TITLE: FLUFF
AUTHOR: Jaydn Michelle
RATING: PG
PAIRING: None
DISCLAIMERS: Belongs to Joss, always has, always will.
NOT BETA READ

And for those who asked:
No, I haven't forgotten Beginnings, and yes, I will finish it.

He was towelling his hair dry when the doorbell rang - finally free of the primordial goo of a recently deceased demon. It had been scheduled to rise on Christmas day, and the look Buffy had thrown him had been withering, her voice annunciating quite clearly: "Giles, I am *not* fighting on Christmas."

He had argued quite passionately that he had no say in the matter - prophesy was written, D-day was Christmas. Buffy had told him flat out that *he* could explain to Joyce why her only daughter wouldn't be there.

Giles, promptly, had gone back to researching.

Three days without sleep and he'd eventually come to his answer; bizarre that he should return to his old stomping grounds for the sake of a teenage girl. Most people didn't *like* to be faced by a demon, very few preferred to face one earlier than expected. The two of them had struck a deal; Buffy would fight on Christmas eve, providing Giles could summon the demon prematurely.

Strangely, Buffy never once questioned that particular talent - gifted with the foresight of teenager - that what you see if what you get. Giles, true to form, had been happy to keep it that way. They were barely a year into their partnership - no need to strain it.

They had set out with the tools of their trade, three hours to perform the spell and almost the entire night to fight it; during the course of which, they destroyed two deserted factories and a number of parked cars.

The demon, unfortunately, was a little larger than they expected.

It ended with the first brush of dawn, and Buffy had only stayed long enough to ensure that her Watcher could stand (the last swipe had almost knocked him senseless), before fleeing, trying to make it back to her bedroom before her mum found out.

Giles, after confirming that indeed, there *was* a double set of everything, decided it was safer walking home.

He'd taken three steps into the apartment when blackness washed over him and had only awoken late in the day, still filthy from the previous nights endeavours.

That, he decided firmly, was gratitude for you.

The doorbell, insistently, rang again. Dropping the towel, he pulled on a shirt and padded bare-foot to the door.

Willow's smile dimpled when she saw him. "Ah, hi Giles. I hope you don't mind, but I thought you could use some company, this being your first year away from home and all." Giles opened his mouth. "Well, I think it is…or maybe it's just your first year in Sunnydale, and I don't mean to intrude, but I don't think you've got any family here. But I'm sure you have some over there - there being England - so you could be pulling those long distance phone calls, but I thought I'd check." Giles opened his mouth. "But I'm not Christian you see, so the whole Christmas deal is a little hokey, and I don't have to worry about family entanglements," her expression flickered, and Giles opened his mouth, "Actually, that's not entirely true, they're just, not quite as pressing as they once were. And I'm not sure if religion is such a good thing because half the worlds conflicts have their origins in religious intolerance. Which is ironic, since the only mantle that they share in common, is the dogma, do no harm. What do you think?" Giles opened his mouth. "But that's not why I'm here…I just, didn't want you to be alone…on your first Christmas in Sunnydale."

Giles eyed her a little warily, and then nodded. "Thank you, Willow," he hesitated, and then opened the door wider. "Care to come in?"

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

The doorbell rang.

Willow, sprawled on the couch, arched her neck backwards, still giggling over a yarn that Giles had spun her, relating to a dig in Egypt, or at least, she *thought* it was a yarn. It was hard to tell with Giles, he parted information with a complete lack of expression, and it was only halfway through the story that Willow realised that she couldn't tell truth from fiction. The only thing she knew for certain, was that her stomach hurt.

Giles, nursing a cup of tea, looked startled for a second, and then rose smoothly, making his way to the door.

Xander stood in the shadows, that same expression of hope and awkwardness on his face that Willow had arrived with: "Hey Giles, I hope you don't mind, but…"

Giles pulled him in before he could even *begin* his rant.

"Hey, look with the Christmas cheer," Xander grinned when he saw Willow, and flopped on top of her. "I don't come bearing gifts…but I do come bearing egg-nog. Mum made it."

Willow, half buried, shuddered - and that was the only confirmation Giles needed.

No egg-nog, not any, not under threat of torture.

It was a strange night, spun with increasingly outrageous tales, and more than that - it was welcoming.

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

They had fallen asleep down stairs, all three of them, solidarity of numbers.

Giles awoke on Boxing day to a gentle knock. Climbing over the sprawled limbs of gangly teenagers he had made it to the door, squinting against the early light.

Buffy stood there, Joyce's car parked on the street below, they were meant to be visiting an aunt.

Buffy smiled quickly and pulled him into a hug. Turning, she took the steps in a single bound and raced back to the idling car.

Her Christmas present pressed tight to his chest.

END