He sat at the table staring at the paper in front of him. He had known for a while now that his time was running out. In fact he had known for twenty years, but it didn't matter he still had no idea what, if anything, he should write.
Xander wanted to say good bye to the girls - his girls, his family, Buffy and Dawn., Willow, even Cordelia if she ever awoke. He wanted to say good-bye to Giles to whom he looked up and wished he could have known in other circumstances as a friend. He wanted to tell them how much they all meant to him - how despite everything he didn't regret one moment - how he'd miss them - how he loved them all.
He couldn't do it; he couldn't find the words. How could he tell them they would never see him again? Maybe it was better not to burden them with his outpouring of sentimentality? Maybe it was better to just fade away?
See he was the only one who knew that by dawn Xander Harris wouldn't exist anymore. Ironically, he knew no one would grieve for the loss more than he would. He had sacrificed a lot to be Xander, but he had gained so much more, even more than he had expected and far more than he deserved. He would never regret his choice.
And with - well now that she was gone - dead, to what did he have to look forward? He had always thought this would be a happy time, when he could go back to her, but she wasn't there anymore.
He was pulled from his own pondering when his phone started to ring.
"Hello?" He answered wondering who on earth would be calling him.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Xander, Happy Birthday to you." What he heard surprised him. It was Buffy, who was horribly off-key, Willow, who wasn't doing much better, Dawn, who had a surprising good voice, and even Giles in the background singing Happy Birthday to him, on his actual Birthday. It was the best song he ever heard.
"What are you all doing?" He asked in surprise.
"We set up a conference call," Buffy chirped in before being cut-off by Willow. "It is April 18th of the year 2004 and your 23rd birthday."
"I am sorry we couldn't meet you in Africa, but we couldn't not call you." Dawn added.
"No, we couldn't," Giles started, "but, I have sent you a ticket. I know it isn't the same thing as seeing you on your birthday . . . I thought we could all spend next weekend together."
Xander was nearly speechless. "Guys, I don't know how to thank you. You know I love you right?"
"Of course we do!"
"We know."
"Well, duh!"
The girls all spoke at the same time. Giles even added a quiet, "quite."
"Good." Xander said, his voice grew faint, "remember it always."
The five friends chatted for almost an hour.
It was a good thing too, because it was the last chat they would have. When Giles went to the airport to meet Xander's airplane, no Xander. When Buffy called Xander's hotel in Africa to see what happened, no Xander. When Dawn hacked herself a free airplane ride against Buffy's wishes to Africa, no Xander. When Willow finally gave in and decided to try a locator spell for Xander, no Xander, no Xander at all. There was no sign that he existed at all.
"Giles!" Buffy was whining and she knew it. "It's been three months since Xander disappeared - THREE MONTHS!"
"I know Buffy. I am going to go visit the seers from the council that we have here in Los Angeles - personally today." He sighed into the telephone. He had talked to a few of them before, but he hoped a direct beseech on his part could help. So since he was in Los Angeles he made sure to take the time to see them.
"Okay." She tried to say with conviction, but obviously not able to muster the emotion.
"We'll find him." 'If he is out there', he left unspoken and they both knew it.
Giles arrived early and walked in to the library that the seers kept. He had hoped to look through some of the ancient texts and prophecies before he was able to talk with some of the seers.
However, when he walked in the first thing he saw was not the books, fine old big and dusty tomes that they were. What he saw was also not the fine antique table that had once been in the library in Alexandria at the turn of the century that the watcher's coffers had furnished or not even the fine art work that had once belonged Joyce's gallery. It was the face of a man he had actually never met, never cared to know, and whom he hated more than almost anyone on the planet, perhaps even more hated than Angelus.
He walked right over to the man who only just managed to look up for the briefest moment right before Giles punched him in the face, knocking him off his chair, and probably breaking his nose and perhaps a few teeth.
The man looked up at Giles, first in surprise then with acceptance. He was not going to fight back. He knew who hit him and more importantly he knew why. He wasn't going to protest. Instead, he looked up with a question on his face and on his lips, "feel better, Giles?" He started to try to stand although with some difficulty, "or do you need another go?"
"You know who I am then?" He asked his eyes still burning with fire, but somewhat tempered by curiosity at why this man just seemed to take the abuse without question.
"Yes, I do."
Neither man spoke for a few minutes before the man Giles assaulted spoke again. "You were my daughter's watcher."
"And you are Hank Summers."
Neither man spoke for a few minutes before the man Giles assaulted spoke again. "You were my daughter's watcher."
"And you are Hank Summers."
"Yes I am." He stood watching the man in front of him. He wondered idly why he hadn't gotten punched again. Could Giles be mellowing out or worse slowing down? Not that he wasn't grateful at the moment for small favors.
Giles moved into the man's personal space and was very intimidating; a move that squelched Hank's prior wondering about Giles. "Why did you leave her - them - when they needed you most?"
"I did what I believed best." Hank said his tone making him sound emotionless while in truth he fought to hold his flailing emotions in check.
It was the apparent lack of emotion that set Giles off, as he belted the man again. 'That felt good after all the hurt he caused Buffy and Dawn - and Joyce too.'
Hank had hardly gotten off the floor when a woman entered the library.
"Ah, Mr. Giles. I am so glad you stopped down."
"Mrs. Christiansen," he politely greeted her the perfect image of the gentleman he had been for years, no one would believe that this man was just assaulting a stranger.
"I asked Mr. Summers here to meet with you. He use to work for me . . . . " She stopped as she noticed Hank's face as it was starting to swell. "Hank? Your face?"
"My face? What's wrong?" He asked in mock horror. "Sylvia, did I forget to put my make-up on this morning?"
She placed an arm on her hip in the classic female authority position otherwise known as the mother pose. "Henry Summers." The warning was clear.
"I fell down and went boom. Okay? It's no big deal and I believe we have company." He finished as he gestured to Giles.
She shook her head slightly and gave him a look that said 'we are done yet' and he returned a 'you aren't my mother' look, which she returned with a 'don't be so sure Mister' look.
"I am sorry Mr. Giles. As I was saying Hank-er Mr. Summers use to work for me about a decade ago. He had quite a reputation for his accurate and descriptive visions, 'the one who sees.'"
"Really?" He asked as he looked over at Hank. Something about that last comment pricked the back of his thoughts, but was quickly forgotten as he realized that Hank had known about the Council before Buffy was called.
"Oh yes, I was so sorry when he left." Mrs. Christiansen smiled at Giles totally missing the undercurrent in the room. "He has also been doing good work since he rejoined us. I was so glad I ran into him or he would never have come back on his own. I thought he might be able to help you. His visions usually center around people he knows, so I thought introducing the two of you. . . ." She let the sentence drop allowing Giles to drawl his own conclusions.
"Thank you."
"I'll let you two work. I'll be in my office when you want me." She smiled as she started to leave. "Hank. Mr. Giles." She stopped and turned around again. "Oh Hank darling, Evan was practicing his baseball yesterday and he broke another window. Could you be a dear?"
Hank smiled at her. "I'll go over when I am done with Mr. Giles. Is that okay?"
"Thank you."
"Sylvia, try to get him to take up something less destructive, like chess or maybe controlled demolition?"
She smiled at him and left the two men alone.
Giles turned to Hank now. He was livid. "You knew about the council BEFORE Buffy was called?" He approached Hank slowly as if he were on a prowl. "You are a Seer? You see visions of people close to you?" Giles voice was dead cold; he was not yelling, but somehow the quiet deadly whisper was worse. "You could have stayed and helped her and you still left?"
"I did what I thought best." He repeated his answer from before.
"Couldn't live with what you would see is that it?"
"Isn't that why you went back to England after she came back the last time? Because you couldn't live with watching her die again?" Hank didn't mean to sound so spiteful and he did understand where Giles was coming from, but it still made him see red to be accused of running from his daughter even if that is how it looked.
"This isn't about me." Giles fumed both angry at the presumption of the man to psychoanalyze him and alarmed at just how accurate he was.
Hank said nothing.
"How could you?"
It was time to shift the focus of this conversation Hank decided. "I believe you had a problem, G-m--Gee, Mr. Giles? Perhaps I can help? I had the impression time was an issue. Is it Buffy?" Hank asked trying not to be afraid of the answer.
"I can't believe this." Giles removed his glasses a moment in an obvious attempt at reigning in his temper. "Yes, I do and it is something VERY important to Buffy AND Dawn. We will get down to business, but know this topic is not done yet."
Hank understood and never expected anything less. In a way, he was happy that there was someone looking out for his little girl when he couldn't anymore. Oh, how he wished it could be him.
"Our friend, Xander Harris, disappeared about three months ago."
"I don't think I will be able to help you."
"Why? You haven't even let me explain."
"Because I can't."
"I don't know why I even asked." He muttered as he stood and began to walk to the door. "I think it is time I called to see if any of Angel's resources found anything?"
"Deadboy? He won't be able to help you." Hank said, surprised that they had stooped to use the resources of the evil law firm.
"What did you say?" Giles spun in surprise.
"I said Angel won't be able to help you."
"That is not what you said."
Hank looked confused. "Yeah, it is."
"No, it isn't."
"Look, Giles. I know what I said."
"You said 'Deadboy?'"
"No, I didn't." He said with assurance, but wondered if he could have said it. He wouldn't have made slipped like that. Would he?
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, Mr. Summers you did."
"'Deadboy?' What on earth does that even mean? I mean really, Mr. Giles?"
Giles waked over to Hank. His first thought was that somehow he had a vision of Xander, but that explanation didn't feel right. None of this felt right. Again, something was nibbling at the back of his thoughts. "Where did you hear that term?"
"Look, I think you are missing your friend and you are just hearing things because you miss him. It is understandable that you would hear his words."
"I never said that 'Deadboy' had anything to with Xander."
"Didn't you?" He asked backtracking slightly. "Sorry, just had that impression."
Giles looked over at Hank carefully. Something in his heart was telling him something that his head refused to believe. He looked at the brown eyes of the man before him, something familiar, unique, utterly original, yet different. For a moment he felt like he had been struck.
"Xander?"
"Xander?"
"No-o-o," he drawled, "Hank - Remember there Giles - Hank Summers, punching bag extreme?"
Giles closed his eyes as the man spoke. It was Xander's voice, somehow it was. Somehow IT WAS.
"How?" His voice was strained and barely audible.
"Easy you rolled up your fist and struck - that is how punching bags work."
"You are Xander." He emphasized each word. "How? Why? When? Xander, why do you look like Buffy's father?"
"I am Buffy's father," Hank concluded softly. After a moment he added, "but I am not Xander."
"You aren't?"
"No, I aren't." He mimicked Giles.
Giles stood there staring at a man he had known he wanted to hate for as long as he had known of his existence, yet somehow that same man was also the boy he thought of as a son. He knew it, as he knew the sun would rise and set or that the only certainty in life was taxes. He knew it, although how he knew was another issue entirely.
"Xander. How? Why?"
"You're wrong and I have a window that needs fixing and I need to get some ice for my face. You remember, my face? The face you punched because you knew -note the word KNEW - I was Buffy's father. So unless there is something else, I will be going." Hank stood and started to leave the room.
"You can't."
"Can't I?" He threw over his shoulder as he continued to walk away.
Luckily Giles always had a quick mind. "Then you wouldn't mind if I started casting a spell that could reawake aspects of animal possession in people formerly possessed?"
Hank stopped and turned to look at Giles. "Why would I?" He tried to remain calm. Giles had to be bluffing.
Of course Giles knew he wouldn't have stopped to answer him unless he was worried about his statement. "Oh, well then 'Vici, Vini . . ."
"Ah, Giles? 'I came, I saw'? What happened to 'I conquered?'" Hank looked at him oddly. "Auditioning for the role of Julius Caesar, are we?"
Giles was embarrassed. It was the first thing that came to mind. He never should have been watching biography of Caesar last night on the History Channel. "It just happens to also be the start of the necessary incantation. I came I saw the former objection of possession should be . . . "
"Stop," he put his hands up in mock surrender, "you made your point." Not quiet sure why he said that. The incantation sounded about as authentic as Spike's hair color.
Giles could hardly believe it. He drew his breath in a sharp intake. He knew it, but still having it confirmed was something different. He took a moment to gather himself as Mr. Summers . . . no Xander returned to his chair at the table.
"So, I will ask again. Why did you disappear and why are pretending to be Hank Summers?"
"G-man, it won't help." He sighed as he put his face into his hands and leaned forward on the table. "Just help them move on to forget about me,-- er him."
"Maybe it won't help, but I would like to know anyway." 'That's the understatement of the century,' he heard Buffy's voice say in his mind.
Xander/Hank sat looking at Giles. It seemed he was trying to decide something. They sat that way for what seemed like hours.
"IF I tell you we have to get a few things straight first."
Giles nodded.
"First, what I say stays between us." He held up a hand as Giles started to object. "Now I realize that you won't want to agree to that, but I think once you hear the full story you will change your mind. Second, you will not coerce me into seeing the girls. I, Hank, have hurt them too much and I don't think seeing me would be good for them at all. They have a fa. . . ," he paused as if it was hard to say, "father - you. They don't need me - not anymore. Third, I need you to promise that you won't stop Sylvia from giving me a good recommendation when I go job hunting."
"Job hunting?" He latched on to the least important point.
"Of course, I can't stay here now. I knew I was taking a chance by working here, but I honestly didn't think anyone would come down here. Besides, I didn't think anyone but Buffy and Dawn would know what I looked like."
"Xander you keep saying 'I' when you refer to Hank. Why is that?" Giles looked at him oddly. "I know that you aren't actually Hank, I mean you couldn't be. Could you?"
For a moment Xander was actually enjoying watching Giles flounder - it was like old times. However, the moment quickly passed as he quickly reminded himself who he was now and what they were talking about.
"See Giles, that is the problem. I AM Hank Summers."
"See Giles, that is the problem. I AM Hank Summers."
"I noticed that you look like him, but why?
"Not like him - like me. I am Henry Alexander Summers born April 18, 1954."
Giles looked up at him shell-shocked. He really wanted to polish is glasses, but couldn't even get the right synapses to fire to get the job done. The whole world had gone crazy in less than an hour. "You, Xander, are the same person I met in the Sunnydale Highschool library 8-9 years ago. Correct?"
"Yes."
"But, you are Hank Summers, ex-husband of Joyce, father of Buffy and Dawn?"
"Yes." Then he sort of hemmed and hawed a bit. "Well, sort of. I mean you and I know that Dawn is actually Buffy's daughter - biologically - although I love her as my own and there was no way anyone would ever convince Joyce that Dawn belonged to anyone, but us. And, well, who am I to question Joyce Summers?" He smiled as he said Joyce's name. "No one that's who. Joyce and I only divorced legally, for show, we never actually intended not to be married so that negates the 'ex' part, but I can answer to a definite 'yes' for father of Buffy."
"I need to sit down."
"You are sitting down."
"Oh, then perhaps I need to stand-up."
"I'll get you some tea. We have a hotwater dispenser in the kitchen nook. I'll go get some."
"No," Giles nearly shouted. "I mean, no thank you, but I would prefer not to let you out of my sight just yet."
Xander smiled. "Anything you say G-man."
"How many times have I . . . " Giles began to answer from rote before realizing who he was with and what they were discussing. He looked up at the man he was speaking to. "You really are Xander, aren't you?"
"I thought we established that." He paused for a moment. "In all the ways that matter, I am Xander."
"How about WE walk down and get that tea and YOU explain to me how come you are Buffy's father."
"Giles, Giles, Giles, I thought surely you already knew about the birds and the bees. I mean now that you know I am older than you are - by only a year mind you - I hope you don't expect ME to explain it to you. Besides, I thought Olivia was a sure sign that you knew about birds anyway." He finished the sentence trying to affect a phony British accent when he said "birds."
"Alright, now that you have alleviated any remaining doubt I had that you are the same Xander Harris I've known with that lame joke, how about you explain how you are Xander and Hank."
"Lame?" He smiled a look of accomplishment on his face. "We finally corrupted you with our broken English. I can't tell you what this means to me." Xander finished by wiping a phony tear off of his face.
"Xander," Giles almost growled. "The story if you please."
"Calm down Ripper, I'm getting to it." He considered for a moment how to begin. "Picture it. California, 1980."
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry to many Golden Girls reruns - Lifetime television and way too much time to kill - a widower's downfall. Anyway, you want to hear this or not? The year was 1980, Joyce and I had been married a few years . . . "
"You and Joyce? Married?" Giles asked as an odd look came over him.
"Yeah, me and Joyce - married - parents of Buffy." Xander looked at Giles with confusion. "You know that's how it generally works."
"But you . . . and she . . . and you never . . . . ah, never wanted to be divorced . . . but she . . . and me . . . "
Xander started to realize the problem. "Don't worry about it Giles. Sure I wanted to knock your lights out at the time, and for a while after that, well a long while after that, actually a really long time after that, but I understand that you both were under the influence of magic. Joyce and I made our peace, I understood, we got past it, so forget it." Then he muttered with disgust, "I know I have tried to forget it. You and my wife . . . with handcuffs."
"Right, ah, you were, ah, saying?"
Xander looked at Giles a moment before continuing his story.
"Right, so we were married for a few years and I started having odd dreams, dreams about a Magyar peasant girl, an Indian Princess, a Virginia slave, a medieval tavern girl. They were all the same. The girls in the dreams were always fighting or being killed by vampires. Mixed in with these there were dreams of a young blonde girl. I saw her die at the hands of a vampire surrounded by stored parade floats. I saw her die in an underground cave. I saw her eaten by a giant snake. I saw her pulled down a storm drain. I saw her killed in a hospital room. I saw her collapse from illness in a cemetery only to be killed by a vampire. I saw her killed by a Frankenstein-like monster. I saw her killed by a teenage girl. I saw the same young woman die in countless ways. I thought I was going crazy. You have to understand, the only vamps I knew of were the ones on the tube when I was watching 'Dark Shadows' or some midnight movie like 'Love at First Bite.' Yet, they were in my dreams every night . . . "
"NOOOOOO!"
"Hank?" Joyce rolled over to look at her husband. "Hank?" She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder hoping to wake him. He was apparently having another nightmare. Although no surprise there, it would only be the eleventh one this week and only the fourth tonight.
Hank heard Joyce's soft voice and found his way out of his nightmare and opened his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, but I am worried about you. You have been doing this every night for about six weeks. That's not normal, even with your gift." She smiled at him and stroked his hair a few times as he moved to rest his head on her stomach. "I have an appointment to see our doctor about this indigestion or stomach flu or whatever I picked up, why don't you come with me and see if the Doctor will see you instead?"
"Joyce, I don't think it will help. Besides, you need to get better. You have been sick everyday for two weeks now and that isn't normal and I know keeping you up all night with my nightmares hasn't helped. You need the doctor. I promise if I don't figure it out soon I will go, okay?"
"Okay," She smiled at him. It was more than she had gotten him to agree to before. "What did you see this time?"
"The blonde girl was floating face down in a pool of water as the ugly- mudsucker called the 'master' stood over her talking about destiny and fulfilling an ancient prophesy. At the same time, tall, dark, and broody was sitting in an apartment and muttering 'there's no way to help.' The tweed man was in the library wringing his hands, worried, but not doing anything productive. They both knew where she was though. Tweed man had tried to stop her from going, but . . . "
"But she still died." Joyce finished for him. It was how all his dreams ended now and it worried her no end.
He only nodded as he closed his eyes, exhausted.
Joyce continued to stroke his hair as he fell asleep. She smiled for a moment and hoped her news, if the doctor confirmed what she suspected, would given him something to look forward to.
Giles just watched as Xander recalled how Joyce would comfort him after his nightmares. It was clear to the watcher how much Xander must have loved his wife. What was most surprising was somehow thinking of Joyce as Xander's wife didn't seem so hard to believe, not after listening to him talk about her. It was if it was the most natural assumption in the world to make.
Xander's eyes showed that he was far away and Giles hated to interrupt his memories, but he wanted to hear the rest of the story. So he cleared his throat.
"Sorry," Xander smiled sheepishly. In that smile Giles could truly see Xander and any remaining doubts he had were put to rest.
"Let me get this straight. You had visions of Lothos, the Master, the Mayor, Angelus, Adam, Faith, and others?"
"Bingo."
"Do you know why you were having these dreams?"
"I do," he smiled. "It had to do with a little secret Joyce hadn't shared with me yet."
"I remember getting home from work that night. It wasn't long after tax season, one of the busiest times of the year for a CPA." Xander stopped and looked at Giles. "I was a CPA - Certified Public Account. Did you know that?"
Giles shook his head remembering all the times Xander sat in the library complaining about his math homework. Realizing more and more how much he needed to relearn about his friend.
"I was." He smiled. "Anyway, I walked in the door and saw the whole front room was lit by candlelight. I walked into the dining room and there she was sitting at the table which was decked out with all my favorite foods and her best china and linens. Still she was the prettiest thing in the room. . . ."
"Welcome Home!" Joyce smiled as she stood.
"What's all this for?" Hank asked as he took in the room.
"Can't I surprise my husband?" Joyce met him in the middle of the room. Their arms quickly embraced each other as the couple shared a welcome home kiss.
Hank's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You didn't wreck the car did you?"
"No."
"Hmmm, trying to convince me to take that backpacking tour of China again?"
"No."
"Well, then am I to take it that you are trying to seduce me Mrs. Summers?"
She simply smiled at him and motioned for him to sit down on the couch. He complied and she sat next to him taking his hand into her own.
"Oh, I get it. You want us to try to make a baby tonight." He smiled as he leaned across her and began to kiss her as he worked on the straps of evening dress.
Joyce pulled away for a moment, her eyes twinkling. "We don't need to try, not that we can't keep practicing for the next time."
Hank's brain, like most men, dealt better with direct statements rather than subtlety, somehow he misunderstood. He pulled away looking hurt. "You don't want to keep trying to have a baby? Is something wrong? Is it me?"
She almost wanted to laugh at him as she took his hand and placed it over her stomach. "I want your baby, more than anything. I am trying to tell you that we don't need to go make a baby because I am already pregnant, Daddy."
"Daddy?" He looked at her with the silliest grin on his face. "Daddy? Me?"
"No, the plumber. Yes, you." She laughed at him.
"Daddy." He looked happily dazed. "Daddy." He focused on Joyce. "Oh Joyce, I love you so much. Thank you."
After a few minutes of Hank just sitting there staring at her. She couldn't resist anymore. "Hank, darling, are you just going to stare at me all night?" She smiled at him indulgently.
To Hank, Joyce was practically glowing. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it when he walked in.
"Hank?"
"Pardon the way that I stare." He began to sing softly as he stood. "There's nothing else to compare." He held his hand out to her, an invitation to dance. "You're just too good to be true." She stood. "Can't take my eyes off of you." He wrapped his arms around her. "You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true."
"So you are saying that the dreams started when Buffy was conceived?" Giles asked trying to once again pull Xander from his memories.
Joyce had been too good to be true and yet for some odd reason she loved him. Something he doubted he would ever understand. "Yeah."
He looked over to Giles finally pulling himself away from the past. "It wasn't long before Joyce and I realized that the blonde girl in my dreams was our baby. Can you imagine how odd that is? Seeing your little girl before she is even born. I can so empathize with Piper and Leo."
"Who?" Giles was confused.
"Piper and Leo - television show called 'Charmed'. Piper is pregnant with her son, who came back from the future and his helping to baby-sit his older brother because he is actually twenty something. He and Dawn would make a cute couple though if he was, you know, real. Did you know Cordelia had auditioned for the role Paige, but for some reason she didn't get the role? Can you believe that? The white-lighter deal would be so handy. The orbing and the healing would be so useful. And . . . " Xander looked up at Giles and saw that he was totally lost. "I'm rambling and you're still not good with the cultural and entertainment references are you G- man?"
Giles just looked at him like he was from another planet.
"Right, where were we? Oh, yeah. We were determined not to let our little girl die like that. We began researching vampires trying to figure out what was going on. We also researched my gift a bit more. I had never had dreams like these. Sure I had visions all my life, always made a point of helping when I could, but the intensity and frequency of these were entirely different."
"Joyce was about 7 months pregnant when, I got home one day and found a strange man sitting in the living room talking with Joyce. . . . "
"Joyce?" Hank called out as he entered the house.
"In the living room." She replied
Hank walked in and saw there was a tall man in a long trench coat. He presented the appearance of being unkempt. What was worse, he was sitting on the couch with Hank's very pregnant wife.
"Hank, this is Mr. Merrick. Mr. Merrick, my husband Hank Summers." Joyce made the introduction.
Hank gave Joyce an odd look but shook the stranger's hand. "Mr. Merrick."
"Just Merrick." He smiled before coughing slightly into his handkerchief.
"Merrick is here to talk to us about the baby." Joyce offered.
"Yes, Mr. Summers. Do you believe in vampires?"
"He then went on to give us the world is older than you know it speech. You know the one you use to like to give, Giles. He then went on to tell us about Slayers, their role, and the mark of the covenant that a true slayer bares. He told us about the council. How he was independent from them and that it was his job to find and train special slayers."
"Then how come Merrick didn't find Buffy until she was in High School?" Giles asked confused by what he was being told.
"Well," Xander smiled the way a child does when he is about to tell you something he shouldn't have done, but was proud of himself for doing anyway. "Joyce and I weren't about to hand our little girl over to this guy. We learned over the next few weeks that he had the best of intentions, but it was still a big 'no way'. In those days, hospital security wasn't what it is now. So I took Merrick to the hospital to see the baby and Joyce. When he was talking with Joyce I slipped down to the nursery switched a few nametags. I then brought him down to show him my son. He was disappointed, went back up to say goodbye to Joyce. I switched back the nametags and he went off in search of his slayer. After that to be on the safe side Joyce and I moved to Los Angeles which was a continent away since we had been living in Boston."
"Amazing." Giles shook his head.
Xander attempted to mimic Giles' accent. "Quite."
"Xander, I hope you won't think it presumptuous of me to ask."
"Presumptuous? I've been telling you my whole life story. I think we have established you can ask me anything Giles."
"Well, ah," Giles took a deep breath and asked a question that he had always wondered about, but had never had the nerve to ask Joyce. "Fine, Xander why in the world would you and Joyce name your daughter 'Buffy'?"
Xander sat back and began to laugh. That really wasn't the question he expected. "The truth is that the name was entirely my fault. I know, I know, you are shocked."
"I should've know that an intelligent woman like Joyce would not have willingly named her child Buffy." Giles said with a smile making sure Xander knew that he wasn't totally putting down his naming skills, well not much anyway.
"Yeah, well, in fact, I think Joyce could have rung my neck a few times for naming her that." He laughed again. "Maybe more than a few times. You see when she was born; Joyce and I named her Elizabeth Anne. Anne was my mother. She died when I was still a kid. Elizabeth was Joyce's mother and she had only been gone about a year when Buffy was born. Joyce and her mother were very close, but Elizabeth disapproved of her marriage to me. Smart, lady if you ask me. I was nice enough, but nowhere near good enough for her daughter. A position we agreed on by the way. Luckily for me Joyce didn't care that I wasn't good enough; I think that was her only fault. Anyway, I never thought my girl looked like an Elizabeth so I set out to find her a new name . . . ."
"There's my Bethie, hello Bethie, hello Beth." Hank had just walked in as Joyce was starting to put the baby in the bath.
"Bethie?"
"I am still trying to come up with a nickname for her. We can't call her Elizabeth all of the time?" He whined.
"Why not. I use my full name and am very happy with it."
"Yes, but Joyce suits you," he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, "but our little girl just isn't the Elizabeth type are you Lizzie?"
"Please - No - not 'Lizzie'." She laughed. "She will hear Lizzie Borden jokes all her life and what kind of image is that for a young girl to grow- up with, a woman who kills with an axe?"
Hank just gave her a well 'duh' look. Joyce just rolled her eyes.
"Considering the amount of diapers she goes through we could call her Betsy Wetsie."
Joyce just laughed at him as he started to pick-up the baby purposefully splashing his wife with the bath water. "There you are Baby girl, in the buff again getting all cleaned." He started to wash her so Joyce could sit down for a few minutes. "All in the buff. Baby in the buff. You know you are always in the buff - getting your diaper changed, getting your bath, and changing your clothes."
"You like being in the buff don't you? Don't you?" The baby smiled at her father or so he claimed although it was probably just gas. "You like being all buffy. Maybe I should just call you Buff. My Buffy baby."
"Hank, you wouldn't." Joyce protested.
Hank turned to her with a mischievous smile on his lips, but said nothing. However, she knew that smile. It meant trouble.
"No, I am pleading with you. You wouldn't do that to our little girl, would you?" She was making a valiant effort not to laugh at the look on his face and his wild suggestion.
"I don't know I think it suits her."
"Hank . . . "
"What do you think Buffy Baby? Hmm, Buffy? My baby Buff." He smiled at his daughter as he made faces at her. "What do you think Buff? Hey Buff."
Joyce watched as father and daughter played in the bath water and had a sinking feeling that her daughter just got named. Buffy Summers. It could be worse, but at the moment she wasn't sure how. Still, as she watched her husband and her daughter she was sure no father ever loved his daughter more than Hank loved Eli . . . Buffy. Strangely that sounded right - more than Hank loved Buffy.
Xander smiled at Giles as he finished his story. "To this day, I am not even sure she knows she has another name besides Buffy."
"Quite." Giles agreed. "I always thought Buffy was her given name."
"It is her 'Given' name, because I gave it to her."
Giles watched Xander for a moment. He could just imagine that as the way Xander named his daughter. Some how it just seemed right. "Thank you for telling me. I am convinced that you are Hank Summers and I am also convinced that you are the Xander I knew. My next question is how and why?"
"How AND Why? That is two questions, but I'm glad you asked." He smiled widely causing Giles to smile a bit. He really had missed the boy.
"Joyce and I were determined not to allow my visions to come true. So, like all good parents faced with a threat to our child. We learned everything we could. We became virtual experts on Slayer mythology and prophecy. Of course with all the prophecies about Buffy, things looked pretty hopeless that is until I met THE MAN."
"What man?"
'The man with the power."
"What power?"
"Voodoo."
"Voodoo?"
"The man with the power."
Giles took a minute to realize what had happened. It was an old joke. Voodoo sounded like 'who do'. "XANDER!" Giles' tone was warning, just as it had during many a night of long research when the 'boy' had gotten silly.
"Right, so the man. The man who allowed me to save Buffy . . . " He sat back as his mind flashed back to the memory.
"Hank?" Joyce asked as she continued to stare at the book in front of her.
"Hmmm?"
"Read this." She ordered as she pushed the book in front of him and he did as he was told.
I hear the star singing, Spikey. They tell me SHE will be saved by her father. He sees what they are planning and will save HER. He turns himself into a kitten and protects HER. Won't recognize him, SHE, won't know her Daddy saved her again and again and again. SHE won't be your third. He won't allow it. Kitten is a good Daddy.
"What is this?" Hank asked not quite grasping the potential implication of what he had just reads.
"A watcher copied that down from something Drusilla said to Spike after he killed that girl Nikki." Joyce explained.
"Drusilla? The vampiress who has visions and hangs out will William the Bloody, killer of Slayers? That Dru?"
Joyce only nodded.
"I thought the watchers didn't think much of 'her stars;' why write it down?"
"The reference to the third, presumably a third slayer."
The couple didn't say anything for a few minutes.
"When I was her age, I would never have allowed my Father to hang-out with me." Joyce' voice broke the silence.
"No." He agreed.
The couple remained silent for a while.
"But someone my own age . . . " Joyce thought aloud.
He didn't answer her.
They were silent again.
"Do you think the passage could mean Buffy?" Joyce asked.
Hank glanced over at the door to his 5 year-old daughter's bedroom, his Buffy. "I don't know."
They continued to ponder the text silently. Each wondering how they were going to accomplish the impossible and see that their daughter lived into adulthood.
"Mommy?" Both Hank and Joyce turned to see their small daughter standing there holding her small stuffed pig, rubbing her eyes.
Hank went over and picked her up. "Sweetie?"
"I had a bad dream."
He began to stroke her back as she buried her head in his shoulder.
Joyce had moved next to them; trying to soothe her little girl. "It's only a dream, Sweetie."
"Vampires," the little girl sobbed. "The vampire attacked me."
Joyce and Hank exchanged a glance.
"I am here with you and you know your Daddy will protect you." Joyce started.
"Always." Hank whispered more to himself than his daughter. Joyce heard him though.
Buffy looked up at her father with awe, feeling braver knowing her Dad would always be there for her. "I know you will, Daddy. Always."
"That's my Brave Girl." Hank squeezed his daughter causing her to smile. Of course, once she smiled he began to tickler her.
"Poor Joyce, it would take her another 20 minutes before she got either of us to bed." Xander smiled thinking of how Joyce got him to bed after Buffy was a sleep. After a moment he went back to looking off into nothingness. "We never really talked about that night again, but after that we started researching ways to make me fit in, appear her age, be able to be there when I was needed. We knew what we needed to do."
"Okay, but that doesn't cover 'the man?'"
"Getting to that G-man. Getting to that." He smiled. "So, by the time Buffy was called, we still hadn't figured out how to do it. Joyce and I knew that it was only a matter of time until she was killed or found by a watcher. So, I called my old friend Merrick. In the intervening years I had discovered how different he was from other watchers. He was not pleased about our rouse, but came anyway. He trained Buffy. Luckily, Joyce and I had made sure she was athletic and in good condition. Years of gymnastics will do that."
"With Merrick in the picture, my visions changed and I knew she was safe until Sunnydale. Joyce and I knew that our little girl needed to go Sunnydale, we knew what it was, but every time we decided to simply prevent her from going I would get visions of the whole town dying or worse. We knew she had a destiny in Sunnydale and that we had to find a way before then. . . . "
The doorbell rang. Joyce went to the door.
"Hello, Mrs. Summers?" The man asked.
"Yes?"
"May I speak to you and your husband?"
Joyce turned and Hank nodded. She turned and allowed the man in, never actually inviting him.
"Good to know you are cautious." The man commented as he entered. "I know what you are trying to do. You want to save the slayer from the prophecies. You know that will disrupt things don't you?"
"Yes." The Summers both answered each caring only about their only daughter first. Hank continued for both of them, "Buffy's safety comes first."
"Well," the man smiled oddly for a moment. "I should have reservations about dealing with people that name their child 'Buffy'. What were you thinking?"
Joyce kicked Hank in the shins. Hank looked at her indignantly and mouthed the word 'oww'. The other man either didn't notice or didn't care to comment.
"However, your plan will cause a good amount of Chaos. It will have the Watchers and the Powers so confused. Centuries of prophecy will be averted. It'll be fun. So, I'm in. You just found the man who can help you." He smiled genuinely this time. "By the way, my name is Ethan Rayne."
"Ethan?"
"Ethan," Xander confirmed with a smile, "Yes, Ethan."
"However, your plan will cause a good amount of Chaos. It will have the Watchers and the Powers so confused. It'll be fun. So, I'm in. You just found the man who can help you." He smiled genuinely this time. "By the way, my name is Ethan Rayne."
"Ethan!" Giles was all but shouting. "Ethan is involved with this!"
"Yeah, he was and it was the only reason I didn't feed him to some demon after the band-candy incident."
The mere mention of the candy incident took the wind out of Giles' bluster. "So, Ethan made you a teenager?"
Xander merely nodded his head.
"Xander? How did you manage to so integrate yourself into Sunnydale? Willow tells so many stories of the two of you as children and the feelings her memories produce enough feeling for you that you were the only one able to help her when she was so far gone. I never heard of a memory spell being so encompassing, even one of Ethan's?"
"Oh, that's an easy one. We did grow-up together." Xander smiled at the look on Giles' face.
"You mean Willow is involved with this . . . whatever this is?" He looked absolutely astounded.
"Wills is just what she seems. No, she didn't grow up with me. What I meant to say is I grew up with her."
Giles was confused.
"See, I learned enough about Slayers to realize that if reality were altered to much she would know it - sense it. Maybe not on a conscious level, but at some level. The feeling would be enough to keep her from trusting me. I couldn't have that."
"I don't think I understand." Giles said carefully. In truth, he had an inkling of what Xander was leading up to, but it was so hard to contemplate.
"I think you do, but for clarity sake. I couldn't just appear in Sunnydale when she did, appearing to be her age. I needed to fit in, BE that age. I needed to belong in that place and time and not be out of place creating ripples in the natural order." Xander paused and stood.
He began to pace as he continued. "We tried to see other ways around it. My original hope had been a way that I could be both father and friend. A way that if I ate the yellow M&M I would be her age and all I needed to do was pop a blue one to be back to normal. However, it wasn't going to work that way. My visions, Joyce's research, and Ethan's knowledge all said that same thing. I needed to go back. Ethan knew a spell that could do it, send me back to the past, make me belong to the time period, and make me the appropriate age."
Xander looked over at Giles. "Of course, there was a catch."
Giles knew there would be. Magic always sought a balance. It wasn't meant to be easy.
"The spell would require that I was well established in the time line. It also would last for twenty years, not a day more and not a day less. There would be no going back and forth. Ethan knew no other way."
"How could you trust Ethan?"
"Joyce and I honestly believed him, I still do even after everything, but the truth was even if he was lying to us we didn't have many other options. We knew I had to fit-in. Buffy's safety was always our first priority. Nothing else mattered." Xander stopped pacing and sat once more. "We knew that slayers became inactive after 10 years, not that any lived that long anymore. Of course, we planned for Buffy to change that."
"What?" Giles interrupted. He had never heard that before.
"You didn't know?" Xander was just a surprised.
"No. I didn't."
"It's true. Keep their 'powers' but whatever makes them 'the slayer' goes away and vampires and demons see them as nothing more than normal women."
Xander smiled at the look on Giles' face. He really didn't know.
"For a lot of reasons, it was decided I would start life again at age 3, just in time to start pre-school with the other kids. Ethan went back with me and turned me over to social services. I had only been with Tony and Jessica Harris a week when I first met Willow. She looked so hurt and alone. I was definitely alone and knew I would be for another 12 years or so. She was smarter than your average 3-year-old, which was good since I was hardly average. It seemed a perfect match. She was always so sad and I always tried to cheer her up and hence goofy Xander was born."
"Amazing."