__Control__
By Jolene Beasley
The library echoed with the sounds of young voices. Buffy sat at the reading table downstairs and called her good-byes to her friends as they walked away. Xander quipped, as he held one door open, "Maybe you ladies should walk me home, just to be sure I get there all safe and sound."
"Wouldn't that damage your fragile male ego?" Cordelia's voice carried easily in the large room.
"No way! Tonight I am Xander the Timid. Besides, that last vamp Buffy staked had to be 6'5"." He pointed at himself. *Timid*. Not stupid. How about an armed escort, Faith? I'll worship at your feet!"
His words drew an immediate chorus of comments from Willow, Faith, and Cordelia. The babble of voices was cut off by the closing doors.
Buffy looked around the empty room. She could hear Giles puttering around in his office, and the sound was oddly comforting. They hadn't been alone since the night the vampires attacked them at the school. Was that only three days ago? It seemed like ages. She thought about that night, the closeness of the Bond, and the electricity of their spell-induced attraction. How much of that rapport was real? Had the secondary spell really worn off, or was it just hiding, waiting to pounce on her when she least expected it? Maybe it was invading her dreams, and boy, had her dreams been... vivid... lately. She felt distinctly warmer, remembering.
She sighed loudly.
"What was that for?" She jumped as he appeared, out of nowhere, right beside her.
"Geez, Giles, what do you do, teleport from one place to another?" She scooted her chair back, stood and stepped away. 'Can't hide my thoughts when he's right there, in front of me. Can't hide my feelings...'
"Buffy." Giles spoke softly, kindly. "You're uncomfortable with me. Please, don't be."
She looked at her feet. She'd been having extremely erotic dreams about him for the past three nights. How could she say anything? How could she *not* say anything?
Thoroughly embarrassed, but knowing she had to find out, she looked up. "Well, uh, I was just wondering about, uh, how have you been sleeping lately?"
She attempted a casual smile. 'Way to bring up the subject without bringing up the subject, genius.' She thought to herself, then felt her defenses begin to melt as Giles' warm mental presence touched her mind, politely, as if requesting permission to enter. She responded instinctively, dropping her guard, and then tensed up again, too nervous and scared to relax.
He knew immediately what was wrong. Plain and strong, her emotions flashed to him through the Bond. After an awkward moment of realization, he spoke.
"You've been having some rather, well, ah... explicit dreams, haven't you?" He took off his glasses, looking closely at them as if they could tell him what to say next. He saw only his reflection. No help there. Ah, well. He put them on again.
"How did you know?" Buffy looked at him for the first time, studying his face, then snorted at her own density. "Duh. Bond. Uh, well, have you, I mean did you, were you having dreams, too? Wide-screen, Surround Sound, Technicolor ones? Complete with Feel-a-Vision?"
The expression of confusion and longing on her face nearly broke his heart. He wanted to hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her that it was all right, that everything was going to be fine... suddenly, he smiled, and then chuckled at her vivid, ultra-American TV generation references.
"Hey, I heard that! Ultra-American TV generation? Was that a cut?" She began to smile, despite her discomfiture.
He blushed slightly, realizing that she probably heard the thoughts just before that as well. 'Careful, old man. Control.'
"Yes, I have had dreams. And they were vivid. I think we need to talk about this, don't you?" Without waiting for her reply, he eased her back into her chair, touching only her elbow. His careful caution made her giggle. He dragged a chair up next to her, close, but not intruding on her personal space.
"You're being Caution Man, with the talking, aren't you?" She teased, enjoying the protective aura coming from him, despite her turmoil.
"Yes." He flashed a quick smile, then cleared his throat.
"Hasn't been much help, so far, has it?"
"Well, no, but then we, uhm, haven't really done that much talking, lately. We've barely said two words to each other in the past three days. It's quite distressing, actually." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the chair arms tiredly. "I f-feared you might be angry with me, or hurt by something I said or, or felt. All I knew for sure is that you were... closed off... I want you to know that you can tell me anything, *anything*. I'm always here... for you."
His words struck her heart like a crossbow bolt. 'How can I still doubt him? What's wrong with me, that I pull away from the person who means more to me than life...' She looked up at him. Really looked at him. His eyes were sparkling, as if from unshed tears. He looked so... "Giles, I..." She looked away, twisting her fingers together on the table top. "I don't think I've ever... had dreams like that before. No, I'm sure I'd remember." She smiled wanly, turning her face toward him again. "It's not that they weren't nice, and Wow-worthy, and everything, but then I have to come to school and face you, knowing what I was thinking the night before, and, we were just... I, I mean, dreaming, and it doesn't really mean anything, unless it does. Right?" She dropped her head to her arms with a thud, and in a muffled voice, murmured, "God, I am so *freaked*. I think I really am falling for you."
Even though he knew from the Bond how Buffy felt, hearing her say the words wreaked havoc on his heart and mind, leaving him slightly breathless and lightheaded. True to form, his thoughts turned introspective. 'What if this isn't real... just a residual effect from that bloody fool spell? And, more frightening than that, what if it isn't*? What then, old boy? A May-December romance, incognito meetings in dark bistros? What can you offer her but deceit and stigma worse than she's already borne?' His thoughts returned to the trembling girl... young woman... in front of him.
"Buffy... dearest... please listen. I fear the secondary spell has more... lingering effects than we were first led to believe. From the journals, I assumed that if the Watcher no longer wrote of the effect, then it had dissipated. I may have assumed wrongly." He tilted his head to one side, shifting to Watcher/research mode without a pause. "I need to do some concentrated research on the specific incidences and correlate their relative timetables to see if there is a predictable downward curve..." He stopped, noticing the glazed-over look in her eyes. "Sorry. Waxing statistical isn't what you want right now, is it?"
Her eyes snapped back into focus, gazing into his. "Very perceptive. You'll make a real guy, yet. Maybe one who speaks real English." 'Man, would I love to kiss you right now...'
His blush reminded her that the Bond was feeding their thoughts back and forth.
She reached her hand toward his face, fascinated by the flush just above his cheekbones. Her fingertips touched him, ever so lightly, caressing the reddened skin and causing the blush to deepen. He closed his eyes, basking in the slight contact, savoring her touch, giving in for just a moment. She moved closer, fully intending to act on her thoughts.
He took a shaky breath, and backed away. "We... should stop. I don't want to hurt you, but neither do I want to damage our Watcher/Slayer relationship by acting on emotions that might be artificially induced. I, I am quite attracted to you right now, but I fear this could only complicate things and could easily mask our true, unaltered feelings." The disappointment on her face made him want to take everything back, but he pressed on dutifully. "If we can hold out for just a little longer, until I'm convinced the secondary spell has been broken, or until I can break it definitively, then we'll have something tangible to discuss."
"You keep saying that, and I guess you're right." Buffy finally agreed, feeling heartsick and rejected, even though he didn't refuse her outright. She trusted him, not only with her life, but with her heart. She could only hope that this was real, that it would outlast any of Giles' doubts and stand up to his scrutiny. She couldn't imagine living without him, without his warmth.
She stood, preparing to leave. "'Course, if you find out this is the real deal, we're gonna do a lot more than discuss, I promise you." She blew him a kiss, spun around, and exited quickly, leaving a hot and very bothered man in her wake. The whoosh of a closing door and a low groan were the only sounds that echoed in the room.
Later that night...
***********
She stood in an unfamiliar room, lit only by candlelight. The windows stood open, revealing a perfect, moonlit night. Sheer drapes billowed in a soft breeze. In front of her, she could see a tall, graceful canopy bed. Curtains made of gauzy, translucent material draped the frame, partially obscuring the figure seated in front of her. She took a step closer, knowing who it was, but feeling a fluttering of anticipation from head to toe.
She raised a hand to move the curtain, and caught her own reflection in the dresser mirror. Her hair was done up in an elegant twist, with random wisps framing her face. And where on earth did she get that dress? Candlelight white, it was nearly as transparent as the gauze curtains. The skirt was cut high in front and long in back, and the neckline was low enough to exceed even her standards. It flowed around her in the breeze, held in place by the thinnest of ties, alternately hugging her curves, then hiding them. She was wearing long diamond drop earrings and a stunningly large diamond necklace. She felt like a queen.
She smiled and slid the curtain back, impatient to see the face of her dream lover. Her breath caught as she gazed into his remarkable green eyes, and her heart jumped when he smiled his quirky, shy smile. His hair, falling in artful disarray over his forehead, was longer than usual. It fell slightly over his collar, and her eyes followed the soft waves down his shoulders to his chest. His shirt seemed to be made of the same finely woven material as her dress, off-white, soft and clingy, the top two buttons undone, showing a few tantalizing curls of chest hair. He was wearing a thin, shining cut silver chain that sparkled in the flicker of candlelight. He stood, barefooted, and she gasped silently as she realized his trousers were made of the same revealing material. 'Oh, my god, he's so beautiful,' she thought. 'This has gotta be another one of those dreams, and looks like it's gonna be a good one!'
She stepped forward, one gliding step, closing the distance between them. His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. His breathing quickened, and she thought she saw a faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead. 'Since when do dreams sweat?' She wondered. 'Only in *my* dreams does sweat come into the picture.' Pushing her silly, distracting thoughts aside, she reached for him, aching to touch his chest, to caress him, to feel the material shift over his body. This was how it should be...
His arms came around her protectively. It seemed to her heightened senses that his hands produced electric sparks everywhere they touched. He stroked her back gently, and she reveled in his gentleness. Her thoughts turned inward again for a moment. 'There's gotta be a psychological basis for me putting us in all this gauzy stuff. Probably shows my need for serious analysis.'
'Perhaps our clothing was *my* idea.' She heard his thought clearly, and reacted with surprise.
'Reading my mind, again?'
He responded with a short half-laugh that was so much a part of him. 'The Bond is present, even in our dreams, isn't it, my sweet?' A shiver of pure pleasure ran up her spine. He bent his head toward her, and she almost whimpered in anticipation. 'I want you I want you I want you...' her mind kept repeating, and his mind replied, 'I know... I want you, just as desperately...' Finally, their lips met, and she sighed, relaxing into his embrace.
********
In her room, Buffy moaned in her sleep, snuggling against her pillow.
In his room, Giles groaned and rolled onto his back, hands moving restlessly against the bedclothes.
********
The combination of the silky material and the warmth of his skin encouraged and rewarded her touch. She had never enjoyed simply caressing someone like this before. As they kissed, she slid her small hands across his chest, up to his shoulders, up and down his arms, then back up to the soft hair touching his collar. His heat seemed to penetrate her skin, warming her to her very core.
Warm described him well. He kissed her gently, in no great hurry, pacing every move, savoring every nuance of sensation, trying to memorize her feel, her taste. He drew away, just slightly, unable to surpress a moan. She took that opportunity to lavish small kisses on his jaw, his chin, moving down to the soft
skin at his neck. Nuzzling and licking him, she tasted his salty perspiration on her tongue. He raised his chin in response, lost in the feeling. She pressed her lips against his pulsing vein, feeling his life coursing strongly through it there, and bit him, leaving a slight mark and eliciting a surprised cry of passion. Gasping, he tightened his grip on her, crushing her against him.
She felt powerful, invincible. The Bond sent their emotions bouncing from one to the other, feeding their desires, multiplying them twofold as they shared responses completely.
He felt as if he had stepped into a whirlwind. Caught up completely, he was unguarded. Defenseless. Rational thought fled, and passion took the helm, steering straight for the center of the storm. He swept her off her feet, holding her small frame against his chest, kissing her intensely, picking up the pace. She whispered his name. Not the formal, proper surname she used in public, but his first name, the one only those close to him used. He almost cried for joy. He took one step back, felt the bed against the back of his knees, and sat with her in his lap. She was crying, tears coursing down her cheeks, knowing in the far recesses of her mind that this dream could never be a reality. She broke the kiss, rubbing her nose against his jawbone, trying not to think about never... only about now.
He lifted her again, twisting and laying her on the coverlet. He kissed her forehead, stroked her hair, comforted her, soothed her. 'It's all right, love, I'm here. Please don't cry. I can't bear it.' His honest response touched her, and she smiled up at his worried face. Her hands tugged him toward her, wrapping around his waist, urging him closer. He settled against her, his elbows holding his weight. She fumbled with his shirt front, resisting the urge to rip the buttons off in her urgency to feel his skin against hers. With one hand, he stroked her cheek, wiping away tears with the backs of bent fingers. The other wandered down, sliding the strap of her gown off her shoulder. He followed its path with his lips, leaving a trail of tingles as he made his way downward. As she finished undoing the last button, the shirt came easily free of the trousers. Quickly, he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. The garment glided off his back with a single motion, sliding off the bed onto the floor. It barely registered when he used one hand under her head to lift her, supporting her as his other hand reached for the slender ribbon that held her covering in place. He untied it, then pushed it away. It joined the shirt on the floor. His trousers soon followed.
"Buffy." He spoke aloud for the first time. She slowly opened her eyes. His face close to hers, he barely had to make a sound to be heard. "Do you love me?" He said, wanting, *needing* to hear the words out loud.
She smiled, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek and into her hair. "Yes. Oh Yes. I love you, Rupert."
"I love you, dear Buffy. Accept my love." Without fear, they fell into the maelstrom, surrendering themselves to it, hearing its roar in their ears, its pounding in their hearts.
********
She arched her back violently as waves of pleasure took her. Her fingers clenched into fists, her face registering total bliss. She cried his name into her empty room.
He threw his head back, muscles straining with effort, and grabbed the comforter in ecstasy, moaning her name.
********
She snuggled against his chest, wrapped in his arms, basking in a heady feeling of afterglow. Still breathing heavily, she tried to speak, to think. Usually, the dreams would end before she... before they... well, they never ended the way she wanted them to end, that was for sure. She usually awoke, feeling unfulfilled and lonely. She raised her head to look at him, curious, but afraid to spoil the moment with hows and whys. He looked down tenderly, that quirky smile doing wonderful things to her insides. She caressed his bare chest, loving the feeling of the hair under her fingertips. He felt so good to her.
Suddenly, she sensed a darkness enter the room. She rolled to a crouch beside Giles, scanning the room. He rose to one elbow behind her, equally disquieted. Cold seeped into her bones, replacing the intoxicating warmth she felt just moments ago. The presence advanced, but she saw nothing. No one.
"What is it?" Giles felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
'*Serve me.*' An icy voice spoke, not aloud, but seemingly through the same Bond they shared.
"What... who... are you?" Giles found the courage to ask.
The voice grew louder. '*SERVE ME!*' Wind whipped around them, blowing out the candles. A dark cloud covered the moon, dousing all light, leaving them momentarily blind.
'*You use My Power, now payment must be rendered. Serve Me, or suffer the consequences*' A strangled cry of agony caused Buffy to turn quickly toward Giles. She shrieked in horror as she watched a small patch of blood appear over his heart, spreading quickly until she knew it had to be fatal.
"Giles! Ohmygod Rupert, No, NO, *NO*!" Life was quickly fading from his eyes, her hands were covered with his blood. She screamed at the top of her lungs "*NOOOOOO!*"
********
She screamed at the top of her lungs "NOOOOOO!" She continued screaming until Joyce's voice finally penetrated the fog of terror.
"Buffy! Buffy, it's all right, it's all right! Shhhh, honey, shhhhh, wake up now. It was a nightmare, only a dream. You're all right." Joyce hugged her daughter, rocking her, mentally cursing the calling that brought such dreams to Buffy's sleep. This wasn't the first time their night had been interrupted by Buffy's screams, but this one had Joyce worried.
Buffy's body was stiff and unresponsive, and terror shone out of her widened eyes. Slowly, she began to calm down, until finally she could speak coherently. Her first words took Joyce by surprise.
"I have to call... Giles, mom. I have to call right now and see if he's okay. I have to call him *now*." She reached for her extension phone by the bed, dialing frantically, cursing as she misdialed.
"Buffy, it's 3:30 am. Mr. Giles will be asleep. Well, he ought to be asleep. You can talk to him in the morning."
"No! NOW! I have to see if he's all right." She was so shaken she misdialed again. "Come on, come on, get it right." She instructed her fingers angrily.
"Buffy, what makes you think something's wrong with him? It was only a dream, honey. It doesn't mean anything."
Buffy raised her head to look at her mother, and Joyce had never seen such a haunted look. Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes as she spoke, the phone still in her hand. Her voice broke as she said softly, "Mom, sometimes a Slayer's dreams come true."
Finally, she dialed the number right. It rang only once before she heard him pick up.
"Giles! Giles, are you all right? Please be all right." She began to cry, shaking, barely able to hold the phone.
His velvet smooth voice washed over her, and at the edge of her subconscious she felt the slightest warm touch. "I'm all right, I'm fine. I was going to call *you*, but I didn't want to wake your mother. She'd have thought I was extremely presumptuous, calling at this hour." He's okay, she mouthed to Joyce, relief plain on her face.
"Don't worry, she's already awake. I scared ten years off her life screaming like a banshee."
Joyce smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Buffy's face. Buffy held the phone away long enough to say, "Mom, I'm all right now, really. You can go back to bed. Giles will talk some sense into me, eventually."
Joyce looked doubtful, still not fully trusting the strange man who had such control over her daughter. After a moment's pause, she nodded, and rose from the bed. "If you're sure, honey. But if you need me, I'm right across the hall, okay?"
"Okay, Mom. I'll holler if I need you, I promise." She smiled, trying her best to look fully recovered.
Joyce left the room, closing the door softly. Buffy waited until she heard her mother's door click shut, then spoke into the phone again. "Giles, did you dream the same thing I did? Was it realler than real, and was it so wonderful until it ended... with you dying in my arms?" Tears began to fall again, as the memory tore at her soul.
"Yes. Only it wasn't I who died. It was you." His voice quavered. "I... I don't think I'm going to sleep much the rest of the night."
"Giles, we have to find out what this thing is, the dark presence. It wants to kill us, and we don't even know why. I'm afraid to know why. I..." she stopped, emotion taking her voice away. "I... wish I could've woke up sooner... it was so perfect..."
"I know. I know." He soothed. "Somehow, the Bond has been corrupted by an evil force, an unknown entity. Perhaps it was invoked by Jonas Smith in casting the secondary spell... I'll have to see if I can find anything here tonight, and in the morning, I'll check the library at school." He tried to send her comforting thoughts.
"Is there anything I can do?" Buffy said, in a small, still frightened voice.
"Yes, there is. You can try to go back to sleep. I've... we've never had more than one dream per night, so I shouldn't think it will return to haunt you. You may need your rest, if this creature has the power to invade our dreams and lock us together in them. There are few evils left in this world old enough and powerful enough to do that."
"But, but, why hide it behind such Mega-sexy dreams?" 'Why give me *exactly* what I want,' she added to herself. "And why use a good thing, a blessing, like the Bond, to mess with us?"
Giles reached for his glasses and stared at his reflection in the dresser mirror. "Evil has always clothed itself in Light, Buffy. That is how it deceives us." He shook his head, trying to dispel the gloom lurking inside his head, behind his eyes. "Sleep well, and I'll see you in the morning." He didn't mention the red mark he saw on his neck, just where she had bitten him in the dream, but his pulse quickened at the sight.
He eased the phone back into its cradle, and turned to go downstairs, muttering to himself. "The Black Chronicles may have something to say... now where did I leave my copy? In the kitchen, I believe." Suddenly, he looked down at himself, becoming aware of the telltale condition of his nightclothes. "But first, I need to shower."
***
Buffy fretted all day, worrying herself into a frenzy by last bell. 'I'll just look in on him, see that he's okay, and *I'll* be okay.' She assured herself. The gang knew something was wrong, but knew better than to push the Slayer when she didn't want to be pushed. She sent them all home, mumbling some lame excuse about training, and walked along the rapidly emptying hall. She entered the library more quietly than her inner storm would have liked, and strode directly to his office.
"Giles?" She peered into the doorway at him, sitting hunched over yet another in a long line of dusty, portentous volumes. Books lay scattered around him, more casually placed that usual. He looked up at her with reddened, tired eyes, but smiled the instant their eyes met.
"Oh, good. You're here. I'm not going to be of much use to you, I'm afraid. I've been..." He pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, squinting his eyes tightly closed. "I've researched everything I can find, and as near as I can deduce, this entity has no name, no written history, no description, not a word."
"Maybe it's the devil." She said, moving to lay a hand on his shoulder. She felt the tension under her hands, and positioned herself behind him, massaging the rock-hard muscles, trying to give him some relief from the long research jag he'd been on. "You know, Satan? Like in the Bible? He's always looking to steal souls, isn't he? I don't remember much from Sunday School, but I remember that. Maybe bagging a Watcher and a Slayer means big machismo in the underworld."
He moaned as she found a particularly sore spot. "That would... certainly fi- ooohhhhh, fit in with what we know so, so far. Good Lord, that feels good." He moved his head in a circle, working more kinks out of his neck. "I can't imagine wh-why... the Prince of Darkness... would decide to... aaahhhhhhhh, there, right there, that's lovely... uhm, to pay a personal visit... to Sunnydale, Hellmouth or no..." The sentence ended with a deep groan of pleasure.
She continued her ministrations, feeling a happy glow coming from him as he began to relax. She used every technique she could remember... fingers and palms warming his skin all the way to the bone. He undid the top button of his oxford shirt, loosening his tie slightly. He took his glasses off and laid them on the open book in front of him. 'Just a little more, a little longer, and I will feel fine...' he told himself. He rested his head backwards against her stomach.
'Magical... she has magical hands...'
She ran one hand down his spine as the other caressed his forehead. He arched his back, allowing her to move farther down. "You really need to lie down for me to do this right." She said softly, close to his ear.
"I don't think I can move." He said, sheepishly.
"Here, let me help you." She took his arm, supporting him strongly. His legs were like rubber. He stumbled over his own feet, falling to his knees on the throw rug beside the desk. He lay down on his stomach, arms crossed under his cheek, feeling her smile rather than seeing it. He became lost in the sensation of her touch, hearing her hum softly as she worked him over. After long minutes of quiet bliss, she finally stopped, satisfied that he was as relaxed as he would ever be.
She sat back on her heels, running her fingers through his hair, letting him come to his senses at his own pace. "You can return the favor later."
He mumbled something unintelligible, and sighed deeply.
"Hmmm? Did you say something?" She teased him gently, ruffling his hair.
His voice still muffled, he tried again. "Uhm, we, we were discussing the devil, I believe."
"We were?"
"Ah, I think I need to get back up and continue my research."
"Want me to help?"
"No, no, I'll be fine." He was sure he wouldn't get any research done, if she stayed now. "Why don't we eat somewhere tonight, after you patrol, and we can talk then." A public place might be safer, less likely to lead to other things, things he wasn't sure he could - or would want to - avoid.
"It's Friday night. What if the Scooby Gang finds us together? They might get the wrong idea, think we're on a date or something." 'A date with Giles....' She thought, happily, not caring if he heard.
"Then we need to go out of town, somewhere the usual crowd doesn't go. How about Cherve's? I doubt Xander has the financial means to go there, and I doubt seriously that Cordelia would buy." Giles was beginning to sound more lucid by the moment.
"Wow, that's... I mean, I've never been there. That's great, just great. Meet you there? Or at your place?"
"Your choice."
"I'll let you know. Maybe I can talk Mom into lettin' me borrow the Jeep. You're car is kinda easy to spot."
"I'll talk to you after patrol, then." He began to stir, pushing himself to his hands and knees, then sat up with a mighty sigh. "I'll get back to my job, and leave you to yours."
Buffy dashed around her room like a human cyclone, trying to get ready for her meeting, dare she say, date? with Giles. Black dress? Nah, too dressy. Red? Too modest. She eliminated them, one by one. Too short, too long, too... little girlie, too whatever. Finally, she went with her first choice, the little black dress with modest neckline and plunging, criss-crossed back. Satisfied, she checked her image for flaws.
She heard the front door slam closed, and hollered down, "Mom! Hey, Mom, can I borrow the car for a few hours?"
Joyce stopped halfway up the stairs. "And good evening to you, young lady. My day was fine, how was yours?"
"Sorry, Mom. Hi." Buffy met her before she reached the top, and kissed her cheek sweetly. "Can I borrow the car, just for a few hours?"
"Where are you going, if I may ask? You don't need a car to go to the Bronze, unless you're trying to impress people with your Mom's not-so-cool wheels."
"Uh, well, there's this new place we wanted to try out, and it's just out of town, actually, it's in a really good, safe part of another town, and it's all ages, and the gang wanted to meet there, and I'm the only one without wheels tonight, and so, I need to borrow the car *pleeeeeeese*?"
Joyce looked as though she was considering it, then her face answered before she did. "Honey, I really don't want you driving alone this late, even to meet your friends. It's just too dangerous, and you haven't been driving that long. I just don't think it's a good idea."
Buffy's face fell. "But, Mom, I really wanted to go this time. Usually, I could care less, but tonight was gonna be different."
Joyce took in Buffy's clothes and decided she had definitely made the right decision. "Buffy, I know you're probably going to meet a very nice boy, and you want to impress him, but no. Call Willow, and ride with her. Or Xander. But not by yourself, no way. I'm sorry, that's final."
"Okay, okay, I get the message. I need to get off my duff, get a job, and buy my own car, instead of wrecking yours. I get it. Hey, I'll start looking tomorrow."
She turned deliberately, stomping back up toward her room. "Maybe I should get my own place, so you won't have to do my laundry."
"Buffy! Don't use that tone of voice with me. I wrote the book on guilt trips, and you're not even close. But if you can save up a down payment, get a car, make the payments, put gas in it, get it repaired, and keep insurance on it, then go on, knock yourself out. How far would you get on minimum wage? Until you graduate from college, that's about all you can hope to make!" Joyce was beginning to get angry, now.
Buffy knew she had lost, and did the only thing she could think of, under the circumstances. She grabbed her purse, went down the stairs past her mother, opened the front door, turned and yelled, "Fine! No problem! I'll just *walk* to the next town. I'll be a real beauty by the time I get there. Don't wait up, either. It'll take me a while to get back!"
Slamming the door behind her, Buffy stomped out of the house, and headed directly to Giles' apartment on foot, fuming.
Giles was just about half way through shaving, when he heard Buffy come banging in, complaining at the top of her lungs about her mother's major 'tude. He appeared at the top of the stairs, half shaven, sleeves rolled up, suspenders hanging down, hair and face damp. "Buffy, you're early."
She began pacing, waving her hands dramatically, giving him a blow-by-blow description of her mother's stubbornness, until she reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked up at him.
Something snapped in Buffy's heart the minute she looked at him. He was adorably disheveled, and his glasses were absent. His face was the very picture of care and concern. She felt a rush of heat and longing, and the realization hit her, 'this isn't a passing thing, baby, it's real!' She reached behind her, finding the back of the couch. Still gazing at him, she blindly following its contour around, and sat down, smitten and shaken.
The change in her demeanor was dramatic and worrisome. "Don't move. I'll be right down." He dashed back to the bathroom, and rushed to finish shaving, nicking his neck in the process. With a quick, cursory glance in the mirror, he threw a tie around his neck, grabbed his jacket and glasses, and started downstairs, pulling his suspenders back up as he descended.
Giles moved to her side, trying to ascertain what had caused such a change in her when she saw him. She looked down, not wanting to give herself away. She was closed to him, her strong concentration clouding the link between them. Not knowing what to do, he reverted to form once again. "C-can I get you a cup of tea? Then we'll talk, all right?"
She nodded, her head still bent. He quickly poured her a cup, having just made some for himself, and sat again beside her, searching his mind frantically for words to put her at ease. He placed the cup gently in her hands, then covered them with his. Warm concern vibrated off of him, surrounding her. She took a small sip of tea, just to be nice (she really didn't care too much for Earl Grey) and looked up from the cup with the tiniest of smiles. He slid his arm behind her on the couch and leaned toward her, his manner radiating intense interest in her well-being. Her gaze finally lifted to his chest, traveling upward toward his face. It was then she noticed the cut on his neck, bleeding freely, forgotten.
"Oh, you've cut yourself. It's my fault, I'm sorry." She touched it gently.
"It's nothing." He reassured her, not wanting to distract from the problem at hand.
She took her napkin and blotted the blood. It began to bleed again, and without thought, she leaned into him and licked the blood away. The memory of last night's dream sprang into their minds simultaneously, the Bond reasserting itself at the contact, encouraging the release of pent-up emotions they were both trying to conceal. She continued to kiss and nibble his neck, and he couldn't think, couldn't reason, nothing existed but the woman beside him and her breath on his neck.
Without a word he pulled her into his lap and began kissing her, ravishing her mouth, invading it, encouraging her to invade his. He slid slowly over her, laying her down on the seat cushions, his back against the couch. He lifted his feet onto the couch, bent his knees slightly, and draped her legs over his thighs, making her comfortable. He continued kissing and caressing her lips, eliciting soft moans of appreciation from her. One hand touched her face tenderly.
She felt as if her heart would burst. She wanted him so badly, she knew it was real, it was right, it was meant to be. She was perfectly willing at that moment to continue paralleling their mutual dream, making it a reality. Her hands slid around his back, then his shoulders, sliding the suspenders off, getting them out of the way. She pulled the tie out from under his collar, and dropped it on the floor. She began working on his shirt buttons, aching for skin to skin contact.
His hands worked their way around from the back of her dress to the front, seeking for a way to remove it. When he didn't find it, he contented himself with exploring her body, fondling her softness, causing the volume of her moans to increase dramatically. He slid a hand slowly up her thigh, then under her skirt, and stroked her lightly. She arched against him, crying out, and suddenly a tiny glimmer of responsibility penetrated the dark fog of passion in his brain. 'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, you idiot? This is quickly approaching *statutory rape!*'
He sat up quickly, gasping, horrified at himself. Sliding her legs off his lap, he stood, turning his back on her to hide his obvious arousal. He raised shaking hands to his face. "God, my god, what was I thinking? Buffy... oh, god, please forgive me. I never meant..." He felt like crying.
She stood, stepped up to him and circled his waist with her arms. "Hey, hey, it's not your fault, it's mine. I'm the one with the crazy idea that I'm in love with you. You're so sweet, you'd do anything for me, and I guess I know how far you'd go to give me what I want. I'm just a pervert, and I'm probably corrupting you something fierce." She rubbed her cheek against his back tenderly. A sudden insight struck her mind. "I always want what I can't have, don't I?"
"What did you say?" He turned, loosing himself from her grasp. "What was it you just said?"
"I said I always want what I can't have..."
"That's *it*! That must be it! Something I read..." Research mode clicked into place. "About tempting the strongest of the strong with the desires of their heart... that's it, I'm sure of it, give me a moment to find it, and we'll see..."
He scanned the room, looking for the volume in question, and Buffy's heart sank, though she knew it was best to back away. She went back to the couch and sat, demurely, waiting for the light to dawn.
He looked up from the book in his hand, seeing her sitting there, small and forlorn. He had been reading for nearly a half hour. A pang of guilt led him to put the book down, pages open, and go to her side.
"Uhm. We were going out tonight, weren't we?" He said, not sure if she wanted anything further to do with him. He picked up his tie, wrapping it around his neck and tying it quickly, and donned his jacket.
"You don't have to. It's okay."
"Well, I've made reservations for nine, if you're still interested."
A look of hope spread across her face. "Very interested. Very *starving*, actually." She reached up and straightened his tie. "Besides, you look so *yummy* in that suit, it'd be a shame not to show you off."
He blushed once more. He didn't have to tell her what he thought of her clothing... his eyes spoke for him. "Uhm, thank you. Let's go, then. I can read while you drive." He picked up the book, grabbed a portable map light from the table, and held his elbow out to her. "Shall we?"
"Read my mind."
He laughed heartily, and they exited together.
"See, I told you I was a good driver." She eased the protesting vehicle into a spot not too close to the front of the restaurant. "Safe and sound, guaranteed, or your money back."
Giles chuckled nervously. "I think I'll drive home, just the same, if you don't mind."
"Suit yourself." She started to open the door, and he leaned over her, holding it shut.
"What?" She said, not comprehending.
"Wait right there." He got out, came around, and opened her door for her, offering her his hand. "This is the proper way for a lady to exit a car."
She took his hand and almost giggled. 'Grow up,' she told herself sternly. Buffy quickly became aware that Giles was giving her a healthy dose of old-fashioned English charm. He held doors for her, handled the maitre'd like one born of royalty, and seated her solicitously. He discussed the menu with her, laughing quietly at her jokes about French words, and ordered for them both without batting an eye at the cost. After she begged him, he even allowed her the merest sip of white wine, and chuckled when she made a face. If she wasn't head over heels in love with the man when the evening began, she surely was now.
He was totally focused on her, and for the second time in two days, she felt like royalty.The waiter, knowing a connoisseur when he saw one, made sure Giles did not wait or want for anything.The meal was exquisite, and the conversation lingered over simple things, leaving demons, curses, and botched spells for later. If anyone else in the place thought their closeness amiss due to their age difference, those anyones certainly kept that to themselves. After all, this was a proper place. No gawking allowed.Much later, full and content, they exited the restaurant and walked slowly toward his car. She leaned her head against his arm. 'If only it could be this way forever. I would never be lonely again...'
He looked down at his charge, basking in her happiness. 'If only she could be this happy forever... I would give anything if she never had to put herself in danger again as long as she lived....'
They were no more than halfway home, when Buffy was wakened from her light doze by Giles' strangled curse. He swerved suddenly, nearly sending the car into a spin, and ran off the road. As they skidded to a halt astride a small ditch, he jumped out of the car, searching the road for signs of the obstacle he was sure he had seen.
"What was it, Giles? A dog? A deer?"
"No, not an animal, at least not any animal I've ever seen before. I can't believe I missed it... it was right here in the middle of the road." He walked back and forth, unconvinced by his own eyes.
"Where are we?"
"About two miles out of town."
"Are we walking? Cause these shoes are startin' to hurt my feet."
"No, I think the car's all right. Strange, I could have sworn..."
"Uh, Giles."
"Hmm?"
Her voice held fear in it. "I think what you were looking for just found us."
Behind him, a huge darkness rose, quickly blocking out the moon and stars.
He turned, facing the thing he most dreaded... the thing that could destroy his Slayer... and take his sole reason for living away from him.
She trembled behind him, recognizing that she could lose her Watcher this very night, and never feel his arms around her again.
Time stood still.
*******
Buffy looked around at the candlelit room from her dreams, confused, but determined. Whatever this thing was, it wanted something from her and Giles. That meant they had the upper hand. And it had separated them. That meant together they were too much for it! She braced herself, hoping she could be as strong of will as Giles had proved to be. She knew, wherever he was, he was doing the right thing.
The shadow loomed over her, laughing at her. "*Serve me.*" It crooned, then laughed again.
"I don't *think* so, you overgrown oil spill. Now get outta my way!"
"*I know your heart's desire, Slayer. Your fondest wish. What is it worth, to have everything you've ever wanted?*"
"Well, I have two dollars in my purse..."
The entity roared at her, causing her to recoil slightly.
"So, you have no sense of humor. Not My Fault."
"*Shall I show you what refusing me will cost you?*" She whirled into a defensive gesture as a sparkling fog swirled around her, coming to rest beside her on the bedstead. Horror once again gripped her heart as her Watcher appeared, bleeding and dying, a freakish replay of her last dream. She couldn't help crying out.
"You scuzball, I've had it with your crappy magic show. This isn't real!" She turned deliberately away from the gruesome sight.
"*It will be, if you do not listen to me. I can grant your heart's desire, what you want more than anything else: To be loved unconditionally, and to love without consequence or reprisal, without pain or fear, without sacrificing others you also care for. What would your life be like, if you shared that kind of love? Paradise, Human. I am offering you Paradise!*"
Buffy's hands dropped slightly as she realized what was being offered her. Her father had left her. The child in her would never understand that. What she felt with Angel had seemed so perfect, so right, until that love betrayed her, wounding and scarring her. Her mother was terrified because of her. Because of her, people she cared about had died. Even Giles had died a little, inside. He was the only person who never turned his back on her and never judged her, no matter how she hurt him, and she wanted so much to make it up to him. He was always there for her... she felt so safe with him... What would her life be like if she *could* have what she wanted?
She shook her head. "And, for all this wonderfulness, I suppose all you want is my soul, right? Well, No Sale. You can't afford me."
She tried to send her thoughts to her Watcher, hoping he could hear... 'Giles, hurry up, Giles, let's kick this demon's butt back to whatever Hellmouth he crawled out of...'
"*You DARE use the powers I gave you to fight me? You will pay, Human, and payment must be made in full!*"
"Yeah, yeah, you said that last night. You *claim* this power came from you. If you're so powerful, why do I have a choice?" She waited for a lightning bolt to strike her. When none came, she began to smile in triumph. "In spite of all your Rent-A-Dream tricks, you can't really *make* me do anything, can you? Well, the Temptation Hour is over. The answer is NO! C'mon, give me your best shot, 'Tall, Dark, and Ugly', I'm waiting!" She fell back into a fighting stance again.
Giles looked around, disoriented. He was back in the dream, in the fantasy bedroom. He peered around the room, reaching up to adjust his glasses. They were gone. He looked down at himself... he was wearing the semi-transparent garments from the night before. Buffy was nowhere to be seen. 'It's using the old 'divide-and-conquer' gambit. Looks like this is the last stand.'
"I'm ready for you, you blackguard. Come on, show yourself!" He challenged, looking around him.
A sinister chuckle came from all around him.
"I can wait all night, if necessary. Your choice." He winced, inwardly, at his own words, but stood firm. His mind turned to searching the Bond for her presence, feeling the briefest of contact before the creature spoke again.
"*And what will happen to your precious Slayer while you wait, mortal?*" The cold voice challenged his bravado. A swirl of mist appeared beside him, moving over to the canopy bed, coalescing into Buffy's small form. His heart almost stopped as he viewed the scene from the previous night... she was still, eyes fixed, dead from a horrible wound over her heart.
A sudden insight struck him, a combination of information from the various sources he had studied over the past 24 hours.
"It's not real... you're not real. You can't touch us anywhere but in our minds. You haven't the power! You're a minion, a demon, with a fat bag of tricks, but I've found you out. You let that fool Jonas Smith record your name, Temptation! And now I can send you back to Hell where you belong!" Giles began reciting from memory the ancient words he had read in the car, the formula for banishing a demon from this world... 'Thank Heaven for map lights', he thought briefly, and his voice rose against the demon's roaring.
"*Wait! WAIT! Human, wait! What about your heart's desire? I can give it to you! I have the power to grant it! Wait!"* The entity sounded almost plaintive.
Giles stopped, curiosity getting the better of his good judgment. "What could you possibly offer me that I don't already have?"
"*The Power. The power to protect Her. To shield Her from any evil, any creature, as long as she lives on this Earth. I can give this to you! Think of it, Human! For the rest of her natural life, she would never fear again, never bleed again, never cry over lost love again. You could be her everything... Father, Protector, Lover, Companion and Friend. What is that Power worth to you? What would you give in exchange for it?*" The voice changed to a purring whisper. "*All I ask is that you surrender your soul to me. A worthy exchange, a noble gesture, a grand sacrifice... and one that only you can make.*"
Giles hesitated but a moment before he spoke. "It would be a worthy exchange, indeed. However, you make one vital mistake. My soul is not mine to give." He began to chant again, eyes tightly closed, ignoring the protests that grew in volume until he thought his eardrums would burst. He completed the first couplet, binding the spirit, imprisoning it. He couldn't resist one last verbal barb, saying, "You didn't take into consideration that I gave my soul away, years ago. I gave it to a child I had never seen, and might well have never seen. If I took my soul back, if I betrayed her trust, I would never fulfill my heart's desire: to set her welfare above my own. To protect her and teach her as best I can to do good, to fight evil, to love the light instead of the darkness. A man without a soul can do none of these things."
The demon screamed at him, "You have killed Her, Fool! As surely as if by your own hand! She will die, and you will be powerless to stop it!" Giles continued his incantation, gritting his teeth, one tear running down his face as he let go of what he wanted, but knew he could not have, and embraced what must be.
********
Giles' feet were cold. He looked down, dazed, and saw that he was standing in ankle-deep water. Behind him, he heard a small voice cry, "My shoes are *ruined*... there goes my allowance for the next two months!"
He turned in relief, realizing they'd won somehow. Grabbing her hand, he squelched over to the shoulder of the road, shaking as much water as he could from his pants legs. They stopped and looked at each other, not sure what to say.
An intense ray of light appeared beside them. They started in surprise, then Buffy rolled her eyes and groaned, "What *NOW*... UFOs?"
Where the light had been there stood an ordinary looking man, dressed in casual, light-colored clothing. He smiled slightly, and said, "Sorry for the dramatic entrance. I wanted to get here in a hurry, before you drove away. Landing in a car isn't as easy as TV makes it look."
Giles took the lead now. "Exactly why were you in such a hurry? And what do you want with us? If you'll forgive me, we've had rather a trying night, and we're both tired. Please dispense with the riddles, tell us what it is you want, and let us be on our way."
Buffy nodded, then added, "And hurry up... my feet are cold."
The man chuckled at their impatience. "No riddles, no jokes, and no wasting your valuable time, I promise. I'm just here to make sure you understand."
"Understand what, exactly?" Giles pushed his glasses firmly against his face, looking stern.
"What it is you are experiencing. This whole thing would never have happened, if one of Your Kind hadn't tried to alter The Plan. You see, the Blessing was destined to be handed down to Your Kind, as an aid in battling Darkness. It's power came from Good, from God, if you will. But the unsatisfied Watcher tried to improve on the original concept. Instead of improving it, he allowed our friend Temptation to dictate his actions. When you toy with Temptation, he soon owns you."
Giles nodded as the man spoke. "I see. But Temptation has no power unless you give it to him. Am I right?"
The man nodded approvingly. "As you both have proven. I am also here to give you a choice: Do you wish to remember? Or do you wish to forget?"
The Watcher and the Slayer looked at each other. Buffy was the first to speak.
"I choose remembering. Sure, it makes things harder, for a while. But I need to remember this. How am I gonna learn anything from this if I don't?" She looked at Giles, searching his face for confirmation. "Can you even forgive me, after me being so... after you like I was?"
His smile was gentle, and touched with irony. "I'm afraid I behaved rather badly, myself. It wasn't all you. And I forgive you, if you can forgive me. I, too, choose to remember."
"I forgive you, Giles. So, we're all forgiven! Can we go home now?"
The man laughed. "Yes. You can both go home now. Remember one thing, though. The Bond gives you strength, but it also opens your minds. There are Dark powers that welcome that kind of opening. You must guard your minds and your thoughts. Together, you can handle anything the Opposition throws at you." The man took one step backwards, and disappeared.
As they started back toward the car, Giles could tell that Buffy was bursting to ask a question.
"Was that an Angel?" She looked up at him expectantly.
"I don't know. Perhaps."
"Giles?"
"Yes?"
What if the age of consent in California was 17 instead of 18? Uh, would it have made any difference, you know, back in the apartment?"
He never stopped walking, but his voice was full of shock. "Absolutely *not!*"
Buffy smiled to herself. 'Yeah, right.'
Epilogue
"...And then Mom had a *breakdown* when she saw my shoes..." Buffy rolled her eyes, looking over at the tall figure walking quietly beside her toward the school building. "I TOLD her I was going to be walking, but she didn't even remember... Then I told her you drove past and picked me up and gave me a ride home, and I told her you even scolded me about my being out late at night, an' all that, and she said, "Good for Mr. Giles! Maybe he can convince you to behave, I'm not having much luck in that area!" Or something hokey like that and... Uh, hi, Will, Xander, Cordy. What's up?"
Giles, smiling slightly, looked at his watch, nodded at Buffy, and walked on. Xander bounced on his toes, anxious to speak. "So, Buffy! Where were *you* last night? We had a real not-good time at the Bronze, and you weren't there to applaud my clever slams about the so-called band they had..."
Cordelia looked away from her compact long enough to remark, "I saw her coming out of Cherve's last night with a tall dark stranger."
"What?!!!!" Buffy looked startled, then worried. "You didn't see who I was with?"
"Nope. Couldn't tell. Of course, that hideous dress you were wearing was glowing in the dark, so I couldn't miss *you*."
"Sorry to have offended your eyes, Cordy."
Willow grabbed Buffy's arm, stopping her in her tracks. "You had a DATE? You had a DATE, and you didn't tell me?"
"It wasn't a *date*, date, Will. Sorta came up at the last minute." Buffy was thinking frantically. 'How much can I not tell, and get by with it?' She paused to get her breath and gather her wits.
Xander tried not to look too jealous. "A date is a date, Buffy, and you know it. So, tell all! We live vicariously through you!"
Willow nodded vigorously. "What he said. We need a little vicarious excitement every now and then."
Buffy laughed and looked at Willow with an incredulous grin. "This from the girl whose boyfriend is a Werewolf?"
Willow put on her 'resolve face' and after a few seconds, Buffy sighed in defeat. She raised her hands in surrender."All right! All right! Just don't look at me like that, okay?"
They all sat quickly on the nearest empty bench, eager to hear the story. Buffy took a deep breath, and mentally crossed her fingers. Placing her hands on her knees, she began, "Okay, you know I was really bummed yesterday, right?" The trio nodded vigorously. "So, I sorta needed cheering up, and Giles sorta... decided to do the cheering thing, and so, he, he took me to Cherve's to eat and even let me drive his car there."
Willow's eyes grew round. He mouth flew open, but no sound came out. Xander looked flabbergasted.
Cordelia continued to apply her lipstick, undaunted.
Buffy winced slightly at Willow's expression, but continued, "And then we bagged a really big ugly demon on the way home, and I got my new black suede shoes all muddy, and then he drove me home. End of story. Boy, did Mom freak when she saw my shoes!" She stopped, waiting for their reactions.
Willow tried once again to speak, and finally managed. "You, you went out with GILES?"
Xander wrinkled his nose up in distaste. "You went in HIS car?" He shivered violently.
Cordelia seemed to wake up to the conversation, and a look of horror crossed her face. "You ate at Cherve's? You actually went IN? BOTH of you? At the SAME TIME?" She leaned closer to Buffy, fixing steely eyes on the Slayer's face, and hissed, "You didn't tell them you knew me, did you?" She sat back again, her expression forlorn. "I'll never be able to go back there again..."
The Slayerettes sat in stunned silence. Buffy fidgeted nervously, hoping the worst was over. Boy, was Giles gonna be mad at her for caving in. He'd never hear the end of it, and neither would she!
A new thought struck Willow, and she looked at Buffy in fear. "You DROVE Giles' car? He actually LET YOU *DRIVE*?"
* * *