Title: When I Lay Me Down to Sleep (part 15/?)
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters and Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, etc. This little ficlet is for fun only.
Feedback: Pretty please? I’m an addict!

“To my life, my love, and my future bride…Buffy.”

They drank to his toast, then Giles stood and offered her his hand.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

Buffy stood and took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. Unfortunately, the orchestra chose that moment to switch from waltzes to a tango. Buffy stopped in her tracks as the couples on the floor dispersed.

“Giles—I don’t know how to dance to this,” she said.

He gave her hand a tug: “Buffy—you were born with a natural grace and coordination unparalleled by the rest of humanity. Trust me—you can dance a tango. Just stay close and follow my lead.”

“Stay close. I can do that.”

He led her to the centre of the dance floor and put his hand on her back. She took his other hand, and with an ease she would have thought impossible, they were soon dancing like they’d been doing it for years. She’d had no idea dancing could be so exhilarating. Everything around them faded away—it was just the two of them, moving as one, so close she could feel his heartbeat.

When the song ended, Giles raised Buffy’s chin and kissed her tenderly. Buffy felt faint and had to grab hold of Giles to stay upright. When she regained her composure, she noticed they had an audience. Several couples stood along the edge of the dance floor, clapping politely.

“You’re a natural,” said Giles, and smiled shyly at the crowd that had gathered.

“I think they’re waiting for an encore,” said Buffy. “Should we indulge them?”

“It would be a shame to disappoint our fans,” he answered, as the orchestra struck up a fiery samba.

They danced the next few numbers, sharing the floor with a growing number of couples. But Buffy was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her hands away from inappropriate places, and there was little doubt that Giles was having the same problem. As they finished dancing to a waltz, Giles looked at her, his eyes smouldering, and Buffy’s heart started pounding in her ears.

“I think it’s time to go,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing a line up and down her spine.

Buffy shivered. “Giles,” she whispered, “I don’t think I can wait until we get home.”

Giles lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered back: “I hope this doesn’t sound presumptuous, but I took the liberty of booking a room here at the hotel.”

“That’s my Giles—the man with the plan. So what are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here.”

On the way out, Giles nabbed the maitre d’ and asked him to put the bill on his room’s tab, then he slipped him a sizable gratuity that matched his sizable grin. He and Buffy practically raced for the elevator and caught it just as the doors were closing.

Much to Buffy’s chagrin, they were sharing the elevator with an elderly couple who looked like they’d just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell picture. It felt like the elevator was inching it’s way down through the levels like a first time rock climber timidly rappelling down an incline. Buffy tapped her foot impatiently and Giles took her hand, stroking her thumb with his. She let out a tiny whimper.

The Rockwellian grandma looked at her with a warm ‘aren’t-you-just-the-loveliest-thing-dear’ smile on her face. Buffy returned the smile with as much innocent charm as she could muster, and sighed with relief as the elevator finally came to a stop on their floor.

Giles brought her to the room at the far end of the corridor, fumbling in his pockets for the room’s card-key. He swiped it and punched in the code with trembling fingers. Thankfully the door opened on the first try, and he stood aside to let Buffy enter.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of the deluxe suite. It somehow found a balance between decadence and restraint, opulence and subtlety. On a table near the door was a crystal vase with the roses Giles had given her. Buffy turned to Giles, who was smiling broadly at her reaction.

“It’s perfect,” she beamed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Though, to be perfectly honest, you’ve got me so hot and bothered you could have taken me to a back alley at this point and I wouldn’t have minded.”

Giles couldn’t have agreed more, and he put an end to the discussion by bringing his mouth down to hers in a madly impassioned kiss. Buffy melted into his embrace, raking her hands through his meticulously coiffed hair. He smiled against her lips and retaliated with a bit of hair mussing of his own. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both happily dishevelled and panting for breath.

Giles started undressing as they groped and kissed their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake. Buffy kicked off her shoes with a bit too much enthusiasm, sending one of them flying across the room to knock over the bedside lamp. It didn’t break, so they just ignored it and kept kissing.

Giles removed her pearls as he trailed feathery kisses down her throat, raising goose bumps over every inch of her flesh. As gentle lips played along her collarbone, strong hands unzipped her dress, and it billowed down to the floor around her feet.

Down to their underwear now, Buffy stepped out of her dress and into Giles’ arms, bringing their bared skin together. She savoured the feel of him—from the soft, springy chest hair against her cheek, to his demanding manhood pressed up against her stomach. Part of her wanted this moment to last forever, but a much larger part wanted him inside of her so desperately it made her body thrum. But she remembered how Giles had reacted the last time she took control, and she fought the urge to throw him down on the bed and ravish him.

Luckily Giles was as far past the point of control as she was. The feel of her silky skin under his hands and against his chest was making him mad with anticipation. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the essence of her as his hands slid purposefully down her back and under the elastic of her thong underwear. His hands continued downward over her soft, rounded cheeks, taking the wispy undergarment along for the ride.

Buffy wriggled out of her underwear, freeing Giles’ hands for more important pursuits. As his mouth claimed hers, he grasped her thighs and pulled her hard against him. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and felt his straining erection grinding against her, hindered only by the thin fabric of his cotton briefs.

Giles groaned into her mouth, and she moaned back into his, and they fell backwards onto the bed. Giles pinned her under his weight, devouring her with kisses. His mouth latched on to a breast, his tongue swirling magical little circles around the rock-hard nib before catching it gently between his teeth. Buffy gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders with enough force to leave bruises. She watched her other nipple disappear beneath his hot mouth and their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat as a bolt of raw lust parked between them. Her sex was already pounding in time with her heartbeat before his wandering fingers could venture that far. The first strokes of his thumb against her clitoris were enough to send her crashing over the edge, and she lay sprawled beneath him, boneless and panting.

“I’m sorry,” she managed between gasps.

Giles looked at her, puzzled. “Why are you sorry?”

“I couldn’t hold it back. I wanted to wait for you, but…I had no idea it would be like that,” she said with awe.

“You mean to say you’ve never had an orgasm?”

Buffy looked away, embarrassed. “I’ve only done this once before—and I was too nervous to really enjoy it.”

Giles brushed his knuckles against her cheek and kissed her softly. “Well, you have nothing to be nervous about with me, I promise. And as for holding back…don’t worry, Buffy, there’s plenty more where that came from. We’ve barely scratched the surface.”

To illustrate his point, Giles brushed his thumb against her still-twitching bundle of nerves then slid his finger into her hot core. Buffy’s body arched under his touch in an attempt to feel more of him.

“Please Giles,” she breathed, “I need you inside me.”

Giles let out a very un-manly whimper and rested his forehead against hers. “Are you absolutely sure? Because if you invite me in, Buffy,” he said, “I’ll never be able to leave.”

“Good,” said Buffy firmly. She cupped his face in her hands and looked at him earnestly. “I want you here to stay.” She brought her mouth up to his and ran her tongue over his lower lip. He nipped at it playfully before delving into a kiss that set her blood on fire.

Giles shifted above her, managing to remove his underwear without breaking the kiss. Then Buffy wrapped her legs around his thighs, rubbing herself against him eagerly. Giles broke the kiss and looked into her eyes as he carefully guided himself inside her, slowly penetrating her heat until he filled her completely. Buffy’s eyes went wide. He felt incredibly large inside her, and it took a minute to adjust.

Giles was patient—he waited until she thrust her hips up to meet his before he allowed himself to proceed. Then, with long, slow thrusts, he began moving inside her. They soon fell into a rhythm, and just like with the tango earlier that evening, they found themselves moving as one—like they’d been doing it for years.

Buffy could sense that Giles was trying to hold back his own orgasm, trying to prolong their first time together. But he was losing the battle, and the sweet strain on his face filled her with wonder and the certain knowledge that she could never love anyone as much as she loved him at that moment.

Buffy wanted Giles to surrender to his needs, but she wasn’t sure how to push the right buttons. She did the best she could. Using inner muscles she never really knew she had, she began gripping and releasing his hard shaft in steady pulses.

“Oh God, Buffy!” he yelled, and lost what little control he had left. She continued to clench her walls around him as he came deep inside her.

Giles collapsed next to her on the bed, his chest heaving from his exertions. Buffy stroked his chest softly and snuggled up to him. He smiled down at her and wrapper her tightly in his arms, delighting in the way her small body formed itself to his. He was just drifting off into a contented sleep when he felt Buffy’s hot tears on his chest.

He turned to face his weeping slayer. “Buffy? What is it?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant,” she sobbed. “I’m pregnant, Giles!” She buried her face in his chest and clung on to him. It was as if the whole thing had suddenly become real to her. Until now, she’d been able to think of her situation in abstract terms. If it wasn’t Buffy who’d had sex, then it couldn’t be Buffy who was pregnant. Even her swelling abdomen hadn’t convinced her it was real. But now that she’d slept with Giles, she could no longer fool herself. She was pregnant. And now she was truly scared.

Giles cradled the trembling woman in his arms and rocked her. “Let it out,” he cooed to her and kissed the top of her head. “Let it all out.”

Buffy felt a wall come crashing down inside her, and all the fear came pouring out of her in tears. Giles continued to rock her, smoothing her hair with his hands until she cried herself to sleep.

“That’s right,” he said, overcome with grief at her pain. “Let it all out.”

“Let them out,” said the Mayor. “Let them all out. It’s time to stir things up a little. See if anybody’s paying attention.”

Allan Finch stood there indecisively. He wanted more than anything to please the Mayor, but he had no idea what he was talking about.

Mayor Richard Wilkins III looked at his deputy in disappointment. It was so hard to find lackeys who possessed equal parts intelligence and obedience.

“Our visitors in the basement, Mr. Finch. They’re getting restless,” he explained slowly. “Make sure they get home before morning—and for gosh sakes, don’t let them eat in.”

A spark of understanding lit Finch’s features, followed immediately by a look of sheer horror. Their ‘guests’ hadn’t had a fresh meal in ages—what if they decided their doorman was a much easier target than everyone else in town?

“Oh, don’t look so scared. They know my staff members are off limits,” the Mayor said. “Heavens! I could never have made it this far if my faithful employees couldn’t trust me.” He gave Finch one of his patented ‘father-knows-best’ smiles and patted him on the shoulder. “Now hurry along before the night wastes away. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”

As Finch slinked out of the office, the Mayor plucked a Handi-Wipe off his desk and disinfected his hands. The shadows in the far corner of the room stirred and a dark creature with luminous yellow eyes stepped forward into the light.

“Ah, Mr. Trick. Just the man for the job. Would you mind popping downstairs to make sure our friends don’t make a snack out of my deputy? You vampires can be a smidge unpredictable at times.”

“Of course,” replied Mr. Trick, toying with the heavy gold ring on his finger. “But are you sure it’s not too soon to send out the troops?”

The Mayors’ smile hardened; “We need to know if our Preot has done its job. I can’t have the Slayer sticking her nose into my business this close to my ascension. If tonight’s little skirmish goes without a hitch, then I know she’s out of the picture.”

Mr. Trick nodded politely in agreement. The Mayor may be a nut cake, he decided, but he was a nut cake with the keys to the Hellmouth and a fierce sense of loyalty. Mr. Trick knew he had to be in the Mayor’s good books if he wanted to survive the Ascension.

Willow, Oz, Cordelia, Xander, and a pale and shaky Wesley were down at the Rest Field Cemetery. Wesley couldn’t believe how calm the kids were. Xander kept joking around, trying to relieve the young watcher’s tension, but it only made Wesley more nervous. Distraction at the wrong moment could prove fatal. And they all seemed so blasé about it. Especially Willow, who was nonchalantly crunching away at a bag of Doritos.

Willow caught Wesley glaring at her and offered him the bag of cheesy snacks. He refused with a frown. She shrugged and was about to pop another one into her mouth when she spotted movement in the trees across the cemetery from them. Willow shushed Xander who was vehemently defending his role in helping Giles pick out a ring.

Everyone froze. Then everyone stared at Wesley, who was breathing loud enough to attract the undead. Wesley promptly shut his mouth and pulled his stake out of his jacket. He wielded it above his head like a mad butcher with a cleaver.

“Everyone remain calm,” he said, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Xander gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“This is just an observation,” said Xander, “but—coffee before patrolling—not such a hot idea.” Xander and the others took a few cautious steps towards the location where the rustling originated.

Wesley swallowed hard and finally forced his feet to obey him. He was so focused on his breathing that he ran right into Oz when the group stopped suddenly.

“Wh-what is it?” he asked, peeking through the clump of teenagers in front of him. “Oh,” he managed to say before his throat closed up in fear.

Vampires came pouring out of the dense foliage, heading in their direction. Wesley counted twelve of them. They were all in full game face, laughing and goofing around like a gang of mall rats.

Oz quietly loaded his crossbow and made eye contact with the others. Despite their obvious fear, they all gave him a silent nod. Ready or not, it was their turn at bat. Wesley looked at them like they’d all gone insane. He was here because it was his destiny—he had a sacred duty. But these kids didn’t have to be here at all, which either made them heroically optimistic or just plain loony.

There was no more time for thought—the group of vampires finally spotted the group of white hats and descended on them. Oz took one of them out before they even got close, and had a second stake loaded in his crossbow by the time they hit. Cordelia surprised them all with a banshee-like war cry as she plunged her stake into the first astonished vampire to attack her. That spurred Wesley and Xander into action, and they fought back-to-back with the oncoming enemy.

Oz took out another vampire with the crossbow, but was jumped from behind a second later. The vampire on his back pinned him to the ground and yanked his head to the side. He felt a cold, wet mouth at his throat, followed by a sharp, searing pain as its teeth sank into his flesh. The next thing he knew he was breathing in dust and a wild-eyed Willow was lying on top of him.

“You okay?” she asked?

“Yeah. You?” he asked.

Willow took a quick inventory of her body parts, then nodded. They stood up and rejoined the fight. Xander had dusted two already, and Cordy was more than holding her own. Wesley made a mad charge at one of the last remaining attackers, and with a very uncivilised string of curses, he dusted his first vampire. The last two vampires, seeing that they hadn’t even made a dent in their opposition, took off running.

Cordelia’s hands went straight to her hair, and she grumbled loudly when her fingers encountered a mass of knots.

Willow unpacked the little first aid kit she’d brought along and tended to Oz’s bite.

Wesley felt the adrenalin coursing through his body and he grinned. This was battle! Nothing he’d experienced in his years with the Council could compare with the rush he was feeling now. The training, the mock battles—it all seemed trivial in the face of the real thing.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” said Xander, joining him. Wesley just grinned in reply.

“We’ve got to get Buffy and tell her the vamps are out in full force,” said Willow, effectively bursting Wesley’s bubble.

“Yes,’ he agreed. “We need to find her immediately.”

“Does anyone know where they went?” asked Cordelia. She got nothing but blank stares in return. “Remember? Giles and Buffy off on a date? Not at home??? Didn’t anyone think to find out where they went?”

They all looked down at their shoes, sheepishly.

“Great,” said Cordelia. “Then I guess the Slayer gets the night off while we’re left to deal with the entire cast of ‘Lost Boys’.”

“Better get used to it,” said Wesley, and led the sobered and weary Scoobies out of the cemetery.

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