******************
Title: Sew the Chicken
Author: K.V. Wylie (cliff@icom.ca)
URLs: http://members.fortunecity.com/syrenslure/x_kimwylie/index.html
   http://www.geocities.com/buffyangelfic/x_kimwylie/
   http://ebonbird.tripod.com/buffy.htm
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is unconventional shipping of the Giles/Buffy sort.
All other characters are very much in character. Giles sleeps
late and snarks.

******************

The sound of the ringing phone invaded Giles' dream before
he woke up.  Buffy looked up at him and asked, "Is that an
alarm, Giles?"  He was about to answer her when he realized
he was in his office, his arms and head at a terrible angle
across his desk.  The phone rang again and he reached
instinctively for it, trying to focus through bleary eyes.

"..hello...?"

"Giles?  It's Buffy."

He fumbled for his glasses, couldn't find them, and knocked
over a glass.  He rubbed his eyes as she asked, "Giles?  You
ok?"

"Fine.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  I'm going to be late.  You sure you're all right?
You sound, I don't know, like you just woke up."  A
heartbeat's pause, then she added, "You *did* just wake up,
didn't you?  Did you spend the night in your office again?
Didn't we talk about this before?"

He was about ready to give her the *I'm*-the-Watcher-Not-
You speech, then decided he didn't have the energy for it.

"There are beds in the world, Giles.  I suspect you own one.
They're very comfy.  You can actually sleep in them.  I know
you think that's a myth but if you went upstairs in your
apartment and go in the first door on the right, you'll find---"

"Buffy," he said warningly.

"When you sleep in your office, you're always real crabby the
next day."

"I'm not crabby, just strict.  Why are you going to be late?"

"Willow called and she's got a new CD that's sold out
everywhere only her father knows someone who knows
someone and managed to snag a copy so I'm going to run by
her place first, then I'll be there for training."

Giles had sudden visions of this CD being playing endlessly
during her workout in the library.  It was Saturday, which
meant Buffy would feel free to turn it up exceptionally loud.

He groaned inwardly, already getting a headache.  "And you
think this is an acceptable excuse for tardiness?"

"Yes," she answered promptly.  "See what I mean about the
crabby part, Giles?  See you soon!"

She hung up before he could mumble another word.

He sighed, righted the glass, fumbled again for his glasses, and
debated whether or not he cared to make a trip home to
freshen up before she came.  He was going to leave well
enough alone when he realized that Willow might come along.
He wasn't sure when she attended her synagogue but
remembered seeing her come along for other Saturday
trainings.  It was one thing to be, well, earthy around Buffy.
They'd spent more than their fair share of time sloshing around
in sewers.  But he wasn't sure he wanted to share his sodden
hadn't-changed-his-clothes-in-over-a-day-state with Willow.

He had a change in his office.  He paused.  No he didn't.  He
hadn't replaced them after the last eventful patrol.  Then he
heard a whistle from far-away.

The soccer team.  They practiced Saturday mornings which
meant Coach Brazelwood would be there.  Brazelwood kept
spare school wear in his office and the change room had
several showers.

Fifteen minutes later, Giles struggled to pull sweatpants and
an oversized school jersey over still-wet skin.  He couldn't do
anything about a day's growth of beard and it bothered him to
see some gray in it when he paused by a mirror.

Buffy was in the library when he returned, stretching like a
panther to the beat of some Godawful thing from the CD
player.  Willow sat on the table, one leg up and the other idly
swinging as she ate a pear.  They both stared at him when he
came in and Willow stopped eating in mid-chew.

"Um, nice duds, Giles, and isn't that unshaven Miami Vice
look new for you?" Buffy managed.  "When did you join the
soccer team?"

He gave her a *look*.

She turned to Willow and grinned.  "Told you he slept here.
Now he's going to be snarky all day."

"I've never known Giles to be snarky," Willow said in his
defense.

"Oh yeah, you always get the polite end," Buffy said.

"Just train," he told her as he went into the stacks.

The music flared up and the floor vibrated under the bass.

"Buffy!" he called.

She looked up innocently and spread out her arms as if to say
huh?

"BUFFY, IF I HAVE TOLD YOU ONCE I'VE TOLD YOU
A--"  Giles abruptly silenced, realizing she'd turned the music
off.

"Whoa!  They probably heard you way out on the field."  She
chuckled up at him, then turned to Willow.  "See?  Snarky."

Willow didn't say anything but the corners of her mouth
curved up.

A low curse sounded as he disappeared back in the stacks.
Buffy turned the music to a middle-loudness and started her
workout.

"I know how to push all his buttons," Giles heard Buffy say to
Willow.

"And the girl sounds damned pleased about it," he thought in
irritation as he searched through a shelf.  His next train of
thought was broken a few moments later by Willow.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, peering around the end
of the bookcase.

"Mauphin's Book of Dreams."

She helped him hunt.  "Buffy didn't mention a dream to me."

"It wasn't her."

"You?"  In a softer voice, "Was it a bad dream?"

Giles shook his head.  "Buffy has the prophetic dreams.  I
don't."

"What did you dream about?" Willow asked, then quickly
added, "I mean, you don't have to say anything if you don't
want to."

Giles frowned at the shelf.  "Maybe the book is in my office."

He checked there.  A few minutes later, he heard the music
stop.  He came out, empty-handed, to find Willow and Buffy
side-by-side at the table with Mauphin's book before them.

"What did you dream about, Giles?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing in particular."

She looked up, an undercurrent of tension under her otherwise
casual expression, and he discovered he knew how to push one
of her buttons as well.

"May I have the book, please?" he asked.

She hung onto it.  "Was it something hellmouthy?"

Giles sighed as he sat in a chair.  Both girls were regarding
him intently now.

"I'm sorry I even mentioned it," he said.

"Oh.  Was it like a..private dream?"  And now both girls
looked uncomfortable as well as worried.

"No," he said quickly.  Clearly he was going to get no rest on
this one.  "All right.  Buffy, you and I were in a house.  There
were two children with us and a baby chicken, and the
children told us that their mother was going to cook the
chicken for dinner.  You said, "Giles, surely their parents can
afford food and not eat the baby chicken."  I put the chicken in
my pocket and we went down endless flights of stairs until we
found a way outside."

He looked over, slightly embarrassed.  "Do you see how
ridiculous this dream is?  There's no need to dwell on it."

"Then what did we do?" Buffy persisted.

"It was night and very dark.  I didn't know the way so you
were leading us.  We were near a house on a corner when the
porch light came on.  You said we had to hide so we ran to the
back where there was a garbage bin.  A man came around the
side of the house.  You said, "Oh no, he's going to take his
garbage to the curb.  He'll find us."  So we started back into
the street. The man waved at us as we left, so obviously he
hadn't minded us in his bin.  We passed bus stops and I wanted
to wait at one but you said, no we had to keep going.  An owl
came down to fly beside us and I checked in my pocket to
make sure the owl hadn't snatched the chicken but found a
mouse in there instead.  You threw a needle and spool of
thread at me and said angrily, "Giles, I told you to sew that
chicken in there."

Both girls were starting to smile.  His point about the
absurdity of the dream had been made but decided to finish it
anyway.  "You then gestured ahead, Buffy, at a shopping mall
and said we had to go in there."

"That would be Cordelia, not me," Buffy mused.

"Anyway, it was extremely crowded in the mall.  It took a
while before we found a narrow path through the people.  It
was only wide enough for one so you told me I had to carry
you.  It was awkward because you kept going through my
pockets while I was walking.  I told you to stop but you
refused.  Then you found a key.  You showed it to me and said
emphatically, "This is mine."  As you said that, a bell sounded.
You asked me if that was an alarm and I woke to find the
phone ringing beside me."

Buffy and Willow exchanged a look, then started laughing.

"I gotta look this up," Buffy said, flipping some pages in the
book.

"I'd rather," he started but she shook her head.

"No, let's all do it.  Think of it as Watcher-Slayer-Slayerette
bonding."

After a few moments, Buffy said, "I don't see chickens."

"Here's something," Willow said, pointing at a paragraph.
"House.  A house refers to oneself, depicting one's body and
attributes.  The upper part of the house is consciousness.
Running down stairs means running away from aspects of
ourselves that bother us."

"How many flights of stairs, Giles?" Buffy asked in
amusement.  He frowned back.

"Were the children boys or girls, Giles?" Willow asked.

"One of each."

"A girl child can represent a lesser expressed part of ourselves
especially feelings of rivalry, vulnerability, or a lost love.  A
boy child symbolizes one's ambitions, potential, and hopes.
Buffy led you away from them, down the stairs."  She caught
herself.  "I mean---"

"Thanks, Will, I get it," Buffy said sardonically.  "Let's go on
to the chicken."

Willow flipped some pages.  "Um, nothing.  Oh here, under
birds.  Chicken.  For a woman, it refers to nourishment.  For a
man, sexual characteristics."  She coughed.

"And I told him to sew it in his pocket," Buffy said in horror.

In a toneless voice, Giles asked, "May I please have the book
now?"

"In a minute, Giles," Buffy said.  "Try something else, Will."

"Dark or night time."  Willow looked it up.  "Secrets we hide
from ourselves.  What is unknown, not defined by intellect or
reason.  Emotional hurt, subtly felt urges or feelings."  She
checked the index at the back and turned to another page.
"Garbage."

"This ought to be good," Buffy said.

"Part of feelings or past experience no longer useful," Willow
said.  "Now the man.  He's an aspect of self, depending on his
character or activity.  A man who is glad to see the dreamer or
who sends the dreamer on his way is a guide giving approval."

Buffy cut in.  "At last something likes me."

Willow gave her a smile.  "Bus stops.  Well, none of those, but
a bus refers to an undertaking or relationship with a group of
people.  Missing the bus means an impending loss of that
group.  Now the owl.  That would be back in the bird section.
Here we are.  Because the owl sees in the dark, it represents
our intuitive sense."

"Which ate the chicken," Buffy said.

Giles shifted uneasily on his chair.  "Have you two had your
fun yet?"

"Not entirely," Buffy said.  "Keep going, Will."

Willow glanced at Giles who finally shrugged.  "Ok," she said.
"What was next?  Oh, the needle and thread given to you by
Buffy.  Thread - there's nothing.  Needle.  Male sexuality."
She exchanged a look with Buffy.

"Don't," Giles said warningly.

"Mouse," Willow said quickly.  "That sounds innocuous
enough."  She was quiet for a moment, then a peculiar
expression crossed her face.  "Irritants which gnaw away at
ourselves.  Also the sexual organ which goes in and out of a
hole."

"Giles!" Buffy said.  "If going in the mall continues this trend,
I am *so* out of here."

"There's nothing about shopping malls," Willow said, "But to
shop means we are looking for something.  The crowd of
people refers to being crowded out, feeling frustrated."

"Finally," Giles muttered.

"Was that directed at anyone in particular?" Buffy asked,
daring him, but he only gave her a sardonic look in return.

"Narrow path," Willow continued.  "Limited choices or view.
Feeling restricted.  Now the carrying part."  She read in
silence for a few seconds, then said, "Feeling used, what one is
carrying in life such as a responsibility or grudge."

Buffy eyed Giles.  "I don't like your dreams much."

"Really?"

"What was the deal with the key or do I dare ask?" Buffy
asked Willow.  "The one of mine I found in Giles' pocket.  It
means he finally took something from *me*, doesn't it?"

Willow turned pages.  "Pockets refer to personal secrets or
thoughts.  Key.  If someone gives the dreamer a key, they are
opening up or allowing the dreamer freedom but to take a key
is symbolic of denying the dreamer something they desire.
The key is also a representation of the male penis or sexual
intercourse."

They both looked at Giles who had buried his face in his
hands.  To Buffy, Willow said, "I'm sure there are many other
meanings."

"Nice try," Buffy muttered.  "But the fact is that it was my key
he took away."

Giles suddenly stood and held out his hand.  "The book."

No please.  No thank you.  Willow handed it to him silently
and he disappeared in his office.

"There's the snark part," Buffy said.  She lowered her voice.
"Do you think he really feels that way?"

Willow looked uneasy.  "Um, you mean about the--?"

"That I deny him...things and that I'm a burden?"

"Well, he did willingly follow you."

"Right," Buffy tried, grasping at the straw.  "And the key was
*mine*.  He took it from me."

"Except that it's a depiction of a male...part."

They sat in fidgety silence until Buffy said, "The workout."

She flipped on the CD, turned up the volume, and hopped off
the table.

It was close on ten when Giles heard the music stop, then
footsteps and the library doors.  He put down the book and
stretched.  He hadn't had breakfast yet, not that food was
generally high on his list of priorities.  He didn't often feel
hungry or notice if he did.

Still, a cup of tea might be nice and a muffin somewhere.  He
was reaching for his wallet when the door to his office opened.

"Giles?"

He turned and found Buffy, still in her workout clothes.  "I got
you a coffee and a moon pie from the machine.  I know it's not
the best but you didn't get anything to eat yet, did you?"

"Thank you."  He took the offered breakfast, regarded the
moon pie, then opened the package and gave her half.

Buffy frowned.  "I don't want to take...stuff from you."

He smiled.  "Actually, the part where you told me to sew the
chicken was rather amusing."

She sucked out some of the filling.  "Quite a dream though."

"Buffy, we both take things from each other.  It's the nature of
our work."

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about the amount of sacrifices
on *my* side of it."  She met his eyes and grinned.  "Do you
want to go out and get a real breakfast somewhere?"

"Yes."  Giles stood.  "You'll need to carry my wallet until I get
home.  I don't have a pocket."

She put the billfold in her fanny pack.  "No, we're going *out*
to breakfast, not to your apartment."

"I have to change first."

"Geez, Giles.  You think *I* hold you back?  Let your hair
down for a little while and...and go out in sweatpants.  Be a
daredevil.  I'm going to go out like this."

"I need to shave at least."

"It's Saturday.  Believe me, if you shave, you are going to
stick out in the crowd."

"But it's--"

"Stop," she cut in.  "You sound like a nervous macaw in
overdrive."

"Macaw?"

She leaned up, pulled him down simultaneously, and kissed
his stubbly cheek.  "Come on, Giles, out for breakfast.  We'll
even pretend that you just came from the hardware store
where you bought an impossible amount of socket sets, and
later you'll be watching Baywatch while scratching your
beard.  Fantasize."

"But--"

" * No *.  * Snarking *! "

He looked at her, then laughed himself.  "Maybe just a little
more but I'll save it for later."

He picked up his keys and followed her out.



******************
-Guys with Things -



The waitress at the pancake house asked, "Children or no
children?"

Giles blinked.  "Pardon?"

"Do you want to sit in the children section or non-children
section?" she repeated.

It sank in.  So did visions of sticky syrupy seats from previous
occupants.

"Non-children," Giles said.

She led them to a booth with a seat that curved at the back.
On the other side of the wall behind them was a large-screen
television which they could hear despite the noise from the
children's tables.

"Scooby Doo," Buffy said, listening.

"Who?"

"You wouldn't know it, Giles.  It's something that came after
1901."

"Why did you choose here?"

"The food's great.  Willow, Xander, Oz and I come here a lot."

That made him worry.  He wasn't comfortable in such casual
attire and didn't care to share it with anyone he knew.  He
glanced surreptitiously around but, thankfully, didn't see any
of them.

"The sausage pancake combo is good.  Xander and Oz always
order it," Buffy said, pointing at it on his menu.

"I don't eat meat."

"Since when?"

Giles glanced up at her.  "For some years now."

Buffy thought for a moment.  "Wait, you eat pepperoni pizza
when we order it at the library, though I'm not sure pepperoni
really counts as meat."

"I take it off."

She eyed him.  "I never knew that about you, the vegetarian
part I mean.  I guess I never noticed."

"It's hardly a big deal," he said, wondering about the
persistence behind her questions.

The waitress came over.  "Are you ready?"

"A big pot of tea," Buffy told her.  She went to say something
else, then looked at him.  "Giles, would it bother you if I ate
eggs?"

He hid a smile.  "Eat whatever you like."

"Scrambled eggs and pancakes, please," she told the waitress.

"Waffles," Giles added.

The tea arrived first.  Buffy poured out two cups, then leaned
forward on the table and glanced idly around.  "So, what do
you generally do during the weekend, besides Watcher-stuff?"

"I don't have a lot of free time."

"Come on, Giles."

He eyed her curiously.  "Catch up on sleep."

She scowled at him.  "You must have hobbies, things you like
to do."

"What's brought this on?"

"I don't know.  Can't I show an interest in my Watcher?"

"You haven't in the last three years."

"There's that snark coming back."

"I'm sorry," he said, stirring his tea.  The waitress had brought
cream which he found too heavy for tea.

Buffy watched him take a hesitant sip before asking, "What's
wrong?"

"Nothing," Giles replied.

"Then, we're off to hobbies.  You look like a guy who builds
model boats."

He smiled.  "No, not a one."

"You don't have a woodburning set hidden away?"

"I don't have any hobbies."

"Everybody does," Buffy said.

Giles shrugged.  "I don't have time."

She thought for a few moments.  "You mentioned kayaking
once and didn't you go camping recently?"

"Oh, yes," he mused, having half-forgotten.

Their food arrived.  As the waitress put the plates before them,
Buffy asked, "May we have some milk please, for his tea?"

Giles glanced at her in surprise.  Buffy switched their cups as
hers was still black, and started in on her eggs.  He gave her a
thoughtful look and was just reaching for his fork when he
heard, "What happened to the tie, G-Man?  Or is this your evil
twin brother?"

He felt a sweep of disappointment to see Xander, Willow, and
Oz beside their booth.  As he was wondering where the feeling
had come from, a twinge of irritation appeared, also out of
nowhere, as the three squeezed into the booth, squishing he
and Buffy in the back curve of seat.

"Day off, Giles?" Xander asked.

"Watchers aren't allowed days off," Buffy said, before he
could open his mouth.

"School spirit.  Cool," Oz murmured, looking at Giles' jersey.

"Rah rah," Xander added, then broke off as the waitress
approached.

"I didn't know you were waiting for anyone," she said.  "I'll
get some menus."

"Don't bother with the menus.  We'll just have our usual,
please," Xander said, and reeled off a number of items that
could have fed the soccer team twice over.  Afterwards, he
eyed Giles more closely and said, "No tweed, no tie, distinct
lack of meeting with razor.  Buffy, who is this guy?"

"My weekend date," she replied, teasingly nudging Giles' leg
with hers under the table.  "Definitely on non-active Watcher
duty.  This afternoon, we're going out to buy socket sets."

"Well, Wesley should be the one on-call, right?" Willow asked
hesitantly.

"Yes, he should, though it gives me the willies to think of it,"
Buffy said, still moving her leg back and forth against Giles'.

Giles drank his tea while the others talked around him.  No
one mentioned that he hadn't said a word - in actuality, this
morning he felt more out of place around them than he ever
had before.  It was more than the clothing.  Something was
making him uneasy somewhere but he hadn't yet pinned down
what that something was.  Buffy's leg against his was
distracting as well and *that* was new.  He rarely had
physical contact with her, training sessions aside.  They'd sat
side by side on the library table once, and there had been the
night outside the burning factory when she'd physically
prevented him from returning inside.  He'd cried in her arms
though he wasn't sure she'd noticed over her own tears.
Neither had mentioned the night and, since then, they'd
returned to keeping some space of floor between them.  Her
kiss this morning had startled him, coming out of the blue.
And, now, her thigh rocking against his...what on earth was
the girl up to?

When the rest of the food came, there was more shifting
around to free up one end of the table for all the plates.  Buffy
ended up sitting with one side of her bottom on his hip and
one leg between his.  The press of her at his groin shocked and
ultimately worried him.  She was warm and wiggly and the
smell of her raspberry shampoo overwhelmed the odor of the
food.

"You might strain a ligament sitting like that," he said quietly.
She grinned and shrugged.

Her leg kept moving, undulating her ass cheek against him,
and, horrified, he felt himself start to erect.  The loose
sweatpants provided no restraint and, when he'd shucked his
earthy clothing this morning, he'd shucked everything,
including boxers.  The merest bit of his fleece and the thin
covering of her spandex was all that lay between her and him.

Fuck, he thought.  He couldn't move away from her - Willow
was at that side.  He couldn't move in the seat - his back was
already against the wall.  He stared down at his cold waffles
and desperately tried to think of kayaking or fishing, threading
wire through the spool, baiting hooks, *anything* completely
unrelated to the feeling of the girl in his lap.

It got him nowhere.  He put a hand on her leg to stop her
movement but it was already too late.  She glanced down at
the development of something hard under her bottom, then
looked at him in amazement.

He knew he was red.  He felt the burning right up to his ear
tips.

"Should you sew that chicken in your pocket?" she asked
softly, amusedly in his ear.

"Stop moving," he retorted, the full force of the anger apparent
even in his answering whisper.

She favoured him with a challenging expression but complied.
She poured out more tea for him before returning to her
breakfast but it seemed to him that she was pressing even
more firmly.

Damnable girl, he said to himself.

Xander abruptly cut into his thoughts.  "G-man, you gonna eat
those waffles?"

He glanced at Xander's plate, overflowing with sausages,
bacon, and some concoction of omelets.  "Yes," he replied, the
first word he'd said to the Slayerettes since their arrival.  He
made an effort to eat his own food, swallowing grimly while
he planned the severe lecture he would give to Buffy later.

He nearly choked when a new thought occurred to him.  When
they were ready to leave, how in bloody hell could *he*?  He
was developing an inflexible protrusion in his sweats that the
jersey couldn't cover.

He was so deeply obsessed with it that it took several
moments before he noticed that Willow was speaking to him.
He glanced up, noticed everyone at the table except Buffy was
staring at him, and asked, "Pardon?"

"Do you want more?" Willow repeated.

Buffy jiggled again.  He swallowed and asked, "Uh...more
what?"

"Tea," Oz said, indicating the waitress who was standing by
their table and also eyeing him.

"Yes, please.  Another pot."  Giles said, glanced at the
profusion of nearly empty plates, and added, "But none of you
have to stay.  I'll take care of the bill.  I'm sure you have
plans."

"Actually, no," Oz said.  "We seem to be plan-free."

"But it's the weekend," Giles said.

"It's the weekend in Sunnydale," Xander said.  "The big fun
suck-hole of the country.  Amish have more fun places than
we do."

"I hear those quilting parties get wild," Oz chimed in.

Willow laughed.  Since she was pressed up against Giles'
other leg, the vibration of it went right through his heightened
state.

"Listen," Willow said suddenly.  The table quieted.  She said,
"Scooby Doo's on the tv."  She put a hand on Oz's.  "Maybe
it's the one with the werewolf."

He smiled at her.  "Let's go see."

Fortunately, they took Xander with them.  Buffy slid off his
leg.

Giles glanced at her, still highly irritated with her unusual
behaviour, and was about to start the lecture he'd planned
when he caught her expression.

The teasing smirk had disappeared.  She looked thoughtful
and somewhat bewildered.

"Quite an eye-opener," she murmured.

"Was that fun?" he asked in a tight voice.

"I'm sorry, Giles.  I couldn't help teasing you after that dream
interpretation Willow gave you.  And the clothing you're in
also had something to do with it.  But I think this is the first
time I realized you're actually a, well, a guy under your five-
hundred pieces of suit."

"The apology's not enough," he snapped.  She glanced up in
surprise, opened her mouth, but shut it when the tea arrived.

Giles asked for the bill.  When the waitress left again, Buffy
asked, "Giles?  I really am sorry."

"Just go," he said.

"And leave you here to pout on your own?"

"I'm not pouting."

"Then what?"

He took a breath.  "After that little game you just played, how
the hell do you think I'm going to manage to walk out of
here?"

She frowned.  "I don't know what you mean.  You just get up
and--"  It suddenly occurred to her.  She glanced down at his
lap and blushed.  "Oh!  It's kind of obvious, isn't it?  Isn't there
anything you can do?"

His furious look startled her back in her seat.  The bill came
and Giles pushed it over to her.  "You have my wallet."

"Oh, right."  She opened her fanny pack.  Her face brightened.
"I also have my sweater!"  Buffy silenced when both Giles and
the waitress looked at her.  She extracted some money, waited
until the waitress was gone, then took off her sweater.

"What are you doing?" Giles asked as her bare shoulders over
an embarrassingly small tank top came into view.

"Hold this in front of you.  I'll get it later."  Buffy pushed his
wallet and keys towards him and plopped the sweater in his
hands.

"You can't walk around like that!"

"I always do.  Haven't you ever noticed?"

His reply took a moment.  "I don't notice Slayers in that way."

She shot a glance at his lap before getting up to join her
friends in the tv room.  "I'll get a ride in Oz's van."

He remained at the table for a little while after she left, taking
controlled breaths as the tension eased.  Then he did as she
suggested with her sweater, got up, and left the restaurant.

* * *

"Now what are they saying?" Buffy asked.  She and Willow
were flopped on her bed, watching East Indian movies on the
television.

"She's asking him if he will plant a tree with her and he's
saying that he no longer plants trees due to a family tragedy."

"That makes a lot of sense," Buffy said, though it certainly
didn't.

Willow reached for the bowl of popcorn on the side table.
"Do you want any?"

Buffy shook her head.  She rolled over to her back and twirled
a few strands of her hair in the light.

"Do Slayers get split ends?" Willow asked.  When she didn't
get a reaction, she poked Buffy's shoulder.  "You're quiet
tonight.  Actually, you were kinda quiet all afternoon too.
What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Buffy shrugged.

"But?" Willow tried.

Buffy craned her neck in order to look at Willow.  "Do you
ever think of Giles as a guy?"

"Well, he is a guy," Willow said, confused.

"I mean, a guy with...things."

Willow put the popcorn down and leaned against the
headboard.  "Things like what?"

"You know.  Guy-things."

"Like socket sets?"

"What?"

"That's what you said earlier, that you and Giles were going
out to buy a socket set."

"Not those types of guy-things, Will.  *Other* guy things, you
know?"  At Willow's face, Buffy added, "The things that make
guys guys, as opposed to what makes girls girls."

Willow eyed Buffy dubiously.  "Guy things which aren't
socket sets?"

"Things that guys put in their jock straps."

Willow's eyes widened.  "Oh!  *Those* things."

But she didn't say anything else.  Finally Buffy sat up and
asked, "So, do you?"

"Do I what?" Willow asked timidly.

"Do you ever think of Giles as a guy with a thing?"

Willow fidgeted intensely.  "I, uh, suppose he has, um, one of
those because he's a, uh, guy."

Buffy dropped her voice.  "Do you think he ever does, if he
should need to...scratch his own itch?"

Willow looked like an embarrassed chipmunk suddenly
finding itself in the middle of an ocean.  "Ok.  Deeply lost
again."

"Do you think he ever, you know?"  Buffy made a gesture.

"Makes taffy?" Willow asked.

"Masturbates.  Do you think he ever does?"

Willow abruptly brushed at a non-existent piece of lint on her
knee.  "I--I--I--"

"All guys do, right?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know, but Giles is a--"

"Guy."

"But he's a--"

"A what?"

"Well, he's a, a, a librarian.  I don't think they do."  Willow
gave up on the invisible lint and said, "It's hard to think of
Giles in...that way."

"But he's got a guy thing," Buffy mused.  "And every once in
a while it would get, you know, needing to be scratched."  She
paused, then added, "I wonder if Xander ever does?"

Both girls suddenly laughed.  "Dumb question," Buffy said
and Willow gave her a sympathetic look.

"Do you think Oz does?"

Willow nodded, a little shyly.  "He told me that he does."
After a few seconds, she asked, "Do you think that
Wesley...?"

An image filled both their minds and they giggled.

"What about Snyder?" Buffy asked.

The giggles halted.

"Oh Buffy," Willow said, looking green.

"Big gag-reflex here too," Buffy said.  "Sorry, Will.  But that
brings me back to my original question.  Do you think Giles
ever does?"

Soberly, Willow finally said, "Yes.  Probably."

"You think so?"

Willow looked uncomfortable again but she pressed on.  "He
has feelings.  I mean, he cares and worries and, well, we saw
him kissing Miss Calendar that one morning through the
library doors.  Also, you train in there doing aerobics and, um,
bouncing up and down and stuff.  It's right in front of him and
he is a, a man."  She looked down, then added, "And that one
Hallowe'en, remember you wanted me to wear that skirt of
yours, the one that wasn't very long?"

"It was a mini-skirt, Will.  And you put a sheet over it and
went out as a ghost."

"I lost the sheet when all the weird stuff started happening.  I
went to the library and Giles...he looked.  I'm sure of it.  I
think anyway.  I startled him and he looked at me.  He tried to
cover it up and stuttered and acted all British but...I'm just
trying to say that he has feelings."  She trailed off.  Then a
thought occurred to her.  "Does this have anything to do with
Giles' dream?"

"All that stuff in his dream had erotic meaning," Buffy said.
"The key, the chicken."

"Is that why you're thinking about Giles doing, um, you
know?"

"Yeah," Buffy shrugged.  She rolled around until she could see
the tv again.  A woman in a sari was dancing.  "I guess she
gave up on the tree-planting."

* * *

Buffy tugged at her tee-shirt.  She'd bought it on Sunday, an
oversized sleeved cotton thing that fell down to mid-thigh.
She was used to clothes that freed her up to move.  She could
certainly move in this, only it didn't go with her.  It stayed
draped over her like a tent, regardless of what she did.

She tugged at it again before going into the library and
reminded herself that she hadn't bought it for her comfort.
Willow's comment about 'bouncing up and down' had hit
home.  She could bounce all she liked under this, Buffy
thought ruefully, and no males should be distracted.

Wesley looked up as she entered.  "Ah, here for training.
Good, good."

Buffy peered at him.  "What are you doing?"

He had a blue garment in his hand and a needle and thread in
the other.  "I'm fixing a small tear," he said.

"Is sewing one of the skills you have to learn as a Watcher?"

"It's a valuable skill everyone should know, in case of a
crisis," he replied in his crisp clipped tone.

"And the crisis this morning is a ripped shirt?" she asked
amusedly.

"The mat is set up for you over there," Wesley said, not giving
in to her teasing.  He glanced at her, then did a double-take.

"New shirt," she said somewhat self-consciously.

"Ah," he said, by way of comment, and returned to his seam.

Buffy warmed up with stretches, casting a glance every few
moments towards Wesley.  He seemed absorbed in his task
however.  Usually he checked her movements or made a
remark of some sort somewhere, and she wondered if her tent-
like shirt was the reason for his decided lack of attention.

Irritated, she turned her back to him.  When she finished the
warm up and looked around, she found herself alone with the
sewing kit.

"Geez, when men decide to ignore you, they really go all the
way," she mumbled.  She headed for Giles' office where she'd
stored her CD player on Saturday, opened the door, and
wandered in before realizing there was someone in there.
Cordelia, in a slip and pantyhose, sat in Giles' chair, reading a
magazine.

Buffy stared at her.  Finally, vexed, Cordelia looked up and
demanded, "What?"

"I guess I'm not the only one with a new look today."

"Larry and Craig were tossing a football by the front steps and
ran into me.  I caught my six hundred dollar dress on the rail!
Wait 'til I get my hands on them!"

It suddenly clicked for Buffy as Cordelia added, "Wesley's
sewing it for me."

"But Wesley isn't there," Buffy said and stood back to enjoy
the gratifying sweep of indignation on Cordy's face.

"WHAT?"  Cordelia stood, in full fury, and descended upon
the library.  "Wesley!" she yelled.  "If you think this is some
sort of joke, just wait until you feel *my* punch line!"

She muttered something else as she charged through the
stacks, Buffy trailing happily.  A few glorious minutes later,
Cordelia stopped in the last row and glanced coldly back
around her.  Her eyes stopped at the last place Wesley could
be, pounced forward, and barrelled in.

"*Where* is my dress?" Buffy heard as she followed on
Cordy's heels.

Wesley whirled in horror from the urinal, mouth agape.
"Cordelia!" he cried in a high octave, staring at her half-
dressed state.  He splattered his shoes, tried to stop mid-
stream, tried to cover himself, swallowed, turned back to the
urinal, and attempted to hide his exposed area again.

Cordelia watched, indignant, shameless.  "And my dress?"

He spluttered.  "It-it-it-"

"Better not be in your hand right at this moment."

"On the table," he managed.

She stalked back in the direction she'd come.  Wesley
unconsciously turned with her, staring at her scantily-covered
form as she went out the door, and splashed the floor.

As he fumbled back towards the urinal, Buffy said, "Giles is
going to be really pissed when he finds out you peed on his
floor."  She paused, aware of what she'd just said.  "I mean
he's going to be angry, not..."  She stopped again when a
incredibly severe look came over his face.  "We're not going to
have another discussion about my lack of respect for my
Watcher, are we?"

"You should be training."

"And not watching."  At the door, she couldn't help adding,
"Do you want a mop?"

He was in no position to chase her out, had he been inclined to
do so.  Buffy sauntered back towards her gym mat and
resumed her workout.  Cordelia exited Giles' office a few
moments later, dressed and looking unruffled.

"Can the boy sew?" Buffy asked, somewhat impressed with
Cordelia's quick rebound to her usual poised demeanor.

"It'll do.  He should have returned my dress to me before
wandering to the bathroom."

"How incredibly selfish of him to take sixty seconds for
himself first."

"It was," Cordelia agreed, not getting the sarcasm.

"Giles could have walked in on you," Buffy said.

Her indignation returned.  "I wouldn't have cared about Giles
but anybody else could have!  Wesley needs to be spoken to.
Where is he?"

"Probably getting a sponge mop.  What do you mean you
wouldn't have cared if Giles had seen you half-dressed?"

Cordelia, en route to the bathroom with fire in her eyes,
muttered, "It's not like he hasn't before."  She raised her voice.
*WESLEY!*"

Stunned, Buffy stilled on the mat.  When the library doors
opened, she jumped a good foot.

But it wasn't Giles.  Willow came over to the table and
perched on the edge.  "Hey, Buffy.  What's going on today?
Vampires?  Spookables?  Mutant zombies?"

Buffy took a long breath.  "Cordy made Wesley pee on the
floor and Giles saw her half-dressed.  I am never wearing this
shirt again.  I don't care how much I bounce in front of Giles!
He can deal with it himself."  She paused for a moment.
"Unless Cordy has been dealing with it for him."  She
shuddered.  "Oh God, I didn't need to think that!"

Willow's smile faded.  "Oh.  I was making a joke because I
didn't think anything was really going on and what did you say
about Wesley?"



******************
-But Wesley Ate Those-

Giles opened his eyes long enough to check his watch.  1:05.
Late nights were par for the course for Watchers but he was
particularly feeling the lack of sleep tonight.  He opened his
eyes again to peer across the table and discovered Wesley, as
chipper and perfectly groomed as ever, making jaunty notes as
he consulted a text.

Smart ass, Giles thought.  As if reacting to the thought,
Wesley looked up.

"Did you find anything in that journal, Mr. Giles?" he asked.

"No.  Nothing about ascensions."

"Pity.  I'm fairing somewhat better."

"What have you found?"

"There's a reference to an ascension that happened in 977 a.d."

When nothing more came, Giles pushed.  "And?"

"Everyone in a small roman town died."

"That's incredibly helpful."

One thing Giles admired about Wesley was that the latter was
quick to sense sarcasm and take appropriate offense at it.  It
was, Giles decided, a saving grace to an otherwise 'company-
man' personality.

"I have made a call to an acquaintance of mine at the Library
of Congress regarding the town.  Having a specific date and
location *is* quite helpful," Wesley said brusquely.  "We
should be receiving a fax before morning with a full history of
the area.  It won't bother me if you wish to go back to sleep
while we wait."

Hiding a dirty look, Giles got up and plugged in the kettle.  He
had just warmed the teapot when he heard the library doors
open, followed by voices.  He snatched one of the stakes he
kept beside the canister of tea and peered out the door of his
office.

And went through a moment of stunned surprise before he was
able to lower the stake.  He returned it to its spot and laughed
quietly until he needed his handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

He heard a step behind him.  "What are you doing, Giles?"

"Thinking that Cordelia needs acting lessons."  He finished
brewing the tea, then poured a cup and handed it to Buffy.

"She is pouring it on rather thick," Buffy agreed.  "But it
seems to be working."  This last was said so quietly she wasn't
sure Giles had heard.  She glanced out the door to where
Cordelia sat sobbing on Wesley's lap, her arms wrapped
around him like he was the last buoy in a stormy sea.  He
looked terrified and, unsure where to put his arms, opted for
holding them straight out at each side, giving the appearance
of a tightrope walker who's suddenly discovered the net below
him has vanished.

"What is her story?" Giles asked.

Buffy shrugged.  "Fierce vampire at the Bronze.  Scared her to
pieces and she needs to talk to someone who understands."

"I thought your patrol tonight was uneventful."

"I dusted a little stupid one as we were leaving and I think
that's where she got the idea."

Giles closed his office door.  "Perhaps we should give them
their privacy."

When the silence stretched out, Buffy asked softly, "Are you
still angry about the...restaurant?"

"Is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

Buffy sat on the couch.  "I did try to be considerate all day
today.  I bought a tee-shirt for your benefit and I have a few
issues with you as well, so there!"

Bewildered, he asked, "You bought me a shirt?"

"No, I bought it for me."  As he tried to sort that out, Buffy
added in exasperation, "After I left you in the restaurant,
Xander made a comment that daughters generally stop sitting
on their fathers' laps before age seven.  Later, Willow said that
I bounce up and down in front of you and maybe it might
affect you, being a male and all, so I bought a shirt for
training."

"Oh, the tent," Giles murmured.

"It was about the size of one, wasn't it?" Buffy muttered.  "I
was trying to be considerate of your feelings, Giles."

He sat down across from her.  "Training in front of me and
being in my lap are two different things.  Don't wear the shirt
if you don't like it.  As for the other, stay off my lap and we'll
both be happy."

"Well, perhaps," she mumbled, setting her cup down.  "I don't
like the way you make tea."

"Is that one of the issues you were talking about?"

"No, you just brew it too long."

Giles leaned back and considered her thoughtfully.  "All
right," he said at last.  "Why are you upset with me, then?"

She took a breath.  "Straight out?"

"Certainly."

"When did you see Cordelia undressed?"

Giles blinked.  "Pardon?"

"She was wandering through here in a slip earlier."

"She was?  When was this?  I didn't see her."

"And she said it wouldn't be a problem if you walked in on her
because you'd seen her like that before."

Giles frowned.  Then, slowly, a small smile crossed his lips.
"Oh.  *That* night."

"What night?" Buffy demanded.  "If Cordy is playing
bedroom leapfrog with my Watcher, I think I have a right to
know."

"In fact, she *is* playing," he coughed, "bedroom leapfrog
with your Watcher, at this moment in the other room."

"Giles!"

"Buffy, in this area, you do not have a 'right to know'."

"Excuse me.  Watcher, Slayer.  Watcher Slayer need to work
together and you're the one pushing the honesty factor."

"I was referring to when you hid Angel's return from me.  I
was *not* referring to my sex life."

"You had sex with Cordelia?" Buffy squeaked.

Giles sighed loudly.

"God, I'd hoped the undressed part hadn't referred to *both* of
you!"

"Would it matter if it did?"

"Yes!" she said without thinking.

He met her gaze.  "Why?"

"Why?  Because the ugh factor in that is just tremendous!  Not
to mention the ick's and yuck's going right up my spine."

Giles paused, caught between feeling irritated and feeling
absurd.  Finally, he said, "This is truly bothering you."

"Quick on the mark as always, Giles.  The thought of you and
Cordelia is pretty frightening."

"She's out there with Wesley right now and that isn't bothering
you."

Buffy felt a flush creep across her neck.  Astute bastard, she
scowled to herself.

"Fine," she snapped as she jumped to her feet.  "If you and
Wesley want to time-share Cordelia, go for it!  I don't care."

"Doesn't that create a lovely picture," Giles said.

"Just let me have the schedule so I know which Watcher is on-
call."

"Buffy."  He delivered the word in a singularly severe tone,
one she'd heard only rarely before.  "Sit down."

"I'll sit when I want to."

She met his eyes and a brief battle of wills ensued.  "Fine," he
said at last.  "Stand all night if you want, but stop this childish
tantrum."

"Childish?" she repeated angrily.

"Cordelia is a woman with a right to do as she pleases in this
area."

"In case you haven't noticed, Giles, Cordy and I are the same
age.  Why is it when she crawls on Wesley's lap, she's
seducing him but when I hop up on yours, I'm a teasing brat
who doesn't know better?  Why are you treating me like a
child?"

"Because you're acting like one."

"Bad clich‚, Giles and, by the way, I'm not, and I wasn't in the
restaurant.  You treat me like a child, not because I am one,
but because it makes it easier for *you*.  And if it makes me
angry to think of Cordelia infringing on my territory, then,
damnit, I'm going to be angry.  It's *not* a tantrum!"

"*Your* territory?" Giles asked quietly.

She barely resisted an urge to hit him with something.  "Are
those the only two words you heard out of that whole
paragraph?  If you don't want to be with me, have the courtesy
to tell me directly instead of creating a situation that doesn't
exist between us and using it to hide behind.  If you don't want
me on your lap anymore, just say so."  She stopped with her
hand on the doorknob and added awkwardly, "Actually, you
*did* say that, didn't you?  Damnit, I'd like to make a great
big exit right now but those two are in the other room!"

"I think the worst you might encounter is another puddle on
the floor," Giles said in a subdued voice.  He brushed past her,
opened the door, and called, "Go comfort her somewhere
else!"

Cordelia and Wesley looked up, startled.  Cordelia recovered
first.  "That's very insensitive, Giles," she said.  "I could have
been killed tonight."  She held up her arm.  "Look, Wesley.  I
got scratched."

"Oh dear, oh dear," he said.  "That should be seen to."

"Exactly.  I'm sure you have rubbing alcohol and bandages at
your place.  You look like a man who's prepared for
everything.."

"Well, um, perhaps we shouldn't..."

"And I have another spot I'm *sure* is going to bruise.  You
should look at that too.  Come on, let's go!"  She bounced off
his lap, dragged him to a standing position, and yanked him
towards the door with a strength he hadn't anticipated.  He
nearly went flying off his feet.

As the door closed behind his stumbling form, Giles stepped
away and gestured towards the main room.  "The way is clear,
Buffy."

She glared at him.  "Now who's throwing the tantrum?  You
are going to end up a lonely old man."

He watched her stomp out, then whispered, "I already am."

* * *

Buffy glanced up from her book when she heard Oz say, "Did
you ever notice that Smurfette doesn't have a tail?"  He held
up the toy.

They'd been eating Kindereggs for the last two days,
compliments of another school fundraising venture, and now
had an assortment of the toys on the library table.  The
Kindereggs came in packages of three with a large
advertisement promising that one in three of the toys inside
would be a smurf.  Buffy looked at the alarming number of
smurfs sitting among the books and hoped the ratio was more
in the nature of two out of three.  Otherwise, they'd eaten
enough of the chocolate eggs to send the Kinder stock up a
hundred points.

Willow stopped typing at her keyboard to ask, "Does she also
have a french accent?"  Oz laughed.

Cordelia frowned.  "I don't get it."

"Monkeys have french accents," Willow said.  "They're the
only ones with pants."

Cordelia moved the remaining packages of candy away from
the computer.  "You two are cut off until you start making
sense again."  She nudged up against Wesley as she returned
to her book, a clear signal of ownership.  He shifted as much
as he could, already being on the edge of his seat, but he wore
a pleased expression.  Buffy wasn't sure if he was
uncomfortable with physical contact or if was just that the rest
of them were around.  Not that anyone was paying much
attention anyway.  Xander had bailed earlier, claiming a
stomach ache, and Willow and Oz were being extraordinarily
couple-ish, sharing a chair and whispering in each other's ears.

When Xander had been here, Buffy hadn't felt such the odd
man out.  It seemed that all she noticed lately were people in
pairs.  At least outside she could walk on past but here she was
stuck.  Every time she looked up from her book, it was right
before her eyes.

Oz finished arranging the smurfs.  "Is Giles supposed to return
tonight?"

"Who?" Cordelia asked.

"Tall English guy," Oz said humorously.  "Lives in the
library."

"Oh.  Hasn't he been here?" Cordelia shrugged and prodded
Wesley again.  "Our quota is one tall gorgeous English guy,
which we currently have."  Wesley looked at her and blushed.

I'm gonna puke, Buffy thought.  Right here on the table.  And
it's nothing to do with those million Kindereggs I ate.

"I believe his return flight is tonight," Wesley said.

To Willow, Oz said, "Maybe we could pick him up at the
airport."

"Ok," she replied, looking into his eyes as she smiled at him.

Cordelia made a face.  "You two are making me ill."  She
turned to Wesley.  "Where has Giles been anyway?"

"Chasing down information on the ascension at Simon Fraser
University in British Columbia, which he clearly told you four
days ago when you asked why he had a suitcase!" Buffy
snapped, rising from the table.  "And you told him not to take
hairspray in his luggage as it would explode when the air
pressure changed.  *Hairspray*, Cordy!  When have you ever
known Giles to use hairspray?"

Cordelia reacted about as much as she would to the sight of a
gnat flying by.  "I think you've had too much chocolate as
well," she remarked casually.  To Wesley, she asked, "If a
Slayer starts bouncing off the walls from sugar-shock, do the
rest of us need to duck?"

"I, ah, have never encountered that situation before," he said.
"Buffy, perhaps it might be better if you went outside to get
some air."

"Fine.  I'll patrol in the blazing sun.  I'm sure I'll meet lots of
SPF'ed nasties."  Buffy retorted as she left.  By the time she
got to her locker and punched out the lock trying to get in, she
began to wonder if there was some merit to the over-sugared
theory.

She tossed her books on the shelf and was attempting to close
the now-bent locker door when a piece of paper fluttered to
the floor.  She picked it up curiously and unfolded it.

Printed on it was "Pen fifteen, Sunnydale Zoo.  Don't skip any
classes."

"Excuse me," she said to the paper, "but I'll skip whatever
classes I want."

* * *

That the Sunnydale Zoo was not actually in Sunnydale seemed
a good thing, Buffy mused as she neared the zoo's entrance, or
the smell of damp rhino would be a permanent permeation in
the city's air.  She'd taken a bus to the city limits and had
walked the rest of the way, working off her sugar rush in the
warm afternoon sun.  Several school buses parked in the lot
clued her in to the presence of a school trip and, once in the
gates, she passed them, a line of small children holding onto a
rope and a tired teacher trying to keep up with their bathroom
demands.

She found an attendant.  "Hello.  Do you have a pen fifteen?"

He pointed behind her.  "It's in the petting zoo.  Go past
Rodent Residences, through the Exotic Bird Pavilion, and left
at the Wacky Walruses."

Fifteen minutes later she decided the walruses weren't feeling
particularly wacky today.  After putting up with a host of
children throwing popcorn, they rolled into their pond, sank to
the bottom, and stayed there.  She followed the rope of
children into the petting zoo and started counting pens as the
teacher lowered herself onto a bench with a weary admonition
to the class not to "pet anything to death".

Nursery rhymes and fairy tales were the themes in this area,
Buffy noticed.  She passed by the three little pigs, the billy
goats gruff, and puss in boots, as well as a herd of miniature
horses.  The sign at pen fifteen read "a nick and a nock, a hen
and a cock, and a penny for my master."  The enclosure was
filled with chickens.

"Well, I'm here," Buffy said to the nearest bird.  It clucked at
her until it discovered she didn't have any food to throw at it.
Then it mooned her and waddled away.

"Same to you," she told it.

"Same to who?"

Buffy whirled at the voice.  "Giles?  I thought your flight was
tonight!"

He'd come up beside her and was leaning on the rail.  "I took
an early one.  I knew you'd cut classes to come here."

"Well, if you took an early flight, why aren't you in the
library?  I'm not the only one skipping out."

"Touche."  Giles said.

Buffy gestured at the pen.  "Is there any special significance to
the chickens, Giles?"

"I thought it would be an appropriate place for us to talk."

However, they lapsed into silence.  Feeling simultaneously
embarrassed and angry didn't lend itself to making small talk,
and when Buffy couldn't take the quiet any longer, the only
thing she could find to say was, "I never thought of chickens
as petable."

"I don't think they are," Giles said.  Children passed by behind
them and one of them squealed, "Flowers!"

Buffy glanced at them.  "Poor kids have never seen a chicken
before," she started when she caught sight of Giles bringing
out a bouquet that he'd been holding behind his back.

"A peace offering," he said.

"Daisies," Buffy said, smiling despite her mood.  "How did
you know I liked daisies?"

"You told me once."

"I did?"  She inhaled the fragrance.  "I'm still ticked about the
Cordelia thing though."

"Come here."  He took her hand and led her to a bench.  "After
Cordelia fell through the staircase in the factory and took that
steel rod through her stomach, I visited her in the hospital.
She was...different, very sad.  She was crying when I entered
her room.  I went to leave but she asked me to stay.  She told
me about Xander and Willow, what she'd seen."

"It really wrecked Oz for a while," Buffy said.

"It also hurt Cordelia."

Buffy frowned.  "She didn't show it."

"But it hurt her all the same," Giles said.  "She worried me.  I
had never seen her that upset before.  I didn't know she was
capable of it.  I went back the next day and the next.  On the
third day, a blood clot from where she'd been impaled
travelled into her liver.  It happened so suddenly.  A monitor
attached to her went off and the next thing I knew, they were
rushing her back into surgery.  They needed to feed a catheter
through her stomach and up into her liver in order to get to this
clot.  She was awake during it and terrified.  She asked for me
to stay with her and I did, holding her hand, talking to her
while the catheter went in."

"The doctors let you stay?"

"They thought I was her father.  They'd never seen him,
apparently.  Buffy, her parents left her in that hospital on her
own."  A harshness underlined his words.  "When she was
discharged, I brought her to my apartment and made her stay
there until she was able to return to school.  The first night, I
had to help her into bed.  Because of the stitches and the
surgery, she couldn't do that on her own.  That's all that it was.
When she told you that I'd seen her in very little clothing,
that's true, but the circumstances were not...romantic ones.
She trusted me to take care of her and I didn't betray that trust,
not in any way.  I did as much for her as a father would but
nothing more."

Buffy made a move to touch his hand, but stopped mid-way.
"Why did you make me think there'd been more to it?'

"Because I was still angry with you.  What you did in the
restaurant was not funny in any way.  I have always treated
you with respect but you chose to treat me with none."

"Giles, before last Saturday, I never thought I had an effect on
you.  I knew you were a guy but I never thought of you as
a...*guy*.  It really floored me that you could get
a...well...you know."

"Yes, let's do keep harping on that."

"Harping," Buffy repeated, managing a smile.  "Yes, Giles.
Let's do."  The smile faded.  "Then when I tried to talk to you,
you pulled the anti-Lolita routine which really doesn't fit
because I saw that movie and I'm not anything like her.  I
would never wear that colour lipstick and I don't even want a
scooter."  At the look on his face, she added quickly, "And
you aren't anything like *him* either because he was a
middle-aged pervert."

"Buffy, I am middle-aged."

"Well then I should have just said pervert.  You know what I
mean!  And that's another thing that bugs me about you!"

Giles blinked.  "Pardon?"

Buffy sighed loudly.  "You *do* know what I mean.  You
*always* know what I mean but you sit there and let me
babble through run-on sentences!"

"Your run-on sentences do have a certain quality."

"Bastard," Buffy grumbled.  To her surprise, he started
laughing.

"Well you are," she repeated.  "Giles, I'm tired of not knowing
what's going on in your head.  I'm tired of your not talking to
me, of not telling me how you feel or thinking that I'm not
strong enough to take it.  I know I've been blind.  I know there
were lots of times when all I could see or think about was
Angel."

"Would 'lots of times' be equivalent to two years straight?" he
asked quietly.

"Yes," she admitted.

That startled him.  He eyed her before venturing, "You still
belong to Angel."

"No."  Buffy shook her head.  "There is too much bad stuff
there.  We could stay together just fine if I didn't mind being
unhappy for the rest of my life.  We both know it.  We just
don't...talk about it.  We pretend otherwise.  And I think you
know *this* already too.  You've just been waiting for me to
admit it."

More children ran by and the teacher called for them in the
distance.  Buffy watched them run around the tree.  "Giles, tell
me, do Watchers and Slayers ever get together?"

Reluctantly, he said, "Far more than the Council would admit.
After going through so much together, it..."  He stopped.

"It seems right?" she offered.  "We've been through a lot
together."

"Yes," Giles agreed and closed his mouth before adding how
short-lived such relationships usually were.  The life of a
Slayer could be very brief indeed.

"Sometimes I think I know you better than anyone.  Other
times, I don't know the first thing."

He met her eyes.  "I know the feeling."

"So this is inevitable?"

He shook his head.  "No.  Not inevitable.  It's a choice."

"Then choose."

To the accompaniment a pen full of  noisy chickens, he raised
her chin up to his and kissed her.  It was gentle at first but he
deepened it, sliding her across the bench to him and into the
enclosure of his arms.

"Do you want me back in your lap?" she whispered.

"Not here."

"Yes here."

She slid onto him and kissed him in return.  "Is this going to
have an effect on you?" she asked while wiggling, and
received her answer.

"Stop," he said, grabbing on to her arms in order to keep her
still.

Buffy grinned at him.  "You're, like, all humiliated because
you get a...you know.  That's so cute!"

"That's not why I'm...uncomfortable," Giles replied, glancing
around them.  "Why do you insist on choosing locations where
there are so many people?"

She giggled in his ear.  "What location would suit you better?"

* * *

He was a big man.  She'd vaguely noticed it in the past, but
this position of lying down, his body covering hers, made it
particularly evident.  Buffy pressed her face against Giles'
shoulder as he thrust in her, his penis stretching her opening
deliciously wide.

Despite the difference in their sizes, she fit him completely.
He'd trained her these past three years, molded and shaped her
for him without realizing it.  The rhythm of their attacks and
parries carried through to this bed and culminated in this
sensual undulation.  She suddenly realized she knew his body
as well as her own, that they'd started this dance the moment
they'd first faced each other on the mat in the library.

She raised her thighs, tightening them around his hips and
allowing him to ride her higher.  Her clitoris pulsed as his
shaft slid wetly over it.  Her pussy was already drenched from
previous orgasms - one in his car in his driveway while his
fingers explored her, another on the top stair courtesy of his
lightly-nipping mouth, and the third as his tip of his penis
penetrated the swollen lips of her vagina.  Now she felt the
pleasurable edge of the fourth.

Buffy sucked in air so hard the nerves in her teeth tingled.
"Giles!" she gulped.

He knew what she meant.  He slid a hand under her bottom,
angling her hips until her engorged clit rasped through his
pubic hair, barely able to keep his own crisis at bay until the
first throbs of hers began.  Then he let go, crushing her
underneath him as he emptied gush after gush of seed into her.

Buffy drew in a languid breath as her body relaxed.  "I knew it
wasn't a myth.  I knew you had one," she murmured.

Giles paused in the middle of a kiss on her neck.  "Knew I had
a what?"

She opened her eyes to find his sparkling green ones an inch
away.  "A bed.  I knew you actually owned one."

He laughed as he rested his face in her hair.  "You shine
golden even in a dark room," he said softly, and felt her
answering smile curve against his cheek in return.

They remained for a few minutes longer, one of his hands still
under her buttocks, the other on a breast.  When his breathing
calmed, he raised up and his weight left her body.  He went
into the bathroom to dispose of the condom but was gone too
long.

"Giles?" she called.

When she didn't get an answer, she got up and rushed into the
bathroom.  He was in the middle of the room, regarding his
surroundings with a curious look on his face.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, winding her arms around his chest
as her burst of panic eased.

"What are all these things?"

She glanced around.  "Oh.  Those things?"

"Yes, *those* things," Giles said.  "Do you know anything
about them?"

"Xander, Willow and I needed some of your books when you
were gone, so we came over a couple of times."

"I don't keep books in the bathroom."

"No, but we had to use the bathroom every once in a while.
We were here for hours."

He regarded her severely.  "And?"

"Don't give me that look," she said.

"Buffy!"

"The school is having another fundraising drive."  She glanced
at the rows of objects lining the tub, the vanity, the top of the
toilet bowl, and the edge of the sink.  Resignedly, she said,
"They're smurfs, Giles."

"They're what?"

"Smurfs!  They come inside chocolate eggs.  You eat the egg
and a smurf appears."  When he made a motion to clean them
up, she tugged him out of the room.  "Uh uh, Giles.  Bed now.
Smurfs later."

"But they're all *over*!"

She silenced him with a kiss.  "If that's freaking you out, just
wait until you see how many are in your library."  Thinking
quickly, she added, "But *Wesley* ate those."



******************
******************