Title: Going Back 4/8
Author: Gail Christison
Pairing: B/G
Rating: PG-15 for romantic stuff and mildy scary bits.
Summary: First of all, this is a sequel to a post Tabula Rasa fic I wrote a long while ago called "The Visitor,"
http://www.wickedsky.com/oncemore/omwf/fanfic_visitor.html in which Buffy goes to England to reconnect with Giles and to tell him something. They do indeed 'connect' and their relationship evolves into a ..well a relationship <g>. This sequel was written purely to explore the dynamics of that new relationship but it turned into an exploration of Giles' past, and an introduction to it for Buffy, as well as a mystery [not sure how that sneaked in there <g>] that needs to be solved.
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy, Joss..yadda yadda
Distribution: If you want it, please just ask.I like to share <g> Anyone who already has permission...go for it :-)
Feedback: After the length of the birth of this thing? Oh, Ghhhod yesss :-) chriscln@iinet.net.au

Author's notes: Following on from the summary, I should explain that this story was started in 2002. Three pages sat for 12 months before being resumed in 2003 and a healthy chunk written, Emily and Gregor arriving with it :-). Annnnd yet I managed to get stuck again...I've still only just finished it. It was one of those kind of fics. More hiccups than a Saturday night drunk <vbg>

Thanks: At this point I have to thank some people. I'm pretty sure that Ruth and Karen checked out the Scottish accents for me a long time ago, and Gileswench has been great at keeping me going on this thing as well as providing early beta-ing and feedback on parts of it. I also have to thank Karesia for the final beta at short notice and amidst great adversity. It was profoundly appreciated. :-) With over 2 years to cover I'm sure I've forgotten someone who helped or who got shanhai-ed to provide a spot-beta along the way. Whoever you are, I love you...please don't shoot me :D

Dedication #1 Happy birthday, Kim and thanks, my friend

Dedication #2 For Dawn M. B/Gers like you keep me writing. :-)

When they reached the room Emily had told him was theirs, Buffy leaned against Giles and sighed with contentment, then grew very quiet. There was another big bed, crisp white linen, lots of pillows and a patchwork quilt, heavy burgundy drapes and a small sitting area near the window. This room was carpeted instead of the polished floorboards of the other one, and someone had put fresh flowers...peony roses...in the vase on the small table.

A fire crackled in the old fireplace, and the bedroom, lit only by lamplight and the glow of the fire, was made even more intimate by the flicker of the shadows of the flames dancing on the walls and the ceiling. Even the sound of the wind whistling through the trees outside and a steady thrum of rain on the window only served to make it even cosier.

"It's not real, is it?" She finally whispered, ending the moved silence.

"Buffy?"

"All of this...it's...it's like one of those dreams where everything is too perfect...and then you wake up, and all of the bad stuff is still there..."

"Except you're not dreaming, love," he said gently.

"Yeah, I am," she said quietly, touching noses with Edwards. "This is a dream. Soon I'll wake up and I'll be back in Sunnydale."

Giles turned her slowly and waited for her eyes to find his above the bear's worn head.

"*We'll* be back in Sunnydale. Together. And just as awake as we are right now."

It was a long moment before she smiled slowly. "Reminds me of that song...back when we were all doing Broadway auditions thanks to Xander's little spell."

His brow furrowed for a moment then his expression cleared. "It has always been our greatest strength...being together. That hasn't changed.

"I'm kinda starting to get that, even if I still can't really believe...you know: that there's actually an 'us' now...and that it's so good and so right. I'm sorta used to everything being wrong...especially me."

He smiled then, and touched her face with great tenderness..

Edwards fell to the floor, forgotten. Buffy put her arms around Giles' neck, curled her legs around his waist as his arms enveloped and lifted her, then kissed him thoroughly. She finished with another kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry I got moody. It's just...it's like a dream here...like we belong...which is ridiculous when you think about it...I mean, Buffy and antiques is kind of like bubblegum and spinach..." She paused and made a revolted face. "I can't believe I said that."

He chuckled. "Yes, well, it makes the point rather vividly." He brushed her lips with his again. "But I suspect that you haven't really known the real you for a very long time." He made a laboured noise and moved to the bedside.

"What's the matter, big guy? Feeling the strain?" she teased.

"Not all of us are fortunate enough to be blessed with mystical strength," he pointed out stuffily.

"True...So I should stop mocking your manliness now...? Ahhh!"

Giles had waited until she loosened her grip on his neck and then released her without warning, so that she fell backwards onto the big bed.

"You!" she muttered, untangling her arms and legs and sitting up. "I bet you feel all Neanderthal and Alpha male, now."

He grinned dangerously. "Absolutely," he agreed and within the blink of an eye had her stretched out and pinned to the bed, crushing her lips with his. Moments later he raised his head and looked down into her flushed face and flashing eyes. "I may not be able to match you muscle for muscle, but you will never be in doubt as to how much I love you." He moved slightly to rest his groin against hers. "Or how much of a man I happen to be."

Buffy moved suggestively beneath him. "Mm...there's something to be said for Cave Giles..." She flipped him over swiftly and neatly, despite their size differential, and settled herself, straddling his hips and moving provocatively, before grinning equally dangerously. "Like the way he turns Cave Buffy on."

He slid his hands up her sides and chuckled. "There's also something to be said for Cave Buffy," he agreed, then grasped his chance and flipped her back over, this time rolling to his side and drawing her into his arms.

"But, all things considered, I think I like sentimental, tender Buffy most of all," he told her softly.

A look passed between them, a knowing, understanding look, that spoke volumes about how strong...and how precious their new relationship was.

*******

The kitchen was warm and inviting and full of wonderful smells when they finally wandered sheepishly downstairs in the morning. Emily looked up from the saucepan she was tending to grin at both of them.

"Good mornin'to ye. Breakfast won't be long."

Giles looked around. "Gregor outside?"

"Aye. He'll be here momentarily. The wood-box was almost empty."

But the minutes ticked away. The porridge was cooked and removed from the heat, the toast done to golden perfection and the eggs and bacon sizzling on a low heat, but Gregor still hadn't returned. Giles watched Em' cast a second and third furtive glance toward the door, before clearing his throat and standing up.

"I'll just go and give Gregor a hand, shall I? He's probably found another broody hen with a set that needs rescuing, or something else that needs mending."

Emily grinned. "Ye remember well," she told him fondly and nodded.

Giles turned to Buffy. "Won't be long."

"Glad to hear it, but excuse me if I stay here where it's both warm and dry...not to mention the breakfast-y goodness..."

He chuckled. "Save some for us."

It was cold outside, and damp. It had obviously rained on and off during the night, but though the sky was grey and cheerless, the rain was long gone. Giles headed for the place firewood had been stacked for generations, behind the stables. Gregor wasn't there, but the axe was. The axe-head had been in the family since before his time and he knew Gregor wouldn't have left it lying in the grass near the woodpile, nor in such poor repair, without good reason.

Inside the stables, he found the big skewbald stallion he'd sent down the last time he went back to the US, in the end stall. It snorted and stomped, then blew out a long breath before pausing. As Giles turned away, it whickered softly. He turned back and walked the several paces to the stall to stroke the big horse's nose.

"Sorry Otto," he said softly. "I know I neglect you shamefully, but at least you get to come back here when I can't be with you. You wouldn't happen to have seen Gregor anywhere, would you?"

The stallion snorted again and mouthed his hair.

"Yes, all right," Giles chuckled and pushed him away. "I promise I'll come and see you later...with carrots next time."

A search of the stables was fruitless. Giles scoured every inch of the house-yard, the barn and the outhouses. Something made him reluctant to call out the older man's name, but alarm was beginning to manifest itself in the pit of his stomach, nevertheless. When he walked through the back door alone, the tension in the kitchen was palpable.

"He can't be far away. If he was hurt, I'd have found him." Even to Giles' ears it sounded feeble. "I'm going to wash up and if he hasn't come in by then, I'll take Otto, and Buffy can re-check everywhere I've already been. Between us we should be able to cover the entire estate by this after..."

The back door rattled, then swung open, two arms wrapped around a very large load of kindling and firewood preceding the rest of Gregor into the room.

"There ye are, man. And everyone fretting about where ye were," Emily scolded, turning away to tend her nearly-spoiled breakfast, so that Buffy only caught a glimpse of the overwhelming relief on the old face.

"And why would ye be worryin' ye heads about me? I was only out yonder, down in the wood cellar trying to find something dry enough to burn," he said gruffly, making a loud clatter as he filled the kindling bucket and dumped the heavier timber in the big oak wood-box in the corner.

"Rupert went looking for you. You were gone a long time and he couldn't find you anywhere," Buffy explained.

"Ah," he nodded. "Normally I don't have to bother with the cellar, but the guttering on the back of the stable needs replacing. All of the firewood outside is too damp from the leaks to burn."

Giles was watching the old man, his eyes slightly narrowed, but he just nodded. "The steps down to the cellar are rather steep. I daresay if the gutter's leaking, there's probably water in there too."

Gregor nodded. "Aye, but only on one side. There's a lad in the village who'll come and bring out the wet logs to air. He cleaned the stables and the drop-boards in the henhouse and stacked wood in the cellar for Emily for years, for a bit o' pocket money. He's no' been around for a long while. It's about time he was up here again, now that yon beastie is back. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Come on all of ye, now. Breakfast, before it's completely spoiled," Emily ordered, bustling across to the big table with the salver of salvaged bacon and newly cooked eggs before going back for the toast rack and the preserves to add to the fresh butter and marmalade already there.

The meal was a success. Everyone was hungrier than they thought as the anxiety wore off and stomachs remembered they hadn't yet been fed. They all gradually relaxed, Gregor teasing Buffy about her very modest plate and Emily recounting cute but embarrassing stories from Giles' babyhood about his introduction to certain foods and his predilection for 'hands on' exploration of the texture and content of each bowl.

Buffy and Giles passed the day exploring the house and looking at family photographs, Giles answering endless questions about his family history and his own childhood in particular, before suggesting they take Otto some carrots in the hope that it would create a successful diversion. It worked. Otto's reputation had apparently preceded him thanks to Emily, and Buffy wanted to meet her Watcher's 'noble steed'.

Otto, for his part, didn't care about anything except the juicy carrots borne by the Slayer. In many ways Giles regretted ever having purchased him. The stallion had been little more than a green, barely schooled colt when he chose him, less than twelve months before he was notified that he was being sent to California. No one was bidding on the skewbald colt that hadn't yet been gelded, and looked like it needed to grow into its head and its dinner plate hooves. Giles' practised eye had been able to see that the animal couldn't be faulted in its confirmation and he knew the stable where it had been schooled and saddle-broken. When the notification came of his Sunnydale assignment, it was with regret that Giles had handed the big horse's training back to the stable's manager, Lucy Wainwright, who'd subsequently achieved only mixed success at gymkhanas and eventing, with him, but had done a splendid job to ensure that Otto would not want for exercise or manners.

He watched the handsome, now beautifully proportioned, head shake whimsically at Buffy before snorting and blowing chaff and carrot spit all over her, and smiled as she objected strenuously and proceeded to tell the nonplussed animal so in no uncertain terms. In the entire time he was in California, he'd only managed to get home twice...both times while Buffy was visiting her father in Los Angeles, and both times he'd been able to renew acquaintance with Otto, but it was only since he'd left her for her own good that he'd really found his riding legs again...and gotten to know the animal both as a companion and a mount.

Buffy brushed the chaff and bits of carrot from her shoulder. "Your horsy needs to brush up on his manners." She looked around the stable. "Where exactly is this cellar Gregor was talking about?"

It took Giles a little by surprise, but mostly because he was thinking about the same thing himself...investigating the cellar, that was. With a last rub of the stallion's powerful neck, Giles led the way out to a trap door, set in the floor of the feed room at the other end of the stable.

"Well that's weird," Buffy said almost immediately, toeing greying straw off the wooden door, dusty grains of wheat and oats, cobwebs and dirt flicking in all directions.

Giles agreed, pulling back the rusty hasp and hauling the door open so they could climb down, both faltering when they found one of the steps broken in the murky darkness.

The air was musty and rank to the point of being offensive, and it took minutes for Giles to feel for and eventually find the old pull-cord for the light.

When it clicked, but didn't light up the inky darkness, obviously due to a blown bulb, Giles said nothing more than 'out' in an ominous voice.

Back in the chilled air, they looked at each other.

"Nobody's been down there for very long time, huh?" she asked quietly.

Giles shook his head, thinking again of the axe. "It doesn't make sense."

"There has to be a reason why he'd lie."

"He wouldn't. That's why it makes no sense. Something's wrong."

"Something demon-y or mystical? I'm not sensing anything."

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't want to call him a liar in front of Em', nor do I want to hurt his feelings by more or less accusing him of something when I don't know what the hell's going on. If it was a matter of age...if he simply forgot where he got the firewood from, that would solve everything, but you saw the wood outside. He was right, it would never burn in its current state. And he obviously hasn't been down to the cellar."

"Maybe since you last visited, Gregor or this other guy he was talking about made other stores of firewood around the place?" Buffy looked back at the entrance to the basement. "Y'know...so Gregor wouldn't have to go up and down that rickety old ladder when the weather was bad. Somebody should have replaced those middle rungs a long time ago..."

*******

"Where's Gregor?" Giles asked when they clambered back into the kitchen.

Buffy headed straight for the warmth of the Aga.

"Every noontime he takes a nap. He'll be up again in no time," Emily told them as she patiently peeled and sliced apples for that night's pudding.

Buffy wondered if she should offer to help. "Are there any spare light bulbs?"

Emily looked up at her and smiled. "Aye. Rupert, show her where the cupboard is."

Giles was obviously supposed to know which cupboard, confirmed when he headed off without further questions.

Buffy peered into what looked like a janitor's closet, but which Giles was calling 'the cleaning cupboard.' It certainly was filled with brooms, mop, dustpans, cleaning products, and a shelf with candles, lanterns, matches, fuse wire, a couple of types of glue and several light bulbs.

Giles picked out a regular-sized one. "I don't think there's going to be much to find down there."

Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, I know...I just hate loose ends...plus what if Gregor does want to go down there for firewood one day? He could trip over a log, or a stump...or something scary in the dark..."

Giles looked at her speculatively. "You're concerned that perhaps someone or something is hiding down there? I hardly think a Hellmouth or any other portal would bother to open up in my coal cellar."

"Yeah, well, stranger things have happened," she pointed out, and both of them went quiet for a few moments. Much stranger things...

The cellar didn't smell any better the second time, but Giles was a lot faster finding the light fitting, using a flashlight from the house this time. When he was done, he pulled the cord and the dampish room was revealed: cobwebs, remnants of coal, piles of wood that had laid on the dirt floor far too long, toadstools growing in between piled up stacks of logs and kindling, mildew and filth covering almost everything. And...

Buffy made a distressed noise. Giles turned and looked down, then immediately pulled her close.

A few feet from the ladder, the remains of someone dressed in a raincoat and a sou'wester lay sprawled on the floor, timber pieces scattered before them. Remains, because as far as Giles could tell, they'd laid there for a very long time, untouched. He released Buffy for a moment to stoop down and slide his fingers into one mildewed pocket, and then another.

"Giles," Buffy whispered tremulously. "He's wearing the same clothes as..."

He straightened and looked at the two things he'd pulled from the decaying coat. One was a pocket watch, its face smashed so that it was almost impossible to see through the fractured glass. The other was a card, damp and water damaged, but enough remained for them to see that it was for a doctor's appointment. A cardiologist.

"Giles...the date..."

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