Buffy stared into her closet in dismay. She had nothing to wear. And certainly nothing she could wear to a fancy restaurant. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d finally outgrown nearly every piece of clothing she owned.

Everything but one sad, misshapen sundress she’d bought in a moment of weakness and only worn once.

“Stupid demon,” she grumbled and put the sundress on. She looked like she’d rolled herself up in a sheet of hideous floral wallpaper. But on the plus side, her hair and complexion had never looked better. Pregnancy had one or two little perks, it turned out.

Sucking up her pride, Buffy picked up the phone and called Cordelia. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of spending the day shopping with her, but in a crunch, she had to admit that there was no better shopper than Cordelia.

Cordelia nearly backed out, pleading previous plans of hanging out with Xander, but Buffy countered by volunteering Giles to take him off her hands for a few hours. Cordelia agreed on the condition that she be allowed the final say on the formal wear.

So after lunch, Giles drove Buffy to the mall where they would meet up with Xander and Cordelia. Buffy was surprised Giles didn’t put up a fight—shopping wasn’t his thing, usually—but today he seemed almost excited about it. She supposed it could have been the sleep deprivation and copious amounts of caffeine, but she preferred to think it was because he was looking forward to their date.

Xander and Cordelia were waiting for them in the food court. Buffy knew Cordy was in serious shopping mode—she’d worn her practical walking shoes. Xander looked relieved to see them and immediately went over to stand next to Giles.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said to Giles. “She’s already started doing reconnaissance. I very nearly got dragged into a maternity shop while we were waiting! And I know the sales lady was giving me a dirty look.

“So…what do you have planned for us? Shoot some pool? Maybe catch a matinee?”

“Actually,” Giles said, pulling Xander out of earshot, “I was hoping you would come shopping with me.”

Xander’s face fell. “You want to go shopping?”

“Please Xander, this is important—I’d like your help.”

Xander glanced over at his girlfriend who was busy consulting a mall directory and pointing to numerous locations. “Okay,” said Xander, having weighed his options, “But I draw the line at shoes—I hate shoe shopping.”

Giles and Xander waved good-bye to the girls as Cordelia shouted at them to be back no later than four o’clock sharp. Giles steered Xander towards the exit.

“We’re leaving?” Xander asked hopefully.

“No. The store we’re going to is this way.”

“But there’s nothing down this way except…oh,” Xander said as they came to a stop in front of Hanson’s Jewellers. Giles shifted from foot to foot, gripped by a sudden case of nerves.

“Xander, I have a favour to ask of you, but under the circumstances, I’ll understand if you say no.” Giles paused until he was sure Xander was with him. “Tonight I’m going to ask Buffy to marry me.” When Xander didn’t faint from shock, he continued. “You’re one of Buffy’s closest friends—and one of mine as well,” he added quickly. “If she says yes tonight, I was wondering if you might consider being my best man?”

Xander blinked up at Giles, speechless for probably the first time in his life. He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes, and he blinked them away.

“Xander?” Giles prodded when Xander didn’t answer.

Xander couldn’t manage words yet, so he did something he’d never done before—he gave Giles a hug. Giles, surprised, hugged the boy back.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” Xander said, stepping back, a goofy grin on his face. “I’d be honoured.”

“Wonderful,” said Giles. “Then as your first duty as my potential best man, I need your opinion on an engagement ring.”

They stepped into the jewellery store, watched closely by the petite brunette behind the counter. There was no one else in the store, and the tiny woman approached them so eagerly that Giles guessed they must have been the first customers of the day.

“Hello,” she greeted them, dripping with charm. “How can I help you gentlemen?” Xander coughed slightly as his nose was assaulted by a thick cloud of the woman’s cloyingly sweet perfume.

“We’d like to have a look at some engagement rings,” said Giles. The woman, whose gold-plated name tag declared her to be ‘Donna’, looked them both up and down discreetly before leading them to the back counter. She unlocked a case and pulled out a tray of rings, automatically setting them down in front of Giles. Giles scrutinised the rings, thinking to himself that he didn’t care much for the selection—they all looked too plain and clunky for Buffy.

“What do you think, Xander?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral, so as not to insult Donna. Xander drew up close to get a better look, and Giles leaned over his shoulder so he could see, too.

“I dunno. I kinda like this one,” he said, picking out one of the thinner bands—white and yellow gold braided subtly, with three deeply-set diamonds.

“You don’t think it’s too plain?” asked Giles.

“I’m thinking practical, here,” Xander said and then whispered in Giles’ ear: “If Buffy’s in the middle of a fight, the last thing she wants to worry about is some big, flashy stone getting snagged at just the wrong moment. A flashy ring could get her killed.”

Giles laughed, but gave the ring a closer look nonetheless.

“If you’d like,” said Donna, addressing Xander, “you can try it on—we have some larger sizes underneath if it’s too small.”

Xander sputtered and went scarlet. “Oh—I’m not…we’re not…we are SO not…”

“I think what my young friend is trying to say is that the ring is not for him. He’s just here to help me pick one out.”

Donna smiled, embarrassed, and quickly pulled out another tray—one with smaller, fancier rings on it. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I just saw the two of you out there hugging, and I assumed…I’m so sorry.”

Xander graciously accepted her apology, but kept his eyes strictly focused on the rings for the rest of their visit.

“Okay—rude, much,” said Cordelia, backtracking to join Buffy. “I was talking.”

“Sorry, Cordy,” said Buffy, her eyes still glued to the store’s window.

“What’s so exciting, anyway?” asked Cordelia. She followed Buffy’s line of sight. “A wedding dress?” she asked in disbelief. “Oh…oooohhh,” she said, catching on. “Don’t tell me the tweed man’s proposed?”

Buffy’s face fell. “No. I thought he was going to last night, but he didn’t. Now…I don’t know.”

Cordelia looked at her uncomfortably. She wasn’t the comforting, cheer-you-up kind of friend. That was Willow’s job. But she couldn’t just let Buffy mope her way through the rest of their afternoon together.

“Don’t write him off yet,” she said, confidently. “He’s British. He’s repressed by default. You’re going out with him tonight, right?”

Buffy nodded, looking longingly once more at the beautiful white gown in the window.

“What you need,” said Cordelia,” is a dress so stunning you’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand. Come on.” She grabbed Buffy by the arm and dragged her away from her fantasy.

She heard the doorbell ring. Heard her mom answering the door, followed by Giles’ deep voice. Her stomach fluttered: it was official now—she was actually going on a date with Giles. She gave her reflection a practice smile and headed down to meet him.

Their eyes met when she got halfway down the stairs. Judging from the look on his face, Buffy knew the dress had been worth every penny. Joyce blinked at her daughter as if she was seeing a stranger—a woman where her teenage daughter used to be. Sensing the sparks between them, Joyce reluctantly took her leave, forcing herself to stay out of it.

Once Joyce was gone, Giles pulled out the bouquet of long-stemmed red roses he’d had behind his back. Buffy’s smile lit up the room—she’d never been on a date with someone who brought flowers before. She took them, burying her nose in the velvety petals to savour the aroma.

“My God, Buffy. You look incredible,” said Giles reverently.

“You look pretty hot yourself,” said Buffy, thinking she could have won an award for understatement of the year. He was wearing an elegantly tailored black suit, and the raw silk shirt underneath was exactly the same shade of blue as the sweater she’d stolen from him.

They stood smiling at each other for a minute, relishing the moment. At last Giles spoke: “We’d best be going if we’re going to make our reservations.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” he answered mysteriously. He offered her his arm and escorted her to his car.

The drive flew by with the two of them filling the air with small talk to mask their nerves. When Giles pulled up in front of the Seaside Marriott Hotel, Buffy blinked at him, shocked.

“You’re taking me to a hotel?” she asked. Not that she minded, but she was surprised at the bold move.

“Yes. One of the finest restaurants in Sunnydale is at the top of the hotel. We have a table reserved, looking out over the ocean. What’s wrong, Buffy?” he asked. “You look disappointed.”

She looked at him sheepishly. “I thought maybe you’d decided to skip the dinner part of the date, and just go for the dessert.”

“What? And miss the opportunity of turning heads with the most beautiful woman in town on my arm? Never.”

“Giles! You smooth talker, you.”

“Sorry—was that a bit much?” he asked.

“A girl can never get too much flattery. By all means, compliment away.”

Giles got out and opened the door for her, helping her out of the car. She carefully placed the roses on the passenger seat, after taking one last sniff. Giles handed his keys to a young valet, who was looking dubiously at the old Citroen. When Giles handed him a generous tip as well, his appreciation for old imports improved immensely.

They made their way through a lush lobby, so heavily populated with plants and fountains that the air was as fragrant and humid as a tropical forest. Buffy took a deep breath and gave Giles’s arm a squeeze. She was so giddy she felt like she was walking on air.

The elevator was dimly lit and excruciatingly slow. Giles’ hand kept straying into his jacket pocket, checking to see if his parcel was still where he’d put it. As the elevator doors opened onto one of the most elegant rooms Buffy had ever seen, she felt as if everyone was staring at her. Feeling uncharacteristically shy and out of place, she looked up at Giles. He placed his hand on her back possessively and led her to the maitre d’. Somehow just having that small contact from him made her feel safe.

Sitting at their table, looking out at the water, Buffy felt as though she’d left the Hellmouth far behind her. It was so peaceful and beautiful. She was still caught up in the scenery when the waiter came to take their order. She hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. She looked at Giles, a hint of panic in her eyes. Giles saved her from embarrassment and ordered for both of them. In French…which Buffy now decided was the sexiest language in the world. She sighed happily and blatantly undressed Giles with her eyes.

Giles blushed under her scrutiny, yet he knew he was looking at her the same way. In the dimmed lights, Buffy’s hair gleamed and her skin looked creamy and smooth…Giles suddenly found the restaurant overwhelmingly hot. It was going to be a true test of his restraint to keep his hands off of her until they had a chance to be alone.

When the food came, Buffy was relieved to find that the fancy dish Giles ordered for her was completely free of snails. It was good old-fashioned chicken, but in a rich, creamy sauce that made every morsel melt in her mouth. She ate it more quickly than she’d intended, then eyed Giles’ plate hungrily. He’d been picking at his food half-heartedly—his stomach was too nervous to handle food. He caught Buffy’s look and gallantly switched plates with her.

After polishing off two dinners and a dessert, Buffy was finally full. She wanted to get up and join the few couples already on the dance floor. It wasn’t the kind of music she was used to dancing to, but her father had taught her to waltz when she was younger, and so far, that’s all the orchestra had been playing. She was aching to try waltzing with Giles. But he seemed distracted—like he was waiting for something.

That something turned out to be their steward with two full champagne glasses on a tray. He set them down in front of them and disappeared without a word.

“Champagne!” Buffy exclaimed.

“For me, yes. For you—ginger ale.”

“Oh,” Buffy pouted, but said nothing more. She was pregnant, after all, and it was the thought that counted. She picked up her glass and was about to take a sip when Giles put his hand over hers and stopped her.

“Buffy…before we drink, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Sure Giles, what is it?” she asked, trying not to betray the fact that a whole swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.

“Buffy…from the moment I first met you, I knew my life had changed forever.” Giles’ voice quivered, and he nervously cleared his throat. “My entire life I’d been preparing for that moment, but when I met you, I realised I was nowhere near prepared for the responsibility of being your Watcher. You’ve become the centre of my universe. I never knew I could care as deeply about anyone as I care about you.

“A while ago you told me you loved me. It scared me at the time, but it also made me happier than I had any right to be. And now all I want is to make you as happy as you’ve made me.

“I love you, Buffy Summers,” he said, and pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket. “Will you marry me?”

Buffy’s lip trembled as Giles opened the box to display a beautiful ring—braided white and yellow gold with three perfect diamonds that glittered in the candle light. She tried to hold back her tears, but one slipped down her cheek as she looked back up at Giles. He gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” he said. “Unless, of course, those are tears of joy?”

A few more tears streaked down her face, but she was smiling and nodding.

“Don’t feel you have to give me an answer right away,” said Giles. “This is an important decision, and you shouldn’t feel pressured…”

“Yes!” said Buffy emphatically. “Yes,yes. And in case there’s any doubt—yes!”

Giles grinned from ear to ear and slipped the ring on her finger. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Then may I propose a toast?” he asked, lifting his glass formally. Buffy followed suit, with a smile so large it made her cheeks ache. “To my life, my love, and my future bride…Buffy.”