His internal clock was staggering from the flight, but it was still fairly convinced that it was early evening, all evidence to the contrary. He was lying on his back on the bed in his sister’s guest room, staring at the dark ceiling and wide-awake. The obnoxious ticking, glowing clock beside his head cheerfully informed him that it was, locally, 2:12 in the morning.
His little encounter with Ethan earlier was not helping him relax at all.
Finally, as the clock ticked another minute deeper into the night, he gave up.
If he recalled correctly, Tara had an evening lab course today.
He kicked the covers off and headed out to the living room, got the cordless phone and carried it back into his room. He was on the ground floor, so as long as he kept his voice down, he wouldn’t wake anyone.
He dug out his international calling card, dialed, and lay back on the bed, the phone cradled against his ear. It rang three times, a distance purr, and he feared that she wasn’t home. But then, there was a click, and her voice came on the line, slightly crackly over the long-distance: “Hello?”
He smiled, and finally felt himself relax a little.
“Hello, Willow.”
“Giles! Hi, hon! How’s England?”
The warm pleasure in her voice and the endearment made his smile widen a bit more. But then, it faded, and the first thing he thought of to say was: “I... found Ethan. Well, actually, he found me.”
“Oh... Uh oh. He’s not, like, dead or anything now, is he?”
Disturbingly close, actually.
“No... no, he’s alive,” was what he said. But then he felt compelled to add, “A bit battered and bruised, of course.”
“Yeah...” Willow didn’t sound too surprised. “Hey, um. There’s something I should tell you.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Yes?”
“I... I slept with Tara.” His heart clenched tight. “I mean,” she continued, “you know, in the euphemism way, not the literal, cause, yeah, obviously I-”
God, stop. Please, stop.
“Yes. Thank you. I caught that.”
“Oh. Ok.”
A silence fell over the line, and he wondered why it bothered him so much. He knew perfectly well that Willow was still with Tara. He’d never really said anything about wanting them to be exclusive. In fact, he was fairly well aware that pressing the issue would no doubt only cause him to lose her. Eventually, he decided to ask the most pressing question.
“And? You’re telling me this... why?”
“Cause... I mean, I haven’t, since we... you know. And I felt guilty afterwards. It’s like... like I was cheating on *you.*”
Well. That was... interesting. Possibly... promising. In spite of himself, his heart was beating a little faster.
“I... see.”
“I don’t know what to do, Giles.”
*Leave her* he wanted to say, so badly he could feel the words sticking in his throat. Couldn’t say that, though.
“... I’m afraid I can’t console you on this, Willow,” he said, finally. “I’m sorry. I’d like very to tell you that I... just want you to be with whomever you choose, to be selfless. But... I can’t. I love Buffy dearly, but I’m afraid she’s about tapped me out in that regard.”
“... Oh. Wow. I... didn’t really... I didn’t know.”
“I love you, Willow,” he said, firmly, wanting to be absolutely sure that every word, every nuance, made it all the way across the ocean and continent between them.
“What do you want, then?” she asked, her voice a bit soft, almost hesitant.
“You have to ask?” he said, his voice gentler, now. “I want *you*. I want you with me. All of the time.”
“Wow.”
There was a long pause. He didn’t know what else to say, and apparently, neither did she. But really, even having the sound of her breathing in his ear, knowing that they were together, at least in some small way, still made things... better.
She was the one who eventually broke the silence.
“Uh. So. Ethan. Did he, you know, fix things?”
He shifted in the bed, restively. He wanted to discuss Ethan even less than he wanted to discuss Tara.
“I’m afraid not. Apparently the spell only... set things in motion. The, ah, conception itself was more or less natural. Reversing the spell now would... probably kill me.”
“Oh. That’s... not good. But also... so that means it really is just... human. Right?”
“Human.” *Human,* dear god. “Yes. An offspring of myself and Ethan Rayne. A truly frightening concept.”
It was easiest to be flippant, even as his free hand went almost unconsciously down to his stomach, rested over that spot.
“Huh,” Willow said, clearly contemplating said frightening concept.
“How is everything?” he said, desperate to change the subject, “Any difficulties with Glory?”
“Nope. Stuff’s pretty quiet. So, what else is going on there with you? Where are you staying?”
“Uh. My sister’s.”
“Wow. I didn’t even know you had a sister.”
“No?”
“Nope. Not a clue. You got any other siblings you haven’t been telling us about?”
“Um. Two others, in fact,” he said.
“Giles! What’s up with never telling us this?”
“It... never really came up.”
“Well, it’s coming up now. Spill, Buster. I want the whole story. Well, ok, I don’t need to hear about the, like, second cousins and stuff. Unless they’re particularly notable for some reason.”
“My life story, then?”
“Yup. Rupert Giles, unabridged. I’ve got time. Start with ‘I was born...’ and go straight on up to ‘And then this crazy witch person demanded I tell my life story.’”
He found himself laughing, softly. Then, obediently, he began, “I was born...”
He got up to his late twenties before the conversation wandered off to other things, like the weather in Sunnydale and England, and computers, and airplanes, and dog breeds, and various and sundry other topics of varying degrees of randomness. It was wonderful. Her voice, her laugh, her utterly unique outlook on life. He felt the tension of the past few days fade away completely.
Everything faded away, really. Everything but her voice, a soft vibration against his ear in the dark. He could almost feel her. See her, on her back in her own bed in the fading light of evening.
“Man, hearing your voice,” she said, suddenly, “It’s like you’re here with me. Touching me.”
He chuckled.
“Shall I ask what you’re wearing?”
She giggled, a light and happy sound that made him feel a little bit thrilled for having provoked it.
“Silly. Although. I’ve never done the, you know. Phone sex thing. When are you coming home?” She added, quickly, and he knew she was blushing, which, given some of the things they’d done together over the past week both amused and touched him.
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, if all goes well with the council.”
He regretted the subject change even as he spoke. Would have been nice, whispering to her in the dark, telling her how to touch herself. Hearing her soft gasps, her bitten-back moans.
“Good. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, darling.”
Silence again, but this time a comfortable one. He was at ease now, his body feeling warm and heavy, his eyelids drifting half-closed.
“Rupert?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’m maybe in love with you.”
So much for being half-asleep.
“You still there?”
“Ah. Yes. I’m... I’m here.”
“I think maybe I’m gonna tell Tara. Today maybe. I think... I think she might already know. At least a little bit.”
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