By the time Giles had worked his way through eggs, bacon, toast, an entire pot of tea and a stack of pancakes, it was obvious that he was getting sleepy.

She cleared away as he sipped at some previously untouched orange juice, feeling more content than she had since before her mother's death. Normally Buffy and cooking were truly un-mixy things. It surprised her how much she wanted to do that for him, and how much she had enjoyed it, not to mention the look on his face when he saw the food.

"Lord, I've been a glutton," he said good-humouredly a while later, stretched and rubbed his midriff.

"You lost weight," Buffy said quietly, eyeing his stretched out form. "I thought you had when I first saw you, but now, here, it's more real, y'know?"

He nodded. "It's nothing. I shall very likely end up fat, now that my body thinks its in survival mode."

"What did you eat?" she asked, soothed by the sound of his voice and still trying desperately to understand what was happening to her…to them.

He chuckled. "At first some raw mussels that tasted rather like rubbery squid. Then, gradually, I discovered a few fruits, some nuts, seeds. Just before you came I even managed to find some eggs and to catch my first fish."

She smiled back, trying to ignore the desire to just go to him. "Wow. Not only majorly smart and good with the weapons and the Slayer teaching-ness, but a major survival guy too. Maybe you should go on one of those TV shows?"

Giles snorted. "Not likely. I've never seen such voyeuristic rubbish. I don't know what society is coming—"

Buffy had raised her hand in smiling self-defence. "And we don't care," she pointed out, in over-enunciated syllables.

Her smile grew wider as he ducked his head a little again. He was so very much the Giles she remembered, the one from before all the relentless badness that had paraded through their lives since high school, that she was tempted to just throw herself back into his arms.

"Were you…were you alone before you came to Sunnydale?" she asked unexpectedly.

Giles regarded her with those perceptive green eyes of his. "You are wondering whether I gave anything up for you. Yes I did. I gave up that life for this one. Do I regret it? Never. Did I miss it? Like hell, sometimes. One does, when one's entire social life is a school library, jelly donuts and copious demon research…oh…" he smiled, "and let's not forget the periodic bangs on the head."

"But…you had us," she said quietly, remembering so many times when they were all together, researching, fighting, training…

He nodded. "And I still went home to an empty flat, and—"

"An empty life?"

He nodded again, and then his eyes burned into hers.

"Every moment without you in it."

Buffy shivered. It should have been hokey and melodramatic, but the way he said it, so calmly and with such a dark undertone, made it a truth, a curse and an indictment rolled into one. She wanted to drop her eyes, to look away, but she couldn't.

Not for one more moment could she deny what was in the green fire holding her in thrall, any more than she could deny the need to feel the mouth she'd never realised was so sensuous before, against hers once again.

"About wh-what happened, back in the jungle…" she began nervously, at a loss as to how to recapture that moment now.

Giles' eyes widened, and Buffy suddenly saw withdrawal and even hurt in them. "Yes?" he said quietly.

Her heart dropped. He thought she was pulling away…probably even expecting a patented Buffy 'eiww' for good measure…

She rose and went to him then, slid her arms around his shoulders and lowered her head before he could open his mouth to protest.

The kiss began tentatively, but within seconds the residue of the link between them throbbed to life and with it the flames both had been holding in check since that moment in the jungle.

Giles pulled away suddenly. "Buffy…I…"

She sat back and bit her lip, a part of her wanting to curl up and die. "Was I wrong?" she asked quietly.

"W-wrong?"

She held up her wrist then silently traced the wound at his throat without taking her eyes from his.

"No…" he whispered, and closed his eyes for a moment. "But you…we…you never…"

Buffy struggled against the instinctive urge to withdraw as the hurt of his continued doubts washed over her. A part of her knew it was her own fault, that she had made him this way but…

She knew now what she wanted…whom she wanted and was determined not to be the one who did the hurting this time.

"No, I never…not even after you left, not right away. Even then I couldn't admit it, even to myself. All that pain…I just let it…be about people leaving me…but this time wasn't about that, not really…it was about you, about…us."

He looked at her wonderingly.

"There's this, too," she said, holding up her wrist. "It's a spell to locate a lost lover. Kind of hard to ignore that when your arm is burning up and pounding like a rock band just because you're close to this guy you've been crying yourself to sleep over periodically ever since he walked out of your life…"

Giles half-smiled, almost sadly. "I think we both know I had to go…but it's nice to know one wasn't entirely alone."

Buffy felt her eyes prick at the very idea of Giles being as miserable as she had been, and was unable to stop the moisture that sprang into them.

"Not entirely," she agreed, remembering the nights she'd cast herself into bed after patrol, after pretending everything was okay, that she could cope with the house, the Slaying, Dawn…and cried herself to sleep knowing he wasn't there, that he wasn't going to be there to train her, joke with her, that he might never again be there to speak softly, as only he could, to her, when her heart most needed it…

Why had it taken her so long to understand why they were able to hurt each other so much…?

The silence stretched, the air as taut as piano wire.

Eventually Buffy couldn't bear it any longer. "S-so what does a girl have to do to get the guy she loves to say something?" she said awkwardly.

Giles' eyes grew wide, his heart pounding again, but he watched her warily. "I think you already know that," he told her softly.

"Me? Know? Giles…Rupert…" She paused, and smiled a little at how that sounded. "I'm the most clueless person on the face of the planet. Spike even tried to tell me…and way before that Xander told me there was someone waiting for me…but I could never see…well, except maybe that time you came back from England and I almost busted three of your ribs. Sorry about that, by the way," she added sheepishly, and added, summarizing: "You should know by now that I don't know diddly," but held his gaze, afraid to lose him again.

He looked crestfallen but continued to watch her.

It was obvious she was searching for words. Then she frowned, frustrated. "What's wrong with us?" she demanded. "In the jungle…we …we both felt it, so why is this so hard?"

Giles seemed to turn inwards for a moment. "Perhaps it's the fact that in your life I've always been more than a little invisible, perhaps even a little too old…or there's the wacky notion that you've always appeared to prefer pretty much any young man, even vampire, who payed the slightest attention to you, to spending even the briefest time with me."

Buffy stared at him, swallowing the rising hurt.

Too much of what he said hit home. She tried to shut out the memories of Parker, the extreme mental gymnastics she went through to convince herself to go out with Riley, the unhealthy experiment with Spike…but she couldn't. Then…Angel's face supplanted the rest. She considered it for the longest time, the initial pleasure of it gradually overwhelmed by the realisation that she had, finally, outgrown even the memory of him. It was kind of scary to realise that the once great passion of her life was now little more than the memory of a schoolgirl's first love. And the rest…the rest…

"I-I didn't know," she managed.

"You didn't know?" he prompted, when she continued to stare at him, lips parted, eyes stunned.

"You," she said simply. "It…it didn't just happen. I didn't know that none of the others were ever going to work…because you were always…"

He half stepped towards her without realising it. "I was always…?"

The blue-grey eyes held his. "It was you," she said, astonished.

The green ones stared back at her, disbelief warring with equal astonishment.

"Angel," he whispered, hating even the sound of it on his lips, but unable to let it go.

Buffy nodded. "I'm not gonna lie to you. He was the first…" She went to him, swallowed as she gathered all her courage to look up at him again. "But you…God, Giles, you're the only…"

The words hung in the air for an endless moment.

Then, unexpectedly, he turned away.

For a moment Buffy was devastated. Then she saw the hunch of his shoulders, the tenseness of his body just as she was hit by a surge of roiling emotion through the link that had been forgotten in all the excitement. She could feel his joy, the stunning power of his love for her, his desire, and most of all his fear: fear that after all this time, and all that life—and she—had done to him, that if he were to reach out for happiness with both hands, he would be slapped down, yet again.

With all her strength, and with her heart wide open, she concentrated on showing him through the link, what, in the context of her history of stupidity where he was concerned, she could never convince him of with words alone.

Buffy heard his quiet gasp, saw his fists clench, and wondered if she had made things worse.

Then he turned slowly and it was her turn to gasp low in her throat. No one had ever looked at her like that before…not even Angel.

Giles couldn't quite believe that the look in her eyes, the expression on her face, matched the love…the passion he'd felt through that magic-induced link. He reached out with an unsteady hand to touch it, letting his forefinger brush the moisture in her lashes, trace the outline of her eye socket, the curve of her rose-flushed cheek, the softness of her slightly parted lips.

Buffy trembled and something in them finally broke. Both moved, bodies fusing together with liquid grace as she pushed herself off the ground, her arms locking around his neck, and Giles held her against him, their mouths finding, discovering each other again.

He revelled in the soft mouth melting into his, the sweet, demanding body and fought to stop himself from carrying her upstairs then and there.

She couldn't get close enough to him…she wanted to be inside his skin, inside his head, his heart. Instead she returned his plundering of her mouth three-fold, feeling his body respond to her exploration of his, her willing offering of hers. For a long time they were lost in the sensuality of such new intimacy, barely aware of the world around them, or the passage of time, neither wanting it to ever end.

It was the sound of Buffy groaning that finally parted them, Giles lifting his head almost reflexively, letting her slide down, as though slammed back to reality.

"Buffy…I…"

But she was looking up at him and smiling.

She was a vision. No secrets, no pain, no heartache or regret. She glowed with the intensity and the conviction of her feelings and it was achingly clear that the blazing desire in her eyes, the throbbing of the link, was all for him.

He swallowed, humbled by the knowledge that it was really true.

'The only,' she'd said…

He smiled back at her and they came together again, the kiss this time one of triumph and reward. They lingered for a long time before Giles swept her up as he'd been longing to do, and her arms wound around his neck as he moved silently up the stairs.

He hesitated in the doorway of her room, a part of him sorrowing that he was not taking her to his own bed, and another somehow awkward about her childhood refuge.

Buffy touched his arm and shifted, so that he put her down. "It's no good," she said, tracing his slightly brooding mouth. "I can't. Not here…not after…"

The confusion in Giles' eyes lasted only a moment, before he remembered. "Oh," he said sombrely. "Does it matter?"

Buffy stared for a long moment before shaking her head. Then she tilted it. "Does it?" she returned.

He closed his eyes for a moment remembering the moment he found out about Buffy's new boyfriend, the commando. "It did," he said, and caressed her cheek, "but not any more."

The bleak look on her face faded and was replaced by a slow smile. "I'm glad…but I wish…I wish we had our own place. I wish…I wish you still had your apartment."

Giles finally smiled back. "Actually the flat hasn't been rented yet. Sunnydale is rather a depressed market when it comes to real estate."

"Then we could—" she began, sparkling.

His expression grew rueful. "It's not furnished. The only thing I left was the…bed."

Buffy's smile grew wider. "I can live with that. And mom's car is still behind the house…"

His eyes grew very bright when he realised what she was saying.

When the door of the flat swung open less than half an hour later, both of them entered in subdued silence.

After several beats Buffy turned to Giles. "Empty. Like me. It's not the same without you, either. We both need you, so much…"

His brows drew together.

Buffy touched the divot between them. "Not like that." She looked around the room. "This old place and I…we need you to make us complete, to make us whole."

There was nothing he could say to that. Instead he bent and kissed her tenderly, then picked her up again and carried her to his bed.

Buffy was breathing heavily when he laid her on it and looked down at her.

She was almost too lovely, that hair spilling everywhere, her eyes bright with desire, breast heaving rather like the heroine in a tacky romance novel. He was entranced and a little afraid. She was glorious, and he was…

Slowly, he removed her shoes, grinning when she held one sneaker and then the other aloft with ballerina-like grace for him to undo them, and her jeans, before slowly taking off her blouse, stunned to find that she wasn't wearing anything under it.

And then she was sitting up, taking his breath in her hi-cut, fuchsia lace panties, tiny silver crucifix, and nothing else. "My turn," she told him in a husky voice, and began to unbutton the shirt. She was pushing it off his shoulders when she saw the apprehension he couldn't hide, in his face.

She smiled gently. "Hey, been there, seen that," she reminded him as the shirt fell to the bed. "And I still want to go back." Her fingers trailed down his throat and into the soft golden brown hair sprinkled across his chest. She looked up. "Wow," she grinned. " I didn't know chest hair could be sexy. I like it…even the grey ones."

"'Ay," he objected, eyes dancing. "Do I tease you about your roots?"

"Now that's below the belt," she retorted, unbuckling his and effectively silencing him.

She watched his face and his smouldering eyes as she undid it and unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down.

"And so is that," he managed to whisper hoarsely as her fingers slid inside and made him shudder. Then he shifted to lift her back and lay her against the pillows, before moving over her and kissing her senseless.

At least that was how Buffy described it to herself as she lost herself in their passion, arching as his hands raked her body, expertly divesting her of her pretty underwear and finding every sensitive curve and fold until she was almost ready to explode. He was making her crazy and he wasn't even undressed yet. Taking things into her own hands, she used her slayer strength to reverse their positions.

"Take them off," she demanded, sitting astride his hips.

He grinned mischievously. "I drove over here in bare feet for you. You want them off, you take them off."

Buffy made a noise in her throat, shifted and used her slayer strength to pull his jeans off, tossing them on the floor.

When she looked around again, she swallowed. Once, when she and Willow were having a truly insane discussion about male assets, they had speculated about Giles, just for a moment, ranking him, between eiews, in order among their male friends, boyfriends and favoured entertainment idols of the time. It hadn't occurred to either of them that he might be other than…regulation.

"You know, in romance novels it's really cliché for the hero to be majorly…uh … endowed," she teased, eyeing his assets as he propped himself on one elbow and glared at her.

"If you are complaining, we can always settle for a good night's sleep," he drawled, a twinkle returning to his eye.

She smiled. "Who me? Not complaining, no way."

"Good," he growled, moved swiftly, pinned her to the bed and kissed her hard before trailing his mouth down her arched throat to linger at the soft, creamy flesh below it. When she made a small noise in her throat he continued, exploring every soft curve of her lovely breasts, teasing their peaks and smiling to himself when her groans and whimpers became demanding. He let his left hand slide down her hip, trail across her groin and brush her soft core, exhilarated when she in turn arched to him, then dragged his head up to hers and kissed him fiercely.

"You are a tease," she breathed.

"Am I?" he grinned, allowing his left index finger to slip on its side, down between the soft folds, to move gently back and forth across the swollen evidence of her desire.

She writhed and moaned, her hips chasing his teasing digit. "Giles!" she gasped when he stopped.

"Yes?"

"I think I hate you," she growled, though her eyes danced.

He smiled back and began to slide down. "Can't have that, now can we?"

If there had been anyone one in the flat they would have heard her cries reverberate through all the rooms. For all her time with Riley, he had never done what Giles was doing to her now. It simply wasn't in his macho-military lexicon, though he seemed not to have any problem with the reverse… nor had Angel done this on that fateful night, and she doubted Parker or Spike even knew how.

She clutched at the sheets as the man she loved drove her to sensual heights she'd never experienced before, only stopping when she began to press, her cries loud and urgent.

Suddenly she was in his arms.

Buffy searched his smiling face. "Rupert…" she sighed, the name growing on her more and more each time she said it aloud.

"Yes, my love," he whispered, settling between her soft thighs and smiling even more when her legs curled around him and her tender heat ground against his.

He took her hips in his hands and lifted them, bringing himself to her and closing his eyes momentarily as he pushed into the soft heat of her.

Buffy gasped and lifted herself even higher. "Oh God, yes…!" she moaned as he slid all the way home.

"Buffy…" he croaked in a low, hoarse voice, overwhelmed for a moment by the enormity of what he was doing, the pure eroticism of the moment, and kissed her with a ferocity that was still only a shadow of what he was really feeling.

And then they were moving together, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, Buffy calling to him, Giles straining to her, glorying in her as they raced towards the completion for which their bodies were screaming. Both of them exploded within moments of each other, holding each other as they rode the waves of their respective climaxes to their lingering end.

As they came down Giles kissed her tenderly, gathered her and rolled sideways, so that she was curled in the crook of his arm. For a long time they lay in warm silence, content to hold each other.

Buffy was playing with a stray white hair among the golden ones on Giles' chest, when he kissed her hair contentedly. She looked up at the ceiling and smiled.

"No breakage. No evil. And you're still awake," she observed whimsically and sighed, the smile fading. "Giles, I'm not much of a catch. I know Dawn wrote you about Spike when she found out. What she probably didn't say was that I was pretty slutty. Are you sure you want to be with me?"

He shifted so that he was looking down at her, his soft green eyes reproachful.

"You would have to do rather more to even approach the depths of my youth," he pointed out quietly. "Though Spike is pushing it rather beyond the pale…forgive the pun," he added sheepishly.

They smiled at each other, chuckling a little, despite the small strain in both their eyes, at both the pun and the foolishness of Buffy's choices.

Then Giles sobered again. "I have done far worse than you, for far less reason, Buffy. Are you sure you still want to be with me?"

Despite her best attempts, Buffy's eyes grew overbright, her lashes damp. "Forever," she told him. "However long that might be."

Giles' heart constricted a little, but he refused to think about her mortality today. She had been given back to him twice already, and saved from near misses God knew how many times. Slayer, or no, she was extraordinary. He had always been hers, and now she was his…

He cupped her face as he had once before. "Forever is a modest estimate," he said softly. "You are still a miracle."

"Nah," she replied, smiling and touching his face. "You're the miracle. You're here and you're mine." Her bright eyes sought and held his and her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I love you so much…"

He smiled in a way that made her breath catch in her throat, bent his head and kissed her again. When they parted he looked down at her rosily flushed face and chuckled.

"I suppose now I shall have to move back in," he observed, glancing around at the starkly empty loft.

"I suppose we will," she agreed, grinning widely. "Willow and Tara are almost out of money. I'll tell them it's okay to move back in to the house."

Once again Giles drew her into his arms and rolled so that they were curled up together, his cheek resting against her hair. "As long as you don't shirk your responsibility to your sister."

"Already with the bossiness again?" she teased, snuggling close to his chest and brushing his wound gently with her lips. "I took responsibility...eventually. 'Responsibility Girl', me. I just think we're both kind of overdue for some real happies, don't you? Unless of course you want me to live full time in the house and only see you to research and train…you know, with the sweatiness, the store and Anya and stuff…"

"Lord no," he interceded in mock horror. "I like your plan just fine."

Buffy turned her face up and caught his mouth with hers. "Good," she said, love in her voice, her eyes; her face. "Because it would be way hard to spoil you from all the way over at Ravello drive…and I so want to spoil you…"

He chuckled softly and kissed her again, very slowly, lifting his head only long enough to look down at her with mischievous eyes.

"In that case, do you think we could start now?"

The little apartment reverberated to two sets of happy, unselfconscious giggles before settling down to a sensual, passion filled silence, like its owners, no longer empty…or alone…

The End.