"Hey, Buffy, you okay?" Willow reached out to touch her best friend.

"Yeah, yeah I think so," Buffy said quietly, putting her hands on the lab table to steady herself. "Just got sorta dizzy there for a second."

"It's been a couple of days since you said you weren't feeling good," Willow observed. "You sure you're not coming down with that Hong Kong flu?"

"Jeez, I hope not. That's all I need. Blowing chow for three days."

"Maybe you should tell Giles," Willow said. "It might be, you know, less flu-like and more curse-like."

"Good point," Buffy said. "I do feel kinda funky. And my dreams have been really weird."

"Dreams?" Willow said. "Prophecy dreams?"

"If they are, I'm in big trouble."

****

"Hey, Giles!" she called out brightly as she and Willow entered the library after school that day.

"Oh, hello Buffy," he said, emerging from his office. "Hello, Willow."

"Buffy's not feeling well," Willow explained. "We think it could be a magic thing, or a spell or something."

"Indeed?" Giles said, attentive now. He came over to them and put his book down on the table. Buffy held still as he held her face and looked into her eyes one at a time. "Do you have any particular reason to think so? Unusual symptoms?"

"Well, no, I don't think so," Willow said. "I mean, Buffy didn't really give me a list or anything. I'm just being paranoid."

"There is a flu virus going around," Giles said, "which I've already had. I could have given it to you, or you could have easily caught it from someone else in the school. Closed environments like this are ideal breeding grounds for infectious disease."

"That's so cheerful, Giles," Buffy said. A wave of dizziness flooded over her in the next breath and when she came to, Giles was holding her up and Willow had run up to her side to help.

"Get a chair," Giles instructed, and Willow dragged one over from the end of the table.

"Sorry," Buffy murmured, trying to put her hand on the table so she could push away from Giles, whose body was disturbingly warm and close.

"Don't be silly," he said. "It's quite all right. Here, sit down." She obeyed gladly. "Willow, would you get Buffy a glass of water from my office?"

"Sure thing," Willow said and rushed across the room. Giles was holding her wrist, taking her pulse.

"How long have you been having these dizzy spells?" he asked her.

"That just started yesterday," Buffy said tiredly, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

"And before? What symptoms and how long?" Willow had come back with the water.

"Here, Buffy."

"Thanks," she said, sipping at it. "About three days ago I felt sorta weird when I woke up. Hot, like feverish, but I didn't have a fever. Mom said it was probably just the Indian summer -- it's been hotter than usual this month and maybe I was too warm when I slept. That seemed to make sense and I didn't feel bad otherwise, so I went to school." Giles' cool palm came to rest on her forehead, sending a shiver through her body.

"You feel like you might have a fever now, though," Giles mused. "Go on."

"Well, around lunchtime I started feeling kinda trembly, like the low blood sugar shakes or something."

"And you were really hungry," Willow said. "Remember? You actually ate the cafeteria dessert."

"Ew, yeah," Buffy said, making a face. "That was weird."

"Ignoring magical sources for the moment, dizziness and nervous disorders can be signs of a head injury," Giles said. "Have you struck your head recently, or been in a situation where you couldn't remember the past few minutes and might have been hit, during a fight perhaps?" Buffy considered, thinking back.

"No, don't think so. I haven't been having memory problems, as far as I can tell. I don't think I've hit my head lately, but then, would I remember?" she joked.

"Do you mind if I check?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Ha ha," he said dryly, slipping his hands into her hair to feel carefully around her head for signs of a bump or some other trauma. He had a gentle touch, compassionate but not invasive, and Buffy found herself relaxing in the chair. "You seem to be all right," he said after a minute, and withdrew his hands. "Your head at least." He crouched down to study her face although he didn't seem to really be looking at her. "Has your increased appetite persisted?"

"Yeah, but I'm never actually hungry, you know what I mean? I feel like I should be eating something, but I don't really want food. Nothing I eat is satisfying."

"Hmm," Giles said. Buffy was looking at him, trying to figure out what he was studying her for. "Let me see your tongue."

"My tongue?" she said.

"Yes," he said. Buffy shrugged and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out. Giles made another thoughtful sound and stood up again.

"So?" Buffy said. "Spots? Stripes? Bugs? What?"

"I don't want to speculate yet," Giles said, although from his expression, he clearly had an idea forming. "So, dizzy spells, fever, unusual appetite, trembling. Anything else?"

"Well...I've been having strange dreams."

"Dreams," Giles said, frowning slightly. "What kind of dreams? Prophecies?"

Buffy glanced at Willow uneasily.

"Well...they're, um...Will, could you, uh..."

"Oh. Watcher-Slayer stuff," Willow nodded. "Gotcha. I'll see you later for our study jam then...unless you're sick. In that case, you know, stay home and drink fluids and stuff. Hope you feel better, Buff."

"Thanks," Buffy smiled, and Willow left.

Giles, who had been gazing at the floor, lifted his eyes to Buffy, one hand leaning on the table and the other in his pocket.

"Are they erotic dreams?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes steady. Buffy gaped at him.

"Giles!"

"Tell me the truth," Giles said. "A Slayer to her Watcher." Buffy looked away, then let out a long, deep breath.

"Yeah," she said.

"About anyone in particular?" The pause was longer this time.

"Yeah."

"All right. Tell me more about this fever," Giles said, pulling up a chair and turning it around to sit in it facing the wrong way with his arms folded on the back. "It seems to have become a literal fever but what you described initially was more psychological, yes? I could see you had more to say but you didn't want to talk about it in front of Willow."

"I'm not sure I want to talk about it in front of you, either," Buffy said wryly, not meeting his eyes.

"Buffy, all I want to do is help you," Giles said calmly. "I'm not here to be judgmental about your dreams, or your desires. Dreams can be very important messages from our inner selves. These things are very personal, especially at your age, and everything you tell me will remain absolutely confidential, even from your friends."

"You promise?" she said, looking up from fiddling with her silver and lapis ring that her mother had given her for her birthday last year.

"You have my word."

"Okay. Well...it's like...that first time, three days, ago, when I woke up I wanted something, but I wasn't really sure what. It wasn't until later in the day that I remembered the dream."

"The, uh, sexual dream, you mean."

"Yeah."

"Would you characterize that initial sense of wanting something as sexual or was it more nonspecific?" Giles wondered.

"I guess maybe it was kinda sexual...but not physical. More like mental sexual. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, some," Giles said. "Sexuality is as much mind as it is body. Really, there's no dichotomy. Some people focus more on the carnal aspects, and others prefer the psychological components. You're saying this seems less hormonal and more strongly linked to your personality or your psyche?"

"Yeah, that's a good way of putting it. I mean, there's definitely a physical element, it's just not the major thing."

"Hm," Giles said, looking amused. "I'd say that's unusual for people your age, to have an appreciation of the more abstract aspects of sex. At least, I know it would be for boys." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Tell me about it. I know girls are bad, but the boys are way worse. Sometimes I don't think there's anything else in there buttestosterone."

"That changes with time," Giles assured her, still amused. "In fact I've been told that women don't reach their peak sexual maturity until they're in their forties."

"Get outta town."

"Well, I couldn't really confirm it from personal experience," Giles said shyly, glancing away briefly. "Watchers are supposed to remain celibate, you know."

"Yeah. Bummer."

"It's not all bad," Giles said with a slight shrug. "No emotional risks, no health risks."

"Yeah, but no jollies, either," Buffy said. Giles' smile looked knowing this time.

"I know this may sound hard to believe, but one's sexual understanding changes quite a lot as you grow older. It already seems complex to you now, but a lot of that is rooted in confusion and uncertainty. Our bodies and our minds are very intricate and very sublime. There's so much to learn and it never stops. I know that your generation looks upon my generation as beyond sex or no longer interested in it. That's not true at all. Our expressions of it have changed, not just to the outward world, but within ourselves. If we choose to take the time to reflect and know ourselves, there's an infinite well of pleasure to explore that doesn't require another person."

"You realize that sounds like the most elegant rationalization in the world, don't you?" Buffy said with a teasing smile. Giles just grinned.

"I know," he said. "But it's true. Incidentally, I would appreciate it if you would keep this conversation to yourself, as well. I'm only telling you this much because you're my Slayer, but this is very personal for me, too."

"Oh, no problem," Buffy said. "My lips are buttoned and Velcroed."

"Who have you been dreaming about?" Giles asked her finally, gently. Buffy sighed again and rubbed her face tiredly.

"I knew you were gonna ask me that eventually. Fine. It's you."

Giles closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head on his folded arms. She caught the smile on his mouth. "You think that's funny?" she said, not sure how to interpret Giles finding this situation humorous.

"Not exactly," he reassured her, looking up again with a half-shrug and adjusting his glasses. "I suppose it's flattering in a strange sort of way, and I actually half-suspected it."

"And that's because..?"

"The Watcher-Slayer bond is very personal, very intimate in many ways," Giles said. "You already know this to be true. It's not surprising that your subconscious mind would interpret that bond sexually at some point. In some respects it's symbolic of our union on a more ephemeral level. Also, it's a natural way for humans to think of intimacy. Sex is an intimate act, sometimes the only way some people know how to be intimate."

"So what do I do? Is this magic? Am I nuts? Will it go away? No offense, Giles, but it's way strange."

"I have a few ideas," Giles said, "but I don't want to share them yet since I don't want to suggest anything to your subconscious. I'd like to give it some more time. You should keep notes on the symptoms, and keep a journal of the dreams. Even if you don't want me to read it, make sure you keep track of details since they might be important later. If something happens, or you want to talk to me, call me. Day or night, it doesn't matter. I'm your Watcher and that's what I do." He smiled at her and she relaxed a little.

"Okay. Thanks, Giles."

****

Buffy gave up letting her body determine when she should eat. It just wasn't reliable, so she ate habitually and didn't really taste or enjoy any of it. Willow and the others worried, but trusted Giles to solve the mystery. Buffy, for her part, wouldn't reveal the nature of her conversation with Giles in the library two days earlier, citing "Watcher-Slayer stuff." That was good enough for her friends, for the time being.

"At least it's not the Hong Kong flu," Willow said at lunch, trying to console her increasingly tired-looking friend. Buffy obviously hadn't been sleeping very well.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "This could be worse, though. Can't tell yet. But I'll bet it beats hurling, whatever it is. One good thing, I can eat school food and not care."

"See?" Xander said. "There's always a plus."

"Now if I could just eat burgers and fries and not get fat, that wouldbe a plus."

****

She was mostly successful not thinking about the dreams while she was at school, since there was sufficient distraction. At home, though, at night, when she was in her bedroom studying or reading, they would invade her as vividly as if she were still in the dream. The provocative, male smellof Giles' skin. The heat of his body. The sweet taste of his mouth and the fantastic, aching pleasure of his cock inside her.

"Not good," she muttered, dropping her pencil into the center of her textbook. "Not good."

That night when he came to her in her dreams, his touch was flame and his mouth made things rise in her she had never known. He was sweet and gentle, rough and hard, demanding but doing so with such trust that she never felt afraid. She understood on some level that it was a service to her, something he was doing for her benefit, even though he was so wild and hungry. She tasted his own need in his mouth on hers, his own trust of her, and she surrendered to him without fear or doubt.

She woke with a gasp, her entire body and soul aflame with the hunger for him, desperately wishing he were close so she could wrap herself around him and feel his devotion and male hardness. She'd never needed him so much after one of the dreams, her sex aching painfully, ready for him. She was going crazy, she had to be. She reached for the phone at her bedside and hit the first speed dial button.

It rang several times, longer than she'd expected, and her heart sank with the thought that he might not be home for one reason or another. Then the phone was picked up.

"Urm, hello?" She knew the sound he had made was justsleepiness, but it sent a flash of sensual heat down her spine to the pit of her stomach.

"Hi," she said quietly. "It's me. Sorry to call you in the middle of the night like this. I know this is weird and everything, and I'm probably overreacting or something, but I just needed to hear your voice..."

"Shh, slow down, slow down," he said gently. "It's all right. Takea deep breath." She obeyed, feeling calmer already just because of hisvoice.

"I had another dream," she said. "About you. You wanted to know if anything new happened," Buffy said, trying not to think about her Watcher at home, in bed, sleep tousled and wearing God only knew what. Pajamas? Sweats? Nothing? Oy, don't go there.

"Yes?" He sounded sleepily eager. "Did you learn anything?"

"Maybe. You said something to me in the dream. Up 'til now youhaven't. Well...you have, but not anything, um, really meaningful, if you get my drift."

"I think I do. So what did I say? What were the circumstances?"

"We were, um, you were, uh, making love to me. Right before youcame, you said 'this is your death, the death of summer, the death of ignorance. I free you.' Now tell me that isn't creepy." There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then a low sigh. "Giles?"

"Are you sure that's what I said? The death of summer? The deathof ignorance?"

"Giles, trust me. I remember weird things."

"I was afraid of this." She heard him grunt, the sound of someonesitting up. "I've been researching possible causes for your situation," hesaid. There were sounds of books being moved around. "I've got somethingaround here -- ah, here it is."

"So you know what it is? You figured it out?"

"I'm afraid I have. Have you been paying attention to the time ofyear? What day it is today?"

"Uh, no. Is that relevant?"

"Extremely, in this case. Today is the autumnal equinox, the firstday of autumn."

"The death of summer part. Gotcha."

"Yes. Do you remember what I've told you about the seasonalcycles and the symbolism of the solstices and equinoxes?"

"Hm, let's see. The equinoxes have the same day and night length,and the word means 'equal nights.' The solstices are the longest and the shortest days, and it means 'sun stands still.'"

"Right, and what about the cycle itself?"

"Winter's first, representing birth and beginning, spring is childhoodand growth, summer's maturity and strength, and autumn's death and transformation. Oh, jeez, Giles, does that mean I'm gonna die?"

"No, not at all. Death is merely another word for change,transformation from one kind of existence to another. The esoteric symbolism of this cycle can be more sublime, however. Summer is also called the Great Renunciation, the point at which one surrenders the pursuit of personal goals alone and devotes one's energies and life to service to a higher goal. Some interpret this as a shift from selfishness to selflessness, but it's actually just a shift in focus from the earthly plane to the spiritual plane. The motive is still properly self-serving. In your case, it's your acceptance of your destiny as a Slayer and your commitment to serve mankind in that capacity, and your own personal needs are secondary. This is a choice you have made."

"But we're talking about autumn here, right?"

"Indeed. This season is also known as the Great Passing. It can bea literal confrontation with death, but more often it is a confrontation of one's own fear, a reconciliation of the necessity of change versus the fear of the unknown. It is the death of ignorance and innocence, and the return to the beginning to start the cycle over at a higher level."

"Great. So I'm doing the Obi Wan Kenobi thing." Giles laughed.

"In a way, I suppose, yes. This cycle has a particular significancewith respect to Watchers and Slayers, though. That's what I was looking for in one of my books here. I want to read something to you from the Watcher Chronicles. It's in Dutch but I'll translate it as best I can."

"Lay it on me."

"'A Slayer must know the Great Passing or she cannot leave behindthat which keeps her power immature. She will know the burn of desire, the need to sate the body's most ancient hunger in a man's embrace, the need to sate her soul's most ancient trial by allowing the destruction of the hidden veil. Only her bonded Watcher can quench this fire, only he can be the death of her ignorance and childhood. His is a place of trust, of love, of pleasure. Through their bond she will know safety and he will know service. She will know the truth of a trust deeper than any other, and he will know the truth of his own heart.'"

Buffy was silent for a few seconds.

"That is heavy duty, Giles," she said at last, quietly. She heard him sigh deeply.

"Tell me about it," he said. "You understand what it means, don'tyou?"

"Yeah. I have to let go of my childhood and the hope that I'll everbe a regular teenager or a regular adult, and I'm supposed to turn to you to satisfy the different needs I'll have as a Slayer. I don't quite get how the sex comes into it, though."

"Leaving behind such important things takes great trust andcourage," Giles said gently. "You're meant to turn to me to express thattrust and receive my support. It's my role in our relationship. I'm also meant to find that trust in you, the trust to confess my fears, who I am, all the things I will never be able to share with anyone else because of the duty I have undertaken and my bond with you. Lovemaking represents the ultimate possibility for trust and surrender, not just you to me, but me to you. It's possible for people to have sex without sharing themselves like that, but you and I are intended to deepen our bond this way. You will leave behind your fear by trusting me with your most private self, and I will forever close the distance that I have kept between us for three years."

"Is this common? For Slayers to go through this, I mean."

"Yes, very. In fact it's generally considered a necessary step in theSlayer's maturity and the closeness of her bond with her Watcher."

"So why didn't you tell me before that this might happen?"

"I didn't know how you would react, given the differences betweenus, not just in age, but other things. I saw no need to alarm you before seeing how it would manifest when it finally happened."

"So we're supposed to have sex, aren't we? Whoa. That's reallyheavy."

"Not just 'have sex,' Buffy," he said softly. "Make love. It's aprofound, private lovemaking."

"Do I have to do it?" she asked. "Is it dangerous if I resist?"

"No, it's not inherently dangerous, and yes, you can refuse if youwish. It will, however, make it much, much harder for you to continue maturing in your power as a Slayer, and might lead to friction in the bond between us as Slayer and Watcher as you continue to assert your independence and the nature of my training changes. Statistically speaking, Slayers who refuse this rite have a tenfold chance of being killed within three years of the urge's inception. The Great Passing is intended to help create a level of personal understanding for both of us that allows us to continue working together as our battles become more difficult. I hesitate to ask you this, but I am responsible for seeing to your well being. Have you been pleasuring yourself to relieve some of the urgency of this? I think you would find it helpful, if you decide to refuse the rite."

"Jeez, that is pretty personal," Buffy said with a sigh. "Um, actually no. I'm scared to."

"Why?"

"Why? Duh, because it's you." He chuckled, a low, sleepy sound.

"I suppose I can understand that," he said. "You don't have to bethinking about me, though. You could think about Angel, or Xander. Or Brad Pitt." She giggled.

"Well, see, uh, that's the part that scares me," she admitted, her smile fading. "I want it to be you." There was a pause.

"I see," he said after a moment. He didn't sound angry ordispleased, and that made Buffy's gut clench, too. He sounded...intrigued.

"Would you, um, would you want to?" she wondered. "Make love to me, I mean. If I decided to."

Giles was silent for a few moments, and then she heard him sigh quietly.

"Yes," he said, very softly. He sighed again, the kind of soundpeople made when thinking very hard and dealing with conflicting emotions. "Yes, I would. Very, very much. I know you didn't expect me to say that." He breathed a laugh. "I don't think I expected myself to say it, either."

"Wow," Buffy said, not sure what else to say in the face of thisrevelation. She swallowed hard. "I didn't know you felt like that."

"I don't think I have before," he admitted. "What I mean is, I can'tsay I've ever really thought about it except in very abstract terms. I've been aware that Slayers and their Watchers can become very close that way, but it was always other people in history, dead people, not us."

"But you said the Great Passing is really common, and you sort ofexpected it to happen to me."

"A bridge I intended to burn when I got to it," he sighed. "I thinkin the back of my mind I assumed you would refuse rather vehemently, and although I know that would most likely be a death sentence for you, I wasn't prepared with a speech to try to talk you into this."

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

"What are you wearing?"

He let out a full-throated, resonant laugh.

"Oh Lord, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Deadly," she said with a giggle.

"Boxer shorts," he said. "They're navy."

"Anything else?"

"No." He sounded amused.

"It would stupid of me, you know, to refuse the rite," Buffy commented idly, trying to imagine a sleepy Giles in bed wearing nothing but boxers. It was an extremely pleasant image. "I mean, come on, a tenfold increase in the chance of me getting killed, just because I don't want to make love to my own Watcher? Dumb."

"Yes," Giles murmured. "And one thing I have observed; you are certainly not dumb."

"They never make these rite of passage things easy, do they?"

"If they were easy, they wouldn't be meaningful and would confer noreward," Giles said. "But that doesn't mean they have to be a torment. Walking the true path is not a journey of suffering, but enlightenment."

"So what exactly is the intended reward in this case?" Buffywondered, curling her free arm back behind her pillow and gazing out the window into the night. The moon was waxing. "Or are you going to go all bashful on me again?" she teased. Giles chuckled low again.

"Perhaps all the rewards are intended," he commented approvingly. "Perhaps we don't really succeed unless all are appreciated. I have to askyou a question, before we go on. Do you want to tell your mother?" AtBuffy's long sigh, he said, "If we don't, and she finds out, she could have mearrested. At least if we talk to her first, we'll know how she feels about it."

"But then, if she disapproves, she'll know," Buffy said, "and she'dbe suspicious of everything you and I do from then on."

"Also true."

"What do you think I should do?"

"I think your mother has the right to know the nature of herdaughter's destiny, whatever it entails," Giles said. "I am not ashamed tomake love to you. I don't want to go hiding in the dark like a coward."

"Then we'll tell her." She was quiet for a long time, and finally Giles spoke again.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked. "For suggesting we tell yourmother?"

"No," she replied. "I'm trying to picture you in bed wearing nothing but boxers."

"Oh," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Is that agood thing or a bad thing?"

"You in boxers or the idea that I'm mentally undressing my Watcher?" she teased.

"Um...both." He sounded relaxed and sultry, something Buffynever thought she would hear. There was more than a Watcher and a librarian in Giles' personality, more than the angry thug named Ripper she had once seen. His voice was hypnotic, like a live wire connecting her to the inside of his soul over the telephone.

"Well, you in boxers...that's a good thing," Buffy said with a grin. "I have to take liberties, you understand, since I've never seen you in your boxers, but I did see you in your undershirt once and that was kinda tasty."

"Hmm. And the mentally undressing your Watcher part?"

"Depends how you feel about your barely legal Slayer coming on toyou," Buffy said with a chuckle.

"Right now I feel very good about it," Giles said. "Very goodindeed."

"You know, in our conversation in the library a few days ago, you made it sound like guys your age never get the hornies," Buffy said.

"That was just me being polite," he said. "And a gentleman, underthe circumstances. Even when it's a Watcher to his Slayer, an English gentleman doesn't tend to talk about the particulars of his carnal sexual impulses, or even the fact that he has them."

"Even now you make it sound so...repressed," Buffy giggled. "And you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask a question," he said, sounding amused. "Of courseI get randy. I'm pretty bloody randy right now, or I wouldn't still be talking to my Slayer like this. Celibacy is very hard on Watchers, historically speaking. It's a hot blood, the lineage of demon slayers and their trainers."

"Poor thing," Buffy purred. "So when are you going to get a hard-on for me?" She heard him make an amused, strained sound -- a crossbetween a laugh and a groan of desire.

"Already have done," he confessed with a sigh. "When you askedme what I was wearing." He was chuckling, embarrassed and aroused andshe heard it all in his voice.

"Were you telling the truth?" she wondered. "About what you're wearing?"

"Oh yes," he said. "I'm sprawled across my bed, flat on my back,surrounded by books and half-tangled in the covers where I fell asleep while reading...wearing nothing but navy boxers."

"Boxers that I guess are getting a little tight right about now."

"Rather," Giles murmured.

"So are you fondling yourself yet?" She heard a surprised exhale.

"What?" he said.

"You heard me."

"I..." He swallowed hard, almost a gulp. "Do you want me to?" heasked in a whisper.

"If you don't mind me taking advantage of you," she said quietly, amused. Her belly was burning, trying to imagine him, how he looked right now with her words branding him. "I dunno if I'm ready to, uh, reciprocate."

"One of us has to be willing to surrender first," he said softly. "Idon't mind. In fact I...think I'm enjoying this far too much." He laughed alittle, breathlessly. "Tell me what you want me to do, Buffy."

"You're the expert," she said, shifting on her bed a little and keeping her voice low. All she needed was for her mom to wake up and overhear. "It's your body, Giles."

"God, it gives me the shivers when you call me that in this context,"he whispered.

"Does it bother you? I can call you something else...or we could just avoid names."

"No...no, it's sweet. You say it with such affection and respect. Right now, like this...it makes me feel hot...fiery heat washing up my back. Tell me what to do, Buffy. Tell me how to touch myself."

"Where're your hands right now?" she asked. She could barelyspeak, her gut clenched ferociously now that she'd been given the reins to Giles' most private self. The feeling of power in it was overwhelming, terrifying and delicious, and it was obvious that he basked in that from her. He trusted her enough not only to do this, but to let her know that he liked to be commanded, to be told. God, that was more personal than anything she was ready to confess to him right now, and she felt guilty, but he had said he didn't mind. He had offered her the reins willingly and she had taken them.

"I've got one on the telephone...sort of have to. The other's on mystomach, which itches, actually. Mosquito bite." Buffy giggled.

"Are you hairy?"

"Not particularly. Some on my chest, a fine brush of it down mybelly into my groin. It's dark...charcoal almost, which is a bit odd since most everywhere else it's somewhat tawny except on my head. If I grow a beard it comes in sort of light, almost gold."

"I totally cannot imagine you with a beard."

"It won't grow much beyond looking like I just haven't shaved in aweek. Makes me look like a lecherous old university professor," he said andthey both laughed.

"I read once that sometimes men's nipples are sensitive, like women's are," Buffy mused. "Is that true?"

"For some men, yes," Giles replied. "Probably not as often as forwomen. So you're going to ask me if mine are, and the answer is yes, extremely." She could hear his grin.

"Touch yourself there," she said quietly. "However you like it." There was a pause, and her Watcher made a soft sound. "Tell me," she asked.

"Just a light touch...at first anyway," he replied in a whisper. There was a slight break in his voice, and Buffy shivered. He drew a sudden, trembling breath. "God, that goes straight to my groin, oh Jesus."

"I want you to feel good, Giles."

"Oh God, I do, I do."

"Are you doing both of them?"

"I can if you want," he said. "One's tender right now. I was, um,doing this a couple of nights ago and when I get carried away I tend to pinch rather hard. It feels good at the time but later I usually regret it a little." He chuckled.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," Buffy said with a grin.

"I can touch it gently," he said. "I already am. Mm, oh, that feelsnice." She heard him swallow hard, catching his breath, and he made ahungry sound.

"What is it?" Buffy said. "Tell me, Giles."

"Mm, I'm just...responding to this. Restless. Uhrr, God, I want toget these boxers off and just grab myself..."

"Not yet," Buffy said, and was delighted by his desperate groan.

"Oh God, you're a tease," he said in a tone of discovery andyearning. "God, yes, please, I love that."

"What do you usually do when you play with yourself?" she wantedto know, amazed by his trust and the depth of emotion he was allowing her to hear. "Don't do anything else yet; just tell me."

"Hrrmm, it depends," he sighed. "Depends how I feel...what Iwant...how patient I am." Buffy giggled and Giles laughed softly.

"You seem so patient most of the time," she observed. "All that British reserve."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can be terribly impatient sometimes," he said. "God, you have no idea how it's been. There've been days when I couldbarely drag myself out of the house...when I just wanted to stay home and spend the day indulging my body's pleasures. There's nothing like sprawling naked on a blanket on the couch in front of the hearth in the winter."

"Mmm," Buffy murmured. "Now that's a great mental image. And stop distracting me. You were going to tell me how you like to play with yourself. Remember no sampling yet." Her Watcher gave a deep, purring sigh, and Buffy smiled. "Still playing with your nipples?"

"Yes," he said, his voice rough. "Normally I'd be fondling myselfalready. Might even be finished." He laughed hoarsely. "But you told menot to, so I'm not. Sometimes I stroke my belly...just touch. Skin's soft there...feels nice. There's an urge to move...to thrust...can't stop it sometimes. Muscles in my back contract and my hips rise, God, I want to fuck." It sounded so natural to hear that word from him just then, spokenwith such longing and heat.

"God, I wish I was there with you, Giles," she said.

"Oh, I'm enjoying this, Buffy," he hissed. "I'm enjoying this somuch."

"I'm glad," she said softly. "Guess you deserve a reward, huh?"

"If you wish to give me one."

"Take your boxers off, and you can touch yourself anywhere you want except your cock and your balls."

"Ahhrrr, God almighty, just give me a gun and I'll blow my brainsout," Giles groaned and Buffy laughed. "All right, all right...I'm glad to berid of these shorts anyway. Ah, that's so much better, warm sheets against my bum."

"So what else? What else do you like?"

"Well...mmm...right now I'm lying on my back. I don't always. Sometimes I like to be on my stomach, or up on my knees."

"How do you decide?" Buffy asked, hungrily curious about herWatcher's sexual habits and pleasures. "What're the differences?"

"I do it on my stomach when I want to fuck something," he said. "Igrab a pillow and hug it against my body. I know that sounds silly. It probably looks ridiculous, but it satisfies the urge about as well as I can by myself."

"I think all sex probably looks silly," Buffy said. "I never did getthe mirrored ceiling thing. But actually...I kind of like that mental image of you, with the pillow. Not because of the image, really, but how horny you'd have to be to do it. That's sexy."

"Really? You think so?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Buffy said confidently. "What about on your knees? What's good about that way?" His answering chuckle was decidedly wicked even though it also held a hint of embarrassment.

"I, um, I do that when I want to make a mess," he said. "When Iwant to watch myself come...splash my come on something. The bed, maybe. Or I can put a towel down on the rug in front of the fireplace where it's warm. It feels...possessive. Like I'm marking my territory or something only it's not the physical place I'm marking. It's like I'm...declaring my sexuality, affirming my maleness. That sounds strange, too, now that I say it aloud, but it's very satisfying. And there's something about the position that makes my balls feel different. They're sensitive in a different way. Sometimes I'm really, really in the mood for that and it feels better than anything in the world."

"Tell me what you're doing."

"Rrrrmmm...stretching," he said. "Stroking one nipple...down mybelly...oh, that's sweet. Rrm, God, I'm wet."

"Wet?" she echoed, her brow furrowing curiously. He let out ashuddering breath, then swallowed hard before replying.

"It's, um...the tip of my penis. I think it's the Cowper's glands thatmake the stuff. When I'm extremely aroused it leaks a bit...well, more than a bit considering how hot you've gotten me."

"That's funky," Buffy said wonderingly. "I never heard of that. One of those things that never makes it into the textbook. What's it like?"

"It's clear," he said. "A bit sticky, almost like thin honey. Tastesfaintly sweet."

"Hey," she said playfully. "I didn't tell you to taste it." Hechuckled.

"I know from previous experience. Would you like me to taste itnow? Hrm, I think I could cover my thumb pretty easily."

"Yeah, do it." There was a short pause, the soft, trembling soundof Giles breathing the only noise over the phone line for a few seconds. Then she heard a soft purr and the sound of him licking his fingers.

"Oh, urrm, the taste of it makes me...God, I want you, Buffy. Iwant to come for you. I want you to know how much I love this. God, please, Buffy, please let me..."

"Do you like touching your balls?" she asked, loving the sound ofhis surprised groan and the thrill of having this power over him.

"Oh, yes."

"Go ahead. Just them, though, not your cock yet." He gave a groaning laugh, rough and joyful, that trailed off into a low purr as he obeyed her.

"God yes," he hissed. "God yes, that's good. Owwrrr..."

"Do you like it hard or gentle?" Buffy wondered softly.

"A bit rough right now," he breathed. "Feels good to grab myselfthere, cup them in my hand. God, I wonder if I could come just from this. Feels so good I wouldn't be surprised if I did." He laughed again, and gavea long, drawn out purr of contentment and pleasure and need.

"How big is your cock?" Buffy asked. Giles gave a snort of laughter.

"Lord, I don't know. Pretty big, I suppose. Can't say as I'vemeasured it. It's big enough. Fits in my hand quite nicely, not that you'll let me." He was teasing her, and she giggled. "It's big enough for you, luv,I'm sure of that." He sighed again pleasurably. "Oh, this is so good;rubbing my balls. I think...I might...might come..."

"Really? Not even touching your cock?" Buffy said, intrigued.

"Maybe," Giles admitted wonderingly. "Maybe...it'sincredible...ripples of heat through my body. Do you want me to come, Buffy? You have to tell me if I can."

"Jesus, Giles, I can't stop you from here," Buffy said, astonishedand realizing she'd been holding her breath.

"Yes, you can," he said fiercely, and swallowed a groan. "If youtell me to stop, I might curse you roundly, but I'll obey. I'm not sure if I can come like this...just fondling my balls...but if I can, you have to let me first."

"Do you want to? Now, I mean?" Buffy teased. "I could make youwait."

"Christ," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "I've never...neverpushed myself like that. Didn't think I could stand even this much without just rolling onto my belly and fucking my pillow." Buffy giggled and helaughed again. "Damn, Buffy, I'm already half-crazy. God, if you could seeme right now...writhing shamelessly on the bed like some randy tiger. Ohhh, I can't...quite...come by rubbing my balls. Just makes it worse, makes me want it more. Buffy, please. Please."

"What happens if I make you wait?" Buffy asked.

"Damn it, I can hear you grinning," Giles growled playfully. "Whathappens is you get to find out the full range of my knowledge of obscene words." They both giggled, and then Giles' voice quieted. "Actually, Buffy,I don't know what will happen. I've never teased myself this much before. Jesus, I'm covered in sweat, I'm trembling. I feel like I'm on fire...so much heat. It's so good and so intense and so delicious, and it's so sweet to hear your voice, to know you want this from me. Make me wait if you want to. We can both find out what happens. Push me, Buffy. I'll swear at you and beg and howl, but push me, please. I need it."

She had never heard such soft, urgent intensity in his voice before,had never known that a human being could possess such a secret, powerful side and never let it show. She understood a little better in that moment the gulf that age could bring; not a gulf between them, but a gulf inside him to be explored together, which private darkness could be touched and felt through their own trust in each other.

Fear gripped her for a moment. She had no experience doing anything like this, had no idea what to say next, what he expected of her. She was afraid of disappointing him, of failing to be what he wanted and needed. She had a choice between shattering this fragile connection by confessing her own uncertainty, or grabbing on tight and riding the tiger she had freed.

"You still fondling your balls?" she asked, and found herself smiling.

"Yes," he said, and she took a second to savor the desperation andhonesty in his voice. She'd begun to hear a lot of it over past few minutes, but she tried mentally comparing it to the man she'd spoken to yesterday and the contrast made her sex throb hard, aching.

/This has been in him all this time,/ she thought wonderingly. /Behind his glasses, behind the controlled emotions and the shyness and hesitation. Under all of that is the guy I'm talking to right now./ "Give 'em a good squeeze and then let go," she told him. She heard him groan softly, but knew he had obeyed. "Stroke one finger up your cock, quick and light." He gasped hard, almost whimpering, and she knew she had found something sensitive in his psyche.

"Oh Jesus," he panted. "Buffy, please, I can't stand this, I want it."

"No," she said. "Not yet. Do what I tell you, Giles, I promise it'llbe good. Touch your nipples again, one at a time, harder than you did before. Like that?" His only answer was a weak, hungry yowl, like an animal being denied food. "Pinch hard and quick."

The sound he made this time was indescribable, and she heard a flurry of motion, the sound of him getting up from the bed and panting hard. "What are you doing? Giles, tell me."

"I have to get up," he panted. "Have to move. Pacing the room." She heard the faint sniffle of him rubbing his hand over his mouth, wiping sweat away, and he swallowed with a gulp.

"Grab your balls again, hard as you want," she commanded. She actually heard him shudder, his low groan trembling. "Touch your cock again, fingertips only, just stroke gently. Fast or slow, your call. Do it till I tell you to stop."

"Oh Christ, I want you," he growled. "Oh, I want to fuck you rightnow, right now, oh it's so good so good so good..." It was almost a sob.

"Stop now," she said. "Giles, let go."

"No," he whispered, strangled, fighting with himself. "Can't. Ican't, can't let this go."

"Giles, do what I say," Buffy said firmly. "Let go right now. Do it, Giles."

He startled her with a sharp, wild cry of rage, and there was the hard thump of his fist connecting with the bedroom wall.

"Bloody 'ell," he panted. "Bloody, fucking..."

"Giles, you okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Don't stop, Buffy, don't stop," he gasped. "Keep going, it's allright. God, I want to bite something!" He pounded the wall again with asavage growl. "Tell me, Buffy. Tell me, tell me!"

"Where do you want to come, Giles?" she asked, her voice low. "On the bed? Floor? Wall? You want to see it?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Bed. On the bed. Please."

"Wrap you hand around your cock and go over to the bed."

"Oh, I'm there," he whispered hungrily. "Holding my cock. Tellme. Talk to me."

"Kneel down on the bed," she told him. "Spread your knees wide."

"Oh yes," he whispered. "Yes, that's so nice, ah, yeah, God mybody knows what's coming next!" He laughed and she couldn't help but joinin.

"I'm going to guide you," she said. "You control the strength of your grip, and where you're grabbing, but I'm going to control the speed. You only move your hand when I say, understand?"

"Yes." It was the softest whisper.

"Do it once," she said. "Real slow. Feel it, Giles. Feel me there." He exhaled shakily. "Once more, slow and easy."

"Ooohhh...yesssss..." It was a sound of discovery, of wonder. "Aahhhrrr, God!"

"Again," she murmured. "And again. Again..."

"Urrrrmmm it's risinnngg," he purred eagerly. "Oh, fuck, I can't believe this. Hips are moving...can't stop them...want to come, Buffy, please..."

"Slow and steady wins the race," Buffy murmured, amused. "Keepgoing, Giles. Keep it slow and easy."

"Oh God...oh my God...you have no idea how this feels. Oh, it's going to be powerful." He hissed softly. "Slow and easy...still stroking...fucking my hand." He laughed again, a breathless chuckle. The laugh was quickly choked back in a groan of surprise. "Oh, oh it's here, Buffy, oh my God. Can't stop, can't stop it, let me, please!"

"Yeah, go on, Giles," she whispered fiercely. "It's okay. You can come."

"Gathering like a storm, like I can feel lightning about to strike," he hissed. "Going to come for you, Buffy. I'm going to...God, oh, I wish I could show you, Buffy! I'm coming, oh hear me, hear me!"

His cry was filled with joy, bright and silver like a shining blade. He gave the climax his full voice, a roar of triumph and amazement. No more words came, replaced by howls of the purest delight, broken by whimpers of unbearable sweetness that gave way to a sweet, full laugh. Buffy listened, enraptured, her heart racing. Was this a man's voice? His true voice? The open, unguarded soul of a man named Rupert Giles?

The cries quieted at last to soft, raw murmurs and purrs of weary pleasure, and then a soft whisper.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, what a mess." He laughed weakly, barely abreath.

"How was that, Giles?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, luv, that was...oh..." He swallowed and made a soft sound,and she realized he was crying. "The sweetest...the sweetest thing I've everfelt in my life."

"Are you okay?" she asked gently. "Did I do it all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Buffy. So fine. You did wonderfully. It wasbeautiful, more than I thought you could do. You have a lot of courage." He groaned tiredly. "Oh, got to lie down on my back for a bit. I'mexhausted." He laughed easily and Buffy grinned. "Mmmm. That wasabsolutely incredible. Unbelievable."

"I'm really glad," she said sincerely. "So you made a big mess, huh?"

"Quite," he said wryly. "I can't remember the last time I came thismuch. Splashed it all across the bed...damn, got some on my copy of Saint-Martin's essays, too." He giggled suddenly, surprising her. "Oh,Lord, I think there's some on the floor on the other side. My God. Bear with me, luv, I need to change the quilt." She heard him get up and movebooks, then strip the cover off the bed.

"I thought guys always went to sleep afterwards," Buffy commented as Giles went down the hall to the closet with the cordless phone.

"I will in a little while," he said, amused. "I sometimes get a bitgiddy after, if it's very powerful, and my God, that definitely was."

"Can I make a confession?" she asked.

"After that you may do anything you like," he teased. "Of course,Buffy. What is it?" She could hear him flipping the new bedcover out across the bed.

"I wasn't sure I could do what you wanted," she said. "I've never done anything like that before...I don't have any experience with what men like or what it's like for them when they...when they masturbate."

"I wasn't sure," he admitted. "I sensed your hesitation, but you didwhat you always do under duress. You made something up and you ran with it all the way to the end. That's the Buffy I know." He chuckled. "Excuseme if I seem distracted for a moment," he said. "I'm going to clean myselfup a bit. Oh, damn."

"What?" Buffy said.

"I dripped while I was walking around. That's all I need, to refinishthis hardwood floor." Buffy giggled.

"Musta been a bigger mess than you let on."

"Well, I...oh, hell, it would take too long to explain," he sighed andshe giggled again. "Suffice it to say that I dripped." She heard him in thebathroom, running the water briefly, presumably to wet a washcloth. "Ah,that's cold!" he complained.

"Poor baby," she said, grinning.

"Poor nothing," he replied, and grunted as he flopped down on thebed on his back and sighed deeply. "I'm marvelously, deliciously sated. Ahh, feels good to lie down again."

"Giles, don't take this wrong, but, um, were you, um, were you exaggerating stuff on your end? To encourage me?" There was a short silence on the other end of the line.

"No," he whispered. "No, I was brutally honest with you. I don'tneed to fake anything with you, Buffy. Everything you heard...everything I said...was real...the real me. I would never be cruel to you like that, and I trust you implicitly. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, Giles, of course I do. I was just...thinking about some of the things you said..." Giles sighed long and deep.

"I know, I know," he said softly. "Is it a problem? Do you want totalk about any of it?"

"Do you...get rough when you make love?" she asked after a moment. She was thinking about him pounding on the wall earlier, pacing restlessly and swearing.

"Ow, ah, a complicated question," he sighed, but she could hearhim smiling. "There're many kinds of rough, and many kinds of rough forme. Are you worried about what I'll be like when we make love?"

"I guess I am. I mean, you can't really hurt me, me being theSlayer and all. I just don't know what to expect. What to do. Could be kinda weird."

"How did you react when you heard me earlier?" he asked. "I thinkI went a little crazy there for a moment...did that frighten you? Excite you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I...I wanted to be there with you. Iwanted to see it...to touch you and...this is gonna sound nuts..."

"What, Buffy? It's all right."

"I wanted to feel you losing control...hold your hands and feel yourstrength...give you someplace safe to do it."

"Indeed?" he whispered, suddenly quiet. "God, I've already comeand the thought of that...you holding me while I'm crazy like that..."

"What do you want, Giles?" Buffy demanded softly. "Do you want to come again? If you're still horny I'd love to hear it..." Giles made a low sound, somewhere between embarrassment and longing.

"Buffy...I know how much you want me right now...I can hear it inyour voice. You don't want to pleasure yourself while I'm listening and that's perfectly all right, but I don't want to be the only one enjoying themselves. That's not fair to you."

"You're not the only one enjoying this," she replied with a grin,knowing he would hear it. "I'm...I'm not touching myself, but I called you because I couldn't stand it...I'd been dreaming about you and I needed to hear you...needed to be with you, and I am, Giles, even though we can't touch right now. You have the sexiest voice and you're letting me hear everything you're feeling, everything you want." He chuckled softly.

"You're a sweet flatterer," he said, and then she heard him yawn. "Oh dear. I think I'm going to sleep on you, luv." He sounded bothapologetic and amused.

"It's okay," she said. "I know you older men don't have the stamina." Giles snorted derisively, as she had intended, and she giggled.

"You realize that I'm going to have to prove you wrong," he said.

"I'm counting on that," she replied. "Machismo is so predictable. G'night, Giles. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Buffy. Thank you," he whispered.

"Anytime, stud-muffin."

****

The next day had a surreal quality for Giles, who roused himself with a yawn. He might have been able to make himself believe that his conversation with Buffy last night hadn't happened, except that he had awakened to find the semen-dampened quilt folded in the chair by his bed, and he was deliciously relaxed.

He reached his office unmolested, and spent the majority of the day reading since there was nothing to be filed and he was still awaiting a shipment from Kessinger Publishing. Lunchtime came around and he ate contentedly, then made his customary cup of tea. He had the cup in his hand and was about to get up.

Buffy appeared suddenly in the doorway.

"Hey," she chirped. She startled him badly enough that he lost part of the tea and it slopped over his tie and into his lap. He half-reacted, almost rising from the chair but realizing the futility of it, tea dripping from his outspread hands and onto the floor from the edge of the chair. He lifted his head to regard her with wide eyes, and she bit her lip, frozen for a moment and sure he would be furious that she had made him ruin a tie and shirt like that, and also unsure how last night had changed their relationship. "Sorry," she said sincerely, wondering how much she was apologizing for.

Then, Giles grinned at her, a wolfish, open expression that revealed to her the man she had talked to on the phone last night.

"Hello, Buffy," he said wryly, trying to suppress the sudden urge to laugh. He put the remains of the tea down on the desk and stood. "You seem to have a knack for getting me to take off my clothes," he murmured softly, brushing past her to go to the cage, and Buffy just stood there for a moment, stunned. He came back with a clean shirt and reentered the office. "Pardon me a moment," he said, half-closing the door so he could change his shirt.

"I'm really sorry about that," Buffy said again, amused this time. The door pulled wide to reveal Giles tucking in the clean shirt, which was still open at the collar.

"It's quite all right," he said with a smile. "If that's the worst thing that comes of last night, then I'm happy. And don't you make a joke about me coming, either," he admonished, and Buffy closed her mouth, taken aback by his candor.

"I kind of expected you to be all weird and evasive today," she admitted, leaning against the doorway to watch him loop the tie around his neck and begin retying it.

"And pretend that it never happened?" he asked gently, still smiling. Buffy glanced down at her shoes, then back up at him.

"Yeah. I guess I kinda thought you might do that." Giles went up to her, the tie still draped around his neck, half knotted, and cupped her jaw gently.

"I would never do something like that to you," he said. "I'm not ashamed of what we did last night." Buffy had closed her eyes at his touch, and turned her face slightly into his palm. "How do you feel today?" Her eyes opened and she sighed.

"Hot," she said, annoyed. "Crazy. I can practically smell you at fifty yards." Giles grunted, smiling sympathetically.

"You definitely have the fever," he said. "You might want to try drinking peppermint tea, or chamomile if you're not allergic to ragweed." He withdrew his hand to finish the tie, watching her faintly distressed expression. "Are you going to be all right today?"

"I think so," she said, settling her shoulders restlessly. "Can we talk to my mom today? I told her we had something important to talk to her about." Giles grunted wryly.

"Lord only knows what she made of that," he mused. "Yes, today's fine. I'll come home with you if you wish."

"That'd be good," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Does this embarrass you?" he wondered.

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" she said, looking up at him again, and he smiled. "Of course it's embarrassing. It's even more embarrassing that the reason I want to get telling her over with is because I want to get into your pants." She said this last with a hiss, keeping her voice down. Giles smiled, flattered, and pulled his coat back on, but in her eyes he could never again completely reclaim the professional distance that had once separated them. The closeness felt good, warm and reassuring. "Will you promise me something?" she said. "No matter what my mom says, I want to go through with this. Promise me you won't back out."

"You have my commitment," he said seriously. "I warn you, however, this might be complicated, depending on your mother's reaction. We might have to be innovative to remain in her good graces."

"I'll deal with that if and when we get there," she said, and Giles nodded.

****

Joyce was a little surprised to see Giles come into the house with Buffy. She greeted him, and he was very polite and gracious, as always. She remembered that Buffy and Giles had something they wanted to discuss with her. Something Slayer related, no doubt. Her first reaction had been worry -- she hoped it was nothing bad. So much of what happened to Buffy was bad, and Joyce didn't really know all that much about her daughter's vocation. It seemed very mysterious at times.

She made tea and they all sat in the living room, chatting briefly about school and exchanging pleasantries about one another's lives. Joyce told him about the new show at the gallery, and Giles and Buffy talked about one of the more unusual demons they had slain last month -- the one with the purple skin and the obsession with the number twenty-four.

"So I guess you wanted to talk about something to do with Buffy's Slaying," Joyce said easily.

"Yes, in a sense," Giles said. "It has to do with the fact that she's a Slayer, although it isn't about Slaying demons, per se."

"I see," Joyce said. "Seems like the more I learn about this, the less I know." Giles smiled at her benign resignation. Not many mothers would have been so phlegmatic on the subject.

"Sometimes it seems that way for Buffy and me, as well," he said. "At any rate, you may have noticed in the past few days that Buffy isn't feeling very well." Joyce nodded.

"I thought it was the flu," Joyce said, casting a sympathetic glance at her daughter, who looked tired and feverish. "Buffy said she thought it was, too. She insisted on going to school even though I thought it might be better if she stayed home, at the very least so she wouldn't give it to her friends."

"Her illness is real," Giles said, "but it's not the flu, and it's not contagious. She came to me about it four days ago, concerned that it was something magical or perhaps related specifically to her being a vampire Slayer, and I've been researching it. Last night I figured out what it is, and my conversations with her have confirmed it." Joyce was attentive, and Giles plowed ahead. It was best to be direct about this. "She's going through a stage in her maturation as a Slayer which we call the Great Passing. It's extremely common for Slayers to go through this, and the age at which it strikes varies considerably, although always coincides with the autumnal equinox."

"The first day of fall," Joyce said. "That's today."

"Yes," Giles said. "The Great Passing is a transition -- from child to adult, from ignorance to knowledge, doubt to confidence. Buffy must confront the fears she has had about not being able to fulfill her destiny as a Slayer. She must confront the fears she has had about never being a normal teenager, and the fact that she will never be a normal adult. It is the death of dreams and the creation of new ones."

"That makes sense," Joyce said thoughtfully. "The symbolic rite of passage, only different because being a Slayer has differences." Giles nodded approvingly.

"Yes, exactly. She must symbolically surrender that fear and uncertainty in order to successfully continue her work in fighting evil. If she fails now there is a tenfold increase in the chance of her being killed in the next three years, because she will hesitate and be unsure of herself, and because she will not have fully embraced her lifepath and her bond with me as her Watcher."

Killed. Joyce felt a cold chill ripple up her spine. She was all too aware of the possibility that Buffy could die prematurely because of her destiny, but to have it so concretely stated, with numbers attached, was horrifying.

"So do you have to do something?" Joyce said hopefully, speaking directly to Buffy, who was sipping tea and glad to be left out of the conversation for the time being. She looked up anxiously and glanced at Giles. "A ritual or a spell or something? Slay a dragon?" Giles chuckled at the joke, but sobered quickly.

"Buffy's inner self is aware of the need for this transition. It manifests as a compulsion, in prophetic dreams and in her awareness of me. She feels drawn to me sexually. Only a bonded Watcher can successfully assist in this symbolic surrender, through the act of lovemaking, because it's an ideal vehicle for expression of trust and intimacy. That's critical to our professional relationship as well as our personal one. She and I have gone through the bonding ritual -- two years ago -- so it's normal for her to turn to me, and it's my responsibility to answer her." Joyce's expression had changed subtly, and Giles paused, taking a moment to evaluate what it meant. "I suspected this when she first told me about her illness -- it wasn't obvious to her at the time. I had seen no need to explain it to her in the course of her previous studies with me, which she agrees would have been unduly alarming. We've talked at length and I'm satisfied that this is indeed the Great Passing manifesting. It must be answered, and we're prepared to do so. I told her we should explain this to you...to involve you in her destiny as much as possible, because you have expressed a desire to learn about what it means to be a Slayer. She agrees with me."

"Let me see if I understand," Joyce said, frowning. "She has to have sex with you, or she'll probably die sometime in the next three years."

"Well...that's an oversimplification," Giles said. "There are many variables, and that characterization is also misleading with respect to the way my relationship with her will change, but...essentially that's correct." Joyce shook her head slightly and looked away.

"I don't believe I'm hearing this," she said. It was obvious that she was angry now. "That you would tell my daughter something like that." Giles cocked his head, bemused.

"I...there's tremendous precedent for this," Giles said reasonably. "This has been happening to Slayers and their Watchers for a thousand years. She's not the first and won't be the last."

"That's a lie and you know it," Joyce said flatly.

"Mom!" Buffy said indignantly. "He didn't tell me anything. I wasthe one who started getting sick and having prophecy dreams. I had to go to him to find out what it was."

Giles had been prepared for the likelihood that Buffy's mother would be less than enthusiastic about this situation, but the possibility of being called a liar to his face had not occurred to him. He stood up angrily.

"I am deeply outraged that you would think me capable of such a gross and despicable act of deception," he said to her, coldly furious. "I had thought that you had a better opinion of me than that, Joyce, and I'm quite disappointed to learn otherwise."

"Yeah, well I did until now," Joyce said, standing with him. "I think it would be best if you left now, Mr. Giles."

"This isn't going to go away," Giles said tightly. "It will only worsen with time and Buffy will be in danger the longer she resists. I can show you the relevant citations, if you wish. Entries about this rite in the Watcher Chronicles and other texts go back almost eight hundred years, from regions all over the world."

"I don't want to see any of your damn books!" Joyce shouted. "Get out! Get out of my house! And I don't want you to have any more contact with my daughter! She's grounded and you're forbidden to be around her! I'll get a restraining order if I have to!"

"Mom, you can't do that," Buffy said angrily. "He's my Watcher. I have to be able to talk to him and train with him."

"Buffy, stay out of this," Joyce said sharply.

"He's the one who knows all about the demons and the cults and stuff," Buffy went on, as if her mother hadn't spoken. "I just kill 'em. Jesus, mom, he can read Babylonian petroglyphs, for God's sake! And...and vampires and demons use lots of petroglyphs! Lots!"

"Buffy, don't," Giles said, touching her shoulder. Joyce's eyes narrowed. "It's all right. I'll go and you can talk with your mother; she's too upset right now."

"Giles..." She grabbed his arm as he moved for the door. He paused.

"Don't worry. We'll work something out."

She stood there helplessly as Giles showed himself to the door and shut it behind him, leaving her alone with her mother.

Buffy came into the library the next day at school, and Giles looked up from his book sorting by the counter.

"I thought your mother forbade you to be around me," Giles said sourly.

"I need a book," Buffy said flatly, coming right up to him, undaunted by her mother's admonition.

"Willow could get it for you."

"She's busy." She just stood there, looking at him, and finally he stopped what he was doing to turn around and face her. There was no condemnation in her eyes. Obviously, the daughter was not like the mother with respect to this particular situation. He leaned back against the counter and smiled.

"So what book do you need?" he asked, relaxing slightly.

"It's called 'What To Do When Your Mom Flips Out,'" she said. "Giles, we need to talk."

"I agree," he sighed. "For now, though, I have something for you." He turned back to go into his office for a moment, and emerged with a small, black, folded object about the size of a cigarette pack. He set it on the counter in front of her. She picked it up, examining it. On one side it said 'StarTAC' and 'Motorola.' "It's a cellular phone," Giles said. "I have another just like it. The first speed dial number on yours is to my phone, and vice versa. It's already activated and all the costs will be billed to me. Your mother's anger aside, we can't be out of contact in an emergency. You need to be able to call me. I presume that your mother has forbidden you to phone me, and won't allow you to receive calls from me, either." Buffy nodded, sighing. He also put down a charging cord and an extra battery. "The battery's good for fifty hours on a charge. This will let us keep in touch. I'll try not to call you on it while you're at home, since it rings audibly. I'll see if I can get Willow or one of the others to do that through your regular home telephone, if it's necessary. Obviously you shouldn't let your mother know that you have this."

"Right," she said, slipping the phone into her pocket and the other stuff in her backpack. "Thanks," she said quietly. Being in his presence, being able to smell him so close, made her ache horribly and she wanted desperately to touch him and hold him. She exhaled slowly, and she saw in his eyes that he was all too aware of her discomfort. "My mom said she didn't want me to be alone with you, but that if I needed to study in the library with the guys, it was okay. She wants me to go Slaying alone. She sort of has to take my word for it that I'll do that. You don't usually go with me anyway. But I can't come to your house for studies or training anymore. Guess we'll have to find somewhere else to do it...with the guys being chaperones or something." Giles nodded.

"Let me give that some thought and I'll draw up a schedule. I think we should honor your mother's restrictions until we can get her blessing," he said. "It wouldn't be right for either of us to defy her openly."

"I know," Buffy said. "I have to talk to you and everything, but the Great Passing will have to be put on hold for a little while. I was thinking about that last night. I can't just say screw her and break the rules. If it was another end of the world thing it'd be different, but she's just trying to protect me. She's trying to do the right thing, and me acting like a two-year-old isn't going to help convince her that I'm mature enough to take care of this myself."

"Very true," Giles said with a smile. "I'm proud of you. This isn't going to be easy. I'll do the best I can to smooth the way for you. How do you feel today?" He put his hand on her forehead, finding her skin hot to the touch. She shivered at the flare of desire that flashed between them, but didn't move as he withdrew his palm. "You're hot." Buffy's mouth quirked.

"Oh baby, oh baby," she said deadpan, and Giles rolled his eyes. "I feel better than I thought I would, considering that I want to throw you down on the reading table and screw you senseless." Giles grunted, amused and flattered. "I slept pretty well...still had the dreams, though."

"I have something for that," Giles said, snapping his fingers as he remembered. He went behind the counter and produced two ziploc bags of loose, dried tea leaves and herbs. "Make a tea from this," he said, indicating the larger bag, "one teaspoon for an average cup, no more than three times a day. Add some of this -- " he held up the smaller bag " -- if you want some help sleeping." Buffy sniffed at it briefly, smelling peppermint and some other things she didn't recognize.

"Looks like marijuana," she joked.

"This is considerably more legal," Giles said, smiling.

"I dunno. It's medicinal, isn't it? Medical marijuana, you know."

"Just don't drink too much," he cautioned tolerantly. "It has a calming effect anyway, and you don't want to be too sleepy to concentrate in class."

"Yeah, no problem," she said. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, then lunged forward to hug him tightly. He returned it fiercely, burying his nose in her hair and taking in her warm scent. She felt so good against him. "I'm scared," she whispered against his chest.

"Shh, don't be," he said gently. "We'll figure something out. I promise." He rubbed her back and then let her go before her need could be further tempted. She held his arms for a moment, then also seemed to realize the danger, and let go.

"Guess I'll see you later," she said. "Non-alone or something." Giles nodded.

"Call me if you need anything."

****

She called him that night only to report on her patrol, which had yielded one newly risen vampire, quickly disposed of. She had also wanted to try the cel phone and try to get used to how it worked.

"Cool toy, Giles," she said, and heard his answering chuckle. "Bummer it took my mom going completely bent on me to get you into theDigital Age. At least you bypassed the entire Vacuum Tube Age."

"Ha ha," Giles said, leaning back in his desk chair. He had several books open and was reading more about the autumnal equinox and the Great Passing that Slayers went through. "I'll settle for a monthly bill of less than a hundred dollars, thank you very much." Buffy laughed.

"So what are you up to?" she asked.

"I'm at home, trying to find out if there's some kind of spell or incantation that might ease the effects of the Great Passing for you...and maybe for me as well. So far, no luck, but some of the herbal remedies look relatively promising."

"I think I'm going to need it," Buffy admitted with a sigh. "Thanks,Giles. This sucks and you're really helping to make it more bearable."

"I'm glad to help, Buffy," he replied gently. "Anything and everything. Try to get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"G'night."

****

The next day, Giles didn't see her until after school. There were times when she and the Slayerettes didn't come to the library in the morning or during lunch. That was all fine with him, and under the current circumstances, it was probably easier for Buffy to avoid him as much as possible. This wasn't just because of her mother's restrictions, but because the distance seemed to make the urge easier to bear for both of them.

He came out of his office that afternoon at the sound of the library door being pushed open with a squeak, and watched his Slayer enter.

"Hello, Buffy," he greeted as she stalked across the floor to the table. She let her books drop to the surface with a slam. Giles came up behind her. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like shit," she muttered, beyond caring about her manners. She gestured restlessly. "Like..." He heard her swallow hard and he put his hand on her shoulder firmly. The contact seemed to close a circuit, and he relaxed a little, feeling her warmth fill him quickly.

"I know," he said gently. "We'll bring your mother around. I just need to find a way to do it that's sufficiently convincing. I'm sorry this is so hard for you." Buffy turned to look at him.

"It's hard for you, too, isn't it?" she said. Giles sighed heavily.

"Your desire...your need...pulls at me," he confessed. "I can't shut it out. I feel it every moment now, especially when I'm in your presence." Buffy put her hand on his chest and he inhaled sharply.

"Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "It just feels good to touch you."

"It's all right," he sighed, feeling strangely empty when she withdrew her hand.

"Guess I'd better try to study," she muttered, turning back to the table. Giles nodded, letting his breath out carefully.

"You're not supposed to be alone with me," he reminded. Buffy sat down, not looking at him.

"The guys'll be here in a minute," she said.

"Very well, then. I have some filing to do." He left her to retrieve a stack of books to reshelve, forcing himself to move away from her.

He kept an eye on her as she opened one of her textbooks and began to read. She had a notebook and a pen, and occasionally took notes, but he could tell she wasn't able to concentrate and the notes eventually became aimless doodles. She rested her head on one hand for a while, then shifted to the other hand, pausing sometimes to rub the back of her neck, or stretch, or press both palms to her eyes as if she had a headache.

The pull from her was intense, a constant ache that told him entirely too much about what she needed from him and how desperately he wanted to answer it. The sight of her in pain, combined with his intimate, body-felt knowledge of it, was too much for him and he put down the books he held.

Buffy closed her eyes again, unable to focus on the text in front of her. It just blurred out in the face of the taut pain in her shoulders, and the throbbing headache that was forming behind her eyes. She heard Giles come up behind her, and opened her eyes in time to see his hand come around to slide the book from under her arms, closing it gently and setting it aside.

"Lean forward," he said quietly, warmly. She obeyed, his voice embracing her, and then she felt his hands on her back, applying weight and pressure up the sides of her spine, releasing tension there. "Close your eyes and try to relax." She groaned helplessly, his strength and even just his touch satisfying a terrible need in her. His hands were warm and sensuous, his fingers rubbing into the hard muscles in her back in slow, considered movements. "How's that?"

"Great," she mumbled. "Amazing. You should do this for money." He chuckled.

"It's much more rewarding to do it for you," he said. He withdrew suddenly. "Let me take my coat off." He shed the coat and draped it over a chair, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. It was in the midst of this that the library doors opened again and Willow, Xander and Oz came in. Willow opened her mouth to say something, but Giles put his finger to his lips in a pantomime for quiet, and Willow's mouth closed abruptly. "Willow, Xander and Oz are here," Giles said in a quiet voice, enough that the others could hear him, but he was obviously trying to control the amount of external stimulation she received.

"Mm," Buffy said, lifting one hand to wave tiredly. "Hi guys."

"She's in some pain today," Giles said to them by way of explanation. "And she hasn't been feeling well lately." Willow nodded, all too aware of her friend's discomfort and headaches over the past few days, if not the reason for them.

"Any luck finding out why?" Xander asked, keeping his voice down as the three of them neared the table. Buffy sighed.

"Yeah," she said, her voice muffled where she had her head down on her folded arms on the table. "Giles figured it out. Don't wanna talk about it yet. My back still hurts." Giles smiled.

"You just relax for a bit, then," he said, and brushed her ponytail out of the way to begin massaging her shoulders with those long, deep strokes that took much of his weight. Buffy groaned, and the others looked on in some surprise at this personal contact from her Watcher. He looked quite content to be doing it, his expression one of concern and concentration. "Willow, would you do me a favor and make some herbal tea for Buffy? There's a special mixture in my office, in the marked jar."

"Sure thing, Giles," Willow said, glad to have something helpful to do. She got up, and the two boys stood uncertainly for a moment.

"Go on and start your studies," Giles said to them mildly. "Buffy will be all right in time. She's under a lot of stress right now."

Oz and Xander shrugged, then sat down and started reading, Oz helping his friend with math homework. Giles continued to rub his Slayer's back, sometimes softening the touch to a warm stroking that made her shiver. The lust from her was blinding, and he knew he had an erection but endeavored to ignore it, hoping no one else would notice. If they did, so be it. This was a natural, if usually private, part of the Watcher-Slayer relationship.

Willow came back with the tea, meeting Giles' gaze for a brief moment. He knew that she would be able to discern the contents from its smell and appearance. It smelled mostly of peppermint and lemon balm; relatively innocuous remedies for pain and fever, and the peppermint also had a calming effect. One of the ingredients, however, was tigertail, which had a distinctive smell, and had one primary medicinal application -- calming sexual fever.

"Here's your tea, Buff," she said, setting the mug down by Buffy's elbow. Giles pulled on her shoulder gently to coax her to sit up.

"Come on," he said softly. "Drink this. It'll help." Buffy sat back in the chair with some effort, obviously in considerable physical discomfort. She grimaced slightly as she smelled the tea.

"Bleah," she declared, but sipped at it anyway. Giles' hand was still on her shoulder, and he moved her ponytail again to begin massaging her shoulders and neck. Her eyes closed blissfully for a moment.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Tea's icky," she said, and Giles smiled, "but the massage is good."

"Good?" Giles echoed teasingly. "I'll have you know I've taken Reiki and Shiatsu classes."

"Hurts more on the left side," she said, sipping the hot, unsweetened tea again. Giles slowed his massage to concentrate on her left trapezius. "What's this for?" she asked, indicating the tea.

"What ails you," Giles said, amused. Willow bit her lip but said nothing. Giles saw her expression. "Perhaps we should explain now," he suggested to Buffy. She sighed and nodded. The boys were attentive, the math forgotten for the moment.

"For a while Giles didn't know what it was," Buffy told them. "But I had some dreams that gave us enough information that he could figure it out."

"So it's magical?" Willow said worriedly. "Not the flu or something?"

"In a way," Giles said. "It's intimately linked to the fact that she's a Slayer, and that I'm her bonded Watcher."

Giles explained the Great Passing and the rite of the autumnal equinox, the accompanying drive the Slayer experienced to make love with her Watcher in order to deepen their emotional bond and leave behind her childhood, both actual and symbolic. Buffy chimed in with the part about how the Slayer tended to get killed at a rate ten times normal if she failed to answer the compulsion.

"So of course we had the brilliant idea that we would tell my mom, in the interests of fairness to her and involving her in my destiny," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "I think there was something in there about the spirit of giving, or factory to dealer incentives, or something." Giles' mouth twitched in amusement. "But anyway, mom went ballistic and grounded me. She thinks Giles is a dirty old man and I'm a moonstruck child, and that Giles made the whole thing up in order to get into my pants."

"So that's why you're sick?" Willow said. "Because of this Great Passing thing?"

"At first, yes," Giles said. He was still massaging Buffy's shoulders and neck, slowly and gently. "Now it's because she's resisting answering it, because her mother has forbidden it. I've promised that we'll resolve it somehow." He sighed. "I just don't have any decent ideas yet."

"But it doesn't go away, does it?" Oz said. "How can Buffy's mom enforce grounding her forever? When she turns eighteen, it won't matter anymore."

"I pointed that out when we were at her house talking with her mother," Giles said. "The fact that it doesn't go away, I mean. The rest...I felt it wouldn't be wise to provoke her any more. That's not the best way to win her approval." Oz nodded.

"She's not being rational," Buffy said. "She's being a mom, which is her job, so in a way I don't really blame her. The whole Slayer thing can't be easy for her to deal with and I haven't really tried to help. I guess it's kind of my fault."

"So, okay," Willow said, thinking. "You sorta have to do this, but is it okay? I mean, do you guys want to or is it one of those personalsacrifices for the good of humanity things?" Buffy was finishing off her tea, and sheepishly met Willow's eyes over the rim of the cup. Giles' hands left her shoulders and he moved away. She pouted at him, but he was grabbing his coat off the back of Xander's chair.

"I want to do something else," Giles explained, folding the coat and setting it on the table for a moment. Giles undid her ponytail, putting the band in his pocket and then taking the folded coat again. "Here, rest your head back on this," he said, using the coat as a cushion for her to lean her head back on the chair. "Close your eyes," he said, and she obeyed. "Are you going to answer Willow's question?" She heard the amusement in his voice as he began to rub gently at her temples, finding acupressure points and relaxing the muscles in her face. Buffy sighed, partly in pleasure and partly in resignation.

"You're naughty, Giles," she said without anger, and he smiled. "But yeah, Will, I do. Giles and I talked about it the other night."

"I want to also," Giles said, brushing some of her hair away from her jaw so he could carefully find muscles there with his fingers. "I'm concerned about her well-being, and I don't object to this aspect of my role as Buffy's Watcher. Until we can resolve this to her mother's satisfaction, the least I can do is ease the stress of it."

"That's what the tigertail's for," Willow said, nodding in understanding. The boys both looked puzzled, but Giles nodded.

"Yes."

"Huh?" Buffy said.

"In the tea," Willow said. "Tigertail's for, uh, calming you down when you're horny."

"Oh," Buffy said, bemused and embarrassed. "Uh, thanks, Giles. I guess."

"Sorry," Giles said sheepishly. "I just thought it might help."

"Guess we'll see, huh?" Buffy teased, then sighed deeply. "Mmm, God that feels good."

"Better now?" he asked. "Think you can get some work done?"

"Yeah," she said with a faint smile, "but don't stop, okay?"

Her Watcher chuckled quietly as she leaned forward to open her textbook again and start reading. His hands returned to her shoulders meditatively.

"All right," he said softly.

The next few days seemed to pass in relative calm, Giles offering his quiet massage to her after school in the library as she and the Slayerettes alternately studied and goofed off. The herbal tea seemed to be helping her. The dreams had eased a little, and she no longer felt feverish under his hand.

Their intense awareness of each other's presence did not abate. He hadn't expected that it would, but the distraction caused him to finally suggest that they keep away from each other as much as possible. This, too, seemed to help, and she only came to be with him after school, then used the cel phone to talk to him at night about her patrols.

One night Giles asked her to report for some training. Buffy came to the cemetery as Giles had instructed, finding Willow, Oz and Xander there already, along with her Watcher. The Slayerettes were on a blanket on the grass, eating something out of a common bag, possibly tortilla chips. Giles stood leaning against a stone bench, meditatively sharpening a sword with a whetstone. Another sword was on the bench, protected by a soft cloth.

She had not needed to see Giles to know he was there in the half-light of a gibbous moon. She could feel him, a sensuous heat in the darkness, his presence at once comforting and seductive. She smelled power in him, the power that could quench the fire that burned in her. Their bond had become more intense in the past week, but he seemed in better control of his emotions than she was. He glanced up and met her eyes immediately, even though she knew she had been silent.

"Swordfighting, huh?" she said. The Slayerettes started, surprised to hear her voice. She came more fully into the clearing, and Giles tossed her the sword he was holding. She caught it easily.

"I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to vent some energy," he said. His appearance of emotional control had been an illusion, at best. As she got a closer look at him, she saw the tension in his shoulders and hands, the unconscious aggression in his body language. It reminded her brutally of his maleness, something of which she was normally unaware. Not so these past few days, especially on that night in which she had coaxed him to orgasm and listened to his deepest pleasures. "Try to relax a little." Buffy nodded, taking off her coat and putting it down on the bench with the sword cloth.

"Are you guys the art critics?" she joked, looking at her friends on the grass.

"You mock us," Xander said, "but we can ruin you with a single bad review. Don't think we can't."

"We figured we'd hang out and critique your form," Willow said, "and then score you on a scale of one to ten, like Olympic figure skating." Buffy laughed.

"What're you, Oz?"

"I'm the referee," he said, "in case you try to bite off Giles' ear." Giles looked puzzled by that, but Willow and Xander giggled.

"Are you ready, Buffy?" the Watcher asked. Buffy was stretching, her arms up over her head and behind her back. Giles waited patiently, but she was aware of his hot gaze on her body.

"Yeah," she said finally, retrieving her sword where she had stuck it into the ground. Giles picked up his own weapon and turned to her. She almost froze -- that maleness again, fierce in his eyes, his body obviously hungry for her even as he posed en garde.

"Ready," he said. "Fence."

She was a good swordsman, and had taken quickly to Giles' instruction when they had first begun it many months ago. She had the advantage of speed and strength, and he had reach and experience. It was a good match for instructive purposes, and often, like now, allowed them an outlet for frustration and anger.

Her nearness was maddening to him. Both bonded to her and bred over the centuries to respond to her needs, his soul howled to be allowed to satisfy the yearning he could feel from her. It was not used to being denied this duty, and it hurt to resist. He could only wonder what the full measure of it was like for her, but her savagery in their swordplay gave him a taste.

The Slayerettes were providing oohs and ahhs, and the occasional sympathetic "ow" or "that's gotta hurt." Buffy was only half-conscious of it, aware mainly of the heat of Giles' body when he got close to her, the soft sounds of effort and pain he made as they sparred. He did not go easy on her. He had never needed to.

She overreached in one arcing swing, and Giles followed the movement with his own blade, driving her sword to the grass and pinning it there. In a real duel, that would have been a moment to attempt a killing strike, with a knife, or by standing on the enemy's blade and delivering a blow with one hand. Between Buffy and her Watcher, however, it had always been a moment when one of them conceded a defeat and they smiled at each other and rose to begin again.

In this moment, there were no smiles between them. Giles held their swords to the cool grass, unable to look away from her eyes. She had been about to say something sarcastic, about his prowess or possibly his age, but when she looked up at him, all she saw was her panting, sweaty, beautiful Watcher, his warm shoulder against hers where they crouched. She wanted him and couldn't touch. She needed to make love to him, right now, here on the grass, with that passion in his eyes. She reached for his shoulder, curling her fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt, silently pleading with him.

"Buffy..." he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly in apology and frustration. She was trembling and he knew what would make it stop.

With a strangled sob, Buffy tore her sword from under his, scrambling to her feet and hurling the weapon away with a yell of fury. It clattered against the stone bench and slid to the ground. She couldn't face him, couldn't face this, and she whirled away from all of them to disappear into the darkness.

Willow got up immediately and went after her. Giles got to his feet and stabbed his sword into the earth angrily. He collapsed onto the stone bench and put his head in both hands, trying to calm himself, trying to understand what he should do.

Oz got up and Xander followed, approaching Giles warily.

"You have to do something," Oz said.

"I know," Giles murmured, not looking up. "I just don't know what."

"Talk to her mom again."

"She won't listen."

"You have to try," Oz said. "You guys can't go on like this. You're going to get hurt, maybe killed. You can't even spar without going nuts." Giles gave a deep sigh.

"You're right. I have to try to talk to Joyce again, make her understand. I just wish she could see what this is doing to Buffy."

"Maybe she can and she just doesn't want to believe it," Xander said quietly. They both looked at him and he shifted uncomfortably, but went on. "Sometimes parents don't see what they don't wanna see, even when it's right in front of them. They say, oh, she's just sick, or she's just pouting or sulking, or she's going through a phase. They don't want us to grow up...don't want us to be people because then they have to find something else to do besides be mom and dad."

"Wow," Oz said after a moment, impressed. "That's deep."

"It may be more complicated than that in this case," Giles said thoughtfully, "but then again, maybe not. It's a good place to begin. Thank you, Xander." He stood up, gazing off into the darkness where he could feel Buffy crying and aching for him.

"I think maybe you should leave her alone for a little bit," Oz said carefully. He could smell the tangled mixture of sexual need and compassion and anger that poured off of both the Watcher and his Slayer. Anything could happen with that volatile combination.

"That might be best," Giles agreed. He exhaled a trembling breath. "But she pulls on me too hard...calling to me through the bond. I can't ignore it."

Oz and Xander followed him as he found Buffy unerringly in the darkness about fifty yards away. Willow was with her, hugging her. She pulled away as Giles and the boys neared.

"Go away, Giles!" Buffy yelled. "Just don't! It's too hard. It hurts too much..."

Her anger tore into him, raw and harsh, but with it came the inferno of her longing across the bond between them. They were twin swords into his soul, each of them an agony of its own as Giles dropped to his knees on the grass behind her, reaching out with his entire body to embrace her. She tried to fight him off, struggling against the solace he offered, the tormenting relief of his touch and warmth, but he wouldn't let her go. She went still as he pulled her back against him, the need winning out over her fury, and she panted hard, half-sobbing.

"Don't shut me out," he whispered, rocking her gently as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "It's all right, it's all right." Shuddering, she leaned her head back against him and he nuzzled the side of her throat softly. "Shh, I won't let you go," he promised.

It was the first time Giles had been able to hold her and just take in the entirety of what she was; scent, heat, strength. He had tried to be the strong one in this, because the Great Passing was primarily for the Slayer. At least, so the Watcher Chronicles often made it seem. His role was one of support, of teacher, of liberator. Yet there were warnings to the Watcher in the older prophecies about the Great Passing, ancient rhythmic lines in ancient English that he had never truly felt were relevant to him in any way.

He had meant to bring her here tonight to vent her restlessness, and had hoped to vent some of his own frustration. When she had fled into the woods in agony, he had meant only to come comfort her as he knew Willow could not. Yet even as she quieted against him, her hands resting over his around her stomach, he could no longer keep the reserve and strength he had felt she needed from him.

"I'm sorry," he said against her neck, his voice suddenly choked with the weight of emotions so great he was unprepared for them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't...shouldn't have told you to stay away."

Willow got to her feet silently, moving away toward Oz and Xander. The anguish and guilt in Giles' voice wrenched her, and she knew she was not meant to see this. She glanced at Oz, who was already pulling on Xander's arm.

"I thought we weren't supposed to leave them alone," Xander said, but Willow grabbed him, too, and he was dragged out of the woods to leave the Watcher and Slayer in their privacy.

Sometimes the craziness of all of this threatened to tear Buffy apart, but when Giles had come to hold her here, kneeling on the ground, she knew she could bear it. His whispered promises had soothed her, asked for her trust and she gave it easily. Then she had felt something change within him, felt his body tense, his hands tighten on hers. A strangled apology had come from his throat, and Willow had gotten up to leave.

"Giles..." she whispered, not knowing what Willow had seen or heard that had caused the instant of panic that Buffy had seen on her face.

"I shouldn't have tried to put a collar and chain on this," Giles said hoarsely. "So bloody worried about your mother's approval." His voice was thick with something awful, and Buffy heard it finally. "Shouldn't have been so fucking cavalier about it, about what I am." He drew a sudden, gaspingbreath and the realization slammed down on her that he was crying. She turned in his arms, reaching up for his face. Shadows hid his features from her, but she felt hot tears on his cheeks. He accepted the touch as if it were a benediction, bowing his head to her.

"Giles, hey, shh," she whispered. "What is it?" The way he grabbed her shoulders suddenly made her gasp, but his shadowed face was close to her, his eyes catching only the slightest glint of light from the moon through the trees.

"I am yours," he said, some terrible, tormented passion hot in his voice, an oath to himself as much as to her. His warm hands moved to her face, protective and cherishing. His mouth was close to hers, his breath an intimate, searing revelation in her heart that made her blood race. He spoke in that fierce whisper, the one she never heard but knew all the same because it was the only sound that could reveal his soul to her. "I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours..."

"I know," she said, rubbing her fingers into his hair, not knowing what else to say, realizing that he needed her to acknowledge him, to accept him in this moment or he would never be whole. "I know, Giles, it's okay."

"Oh, God, forgive me," he groaned. "God, I only wanted to do what you needed, what was best for you. Forgive me, Buffy..." He started to sob, and she pulled him to her, letting him rest his head on her shoulders and hold onto her.

"Oh, Giles, it's okay," she whispered. "I know you're trying to do the right thing. You're my Watcher and you just want to do the right thing for me. I know that. It's okay, shh..."

Even though he was crying, even though her heart ached, it felt magnificent to hold him and smell him and feel his body against hers. She experienced a moment of guilt, then sighed, stroking his hair where she had one hand around the back of his neck. He quieted at last, and she heard him swallow hard. As he drew back from her shoulder, she brought her hand down to rub the tears from his face with her thumb. He wouldn't meet her eyes, even in the near-darkness, and let out a long, shuddering exhale.

"You don't always have to be the strong one," Buffy said gently, and he made a soft, grunting sound, maybe a laugh.

"Good thing, I suppose," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Tell me what's going on in here," she said, putting her palm on his chest. He shivered again, bowing his head.

"Shame," he whispered. "Oh, it's bitter. I was so worried about being a responsible adult that I forgot that I am your Watcher. That should be my first instinct, the first direction that I move. Your mother is a difficult variable, since she knows you are the Slayer. I don't want your relationship with her to suffer, but the harsh truth is that I must bend knee to you and no other. It takes precedence over everything else." He looked up at her, his heart in his eyes, his mouth close to hers. "I won't try to tell you how to do this anymore. If you want me now, here, on the grass, I'm yours."

The smell of him was sultry and enormous in her consciousness. His hand was on her shoulder, his thighs spread wide where he knelt to encompass her own knees warmly between them. She wondered if he were hard, knew that he must be, and for a moment she raised her head as if to brush her lips against his. He didn't pull away, waiting for her to take him, his suppressed groan ripping through her like a knife.

But she couldn't do it here, not like this. He deserved better. They both deserved better than for the culmination of this immortal bond to be a brutish coupling in the grass. Quickly, before she could succumb, she reached for the back of his neck again and pulled his cheek against hers, holding him by the soft hair at his nape and nuzzling his jaw blindly.

"Not yet," she breathed as he finally let out the moan that had risen in his belly, both of his hands going around her shoulders carefully. "It should be for us, not in spite of us. I want you, all of you, Giles. Let'swait. I want to try to convince my mom first. Maybe it won't work, but..."

"That's your prerogative," he said quietly. He couldn't resist the silken curve of her jaw and he was rubbing it with his rough, whiskered chin. "If you can't bear it anymore...when you can't bear it anymore...cometo me." Her hand around his neck was massaging tired muscles slowly, and he felt her mouth open against his cheek, her tongue grazing him with wet heat. "Day. Night. Anywhere. I'll be ready. Oh God, you feel sogood..."

She had already found the corner of his mouth, felt him speakagainst her lips, and the moment narrowed to the warm softness of his mouth, his quiet whimper, the hot ball of something she could feel in her gut. For several breaths they barely touched, and then his mouth opened to let her kiss him softly, and she thought of that moment on the phone days ago when he had groaned in a voice of ultimate despair that he wanted to fuck her now,right now.

There had been a deep conviction in her somewhere that kissing him would satisfy the awful hunger in her body and soul. That was a sweet deception on the universe's part, because it only became more unbearably delicious the more she tried to capture his mouth, his tongue, his marvelous, male taste. He growled softly, a sound of utter relish if she'd ever heard one. She realized he was responding to her tight grip, fingers twined in his dark hair.

Buffy rose up higher on her knees, using both hands to jerk his head back so she could bend down to kiss him, rubbing through his hair, holding his face, feeling as if she could devour him if she just tried hard enough. He craned his neck to meet her, baring his throat if she wished to taste him there, as well, and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close with a low grunt of unconscious wanting.

His hands were strong, slipping lightly up her back and then clawing into her shirt and flesh to touch her the way she had craved in her dreams. Even clothed, restrained by whatever modesty and decorum he had left, his body burned her with need. His ache was hers, his rapture was part of his hot, male scent. Her own hard ache between her legs wanted him terribly, wanted the fullness of his cock inside her, filling her. She slid back down to rest between his knees, drawing her mouth down the side of his throat to feel his pulse and the vibration of his quiet purr.

"Can I touch you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he whispered.

His heart was racing where she put her palm on his chest, this leaping evidence of his response to her sending a delicious ripple up her spine. She touched him with both hands, rubbing his shirt, feeling the shape and heat of his muscles beneath, the small nub of his nipples that made him flinch exquisitely when she stroked them. His stomach quivered when she touched him there, his breath shuddering out of him in a long, sultry hiss, and she realized he had clenched his jaw around bared teeth. She reached up to caress his cheek, and with a pant of hot breath from his nostrils, he turned his head and engulfed her fingers in his obscene, fantastic mouth.

She could feel in his tongue some vague imitation of what he must want her to do to his cock with her own mouth, and it made even her, a female, shiver in empathic ecstasy. She could hardly find her breath, shocked by the intensity of his fascination with her fingers, and when he finally let them go to stare at her with hazel eyes so fierce that she felt a short thrill of fear, she drew her wet fingertips down his neck, past the slight mark she had put there with her teeth a minute ago.

He was breathing hard and fast, grunting softly when her hands resumed exploring the front of his body. His blood was on fire, everything sensible in his mind fleeing before the crushing hunger to satisfy her, to satisfy himself by getting drunk on her magnificence. His belly trembled again when she stroked it, flame racing down through his already burning loins. This time, though, she touched his belt buckle, not speaking or looking up at his face, as if she thought he would refuse if she did.

One of her hands was on his chest still, idly caressing his nipple through his shirt in slow, sensuous circles. The other...the other was intrigued by his trousers, by the soft lip of fabric over the zipper of his fly. She traced the hard bulge of his erection delicately, finding its length, its width, the slight outline of the ridge of the crown. He imagined she was tracing one of the veins down the shaft, every touch of her fingertips a sweet mixture of lightning and something hot and wet and vulgar in his thoughts. Not even that prepared him for the pleasure that struck him when she moved down to stroke his balls, finding their outline, too. It was so intimate, so gentle and bright and forbidden and he gasped as if drowning, drowning in her...

Buffy watched his hand on her arm for a moment as she tickled lightly at the head of his cock through his trousers. He was fantastic; purring softly, shuddering, probably completely unaware that he was making any noise at all. His head was bowed close to her jaw and shoulder, his throat quietly humming with that incredible sound of bliss. His hand slid up her arm and held her neck and head, his strong fingers in her blonde hair. He was big, not so big that it was surprising, but just enough that her carnal mind told her immediately how good it would feel to have him buried inside her, ramming hard and slow. He was so hard she was surprised his trousers could hold it. It was so different from her own internal, desperate ache, and she wondered how it would feel to have something so brutally urgent and powerful between her legs in this moment. She remembered that he liked touching his balls, so she stroked down in that direction, hoping to make him feel even better than he obviously did.

His mouth near her ear uttered a strangled exclamation of some emotion too huge and sudden to comprehend or endure, and she felt something rushing forward to escape the shackles and cellar of his deepest unknown self. Everything happened at once. His hand gripped into the back of her neck like a steel talon, pulling her to him. He pressed his open mouth to her throat and she felt his teeth for an instant before he cried out against her hot skin. He was embracing her, holding on for his life, and in a single, sharp flame of gut-wrenching understanding, she knew he was coming, coming hard and thoroughly in his tight boxer shorts with all the clothing between them.

She held him tight, part of her arm resting around his shoulder and her hand on his nape, welcoming him to the nuzzling burrow he had found against her throat as he grunted and whimpered to make the hackles rise on her neck and her gut tingle. She gasped, startled, when he nipped her throat suddenly, a lovebite of the utmost, complete gratitude and tenderness.

When his soft cries stopped, she withdrew her hand from his groin and rubbed gently at his side and chest; a comforting gesture. He kept his head bowed to her shoulder for several long moments, his breathing ragged but ultimately calming, and his grip around her back eased to stroke her lightly.

"Good God," he breathed, exhaling a long and astonished sigh. "I didn't know I...I've never..." His voice broke into a soft, giddy laugh, and he rubbed her neck soothingly.

"You didn't know you were going to do that, did you?" she said, amused. He pulled back from her shoulder, sheepish and embarrassed.

"No, I um...it caught me by surprise," he admitted, still smiling but not meeting her eyes. He realized he had made a mess in his shorts. "Damn, I should -- " He glanced up at her, anxious because of her presence, debating in several quick flashes all the possible alternatives. "Hell," he muttered, and groped inside his pocket for a handkerchief. He unbelted and unzipped his pants with the ease of long familiarity, pulling out the waistband of his boxers to inspect the damage. The shadowy darkness in the woods made a visual survey impossible, so he was forced to explore gingerly with his hand and the cloth. He sighed suddenly, relieved. "Not very much at all," he mumbled. He glanced up at a muffled giggle to see Buffy watching him with one hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stop from laughing. "This is your fault, you know," he said, without any real anger. "Get a Watcher so bloody excited he comes in his own trousers. Christ." He cleaned himself quickly, then folded the handkerchief back into his pocket. "It's only because I did it this morning that I haven't embarrassed myself beyond belief." She raised an eyebrow and he finished fastening his trousers back up.

"Sorry," she said, genuinely apologetic in spite of her amusement.

"Don't be," he said, his tone changing to a hushed delight. "It was so sweet." He took her face gently and kissed her with warm affection. "I only wish I could make you feel as good."

"Did you mean what you said about how I could come to you anytime?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, my God, I mean it, Buffy," he whispered.

"Then...then I want to wait as much as I can," she said, "try to talk to my mom..."

"I'm going to try to talk to her again tomorrow, alone," Giles said. "It might go better if you're not there to distract her." Buffy nodded and he hugged her warmly. "Come on, we'd better go."

Giles was wholly unsuccessful in talking to Joyce the next day. He even went so far as to bring with him the relevant volumes of the Watcher Chronicles and other historical texts which supported his argument, and then stuck his foot in the door when she attempted to shut it in his face. He tried his best to be polite and reasonable, expressing openly his concern for Joyce's own feelings as well as Buffy's. It was when she threatened to call the police that he relented and vacated the property. It was her house and her yard, after all, and getting himself arrested would not help his Slayer.

Fury boiled in him like a thrashing sea monster as he left. He mentally called Joyce every unprintable name he could think of, cursed her lineage and her morality and questioned her love for her daughter. In this time of trial for Buffy, of pain and need and glory, all she saw was a perverted older man and a naive, helpless little girl. He wanted to grab Joyce by the shoulders and shake her senseless. Bloody hell, woman, do youhave eyes? Can't you see what's going on just by looking into your daughter's face? Her fever, her restlessness, her thrashing, anguished dreams? She's dying inside and you're preventing the one thing that can save her.

He called Buffy on her cel phone after he went home. She was at Willow's house. He explained his failure.

"I really do think we need to just back off for a while and let her think about this," Giles said finally. He could hear the repressed rage in his own voice, and knew she could, too. "It really is quite a lot to take in, and I'm sure it was a shock to her. Any more pushing right now, from either of us, will only further alienate her." Buffy was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah, you're probably right," she said dully. "Giles...the dreamsgot stronger last night. We're getting further and further past the Equinox. I think I'm okay for now...but I don't know how long I can keep it together and still Slay without either getting my head handed to me or failing school."

"I know, I know," Giles sighed. "Just try to hang in there. I'll consult with Willow and see if we can come up with something to help you concentrate and stay balanced. Remember, call me if you want to, day or night. Or...or come to me...if you need to."

"Thanks, Giles."

****

More days came and went, Buffy avoiding the library as much as possible at Giles' suggestion. It did seem a little easier when she wasn't face to face with him. She went Slaying alone, venting her anger on the demons. Her mother showed no inclination to talk about the situation further, pretending that everything was back to normal in spite of subtle changes around the house. Whenever Buffy went out, her mother always pointedly asked where she was going, and often called to make sure she was actually there. More often than not, her mother made her stay home to study, and invited her friends over to their house, rather than letting Buffy go out. Hanging out at the Bronze was only allowed if she went with friends.

It got increasingly worse. She was not able to concentrate in class, in spite of help from Willow and Xander. Willow, in desperation, started doing some of Buffy's homework for her to keep her grades up. Willow and Giles had made a charm that Buffy now wore around her neck; a charged gold pendant with a small, blue fluorite crystal, but it helped mostly just to relieve pain and the most severe of the physical stress. The fever and desire didn't wane, and after three weeks even the herbal tea ceased to have any effect at all. Giles reluctantly instructed her to stop taking it, and asked Willow to assist her in a series of nightly meditations to help calm her. Willow reported that this, too, was increasingly fruitless.

One Saturday night, a simple conversation with her mother about schoolwork turned into a thunderous argument about school, Giles and her destiny as a Slayer.

"Do you want me to die, mom?" she screamed finally. "Is that what you want? Are you disappointed that you didn't have a normal daughter who excelled on the cheerleading squad and had smoochies with cute boys and whose biggest walk on the wild side was staying out too late at night at Denny's with her friends? Well guess what mom, I'm a vampire Slayer and I get to kill demons and stop the world from ending about every couple of months, oh happy fun! And you know what else? Slayers have Watchers, and we don't always get to pick what happens to us. That's us -- victims of fate, center stage! There's magic and bloodlines and all kinds of freaky destiny and karma stuff going on and only the Watchers get the scoop."

"Yeah, well we don't really know what all the Watchers are up to, do we?" Joyce said angrily. "I've heard about this Council they have over in England. Have you ever been there? Have you ever seen this Council? Who knows what they really are or what they want? All I know is that a forty-four-year-old man -- who to my knowledge has never had so much as a date with a woman since he moved here -- wants to have sex with a seventeen-year-old girl, and I don't have to be a genius to figure out that something's fishy in the state of Denmark."

"Mom, it's the other way around, jeez, aren't you even listening?"Buffy said furiously, desperate to express at least some of the pent-up rage and torment that the past month had been. "It's not he wants to have sex with me, it's I want to have sex with him. Is that too scary for you or something? That I want to make love to an older man? Hellooo, Earth to mom! Remember Angel? He's a vampire, mom -- he's two hundred and forty-three years old! When you found out about that you just went, 'oh, that's strange, but he seems like such a nice boy, and you just be careful honey.' Now I want to be with a guy who's two hundred years younger andyou're going completely freakazoid on me."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this anymore," Joyce said, her jaw clenched in determination and cold fury. "You're still grounded. Now go up to your room and study."

"But mom -- "

"I said go to your room!"

Something terrible seemed to close around Buffy's heart in that moment, like the only door of a room closing to trap her, then locking tight. She went upstairs, her mind racing, her body aching and hot, wanting only to feel her Watcher's body, to hear his voice.

She didn't make even a half-hearted attempt to study, instead flopping down onto her bed and turning the light off. She let herself cry, swallowing painfully and feeling hot tears slide down the sides of her face. It was not the first time she had done so in the past month. She looked out the window, gazing at the sliver-shaped moon and thinking incongruously about Oz and his lycanthropy.

Why did being a Slayer have to be so difficult? Normally, the Slayer's family never even knew about their daughter's destiny. But no, Buffy's mom had to find out. She had beat her mother over the head with the fact that she had the responsibility to protect the world from vampires, and yet it was no bed of roses for her, either. It wasn't so hard to believe that her mom couldn't deal with it, when Buffy herself experienced her own moments of doubt and resentment and denial.

It was Giles who had made that bearable, who had guided her and taught her to embrace her sacred calling, gave her the tools to pursue it. Now she needed that guidance again, needed his service. Her mother, of all people, was preventing her. It was confusing enough without her mother's intervention and disapproval, but she had done all she could to allow for her mother's fear.

She managed to sleep fitfully, the dreams coming to her fast and hard, filling her with sensual pleasure and love and warmth. The sweetness of her Watcher's skin against hers, the soft hunger in his voice as he spoke to her and laughed and whispered in her ear, drove even her dream self mad. She welcomed him, caressing his back, massaging his neck and shoulders, drinking in the smell and taste of him, and he made love to her slowly.

The sound of her own whimpering awakened her, and she gazed up at the darkened ceiling in feverish confusion for a moment before remembering -- again -- that it wasn't real, and that she was alone in her room, imprisoned in her own home. She rolled over and screamed into her pillow, clutching it to her body for a few seconds of complete hysteria, then threw herself out of bed and went to the bedroom door. She glanced at the clock. It was late, close to midnight, and she opened the door very quietly to check the hall. Her mother's bedroom light was out, and the house was still and dark.

That was enough. Buffy shut the door again silently, then grabbed her backpack out of the closet and packed a few days worth of clothes in it. She wasn't sure how long she would be gone...how long this conflict could go on...but she couldn't stay here anymore as a convict of her mother's denial and ignorance. She made sure she had everything she needed, then went to the window and slipped out.

****

It had been a month since that night in the cemetery, longer than Giles would have thought Buffy could possibly endure it. He had watched it take its toll on her, heard the strain and the despair in her voice in their conversations on the cel phones. Her Slaying was an outlet, but she was increasingly unfocused and there had been many near misses. Any longer and Giles was seriously considering taking matters into his own hands before she got killed.

But in the middle of the night, tonight, his doorbell rang, and he didn't have to look to see who it was before pulling the door wide. His Slayer stood on the porch, exhausted, feverish, a backpack slung over her shoulder bulging with clothes and other unknowable