. It’s really annoying.”

“My apologies. Would you prefer it if I smashed some crockery?”

Cordelia, Xander and Buffy all said: “Yes!” in unison.

Giles picked up a sideplate and Buffy squeaked: “No, wait! That’s the company china!”

Giles smiled smugly and put the plate back down on the table.

“Here we are!” Joyce was still using her bright, cheerful, nothing-wrong-at-all voice, but she held a big dish of sticky toffee pudding in one hand, and held Wesley’s in the other and he looked a lot happier. She placed it on the table and lifted Wesley up onto his place. “Let me help you to some dessert, sweetheart.”

She did so and he gazed up at her in a way that suggested he had decided to fall in love with all of the Summer’s family indiscriminately, and given the way Joyce practically gave at the knees under the full force of Wesley’s big shy eyes, it appeared to be reciprocated.

“You are so adorable,” Joyce said helplessly.

Xander looked at Oz. “I’d think it was a spell he goes around casting on unsuspecting females except I kind of know where they’re coming from.”

Oz shrugged. “He does appear to have been at the front of the cute line when it was being handed out.”

Joyce stroked his hair back from his forehead in just the same way that Buffy did and handed him a spoon as if still under the influence of an enchantment. Wesley waited politely for everyone else to be served and Joyce said, “Oh, it’s okay, just tuck in - please.”

Wesley did so tentatively, dipping his spoon into the pudding and putting it into his mouth. Then he closed his eyes in pleasure and looked up at Joyce in shock. “It’s so nice. It’s so…really, really nice.”

Giles looked at Joyce. “Old recipe handed down through the generations…?”

“Store bought,” she murmured back. “Plucked from the ice box and defrosted in the microwave. Do I need to tell him that?”

“Let him keep his illusions,” Giles returned.