Summary: Wesley just realized something about his past, and has to deal with the severity of it. Set a few years in the future.
Spoilers: Through the first season of Angel and the fourth season of Buffy.
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters. I like to make them all confused.
Rating: PG13
Thanks to Laura for the rockin' titles, and to Tracy for being such a rockin'  beta-er. :)

* * * * * * *

Wesley streaked past them angrily. Cordelia and Angel exchanged a startled look before going after him. Cordelia caught the sleeve of his coat, and he spun around.

She flinched, seeing the pain in his eyes. "What is it? What happened?"

"You're my *wife*, and you kept this from me!" he shouted, his blood boiling. "You, who is supposed to share *everything* with me-- I shared everything with you! And you lied! And that man-- the man that you say is my father-- gave me up to those people! He's not my father. He doesn't have the heart to be anyone's father."

He pulled out of her grasp, turning to Angel. His voice was low, harsh. "Give me the keys, Angel."

"Wesley, I'm not sure you should be alo--"

"Give me the *fucking* keys."

Angel sighed and shook his head, handing them over. Wesley grabbed them and turned, and then was gone. A moment later, Cordelia and Angel heard the car start up and squeal out down the street. Cordelia looked at Angel, gaping.

"Have you ever heard him swear before?"

"Not like that," Angel said grimly.

Tears spilled out of her eyes then, streaked down her face. "What do I do now?" she wondered aloud, hollowly.

Angel glanced up, saw the shadow in the window, and gestured that direction. Cordelia looked. "I think you go see him. I'll check about getting a rental car to drive home."

She barely heard his last sentence; she was already on her way up the stairs.

She halted when she reached his bedroom, and Giles lifted his head but didn't turn away from the window. "What did he mean?"

"What happened?" she whispered.

"He..." Giles's voice was distant. "He was listening at the window when I woke up. Wesley. He... called me father and then ran out. What did he mean?"

"Giles..." Cordelia approached him slowly and then took his arm, leading the older man back over to the bed. Giles stumbled a bit and she steadied him, holding onto his arm. He sat down on the mattress, and Cordelia pushed him back gently, against the pillows. He only resisted a moment, and then conceded to his exhaustion. Cordelia pulled the covers over him, her voice soft.

"I had a vision this morning," she explained. "You were in it, when you were very young. Younger than I am now. And so was Wesley. My vision told me that he was going to save you tonight, and told me something else. ...He's your son."

"My...?"

"Yes." She patted his hand slightly, then reached up and pulled the covers more securely around him before continuing. "Your son. I didn't tell him... I don't know why you didn't ever tell him. I can just guess that... maybe... you didn't know?"

Giles's mouth curved up as his eyes drifted shut. His words were warm. "It was the happiest day of my life when he was born. I thought... I thought..." He sighed, his words fading.

Cordelia swallowed the tears. She had hoped that he didn't know, had hoped so hard that he wasn't the type of man who would give up his child to those monsters, to people who would terrorize and brainwash him, making him live in fear of... everything. Even love. Cordelia looked at Giles as *her* father sometimes, but now... Could he have really done something that evil?

With a small sniffle and a big sigh, she stood, and went downstairs to wait for Angel to pick her up. It didn't matter what kind of man Giles was. Right now she needed to be with her husband.

* * * * * * * *

He was an old man now, but he had been young once. He had experienced all of the dizzying emotions and pastimes that youth carried. He had fallen in love, many times, had gotten his heart broken, had rebelled, had killed, and had loved even more. He had felt remorse, had been alone, and had been surrounded by people who he was sure would never betray him. But of course, most of them had.

Not Susan, though. She would have never betrayed him.

His mind drifted to that time, where everything was love and lust and joy, and there were no orders to weigh down his soul. The only time in his life, until he had met Buffy, when he had felt free and alive and right with the world, and most of all, happy.

He fell in love with Susan when he was so young; before Ethan and demons, before the Watcher's Council. Before all of it was forced upon him. She made him happy.

"Rupert?"

"What is it, Love?" He put out his cigarette, waving his hand in the air to thin the smoke out. He knew how she hated it when he smoked, and was trying to quit. It was tough, though. Susan smiled shyly, and slipped into his arms.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered against his chest.

"Tell me." He smiled, leading her over to the couch. They sank down into the soft cushions, and he took her hands in his. Someday, he was going to marry her. Someday.

"I'm late, Rupert."

"Late for what?" His head tilted. "Your car isn't working? You need a ride somewhere?"

She laughed gently, reaching up to hold his face in her hands. "Not late. *Late*." When he continued to look at her, confused, she gave an elaborate sigh, holding back her smile. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment he didn't respond and though she was almost sure he would be happy, she was struck with the sudden fear that he would hate her, would hate this child that she carried. And then the moment was gone, along with the fear, as a smile broke over his face and a loud laugh burst from his throat. He took her in his arms and stood, swinging her around the room. Their laughter mingled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She bit her lip, giddy with love for him. "I saw the doctor yesterday. I didn't want to mention it if I was wrong."

Rupert paused for a moment, his mind working quickly, and then grinned again. "First things first." He picked up the half-full pack of cigarettes and threw them in the trash. "I'm giving up this shit once and for all. And, have you thought about names? Do you know whether it's a boy or a girl?"

Susan giggled, delighted. "You're going to fast for me! I haven't a thought about names yet. And I don't know about whether it's a boy or girl-- which would you like?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, dismissing the question, leaning forward to give her a sound kiss on the mouth. "Either one."

"Really," she insisted, and he saw that she was serious.

"A little girl would be nice," he said slowly, a small smile warming his features. "Someone to worship me." Susan laughed and slapped his arm. "Someone that I could look out for, someone who I could help with her homework and growl at the men she fell in love with. It would be dangerous to have a girl, I suppose. I wouldn't want her to be a Slayer; wouldn't want her to have to experience anything like that."

"So it's a girl, then?"

"On the other hand," he continued, looking into her eyes, "A boy... Someone that I could play with, could teach to be strong no matter what, and to stand up for what's right instead of what his 'duty,'" he said the word mockingly,  "Is supposed to be. Don't you agree, darling?"

"Yes." Susan's eyes shined. "A little boy would be wonderful. Someone with your chin."

"And your eyes," he countered.

"Your smile."

"Your nose."

"Maybe we'll have twins," she said thoughtfully, leaning against him. "A little boy *and* a little girl."

"That would be nice, all right," he agreed, hugging her.

"What about names?"

Rupert paused a moment. "What's say we name it when it's born? That way, we know what kind of name it'll look like, what name will fit his, or her, face best."

Susan sighed, snuggling against him. "That sounds lovely."

"Sue?" He sounded worried, and she looked up at him. "I'm only eighteen, and so are you. I don't want you to get into... Trouble. You know about my family. They're likely to forbid you from me or some other such nonsense."

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. Her hands stroked his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. "Let them try," she murmured. "Just let them try."

* * * * * * * *

Giles woke with a start, the feel of Susan's kisses lingering on his lips. He sat up, the earlier weakness and tiredness vanishing quickly in the warm light of early afternoon. Giles groaned slightly, realizing how late he had slept, and then stumbled down the stairs and reached the phone, picking it up and dialing the number that he wished he didn't know by heart.

"Hello?"

"This is Rupert Giles," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me speak to my father."

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Gi--"

"Now!" he barked.

There was silence and then a moment later, the phone was picked back up. His father's voice was older now, grainy, and held intolerance for the call. "Yes, Rupert?"

"You make me come here, make me love the girl. You have me fired. Then you send my *son* to take care of her?" he demanded.

"You've never complained before," Randolph said, amused. "And it's been years."

"Damn you!" Giles yelled. "You know very well that if I had been... You lied and I have a suspicion that you did it all for your gruesome amusement. Well, Father, you've won. I'm not playing anymore. I'm no longer your son."

For a moment, Randolph's voice softened. "Rupert, you know that we had to..."

"No you didn't." Giles shook his head, blinking back furious tears. "No, you didn't. You never did a damn thing that you didn't want to. Didn't you ever wonder where I got that from?" With that, he hung up. He heard a cough behind him, and he spun around.

Buffy and Willow stood there awkwardly; Buffy carrying a pot of soup.

"Wesley is your son?" Willow asked, her eyes wide.

"I suppose this means I don't have to ask you how much you heard," Giles said wearily. He leaned against the back of the couch, shoving his glasses on.

"Wesley is your son?" Buffy echoed, staring at him.

After a moment, Giles nodded. "Yes. He is."

Buffy set down the pot on the counter and walked over to him. "What are you going to do?"

"I suppose... I suppose I'm going to call Wesley. And explain." He sighed. "He most likely has the wrong idea about what happened. As does Cordelia and, no doubt now, Angel."

"Do you want any help?" Willow asked, concerned.

"Thank you, no." He smiled gently at her. "I need to do this on my own."

Buffy looked at him a moment longer, and he looked sad and lost. Before she let herself think about what she was doing, she wound her arms around him and put her chin on his shoulder. "It's going to work out fine, Giles," she whispered in his ear. She felt him tremble slightly, and knew that he was trying to hold back tears. "I promise," she continued, her arms strong around him, letting him take from her strength, "And how often do Slayers lie?"

A gave a weak laugh and then straightened as Buffy's arms fell away. Once again, he was the proper Englishman that they knew.

But not really.

He didn't know if he could ever go back to who he was again.

* * * * * * *

"Hello, Love." Wesley dropped a kiss onto the top of Cordelia's head as he walked. He looked at her expectantly, his hand resting on the large curve of her stomach. "Any evil afoot? Any... Thing else that you'd feel the need to tell me?"

Cordelia grinned. "No, I'm not in labor. And you're making me nervous by asking that all the time! It's still a week until my due-date. And no again, to the evilness."

"Then I can still have my way with my wife?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she giggled.

"You'd better, because after the baby is born, you're going to have to wait six weeks to have another... way... with me." She winked, sliding into his arms, pressing herself against him.

His hands hooked around her waist and he leaned down and kissed her hungrily. She mewled softly as he licked the inside of her lower lip. After a moment, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, looking into his eyes.  "Giles called again today."

The warm light faded from his gaze. "Cordelia, I've asked you not to mentio--"

She pulled out of his embrace. "I don't care what you say about it, Wesley. That man practically raised me during a really... crucial time in my life and I refuse to believe that he's what you think he is, no matter what's happened. I'd like it if you called him back. He's been trying to get in touch with you for six months, and you haven't so much as given him a thought. Wesley," she half-pleaded, half ordered, "I want him to be a part of our lives. A part of our baby's life."

He jerked back with a grimace. His voice was sullen. "You think I haven't given him a thought. I've done nothing but think about him, everytime I close my eyes and hear the voices ordering me under the stairs. Everytime I turn in the mirror and see the scars on my back. The scars that he gave me, however indirectly."

Cordelia shook her head. "That's not thinking of him. That's blaming him. And you don't know what happened to make him give you over to those people. You don't know what the circumstances were, and you *don't* know what he's thinking. You keep torturing yourself, blaming him for your childhood, when he probably thought he was giving you a better life than what he could have provided. I'm sure he didn't even guess that you were... hurt."

His eyes flashed with pain and anger. "What about when I came to Sunnydale, and he treated me as though I was the lowest being on Earth? He didn't listen to me, didn't care for me, didn't let me do my job. He acted as if I were just in the way."

"You were, then," Cordelia pointed out gently. "It was a very hard time for him. I already told you that he was surprised to learn that *you* were his son... He didn't know. And he cares about you now. They all do." Her voice was compassionate. "*I* do."

He took off his glasses for a moment and cleaned them, a nervous habit that Cordelia recognized from when she was sixteen, and Giles was worried over something. Just how many traits had she fallen in love with, how many things about him came from Giles? she wondered. Why wouldn't he let himself see that he was part of the man who had cared for her, cared for them all?

Finally he shook his head and replaced his glasses, walking back over to her to kiss her gently on the mouth. "I'll be at home," he said quietly, and then was gone.

Cordelia walked over to her desk, her hands on her stomach, and sat down in her chair heavily. She had the urge to cry; to weep like there was no tomorrow, but shook her head instead, gulping back her tears and breathing in deeply, letting her thoughts wander.

When the cramp shot through her stomach, she started, realizing that she had been sitting there for almost a half-hour. She shook her head slightly against the discomfort and breathed in deeply again, calming herself, her eyes on the clock.

Eight minutes later, there was another one.

And six minutes after that.

Soon they were coming five minutes apart, and she groaned. "Perfect timing."

With a bit of difficulty, she reached over and grabbed the phone. After two rings, it picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Giles," she said, inhaling and exhaling sharply.

"Cordelia? Are you all right?"

"Well, sort of." She grinned to herself. "I'm in labor."

"What?!" he burst out. "I thought... I thought you weren't due for another two weeks!"

"One week, actually. But I'm in labor nonetheless." She paused, letting out a soft, pained moan as another contraction bit through her. "Five minutes apart. So listen, I need to be getting to the hospital. But I want you here; I want everyone here. I'm going to be at Memorial Hospital, so please... Please hurry."

"Yes, yes. Take care."

"You too," she panted, then hung up.

A moment later, she hit the intercom into Angel's apartment. "Listen up, Deadboy!" she yelled, hoping to wake him. "It's an hour after sunset and you're still snoozing while one of your assistants is in labor. Get your ass up here."

Before she had finished, Angel was running out of the elevator, looking slightly panicked. "Wasn't asleep. Come on. Where's Wesley?"

"At home." She gestured to the phone. "Call?"

"Yeah." Angel picked up the phone. Wesley answered quickly, and Angel cut him off at the 'hello.' "Cordelia's in labor, I'm driving her, meet us there and hurry." He hung up.

"Wow. One minute man," Cordelia laughed, slightly out of breath as he helped her out of the chair. She leaned on him.

He glanced at her on their way out of the door. "I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult."

"In this case, compliment," she clarified. "Now, if Buffy had said it..."

"Cordelia...." he warned.

She grinned as they went down the stairs. "Kidding."

* * * * * * *

Wesley waited, his elbows on his knees, his hands over his eyes. A few minutes later, the doors burst open and Buffy, Willow and Xander spilled in. Giles walked in after them, slowly.

Wesley looked up, a faint smile on his face as he stood to greet them. He addressed the younger ones. "She's been in labor for nearly four hours altogether. She said for me to wait out here, and to send you-- Buffy, Willow and Xander-- in. Angel's in there. She said she wanted some... Scooby time?"

The three smiled. Buffy leaned forward to give him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations, Wes." He grinned nervously at her, and she paused for a moment. "Are you coming too?"

"She wanted to be alone with you three," he explained. "Something about one last time before the baby is born, she wants to be a child. I'm not sure I understood all of it... Anyhow, the nurse will call me in when it's almost time." He smiled again, gracefully, when he saw their embarrassed looks. "She's not forcing me out, not denying me anything. I wanted to give her that. I can wait."

They nodded quickly. "Is she all right?" Xander asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"She's fine." Wesley shook his head, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "I suppose labor is never easy, but... There are no complications."

"Where...?" Willow's question drifted off.

"The last door down the hall, on the right," Wesley directed, sitting down wearily as the three fairly ran down the hallway. A beat of silence went by and then he addressed Giles, without looking back up. "You can go."

"Cordelia asked me to be here," Giles said firmly. "I won't leave."

"You can leave your son with monsters, but not a girl of no relation, who you've known for less than ten years?" Wesley bit out.

Giles flinched, then sat down across from him. Their knees brushed against each other. When he finally spoke, his voice was sad.

"I had a son, a long time ago," he started. "I was in love with his mother, terribly in love with her. And I hated my family. I hated who they wanted me to be, what they told me was real, everything that I was supposed to do with my life. And so, at nineteen, my child was born. Wesley Giles. He... He *looked* like a Wesley."

Wesley looked up at him for a moment, startled, and his eyes were wet. Then he looked back down as Giles continued.

"I loved him the moment I laid eyes on him-- loved him before that, actually, when he was still inside of Susan. I wanted everything for him. Mostly, I wanted him to be free of everything that had been placed upon me," Giles said softly. "And then, when he was three months old, I went out of town. I was in a band, you see... I was young and thought a lot of myself and my musical talents, and Susan encouraged me, so when I got the job, I headed out. The night I was to return, I got a phone call."

"What did it say?" Wesley whispered.

"I was told," Giles said with difficulty, "That Susan and my son had died in a car accident. My father was the one who told me. I hated the man, but didn't think he was lying. I never thought to question it; I saw the car, went to Susan's-- and I thought my son's-- funeral, and fell into a depression. Over the years, I rebelled and raised some demons and went on my way, but finally decided that this, Buffy that is to say, was worth doing. I worked with the Watchers, and tried to become something other than what my father had taught me to be."

"Giles..."

"Wesley," Giles said, his voice rough, "I'm sorry. I never knew... If I had, you must believe that I would have... I would have killed to save you from them. I would have done anything, given my own life, to save yours. I know what they are, and what they do to train people, to train Watchers. I know what they do to keep a secret. I know everything, because it was done to me from the time I was a child. And I never wanted that for you. I'm so..." He stopped, holding back tears, his throat working silently.

"We can't change what's happened," Wesley said quietly, meeting Giles's eyes. "As much as we might like to. It wasn't your fault." He sighed heavily. "And it wasn't mine. I'm sorry I didn't... listen to you."

Giles just shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up. "I can't blame you for that. I most likely wouldn't have listened, either."

Wesley sighed. "Like father, like..."

"Mr. Wyndam-Price?" a nurse broke in. Wesley looked up. "Your wife is asking for you. It's nearly time."

Wesley stood quickly, brushing his slacks down nervously. He cast a quick smile to Giles as he saw Cordelia's door open and Buffy, Willow, Xander and Angel started down the hall. He began to leave, but the nurse stopped him.

"Your wife asked, if you have no aversion to it, if you would mind taking your father in with you," she said. Wesley nodded at Giles, who stood, and both men walked down the hallway together.

Wesley opened the door quietly, then walked to her side. Giles went to the other side of the bed, and each man took one of her hands. The doctor looked up, then back down, dismissing them. Cordelia smiled, a little mischievously. Her face was misted with sweat, her hair damp. "I knew that if I could get the two of you alone together, you'd work it out," she muttered, before clenching onto their hands painfully.

Wesley grimaced. "Isn't the shot working?" he muttered.

The doctor spoke without looking at them. "Yes, but she'll still feel some pressure. And sometimes, the amount of the initial dosage given doesn't fulfill the patients needs. But your wife is delivering very quickly, we have no time to give her another shot."

"I was always... advanced..." Cordelia panted.

"Mrs. Wyndam-Price?"

"Yeah?" she gritted.

"I need you to push now," the doctor said firmly. She obeyed, her eyes squeezing shut through the exertion, her hands crushing the hands of two men twice her size. Giles's mouth opened slightly as he glanced down at Cordelia, his eyes wide with surprise and pain.

Then he smiled.

His daughter-in-law.

Wesley locked eyes with the older man and they both smiled, thinking the same thing. In a moment, another part of their family would be born.

"I'll raise the baby right," Wesley murmured. Giles nodded at him.

Cordelia exhaled and then sucked in her breath again, holding it, pushing when the doctor said. She didn't make a sound, didn't move, her mind going blank of everything except the pain and the two hands in hers.

Minutes that felt like days crawled by, and no one except for the doctor spoke. And then there was absolute silence.

And then a loud cry.

Cordelia laid back, limp, against the pillows, her eyes opening tiredly.  "What is it? Is it okay?"

"It's a he, and he's in perfect health," the doctor announced. The nurse took the child and cleaned him quickly, expertly, before handing him over to Cordelia, who took him greedily.

Cloudy eyes opened and then closed as she held the baby to her breast and he began eating hungrily. His wrinkled, red face was the most beautiful thing that Wesley had ever seen, and he slowly leaned forward to kiss Cordelia, not taking his eyes off of the baby.

"You're brilliant," he murmured to her. His eyes welled. "You're brilliant."

"I love you," she said tenderly, tears streaking down her face. "I love both of you." Her eyes glanced up at Giles, and she amended, "All three of you."

Giles was moved, and he bit his lip, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

Cordelia sniffed, then smiled tearfully. "Have we decided what he looks like?"

Wesley looked at Giles, explaining, "We wanted to see the baby, to see what name would fit him or her best."

Giles nodded knowingly.

"I think..." Cordelia looked up at both of them, "I think I like Giles Wyndam-Price. Or Wesley Giles." She paused. "Junior?"

Giles leaned down and kissed Cordelia's temple, his finger tracing over the soft skin of the newborn. "Thank you."

"Whatever we give him a first name, we have to decide something else first," Wesley said, humor filling his tone.

The two of them looked at him expectantly, and he finished.

"What his last name is going to be."

The End

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