Title: Et in Arcadia Ego 1/7
Author: TweedEmpress
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Jenny
Summary: Giles takes a short holiday and receives an unexpected visitor.
Distribution: Want, take, have!
Disclaimer: I do not own Giles, Jenny or anyone else – I just wish I did!
Spoilers: pretty much anything Jenny related.
Timeline: Early season five.
Feedback: yes please. I’m needy ;-) I take full responsibility for any mistakes (spelling or otherwise) in this fic.

It’s like trying to look through a clouded window, or a dark mirror. You try to look through it, and then reach out to wipe it clean, only to find the glass isn’t there. Your hand grasps at cold mist. But the images leak through, bled of colour. It only takes a little concentration to connect to one of them, to make them brighter, larger; until you can feel everything they are experiencing, until they fill you. I can feel them. Any of them, any time I wish. And the emotion is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before: happiness like a forest of fire, anger like waves breaking on rocks. It’s even stronger when you touch the people you knew and like to feel what they feel. But I come back most often to the pain. All consuming. Slowly torn apart with pain and guilt. I cry out, but my voice is lost on the wind, never reaching the ears that need to hear it the most. Every time I am lost in it, a coruscating agony that blinds me and I think I will never find my way out again. But I keep coming back to it. I reach out through the dark mist, and the image burns brightly.

Mexico City

The heat, he decided, was even more unremitting than in California. If such a thing were possible. The heat quivered visibly in the air, so that the buildings opposite him took on the blurred, melting appearance reminiscent of Dali’s clock faces. There was the constant low hum of conversations, punctuated by high, loud laughter, or the blaring of a car-horn from the street behind the square. Rupert Giles shifted in his seat and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. The shaded pavement café afforded some respite from the heat of the city, but he still felt as though he was boiling inside his own skin. He made a mental note that the next time he undertook such an excursion he would choose somewhere cooler. That in itself was hugely dependent on there being a ‘next time’. It was unseasonably hot – the Indian summer had waited until late October to put in an appearance and the dry heat lent everything a scorched, wilting air. A waiter emerged from the darkened interior of the café and briskly placed the coffee Giles had ordered on the table. Giles nodded in thanks and returned to scanning the people milling about in the piazza. Piazza? He smiled to himself: too many childhood holidays in Italy had affected his vocabulary. The coffee was hot and strong; he could feel its warmth spreading through him with every sip. Not for the first time, he wondered what in the world had brought him here. And for the hundredth time, he answered his own question. It was, of course, Buffy. One of her many brilliant ideas.

Sunnydale

3 Weeksearlier

Buffy looked up from the paper as her Watcher descended into the courtyard outside his house. At least, ex-Council Watcher – Giles still ‘watched’, and he was very definitely still hers. He was breathless from his run.

‘Still breaking a sweat there, huh?’ She raised an eyebrow sarcastically. ‘Going for the burn?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, getting his breathing back under control. ‘Before my ancient frame falls into complete disintegration, I thought I’d make the most of it. While I still can.’

He ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair and wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust. Buffy suppressed a smile and folded up the newspaper before holding it out to him.

‘Your paper was delivered.’

‘So I see.’

‘I already read some of it.’

Giles looked down at the crumpled bundle of paper being proffered.

‘I would never have guessed’

He opened his front door and entered, Buffy trailing behind him. She deposited herself on his sofa while Giles disappeared into the kitchen.

‘I suppose you’ll be wanting coffee?’ He called to her.

‘Uh-huh. Hey, do you have any pastries or anything? I’m starving.’

Giles leaned over the breakfast bar, frowning slightly. ‘Is, er, everything…all right?

‘Yeah, everything’s fine,’ she beamed back at him.

Buffy’s cheerfulness did not prevent a look of consternation descending on his face.

‘How is, um, Riley?’

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. ‘He’s fine. I’m fine. Everybody is fine. God, Giles, I’m just hungry! I haven’t had any breakfast yet.’

Giles said nothing more, but gave her another piercing look before retreating to the kitchen. Buffy stretched out on the sofa, the clatter of dishes assuring her that food was on its way. She liked Giles’ house – it managed to be sophisticated and homely at the same time, albeit in a very masculine sort of way. Ever since she had started college, she seemed to spend more time there than she did at her own home. Buffy squirmed guiltily. Still, she could swing by home later and see her mother. She had been making concerted efforts to make more time for both these very important relationships. For the moment, she was happy to stay right where she was. Giles appeared, bearing a tray, which he placed on the coffee table. Buffy gazed appreciatively at the mugs of steaming hot coffee and the plate of muffins.

‘Cool. Blueberry.’ She grinned and took a large yet delicate bite out of one, eventually noticing the pair of green eyes observing her from over the rim of a mug.

‘What?’

Giles cleared his throat. ‘You’re here, well, um, early…earlier than usual. I just wondered what it is that brought you here.’

Buffy looked slightly hurt. You would have thought that he would simply be pleased to see her, but no. Being Giles, he had to jump to conclusions – and the very worst possible conclusions at that.

‘It doesn’t occur to you that I might just want to see you? I mean, you complain to Willow about being un-looped…’

He silently repeated her last words with an expression of bewilderment.

‘As in left out of the loop,’ she clarified, ‘and now you complain when I come to see you.’

‘I-I wasn’t complai-’

‘I mean, just because I come here, does it automatically follow that I want something?’

Giles treated her to one of the withering looks that he seemed to reserve especially for her. Buffy wrinkled her face slightly.

‘Okay, so maybe it…usually…does. But, you could give me the benefit of the doubt!’

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. ‘Fine. There is doubt; you have the benefit. Forgive me for being concerned.’

‘`Kay.’

They exchanged a glance and smiled at each other, before settling into their breakfast in a companionable silence. Buffy stole a sideways glance at him and noticed, once again, one of the things that had brought her to his door. He looked tired. Not just tired in a not-getting-enough-sleep way, but tired in a weary-to-the-soul way. It had been a difficult time for everyone after Faith, the Initiative, Oz leaving, Adam and the general day-to-day mayhem that went with life with the Slayer. Giles had never really relinquished the burden of responsibility for her and the rest of the Scoobies, and it was a burden that he tended not to discuss with any one. Sharing was not trait he had developed during his time in America. He was one of the few constants in her life, and Buffy felt ashamed of herself for taking him so much for granted, especially over the past year. She set her mug down on the table and turned to face him fully.

‘Giles, I’ve been thinking and I’ve had a really great idea. And it’s to show that I too feel..concern. For you. It’s nothing to do with Slaying,’ she broke off to consider this statement carefully. ‘No, absolutely nothing. It’s more in way of a trip,’ she concluded brightly.

A look of horror crossed her Watcher’s face. ‘Oh dear God, it isn’t Ice-Capade season again, is it?’ He shuddered slightly, the memories of the last one still haunting him, despite his best efforts to repress them.

‘No, it’s not time for the… Hey, I thought you liked going to the Ice-Capades with me!’ She pouted slightly.

Giles sighed. ‘Buffy, much as I enjoy our spending time together, it isn’t a venue that I would choose myself. But that, I suppose, is the price one has to pay to be with the people one...cares about.’

‘Guess Ice-Capades are right up there with Monster Trucks, huh?’ Buffy asked softly.

He looked at her and then turned away, a slight shadow falling in the depths of his eyes. If he could have her back… Giles would gladly have sat through Monster Trucks on a daily basis.

‘Something like that,’ he replied, eventually, to Buffy’s question. ‘So, what is your really great idea? And should I take cover now or wait for the apocalypse?’

‘Ha-ha. Big with the funny. It just occurred to me that you could do with a vacation. A little one.’

Giles stared at her.

‘You know, va-ca-tion? You pack bags, stay in hotels in places other than the one you live-’

‘Yes, Buffy, I am fully aware of what a holiday is.’

‘Good, ‘cos you need one. You should go.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Why?’

‘What do you mean, “why”?’

‘I mean, why do you suddenly want me packed off somewhere else? What’s going on?’

‘Nothing’s going on, I just…you…’ Buffy took a deep breath and tried to get her verbal skills in order. ‘I just thought it might be good for you to get out of Sunnydale for a while – just long enough to have a break from everything, but not too far that it’s…scary.’ She shrugged, dropping her eyes from his face. ‘You look tired.’

There was a pause while Giles looked at her searchingly. ‘Th-that’s very considerate, Buffy,’ he said slowly, more touched than he allowed her to see.

‘I wasn’t suggesting it was forever. Just, you know, like a weekend.’

He nodded. ‘As I said, i-it’s very sweet of you…’

‘So you’ll think about it?’ Buffy jumped in brightly, before he could think up too many objections.

‘Yes, all right, I’ll think about it.’

And naturally, being Buffy, she didn’t leave it there. A few days later, she appeared again, bringing Willow and Xander with her.

‘So, have you decided where to go yet?’

‘I-I, er…’

‘Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. That’s why we brought these.’

The three Scoobies displayed a collection of travel brochures. Giles felt his heart sink.

‘Thought we’d help you choose a holiday destination, you crazy funkster!’ Xander grinned at him.

He was rewarded with a pained look from the older man.

Some hours and many cups of tea later, Willow, Xander and Buffy were sighing over their preferred holiday choices, at the same as indulging in the time honoured game of ‘Anywhere But Here’. The latter had resulted in profuse apologies to Giles who had, once again, heard far more about their private fantasies than he had ever wished to.

‘It’s quite all right,’ he had responded. ‘I just translate everything you say into Latin – makes it all sound far more noble.’

‘Okay, Giles, is there anywhere, you want to go?’ Buffy asked plaintively. ‘You’ve rejected just about every city in the U.S, and I am aware that it’s because you’ve already been to most of them.’

‘Yeah, you’ve been more places than I have,’ Willow concurred, her tone wistful. ‘I’ve never been to New York…’

‘Actually, I’m rather taken with the idea of Mexico,’ Giles admitted, his eyes straying over the photos in the brochure.

‘Mexico, wow!’ Buffy said, then gasped. ‘Acapulco! That would be so cool…’

‘Yeah,’ Xander agreed enthusiastically. ‘All that sun and sea, soft sand, girls on the beach with tanned bodies and little bikinis…’ he trailed off, his eyes acquiring a glazed look.

‘Oooh, maybe I should tell Anya about that,’ Willow said, exchanging an amused smile with Buffy.

Xander snapped back to reality, suddenly panic-stricken. ‘No! Oh, God, please no! I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was just…’

‘Jeez, Xand, relax.’ Buffy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not like she’s a demon anymore, she can’t hurt you.’

‘No, but she was into the whole vengeance thing for a long time. She’s picked up a thing or two.’ Xander turned pale. ‘She can take it out on me in other ways.’

There was a pause while the two girls mentally digested this and came up with a range of scenarios that were big on the ‘ew’ factor.

Giles cleared his throat. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of Mexico City.’

Buffy raised her eyebrows in interest. ‘Mexico City? That sounds good. Um, why?’

‘Yeah, I mean, you go to Mexico you want the sun and beach and…and…all the things I mentioned just before.’ Xander managed to bring himself to a halt and received a sympathetic smile from Willow, as a fellow foot-in-mouth syndrome sufferer.

‘Mmm, because living near the coast in Southern California, one finds such things extremely difficult to come by,’ Giles responded, massaging his temples.

‘Okay then, Watcher-mine, what’s the big attraction in Mexico City?’ Buffy enquired, shooting an admonishing look at Xander.

Giles picked up the brochure he had been reading and examined it more closely.

‘Well, around this time of year is the Day of the Dead, and there is very little written in the Watcher diaries – or, indeed, in any of our literature, about the rituals and traditions that…’ He trailed off.

The Scoobies stared at him, aghast.

‘Y’know, Giles, when I suggested a vacation, I meant in the non-Slayer-y, non-Watcher-y type way.’

Giles sighed.

‘Buffy, I know what you meant, but…’

‘I meant for you to something where you’d enjoy yourself!’ She said, exasperated.

‘I would enjoy myself,’ he replied. ‘In so far as-’

‘There are no “in-so-fars” on a vacation, Giles. That’s the point of them.’

‘Sitting around doing nothing, or indulging in pointless activities one would never dream of when at home, is not my idea of relaxation,’ Giles retorted.

Willow and Xander sat silently, their gaze switching between Watcher and Slayer. A confrontation between these two, no matter how trivial, was not a happy place to be caught in.

Buffy rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Go to Mexico City and research. Knock yourself out. Just don’t come crying to me if you need a break when you get back.’

 And so it was decided.

In the hours approaching sunset, something in the very fabric of the city seemed to alter. To the less sensitive soul, it was simply as though the natural hum of city life had increased. To those more attuned to these occurrences, there was a palpable electricity in the air. Magic. Giles could feel prickles of it running under his skin, but decide to attribute it to the heat. He had been leaning against the balcony of his hotel room, watching as the sky changed from an airless blue to something rich and velvety, with virulent swathes of scarlet and burning gold burning across the horizon. He had decided earlier that he would lose himself in the city that night – it was preferable to the more tourist oriented entertainments available at the hotel, and would spare him the attentions of the receptionist who seemed to have made it her mission in life to make him feel like a piece of meat every time he passed her. Giles took a deep breath of the warm air and turned back into his room. Oversized for one person, he thought to himself. Why on earth would he need a bedroom and a sitting room? In case he got on his own nerves and needed some space? He headed towards the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. A shower was definitely in order before he ventured out again. The water, at least, was cooling, and as he stood under the showerhead, he tried to damp down the restless feeling that had been growing in him all day. It was, he told himself fiercely, purely psychological. A wry smile quickly followed. He had spent his life buried in the sort of paranormal activity that most people quite happily denied, and usually responded to the idea of psychologists the way everybody else responded to the notion of vampires. He turned off the water and stepped back out of the shower.

He hadn’t brought many clothes with him – this was, after all, a weekend break – so decided on a fine, white cotton shirt for the evening. The fabric felt cool against his skin. Once he was dressed, Giles moved back into the sitting room and decided to treat himself to a drink before he left. He dropped the ice into the glass from just the right height so that it wouldn’t chip, but so that it would make that wonderfully comforting clinking sound. He mixed a weak scotch and soda around it and raised the glass to his lips, just as the final sliver of the sun slipped below the horizon.

Something moved in the room.

He felt it more than heard it. His nerves were suddenly on the alert – honed after all the years of fighting demons and training his Slayer. With infinite care, Giles replaced his glass on the table, his muscles tensing, preparing for whatever it was that had invaded his solitude. He turned slowly, displaying far more nonchalance than he felt, until he faced the intruder. There was a long silence as green eyes met melting dark ones, and Giles lost all sensation in his body. When he finally spoke, he didn’t recognize his own voice.

‘Jenny.’

She stood across the room, her expression slightly apprehensive, a thousand different emotions warring in her eyes. There was a loud roaring sound in his ears as he forced the breath back into his body. He could have sworn he had passed out, except for the fact that he was still on his feet and she was still in front of him.

She smiled gently.

‘Is that it? Okay, I wasn’t expecting a fanfare and slaves throwing petals before my feet, but I wouldn’t say no to, y’know, a little bit more?’

It was her voice. The rich timbre and slightly teasing tone. Her voice. Her eyes – eyes that were shining, full of spirit, and…alive.

She took a few steps toward him and Giles immediately recoiled, his stance becoming more defensive.

‘What are you?’ His voice was harsh.

‘I-I don’t really know,’ she replied apologetically. ‘I’m not a ghost. I’m,’ she gestured helplessly, ‘I’m just here. Just for tonight. I don’t understand how, exactly, but I’m real. It’s me, Rupert,’ her voice shook slightly, threatening to break. ‘It really is me. It’s Jenny.’

Giles moved slowly, never taking his eyes from her face as he approached her. She remained still, waiting for him to close the distance between them. When he was a little over a foot away, he stopped and reached out tentatively, just one finger, towards the hand that hung at her side. He gasped slightly at the contact, the feel of warm flesh and smooth skin under his fingers. Once again, their eyes met and he gazed into hers as though he could read in them the secrets of her soul. Her name broke from his lips so softly it was barely heard. And then he pulled her to him, crushing her against him, burying his face in the mass of her dark hair. Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him fiercely, not sure if it was he who was trembling or her. She heard him murmuring her name repeatedly and held him tighter, her hot tears burning her cheeks.

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