The Wacky
By Holly

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, WB and ME (Mutant Enemy). <I really do just like to say that. If they belong to ME, things would be a whole lot different. Well for Giles and Buffy, anyway ;)>

Rating: NC-17 this part. Buffy/Giles   Joyce/Ethan Don't say Euww until you
read it.

Spoilers: Season 3 U.S. No Olivia, no Parker no Riley

Distribution: Solo-84 if she wants it. Anyone else, just ask :)

Feedback: Yes, please. No flames though

Summary: Love makes Buffy and Giles do the Wacky.

When Giles next awoke, it was to a warm sensation on his penis. His eyes flew open as he realized that it was a hand, and not his. Buffy. Her small hand encircled him under his boxers. He looked at her, relieved to see that she was asleep. All he had to do was disentangle her hand, and she'd be none the wiser. <What on earth was she dreaming about anyway? A stake, perhaps? >

As Giles tried to remove her hand, he came across a tactical problem. Slayer strength. When he tried to pry her fingers off of him, her hand tightened. He bit back a groan. She started to move her hand on him. He tried again to get her to release him, more desperate this time. He knew that there would be hell to pay if she woke up and was holding him so intimately.

As her hand continued to move on him, he couldn't help his body's reaction to her. His hips bucked as her hand moved faster. He put his hand over hers, to try to slow her down long enough to find a way out of this, before things got… messy. But, the more he strove to free himself, the worse the situation became. Every time she moved, he moved just a little closer to the orgasm that his body so desperately wanted.

He looked at her, lying on her side, next to his tense body, her body moving restlessly on the covers. A moan escaped her lips. As he stared at her, he realized that the other night she had most definitely not been having a nightmare. The way her body was moving it was obvious to him, now, that she was having an erotic dream. And had been that night. That night when she had been calling his name. Calling his name?! The thought that he had caused...<Oh my God>. The breath went out of him, as the knowledge that he was responsible for the way she was moving pushed him closer to the brink. Her hand continued to move on him. He watched her clench her legs tightly together, seeking release; calling his name softly; and it was too much for even his self-control. When her body tensed, and he heard, "Giles!" he went over the edge with her. He bit his lip to keep silent.

Her grip eased, then released him. As soon as he caught his breath, he slid out of the bed to clean up. When he returned, he hesitated before climbing back into the bed with her. He lay near the edge of the bed, but she scooted over to him. With a rueful grin, he wrapped his arms around her small body. She gave a contented sigh, and snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest.

When Buffy awoke in the morning, she was laying half on Giles. Her left arm and leg were thrown over him as he lay on his back, with both of his arms around her. She pulled a little away from him, so that she could look at him. She ran her fingertips lightly down his chest. In her dreams, he hadn't had chest hair. As she ran her fingers gently through it, she decided that she liked the way it felt. She wondered vaguely what it would feel like against her bare chest. She shook that thought off. But, she continued to touch him while he slept until he stirred a bit. She paused, but he didn't wake.

Suddenly, his alarm clock blared to life. She leaned over him to turn it off. As she hit the button, she felt warm breath on her right breast. She looked down quickly. Hovering over Giles as she was, her bosom was a few inches above his face. His eyes were open and staring at her bosom with a bemused expression.

"Uh...Buffy? D-do I even want to ask?" He looked up into her eyes and quirked a smile at her.

"I was shutting off the alarm," she explained, still hovering. Then her eyes were trapped by his, and she was afraid her Watcher could read every erotic dream and illicit thought in her guilty flush.

His hand moved from his side. She waited, breath held, to see what he would do. She unconsciously thrust her chest forward. But he cupped her shoulder, and gently eased her onto her side on the bed. His green eyes still held hers, as his hand moved up to her throat, then to cup her head. His thumb lightly caressed her cheek.

"How awful was I last night?" He asked her, half-afraid of the answer.

"You were fine. Although, I didn't know you could sing." He flushed a little. "Also, for future reference, you snore when you've been drinking."

"I'll be sure to pass that on." She grinned at him, glad that things weren't awkward between them. He was still caressing her cheek, and she leaned into the caress. "I really need to get ready for work." He said, reluctant to break the spell of the moment.

"I-I could fix breakfast-if you'd like?"

"That would be very nice." He hesitated for another minute, then slowly released her and rose from the bed. She stared at his legs. She had been surprised the night before with how well toned his legs were. As she watched him walk to the bathroom, she also couldn't help but admire his rear.

Then she did a double take. Those were not the same boxers she'd put him to bed in. Wha...?

When he came downstairs shortly thereafter, she had made French toast. "This is rather good, Buffy," he said sincerely.

"Thanks. Last summer wasn't a total waste." Her eyes flew to his as she wished she could take back her words.

"Yes, well, that's over and done with. Do let's move on?" His reassurance was almost tangible. She breathed a sigh of relief.

As he ate, she found her eyes drawn to his hands; remembering her dreams and what those hands had done to her there. Then she started to remember other things from her dreams, and her eyes settled on his mouth for a while. She licked her lips. When he stood to carry their dishes into the kitchen, she found her gaze centering on his groin. He saw her looking at his zipper, and wondered if he had neglected to zip it. As soon as he was in the kitchen he checked it. No, all zipped up. He shook his head, perplexed.

When he returned to the living room, he addressed her seriously. "Don't forget that you need to talk to you mother, today."

"I don't think I can after…after…last night." She hesitated, "will you go with me?"

"If you need me to, of course. But don't you think it would be better if…?"

"No, it wouldn't be better. I need you." Her eyes pleaded with him.

"Of course, Buffy."

"Thanks. I don't think I can face her alone. Did I mention Euuuw?"

"I second that." He shuddered.

"Giles?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you…do you…my Mom?"

He worked his way through that disjointed sentence without much difficulty. "Buffy, I respect you mother as your mother. What happened with the Band Candy was…unfortunate, but not indicative of a relationship. At least not a romantic one. It's…well…difficult to … she's attractive, and Ripper always liked blondes. And I'm not explaining this well at all. I don't want you to feel that…well, that your mother was used."

"From what I gathered, it was mutual." Buffy said cautiously.

"I hope so. At any rate, your original question was… does it bother me? As in am I jealous in some way? Is that the gist of it?" She nodded. "It doesn't bother me that way. Only that Ethan has somehow done this, and he is my responsibility."

"Mom isn't a child. She makes her own choices…. You don't think he used magic on her, do you? I'll kill him."

"Actually, no. Based on the past, Ethan prefers to win that game with an even playing field. He never would get them drunk either. He has odd rules, but he follows them. I think it makes it more challenging for him." He shook his head. Then made his way to the door.

At the door he stopped, having remembered something. He fished in his pocket, for a minute. "Here," he said handing her a key. "Lock up if you go out, this is an extra that I had made for you to keep."

"Really?" He nodded. "Cool." He dropped a kiss on her cheek, and left.

For some reason, Buffy felt vaguely like a fifties housewife. A peck on the cheek, and off he went to work.  She had a strange urge to vacuum in a pearl necklace. She shook that off, and tried to deal with the problem at hand. <Well, problems> Problem number 1-her Mom and <euww> Ethan.  Problem number 2-Giles.

Mom and Ethan.  Who would have thought? It frightened Buffy that she was hoping that it was just sex; a one night stand. <Euuww> Although her Mom had seemed.... <Whoa...don't even think about it.  Therapy awaits. > Her Mom and British bad boys, what's up with that?  Was Spike next, for cryin' out loud? Time to move on-

-Giles. She dreamed about him. Sexy dreams. When she was awake, she practically drooled on him. Although, he was pretty damn sexy for... for a what? A forty-something man? A Watcher? Giles defied classification. He was Giles. Her Giles. And maybe that was the issue. Maybe it was like he had said in her dream. That she was jealous. And afraid...afraid that someone might come between them. Someone might be more important to him than she was. <Pathetic much? > How many times did he have to tell her that no one could ever be more important? How many times did he have to put her first, leaving everything else fall to the wayside? He'd turned his back on Jenny for her. He deserved to have someone. But as Buffy raked her mind, she couldn't think of anyone good enough for Giles. Her Giles.

Let alone a woman who would understand their special relationship. And love him the way he deserved to be loved; after so much pain and suffering. He deserved to have someone feel about him, the way he felt about herself. That he was the focus of her world. She blinked. <Am I the focus of his world? > It only took her a few seconds to answer. Yes. He'd left every chance he'd had at a normal life in England. For her. He stayed, although he had an opportunity to leave. For her. Everything he did was for her; or because of her. He'd gotten fired from the job he'd trained for his entire life. For her. No wonder she couldn't think of anyone good enough. The man was practically a saint. No other woman would do.   <Whoa. other woman? >  No question about it. She was definitely having issues.

****

Giles sat at his desk at the museum, searching an old book for information on an artifact that someone was trying to sell the museum. Giles had never heard of it, nor seen the like, though he found it interesting. But he couldn't justify the expense. Not so far.

Someone knocked at his office door. "Come in," he called, without raising his eyes from the book.

"Hallo, Ripper." Giles' head shot up, and he stood, abruptly. "Now, Ripper, settle down, I need to talk to you."

"I'm going to kill you. You do realize that, don't you?" There was something in the calm matter-of-fact way that Ripper said it that scared Ethan more than the threat itself.

"Whatever for?" He asked, uncertain which of his many transgressions he was going to suffer for.

"Joyce."

"Oh shit." Ethan took a step back. "Now, see here, old man, can't we be civilized about this?"

"I don't see how." And he grinned, then took a step closer to Ethan, who backed away two steps.

"Rip...Rupert. Please. She's...well...why I'm here."

Giles stopped, cold. "Is she in danger?"

"No." Ethan hastened to assure him. "Not now. Are you aware that she was...?"

"Kidnapped? Yes. Lyle Gorch rather stupidly told Buffy." He paused. "How is that you're involved?"

"I was working with Gorch on a project. He took it upon himself to kidnap Joyce. I swear Ripp...Rupert. I had no idea. You can ask her. I got her out."

Giles snorted in disbelief. "You? Not bloody likely."

"It's true. I'm not saying I fought my way out. I didn't. I made a deal with Joyce. Her silence for her freedom. I knew how your little slayer would react. And I certainly didn't want her even angrier at me than she is normally."

"That I can believe. How did you get Gorch to agree?" He couldn't help ask, curious.

"Fast talk." And Ethan told Giles all about it, ending with making love to Joyce.

"Yes, I'm aware of that also. Buffy and I...saw you."

"That brings us to the, shall we say, 'heart' of the matter."

"And that is?"

Ethan looked lost. "I think I love her." Giles just blinked at him. "I don't know how it happened. Must be a punishment of some sort. She's so bloody innocent, yet...." He trailed off; realizing that there were some things best left unsaid. "I'd prefer not to have Buffy strangle me for it." He looked at Giles helplessly.

"Ethan, what exactly do you expect from me?" His tone was not encouraging.

"I-I...would you talk to Buffy? Convince her that...well, I'm not ...taking advantage of Joyce." Giles quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not, Ripper, really."

Giles knew from experience that Joyce was not nearly as innocent as she seemed. He shuddered at the memory. "What do you plan? You're not going to marry her." It was not a question.

"Of course not. But, I would like to see her."

"Don't hold your breath. Or better yet, do."

"Rip...Rupert. She's special." He said it simply. Giles leaned his hip against his desk as he contemplated his former friend.

"Let me see if I have this. You want me to intervene with Buffy, so that you can continue to shag her mother?"

"Not just...I want to be able to take her out and such."

"You want to date 'er?" Giles asked, incredulous.

"I-I suppose."

"Well, now I have bloody well seen it all." Giles took a deep breath. "I will talk to Joyce. If she seems...happy, then I'll talk to Buffy. If not...." He left the rest hang, knowing that Ethan's imagination was much more graphic than his was.


Three hours later, at lunch, Giles stood outside Joyce's Gallery. <I can't believe I'm doing this. Why am I doing this? Oh, right. If Joyce is happy, Buffy will be happy. Or less unhappy. > And if Joyce were unhappy, then Buffy would be delighted to do some very painful things to Ethan.

He walked into the Gallery, and walked about a bit. He hadn't been there before, and he was mildly impressed with the variety of items present. He hoped none of the items were cursed.  He didn't hear her approach. She lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Mr. Giles?" Joyce asked, surprised.

"Ah, Mrs. Summers, hello." He paused awkwardly. "Um... Ethan came to see me this morning." He finally said, bluntly.

Joyce blushed. "Oh."

"And Buffy and I saw you last night. Together. I need to know...was that your choice?"

Joyce was shocked that he needed to ask. "Of course. I mean... I don't know what I mean. I wanted to be with him." Her face was blood red.

"Are you sorry now? In the light of day?"

She bit her lip, "not...sorry. I'm embarrassed. You know, Buffy knows. Oh God. Does everyone...?"

"No," he hastened to assure her. "This is a fam.... A matter between you and Buffy. And me by default, since I bear a certain responsibility for Ethan."

"He said you'd say that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He said that you would feel guilty. Try to take the 'blame'."

"Well, he's known me rather a long time, I'm afraid."

"And you him. Do...do you think...I thought that he had feelings for me. A little. But he has obviously talked to you, and here you are to break the news to me gently. Is he gone already?" She looked so sad.

"No. That's not why he came to see me. He does have feelings for you. He asked me to try and speak to Buffy. He wants to...continue to...see you. Preferably without Buffy knocking the stuffing out of him."

"And you agreed?" She was beyond surprised.

"Not yet. I told Ethan that I wanted to speak to you first. What do you want?"

Her expression was stunned. "I think that's the first time anyone has asked me that since we moved here. I want... I like him. I want a chance to see where this goes. Do you think Buffy will listen to you?"

"Not a chance in Hell," he replied cheerfully. "But I will try."

"Thank you Mr. Gi... Rupert."

"You're welcome, Joyce." They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Then Joyce spoke.

"Mr... Rupert." He looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. "W-will Buffy be staying with you for long?" She realized that if Buffy really wanted to stay with him, there really wasn't anything that she could do about it.

"For a few days at least. Just to relieve the tension." Joyce gave him an odd stare, and he realized how that had sounded. "Between the two of you," he amended with great dignity.

Joyce bit her lip before asking, "she was with you. The night she said she was staying with Willow. Wasn't she?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yes. I had the impression that not telling you was meant to be a punishment of sorts."

"Because I didn't tell her about Ethan."

"You didn't tell her about a lot of things."

"I know." She couldn't meet his eyes. "Am I a terrible person to be afraid of my daughter?" He looked at her sharply. "Not for myself. She'd never, ever harm me. But of what she might to do someone on my behalf. She'd ...kill someone if...." She couldn't finish.

"She hasn't killed, you know. Not a human; a person."

"Ted?"

"Ted? Oh...that...man you er, dated. He wasn't human."

"Do I want to know?" She asked, timidly.

"Very advanced robot," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"N-not a demon or...anything?"

"No. But not a person, either."

"Is it strange that I'm relieved by that?"

"Not really, no." He hesitated before continuing. "But, you're quite right. She would indeed...ah, cross that line, were anyone to harm you."

"Or you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She'd do it for you, too."

"Ah, well, I'm her Watcher."

"Yes. But you're more than that, aren't you?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"You're more than just her Watcher. There's something between you. Something strong."

"I-I don't know what...." She interrupted him.

"When did you stop thinking of her as a daughter?"

"I...." He began, then stopped and looked her square in the eyes. "Joyce, I never thought of Buffy as my daughter. At first, she was my Slayer, my responsibility. Then...my partner. Never my daughter." He still held her eyes. "But I would never betray the trust that she has in me. I stupidly did that once, on her birthday. And by some miracle, she forgave me. I would never risk that again."

"Even if...if she felt the same?"

"I'd have to be the biggest fool imaginable to think that she.... She could have anyone. And she deserves...well, someone as amazing as she is."

Joyce smiled her eyes warm. She wondered if he realized just how in love with her he was.

They stood awkwardly, and then Giles spoke. "I really must get back to the museum. I will try to talk to Buffy. She's rather...headstrong." He said fondly.

"Tell me about it. But, if she'll listen to anyone, she'll listen to you."

"I'm glad you think so. I hadn't noticed that she listens to me." They shared a grin. "Goodbye, Joyce."

"Goodbye, Rupert. Thanks." He smiled at her and left.

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

Buffy met Willow for lunch. Buffy told Willow everything that was going on, after making her swear not to tell anyone but Oz (since Buffy knew that there were no more secrets between those two). Not a word to Xander. Willow had reluctantly agreed. After hearing what Buffy had to say, Willow was glad she couldn't say anything.

Then when Buffy told her about the dreams and the whole thing with Giles, Willow could only gape at her. "You're having... feelings... for Giles?"

"Is that disgusting?"

"No. You know I always thought he was nice looking. But... you were the first to euuww when... Faith was coming on to him." Willow had stumbled a little over Faith's name. "Why the sudden...change?"

"I don't know. And it's really not all that sudden. I've been having the dreams off and on for over a year. Since last summer. But... they're stepping up. Getting way more vivid. And let me just say 'wow'." She grinned at Willow. "If reality is even close...whew. As far as the stuff when I'm awake... yeah, that's new. So I need a semi-objective point of view."

"I don't know how objective I am. Remember...big crush."

"But, you're over it." Pause. "Right?"

"Yes."

"So...." Buffy stopped not sure where to start. "He's attractive."

"Yes." Willow responded.

"Nice eyes."

"Definitely."

"Nice hands." Buffy said dreamily.

"Agreed."

"Sweet smile."

"Unless it's wicked." Willow countered.

"Hmmm. Yes. But that's nice, too."

"True."

"Nice butt."

"Yes." Then Willow blushed as she realized what she had agreed to. But she nodded.

"So physically he's what I'm seeing. It's not my imagination. He is handsome."

"Yes. Now what?"

"I have no idea. What should I...? He hasn't said anything, or done anything to even hint that he might be having... warm fuzzies for me."

"Maybe you should ask him." Willow suggested, less decisively than she usually was about the talking thing.

"I can tell Giles anything, I know that. But...this...this is different. Is there some subtle way to find out without humiliating myself, and/or embarrassing the both of us?"

Willow thought for a few minutes. "I hate to say it, but I think we need Cordelia for this."

"Oh God. Do I have to?" Buffy whined.

"No. You can stumble around and try to handle this yourself."

"Harsh."

****

After lunch, Buffy returned to Giles' place. She thought over the conversation with Willow, and the phone "consultation" with Cordelia. Cordelia had been less than surprised at the revelation. Buffy wondered at that.

She had a pretty good idea of what she needed to do. First, see if he were having a male reaction to her. A few seemingly unintentional touches. "Innocent" remarks, that aren't, etc. Second, see if said male reaction were… personal. If he were reacting to her, or to a convenient woman. It hurt her to think about it.

She decided to fix dinner. Giles had plenty of food and paraphernalia. Apparently; he liked to cook, too.  She hadn't realized that. Although, she supposed it made sense. She puttered around in the kitchen, humming happily. She felt good. She had a plan, and Willow and Cordelia were kind of pulling for her. Giles wouldn't know what hit him. She smiled mischievously, just as she heard the front door close.

She looked out of the kitchen. Giles stood by the door, still holding his briefcase. He appeared to be sniffing the air. She smiled and came out of the kitchen to greet him. "Hi, Giles. How was your day?"

He smiled warmly at her, "quite…nice. Interesting really." He paused. "Did you cook?"

"I did. I hope you don't mind." She bit her lip, having suddenly realized that she had taken an awful lot for granted.

"Mind?" He asked, incredulous. "Why would I mind?"

"Well, I did kind of… it's your kitchen, your house… and I…."

He cut her off. "Buffy, no. Really it's fine. More than fine. Quite pleasant, actually.  Lovely surprise." She relaxed. "What did you fix, my dear?"

"What and ruin your fun of guessing what that brown stuff is?" She teased, eyes twinkling.

"Brown? Brown is for clothing, not food," he replied, green eyes laughing.

"Oh, like tweed?"

"Rather." He said as he took his briefcase to his desk, and sat it down. "And I know how you feel about tweed."

"It's kind of grown on me." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "Okay," she admitted. "I wouldn't wear it, but someone like…say you…for example, can carry off that look."

"Are you ill? That was almost a compliment."


"Ha ha. I'm fine. Do I have to be ill to say that my Watcher looks good?" She asked with false innocence.

His expression was puzzled as he considered his response. "I suppose not. Although, it is rather unprecedented."

"Well, now we have a precedent."

"Yes," was his perplexed reply, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, why don't you go clean up, and dinner should be ready by the time you finish. Then you can tell me about your 'interesting' day." He shot her one last confused glance and moved to comply.

A short while later, they sat eating dinner. Giles once again complimented her cooking. She blushed and said "Thank you." She looked at him searchingly for a few minutes. "So tell me about your day."

His eyes shifted away from her for a minute, as he collected himself. She had no idea how domestic this was. But her presence, cooking and question had made him ache for things that could never be. He pulled himself together, and answered her. "I had a visitor at the Museum." She raised her eyebrows. "Ethan." Her eyes narrowed. "He wanted me to talk to you. About Joyce. And him. He wants to continue seeing her."

"And you agreed?" She demanded angrily. He opened his mouth to answer, but she continued. "Men. Do you always stick together? You're supposed to talk me into letting him keep screwing my Mom? And what the hell is 'wanking', any way?" She finally demanded, apparently out of nowhere.

"I did not agree. I went and talked to Joyce. She said that she'd like to continue seeing him. Dating. I told her that I'd make you aware of the situation, but that I doubted that you'd listen to me. She seemed to think that you might. Her mistake. Your mother assured me that she was a willing participant. Men do *not* stick together. Unless, of course, we're attacked. Wanking is, well, not something that I'd care to discuss with you." He finished, his green eyes flashing with anger. 

She stood up and he followed suit. "I do so listen to you, Giles. But, you're asking me to let Ethan date Mom. And why won't you tell me what 'wanking' is? Don't you think I'm old enough? Am I a child to you?" Her voice rose higher and higher with each word.

"You said it yourself, Buffy, she's an adult. The choice is not yours. What I'm asking you to do is to let things play out for a bit. You know that if he hurts her, I'll be at your disposal to rend him limb from limb. But he really seems to be bowled over. He likes her. And she likes him. Of course I don't think you're a child. How the hell could I? Wanking is, well, personal."

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Do you think he cares about her? Honestly, Giles?"

He carefully considered. "Yes, I honestly do. I'm not saying he's ready to move in, and for you to call him 'papa', but he really seemed sincere."

Her eyes searched his, then she nodded. "Okay. I won't pummel him. Yet. But I make no promises about later."

"That's more than fair, Buffy."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't like it. The euww factor just keeps on increasing."

"You'll get no argument from me."

"But I just did, didn't I?" She grinned, her earlier anger all but forgotten. Happy in the knowledge that he had followed her every digression with apparent ease.

"No, we discussed the situation from differing viewpoints."

"Which in American means an argument."

"Ah, well, there's no accounting for Americans," he said, trying not to smile.

"Hey. No dissing my country, you Brit." But her smile had grown bigger. Then it faded. "Do I have to talk to Mom tonight?" She pouted at him.

"Yes, I really think that would be best. Be done with it."

"What if he's there?"

"I suppose I owe it to you to let you hit him a couple of times." She grinned at him. "Just don't upset your Mother."

"Yes, Giles." She said with deceptive meekness. He tapped her nose.

"Don't think you're fooling me."

"I never thought that." She assured him with sincerity. "Do we have to go right now?"

"No, I'd like to relax for a bit beforehand." With those words he sat down on the sofa.

"Cool," she said, and then she sat right next to him. She was, in fact, so close, that she could feel the warmth of his hip and thigh on her own. Which meant that he could probably feel hers.

He shot her a startled look, and tried to edge a little away from her. The last thing he needed was to be this close to her. "Ah, Buffy?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Yes, Giles?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

But he couldn't answer that without letting her know how uncomfortable her body was making him. He settled himself to read his book, while Buffy leafed through a fashion magazine. He found it difficult to concentrate on his book, unsurprisingly, her warmth next to him making him think all sorts of things that he knew he shouldn't. He glanced at Buffy, only to find her frowning at her magazine.

"What's the matter, Buffy?"

"This outfit. They say it's supposed to 'in', but I think it's trashy. And you've seen how I dress."

His eyes got a faraway expression. "Yes, indeed."

"Well, you're a man. What do you think? Can you see me wearing this, in public?" And she held up the page in question. On it was a small blond, barely clad in a tiny blue dress. It showed a lot of leg. And a whole lot of cleavage.

He swallowed, "You? Wear t-that? I-in public." His eyes were glassy. Then focused on her again. Her expression was innocent. He looked at her harder. Too innocent. What was his Slayer up to? "Not in public." He said finally, somewhat in control.

She grinned at him, "In private?"

He looked at her again. "Perhaps." He finally answered, tentatively.

"'Kay." She said, leaning a bit more towards him.

Giles was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He could smell Buffy's light perfume, feel her warm body, and his body had some very definite ideas about what he should do about it. But he couldn't move, or his body's reaction would be all too obvious. So he tried to tune her out, and concentrate on his book.


But she would have none of it. She continued to distract him, asking him questions, showing him outfits, or just making offhand comments about things.


Finally he gave up, and stood. "I suppose we'd best go before it gets too late. I'll just go call her and make certain that she's home and, er, um, available to see us."

"All right, I'll be ready by the time you get done with that." He nodded an acknowledgment.

About a half-hour later, they pulled up outside Joyce's house. Buffy made no move to get out of the car. "Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?" He said, his voice very gentle.

"I can stay with you, right? No matter what happens tonight?"

"Of course, Buffy, always."

She took a deep breath and released it. "Okay, then. Let's do this." And she got out of the car. He followed her up to the door. Then she surprised him. She knocked on the door. Joyce must have been watching for them, because she opened it almost immediately.

She gestured for them to enter, without actually saying that they were invited. Giles gave her an approving nod as he passed. She gave him a sad smile in return.

They went into the living room, where Ethan sat waiting. He looked very nervous, but rose to his feet as they entered. "Rupert, Buffy," he greeted them.

"Ethan," they chorused. Then they all sat down and looked at each other awkwardly.  

Finally, Giles broke the silence. "I explained the situation to Buffy. She understands what's going on."

"Yes," was all Buffy said. He frowned at her, silently demanding that she continue. She sighed. "I'm not happy. But, Giles made me see that it's really not up to me. Mom, if Ethan makes you happy, then, well, not fine, but okay, I'll deal. Ethan, you don't even want to know what Giles and I will do to you if you hurt her. But, imagine lots and lots of pain. Also there will be blood. Possibly loose body parts."

Joyce was looking a little green, but Ethan nodded. This was actually more than he had expected. She said that Giles had talked her into it. Just how much influence did his old mate have over his little Slayer? He looked back and forth between them, then smiled behind his hand. <oh this is too rich. I wonder if he knows? > "I understand, Buffy," he finally responded. "I don't want to hurt her."

"Just make damn sure that she doesn't get hurt because of you. Because, if anything does happen to her, you'd better tell us who your next of kin is." Her voice was deadly calm.

"Actually, that would be Rip-um, Rupert."

"Oh God, you two are related?" Buffy wailed.

"Not as such." Giles hastened to reassure her. "But, Ethan doesn't have any family left."

"No more do you, Ripper." Ethan pointed out.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, Ethan. But I have the children, and Buffy. Even Joyce after a fashion."

Buffy felt a thrill. "The children and Buffy." She all but bounced in her seat. They made small talk for a few more minutes, and then Giles and Buffy stood to leave.

Joyce felt compelled to ask. "You're still going to stay with Rupert?" Buffy froze.

"I-I thought it would be best. I don't mind, and Giles said it was okay. Right Giles?"

"Yes, of course." He agreed calmly, although his thoughts were in turmoil. As they were going put the door, Ethan stopped Buffy.

"I know that I'm the last person that you want advice from, but here goes. Don't bother with subtlety. He'll convince himself that's he's imagining things, and that he's a dirty old man. Don't let him think about it."

"Why?" She asked suspiciously.

"He's my oldest and perhaps only friend, Buffy." Then he grinned wickedly. "And I'm hoping that you'll keep each other very busy, and leave me be." She almost smiled at him. "And Buffy," he continued, all trace of a smile gone. "If this is a game to you, if you tear his heart out, I know spells that you don't even want to think about. I'm the only one allowed to torture Ripper." Her eyes softened just a little, and she nodded.

Giles was waiting outside the door, talking quietly to Joyce when Buffy came out. She took his hand casually and led him to the car. He opened her door for her and she slid in, and over to the middle. When Giles got in the car, before he could start the motor, Buffy placed her hand on his thigh. "Giles?"

"Hmm?" He said, distracted.

"Would you say that Ethan knows you fairly well?"

He focused on her, puzzled. "Yes, I suppose he does at that. Why?"

"Just curious," she said. She moved her hand, but rested her cheek on his arm. "I feel like I ran a marathon." She said with a sigh. "I don't know what my mother sees in him."

Giles had his own opinion about that, one that he had no intention of sharing with Buffy. After a moment's hesitation, he put his arm across her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. "I believe that everything will turn out just fine, Buffy. Truly." He assured her.

She tilted her face up towards him. "I believe you," she said, smiling at him.


Giles had some slight difficulty driving with her snuggled up to his side, but found that he didn't have it in him to ask her to move. So he held her and drove.

When they reached his place, Giles moved carefully away, and went to open the car door for her. She smiled a thank you, and followed him. Once in the living room, Buffy locked the front door, pulled the shades and turned to Giles, who was staring at her in surprise.

"Buffy? Is everything all right, my dear?"

"Everything is just fine. Or, actually, it's about to be." He looked even more confused, then downright shocked, when she pushed him to the sofa, then down. He sat looking up at her, too stunned by her strange actions to even speak.

"B-Buffy?" He asked nervously.

She sat across his thighs. "Yes, Giles?" She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Wh-what's going on?" He asked, his voice growing raspy.

She leaned towards him. "I showing you that I love you and want to be with you. In a non-subtle way." He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on without giving him the chance. "And before you can start with the doubts, let me assure you that I'm not under the influence of alcohol, drugs, candy curses, broken heart, need for a father figure or anything except your yummy self. I love you."

He looked at her, gauging her sincerity, and state of mind. Her green eyes were clear and calm, filled only with love and perhaps desire. He reflected on those of her dreams that he was aware of, the way she'd been looking at him lately, and a thousand other things. Finally he spoke. "Oh." And he closed his arms around her, pulling her in for a mind-numbing kiss. Her hands on his shoulders tightened.  He pulled back. "I love you, too, my dear." And he kissed her again.

Several minutes later, a wobbly-kneed Slayer was led up the stairs by an equally unsteady Watcher. Once they stood next to his bed, he again captured her lips, his hands cupping her face. Her small hands started to unbutton his shirt, finally pushing it off of his shoulders. He pulled back long enough for her to pull his undershirt off of him.

His hands caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine, then his lips trailed after his fingers, stopping at the edge of her shirt. His hands came down to cup her breasts. Her hands meanwhile, were quite busy, unfastening his trousers. When she slid her hand down to cup him, his hands on her tightened reflexively. She groaned into his mouth.

He pulled her shirt off of her, then quickly disposed of her bra. He encouraged her to sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt before her and took first one then the other breast into his warm mouth. She arched towards him. While his mouth wreaked havoc on her bosom, his hands were moving her skirt down her hips and onto the floor.

He trailed one hand up her thigh, to the edge of her panties, then under. His long, talented fingers caressed her folds, causing her to gasp, and increase the intensity of her kisses. She ran her fingers through his chest hair, scraping her nails lightly over his nipples. He pulled abruptly away from her. She looked at him in confusion, feeling bereft.

He held her eyes as he stood and allowed his trousers and boxer shorts to fall to the floor. He stepped out of them as he kicked off his shoes, and socks. His eyes moved to the nightstand and he opened the drawer. He pulled out a small foil packet. Buffy held out her hand for it. As she tried to put it on him, he carefully shifted her completely onto the bed and resumed kissing her. She heard a rip as he removed her last article of clothing.

When the condom was in place, and Buffy settled to his satisfaction, he gently ran the tip of his penis along her intimacy. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he slowly inch by inch pushed his way home. When he was finally buried to the hilt, they gave twin groans of satisfaction. He held still, letting her become accustomed to his large warmth inside her.

When he felt her begin to shift beneath him, he started thrusting slowly in and out of her. She couldn't believe the way he made her feel. Warm, safe, loved <very, very>, excited <oh yeah, that one in a big way! >, and so very happy.

When he picked of the pace, she was more than ready, meeting him thrust for thrust. She could feel her climax approaching fast and knew that he was waiting for her to loose his own control. She gently dug her nails into his butt. He gasped and thrust even faster. He felt her walls tighten around him, and let go; burying himself as deep inside of her as possible as he came.

Later they lay side-by-side in the bed, murmuring sweet words of love and plans for the future. "I must say, I was beginning to wonder if one of us wasn't losing their mind this last few weeks." He finally said, kissing her mouth then her throat.

"Yeah, we have been acting kind of weird. But, you know what they say." She moved her head to the side to give him better access.

He paused in his attack on her earlobe. "No, I don't believe I do."

"Love makes you do the wacky."

END