Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 5 - LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

He raised his son in the English way
And he taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
He sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone else's rules...

... It must be something much deeper than fear or pain
Another child learns the pattern, he won't break the chain

Fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise the next boy


(Rick Springfield Album - Living in Oz)




Chapter 5.15
Saturday, June 15th, 2002


"Did you manage to get everything you wanted?" Quentin asked, as he poured Roger a double measure of single malt.

"More or less. I had enough left from the withdrawal I made at LAX to cover the basic necessities, but that is hardly the point." Roger took the proffered glass and tipped back half of it in one mouthful.

"I'm sure it'll all turn out to be some glitch in the transatlantic banking system, or more precisely the American end of it... Unless Penny's redecorating again?" Quentin asked in a wry tone.

"Penny knows I like to be consulted before she makes any large purchases and, even so, that would only account for the joint account, not my personal ones."

"It'll all be cleared up with a few phone calls on Monday morning, and we can always advance you a few hundred dollars from the petty cash until then."

"That's very generous of you, Quentin, but I'm afraid that I couldn't possibly impose on you any further."

Realising that his continued presence was neither noticed by the two older watchers nor necessary, Wes twisted the door handle at his back and made a discreet exit.

 

---

 

Giles looked up expectantly when the basement door opened but couldn't prevent his look of disappointment as he identified Wesley.

The younger man looked at his wristwatch, checking that it wasn't later than he'd realised. "It's only ten to eleven. In all fairness, they've hardly had time to make their way across town, take a prisoner and drag him all the way back here, not to mention fitting in some sort of patrol."

Giles gave a heartfelt sigh. "I'm sorry, Wesley, no offence intended. It's just that I'll feel happier when Buffy gets back. I can't help thinking that she was in a rather foolhardy frame of mind when we parted ways."

Wes gave a wry smile. "None taken. At least when you give me that look it's for a reason, not just out of habit." His eyes scanned the room and he nodded a welcome to both Lydia and Tara, who appeared to be comparing notes over several heavy tomes as the Wiccan bound some dried herbs, mostly motherwort, into a tight bundle. The group had taken over a small corner office cum cubby-hole that was little more than a space big enough for a pair of chairs, a small table and a filing cabinet separated from the main basement area by a couple of sheets of drywall. "I wondered if there was anything that I might be able to do to help?"

Giles pulled his glasses from his face, busying himself with a white cotton handkerchief. "Well, ehm, the truth spell itself is rather elementary. However, we have little information as to just how strong one of these bringers might be, nor have I entirely discounted the possibility, given that this is Buffy and Spike that we're talking about, that they wouldn't bring back a Turok Han just to prove they could. I somehow think that Spike was unimpressed by those council members who continue to regard them as mythical creatures. In any case, Tara has come to our assistance with a spell to magically enhance the strength of the chains we hope to use to bind whatever they might capture. First, though, we have to hammer the mooring pins into solid concrete..."

At last, Wes understood why Giles was avoiding meeting his eyes. It must cost him a great deal of pride to admit that he was no longer the optimum candidate for such a physical task, especially in front of a recently acquired romantic interest. "I assume that Tara's spell will prevent the pins from simply being uprooted?" His gaze shifted back and forth between the young witch and the watcher.

Tara's half-smile was shy. "They'll hold." Her understated confidence was enough to still any further questions.

"Then, I suppose we should work out where we want to fix them..." Wes suggested, choosing a spot in the centre of the floor that would allow them room on all sides to draw a sacred circle once their hostage was in place. Ignoring the dust on the floor, he positioned himself spread-eagle, so that Giles could mark out where to affix the chains, allowing just a little leeway in case their captive were to be slightly shorter.

 

---

Sunday, June 16th, 2002

 

Wes wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve, leaving streaks of sweat and dark-coloured dust behind. He set aside the sledgehammer he'd recently finished using and gladly took the glass that Tara passed him, the jangle of ice cubes against its sides more than welcome. "You would think that after so many years in the U.S. I would have stopped expecting lemonade to mean Sprite or 7 Up."

"And what well brought-up Southern gal would you expect to be serving that fizzy water to someone who's just spent an hour doin' manual labour?" Tara teased, emphasising her accent playfully. "Ah'd be disowned." Then with a sudden switch back to her normal voice she added, "Oh, wait. I already was."

Giles stopped his restless pacing long enough to smile his amusement, glad to see some of the witch's wicked sense of humour finally making a return. He still felt the need to remind her affectionately, "As I recall, there was something of a simultaneous adoption process."

Tara's smile brightened and then grew wistful at the memory of Willow's part in that day's events, a Willow who had changed beyond recognition before she finally bought her redemption at the cost of her life. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than the solitude of her cot and perhaps the comfort of a purring ball of fur snuggled in against her... but before she could lay claim to her reward she had to perform the spell that would make the bindings secure.

She checked the clock that adorned the wall. It mocked her by showing the time as mere minutes after midnight. Rather than act within that half of 'the witching hour' traditionally reserved for darker magics, she resolved to wait half an hour or until Spike and Buffy arrived with their captive before she performed the enchantment.

Guarding her features, she passed out the remaining glasses of lemonade, and soon she and Lydia had returned to their discussion of the best means of performing the ward spell for the school.

 

---

 

Tara stumbled slightly as she made her way back to her chair, the spell to strengthen the chains and their mooring to the floor having left her momentarily drained. Before she could argue, Wes had a supporting arm around her waist and began to steer her toward the stairs.

"I should wait," she protested weakly. "They can't be much longer."

Giles demurred. "I'm sure that I'll be able to manage a simple truth spell on my own. You've already helped tremendously and it's obvious that it's taken a lot out of you. Wes has borne the brunt of the physical labour and it hasn't escaped my notice that Lydia has still been downing Advil at four-hourly intervals." He glanced over at the clock which now showed the time to be quarter to one. "There's no point in everyone going short on sleep just because Buffy and Spike have let themselves get... sidetracked on patrol." The watcher's expression showed his distaste at the thought of how exactly the two might have been distracted.

The tips of Wes's ears flushed slightly pink. "I doubt, given the seriousness of their mission, that any delays would be other than in the line of business," he suggested, but Giles remained unconvinced.

Lydia looked back and forth between the two men, unsure as to whose assessment was the more accurate, but ultimately it made no difference. She gave Giles a tentative smile. "I'll be in my office should you need me... or when you're finished."

There was an unmistakeable warmth in Giles' voice even though his answer was inherently uncertain. "We'll see."

 

---

Giles reached the bottom of the page once more and his eyes returned again to the clock on the basement wall. He ironically congratulated himself. This time he had lasted three minutes before he checked once more. He pulled his glasses from his face and pinched at the bridge of his nose. He had read through the details of the truth spell so often over the last few hours that he was certain that he would be able to cast it from memory. Of course, when Spike and Buffy finally got here he would use the spellbook regardless. There was no point in risking a mistake just to show off.

He pushed to one side his worries over Buffy's impetuous decision to take the fight to The First, doing his best to bring the memory of the heat between the couple to the forefront of his mind. He tried to convince himself that that alone was the reason that they had still not returned at... twenty seven minutes past three.

 

---

 

Dawn's hand swiped at the button on the top of her alarm clock but she wasn't quite quick enough.

A groan echoed from the bed on the other side of the room and Faith dragged a pillow over her ears, only to then come awake enough to query the noise. "Wha' time's it?" she slurred, her mouth dry.

"Sorry. It's only quarter past four. I kinda told Brand I'd watch the Ireland soccer match with him and it starts in quarter of an hour." Dawn pushed Rogue off the bed so that she could get her legs out from under the covers, slid her feet into her slippers and snagged the topmost robe from the hook on the back of the door as she left, the wolfish mutt padding after her.

She slipped into the room that was unofficially shared by Wes and Brandon. She planned to shake the other teen gently into wakefulness, but, when Rogue shot past her, springing on Brandon's bed and licking his face enthusiastically, she decided it was slightly redundant. The cot listed to one side under the dog's weight, tipping Brandon onto the floor.

Dawn covered her eyes to hide her embarrassment as Wesley sprang into immediate wakefulness. "Sorry, Wes. Spain, Ireland in a few minutes if you're interested?" she suggested sheepishly. She slapped at her thigh a couple of times to regain the bitch's attention. "Rogue, go find daddy! Go wake up daddy!" The dog's oversized ears perked to attention and she bounded back past Dawn, sniffing briefly at the floor by the door to Spike and Buffy's room before haring off down the stairs.

"Shit!" Dawn pushed open the door to the blonde couple's room on the off chance that the puppy simply either hadn't understood her instructions or was wilfully ignoring them, but the room was empty. "Better go get her back before she wakes up the whole building." A much put upon teenaged sigh echoed up from the stairwell as she plodded downstairs. It wasn't that she had anything against soccer. She'd even admit to finding it vaguely interesting in its own right and, with Spike as busy as he had been lately, it also provided a measure of "big brother" time when he wasn't being monopolised by Buffy. What was better, though, was snuggling up in the dark next to Brandon, sharing his enthusiasm in a moment that was theirs alone. Somehow, by the time she herded Rogue back upstairs she doubted tonight would be that sort of night.

 

---

 

The sound of people moving around and talking in theatrical whispers, soon followed by the buzz of the old TV set warming up and the commentators' words woke Bee up. Yet again, she could hear the sound of muffled sobs from the room's other bed. As she had done so often, she froze in place, trying not to let the Wicca know that her private sorrow had become public. Then, Rupert shifted in his sleep, his fur brushing against the tip of Bee's nose, and her subterfuge was sabotaged by a loud sneeze. In the dark, she could hear Tara franticly trying to bring her tears under control without success.

Without a word, Bee got out of her bed and pushed it across the floor until it pressed against the edge of Tara's. She climbed back into her own cocoon of sheets and blankets but her hand reached out and her fingers twined with those of the witch. Rupert rose from his previous position, as if annoyed at being shunted around. He stalked down the centre of the two beds and turned a couple of times before settling into the gap between the two women's bodies.

 

---

 

By the time Dawn had enticed Rogue away from the school's main door with a bowl of dried dog food, Wes was dressed again and already making tea and coffee. The number of mugs he had laid out put paid to any last hope she had had for any privacy.

"Who's up?"

"Faith, Oz, you, me, Brandon and I thought I'd check whether Giles was still on basement duty."

"He's still waiting up for Spike and Buffy to get back?"

"Well, he isn't in his room and as far as I'm aware he was going to stay up until they got in..."

"For-. Give me that cup of tea when it's ready," she insisted impatiently.

 

---

 

Dawn almost felt sorry for the watcher, his glasses halfway down his nose and his cheek resting against the open pages of the book he'd been reading, just the smallest hint of drool at the corner of his mouth, but, then, grown ups were her natural prey.

She put her full weight on the second to bottom step, bouncing on it slightly to emphasise its natural squeak. Giles shot bolt upright, automatically correcting his glasses and then wiping at his mouth. "Buffy?"

Dawn decided not to tell him about the black mirror-image writing on his face. He'd find out soon enough. "No, doofus, Dawn." She sat the mug of tea down before him.

"I'm sure your mother wouldn't have approved of you calling your elders doofuses... doofii, whatever."

"Probably not, but then, you have earned it. I guess it never occurred to you to call their cell phones."

Giles coloured slightly but then rushed to his own defence. "It wouldn't be exactly ideal if they were trying to sneak up on an opponent and their phones rang."

Dawn snorted as she turned back toward the stairs. "You can't be naïve enough to think that Spike hasn't figured out all the fun of vibrating ring tones."

Giles waited until the girl's footsteps had faded into the distance. "There are vibrating ring tones?"