Buffy moved edgily through the park, trying to concentrate on her patrol. It was an extraordinarily quiet night. Wimps, she thought. Vampires and Demons really didn't favour wet, drizzly nights.

“But I'm out here, you wusses!” she yelled at the night air. They had been back from San Francisco for nearly a week. It was Friday night… and she was patrolling.

Again.

It was only the third time that week anyway. Most of her time had been taken up with classes, assignments, keeping Dawn out of her mother's hair, and worrying about both of them. What it did mean was that she and Giles had barely been able to see each other, let alone talk…let alone…

A bird fluttered through a nearby tree as she passed, making her jump almost out of her skin with anticipation. She scowled, and looked around her as though checking to see if anyone might have seen her looking ridiculous.

She missed him terribly, but he had been busy with the shop and with the research he was doing with the books he'd gotten from Albert…and there just hadn't been time to even talk more than a couple of times on the phone…and awkwardly at that, with Dawn hovering about like a wraith, mostly because she was stressed about Joyce, but nonetheless still a monumental pest…

Giles threw the book of chronicles he was reading back onto the coffee table and stretched his back. He missed Buffy more than he thought possible, and it had been less than a week…

He shook his head and got up to go and make tea. Not so long ago he had gone, unhappily it had to be said, for weeks at time without laying eyes on her…now he found himself unable to concentrate, irritable and restless, after just days without her.

Memories of their weekend together jumped unbidden to his mind and within seconds he had an erection like granite. The third one that day…

He snorted and reached for the kettle, banging it down on the stove with extra feeling, slopping water out of the spout, before proceeding to make himself supper, with added violence in every movement, as he worked. When it was done he was a little more comfortable, but only marginally. She was there, in the back of his thoughts…all he wanted…all he cared about…

By the time he carried the tray back out he was rigid again. And still was when he'd finished the light meal.

He shook his head. It was obvious that Buffy was needed at home, but there had to be some way that they could see each other more than once or twice a week outside of training.

A rap on his door made him start badly. He got up shaking his head and thanking the fates that he'd locked it. When he opened it, he was holding one of his sweaters in the most casual way possible, in just the right position in front of his pants.

“Hi.”

His heart rate bounced into overdrive. “Buffy? Is something amiss?”

“Hi,” she said again, her eyes glowing.

“Hello,” he said softly, and grinned back at her, opening the door wide for her to come in and tossing the sweater away before locking it again.

“I wasn't expecting to see you.”

Buffy looked at the impossible bow in his cord pants. “Thinking about me though, I hope,” she chuckled.

“Well, yes, very much so.” He grinned sheepishly again. “ I'm sorry about that. I…there isn't anything wrong, is there?”

She shook her head, trying to stay calm while every nerve in her body was screaming.

“I was out patrolling…nothing happening…no action…”

“And you're a little bit…jumpy?”

She nodded. “I've been missing you so much. I hate not being able to see you. I feel like with mom sick, and Dawn, and you being the most important thing in my life now, that I should just ditch college this year and concentrate on the important things. I am the Slayer, after all, and it's not like I'm actually going to do anything with my education…”

“No,” he said categorically. “You mustn't think like that. We'll sort something out. There has to be a way… Is your mother still working?”

Buffy shook her head. “She hasn't been well enough. And Dawn's freaking. It's all I can do to keep her from making mom freak too, half the time.”

Giles took off his glasses and shoved them in a pocket while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“If we could find somewhere for Dawn to stay for a while…?”

Buffy's eyes widened. “Xander's. I mean…it'd be okay. Anya is kind of moving in with him. I guess they could keep their hands off each other for a few days at least. And Dawn pretty much has a thing for Xander, so she's not going to be difficult about it.”

“It might work,” Giles mused. “Even if it's just for weekends, to take her mind off your mother's illness, and give Joyce some peace.”

Buffy nodded. “It could. I'll make sure mom's cell phone is turned on and next to her, when I have to leave her alone.”

“A sound idea,” he agreed.

“Giles?”

“Buffy?”

“Kiss me.”

In seconds he'd swept her into his arms and was kissing her with a hunger that matched her own. Buffy drew her legs up as the kiss continued, wrapping them around him and positioning herself so that she fitted perfectly against the once again straining bulge in the brown corduroy.

“God, I missed you,” she moaned, moving again as her skirt rode up, turned on by the muffled growling sounds he was making.

“I missed you too,” he groaned, kissing her again, without gentleness this time.

When they parted, Buffy slid down, breathing hard, and pulled open the pants, shoving them down and shuddering with desire when she realised he wasn't wearing any underwear, his erection almost touching his belly when it sprang free.

Before Giles could speak, he gasped instead.

“Buffy!” he growled as her hand closed hard around him and her warm mouth covered him. Within just a few minutes he was so close he had to pull away, lifting her instead and carrying her to the couch, where at her silent invitation, he removed her skirt and tore off her underwear as she moaned with anticipation.

“Do it!” she whimpered and cried out as he buried his mouth in her sweet centre, her scent driving him to sensual distraction as he made her whimper and writhe once again, with pleasure.

“Giles…oh God, Giles…!” She screamed again as he let his tongue slide down and spear into her, not surprised when her body twisted and shuddered and she gave a strangled, continuous whimper as she orgasmed. When she came down, he sat back and removed her top, allowing the firm, tender breasts to tumble free so that he could run his hands over her entire body.

At first she relaxed, immersed in the pleasure of it as he massaged, stroked and caressed, but soon his expert hands had brought the soft peaks to life again, electrified nerve endings, excited her almost as much as the sight of his own overwhelming need.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked hoarsely. “It might be more comfortable…”

Buffy rose and put her arms around his neck, used her slayer strength to lift herself until her legs closed around his hips again, her moist heat slipping against his aching hardness, making him groan loudly and pull her hips possessively to his.

The erotic roughness of it, and the incredibly hard feel of him, sent Buffy into a passionate, writhing frenzy, which in turn drove Giles almost to distraction with desire.

Suddenly, he kissed her again, hard, both of them claiming the other as Giles cupped her tender buttocks and carried her with surprising ease to the nearest wall, pressed her against it and lifted her hips enough to enter her, taking her in one powerful movement as they kissed.

Buffy broke free and screamed with exhilarated abandon as she was penetrated, bracing herself against Giles' shoulders and taking as much of him as possible.

“More!” She demanded, tilting her hips even more and growling deep in her throat as he held her, and slid even deeper into her.

Still she whimpered in frustration and wriggled against him.

“Not enough?” he growled, swung their locked bodies around and moved back to the couch, still inside her, lowered her onto it, withdrew and turned her onto her knees.

It was a new sensation for Buffy and wild enough to inflame her slayer senses to almost breaking point. The open vulnerability of her throbbing centre as she waited for his return, her legs apart, and damp with her need for him, made her whimper with anticipation.

Giles heard her and felt himself arch even higher as he took the beautiful bottom in his hands and slid into her tender heat again, crying out just as loudly, as she moaned at the sheer ecstasy of the invasion.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice descending into dark Ripper tones as she arched her back and ground herself into him.

“I want you,” she begged and opened herself wider, screaming and pushing as he plunged into her, over and over, his control wavering as she continued to thrust and grind against him with every lunge.

“Oh God, yes! Do it!” Buffy rasped as he responded by riding her faster and faster, unable to contain his own vocalizations any more. She matched him thrust for thrust, their combined cries echoing through the apartment as their orgasm built, spiralling up until Buffy's exploded, her butt slamming back against him, her cries turning to screams as he thrust into her again and again, pushing her orgasm into a tidal wave of sensual pleasure. Another thrust into the now violently clenching channel and Giles followed, his own strangled cries sending another wave of stimulation through Buffy, who took all he could give until she exploded again, her second orgasm following his down until they both stopped, spent.

Within seconds Giles had shifted to allow her to move.

Buffy turned, exhilarated and incredibly alive, stood up, and paused when she saw his withdrawal.

“What is it?” she asked tremulously. “Was it me?”

Giles turned back, his eyes still glowing with passion.

“Oh, no. There's nothing…It's just…I've missed you so bloody much. I just didn't want…”

So…that was it. Buffy put her arms around him and kissed his sternum. “Stop being so…so Giles. I was so ready to throw you down and have my wicked way even before I got to your door. Besides, I think I got in some fairly wicked ravishing there, anyway.”

Giles slid his arms around her. “Majorly wicked,” he agreed, deliberately mimicking one of her own expressions in his impossibly British accent, and making her giggle. “Just thinking about you does the most terrible things to one. I seem to have lost all inhibition when it comes to loving you…”

Buffy lifted her face to his searching kiss and let her mouth melt into his. The loving salute went on for a long time before she rested her face against his warm chest again. “Maybe you didn't lose a stuffy librarian,” she teased gently. “Maybe you just found your inner Ripper again?”

He laughed. “You're more than a match for my inner Ripper, love. And this stuffy librarian adores you every bit as much as he does.”

For that Buffy kissed him again, and then made a small noise. “I don't want to go. Can't I stay, and tell mom I was researching? She's used to me not coming home. As long as I leave a message on her voicemail, so she knows I'm okay, she'll be fine.”

Giles considered the options, and the fact that he would rather have his fingernails removed than let her go again, and nodded. Joyce was not alone, and Buffy was right. It was no different than any of the hundreds of times she'd stayed out all night due to the slaying, or research, or simply falling asleep on his couch in the middle of telling him about some new demon or creature or other, or frenzied swotting for a forgotten test, after being on patrol until four in the morning…on top of study all day and Angel or the Bronze all evening…

“Don't go,” he said hoarsely.

Buffy nodded lovingly then made a face. “Bathroom first.”

She was back in minutes, her hair damp, and redolent of his herbal soap.

He slid his arm around her when she came to him, heading by mutual assent, for the loft.

When they reached the doorway, Buffy stopped.

“Love…?” Giles drew his arm away.

Buffy shrugged. “This is your room…this place, it's you. I-I've never actually been in all the way in here…it's like the one, last, little piece of you…” She turned to him, her eyes bright. “I love you so much,” she whispered.

He returned her gaze with eyes that shone fiercely with emotion. “It was me. Now it's us. Everything is us.”

The bed she and Willow had helped him choose in the weeks after that terrible day, and Xander had helped him haul up the stairs so long ago, was soft and comfortable and the heavy eiderdown quilt blissfully warm.

By the time they had curled up in each other's arms and Buffy had sighed in blissful contentment, they were both fast asleep.

Giles was woken in the morning by a number of things, not least his unerring time sense telling him he'd massively overslept. He sniffed. There were marvellous smells coming from somewhere. Alongside him, the covers were thrown back and Buffy was gone. He sniffed again, appreciatively, and smiled before sliding out of bed. He grabbed his robe, pulling it tight to try and disguise his morning erection then tying it even more tightly.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realised Buffy was in the kitchen cooking breakfast without a stitch on. He growled appreciatively, at the same time hoping she wouldn't burn anything sensitive, before crossing to the hallway, rubbing his head and yawning as he went.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Buffy grinned when he stuck his head around the corner of the archway. “Eggs, bacon, toast, French pastries and Colombian coffee,” she listed. And at Giles' startled look added: “I woke up early…and I wanted to do something special. I like that little grocery store a couple of streets over. Is there anything they don't have?”

Giles nodded, bemused. “Blueberry scones and Orange Spice tea. I must…uh…the bathroom, you know.”

Buffy made a dismissive motion. “Go, go…I already took my shower when I got back…but go back to bed afterward, or you'll spoil everything.”

When Giles passed the kitchen again there was a vaguely disquieting hint of burnt toast in the air, but he refrained from comment and took himself back to bed, as instructed. Minutes later Buffy appeared with his largest tray loaded with her much laboured over surprise.

He grinned. She looked so beautiful and so ridiculous standing there as nature intended, looking at him over his only coffee pot.

“Hungry?”

He nodded. “For many things,” he added meaningfully as she handed him the tray.

The blue eyes flashed up to his, mischief and promise in them. “Later,” she growled before crawling into bed with him and joining him in devouring the huge breakfast.

There was no sign of whatever it was that had been sacrificed to the feast earlier. The scrambled egg was utterly perfect, still shiny and moist and the bacon hot, the toast on the tray in remarkably golden condition, so that there was very little left when they were finished.

Giles chuckled as Buffy demolished the last pastry with gusto and finished her second cup of coffee.

“I was always of the impression that you ate like a sparrow…outside of my jelly donuts, anyway. This is the second time I've seen you polish off a meal fit for a football team,” he teased.

Buffy made a face. “Slayers need their energy. I used to worry…worry girl, me…but since…well, lately, I've found that feeding the ol' Id sometimes isn't such a bad thing.”

Giles leaned across and kissed the top of her head laughingly. “I'm assuming there's actually some logic in there somewhere. Don't worry, I'll find it eventually.”

“I feel a blonde joke coming on,” she said and looked down with a grin, “which you really, really know is redundant now.”

“Buffy!” Giles said instinctively, then laughed. “Well all right, I'll grant you the 'really, really know' part.”

“Giles!” she retorted, giggling.

“What happened to 'Rupert'?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Rupert is your name. Giles is who you are. It's going to take a while.”

Giles focused on the task of getting the very last out of the coffee pot without filling his cup with dregs.

“Rupert?”

He grinned in an exasperated, amused way. “What?” he asked, without looking up.

“What are we going to do?”

He sighed, growing serious again. “For the time being there's nothing we can do. The last thing your mother needs is a bombshell about us while she's dealing with this illness…on top of which, you simply don't have the time…”

“Neither do you,” she said unhappily as he sipped his coffee.

“I would make the time,” he told her, and meant it. “You, on the other hand, have very little choice, currently. We can train together more often. You can implement your plan to have Xander and Anya take Dawn occasionally, and I will promote Anya to junior manager. The additional wages alone will be incentive enough for her to be more than willing to work the extra hours. And if you like, we could patrol together more often.”

Buffy sighed. “I like. And we'll do all that stuff, but it's going to be so hard, waiting, wanting to be with you. I hate that it took us so long to realise. We could have had all last year…”

Giles put the tray on his side table and slid down into the bed, so that Buffy could curl up against him.

“What's done is done. We have the rest our lives to be together. There's no rush.”

“That's not what you said last night,” she teased. “Speaking of which…last night… Row-w-w-r.”

“Translation?”

“Translation: I can't get enough of you, Rupert Giles, you stallion, you,” she giggled and rolled on top of him, still chuckling as she bent to capture his lips with her own.

His hand slid into her hair and pulled her head down harder, the kiss deepening into a passionate reminder of the night before.

Buffy slid her hips back until her warm, soft centre found his now granite arousal, and settled over it. He groaned against her mouth.

“We…we don't have time,” he growled. “And you aren't going to get much from me after last night…”

Buffy started to slide back and forth, growing more and more moist as she slipped up and down his hard length.

He moaned again. “Sweetheart, I don't have Slayer strength, nor am I a machine.”

“You were last night…and last week…” she pointed out, shifting and wriggling down the bed.

“Ohhh… Oh, dear lord!” Giles gasped as Buffy proceeded to prove him well and truly wrong.

Several minutes later she drew herself back up alongside of him, smiling at his still slightly shortened breaths.

“Tell me you're not totally the machine, now, Bookguy,” she growled.

Giles arched his back appreciatively. “I can see a coronary coming on,” he said gruffly.

Buffy slid a leg over his hips again. “Sooner, rather than later,” she agreed dryly, and easily took him in one movement, grinning as he gasped, the sound metamorphosing straight into a long, low, groan of pleasure.

He held her, each of his hands just above her thighs as she rode him, growing more wild and demanding with every stroke. Every fibre of his being was attuned to her, wanted her, needed her, but he wasn't going to orgasm easily. He wasn't twenty any more. It gave him a little bit of freedom, however. He would be able to give her everything she needed without worrying about himself at all.

In seconds he'd rolled her onto her back and was enjoying the abandon with which she was reaching for him, straining to him as he made love to her. Buffy was groaning with need and pulling his hips into hers almost painfully, when she suddenly shifted. He followed her lead and sat back a little on his heels while she drew her supple legs up and rested her heels on his shoulders.

“Take me,” she demanded, with a kittenish grin and vixen eyes.

Giles made a noise in his throat at the sight of her at that angle, the invitation in her voice, and slid his fingers over her soft warmth just to touch her, enjoying the jolt of her hips and the whimpering noises she made as the direct stimulation sent bolts of electricity through her.

He felt himself crossing the line from simply being aroused by the woman he loved, to a demand to be sated, aching with lust for the beautiful body being presented so provocatively to him.

“Sorceress,” he whispered. “Only you could make a man so damned crazy so soon after…”

“The crazier the better,” she breathed. “I want you…” she reminded him, barely above a whisper, and yet as much of a demand as the loudest shout.

He leaned into the back of her legs, pushing them toward her and moving himself to her, just she was pushing herself toward him.

And then he was pushing into her, and she thrusting herself up to him, her lusty scream setting off an even more primal reaction in his now fired loins. She had completely subjugated her body to his, trusting him in this most vulnerable of positions, and now was opening herself even more, thrusting into his thrusts, rising to his lunges, noisy, demanding groans and screams filling the air and electrifying every nerve ending in his body.

“Give it to me!” she screamed, and he knew it was as much the Slayer as it was Buffy.

Giles more than rose to her demands, shrugging off her legs and moving over her, their frenzied, powerful re-coupling looking violent and primitive to the outsider, yet to the lovers joyous and wild and ecstatic…

“Oh, God, yes!” Buffy screamed, lunging even more powerfully, as though struggling for something. She was flushed and beautiful, her breasts heaving and her eyes glowing. She threw her head back and turned it, exposing her throat as he responded by accelerating suddenly.

And then she made a noise of sheer primal pleasure.

Before he realised what he was doing, Giles had leaned down and covered the scar on her neck with his mouth. A long, sensual moan from Buffy inspired him to continue, arching so that her hips tilted upward, allowing him to plunge even deeper as he bit down on the scar.

Buffy exploded, a screaming, gasping contortion of limbs and body, her thighs locking like iron around his hips and her hips arching them both almost off the bed.

The animal intensity of her orgasm swept Giles along with it, racing into his own shattering climax and roaring an exclamation that was half ecstasy, half incredulity.

For several minutes they rocked and shook and finally subsided into quiet, exhausted trembling.

“What…what on God's earth?” Giles breathed when he was able to form words.

Buffy, still breathing heavily, opened shining eyes. “You tell me,” she told him, still breathless. “I've always liked…you know…but it's never…I've never…it has to be us, Giles.”

He slid off her and rolled, spent, to her side.

“I want you like that all the time,” she admitted. “I've never wanted anyone like that. Even with…well, it just wasn't. We even did the bunny thing under that spell, but it wasn't…” She frowned. It was harder than she thought to talk about her past sex life, and the fact that it didn't involve the man she loved more than life. “I didn't want him like that. Half the time I didn't want him at all. It was wrong, but I so just needed not to be alone…”

“And it's different with us?” he prompted gently, hoping she would come back to the point.

Her frown cleared and she moved up against his side, resting her head just under his chin.

“Way,” she said simply. “When we're not together I want you so badly…and when we are…wow…”

He chuckled, and drew her closer. “Indeed…wow. You know, of course, that a lot of it is simply a reflection of how much we love each other…?”

Buffy's fingers trailed across his chest. “I know…I know I've never loved anyone as much as I love you…there's always been this part of me that I couldn't share with anyone…the part that's still scared that now you know how much I love you, something's going to happen to you too. Something always happens…”

“Nothing's going to happen,” he said tenderly. “Nobody has a better bodyguard than I do.”

“Who—?” Buffy demanded, then stopped and giggled, smacking him lightly on the chest. “You're just a big tease. But you're right. I'll never let anything happen to you.”

A look of something akin to pain crossed Giles' face and he turned a little, gathered her close to him, as though shielding them both from the world. “Nor shall I ever allow anything to take you from me…not for as long as I draw breath…”

Buffy swallowed emotionally. “Th-then I better keep you drawing breath,” she teased, her voice filled with love. She knew that he meant every word, and more, that he would keep his. It felt like a great veil had been lifted from her life.

For the first time since she was called, the darkness that had held her, the despair she kept locked inside, lifted. For the first time a future actually beckoned…

“Buffy…love?” Giles crooned when he realised she was weeping into his chest. “What is it?”

She giggled damply, but didn't stop bawling. “Ignore me. It's happy stuff,” she told him, and burrowed even more tightly into his arms.

After a nonplussed moment he chuckled too. “You are the daftest creature. It's a good thing I love you to distraction.”

“Distraction is right,” she sniffed. “People are going to be wondering where I am, soon.”

“Damn,” he muttered, the intrusion of harsh reality into their small world not a welcome one. “All we need is the others to come crashing through the front door—bloody hell!”

They both froze as the front door dutifully crashed open.

“I know I locked that bloody thing,” he muttered.

“Ssh. If you're not down there, maybe they'll go away. There isn't anything else we can do,” she whispered.

There was movement, and the murmur of voices. Then Anya's strident tones rose above the rest.

“They aren't here. I have to open the store in half an hour. I haven't got time for this. What could possibly happen to them, for God's sake? She's the Slayer.”

“Go Anya!” Buffy whispered and giggled silently when Giles snorted near her ear.

“Yeah, well it's not normal. Something's wrong. The Buff wouldn't worry her mother like this. Not now. And she would've called you guys if there was any bad happening…”

“Xander's right,” Willow's unhappy voice chimed in. “I was just mad because I thought something was going down and we weren't invited. Now it's like last year, when Giles got turned into a demon…only…only the door isn't broken and the phone's still working and…”

“Okay Will, we get the picture. The Giles-mobile is still here, which is entirely wiggy, but at least the place doesn't look like a war zone. Maybe we should go check all the cemeteries? Something could have happened on patrol…if they were patrolling together…?”

“Or we could, um, check to see if Mister Giles is asleep, upstairs?” Tara offered, looking up to where the curtains were drawn across the exposed wall of the loft.

“Duh,” Xander muttered. “Giles never sleeps…like he'd still be up there at this time of the day…”

“Unless he's been drinking,” Willow said in her unhappy voice.

“He wouldn't,” Anya announced.

“Thank you,” Giles muttered under his breath.

“He's not like that any more. That was all Buffy's fault anyway and she's not like that any more, either.”

“Not like what?” Willow demanded.

“Blind,” Anya replied blithely. “She hasn't got a clue how much he loves her. Any fool can see he worships her, and she trampled all over that last year.”

Giles could feel how tense Buffy was in his arms, and wished there was a way to stop the conversation before things got out of hand…but short of announcing their presence, there just wasn't any other solution.

“I knew that,” Willow retorted sulkily. “You should have seen him when Cathy was sucking her brain. A-and just a little while ago, when Dracula showed up here…he was even going back to…oh….I'm not supposed to talk about that. You didn't hear that.”

“Didn't hear what?” Xander said dumbly.

Buffy struggled out of Giles' arms, pushing herself up to a sitting position, the same question written all over her face.

“Sorry, my lips are sealed…or they are now,” Willow told him uncomfortably.

“Come on, Will. It's just us. Even if he is up there, he must be asleep or he'd have been yelling at us by now for coming in without knocking. Give. Going where?”

Behind Buffy, Giles looked up at the ceiling and prayed, then mouthed the word 'shit' with vehemence when Willow's voice spoke again.

“He was going home…b-back to England. You can't tell Buffy, though. He was going to tell her…except she asked him to stay first a-and now nobody knows, except me.”

Buffy turned to look silently at Giles.

He looked unwaveringly into the hurt blue-grey eyes, his own now an open portal to his oft-battered heart.

The shock, accusation and disappointment slowly faded from her expression and her eyes grew very bright. A moment later she was in his arms, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

“And all of us,” Xander said pointedly. “This is a biggie, Will. You shouldn't have told us.”

“That's not fair!” she squeaked. “You told me to tell you.”

“Which is natural when we don't know what you're not telling us,” Anya retorted.

Upstairs, Buffy and Giles released each other, curling up together and continuing, helplessly, to listen to the unfolding drama downstairs.

“Well, as long as Buffy doesn't know, no harm done,” Xander soothed, as though Willow looked like she might explode any minute.

“We should go,” Tara said quietly. “Mrs Summers might have heard something by now.”

“Tara's right,” Xander replied, and the sounds of shuffling feet moved toward the door.

“Oh, wait. We didn't check upstairs,” Anya pointed out. “If a demon did rip out his guts in his sleep, he could be up there.”

Buffy closed her eyes and Giles said another rude word, but only one set of feet could be heard on the stairs.

Anya stopped in the doorway and stared at them.

They stared back, like rabbits caught in a spotlight.

Then, very slowly, the ex-demon started to grin.

It was infectious. They both smiled back.

Anya nodded with an expression of amused approval and Giles nodded back, his one of quiet gratitude and even a little affection.

“There's nothing up here!” she yelled at the top of her voice. “We should go over to Buffy's mom's and take the kid some donuts. They're sure to turn up soon.”

She looked to Giles again for confirmation. Again, he nodded, then grinned when she did a little dance of conspiratorial glee and waved a silent goodbye before leaving again.

Downstairs, they heard Xander complaining about their lack of consideration and Anya's drawling: “They're big kids now, Xander. They're allowed to play on their own like everyone else.”

“Oh hah, hah,” Xander's voice faded as the door closed and the place fell silent again.

After a beat the two of them looked at each other, their expressions part horror, part dazed, and their eyes completely losing it. A moment later they were both collapsed in a giggling heap.

It was some time before either of them had enough breath to speak, but before Giles opened his mouth, Buffy kissed him.

“What was that for?” he blinked.

“Just because,” she told him tenderly, then relented. “I've never heard you really laugh before. Those weird noises you've made a couple of times, when Xander was being ridiculous, don't count after that…”

“Don't,” Giles whispered, when her eyes grew very bright. “What's this for…?”

“Nothing,” she said hoarsely and threw her arms around his neck, Giles automatically closing his around her slender body.

“Buffy, love?”

“I love you so much,” she said vehemently into his neck.

“And I you,” he told her with equal feeling. “It's wonderful, crazy and breathtaking, but it's not something to cry about. You know, if we move quickly, we can drive across to Revello drive long before the rest of them can get there, if they're going to get donuts first.”

She stopped snivelling and looked up at him with a red nose. “I hate when you get all logical while I'm snivelling like a-a girl…again.”

Giles chuckled.

“Oh-h.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and made a face. “Before we do anything else, we have to shower again, Watcher dear,” she told him whimsically. “I've got first dibs.”

“I don't think so,” he retorted and a mad scramble ensued, both of them reaching the first landing together, off balance and tumbling into the wall, and each other, giggling, though not losing their feet in the process. The mirror rattled on the wall and they almost knocked the bookcase over, but came to rest relatively unscathed and still giggling.

“Compromise,” Giles said, straightening and clearing his throat to try and stop chuckling. “Let's try this, instead.”

Buffy squealed as he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder in an extremely undignified fireman's carry and headed for the bathroom.

“Giles, put me down. Giles, I'm the Slayer. Do you really want to piss me off? Gi-iles…!”

He toed open the bathroom door and put Buffy down in the tub.

“Bully,” she said mock sulkily.

“And you loved every minute,” he teased back, busy turning faucets. Buffy was out of the bath in seconds, while he adjusted the freezing water.

“Except that one,” she growled, caressing his long body as he stretched across to the faucets.

“There,” he said finally, dipping his fingers in the blast of steaming water, before turning to lift her effortlessly back into the tub. “In you go.” He climbed in after her and stepped under the shower, close enough for Buffy to lean back against him and lift her face to the powerful spray. She liked being taken care of, even if it was just a game. They stayed like that for some time, until Giles reached for soap and a large yellow sponge.

Buffy opened her eyes as the soapy sponge slowly washed her back and groaned with pleasure.

In response, it slid over her shoulders and made tender circles around her breasts. When she arched, growling, it continuing downwards, where it swept over every curve and contour, until it reached her thighs. Then it slid between them and moved ever so slowly back and forth, with just enough pressure to part her soft folds and make her legs wobble just a little. She moaned and leaned back against Giles even more, letting her thighs relax completely and the sponge continue its slow worship of her body.

His other hand cupped a soft breast and his lips caressed her ear as he continued to tease her warmth and make her moan with stolen pleasure.

“Oh, Go-d-d,” she groaned when his other hand finally moved from her breast to slide inside her right thigh, his long fingers slipping over soft, heated flesh. It was followed by another stroke of the sponge. He continued, in turn, to focus on her tiny, throbbing arousal until she was flailing her head backwards and forwards. Then she went rigid against him and gave a strangled gasp, before going limp, heaving with short, laboured breaths.

“'God!' Is right,” she moaned, still quivering. “You are one. Put it in a bottle and sell it, and you wouldn't need the magic shop.”

She turned after a beat and looked up at him speculatively. He was standing so that his back was taking the brunt of the shower, and his head was just clear, though dripping with water.

“No,” he said categorically, reading her like a book. “And I'm disappointed you should even think such a thing,” he said in his best 'miffed librarian' voice.

Buffy looked down. “Oh,” she said, staring at his distinctly not aroused member. “Just for me, then?”

He looked down his nose and gave her 'the look'.

“Just for me,” she realised. “But it was a compliment, really. Look it, if I thought it was so good it had to be magic, that's a major compliment, right?” she offered hopefully. “Besides, I already said you were a God.”

She took him in her hand and stroked him, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from him, despite the fact that there was little visible response.

“Downtime?” she asked, kissing his chest through the rivulets of water, and leaning against him.

“Downtime,” he confirmed. “Miracles have already been had. It's fresh out…uh… temporarily,” he added huskily as her fingers continued to explore in the most pleasant ways, despite his lack of arousal.

“Okay,” she said finally and ran her hands up his chest, rose on tiptoes and kissed him passionately.

When they parted and he smiled at her, she shrugged and smiled back.

“I can wait, lover. Right now though, I guess we'd better get over to the house.”