Title: Going Towards Yes 5/7
Author: K.V. Wylie
Disclaimer: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS, has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. This is purely for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended

Early the next morning, Ira woke Giles with a chaste kiss and a cup of tea. Giles sat up in bed, the teacup in his hands, and waited for *the* question.

Which came while Ira was dressing. "Rupert, would you like to come with me?"

"No," Giles said, the same answer he gave every Saturday. Ira didn't expect Giles to say yes. The offer was a habit between them. Still, Giles felt uncomfortable when he answered. Ira's religion was a large part of his life, but it was a part that he and Giles did not share, other than the occasional Friday night meal. The Jewish Sabbath was supposed to be a family day. Ironically, it was the one day Giles and Ira always spent apart. Week after week, the distance between them on this issue was increasing.

Sahrene went with Ira. Giles wandered around the empty house for a while, then decided to go for a run. He paced a few blocks as he warmed up, then ran alongside the river.

Druggins was in an arid area, and the water was low and muddy. Giles was used to English waterways which swirled through green and overgrown embankments. The riverbank here was barren silt. Nothing grew, and the rocks at the waterline were dry.

He passed a few fishermen with still lines, and sullen birds sitting at the ferry dock, then turned back into town and jogged down the main road.

Shops were beginning to open, the proprietors pushing carts of touristy-merchandise onto the sidewalk. Every store, regardless of its main business, had something dinosaury on display. Radios in the shape of purple Triceratops were in front of a pharmacy, a farmer's depot was selling pterodactyl crayons and masks, and a gas station was giving away Tyrannosaurus glasses with every fill-up.

When Giles came to the used-book dealer, he sidestepped a rack of Amateur Fossil Hunter periodicals and went inside.

And stopped short at the sight of a beautiful young woman at the cash register.

She gave him a long, slow look, and said, "I don't suppose you're in here to buy Raptor colouring books for the kidlets."

"Uh, no. I'm just browsing."

"Feel free," she shrugged.

He turned to look at shelves which were crammed with an inconceivable number of books. There was no order. Comic books sat beside Latin dictionaries, and a book about the Spice Girls was between two travel guides. She began counting change in the till, letting each coin drop with a metallic plink. The spaces between the plinks began to get longer and longer, until Giles found he was holding his breath in frustration, waiting for each one. Finally, annoyed, he turned to say something to her, and saw she was looking at him, a devious smile on her face.

"Driving you nuts?" she asked.

"You're hardly the most amenable of proprietors," he said.

She shut the cash drawer. "If you're not a tourist, what are you?" A thought occurred to her. "Are you that new prof at the university?"

"No, I'm a friend of his."

"Really? I keep hearing about him."

"And what do you keep hearing?"

"Older man, handsome, divorced. Probably *amenable* to willing, female students," she said, using his word back at him.

"It's obvious you haven't met him," Giles said dryly.

She laughed. "Maybe I should change that to hopefully amenable." She gave Giles another scrutinizing look. "The male students will have the easier time, won't they?"

"He grades the work, not other...performance values. Will you be in his class?"

"Yup," she said. "Don't give me that down-your-nose look. I'm working on my masters and I'm in the top ten percent of the class."

"All right," he said, in a tone which indicated otherwise.

"My name is Mini Hayes and I'll be in Dr. Rosenberg's class bright and shiny on Monday morning, so you can ask him if you don't believe me." She slowly undid three buttons on her blouse, revealing an ample area of curving, tanned skin. "If I'm really, really, *really* nice to you, will that help?"

"Not in the least," Giles said, forcing himself to keep his eyes well above her cleavage.

"This sucks," Mini said, "because what I actually heard is that he has a stick up his butt... " With a pointed look at Giles, she said, "Or *something*, and he never gives a grade over seventy-five. The guys are trying to drop his class because of the homo deal. They don't want him looking at them."

"I thought there wasn't enough room for all of the students who wanted to take his class."

"That was before we found out he was gay." Mini picked up a magazine and turned a few pages.

"Don't you think that attitude is bloody short-sighted?" Giles demanded.

"Hey, *I'm* not dropping his class. Don't get pissed at me." She flopped into a chair. "Take any of the books. On the house. Dad has no clue what the hell's in here, so he won't know what you take."

Giles wheeled out of the store, unable to stand being in there a second longer. It was the first time he'd ever found the atmosphere of dusty old books stifling.

He trudged down the block, debating whether to continue his run or go back to the house. Neither appealed to him, especially the latter. After returning from the synagogue, Ira would spend the rest of the day in study and prayer. He wouldn't be open to the subject of work, and Giles wasn't sure he cared to repeat Mini's words anyway.

Eventually he decided on the Museum. Using Linda's name, his pass, and the best charm he could muster, he wangled his way into the shipping department's records. Several hours passed before he found what he wanted. After seeking out a photocopier, he left the Museum, bought some fruit at a market, and spent the rest of the afternoon at the excavation.

The streets were busy with sun-baked pedestrians by the time he started back to the house. He walked along with them in the anonymity of a crowd, enjoying the solace of overhearing conversations which had nothing at all to do with him.

At the house, Ira was reading in the study, and Sahrene was stretched out by the pool. Giles made himself a sandwich, and took Ria's papers upstairs to his bedroom.

He heard the front door a while later. Judging by the time, he assumed Ira had left to attend the Havdalah ceremony at the synagogue in Stenholme. Giles walked through the house. Sahrene was gone as well, and the quiet within the walls was unsettling.

While waiting for the kettle to boil, Giles looked out the back door. He'd been to one Havdalah ceremony, and knew it started when three stars were visible overhead. He was seven at the time, taken by his mother, and had thought the candle-lighting and opening of spice boxes which accompanied the ceremony to be a lot more fun than the tedious services in his own church. On the way home, he'd asked his mother if they could go again. Her answer had been vague.

Why they'd gone in the first place, he didn't know, and they never went back. After asking his mother about it a couple of times, he gave it up as a lost cause.

As the stars appeared overhead now, the memory of holding his mother's hand tightly as they sang a hymn came back in piercing clarity. The image disturbed him. He shook it off, locked the back door, made his tea, and took it upstairs.

When Ira returned, he frowned at the sight of Giles lying on top of the bedcovers, eyes closed and rubbing his temples.

"Are you not feeling well, Rupert?"

"I'm fine. Just a headache." Giles sat up. "Did Sahrene go out with you?"

"Yes, then she went to meet some of her friends. I will be taking her and her Great-Grandmother to mass tomorrow morning. Would you like to come?" Ira asked, as he began picking up the clutter of papers off the bed.

"I have absolutely no desire for that." Giles searched for the photocopy he'd made earlier, and held it up.

"What's that?" Ira asked.

"A courier receipt, signed by the Museum shipping department, one large crate delivered to Austano Ria from a Mr. J. Greschmidt, Hotel Carleton, Jerusalem, May sixteenth, two thousand and one." Giles nodded at the rock in their bedroom. "I think that's between twenty-five to thirty pounds. Add the crate and packing, and the weight on the courier slip works out."

Ira took the paper. "This isn't proof," he said slowly.

"Why send a piece of granite anywhere, then?" Giles asked. "Look at the insured value."

Ira put the paper down and regarded the stone. "I have never heard of a J. Greschmidt. Have you?"

"No. I made a call to an acquaintance of mine in Jordan. He'll see if he can get a look at the hotel register. Perhaps there will be an address or credit card number."

"Will you tell Dr. Brommel about this? She may consider this rock to belong to the Museum here."

"I will tell her, but not just yet," Giles said. "I'd like to keep the rock for a bit longer, and if word of it gets around, we won't be able to keep it safe here." "Agreed," Ira said. He arranged Ria's papers in neat piles on a dresser. "What else have you learned?"

"That I need to brush up on my Arabic," Giles muttered. "I'm also finding Hebrew."

Ira smiled. "I can help you there. Mr. Steffler can as well."

"I don't think you'll keep that smile once you start translating," Giles warned. "Ria's plans included a legion, a sacrifice, and doors opening somewhere."

"What?"

"Ria wanted to recreate an old ritual, and it looks to me that he'd picked a spot for it on the Hoodoo Trail. I found a map of the trail at the Museum. It's too long for us to walk in one day, but I don't think we'll have to go too far. Ria had set up here, so whatever spot he wanted must be nearby." Giles sighed. "He didn't like putting too much on paper. That's why it's taking me so long to find what I need."

"What, exactly, was he planning to sacrifice?"

"I don't know. A virgin?"

Ira looked aghast. Giles said quickly, "I'm sorry. I think it would be a goat or lamb, something along those lines. You know as well as I that offering up animals is a common motif in many beliefs, and there are farms around here."

"Wheat and soy fields, Rupert."

"I've seen animals too. Today, a truck passed me with a load of chickens. I wasn't concerned with what Ria was planning to kill, but why."

"And why he wished to kill the animal on this rock," Ira commented.

Giles blinked. "I suppose that's how it fits in. I hadn't thought of it myself."

"Because you are Atheist, and a stone is just a stone. Rupert, I don't like the way your research is tending."

"I could stop."

Ira shook his head. "Let's continue. Uncomfortable truths travel with difficulty."

"Who said that? Milton? Donne?" "Primo Levi." Ira looked at Giles. "My daughter called today."

"Is something going on in Sunnydale?"

"No, everything is fine. She asked how you were. I lied and told her you were well."

Giles got off the bed and walked away from it. "Not this again."

"Rupert, I wish you would talk to me about the night Miss Summers died."

"IraB"

"I sense there is more."

"Every time you start the 'there's more' theme, we have a godawful fight."

"A fight would be mutual. What happens is that you get upset and go away. Rupert, that's not helping."

"Buffy died that night. Forgive me, but it's a tad upsetting," Giles retorted. "You've never had anyone close to you die."

"My parents died."

"Try closer than that."

"I should qualify. You get upset, take a jab at me, then go away."

"You have the going away part correct," Giles told him, and left, going downstairs and out the back door into the yard.

In his rush, he nearly walked into the pool. The sudden view of stars on the ground halted him, and it took him a second to realize he was looking at the water in the deep end, so motionless it was a perfect mirror of the night sky. There was a build-up in the air, the smell of rain coming from across the mountains, and at the back of the yard, crickets chirped at him.

He walked the perimeter of the pool, letting cool air play on his face, making circuit after circuit until his heart and footsteps slowed. Then he looked up at sky and whispered, "Buffy," even though it made him feel foolish.

A car door banged at the front and some laughter sounded. Lights flipped on and off inside, travelling from the first floor to the second. Not long after that, a lamp turned back on, on the first floor, and Ira stepped out the door. "Mrs. Ria is in," he said.

Giles sat on the edge of the deck. "You and Buffy are the only people who ever truly pushed me, who ever fought me. She stood her ground, even when it was shaky as hell."

"Do you think my ground is shaky?"

"I think there are some areas between us better left alone."

"You're wrong, Rupert. We have taken on a commitment to each other. Withholding major parts of ourselves is not the way."

"Have you ever rethought this commitment?"

Ira gave him a sharp look. "No, have you?"

"I..." Giles breathed out. "I have spent forty years pretty well on my own. You can't expect me to dive in."

"Dive, no, but I need you to take some steps towards me." Ira sat down on the deck as well, though not beside Giles.

A ripple crossed the water of the pool. Giles watched it. "Buffy let Glory go. She was the Slayer and she...stopped. Instead, she went up the tower to Dawn."

"I thought the demigod had died. Are you saying she is still in Sunnydale?"

"She turned into her human part. She turned into the man, and lay there, helpless, in front of me. With my bare hands, I killed her." Giles paused. "That's commandment number seven, if you care to keep track."

In a low tone, Ira said, "Keep going, Rupert."

"That's all there is."

"Keep going," Ira repeated. "What I heard was, she was the Slayer and she stopped. AndB?"

"And...I was furious with her, that she could just walk away."

"And leave the mess for you."

Hearing it stated so boldly caused a bitter rise in Giles' throat. "She was a young girl."

"Who knew better," Ira said.

"She was *human*!" Giles shot back.

"She was wrong."

"Yes, she was wrong! She was willing to sacrifice the whole damn world for the sake of one person, a person who hadn't even existed for a year!" Wood cut into Giles' palms as his hands tightened on the edge of the deck.

Ira moved over and pried Giles' hands free. "Perhaps Miss Summers knew that if she'd let her sister die, it would have been too much for her to bear, that she wouldn't have been able to live with that. She made a bad choice, but it was the only one she had the strength to make. God forbid any of us should have to face such as that."

"*I* faced it! She left it for me."

"You saved the world and let her die? Is this what you're saying, Rupert?"

"The world's still here and she isn't."

Ira shook his head vehemently. "Her actions were out of your hands. Somehow, as difficult as that is, you're going to have to accept it. You don't have the right to put yourself at the centre of this, and think that everything revolved around what you did or did not do. That is grandiose. You had nasty work, but you were not the pivot. I think your ego is a bit out of hand."

"My *what*?" Giles cried. "Of *course* I know I'm not the centre of the world."

"Exactly."

"But it feels...it feels like I can't even swallow."

Gently, Ira said, "Perhaps it will never feel any better."

Giles looked away and muttered, "Fuck!"

"Rupert, I cannot believe a demigod is ever actually helpless. It was deception, an attempt to play upon your sympathy, and you did not allow it. You are stronger than I would have been."

Giles finally looked up. "Ira, you're sitting here beside someone who is capable ofB"

"Yes. Thou shall not kill is number six, not number seven," Ira said. "You've told me and I am still sitting here with you, awed, and still loving you." He let go of Giles' hands and said questioningly, "You think that if I get to know you, I will be disgusted and leave? Rupert, everyone feels that way."

"You don't know what I've done."

"I can only begin to guess what a Watcher's life entails, and I know you have dark areas in your past. The demon, Spike, likes to taunt me with hints and stories," Ira said.

"Oh?" Giles eyed Ira uneasily. "You never mentioned this before."

"Rupert, I judge by the man I know and my daughter knows. I trust you with my daughter. Willow is safer with you than anywhere. And...at times, I haven't led an innocent life myself." Ira stood and put several feet between them. "You didn't answer me earlier. Have you been rethinking our commitment to each other?"

"Sometimes it's so hard," Giles said quietly. "Sometimes I don't know what the rules are or what I'm supposed to say, or we've had an argument and I don't know why. Then I hear your voice or see you and there's nowhere else I want to be. I love you, but, what's that word I kept hearing about Cordelia Chase? You're high-maintenance."

"I thought I'd been making most of the compromises."

Giles peered up and caught the small smile.

Thunder sounded distantly over the mountains. They both looked up.

"Rupert, come inside. I'm tired," Ira said. "Tonight I feel like an old man."

Giles stood, closed the distance between them, and took Ira's hand. "Come on then."

- - - - -

Giles woke with a jump when the storm suddenly crashed overhead. As he raised up to look at the clock, he felt Ira move behind him.

"What time is it?"

"One," Giles said. "We've been asleep for a whole hour."

Their room lit white for a split-second, and a boom of thunder shook the windows.

"I thought you shut the curtains," Ira said.

"They must have blown open." Giles got out of bed and closed the panes. Another streak of lightning revealed the yard.

When Giles remained standing at the window, Ira asked, "What is it?"

"I thought someone was out there swimming, but it's only wind blowing the water." Giles shut the curtains tightly and returned to bed. "It's going to be a hell of a storm."

They both startled at another loud smash from overhead. Rain began pounding the windows.

Ira raised up on his elbows. Giles could just see a glint of red hair.

"It's violent," Giles murmured.

"It's only noise." Ira settled in against Giles in a single, effortless movement. They were both tall men, yet they always fit together in an unconscious entwinement. Giles wasn't sure how they managed it.

He traced Ira's forearm from elbow to wrist, feeling small hairs over the skin. "I met one of your students yesterday," Giles said, having to raise his voice over the thunder. "She told me the males are dropping out of your classes."

"I know," Ira said. "Other students have taken the spots." He didn't sound worried.

"She told me why they were dropping out."

"Prejudice and paranoia over an irrelevant issue."

"Not so irrelevant if it's affecting your class size."

"It isn't, Rupert. I will simply have more female students."

Thunder cracked, and Giles' heart skipped a beat.

"The storm must be right overhead," Ira commented. He shifted again, one of his legs coming on top of Giles'. The latter felt throbs travel through his stomach and down until his groin felt full.

Giles closed his eyes tightly. He hated the lack of control, the obviousness, the blatancy. There was no way to hide it. He might as well stick a neon bulb in his crotch, for all the good any covering did.

Ira moved again, and Giles knew he would have come across it, made the discovery in the dark. But Giles kept his eyes shut. It was too soon. He heard water churning in the back yard. It slapped the sides of the pool, sounding as if it was running over the white tiles and soaking the chairs and grass with chlorine. They'd go outside tomorrow and the noxious smell would be on everything.

Abruptly, the rain stopped. One second, it was hammering the window pane. The next, it was over. There was a last, distant quiver of thunder, and that was it.

Night creatures began stirring. A bird called in a lonely, whooping rhythm, until its chorus was joined by insects and something howling faintly from far away.

Ira shifted, and Giles tensed, though he knew Ira would ask first. He always asked before touching.

However, Ira rolled away to the other side of the bed. Giles opened his eyes and saw the outline of Ira's back and a foot of empty bed between them. The sight bothered him more than his earlier dread.

Should he say something? Or keep silent and pretend there was nothing to discuss. He didn't know what to say at any rate. He had no idea what Ira was thinking, only that Ira had decided not to ask this time, hadn't bothered Giles with what had become, in the last two months, a futile request.

Two months wasn't a long time for Giles. Celibacy was something he'd gotten used to, that and emotional independence. True, he'd voluntarily given up both, and without much coaxing. After meeting Ira, he began to dislike his isolation more and more. He'd wanted the position he was in right now.

The reality of intimacy was different from the sentimental version Giles had imagined. It had been a lot better. For the first time in his life, he looked forward to each day.

Then Buffy died. Giles would have wrapped himself away, but Ira was fighting him on that, determined not to allow Giles to do what he had been doing for a lifetime.

Surely, Giles thought, he was allowed time. It had only been two months. But he was living with someone who expected life to go on.

And now Giles' own body was expecting life to go on as well. It was a betrayal.

He looked across the bed. "Ira..."

"Yes, Rupert?"

"Can you bear with me a little while longer?"

"You don't have to worry about that."

Giles looked at the faint gray edges of the window. "What was that the minister said at Buffy's service? For some reason, I can't remember."

Ira thought for a moment. "John fourteen," he said at last. "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know."

"That was it," Giles said softly.

The bed creaked as Ira reached for him. Giles moved over until they were touching again, and he closed his eyes.

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