Last Resort

~~~~~
The sun was casting its bright morning rays into the Summers’ kitchen where most of the family had gathered to weather out the remainder of Tara’s labour. It had been over twenty-four hours and they all knew the time was near.

Giles had managed to catch a few restless hours of sleep, as had some of the others, but now the entire household was awake and on the alert.

The call came at just after ten-thirty—Spike flew down from the bedroom and announced that Willow wanted them all to come up. His calm exterior had finally cracked under the strain of endless waiting, and he anxiously prodded them out of the kitchen.

“Looks like we’re up,” said Wesley to Giles, who had lingered behind the others in their mad dash to get upstairs.

Giles was too nervous to make small talk. Instead, he nodded briskly back at Wes and grabbed the book of incantations off the table where he’d left it. He knew he didn’t really need it, now that he’d committed the spell to memory, but it was comforting having it close at hand nonetheless.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Spike, Oz, Anya, Xander and Dawn…and the strange little demon friend of Anya’s…had all clumped together at the foot of the bed.

Tara and Willow seemed not to mind the intrusion. Or, more likely, they hadn’t even noticed them standing there, what with Tara’s bellows of pain and Willows boisterous coaching.

Like a policeman at the scene of a crime, Giles took control and ordered everyone away from the area. Once he was certain that everyone not directly involved with the cleansing spell was out of the way, he went around lighting the candles that formed a circle on the floor around the bed.

With that out of the way, Giles checked on Tara’s progress and was alarmed to see a mass of matted, curly red hair pushing its way out into the world. There was little time left. Giles made the final preparations, removing his rings and earring, and stepping naked into the centre of the circle.

“Ahem,” he heard behind him. It was Wesley. In all the excitement he’d forgotten about Wesley’s part in the spell.

“Of course,” said Giles graciously, making room for him at the centre of the circle. “Sorry, Wesley.”

Wesley had removed his clothes and all other inorganic items on his person, and was standing in front of Giles with two lengths of hand-twisted, hemp rope in his hands.

“Turn around,” said Wesley in exasperation, as if Giles should have known to do so without his prompting.

Giles obligingly turned around and Wesley came up right behind him.

“Oz…give us a hand, would you?” asked Wesley.

Oz quickly stepped into the circle and used the proffered ropes to bind Wesley and Giles by the wrists so they were joined back to front.

“Thank-you,” said Wesley.

“No problem,” said Oz and he strolled stoically out of the circle. The only indication that he was as buzzed as everyone else was the twinkle in his eyes and the slight curling up of his lips.

Giles hadn’t been expecting the ropes. It threw him off, and for a moment he completely blanked on what he was supposed to do.

“Breathe,” Wesley said calmly from behind him. “Just relax…think only of the incantation—I’ll handle the rest.”

Wesley sounded so confident and reassuring that Giles was able to calm down enough to regain his focus. They turned as one to face Tara and Willow, who both looked ready to collapse from exhaustion. In a weird way, that helped—Giles realized that his job was, no matter how nerve-wracking, was a walk in the park compared to what Tara was going through.

Giles took a deep breath, set down the book of incantations, and began reciting the spell. The words were burned into his memory from hours of endless repetition, and they flowed effortlessly out of his mouth. As he called upon the primal forces of purification, he could feel a deep burning in his chest. He knew the forces he was channelling were potent, but he hadn’t anticipated the white-hot fire under his skin, which was now pulsating towards his extremities in time with his heartbeat. He looked down at himself and saw that his skin was glowing with a warm, yellowish light. The terrifying thought arose that the pure forces of innocence he’d invoked might have taken offence at the impure vessel through which they were being passed, and had decided to ‘cleanse’ him.

He fought back his panic and continued the incantation, even as the warm glow continued to intensify under his skin. Wesley’s fingers laced through his, and Giles could hear the other man recite a spell of his own. To his utter relief, the burning pain dissipated with the help of Wesley’s grounding spell. His fear, too, subsided, and he resumed the cleansing spell with renewed vigour.

With every word he spoke his body glowed brighter, and as he reached the last word he felt a forceful tugging in his chest, like the light was being yanked out of him by an unseen hand. His back arched as the tugging became strong enough to lift him off the ground. A stream of gossamer light arced between Giles and the baby’s emerging head. And just when Giles feared his body might be torn apart under the extreme pressure, it ended. Giles slumped against Wesley, feeling as if his own life force had been drained from his body along with the primal forces he’d been channelling. His mouth was bone dry and there was a metallic tang like he’d been chewing on tinfoil. Every muscle in his body thrummed with a dull ache and he was still blinking away dark spots from the blinding light that had emanated from his skin.

But aside from that he felt great.

The wailing cries of a baby filled the room, followed by a raucous round of applause from the overjoyed onlookers. Willow seemed to have found a new source of energy, and she set about cutting the umbilical cord and cleaning and bundling the baby with happy enthusiasm. When she was done, she gently lay the baby on Tara’s breast and turned to the rest of the family with a huge grin plastered on her face.

“It’s a boy!” she declared proudly.

They all gathered close, careful not to knock over the ritual candle in their haste to get their first glimpse of the newest member of their family. Giles and Wesley managed to work their way out of their bindings and joined the others, who were already cooing and making silly faces at the baby.

“Oz is definitely the father,” said Dawn. “Look at that head—it’s huge! That’s ‘cause of all the brains he inherited.”

“And here I thought it was the red hair that gave it away,” said Oz, clearly overjoyed at the prospect of being a daddy.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Giles chipped in. “There are more than a few ginger-haired relatives in my family as well.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, “but look at the pensive expression on his tiny little face—it has ‘Oz’ stamped all over it.”

No one could argue that one. Now that the baby was resting quietly in his mother’s arms, he was blinking up at them with a Zen-like serenity that screamed ‘Oz’.

“And Tara…how are you feeling?” asked Wesley.

“Like it was all worth it,” she said simply, stroking the baby’s soft cheek with her fingers.

“What are we gonna name him?” asked Xander excitedly. “I suggest something strong and noble…like, say, Alexander?” Spike groaned, Buffy rolled her eyes and Dawn smacked him hard on the arm. “Okay…ow!”

“I think we should wait until Rupert gets back before we make any decisions,” said Willow. “No offense, Giles, but it only seems right that he should be here for that at least.”

“No offense taken, Willow,” Giles assured her. “I’m honoured to have stood in for him in his absence. But you’re quite right—he’s missed far too much already.”

“Hold on,” said Wesley, his eyes volleying back and forth between Giles and Willow. “You’re not Rupert?”

“You mean you didn’t know?” Spike asked in disbelief. “I had him pegged the moment I set eyes on him.”

Xander snorted; “As if! You didn’t even notice until after the joining ceremony!”

“Not true—I knew straight off…only I didn’t think it polite to mention it,” Spike argued.

“That reminds me…” said Bobrachnilothtot, squeezing between Wesley and Anya to stand next to Giles. “I’ve been meaning to ask—are you enjoying your vacation? Anya said to send you somewhere safe where you could get la…uh…lucky, so to speak. This dimension was just perfect, don’t you think?” he asked with gusto, certain that his choice in location was about to be praised by one and all. Instead, everyone glared at him then turned as one to glare at Anya.

“Hey! Don’t look at me—I had nothing to do with it,” she said defensively.

“I was referring to the Anya from Giles’ dimension,” Bob clarified.

“But…but why?” asked Giles. “Why would she want to send me here?”

Bob scratched his head as if trying to puzzle out one of the universe’s greatest mysteries. “You know, she did tell me…but for the life of me I still can’t figure that one out. You’ll have to ask her when you get back next week.”

“Next week!” came a chorus of voices all around him.

“I can’t stay here ‘til next week,” Giles barked at the little old demon. “You have to send me back now.”

“Aren’t you enjoying your vacation?” asked Bob in a tiny, very un-demonic voice.

“That’s beside the point. You can’t just hijack people like that—this is Rupert’s life, and he shouldn’t have to spend any more time away from it than he already has.”

“So you want me to send you back right now?” asked Bob, not taking any chances—he’d wisely decided that Giles was not a man to trifle with.

Giles was about to demand that, yes, he should send him home immediately, but then the baby made a sweet gurbling sound and he changed his mind. “Give me a few more minutes. I’d like a chance to hold the baby before I go… If that’s alright with everyone.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Tara. “Of course you can hold him.” The little crowd shuffled around so Giles could get close to mother and son. Willow gathered up the tiny bundle of baby and handed it to Giles.

He cradled the tiny infant in his arms, marvelling at his perfect, miniature features. This was what it would feel like, he thought, and a pang of jealousy stabbed at his heart. He knew this was probably as close as he would ever get to holding a child of his own. He’d already resigned to stay put in Sunnydale and resume his duties as Buffy’s watcher. And if that meant putting his personal life on hold indefinitely while she pieced together her own life, then he would do it gladly. It was what he was born to do. But it was more than just a sense of duty calling him back to her—it was the thought of one day seeing her smile again the way she used to. She deserved nothing less.

Xander, Spike and Oz peered over Giles’ shoulder to get a better look at their son. The quiet moment stretched on with Giles reluctant to hand the baby back. He took one last, long look at the child that could have been his, picturing as he did, the brilliant but shy young man he was likely to become. Hot tears pricked his eyes and he mentally berated himself for being a sentimental old fool.

“He’s beautiful,” he said at last, carefully passing the baby to Oz who beamed proudly at the wee, Mini-Oz in his arms. The little clutch of baby-watchers gravitated towards him, each of them waiting for their turn to hold their baby.

Giles took advantage of the temporary distraction to slip away, pulling the old demon-friend of Anya’s with him.

“I’m ready now,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you want to say good-bye first?” asked Bob.

Giles looked over his shoulder at the scene of family harmony taking place behind him. “No,” he said sadly. “I hate teary farewells.”

Rupert had awoken late the next morning and was disappointed to find he was alone. And to make matters worse, he had a nasty crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch. He sat up with a groan and rubbed at the knotted muscles.

“About time you woke up!” came Buffy’s chipper voice from the direction of the kitchen door. “You know, for someone who lives on a Hellmouth, it takes a lot to wake you up. As a watcher, shouldn’t you be more…watchful?” she teased. “Or do the demons in your dimension skip with the evilness and join in on all the orgy fun?”

“Depends on what kind of demons, I suppose,” Rupert answered her, deadpan. “There are certain species whose multi-pronged tongues are capable of unbelievable feats of fella…”

“Whoa there! Way too much information!” she exclaimed.

“Actually,” said Rupert, “it would make an interesting study—are the demons in different dimensions as behaviourally diverse as the humans appear to be?”

“Ah—now that’s the Rupert Giles I know and love,” she quipped.

“Love?” asked Rupert, a bit surprised.

“Don’t go getting all Freudian on me—it was just a figure of speech,” she said, although she’d turned a charming, Barbie-doll shade of pink. “Um…did I mention that Anya called? She said you were supposed to tell me how she looked all day but couldn’t find Bob. I think she’s a little miffed at you for forgetting, actually. You should be careful—it’s never a smart move to piss off a vengeance demon. Even if she’s human now, she could turn all demony again, and then where would you be? Where was I? Oh yeah—Anya’s gone out to look for Bob again and was hoping you’d fill in for her at the store. Actually, her exact words were; ‘if he ever drags his lazy butt out of bed, could you get him to open the store?’” Buffy took a deep breath and looked down at her feet, flushed with embarrassment.

“And yet in my dimension Willow’s the one with a penchant for babbling,” Rupert said with a flash of a teasing smile. “Did I hit a nerve, perhaps?”

Buffy looked up and fixed him with a determined glare. “Nope. All my nerves are un-hit—not a single bruise to be found, nerve-wise.” She ignored the knowing glances Rupert was casting her way. “Just get ready, okay?”

“Anything you say, Love,” he answered, and got a Slayer-size swat on the arm for it.