Part Seventeen

"He was giddy." Rupert announced as he came through the door. "Giddy over how well his rendezvous with Renée went."

"So they hit it off?" Joyce asked as she handed Rupert a glass of wine.

He hung his coat on the hall tree and grumbled out the answer. "Well enough that he spent the day with her. Well enough that she gave him a tour of Alliance headquarters. Well enough that for tomorrow they have planned a jolly afternoon of sightseeing ending with a idyllic dinner." Giles sat the wine down on the sill, crossed his arms and glowered through the window. "There he goes, off to corner Buffy and Willow for casual fashion advice."

"That's nice." Joyce said sincerely. "I'm sure the girls will help him. Matt told us a little bit about Renée while we were coming back from the slope. You know she went out on her first assignment when she was thirteen and she's been training those catahoula dogs since she was a toddler?"

Rupert ignored the additional information. "When I told that smitten twit that the Alliance has possession of Ian McClellen's stolen diaries he just said, 'Oh, very well. Glad they have been located.' and then he trotted off."

With a roll of her eyes, Joyce settled onto the loveseat and patted the cushion beside her. "So are you going to calm down now?"

"I am 'calm'." He grumped, taking a step or two toward the couch before remembering his wine and going back to retrieve it.

Her face screwed up as she stifled a yawn. "Of course you are. I must have misread that body language you have been exhibiting ever since I got back. Pacing around like a caged bear usually means you're upset."

"I have not been pacing around like.."

"Never mind." Joyce interrupted. "I'm just saying that if 'Mr. Starched Shorts' doesn't care about these diaries, you shouldn't either."

Rupert sat down beside her, picked up his book and began to page through. "Joyce, it's not that simple."

Joyce allowed him a minute of peace as she sorted out his mood. She had arrived back at the Karn's residence an hour before and found him immersed in the volumes he had dragged across the country, 'brushing up on the facts', which was code for 'leave me alone'. He had merely pretended to listen to her telling about the ski trip, interrupting her about halfway through to go into a borderline rant over those damned diaries, Matthew's attitude, Charles Karn and the fact that it was 7:30 and Wesley was not back yet. She pursed her lips as the full quote registered - "And Wesley is still out, God knows where, with 'that Alliance woman'."

She took a sip of her wine and sighed over the way things had turned out. The Alliance 'this', Matthew 'that'... Rupert was bringing a lot of this on himself. Why? Why couldn't he just sit back and enjoy this trip? This cranky attitude over their vampire slaying rivals was something she expected out of Wesley. Joyce purposely curled her lip. And then there was the fight between Matthew and Rupert, another fly in the ointment. Both had made it a point of avoid each other all morning, the only words spoken between the two being when Matt had relayed Ray's message to Rupert. And what happened then she was sure she did not want to know.

After another sip of fortifying wine she broached the latter bone of contention. "Matt's a good kid."

Rupert grunted a sound of counteraction.

"He is."

"You don't know him very well."

"Did you argue like this in your letters or on the phone?"

"No." Giles bookmarked and closed his tome. "What are you getting at?"

Joyce ran her fingertip around the edge of the glass. "Kids make you crazy."

"There's a revelation."

"He came to you last Spring..."

Rupert waved a finger to interrupt. "Only to beat the hell out of me."

"Why should I bother trying to talk some sense into you?" She asked, then crossed her arms and waited for the answer.

"No need to. Allow me to go straight to the heart of where this conversation is going." Rupert said, taking his glasses off and giving the bridge of his nose a rubbing pinch. "You want me to offer him an olive branch and ignore his crass attitude toward his mother and myself."

Joyce grinned. "That would help."

Giles shot her an aggravated look. "If 'he' makes the first gesture to patch this up I will forgive him."

"Forget what I said about it being a help."

"Joyce.."

"Rupert..." Joyce came back in the same edgy tone. "...you can't force him to love his mother."

"And by the same token I don't have to be forced to listen to his foul disposition." Rupert began to wave his hand around. "I had enough of what Buffy would call 'attitude' this afternoon for a lifetime. I just can't believe the temperament of the Alliance. I knew they were what you could call autonomous in their structure, but Joyce, I now see them as dishonorable mercenaries."

Joyce sat up. "Rupert! That was nasty. Just because the Alliance is not the Council, and they do things differently."

" 'Differently' is an understatement. I cannot either condone or understand the fact that they hold a thief and the fruits of his dishonesty in such high regard. And furthermore, I spent the afternoon being subjected to a thinly veiled interrogation concerning Council training, operations and standards." He tossed the book onto the coffee table. "Even the outwardly sweet and kind matriarch of this group joined in the inquisition."

"And I'm sure she had you in a headlock. Be thankful she used pumpkin pie to get you to talk instead of bamboo shoots under the fingernails." Joyce laughed and pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and draped it across her face to mimic a Mata Hari scarf. "Ve have vays to make you talk..."

"Joyce... please."

"...pie 'with' zee Cool Whip, yes? Now you just tell us zee zercret codes..."

Rupert snorted. "Are you trying to assume a French or German accent?"

"Vhichever von improves your humor." She answered, pulling the improvised veil a little tighter and theatrically batting her eyes.

A small smile crossed his face. "I'm really enjoying my vile humor and I must say you're not making it easy to keep it up."

"Hummm... I was under the impression that you always had an easy time of keeping 'it' up." Joyce smirked.

"Wicked woman."

She put a finger to her lips. "Not so loud. We don't want to ruin the secret."

Giles chuckled under his breath and gave his head a shake of mock exasperation. "Luv, what shall I ever do with you?"

"Just promise me you will try to get along with Matthew and I'll suggest a few things you can do." She purred.

"All right, I promise." He chuckled and pulled her closer. "Wicked, wicked woman."

******

"All right, already. If he gets off my back I'll get off his."

Karen uncrossed her arms. "I like your dad and.."

"Okay Karen... okay. I just said I'd try to get along with him." Matt dropped the bedroom curtain back into place and turned back toward her with a smirk. "Taxi just dropped Wes off. He's not crawling up the driveway on his hands and knees so I guess he didn't get Renée in the rack."

"We're talking about you and your dad fighting." She reminded him.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Babe..."

"Promise that you 'will' get along with him."

"I promise I will get along with him." Matt wrapped his arms around her. "Just for you."

She giggled and brought her finger up and tapped him on the nose. "And for you. Come on, lets go downstairs with the people."

Matt released his hold. "Yeah, Buffy had just found the ice cream when you dragged me up here for the butt chewing." He grinned a lopsided smile. "I mean conference."

"You need 'conferenced' with a two by four." Karen commented with a hint of truth to the statement.

They made their way downstairs, ending up in the living room. Matt glanced around, Buffy and Willow were settled in by the fire soaking up the warmth as they polished off bowls of ice cream. "Usually you drink something hot by the fire, not eat something cold."

Buffy licked the spoon. "Never too cold for ice cream."

"She's right." Karen agreed, settling down on the couch. "So Hon, you want to get me a little bowl?" She pursed her lips and thought. "Make it a sundae with pineapple."

"Sure."

"No dill pickles?" Buffy asked with a sly expression.

"Naaa." Karen stretched her legs out and patted her stomach. "She doesn't want any pickle ice cream... 'this' time."

"It's a girl?" Willow bubbled. "You know that, for sure?"

"I've had an ultrasound but it was too early to tell." Karen shrugged. "But I hope it's a girl, 'cause I'm already buying pink."

"Priscilla Mabel Louise Giles." Matt piped in. "That's my pick for a girl." He tossed his thumb toward Karen. "But she doesn't like that one."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Is he serious?"

Matt crossed his arms. "And Maxwell Eugene Clyde for a boy."

Willow giggled.

Karen shook her head. "I'm letting him have his little fantasy."

Buffy's eyes finally came back down in their sockets. "Please get to the paperwork before he does!"

"Oh don't worry." Karen reassured. "I want to name her after my mom, Margaret and the middle name a combination of both my Grandmother's. One is a Mary and the other is a Rosella." She paused. "I'm thinking about Margaret Rosemarie, but Matt hates it."

"I like Chelsea Brenna." Matt mumbled.

"The dark haired maiden from the port of Chelsea? Very nice." Wesley said as he came into the room. He shrugged his coat off and went straight toward Willow and Buffy. "So glad both of you are here. I was wondering if you could assist me in finding some appropriate... umm, attire that will be, well 'appropriate' for an afternoon of sightseeing and then dinner at one of the nicer resorts."

Willow grinned ear to ear. "You have a date? Oh Wes, that's great!"

Matt laughed, then crooked a finger into a hook shape and stuck it into his mouth mimicking a caught fish. After a few jerks of his head he removed the finger and shook his head sadly. "Sounds like she's reelin' you in."

Wesley blushed.

Buffy leaned back up against the fireplace bricks. "Well, the first thing you're gonna need is shoes. What happened?"

"Well..." Wesley shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his road salt encrusted footwear. "...You see I walked out to the Viking Inn and..."

"You walked?" Karen interrupted.

"We could have got you a car, man." Matt added.

Wesley waved his hands around in a 'quiet down' motion. "No harm done. A brisk walk never hurt anyone." He sat down with an uncontrollable grin. "And at twice the distance it would have been worth it. We had lunch, some Cajun dish which she..."

"Was it possum or 'might be possum'?" Matt interrupted.

"Pardon?" Wesley said with a blink.

"I'm warning you man, you gotta watch out when one of those Canjuns feed ya." Matt whistled under his breath. "If it ain't possum it's gator. Tell me, did it taste like chicken?"

"It was a beef dish."

Matt theatrically screwed up his face. "Then it was nutria. Did you see any orange teeth in it?"

Wesley looked a little worried. "A nutria?"

"Matt!" Karen interjected.

"I'm just warning him." Matt chuckled. "I've rode with the Cajun crews long enough to know that I better have a map to the closest McDonalds."

"How about a map to the kitchen?" She said in mock exasperation. "I'm still waiting on my ice cream."

"Yeah." Buffy piped in with a wave of her hand toward the kitchen. "Go away so we can hear about Wes's date."

"Oh it wasn't a date." Wesley corrected. "We just had a wonderful afternoon together. She is the most intelligent and witty and interesting woman I have ever met. A true prize."

"Goner." Matt thought to himself as he headed for the kitchen. "Hook, line and sinker."

Willow leaned forward. "So you guys had lunch and then? Details! Come on Wesley, details."

Well..." He paused and laughed. "...Or should I say 'mais'? We had a delightful lunch and then spent the afternoon across the road at Alliance headquarters." Wesley took off his glasses and began to clean them. "Had a fascinating tour of the facility."

Karen frowned. "She took you over there, huh?"

Wesley missed the negative inflection. "Oh yes. We practiced with those small dart firing weapons that the Alliance invented and then she allowed me to nose about in the reference library."

Buffy elbowed Willow and stage whispered. "Sounds like Wesley's idea of a fun date to me."

Giving his glasses a wave toward Willow, he veered off on a tangent. "Willow, you must meet with Renée. As you know her late mother was a gifted sorceress, and while she does not possess that hereditary 'gift' she is still very well versed in magics thanks to a 'cunja' her great-grandmother bequeathed to her."

"Cool." Willow said with an enthusiastic nod. "That's really neat."

"Oh yes. Definitely... ah, 'neat'. It's a gold ring inscribed with the phases of the moon set off by two delicate inlay swirls of labradorite and rhodonite."

Willow arched an eyebrow. "But those two cancel each other out. The labradorite opens the spirit world and the rhodonite shuts the door."

To clarify, Wesley made a circle in the air with his finger. "The former is set around the representation of the full moon, the latter is in place of the dark phases. So her magical abilities wax and wane along with the moon." He then turned his attention toward Buffy. "Also Buffy, it would be beneficial for you to tour the Alliance facility. The have some interesting ideas and methods that you might want to incorporate into your..."

"It would have to be cleared by Grandpa and Dad." Karen interrupted.

"Of course." Wesley agreed.

Karen's gaze settled on Wesley. "The ring was one thing, but Renée might get into hot water for letting you mess around out there."

Wesley replaced his glasses. "I did not ask for the tour."

"Whatever." Karen mumbled. "Just clear it with somebody the next time."

"Certainly." Wesley said, trying to fathom the shift in her mood. "I promise that protocol will be followed from now on."

Karen broke off the stare. "That's good. You don't want to wind anybody up."

******

"He's bon." Renée snipped. "And I din do anything mal, just showed him around."

Charlie peered over his glasses. "He's 'Council'."

Renée gave her hand a toss into the air. "Are yous gon to okay dis expense report or not, hein?"

"Not until you give me a valid reason you brought a Watcher in here." Upon catching the muttered response from the huntress, a thin smile flickered across his face and then vanished. "Renée, I worked with old Frank long enough to know what that meant."

"I don t'ink he's like da rest." Renée leaned her elbows on the desk and returned the Chief's stare. "He din ax to come over here, I offered. And it's 'bout temp dat we started working together."

"In a perfect world, yes. But I haven't seen that happen yet." Charlie shot back. He glanced up at the security monitor which recorded the activity in the parking lot. "Ray's here, I'll have him cut the check for the repairs and bring it over to you on his way home." With a look halfway between disappointment and forgiveness he pointed the stem of his pipe toward Renée. "As for this Wyndam-Pryce, you may keep seeing him socially, but use your head when dealing with the Council. Remember, we have been hung out to dry by them more than once and a leopard doesn't change its spots."

"Yes sir." She grudgingly conceded.

Charlie began to shuffle the paperwork. "Do I have everything else? Year end aeronautic expense report and the bids for the new hanger?"

"Da whole t'ing, except for the fuel usage. Sam should have dat faxed to you by now. We are back to using his supplier."

"Yes, that came in this morning."

Renée stood. "So, dat's it?"

"Yes, thank you." He also stood and ushered her to the door. "Now Ray and I have the fun job of doing the bottom line."

Renée managed a smile. "Better yous two den me." She took the outstretched hand and accepted his handshake. It was hard to stay angry at Old Charlie and even though she thought that he had over-reacted, she could still see his point...

...Wesley was Council.

And in the entire history of the Alliance there had never been a true coalition between the two groups. Starting with the 'Agreement' of 1878 and ending with the brawl between the Blanchards' and Quentin Travers and his cronies back in 1986, the history of the two groups was a list of incidences that left a bitter taste in the mouth.

With a heavy sigh, Renée made her way out of the nondescript brick building. It was this mistrust that started the Sunnydale 'incident' out on the wrong foot and now... now they seemed to be tainting any contact here in Rutland. In her opinion she thought Wesley was a sweetheart, so much fun once he relaxed. What would be the harm in seeing him over this week? Her thoughts lingered on his laugh, so true and sincere, not forced like Mark's was.

Mark. The corner of Renée's lip twitched upward at the thought of her ex. He'd probably be rolling in here on Thursday. "La-dee-da." She grumbled into the night air. "Dressed up in his designer jeans dat will never get dirty."

"Evening." Ray said as he passed, laden down with a pair of briefcases.

Renée turned to acknowledge the greeting. "Eve.." She paused. "Evening." She squinted her eyes for a second and then opened them wide trying to confirm the motion she had caught out of her peripheral vision. The hard contrast of white snow and black shadows reduced the landscape to their most basic silhouettes, and in this she thought she had seen an outline of a second figure.

Glancing up Renée confirmed the phase of the moon, a night shy of the first quarter and four nights to the waxing gibbous. She passed her hand over her brow and with a blink decided that the mind was just playing tricks on her, for it would be Thursday night before her senses opened up to the paranormal.

Ethan paused under the security light and considered his options - follow the man or follow the woman. "Oh well, with Wesley back at the house I'm sure you don't have anything interesting planned." He spoke toward Renée as she continued down the driveway.

With a sarcastic bye-bye wave to her, he turned to follow Ray to the doorstep of Alliance headquarters. With a snort he offered his opinion. "Industrial chic, understated and dreary. Gives a new meaning to the word 'drab'."

The ghost crossed his arms. "So lets see what's out here. Hope you have a collection of spirit invoking talismans, amulets and fetishes in the display case. You know they have quite the assortment back in the hallowed halls of the Watcher's Council."

Ray swiped an encoded pass card into the reader and entered the building.

"But you've probably never been there." Ethan continued, falling into step beside his oblivious host. "That's understandable. I've been following you all evening and you haven't went 'anywhere' or done 'anything' the least bit intriguing. You could have at least flirted with that sweet clerk at the chemist's." He draped a spectral arm around Ray, noting the complete lack of response. "You're even more boring and unimaginative than Ripper. At least I can give him the shivers."

"Well, lets get this started." Ray groaned as he entered the inner office.

Charlie finished lighting his pipe. "Don't sound so happy Ray. Just think, next year this will be in Luis's lap." He flipped the match into the ashtray. "Did you pick up my prescription? How much do I owe you?"

"Took care of it, don't worry about it." Ray said, pulling the small sack from his jacket.

"I asked how much?"

"Ten cents." Ray lied.

The older man took out his wallet and began to take out money. "Eighty dollars and ten cents is more like it."

"Dad..."

While Charlie won the battle over who was paying for the medicine, Ethan floated around the room and came to rest on top of a rank of file cabinets. He sat there and watched the two men settle in and begin to go through folders, spreadsheets and other piles of operating information. "Splendid. I should have stayed at the house and watched them play Scrabble."

******

For Dad It's been seventeen years and we still miss you, Ace.

The laughter faded as the women ushered Wesley out the door.

"He's doomed."

Rupert placed his teacup in the dishwasher and peered out the window. "Possibly."

With a noncommittal shrug Matt poured himself the first cup out of the third pot of coffee.

"You drink a lot of coffee."

Matt bit his tongue and shrugged again.

"It's really not good for you." Rupert added as he walked to the back door.

"Then I'll just have to go back to booze and crack." Matt snipped. "Gotta have a couple of bad habits."

Rupert stopped with his hand on the knob. "Do you believe that?"

"Here we go again." Matt mouthed the words then turned to his father. "No, Old Man... I don't believe it. I was just being a smart-ass."

"Oh.." Giles grunted. He came back over to the kitchen island and seated himself on a stool. "Sometimes it's hard to tell. Especially since you deliver every line with that same cocky inflection."

"Yeah." Matthew took a sip of coffee, turned his back on his father and stared out the window. "I've been told that before."

Rupert rested his elbows on the island and perched his chin on his folded hands. Twenty-three. Matt was twenty-three and had already seen more grief than a man three times his age. Abuse and neglect, arrest and jail, thrown out and thrown away. Then drawn by the cold fates into the 'duty' of the Giles' line.

"Drawn" or "hurled" into? Rupert thought for a moment and decided that neither word did justice to Matthew's baptism by fire. Young or old, no man should become a widower after the passing of only fifty-two days. And even more so, no one should have to watch his beloved die twice. But this was the hand that had been dealt to Matthew R. Giles.

"What'za matter?"

"Just thinking." Rupert answered softly. "Joyce told me last night that I should, 'cut you some slack'."

The laugh that greeted this statement was the last thing Giles expected. "I didn't think it was 'that' comical."

Matt hesitated for a second then pulled up a stool and sat down opposite of Rupert. "Karen chewed me out last night too."

Rupert blinked. "Same topic?"

"Yep!"

"Amazing." Rupert deadpanned. "Can't imagine why."

For a few seconds Matt looked down and fiddled with the handle on his cup. "Look Old Man, I ain't gonna change the way I feel about mom. That kinda... well.. too much shit has happened." He glanced up. "You weren't there."

Those three words, said without anger or malice cut deeper than any blade. Matt saw the flash of pain and turned away. "Shit. I.. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"There is no gentle way to say it." Rupert said through a suddenly dry throat. "And it is the truth. I wasn't there." He shut his eyes and swallowed hard. "And nothing can change this terrible fact."

Matt kept staring at the wall. "Yeah, just like nothing can change the fact I'm a complete fuck-up. So I guess we're a matched set."

"You... are... 'not'." Rupert growled out each word and punctuated the statement with a slap of his hand on the countertop.

"Yeah, right." Matt snorted. Then the facade of bravado suddenly crumbled. "Got Karen pregnant. Ray had to threaten me to go back to school and the G.E.D. people told me I'm operating on a 7th grade level." He shook his head. "Dumber than a box of rocks and I got a wife that's going to be an Alliance lawyer."

"You can learn." Rupert began. "It makes no difference where you start, all you have to do is ap..."

"Apply myself." Matt interrupted to finish the statement. "Bullshit! The best thing for Karen and the kid would be for me to get vamped, then the Alliance would step in and take care of her."

Rupert's face darkened. "If I ever hear those words out of your mouth again I will beat you to a pulp."

"Sure Old Man. It's a deal. If you think you can, go for it." He let out a long hissing exhale. "I'm just... it's like..." Then he stood and waved his hand in a "brush off" motion. "Never mind. Hell with it."

"You're afraid."

Matthew finally returned his father's gaze and for an instant his trademark sneer curled along the corner of his lip. Then it vanished to be replaced by an expression of worry. "There's a lot of 'what ifs' out there. That's what has me... not really 'afraid', but... but..."

"Apprehensive." Rupert offered.

"Dad, I can't fuck this one up." Matt croaked out. "I just 'can't'."

Rupert stood and came around the island. Without a pause he placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder and turned him around so they stood face to face. "I have faith in you."

"W-w-why?" Matt stammered.

Tightening his grip, Rupert smiled. "Because I know what you're made of. Now let me show you how I have come to that conclusion." He released his hold, gave Matt a quick smack on the back and nodded toward the door. "I brought you some wedding gifts."

Matt blinked the building moisture back into his eyes.

"Come along." Rupert gently ordered, turning his back to allow Matt to regain his composure.

Which didn't take very long, for Rupert was barely out the door before his son dryly snipped. "What is it? A place setting or another toaster?"

Rupert just smiled as Matt fell into step with him. The pair crunched over the snow and entered the guest cottage.

"Wait here." Rupert said. Then he disappeared into the bedroom, returning thirty seconds later with a long, narrow box of plain rosewood and a pair of twin bound aged books. He laid the box on the coffee table and held the books out to Matt. "The Sheffield edition of 'The Fiend's Bestiary', I want you to have it."

Matt hesitated and then held out his hand. "The what?"

"A collection of demonic creatures, with a brief description of the habits, appearance, strengths and weaknesses of each. It was compiled in 1856 by 'Marcus' Giles, who was in reality your great-great-great-grandfather's sister, Violet. She used an nom de plume because it was not considered a 'proper' field for a lady to be researching."

"Liberated chick, huh?" Matt mumbled while paging through the first volume.

"Oh yes, you could say that. She was extremely upset when she was not tapped to enter Watcher training. "Rupert chuckled and adjusted his glasses a bit. "Family legend has it that she was bodily thrown out of the Council Chambers when, to show her displeasure, she showed up with a large wooden mallet and began to beat on the statuary." He pursed his lips and frowned. "Ruined, beyond repair a rather nice bust of Socrates. Last I heard the remains were, for whatever reason, still crated up down in the Council's cellar."

"Glemme!" Matt exclaimed. "Sam told me about a pack of vamps up in Minnesota who had one of these things on a leash."

"Nasty, vile creatures." Rupert curled his lip at the thought of the sinister imp. "Thank God they are rarely found outside of their native Scandinavia."

"So Sam lucked out finding one up there, huh? He told me the same thing this says; that they're like a psychic vampire that sucks the memory right out of a person." Matt flipped forward a few pages. "This is pretty cool. Think I'll add this to the online Alliance book. We usually deal with just dead dicks, but you never know what else will pop up."

"Remember to cite the source."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, don't want to honk off my old Aunt V., she sounds like she was a real winner."

"If anyone would come back to haunt you it would be Aunt Violet." Rupert laughed. "Appear at the foot of your bed, mallet in hand and beat the concept of a bibliography into your head." His smile faded as he picked up the box, and after giving the polished wood one last stroke he held it toward Matthew. "Here. This is also for you."

"What is it?"

"Open it and see." Rupert said as he passed the box on to his son.

Matt undid the brass hook from it's hasp, raised the lid and breathed out his amazement in a single expression. "Whoa..."

"It's an archer's sword dating from the mid fifteenth century. Over a hundred and fifty years old before it became part of our legacy. It's been in the family since 1626. Edmond Giles, your great-great..." Rupert paused and thought. "Humm, he was born in 1602... and to describe my relationship the word 'great' was used ten times. So for you, Edmond was you grandfather eleven times great. He acquired it for use when he entered Watcher training and it served him, and his descendants well."

Matt was speechless as what Rupert was saying hit him. This single blade held 400 years of family history. More than a heirloom, it was a blood tie to those long gone. For the first time in his life the feeling of being connected to the past bloomed within.

"Historically, it has been given to the next in line upon their initiation into Watcher training."

"So I guess I kinda screwed that up, huh?" Matt mumbled as he tried to hand the box back.

Rupert held a hand up and shook his head. "It's yours. May it serve you..."

"But..." Matt interrupted. "...I'm not a.. you know a 'Watcher". Never will be."

"I know." Rupert let out a heavy sigh that betrayed his sadness over this truth. "But, you are my son, you are a Giles and that is all that matters."

A rock hard lump formed in Matt's throat. "Are you sure? God.... this is the greatest.. you didn't have to... I don't know what to, to say."

" 'Thank you' would be appropriate."

"T-t-thank you, Dad." Matt's voice cracked. He took the sword from the box and tested its weight and balance. "I promise I'll do it up right. I know I've messed up but I've got a chance to make it better and I'll do it all up right - Karen and the baby and the job."

"I know you will." Rupert said as he placed his hand over his son's own on the hilt. "It's in your blood." He removed his hand and turned away as his own collar suddenly felt too tight.

Feeling the need to backpedal away from the emotion of the moment, Matt traced his finger over a small seal attached to the bottom of the hilt. "Is that, like our... coat of arms or something?"

"Or something." Rupert echoed. "Not 'official'. You won't find it with any of those frivolous 'here is your coat of arms' services or books. It's original meaning has been lost." He rubbed his chin. "Either that or Edmond never reveled it. But either way it meant something to him for he designed and created it."

"And consequently, this has been a topic of discussion for generations." Rupert adjusted his glasses and pointed at the various embellishments. "Is it a dog or a wolf? A pile of dead leaves or a laurel wreath? And there is a question as to whether or not the spear is broken or it merely is meant to be an arrow."

"And all that means something?"

"Yes, a wolf is both the sign of a tenacious leader who wins in the end and a dangerously malicious and cruel adversary. On one hand the dog represents loyalty to the bitter end but, it can also allude to one who returns to their sins, over and over again."

Matt half smiled. "So it can be either a pat on the back or a slam? What about the leaves and the spear?"

"The foliage is relatively straightforward in its meaning." Rupert answered. "Dead leaves symbolizes that we will die and if it is a wreath, that alludes to our special service to the realm. As for the spear?" He made a "cluck" noise and shook his head. "Edmond certainly could have been a bit more clear in his design. What is it in the canine's paw. Broken spear? Whole arrow? One tells of the futility of the battle, one promises that we are always 'at ready'."

With a slow nod Matt met his father's gaze. "Old Man, I think it means all of it. Grandpa Ed pretty much laid it on the line." His face lit up. "Can't wait to show this to Karen!"

Rupert snorted. "I'm sure she'll be delighted."

"Old Man, you don't know her very well. She's into this stuff too."

"Not surprising." Rupert reconsidered. "But we did pick up one of those place settings that was on the gift registry."

Matt's sneer reestablished itself on his face. "You people keep this up I'm going to have to buy one of those china closet things."

"And this is a problem?" Rupert chuckled.

"When you live in a four room house... Yep, it's a problem." Matt replaced the sword into its case and almost reverently closed the lid. "But like I told you the other night we're buying the property, so we'll have a real dining room as soon as we move into the bigger house." He blew out a puff of air. "But really the Alliance is buying it and we'll land contract it back from them over the next ten years."

"It's good that they help with finances and such." Rupert began to clean his glasses. "Realistically, you cannot go through standard channels for loans and such."

"And I owe my soul to the company store..." Matt sang out under his breath as a memory came back out of nowhere.

"Pardon?"

Matt bit his lip and thought for a moment. "Oh, some old song that Grandpa Hanna was always singing. He was mom's Old Man and was always singing this Tennessee Ernie Ford tune about workin' in a coal mine. Gramps said it was all the same - factory, farming, office or mining, it's all trouble and then you die. But you gotta stay strong, you never want to lose your pride." His grip tightened on the box and he began to sing.

Some people say a man is made out of mud,
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood.
Muscle and blood, skin and bones...
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong

You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter, don't you call me, 'cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store.

I was born one mornin' and the sun didn't shine.
I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine.
I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal,
and the straw boss said, "well bless my soul!"

You loaded,

Sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter, don't you call me, 'cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store.

I was born one mornin' it was drizzlin' rain.
Fightin' and trouble are my middle name.
I was raised in a cane-brake by an old mama lion,
can't no high-toned woman make me walk no line

You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter, don't you call me, 'cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store.

If you see me comin', better step aside,
A lot of men didn't, a lot of men died.
One fist of iron, the other of steel,
If the right one don't get you, then the left one will.

You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter, don't you call me, 'cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store.

His voice wavered slightly offkey on the final line causing Matt to self-consciously laugh at his singing ability. "Better keep my night job, huh? Ain't gonna make it as a singer."

"Oh, you're not half bad." Rupert replaced his glasses and cleared his throat. "There's a lot of truth in that refrain."

"I guess." Matt shifted a bit on his feet and blurted out. "Gramps called himself 'Ace'. If it wasn't for him I would have turned out a lot worse."

"I'd like to hear more. Why don't we set down and you can tell me about him." Rupert headed toward the kitchenette. "I'll make us some tea."

"Rather have coffee."

Rupert rolled his eyes. "Of course you would."

******

Ethan was bored. So bored that he decided that, even in his current state of existence, the phrase "bored to death" was an understatement. "And I thought Sunnydale was wearisome." He muttered as he floated around Alliance headquarters.

"At least the reference collection is not too terribly dull." He observed, drawing a spectral finger down one of the lines of cheap shelving. "Pity I can't pick one of them up and read it." With a mild oath he passed through the wall and into the conference room.

"I'm sure you are all wondering why I called you here at such short notice." He announced to the empty chairs. "I would like one of you to take me back to that residence where Ripper is hanging his hat and trousers. So silly of me, missed my ride back and I don't have the time to haunt every house in this village looking for the correct abode."

A sharp buzz broke the silence, announcing that someone had come through the front door.

"Well, that was perfect timing. Thank you for your prompt assistance in this matter." The specter chortled, with a bow toward one of his imaginary audience. "So which one of these pathetic souls is going to be my chauffeur?"

"We only got a couple of hours then I have to get the car back to Ray so he can go pick up Shellenbarger at the airport." Matt put his access card back into his wallet and opened the door. "He's coming in on the shuttle flight from Boston at 18:30."

"And this fellow is?" Rupert asked, stamping the snow off of his shoes and following his son into the building.

"Uh... you remember that guy who was lurking online when Charlie, Mike and me were IM'ing about Roth? The one who called himself 'John Smith'?"

"I believe so. But to be honest that day is now a blur."

"Well, Keith is our main Fed contact." Matt gave his dad a sidelong glance. "You don't want to get near him 'cause he's a real spook's spook. Cross him and you'll end up followed around by black helicopters."

"I've dealt with those insufferable 'cloak and dagger' types before and have yet to be either impressed or unnerved by them." Rupert dryly commented.

Matt went into a full blown laugh. "Well, when you find mics and fiber optic lines in all your lamps, don't say I didn't warn you."

The corner of Rupert's lip curled. "I'll take it under advisement."

With a flourish of his hand Matt opened the inner door. "Welcome to Alliance central."

"Ripper! So nice of you to stop by." Ethan shouted with mock glee as he went up to his old friend and gave him a ghostly pat on the back. "I'll put the kettle on!"

"Nippy in here." Rupert mumbled as the phantom's hand passed over his body.

"You think?" Matt arched an eyebrow and went over to the thermostat. "It's set at 72." He gave it a tap. "Oh well, let's get on with the show and tell before Ray changes his mind about you being out here."

"As if there is anything interesting in this cowshed." Ethan snotted and pointed toward a hallway. "Down there you will find a pair of offices with tawdry paneling. And don't forget to show him the archery range in classic cinderblock design." He hopped up on the small counter that served as a receptionist's area. "So much to see and do but, if you don't mind, I'll just wait for you here. So take the entire ten minutes you need for the full sweep and then let's get out of here."

Rupert felt the chill lessen. He gave his shoulders a roll and nodded toward Matthew. "Before I forget, I want to say that loaning Wesley your vehicle for his rendezvous with Renée was a nice gesture."

Ethan's ears pricked up. "You mean he's actually seeing her for a second time? And here I sit in this barn when across the street was a tragicomic sideshow?"

"Yeah, Wes needs all the help he can get." Matt snickered evilly and glanced at his watch. "Right now they are up at the lake and he's probably reciting some of that Shakespeare stuff at her while she's trying not to doze off."

"Don't underestimate him." Rupert said with a sly grin. "Never tell him I said that, but I'm sure he will do fine." He started down the hallway. "So, let's see the inner sanctum."

"So they are already off? Wonderful." Ethan commented, settling back into position. "Once again I picked the wrong place to be. Is my luck ever going to change?"