Buffy pressed the bloodstain into her bleeding wrist until the pain was palpable and repeated each phrase as Tara chanted. Every word felt like a heartbeat, faster and faster until her wrist was throbbing, the connection blossoming into an overwhelming, searing presence.

"Giles…" she whimpered softly when the last words were uttered and Willow gave the command.

Reality faltered, and the room became a blinding blue entity, without form, without substance…only amorphous surges of energy grasping and enveloping her. For a moment she struggled and then, between breaths, she wasn't.

And then she was…and the world had turned green.

Buffy blinked and shook her head, turned in panic, then exhaled heavily. Behind her, the portal had contracted to a small blue pulse of light, but it was still there.

Relieved, she reached out experimentally and grazed the light with her fingertips, watching, fascinated, as blue tendrils flared and embraced her whole hand. She pulled back quickly, and turned, cradling her throbbing wrist, her heart dropping as she realised that Giles was still missing.

He should have been there. A part of her had harboured the hope that the portal would open and he would be there, look up and see her…and smile. And they would go home together.

Instead the place looked like something out of a Tarzan movie and there was no sign of Giles, or of anything other than jungle and creepy crawlies and…more creepy crawlies.

After a few steps her wrist began to burn and the throb turned to pounding. She rubbed it and looked around.

But there was nothing…

Several yards away she found what looked like the remnants of a campsite. There wasn't anything to say definitively that Giles had been there…except…just maybe the torn pants-leg tied at the bottom, hanging on the side of the lean-to. She went straight to it. Pity he no longer wore tweed. Would have made it much easier to identify in these days of so many demons spending so much time on Earth, living like Humans, wearing Human clothes…

Then she touched it.

Her arm throbbed and that connection flared. Her eyes widened at the strength of it.

Definitely his…

She looked around, unable to shake the thought that he wasn't in them, and trying desperately to block any thought of losing him…of never being able to tell him.

There was only one other path out of the small clearing and it looked well used. Buffy followed it to a pretty stream and didn't try to hide her disappointment when he wasn't there either. Still blinking away moisture, she hiked some distance upstream without finding anything, then the same distance in the other direction before returning to the campsite dejectedly.

She heard it just as she was about to pick up a strange, vandalized plant.

The big cat stared at her through the undergrowth, two large emerald eyes flashing in the filtered sunlight.

"Uh-oh." She straightened and backed away. "Nice kitty."

It shrugged its way out of the bushes and padded into the open without taking its eyes off her.

Buffy backed up a little more. "You…you aren't a nice kitty, are you?"

It growled low in its throat, as though agreeing with her, and continued to stalk toward her.

Only a few yards away, Giles stirred at last, groaning as his head throbbed, then freezing when he heard the low growl. He was on his feet and staggering towards his camp on adrenaline-autopilot, before he realized what he was doing. Another growl pinpointed the beast's location. He stopped at the edge of his campsite, stunned.

"Oh God, Buffy!"

She turned and gasped. Giles! Alive! Naked, bearded Giles…but alive…!

The cat turned towards him and sprang. Buffy moved almost instantly, intercepting it in mid-air, much to the horror of the barely functional Watcher.

"Buffy!" The cry was torn from him again.

But she was too busy, arms and legs wrapped around the huge, muscled body until they both hit the ground, then her hands were clutching its head desperately, trying to prevent it from wrapping its great jaws around her throat.

Buffy used all her strength, and one foot as a lever, to roll them both so that she was on top. As it thrashed she squeezed her knees together with all her Slayer strength.

Frantic, Giles scrambled across the camp to find his stone knife and ran unsteadily back to where Buffy and the cat still struggled, the Slayer's back slashed through her shirt now from the feline's frantic back legs trying to dislodge her and her arms locked straight, trying to keep it from tearing her jugular out.

Then he heard the crunch. The cat let out a horrifying howl of agony and its back legs went limp.

Buffy sobbed and twisted the helpless animal's neck swiftly, so that it didn't suffer any more than necessary.

Only a couple of feet away, Giles dropped to his knees then collapsed in slow motion.

She made a desperate sound. She had missed him so very much, even before he'd gone missing. Nothing had been the same without him. She slid to her knees beside him, unheeding of her own wounds.

Dawn was right. A part of her had been missing. A big part of her…

Buffy frowned as she looked him over, unconsciously shaking her arm to relieve the agonizing pounding in her wrist, the searing of the skin. And then it registered. She raised it very slowly to stare at it, the first flicker of real recognition flaring in the grey-green eyes before they widened in stunned shock. How could she have been so incredibly blind all this time? And why the hell did Spike, even when he was being a total creep, always see things so much more clearly than everyone else?

All this time…! her mind echoed accusingly.

His body was warm to her touch and his breath tickled the spit-dampened fingers she held under his nostrils for a moment.

Frantically, she stroked his face, his brow, pushed his hair out of his eyes so that she could see them, all the while talking to him softly, calling to him. He didn't rouse.

"Giles!" she called more loudly and lifted him by his shoulders. His hidden, stubble-covered cheek was scratched, and there were more scratches and grazes on his chest as she turned him. He was still damp, including his hair. That was why he was naked. He must have been bathing when the portal opened. She called his name again as she tried to prise his boxer shorts from his hand and tried not to think about the other.

Beneath their lids, his eyes began to move and the fingers tightened on the shorts.

"Giles…Rupert!" Buffy called again, willing him to wake up, hoping the shock of hearing his name on her lips might jolt him somehow. It had certainly jolted her…

Finally, his eyes flickered open.

Giles blinked. He had a headache that would fell an elephant, and the light hurt. He squinted.

"Giles?"

His breath caught, adrenaline shooting through him. He was still hallucinating. He had to be. It wasn't possible. He wasn't even in the right country…er…whatever. Perhaps he was concussed again…

He focused. "Buffy…?" he breathed, his fingers reaching out unconsciously to touch her cheek for a moment. "My God…how…?"

"Long story," she said tenderly. "I've missed you so much."

For a long, long time Giles simply stared. A part of him wanted to reach out and drag her to him, to cry out with joy, but it couldn't be. He had to be hallucinating or concussed or worse.

Buffy saw the doubt in his eyes and slid her hand into his.

He started to smile. Then colour flooded into his lean, pale face and the smile faded. He lifted her hand to look at it, carefully tracing the scarring on her knuckles with a trembling finger before letting go.

She watched him visibly withdraw, at a loss to understand why.

In turn he watched her grey-green eyes grow shuttered and cool.

The silence grew into a long and painful thing.

"I missed you," she repeated finally, unable to bear it any longer.

The green eyes flicked warily up to hers. "And I you."

Buffy shrugged. "And here we are."

He closed his eyes. "And here we are," he repeated.

"Giles…?"

He searched her face, the hurt in her eyes, the confusion. How could he ever tell her the real reason he left…?

He looked away again, then frowned and looked down at himself. His eyes widened and the colour drained from his face once more.

"Good lord!" he exclaimed, mortified, and rolled onto his stomach again, groaning loudly when the movement made his head hurt more.

"You wouldn't let go of your shorts," she told him ruefully.

"Should've got dressed. Damn stupid thing to do," he muttered.

When he closed his eyes she stared for a long moment, then found herself stroking his hair again. "It doesn't matter. Let it go," she said softly.

He lifted his head again, surprised, and turned it to look at her curiously.

She smiled self-consciously at him, remembering her reply to Spike, a part of her wanting to snatch her fingers away. "I can't believe I found you. It seemed so impossible."

"Nor can I," he agreed, warmth returning to his eyes in spite of himself. She was so much more alive than he remembered. "I just wish I'd been better dressed for the occasion."

"I don't know," she teased, finally pulling herself together. "Looking pretty good there, well, except maybe for the beard and the…um…soapless-ness. Are you feeling well enough to put those shorts on so I can help you out of here?"

He nodded sheepishly. He would have said yes even if he'd been about to pass out.

Buffy withdrew a little and turned around.

After considerable rustling and some muffled swearing she turned back. He had the damp shorts on but he was on one knee, breathing heavily and looking decidedly green.

Without thinking, she went straight to him, knelt, and felt right through his hair from his temples to the back of his neck, looking for a bump.

"Are you concussed again?" she asked, worried.

Giles, whose eyes had closed again, not from pain this time, shook his head very gingerly. "I'll be fine. I was just knocked out earlier. Nothing lasting, just another bloody headache."

She withdrew her fingers, trying not to think about the intimacy of the contact or their nearness to each other.

He, too, grew awkward, looking down at the ground, clearing his throat and looking up again, endearingly reluctantly.

Buffy smiled again, unaware both of the radiance lighting her face, or the warmth in her eyes. She had missed him so very, very, much…and her heart was beating so very, very fast…

Headache subsiding at last, Giles stared, too mesmerized to smile back.

"Oh, Buffy…"

He was barely aware that he'd spoken aloud, but she heard the wistfulness, the need in those two words, even as she felt the pounding of her wound redouble, her skin burning like fire as warmth spread right through her. Blood trickled down her arm.

Impulsively, perhaps instinctively, she reached out and laid the bleeding wrist against a deep scratch at the base of his throat.

Giles gasped as the fire spread to his skin, the pounding like drums against his chest.

"Dear God!" he managed before the sudden, extraordinary connection finally subsided to a vibrant, yet infinitely comforting presence.

Buffy shook her head then hesitated, as though a little frightened of her own actions.

"Dear Giles," she corrected softly and whispered, "I knew it was going to hurt when you left. I just didn't know how much," before laying her cheek against his rough one.

There were no words. If he were dreaming, then let his life be a dream. Nothing on Earth could make him let her go again. He slid his arms around her and crushed her to him as her embrace became fiercer.

A few moments later he chuckled.

"What?" she asked warily.

"You remembered. Last time you didn't know your own strength."

"Last time I was so glad to see you I'd have gladly curled up in your arms and stayed there, forever. I didn't get it then, but I do now, finally. Giles, I don't want to live without you any more."

Giles stiffened a little and lifted her away, missing the feel of her against him almost immediately.

"I'm not sure I understand," he said slowly, carefully.

Her eyes met his and held them, open, clear, and at last, honest…and, for the first time in a very long time, truly vulnerable.

"Oh…" he whispered, staring back at them almost in wonderment, his fingers extending to caress her cheek once again, as though to confirm the reality of her.

"Oh," she confirmed in a trembling voice. "Big 'oh.'"

"Very big," he agreed, still finding his equilibrium while lost in the sea of soft grey-green.

Buffy drew herself up so that she was only inches from his face, terrified of what she was about to do, but wanting it more than she'd ever wanted anything. Nothing had ever felt more right…

"Can we try for an even bigger one?" she teased, very gently.

His eyes flashed and his face changed from amazed bemusement to resolve and purpose. Buffy couldn't know, but his heart was almost smashing itself out of his chest, which was being crushed by bands of sheer terror. Nothing could have prepared him, no amount of dreaming or yearning prepared one for the reality…the point at which you reach out and touch your dreams…and risk shattering them into a million pieces.

Giles lowered his head very slowly as her face lifted to his, hesitated millimetres from the tender mouth, in one last, painful moment of apprehension, before the point of no return was passed and he kissed her for the first time.

As they merged into one, the connection between them flared again and embraced them so overwhelmingly that not even the hovering arachnid, nor the slithering creature sliding past them, inches from their knees, penetrated it.

When they eventually, reluctantly, separated, they each searched the other's face, as though afraid it wasn't real.

"It was real," Buffy told him, as though she could read his thoughts and not just his emotions. "I have the whisker burns to prove it," she added whimsically then grew serious again. "Are you scared?"

Giles shook his head, unable to keep the glow from his eyes. "When did you get so old?"

"Sometime between you asking me if I hated you and coming back from…coming back to find you gone and finding out you were leaving, again."

Giles' eyes grew very bright. "I'm sorry…about all of it," he said softly.

Buffy understood immediately what he meant. "They couldn't know…any more than I could ever hate you."

He smiled then in a way that melted her heart. "I am selfish enough to be glad you're back, regardless," he admitted, emotion flooding his face. "So very, very glad."

She traced his jaw. "So am I," she whispered. "Until now I never thought I would ever say that. But…" she brushed his lips with hers. "So am I." She smiled again. "We should go home."

Giles' grin widened almost beatifically. "Home," he repeated reverently then looked down at himself. "After we find my pants," he added ruefully.

Buffy giggled and got to her feet, lent her Slayer strength to help him to his, and steadied him while he found his balance.

They walked to his lean-to together and he slipped on his cut down shorts while Buffy inspected his digs properly.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Giles halted alongside her and looked down at the broken fish-trap she was standing over.

"Well, you're here now," he said wryly. "How long have I been gone?"

She frowned. "About six days in normal time," she guessed and looked him up and down. "You?"

"Over two weeks."

"At least time in this dimension passes only a little faster than ours. God knows how long I really lost in that fun demon dimension I managed to spend part of my last summer in high school in."

"Old history," Giles told her. "I think it's time to go home and plan some new history of our own."

When they stepped through the portal, the first face they saw was Dawn's, but to Buffy's surprise, she didn't come forward. She could see how excited and relieved she was, could see the tears in her eyes, but the girl stood back quietly while the others greeted Giles, all except Willow embracing him and joking about his general un-Giles-like state of dishevelment, malodorousness and undress.

Buffy watched with interest as Phillip and Giles shook hands. It was obvious that they had a history, and that they were good friends. They spoke for several minutes while the others quizzed her about the rescue.

And then they were all gone, just as swiftly. Xander and Anya took Willow and Tara home when Willow made it clear that she wanted to go, and Phillip returned to his hotel with a promise from Giles to meet him there the following day for lunch.

Buffy turned, grinning, to Giles, sitting wearily in an armchair and now wearing the oversized Hockey T-Shirt Buffy sometimes used as a night shirt, over his grubby shorts.

"What do you want first? The shower or the food?"

He smiled back, about to answer, when Dawn reappeared carrying a mug, and handed it to him. He breathed in the aroma blissfully. "Tea," he sighed. "You are a wonder, young Dawn," he told her with great affection, holding her gaze with warm eyes before succumbing and savouring the long-dreamed-about beverage.

When he was done he put the cup down, rose, and smiled at the younger girl again. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyebrows rising as her eyes filled with tears.

Moments later she was in his arms.

He laughed and held her close as she wept. "What's this?" he asked gently. "The Summers tough-guy wetting my shirt front?"

Dawn giggled into the shirt soggily and looked up. "I missed you. I didn't think Buffy would find you. Don't go away again."

Giles touched her face. "You don't need me, love," he told her, and looked up at Buffy, "but I'm not going anywhere."

At that Dawn seemed to relax. "Make sure you don't," she admonished, straightening and wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. "God, you smell bad. I have to go and see Melinda."

Buffy watched her go, bemused. "She loves you, you know."

"I know," Giles said softly. "I didn't want to leave her, but I…I simply couldn't stay here any longer, and I knew Willow and Tara would care for her. And of course the last time, you were…"

"Yeah, well, I really don't think it was that simple. Still, I think I'll let you be guilt guy about that one."

"Well, thank you very much. About that shower…"

Buffy grinned. "C'mon, I'll find you a towel."

"Right, yes. Bloody generous of you," he muttered.

She found him the most luxurious bath sheet in the house. "Only the best. You need to be spoiled a little," she told him, pressing it into his hands outside the bathroom door.

"Oh, I've needed to be spoiled for a very long time," he told her humorously, but his green eyes were burning with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

Buffy's breath caught. Not only because she was stunned to find herself wanting to kiss him again, but from the realisation that there truly hadn't been anybody to spoil Giles in a very, very long time.

Even though she knew he was teasing, a rock formed in the pit of her stomach, mostly from the knowledge that it had never even occurred to her in the past. He had been in Sunnydale for what seemed like forever, and yet, except for Jenny, whom she'd managed to get killed, he'd had no-one, least of all her, to 'spoil' him. Olivia she refused to count, since a waving a few days out of a whole year at him, then announcing that his life was too much for her, seemed more like torment than spoilage.

"Knock yourself out," she said hoarsely. "T-take a bath if you want. I'll…I'll make you some f-food."

Giles watched her go wondering what could have caused the distressed look on her face and whether or not he should ask. Eventually he looked at the towel in his hands and sighed. Then he turned to the shower. After a beat the perplexed look on his face was softened by the hint of a grin.

The mains pressure hot water blasted blissfully onto his back and the soap cut through every millimetre of grime. Even Buffy's shampoo felt like a decadent pleasure. Shaving with a lady's shaver, even with a new blade to replace the extremely suspect looking object that was already in it, was an experience. Between the roughness of his beard and the unfamiliar action of the razor it took far longer than usual, but he was more than pleased with the result.

When he emerged, much, much later, with the bottle green bath sheet tucked around his waist, Buffy was waiting with an armful of clothes and there were delicious smells in the air. So much so his stomach was threatening to make a dash for the kitchen without him.

"Xander came back," she explained. "He figured you'd be needing some clothes, so they picked some up from the mall."

There were jeans and a shirt, a sweater, and both socks and underwear still in their packages.

Giles eyed the larger plastic package doubtfully.

"I think Anya said they were a gift," Buffy offered.

When the package was opened she started to giggle. It was quite obviously something Anya would like for Xander. Giles held up the black lycra g-string and sighed when the giggling increased. He had gotten quite used to going commando. One more day wouldn't hurt…

Buffy smiled approvingly when he re-emerged from the bathroom. It was obvious that Willow and Tara must have helped with the clothes, because he looked beyond good in open-necked black silk shirt and black jeans. Both were a little loose on his slimmer frame.

She looked down at his bare feet, a size and a half bigger than Xander's, and frowned. "I guess the guys didn't have your size. We'll have to buy you some shoes tomorrow."

"Most certainly," he agreed. "And I'll have to come up with a plausible reason why I'm in the country illegally, and without a passport."

"Or we could call Angel Investigations and they could find you some papers and a passage of some kind back to, well, England…if you want…" she trailed off.

Giles could almost hear her withdrawing again and sighed inwardly. It was too much to hope that the rush of blood back in the forest might mean anything more than just that.

He reached out and touched her cheek. "That would be one option," he agreed and watched her begin to smile again. Then he turned red when the tender moment was interrupted by an almighty rumble from his stomach.

Buffy giggled again, a sound he hadn't heard in far, far too long. "Come on Jungle-dude, your body is mutinying from lack of food. I made some stuff."