Title: Blizzard In Bed
Author:Darcy
Rating: R
Spoilers: Season 5
Summary: Buffy nearly gets eaten, Giles saves Buffy, Buffy and Giles get snowed in. Need we say more?
Disclaimers: All I own from this story is the wording and the orchestration.
Feedback: will be shellacked and framed.
Notes: As I explained to Sharon, this story is....fluff adjacent. Just my fun little take off bit of the snowed in challenge. Heck, I just wanted to get Giles in bed with Buffy.

"Well I'm gonna have to say this is a new one," Buffy commented after a long, startled pause. She held her hand out, catching some of the snow flakes that had suddenly begun to fall. Buffy and Giles' training session that afternoon had somehow been quite a fun ordeal (despite several bruises, a broken chair and a concussion scare) and on impulse, Buffy had asked her Watcher to patrol with her that evening. He gladly accepted the invitation, for although they spent a good amount of time together these days, they hadn't been on patrol together just the two of them. After patrol, they'd stopped by Willow's to pick up the Snoopy snow globe that Buffy had lent to the redhead. Willow had been ill for days and Buffy knew that around the holidays the little cartoon creature always cheered her friend up.

Now, Willow was visiting her grandmother. it was quite miraculous, really. Willow hadn't heard from the woman in ten years, but suddenly a bout of sentimentality and family feelings had come upon her and she'd invited Willow for Christmas (with her parents vacationing in Italy for two weeks, she saw no reason to stay when the gang urged her to go). They were about to head to the Summer's home where the Scoobies had elected to have an "All-Night Fest of Holiday Goodness" including videos and many artery-clogging snacks when the temperature had dropped suddenly and startlingly. Five minutes later, the tiny white flakes had miraculously begun to fall. "Now, I know weather guys are known for their badness at predicting the actual *weather,* but this is even a bit far off for them." She looked up at the man who was surveying the suddenly white evening with a furrowed brow and calculating eyes. "Hocus Pocus snow?"

"I would be inclined to agree with that particular conclusion." The weather had been balmy that day, seventy degrees, pleasant for Sunnydale two days before Christmas. The evening was cool, but that only warranted light jackets and so the bizarrely sudden cold snap was immensely suspicious.

"I thought that weather magic was like, a big ole scary general frown upon in the magic world," Buffy said, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

"Well, it is notoriously difficult and volatile," Giles agreed. "Very few people attempt to manipulate the elements. Then again, those that practice dark magics on such a, well, grand scale aren't generally thought to be too terribly mentally stable."

"Could a demon be doing it? Like, like a weather demon or something?" Giles flashed a briefly amused smile, but the current puzzling situation didn't give rise to long-lasting mirth. Buffy `hmmphed.' "I bet if Xander or Oz were here they'd attribute it to Storm." She gave Giles a sidelong glance. "From the--"

"X-Men, yes, I am aware of `American' entertainment as it were. I *have* lived here for a few years."

Buffy grinned. "Think of it as a pop quiz. But seriously, could a demon do this?"

"None that *I've* ever heard of, but it is possible, I suppose."

"Book time?"

"Most definitely."

"Lemme give mom a call and then it's on over to the Library of Giles and we'll do some literary searchin'. Darn," she pouted. "I guess there'll be no Fest of Holiday Goodness tonight, huh?" Giles smiled sympathetically.

Buffy headed towards a pay phone when a trio of teenage girls hurried past them, swearing loudly about the snow. Buffy shook her head. Sure, she used the occasional oath, but those girls seemed a little young to be talking to make sailors blush. She began to move again when a horde of vampires skittered out of the darkness and ran smack into the Watcher and Slayer duo.

Buffy and Giles were knocked to the ground in a rather undignified sprawl with the three vampires. Buffy leapt to her feet.

"Hey! I already finished patrol! I don't need overtime!"

"Something bad's going on Slayer," one of them snarled--though Buffy thought she detected a laugh in there--as he tried to scramble to his feet. "What say you focus on that and let us get out of here. We're losing our dinner."

"Oh, sure. Yeah, go on ahead." He started to smile when she staked him. "What, you thought I was a loon? This is my job." The other two growled and threw themselves at the two mortals. Giles tumbled into the snow with his attacker. Buffy side-stepped her own opponent, but he caught her bag as he flew past and landed on top of it with a crack and a yelp. He leapt up, the front of his shirt wet, broken glass and fake snow in a growing puddle on the ground. Buffy froze, mouth wide open. In an instant her face shifted into a mask of utter fury.

"*IS* *NOTHING* *SACRED!*" Buffy yelled as the vampire stepped on the shattered remains of her Snoopy snow globe. "My grandmother got me that on my third birthday you bastard!" He ran at her and she took a step forward, throwing her fist out and catching him in the jaw. He fell to the ground and Buffy dropped onto his chest, pinning him, and started hitting him with her tote. "My! Grand!ma! You! Freak! You! Don't! Hurt! Snoopy!"

"Buffy! Perhaps it might be in...*everyone's* best interest if you *staked* him now!" She kept hitting and punching. "When I said `now,' I meant NOW, Buffy!" Buffy growled and thrust a stake into the whimpering vampire's heart. He exploded into dust and Buffy thumped unceremoniously to the ground. Giles grabbed her elbow and hoisted her to her feet. Buffy shivered as the snow began to come down harder than before. The stars and heavens above were now obscured by a swirling cloud of white. The snow was rapidly turning into a blizzard.

"Thanks," she muttered, picking up her purse and scooping up Snoopy's battered body. She frowned and stroked the nose and then dropped it into her bag. Giles began walking towards his home and she jogged to catch up. "You know, a girl is heading home after patrolling and a stop at her friend's, Snoopy in her purse, thinking he's safe. He only came to visit for a while to cheer up a sick and vomity Willow and he was going home to sit on my dining room table and then live happily in the closet until next year. A freaky snow storm suddenly appears and a vamp goes ballistic, killing an innocent cartoon dog. What did Snoopy ever do to him? I mean, sure, he kind of abused Woodstock, but it's not like that guy's sire was a pigeon or anything."

Giles snorted at his Slayer's ramble of murderous rage. "That vampire's lucky I was around or he may have ended up with said cartoon dog lodged in his eye socket."

Buffy grumbled. "And what would have been wrong with that." He gave her a skeptical look and she relented a little. "Hmmmph. Well, I guess we do kinda need to focus on this weather thing." She shuddered again. They'd sped up to a jog both to warm themselves and to reach his apartment before they became evil-fighting popsicles. "Besides," she gave a small smile. "After that, it's all fest, all the time. And Mom's been feeling pretty good lately and she even volunteered to whip up a batch of her killer egg nog. Do you like egg nog?"

"Don't touch the filthy stuff."

Buffy gaped at him. "You're inhuman!"

"Oh, of course, I forgot that Buffy's taste in food dictates the grounds for humanity. I'll have to keep that in mind."

"Shut your mouth, Watcher. You'll try it and you'll *like* it. You have to. You'd be a bad guest if you didn't and you don't want to be a bad guest, do you?"

"Perish the thought."

By the time they reached Giles' door, the snow was inches deep and still coming on strong. The storm had become worse, the wind shrieking and tearing at them. At first the snow had been disconcerting, but somehow nice (if she forgot the whole likely evil aspect of it) but now it was frightening. And cold. Horribly cold. Buffy and Giles only had light jackets on and Buffy they were almost completely numb. Giles turned the knob and the wind ripped the door from his grip. They started, but were about to step in when a voice came from behind.

"Look, Maynie, it's our dinner guest."

Buffy and Giles whirled at the sound of the voice, a sharp insult on the tip of Buffy's tongue. Giles turned into the wrong end of a bat and after a brief glimpse of pale, inhuman faces and fiery hair, darkness filled his vision. Buffy met them with more resistance, but soon, she too was unconscious.

***

"Ow.....who hit me? I'll kill `em." She tried to roll onto her side, but ended up on her face because her hands were tied and it threw her off. She grunted and pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Not a good idea, sweet. Actually, aside from that, it's rather impossible."

Buffy rubbed at her head, wincing when her fingers passed over a large bump on the side of her face, and a cut still a bit sticky on her forehead. She shivered, she was freezing and she longed to rub her arms. Her vision cleared a bit and the dark blur over her shifted, came into focus. A man crouched over her and grinned and dropped a blanket on her. "Morning peaches." Buffy spat on him. "No very lady like," he said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face. "I gave you a blanket and everything."

"Bite me." A growl burst from his lips and suddenly his skin was pale gray blue, surrounding completely black eyes and a mouth full of polished metallic teeth. "Maybe I will," he snarled. Buffy's eyes were wide. He ran a hand over his face and it was back to normal. Pale and mostly smooth, but for a few lines around the bright green eyes lined with black pencil. He had dark blonde, curly hair that barely brushed his shoulders. He reached out and touched her throat with silver tipped finger nails and ran it down to just below her collar bone. She resisted the urge to flinch away from his abnormally hot skin.

She was a bit startled to realize that she was in Giles' home. Why were they here? And where was Giles? He'd been unconscious... < Oh God. > Unconscious in a horrible unnatural blizzard. < He's fine. He's fine. He went to a neighbor's. >

"Bugger off, Nathan," came a darkly accented voice. "Can you ever just leave anyone alone?" Buffy looked over the man's shoulder at a woman standing in the corner. She had brilliant red hair. Not the orangey-blonde hair that many redheads have, but a dark fiery red mane, cut in a neat bob that barely brushed her chin.

"Just came to meet and greet the guest of honor at our Christmas dinner."

"Jerk ass! Just leave her be! The last time you went to meet and greet the bloody Slayer nearly kicked your head off!"

"That's why we've chained Sunshine's feet!" Nathan said brightly. "Sweet mother, Maynie, it's not like she can spit fire." He stood up and gave Buffy a good kick in the thigh before moving off to the couch in the opposite corner. Buffy winced, but continued to fix what her mother called her `death gaze' on him.

"Did you make the snow?"

Maynie beamed at Buffy. "Certainly did. Took quite a while, though. I mean, our ancestors used to have the power to just call up ice, wind, snow, whenever they wanted. It's kind of been lost through the generations but me `n' my brother--"

"Shut UP, Maynie!" Nathan growled.

"Is that how you speak to your sister?" Buffy sneered. Nathan lowered his eyelids and fixed his icy glare on Buffy. "I'm gonna fuckin' eat you."

***

Giles' eyes snapped open. Where was he? He realized with a sudden blurry shock that he was outside. It took him several moments, but he stumbled to his feet shaking off the thick layer of snow that had rapidly covered him. Darkness whirred through his brain, snow in front of his eyes. His door was locked the curtains were closed. He thumped numbly against the wood. The cold was so immense and horrible he almost fell again, but managed to stumble to his neighbor's door. It swung open under his touch. He had to fight to close the door and nearly lost, but it clicked shut, throwing him off balance with the sudden lack of resistance. He swore vividly before slumping to the ground once more.

***

"Do you think I could have something to drink?" Buffy asked the woman, Maynie.

"Sure, what do you want? He's got soda, orange juice, apple juice, lovely little bottle of whiskey I'm particularly fond of, water." Buffy swallowed hard. Giles kept the juice just for her. He despised orange juice. He preferred apple.

"Orange juice." Maynie opened the fridge and pulled out a container of orange juice. Sticking a straw in it, she held it while Buffy drank. When she was done, Maynie stood and threw the carton away.

"Kaya, but I could go for some licorice right now." She headed over to a bag on the floor. When it yielded no red treat, she bellowed for her brother. "Nathan! Where's the licorice!?" "Maynie!" Nathan hissed. "Do you want to show weakness in front of the prisoner?"

"Nathan!" she gave him a disbelieving look and chucked a can of soda at his head. He deflected it with his hand and then jumped around, holding his injured limb. "Just because I have the munchies that means I'm less evil!?" she snorted. "Don't I wish I could be terrifying as you leaping about and whimpering like a little girl. Augh!" She turned to Buffy, shaking her head, flaming hair brushing her cheeks. "Honestly! Men! If you're not beating the shit out of a person it's a sign of weakness."

Buffy shuddered. She'd been listening to them for ten minutes. She knew what they planned to do with her on Christmas. She'd been told ever so gleefully that as soon as midnight hit on the twenty-fifth, she would be devoured to sustain the demons for another two years. But she wasn't as worried about that as she was about surviving their bickering that long.

***

Giles was first aware of a horrible aching pain through his forehead and a hot almost painful tingling throughout his body. He rolled onto his back painfully and peeled one dry eyelid up, then the other.

It was dark and though the heater was not on, it was considerably warmer than outside. The tingling pain was his body warming up again after the terrible cold outside. Taking another minute to orient himself, Giles sat up.

"Huh-huh-hullo?" he chattered. "I-Is anyone home? Mr. Brighton? Mrs. Brighton? Anyone." He shook his head, causing him to cringe at the sharp pain. He reached up gingerly and winced. He felt a large swelling on his temple and his fingers came away sticky with blood. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and focused on the Brightons. They were kindly people. They probably wouldn't mind him being here under the circumstances. He pushed himself up on tingling palms and stood shakily on a throw rug in front of the door. His clothes were damp and cold and uncomfortable from the snow that was melting on him. He shook off the jacket and when he realized that his hands had enough sensation to be reasonably coordinated, he picked up a phone that rested on the table by the door.

No dial tone. Damn. The snow had probably taken down the power. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he hadn't really looked around. He glanced about and stopped short. Mr. and Mrs. Brighton, sat at their dinner table, a roast and two salads neatly laid out. Their heads rested on the wood of the table top, their eyes sightlessly watching the floor. No, the snow hadn't taken out the power lines, the phone lines had likely just been cut.

***

Giles closed the eyes of the dead, his throat tightening. They'd been a kindly couple in their mid-fifties, not very exciting, but they were always ready to ask Giles how his day had been when they met outside while retrieving mail. They even had given him a bottle of champagne for Christmas. Giles couldn't hear noises through the wall, but he assumed the attackers were in there with Buffy and he assumed that they were the ones who had called up the freak snow. And he assumed that they had been the ones to kill the Brightons, wanting to avoid any possible interference by neighbors or the authorities the neighbors might contact in case of anything suspicious.

Giles wasn't prepared to barge in there just yet and make himself known and risk injuring himself or Buffy. He needed a plan. Giles looked out the window. The snow was deeper than it had been before. He'd have to shove the door open. He had to get Buffy. What could he use? All his weapons were in the apartment. He just hope that his foes hadn't discovered them yet.

First he went around the house searching for possible weapons. He picked up several small steak knives and found them suitable for throwing. He lined those up on the table. Next, he discovered a bottle of lighter fluid and several boxes of matches. Perfect. Cabinets and drawers yielded nothing else of use. Giles shivered violently in his still we clothes and realized he could do nothing if he shivered to much to throw a knife or light a match, so his next search area were the closets. Mr. Brighton was a large man, nearly two inches taller than Giles, but he pulled on a pair of jeans, thick socks and shoes, a sweater and heavy jacket. Giles hurried downstairs and placed his makeshift arsenal throughout the jacket's pockets and finally pulled on a pair of gloves.

Giles opened the door and jumped back out of the way of a fall of snow. White. < Damn. > The wind had been blowing at the front of his home when he and Buffy had arrived; he remembered the wind yanking the handle from his fist. The snow had been five or so inches deep when they'd reached his place. He bolted to the rear windows of the apartment and looked out. His eyes widened and he breathed shakily. He approximated that nearly two feet of snow had been laid down since. It would be almost thigh deep by now. < What in the HELL is going on? > He shook off a sudden bout of irrational fear.

"Can't let a little bit of white fluff phase you, old man," Giles muttered to himself. "You'll just have to go through the back window." He took a moment to brace himself, then put an elbow through the glass panes. Painfully icy wind whipped through the sudden opening in the home. It squealed and shrieked angrily, ripping anything light enough from it's base and hurling it about the room. It was like a living thing seeking to destroy what it could. Giles knocked out and brushed away the last remains of broken glass before heaving himself off the floor. It was a tight fit, for the back windows on the Brighton residence were small and not meant to be opened. And Giles did not feel like risking a jump through the larger window in the loft. For a moment, he thought that his shoulders would prevent his exit, but an instant later he was through and tumbling into the unnatural whiteness now laid out over everything in sight. He picked himself up and fought against the seemingly living wind to his own home. He crouched low beneath the window for a moment, then slowly rose until he could just barely see through the window. Candles lit the room, for the power now appeared to be off. Rage and fear rose in his throat at the sight of Buffy lying bound against the wall. Two people lounged on his couch, apparently bickering. They looked human enough, but the flaming red hair of the woman told him that it was the one who had wielded the baseball bat with such painful skill. He rubbed absently at his swollen temple. Now to wait for his chance. Giles reached into his pocket, feeling the sharp edge of the steak knife through his gloves.

***

Buffy was woozy. She'd asked for more orange juice, but it had been drugged. She was struggling to keep conscious, but she felt light and warm and wanted to go to sleep. Nathan leaned over her.

"Hungry, Peaches? I know I am. Just a few more hours and then I'll be niiice and full." He licked his lips in wicked delight.

"I hope you choke on me," Buffy managed before passing out.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to starve." The sound of shattering glass and screaming wind caused Nathan to whip his head around his true visage showing in his shock. Something whirled through the air and he howled and pulled at the handle of a knife that now lay buried in his shoulder. He roared. Maynie shrieked, her demon form also showing now. Another knife flew, burying itself in Maynie's stomach.

"Maynie!" Nathan roared, leaping across the room, crouching in front of his sister who groaned and growled. Rolling to her feet, she ripped the blade from her flesh and leapt at Giles. He twisted sideways and brought his hand down on her back, sending her sprawling into the wall. Nathan pulled out a knife and slashed at the Watcher. Giles hissed in pain as it whipped across his thigh, but at least his duck had kept the blade from his chest. Giles dropped onto his back, pulling something from his pockets while he simultaneously swept Nathan off of his feet with a leg. He rolled onto his side and splashed brother and sister with lighter fluid as they tried to stand. They looked startled and stopped for a moment, trying to realize what had been done. There was a scratch and a hiss. Giles smiled and tossed the match.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy felt a pair of arms slide under her and she turned her head, her sluggish brain valiantly trying to work up an insult.

"Shhh, shhh. Buffy, it's just Giles."

"What the hell took you so long?" she mumbled, relaxing as Giles gently picked her up. Giles grinned surveyed the newly boarded up window that had blankets duct-taped over it in an attempt to keep out the cold and wind; ashes and liquid that coated the floor in vaguely demon-shaped patterns.

"Well, I *was* unconscious and there *was* a little blizzard going on outside. That and the demons I had to fight..."

"Ya kill `em?"

"Yes."

"Then quishyer moaning," she slurred, not ready to open her eyes yet, "a leas they weren' going to *eat* you." Giles blinked in shock.

"*Eat* you?"

"MmmmmHMM!" she put in with a sleepily giddy tone. "No roas Who-Beas for them. Only good ole Ssslayer flesh." She weakly slapped her thigh. "But `sokay now that you're here. Buffy sleep now." Giles smiled as she drifted off again and carried her up to his bed, placing her under the covers and piling two more blankets on to make sure she stayed warm.

***

Buffy woke once more. This time pleasantly warm and comfortable. She was confused for a moment, but then settled back down. Giles. She was in Giles' house, in Giles' bed and he was here somewhere. She sighed at her new clear-headedness and looked down into the main room, completely dark but for one large pillar candle that was flickering softly. She smiled and saw Giles dozing under a large pile of blankets. Buffy shivered and pulled a thick, heavy comforter off of the bed and wrapped it around herself before descending the stairs.

She sat on the floor in front of Giles and tilted her head, smiling at his slack face, mouth slightly parted, his glasses askew on his nose. She sadly took in the injury to his forehead, hating the demons that marred his brow. Then, though, Buffy grinned and resisted the urge to laugh at the little trickle of saliva on his chin.

"Cute," she chuckled.

"I prefer devastatingly handsome," his sleep-thickened voice replied. Buffy quirked an eyebrow wryly.

"Didn't knew you talked in your sleep."

"I'm special that way."

She grinned. "Go back to sleep Giles. I promise not to ogle you anymore."

"I didn't really want to sleep anyway," Giles groaned, sitting up. "I just thought I should. Now, I can't, because I have to keep you company."

"Nice to know I'm a burden," Buffy teased. He looked stern. "Giles, do you think we'll ever have a holiday where we can just eat and get fat and not work the calories off defeating evil?"

"I can't say either way, but at least this way we all keep our girlish figures." Buffy nodded solemnly, readjusting the soft quilt.

"Why is it so cold in here? Don't you use the heater?"

"Do you recall a little thing called a freak blizzard?" Buffy nodded.

"But the demons made the snow. It was magic. Doesn't a spell like, disintegrate or something after the person who created it is killed?"

"Go look out the window."

Buffy rose, puzzled and looked to the window by the front door, stepping back in shock when she saw that it revealed only solid whiteness pressed up against the glass. "We're snowed in?"

"Painfully so. You've been sleeping for about..." he glanced at his watch, squinting in the half-darkness, "five and a half hours now. The power is out. No lights, no phones, no heater. I tried to leave, but I couldn't tell up from down with the wind blowing snow every which way. I had to come back. The snow is piled up probably to the loft on the front side and more than half way up on the other. I'm not sure why it's still going if the demons truly did make it as you said."

Buffy sat down hard. "Maybe they screwed it up," she said thickly. "They said that their kind used to be able to call up all this freaky winter weather stuff, but they'd forgotten how over the years. Nathan and Maynie--those were their names--apparently figured out how to do it again. Maybe they figured it wrong." She tried to sound hopeful. "Or maybe if they screwed it up, it will just take longer to go away. You think?" She looked up at him. Giles shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I don't know much about weather magic, perhaps it's different and the weather has to run it's course as a normal storm would."

"Maybe," Buffy said, attempting good-humor. "What time is it, Giles?"

He looked at his watch again. "Four thirty-seven, why?"

"Cause now it's Christmas Eve Day. I was supposed to cook us a nice dinner tonight. Mom's been feeling better since surgery, but she wasn't really up to making the whole big dinner dealy, especially since, we'd invited Xander and Anya and even Tara and Riley over for dinner." She shrugged. "And I was going to invite you over too, but I kinda forgot, what with demons trying to eat me and all." Giles smiled a little. "And what if we're not out by tomorrow? It will be the first Christmas I wasn't with her." A tear rolled down her cheek. She knew that she should stay calm. Things weren't as bad as she was making them out, but, voicing her fears seemed to make them worse. Emptying these thoughts from her mind had left room for new ones. "And-and she knows that Dawn isn't her daughter." Buffy lifted her head, new tears beginning to fall. Giles' eyes widened. "Before she went into surgery she kind of sprung it on me. She said she had been realizing lately that something was off and she asked me if Dawn wasn't her real daughter. I told her the truth. Sort of. I didn't say anything about the key, but, now...I mean, what will that be like? And I won't be there." Buffy pulled in a ragged breath and began really crying. She didn't resist when Giles reached out and hesitantly pulled Buffy against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "And I know that *we're* safe, but I don't know about them..."

"Oh, Buffy," was all he said as she cried against him. She'd only cried like this once since they'd found how ill her mother was, letting her tears out silently into the dishwater, hiding all signs of her distress from people. But there were so many other times she'd wanted to cry and not have to hide it from someone. Now, with that chance, she grabbed it, letting out everything she'd held in for the past weeks. Here in this room, with cold white snow muffling the outside world, she didn't have to worry about being strong. She couldn't. Giles held her until her tears quieted and her breathing calmed. She remained against his strong form for another minute reveling in it's warmth before she sat up, rubbing at her eyes and nose.

"Sorry about that," she sniffed with a little smile. Giles shook his head, indicating she didn't have to be sorry. "But...thanks." She caught his gaze and nodded as she spoke, trying to impress upon him how much she appreciated his silent support. "Thank you."

Giles smiled and covered her hand with his. "You're welcome Buffy."

"Hey,' Buffy said with a last sniffle, "do you think the guys got snowed in with Mom and Dawn?" The corner of her mouth twitched. "Mom was never all that fond of Anya, and with them all there for the movies and stuff last night..."

Giles faked a shudder. "Poor Joyce. Just what she needs." They smiled at each other, but it quickly faded. After several minutes of silence, Giles yawned.

"See, you're really tired," Buffy put in. "I told you. Rescuing is hard work, believe me, I'm an expert on this sort of thing." She rose. "Do you have a flashlight, Giles."

"In the desk. Bottom left-hand drawer."

She nodded, then retrieved the instrument. "Take forty winks, Giles; I'm going to. And besides," she pointed at the window, "I don't think we're going anywhere anyway." Giles started to protest, but Buffy gave him a stern look and he relented.

"Well, I suppose a nap wouldn't hurt." He started to stretch out on the couch when Buffy stopped him. "Buffy, whatever *are* you doing?" he asked as she began pulling blankets off of him and assisted him to his feet.

"You're in your house, Giles," she said in annoyance as she turned on the flashlight and blew out the candle. "Sleep in *your* bed."

"But don't you want..?"

She sighed. "Giles, don't get respectable on me now. We're both fully clothed, besides, I'd feel like a total witch if I was snoozing in that BIG comfy bed and you were cramped up on the couch." He looked like he was going to launch another protest but stopped when Buffy looked at him and gently tugged on his hand. "Come on, Giles, I'm tired and I'm cold and I know you are too. Come on." She gave one more shake to his hand and he followed her up the stairs. Buffy Dug herself in well beneath the covers, then looked over to Giles who still stood by the side of the bed. She pulled back the blankets and he slowly got in. Buffy smiled at him, then turned off the flashlight. Tugging the covers in well around them, she snuggled back down.

"Sleep, Giles." And he did.

***

Eleven twenty-three found Giles awake with Buffy's head resting lightly on his shoulder, he slim arms curled between them. He locate the flashlight, flicked it on, then smiled down at the sweet expression he found upon Buffy's face. A few minutes later she woke when he shifted. She opened her eyes slowly and beamed to find him watching her.

"Now who's ogling who?"

"I was most certainly *not* ogling," he said huffily. Buffy sat up.

"Think we're out yet?" she asked before grabbing a blanket and the flashlight, leaving him in darkness when she moved downstairs. Though she was out of sight, Giles knew the answer when her loud "Damnit!!" fill the residence. He sighed in frustration and climbed out of bed, pulling a blanket with him. Buffy sat dejectedly on the couch. He observed her as he moved to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

There was a pause and then a resigned "Yeah, starving."

***

They ate their food in bed, the warmest, most comfortable, and therefore best place to remain for the time being. Buffy cheered up a little bit at the novelty of it.

"I bet people'll really talk if I tell them I spent the blizzard in bed with you," she said, cheering considerably at the disciplinary, yet highly embarrassed glare he shot at her.

When eating only took up only fifteen minutes of their time, they sat in silence, wondering what they would do for the duration of their snow-induced incarceration. When Giles suggested they read, Buffy became irritated. "I'm snowed in on Christmas Eve, Giles. I don't need to be sad *and* bored."

"I only assumed we could do that because there's no electricity and that is one of the few forms of entertainment that is entirely independent of electricity." Buffy rolled her eyes and was about to retort when she saw the hurt in his eyes. She immediately apologized.

"I'm just not much of a reader. Too much effort." Giles smirked and she glared. Her glare turned to a wary smile when Giles spoke again.

"Well, I suppose I could read *to* you," he suggested slowly.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Buffy agreed somewhat hesitantly, but as soon as he began to put the words in the books into speech, she became entranced. He spent a good three hours reading. Then when he rotated his shoulders and neck stiffly, she suggested she give him a massage. He reluctantly agreed and when he had been reduced to a mass of utterly relaxed muscle, she retrieved a snack for them. They passed into the afternoon quietly, and then on into evening, finding things to talk about, games to play, anything to occupy the time. Buffy told Giles stories about living in L.A. and about her first months as Slayer, before she'd met him. Giles in turn told her stories of England and the family he still had there. Eventually, it was night, nearly ten o'clock. Buffy informed Giles that she was tired again and he agreed. "I usually have music on when I'm going to sleep," Buffy commented casually. Giles paused and turned to her. "Buffy..." Soon, Buffy had cajoled Giles into playing his guitar for her.

"But I'd have to sit up, it's too cold outside the blankets," he protested lamely.

"Come on, Giles, everyone else has see you play the guitar. I'm a loner. I'm a loser. I'm feeling very out of the loopy. You don't want that now, do you?" He chuckled.

"Fine, fine," he said, taking his guitar from it's case and settling back to play. "You're a very good liar."

"Who said I'm lying?" Buffy asked, completely serious. "I really want to hear you play." He tilted his head in surprise. "It's...it's kind of nice to think about you doing something besides research. You have your store now, sure, but...I still relate that to Slaying and....well, this is Different Giles and it's nice and I'm rambling and you should just play now so that I can stop talking because I feel kind of foolish." She blushed.

Giles leaned over his guitar and tilted her chin up. "You'll never look foolish." She grinned at him and he made himself comfortable again. "Any requests?" Buffy shook her head. Giles paused, searching his brain for an appropriate song, then smiled suddenly.

"Well the weather outside is frightful Inside it's not much more delightful And in hope that we soon can go Stop the snow, stop the snow stop the snow"

Buffy burst out laughing and kicked him under the blanket, though the fact that she was wearing three pairs of Giles socks in addition to her own took much of the edge off of her action. "That was horrible," she chuckled.

"You come up with a better one."

Buffy spent a moment thinking before she sang (well, it was more musical speaking)

"You know Buffy and Riley and Da-awn and Tara Xander and Joyce and Willow and Anya But do you recall the most British Sunnydale-ian of all?

"Giles the English Watcher knew a lot of snooty words And if you ever fought him you'd find he even played with swords"

"Oh, yes, that's *much* better," Giles said, rolling his eyes. "*Snooty*? At least I didn't insult you."

"It was not an insult, it was the only word I could think of that fit."

He feigned anger. "Think harder next time."

Buffy laughed at him before saying, "Maybe we should leave the carols up to those people who wear muffs and dress like they're from Oliver Twist." Giles agreed and then played a few old songs he knew, Buffy listening to him raptly, eyes half closed, applauding every time he finished. Every once in a while, he had to shove his hands under the covers to warm them, but he kept playing. After a while, Buffy spoke up.

"It's not a specific request, but, could you play something...nice?" Giles pretended to look offended. "I just mean something slower, quieter."

"Like a ballad?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so."

Giles nodded and looked thoughtful before speaking. Well, it's rather short, but it's one of the nicer ones I know." He placed his fingers over the strings and began plucking and strumming out a sweet, quiet melody.

Here is my song for the asking Ask me and I'll play So sweetly I'll make you smile

This is my tune for the taking Take it don't turn away I've been waiting all my life

Thinking it over I've been sad I'd be more than glad to change my ways For the asking Ask me and I'll play All the love that I hold inside

He hummed lightly as he made his way through the end of the song. When he'd finished, he looked up with a peacefully happy look on his face, waiting for Buffy's appraisal of the song. She was resting on her elbow, soft cheek resting on her palm. She observed him thoughtfully.

"It was perfect," she said softly. Giles held her eyes for a moment before smiling and putting his guitar down. He was warm and calm as he reclined. Buffy continued to watch him as he removed his glasses and dropped them on the night table, relaxing. In the candle light she fairly glowed, the warm gold illuminating her from behind. In combination with his lack of glasses, all sharp lines and shadows softened.

Giles had stopped taking his normally careful track of his words long ago, the physical proximity prompting an emotional closeness as well. With his normally cautious speech forgotten, he spoke casually.

"You know, when I take off my glasses, you're beautiful."

"Yeah, great. Your blindness hides my hideous features," Buffy snorted. "Merry Christmas to you too."

"No, no!" Giles chuckled. "You know I think you're always beautiful," he didn't even pause to think about his words. "But with my glasses off and the lighting..." his words slowed as he thought about what he was saying, "...you look...heavenly." His breath caught for a second when he realized the impact of the words he'd spoken. "Buffy?"

She watched him silently, lips parted, a confused but soft expression on her face. "Heavenly," she said softly. "No one's ever told me that before." She reached a hand out and laid it gently on his cheek before moving to kiss him sweetly. Her eyes closed and she pulled back enough to speak. "I'm nowhere near Heaven, Giles," she shook her head, then opened her eyes, taking his deeply. "But I think maybe now I'm getting a little closer," and she pressed her lips to his once more. Giles touched her arms hesitantly at first, but soon, he'd wrapped Buffy up in his embrace, passionate and unafraid.