Giles carefully placed the tea tray on the table. He sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea and settling back into his armchair with a contented sigh. A good cup of tea is the perfect start to the day, he thought, taking a sip and smiling in appreciation. He giggled slightly as he remembered his last trip to England. Upon his return to the States, Customs had been convinced he was a major drugs baron when they had opened one of his suitcases to find it full of packets of tea and jars of Bovril. They had dismissed Giles’ explanation of the difference in taste between various brands of tea and locked him up whilst they tested the contents of the packets and jars. A couple of hours later he had been free to go, accompanied by a few strange looks and the occasional giggle. The Scoobies had found the whole thing pricelessly funny and Xander still cracked jokes about "The phantom tea smuggler of olde London town." I hope they all have a good Christmas, he thought, they certainly deserve it. Christmas, he thought with a sigh, I hate Christmas. Too many … bad memories associated with Christmas. Don’t go there, Giles, he admonished himself, you've got plenty of time to get all maudlin and depressed tomorrow. Giles took another sip of tea and closed his eyes, relishing the sudden heat in his mouth and throat, the tea dancing over his tastebuds and the relaxing, soothing effect it always had upon him. Life always seems better when you’re drinking a cup of tea. The front door was suddenly flung open and Giles jumped in surprise, spilling his tea on his shirt.

"Ow!" He yelled, springing to his feet. "Bloody hell!"

"Giles, I’m so sorry," Buffy grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen and ran to Giles, wiping his shirt. Her movements slowed as she realised that, in places, his shirt was now almost transparent. Giles cleared his throat nervously and then frowned at Buffy.

"Buffy …what on Earth are you doing here?"

Buffy took a step backwards, grinning up at him impishly.

"I realised that I wanted to spend Christmas in Sunnydale … not in LA."

"I … I see," he replied. "And Dawn?"

"Gone with Dad," she said cheerfully, sitting on the couch and curling her legs underneath her. Giles sighed and sat down next to her, glancing ruefully at the now empty cup on the table. Buffy took a deep breath, mentally composing herself, before glancing up at Giles with a smile.

"I want to ask you something," she said softly.

"Yes?" Asked Giles tentatively, convinced that the twinkle in her eyes meant trouble for him.

"Would you … would you spend Christmas with me? At my place … just the two of us?" She finished softly. Giles gazed at Buffy in surprise, wondering for a brief moment whether or not she was serious. There was a look in her eyes he had never seen before and was totally unable to interpret. The words, ‘just the two of us’ echoed through his mind. She doesn’t mean what I think she means, does she? Oh, bloody hell, he thought, what if I’ve got it wrong? This could be the best Christmas of my life or a complete, unmitigated disaster. No, he thought, let Buffy make the moves … if she wants to … she certainly seems to have something planned. I’ll just go along with whatever she wants … as usual.

"Giles?" Buffy’s soft and uncertain voice broke into his thoughts. Giles grinned at her.

"I can think of nowhere I’d rather be," he replied. Oh what the hell, he thought, in for a penny … "And no-one I’d rather be with."

Buffy’s face lit up and she sprang to her feet, practically dragging Giles off the couch. She propelled him towards the stairs.

"Go and change your shirt and pack a bag."

"Pack a bag?"

"Well, d’uh!" Buffy replied with a grin. "You’re staying at my place tonight and tomorrow night."

"Okay," Giles swallowed nervously, banishing some rather intriguing thoughts to the back of his mind. He turned, frowning down at Buffy. "What’s the rush?"

"We’re going shopping." Buffy giggled at the aghast and horrified expression that Giles completely failed to disguise. "I just need to pick up a few things … it’ll be almost painless, I promise you."

Giles rolled his eyes dramatically. "When have you ever stopped at just a few things?"

Buffy pointed at the stairs, struggling to keep a serious expression on her face.

"Go."

Giles shrugged, resigning himself to his fate. He walked slowly up the stairs, leaden footed and with the air of a man being led to the executioners block. He grinned as he heard Buffy’s giggles. He loved hearing her giggle and laugh; he’d always considered it to be one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. Giles stripped off his shirt as he entered his bedroom, tossing it casually to one side. He glanced down at himself, sighing at the slightly sticky feeling of the tea on his chest. I need another shower, he thought, moving across to the wardrobe and dramatically flinging it open, but first I need something … casual to wear. His eyes quickly skipped past the suits, focusing more towards the back of the wardrobe. He pulled out a jet-black shirt and grinned. That’ll do. Black shirt and black jeans, he thought, and finish it off with … oh, yes, I’ve got the very thing. The smile slipped from his face suddenly. What am I doing? Being myself or trying to impress Buffy? Maybe a bit of both, he admitted. He groaned, sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. God, he thought, I haven’t been this nervous in years. What if I’m wrong? What if she just wants some company? No, there’s more to it than that. Giles remembered the look he’d seen in Buffy’s eyes earlier. He still had no idea what it meant but for some reason he felt a surge of hope run through him. Sighing, Giles stood and headed for the bathroom. Could I have a Christmas without … without it all piling in on me again? Whatever it takes, he thought, whatever I have to do, Buffy will have a Christmas to remember.

Buffy quickly and efficiently cleared the tea tray, washing up the cup and teapot and replacing them in the cupboard. She shook her head, grinning at the array of teapots lined up in height order. A thought struck her and she frowned. Do I have enough of Giles’ tea at home? Of course you have, she thought, now stop panicking. Buffy sighed, aware of how her heart was thudding and briefly wondering if Giles could hear it upstairs. She prowled around, unable to stay still, returning to the lounge and pacing up and down. She glanced towards the small, decorated Christmas tree in the corner and smiled slightly. Giles had finally bowed to pressure and bought a few of what Buffy considered "necessary" decorations whereas Giles had always protested that it was "bowing to the increased commercialisation of the season." The gang had kept on at him until Giles had snarled at them and only bought the bare minimum to shut them all up. What is it about him and Christmas? She frowned, remembering past Christmases. What would you know about it, Buffy? You never asked, never bothered with Giles at Christmas. A twinkle of light suddenly caught her eye, interrupting her thoughts and she frowned, moving around the couch. Buffy grinned suddenly as she saw Giles’ hole punch sitting on the side table, tinsel intertwined around its handle. Awww, isn’t that sweet? I don’t believe he’s still got this old thing, she thought, remembering with a stab of pain all the time they’d spent in the Library. She’d always felt safe there, even after the whole Master business. I now know why, she thought, briefly running her fingertips over the hole punch. The Library was always Giles’ place and she’d always felt safe with Giles.

"I didn’t know you still had this," said Buffy as she heard Giles descend the stairs.

"I couldn’t leave it in the Library," replied Giles, dropping his bag on the floor.

Buffy grinned, not turning around, her attention still on the hole punch.

"What was it about this hole punch?"

Giles moved behind Buffy. "I remember when I first entered the Library. I opened the drawer and there was all this brand new equipment in there … except this hole punch. It looked like it didn’t belong … it looked like an outsider … sort of reminded me of myself."

"Yep," said Buffy with a grin, "battered and flaky. That’s you alright."

Giles chuckled and Buffy turned around, looking up at him.

"That’s why you bought the old Gilesmobile, wasn’t it?" She asked seriously. "Did you really feel that out of place?"

"At first, yes," he replied succinctly. "Later on though … no, I didn’t."

Buffy nodded and then her eyes widened in surprise. Oh. My. God. Giles is wearing a leather jacket … oh boy … he looks gorgeous … breathe, Buffy, breathe … passing out is not an option here.

"Buffy?"

The note of concern in Giles’ voice brought Buffy slowly back to reality and she blinked at Giles.

"Mmmm?"

"Are you alright?" Giles narrowed his eyes at the thoughtful yet somehow dreamy expression on Buffy’s face.

"I’m fine," she replied with a smile. "Come on, leather-boy, let’s get going."

Giles held up a finger. "One moment."

He strode towards the kitchen, rummaging for a couple of minutes before emerging with a cream coloured bowl. The top of the bowl was covered in foil and tied with string.

"What on earth is that?" Buffy frowned as Giles held the bowl almost reverently.

"Christmas Pudding," replied Giles. "Christmas simply wouldn’t be the same without a proper, home-made Christmas Pudding."

"You made that?" The surprise was evident in Buffy’s voice and Giles smiled.

"Yes. I made it a couple of months ago."

"A couple of months?" Buffy gazed at Giles in disbelief. "You don’t expect us to eat that?!"

"Buffy," sighed Giles, "the earlier you make a Christmas Pudding, the better it tastes. Trust me on this. My Mother used to make our Pudding in July … it always tasted absolutely glorious."

If Buffy hadn't been watching Giles so carefully she would have missed the brief flash of pain in his eyes.

"You’ve never mentioned her before," said Buffy softly and Giles shrugged.

"Never any reason to," he replied, handing Buffy the bowl. "Now, be very careful with this."

Giles picked up his bag, grinning at the sight of Buffy with the bowl held out at arms length. She was regarding it as though it were about to erupt at any moment.

"It won’t bite," he replied and then shrugged, "at least, not yet."

"You're forgetting something," said Buffy softly as Giles moved towards the door. He turned to face her, frowning.

"What?"

"Your guitar," she replied with a smile. "I expect you to sing for your supper, you know."

Giles leaned back against the wall, tapping his foot impatiently. He glanced at his watch and sighed. Half an hour she said. She needed half an hour on her own to "pick up a little extra something." Like she really needed anything else, he grumbled to himself, we've been back to the car four times already. The boot … no, trunk of my car is practically jammed solid with stuff. Giles put his hands in his pockets, frowning at the mass of people that hurried to and fro. He'd taken the opportunity presented to him and bought Buffy an extra gift … and that was almost an hour ago, he muttered, folding his arms. The intensity of Giles' glare quickly sent a leaflet distributor scurrying in the opposite direction and Giles swung around, a sharp retort on his lips as he felt a small hand touch his arm. The cutting remark died before he had a chance to speak and he felt all his anger drain out of him at the sight of Buffy's flushed and happy face grinning up at him. She held up one hand, the other busy clutching a veritable mass of carrier bags.

"I know," she said, "I'm a bit late."

"A bit late?" Replied Giles, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, maybe more than a bit," admitted Buffy. "I'm sorry. I forgot the time."

"Doesn't matter," Giles shook his head, "you're here now. You all finished?"

"Yes," she grinned, indicating the bags. "This is it, now."

"Let me take those," Giles reached out, taking the bags from Buffy's unprotesting grip.

"Why, thank you, kind Sir," she smiled as she linked their arms. They moved slowly through the crush of people, Buffy glancing around constantly, her face lighting up at the sight of all the decorated shops. She loved it all: the trees, the decorations, the flashing, coloured lights and even the Santa's collecting money on street corners. Buffy glanced up at Giles, aware of him tensing from time to time and she sighed, leaning her head on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Giles glanced down at her with a frown.

"Whatever for?"

"This," Buffy indicated with a wave of her arm, "probably isn't how you pictured spending Christmas Eve."

No, thought Giles, left to my own devices I would simply have become more and more depressed as the day wore on.

"No, it isn't," Giles smiled down at Buffy, "it's infinitely better."

Buffy grinned up at him and then snuggled into his arm once more. There's something about Christmas that bothers you, she thought, and I intend to find out what it is before this holiday's over.

Later that night, Giles sat cross-legged in front of the roaring fire, idly strumming his guitar. Buffy had insisted that Giles play "something modern" and he was running through tunes in his mind before she came back downstairs. He sighed heavily, coming to the rather depressing conclusion that he didn't really know much after about the early 1980's. Wait a minute, he thought, brightening considerably, there was that song on that album that Dawn was listening to in the car the other day. Giles had been in a good mood and had allowed Dawn to have her choice of music whilst he ferried her around delivering Christmas presents to her friends. Giles had instantly fallen for the song and Dawn had been quite amenable to listening to it over and over again. Giles had bought himself a copy of the album, even though he'd almost died of embarrassment asking for the "Spice Girls". The song had touched him the moment he'd heard it, instantly conjuring up an image of Buffy in his mind. It seemed in some ways that it had been written for her. Right, he thought, let's give this a go. As Giles improvised an appropriate intro, he was unaware of Buffy slipping quietly into the room. She stood near the door, watching him with a smile.

Too right, thought Buffy, you're here and then you're gone. Okay, Giles, I understand, she smiled, no more tiptoeing around … neither of us have the time. Everything will be fine…

Almost on cue, Buffy felt the tears pricking her eyes. God, for a while I so wanted to be normal that hurt and pain was all I could see. It seemed never-ending … but you were always there, weren’t you, Giles? You always listened, you were a shoulder for me to cry on, you gave advice but never forced me to take it … you allowed me to find my own way through. Buffy smiled as Giles launched into the chorus once more. What did I do to deserve you? God, she thought, it's both frightening and wonderful just how well he knows me. He must have picked this song deliberately. Buffy frowned suddenly. How did Giles get to hear this song? Buffy knew it was one of Dawn's favourites but it seemed a bit too modern for Giles. Even though she'd told Giles "modern" she certainly never expected him to comply. Realising Giles had finished the chorus she carefully listened to the lyrics once more.

I know it’s not make believe, Giles. I’ve been feeling this for too long. I used to think that love made me weak, made me susceptible … cool, she thought, a Giles word … but now I know differently. It may lie deep in my heart but it’ll be out in the broad light of day before long, she smiled. I know you love me, Giles, I just have to draw it out of you … a bit like a splinter, she thought and then giggled softly at the mental image this conjured up. Giles jumped slightly at the sound, turning to face her, the lyrics dying on his lips.

"I’m sorry, Giles," Buffy said with a smile. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I heard the whole song," she admitted. "Why did you choose that one?"

"Well," Giles shrugged, "it … it, sort of, reminded me of you."

"Strange, isn’t it?" Said Buffy. "It made me think of you."

Buffy grinned at the blush that spread across Giles’ face. Awwww, she thought, he looks so cute when he blushes.

"You sing beautifully," she said softly, determined to keep the blush on his face for as long as possible, "but," she glanced around the room, "you have completely the wrong atmosphere."

"I’m sorry?"

"Giles, you haven’t even turned on the Christmas lights." Buffy threw a mock glare at him and Giles grinned.

"Sorry, your Ladyship," Giles gruff tone reminded Buffy of Parker from "Thunderbirds" and she couldn’t help giggling.

"Why don’t you just sit there and let me do it all?" Buffy’s voice dripped sarcasm and Giles nodded.

"Okay," he said, placing his guitar to one side. He uncurled his legs and stretched luxuriously like a contented cat. Typical, thought Buffy as she turned off the main light. Reaching down, she flicked on the tree lights, grinning as the coloured lights flashed and winked. She glanced over at Giles, the smile slipping as she saw him frowning at the tree.

"What’s wrong?" She asked softly, moving towards him.

"Hmmm?" Giles glanced up at her.

"What’s the matter, Giles?"

"Oh … I was just thinking," Giles indicated the Star of David on the top of the tree. "Willow?"

"Willow," confirmed Buffy. She smiled as a sudden thought struck her. "Xander’s contribution is around here somewhere."

Buffy glanced around the room, frowning. I should light the candles, she thought, but where did I put that … the kitchen! Buffy moved quickly into the kitchen, picking up a box of matches, together with a small bag from the table. She took a deep breath before re-entering the lounge. Right, she thought, stage one. She dropped the bag onto the couch and quickly lit a few candles. Okay, she glanced around critically, dark but with just enough light … perfectly romantic. Picking up the bag, Buffy seated herself on the floor next to Giles, who was watching her curiously.

"What’s that?" He asked, eyeing the bag in much the same way as Buffy had regarded his Christmas Pudding earlier.

"Xander told me this would help my Christmas in LA ‘go with a swing’," she replied, "but I think it’ll work just as well here."

With a triumphant flourish, Buffy pulled a sprig of mistletoe from the bag, waving it in the air. Giles swallowed nervously, gazing searchingly at Buffy. She gazed back at him evenly, a slight smile on her face but, thought Giles, with the same look in her eyes as earlier … and I still don’t bloody know what it means.

"It’s an important tradition, Giles," remarked Buffy softly, holding the mistletoe over her head, "and important traditions must be upheld."

Deciding that actions speak louder than words, Buffy leaned forward, brushing his lips softly with her own. Giles didn't react, he simply stared at her in shock and Buffy sighed, reaching up, her hand snaking around his neck and pulling him close. She kissed him firmly, smiling inwardly when she felt him begin to react. They broke apart slowly and Buffy licked her lips, considering. Well, she thought, as a first kiss it was gentle, sweet … and almost completely emotionless on Giles' part. Well, she shrugged, maybe he needs a bit of encouragement.

"I think we should try that again," she said, smiling as Giles' eyes widened slightly.

"Wh … why?"

"Giles," replied Buffy, "you kissed me with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man."

A brief smile crossed Giles' face and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Buffy," he sighed, "I don't know what you want from me. I don't want to … I'm terrified of doing the wrong thing…"

"Well, at the moment, the wrong thing would be you not kissing me again … properly."

This time it was Giles who leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands and searching her eyes intently before lowering his head and capturing her lips firmly. Buffy relaxed into the kiss, her hands running through his hair, holding his head in place almost desperately. The kiss deepened, their tongues caressing sensually and Buffy felt surrounded by Giles; his scent, his taste, his touch. Giles felt his control beginning to slip and he pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss, not wanting to push too far too soon. They gazed at one another, both breathing heavily.

"Wow, Giles," smiled Buffy, her hand caressing his cheek, "looks like I got an early Christmas present … or not," she shrugged as she heard the clock strike midnight. "Merry Christmas, Giles."

A frown crossed Giles' face and Buffy felt him tense under her hand. She sighed, moving her hand slowly down his arm and clutching his fingers.

"Giles," she said softly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said grimly and Buffy narrowed her eyes.

"Giles, you've been tense all day … you … draw away from me whenever something reminds you that it's Christmas. What is it that’s bothering you?"

"It's … nothing." Giles stood up quickly. "It's late … we should …I should … um … go to bed … goodnight Buffy."

"I thought I was the one who always ran away, Giles," remarked Buffy to his retreating back. Giles stopped at the door. He glanced back at her, a haunted look in his eyes.

"I … I can’t," he said softly, "not yet."

"You know where I am if you need me," Buffy smiled at him. "Goodnight, Giles."

Giles woke from a fitful, restless sleep and glanced around the room, frowning. He was sure he’d heard something.

"Buffy?" He said softly. Silence greeted him and he sighed heavily. He’d heard Buffy go to bed a few hours ago. She’d paused outside his door for a couple of minutes, during which time Giles had battled desperately with himself. Part of him wanted her to come in, he wanted to lose himself in her, not think about anything but Buffy. The other part of him, the rational, logical part, willed her to move on, to go to her own bed. He didn’t want to use her, didn’t want to ruin what they had by … doing everything for completely the wrong reasons, he thought.

"Honestly, Rupert," the well-spoken female voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, "you definitely get your stubborn streak from your Father’s side of the family."

Giles gasped in surprise, tears springing to his eyes as he recognised the form that gradually coalesced at the side of his bed.

"Mum?" He said, shakily. She gazed down at him with a smile and Giles felt his heart lurch. God, he thought, she looks exactly as I remember her: the same wonderful, sparkling eyes; the long, dark hair that always smelled of peaches…

"Rupert," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, "do pay attention."

Giles couldn’t help smiling. Boy, do I recognise that tone of voice, he thought.

"What … what are you …"

"Doing here?" She finished the sentence for him with a smile. "Well, the reason I’m here is asleep in the other room."

"Buffy?"

"And you."

"I don’t understand," Giles frowned and his mother shook her head.

"Stop interrupting me and you’ll find out. Now, I’ve been allowed a brief period of time to help you. You see, you’re standing at a crossroads, Rupert, and I’m here to show you the right path to take."

"I see," he said softly, frowning at her.

"And before you say anything further," his mother said strictly, "this is nothing like ‘A Christmas Carol’. I’m the only ghost you’ll see tonight." At Giles’ smile, her voice softened. "You always had your head in a book … it’s good to know some things never change."

"And others do."

"Yes," his mother shrugged. "The point is, Rupert, that you are faced with a choice. Either you let go of the past, let it out, stop it tearing you apart or … or you face spending the rest of your life bitter and alone."

"You want me to tell Buffy," he said softly.

"Telling Buffy is a start, but the important thing is to let go in here," she indicated her heart. "Once you’ve done that, when you’ve accepted that the guilt is not yours to carry, then you and Buffy have a real chance at a life together."

Giles raised his eyebrows.

"I’m your mother, Rupert," she sighed, "do you think I can’t tell how much you love her?"

"W … well … I …" Giles suddenly felt embarrassed and was uncomfortably aware that he was blushing like a schoolboy.

"She loves you too, Rupert. I know that you would willingly die for her but wouldn’t it be preferable to LIVE for her instead?"

His mother glanced up suddenly and then turned to Giles with a smile.

"I have to go … they’re calling me back."

"But …"

"I know … there’s so much to say, so much I want you to know. I’m so proud of you, Rupert. I know how hard it’s been for you but you’ve never given up, never stopped believing … well, believe in yourself now. You can do this … both of you can do this. She’s quite a girl, Rupert, she’ll keep you on your toes."

"She already does," he remarked wryly and his mother smiled.

"Don’t ruin this, Rupert. I’ve got my heart set on grandchildren."

"G… grandchildren?" He stuttered, his eyes wide.

"Goodbye, Rupert. Look after yourself … and Buffy."

"I will," replied Giles, tears streaming down his cheeks. He watched as his mother's form slowly dissipated.

"One last thing…" her voice was soft and Giles strained to hear. "You put far too much alcohol in the Christmas Pudding."

Giles suddenly found himself smiling amidst his tears. I never could make it as good as you, he thought. Wiping his eyes, Giles clambered out of bed. He grabbed his robe and headed for the door. I really need a cup of tea, he thought.

Buffy woke to the sound of creaking floorboards and sighed, burrowing down under her duvet. Would it be too much to hope that Giles had somehow discovered the Christmas spirit and was now playing Santa? Rubbing her eyes and yawning, Buffy got out of bed. Putting on her robe she left the room, silently making her way downstairs. At least I know which floorboards to avoid, she thought with a smile. Buffy stopped at the kitchen door, a sudden rush of emotion flooding through her. Giles was sat at the table, hunched over, his hands covering his face and his shoulders shaking as he sobbed silently. Buffy crept forward, grabbing a chair and sitting next to him. Reaching out, she gently pulled his hands away from his face.

"Giles," she said softly, feeling the tears in her own eyes.

Giles looked up, the pain in his eyes almost too much for Buffy to take. She pulled him towards her, enfolding him in a hug, her hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. His arms tightened around her, holding on as though she was his only anchor in the storm that raged within him. Buffy whispered softly to him, reassuring him and slowly she felt the sobs subside, felt him begin to relax, his arms gradually loosening their death-grip around her. Giles pulled back slowly, looking up at Buffy almost sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"God, Giles," replied Buffy softly, her hands on his shoulders, "you have nothing to be sorry for. In a way, it’s a relief to see you let go for once."

"Let go?" A slight tremor went through Giles as Buffy’s words seemed to echo his mother’s sentiments.

"You’ve always been so controlled, Giles," Buffy’s hand softly caressed his cheek, "so strong. It was scary at times … I mean, there was me, major breakdown almost every week and you…well, I guess we all have to blow sometimes."

"Buffy, I …"

"No, Giles," Buffy shook her head, "you don’t have to say anything. I’m not going to pry .."

"Buffy," Giles reached up, clasping her hands with his own, "we’re at the start of something here … at least, I think we are."

Giles raised an eyebrow and Buffy smiled at him.

"I hope we are or all my efforts have obviously been wasted."

Giles chuckled slightly. "Your efforts are certainly appreciated, love," he remarked and then frowned. "I … want to tell you … I think you need … deserve to know. It’s just that," he shrugged, glancing quickly to one side, "I’ve kept it hidden for so long that it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do."

"I know," Buffy smiled, raising his hand to her lips and kissing it gently. "You go and settle yourself on the couch … I’ll make the tea."

"How did you..?

"Did you think I wouldn’t see you looking longingly at the kettle?" Buffy stood and pulled Giles to his feet. "Go on."

Giles hugged her to him, dropping a quick kiss onto her forehead, before moving into the lounge. He sat down with a sigh, settling himself into the couch. How the hell am I going to do this? He glanced around, his eyes coming to rest on the decorated Christmas tree. A wealth of memories surged through his mind and he clenched his fists, bracing himself against the pain that always accompanied such recollections. I used to love it so much … it turned to hate in such a short period of time.

"Giles?"

Giles glanced up at Buffy and smiled. "I’m fine."

She carefully placed the tea tray on the table and sat next to him on the couch, watching with a smile as Giles immediately leaned forward, pouring himself a cup of tea. He glanced towards her and frowned.

"What about you?"

Buffy shook her head. "I’m okay."

Giles leaned back, closing his eyes as he took a sip of tea. Buffy grinned, snuggling into his shoulder. Giles immediately lifted his arm and she snuggled closer, smiling as he casually draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Do all English people do that?"

"I’m sorry?" Giles glanced down at Buffy in confusion.

"Treat tea as some sort of universal cure-all?"

Giles chuckled softly. "I think most do, yes," he replied. "A lot of problems have been solved over a cup of tea." Giles took a deep breath. "I’m not really sure where to start."

"The beginning usually works, Giles," remarked Buffy with a smile, "and, as an ex-librarian, you should know that all too well."

"Thank you, book-girl," remarked Giles sarcastically. He carefully leaned forward, not relinquishing his hold on Buffy as he placed his cup on the table. Leaning back, he tightened his grip around her and sighed.

"I didn’t always hate Christmas," he began softly. "As a boy I absolutely adored it. It was the one day of the year when I could relax and simply enjoy myself. No lessons, no tests, no lectures about destiny, duty or discipline." Giles could feel Buffy frowning and he smiled. "My father was … pretty high up in the Watcher’s Council and, as soon as I was born, I had been marked as a future Watcher. Watchers are indoctrinated at an early age and the discipline, the testing, the intense learning all become part of your childhood. I was happy…I didn’t know any different. I had private tutors, not just for normal schoolwork, but for a wide range of subjects like Demonology, Slayer History etc. To me, a normal day was rising at 6am. My first tutor would arrive at 7 and, apart from lunch at 1pm, I would carry on working until about 7 at night. Christmas, however, was completely different. I had the freedom to do anything I wanted and, believe me, I took full advantage," Giles chuckled.

"So what changed it?" Asked Buffy softly, both fascinated and appalled at this picture of Giles’ childhood.

"I was ten years old when everything fell apart. It was Christmas Day and I was running riot as usual. It was the first time I’d managed to slide all the way down the stairs on a tea tray without falling off." Giles heard Buffy giggle softly and he smiled. "I’ll have you know it was a very long staircase."

"Yes, Giles," Buffy smiled, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to continue.

"I was debating with myself whether to tempt fate and try to do it again when I heard a crash from the kitchen." Buffy felt Giles tense and she reached out, grasping his free hand and squeezing reassuringly. "I opened the kitchen door and, as I stepped inside, I slipped on something. I looked down and there was this … red liquid all over the floor. At first, I didn’t know what it was … there was so much of it …then I saw her." Giles began to tremble and Buffy clutched his hand tighter, burying her face in his robe to hide her tears. She knew there was nothing she could say or do to make this easier for him. It was something he had to work through himself. Giles took a deep breath and continued, the pain evident in his voice. "She … my mother … what was left of her … was on the floor … behind the kitchen table. I remember screaming … I couldn’t seem to stop … then my father was there. He pushed me aside and ran to my mother." There was a pause and then Giles spoke almost angrily. "I didn’t see it. I didn’t know it was there."

"What?" Asked Buffy, almost fearfully.

"A demon," replied Giles. "It grabbed my father by the throat … lifted him off his feet. He tried to tell me something … he was pointing to the table … I didn’t understand, didn’t know what he wanted. It … it slit his throat with its claws …dropped his body to the floor. I ran … I had to get away … I knew it would come after me." Giles paused again, calming himself. "Our house was very old … it was riddled with passages and secret panels. I knew them all. I hid in an old priest hole in my bedroom."

"How long were you there?"

"I don’t know … hours." Giles shrugged. "I wasn’t really thinking straight … I was terrified that it might be waiting outside the panel … I couldn’t move."

"What happened?"

"I heard voices calling me … normal voices … human voices. I took a chance and peeped out. I recognised a couple of the men … they were from the Watcher’s Council so I decided it was safe to emerge."

"Jesus, Giles," Buffy's voice was shaking and Giles began to stroke her hand with his thumb.

"I was taken to the Council. That car journey was the longest of my life … no-one would look at me … they avoided talking to me … I was curled up on the back seat … I couldn't stop crying … I think it probably embarrassed them." A brief smile crossed Giles' face but there was no humour in it. "I was taken to the … inner sanctum, I used to call it. I stood in front of the five Directors and was instructed to tell them what had happened. They seemed sympathetic at first … but then I noticed their expressions changed … they were disappointed and I couldn't work out why. It was only much later that I realised they were disappointed with me."

"Why?" Buffy raised her head, glaring at him indignantly.

"As far as the Council were concerned, I had failed. I didn't recognise the Demon … didn't understand what my father was trying to tell me."

"Which was?"

"It was a Kakos Demon … we'd covered it in Demonology. Its weakness is salt … that's what he was pointing at."

"So you blamed yourself, even though you were only a child. You were ten years old, Giles!"

"I know … but I couldn't help it."

"So, what happened? Where did you go?"

"The Council raised me. I was kept in seclusion at Council Headquarters for a while … there were a couple of other children there that the Council were raising. One was a potential Slayer, the other a potential Watcher. For the first time, I was able to mix with children my own age … it was certainly an experience. I was forbidden to speak about my parents … instructed to forget it happened. It was strange … life at the Council was similar to being at home. I was woken up early … studied all day … tests in the evening and then straight to bed. Of course, I was dreading Christmas coming around again, but I thought it would be the same as at home … thought I'd be allowed to do what I wanted."

"You weren't, huh?"

"Far from it. Christmas was treated almost like another day … with the added bonus of assessments."

"You were assessed on Christmas Day?"

"Yes. Everything we'd done throughout the year was analysed. Our behaviour, our language skills, Watcher History, everything. If we had a poor mark on any of these we were punished accordingly."

"Punished?"

"Believe me, Buffy, an organisation that can come up with an abhorrence like the Cruciamentum can certainly find suitable punishments for wayward children. Of course, after my first year there, I had a poor mark in practically everything. I couldn't concentrate on anything, my mind would wander, I would daydream, never pay attention."

"What did they do to you?" Buffy asked angrily and Giles sighed.

"That's the problem," he said softly, "I can't really remember. After my initial assessment, I was taken to a small room and told to sit on the floor. The next thing I knew I was waking up in bed … there was a needle mark on my arm ... and my head felt heavy and muzzy for days. There was a strange … pain in my head and I would shake uncontrollably whenever I tried to remember what had happened. It lessened as time went on but what I do know is that the following year my concentration was much better. I paid attention to my tutors … got much better results in my tests … until Christmas drew nearer, that is. The second year was when the pain and terror started … the closer it got to Christmas, the worse it would get. I had nightmares practically every night. I couldn't tell anyone though because it would be noted in my assessment … could cause me to fail again and I didn't think I could face that again. I didn’t want to go into that room again. For the next few years, Christmas was the worse time of the year. Each year was the same: the pain, the fear and the nightmares. It carried on … even when I went to Oxford. Of course, I wasn't there long before I ran away … you know the rest."

"Ethan Rayne and Eyghon," replied Buffy with a sigh. "So, do you still get the fear and nightmares at Christmas?"

"Sometimes," admitted Giles. "Silly things can trigger it … a certain smell, a certain sound. I deliberately distanced myself from people at Christmas … I couldn't really control my reactions and I certainly didn't want anyone to find out."

"So … why tell me?"

"It's time to let go … I've let it rule me for too long. Besides," Giles grinned suddenly, "I know you. You knew there was something wrong and you'd have wheedled it out of me eventually … probably by utilising that deadly pout of yours."

Buffy giggled and then pulled back, looking at him seriously.

"So," she said, "how do you feel now?"

"Surprisingly good," replied Giles. "I feel lighter … less encumbered. Happier."

"What were they like?" Asked Buffy. "Your parents."

"Strict but fair," replied Giles. "My father was quite imposing … one glare and I would practically wilt in front of him."

"So, that's where you get it from," muttered Buffy under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"What about your mother?" Asked Buffy, surprised to see Giles' face light up.

"She used to bring me little treats during my lessons … always worried that I wasn't eating enough. It was thanks to mum that I learnt to play the guitar … she insisted on at least one lesson a week that was completely unconnected to the Watchers. Frivolous, my father called it, but mum dug her heels in over that one. Thankfully, she won out in the end."

"She doted on you, in other words."

"Yes, I suppose she did," smiled Giles.

"Do you have any pictures of them?" Asked Buffy tentatively.

"Actually," replied Giles, "yes I have … upstairs, in my wallet."

"Good." Buffy glanced at the clock and grinned. "Giles, we've been talking for over an hour. It's almost 8 o'clock." Buffy gazed at Giles with such a serious expression that he swallowed nervously. "Giles?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, love," replied Giles with a soft smile. "It's been a long time since I've felt this relaxed and happy at Christmas."

"In that case, can we open the presents now?"

"No."

"Awww Giles!"

"No … we will get dressed first. It's uncouth to open presents whilst still in one's night attire."

Buffy pouted. "Just one?"

"No."

"Giles!" Buffy stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Get that cute British butt of yours down here! Dawn’s on the phone!"

There was a muttered curse from upstairs and then Giles emerged, still buttoning his shirt.

"You don’t have to do that on my account," grinned Buffy, handing him the telephone. Giles merely smiled, giving Buffy a quick kiss before turning his attention to the phone.

"Dawn!" He said with a smile. "Are you having a good Christmas?"

There was a brief pause and Giles turned a shade of red that Buffy would never have believed possible. She giggled as Giles turned to glare at her. Still giggling Buffy went into the lounge, leaving Giles to stutter his way through an appropriate retort to Dawn. Nice to see that the Summers tradition of teasing Giles unmercifully is still being upheld by my sister, she thought. She sat cross-legged on the floor next to the Christmas tree and slowly began to sort the presents into two piles, taking full advantage of squeezing and prodding those addressed to her. There were only a few presents each because the Scoobies had a long-standing agreement regarding Christmas. They only bought a present for one other person in the group. With the gang pairing off and Giles and Buffy habitually buying for one another anyway, it worked out quite well.

"You’ve been busy," remarked Giles as he entered the lounge, looking around with interest at the various small bowls of food that were dotted around the room.

"We never had breakfast on Christmas Day," smiled Buffy. "We just picked and nibbled until the turkey was ready."

"Good idea," remarked Giles, snagging a bowl of peanuts before sitting next to her. "I never could resist peanuts."

"I’m glad I bought a Xander-sized load, then," replied Buffy, frowning as she held a small, wrapped parcel to her ear and shaking it. "And before you say anything, Giles, this Christmas is my Dad’s treat."

"Why don’t you just open it, Buffy?" Sighed Giles and Buffy grinned suddenly.

"Great! Present time!" Buffy quickly handed Giles a parcel and immediately began ripping the paper from her own.

"Do you even know who that’s from?" Asked Giles and Buffy poked her tongue out at him.

"Of course I do," she said, "it’s from Dawn."

Buffy giggled as the contents were revealed. A T-shirt with the words "I’m a Slayer – Ask me how" emblazoned on the front. She glanced across to Giles, who was carefully and gently prising apart the tape on his parcel.

"Giles," she sighed, "just rip it off."

"But …"

"Giles, we will be here for the rest of the day if you don’t get a move on."

With a sigh Giles ripped the paper apart, tossing it casually to one side. His jaw dropped and he gazed at Buffy in disbelief.

"You don’t seriously expect me to wear these?"

"Giles," Buffy wheedled, "you looked so good in that leather jacket … I mean, totally gorgeous … just think how much more gorgeous you’d look if you wore those leather trousers as well."

Buffy pouted and Giles sighed. "I’ll try them on later."

She grinned and handed him another parcel. "That’s from Dawn," she said. Giles reached out, grabbing a box and handing it to her.

"That’s from me," he said softly. Buffy ran her hands gently over the wrapping and then glanced up at Giles.

"You first," she smiled.

This time there was no hesitation and Giles quickly ripped the paper. He grinned as he held up a T-shirt with "I’m a Watcher – Ask me how" on the front.

"We match," grinned Buffy as she slowly and carefully removed the wrapping from her parcel.

"What happened to ‘we’ll be here all day’?" Asked Giles with a smile and Buffy smacked him gently.

"I’m taking my time with this one."

Giles sat back, leaning against the couch as he watched Buffy open the small box. Buffy gasped in surprise, her face lighting up with delight.

"Giles," she said, carefully pulling a delicate gold watch from the box, "it’s beautiful."

"I thought it may help with your timekeeping," he remarked fondly, delighted with her reaction.

"I’m only wearing this on special occasions," replied Buffy, immediately fastening it to her wrist. She leaned over, hugging Giles. "Thank you. I really don’t deserve you."

"And I don’t deserve you," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "Let’s just agree that neither of us deserves the other and go from there."

Buffy giggled and pulled back. "Giles?"

"Yes, love?"

"I do love you, you know … in case you hadn't quite worked it out yet."

"Oh I think I'd just about managed to figure that one out," he replied, leaning forward and kissing her gently. "I love you too."

"Giles?"

Giles groaned, recognising the ‘you’re not going to like this’ tone in her voice. "Yes?"

"I bought you another present," she said softly. "I know we agreed …"

"Buffy," Giles held up a hand. "I bought you an extra present as well … I couldn’t resist it. Why don’t we leave them until later though. It’ll give us something to open this afternoon."

"Good idea," replied Buffy, raising an eyebrow as Giles pulled his wallet from his pocket. He opened it, quickly rifling through the contents before handing Buffy a small photograph. She smiled, scooting around to sit next to him.

"Wow, Giles," she quickly glanced up at him, "you look so cute! Cuter now, though."

She planted a quick kiss on his cheek before gazing at the photo once more. She couldn’t help grinning at the small boy standing proudly between his parents. Giles’ father was unsmiling, gazing intently at the camera but his mother was relaxed and smiling, her hand resting protectively on her son.

"You look a lot like her, you know," remarked Buffy softly. "Same eyes, everything."

"We were so close," replied Giles. "I would have done anything for her."

"You missed her a lot, didn't you?"

"It felt as though my world had ended."

"Yeah," sighed Buffy. "I know that feeling … the difference is that I had you and the others to lean on. You had no-one."

"No," said Giles softly, "she was always with me … in here." Giles tapped his head. "And in here." He placed his hand over his heart.

"Giles?" Buffy smiled at the photograph before handing it back to him.

"Mmmm?"

"Would you mind if I … if we…"

"You want to visit Joyce's grave?" Asked Giles softly and Buffy nodded.

"There are a few things I need to tell her."

"I'll get the turkey in the oven and then we'll go … okay?"

"Thanks, Giles."

Buffy walked tensely through the graveyard, constantly glancing around. I'll never get used to being here during the day, she thought, it looks different, sounds different and even smells different. Come on, Buffy, she thought, don't think about it. This is going to be difficult enough as it is. Buffy suddenly stopped, facing her mother's grave. She glanced behind her longingly. Giles had decided to wait for her in the car and no amount of pleading by Buffy had swayed him. He'd calmly informed her that she needed this time alone with Joyce and then he'd settled back, watching her expectantly. He was right; she'd known he was right … but it doesn't make it any better, thought Buffy. She sighed and moved forward, sitting down on the edge of the grave. She reached out, running her fingers over the gravestone, tracing the letters emblazoned on the stone.

"Hi mom," she said softly. "I know … I'm supposed to be in LA … change of plan. I couldn't go, mom, I had to stay here … with Giles. I know that the two of you never really clicked. Even I could sense the tension between you … you both acted real nice to each other, but it was there all the same. God, I wish you could have heard him earlier …what he went through … and he had no-one, mom, no-one at all. I always had you … a normal life to come back to when the slaying was over for the night. Giles did it all alone. Pretty incredible, huh? We haven't mentioned it since … I don't want to …I don't want to make him think about it … I want him to have a Christmas to remember. I know it won't replace the bad memories he has but it may make them easier to cope with. Guess you've probably worked out what it is I want to tell you … I know you may not like this and I’m sure that if you were still here, you'd be yelling at me right now but … I love him, mom. I don't mean the kind of rampaging hormonal lust kind of love I usually find myself in … I mean a forever kind of love. I belong with him … it feels perfect … almost like it was meant to be. I think in some way I was marked as his and he was marked as mine from day one. He'll never hurt me, never leave me, always be with me. I know it sounds corny as hell but he's my soulmate … the other half of me … and now that we're together I finally feel complete. I feel like a whole person for the first time in my life … and I actually believe that I can have a future … but only if it's with Giles … I don't want any other kind. I wish you were here … wish you could see how happy he makes me. You always told me that the one thing you wanted more than anything else was for me to be happy … well, I am happy … happier than I've ever been and it's all due to Giles." Buffy grinned suddenly. "I suppose I should really start calling him Rupert … but that's going to take some getting used to. I miss you, mom … I wish … no, I hope you're watching over me … over all of us: Dawn, Giles and me." Buffy stood slowly, tears in her eyes. "I'd better go …Giles is cooking and he's timed everything to the second … I dread to think what he'd do if anything happened to that precious Christmas Pudding of his." She paused, gazing down at the grave and wiping tears from her eyes. "Bye, mom … Merry Christmas."

Giles shifted slightly on the couch, tightening his arms around Buffy and trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. It had been a long day. He glanced down to where Buffy lay, fast asleep, her head resting on his chest. Smiling, he bent his head, kissing her hair softly. Thank you, he thought, thank you for one of the best Christmases I've ever had. He moved his hand up, stroking her hair gently as he reflected upon the day's events. Everything had been perfect, even the Christmas Pudding, which Buffy had initially regarded as though it were a bowl of toxic waste. After a few minutes of cajoling and persuading from Giles, Buffy had tentatively tried a small mouthful. The look of complete and utter delight on her face was all that Giles could have wished for. Buffy had immediately managed to extract a promise from Giles to make another pudding as soon as possible because "the gang can't miss this. Xander would never forgive me." The rest of the afternoon had been spent relaxing in front of the television and opening their remaining presents. Giles had been speechless to receive a beautiful gold cross and chain from Buffy. He'd felt it tingle as it rested in the palm of his hand and, following a glare from Giles, Buffy had admitted that she'd asked Willow to cast "a small protection spell" on it. Giles had opened his mouth to protest but, catching sight of the downcast expression on Buffy's face, he'd simply sighed inwardly and then thanked her for her thoughtfulness. Buffy had brightened instantly and Giles had been rewarded with a series of kisses that had made him extremely thankful that he hadn't protested about the protection spell. Giles' gift to Buffy had been an outfit she'd been angling for. Subtle hints had never been Buffy's strongpoint and Giles had cottoned on almost instantly.

"I knew you were listening," she'd replied smugly when she unwrapped the gift. She'd insisted on trying it on at once and had ordered Giles into his leather trousers. Giles glanced down at himself, shaking his head ruefully. He had to admit they were a good fit. He'd always loved the feel of leather but had never been quite brave enough to consider leather trousers. Trust Buffy, he thought, still stroking her hair. She'd been quite enraptured when he'd emerged wearing the trousers and had spent a great deal of the last couple of hours trying to convince him to wear them when they visited the rest of the gang tomorrow. Giles yawned once more, trying to focus on the black and white film that was nearing its climax on television. Buffy had considered it a great scandal that Giles had never seen "It's a wonderful life" and had proceeded to rectify the situation. It is a good film, he admitted, or I would have joined Buffy in the land of nod by now. Giles felt his eyes closing and, as George Bailey's young daughter proudly announced that somewhere an Angel had earned his wings, Giles smiled to himself. Nicely done, Clarence, he thought as he gradually drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.