Title: In Wine, Truth
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Pairing: B/G
Rating: G
Summary: Buffy is depressed and Giles tries to help her.
Spoilers: Post season 7
Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

April 15th. Tax day. The day that debts came due. It was how Buffy always thought of the date. She had been sitting in the bar since early evening, nursing her beers. The barman had watched her turn away at least seven hopeful young and even not-so-young men who thought the pretty blond was trolling for easy sex. She wasn’t. He’d seen enough to know that she was drowning her sorrows.

Her drinking wasn’t all that heavy, not when you considered that she’d been at it for several hours and had only put away six pints of beer. But it was obvious that she had no head for alcohol. She could barely sit up on the barstool. The barman decided to offer her some help.

“Can I call somebody to come help you home, love?”

She focused her gaze on him and he nearly shuddered at the look in her eyes. He was an old hand at recognizing pain—people often came into the bar to help dissipate their grief, after all. What he saw in this young woman’s eyes far surpassed anything he had ever seen. He wouldn’t have thought people could feel that much pain and still live.

“I can’t put flowers on his grave. Eight years ago tonight, he died for me and I can’t even put flowers on his grave.”

Thinking it might help her talk about whatever was eating her up, he leaned on the bar. “Who was that, pet?”

“John Merrick. Bastard Lothos was gonna kill me and John tried to save me. Lothos stabbed him in the stomach and watched him die. Let me go because I wasn’t enough of a challenge. Promised to get me later.”

“What happened?”

The pretty blonde grinned. “He waited too long and I dusted his sorry ass.”

“Don’t you think your friend knows that?”

“Probably. He knew pretty much everything.” She nodded for emphasis.

“Why can’t you put flowers on his grave?”

“Cause his grave’s in LA and I’m in Bath. I wanted to go, but they wouldn’t let me. Thought I was gonna go see Angel or Spike.” She laughed bitterly. “I don’t want them but nobody believes me.”

“Who are these blokes?”

“Mistakes. Mistakes of the boyfriend kind.” Buffy was suddenly tired. She pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to the barman. “Call him for me. Tell him I’m here.”

The barman took the crumpled card and read it. “Rupert Giles, Director, Royal Council of Watchers.” The exchange was local. “I’ve heard of these blokes. They have something to do with that girl’s school, don’t they?”

“Something,” the pretty blonde replied tiredly.

The barman called the number on the card. He only had to let it ring twice before it was snatched up. “Buffy, is that you?”

“Hello, guv. You don’t know me. I’m Jake Treatlow, barman at the Starving Goose. I’ve got a young woman here who needs a lift home. She gave me your card.”

“Is she in her early twenties, blonde, very sad eyes?” the voice asked him.

“Yeah. That would be her. She’s a bit under the weather.”

“I’m on my way. I shan’t be longer than ten minutes.” He hung up.

It was closer to eight when the man rushed into the bar. His gaze scanned the room and lighted on the sad young woman. “Buffy, dearest, you need to come home with me now.”

She looked up. “I couldn’t even put flowers on his grave, Giles. First time in eight years that I missed it.”

“I know, dear. John knows too, he understands. Don’t fret so.” The big older man looked up. “Does she owe you any money?”

“No, paid right up, guv.” He hesitated. “I don’t mean to pry, but that little girl is in a great deal of pain. Somebody needs to be with her tonight.”

“Somebody will be,” he promised. He swung the girl into his arms and carried her from the bar.

He didn’t know whether or not to be sad or grateful that Buffy passed out on the way home. Today had been very hard on her; the entire year had been hellish, in fact, with the only good bit being that she and her friends had survived the machinations of the First Evil. Buffy hadn’t really recovered her spirits since Sunnydale had fallen into a gaping pit. She wasn’t the pathetic, needy creature she had been after her last resurrection, but she wasn’t the sparkling girl he had known for so many years, either. Each year at this time, she grieved for her first Watcher who had died to save her. One thing he had to grant her; Buffy hadn’t forgotten the man.

As her off again, on again Watcher, he was deeply concerned with her seeming inability to cope with the events of the past year. She had grown quiet and introspective, seldom smiled and never joked. She hadn’t even expressed a mild interest in dating—something he found more alarming than almost anything else.

As the sole surviving field Watcher, he had been given control over the Council. Since it was in his power, he had provided her with a job training the newly Called Slayers, thinking it might help her out of her depression. It hadn’t, but she had performed more than adequately.

She had seen her younger sister off to start college though she displayed no interest in returning to academia herself. Giles had racked his brains trying to think of something to bring back the Buffy he had known and loved for so many years. He was so desperate, if sending her to Angel would have helped her, he would have done it.

He pulled his car up to the house he had purchased for them and walked around to the passenger side to slowly pull her limp form from the seat. She didn’t stir.

It was eleven the next morning before Buffy so much as stirred. She woke and took a quick assessment of her body before daring to open her eyes. Nothing hurt, not even her head. Her Slayer metabolism might make her severely drunk on a minimum of alcohol, but it didn’t let her suffer for it. Yay, she thought morosely. She knew her friends were going to be relentlessly kind to her today. They’d want to cheer her up. She shuddered mentally.

Forcing open her eyes, she looked around. Not her room. Huh. She didn’t think she had been drunk enough to go home with a strange man, but it would nicely round off the crap day she’d had yesterday. Sitting up, she pushed the covers off and realized that she was dressed in a man’s shirt. Hell. This wasn’t getting better. She wondered if she could find her clothes, dress and slip out of the house before she actually had to talk to the mystery man.

Groaning at the soft knock on the door, she gave up her plans to escape without a confrontation. The door swung open and Giles stepped into the room carrying a tray of food and a pot of tea. OK, this was getting way too surreal for her taste.

“Giles?”

“How are you feeling this morning, love?”

“I’m OK. Um, what am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

He set the tray down on the bedside table. “You don’t remember?”

“Nunh,” she grunted.

“Oh dear. Well, then I suppose you should know that you are in my room, in my bed, wearing my shirt.” He blushed and looked away.

“Giles! Did we…uh, did I, do anything?”

“You honestly don’t remember?” He waited for her headshake. “I thought it meant more to you than that, Buffy, or I would never have…”

“Oh, God. How far did we go?”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to talk about it, if you don’t mind. I find I’m quite, quite upset. I didn’t think you would toy with me after all we’ve been to each other over the years, and now to find out you didn’t mean any of what you said…well, I’m hurt and disappointed.” He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hall. He closed the door before his courage gave out completely. He hated lying to her this way, but she needed something else to think about. If she stayed on her present path, it would only lead to self-destruction. He would never allow that to happen while he breathed.

Buffy dressed in a daze. She looked at the breakfast he had brought her. There were plates, cups and food for two. Oh God! This was meant to be breakfast in bed. That was something you did the morning after if you had tender feelings for the other person. Giles had enjoyed whatever they had done together and now she had ruined it for him by not remembering. His words made it clear that he was deeply hurt. She had hurt Giles—again. Feeling lower than a snake’s belly, she poured herself a cup of tea and drank it down straight. She needed to make it up to him. But how?

She gazed again at the breakfast tray and guilt washed over her like a tide. She and Giles had apparently done something that had been a secret fantasy of hers since she was seventeen, and damn it all, she couldn’t remember it. He said she had told him things—Gods! What if she had babbled her feelings for him? It would explain why he was so hurt when she didn’t remember. He thought it had only been pillow talk, not real. She could make it real though, she thought; show him that she really did care about him. Reaching for a piece of toast she mulled over her thoughts.

Giles was a keeper. If she had an affair with him, it would be the last one for either of them. They would commit to each other. Hell! Giles already thought they were committed or he wouldn’t have slept with her. What had she told him? What would she tell him? Was she ready to settle down at twenty-four? Nine years as a Slayer and she was retired now. She could really have a life if she wanted one. She could have babies and not be afraid that they would never know her. She could have Giles if she wanted him.

She finished off the food on the breakfast tray while she mulled over the possibilities. When it was empty, she picked up the tray, straightened her shoulders and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Giles was alone sitting at the table, head in his hands. She set the tray down and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Giles, I don’t remember what we did last night, but whatever it was, it was OK with me. I’ve loved you for years and if it took half-a-dozen pints of beer to make me tell you, then it was worth getting drunk for.”

He looked up at her, hope in his eyes. “What do you mean, you’ve loved me for years?”

“Since that summer I came home after Acathla. You welcomed me back, no recriminations, just a loving welcome. I worshiped you for that.”

“Then why…” he gestured with a wave of his hand indicating the years that had followed the fateful summer.

She sighed. “Because I was still a kid, still fighting my fate as the Slayer, still blindly stupid about Angel, because you pissed me off with the Cruciamentum, because you never showed me that I meant anything to you beyond being a friend, because I’ve been rebelling since I was fifteen and I just realized that nine years is a long time to hold a grudge.”

“I love you, Buffy, but I’m still a Watcher.” His eyes followed her carefully.

“Yeah, and I’m still a Slayer. The oldest Slayer on record. The first Slayer who gets to have a life beyond killing and death, if you want.”

“If I want?”

“Yeah, cause I finally realized that I want that life with you.”

“Are you sure? If you change your mind later…I won’t recover.”

“Giles, it’s taken me a decade to accept who and what I am. Now that I have, I want it all. I want you. I want marriage and babies. I want all the stuff that I could never have before. I want you to give it to me.”

He stood up and pulled her into his arms. “I think that can be arranged.”

Two years later…

“Happy Anniversary, Giles.” Buffy said as she tucked their first-born son into his crib.

He stood at her side beaming down at the baby he had made with her. “He’s strong, isn’t he?”

“Yes. But he’s also so beautiful I can hardly believe it.”

“Why wouldn’t you believe it? His mother is an absolute knock-out!” He bent down and kissed her shoulder. They walked quietly out of the room.

“So, you said there was something you wanted to tell me?” Buffy looked up curiously.

He nodded and steered her into a chair only to pace around the room several times, unsure of how to begin.

“Do you remember the day we first discovered our feelings for each other?”

“Of course. It was one of the best days of my life.”

“I lied about something then and I promised myself I’d tell you when the time seemed right.”

“What did you lie about?” She looked at him with interest.

He took a deep breath. “That night—the first night when I brought you home from the bar? We didn’t do anything. I simply put you to bed. I set the scene up so that you would think something had happened.”

Buffy smiled up at him. “I know.”

He looked flabbergasted. “What! How could you know?”

“Giles, I was fooled for about twenty minutes, mostly because I just wasn’t up to thinking clearly that morning. Once I had settled down and had a chance to think things through, I realized that there was nothing on earth you were less likely to have done than taken a drunken Buffy to your bed, no matter what I said to you. So, I started thinking about it. Why would you do something like that? I came to the conclusion that it was because you loved me, wanted me and didn’t know how to break through my depression to let me know that. Then I thought about who you were and how much I wanted you in my life. I thought about all you had done for me over the years and how very much I loved you. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“I can’t believe you knew! Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“You know I work on the principle of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, honey.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “I am a very lucky man.”

She grinned. “Not half as lucky as your wife.”

END