After that night, the wall between them was gone for good. They'd go to bed and Buffy would cuddle right up to him, and he would hold her. Despite the necessity of a cold shower each morning, he slept much better knowing that she was safe and sound. If she was patrolling when he went to bed, he couldn't sleep until she returned.

Mr. Corwin, after a few more unannounced visits, seemed satisfied that their marriage was genuine, and authorized Giles' Green Card. Giles immediately accepted a position as the Curator of the Sunnydale Museum. He had been talking to them, and was only waiting on the Green Card to start. They were beyond thrilled to get him, and not just because they went through curators at an alarming rate. The fact that he was a former Curator of the British Museum made them all ready to swoon. So when he asked for time to sort through the red tape, they were more than willing to give it to him.

On the Sunday before he was to start, Buffy helped him get settled in. Afterwards they went to lunch. They went to a restaurant that they had gone to before. In fact, the one waitress knew them now, and by the time they were seated, had a tea and a diet soda waiting for them. They ordered what was by now their usual, and had a pleasant lunch.

After that they decided to see a movie, and argued amiably until she finally gave in with a laughing "Yes dear." They enjoyed themselves, and had pleasant dreams that night.

Monday night, Giles came home from his first day at the Museum exhausted, but happy. She had fixed a light dinner, which he devoured like man starved. When she made a teasing comment on his appetite, he replied sheepishly that he hadn't had time for lunch.

So the next day at lunchtime, Buffy brought take-out oriental, which she knew he liked. As she opened the door to his office, she stopped in surprise. Giles was sitting at his desk, and a woman was perched on the edge of the desk, her ankles crossed, legs swinging gently. She was in her early thirties, with shoulder length brown hair, was attractive and well dressed in a tailored pantsuit.

They hadn't noticed Buffy right away; they were engrossed in a discussion about some artifact. When Giles noticed her hesitating in the doorway, he rose to his feet and approached her, a warm smile on his face. "My dear, this is a surprise. What brings you here."

She smiled at him in reassurance, hearing the real question 'Is something wrong?' "Lunch. You said that you didn't have any lunch yesterday, so...." She trailed off and lifted the little cartons.

"Well, how very thoughtful. Thank you," he turned to lead her to his desk. He stopped having completely forgotten the woman sitting there. "Ah... do forgive me. Dr. Amanda Brock, my wife, Buffy." He made the introductions.

Dr. Brock looked Buffy up and down, raised her eyebrows slightly, but smiled warmly as she offered her hand. Buffy looked at it blankly, her hands still full.

"Sorry, Buffy. Let me." And Giles took the cartons. The women shook hands politely. Buffy resisted the urge to squeeze. Barely. She was astounded at her reaction to this woman. She was jealous! Dr. Brock and Giles, her Giles, had seemed quite happy chattering away; she felt woefully ignorant. Then Giles smiled at Buffy; the smile he reserved just for her, and she felt a little better. It hadn't hurt that when he turned, he had obviously just remembered Dr. Brock. Thinking about that made her feel better still. Of course, remembering him calling her "my wife", sent her over the edge. This woman was no threat to her, in any way, shape or form. Buffy was able to smile cordially.

So when Dr. Brock said that she'd leave them to their lunch. Buffy was able to say, almost sincerely, "I brought plenty. You're more than welcome to join us." She gestured to the cartons that Giles had arranged on his desk.

But, Dr. Brock smiled warmly and replied, "That's very kind, but I have an appointment. It was nice meeting you Mrs. Giles. Good day, Mr. Giles."

"Dr. Brock," they said in unison, as she left.

Ordinarily, Buffy would have perched on Giles' desk, but couldn't bring herself to do so after Dr. Brock had. Giles pulled up a second chair, and motioned her into his more comfortable one.

As she sat, she saw two pictures framed on his desk. One of the whole Scooby-Gang; Willow, Oz, Xander, Cordelia, and Buffy. The other picture was a duplicate of their wedding photo. She was mildly surprised, although she realized that she shouldn't be. They were the only family he had. As she raised her eyes to his, anything she might have said went right out of her head at his expression as he looked at her.

His eyes were filled with warmth, affection and a new, more personal respect. She realized that he'd half expected a scene with Dr. Brock. He knew how she had felt about the Doctor. He couldn't have explained why her budding maturity had meant so much to him. As a slayer, she had to be mature in a lot of ways and was. But in her personal dealings, she had still frequently acted like the teenager she still was. He had seen her reaction to Dr. Brock, seen her fight back the urge to act out. It frightened him that it mattered to him so... personally that she was maturing.

She felt the breath go out of her lungs as she analyzed the possibilities behind that expression. And her own reaction to it. Lunch passed very quietly, though not awkwardly. The one thing they did talk about was a car. Since Buffy was going to be attending college soon, and had by some miracle passed the driving test, he thought they should get a car for her to use. She argued that he shouldn't have to take on the expense, she felt like she was taking enough from him; the museum had an arrangement with college so that spouses, etc, could attend classes free, she only had to buy the books. Which, since she still didn't have a job meant he'd have to buy them. He argued that it would be more convenient if she had a car too. He wouldn't have to take her to school; she wouldn't have to wait on him. And if she were so inclined, with a reliable transportation, she'd be able to get a job. The thought of being able to contribute, finally, made her agree. He read that in her stubborn expression. He knew she hated having to rely on him for so much financially.

He also knew, that even if it were a "real" marriage, she would have felt the same way. It was strange really, how often he forgot that it wasn't "real". The only time he remembered consistently, was bedtime. When his body ached for her. <No, don't think about that> He admonished himself. With difficulty he managed to bring his mind back to lunch, which they finished in silence.

That night in bed, Buffy had a dream. A very erotic dream. She woke up abruptly, with her thighs clenched together. She shot a glance at Giles, who appeared to be sleeping soundly. She ran her fingers down his cheek, he murmured her name and moved into her caress like a cat. She smiled, knowing that if he were awake, he would have pulled away. She took a minute to look at him as he slept. Ever since the night on the couch; he had foregone his pajama top, being more comfortable without it. She grinned impishly; <apparently snuggling keeps him warm.> She continued to look at him. Hair tousled, glasses off, shirtless, his face relaxed in sleep. She rested her cheek on his chest, never tiring of listening to his heartbeat. She cuddled closer and was fast asleep seconds after his arms closed around her.

Giles was dreaming that a monster had his right leg. His eyes flew open and settled on Buffy, flush against him, her thighs wrapped tightly around his. She was moving against him in her sleep. It took a moment for his sleep befuddled brain to process what was going on. Once he realized; all the blood in his body seemed to surge into his penis. He briefly considered moving away from her. That would be the proper thing to do. But as he watched her restlessly move against him, he knew that he couldn't do it. Couldn't deny her release. He adjusted his thigh so that the angle was better for her. She sighed in her sleep, and continued to undulate against him. His breathing grew ragged as her movements grew quicker, until finally she threw her head back, arched sharply against him, and he could feel the moisture on his thigh. Needless to say-his dreams for the rest of the night were erotic, tortured by visions of her expression as she came against him.

When Buffy woke up in the morning, she felt oddly relaxed. When she realized that her legs were still wrapped around Giles’, she flushed with embarrassment, knowing what had happened, praying that he had slept through it.

He stirred against her, waking, and she hastily removed her legs. His eyes fluttered open and looked into hers. For just a second, she saw…something. But then it was gone.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" He asked innocently.

She blushed again as she answered, "yes, and you?"

"Rather well, actually." He replied as he stretched. Buffy’s eyes raked his torso, as she wondered briefly what it would be like to have him hold her in passion, instead of comfort.

Then his words sank in and she smiled, knowing that whether he’d woke up or not last night, he’d never mention, unless she did first. Which she had no intention of doing.

Giles left the bed, went for his shower. Since this was Buffy’s last week before college started, she had decided to sleep in. She was dozing lightly when Giles came out of the bathroom in his robe. Usually, he woke her at this time, but; knowing she wanted to sleep, he left her alone.

She watched him, eyes lazily half-lidded. When he faced away from her and dropped his robe, her eyes flew all the way open. She plainly gawked, too shocked to even let him know that she was awake. She licked her lips, then laid as still as possible. She couldn’t help but notice that her Watcher had a very nice butt, and rather well formed legs. He pulled on his boxers and moved to the bed to pull on his socks. He sat gingerly on the bed, not wanting to disturb her. When he finished dressing, he considered her sleeping (as he believed) form. He gently kissed her forehead, and left.

That night Buffy had the same erotic dream. A Masked lover, touching her, bringing her to the brink. Before she tumbled over; she awoke, legs clenched around Giles’ thigh. She was startled when he angled his leg to accommodate her. She rested her cheek against him; he lightly held her hip as she moved against him. She moaned as she came against him. A sound that he felt all the way to his groin. His grip on her tightened then relaxed as she did. He took a deep steadying breath, willing his body to relax. She knew he wasn’t asleep, just as he knew she wasn’t. She also knew that, once again, he’d never mention it, unless she did. Except, this time, she was very much afraid that she was going to have to.

The next morning she slept through his entire morning routine, only waking when he had gently kissed her forehead. She was surprised to be disappointed that she had missed "the show".

She was very confused. The growing desire, almost need that she was feeling was nothing like her relationship with Angel. Her need for Angel had bordered on obsession. Okay-it crossed the border occasionally. Their relationship had been fire and ice, complete extremes. But this.... This was constant warmth. Safe. She knew with absolute certainty that Giles would die a slow painful death before he hurt her. Angel was another thing altogether. As Angelus he had made her life a living Hell. Not to mention the danger to her family and friends. As Angel he had been willing to drain her to save himself. That hurt her on so many levels.

Giles was so different from Angel. Although he, too, had his dark side. Giles, at his Ripper worst had been obnoxious, but had tried to help, once he could be made to realize that there was a problem. He had come through, just as her Giles always had. Her Giles. Where had all that possessiveness come from? Although, upon reflection, she realized that it had always been there to some extent. Though nothing like now. And the knowledge that she excited him so much excited her. And that, too, was new.

Of course, he was older. And unlike Angel, seemed older, both in appearance and the way he acted. Although out of that tweed…. who would have guessed he was so… yummy?

Just thinking about it was getting her all bothered again. <My turn for a cold shower.>