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The Contest	By : QueenB Category: > Buffy/Giles Views: 10901 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
“So you and Giles, huh?”
“Yup. Me and Giles.” Buffy smiled to herself as she picked up the skimpy bit of clothing and peered at it critically.
The redhead couldn’t help grinning. Since she’d come back from England, she had been all too glad of her friends’ support. But she couldn’t help the niggling suspicion that her former ties had been irreparably damaged by her impromptu trip to the dark side. Buffy’s revelation of her newly discovered feelings for Giles felt a little like old times. Girl talk and a trip to the mall were all part of girlfriend goodness.
“What do you think about this one?” Buffy held up the black lace teddy against her body and raised her eyebrows at Willow in an inquiring look.
Willow made “mmm” sounds of appreciation. “Ooh, very sexy. If you weren’t taken, I’d think about asking you out.”
“Willow!” The two women dissolved in giggles. Buffy replaced the black number with a red one. “How about this?”
“Even better. Red is a very eye-catching color especially for near-sighted people like Giles.”
“Really? How do you know?”
Willow elaborated, her voice acquiring the slight pedantic tone it got whenever she talked about her studies. “I read about it in art class. A lot of painters suffered from shortsightedness and red tends to predominate in their paintings. That’s why we use it for stoplights, too. If your vision isn’t all that great, it still manages to attract attention.”
Buffy shook her head. “You sound like Giles. It makes me wonder why he’s not with you.”
“Because he’s in love with you. He has been for years,” Willow replied in a matter-of-fact fashion.
The blonde woman paused and stared at her. “He has? And you knew?”
“It was pretty obvious, Buffy. Well, to everybody except you. He always went above and beyond as your Watcher. I mean, he could have put up a bigger fuss about your making civilians part of the Slayer gig but he never did. He got the fact that you were stronger with friends and he let you have a life. He wanted to protect you so you did everything he could to keep you safe. He got kinda upset when he realized that you were falling for Angel but he never said a word…”
“He didn’t, did he? I wonder how he could be cool about Angel hanging around?”
“Well, I think as long as he thought that Angel’s deal with you was all one-sided--with just him loving you, that is--he could afford to let it go. He might have thought it was an asset with a strong immortal fighter battling great, big, naughty evil by your side. And he probably figured, since Angel was already dead, if he got killed, that was okay ‘cause he was expendable.” Turning red, Willow could have swallowed her tongue. Belatedly, she realized that Buffy might not want to hear that her new boyfriend was so mean.
The Slayer’s forehead wrinkled unhappily as she considered that Giles might have been that cold-blooded. Then she tried to look at things from his side. “Huh. I guess from a Watcher’s point of view, the life of a vampire wasn’t that important. So ‘fess up, Willow. If you’ve known all this time how Giles felt, why didn’t you ever say anything?” Buffy was hurt by the idea that Willow had known about something as important as this but had kept this from her. Weren’t girlfriends supposed to share things like this with each other?
Willow was immediately on the defensive. “I-it wasn’t my secret to tell. And you were so crazy about Angel and then Riley and Giles got his thing with Jenny Calendar, I figured the two of you were moving on from the impossible to what you could get. I know that’s no excuse but I don’t go blabbing about everything I know.”
“Really? ‘Cause I always thought you couldn’t keep a secret to save your life,” Buffy teased.
“Do you want my help in shopping or not?”
“Actually, not. I just thought we could take the time to do some good, old-fashioned girly bonding. So I’m taking the red teddy,” she stated as she placed the garment in her bag. “Ooh, do you think he’d like this sheer thing?” She held up a short rose pink chemise with spaghetti-thin straps and the matching panties.
“Uh huh. So is it only underwear or are you gonna get toys, too?”
“Toys? You mean like Mr. Gordo?” Buffy replied, striving for and completely failing to achieve a guileless expression.
“I’m thinking vibrators and handcuffs.”
The Slayer’s eyebrows shot up halfway to her hairline. “Wow. What kind of naughty stuff did you and Tara get up to, I’m wondering?”
Willow’s returning look was arch. “You’ll never know. Unlike Anya, I can keep mum about things I do in bed.”
“That’s so unfair! I told you about Angel!” Buffy protested.
“But that was just the once. I don’t think you would have kept on if you and he had been going at it all the time. I mean, you never told me about the bedroom hijinks with you and Riley.”
Buffy shrugged in dismissal as she pulled another flimsy two-piece number off the rack. “That’s ‘cause Riley and I never made it past the man-superior position. He was a typical jock in so many ways. The sex was plentiful--it just wasn’t always that great.”
Willow eyed the growing pile of sexy unmentionables in Buffy’s shopping basket. “And what do you think sex with Giles will be like?” she asked.
A slow, sultry smile lit up her blonde girlfriend’s face. “If it’s anything like how he kisses, don’t expect to see me anytime soon this weekend.”
“So how is Operation Seducing Giles going?”
“Well, that’s where you come in…”
__________
Giles had been hard-put to hold to his resolution that Buffy and he take their new relationship slowly. An overheard whispered conversation between Willow and Buffy at the Magic Shop and Anya had spilled the beans to everybody. Now he had to put up with Dawn, Xander, Willow and Anya’s unremitting curiosity about how and when they were going to shag. Not to mention Buffy’s raging libido.
His Slayer had no qualms about getting him in the sack and he was fast running out of excuses. Stern warnings, denials and patient arguments against rushing into the physical part of their relationship didn’t seem to be working. True, Buffy had ceased teasing and begging him. But then she had resorted to what he could only consider to be underhanded, sneaky behavior.
She had asked him to work out with her again. When he realized her sparring techniques were little more than blatant attempts to bring his body in close proximity to hers, he’d called a halt, declaring that she had advanced far enough in her training that such activities were a distinct waste of time.
She’d also taken to showing up at his apartment and leaning over the kitchen counter, exposing him to the tasty sight of her breasts in low-cut clothing. When he’d rebuked her for this nonsense, she had protested that her clothes weren’t any different from what she’d worn in the past, pointing out to him his own comments about her revealing clothes and short skirts that she used to wear during their previous training sessions. Since she was thoroughly in the right about that, he really didn’t have a rebuttal for her.
However, for the last three weeks, she had withdrawn from him. She was still as sweet as ever and never failed to reassure him daily of her love. But the physical attacks on his person had stopped. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. He was certain she was planning something; he just wasn’t sure what.
But the cessation of her overt attacks had the perverse effect of making him randy as hell. When she became indifferent to him, he found his eyes drawn to her again and again. If she stretched, her breasts drew up and he could see the outline of her nipples through the cloth. When she bent over a desk to pick up a fallen object, he was confronted with either her soft mounds almost falling out of her tops or her sweet, curvy bottom straining the seams of her pants. He’d noticed other men looking, too, and wanted to rip their bloody eyes out of their sockets.
Thus he’d been in a near-constant state of arousal for almost a month. It had served to make him moody, waspish and irritable. Anya had told him that he’d better have sex with Buffy soon otherwise his company was going to become thoroughly disagreeable. He had snapped back sex didn’t solve all problems while pointing out that Xander wasn’t having sex with her any more and his temper certainly didn’t seem the worse for it.
He had regretted his harsh words the instant he spoke them, noting the unhappy look in her eyes. But he had been too wrapped up in his own sex-deprived discomfort to care.
Now he sat at home in his lonely apartment. He couldn’t go back to the loft again. It had been leased out to another couple in his absence from Sunnydale. In any case, it held too many bad memories. Sometimes he would close his eyes and see Jenny’s lifeless corpse lying in the bed where Angelus had left her. He was also incensed when he thought of how often he had housed Spike there. The bloody wanker…filling up the place with the stench of his fags and nipping into Giles’s private stash of Scotch. If he’d known then the peroxide ponce would wind up bedding his Slayer, he would have killed the bastard when he had the chance.
He sighed and shifted on the couch. God, it was lonely without Buffy and once again he found himself questioning his determination to keep his distance. He was still her Watcher, wasn’t he? She had said so. Then what harm could there be in checking up on her?
As if in response to his thought, the phone in his living room rang. Picking it up, he was surprised to hear Willow’s voice on the other end. The woman sounded upset and at first he couldn’t make out what she was saying. “Willow? Willow, please. Slow down. I can’t understand you.”
“Giles? It’s Buffy. Something happened on patrol and she’s hurt.”
At the words, he was paralyzed with shock. It was as if the world around him dropped away. He could hear his heartbeat thundering so loudly in his ears everything else failed to register; for a moment, he couldn’t take in what else Willow was saying.
“Giles? Giles? Are you still there? Answer me!”
“Yes, yes, I’m still here. Oh god. Willow, tell me exactly what happened.”
“Buffy ran into this demon on patrol. At least I think it was a demon; she wasn’t too clear when she came back. She was bleeding from this wound in her stomach.”
He began pacing as he picked up his car keys. “You took her to the hospital?”
“She didn’t want to go. You know how she hates hospitals, Giles. She insisted it was just a flesh wound and that it would heal up on its own. I bandaged her up and sent her to her room. She seemed to be just fine.”
She paused and he could sense that there was more to this story. “But? If she were fine you wouldn’t be calling. What aren’t you telling me?”
“A short while ago, I heard moaning from her room. I thought she was in pain and I knocked on her door and asked if she needed my help. She yelled at me through the door that she was okay and she wanted me to go away. I don’t know what’s happening with her, Giles. But she keeps calling out your name. I think she needs to see you.”
“Very well. I’m on my way.” He hung up and ran to the door. “Bloody, stubborn, foolish girl. I can’t believe she’d take such a risk with her life.” He wondered what Dawn thought of this behavior and then realized Willow hadn’t said anything about the younger girl. Was she aware her sister had been hurt?
__________
He parked quickly and dashed up the walkway to the house on Revello Drive. Willow must have been watching for his arrival for she pulled open the door at once, her face worried, pale and strained with fear. “Giles! Wow, you got here fast. You must have broken some speed limits.”
“Never mind that. Is she still upstairs?” He strained his ears and seemed to hear a low moan coming from Buffy’s bedroom.
Willow nodded and grabbed at his arm. “Maybe I shouldn’t have called you. S-she didn’t ask for me to send for you and she might be mad I brought you here.”
“But if she’s been injured--”
“I know, I know. Just let her know that I did it ‘cause I was concerned and I don’t want her getting ticked off at me ‘cause I blew things out of proportion and got panicky. I only wanted to help.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be certain to let her know that.” He was impatient to get to Buffy. Willow’s nervous babbling served only to exacerbate his fear. He took the stairs two at a time, fear for his beloved propelling him faster than usual. When he heard another moan followed by an inaudible murmur, something caused him to pause. He cautiously edged open the bedroom door and halted in shock. Unnoticed, the door swung behind him and shut with a decided click.
The room lights had been left off. Instead the space was lit by the delicate glow of a dozen or more candles. However, their gentle radiance did nothing to hide the slowly undulating figure in the bed. Buffy was clad in a sheer pink negligee that clung to her heaving breasts. The short garment was pulled up so the furred hem was lying on her delectable belly. There was no wound on her stomach that he could see. But with her legs spread he could see clearly the lower half her body--and her shaven mons.
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the better to concentrate on what she was doing to herself. The delicate fingers of her right hand were wrapped around a dildo that she was drawing with deliberate motions in and out of her pussy. In fascination, he saw the wrinkled, pink lips being pulled out as she drew the flesh-colored instrument from her cunt. Her buttocks rested on a pillow, bringing her hips up and affording him an intimate view of her nether parts. In the part of his mind still able to function, he knew this would give a better angle to reach the deep parts of her recesses…
A shrill mewling scattered his thoughts. “Rupert!” she cried and she worked the dildo faster, panting and wriggling her hips. “Rupert, please…suck ‘em,” Buffy gasped and she licked her fingers, wetting them with spittle and, pushing aside the material, she rubbed them around her nipples. The flesh crinkled and stood up under her touch as she manipulated her fingers as if they were tongues, tweaking and flic the the hardened points back and forth.
“Buffy,” he breathed. He had drifted closer to her without being aware that he was moving. It was wrong to see her doing such private things, yet part of him was aware that he was intended to see it, that this show was for his benefit. Buffy had to know that he was here and looking at her. Yet she seemed so unconscious and free in her movements. How had she become this uninhibited? Was it Spike’s influence or her own frustration?
An added twist of the dildo and her neck arched as another cry erupted from her. Pinching the dusky pink nubs, her hips began pumping faster. Unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle, Giles’s hand drifted down to the erection flaring to life in his trousers. His pants had become unbearably tight, his cock straining the material of his jeans. Action had to be taken. Either he engage with the writhing figure on the bed or he withdraw. He simply couldn’t stand here stroking himself when the woman he loved with overwhelming ardor was calling out to him, begging for release only inches away.
“Rupert, give it to me. Please, harder, I need you. I love you.” Buffy’s cries were coming faster, eruptions of the sacred and profane spilling from her lips as she drove the rubber toy with ruthless purpose. The openness of her sex, completely stripped of hair, made every motion of her lower hand painfully apparent. He could see the rubber becoming slick with her juices, the thrusting motions bringing loud noises with every twist and pull. “Touch me!” she cried and the last of his resistance fell away.
Silently, not wanting to break the spell of the moment (and there was enchantment in the air. Not Willow’s kind; he’d learned to recognize the unique signature of her magicks. There was a hint of it around but so faint as to be almost nonexistent.), he stripped himself of his clothing. He lay beside her and stroked her hair. “Buffy, open your eyes,” he whispered.
She didn’t obey at first. Her teeth worried her lower lip and her body quivered, her strokes becoming more agitated. When he drew one long finger across her clavicle, she sighed and turned towards him slightly. But otherwise her eyes remained firmly shut.
Oh, so she wanted to play games, did she? Two could manage that. Reaching downwards, he grasped the hand clutching the artificial device and held her still. She wriggled desperately to continue her movements but he wouldn’t let her.
Lips began coursing over her face, never lingering in one spot. They brushed over the closed eyelids so that they fluttered but still she wouldn’t open them. They descended and pulled, sucking, at her own mouth, the firm tongue caressing both upper and lower lips. He pressed, mutely demanding entry, and her lips parted under his. Their warm tongues tangled together and her hot breath sighed into his mouth. She grasped his shoulders, drawing him closer. Removing the forgotten dildo from between her legs, he disdainfully chucked it onto the floor.
Hazel eyes opened at last to meet smoldering green ones and Buffy shivered at the intensity of that gaze. He was really here and her heart hammered in her chest to know he was finally hers. Buffy decided she’d had enough playing the meek Slayer. She sat up and pushed him back onto the bed. Taking advantage of her altered viewpoint, she raked his body hungrily with her eyes.
The candlelight softened the passage of years, deepened the green in his eyes to emerald and turned the graying hairs on his chest to burnished silver. Small fingers tangled in his chest hair and she tugged it experimentally, grinning at the way he growled when they pulled at his nipples. Her fingers brushed over faint scars on his chest and torso and she explored with curiosity the mark of Eyghon, faded with the years but still discernible on his bicep.
She’d never gotten the chance to play like this with her other lovers. The first time with Angel had been too hasty and piled with danger and the aftermath had been horrific, almost destroying the joy of their union. Parker had been a mistake; ditto with Spike. There had been no tenderness with the peroxided vampire. Instead she’d pounded on him, trying to lose herself in the dead flesh that gave her blow for blow. She never wanted to linger or explore with him. Riley had been the closest she’d come to drawn-out lovemaking and, like she’d told Willow, he’d been serviceable in bed but nothing else.
His hair curled in scratchy tangles over the rising chest to a vee covering the lean belly that dipped and twitched under her hand. Further exploration led her to trail her digits down his belly to the twitching cock that lay straining amidst dark brown curls. She ran her index finger lightly over the vein pulsing underneath and in glancing passes around the ridge and over the crown. A dab of precum oozed from the tip and she caught it on her fingertips, spinning it out in a delicate glistening strand and slicking it over his shaft.
“Buffy.” His voice deepened, turning hoarse and barely recognizable. She grinned and closed her hand over his length. Giles’s body was jiggling with the motions of his hips as he thrust into her hand. She glanced at him to see his eyes half-lidded, the teeth biting into the lower lip and knew a sense of power that she’d never experienced before.
“Mmmmm, Rupert.” She loved how his face changed, became fierce and unguarded, whenever she said his given name. It was a face he wore for her alone and she was proud she could change him, bring a part of himself that he didn’t show to anyone else into the open.
But he evidently decided he needed more. He reached up with both hands and pulled off the sheer pink garment. Strong fingers began tweaking and circling her breasts. “Lovely,” he murmured. “So superb.”
Catching her by surprise, he drew her towards his prone body so her breasts were brought in line with his teeth. The warm tip of his tongue flicked at the taut nips, wetting them with spittle, and then he blew on them, causing a shiver to ripple throughout her small frame.
She braced herself on her hands, content to let him take his time, as his head moved between one breast and the other. He lingered on each and cupped her buttocks. A sly pinch on her bum and she squeaked, her eyes flying open in surprise. She glanced down to see a mischievous grin light up his face. Returning his smile, she wriggled so every part of her bottom came in contact with his hand.
Her weight settled on his cock and she rocked, watching those luminous green eyes lose focus and his teeth clenching, a muscle bunching under the jaw. “Buffy.” This time her name came out as more of a growl and his hands tightened on her waist as he aided her movements, jerking her roughly over the length nestled between her spread-out thighs.
She gripped his shoulders as she raised herself and brought her pussy within a hair’s length of the waving cock. In agonizingly slow increments she lowered herself onto him, his breath accompanying her actions with harsh pants. “Ooooh, Giles,” she whispered. She couldn’t help it; he was still Giles in her mind. To her, he would always be Giles. Guess it was a couple thing, after all.
Their breaths exploded in a shared “whoosh” as their thighs sealed together at last. They stayed motionless to adjust to this new sensation and then Buffy began to move. She arched up and over hier ber breasts swaying, her chest reddened in the flickering lights. Her pussy fluttered and clenched around him in a vise so that he shouted and drove his hips up to meet her descent.
How could she be so tight after all the lovers she’d had? But she was and her cunt drew at his skin, the dragging sensation exquisite and aching at once. The next movement was harder and she leaned forward, a gasp wrenching its way from her as the altered angle plumbed her inner softness. “Oh! Giles. Harder, just…like that! Again!”
“Damn, Buffy.” Roughness crept into his voice. He lost the cultured accent so painstakingly cultivated after he’d severed his ties with Ethan and began swearing, softly and then louder, as her movements sped up. Her eyes clenched, Buffy was at first unaware of the change in the body gripped between her thighs. Gradually, the altered words and coarse accent impinged themselves on her consciousness and she stiffened.
“I’ve never been with such an animal.”
No. Oh god no.
“No, don’t close your eyes. That’s not your world. You belong in the shadows…with me.”
Tears of rage and self-loathing sprang to her eyes as the hated voice buzzed through her brain.
“I may be dirt but you like rolling in it.”
Buffy’s body was rocking over him faster, no longer in rhythm with his. But he was caught in his upcoming crisis and the difference in her movements didn’t immediately register.
“I know you felt it…when I was inside you.”
“Hit me,” she whispered.
Taken by surprise by the whispered request, his eyes flew to her face. A wild, unfocused look was in the hazel depths; she no longer seemed to see him. “What? Buffy, what did you say?”
She grabbed his hand and brought it back to her ass. “Hit me!” Her voice was commanding and she seemed to want it. Was she encouraging his earlier play? Tentatively obeying her, he gave her bottom a light smack. Her body jumped and she ground herself down on him with a vengeance.
“Harder!” Confused, he complied and a passionate cry erupted from her. “Again! HARDER!”
Something was wrong. He grabbed her waist to halt her gyrations and spoke sharply. “Buffy, stop it. That’s enough!”
“No!” She began flailing at his chest, the blows punishing and out of control. He grunted in pain, as each punch seemed to force the air out of his lungs. If she continued, she would break a rib…or worse.
“Buffy, please!” The agonized note in her lover’s voice brought her up short and she froze, one fist arrested in the act of striking his face.
Giles was panting, his breath wheezing from the agony of his injuries. The Slayer gazed in stupefaction at the contusions on her Watcher’s torso. They were an angry red, darkening as she watched, and she just knew they would be purple by morning. What had she done?
“Giles? Giles, oh my god.” She collapsed against his chest and burst into tears.
He wound his arms around her, heedless of the extra pain her weight caused his bruised ribs. “Buffy, shhh. There, there. Dear girl.” Meaningless murmurs followed as the flood poured out of her. Her voice was a keening wail as she babbled about how sorry she was, how she’d never meant to hurt him.
Apparently this release had been some time in coming. How long had she been carrying this burden? When the noise fell away to the occasional hiccup, he stroked her hair. “Buffy, what is it? Is it something I did?”
A muffled sound came from his chest; baffled, he recognized it as her customary giggle albeit altered with hysterical, choked tears. “Something you did? Nope. It was something I did. Over and over and over again.”
There was a short pause. Then, “Is this about Spike?”
She stilled. He knew. Of course he knew. Just as he’d understood how terrible her resurrection must have been for her, he at once knew this was about the dyed menace to the undead. “He--we used to…I mean, he’d say things and we’d do things…I didn’t like it. But I seemed to need it…” There was a lump in her throat and a crushing weight in her chest. In another minute, she was going to start crying again or howling.
He sighed and shifted her so her weight wasn’t on his chest. She misunderstood the gesture and shrank away. He clutched her in silent assurance that he wasn’t rejecting her. “You were in a bad place, Buffy. I’m just beginning to realize how you must have suffered this past year. You haven’t really spoken to me about it and I think we need to talk. D-do you think we can now?”
She rubbed her eyes wearily. The last thing she wanted was to talk about Spike, especially after what they’d been doing. But she obviously had serious issues about him and she needed to get this out of her system. Otherwise intimacy with Giles would be impossible. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, if we can start with what happened just now…?”
“I-um, your voice changed. I-it sounded like his. You know, all lower-classy accent and I guess I just freaked. I started hearing the things he used to say, all the nasty stuff about how I came back wrong. It was too much.”
She lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “I felt wrong, you know? It was like I was supposed to be alive but my flesh was dead. When he h-hit me, it would wake up and tingle and it was almost like I was alive--at least for a moment. Things got really bad between us and I knew I should stop but I couldn’t. It was really stupid. If we’d kept on doing it, we were going to wind up killing each other but I couldn’t stop.” She burrowed her head into his shoulder; a powerful shudder vibrated through her so he could feel it throughout his own body.
He stroked her back without speaking for a moment. Then he murmured, “Do you know I felt the same?”
She blinked. What was he talking about? “You did? When? About what?”
“When you died again. I was working with that blasted Buffybot and she asked me what I was still doing here. Dawn was in capable hands. Willow had Tara; Xander had Anya. What did I have? My Slayer--my love--was dead. What reason did I have for remaining where I wasn’t needed?” He paused and she held her breath, sensing there was more to this story.
“So I went back to England. I thought if I wasn’t in Sunnydale, your loss would be easier to bear. It wasn’t. When the days got hot in England, I thought of Sunnydale. Whenever I encountered an American tourist and heard a Californian accent, I froze in shock. When I saw a small woman--any petite woman--with your shade of hair, I swore my heart stopped in my chest. I’d run home and pour myself a glass to steady my nerves and enable me to face the world again. Scotch was my favorite. After a while, however, I stopped discriminating.
“The only things that kept me from drinking myself to death were letters from Dawn and the others. They would write every now and again. They avoided writing about you; they must have thought they would be sparing me pain. Dawn would throw in a word or two about you, though. She needed to discuss you with someone, even if it was only in a letter. I clung to those letters; I lived for them. And when I heard you were alive again, I was glad I had.”
“Me too. I was so happy to see you when you came back and really pissed off when you left. I guess that’s why I started with Spike the following week.” Oh crap. She hadn’t meant to tell him that. His body went rigid and not in a good way.
“You…the next week? Because I had gone?”
He was hurt, shocked and angry. God, could she blame him? But she didn’t want him to feel it was his fault. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t have happened eventually. I was like Caveman Buffy again only without the beer. I was an idiot. I should have learned my lesson with Parker and Riley. No more rebound guys.”
His chest rose and fell with deep breaths as he strove to bring his feelings under control. She had taken up with that ponce in order to get over him. He supposed he should feel flattered by that but he couldn’t. The bastard was lucky that he wasn’t in Sunnydale any longer. Giles didn’t think he would be able to resist the urge to torture Spike in various unpleasant and drawn-out ways if the monster had remained within the city limits. But Buffy was talking again and he re-focused on her voice.
“So I had Spike and you had the demon liquor. Looks like we were both on our mutual paths of destruction, huh?”
“I’m sorry I never told you how I felt. I should have instead of simply taking off because you were leaning on me too much,” he murmured.
“No, I could have said something, too. Only I was too scattered and out of whack with the world to know anything except how angry I was you were going.”
“That’s why I should have spoken up. You didn’t know what you were feeling. I did.”
She snuggled closer and rested her hand cautiously on his belly. Glancing with regret at the bruises on his chest, she sighed unhappily. “Guess makeup sex is out of the question now, huh?”
“You’d be correct in that assessment. But once the bruises fade I’d be perfectly willing to have you apologize to me. Repeatedly, if necessary.”
She laughed again and this time the sound was one of true merriment, only slightly tainted by sorrow and bitterness. “You’re on, Rupert.” Nestling closer, she wound one chest hair around her finger. “So I guess we’ve had the talk, right?”
He bent his head and kissed the top of her hair. “Yes, I think we’ve covered everything important for now.”
“Good.” She snuggled her head into his side and sighed again. “This was so not the evening I had planned.”
“I have to admit this wasn’t on my itinerary either. However, there are worse things than going to bed next to a gorgeous, naked woman.”
Hazel eyes flicked over his body again. “You’re not so bad yourself. That picture on the website didn’t do you justice.”
A rumbling chuckle erupted from his chest. “I still can’t believe Dawn took that photograph.”
“Yup. Her sneaky snapping skills along with her gifts as a thief and forger are something else. She’s turning into a regular Harriet the Spy.”
“She does bear watching.”
“And that’s your department.” She reached up and kissed him on the nose. “G’night, Giles.”
“Goodnight, Buffy.” She yawned mightily and returned to her place by his side, tucked under his arm. He smiled tenderly at the relaxed expression that fell over her face. He could get used to sleeping like this. There was something to be said for the physical side of a relationship, after all.
__________
The first thing Buffy noticed when she awoke was the scent of English cologne. The smell was a familiar and pleasing one and she shifted closer to the weight in bed beside her that was the source of the odor. Then her eyes snapped open, her Slayer senses alerting her to the presence of a foreign body in her room.
In sleep, Giles’s face smoothed out and lost the lines of age and care that normally showed on it. It possessed a boyish charm that warmed her inside and out. He looked happy and she hoped she had some part in making that possible. Then her eyes drifted down his torso and her smile faded.
The damage from last night was there in plain view on his skin. As she had predicted, the red marks had turned into ugly blue-and-black discolorations and she could have howled in grief. How could he just lie there so calmly next to the person who’d hurt him like this? She had a lot to make up for and that was the truth.
Easing herself out of the bed, she tiptoed around the mattress, keeping a sharp eye on the man peacefully slumbering. She froze momentarily when Giles rolled over, an incoherent murmur on his lips, and then relaxed as his body stilled and settled back into slumber.
Buffy chucked on her white robe and rattled the doorknob. Drat, it wouldn’t open. Willow’s spell to seal the door must still be up. Before she could debate whether she should risk calling out and waking the man asleep behind her, the doorknob turned. The door cautiously edged open and she was greeted by her best friend’s curious stare. The red-haired girl started when she saw her friend glaring at her. “Buf--”
The blond clapped her hand over her mouth and shoved her away from the door. “Willow, keep it down. Giles is still asleep.”
“So I see. So, it worked? Everything turned out okay?”
Buffy grimaced, remembering the aborted attempt from last night. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? Either you did the naughty deed or you didn’t. Which is it?”
“What it is is none of your business, Miss Nosy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make Giles his breakfast.”
Willow walked down the stairs after Buffy, firing one question after another. “Oh, come on! I helped you, didn’t I? It’s not like I don’t know what you two were doing. I want vicarious smoochies!”
“Well, if you’re such a know-it-all, what do you want with the details?” Buffy asked. She really didn’t want to go into the details of the previous night’s escapades when they’d been cut so brutally short. To fend off her curious friend, she opened the cabinet doors and frowned. “Where did I put those English muffins?”
“Upper cabinet and stop changing the subject.”
“Breakfast is the subject since I’m making Giles breakfast in bed. Could you get the frying pan?”
Willow reached for it and held it in her hand, oblivious of her friend’s impatient movements. She didn’t understand why Buffy was holding out on her when she’d promised to let Willow know how their plan had turned out. “I just want to know if things are going to be okay between you two. You’ve been antsier than Spike when he’s jonesing for a cigarette and Giles has been tearing everybody’s head off because he’s so horny.”
Buffy’s lips had thinned at mention of Spike but her back was to Willow so the redhead didn’t see it. “Willow, I’m not discussing my boyfriend’s state of randiness with you.”
“Ooh, that’s a Giles word! Randy,” she crowed. “You’re starting to talk like him. It must be love.”
Buffy permitted herself a small, self-satisfied smile. “Yeah, it is. Now get me the donuts.”
Giles smiled in his sleep and hugged the soft form in his arms. Buffy was so yielding and gentle to the touch, her scent of vanilla comforting and arousing at once. He brushed his cheek dreamily against one breast and pressed his lips against it, searching for the nipple. That was odd--it was nowhere to be found and his mouth felt dry as if he were sucking on cotton. The sensation that something was off got stronger and with great reluctance he struggled up from sleep and opened his eyes.
The disorientation was momentary but enough to shake off the last of his lingering lethargy. Buffy was no longer in bed with him and he found himself clutching one of her ample pillows instead of her body. Thrusting it from him, he sat up, hoping she hadn’t seen that embarrassing display.
But the scent of vanilla was still pervasive, stronger it it should be, given her absence. He noted the guttered and burnt-out candles and sniffed tentatively in their direction. Hmmm, the vanilla scent was coming from them.
He clucked his tongue as he mentally chided himself. He should have snuffed out those before falling asleep. If even one of them had tipped over, the house might have burnt down, killing everybody under its roof. That was bloody careless of him--not to mention the sex he’d engaged in with Buffy. The usage of condoms or other safety measures hadn’t even been discussed. Good Lord, he might have gotten her pregnant! He heaved a sigh as his euphoria vanished.
The door opened and he pulled up the blanket to cover his nakedness. His lover stood beaming proudly in the doorway. “Breakfast time!” Buffy sang out and stepped inside, kicking the door shut in the face of the inquisitive wiccan. “It’s not a proper English breakfast but it’s tough getting scones at this time of day.” She propped the tray carefully over his legs and plopped down in bed beside him. “Eat up, Giles.”
His concerns about last night were still uppermost in his mind but the smell of freshly cooked eggs and sausage were fast pushing such concerns out of his mind. Buffy herself looked appetizing, her hair tousled as if she’d raced directly to the kitchen from the bedroom without any concern for herself. The gesture was touching and he found his heart melting all over again.
“You got jelly donuts? How wonderful.” He took a bite and sighed in happiness. “It’s no end of trouble getting these in England,” he mumbled around a mouthful.
“Thanks. I know how much you like them.” Her voice was subdued and he glanced at her, puzzled by her change in tone. Her head was bent down and she seemed interested in scrutinizing her toes.
“What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer only glanced up once, her gaze skimming over his chest, and then she dropped her eyes again. His eyes followed hers and he saw the marks on his chest. He looked at the breakfast tray and understood why she’d gone to such trouble. Putting the tray on the floor, he held out his arms. “Buffy, come here.”
“No. Giles, I don’t want to. Just--just finish your breakfast, okay?”
The dullness in her voice saddened him. Evidently, they hadn’t solved everything with just one talk.
He shifted closer when she ignored his request and wrapped her in his arms. Her body remained rigid and unbending; she was obviously trying to punish herself by denying his affection. “Buffy, we discussed this last night. If you can’t forgive yourself, know that I forgive you.”
“I hurt you. It isn’t enough,” she mumbled stubbornly.
“No, perhaps it isn’t. But I hurt you by running away. I’m only now realizing how much. Do you forgive me?”
“That’s different. You thought you were helping me. You weren’t thinking about yourself.”
Giles scowled. “Don’t make me out to be such a bloody martyr. One of the reasons I left was because I loved you so much and thought you felt nothing for me but friendship. I was angry and bitter and I ran away like a sulking child instead of discussing my true feelings for you.” He tried gazing into her averted face. She wouldn’t look at him but at least she was listening.
She murmured, “Spike said you always hurt the ones you love. I’d just finished beating the tar out of him and he took it a gesture of love.”
He snorted at the glib explanation. “Forget that wanker. If a punch meant love, you’d love every vampire in Sunnydale.”
Her answering giggle was music to his ears and at last she relaxed in his hold. “I didn’t think of that. Okay. Forgiveness needed on both fronts. So let’s get on with it and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
“Yes, Mother.” He grinned when she wrinkled her nose at him and brought the tray back to its former position.
She watched him eat in silence for awhile and then asked timidly, “D-do they hurt?”
“What?” She pointed at his chest. “Buffy, in the time I’ve been with you I’ve been shot, tranquilized, tortured, stabbed, knocked out who knows how many times and goodness knows what else. A few bruises are nothing by comparison. I’ve had worse.” He puffed out his chest to illustrate and managed not to wince when the skin protested the unwise movement. He resumed eating only stopping when he noticed she wasn’t having anything. “Did you eat yet?”
“Huh? Oh no, I didn’t think about it.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled and she shifted in bed. “Okay, maybe I could eat.” She picked a sausage off his plate and popped it in her mouth.
He raised an eyebrow at the rude gesture but said nothing. He remembered the more serious matter that had been on his mind when she came in the room and mentally geared himself for the discussion to follow. “Buffy?”
She continued munching the sausage. “Hmmm?”
“Have you ever thought about having--children?”
Okay, what brought that up? “Excuse me? No, I mean--uh uh. Like I told Angel, I kill my goldfish. Why?”
“Well, last night we were--we didn’t take the time for proper precautions. I’m worried our actions might have consequences.”
“Oh.” Then it hit her. “OH!”
“Yes, indeed. Oh.” The silence dragged on and he darted a glance at her, worried by her silence. “Buffy, you do know I’ll support you no matter what happens. I just thought that you might want to consider the possibility you might be pregnant.”
She raised head aad and he was stunned by the expression of amusement and giddy relief that met him. “Wow, what is it about sleeping with me that makes guys think about the future and the patter of little feet? Angel, Riley and now you. We’ve only been together one night and you’re thinking about baby clothes.”
While relieved that she wasn’t upset, he was rather piqued at her lack of apprehension. This was a serious subject, far more so than some bruises sustained in lovemaking. Why wasn’t she worried? “Buffy, I really am concerned. This isn’t something to laugh about.”
She scooted over and hugged him, mindful of his ribs. “No big, Watcher mine. I mean, I know it’s a big thing, the biggest. But I’d love having a kid if it was yours. Dawn would be his auntie and she’d smother him to death with love.”
“Or she. She might be a girl with your blonde hair and hazel eyes.”
“Or your big feet and love of books and tea.”
“Or your funny little nose,” he teased.
“Hey! My nose is not funny looking. It’s, it’s…” She groped for a word that would save her pride. “It’s distinctive,” she said with dignity.
“If you say so.” He ducked when she hit him with a pillow. “Stop! I’m a wounded man, remember!” he said, laughing.
She paused, the pillow uplifted for another blow, and then sniffed. “Lucky you. If you’re finished with breakfast, you can take a shower and I’ll take down the tray.”
“An excellent suggestion.” He brushed at his chest. “I seem to have gotten jelly on my stomach.”
“Ooh. Nothing worse than facing the morning with a jelly belly,” she chortled.
“Ah, the famous Summers wit strikes again.” He got up from the bed and she stopped laughing as she was presented with the upright view of his body, front and back. She had only seen him lying down; vertical, his body presented a whole new interesting vista. But the harm she’d done made her stomp down her desire. She rolled over in the bed and frowned as she thought about how else she could make it up to Giles.
She thought about the wonderful letter he’d written for her in the hotel and a goofy smile rested on her face. That had been a really great way to start the morning; she would never forget it. Maybe she could give him something like that in return. Dawn wasn’t the only one in the family who could write, now was she?
She didn’t know how long he would be in the shower, so she had to hurry. Tearing off a sheet from her notepad, she began scribbling furiously, scratching things out and mumbling under her breath.
Giles emerged from the bathroom, steam curling into the hallway from the shower. He’d had to wait for Willow to finish brushing her teeth and then to endure her questions about himself and Buffy. She’d restrained herself from being too graphic but it had been all he could do to rein in his impatience and embarrassment. The girl had been hanging out with Xander and Anya for too long; nobody should prattle on in that manner about sex unless they were a professional therapist. It was positively indecent even if it was the American custom. He almost wished for a return to the past when she would have refrained from such speech because she considered him too old to care about such things.
He returned to the bedroom to catch Buffy in the act of placing a folded paper on the pillow. She jumped up and began babbling when she saw him. “Oh, you’re back. I didn’t think you’d be finished so soon. Just wait here a moment. I’m going to get myself breakfast.” She thrust the paper into his hand and edged past him towards the door.
“Is this for me?” He glanced at the envelope. It couldn’t be the morning mail, could it?
“Read it up here! Bye!” she called back as she raced down the stairs.
He shrugged as he turned over the envelope. What--ah, his name was written on the front in Buffy’s loopy script. He thought he knew what was coming and he was smiling as he read the paper nestled inside.
“Why Rupert Giles is the Man I Love” by Buffy Summers

“I can remember when I first met Rupert Giles. He talked of duty and sacred calling and I didn’t want to listen. But he wouldn’t give up on me. That’s just not the kind of man he is. He’s too devoted, always thinking of others before himself. He’s handsome, good, smart, brave, loving, tender, kind and a dynamo in the sack. I’m a lucky woman and I hope to get even luckier by having his children some day. I know he’d be as good a father as he is a lover. He’s my tea-drinking, jelly-donut-loving Tweedy Book Guy.”

He smiled at that final statement, so typical of his Buffy. Giles held the letter up to his nose. There it was, the faint trace of vanilla that he’d come to associate forever with the woman he adored. Now he had a token of her love just as she had one of his.
Maybe she really is pregnant. If she isn’t, we can always give it another go. Grinning in a distinctly Ripper-like fashion, he tucked the letter into his robe and commenced dressing. Perhaps he could convince Buffy to ignore his bruises and take up where they left off…

Finis
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