Title: Home For The Holidays
Author: Gileswench

Date: 12/5/02
Spoilers: Through Conversations With Dead People, after which it goes pretty seriously AU
Summary: Giles is home for Christmas...or is he?
Rating: FRAO for major smuttiness, Nabakovian literary criticism, attempted vamprape fallout, Gilesean stubbornness
Pairing: Buffy/Giles, a little X/Anya
Category: Romance/Smut
Distribution: If you've had my permission in the past, you have it now. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Notes: I know this is a bit unusual, but I answered my own annual holiday challenge, which reads as follows: Well folks, it's that time of year again. Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, and before we know it, Hanukkah will be upon us. And we all know what that means, don't we? Yes, it's:

The Annual Wencheriffic Giles-centric Holiday Challenge!

This has produced some really great fic in the past two years. Let's see if we can make three a charm!
Due date: Dec. 26, as per tradition.
Pairing: Giles/Anybody. Genfic, threesomes and orgies also more than welcome.
Timeline: Past/Present/Futurefic all welcome.
Rating: Anything goes from G to NC17. But please, if there is graphic sex involved, make sure all participants are over the age of 18 and consent fully in advance to whatever sexual activity they participate in.
ALL of the following are required: a holiday tradition connected to any of the following holidays: Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Saturnalia, Giles drinking something other than tea or whiskey, an unexpected phone call or guest, someone thanking Giles for something he did for them in the past.
At Least THREE of the following are required: chocolate, someone other than Giles singing, a stray cat or dog, someone taking a photograph, someone putting blue nail polish on Giles' toenails while he's asleep, A happy memory of any of the following deceased characters: Joyce, Jenny, Tara, Gay Larry, Principal Flutie, Randall.

That's it. Make me laugh, make me cry, make me sigh, make me squirm. It's all good. It's all Giles all the time, and that's enough for anyone to get celebrating!

WARNING: While there is no rape, BDSM or pedophelia actually happening in this story, all these issues are discussed fairly frankly at some point in the proceedings.
Dedication: To all my beloved Gilesdroolers on the GRB, GilesScribes, The Stacks, and WatcherGirls who make the job of owning and/or moderating on these lists so easy and such a joy. Special thanks to my always brutal and always wonderful beta, Rari, without whom my fic would be much less comprehensible on more levels than I care to contemplate. Whatever winter holidays you all celebrate, may they be joyous and peaceful.

Giles looked up from his egg nog and sighed. Somehow, being home - in England - for Christmas wasn't making him happy. He'd expected to be lonely the previous year. After all, he'd barely left Sunnydale and his young friends then. He'd barely left his Slayer. His Buffy.

This year, he'd actually had time to adjust to being alone. He'd gently helped Willow out of the nest months ago. And this time, he was actually getting phone calls from Buffy, Willow, and Xander on a semi-regular basis. Not as often as he'd like, it was true, but then, they were all young and impecunious. It wasn't as if they could afford to make overseas calls every day. Still, they called. They kept in touch.

They even occasionally let him know they missed his presence for something other than advice and information gleaned from dusty old volumes.

With another sigh, Giles returned to his annual reading of A Christmas Carol. It was a tradition he'd kept up from childhood. His mother used to read it to him when he was a boy, and, after her death, he'd found it comforting to read once a year, at Christmastime, as a way of staying close to her. Even in years when he couldn't be bothered to go to the trouble of getting and trimming a tree, he read the Dickens classic.

This year he actually had picked out a tree and brought it home. It sat forlorn and untrimmed in its stand in a corner of the sitting room. He looked at it. It seemed to regard him with contempt.

"It's another four days to Christmas," he reminded it. "Plenty of time."

He knew he was lying. On Christmas morning, that tree would be every bit as bare as it was in this moment.

After all, it wasn't as if there was anyone to see whether he was jolly for the holiday or not.

He found his mind drifting back to Christmas two years ago. It had been such a lovely time. Buffy was at her strongest, emotionally as well as physically, and they had been truly close. Friends - with something unspoken hanging tantalizingly in the air every once in a while. Nothing either had ever acted on, and something neither might ever act on for any one of a million reasons, but still there was a hint of possibility that intrigued him.

Joyce had been recovering from her surgery well. She had been bright and charming that day. They'd put the awkwardness left over from Ethan's band candy prank behind them once and for all. He'd finally felt Joyce was his friend. It seemed then that nothing would take her bright star from their lives.

Xander and Anya had been together and happy. True, they argued, but the love they shared at that time was obvious. He'd assumed that they would find a way to deal with whatever issues came up between them. Anya had even begun to mellow into an acceptable human being. A blunt, occasionally unsettling one, but still someone he frankly enjoyed working with, as unlikely a scenario as that had been mere months before.

Dawn hadn't known about her supernatural origin. She'd been able to be a normal, teenage girl with the ordinary interests of a girl her purported age. He wished she could have been allowed to keep her innocence longer.

As for Willow, she was still the Willow he'd been so fond of since the library days. Brave, intelligent, quick-tempered, yet vulnerable, with no obvious sign of the darkness her heart could hold.

And Tara. Dear Tara. Giles found he missed the gentle young witch with all his heart. She'd been so unsure of herself, and yet, in many ways, was the strongest one of the group. Her quick - if occasionally incomprehensible - wit and her brave, kindly heart had made her a favorite with Giles from an early point in their relationship. If there was anyone in his group of young friends he'd ever thought of as a daughter, Tara was certainly the one. She brought out his protective streak. He wished he could have protected her from Warren's gun.

He wished he could have protected them all from what fate held in store for them.

Giles shook his head and went to get another egg nog. This sort of self-indulgent mawkishness was something he couldn't abide in others. He really needed to get over it himself.

And yet, he couldn't help wishing he could be with them all now - at least the ones who were still alive. For all he wished he could see them one more time, he knew it was best Joyce and Tara rested quietly in their graves. If nothing else, they had peace. It is the living who truly need one another.

He thought again of Buffy, and of the something in the air he had felt so long ago. Truth be told, he'd felt it again when he'd come to fight Willow. He rolled his eyes when he remembered what he'd said to her: "you've cut your hair"! What a silly thing to say. Of all the meaningful, intelligent things he might have said, that was what had popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A puerile, schoolboy remark if ever there was one. He'd hardly been that awkward and ridiculous with Jenny.

Well, if he was being honest, he had to admit he was even more ridiculous with Jenny.

He laughed ruefully. He couldn't help remembering the time she'd convinced him for two heart-rending minutes that she'd destroyed his father's first edition of A Room With A View. As if a woman of her intelligence and warmth would have harmed his book with such cavalier unconcern. Still, her deadpan delivery had made him squirm desperately for a long moment. There had only been two women in his life who could play so skillfully with Giles' heartstrings. One was dead, never to return. The other had died twice, thus far, but hadn't yet let a little thing like that stop her.

Perhaps after the New Year, he might take some time off from Council work and visit for a few days. Maybe see if that something in the air could be turned into something more concrete. He knew Buffy wasn't seeing anyone. Willow made a point of mentioning that fact every time they spoke. He wasn't sure how much his redheaded friend knew about his feelings, but she must have picked up on something. She certainly must have figured out he was attracted to Buffy. The fact that she kept tacitly encouraging him must mean she'd seen the something from Buffy as well.

Or perhaps it was all simply wishful thinking.

He tossed back the last of the egg nog. He considered having another cup. It would be a pity to waste it after he'd gone to the trouble to make it. Then again, he wasn't sure waking up to a hangover would improve his holiday mood.

Then again, considering the mood he was in this holiday, could it really hurt matters?

He'd almost convinced himself that another drink was what he needed when the doorbell chimed. Giles frowned in puzzlement. He wasn't expecting anyone, and few people came to visit him unannounced of late. The bell rang again, impatiently, it seemed to him. He put down his glass and went to the door.