Title: An Aussie Valentine
Author: Gail Christison

Pairing: B/G
Rating: FRAO for romantic erotica
Spoilers: Takes place not long after S7 - something from most seasons referenced at some point.
Disclaimer: Well, Joss owns it, and he messed it up...
Feedback: Would love to know what you thought
Summary: Giles finds out that he and Buffy have been chosen as the next Guardians of the Isgoth stones. They travel to Australia to past a test and collect the stones...it also happens to be very close to Valentine's Day.

Author's notes: This story was started a long time ago, and set in Australia for my friend Ewie. For various reasons I decided to finish it for Valentine's Day this year, but due to RL, Riposte and a number of other things, didn't get done. I want to thank Liz and Karen for their beta help. Their insights definitely made the story better than it would otherwise have been.

Dedication: To Karesia. Thank you, my friend, for everything. I know I missed your birthday by miles, but hope this makes up for it a little bit, now. If you're wondering why there's more than the usual smoochies in one of my fics ...it's part of Karesia's birthday present. ;-) And yes her b'day was way back near Valentine's Day... *that's* how late I am. <g>

Part 1

But...it's Valentine's Day, and I had plans!"

"I'm sorry, Buffy, but the world ending takes precedence, I'm afraid. Besides, Valentine's Day is almost a week away."

Buffy screwed up her nose and turned her head to look up at him. "I need time to organise, well, things, and anyway, it's so old. How many times does the world have to almost end before I'm excused?"

Giles gave her 'the look' and she subsided a little.

"So what do I have to do this time? Dance naked by the light of the full moon? Give our firstborn child to Lurconis's brother? What?

He cleared his throat. "We um...don't have a first born child, and as much as I would enjoy you dancing naked by...what was it...the light of the moon? I don't think that's quite necessary...yet."

Buffy's eyes flashed with mischief. "Well I'll have to see what I can arrange after this latest interruption."

Giles finally grinned. "There have rather been a number of them, haven't there?"

"Too many," she sighed and lifted her leg for him to slide the soapy loofah up and down. "When do we get some time for us? I mean, like more than just the weekends. Why couldn't you get a job that lets you spend more time with me instead of lecturing about dead things at Oxford?" she pouted. "We could do lunch together, even..."

Giles rolled his eyes. "I'm only filling in temporarily for a very good friend...and I lecture about Archaeology, not dead things. He grinned to himself. "I rather thought 'dead things' were *your* specialty-oof."

"And I bet you thought that was funny," Buffy growled, retrieving the elbow she'd dug into his ribs, hard enough to make her point but not hard enough to do any damage.

"Well, as a matter of fact..." Giles teased.

"You're starting to hit below the belt way too often," she complained then made a noise that became a little gasp as his hand slid over her hip and disappeared into the soapy water.

"That's not what I meant," she purred. "You don't play...fair."

"Sorry," he said, grinning at the second little gasp he'd caused, and not in the least contrite.

"Are you going to tell me what this new Apocalypse-y thing is about or not?"

"Eventually," he murmured, shifting position slightly and moving his arms to encircle her protectively. "I'm rather sick of impending doom, myself."

Buffy leaned her head back against his damp shoulder, nestling in the hollow of it and sighing. "When do we get time for us? I mean, it's not like I've got forever to do the 'us' thing..." She trailed off.

Giles sighed heavily and tightened his embrace. "We'll make time. You've created a great many firsts as the Slayer. You're just going to have to create a few more. I might...actually...eventually want to..."

Buffy raised herself a little and twisted in his arms so that she was kneeling between his knees and resting her arms around his neck.

"Might actually want to...what?" She prompted, knowing that he was feeling a little ahead of himself and not willing to let him get away with changing his mind about this one.

He touched her face. "Take you to Disneyland," he offered blandly, and got his arm slapped for his trouble.

"Ow," he complained. "Bully."

"Yeah," she breathed, catching his lips and kissing him slowly and passionately. "I'm a big bully."

"Complete thug," he agreed, kissing his way to her throat.

"Might actually want to what...?" She persisted between groans.

Giles drew back enough to kiss her parted lips again. "Might actually want to do something about that firstborn child one of these days," he told her huskily.

A part of Buffy glowed with pleasure, but she didn't let him see. "Isn't there a flaw in your chronology there? See, I can do big words too, these days. I mean, I'm thinking, like a ring here and there, so my mother doesn't come back and haunt your ass off, for example?"

He used a forefinger to paint her nose with bubbles. "I have every intention of getting the order correct," he assured her then paused to look at her lovely form. "Though strictly speaking..."

They looked at each other and their surroundings and both chuckled.

"I think I'm going to like being a Giles," she said dreamily. "You've never mentioned Slayers getting married..."

For a moment the atmosphere grew very tense. Eventually Giles broke the silence.

"It has happened...once or twice, long ago...but in the past, particularly back then, such fraternization was frowned upon and the distraction inevitably lead to the death of the Slayer..."

Buffy leaned forward enough to rest her brow against his. "I'm not going to get distracted. I've had lots of practise, remember: Owen, Angel, Scott, Angel again, Parker, Riley for God's sake, and, well, after I came back...I managed to slay, bungle my finances *and* my sister's upbringing, not to mention sling burgers...all without getting killed. I even managed to squeeze another major mistake of the vampire kind in there pretty much for the duration...and I'm still here."

He let his hands slide up and down her back comfortingly. "I know all that, but there's still the matter of history. We will have to make our own. We must..." His voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

It made Buffy shiver. She took his face in her soapy hands. "We will. You and me...what evil, big or little, ever had a chance against both of us, together?"

His eyes grew warm and he half smiled, turning his face to kiss one of her palms. "Silly girl," he chided, but Buffy could hear the agreement and the love in his voice just before her head bent and they once again became lost in a world of two.

Giles wheeled the overladen baggage cart to the check-in counters and sighed at the multiple queues.

"Because they can't just give them to us. There are...conditions."

"Conditions? Of which you haven't told me before now, because...?"

He ducked his head and moved the trolley forward in the queue as it snaked slowly toward the counter.

"Um, mostly because I wanted to actually get on the plane," he admitted reluctantly.

"Give, Rupert," she growled.

Giles' shoulders tightened defensively. Buffy rarely called him Rupert unless she was being particularly adversarial or very annoyed.

"Well, um, you...we...have to pass several tests, and we have to be deemed acceptable recipients of the stones."

Aware of the proximity of the other passengers, Buffy kept her voice as low as his had been.

"Why do there always have to be stones or amulets or charms or spells or...why can't we, just for once, have an Apocalypse where all I have to do is fight this one great big bad guy, who just happens to have a couple of handy weaknesses...I mean, if it's good enough for Nintendo, why not the Slayer?"

"There just does," Giles told her reluctantly. "The Isgoth Stones are incredibly old. Perhaps as old as the Slayer line, itself-"

"So why aren't we going to Africa? Everything else about the origin of the Slayer seems to be there..."

"Because the stones are in Australia."

"Why?"

"Because they were carried there a thousand years ago."

"I thought it was discovered after us...I mean, you know: Columbus et al."

He tilted his head to one side. "The original inhabitants have been there for perhaps fifty thousand years or more, but none of this is relevant. It wasn't carried there by conventional means."

"Duh," Buffy muttered, realising that she'd let herself slip too much into a conventional mindset, because everything about preparing for the trip had been...normal... and fun, especially buying new clothes and revolutionising Giles' wardrobe for the trip. Being together was beyond wonderful...but it was dangerous. Giles was right. She was going to have to work doubly hard at staying alert. "My bad. I should have realised some big time mystical type was involved. We're talking said ancient 'somebody' zipping around the globe like Super!Magick!Giles when you rescued us from Evil Willow, right?"

"Something like that," he agreed, amused by her terminology but growing more uncomfortable with their very public discussion. "The bottom line is that we have to go. I thought you'd appreciate a brief escape after all this time..."

"Yeah, well...I guess Will packs enough serious mojo now for any emergency. And I trust Xander to watch over Dawn while I'm gone. Especially since last I heard Spike was staying in Los Angeles, at least for the time being..."

Giles made a studied point of being entirely not interested in that news. "Are you going to fuss and fret for the whole trip, or are we going to try and enjoy as much of it as possible?" he asked, a little too quietly.

Buffy sobered, just as their turn came to step up to the counter. "I swear I'll love very single minute that I have you all to myself," she promised as he handed over their paperwork and passports and piled their main luggage on the scale. "But I'm not fighting any crocodiles. That's Faith's baby, not mine. I have no intention of fighting anything with that many teeth and a brain that tiny."

The middle-aged woman checking in their bags and doing their boarding passes looked up for a moment, her eyes moving curiously from one to the other, before dropping again when it became apparent that there would be no explanation for the bizarre conversation.

Buffy and Giles looked at each other and then had to hold in their respective chuckles and struggle to make straight faces before facing the counter again.

Buffy took little notice of the boarding passes as they headed off to find some coffee while they waited for their boarding call.

"You know, since I got to experience the joys of mystical travel to get to here in the first place...which, emergency or no emergency...let me say: not again in this lifetime... definitely channelling Doctor McCoy, here...I've only actually travelled on a plane once before: in Coach...to see my Aunt in Cleveland. I didn't like it much. Too boring, too claustrophobic, no food and I got in trouble for pushing the paging button."

"May one ask how old you were?"

"Five," she told him.

The opening yawned. Giles resisted. "You will enjoy yourself this time."

"If you say so." She frowned at the café-style menu. "No mocha latté," she grumbled as a waitperson arrived.

"Cappuccino," Giles ordered, "and raisin toast."

"Um...just a latté," Buffy added.

When the bored young woman had moved on to another table, Buffy looked at him again and entwined her fingers in his.

"How could I not enjoy myself? An entire week of twosome-ness: not only still no annoying little sister, but no patrols, no endless parade of new slayers to worry about, and no Oxford monopolising my guy. That has to be worth a couple of tests...which reminds me..."

Giles sighed heavily, but returned a squeeze of her fingers before finally answering her question. "Basically a ritual test, where you'll be required to prove your worthiness as the Slayer. And we will both have to prove that we're worthy of being given guardianship of the stones."

"And how prey do they expect us to do that?" She drawled, not as unfazed as she was trying to look.

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said dryly. That part is really up to the Elder."

"The Elder? Like a tribal elder? Tell me there are no sharp objects or disrobing of any kind involved in any of these rituals..."

Giles chuckled. "Not exactly. No." He didn't elaborate.

First class on the Qantas jumbo was really something: just fourteen...very roomy...seats with a lot of space in between.

"I'm never travelling Coach again," Buffy announced as she happily poked around, discovering there were no trays because they were stowed in the arm rest, and that the funny catches low on the front of the centre console were there to secure small television screens that swung out and up on arms so that a passenger had his own little TV for the flight.

"You can't leave that out now," Giles told her, fastening his seatbelt and positioning his cushion in the small of his back.

Buffy folded the screen back into its slot. "Duh, Giles. Even in Coach you get the speech...place your trays in an upright...yadda yadda. This is so cool. Does it cost much?"

"You don't really want to know," he told her, amused.

"That much, huh?"

"You're doing that on purpose."

"I'm bored."

"Your movie isn't entertaining?"

Buffy looked down at the screen. "Robin Williams playing a weirdo, scary loner. Nope, I don't think so. I was looking for the funny, not the seriously disturbing. Maybe I'll go to the bathroom again."

Giles shook his head. "It's only twenty hours, not forty. You even slept for six hours on the first leg. By my calculations we are only about two hours out from Sydney. Be patient. It won't be much longer."

She snuggled close and ran a finger along his jaw. "We could join the mile high club..." She leaned over and looked at his screen. "Which has to be better than whatever that is. What is that?"

"A cooking show; a British cooking show. It's called 'Two Fat Ladies'. They're amusing and entertaining and they cook food the way my mother used to...before everything became low-fat and no taste...at least they did, until the smaller one passed away..."

"AS I was saying," she reiterated, blocking old ladies riding motorbikes, artery hardening, mouth-watering cooking, and food in general from her thoughts.

He grinned. "As enticing as the concept might be in theory and in one's fantasies, I'm afraid I'm far too old...not mention too large...to indulge in the kind of contortions required to perform in one of those restrooms, and I am most certainly not going to make love to you in these seats, no matter how good, under a wholly inadequate blanket."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Spoilsport."

"Wait until we've landed," he said in a tone that sent a small thrill down her spine.

She suddenly realised something. "You didn't say where we'd be staying tonight. Are we going straight through to wherever this test is going to be held or checking in to somewhere decadent to rest first?" She uncurled and stretched in meaningful fashion.

"Wait and see," he said smugly, and popped the right earphone back into his ear.

"Well, don't get too used to it. This is, more or less, a business trip. We're not always going to be able to travel in such luxury."

Buffy happily allowed Giles to handle customs and baggage, since it seemed almost second nature to him, and followed him through the final area, pleased that they were able to pass through the 'nothing to declare' lane while eyeing the growing queue on the other side. It was going to be heaven to get out of the terminal and back into the real world. The oppressiveness of the heavy security surrounding all flights and the sheer length of the trip were mind-numbingly tedious and boring: a boredom extended slightly while Giles did the paperwork and picked up the keys for their rental car, a process considerably longer than Buffy expected it to be, putting her in a predictably irritable mood by the time they headed out.

They emerged into bright sunshine and picked their way through to the bays of rental cars, until Giles found the one that corresponded to the number on his paperwork.

She grinned happily. Having passed row after row of ordinary small and medium sized cars, they came to a halt in front of a red convertible BMW.

"Nostalgia?"

Giles nodded, smiling to himself. "I had to go through four rental agencies before I found one. I hope you approve."

She turned and threw her arms around his neck. "Totally. I'm sorry I've been such a bitch since we landed. It's just...I'm tired...and not just from the trip. I'm just...you know...*tired*."

He nodded. "I know. We both are. It has been a long journey for both of us these last few years, and neither of us has been allowed to rest, not even now that the world is full of Slayers."

"Least of all now," she said into the curve of his throat. "Just for a little while I'd like us to just be...*us*. I'd even like us to actually talk about stuff...I-I think I'm ready even to talk about Evil!Buffy and what that was all about, you know?"

Giles looked down at her for a long moment, contemplating her expression, the wistfulness in her voice. They'd come a long way, and although they'd had some superficial discussions...even arguments...as well as numerous spontaneous declarations of apology about the things that had happened to, not to mention between, both of them after Buffy's resurrection and during the battle against the First, neither had been willing to truly address their deepest wounds, for fear of endangering their unexpected and fledgling relationship. The moment in London, when they'd been working together to bring in a particularly difficult potential Slayer, and both realised they really didn't want to go back to seperate hotel rooms, had been as low-key as the realisation that they not only loved each other dearly, but were *in* love, had been world-and-mind shattering.