TITLE: The Watcher: Ministers of Grace 2/3
AUTHOR: vatwoman
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN etc own Giles and anyone else in the Buffyverse, Anna and everyone I invent are mine.
FEEDBACK: Will be gratefully received on list, or at: vatwoman@yahoo.co.uk

"What *is* she wearing?"

Anna scanned the crowd looking for some obvious fashion victim, and not seeing one asked, "Who?"

"Philippa `The Wicked Witch of the' West."

"She's here? Where?"

Susan Davidson raised a languid hand and pointed to the far side of the gallery. "That dress is a disaster area. Who told her that a woman of her age could get away with banana yellow?"

Anna laughed, "She's the same age as us."

"And do we wear banana yellow?" Susan retorted.

"I still can't see her."

Susan sighed long-sufferingly, "What is the point of being ten feet tall …"

"… *six* feet tall …"

"… if you still can't see over peoples' heads?" Susan narrowed her eyes, studying the crowd on the other side of the room. "Entranceway, chap with too much facial hair, two to his right … oh … *nice.* "

"What? Philippa?"

" *Very nice.* "

"Sue!"

"Forget Philippa. I have. I think I'm in love."

"You are in love - Matthew Davidson, remember?"

"Matthew means nothing to me," she laughed. "That man, on the other hand, who is *that*?"

Susan nodded back towards the entranceway. Anna looked again, saw Philippa - Susan was right, the dress was truly hideous - a group of people they both knew, and then … "His name's Rupert Giles."

"Francesca Giles's son?"

"Yes."

"I thought he'd moved to the States, or something."

"He had."

"And?"

Anna dropped her eyes and smiled at her friend. "And what?"

" `And' he's moved back? `And' he's come home for a holiday?"

"Yes."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Which?"

"Moved back." Anna stopped to consider everything that had been said between herself and Giles in the few short weeks that she'd known him, and felt compelled to amend her reply. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Sort of."

"Are you going to tell me how you know this?"

"He lives across the street."

"Ah hah," Susan stared up at her friend, trying to read what was going on behind the amused smile. "And how is it that he's here tonight?"

"Because I invited him."

"As one does."

"Yes, as one does."

"How long have you known him?"

"A month, six weeks." Anna smiled quietly, turned away, and watched Giles. He'd hardly made any progress into the gallery. People surrounded him, talking and smiling with him. Hugging him. It reminded her that his family was as well known in this city as hers. "I think he saved my life."

There was something in the look on her best friend's face that caused Susan to pause. "There's a story here, isn't there?"

Anna turned back, "Yes, but it's not all mine to tell."

The apology was implicit in the words, but Susan brushed it off, dismissing the need for it between them. "What you can, when you can?"

"I promise."

Susan let the moment linger for a few seconds, and then grinned mischievously. "So, what's he like, apart from being deliciously good looking?"

"Apart from that?" Anna pulled a face and they both laughed. "Well, he's tall, charming, funny and brave."

"Not a conventional list of positive attributes, but unconventional's good."

"I'm so glad you approve." Both women spun around and found Giles standing behind them. He nodded a hello to Susan and then took Anna's outstretched hand. "You look lovely."

He`d seen her as soon as he'd walked in the door. There was a raised platform area at the far end of the gallery, laid out with food and drinks, and it was here that she was standing. The dark bronze of her dress and the browns and oranges of the amber jewellery she was wearing glowed in the soft lighting.

"So do you."

"Look lovely?" Giles raised a `That's not really a manly sort of compliment' eyebrow.

Anna merely smiled. The tuxedo fit him to perfection, and he'd dispensed with a waistcoat, something she approved of wholeheartedly. But then he'd apparently dispensed with a number of things – including the need to fasten the top button on his shirt, his jacket, or his black bow tie. The tie hung loose around his shirt collar. What was it about men and black tie outfits, especially when they wear them in such an `I don't give a damn' way?

"Works for me." Susan found two pairs of eyes staring down at her. She shrugged unapologetically. "I'm Susan Davidson," she and Giles shook hands. "And I'm now going to get myself another drink and leave you two alone," she smiled at both Anna and Giles. "I'll see you later."

They watched her walk into the crowd around the drinks table before turning back to each other.

"Brisk and to the point," Giles observed.

"She always has been," Anna's lips lifted in a smile that spoke of long-held and cherished memories. "Ever since we were little. It can be a bit disconcerting sometimes."

Giles thought of Cordelia Chase, and gave his own small smile, "I imagine so."

"I thought …"

"How's it …"

Their words overlapped. They both stopped speaking. Giles waved Anna on.

"I was worried you'd changed your mind about coming."

Giles pushed his hands into his pockets, and stared at his shoes for a moment. "I almost did."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "I'm not sure."

And because they were friends, and because she was happy to see him, she let his answer go. "Well, I'm glad that you came. And now that you're here, you can protect me."

"From what?"

She rolled her eyes to the side, indicating the room at large. "It's been a while since I was around this many people. And I've got `first showing' nerves all over again, which is stupid really, considering how many times I've done this over the years."

Giles smiled at her in understanding, "Then let me be your champion," he held out his crooked elbow to her, and allowed the smile to deepen as she slipped her arm through his. "I'll keep the dragons and demons at bay."

Anna pursed her lips, "Oh, isn't that tempting fate just a little?"

Giles laughed, "I suppose it is, but how hard can this be?" He gestured to the crowds of people around them; crowds that seemed to have grown tenfold in the last fifteen minutes. "Hmm, where did all these people come from?"

Anna was motionless beside him, eyes wide with surprise. "That's what I was wondering."

He tightened his hold on her arm, and she turned her head to look at him. "The price of fame."

She caught the tease, and gave back on of her own. "Yours or mine?" When his amusement turned to puzzlement, she added, "I saw the glad- handing on your way in."

Giles shrugged, and huffed, "I haven't been home for a while." He was still a little overwhelmed by the welcome he'd received as he'd come in. He'd met friends of his that he hadn't seen for four or five years, and friends of his parents, some of whom he hadn't seen for half a lifetime. "We should mingle."

Anna, still holding tightly to his arm, took a deep steadying breath, "Ok."

"Ok."

Neither moved.

"Giles, this is silly."

"I know."

"How about we go on three?"

"On three?"

"Yes."

"Ready?" Giles looked at her, got her firm nod, and said, "Three!" He pulled her into the crowd.

"That's cheating!"

Their laughter carried them out into the room.

>>>>>>

Waiting for Anna to come back from the bathroom, Giles leaned on the corner of the bar, scotch in hand, surveying the room. The noise level had dropped now that the guests had started leaving. He glanced at his watch - almost midnight - he hadn't realised it was so late. Or early. His body still had no idea what time zone it was in.

It had been a good show and he could tell that Anna was pleased. He smiled at how much pleasure the thought of Anna being happy gave him. She'd laughed this evening, delighting in her friends; people she'd distanced herself from for far too long. And her work had been ecstatically received - discreet `sold' labels had bloomed as the evening had worn on. Buyers invited from all over the world would return to their galleries well satisfied.

The crowd in the doorway parted slightly, and he saw her there. He indulged himself by simply looking at her, watching her as she smiled and laughed, as she kissed her guests goodbye.

<She's so pretty> He frowned, shocked. <Where the hell did that come from?> He took a swallow of his drink, grimacing as the neat scotch burned its way down his throat. <I normally know myself better than this> And he did, he'd become very certain in his ability to tell friend from foe, lover from friend. Yet, somehow, Anna Freer had slipped in under his radar, and here he was, asking himself what he felt about her, and wondering what she felt about him.

His appreciation of her as she came across the room towards him, was all male. The gentle sway of her hips and the long, easy stride entranced him. Even the directness of her approach, the single- mindedness of it, found favour, making him smile.

They'd been rather formal in their physical interaction this evening, properly so; regardless of the circumstances of their meeting, the confidences that they'd shared, they really didn't know each other well. So when she held out her hand to him, he frowned slightly before taking it in his. She brought their hands, and with them, his arm, around her waist. She let go of him and rested her hand on his biceps, effectively allowing herself to be held in his close embrace. He put his drink down on the bar, turned back to her and raised an eyebrow.

"I've lost control of myself and done something very stupid, and now I'm embarrassed." Her voice was terse to the point of being abrupt.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Giles used his mildest voice, "Are you going to give me some details? Or should I just start guessing at the type of embarrassing things that could have happened to you in the loo?"

Anna shook her head, "You think I'd have learned my lesson by now, wouldn't you?" She plowed on, not giving him the chance to interject. "Never cross swords with Philippa West - you'll lose every time!"

Her cheeks were flushed, and he leaned back slightly to appreciate what the heightened colour did to her face. Helpless to do anything but enjoy the feel of her body against his, he rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back.

"Who's Philippa West?"

"The Wicked Witch of the West!"

Giles laughed, "Ah hah. And?"

" *And,* " Anna spat out, "She just said some very unpleasant things about me, my sex life, you, and your sex life."

"Where is she?"

Anna turned in his arms to scan the room. "Over there," she threw her chin in the general direction of a small knot of people a couple of dozen yards away from where she and Giles were standing. "The woman standing next to Mark Adler." She felt Giles's breath on her face as he leaned across her to get a good look at Anna's bête noire.

"That's a very unfortunate choice of colour for her," Giles murmured, grimacing. Philippa turned around as if she'd felt their eyes on her. As Giles and Anna continued to stare, Philippa smiled and raised her glass to them in mock salute. "What did she say?"

"She said that you were wasted on me, the Frigid Bitch Queen of Bath," Giles heard the capital letters in the other woman's words, "Can't get a man, can't keep a man, won't put out for a man. Never mind that I was married for twenty years!" She took a deep breath, and Giles could see her jaw clench as she ground her teeth. "Then she started speculating on whether or not you and I were going out, whether you were gay, and finished with saying that no matter what you looked like you were probably useless in bed, and as frigid as me because I couldn't possibly get a man with anything between his legs but fresh air!"

He could feel her quivering with rage. "And that's when you did the very stupid something?"

"Yes. I let it get to me. But in my defence, I couldn't very well just stand there and let her insult you!" That drew her a look. "So I told her that contrary to her school-girlish speculation, not only are you equipped with rather more than `fresh air', but you make love quite nicely, thank you very much, and if that information changed her mind about you and tempted her into so much as looking at you, I'd do something … something really unpleasant to her!"

Giles, who'd been mentally applauding her, stopped `clapping' and raised an eyebrow, " `Something really unpleasant'?" He made a show of considering her statement. "Well, as threats go I have to say that's a pretty ferocious one."

Anna stared at him, unable to read the tone of his voice, but she could read the twinkle in his eyes well enough.

"It's not funny!"

"Of course not." He tried not to smile, but didn't entirely succeed.

"Oh no, don't you dare!"

"Don't I dare what?"

"Enjoy this!"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yes!"

At that, Giles burst out laughing, "I'm sorry, it just takes me back!"

"To when?" Her expression was one of pure incomprehension

"To when I was the regular topic of gossip in the ladies loos." Still smiling, he added, "I'll have you know that my name is scratched on the stall doors of some of the classiest loos in southern England."

"Do I want to know how you know that?"

"Probably not." Then he grinned, "God, I love being fought over!" Off her disgusted look he added, "I can't help it, I am a mere shallow male." They both laughed. Then both stopped. Confusion shadowed both their faces. Giles tried a smile, this one so much more tentative than any he'd given her this evening. " *Am* I being fought over?"

Equally hesitant, Anna answered a question with a question. "Do you want to be?"

"Anna?"

They continued to stare at each other for a few seconds until Anna shook herself and turned to face the man who'd interrupted them; Paul Finnigan, her agent, and the owner of the gallery. "Yes, Paul?"

"Angelique is leaving. She's asked for a quick word with you before she goes."

She nodded, "Will you tell her I'll be with her in a second?" Paul nodded and left. She faced Giles again, "Are you ready to go?" Giles tucked his hands in his trouser pockets, and nodded. "Then I'll drive us home. Give me a couple of minutes, and I'll meet you at the door."

Not quite steady over what had just happened, Giles could do little but nod again. "A couple of minutes."

She touched his arm, squeezed gently, and walked away.

>>>>>>

They pulled up outside Giles's house. She switched off the engine and turned towards him in her seat.

"To your door, sir."

"Thank you for inviting me," he smiled at her. "A most entertaining evening."

Anna pulled a face. "Don't, please!" Her quiet laugh was tinged with the remembered embarrassment over the rant about Philippa West. "I'm glad you came; although I suppose if I'd thought about it a bit more my choice would've been to have had you in bed … mmm … because of the … ah … jetlag?" She stopped and blinked. "That sentence seemed perfectly sensible when it was forming in my brain. I had no idea it would come out sounding like some second rate double entendre."

"Is there such a thing as a first rate one?"

His smile deepened as it wrapped itself around the tease, and he watched her eyes sparkle as she smiled at him in turn. He was aware that he was staring at her – something he'd been doing all evening – and she at him. One of *those* moments; a moment of clarity in lives complicated beyond endurance. He felt something settle in his heart, something that made his smile falter slightly. <Oh, this is serious>

"Hmm …" Whatever she'd intended to say got lost somewhere between the silence and his faltering smile. <Oh … ok … so …> She had no idea if she was ready for this, but knew that time had just run out for her to get ready to be ready. <Is *he* ready? Does he even *want* this?>

"We're steaming up …" Giles murmured.

"… I suppose that's *one* way of putting it …" she whispered, startling herself that she'd spoken out loud.

"… the car." He gestured towards the fogged up windows and watched as she blinked again; an obvious nervous habit that he was starting to find rather endearing.

"Ah … the car …" She closed her eyes and shook her head then dropped it sideways onto the headrest behind her. "So …" she smiled faintly as he settled himself more comfortably into his seat, "… despite the fact that I'm blushing like a teenager, I refuse to act like one, and to that end …" she took a determined breath, "… I'd like to talk about you and I."

"You and I?"

"Yes." Without thinking she reached out and brushed her thumb across the tiny lines that had appeared at the top of his nose, "Don't frown …" Her voice was soft and low. "… it's not *that* scary!" Then, realising what she'd just done, she snatched her hand away. "Sorry."

"Don't be," his left hand was resting on his thigh and he turned it palm upwards, in invitation.

She slipped her right hand into his, and the silence gathered around them again as she touched him; the calluses on his palm, the big veins in his wrist, and the misshapen knuckles where the broken fingers had been forced to heal through further battles. They wrapped their hands around each other's and held on.

"I'm very attracted to you. And …" she let go of him long enough to hold up her hand to stop him from saying anything. "… yes, if I'm honest, there's an element of hero worship in there, but then that's understandable, I think, given that you saved my life."

Their eyes met and held, hers as intent as her words had been. In his mind's eye he saw her as she'd been earlier this evening, laughing brightly as he held her in his arms, dancing with him, body to body, her warm cheek pressed against his. The memory felt so comfortable, so good, that he felt his eyes start to burn, and dropped his gaze in case she saw it.

"No," she objected, "Look at me." He raised his head reluctantly knowing that she'd probably see the glitter in his eyes. "As I said …" she squeezed his fingers, "… there's a little bit of hero worship, a *lot* of `gosh, he's good-looking' and something else." She let go of his hand, "No matter what *you* might think or say, I believe that you're a good man, in here …" she touched his temple. "… and in here." Her hand moved to his chest and settled on top of his heart. She let two or three seconds pass, which she measured by the beat of his heart, "I'd like us to go out together. Is that alright?"

The frown reappeared on his face. "No!" she demanded of him. "I know you have other priorities, but, please, don't over-think this. Just say `yes.' "

"Isn't the man supposed to ask the woman out?"

Anna laughed, "This is the 21st Century, Giles, and anyway we haven't got to the `asking out' part yet."

"Haven't we?" The frown this time was one of genuine confusion.

"No."

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment, carefully considering what he intended to say next, "Those `other priorities'? They won't ever go away, Anna." He took her hand from his chest and clasped it tightly in his, "They may even get me killed."

"I know."

In that moment, the acceptance of him in her steady voice and in her steady gaze reminded him so much of Jenny Calendar that, before he'd realised what was happening, his eyes had welled up and were threatening to overflow. "Then *you'd* better ask *me* out because I'm next to useless at it!" His voice sounded rough with unshed tears. "And first dates? Even worse!"

"Then it's a good job I have a plan, isn't it?"

Responding to the lightness in her voice, he swallowed heavily and forced his voice to match hers. "Details?"

"We treat tonight as our first date. I asked you to come along this evening, so that handles the `who asks who out' problem, and if you invite yourself over to my place for lunch…" she glanced at her watch, "… today, that takes care of any awkward `second date' arrangements."

Giles laughed, "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Her expression softened and her smile was promise enough for both of them. "Say `yes.' "

That was when it happened, when it fell into his consciousness: the perfect reproduction of a small, and seemingly insignificant tableau from earlier in the evening. It played out in a horrifying 3D, technicolour, surround-sound splendour. He swallowed hard and forced out one breathy, "No."

"What?"

Giles shook himself, and became all movement. He scrabbled for the door handle and turned his head around sharply to check out both the front and back windows. In front of them the wall of the churchyard, forming the cul-de-sac of their street, blocked any forward progress. He sucked in a frustrated breath. "Turn the car around."

"What?"

"Anna, turn the car around!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!" He got the door open. "Damn it!"

He was half way out of the car by the time she managed to grab his arm. "Giles! What the hell is going on? What do you mean `no'? "

Giles froze. `Distress' was the only word he could find that came anywhere near describing the look on Anna's face. His mind rewound the past few seconds' conversation, heard again what he'd said but from Anna's point of view, and could have kicked himself. He grunted. <Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!> He took Anna's hand from his arm and held it tight against his chest. "No! I didn't mean `no'. I meant `yes'!" Her face tightened in further confusion. He could feel *his* whole body tightening up as he struggled to explain himself. "I meant `yes' " He reached out with his free hand, cupped her cheek in the palm, and nodded. "Yes?" He watched as her eyes unclouded and a tentative smile found a place on her lips. He nodded again. "Ok." He squeezed the hand he was holding, let go, and leaped out of the car.

"Giles?"

Anna's call caught him halfway between the car and his front door. He bent down so he could see her, and smiled grimly. "I should have said `oh no.' " He saw the confusion return to her face. "Turn the car around. I'll be back in a second."

Giving her no opportunity to reply, he turned, pulled out his house keys, opened the door, and rushed into the hallway. He skidded to a halt at the weapons chest he kept under the stairs, threw open its lid and grabbed up stakes, holy water, and a small crossbow with its quiver of arrows. He quickly scanned over the weapons he was leaving behind, looking at them critically for the advantage they might give him, and shook his head. He had enough with what he'd picked up.

He dragged the front door shut with his foot, rushed across the street to the car, and climbed in beside Anna. She took a long look at the weapons he tossed on the back seat before turning to him, her face composed.

"Where to?"

"Back to the gallery."

"The gallery?"

"Yes. And hurry." Giles urged.

Anna dropped the car into gear, lifted the handbrake, and stamped on the accelerator. The car shot away from the kerb, causing Giles to clutch the door handle to stop himself from losing his seat. He scrambled to fasten his seatbelt.

"Alright, what's going on?" Anna took her eyes off the road long enough to shoot a `tell me right now' look at the man sitting next to her before concentrating once more on her driving. She heard Giles take a deep breath.

"Philippa West is a vampire."

Anna gunned the engine and shot through a traffic light as it turned red. She pulled a face, and grunted.

"And your point is?"

There was a spluttering noise from her left.

"You *know*?"

"Giles, Philippa has been a vamp from the day she learned to talk!" They hurtled around a sharp bend, tyres screeching. "She has her parents wound round her little finger. She's been indulged to excess by every friend, husband and lover that she's ever had. And all she's ever done in return is suck the life out of them! `Philippa West is a vampire'? Philippa West is the queen of vampires!"

"I'll make sure I tell her that when I shove a stake into her heart. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear it."

Anna slammed on the brakes. They were both thrown forward. The seatbelts reeled them in. Giles coughed as he was slammed back into his seat. She twisted around in her seat to face him. "Philippa West is a vampire?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"When you pointed her out to me?" Anna nodded, remembering. "Where was she standing?"

"Next to Mark."

"And in front of what?"

"The mirror. Paul's big, picture mirror."

He didn't respond, but, instead, let her see the moment again in her mind's eye, just as he'd done, minutes before. He watched her eyes widen as the understanding hit her. "Exactly. No reflection." He glanced out of the windshield and saw the traffic lights up ahead of them run through red, to amber, to green. He turned back to Anna with urgency written all over his face. "We have to get going again."

Anna blinked as if she'd just remembered that they were stationary in the middle of the road. "Yes. Yes, of course." Her voice sounded thin, shocked. Her hands shook slightly as she placed them back on the controls of the car. She took a moment to clench her fists, and when she straightened out her hands again the tremors had gone. She got the car going. "You think she's at the gallery?"

"I left her there."

"*We* left her there," Anna demurred.

"Who else was still there when we left? Do you remember?"

She didn't, not really. It had taken Giles and her almost an hour to actually get out of the gallery after she'd spoken to Angelique, and in that time the guests had largely all gone. Except Philippa. Anna could see it now. Philippa had still been there, talking to Paul. "Paul," she gasped.

"I know." Giles reached out and dropped his hand onto the one she was resting on the gear stick. "Who else? The caterers? Cleaners?"

"I … I think so."

"How many people?"

"I don't know."

"Ten? Twenty? How many people?"

"I don't know!"

"I'm sorry," he squeezed her hand, apologising as he realised how aggressive he'd sounded.

"Why is it so important that you know?"

Giles took a deep breath and slid his hand off hers. "Because if there were only a couple of people they'll almost certainly be dead by now, possibly turned. If it was a large group, some of them may still be alive."

"Why wouldn't she have just killed them?"

"Because in my experience, vampires like to talk, and they like an audience."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning if it's a larger group it's likely she'll play to them, take some twisted pleasure out of trying to scare them to death before she actually gets around to killing them."

"How long is it since we left the gallery?"

Giles looked at his watch, "About twenty five minutes."

Anna nodded, "Philippa has always loved playing to an audience. They'll be alive."

They were in the city centre now. Pubs and clubs were emptying their customers into the streets. Queues had formed at taxi stands. Pedestrians crowded the pavements. There were people everywhere. Anna braked sharply as a drunken couple swayed out into the road in front of them. The girl looked into the car and smiled sweetly at them in apology.

"So carefree," she murmured, her eyes on the young couple's progress to the other pavement. "We have no idea, do we?"

"For the most part, there's no reason why you should."

Anna spared him a quick glance, "But you do. You know."

"For the most part," he repeated, a hint of self-mocking tones creeping into his voice. "That's not been out of choice."

"Duty, then?" The car behind them flashed its lights and she started off again, raising her hand to apologise to the driver.

"Oh, yes," he drawled. "By all means, let's accept that there's always duty."

The car glided to a halt. Anna switched off the engine. She sat looking forward, the bitterness of his words hanging between them. "We're here."

NEXT