Giles' righteous indignation over what he thought the discussion was going to be about dissolved into utter bewilderment.

“Why on earth are you worrying about how I look when we're stuck in the middle of nowhere in a bloody demon dimension?”

Buffy blinked. There was no answer to that question. At least not one she wanted to think too much about.

“Well you were shaking it all about, there, Giles. It just started me thinking and I thought about those clunky sweaters.” No need to tell him that she was also picturing that butt bending over in tight designer jeans and that back flexing in a righteously sexy black t-shirt. She shook herself visibly. She was definitely seriously disturbed. This was Giles. Old Giles: the guy with the serious corduroy fixation.

Giles huffed. “I was not shaking anything about. I don't even have a bloody gourd. Anyway it was your idea to dry my damned jeans. I suppose they're too shabby for words as well.”

Buffy's eyes flicked down his front, over his slim hips, and down to the long legs. “Not really. You just have to start shopping somewhere other than Wal-Mart for clothes.”

He huffed again. “Bloody women. You're as bad as Olivia. Always wanting to change a man…”

She stopped thinking about how hard the ground was to sit on. Olivia? How did she get into this discussion, and why were her fingers curling and her stomach tightening at the thought of her first meeting with the other woman? Buffy looked up at Giles again. He was still muttering about 'bloody women' as he sat down. She could see him as though it were yesterday…all got up in his Hugh Hefner robe and looking, if she'd been willing to admit it, kinda great. She shuddered again and looked at the man sitting a few feet from her with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee so that his foot rested on the ground. Okay, so at the time there was serious wigging going on. There was Olivia wearing nothing but one of his shirts, and Giles, looking all…male…instead of all…

Her eyes suddenly widened. Had she really been that mean? Or was it blind? She'd been wigged out less by the fact that he was doing it with Olivia than by the fact that for once she was seeing him as he really was and not the illusion she'd built up for herself. *Way to go, Summers. Why didn't you just buy him a T-shirt with 'Make Way For the Elderly' written on it*?

Buffy closed her eyes. The truth was making her head hurt, and her stomach was rumbling. She had to stop thinking.

“Giles?”

“I haven't gone anywhere,” he grouched.

“How do you feel?”

“Bloody marvellous. How about you?”

She ignored the peevishness. “Starving. Some of us haven't eaten since breakfast. If you aren't going to puke in the next five minutes, I'm going to have some of that fruit.”

“Buffy, I really wouldn't…I mean, even I've only had one piece. It's quite possible that it has to be fully digested for any symptoms to—Buffy!”

She'd chomped through an entire piece before he got there and was starting on another one.

“That was incredibly foolish. You want to risk upsetting your stomach, or far worse, fine. But don't come crying to me for toilet paper in the morning,” he growled.

Buffy stopped chomping, another reality etching itself in her features. No bathroom. No…nothing. She finished the fruit slowly and wiped her face on her arm, before wiping her arm on her pants.

“I don't know if I can do this,” she said quietly.

“Well you're bloody well going to have to, aren't you?” he snapped back.

“I'm sorry about the fruit. I was just…I'm starving…and you made me mad.”

He sighed a long, tired sigh. “I know you're hungry. So am I. But it was a very silly thing to do.” He looked up at her and fixed her with a gentle green gaze. “And I really didn't want to spend the night worrying about whether you're going to survive your last meal or not.”

Buffy's expression softened. “But it was okay for me to worry myself sick about you?”

“But you weren't…I mean you don't usually…um…” He quit while he was behind.

“I don't usually worry about you? You mean I don't care enough to worry about you unless it affects me?” It hurt, and she should have been shocked, but she wasn't. Given her earlier revelations it didn't really surprise her.

Giles was shaking his head, but she knew it was more out of embarrassment than denial.

“That was what you meant. It's okay. It's not true, but I can see how it would have looked that way sometimes.” His head came up and he stared at her. Buffy shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn't mean to not care—I mean I cared, but I didn't…you know what I mean…I just…there were always so many things.” She looked away. “I really did suck more than the telling of it, didn't I? You know, if we'd had this discussion even a year ago, I'd have been all yelling and defensive and 'I have to put my ass on the line every day and it's so hard and I'm so alone, boohoo, poor me.' Not that it wasn't true,” she added with some asperity. “But it was also true that things were just as shitty for you…didn't you ever want to go home? Didn't you ever want a family of your own? A dog? Sex, occasionally?”

“Of course I wanted all those things…well most of them,” he said quietly, surprisingly unfazed by her attempt at humour. “I'm human. But I'm also aware that it is not my destiny to have those particular things. One does as one can. I don't regret coming here…well, to California, that is…nor do I regret meeting you or the time we've spent together.” A hint of a smile softened his lips and Buffy reciprocated. “Home is where I'm happiest…wherever that may be. I have enough family in Sunnydale, and having Spike in the flat for that period has probably put me off pets for life…”

“So you've accepted a life without any of those things in it, but with a Slayer who never seems to give a crap about whether you're okay or not, never actually saw you as a guy…a man…until you took your pants off…?” She stopped. “Okay that came out really, really wrong…but you know what I'm saying. Why, Giles? Why do you just accept all that? Why do you even give a damn about me? Even I can see now how as a person, I might actually have not been worth your valuable time…”

He was staring at her again. “Are you sure you're not feeling any ill-effects from today's activities? You seem remarkably…animated,” he observed, completely deadpan.

Buffy made a face in the firelight. “Very funny. I am *not* babbling. Don't think you can wriggle out of this one, Mister. How many times in one lifetime do we get to deal with stuff? Any other time, and you'd have been somewhere, and I'd have been somewhere else, either dealing with Dawn, or the bills, or the house…or patrolling or trying to deal with my lame love life…or for something really different, trying to figure out how to deal with friends whose lives were falling to pieces, stop the world from ending or my sister from dying.”

“Would this be a tactical withdrawal?” he inquired dryly.

She stopped and reviewed the conversation. “Okay, stopping with the rationalizations now,” she conceded. “Nobody likes being wrong. I was just trying to be a little less…wrong.”

“Wrong?”

It took a little doing, but she managed to get up without putting too much pressure on her very sore foot, and hobbled over to sit alongside her Watcher.

“Yeah. The wrongest.” She laid her head against his arm. “You've got to know you've always been the most important person in my life. I know I've got Dawn now, but she's still kind of a new deal in our lives, no matter what the monks made up. Before she…well, before she came to us…there was never anyone who was as important to me as you.”

“Your parents, and Willow, Xander…Riley…*Angel*?” He suggested quietly.

“I wish. I mean, I loved my mom…and I guess maybe even my dad…at least I did once, well still, maybe, if I try really hard, and I love Will and Xand, and okay, there was the whole Angel thing and the mistake that was Riley…but nobody…not any of them, could make as big of a hole in me as you did when you left. It hurt…it hurt like hell when mom died…I didn't think I was going to make it and it wasn't much better when Angel left me, but that pain was nothing compared to the day you said you were leaving.”

“You only wanted me there to pay bills and to raise Dawn for you,” he said softly. “You had the group for everything else. Since I'd never been permitted to assist with your emotional needs in the past, I didn't see any reason to believe that you'd allow me to start then. Presumably, after I left, you made sure Spike got that job anyway…” There was a remarkable amount of bitterness in the words…and not one giggle this time.

For a moment Buffy didn't speak. This truth stuff was worse than getting the snot beaten out of you by demons or vamps. At least Slayer healing would take care of those kinds of bruises.

“I-I wanted you there because you made things all right. It's true…I wanted you to take care of things. I know that was wrong, but my God, Giles. I wasn't recovering from a broken leg, or a bad relationship. You have no idea exactly how much of a mess I was. I've had to sleep with the door to my room open for nearly a year. I still have nightmares about that damn box…only in the nightmares I don't have Slayer strength to get me out…and nobody comes. And it's not just that. I still…I still feel wrong…like I came back wrong. Spike said I was meant to be in the dark with him…that I was bad…that I liked the darkness and I just didn't know it yet. The truth is I didn't have enough feeling left to care, one way or the other, and a part of me kind of thought he might be right. I was dead inside. The only time I felt alive was when you came back to me. For a few minutes I believed everything was going to be all right. I believed you'd take care of things and we'd be like we were before.”

“I tried.”

Buffy sat up and looked at the strong profile. “I know.”

“What do you know?” he asked, again with a touch of bitterness in his voice. “I tried to connect with you…tried to be there for you then…but you didn't want me. You just wanted everything done, taken care of…problems solved, no waiting. Giles will do it…”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “When I came back I couldn't connect with anyone…not even Dawn. I had nothing to give. I know I was horrible. Spike told me often enough. Why do you think I went to him? It didn't matter how horrible I was with him. It-it didn't matter if he got hurt…then. At least if he treated me bad enough I could almost feel something…anger, pain. It was better than nothing.”

His head turned toward her. “What about love?”

There was silence for a long time. “I don't know what love is,” she said finally, resolutely. “I thought I did…but I don't. The spirit guide said I was full of love. Well, I must have bought it at Sears or something, because I sure as hell didn't come by it honestly.”

“Of course you do,” he chided. “I know you love Dawn very much…you know you do. You died for her, for God's sake. And you loved your mother dearly. You said as much a few moments ago”

Buffy was shaking her head. “They were more important to me than anything. You were more important to me than anything…but me…and love…?” She shook her head again. “I think that bauble got broken a long time ago.”

“I don't understand.”

“You shouldn't. I talk too much.”

“You don't talk enough. There was a reason the spirit guide said what she did.” He trailed his fingers tenderly down her cheek. “You may not recognise it, but you have an enormous capacity for love. I'm well aware that your ability to express that love has been compromised both by the unfortunate events of your childhood and by your calling, but never, ever, think that Buffy Summers cannot love.”

His tone was vehement, but for all its power, Buffy felt embraced by his tenderness.

“I don't know how, Giles. I couldn't love Riley. I don't know what I felt for Spike…I thought I loved Angel…” she listed. Then her voice went very flat. “But in the end I knew it was over that morning I woke up and he was gone. I might have wanted things to go back to the way they were…but God, we never had anything before I slept with him…stolen moments, but nothing real, nothing permanent to remember except for major amounts of kissage and enough sexual tension to ignite Mount St. Helens. I was sixteen, for God's sake. Hello to the Harlequin Romance version of love…with my breast beating for him and him with his dark, swarthy good looks…the dashing, brooding hero…yadda-yadda…yawn. So where's the love? I'm not seeing too much love in my life…not of the 'me giving it out' variety, anyway. And it's pretty much my own fault mostly. I mean look how much Riley loved me, but—”

“Buffy, look at me.”

She did, meeting his gaze only to be almost undone by the tenderness in his eyes.

“They're all passing fancies…all of them. If you weren't in love with them, you weren't in love with them. It doesn't mean you can't love, only that they weren't right for you…and that, miracle of miracles, some part of that infuriating mind of yours actually knew that before you did.”

In the midst of the tension, she giggled. *Nice to be told that it's a miracle that you actually noticed something…not…*

Giles smiled at her. “That's better. Now, let me ask you again. Did you love your mother?” She nodded silently. “And do you love your sister?” She nodded again. “And do you believe that anything can ever change that?” She was still for a moment then shook her head slowly, before meeting his smiling eyes again.

She reached out slowly and touched his cheek as he'd done hers earlier. “You need a shave.”

He was very still for beat, then his smile widened. “Ah, well, that's going to be something of a problem, since I don't fancy shaving with my sword.”

Amusement showed in her eyes, but her expression remained intense as she searched his face.

“What are we…you and me?”

He grew still again as he contemplated the question. “I think that's something which is still evolving,” he said carefully. “We've been many things to each other: librarian and recalcitrant pupil, Watcher and recalcitrant Slayer, comrades in arms, friends— good friends…”

“Friends,” she repeated softly then smiled. “And there's my rakish uncle…” Even before Giles had finished opening his mouth to object, she shook her head. “Nope. You were never the 'uncle' type. At least not mine.” Something else occurred to her. “And I was never 'recalcitrant'.”

“Is that a fact? I seem to remember numerous occasions where you either disobeyed or ignored my express wishes and frequent occasions where a rendezvous at the library to train resulted in my getting several days ahead with the cross-referencing simply because you chose not to make an appearance, and I was loathe to waste the time spent waiting for you to arrive.”

Buffy's smile vanished. *Full circle*. “I was a kid. Thinking, especially about consequences, is not a strongpoint of kid-ness. I know this, because I have one of my own now. And I can say with totally certainty that our Dawn has never been on speaking terms with actual thinking, let alone the meaning of the word 'consequences' …of any kind, hence our happy Halloween last year. I never meant to cause you pain. Kids never do. They just…they don't really get it…that there's anything going on at all outside of their little world…all they know is that they need someone to be there when they screw-up…it's selfish and stupid, but it's true.”

“You haven't been a child for a very long time.”

“And yet…” she intoned meaningfully then took another tack. “If I was…if I am…so horrible, why do you keep coming back? Why do you stay?”

It was getting really dark now, but she heard him sigh. “Do I really need to answer that?”

“Not if you don't want to,” she conceded in a very small voice.

He sighed again. “You should already know the answer.”

The silence that followed pained him.

Buffy didn't know what exactly she should already know. She knew they were friends and that he had a responsibility for her, as her Watcher, and that he cared for Dawn. She knew that it mattered to him that the world kept, well…being, just as she knew it mattered to him that she continued to exist. But she still didn't really get why he left, or why he'd stayed for so long…or what kept bringing him back when it was fairly obvious that he'd neither been happy nor had any kind of real life in her world.

Finally, she couldn't stand the silence any longer. “Jelly donuts?”

Ominous silence.

“Yes, of course. It was the sodding donuts. I'm going to sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

*Obviously picked a bad time to try and lighten things up*, she decided as he got to his feet and went to build up the fire for the night. The temperature had dropped considerably, but it was far from cold now that they were dry. She got up slowly and gingerly tried her foot. It wasn't too bad. It would probably be all healed by morning.

Giles jumped when Buffy touched his shoulder.

She took her hand away. “Sorry.”

“You startled me. That's all.” He tossed several branches and a large chunk of tree root onto the pyre he was making.

She shrugged, though there was no one to see. “I didn't mean to. I just wanted…I was kidding about the donuts.”

“I know.”

“I didn't know the answer.”

“I know.”

“Will you ever tell me?”

“I hope one day you'll tell me,” he said softly, still without turning. “Go to sleep, Buffy. I daresay the forest won't let us sleep much after sunup anyway. Hopefully the fire will keep the worst the place has to offer away for a few hours, at least.”

Buffy stood silently for a moment. “Um…isn't there safety in numbers?”

“What numbers? There are two of us, one of whom is the Slayer. We can hardly circle the wagons. I'm perfectly satisfied with the notion of you and a sword just a few yards away.”

Her voice dropped into a pout. “How are you going to protect me from the bugs if I'm going to sleep all the way over there? She pointed to where her sword, spare stakes and holy water had been dropped.

More silence.

“I really don't think it's appropriate…”

“Giles, we're alone, stuck in a demon dimension. Last year I was so inappropriate I will probably never be 'appropriate' ever again. Just for once, can you not be so damned 'appropriate'? You've gotta give me points for asking first. No taking for granted, no 'riding roughshod' over your feelings,” she mimicked an expression she'd heard him use a hundred times…*Well, ten or twelve anyway…*

He sighed a long, drawn out sigh. “All right. I cannot believe the Chosen One could be such a damned sook about a few insects.”

“Excuse me? A *few* insects? I'm getting eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of blowflies, there are beetles on most of these trees that make Fyarl demons look pretty. Even the dragonflies are as big as breadsticks and you wanted to eat a spider the size of your head.” Buffy could almost hear Giles rolling his eyes. “ I think I've been perfectly reasonable up to now, so you should be 'understanding guy' about a little wigging…especially after the day we've had. And we didn't even build a shelter. It could rain. A demon tiger could eat us in our sleep…”

“Oh, for God's sake, bring your bloody weapons over here.”

“Yes-s-s…!”