(notes and disclaimer with part one)

** The following afternoon. **

As Buffy approached Giles’ front door her courage wavered. What would she say to him? What if he was still mad? 'Oh great,' she thought as a wave of panic swept over her, 'a pissed off Watcher. Been there, done that.'

Standing on the step she took a quick once over of her outfit: dusty blue spaghetti strap top, royal blue skirt, short, and her current favorite sandals. She replaced a stray stand of hair and took a deep breath.

Raising her arm to knock she was jolted by loud noises emanating from inside. Sounds of things hitting the wall or floor...and Giles cursing.

It sounded as if Giles was fighting someone or something. Intending to save him, she burst through the door and froze, frantically sweeping the room with her eyes, looking for Giles and danger. There was no sign of either, and the room was ominously quiet. Until she heard an 'umphf', and Giles' head suddenly appeared over the kitchen counter, looking rumpled, dirty and a tad wet.

She screamed and jumped while gulping for air. "Giles! Give me a heart attack, why dontcha."

His gaze was intense. Missing were the tolerance and warmth she had hoped for. "What are you talking about? You’re the one who burst into my house."

"I heard loud noises, swearing and things bouncing off the walls. I thought…but I guess not. That was just you...by yourself?" She craned her neck to see why he was apparently kneeling on the kitchen floor.

Without even bothering to answer her, Giles disappeared again and more noise ensued.

She wandered warily into the kitchen to see what he was up to. A smile stole across her face when she saw his lower half sticking out from the cabinet under the sink. He was on his back and, based on the noises he was making, including the odd curse, working on something under there.

"Uh…plumbing problems?"

When he didn't answer, she peeked her head under to see for herself.

"Giles?"

"Christ!" He jumped and banged his head. "I thought you’d gone."

"I just got here, why would I leave?"

"I don't know. Places to go, people to see?" The sarcasm in his voice reverberated under the cabinet.

Buffy tripped over a pipe on the floor as she stood up and took note of the scattered tools, the faucet laying on the counter, and the general disarray.

"Why don't you just call a plumber?"

"Because they charge exorbitant prices, and I'm quite capable of doing this myself."

"Oh…can I help?" Her voice lacked any confidence that she could actually help, but she was willing to try.

There was a pause before he responded.

"If you like," he said, with a glibness that contrasted his earlier tone. "Hand me the spanner on the counter."

Buffy shifted her feet until she was squarely facing the counter, taking inventory of the various tools and sundries in view, hoping that she would recognize a spanner once she saw it. It wasn't working.

Giles lay under the counter grinning to himself. It was cruel, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. After taking a minute to enjoy the mental image of her trying to figure out what a spanner was, he started to crawl out to help her but stopped cold at his first glance toward the open space.

Her bare legs.

She was standing right there. Shapely, toned, and tanned, on display in front of him. Wearing a very short skirt too. He moved his head to get a better look at her foot attire. Open toed sandals, pink polish on her toenails. He fought an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her leg with his hand. Instead, he, oh so innocently, moved his leg slightly to one side until it rested against hers and waited to see how she would respond or if she'd even notice.

Up above, Buffy was suddenly hyperaware that Giles' leg was touching hers. That, combined with the spanner search, had her completely at a loss.

He waited for a moment, and, when she didn't react, his impatience with her took over, and he stuck his hand out from the cabinet motioning for the tool he requested earlier. "Come on, you said you wanted to help. Spanner!"

"Uh…can you maybe give me a clue?" She asked meekly, embarrassed by her ineptness.

Sounds of exasperation rose up from under the sink as he quickly appeared, grabbed the tool from the counter and disappeared again without a word or a look to her.

"A wrench?!" she shouted. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Spanner." He insisted flatly from below.

"Well, maybe in some foreign country, but in America it's a wrench," she mumbled.

After a few additional, appropriately industrious sounds, Giles reemerged from his cave-like habitat under the sink. As he went through the process of turning on the faucet, admiring the free flow of water and ducking under the sink checking for leaks (none were found), Buffy took note of his appearance. The faded blue jeans, well worn. A dark blue T-shirt, hugging his body where it was damp in spots. She wasn't sure if the damp was from sweat or water leaks, possibly both, she concluded. His hair was tousled and there was a red scrape on his left hand, which looked like it must hurt. Both his clothes and hands were patched with dirt and some goo she didn't recognize.

Observing all this, it didn't seem fair to her that he looked good in such a state. He even had a smear of grease on his face. Just as she resisted an instinct to reach up and wipe it off, he surprised her with a typically guy move. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up to wipe his face, baring his chest for a moment. She gulped at the sight and felt her pulse quicken. He had hair on his chest. She had suspected as much because she thought she'd seen bits peeking over the top of his shirt once or twice, but the full picture was mesmerizing. She tried not to stare at his chest once the shirt was back in place.

For his part, Giles continued ignoring her.

She could tell he was grumpy, but hoped, maybe, it was because of the plumbing problems and not yesterday. 'Okay,' she thought, 'I'll try charm first.'

"Nice work, Giles. I'll know who to call if I ever have plumbing problems," she said cheerfully.

He shot her a caustic look and began gathering up the tools.

She backed out into the hallway to give him leeway. Apparently he could resist her charm. Buffy had sworn not to give up, but this cold shoulder treatment wasn't the resistance she expected. "Uh, so if you're done, I thought maybe we could—"

"Buffy, I'm in no mood." She shrank a little at the cold tone of his voice, but regrouped quickly. She could see he was unrepentant. Yesterday was not forgotten.

She tried for sincerity and honesty this time, but it came out more earnest than she had intended. "I know you're mad at me, but I think we should talk about it."

"Now is not the time. Go home."

"Giles, I can't leave like this."

He dropped the tools into the toolbox and spun around to face her. "For bloody Christ's sake, Buffy, why can't you ever do as I say? Try it, just this once, you might like it."

She felt like a yo-yo. Shrinking every time he spoke, only to gather her courage again and stand up to him.

"Why are you acting like this?"

Giles removed his glasses, placed them on the counter top and massaged the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself before confronting her. When he did look at her, his head was tilted slightly, and he had a condescending look in his eye. "Like what?"

"Well...like this...immature."

He held her gaze and slowly took a few steps toward her, forcing her to back up. "Maybe I don't feel like being mature."

"Come on Giles, you're supposed to be the mature one here. Remember, you're the brains, I'm the brawn."

"I wouldn't push me on that today." His glare was steady and fierce.

"Ok…then, I'll have to be the mature one." The words came hesitantly.

Giles leaned against the kitchen doorframe as he folded his arms across his chest and a sardonic smile slowly spread across his face. "Fine."

"Okay, I'll try, but I didn't get much sleep last night, what with studying, patrolling, and—"

Giles interrupted her before she told him something he felt certain he couldn't handle today. "Buffy, I know this may surprise you, but I don't care."

She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "Have you been drinking?"

Anger flashed through him as he stood upright. "No, damn it. And I resent you're even asking me that."

Buffy held her ground well. "It's not an unreasonable question. You've been drinking a lot this year. It got you in big trouble already. Ethan. Remember?"

His glare became icy.

"Giles, I can't lose you." Buffy’s memory of the recent Ethan incident still haunted her.

Exasperation replaced his anger. "Buffy, I don't understand this irrational fear you have of losing something you clearly don’t want."

Giles, that's not..."

"I'm here. I've been here. Where have you been?"

"But you told me to handle stuff myself."

"Don't throw that back at me. We talked about it. I apologized, and I thought we came to an understanding. Why do you have to obsess about it?"

"I guess 'cause…it was just such a shock...and there was...Olivia."

"I see." Remaining in the kitchen doorway, he reached his hand up over his head to brace himself against the frame and leaned slightly toward her. "So…you expect to know every last detail of my life?"

She didn't know if he was trying to physically intimidate her, but intentional or not, it was effective. His inherent vitality and virility were evident, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed this about him before. Possibly because she had been afraid to see it, she thought.

"You know every last detail of my life." She fought off a pout.

"Far from it," he scoffed and, after a moment, added, "Olivia's not coming back so you can let go of that one."

"Oh..." She tried to read his face before she continued. "I'm sorry."

He shifted his weight and crossed his arms again. "Don't pretend you're sorry."

"I am." Truthfully, her remorse was more for the pain it likely caused him that the actual absence of Olivia, but she felt it best not to explain that to him just now.

"Buffy, the reality is that you and I are at a crossroads."

Concern registered on her face. "I don't think I want to be at a crossroads," she replied softly.

"Neither do I, to be honest...but we are."

Buffy paused before speaking again. "I'm sorry I freaked that day, but you hadn't given me any warning, and I never expected to find you here with a woman." She saw him tense at that statement. "It's not that I never thought you would be with a woman...it's just that...I...uh..." she tried to find a way out of the hole she’d dug for herself. "I just never thought about it at all. And...and I don't think she was right for you, anyway," she finished softly, speaking the truth that was in her heart.

Giles considered her comments for a moment, then a grim smirk crossed his face as he thought he understood her. "I see. You can have relationships, but I can't. That way I'll always be here when you need me, like a bloody lap dog, whether it's everyday or once a month. My time belongs exclusively to you."

She was speechless and stood, in shock, with her face pulled into an intense frown as she listened to him.

"You on the other hand have no reciprocal obligations." He paused to study her expression before continuing.

"But with Olivia around, you thought you were losing your hold on me so you threw me a bone thinking to keep me happy...the birthday tattoo." He looked accusingly at her. "That’s emotional manipulation and that's why I’m angry."

"Giles, that's ridiculous. That's not what I was trying to do." Her mind was reeling. "I know I forgot to tell you some things this year, but that was just because I’ve been busy with school and ..." she stopped abruptly, not wanting to bring up the obvious.

"And Riley." He finished for her.

"Yes, but…but there was other stuff, before."

"Uh huh." He moved a step closer to her and spoke quietly, although the accusing tone remained in his voice. "Speaking of which, why didn't I know about Parker?"

Buffy's face flushed with embarrassment. She looked at her feet and sighed. "Because you'd think I was an idiot...which I was. Some guy sweet-talks me for a couple days and I fall for it, hook, line and sinker. He got what he wanted from me and then ignored me, dumped me. When I tried to call him on it, he turned it around and tried to convince me I had a problem, that I was naïve or something. I felt horrible and...and stupid. It was humiliating." She finished quietly.

"Not pleasant being used, is it?"

She looked up at him, horrified, everything suddenly falling into place. 'Is that what he thinks I did to him? Used him with no thought for his feelings.'

"Giles," she pleaded "...I ...you...that's not...."

"Not now, Buffy." His jaw was set hard, and his eyes were steel cold as he shook his head. "Just go." "I'm not leaving, Giles." The words came out, but the confidence was missing from her voice.

Sensing his advantage, he took another step toward her. Towering over her he looked down and ordered her, "Get out."

Buffy held her ground, trembling, her eyes locked on his, not sure what he might do next, but firm in her decision not to leave.

A tense stand off ensued before, finally, Giles took a breath and stepped back. It had lasted only a few seconds but felt much longer to both of them. Buffy closed her eyes and began to breathe again. Giles turned back into the kitchen and began throwing things around in a futile attempt at cleaning up his repair area. He paused for a second and looked at his hands noticing, as if for the first time, the dirt and grease. He looked down at his shirt also. Abruptly he tossed the old faucet into the sink and turned toward Buffy again.

He spoke as he retrieved his glasses from the counter. "Fine. Do as you please, but I don't have anything more to say." After which he turned down the hall. Buffy watched him disappear into the bathroom and flinched as his shoes came flying out, one at a time, bouncing hard off the wall before they hit the floor. The door slammed shut, and another minute later she heard the shower water running.

She walked into the living room, shaking slightly, and moved around the room trying to find a release for her own frustration. Slowly the emotion turned to hurt and even remorse. Maybe he was right, she thought. No, he just misunderstood her intentions. She had to explain, had to make him listen.

She tried to formulate a plan but her mind kept returning to his display of anger. He had only been angry with her once before. Truly angry, that is. But, even then, he held it in check. Any physical displays of anger she had witnessed from him were reserved for someone or something trying to hurt her. She knew how ferociously protective he could be when provoked. It frightened her at times because he would do foolish things, not thinking about the consequences for himself. As she reflected on it, a memory flashed through her mind of her mother explaining to her, as a young girl, the meaning of the phrase 'still waters run deep.' She realized it fit Giles well.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Giles emerged from the bathroom. It was evident he had showered and even shaved. 'Why would he shave twice in one day?' she wondered. He was wearing a bathrobe. Not the one she had seen before. This one was a dark green terry cloth. It looked plush and comfy. She watched him. He ignored her completely, not looking at her or acknowledging her presence as he went up the stairs. Buffy followed with her eyes as far as she could.

She sighed. He was right, she knew. They were at a crossroads. Both were adapting to all the changes in their lives in that last year of high school. The return and eventual departure of Angel, their disassociation from the Council, the treachery of both an errant Watcher and Slayer, the end of high school, both figuratively and literally, his job loss--two jobs, in fact, and her starting college, along with so many other things. Giles tried to adapt with Olivia and Buffy with Riley. Neither solution worked.

Her feelings were intense and mixed up. She wasn't good at articulating them to herself let alone to another person, but she knew she had to try with Giles. There was a gnawing feeling in her gut that if they couldn't fix this, she might lose him for good. She decided to move forward; it seemed there was nothing left to lose.