Giles felt himself relax as he walked along the crowded pavement. The sky had been grey when he went into the shop to pick up some lunch, but now the sun was shining and it was good to be away from his desk. Despite the terrible queue forcing him to be gone far longer than he intended Giles suddenly felt in no hurry to get back, he glanced at his watch and decided to take the longer route back to the museum and go through the park. After all he’d been at work both late last night and early this morning, and would maintain that pattern without hesitation or a break until his current deadline was met.
Besides there was the sun. When he’d first arrived in California Giles had complained about the lack of variety in the weather but gradually he’d begun to take the sunshine and its instant feel good factor for granted, enough to experience serious depression during that first seemingly endless winter after he’d come home. So now when the weak English sun shone Giles could usually be found somewhere outside enjoying it.
Friends had noticed this and other changes with some amusement. The new taste in clothes, the reappearance of the earring and the sometimes too confident manner. They wondered amongst themselves exactly what Rupert had got up to in America, but when it became obvious that he was never going to supply a single word of detail about his time away they stopped speculating, and were simply pleased, as good friends always will be to have him back with them.
When he’d first returned Giles had felt totally out of his depth socially. He sat at dinner parties and listened with incomprehension to talk of house prices, school fees and politics, references to books he hadn’t read, films he hadn’t seen and music he hadn’t heard. Life in Sunnydale had been so focussed, a virtually uninterrupted run of constant danger, half eaten meals and sleepless nights that at the time Giles hadn’t really noticed how quickly all other interests had fallen by the wayside as he concentrated solely on Buffy’s survival.
Soon Giles had rediscovered the pleasures of relaxing, culture and company. And good-naturedly put up with friends’ frequent attempts to set him up. Some of which had proved disastrous one or two highly enjoyable.
‘Why on Earth did no one snap you up in America?’ he been asked. ‘I thought the voice alone would’ve done it.’
‘Alas they seemed immune to my considerable charms.’
He told no one of Jenny and couldn’t even begin to explain Buffy having never even admitted that he was in love with her. He silenced those thoughts by reminding himself that it was improper behaviour for a Watcher, especially one more than twice his Slayer’s age and now there was no point as she was so far away. Neither approach had proved to be particularly effective, he longed for Buffy and whilst he had fun with various girlfriends, and had twice come close to making a serious commitment he always held back knowing that in his heart of hearts there was someone else he wished to spend his life with.
Professionally the situation had been much worse. In the small enclosed world of museum archaeology he found himself regarded as a joke and the subject of wild rumours. The general consensus being that if the Curator of Near-Eastern Antiquities at the British Museum had indeed abandoned his career to spend nearly seven years working as a high school librarian and then some sort of shop keeper at the very least he’d obviously had a rather severe mid-life crisis if not actually a nervous breakdown.
Turning the full force of his passion and intellect on the subject he adored by both inclination and training Giles silenced his critics by producing a body of deeply acclaimed academic work and once again Dr Rupert Giles was held in some esteem by those in the know as the final word of authority upon such matters.
Of the life left behind in California, Dawn was his most frequent contact. Heedless of the time difference she would ring him at all hours and giggle her way through tales of New York life. Dawn had mourned for Spike in a most touching manner and then shrugged off the loss of Sunnydale as she had the rest of her childhood. Now in the final semester of a graduate programme for applied sociology at NYU she remained totally uninterested in what the future might hold. Having grown up with the knowledge that the world may end at any time she found herself unable to relax and go with the flow, and still lived as if each day could be her last. Giles didn’t know where she got the energy but took great pleasure in knowing that she was happy.
Willow was also in New York moving in much grander circles. A software designer in a time that made computer geeks gods, Willow Rosenberg creator of the Figwit was a much worshipped deity. The Figwit - an internet application that no decent computer could run without had entered the language, a billion computers and made Willow wealthy beyond even Anya‘s wildest dreams. She remained at the cutting edge of her field driven by the challenge of the speed with which technology developed, and a deep love for her chosen occupation. A feeling Giles could readily identify with and yet beyond that they had very little in common and there had been no contact between them for a long time.
That closeness and understanding they once shared had turned sour. Willow would never be fully reconciled with killing Warren and all that she‘d done under the influence of dark magic, but she was not going let it change her. To her, Giles appeared an increasingly pathetic figure still seemingly struggling to cope with the guilt of Randall’s death thirty years after he’d picked up the knife. Therefore she shunned him as if fearful his continued presence would contaminate her, and bring her down to his level. Guessing at her true feelings and respecting her right to reinvent herself Giles had reluctantly let Willow go.
Giles and Xander rarely spoke to each other establishing instead a pattern of fairly frequent emails. Xander’s approach to spelling and grammar never failed to appal and amuse Giles, who still had trouble with the fact that Xander’s years at Sunnydale High had left the boy apparently unable to write a coherent sentence. Xander lived out in the suburbs of L.A in a chaotically untidy house that he shared with two buddies. All three of them worked the same job - selling magazine subscriptions over the phone. Giles couldn’t understand how Xander enjoyed such a mind-numbingly repetitive task failing to realize that that was the reason Xander loved it. There were no surprises, total security and everything that was expected of him was clearly laid out as weekly and monthly targets. Xander worked his set hours and then walked out of the office not having to give work a thought until he went back for his next shift. He liked talking to people and put his gentle nature and quick wit to good use, so that often his customers barely realized they were buying something and enjoyed talking to such a warm, polite young man.
Xander had once talked of travelling or going away to college but never left L.A admitting that he really didn’t care anymore. ‘We spent too long worrying about the unknown, G-man. I ain’t going looking for it.’ Life on the Hellmouth had robbed Xander of his curiosity and spontaneity, it grieved Giles that his friend had so narrowed the focus of his life at such a young age, and yet Xander appeared to be perfectly content.
Buffy had gone to the other extreme saying of the world ‘Hey I saved it, now I want to go look at it.’ Once Dawn was in college Buffy began to thread a random trail across the globe staying in some places for weeks others merely for hours, waitressing, fruit picking, working in bars when necessary always eventually moving on. No longer the Slayer - no longer sure of her role in life after years of sacrifice Buffy searched the world for the one experience, the one moment of peace that would allow everything to fall into place so that she could finally say ‘it was worth it’ and start to live again. That moment remained elusive and the search continued.
Now she had Alice to help her. There was Buffy and there was Alice they were a complete team, and the identity of her father remained an unimportant, unspoken detail. Giles had first met Alice when she was sixteen hours old. Holding her in his arms he’d slowly walked over to the window and looked out over a smoggy L.A night.
‘This is yours,’ he’d whispered softly to her. ‘Yours is the world and all that is in it .’
He stared down hypnotised by her wide brown eyes.
‘Once I vowed to watch over and protect your mother no matter what and I swear to you tonight, Alice, if ever you need me. I will be there.’
With that he bent forward and gently kissed her forehead.
‘Are you always this affectionate with people you’ve just met?’ teased Buffy.
Giles turned and walked back to Buffy’s bed tenderly placing her daughter in her arms.
‘I rather think that Alice is a special case.’
He sat down in the stiff plastic visitors’ chair and unable to stop himself yawned hugely.
‘London to L.A and back in a weekend you’re going to have killer jet lag.’
‘Not for anything would I have missed this. It was terribly thoughtful of Alice to be born on a Friday so that I don’t have to miss work either.’
Buffy pouted a little. ‘Do you really have to go?’
‘I‘ll see you soon - both of you.’
They lapsed into silence. Giles couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of his Slayer holding her baby, he’d never get tired of it. This was something that just wasn’t supposed to have happened. He’d always dreaded the day when he would have to bury Buffy, indeed had done once and knew that to do so a second time would have killed him as effectively as if he‘d died alongside her. Instead they had fought, won and survived. Breaking once and for all the cycle of death and destruction so that now there was a new life to celebrate and a future he’d never thought he would have. Breathing heavily Giles felt suddenly overwhelmed.
‘Giles, are you going to cry?’ Buffy’s voice crashed into his thoughts.
‘No, no. I’m far t-too British and repressed.’ He gave Buffy a quick smile and
rubbed his eyes. She looked back, her facial expression caught between amusement and sympathy.
‘Cos you know if you were that’d be okay. There’s been lots of tears. Poor kid
probably already thinks that Mommy’s a basket case.’
More silence as they watched Alice whose thoughts were unfathomable.
‘This is wonderful, Buffy.’
‘Maybe it’ll all make sense now. Maybe it was all for her’
‘It is as good a reason as any.’
That had been the last time they had seen each other; despite their best efforts it had been nearly five years since Buffy and Giles had been in the same room. Giles returned to his life in London, and as soon as she could Buffy had resumed her travels with renewed intensity knowing that one day she must settle down. Alice would need to go to school, need somewhere to call home.
And now Giles was weaving his way through the stationary traffic at the end of the street and walking into the park. It was one of London’s miracles how quickly the noise of the city was quietened inside these restful green and open spaces. Behind him he could hear someone running in his direction and instinctively tensed up.
‘Giles! Wait!’
He turned and then stepped back under the impact of someone hurling themselves into his arms.
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