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Joan	By : QueenB Category: > Buffy/Giles Views: 54535 -:- 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
Alexander Harris stirred and stretched himself. He was still sleepy but oddly uncomfortable. He began turning over--and promptly fell onto the floor. He jerked up and peered blearily around the room. What the hell was going on? Why was he sleeping on the sofa and not in his bed?
Then he remembered. Waking up in the Magic Box. Mysterious amnesia. Pretty redheaded girlfriend who really wasn’t. Vampires. Blonde fiancée.
That last thought caused him to scramble up in a panic. He looked around almost as if he expected to see the woman lurking behind a curtain. For some reason, that was more horrifying than demonic creatures that might be lying in wait.
He sat down slowly on the sofa and took a few deep breaths. After a moment, he regained some measure of calm. He was alive, in one piece and there was no evidence of a scary fiancée on the premises--that he could see. All of a sudden he recalled the woman in the next room. Willow Rosenburg, the one he’d considered his girlfriend before all the photographic visions of Anya-and-Xander had appeared to torment him. He glanced at the shelves and shuddered.
He decided it would be good if he got away from them for a minute or two. After putting on his shoes, he padded as quietly as he could to the bedroom. Then he paused before the door.
I’m just taking a peek to see if she’s alright. Not looking to see if she’s nude or nothing, no sir, ‘cause that would be just plain of the wrongness, what with me about to be married and all. He lifted one hand and rapped tentatively at the door.
“Willow? Hey, you awake? Because if you are, I was about to go to the kitchen and make scrambled eggs.” He thought for a second. Did he even know how to make scrambled eggs? He shrugged, dismissing the problem as unimportant. “Or maybe you could make the eggs and I could watch, you know, in a supervisory capacity.”
No answer. Either she was a heavy sleeper or she’d already gotten dressed and left. The very notion caused a little surge of alarm. He opened the door and peered at the bed.
There was a little mound under the covers that he hesitated to disturb. But, even as he looked, she stirred and rolled over, poking her head up from the blanket. She peered out at him from under heavy, sleep-filled eyelids. “G’morning.” Then her eyes widened. “Where am--oh, wait, I remember now. Amnesialand.”
He waved at her feebly. “That’s right. Just let the fog settle so that you can see clearly to the murkiness behind it.” She grinned at him, sat up and stretched her arms above her head. The robe she was wearing had come undone while she slept and Alexander found himself confronted by the sight of a creamy-skinned firm female breast.
When Willow looked up and caught him staring, she frowned in confusion. His face was red and his mouth was hanging open like a fish. “Alexander? What’s wrong, you look--weird.”
Jerking his head up, he started babbling. “Um, do you like scrambled eggs? Because I just love ‘em. I mean, I think I do, seeing as I can’t quite remember. I’m heading to the kitchen and tossing together breakfast. Do you want anything? Eggs, juice, cereal, toast, sausages, waffles, I can get you something, anything you like.”
When she swung her bare legs out of bed, he lost it completely. He swung around and felt something hard crunch under his foot.
He looked down to see what he’d stepped on and saw the powdered remains of the crystal. Then he froze as his memories came flooding back to him. He and the others had lost their memories--and now his were back. He looked down at the powdery mess on the floor and then up at Willow. The guilty expression on her face told him everything he needed to know.
He stumbled backwards, shame at the lustful thoughts he’d been harboring about his best friend warring with a very real dismay. “Willow, geez, how could--what were you thinking?”
Her eyes swam. “Xander, I didn’t mean any harm, I was only trying to make Buffy forget…”
“Heaven,” he finished flatly. “Nice going. I thought we’d talked about this. You weren’t going to try anything like this. Willow, we nearly became sharkbait last night because Buffy couldn’t remember who she was!” Without another word, afraid of what he might say next, he turned and walked stiffly from the room.
Standing in the living room, he gazed at the shelves. Oh god, he had to get to Anya. No, if her memories had returned to her at the same time, she was probably on her way back to the apartment. He heard Willow enter the room behind him.
“Xander, please, I was just trying to help.”
His shoulders sagged. He could never stay angry with Willow, not for long anyway. And he’d been guilty of casting a spell or two himself. “Will, just go. You don’t want to be here when Anya arrives.”
He could almost hear her gulp. He didn’t move or turn around as he heard the front door softly open and close behind her.
__________
Joan felt wakefulness dragging her upwards through layers of sleep and found herself resisting the pull. She felt blissfully happy and safe and never wanted this feeling to end. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.
But there was a strange thumping sound near her ear. It was odd and unfamiliar but soothing at the same time. At last giving in to the temptation, she opened her eyes.
She was in someone else’s bed, in someone’s arms. Someone who was even now stirring beneath her. The older man in bed with her rolled his head upwards and green eyes opened to meet her own hazel ones. Even before he opened his mouth, she knew what he was going to say. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
She giggled and began kissing her way up his chest. “Why? I kinda like meetings like this.” Rupert gave a rumbling laugh and drew her face up to his for a deep kiss. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a special woman in his life but he was going to see to it that she stayed, with or without her memories.
Then he went rigid with horror as the dissipating spell ripped away from them like the tattered ends of a dream. He was in bed. With Buffy. After they had been making--oh Good Lord.
“Giles,” she whispered. She rolled off his body and he winced as he felt painful tugging on delicate tissues. He’d been right; they had stuck together.
“Buffy. Oh my god, what have I--I’m so sorry.” She gazed back at him. Her expression wasn’t one of anger or shock or disgust or any of the things he might have expected. That terrible blankness was back and it hurt him to see it.
“You’re going,” she said in a listless tone. There was no recrimination or question in the comment--only a dull statement of the facts. He didn’t bother to answer. He just sat up heavily and began looking around the room for the scattered articles of his clothing.
“Rupert, wait.” He halted in wonder at hearing her use his given name. Even though his back was to her, he could feel how near she was. “Don’t--don’t leave me. You promised.”
“Jo--Buffy, that was, you can’t take any of what happened last night seriously. We were under the influence of a spell. Neither of us were responsible for our actions.”
Buffy stayed still. “Rupert, look at me. Look at me, please.” Giles couldn’t help it. He knew that any drawn-out confrontation now would make things infinitely more difficult but he couldn’t resist the entreaty in that yearning voice.
He saw her sitting up on the bed, her naked body unashamedly exposed to him. His breath caught at the sight of her. Even now, her hair tusselled around her shoulders, was was achingly lovely. With that thought came the inevitable embarrassment at being equally bared to her eyes. But she caught his hand and tugged him back when he tried to pull away.
“Ru--Giles,” she amended. She could see he was uncomfortable when she used his first name. Sticking to the familiar might keep him here until she finished what she had to say.
“I’m not sorry about last night. Any of it. Just hear me out,” she demanded when it seemed he would interrupt. “I said that the Slayer doesn’t get to take vacations. And I was right. Even with my memories gone, I was still the Slayer. That part of me doesn’t seem to disappear, no matter what.” She tried to form the next few sentences in her mind. She had to satisfy him completely about this next part.
“When I fought those vampires, I did it out of instinct and I didn’t hesitate or hold back. That’s why I was able to kill Spike when I saw his face. All I knew was that he was evil and had to be destroyed. But there were other forces at work, too. Other--instincts that I’d either been hiding from or weren’t even aware of. And that may have been the reason why the thought of losing you hurt so much.”
She scanned his face. It was partially turned from hers either out of self-consciousness or politeness, she wasn’t sure. But at least he was listening.
“Without the pain of losing heaven sucking me into a black pit, I could feel other things. My need to protect others--and my love for you.”
His head swung around to stare sharply at her. “Buffy, you can’t mean that. You--we were complete strangers to each other.”
“Were we, Giles?” she asked insistently. “Ever since I woke up beside you on the Magic Box floor, I felt this weird connection to you. I was drawn to your kindness, your tenderness and a whole bunch of other things that I couldn’t quite name. And it wasn’t a fatherly feeling or uncly feeling or even a big brotherly feeling like what I sometimes feel for Xander. This was all-out love with trumpets and shooting stars and great big glowing smoochies like Willow and Tara get with their spells. And you know how I know?
“Because I’m pretty sure you felt it too.”
Buffy paused and gazed at him fearfully. She was going out on a limb with that last statement. But she remembered everything about last night, including the pledges of love they’d made to each other. She could still feel that love inside even after the spell had lost its hold on her. The question was, did he feel the same?
He sat there so long in utter stillness that she became nearly frantic with worry. “Giles? Please--say something. Don’t leave me--hanging,” she finished feebly.
Giles heaved a deep sigh as if coming to a great decision. “Yes, Buffy, I love you and have for a very long time.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding and cupped his face in her hands, much as he had done to her last night. “You did? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Buffy, I’m your Watcher. As such, I’m supposed to remain detached. Admittedly, detachment hasn’t been something I’ve been too successful at where you’re concerned but I’ve always done my level best to keep my personal feelings from interfering with your life. I’ve seen how badly love has devastated you in the last few years: your love for your sister, your mother, the-the different men in your life. It’s true your love for them, indeed, your love for the whole world, is part of what makes you so strong. It makes you an exceptional Slayer--and an extraordinary woman.
“But I’ve also seen how time and again that selfsame emotion rips your heart to shreds when it’s withdrawn. I didn’t want to add the burden of my unrequited feelings to what was already an overflowing well of suffering.”
“Unrequited? You mean, as in unreturned? Maybe if you’d asked me, you would have seen it wasn’t so unrequited. You might have found out that it was very requited.”
He gave her a wry look. “Are you certain about that, Buffy? I’m sure up until last night, you shared Anya and Spike’s opinion about my being ‘aged.’”
Buffy blushed and had the grace to appear abashed. Once again, she felt at a loss for words; she’d entirely run out of arguments.
Screw it. There came a time when words just got in the way. She leaned forward and caught his lips in hers. He returned the kiss automatically and then tried to retreat. She followed his movement, refusing to lose the connection and pressed her chest against his, rubbing her nipples teasingly against his bare flesh.
Giles’s hands came up to clasp her shoulders. She twined her arms around him and pulled him down into the bed with her. She planted wet little pecks along his jaw until she reached his ear. “I love you, Rupert,” she sighed.
Floating on a breath of air so hushed she almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I love you, Buffy.”
“Joan.”
He raised his head to stare at her. “What?”
She had a tremulous smile on her face. “Call me Joan.”
He wondered at her strange request and then decided not to question it. He kissed her forehead. “Joan.” He placed another kiss on her cheek. “Joan.”
Buffy arched her neck and closed her eyes as the trail of kisses continued ever downwards, each one punctuated by the name she’d chosen for herself. She longed for the mystery, the enchantment--yes, that was the right word--of last night. She wanted to linger, however briefly, in the illusion of joy that had been hers.
Giles hadn’t said he would stay. He loved her; he’d admitted that much. And if the stirring column of flesh against her thigh was any indication he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But if love and desire were enough to hold anyone, Angel and Riley would never have left her. She would put off the inevitable parting for as long as possible.
A loud banging on the front door startled them both back into a consciousness of the outside world. Buffy clutched at his shoulders. “Don’t answer it. Please. Maybe they’ll go away.” She knew that it was too much to hope for. If the spell had worn off for them, that meant the others had regained their memories too. It could only be one of them causing a disturbance at this hour and Giles would feel obligated to attend to them.
Sure enough, he lifted his head from her with a sigh of regret. “Buffy.”
In spite of the sorrow threatening to overtake her, Buffy struggled to appear calm. She knew her duty better than anyone did. “All right. Let’s go down there and face the music.”
Giles started up in alarm and grabbed her arm. “Buffy, wait! They don’t need to know that you’re--goodness, you don’t want whoever it is to know you spent the night here? With me?”
She kissed him ardently before speaking. “Why not? Rupert, I love you. I hid it from myself for such a long time that I feel like a bit of an idiot. I don’t care if they know. In fact, I want them to.”
She glanced at his face and then turned away with an unhappy expression. “Of course, if you’re the one who’s ashamed, then I won’t say anything. I’ll just stay up here and I’ll be as quiet as the proverbial mouse until whoever’s down there leaves.” She drew in a shaky breath. “In fact, I-I won’t say anything about it even after you go if that’s what you want. It’ll be our secret.”
Giles hesitated. Her back was to him as she dressed and he knew it wasn’t out of unease at her nudity. She was deeply miserable and didn’t want him to see it. “Buffy, I--” The banging at the door continued, cutting him off. “Come downstairs with me. The others are probably worried about you and we can simply say that you slept up here and I slept on the couch. There’s no need for you to hide.” He sighed again and turned from her. They both got dressed in silence.
__________
After he slowly made his way downstairs, Giles opened the door and was confronted by the sight of Willow. As soon as he saw her reddened eyes, he knew. “G-Giles? I wanted to see--I thought Buffy might be with you. I called the house and there was no answer. Is she here?”
He moved aside in silence. Buffy was standing just behind him and stared at her in curiosity. “Willow?”
Willow said, “Buffy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just saw how hard and awful everything was for you and I thought if I could just make you forget a-about Heaven, then maybe…” her voice trailed off at Buffy’s thoughtful expression.
Giles felt a wave of anger sweep through him. Of course, it made perfect sense. Willow had cast an amnesia spell, only it had backfired and all of them had suffered from it. It was a miracle all of Sunnydale hadn’t been affected.
Buffy said quietly, “You did this--for me?” Her first reaction was exasperation. That’s how she would have felt yesterday. There goes Willow using magic to fix the world.
Then she moved into the living room and reconsidered. Because of the spell, she’d learned something she hadn’t realized before. She knew that Giles loved her--and that she loved him. She wasn’t certain how she should respond to Willow. She was so engrossed in thought she nearly missed Giles’s harsh response.
“Willow, how could you do this? After everything I said to you? Weren’t you listening at all?”
“Giles, I know it was stupid and thoughtless and crazy, but the others were talking about getting together a bookclub, for gosh sakes, and I thought, ‘That is so not going to work,’ so--”
“So you decided to alter our minds with a spell. That’s just capital. You nearly got us all killed last night.” He stopped suddenly as he recalled Spike’s passing. He wasn’t certain if he should let Willow know. Well, she was bound to learn the truth sooner or later.
Just as he made up his mind to tell her, there was another knock on the door. Buffy said wearily, “I’ll get it.”
This time, it was Xander, Anya and Dawn. “Hey, Buffy, glad to see you’re still in one piece. After you tore out of the Magic Box last night, we didn’t know what had happened to you.”
Buffy shrugged. “I’m fine, Xander. Is everybody else all right?”
“Tara’s fine, though she’s not going to be talking to Willow anytime soon. Have you seen Willow? She took off from my place this morning and--oh.” They all caught sight of Willow sitting in the living room with Giles.
“Well, look who’s here. Did you come to apologize?” Anya said with pursed lips. She was decidedly upset about Willow spending the night with Xander and seeing the redhead looking contrite did nothing to ease her ill temper.
Willow lifted her chin in an attempt to be brave. “I came to talk to Buffy. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you all how sorry I am about last night. But I never meant for anything like this to happen.”
Anya retorted, “Sorry doesn’t fix it, Willow. You use too much magic. Everybody thinks it even if nobody says so. You can’t seem to control it and you certainly can’t predict the consequences. Why don’t you just leave well enough alone before you turn us all into toads?”
Willow glanced around the room. “Do you all think that?” They didn’t answer but their silence was enough. Her mouth got a set look. “Okay, fine then. The next time you need magical help, don’t come running to me.”
Xander protested. “Willow, that’s not--look, nobody wants you to quit using magic. You just need to taper off a little. Maybe you could take a break or something.”
Anya sniffed, “That’s what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to do without magic for a week and she couldn’t even manage one day. Talk about a lack of willpower. No pun intended.”
Willow narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about that?”
Anya rambled on heedless of Xander’s tense expression. “Xander and I overheard you and Tara talking. You were supposed to go off magic cold turkey for a week but you didn’t. When Tara realized it, she went over and got her stuff this morning and moved out. She’s really pissed off at you and it’s not as if you can really blame her.
Willow sat there absolutely stunned. Of course she’d known this would happen. Tara had warned her. Still, to hear it, and from Anya of all the people, made it chillingly final. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to fall apart in front of them.
Buffy stood quietly apart from them but her eyes were on Giles. He hadn’t said much and appeared to be lost in thought. She wondered what was going through his mind. She could still feel his kisses, his hands caressing her body and had to resist throwing herself into his arms. She started as she realized Dawn was asking her a question.
“Buffy, did you hear me? What happened after you left the Magic Box?”
“Huh? Oh, we dealt with all those vamps. We dusted most of them. The rest ran. Giles and I went to the hospital. They couldn’t tell us anything, naturally. So we came back and spent the night here.”
“What happened to Spike?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah, Buffy. Did he go to the hospital, too? Wait a minute, he couldn’t have, there were certain things they were bound to notice. Like his lack of a pulse, for one thing,” Xander mused.
Buffy stood silently for a brief moment. “He never made it to the hospital, Xander. I killed him.”
The others gaped at her in shock. “You-you killed Spike?” Dawn said. “How? Why?”
Buffy sat down on another chair as she explained. “He had his vamp face on and he was licking at a wound on Giles. I thought he was evil and I staked him. I’m sorry, Dawn.”
Dawn’s face twisted a little. “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry at all.”
Buffy was taken aback at the bitterness in her voice. “What? Dawn--”
The teenager stood shaking with anger. “None of you are sorry, so don’t pretend.”
Anya said with perfect calm, “We weren’t pretending. Nobody really liked Spike except you and you only liked him because he indulged you, took care of you because you were Buffy’s sister and taught you to play gin rummy.”
Dawn looked around at all of them. After Anya’s characteristically blunt honesty, there really wasn’t anything anyone could add.
Then Buffy thought for a moment. What was she so sorry about? They’d been dragged into that mess at the Magic Box because of Spike’s being late to pay a gambling debt with that shark guy and his gang of vamp debt collectors. He’d come crawling to them to help him out of another mess and placed all their lives in jeopardy.
Spike had been a reluctant ally, at best, and sometimes more trouble than he was worth. She wasn’t glad that she’d killed him but she didn’t regret it as deeply as she had last night. Too much had happened since then.
“Dawn’s right,” she said quietly. “I’m not sorry for killing Spike. I didn’t know who he was. He was just another dangerous vamp to me and…I thought he was hurting Giles. If I’m sorry for anything, it’s how hurt you feel right now. I know how much you liked him. But last night you didn’t know or care about him any more than the rest of us. So there’s no point in blaming anyone for this.”
Dawn fixed Willow with an icy stare. “Yes, there is. This is all your fault.”
“Dawn, be quiet!” Giles snapped. He continued somewhat more calmly. “Willow committed a severe error because of that spell, there’s no question about that. But we’ve all foolishly dabbled in magic at some time or another and had it blow up in our faces.
“Willow’s spell aside, the real reason we were all in danger last night was because those creatures were after Spike. From what Buffy told me, when she first encountered them in the cemetery two nights ago, Spike turned tail and ran. He left her behind to deal with the sordid situation he had created; those demons could have killed her for all he knew. Spike was just as culpable for last night’s perilous situation as Willow. Don’t lay the blame entirely at her door. If Tara has left her because of this, then she’s been punished enough.”
Dawn said coldly, “What about all the times Spike’s helped us? Doesn’t any of that matter? And I’m wondering if you’d all be so forgiving if it had been one of us who got killed.” Without another word, she spun around and bolted out of the house. The others stood helplessly as the door banged shut behind her.
Xander said, “We’d better get after her.”
After Xander and Anya left, Willow sagged onto the couch. “I blew it, didn’t I? And now everybody’s angry at me, especially Dawn. I was only trying to make things better for you, Buffy. And since I was the one wh-who forced you out of Heaven, I thought it was up to me to fix it.”
“But it wasn’t up to you to make that call, was it? Did it ever occur to you to ask me first?”
Willow’s shoulders slumped. “I-I’d promised Tara no more magic for a week and I didn’t want her to know that I was trying this. And now she’s g-gone.” Willow blinked and the tears she had held back spilled down her cheeks. Buffy felt a keen pang of sympathy; now Willow felt as lonely and abandoned as she did.
Buffy sat down beside the other woman and hugged her around the shoulders. As much as she wanted to be furious with her, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Because of Willow’s spell, she’d learned about the love she and Giles had been hiding and she couldn’t regret that completely. She knew now why the news of his return to England had enraged her so much. It didn’t help that he was still leaving but at least now she could face it with a certain amount of composure.
“Willow, you’ve got to stop using magic to solve all of life’s little problems. Especially my problems. You brought me back from the dead. I’d say you’ve done your magical good deed for the year. Just lay off the wiccan wackiness, okay?”
Willow sniffed and made an effort to smile. “That’s what Tara said to me before all of this. I guess I should have listened to her, huh?” Remembering Tara caused Willow’s face to cloud over again. Buffy tried to console her friend.
“Tara’s really ticked off now, Wills, and she has every right to be. But if you stay away from the magic, and I mean really lay off it, maybe she’ll see that you can live without it. She might be willing to forgive you in time. You and Tara are in love. That’s not something she can just throw away. Give her time and show her you mean to get off the magic train and maybe she’ll come back.”
Willow gazed at Buffy with something like hope in her eyes. “D-do you really think so?”
Buffy flashed her a wan smile. “Sure, why not? I’ve got a hell of a lot more reason to be mad at you than she does and if I forgive you, why shouldn’t she?”
“Because I made a promise to her and I broke it.”
Buffy drew in a sharp breath at the flat response. She was abruptly reminded of Giles’s presence in the room as the specter of broken promises floated through her mind. Nevertheless she spoke lightly. “Well, you know what they say: Promises are made to be broken. You’ve got to show her that actions speak louder than words.”
Willow wiped her eyes. “Thanks, Buffy.”
Giles listened in quiet astonishment. Buffy sounded so composed. She was determined to help Willow without a thought of herself. In spite of what the wiccan had done to her, she no longer sounded angry or reproachful. In the space of one night, it was as if she had changed completely.
Willow got up to go and then turned to him. “Giles? I know you think I’m irresponsible but I promise there’ll be no messing with black magicks while you’re gone. If anything mystical comes up or needs doing, I’ll let Tara deal with it. If I can get her to keep helping us--”
“You won’t have to rely entirely on Tara’s help, Willow. I’ll be more than happy to lend my assistance.”
Willow shook her head. “Giles, I know you’ll be busy getting your life back together over in England. I’ll try not to bother you too much. Oh, and I’ll try to remember the time difference. You’re eight hours ahead, right?”
“Actually, I’ll be right here. I’ve changed my mind again. I’ve decided to stay.”
The two women in the room gazed at him with equal amounts of incredulity and exasperation. Willow said, “Really? You mean it? Are you sure this time, because, honestly, it’s getting hard to tell if you’re coming or going or not going. I mean, yesterday you seemed hell-bent on leaving, you wouldn’t listen to anyone not even Buffy--”
“Perhaps I’ve started listening to her now.”
Anything else he might have said was lost as the redhead threw her arms around him with a great squeal of joy. “That’s great! But wait, what did Buffy say to change your mind? Was it what she said yesterday?”
Giles gave Buffy a meaningful stare. “Let’s just say that your spell opened my eyes about a few things.”
Willow drew back to give him a puzzled look. “Okay, whatever you say. Hey, does Anya know about this?”
Giles got a rueful expression on his face. “No, she doesn’t.”
Willow raised her eyebrows. “Oh boy, I bet she’s not going to like that.”
“No, I imagine she won’t,” the Englishman replied.
“Do you want me to tell her? Because I wouldn’t mind, really,” Willow innocently asked.
Giles’s lips twitched a little. He was well aware that, in spite of their apparent friendship, affairs between the wiccan and the ex-demon were often more than a little strained. “No, I think this is something that had best come from me.”
Willow shrugged her shoulders and turned to leave. “Okay, you’re the boss.” She grinned at what she’d just said and almost flounced out the door.
Giles turned back to see Buffy standing motionlessly in the middle of the room. Her stillness was so reminiscent of the previous night, he felt the same hesitation he had then. “Buffy?”
“You’re staying.” Her voice was unemotional but wonder, hope and doubt were flashing across her face.
He stepped towards her and held her shoulders. “Yes. I’m staying. Believe it.”
“You’re staying.” This time she said it as if trying to persuade herself. She remained rigid under his hands. He understood what she was thinking; she was afraid the slightest softening would leave her open for a terrible blow. Then a dark shadow seemed to pass over her eyes. “You mean, just for a little while, until I find my feet again or Dawn gets older or you think Willow can be trusted with her magic--”
“No, no, Buffy, I’m staying for good. No going back to England, no leaving you, not ever.” Her face didn’t change and he knew she didn’t believe him. She’d been hurt and disappointed too much. He felt frustrated. He didn’t know what to say to persuade her. Then he remembered--actions spoke louder than words.
He bent his head and kissed her gently. At first, her mouth stayed closed and unyielding. Then they parted hesitantly under his own. With a stifled moan, her arms crept around him and clutched at his back.
Rupert held her about the waist and pressed her body close. The passion built between them slowly until they were kissing each other with desperate desire. She drew back first and stared at him breathlessly, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “You mean it? You’re not leaving?”
He continued to shower her with assurances between kisses. “Never. I love you--Joan.”
A look of inexpressible joy spread over her features at the return of her new name. She claimed him again with another desperate kiss as if she were afraid to let him go. She started leading him none-too-subtly towards the couch. No bed this time; she couldn’t wait. Rupert divined her intention and let her push him onto the soft cushions. He could now recall memories of his wild youth on the streets of London and grinned wolfishly against her throat. “Joan” didn’t know what she was in for.
They began stripping the clothes eagerly from their bodies as Buffy found random thoughts chasing each other through her mind.
She thought about Spike’s final end. She couldn’t pretend to grieve over the dyed vampire’s demise. At least he’d died at the hands of a Slayer. Wherever dusted vampires went, she thought he would be pleased at that, anyway.
She wondered what the others would think about the new turn her relationship with Giles--no, Rupert--had taken. They might freak a little but she was determined to make this work. No giving up.
Dawn was angry; she’d have to deal with that. She had to manage without making Rupert step in for her. She would find a way to make peace between her and Willow.
She thought about Willow and Tara. Maybe she could convince Tara that the spell hadn’t been entirely a bad thing. She wanted to bring happiness to her best friend; Willow had tried so hard to do it for her.
And as Rupert’s body began to rock against her own, his husky voice speaking in broken whispers, she thought about losing Heaven.
And finding it.

Finis
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Joan