Son of Mine
Dec. 30th, 2011 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseDisclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Giles wandered aimlessly around Xander's living room. They'd popped home for Xander to pick up something from his room, and Giles was stuck waiting for him. Restlessly, he picked up various bits of household adornment, before putting them back down, and moving on, not really paying attention to them. Absently, he rubbed his fingertips, trying to remove the greasy dust that had accumulated. Suddenly, he was confronted with something utterly unexpected. The photo of someone he once knew, many years ago.
“That's my mom,” Xander offered.
Giles started, and turned to look at the youth. “I, I'm sorry?”
“The woman,” Xander indicated to the photo. “That's my mom. Actually, she made it to tweedland back before I was born,” the young man grinned. “That's where that was taken. Was there for a year, back in 1979. Supposed to be studying, but I think she was trying to do the mundane version of what you did.”
“Er, yes,” Giles began, blinking. “I, er, I rather thought I recognised the background. So that was, uh, right before you were born?”
“Uh huh,” Xander nodded, leading the way out of the house. “Mom came back and fell pregnant, like, straight away. You know,” Xander went on, musing, “I sometimes like to think that Mom actually fell pregnant in England, and just tricked Dad into thinking I'm his. But that's just wishful thinking. 'Cause, frankly, sometimes I think even that guy, Ethan Rayne, would be a better father than Tony Harris.”
Giles stopped at that thought. “Oh, I don't think I'd go that far,” Giles offered.
Xander snorted. “At least he's not the town drunk. And I only said sometimes.”
~~~~~
He couldn't stop thinking about the photograph he'd seen at Xander's house. Four days, now, and that single image remained stuck in his head. He knew that woman. He'd known her quite well, as a matter of fact. Biblically, if one wanted to wax poetic. He dug into the box he believed was the one he wanted, and began pulling out albums. Finally, he found the one he'd wanted, and carried it out to the dining room before carrying on into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
Finally, he was able to settle himself at the photo album and begin his search. It took a good number of pages, over halfway through the album in fact, but he found the set of photographs he was after. And there she was, in his arms. He stroked the photo through the clear plastic cover. Back in the day, they'd been invincible. No one had used condoms, because nothing was going to happen, and they just got in the way. He was rather surprised no one had come to him earlier about an unplanned pregnancy.
He sighed, and roused himself to make another cup of tea. Lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn't hear anyone enter the apartment until a clear, young voice called out to him.
“I remember this jacket,” Buffy announced censoriously.
Giles started, and looked through the hutch. “I'm sorry?”
“This jacket,” Buffy prompted, picking up the album, and pointing to a photo. “I remember it.”
Giles frowned in thought then nodded. “Oh, yes. Quite. From the, uh… From, er, that night…”
“And that's as far as anyone needs to go on that topic,” Buffy smiled. “You look young. Well, younger. Like twenties-young. She's pretty. Who is she?”
Giles smiled fondly at the picture Buffy indicated. “Jessie.”
“She part of your … you know. That group?” Buffy asked.
“Oh, no,” Giles shook his head, and flipped back a few pages in the book. “That was Deidre,” he added, pointing to a blonde. “And, um … Ethan, of course,” he pointed. “Randall, Tom,” another photo, “and Phillip, who you met briefly. Though, he was dead by that time, of course.”
“So Jessie was your sane girlfriend?” Buffy asked teasingly.
Giles hummed. “Let's say normal. She wasn't involved in anything … arcane, shall we say?”
Buffy nodded, and closed the album. “So about that kata you wanted me to study,” she began.
~~~~~
Giles stood on the front path to the house, and hesitated. It was early afternoon on a weekday, and he was fairly certain that Xander's mother was home, but his 'father' wasn't. After all, it wouldn't do to discuss the possibility that a man was his son's father in his presence unless one was sure of one's accusations. He took a breath, and finished his trek to the front door. He knocked, and waited for the life-worn woman to answer.
She'd put on weight, and was tired, but she was Jessie Lavelle. She looked at him, but didn't recognise him.
Giles smiled. “Jessie?” he began. “I, I don't know how to say this, but … I'm…”
“Ripper?” Jessica Harris asked tentatively. She raised her hand to her mouth. “My God. Ripper Giles. It's been … God … years.”
“Decades,” Giles smiled. “Nearly two of them,” he added. “May, may I come in?”
“Oh, yes,” Jessie stepped back from the door, and quickly, despairingly, looked around the lounge room. “Come in. Uh, come into the kitchen. It's, it's, well, not as bad in there.” She led the way into the faded kitchen, and cleared a space to sit at the table. “So, um, you look well.” She smiled. “Actually, you look … distinguished now. Not really like Ripper at all, any more. What should I call you?” she asked as she began to make coffee.
“Rupert,” Giles smiled. “That's my actual name. Ripper was just a name I took on to look tough. You know how it was.”
Jessie smiled. “Yes. I remember. So how did you track me down? It … it's a long way from England.”
“Yes,” Giles began, then cleared his throat. “I, uh, I know your son. Xander. I, er, I'm the librarian at the school.”
Jessie seemed to freeze for a moment, then turned back to the coffee, finishing serving before sitting down. “I see.”
“I, uh, accompanied Xander home a few days ago to pick something up. For school. And, um, I noticed your photo on the mantle.”
“I assume you know how old Xander is?” Jessie asked calmly.
“Yes. The, um, the time between your return to America and his birth is, er…”
“Too short,” Jessie finished. “Too early for Xander to be Tony's son unless he was a good month early.”
“Y-yes,” Giles nodded. “I, I rather thought that.” He looked at the woman with sad eyes. “You could have told me.”
Jessie shrugged. “I was halfway across the world, and it was just easier to lie to the man in front of me than tell the truth to a man I wasn't sure would believe me.” She absently stirred her coffee. “So what do you want to do now?”
Giles pondered the black brew in his mug. “I have come to know Xander over the last couple of years, and quite admire him. He's an extraordinary young man. I have not, however,” he went on, raising apologetic eyes, “heard great things about his home life.”
Jessie looked at the table top, and nodded sadly. “I … I don't know what happened. Life looked so good back in England. Then I came home, tricked the first guy I could into marrying me, and … life hasn't looked so good ever since.”
“Will you fight me on this?” Giles asked gently.
Jessie sighed. “No. I … I would still like to see him, but … I doubt you could do a worse job, that's for sure.”
Giles nodded. “I, I think this is for the best.”
~~~~~
Of course, once he'd spoken to Jessie, he found he couldn't speak to Xander. Oh, he'd had the time, of course, but any time he thought to bring up the subject, there were others around, or, or it just wasn't the right time, or something. But it had to be done. He couldn't leave his son, his own flesh and blood, in that man's house. He looked up as his son entered the library, alone for once. He glanced around, and cleared his throat. “Xander,” he began tentatively, “could we, uh, that is, could you…“
Xander frowned, becoming concerned. “What's the what, Giles?”
“This is rather awkward,” Giles muttered. “Can we go to my office? This is … well, I'd rather a little privacy,” he decided. “I, uh, I, well, that, that photograph I was looking at,” he began, closing the door behind them.
“Mom in England?” Xander suggested.
“Er, yes. Well, I, um, I recognised your mother. In, in the photograph. You see, I rather knew her. When she was in England, all, all that time ago.”
Xander stared at the older man for a moment, then turned away. “Oh God,” he muttered.
“I keep forgetting you bright you are,” Giles mused. “How quickly you make connections.”
Xander shook his head. “You wouldn't even be talking about it, wouldn't be telling me, unless…”
“I'm your father,” Giles confirmed softly.
Xander twitched at that piece of information.
“I, I wouldn't just say it, but I spoke with your mother, and she confirmed it. And, uh…”
“What's going to happen to me?” Xander asked hoarsely.
“I can't let you stay there, Xander,” Giles said gently. “I never liked your home-life before, but … you're my son.”
“So … just like that?” Xander asked, looking a bit lost. “You rock up, tell Mom that you're my real dad, and get custody?”
“Your mother cares for you,” Giles frowned, allowing a stern tone to colour his voice. “She knows as well as you and I that you will be safer and better off with me.”
“But she's my mom,” Xander whispered.
“And she does care for you,” Giles assured him softly. He sighed. He desperately wanted to remove that lost look on Xander's face. Seventeen years living a life, only to find out it was a lie. He started to the sound of something heavy being dropped onto a hard surface.
“That'll be Buffy,” Xander noted absently. He looked up, worried. “We don't have to…” he began.
Giles sighed. “I want you to stay at my place from now on. We, we can move you in properly on the weekend. You will need to tell Buffy and Willow, and we will need to update your details with the office,” he added. “But … I do understand that you need time for this to sink in.”
Xander gave a slight smile. “Thanks.”
“Shall we?” Giles asked, waving his hand at the door.
“We probably should,” Xander nodded, chewing his lip. “Before, you know, they come looking for us.”
~~~~~
Giles sat at the checkout counter, keeping a vague eye on the three teens sitting at the reading table, doing their homework. It was quiet at the moment, and there was no urgent research being done, so they were all concerned with mainly mundane matters, such as maths and biology. Every so often, a new thought would occur to Xander, and he'd look over to Giles. Giles was happy to note that the looks were mainly good ones, though he did note one horrified one, and one disgusted one. He decided that those thoughts concerned tea and/or tweed, with a possible need to acquire fluency in Latin and Greek somewhere in there.
Finally, Buffy closed her textbook, and looked over to Xander, who was dawdling over an English assignment. She lobbed a ball of paper over at him, gaining his attention. Once done, she leaned forward. “What was that with Giles this afternoon?” she whispered, though not as quietly as she might have supposed.
Xander looked at her, mildly horrified at the prospect of having to spill his secret, but then seemed to change his mind. “Uh, well,” he began, putting his pen down, “Giles just had some news for me. And, ah, I guess Mom thought he was the best person to tell me.”
“Well,” Buffy urged, “spill, already!”
“Well, it seems that Tony Harris isn't my real dad,” Xander confessed.
“Really?” Willow squeaked. “Oh, that is so great! But, do you know who your real dad is? Is he any good? What's he like? Is he going to look after you now, or are you still going to have to stay with your mom?”
“Whoa, Nelly,” Buffy protested, amused. “You seriously need to breathe, and Xander needs a second or two to come up with some answers. So,” she went on, turning to Xander. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” Xander nodded firmly.
“And?” Buffy prompted.
“He's a guy,” Xander added, trying not to allow his grin to peak out. Giles bit down on his lip to stop his own grin at his son's antics.
“Xander!” Buffy and Willow whined in unison.
“Whoa,” Xander started back. “Nice chorus there, girls.”
“Thanks,” Willow began.
“We try,” Buffy ended.
“So, is he anyone cool?” Willow asked. “Would we know him?”
“Well, you do know him,” Xander acknowledged, “but I don't think I can honestly call him cool.”
“Of course I'm not cool,” Giles muttered under his breath. “I'm a librarian, for God's sake.” He looked up just then to see Xander smirking at him. He rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to his paperwork.
“Who's not cool?” Cordelia asked as she and Oz entered the library, parting ways to join their other halves.
“Xander's real dad,” Willow chirped.
Giles noted that, while Oz said nothing, he did glance significantly at Giles.
“Finally,” Cordelia decided. “A chance to move up the social ladder.”
“How so?” Willow asked, frowning.
“Well, unless Xander's real dad is Willy the Snitch or Principal Snyder, he can't possibly be any worse, now can he?” Cordelia reasoned. “So what can you tell us? Since you're obviously enjoying yourself way too much to just tell us outright.”
“That's right, Cordelia, I am,” Xander grinned. “So, um, details. Oh! He's English,” he announced.
“Oh no,” Willow gasped. “It's not Spike, is it?”
Xander made an appalled face. “Willow,” he whined. “He died, like, a hundred years ago! No, it's not Spike.” Giles simply rolled his eyes at his paperwork.
“Oh, right,” Willow murmured. “Oh: Billy Idol?”
Xander frowned. “I would like to think my real dad is cooler than someone who takes fashion lessons from the undead.”
Willow frowned. “Did Spike copy Billy Idol, or did Billy Idol copy Spike?” she pondered.
“Either way,” Xander smirked, “it's a big n-o. Any other suggestions on who my dad might be? Here's a hint: as far as I know, he's not a royal.”
Giles noticed Xander's quick interrogative glance, and shook his head, smiling.
“Well, the only other Englishman we know is Giles,” Cordelia observed.
Buffy giggled. “Yeah, 'cause Xander's going to be Giles' son. Wouldn't that be weird,” she added, making a face at Willow.
Xander sat up, and scowled at his friend. “What? Aren't I smart enough to be Giles' son? Is that it?”
Giles looked up, frowning. He rather thought he heard a … tone in Xander's voice. “I would be very proud to call Xander my son,” he announced, earning a look of approval from Oz, and a shyly grateful one from Xander. “Which is convenient, wouldn't you think, Xander?”
Xander ducked his head. “Yeah.”
Buffy frowned. “But why would it be -”
“Oh my God,” Cordelia burst out, looking from son to father, and back again. “Well, you look nothing like each other,” she decided.
“Wait, what?” Buffy protested.
“Is it true?” Willow whispered. “Are you Giles' son?”
Xander gave a shy smile. “Yeah. Just found out today,” he nodded.
“Makes sense,” Oz agreed.
“But -” Buffy tried again.
“So much better than Mr Harris,” Cordelia decided. “And Giles may not be cool, but at least he has that foreign thing going for him. Hey! Does that mean you're British, too?”
Xander looked at her, wide-eyed. “Er…”
“As my son, Xander is automatically considered British, and may apply for a British passport at any time,” Giles explained. “I shall be taking him to Los Angeles on Saturday to be fitted for his regulation tweed jacket,” he added, hiding his grin.
“Aw, no!” Xander protested. “Say it ain't so!”
“'Isn't',” Giles corrected. “As a child of the Crown, you must speak correctly. Remind me to schedule your elocution lessons.”
Willow took pity on Xander's horrified expression. “He's teasing you,” she whispered.
“Oh, not nice,” Xander pouted.
“But so very easy to do,” Giles smirked.
“This is so cool,” Willow bounced in her seat. “Oh! You're moving in, right? 'Cause you can't stay at the Harris' place. Oh, and you won't have to worry about your parents finding out about the Slaying, 'cause, you know, Watcher-dad! And, and you'll have access to all his books, and, well, everything!” she babbled excitedly.
Xander looked at his best friend. “Yes. Because books and stuff are my most favourite things,” he agreed dead-pan.
“Wonderful,” Giles smiled. “Oh, and I must remember to have your existence noted in the Watchers' files, and make sure of your place in the Academy after high school,” he added, frowning slightly.
Xander gaped at his father, appalled, then turned wildly to Willow.
Willow nodded, and whispered, “Teasing,” much to Xander's relief.
“And again with the 'not nice,'” Xander scowled.
~~~~~
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Angel murmured as he wandered in from the stacks.
Giles glanced up, frowning. He needed to weigh up the advantages of sealing the rear access with the disadvantages of losing an escape route. “Word gets around,” he commented mildly.
“Rather your son than mine,” Angel smiled.
“I doubt you’d see your next sunset,” Giles smirked.
“Yet another reason for him to hate me,” Angel agreed, with a small grin. He frowned slightly. “Maybe it was fate,” he suggested.
“That he should become involved in this life?” Giles mused. “Watching has long run in families. Mother shall be pleased, though. She had given up on my providing for the family name. Certain Senior Watchers, of course, shall not be amused,” he added with an evil smile.
“With Xander in particular? Or with you having children?” Angel asked.
Giles frowned. “Well, I have written about the children, of course, in my official diaries, and they have access to those. I think the prospect of one of them being my child, and having something of a reason to join the Council, well, it may … dismay some of the more senior Watchers.”
“And this is a problem?” Angel asked, smiling slightly.
“Bloody hell, no,” Giles smirked. A son: an American-raised, smart-mouthed, irreverent son. There was a time he wouldn’t have counted it a gift, but then he hadn’t known Xander then. Courage and loyalty were more precious than book-learning, and those were his son’s greatest gifts, and therefore his. Anything else could be worked on, but he had already received his greatest reward.
A son.
Giles wandered aimlessly around Xander's living room. They'd popped home for Xander to pick up something from his room, and Giles was stuck waiting for him. Restlessly, he picked up various bits of household adornment, before putting them back down, and moving on, not really paying attention to them. Absently, he rubbed his fingertips, trying to remove the greasy dust that had accumulated. Suddenly, he was confronted with something utterly unexpected. The photo of someone he once knew, many years ago.
“That's my mom,” Xander offered.
Giles started, and turned to look at the youth. “I, I'm sorry?”
“The woman,” Xander indicated to the photo. “That's my mom. Actually, she made it to tweedland back before I was born,” the young man grinned. “That's where that was taken. Was there for a year, back in 1979. Supposed to be studying, but I think she was trying to do the mundane version of what you did.”
“Er, yes,” Giles began, blinking. “I, er, I rather thought I recognised the background. So that was, uh, right before you were born?”
“Uh huh,” Xander nodded, leading the way out of the house. “Mom came back and fell pregnant, like, straight away. You know,” Xander went on, musing, “I sometimes like to think that Mom actually fell pregnant in England, and just tricked Dad into thinking I'm his. But that's just wishful thinking. 'Cause, frankly, sometimes I think even that guy, Ethan Rayne, would be a better father than Tony Harris.”
Giles stopped at that thought. “Oh, I don't think I'd go that far,” Giles offered.
Xander snorted. “At least he's not the town drunk. And I only said sometimes.”
He couldn't stop thinking about the photograph he'd seen at Xander's house. Four days, now, and that single image remained stuck in his head. He knew that woman. He'd known her quite well, as a matter of fact. Biblically, if one wanted to wax poetic. He dug into the box he believed was the one he wanted, and began pulling out albums. Finally, he found the one he'd wanted, and carried it out to the dining room before carrying on into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
Finally, he was able to settle himself at the photo album and begin his search. It took a good number of pages, over halfway through the album in fact, but he found the set of photographs he was after. And there she was, in his arms. He stroked the photo through the clear plastic cover. Back in the day, they'd been invincible. No one had used condoms, because nothing was going to happen, and they just got in the way. He was rather surprised no one had come to him earlier about an unplanned pregnancy.
He sighed, and roused himself to make another cup of tea. Lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn't hear anyone enter the apartment until a clear, young voice called out to him.
“I remember this jacket,” Buffy announced censoriously.
Giles started, and looked through the hutch. “I'm sorry?”
“This jacket,” Buffy prompted, picking up the album, and pointing to a photo. “I remember it.”
Giles frowned in thought then nodded. “Oh, yes. Quite. From the, uh… From, er, that night…”
“And that's as far as anyone needs to go on that topic,” Buffy smiled. “You look young. Well, younger. Like twenties-young. She's pretty. Who is she?”
Giles smiled fondly at the picture Buffy indicated. “Jessie.”
“She part of your … you know. That group?” Buffy asked.
“Oh, no,” Giles shook his head, and flipped back a few pages in the book. “That was Deidre,” he added, pointing to a blonde. “And, um … Ethan, of course,” he pointed. “Randall, Tom,” another photo, “and Phillip, who you met briefly. Though, he was dead by that time, of course.”
“So Jessie was your sane girlfriend?” Buffy asked teasingly.
Giles hummed. “Let's say normal. She wasn't involved in anything … arcane, shall we say?”
Buffy nodded, and closed the album. “So about that kata you wanted me to study,” she began.
Giles stood on the front path to the house, and hesitated. It was early afternoon on a weekday, and he was fairly certain that Xander's mother was home, but his 'father' wasn't. After all, it wouldn't do to discuss the possibility that a man was his son's father in his presence unless one was sure of one's accusations. He took a breath, and finished his trek to the front door. He knocked, and waited for the life-worn woman to answer.
She'd put on weight, and was tired, but she was Jessie Lavelle. She looked at him, but didn't recognise him.
Giles smiled. “Jessie?” he began. “I, I don't know how to say this, but … I'm…”
“Ripper?” Jessica Harris asked tentatively. She raised her hand to her mouth. “My God. Ripper Giles. It's been … God … years.”
“Decades,” Giles smiled. “Nearly two of them,” he added. “May, may I come in?”
“Oh, yes,” Jessie stepped back from the door, and quickly, despairingly, looked around the lounge room. “Come in. Uh, come into the kitchen. It's, it's, well, not as bad in there.” She led the way into the faded kitchen, and cleared a space to sit at the table. “So, um, you look well.” She smiled. “Actually, you look … distinguished now. Not really like Ripper at all, any more. What should I call you?” she asked as she began to make coffee.
“Rupert,” Giles smiled. “That's my actual name. Ripper was just a name I took on to look tough. You know how it was.”
Jessie smiled. “Yes. I remember. So how did you track me down? It … it's a long way from England.”
“Yes,” Giles began, then cleared his throat. “I, uh, I know your son. Xander. I, er, I'm the librarian at the school.”
Jessie seemed to freeze for a moment, then turned back to the coffee, finishing serving before sitting down. “I see.”
“I, uh, accompanied Xander home a few days ago to pick something up. For school. And, um, I noticed your photo on the mantle.”
“I assume you know how old Xander is?” Jessie asked calmly.
“Yes. The, um, the time between your return to America and his birth is, er…”
“Too short,” Jessie finished. “Too early for Xander to be Tony's son unless he was a good month early.”
“Y-yes,” Giles nodded. “I, I rather thought that.” He looked at the woman with sad eyes. “You could have told me.”
Jessie shrugged. “I was halfway across the world, and it was just easier to lie to the man in front of me than tell the truth to a man I wasn't sure would believe me.” She absently stirred her coffee. “So what do you want to do now?”
Giles pondered the black brew in his mug. “I have come to know Xander over the last couple of years, and quite admire him. He's an extraordinary young man. I have not, however,” he went on, raising apologetic eyes, “heard great things about his home life.”
Jessie looked at the table top, and nodded sadly. “I … I don't know what happened. Life looked so good back in England. Then I came home, tricked the first guy I could into marrying me, and … life hasn't looked so good ever since.”
“Will you fight me on this?” Giles asked gently.
Jessie sighed. “No. I … I would still like to see him, but … I doubt you could do a worse job, that's for sure.”
Giles nodded. “I, I think this is for the best.”
Of course, once he'd spoken to Jessie, he found he couldn't speak to Xander. Oh, he'd had the time, of course, but any time he thought to bring up the subject, there were others around, or, or it just wasn't the right time, or something. But it had to be done. He couldn't leave his son, his own flesh and blood, in that man's house. He looked up as his son entered the library, alone for once. He glanced around, and cleared his throat. “Xander,” he began tentatively, “could we, uh, that is, could you…“
Xander frowned, becoming concerned. “What's the what, Giles?”
“This is rather awkward,” Giles muttered. “Can we go to my office? This is … well, I'd rather a little privacy,” he decided. “I, uh, I, well, that, that photograph I was looking at,” he began, closing the door behind them.
“Mom in England?” Xander suggested.
“Er, yes. Well, I, um, I recognised your mother. In, in the photograph. You see, I rather knew her. When she was in England, all, all that time ago.”
Xander stared at the older man for a moment, then turned away. “Oh God,” he muttered.
“I keep forgetting you bright you are,” Giles mused. “How quickly you make connections.”
Xander shook his head. “You wouldn't even be talking about it, wouldn't be telling me, unless…”
“I'm your father,” Giles confirmed softly.
Xander twitched at that piece of information.
“I, I wouldn't just say it, but I spoke with your mother, and she confirmed it. And, uh…”
“What's going to happen to me?” Xander asked hoarsely.
“I can't let you stay there, Xander,” Giles said gently. “I never liked your home-life before, but … you're my son.”
“So … just like that?” Xander asked, looking a bit lost. “You rock up, tell Mom that you're my real dad, and get custody?”
“Your mother cares for you,” Giles frowned, allowing a stern tone to colour his voice. “She knows as well as you and I that you will be safer and better off with me.”
“But she's my mom,” Xander whispered.
“And she does care for you,” Giles assured him softly. He sighed. He desperately wanted to remove that lost look on Xander's face. Seventeen years living a life, only to find out it was a lie. He started to the sound of something heavy being dropped onto a hard surface.
“That'll be Buffy,” Xander noted absently. He looked up, worried. “We don't have to…” he began.
Giles sighed. “I want you to stay at my place from now on. We, we can move you in properly on the weekend. You will need to tell Buffy and Willow, and we will need to update your details with the office,” he added. “But … I do understand that you need time for this to sink in.”
Xander gave a slight smile. “Thanks.”
“Shall we?” Giles asked, waving his hand at the door.
“We probably should,” Xander nodded, chewing his lip. “Before, you know, they come looking for us.”
Giles sat at the checkout counter, keeping a vague eye on the three teens sitting at the reading table, doing their homework. It was quiet at the moment, and there was no urgent research being done, so they were all concerned with mainly mundane matters, such as maths and biology. Every so often, a new thought would occur to Xander, and he'd look over to Giles. Giles was happy to note that the looks were mainly good ones, though he did note one horrified one, and one disgusted one. He decided that those thoughts concerned tea and/or tweed, with a possible need to acquire fluency in Latin and Greek somewhere in there.
Finally, Buffy closed her textbook, and looked over to Xander, who was dawdling over an English assignment. She lobbed a ball of paper over at him, gaining his attention. Once done, she leaned forward. “What was that with Giles this afternoon?” she whispered, though not as quietly as she might have supposed.
Xander looked at her, mildly horrified at the prospect of having to spill his secret, but then seemed to change his mind. “Uh, well,” he began, putting his pen down, “Giles just had some news for me. And, ah, I guess Mom thought he was the best person to tell me.”
“Well,” Buffy urged, “spill, already!”
“Well, it seems that Tony Harris isn't my real dad,” Xander confessed.
“Really?” Willow squeaked. “Oh, that is so great! But, do you know who your real dad is? Is he any good? What's he like? Is he going to look after you now, or are you still going to have to stay with your mom?”
“Whoa, Nelly,” Buffy protested, amused. “You seriously need to breathe, and Xander needs a second or two to come up with some answers. So,” she went on, turning to Xander. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” Xander nodded firmly.
“And?” Buffy prompted.
“He's a guy,” Xander added, trying not to allow his grin to peak out. Giles bit down on his lip to stop his own grin at his son's antics.
“Xander!” Buffy and Willow whined in unison.
“Whoa,” Xander started back. “Nice chorus there, girls.”
“Thanks,” Willow began.
“We try,” Buffy ended.
“So, is he anyone cool?” Willow asked. “Would we know him?”
“Well, you do know him,” Xander acknowledged, “but I don't think I can honestly call him cool.”
“Of course I'm not cool,” Giles muttered under his breath. “I'm a librarian, for God's sake.” He looked up just then to see Xander smirking at him. He rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to his paperwork.
“Who's not cool?” Cordelia asked as she and Oz entered the library, parting ways to join their other halves.
“Xander's real dad,” Willow chirped.
Giles noted that, while Oz said nothing, he did glance significantly at Giles.
“Finally,” Cordelia decided. “A chance to move up the social ladder.”
“How so?” Willow asked, frowning.
“Well, unless Xander's real dad is Willy the Snitch or Principal Snyder, he can't possibly be any worse, now can he?” Cordelia reasoned. “So what can you tell us? Since you're obviously enjoying yourself way too much to just tell us outright.”
“That's right, Cordelia, I am,” Xander grinned. “So, um, details. Oh! He's English,” he announced.
“Oh no,” Willow gasped. “It's not Spike, is it?”
Xander made an appalled face. “Willow,” he whined. “He died, like, a hundred years ago! No, it's not Spike.” Giles simply rolled his eyes at his paperwork.
“Oh, right,” Willow murmured. “Oh: Billy Idol?”
Xander frowned. “I would like to think my real dad is cooler than someone who takes fashion lessons from the undead.”
Willow frowned. “Did Spike copy Billy Idol, or did Billy Idol copy Spike?” she pondered.
“Either way,” Xander smirked, “it's a big n-o. Any other suggestions on who my dad might be? Here's a hint: as far as I know, he's not a royal.”
Giles noticed Xander's quick interrogative glance, and shook his head, smiling.
“Well, the only other Englishman we know is Giles,” Cordelia observed.
Buffy giggled. “Yeah, 'cause Xander's going to be Giles' son. Wouldn't that be weird,” she added, making a face at Willow.
Xander sat up, and scowled at his friend. “What? Aren't I smart enough to be Giles' son? Is that it?”
Giles looked up, frowning. He rather thought he heard a … tone in Xander's voice. “I would be very proud to call Xander my son,” he announced, earning a look of approval from Oz, and a shyly grateful one from Xander. “Which is convenient, wouldn't you think, Xander?”
Xander ducked his head. “Yeah.”
Buffy frowned. “But why would it be -”
“Oh my God,” Cordelia burst out, looking from son to father, and back again. “Well, you look nothing like each other,” she decided.
“Wait, what?” Buffy protested.
“Is it true?” Willow whispered. “Are you Giles' son?”
Xander gave a shy smile. “Yeah. Just found out today,” he nodded.
“Makes sense,” Oz agreed.
“But -” Buffy tried again.
“So much better than Mr Harris,” Cordelia decided. “And Giles may not be cool, but at least he has that foreign thing going for him. Hey! Does that mean you're British, too?”
Xander looked at her, wide-eyed. “Er…”
“As my son, Xander is automatically considered British, and may apply for a British passport at any time,” Giles explained. “I shall be taking him to Los Angeles on Saturday to be fitted for his regulation tweed jacket,” he added, hiding his grin.
“Aw, no!” Xander protested. “Say it ain't so!”
“'Isn't',” Giles corrected. “As a child of the Crown, you must speak correctly. Remind me to schedule your elocution lessons.”
Willow took pity on Xander's horrified expression. “He's teasing you,” she whispered.
“Oh, not nice,” Xander pouted.
“But so very easy to do,” Giles smirked.
“This is so cool,” Willow bounced in her seat. “Oh! You're moving in, right? 'Cause you can't stay at the Harris' place. Oh, and you won't have to worry about your parents finding out about the Slaying, 'cause, you know, Watcher-dad! And, and you'll have access to all his books, and, well, everything!” she babbled excitedly.
Xander looked at his best friend. “Yes. Because books and stuff are my most favourite things,” he agreed dead-pan.
“Wonderful,” Giles smiled. “Oh, and I must remember to have your existence noted in the Watchers' files, and make sure of your place in the Academy after high school,” he added, frowning slightly.
Xander gaped at his father, appalled, then turned wildly to Willow.
Willow nodded, and whispered, “Teasing,” much to Xander's relief.
“And again with the 'not nice,'” Xander scowled.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Angel murmured as he wandered in from the stacks.
Giles glanced up, frowning. He needed to weigh up the advantages of sealing the rear access with the disadvantages of losing an escape route. “Word gets around,” he commented mildly.
“Rather your son than mine,” Angel smiled.
“I doubt you’d see your next sunset,” Giles smirked.
“Yet another reason for him to hate me,” Angel agreed, with a small grin. He frowned slightly. “Maybe it was fate,” he suggested.
“That he should become involved in this life?” Giles mused. “Watching has long run in families. Mother shall be pleased, though. She had given up on my providing for the family name. Certain Senior Watchers, of course, shall not be amused,” he added with an evil smile.
“With Xander in particular? Or with you having children?” Angel asked.
Giles frowned. “Well, I have written about the children, of course, in my official diaries, and they have access to those. I think the prospect of one of them being my child, and having something of a reason to join the Council, well, it may … dismay some of the more senior Watchers.”
“And this is a problem?” Angel asked, smiling slightly.
“Bloody hell, no,” Giles smirked. A son: an American-raised, smart-mouthed, irreverent son. There was a time he wouldn’t have counted it a gift, but then he hadn’t known Xander then. Courage and loyalty were more precious than book-learning, and those were his son’s greatest gifts, and therefore his. Anything else could be worked on, but he had already received his greatest reward.
A son.