TITLE:  Da Wench’s Birthday
AUTHOR:  JK Philips
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION: If you want it, you can have it. Maybe you should ask Gileswench. It’s her b-day present.
SUMMARY: Buffy needs lessons from Giles, but he’s the one who learns the unexpected.
SPOILERS:  Season Four, pre-Riley
DISCLAIMER:  I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox.  I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:  jkphilips@hotmail.com
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Giles heard a soft, timid knock on the door. He turned the stove down, so as not to burn dinner, and hurried to answer.

“Coming!” He couldn’t imagine who it might be in the middle of the afternoon, but frankly with the children all in college, and his former place of employment no longer in existence, he welcomed any company he was offered. The other day the Jehovah’s Witnesses he had invited in for a lively discussion on religion had actually told him that they really needed to get going. He had even hinted that he might convert, but they had bowed out gracefully, pleading previous time commitments.

He opened the door. “Buffy?” She never knocked. None of the children did. They were usually of the mind that his house was their house.

“Hey, can I come in?”

Flustered for a moment, he immediately returned to his senses and stepped aside. “O-of course.” He frowned at her. “Is everything all right?”

She played with her fingers nervously. “Yeah, hunky-dory. Can’t a girl just visit her watcher without some apocalypse brewing?” She strolled into his flat casually, glancing around as if she were just looking at it for the first time.

“I must admit, you never just ‘stop by.’ There is usually some ulterior motive. You’re not having roommate problems again, are you? You and Willow are getting along, I hope?”

“Oh yeah.” She turned to him with a smile. “Will and I are great… Everything’s great.” She noticed the steam rolling off the pot on the stove and bounced over to the breakfast nook. “Whatcha cooking?”

“An orange glaze for …” He frowned and studied her for a moment, crossing his arms seriously. “When have you ever shown the slightest interest in my epicurean tastes?”

“Epi-what?”

He sighed. “Cooking. My cooking. Now, Buffy, what is this all about?”

She chewed on her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath and blurting it all out. “Okay, but please, please, please just hear me out before you say no. Okay? Okay. Anyway, there’s this really big birthday party the dorm’s throwing for our RA. And I really-”

Giles waved his hand to stop her. “RA?”

“Resident assistant. Like dorm mother or something. I don’t know what they called them when you went to school.”

“Yes, back in the Dark Ages,” he muttered.

She held her hands out in surrender. “Your cut, not mine. Anyway, the dorm’s throwing this really huge surprise birthday party for Da Wench, and I really-”

He stopped her again. “Da Wench?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a nickname. It’s what everyone calls her.”

“Yes, of course, it makes perfect sense.” He held out one hand to forestall anymore talk from Buffy. “Just please refrain from any stories on how she got said nickname.”

His slayer shrugged. “Anyway, if you’d let me finish already, I really want to go, ’cause everyone who’s anyone will be there. Eaglewolf will be there, and Tag, and Dee, and Rari, and Cindy, and Savvy and-”

Giles shook his head to clear out the confusion and stopped her endless roll call of names. “Really, Buffy, I don’t require the entire guest list of what must be some of the strangest nicknames-”

“Look who’s talking, Ripper.”

He sighed. “Touché.”

“Anyway, I really want to go.”

Giles shook his head again. There must be something here he was missing. “I still fail to see what any of this has to do with me.”

She fidgeted with her hands again, and he got the distinct impression that he was not going to like what she was about to say.

“I kinda was wondering if maybe you might… you know if you could… maybe… I don’t know…” Her voice got really soft, and he leaned in closer. “Teach me to dance?”

His sudden bark of laughter seemed to catch her off guard, but he couldn’t control himself. Buffy asking him for dance lessons? He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t consult his books for major prophecies and evil uprisings. Perhaps he had drifted into an alternate reality. “Consider your request for a moment, Buffy. How many times have you seen me at the Bronze?”

“You went a few times,” she tried hopefully.

“And how many of those times did you actually witness me on the dance floor?”

“Well, okay, never, but-”

He stopped her right there. “Yes, never. While I’m flattered and… alright a little baffled by your request, I’m sorry, Buffy, but I don’t dance.”

“I know. I know,” she said, as she plopped down on his desk.

Giles tried not to flinch as she barely missed spilling tea across his eleventh century volume of Egyptian mummification spells. He darted forward and rescued the half empty cup before any damage could be done. She turned her face up to his at that moment, and he realized they were barely inches apart. He jumped back quickly, rattling his cup in its saucer. Now why should his slayer’s proximity fluster him so uncharacteristically today? He busied himself with taking the cup into the kitchen and checking on his glaze. Buffy followed him, not two steps behind.

“I know you don’t dance,” she continued. “Not that club-type dancing stuff at least. But I figure you gotta know that stuffy-type, two person, partner dancing. I mean… you’re British.”

He sighed and turned to face her. “Contrary to popular belief, we do not still have cotillions and lessons in etiquette. Just because I’m British does not mean I’m an expert in ballroom dancing.”

She brightened. “See? You know what it’s called. C’mon, Giles, please. You gotta know how to waltz and… and what’s the one with the rose in the mouth?”

“The tango,” he supplied grudgingly.

“Yeah, that. You do know, don’t you? More than I do at least, right? Can you teach me?”

He frowned at her once more, still confused by this whole conversation. He wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some alternate universe. “And this relates to your friend-”

“Da Wench.”

“Yes, her. This relates to her birthday party how?”

“It’s kinda a swank thing. They’re doing up the cafeteria all nice, and they hired in a band, and it’s gonna be ballroom dancing all night. It’s a surprise party, and it’s not a surprise party for me, so there should be no demon badness, just Buffy-doesn’t-know-how-to-dance badness, which my trusty Watcher can fix, right?” She pulled on the lapels of his jacket, and he didn’t know why her touch should jolt him all the way up his spine. She leaned in closer. “Pretty please? There’s this guy from Lowell House that I really want to go with, and…”

Giles nodded and patted her hand. “Of course. This involves a date. I must apologize; it’s been a while since I read the Watcher Handbook. I forgot that my duties included researching omens and demon attacks, translating old manuscripts, training my Slayer for mortal combat, and most importantly, fixing her up so she has a full social calendar.”

Buffy pouted. “That was mean.” Then she smiled brightly and bounced on her feet. “So will you do it?”

He sighed in irritation as she stared up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He really didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but… “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly until he couldn’t breathe. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Buffy!” he gasped.

She released him quickly, and he took in several deep lungfuls of air. “Omigod! Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, one hand rubbing his chest slightly. “No, I’ll be fine. It’s nice to know your young man warrants this kind of enthusiasm.”

She darted forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “How ’bout tonight before patrol for my first lesson?”

“Fine.”

Then she skipped out the front door, and Giles wondered what on earth he had just gotten himself into.

***

Giles had the furniture rearranged to the side in anticipation of his Slayer’s arrival. He had come to look forward to these nightly lessons, and he was surprised to admit that he would actually miss them after tonight. Buffy was quite an apt pupil, and unlike their training sessions, one wrong move would not land him on his back or introduce him to an ice pack for the remainder of the evening. He was also quite impressed with himself, that he had remembered so much of what he had been taught so long ago: the waltz, the fox trot, the tango, a little swing, a little rumba and even some cha. Unfortunately, he only knew the International styles, and her dance partner was likely to know American, but with any luck, the young man would be a good enough lead for her to adjust.

Leading and following. Giles chuckled. That had been the hardest skill for his Slayer to master, not the actual steps. So different from their training, from her fighting, when she must be in control and anticipate her opponent’s advances. In Giles’ arms, she needed to set aside her anticipation and just allow herself to move where he led her. Perhaps in the long run this would improve her combat skills, to feel the subtle give and take between bodies, to know from the slightest signal what her partner would do next.  At least that’s what he told himself. It allowed these lessons to feel like part of his watcher’s duties, allowed him to forget that he was dancing alone in his flat with a beautiful woman in his arms.

The door opened and slammed shut behind his slayer. Buffy was in a dour mood indeed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, approaching her quickly, his eyes, out of habit, assessing her for injuries.

“Riley Finn. That’s what’s the matter.” She stormed over to the couch, now pushed up against the wall, and sat down in a huff. “I wanted to take him to the party, but he’s already going with someone else.”

Giles removed his glasses, polishing them and inspecting them under the light. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

She glanced around, noticing the state of the room surrounding her. She threw her head back against the couch and slid down slightly. “Guess our last dance lesson’s pretty pointless. I don’t have a date for the party tomorrow.”

Giles nodded, surprised by how disappointed he was.

Suddenly Buffy bolted upright and stared at him in such a way that he wished he still had his library, so he could disappear into his office and lock the door.

“Giles…”

He watched her sternly, with the look of the authority figure he was, or had been at least. Not her watcher anymore, not even her school librarian. Yes, he was definitely missing his office with its door that locked. “Why do I get the distinct impression that I’m not going to like where this is headed?”

She stood and circled him, looking him up and down. He crossed his arms self-consciously. Casual slacks, light sweater. He was missing his layers of tweed and starting to feel quite naked.

“You could be my date, Giles.”

“I b-beg your pardon?”

She was standing in front of him with an ear-to-ear smile. “You. You could be my date. I can’t go alone. That would be total loserville. And you did look pretty good at prom. That was your tux, wasn’t it?”

He nodded slightly.

“And we did spend all these weeks practicing. We dance pretty good together. C’mon, Giles, it’ll be fun.”

His mind was spinning, attempting to find an appropriate excuse. “I would be slightly out of place at a college party.”

She blew off his concerns with a wave of one hand. “It’s Da Wench. Her friends are all over the scale. There’ll probably be someone close to your age, even.”

He rolled his eyes. “Imagine that. And still alive, even?”

“Hey,” she protested. “Have I ripped on you even once in all these weeks?”

“Well, no,” he grudgingly admitted. “But you did want something from me. You had incentive to hold back.”

“Please,” she asked again, batting long lashes up at him. Did they teach women how to do that? And if they did, why didn’t they teach men the countermeasures?

“Fine, I’ll go,” he muttered, less than enthused.

“Yay,” she cheered, giving him another breath-stealing bear hug. He grunted, and she released him.

“Let’s practice the rumba again,” she begged, leaning in close. “I can be all sexy and stuff, and Riley’s gonna so regret taking that other girl.”

Giles felt a slight pang in his chest. Not jealousy, of course, because that would mean he was feeling something for Buffy, which he definitely was not. It just hurt slightly to be used only to ensnare another man. But when she slipped one arm around his neck and the other into his hand, he stared deep into her eyes and forgot all about the ache in his heart. For the moment there was only her, as he counted out the rhythm of their song, and they moved as one. And Watcher and Slayer were no more than man and woman, as it had been since the beginning of time.

***

And they danced and spun around the room, by far the most graceful couple on the floor. Giles felt the slightest surge of pride as others parted in front of them, and Buffy smiled sweetly at the applause that followed a well executed dip.

Dear God, his slayer was beautiful. Dressed in rich purple velvet that suited her fair skin, her hair tumbling across perfect cream skin, and her lips painted a deep, wet red. At what point had she stopped being a girl and become this lovely woman? And the way she was looking at him… It was too much to hope that she might also see him as more than a watcher and a teacher, but also as a man.

The song ended, and he spun her out, and then reclaimed her in his arms. They were both laughing lightly, but the laughing ended at the same moment. He realized it just as she did: that their lips were barely an inch apart. He didn’t know what came over him or why he did it, but he leaned forward slightly to close that inch, to touch her lips with his, to taste her, to have what he had always denied himself.

Oh, she was sweeter than he imagined. Her lips were soft and wet as his guilty mind had never allowed him to dream of. His arm tightened around her back, and she moaned softly against him.

It was the sound of her soft moaning that drew him back to reality. He broke off the kiss with a start, ashamed at himself for losing control, for taking advantage and crossing the line that should never have been crossed.

“I’m s-sorry, Buffy,” he stammered, feeling the red flush across his cheeks. “I should never have done that. I can explain to Riley if you-”

“Riley who?” She leaned forward, pulling him down to meet her with a hand behind his neck. This time she initiated the kiss, and he surrendered to it.

Could this really be happening? Was he really standing in the middle of a dance floor, holding his slayer in his arms, and kissing her?

Buffy pulled away from him slightly and touched her fingers to her lips. “Wow. Umm… wow.” She laid her head against his chest, and he wondered if she could hear his heart pounding. “Umm… Giles, I think I need to think about that for a little while. Okay? I guess I never really thought about you that way, and now there’s a whole lot of thinking to do.”

He swallowed hard. What had he just done? What had he let happen? “I’m so sorry, Buffy. The last thing I want is to jeopardize-”

“Shhh,” she cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Just some thinking, okay?”

And then she turned and walked out of the cafeteria, heading towards the ladies’ room.

Giles bowed his head, his hands in his pockets, and walked slowly towards the refreshment table. He should never have come here. This was a big mistake. Don’t get emotionally involved with your slayer. That’s what the Council had always warned. Now he was beginning to think they were right.

“Hey, you don’t look too happy,” a woman’s voice said beside him.

He looked up, and there was something about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “It’s nothing,” he murmured.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the dorm,” she said.

“I’m one of Buffy’s friends,” he answered, holding out his hand. “Rupert Giles.”

The woman smiled. It lifted his spirits slightly. She took his hand, her fingers soft and warm in his. “Da Wench. At least that’s what everyone calls me.”

Giles coughed slightly. “Yes, you m-must be the guest of honor.”

“Stutter’s cute, honey, you should keep it.” Her smile widened. “The blush goes well with it too.”

He retrieved his hand more quickly than necessary and proceeded to make absolutely certain that his glasses were perfectly clean. “Yes, well, happy birthday, umm… uhh… W-wench.”

She giggled softly and took his hand. “Want to dance?”

Giles glanced back towards the door Buffy had disappeared through. One dance couldn’t hurt anything, could it? “Thank you, I’d be delighted.”

He followed the woman onto the dance floor. There was something familiar about her, something he couldn’t quite name. He puzzled through it, his mind so absorbed by the woman in his arms, that he began to forget about his slayer down the hall.

The music changed just as soon as they had started the first steps. No longer a simple, formal waltz, it had changed into a sultry, seductive rumba. He began the steps, and she followed easily. He moved onto more difficult patterns, as he gently tested the level of her skills. She was good, his equal if not better even. They moved in perfect harmony, and he felt almost as if he had danced with her before, in another lifetime as the saying went.

“You’re an excellent dancer,” he complimented her with a shy smile.

She blushed coyly, not quite as bold as she had been moments before. “Thank you. I… umm… I’m just a beginner, really. My friend Melissa gave me dance lessons for my birthday.”

He blinked down on her, surprised. “You can’t be serious. You dance like you were born to it.”

She looked up at him, and when their eyes met, his breath caught in his throat. He felt something stirring in him, something he hadn’t felt since Jenny, something he had briefly touched in Buffy, but here it was so much stronger.

Her eyes were guileless and reflected to him her own wonder. “It’s you, I think. I couldn’t dance like this before. But with you, I know just what you want, just what to do. Does that make sense? You think that’s weird?”

He turned her under his arm, with a hand behind her back to prevent her return to his arms. She danced in a circle around him, meeting him finally in a passionate embrace and a slow dip. He smiled gently as he pulled her back up. “I think I know just what you mean. I think I feel it too.”

“Love at first sight only happens in movies, doesn’t it?”

They began to pivot around each other, his hand gently sliding down her cheek. “I suppose it has to happen sometimes, or else where would the movies come from?”

She sighed and slid her arm tighter around his neck. “God, I want to kiss you so bad right now. And I only just met you.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m not usually like this. I mean, I don’t just fall… I mean… Oh God, you must think I’m a total slut.”

He chuckled slightly and patted her on the back. “If that’s an impression you’d like to avoid, perhaps you might rethink the name ‘Da Wench.’”

She pulled back quickly, her eyes darting up to meet his. She looked so serious. His heart stopped for a moment. Now you’ve done it, Giles, he thought. Insult the woman and ruin any chance you have with her, why don’t you? Maybe this is why you live alone, inviting in Jehovah Witnesses for company.

But then her face broke into a wide grin, and she started laughing hysterically. Giles felt his heart begin to beat again. Good, she had taken it as the joke it was meant to be.

“There’s a story behind that actually,” she told him. “Not as bad as what you might assume.”

He glanced around the dance floor and then back to her. “Would you like to go outside for a walk? Perhaps get to know one another better?”

She glanced over to the doorway leading to the ladies’ room. “Didn’t you come with someone?”

Giles followed her eyes, amazed that he had forgotten Buffy, that this woman had made him forget Buffy. He sighed. “Perhaps this is a signal from The Powers That Be that that,” -he nodded towards the closed doors- “is not meant to be. If it was, she would have returned by now and… and I would not be wanting to take a moonlit stroll with you.”

“Okay.” She smiled broadly. “It’s my birthday. Why the hell not?”

They stopped dancing, and she linked her arm through his as they left the dance floor. She waved goodbye to Eaglewolf and to Dee, and she passed Rari eating cake, and Savvy gave her a saucy wink as they strolled by, and even Chrissy noticed as they left. Gail, in fact, looked slightly jealous.

“Where do you want to walk to?” she asked the beautiful Brit at her side.

“Anywhere you want, luv.” He squeezed the hand that rested in the crook of his elbow, and smiled down on her as he had not smiled in years. “Anywhere you want.”

***

Not too long after Giles exited the party with the guest of honor, Buffy returned from her contemplation of the bathroom walls, and its mirror, and the sinks, and how the floor stuck to the bottoms of her shoes in ways she didn’t even want to think about.

She had thought, and she had thought. Then she had thought a bit more. She had talked to herself in the mirror until the women entering or leaving gave her a wide berth and tried to pretend she wasn’t there.

She had kissed Giles. And she had liked it. What’s more, she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

At the end of her thinking, she decided it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Watcher and Slayer were kind of meant to be a team. Adding a little romance to the mix was only the next logical step. She would do this. She could do this. She and Giles. Buffy and Giles. She was actually getting giddy at the idea.

But when she reentered the party, ready to throw her arms around him and confess all her feelings, well he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She crossed her arms and scowled. It was damn hard to be romantic and get swept away when your date sweeps away somewhere without you. Hmm… She couldn’t believe that Giles of all people would just ditch her.

“You okay?”

She glanced over at the voice beside her. “Oh hi, Riley.”

“You don’t sound too excited to see me.”

She smiled slightly and shrugged. “It’s just that… Oh, I don’t know. Men!”

He returned her smile, and she began to remember why she’d had a crush on him in the first place. He held out one hand. “Well, on behalf of all men everywhere, I’d like to make it up to you with a dance.”

She sighed in resignation. Oh well, back up in the saddle, as they say. “Sure. Dancing. I can do dancing.”

The music started, and she wrapped herself in the arms of Riley Finn.

***

“Wow,” she said, running a finger across the silky skin of his chest. “I had no idea you were this built under that tux.”

Giles chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I work out a lot.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He frowned. “It does sound rather like a pick-up line, doesn’t it? It isn’t meant to. My work keeps me fit.”

She sighed and nuzzled deeper beneath his chin. “I like your work already, and I don’t even know what you do.”

He glanced over to her, his expression serious and solemn. Without warning, he rolled on top of her, pressing her tighter against his bed. “You may not know anything about my job, but I don’t even know your real name. So, Da Wench, care to enlighten me?”

She giggled and then began squirming as he kissed down her neck and bare breasts. She tangled her fingers in his hair, encouraging him and urging him on in his attentions. “Hmm… my name?” She giggled louder as he hit one tender spot. “Well, I think you’ll have to earn my name.”

He kissed lower, down her bare stomach, his hands sliding down her legs.

She smiled. “Oooh, I think you’re about to earn it.”

He glanced up at her with a wicked grin. She traced one finger across the side of his cheek and studied his face.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, leaning into her touch.

“I was just wondering what you would look like in a Mountie costume. You know, Due South?”

He chuckled and continued on in his attempts to earn her real name.

***

And that, my dear readers, is how Buffy ended up with Riley instead of Giles for fourth season. So you may all blame Gileswench, because…

…. now you know the rest of the story.

The End.