Title: Recognition 9/10
Author: Gail Christison
Rating: M15+ for romantic sexual situation, dramatic themes. English spelling. Aussies do, y'know :-)
Summary: Post-Grave epilogue of the B/G kind :-) Angst, romance.
Spoilers: Some references to and accommodation of early season seven spoilers
Disclaimer: All belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss. I'm just borrowing for a little while :-)
Feedback: I'd love to know what you think. chriscln@ozemail.com.au
Distribution: All those who have permission. And my site, http://www.wickedsky.com/oncemore within the next couple of days.
Author's notes: Acknowledgements for support to Gylzgirl, Liz and Gileswench
Thank-you's to Melissa who helped solve some conceptual problems and Liz and Karen, all for their wonderful beta support at various stages.
Dedication: To everyone who offered encouragement when my muse was traumatised by the latter part of season six and I spent more time staring at the screen than putting words on it. What can I say - I love you all. And Thankyou...
"I missed you so much."
Giles brushed the unaccustomed moisture from her cheek. "Not nearly as much as I missed you, you impossible girl."
"Me, impossible?" she shot back, though the fierceness was spoiled by her grin. "You are the most impossible man I've ever met!" The grin faded. "You didn't come back."
Giles didn't answer that. He couldn't, really. Instead he opened the car door and reached in before turning back to her.
"For some reason I thought you might like this," he told her, adorably sheepishly.
Buffy was enchanted by the funny-faced little toy, grinning at its floppy ears and slightly crossed eyes, before kissing its big nose and cuddling it close. She looked up at him again. "He's beautiful," she told him, moved. Her cheeks and her eyes were glowing as she put her arms around his neck, donkey dangling from her fingers, and, when he obligingly bent his head, kissed him again. "I already like this way too much," she purred. "Do we have to go inside?"
Giles looked up at the house and the light in the living room. "Eventually," he conceded. "Dawn is waiting for us."
"I guess," Buffy agreed unenthusiastically. A conspiratorial gleam came into her eye. "You know I haven't patrolled yet, today?"
Giles looked at her quizzically for a moment, then an answering gleam came into his. "That simply won't do. You know you have a duty..."
She gestured down the street. "Well, if my Watcher insists."
"He does," he said, gentle amusement in his voice.
They followed a familiar route, bringing back many old memories for both of them. When too many unhappy thoughts intruded Buffy moved close to Giles, almost leaning against his arm as they walked.
He instinctively slid the arm around her and smiled when she did lean against him then.
"I could patrol like this indefinitely," she sighed happily, looking up at the clear, starry night, a rarity even in Sunnydale.
"I wouldn't suggest it on busy nights," he replied dryly, well aware that both of them were far too relaxed and happy to be fully alert to any danger that might present itself.
Restfield cemetery produced a rush of nostalgia for both of them, Buffy making jokes about studying for her SATs in a graveyard and Giles' endless supply of pencils, as well as teasing him about the arrival of Gwen Post. She fell silent only when she stopped at a familiar grave. She stepped in front of it and he followed. After a moment she traced the lettering of the name.
"I asked you to lie to me," she said softly. "It seems like so long ago..."
"A lifetime," Giles agreed, resting his hands on her shoulders and drawing her back against him.
Buffy stretched up, leaning her head back against his chest and sighing heavily. "Why does it feel like we've already been together forever?" she asked softly.
"Because we have," he said simply, a soft note of surprise in his own voice at the truth of his instinctive response.
Buffy turned slowly without losing contact with his comfortingly solid form. "We've wasted so much time. I don't want to waste another minute."
He trailed his fingers down the side of her face and smiled. "Nor I, but it seems that we will have to wait a little longer, whether we want to or not. Your sister will think we've been stolen by gypsies."
On cue a cell phone rang, its tone muffled. Buffy felt around under her sweater and pulled a handset from her jeans.
"Yeah? No, we're fine. We just needed to talk, okay? We'll be home soon, I promise. Yeah. Bye."
Giles was looking down at her, eyebrow raised.
"What? I got with the times. I'm a single parent now. Dawn really needed the security, y'know? You of all people should appreciate the major irony here," she drawled.
"Oh I appreciate it," he told her, amused.
"In that case do you think you could appreciate this a little bit?" she asked mischievously and leaned up to kiss him unexpectedly.
He growled in reply and drew her into his arms without lifting his head. Once again they merged into one, losing themselves in each other so profoundly and completely that neither of them heard the footsteps approaching. A loud clearing of the throat finally reached them.
"I'm afraid you're trespassing," an elderly man in a security guard's uniform informed them. "Isn't there somewhere else you'd rather be doing that?"
They both had the good grace to flush and Buffy turned to look at the guard.
"Oh it's you," he said and looked hard at Giles. "I didn't know it was you. If he's giving you any trouble..."
Buffy couldn't quite suppress a giggle. "Nope. No trouble, Art. He's harmless." Again a giggle slipped out. "Giles, Arturo. Art, Giles."
Giles made a noise under his breath, before reaching for the man's extended hand, which only made it harder for her to hold further giggles back.
"Buffy, you need to be around here a little more often," Art said cryptically. "This place starts to get way too busy, if you know what I mean, when I haven't seen you for a while."
"How long have you been here?" Giles asked. "I don't remember this place employing security guards..."
"About six months," Buffy and the guard said almost in unison.
"We had a lot of vandalism. It was cheaper to hire a few of us than to have to keep replacing stuff and compensating the bereaved," Art explained earnestly. "Well, I best leave you two to your own business. I've got a lot of ground to cover."
"How on earth does he stay alive?" Giles asked watching the old man head off into the darkness.
"Well, the vandals who haven't been eaten yet don't much care for Smith or Wesson," she indicated the sidearm on Art's slow moving hip, "...or me, for that matter, and vamps really, really don't like garlic." Buffy smiled smugly. "Or me."
"Ah, and Arturo seems rather fond of garlic," Giles realised, remembering how strongly the old man's breath smelled of it.
"He likes it a whole lot more since I told him that it was good for keeping certain nasty...problems...away," Buffy observed dryly. "And he already wears his own crucifix, plus the local priest blesses him with Holy water before every night shift. Art knows how to stay out of trouble. He may be an old guy but he doesn't miss a thing. Which is probably why he's made it to seventy-three in one piece."
"Yes, well, I think perhaps it's time we were heading back to your sister before she calls again to find out what the devil is taking us so long."
Buffy sighed. "I wish you still had your apartment. I could tell Dawn not to wait up..."
"That's hardly fair..." Giles began, though secretly agreeing with Buffy.
"Dawn doesn't need me to watch her every minute. She's sixteen now. She's even older than I was when you ordered me to face my destiny and go visit with the Master," she retorted then stopped when she saw his face.
"You were not Dawn," he said softly. "She's a child, with a child's sensibilities. You were never a child. Even then you had more courage and more strength than any Slayer ever had before you," his voice hardened, "or since."
"Flatterer," Buffy teased, emotion in her voice. "Let's go home."
The emotion was reflected in his own strong features before a twinkle appeared in his eye. "Flattery? Perhaps, but I did not, however, say that you weren't still frequently quite stupid," he teased back. "One doesn't have to be a child to be stupid."
"Oh you really know how to sweet talk a girl," she drawled, well aware of how oh-so-right he was, as they turned and headed out of the graveyard without further incident. As they walked, Buffy fitted herself to Giles' side again, content to feel his arm close possessively around her.
The house was silent when they let themselves in the front door. They stopped just inside it, both of them turning simultaneously into the kiss, snatching at least one more moment before plummeting back to the prosaic and the mundane again.
They did not hear Dawn pad out in bare feet to investigate a noise and stop for a long moment to stare at the sight before her, quietly congratulating herself for guessing correctly the first time about what they were doing out in the dark by Giles' car. She continued to watch, alternating between teenage squicking and unadulterated joy that the two most important people in her life seemed to have realised for the first time how important they were to each other. When they didn't seem like they were ever going to part, she withdrew to the kitchen.
A part of her was still wrinkling her nose, but more and more she was warming, even thrilling to the idea. This was Giles and Buffy. Somehow they fitted together. She'd never thought about it before, but they did. No other beau of Buffy's had ever sounded as right, as much like they belonged, as *Giles* and Buffy...Buffy *and Giles*. And Dawn, who had been personally grossed out by every romantic encounter of her sister's that she'd ever spied...er ...*accidentally* walked in on, she corrected, decided that she had never seen Buffy radiating more contentment and pure happiness than she was in the scene she'd witnessed at the front door.
She paused and frowned for a long moment, then looked smug as she turned to the telephone.
*******
"Hey Buffy is that you?"
Giles and Buffy parted reluctantly. "Yeah, kiddo, we're back," Buffy managed to call, still lost in the dreamy unreality that was their small cosy world of two.
"Finally!" Dawn yelled back, re-entering the room as though for the first time. "Janice called. She's freaking about the algebra in the math test on Friday. The girl is math dyslexic, I swear. She wants me to stay over and her mom says it's okay. I know Giles just got back," she waggled her fingers and smiled at him, "but is it okay if I go? I can see Giles all day tomorrow."
Buffy strove to maintain a straight face. Giles worked over time to remain iron-jawed and not to grin like a Cheshire cat.
"You know I'll probably be checking on you?"
Dawn nodded, looking from one to the other. "I know. Trust is earned, not given out like candy. I remember the talk," she agreed. "So I can go?"
"Sure," Buffy agreed solemnly while her insides went into meltdown at the prospects that had opened up. "Take the new bottle of soda and that box of cookies with you."
Ten minutes later the door clicked shut and they were finally alone. They turned to face each other but fell into an uncomfortable silence instead, each of them waiting for the other to speak.
"So this is going well," Buffy finally managed. "Of course, if we can't think of anything else to do, there's always your new tea..."
Giles chuckled. "I could do with something rather stronger right now," he said ruefully.
"So what happened to Hugh Hefner?" Buffy teased, to cover her own nerves.
He smiled wryly. "I left the robe in Bath."
"I'll buy you a new one," she growled.
"Bad robe or bad memories?" he asked, moving back toward the living room.
"Do I really need to answer that?" she drawled, following him.
"Um, no," he conceded, stopping in the middle of the room, as unsure of himself as he had ever been.
Buffy stopped at his shoulder, bemused. "Why are we in the living room?"
He turned so that he was very close and looking down at her upturned face. "Is there somewhere you would prefer to be?" he asked, unable to resist, the deep, sensuous rumble of his voice making the simplest of questions seem almost dangerous.
The unexpected glimpse of this side of Giles, the man, sent a shiver down Buffy's spine as he continued to look at her in a way that melted her insides.
"I can think of a few," she managed...barely...to retort.
Giles touched her cheek with the lightest of caresses. "So can I..."
Buffy shivered again, her eyes searching his. "Show me."
He traced her face, let his fingertips slide down her neck, caressing her throat as her eyes closed, and her soft lips parted with pleasure at his touch.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, an underlying note of real concern in his now decidedly husky voice.
She opened her eyes and reached up without hesitation to draw his head and his mouth down to hers. It started tenderly, her lips revelling in the attention of his strong ones and in the way he took over the lovemaking, shaping and guiding their kiss towards a threshold of pleasure that would change their relationship forever. Buffy let it envelope her, giving her lips, her mouth willingly, losing herself in him, until they were both breathing hard and straining against each other.
The turning point was as profound as it was unnoticed: each of them surrendering themselves and their trust to the other without question or pause.
When they parted again Buffy smiled breathlessly. "Pretty sure," she answered mischievously and slid her hands down his chest to his belt, only to have Giles cover them with his own before taking them and bringing them back up to his lips. She looked up at him, puzzled.
"No," he said softly.
Buffy felt like her new world, all gossamer and dreams up to now, had suddenly crumbled to dust. She looked up at him, vulnerability and confusion in her face.
" 'No, you don't want me', or 'no, you've changed your mind'?" She asked, frowning as the shape of her love life in the last few years loomed in her thoughts, bringing back old self-doubts, old hurts, and seemingly confirming her lifelong certainty that she couldn't possibly be destined to have anything so precious. "Let me guess: you've remembered what I am, what I've done, and you really don't want...?"
"No," he said again, even more gently, stopping her self-flagellation. "In my lifetime I'll never want anything more than I want this."
"Then wha-?"
She was prevented from talking by the touch of his forefinger against her lips. Her clear grey eyes rolled up to look into his as he took her face in his hands, a large thumb caressing one cheek before he brushed her forehead with his own lips, trailing them down to kiss her eyes, her nose and then, with the briefest of pauses to smile tenderly at her, her mouth.
He lingered over the kiss, somehow managing to convey the overwhelming power of his love for her in that gentle possession of her lips.
When he relinquished her soft mouth, she stared at him, her eyes wide and her heart in them. After a couple of beats she seemed to return to herself, though unable to stop the moisture rising in her dark lashes, and stepped into his embrace. Giles held her tenderly while she wept with relief, waiting until she was quiet before picking her up with ease and carrying her up the stairs.
From her position on the bed that had been 'his' since she'd brought him home from the hospital, Buffy watched Giles straighten, his gaze lingering on her slender form for a few moments more.
Then she watched him remove his jacket, letting it fall to the ground, before following his fingers as they methodically undid each button and drew the shirt from his pants before sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor.
He looked up and straight at her as rain began to patter on the bedroom window. Their gazes held as their hearts moved from breathtaking recognition to perfect clarity...
They weren't about lust, or possession or even need. They were about belonging...about the kind of love that has no beginning...and no end.
Shaken, as he was, Buffy sat up and repeated his actions without taking her eyes from his, unbuttoning her own blouse, revealing her slender body and the surprising fullness of her uncovered curves. Giles' expression was still a revelation to her: wonder, admiration ...joy...love.
Slowly, he kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and removed his pants, leaving only small black boxers hugging his slim hips, their contours graphically betraying the depth of his desire.