Of course Mr. Allergic-To-Late Giles would choose today to discover the power of antihistamines. Today, when here she was first thing in the morning, bright and early, definitely needing some Watcher-ly advice, and needing it *now*. She would have gone by his place, but she’d figured he’d already be here.
But he wasn’t, and so she was standing around in the front of the shop, and waiting. And Anya kept shooting her pointed annoyed looks because apparently, she was frightening the customers.
Whatever.
When he finally *did* show, forty-five minutes late and looking way too chipper, she grabbed him immediately and dragged him back to the training room.
“We need to talk,” she said, once she’d firmly shut the door.
When she turned back around, she found that his chipper-ness had completely abandoned him. In fact, if anything, he looked... panicked. Odd.
“We... we do? A-about what?”
“Spike,” she said.
He seemed quite taken aback by this.
“Er. Spike? What about--”
“He hit on me last night.”
All of Giles’s contriteness vanished in a moment, replaced by a where’s-my-stake gleam in his eyes.
“He *what*? How? Why? What happened?”
“Hey, whoa,” she said, “Like, a few weeks ago, you were all like, ‘Spike could be a useful ally, maybe he has a higher purpose.’”
“What?” He blinked, and seemed to scan back in his mind. Then he whipped off his glasses and all but slapped his forehead. “Oh, for god’s sake. That was what that was all about. Please tell me you didn’t--”
Ok, confession time.
“I kinda kissed him.”
Ok, she’d seen that look on Giles’s face before. But usually it was directed at Xander. When he’d said something particularly... dumb.
“You... kissed him.”
“Um. Yeah. Kinda.”
“Kind of?”
“Well, it was just sort of a brief kiss, and he was actually a... gentleman about it.”
Damn it. She was fond of him. When the hell did that happen? It was just, he’d been so charming over the past few weeks, and... and...
“He nearly staked Drusilla!” she said, because Giles was still just sort of speechless. He continued to be speechless, so she continued to be... speeched. “Oh, yeah, she was the vamp who was on that train by the way. Anyway, she showed up, attacked us, and Spike was fighting against her right alongside me, and it wasn’t just for show Giles, I mean, I’m a Slayer, I know slaying, he was really trying.”
“What on Earth does Drusilla have to do with anything?” Giles said, finally managing to speak again.
“Well, it shows that... that he’s on our side now, Giles. He could have gone back to her, but he didn’t.”
Giles’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and then, he said, firmly, as he gathered his wits back about him, “Let’s sit down, shall we? I--” he lost his momentum for a moment, then regained it. “There’s something I should... tell you... before this conversation goes any further.”
And that really didn’t sound good. So, they sat and then she waited, as he looked at the floor, and the walls, and his hands, and pretty much anywhere except actually at her. Her heart sank. When Giles got like this, good things rarely resulted.
“It’s not... something about the baby is it?” she asked, finally, though she didn’t even like saying that out loud. But the suspense was worse.
“What? Oh, no. No, he’s fine. It’s... it’s about me, actually. It’s--” He closed his eyes for a moment then, and then forged ahead, “I know... why Willow left Tara. Um. In fact I... I’m... I’m rather the reason that... Willow left Tara.”
Yeah, well, Buffy thought, you’re pretty much the reason I kissed Spike last night, too. But she didn’t say that.
“Oh? Really? That’s weird. What did you do?”
He was looking away again.
“I... she and I... Buffy, we... I know it may seem odd to you at first, but...”
No. Way. He was not saying that--
“We’re... in love. At least, I believe that we are. I-- I love her. Very much, and--”
She fully expected the grossed-out feeling to hit at any moment. But... it didn’t. And watching him stammer out this confession, tensed up as though half-expecting her to order him out of Sunnydale...
She didn’t feel angry. Or repulsed. Because he was just Giles and Willow was Willow and after everything they’d all been through... she couldn’t even contemplate begrudging someone the right to be with the one they loved. To be happy.
In fact, it really wasn’t a bad match.
“Giles,” she said, gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He looked up, finally meeting her eyes. “It’s ok. I’m... I mean, that’s great. If you’re both happy. I mean, yeah, if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you, but, other than that...” She smiled to make sure he knew she was kidding.
“Well,” he said, “That, um... that went better than I expected.”
She grimaced a little, regretting her younger, stupider self.
“I know, I know, I used to be pretty... tactless. Sorry. I’d like to think that maybe I have managed to grow up at least a little.”
He was smiling at her now, a soft smile.
“You have. Very much. You never cease amazing me, Buffy.”
He squeezed her shoulder, gently, and she had to admit that the thought did cross her mind that perhaps his touches weren’t quite as chaste as she’d always assumed, but it was only a superficial thought, not one that came close to touching her true beliefs. He’d always looked at Willow differently than the rest of them.
And then he was sitting up straighter, looking stern.
“Now, about this situation with Spike...”
Crap.
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