TITLE: The Watcher: Absolution pt.1 - `Til You Loved Me 4/7
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

The first time Anna woke it was to his head close to hers on the pillow and to his dark, deep gaze.

"Hello," she murmured, more asleep than awake.

"Hmm-mm."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at you."

"Mmm …what do you see?" Her voice tailed off as sleep crept up on her once more. Her eyelids closed and her face smoothed out into slumber.

Awake beside her, Giles went back to looking at her. "You."

>>>>>>

The second time she woke it was to an empty bed beside her. Rolling over, she found him sitting on the window seat silhouetted against the dark sky by the almost dawn moonlight.

"I've seen a badger go backwards and forwards across the garden half a dozen times now. I had no idea there were any around here."

"How long have you been sitting there?" Anna sat up and pulled the duvet up around her shoulders from the bottom of the bed.

"An hour or so … I've been thinking."

"About what?"

He turned his head towards her, but with all the light behind him she couldn't see his face.

"Life, and how generous it sometimes is."

Silence followed his words, a good silence, one replete with the memories that they'd made together not just in the past few hours, but also over the past few months. He got up and came over to the bed. He sat down in front of her. He looked so serious that, concerned, she reached up and caught his face in her hands. "Are you ok?"

He nodded and took her hands away, held on, keeping his eyes on them as he brought them down to the bed. "I want to tell you something, which I'm then going to immediately qualify and try to explain properly." He looked up. "I know it's going to sound insensitive and I know it's going to come out all wrong…" The smile he gave her was all about the ways in which he continued to struggle with the emotional side of his life. "… but will you let me try and get it said before you react to it?"

She hesitated before she answered and he could see her struggling with her own instincts about what he'd asked her to do. Then she nodded. "Of course." The confidence she evidenced towards him in those two small words gave him the courage to carry on.

"I've fallen in love with you." Her fingers slackened in his. "Now comes the qualification. What I've just said isn't exactly true … not yet anyway." At her frown, he sighed. "I wish I understood what the politics are of talking about previous lovers to current lovers. The venue …" He gestured to the bed they were sitting in, "…is a little emotive for this, too, probably."

He ran his hand through his hair, making it spike up and chewed on his lip, nervous in a way she'd never seen in him before. "Jenny …" Saying her name, knowing what he was going to tell Anna, made his heart pound. He took a deep, steadying breath. "… I realised very early on that I was in love with her, but never told her." He swallowed hard. "At first it was one of those stupid male pride things - make her say it first - and then I didn't want to tell her how I felt about her because I thought it was too soon. And then there was Eyghon; and Angel; and Jenny knowing about Angelus, and the betrayal I felt because of that … and the time was just never the `right time.' It just never came." His voice hardened into bitter self-recrimination. "And then it was too late."

He reached out, placed a finger on her eyebrow and followed its delicate line with a touch she could barely feel. "I know what falling in love feels like for me … and I know that you're going to do something or say something and it's going to be in the next five minutes, or the next five days, or next week, or next month and it's going to stop me in my tracks and I'll know I'm in love with you." He breathed deeply again, "But you've seen what my life's like, even here, and I can't, I *won't* run the risk of you not hearing me tell you how I feel about you because I'm waiting for the `right time' to come." His face took on a determined look. "I refuse to let that happen with you … so I'm telling you now even though it isn't true yet, because I know it will be." The smile he offered her was a lopsided, hesitant thing that made her eyes burn. "Did that come out right?"

Anna nodded, unable to reply with all the air driven out of her. His words stunned her. Mocked her. She'd been enjoying the simple pleasures of just being with him and all the while he'd been quietly falling in love with her, bringing to the relationship an emotional depth that she hadn't recognised, acknowledged or equalled.

He was serious about this, all of this. Love? When had they spoken of love?

"I'm not sure what to say to you." The words fell from her lips in a rush of emotion that felt like bereavement.

"It's alright," Giles rubbed her shoulder, "You don't have to say anything."

"But it *needs* a proper response," she replied quietly. "You've just told me you love me." He remained silent and she carried on in the same tone. "I didn't know. I'm not sure what to say …we've not spoken about this before …" Her brow creased into a deep frown. "… the possibility of it … what we'd do if …"

"I know we haven't talked about this, but I thought you had a right to know. It doesn't require reciprocation." His eyes were kind, and he might have left this conversation there, but today he was being the brave one. "I know what you had with Neil."

There was a long pause before Anna nodded. "He was everything to me, Giles. We'd been together for twenty years. I expected to spend the rest of life my with him. I loved him completely and when he died it tore my heart to pieces." She closed her eyes tightly and shuddered. "Yesterday when I came in and found you asleep …" she opened her eyes to see him nodding, "… I stood looking at you and I knew that this closeness between us is as necessary to me now as breathing, but loving you, risking my heart again?" She shook her head. "I …" Half fury, half fear cut all the strength from her voice. "Giles, I don't know if I can take that step. Or even if I want to."

He allowed a moment of utter quiet. "Do you think it matters to me that you might never love me?"

"Knowing you, probably not." She touched his face, just a single moment of connection and then took her hand away. "But it should. It really, really should." Then there was anger in her voice, the anger that only hindsight can bring. "Damn it, we should have talked about this!"

"We are talking about it."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Why on earth would I be angry with you?"

"For being blind. I had no idea that I wasn't ready for this." The anger came back to her voice. "Where have I been over the past few months? What have I been doing to you?"

"You've been sharing yourself with me."

"And that's enough for you? After what you've just told me?"

"Yes."

His simple, unequivocal answer rocked her, made her response harsh. "Then you're selling yourself too cheaply."

"I saw it as more of a trade."

"Of what? Your love in return for my …" Anna stopped. "Hell! It's like I'm condescending to you and I didn't even realise I was doing it."

"Anna, that's enough. Please." His face took on an earnest air. He stretched out and combed his fingers through her hair, smiling at the silky texture against the rough calluses of his hand. "Do you remember your gallery showing: the one after I'd come back from Glasgow?" Anna nodded. It wasn't exactly something either of them would forget in a hurry. "I saw you, you were walking across the room towards me and I remember I was looking at you … admiring you …" His mouth moved in a secret smile of pleasure. "… and suddenly I was thinking `Oh, aIright, I see where this is going.' " He pulled a face. "Not my most coherent thought ever, but it pretty much summed up the way you made me feel … one minute we were friends and then …" He smiled, his eyes intent on hers, "… until that moment I hadn't seen it coming at all and I was completely thrown by it. I was still processing the fact that I was attracted to you when there you were announcing that you were equally attracted to me." The smile faded. "Then you asked me out and the first thought I had was of Jenny and how going out with you would be a betrayal of my love for her."

He turned his head away and looked out of the window. Dawn was just starting to lighten the night sky and in the half-light of the moon she saw his eyes glistening. "I lost her four years ago … buried her, did my grieving, got on with my life." The half-laugh was a sad, bitter one. "It hadn't even occurred to me that I was still in love with her." He wiped a hand across his cheeks. "After you'd brought me home that night … I don't know … I think some part of me even then understood just how important you'd become to me … I went to bed and … and I don't think I've ever in my life cried as much as I did that night." He turned back to face her. "I've been letting go of her all over again ever since. Then tonight, I was lying awake, watching you, and I realised that for the first time since you asked me out that there was no pain, no thoughts of betrayal, all I could see and feel was you." A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. He caught it on a fingertip, brought it to his lips and kissed it away. "I've had doubts about all sorts of areas of this relationship. You know that." Anna's nod was a short, jerky movement. "Well, I've decided to let go of them. I *need* to let go of them."

"Is that the right thing to do?" Her words sounded heavy, as if carrying their weight was just a little too much for her to bear.

"It's the right thing for me to do. Now."

"You're determined to teach me how to get on with my life, aren't you? `Time to move on. Let go of the past. Let go of your doubts'. "

" `Positive voice. Certain of you. You are not your father,' " he countered, raising an eyebrow and holding her gaze with his own, just as determined to make her understand what it was he was saying. "We're both learning. Both teaching. Why shouldn't that be what this relationship is about?"

Anna shrugged, eyes tearing up again. "No reason, except there's one lesson you don't need to be taught and I'm not sure I want to learn." She sniffed as the tears started in earnest. "God, this is hard. Why the hell has life got to be this hard?"

Giles pulled her unceremoniously into his arms. They clung to each other, shipwrecked sailors both. "We'll work this out. Together. I promise. Alright?" When she didn't reply, he held her away from him so he could see her face again. "Anna?"

"I don't want to lose you, Giles."

His face took on a stricken look, as if he'd just realised that this was something that she was worried might happen. "No, Anna, no! That's not going to happen. No matter what, we're in this together." He pulled her in tight against him. "We'll work this out." He turned away, looking out the window once more, willing the light to come and felt his promise to her branding itself onto his heart.

>>>>>>

The third time she woke a weak, watery sunlight was colouring the room a pale yellow-gold.

"Hello."

Anna glanced down to the bottom of the bed and saw Giles standing there, pulling on his jeans. <Giles, who loves me.>

"Hi. What time is it?"

"Not sure – eight, nine o'clock." His voice was as soft as his smile.

"Mmm …" Anna stretched, yawning.

"I've started breakfast. Sound ok?"

"Sounds great."

"I'll get back to it then." He grabbed a t-shirt, came up the bed to kiss her and headed out of the bedroom.

"Giles?"

He popped his head back round the door. "Yes?" The doorbell rang and he glanced away for second, down the hallway, then back again.

Anna lay there looking at him, and then she shook her head. "Nothing." She smiled at him. "I'll grab a quick shower." The doorbell rang again, more insistently and this time Giles frowned. "Go on, I'll join you in a minute." He nodded and disappeared, leaving her to lie there for a few more seconds before she got out of bed and headed for the shower.

>>>>>>

Conlon drew up outside the house, got out of the car, locked it and crossed the pavement to the front door. He pushed the doorbell: it rang faintly. As he waited he glanced at the house across the street and a faint smile touched his lips. He pressed the doorbell again, leaning more onto it. As he released it the door was yanked open, making him step back slightly in surprise.

"You got my attention with the first ring."

The man who'd opened the door was tall, with greying brown hair and light eyes - green maybe - grey t-shirt tucked carelessly into half buttoned jeans, bare feet. Rupert Giles, he presumed.

"Mr Giles? Rupert Giles?"

"Yes?" He reached into his inside coat pocket and drew out his warrant card. "Detective Inspector Conlon. May I have a word?"

"About?" The tone wasn't hostile, exactly, more dismissive.

"Perhaps I could come in?" He was … studied … that was the only word for it and it was a uniquely unsettling experience. And not just him, Rupert Giles's eyes swept the street behind him, as if gauging that too. Then he stepped aside. Taking that as an invitation, Conlon stepped over the threshold.

The hallway was light and airy, the wooden floors gleaming as if they'd been newly polished. The doors to the downstairs rooms were all open, letting in sunlight. As they passed on their way to the stairs, Conlon could see a bedroom, a bathroom, a study, and what looked like a small sitting room lined with books: a very conventional layout.

The stairs took them up just one floo,r and as they turned right at the top the contrast with the lower floor couldn't have been greater. It looked as if most of the upstairs had been gutted to make a large open room dominated by tall windows that overlooked the street. As with the sitting room downstairs this room was filled with books, shelves of them. The windows, of course, were original as was the fireplace. The pale decoration and light furniture, grouped around that fireplace, were a sympathetic balance between the needs of modern living and a desire to preserve at least some period feel.

At the same end of the room as the stairs, a short corridor led away and along it Conlon could see three more doors: one open, the others closed. The kitchen was behind them and it was in the doorway that Giles had stopped.

"Inspector?"

Aware that he'd been caught staring, Conlon apologised. "Sorry."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Conlon nodded and again reached into his pocket to draw out the photograph he'd brought with him. "Can you tell me if know this man …"

"Giles?" Both men turned and Conlon saw a woman, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, head buried in a towel with which she was vigorously rubbing dry her hair. "I've borrowed one of your t-shirts, is that ok?"

"It's fine." Conlon spared a look at Giles and saw the hard lines that seemed to dominate the man's face soften. "I have a visitor."

"Oh?" The woman's face appeared as she lowered the towel and brushed her hair away. She stopped dead in her tracks, blinked in surprise and then grinned. "Mark!" Conlon was enveloped in a hug from the woman he'd known since they were at school together. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were still in Newcastle! You've moved back? When did you move back?" She stepped back and slapped him lightly in the middle of his chest. "You told Susan not to tell me, didn't you?"

"Detective Inspector Conlon, Anna Freer," Giles's dry tones interrupted. "Anna, Detective Inspector Conlon."

Anna laughed and moved to Giles's side. "Mark and I have known each other since high school. He's Susan's twin brother."

Susan, her best friend. Giles nodded. "I had no idea her brother was a policeman."

"Is that a problem?" Conlon asked and watched Giles's eyes as they turned away from Anna and onto him.

"Not for me." The eyes *were* green and flat, like the facet of a gem. "I've just made breakfast, would you like something?"

"Coffee would be fine, thank you."

Anna and Conlon settled at the table. Giles retrieved croissants from the oven, put them on a plate in the middle of the kitchen table, served everyone with coffee and sat down. "So …" he spoke to Conlon, " … you wanted me to look at something?"

"Yes … do you know this man?" Conlon held out the photograph.

Giles wiped off his fingers and took it. He looked at it for a few seconds then shook his head. "No, I don't."

"May I?" When Conlon nodded, Anna took the photo from Giles. The man was thin faced, sandy haired and his eyes were a blue so pale they were almost white. He showed signs of violence having been done to him: split and swollen lips, a black eye, and a scraped and reddened cheekbone. "It's Adam, isn't it?" She looked up, shocked. "Adam Barry."

Conlon nodded.

"Who's Adam Barry?" Giles asked.

"You don't know?" Conlon looked surprised.

"Hence the question." The dry tone was back in Rupert Giles's voice and Conlon got the odd impression that the other man was somehow judging him by every word that came out of his mouth. And now Anna was involved, making this hellish case more difficult than it already was. Conlon cursed himself for his stupidity: when Susan had told him that Anna was dating she'd told him that the man's name was Giles. It didn't occur to him to think that the name was `something' Giles, rather Giles `something.'

It was Anna who answered. "Adam was at school with us, same year. He was lovely then, very handsome, very sweet."

"But then he went off the rails." Conlon could hear the sharp tone in his voice but refused to apologise to himself for it.

"He just lost his way."

"No, Anna, he lost a life!" Conlon picked up the photograph again and stared at the face of the man, trying to see in it the boy that Barry had been. "You remember the Wilson case?"

"Of course I do and it still fills me with despair at the way he was vilified by the police and the press!" "Do I need to be here for this?" Giles's softly uttered enquiry fell into the sudden silence between the two old friends. "Is someone going to tell me what all this is about?"

"Adam is clairvoyant," Anna started.

" *Claims* to be clairvoyant," Conlon interjected.

Giles sat back, drank his coffee and watched the interplay between Anna and Mark Conlon.

"It started when we were at school - around the time of his sixteenth birthday." Anna continued, "One minute he was just an ordinary sixteen year old and the next, he was almost a raving lunatic." Her face took on a faraway look as she tried to dredge up the memories from so many years ago. "He suddenly started screaming when he touched people or when they touched him – it got so bad that the school had to start letting him out of classes five minutes early so he could get through the corridors before everyone else." She focussed on Giles's face. "He said he saw visions."

Giles swallowed another mouthful of coffee while he thought about what Anna had said. "When he touched people? That's what made him scream?" Anna nodded. "Do you know what sort of visions?"

"Their future," Conlon supplied. "Their death."

"Really." Giles took a croissant from the plate and spread it with jam. "You didn't believe him?" As he glanced up from his task he saw a look flash across Conlon's face. "You *don't* believe him." He popped a piece of the croissant into his mouth. "What's he seen?" There was no reply. "Alright then, tell me about the Wilson case."

"1990. Caroline Wilson, aged 19, kidnapped from her flat here in Bath. Buried in a box in a field. She suffocated."

Anna took up the story. "Adam actually knew her - she was a barmaid at a pub he used to go to - so he offered his services to the police. Help them in finding her."

"He had the police chasing all over the city. Searching anything connected to water." Conlon's face crumpled into an angry grimace. "Do you have any idea how much water there is in Bath?"

"Water?"

"Apparently he saw her surrounded by water."

"He didn't give the police any clue as to what this water was? A river? A reservoir? The baths?"

"Oh yes, he gave them a clue: he kept saying that it was `old.' "

"But she was found in a field."

"Yes, one owned by a man the investigating team had suspected from the word go."

"And this field was where?"

"It was Ten Willows Acre," Anna replied quietly.

"Which didn't exist until a rich landowner in the middle of the last century diverted the course of the Avon and brought the field into being. Until then, the land was completely submerged by the river. `Old' water." Giles gave a cool smile. "The police blamed Barry for the girl dying."

"So did the press and half the city," Anna added, confirming Giles's supposition, even though Conlon had, again, said nothing.

A small silence developed before Conlon sat back and spoke once more to the man sitting opposite him. "You believe in these visions?"

"Clairvoyance isn't a new phenomenon, Detective Inspector."

"I know … and would you mind answering the question I asked?"

This time Giles's smile was one of genuine amusement. "Yes, I believe that clairvoyants exist and yes, I believe that with the proper tools their visions can be interpreted." He sat up straighter and gestured towards the coffee pot which was on Anna's other side. "Could you pass me the coffee, please?"

Anna dropped a hand on his forearm. "I'll get it." Conlon waved away the offer of a refill. She poured herself and Giles each another cup. "Why are you here, Mark?"

As he answered Anna's question, Conlon's eyes remained on Giles. "Adam Barry has list of `things to do' on his computer. Top of that list is a visit to you, Mr Giles. Do you know why?"

"No." Giles shook his head. "As I said, I don't know him."

"And he hasn't been in touch with you?"

"No."

"Can you think of any reason why he might want to visit you?"

"No."

"Perhaps he knows that you believe that people like him are telling the truth."

"And that statement says far more about you than it does about me."

The rebuke was a mild one, but the look that accompanied it was ferocious and as before, Conlon realised that he was being judged. Stung, his next question came out as a demand. "What do you do, Mr Giles?"

"I'm sure that you didn't come out here before doing some basic checks on me."

"Very well," Conlon conceded. "Tell me how a professor of ancient and medieval history ends up owning a shop in a small Californian town?"

"It's none of your business, Inspector."

"I'm making it my business."

"And yet here I am, still not prepared to answer you." Giles was aware of Anna shifting uncomfortably at his side. "Why don't you tell me what Adam Barry's seen?" There was a sudden hitch in Giles voice. "You've got him in custody, haven't you, otherwise how would you have access to his computer?"

"He's helping the police with some enquiries, yes."

"About a death?" Giles speculated, then shook his head. "You've got the wrong man."

"How could you possibly know that when you've never met him? Where were you at about 10.15 last night?"

Giles stood up. "I think I'd like you to leave now."

Conlon looked up at the man towering above him and then nodded once, sharply. He picked up the photograph. "Very well. Thank you for your time." He, too, stood. "I can see myself out." He turned to Anna. "It was good to see you again. Can I call you later?"

"Of course."

Conlon nodded again, spun on his heel and strode out. Moments later they heard the front door banging closed behind him. Giles stood staring into space for a few seconds before turning to Anna. "Revelations in the night notwithstanding, so much for the blissful `morning after' scene." He held out his hands to her and without hesitation she walked into his arms and held tight. He wrapped her up in his embrace, rubbing his hands up and down her back – his touch, she suspected, as much about soothing himself as it was about soothing her. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Anna pulled back slightly so she could look at him. "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't know either."

He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "Bugger!" The epithet was muttered under his breath, but was no less heartfelt for being barely audible.

"Don't blame yourself for this." Eyes closed, like his, she heard it in his voice, the dismay. "I know your life, *our* life, is like this."

His breath was warm on her face as he replied. "Yes, but is it too much to ask that for five minutes, it's not?" Her mouth closed on his, comforting, gentling him. He leaned back from her and cupped her face in his hands. "We're ok."

It wasn't posed as a question, but Anna replied nonetheless. "Yes, we're ok." She kissed him - a hard loud smack like a promise given - and stepped out of his arms. With the sigh she drew they both knew that she was going to walk them back into shadows. "I've never seen Mark be that aggressive before … or you, for that matter."

Giles nodded. "I've told you before … I don't like policemen."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Ah hah, so you have. And Mark?"

"He's frightened."

"Of Adam?" Anna's brow lowered in a disbelieving frown.

"No …" Giles shook his head, "…of what he's seen." Off Anna's puzzled look, he added, "I suspect there's been a death …and not a good one."

"You're going to get involved in it?" There was no hint of censure in her voice.

"Adam Barry was going to come and see me. I'm already involved in it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Research."

"Research?"

"Research," Giles repeated and glanced at his watch. "I'll make some phone calls."

"Who to?"

"Hmm? Well, Conlon knew the time of death, so the autopsy's been done. The pathologist should have logged the report by now. Which means that it'll be available to the Council."

"The Council gets autopsy reports?"

"Yes, we have a whole team whose job it is to analyse them. They look for deaths that could be attributed to demonic activity."

"And if they find any?"

The phone rang, making them both jump. Giles stared at it long and hard, as if he could divine from its ringing who was on the other end. He was still staring at it when he answered her question. "They send a watcher to investigate."

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