Title: TUMBLEWEEDS (1/1)
Author: Kimmerwoman
Pairing: Giles/Anya
Summary: AU post S-7. After the fall of Sunnydale, Giles & Anya hit the road.
Email: kimmerwoman@yahoo.com
Rating: I’d say PG-15, if we had such a thing in the States.
Spoilers: S-7
Disclaimer: Joss & Co own the characters and with them have gained fame and fortune. I merely borrow them and toil in obscurity.
My grateful thanks to Antonia and Lori for their beta skills and encouragement.
Any mistakes you encounter are entirely my own.
Three weeks, five days, thirteen hours and seventeen minutes.
As she had done dozens of times in the last few weeks, Anya looked at her watch when she awoke. A sharp jolt, caused by hard rubber running over metal rails, roused her from an uneasy sleep. Her eyes burned with fatigue and she rubbed them, then turned to gaze out the dirty window. A trace of light on the horizon wrestled for dominance over a brilliant full moon. It was nearly sunrise. She shifted in the uncomfortable seat, trying to relieve muscles atrophied by too many hours spent sitting in one position. She twisted left, then right, taking care not to jostle the man sleeping next to her.
She settled back into the lumpy seat, then turned slightly, to face her traveling companion. The early morning light exaggerated the angled contours of his face and she fought the urge to smooth the worry lines that etched his forehead, even in sleep. They'd boarded the bus in LA a day and a half ago and she's still not sure why she's here. It was an invitation that surprised her.
"Where are you going?" she asked, not really caring about the answer.
"I have no idea," he responded. He wasn't wearing his glasses. "Would you care to join me?"
She'd considered it for ten seconds before saying yes.
Turning again to the window, Anya watched as the sky turned from purple to violet. The desert panorama, dotted with hardy scrub brush and rocky formations, reflected the morning's changing hues. To her mind, it was bleak and beautiful. How did anything survive out there? A piece of tumbleweed danced by, pushed by an unseen wind. She thought about the last few years, the last few weeks. If she was honest with herself, and why wouldn't she be, she knew good and well why she was here.
Three weeks, five days, thirteen hours and...a quick glance at the watch...twenty-one minutes since the almost end of the world.
Nearly there.
There are fewer of them now, most having moved off to defend the Hellmouth against the newly empowered Slayers. The sound of heavy boots on linoleum, the wordless screams of the remaining Turok-Han echo through the narrow hallways, dampening his voice as he shouts her name. Breathing hard, he swings his increasingly heavy sword at anything that gets in his way. A dutiful Watcher, he has again put the needs of the world ahead of his own. But right now, at this moment, he needs to find her, needs to make sure she's safe.
Nearly there.
Rounding the corner he spots her, stabbing the Turok-Han, defending the useless Andrew. His quick smile of relief gives way to a look of horror as he watches an unseen monster bearing down on her unsuspecting back. He begins to run, screaming her name as the creature raises his sword and brings it down, cutting through her, cutting her down. A one- handed swing ends the bastard's life and he falls to his knees, taking her in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest; barely aware of Andrew mewling against the wall.
"Giles," a feminine whisper at his ear. "It's ok, wake up."
The soft press of a hand on his shoulder pulled Giles to consciousness. He blinked owlishly, confused for a moment by the residual effects of his dream and the feeling of movement under him. Within seconds he gained his bearings, remembering where he was. He still felt the hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before giving Anya a rueful grin. "Well, that's not the least bit embarrassing," he said, sheepishly. He looked around at his fellow passengers. No one stirred. "No shouting this time?"
"Nah." Her eyes were playful. "There was drool, however..." He brought his fingers to his dry chin and gave a noiseless chuckle. Leaning across her lap, he took in the sparse landscape that rolled by. "Any idea where we are?" he inquired.
"The middle of no-where, USA, I think." She looked at him intently. "Does it matter?" He returned her gaze, his eyes never leaving hers. "No, it doesn't."
Twenty miles later, the sun was up and the low murmur of their fellow passengers could be heard. Anya had spent the time productively, refreshing herself in the small lavatory at the back of the bus. Returning to her seat, she climbed over Giles who was reading. "Stephen King?" she yelled. The bus fell silent as all eyes turned towards her. "What are you all looking at? This is a private conversation," she announced as she took her seat. Lowering her voice, she finished, "Your life is nothing but things that go bump in the night and you're reading Stephen King?"
"I find fictional apocalypses soothing," he replied, setting aside the huge volume. "Besides, I find his research to be impeccable. Makes me wonder who his source is."
Anya looked at him like she expected antlers to erupt from his head. "You know you're weird, right?"
He smiled at her, then stood up and pulled his small carry-on from the shelf. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, as he headed toward the back.
"Giles!" she called. He stopped, then turned to look at her. "Why the bus?"
"Because I have the time," he replied wistfully. Anya watched him as he walked down the aisle, unsure about what he meant.
Their tolerance for long bus rides was spent, so when they stopped for breakfast at a small diner along the old Route 66, they got off with their belongings. The town was old and worn, a tired relic from by-gone days before the newer highway siphoned off the tourists. After their meal, they found a small motel and Giles arranged, to Anya's bemusement, a room with two single beds.
The days following the final battle were, in their way, as tension filled as those leading to it. As one of the few remaining members of the Council of Watchers, Giles felt it was incumbent on him to ensure safe delivery of the rag-tag band of survivors to their final destinations. When Buffy met his small usurpation of her leadership role with a smile and grateful thanks, he'd been pleasantly surprised.
They'd made their way to Los Angeles, taking up temporary residence at the newly deserted Hyperion. Over the following days, the potentials returned to their homes. Wood decided on New York, a pilgrimage in honor of his mother. Buffy declared her intention to, "go where the sun never sets," and set off for Brazil, an excited Dawn in tow. Xander and Faith headed for the nascent Hellmouth in Cleveland. Xander's delight when he'd seen Anya emerge from the ruined school was tempered immediately when he'd seen around whom she'd wrapped her arms so tightly. And that he had held her tighter still. Faith had stepped in then, at first a barricade between the two men, then later as solace to the younger one. Anya discovered, to her surprise, that she didn't mind.
After a millennium of studying the exasperating creatures, Anya considered herself an expert on what made men tick. So it irritated her no end to discover she was clueless when it came to Rupert Giles. As a vengeance demon, she was particularly attuned to the nuances of attraction, and she'd felt his. On that horrifying day, when the *Turok-Han* bore down on her and she knew she would die, she sensed his approach. When he cut down the unseen monster behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was an answer to a prayer. He didn't let go until they saw sunlight. Yet, the moment they climbed out of the school bus, when they teetered on the edge of the world, she sensed his withdrawal. He'd shut the door and put up the barricades.
They'd spent the day exploring the small town in which they found themselves. Anya couldn't believe the small tourist museum of the, "strange and wondrous," had captured Giles' imagination for two solid hours. She'd waited outside while Giles dashed into the small general store to buy "supplies." It was still early evening, but their mutual exhaustion had caught up with them and so, after a light supper, they returned to their motel room.
"It's like that movie!"
"What movie? What are you talking about?"
Anya sat on the edge of her bed, watching as her ersatz roommate pounded a small nail into the wall between their beds with his shoe. Wrapping the end of a length of wire around it, he then stretched it across the room to the opposite wall. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"You know, that old, black and white movie where Clark Gable puts up the 'Wall of Jericho' between him and Claudette Colbert."
"It's like no such thing!" he asserted. "I simply wish to provide each of us with a modicum of privacy..."
"Oh, tosh." She threw a dismissive wave in his direction. "We're both adults here, Giles. I'm eleven hundred years old for crying out loud. I think I can be trusted not to snigger at your man-parts."
Giles said nothing, just stared at her as he walked to the small, shallow depression in the corner that passed for a closet. From the top shelf, he grabbed a blanket which he then hung over the expanse of wire. "This has nothing to do with your sniggering," he said heatedly. "It has everything to do with the propriety; a beautiful, young woman..."
"Not so young, remember," she quickly inserted.
He continued as though she hadn't spoken, "Sharing a room with a man. It's only polite." He pulled the blanket across the line with a curt, "And with that, I bid you a fond good night, Anya."
Anya stared at the fuzzy, sea green wall that separated her from her former business partner. She could hear him on the other side, rustling through his duffle bag, presumably looking for his night clothes and toilet kit. "Such a brolly," she muttered under her breath as she rooted through her own bag. From inside, she removed her night dress and robe, laying them on the bed. She unbuttoned her blouse, shucked it off her shoulders and hung it over the thin, woolen wall. It was soon followed by her slacks and bra. Swinging her panties over the line elicited a growled, "Anya!" and a subsequent shutting off of his table light.
Anya pulled the silk lingerie over her head, then donned the matching robe. She sat on the bed, unsure of what to do next. It didn't take long before she acted. "Giles?"
"What?"
Why the heck was he so grouchy? "If it doesn't compromise your vow of celibacy, would you mind terribly if I breached your little wall here to go to the bathroom?" He responded with a choking sound.
She crossed to the other side, heading for the bathroom. She could see him watching her, his eyes glittering in the dim light. Once inside, she took her time, carefully removing the mascara from her eyes, washing her face, brushing her teeth. She opened the complimentary bottle of mouth wash and gargled loudly before spitting into the sink. She ran a brush through her hair, 100 deliberate strokes. Her ablutions complete, she switched off the bath room light and glided back to her side of the room. Removing her robe, she turned down the covers of her bed and climbed in, scrunching the pillow under her head. Suddenly, she wasn't a bit tired.
"Giles?"
"Anya?" His voice was strained.
"You really think I'm beautiful?" Her voice was teasing.
She heard a hard exhalation before he answered, "Good night, Anya."
Snuggling into her pillow, she gave him a lilting, "Good night, Giles."
He watches an unseen monster bearing down on her unsuspecting back. He begins to run, screaming her name as the creature raises his sword and brings it down, cutting through her, cutting her down...
Anya was awakened by the shout of her name and it took her a moment before realizing was Giles. Jumping from her bed, she grabbed the blanket separating them, pulling it from the wire and tossing it aside. She reached his bed, trying to hold him down as he fights his unseen demons. It was the first indication she's had that she figured so prominently in his nightmares.
"Giles! Giles!" she called loudly. He continued to thrash and, dodging his flailing arms, she yelled, "Rupert! Wake up!"
He woke, panting and perspiring, with a wild look in his eye. "Anya?" he whispered.
"Yes, it's me. It's alright now. You're alright now," she whispered back. Anya drew the back of her hand across his brow and down his cheek, a soothing motion that helped Giles find the present.
"I seem to be apologizing to you rather frequently lately." Giles lay on his side, his breathing and heart rate slowing as Anya stroked hisface. "I'm so sorry I disturbed you. I don't know what's got in me."
"This was your worst one yet."
Giles was surprised. "You know about the others?"
Anya sighed. "Of course I do. I've been with you for," she glanced at the clock on the end table, "three weeks, six days, fourteen hours and twenty-three minutes straight. You think I don't pay attention?"
"No, of course not." Giles looked up at the woman sitting on the edge of his bed. Her hands were at his shoulders now, her strong fingers working at the knots that had gathered there. It wouldn't do, it just wouldn't do. It's too soon, he thought. Too soon after Xander, after...everything. He felt her hands, warm against his neck, and willed his body not to betray him. It's just so damned good having a woman, having this woman, touch him.
"You called my name," she said softly. She sat up and he stifled a protest when she took her hands with her.
"Hmmm?" Oh, damn.
"During your dream, you called my name. What's that about?" Anya was perched on the edge of his bed, her dark eyes pinning him down, giving him no quarter.
"I don't remember." An uncomfortable lie. "It's nearly sunrise," he continued. "How about a walk in the desert?"
Anya accepted the evasion for now. "Sure," she replied evenly. She stood up, a thoughtful look on her face. "I'll get dressed."
A quickening sun peeked over the distant horizon, casting pink and gold rays across the desert landscape. Spare and beautiful, the brown expanse was relieved by the occasional red and yellow cactus blossoms that dotted the countryside. Giles was walking fast, not even looking at his surroundings, and Anya was struggling to keep up.
She gave him ten minutes before she stopped in her tracks. "Hey," she cried. "I thought we were here to watch the sunrise or commune with nature, or something!"
Giles pulled up short, then spun around to look at her. So beautiful, her blonde hair shining in the soft light. He walked back to her and took her hand. "Come on," he commanded with a rough voice, and led her deeper into the desert.
They arrived at the foot of a rock formation that had seemed to have erupted from nowhere. As if planned, the harsh desert weather had carved out a small shelf about ten feet above the ground. Its sides were covered with pock-marks deep enough to be used as hand or foot-holds. Giles took Anya by the waist, then lifted her up the first set of boulders that led to the top. "You first," he suggested. "I'll be right behind you." The light was bright enough now for them to climb safely and Anya began a careful ascent.
Atop the mesa, Anya crawled away from the edge, allowing room for Giles to scramble up. The plateau was flat and smooth, stretching about six feet to the other side. They sat in the middle, Anya cross-legged while Giles drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. In companionable silence, they gazed at the brightening sun in the distance.
"I miss it, you know." Anya's voice was low, barely audible to Giles' ears.
"Miss what?" He kept his eyes skyward, watching two hawks as they pitched and soared in the distance.
"Sunnydale, the Magic Box, our business partnership." He looked at her, wondering at her meaning. "I miss making money, making my own way. I miss my life." The tears were in her voice, but not in her eyes.
Giles stretched his arm around her shoulders, then pulled her in close. "We both have a unique opportunity here," His voice is quiet, thoughtful. "Our pasts have been, quite literally, obliterated, and now reside at the bottom of a crater." Anya rested her head against his shoulder. "We can now be who we choose to be. No destiny, save that which we make for ourselves."
Still under his protective arm, Anya looked into the eyes of the man she was sure she loved. "That sounds nice," she murmured and she thought she caught the heady mix of pheromones and musk that signaled his attraction to her. It was there, but quickly gone. Damn, how does he do that?
He gave her a squeeze before announcing they should head back.
Giles took the lead as they made their descent, making sure to keep Anya no more than half a body length behind him, telling himself it was for her safety and nothing more. They were nearly at the bottom when his equanimity deserted him.
"Giles, why did you ask me to come with you?" It was almost a statement, rather then a question.
His mind scrambled for a response as he lifted her down to the desert floor. "I don't know, I thought you might want company until you decide what you want to do." Oh good God, Giles, he thought, is that the best you could come up with? Once she'd found her footing, he started walking.
"Uh uh," she said, shaking her head. "Not good enough." She watched him walk away and decided they weren't going anywhere until this was settled. Anya ran to catch up with him, grabbing his arm to slow his momentum. "Listen, you really need to tell me what's going on here."
He took her by the shoulders. "It's just as I said. I simply thought, after all we'd been through, that you might not want to be alone right now. You have decisions to make, you're a free agent for the first time in your life and I worry about you." Crap. That last bit might have been too much.
"You worry about me?" Yep, her instincts were never wrong.
"Well," he dithered, "you are a good friend and an excellent business partner. It's only natural that I..."
Anya took a step closer, deliberately invading his personal space. "And in your nightmare, when you called my name?"
He had no answer for her.
Anya took another step then placed her open palm against his heart. "Your nightmare, Rupert. What is it?"
It was like a dam breaking. He took her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. He's shaking, she thought, and placed her hands over his.
"I dream of losing you." The words a painful whisper. "I try to save you, but you've already gone."
His knees gave way and, as they fall to the ground, Anya embraced him, wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him close. She felt his breath, hot and ragged against her breast.
"Rupert, honey, I'm right here. I'm right here, and you saved me, and I'm not going anywhere." She rocked back and forth, gently stroking his soft hair, and kept whispering in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."
Anya might have been content to sit like that forever. However, even in Spring, the desert was hot and the ground around them was rife with scurrying critters and suspiciously lupine footprints. Time to head back. She roused him from a half-sleep, the exhaustion of the past weeks finally catching up with him. She helped him up and dusted him off as he shook the cobwebs from his brain. Taking him by the hand, she led them back to the motel.
The fog in his mind had cleared by the time they arrived back at their room. Giles inserted his key in the lock and ushered Anya ahead of him through the opened door. He watched her as, without a word, she walked immediately to the nail in the wall and yanked it out. Winding the wire around her palm, she followed the metal trail to the opposite wall, removing that nail as well, before depositing the entire bundle into the plastic trash can next to the dresser.
"Ok," she said, brushing her hands clean. "I can see only one way to cure your nightmares." She went to her bed and tried to move it with her knees. It didn't budge. "Doesn't give us much room," she said thoughtfully.
"Room for what?" he asked, hesitantly. She walked purposefully to him and took him by the arms to lead him to the foot of his bed. With a small push on his shoulder, she knocked him back.
"For my nightmare cure," she said brightly. "You keep dreaming I die, I'm going to show you how very wrong you are." Crawling up his torso, she sat on his belt and began to work the buttons of his shirt, cutting short his protests with a swift kiss. "Shh, honey. Let me do this."
He took her hands in his. "Anya, wait! You don't have to do this."
She stopped, then looked at him gravely. "I know I don't have to do this. But, in the desert, you said I could make my own destiny and you - right here, right now - are the destiny I choose. I choose to be with you and love you and have sex with you."
Ah, there it was, his signature scent. Strong and steady, it enveloped her. It's not going anywhere this time, she thought with glee. She pulled her hands out of his and started back to work on his shirt. "Oh, and I know you love me, too."
"Wait," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm in...you're in love with me?"
Men are idiots, Anya thought, and, despite his big brain, Rupert Giles was no different. "Oh my God, Rupert! Do you think I would have come with you, on a bus, of all things, if I weren't?" Shirt unbuttoned, she started on his pants.
A million thoughts swam through Giles' fevered mind and all he could say was, "Wait! Wait, wait, wait!"
Anya blew out an exasperated breath. "What now?" His jeans were button-fly.
Giles looked up at the woman who was now bestride his waist. He was breathless and having a little trouble focusing. "I don't understand," he wheezed.
"What's not to understand? You're handsome, smart, a fine shopkeeper with an excellent way with money." She paused before finishing. "You gave me a job, trusted me with your livelihood. More than anyone, you treated me like a human, not just a former vengeance demon."
With his hand, Giles curled a stray lock behind her ear, then pulled her down to him. She lay on top of him, her feet stretching down to the mid-way point on his shins. He wrapped his arms around her, his mouth fiercely devouring hers. Anya felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal on her thighs. Without warning, he turned her over, trying to gain the upper hand and, instead, found himself laughing when they wound up on the floor. He'd forgotten they were in a twin bed. Still laughing, he sat against the bed with Anya on his lap. God, she was beautiful.
"I love you too," he said, before moving to finish what she'd begun.
*****
Three days later, the couple sat on a hard, metal bench to wait for the bi-weekly bus out of town. Anya glanced at her watch. Four days, ten hours and twenty-nine minutes since the beginning of her new destiny. She swung her feet, drawing trails in the dirt with her feet.
Giles took her hand. "Where to?"
Anya squeezed his in return. "Does it matter?"
Fin