TITLE: Good
AUTHOR: LeoClaire
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: Season 4. Up to, and including, "Hush."
CONTENT: Buffy/Giles
SUMMARY: Slayer and Watcher acknowledge that their lives will never be 'normal.'
DISTRIBUTION: Soon to be archived at "True Love Kicks Ass" -- http://www.traceyourhand.org/leoclaire Permission also granted to buffygiles.com, Destiny Awaits, and VSS. Anyone else -- wow, I'd be flattered! Just let me know. :)
DISCLAIMER: Everything 'Buffy' belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox. Basically what I'm saying is: Not me. Darn. But thank you for inviting me over to play :)
THANKS TO: The terrific duo of Tricia Stewart and Rari Coss for their proofreading talents. Your encouraging suggestions and gentle corrections are appreciated.
DEDICATION: To Gabi, with affection and everlasting gratitude for maintaining the buffygiles.com website. Your "Today" daily calendar leaves me breathless. I know I don't say 'thank you' often enough.
INSPIRATION: The song "Breathless" is written and performed by The Corrs, and can be found on their In Blue album. Also written by Robert John "Mutt" Lange. Copyright Atlantic Records, 2000.

and if there's no tomorrow
and all we have is here and now
I'm happy just to have you
you're all the love i need somehow

-- "breathless", the corrs.

Light filtered through the treetops, warming Buffy's skin as she strolled to Giles' apartment. Courses were finished for the day -- in truth, she had skipped her last one -- being eager to escape into the beautiful weather and onset of the weekend. She wasn't feeling guilty. Not one bit. Why did instructors insist on Friday lectures, anyway? Or, really, school at all? And if there had to be a compromise, why not switch the schedule -- work for two days, and celebrate for five? Buffy relished the idea, and briefly considered using Willow's laptop to email the White House with her brilliant plan. However, with the number of caffeinated students worldwide, she was certain someone would have already proposed it. Oh well.

Turning her face to the sun, Buffy twirled on the pavement, spontaneously completing some skating moves remembered from childhood. Today was a good day. Not having class until 10:30 that morning allowed both her and Willow a major sleep-in, Professor Walsh had actually *complimented* her experiment results (how weird was that? Buffy had almost keeled over in shock) and the cafeteria served something edible for lunch. She nodded to herself. Yep, goodness all around.

Best of all, her mom was home! Returning from a convention abroad, Joyce had instantly phoned her daughter, insisting that she spend the weekend away from the dorm so that the pair could play catch-up. Buffy had needed no convincing, and anyway, the frat parties were becoming a bit too routine to be exciting. A fact that disappointed Xander as well. Here it was, already November, and no orgies to be had.

Earlier, walking through the door, Buffy had been greeted by the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sight of gleaming counter tops. The latter a treat in its own right, because the blonde hated cleaning with a passion almost exceeding her hatred for Spike. Buffy spent a great deal of her time covered in vampire dust; a little more made no difference.

Joyce's cozy hug brought tears to Buffy's eyes. With an ashamed twinge, the girl realized that maybe she resented her mom's job. Maybe. Just a little bit. Not that Buffy was around much either, what with college and all. At least Joyce was able to travel to interesting and exotic art-y places.

The latest art-y place being France and, as mother and daughter sipped gingerale and chewed cookies on the front steps, Joyce recounted amusing tales of men with moustaches and berets, of baguettes and escargot. When Buffy had impishly inquired about French *kissing*, and whether any moustache-beret men had bestowed said smoochies on her mere, Joyce had flushed red and swiftly switched topics. Her energetic daughter had chattered with enthusiasm about Willow and Xander, a new girl named Anya, the "hunky" Psychology TA Riley, and a brief mention of Giles.

"How is Mr. Giles? Keeping you safe?"

Buffy shrugged, "Like always. We defeated a demon last week -- nothing too bad Mom, don't wig -- and he seems good. Busy. He's got Olivia, so..."

Despite her intention not to appear as such, Joyce was curious. "Who's Olivia?"

Buffy spun a strand of hair around her index finger, avoiding her mother's raised eyebrow. "His girlfriend." She made a face, "Womanfriend. Whatever."

"Oh." Joyce cleared her throat. "W-w-well. That's good. He's a good man. He deserves someone."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed half-heartedly. Sure Giles was great and everything, if you were into older men. She'd never really thought much about older men being attractive. Jeremy Irons had a terrific voice -- _The Lion King_ was one of her favourite Disney movies. And Richard Gere was kinda-sorta handsome in _Pretty Woman_. Sean Connery too, maybe. But those were actors, not, like, actual men she knew. Buffy recalled that Angel was two-hundred-forty-something, but conveniently pushed the thought to the back of her mind. That was different. She wasn't sure how, but it was. Wasn't it?

Giles deserved someone. She couldn't argue with that, and she didn't want him to be lonely. Moreover, he was the textbook definition of a gentleman -- not The Gentlemen, the creepy floating skeleton guys -- but a *real* gentleman. The kind who would open doors for you, and present you with flowers, and make you feel special. Giles, Buffy was sure, would even love a woman if she were covered in demon slime. And that was no small feat, considering the acrid stench that often accompanied demon slime. Blech.

That clinched it. Whoever held Giles' heart, had to be the luckiest woman alive.

Buffy dug her knuckles into her cheek, dragging them back and forth as she thought mean thoughts. But why did *Olivia* have to be the lucky one? Gimme a break. Parading around in Giles' shirt, so blase, as if she didn't even *realize* she was naked under it -- "Oh, would you look at that! My gosh, I'm hardly wearing any clothes! If you can't tell by my state of undress, Buffy and the rest of the world, Giles and I just finished having sex." The teen scrunched her nose. Not something she needed to imagine.

And with the Gentlemen fiasco, what had Olivia done to help? Nothing. Okay, she sketched. Big whoop. More often than not, she sat by herself, stewing over a drink. Thanks for your input, Ms. Alcoholic. She hadn't interacted or written on the message boards. Had she even known who Willow and Xander were? Had she cared? She probably thought we were just a bunch of stupid kids. Ha! I'm the Slayer, lady. Watch your step. Is she evil? I bet she's evil!

Surprisingly, the notion caused little satisfaction. She didn't want her Watcher to love a ghoul. Olivia obviously made Giles happy. So, alright, she would be tolerated. For Giles' sake only. But don't look to Buffy if his shirts suddenly went missing and "accidentally" piled up in the back of her closet. She reeled in distress -- would that mean Olivia would instead walk around with nothing on?! Eeep. Maybe she'd leave behind *one* shirt, just in case. The ugly green one. Yeah, that seemed fitting.

Was it an accent attraction? Giles is from England, and Olivia too. Do British people only date other British people? Buffy wrinkled her forehead. That's a dumb rule.

But no, Giles and Ms. Calendar had been involved, and she hadn't even *liked* tea. Remembering the raven-haired computer teacher, Buffy gulped against the swelling of her throat. God, if things had turned out differently...

It might have been her mother wearing Giles' shirt! Buffy choked on her beverage. Bad thought. Leave head now. Shifting uncomfortably, she willed her mind to a new, less therapy-inducing place. She eyed the woman next to her and blurted, "I can not *believe* you slept with Giles!" Obviously her mind hadn't listened, and was quite enjoying giving Buffy an aneurysm.

Joyce set her drink down with a sigh, "Sweetie, it was the chocolate. You know that. How many times must we go over this?"

"None." At her mother's startled statement, Buffy grinned cheekily. "Just testing."

Joyce tried to glare but was unsuccessful. She reached over and affectionately ruffled her daughter's hair. "You are a silly girl."

"It must be genetic." With a wink, Buffy hopped to her feet, and both Summers women ambled into the kitchen. Joyce ran water in the sink while her daughter entertained herself with the contents of the refrigerator.

"Still hungry?"

Buffy nodded, tugging open the crisper. "Too much time with Xander. I become hungry through osmosis."

Joyce chuckled, "He's not here right now."

Buffy dropped a grape into her mouth. "True. But wherever he is, I'm sure he's eating." Straddling a wooden chair, the teen plucked at the fruit -- tossing grapes high into the air and catching them between her teeth. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Not a miss.

Buffy smiled to herself. Sometimes her Slayer abilities were very, very cool.

Stooping to retrieve the bottle of dish soap, Joyce peered over her shoulder. Buffy was humming along with the radio, her feet moving restlessly to the music. "Honey, I'd say you've attained your 'dutiful daughter' quota for the day. It's all right if there's other stuff you'd rather do than hang around your old mother."

"You're not old." Buffy corrected, flashing sparkling teeth.

At that, her mom laughed aloud. "What do you want?"

"Why, whatever do you mean by that, mother dearest?"

Over the years, Joyce had mastered the arched eyebrow. "Nice try. I know when I'm being suckered. Your poker statement needs work."

The blonde slumped. "Darn. Willow's trying to teach me, but I guess I have yet to master the subtleties of Innocent Look, cousin to Resolve Face."

Scrubbing at a casserole tray, Joyce enumerated, "One, nothing about you is subtle, Buffy *dearest*. And two, sometimes I think you use a different language than that which we employ here on planet Earth."

"Ha! You and Giles both. You should see him try to decipher our ScoobySlang -- especially when we're wired on donuts." Buffy clucked her tongue in mock sympathy. "Poor guy, subjected to our extremely riveting and intelligent discussions on American pop culture."

"Riveting and intelligent," Joyce echoed, trying to hide her smile.

"Yeah, you know it! Like, one afternoon we decided to assume '90210' personalities 'cause Anya -- Xander's girlfriend, the one I told you about? -- well, she's a dead ringer for this character named Susan, and..." Buffy shrugged, "It all snowballed from there. Giles looked like he wanted to crawl under the table."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," Joyce drawled. "He's managed to survive your group so far."

"Speaking of Giles-"

"Were we speaking of Giles? I hadn't noticed."

"You're so hilarious, Mom. Seriously, are you planning to take your act on tour?" Dodging a swat of the dishtowel, Buffy continued, "I was *going* to say that I want to stop by his place, and thought I'd head out soon. The kind of soon that is now. If that's okay?"

"What about dinner?"

"Ummmm...I was hoping to exchange rectangular, green pieces of paper for greasy calories commonly known as fast food."

"Oh, really? Do you happen to have any of these green papers in your possession?"

"Not presently -- but I was hoping in the near future..." Buffy's eyes were very round and very pretty.

Joyce sighed. "The very near future. My wallet's on the stairs."

"I'm on it! Mom, you're the best of the best!" Buffy tucked a bill into the pocket of her shorts and looped her arms about her mother's waist.

Joyce relented in the embrace, bringing a hand up to smooth her child's curls. "That's why I have the best kid," she said softly. Her voice was shaking, and she found herself holding tears at bay. Would every goodbye always feel like this? That possibly it might be the last?

She pulled back, drinking in her daughter's features. Her Buffy. The Vampire Slayer. She shuddered. "Is there something you aren't telling me? Is it some big evil? Should I be anxious?" Joyce was already anxious.

"Relax. Breathe. It's all good, honest. I just haven't seen Giles recently, and would like to say hi. Y'know, check on him, make sure he's okay."

Joyce scrutinized Buffy who conveniently had her head down, busily tying the laces of her sneakers. "Honey, forty year old men do not need to be 'checked on.'"

The blonde straightened with a grimace. "Motherrrrr, give me some credit. Besides, if he needs to be 'checked on' like *that*, I'm sure Olivia would be more than happy to do so." Buffy tried to overlook the pulled heartstring accompanying the thought. After planting a loud smack on her mother's cheek, she popped a piece of peppermint gum and stepped outside. "I'll be back later, after patrol. Don't wait up."

Joyce fidgeted on the stoop. "You know I will."

"I know," Buffy smiled. "And I appreciate it." Her smile grew. "I've missed this -- missed home. I mean, school's fine and everything, sure, but... I love you, Mom."

Joyce again willed tears to stay put. She cleared her throat and asked in what she hoped was a jovial tone, "Blueberry waffles and a movie marathon tomorrow?"

Buffy was halfway down the walk. She turned and gave a thumbs-up. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

The mother saw the phrase register on her child's face, and put up a hand to stop the inevitable backpedalling or quipping. "Don't. I want to remember those words just as you said them."

"It's a deal."

***

His door edged open as she knocked. Frowning, Buffy pushed it the rest of the way and stepped inside. "Giles? Hey, how many times have I told you to keep your place locked? There's a barrier for vampires, but it doesn't prevent other things that go bump in the night from deciding to go bump in here."

Usually, halfway through the announcement of her arrival, Giles appeared from around a corner, peering at her from atop the rims of his glasses. Maybe carrying a mug of tea, and armed with a witticism to match -- or more often, trump -- her own. But always with some wry words of welcome.

Where was he?

"Hello? Giles?"

Nothing.

The kitchen and living room were deserted. She twice checked the vacant bathroom.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Buffy snapped her gum in irritation and pressing fear as she surveyed the empty loft. "GILES?!"

The blonde tried to quell her panic as she half-ran, half-tripped back downstairs. What had happened? His stuff was all here. She spun in a circle, examining walls and floors, finding no evidence of injury or struggle.

"Not funny, not funny," Buffy muttered. In another second, she was racing out the back door to the patio.

  Giles set his teacup down and rose as his Slayer approached -- well, stalked, was more like it. "Buffy," he spoke, surprise colouring his eyes a bright green. "Is something amiss?"

He was alive! At the gentle sound of her Watcher's voice, the young woman wanted to collapse in relief. Instead she surveyed him with a glare. "No, nothing's wrong...oh, except I thought you were dead, that's all."

Giles' eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "What? I-I-I'm right here."

"Yeah. I see that."

Unsure of her unflinching stare, he gestured to a seat across the table. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Would you like to lock your door?"

"Pardon?" Except Buffy must have not heard, or decided not to hear, his question. Her beautiful eyes were sparkling with emotion, her beautiful cheeks were tinged a deep pink, her beautiful breeze-blown hair was swept aside impatiently. Occasionally, a sneaker (it too, beautiful) would stomp in indignation. From her mouth poured a steady stream of words. Giles realized, too late, that he wasn't paying them attention.

"...you could have been hurt -- or worse! -- and...Mister, are you even *listening* to me?!"

He flushed. "Of course."

Flopping into a chair beside him, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Riiiight." She pursed her lips in reflection, "Isn't it usually the Watcher lecturing the Slayer?"

A grin stole across Giles' face. "You've always been one to defy convention."

"Look, just be careful, alright?" She idly picked at the magenta polish on her nails. "If you and Olivia decide to take a romantic getaway, leave a note or something so I don't imagine the worst." Although, Buffy privately believed there could be nothing worse than a spontaneous rendezvous scenario involving that particular pair.

Her Watcher's smile vanished. "You needn't worry about that." He sipped his drink, attempting to ignore Buffy's curious expression. After ten seconds, he sighed and met her gaze. "Olivia and I are no longer a couple."

Buffy swallowed her gum.

"Really? No more orgasms?" She had the grace to blush immediately. "Uh, that thought was supposed to stay in my head."

"Yes, well..." Giles looked away.

Her hot face sought refuge behind sweaty palms. She had actually said "orgasm" aloud! To Giles! Oh God. Buffy was *beyond* mortified. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." She reached for his arm but he was already standing.

"It doesn't matter," he said, in a gruff tone that belied his words. "It's over." He turned, walked a few paces, and stopped. Tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket, he raised his eyes to the sky and was otherwise still.

Buffy's tongue raced along her teeth as she tried to think of the proper pep-talk for these sombre situations: "Every cloud has a silver lining." "Things will look brighter in the morning." "They don't deserve you anyway." "You're too good for them."

The Slayer scowled. When reeling from a break-up, the *last* thing anyone wants to hear is chipper wisdom, no matter the best of intentions.

Hugging her arms to her middle, Buffy sidled up to her preoccupied Watcher. "Hey...", she said softly.

"You don't spend enough time in the sun," he murmured.

The blonde examined her tanned skin. "Gotta disagree with you there. Put your glasses back on."

His head slanted inquisitively, as if viewing her for the first time. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I know." Buffy shuffled a step closer with her next words, "Giles, it's okay. Sometimes, being the Slayer sucks -- pun absolutely intended -- but whatever, I've grown used to the superhero thing." Her face twinkled, "I'm actually quite good at it...or so my Watcher would have me believe."

"It's not fair. She doesn't..." He sounded far away.

  Her voice was quiet. "I'm sorry Olivia lef -- um, I'm sorry that she hurt you. That you're sad." Buffy winced. How lame. At least it was the truth. Because she wasn't disappointed at Olivia's departure. She couldn't even pretend to be.

Again, the wondering expression. "That wasn't what I meant either."

"Oh." She was unexpectedly warm. "What, uh, *did* you mean?"

He studied her, not speaking for the longest of moments. Then an earnest, "If I had the opportunity to go back and do it over, I would still make the same choices every time."

Buffy didn't know what to say.

"I would still choose you every time," he clarified tenderly.

She drooped at his sincerity. "It *is* all about me, isn't it? If the Slayer needs her Watcher, he's supposed to come running. At the expense of everything else: a spouse, kids, a job with steady hours. Damn destiny! God, Giles, if I could give you a normal life..."

"If I could give *you* a normal life," he countered.

The young woman frowned. "We probably wouldn't know each other."

Tentatively, he placed a strong hand on her slender shoulder, green eyes catching blue ones. "And I do so like knowing you, Buffy Anne Summers."

She placed her fingers atop his, a formidable lump of emotion lodged in her throat. Sneaking around it were the words that mattered, "Same here, Rupert Giles."

It was not a quiet silence that ensued. The air crackled with unspoken tension and Buffy's heart slammed against her chest so rapidly that she was sure the racket could be heard all over town. She bit her lip, incisors digging into flesh, as she fought the swift impulse to jump into her Watcher's arms and kiss him senseless. Riley who? Swallowing with difficulty, she instead asked, "Are you ever going to tell me your middle name?" Her eyelashes fluttered. Was she flirting?!

"Never," Giles vowed.

Buffy had to consciously keep her jaw from smacking the ground. He had just winked at her! She saw it! Wait, maybe he had something in his eye. Still... "I'm the Slayer, y'know. I could wrangle it out of you." Whoa. When had her voice become three shades deeper?

He tilted his chin downward, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps I'd enjoy being wrangled."

Butterflies careened around Buffy's stomach. If she stretched on her toes, her lips would be...and his lips would be...ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod...

She scrambled to produce the money given earlier. "Um, hey, do you feel like some pizza?"

Alas, pepperoni and cheese was a poor substitute for what Giles *really* wanted. With a chuckle, he squeezed her hand. "Yes, that sounds delicious."

The blonde released a breath, her storm of new emotions successfully diverted for the time being. She smiled a smile of blinding white. "Good, me too. No mushrooms though."

"Agreed. However, I am craving anchovies," he teased.

"Giiii-les!"

He dramatically extended an arm, "Shall we partake in our choice of gourmet cuisine?"

As Giles once again awarded her an open grin, Buffy momentarily contemplated his now ex-girlfriend. Olivia hadn't been good enough for him. Now, perhaps Buffy didn't deserve his devotion either -- after all, it was common knowledge that she perpetually fumbled in saying the right thing when the chips were down. But she promised herself she'd continue trying. She *would* be good enough.

The Slayer linked elbows with her Watcher. "Let's shall." But before they could take a step, Buffy paused and regarded her partner intently. "Lock your door. No arguing."

She would be better than good.