Title: Home For The Holidays
Author: Gileswench

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

"Yes?" he snapped as he flung the door open. He took a look at his visitor.

He stood amazed for a moment, then stood silently aside as she walked through his door and dropped her suitcase.

"Hey, Giles," she said a bit shyly. "Surprise?"

He found his tongue again.

"Buffy?"

"Yup, it's me," she said. "In the flesh, not an apparition or anything."

"But...but how...?"

"Well, in our modern world we have these things called airplanes," she explained. "I got on one, and then I got on this thing called a train, and then I took the bus and then I asked directions. I gotta say, the cops in this country? A lot more helpful than the ones where I come from. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact they don't know me and haven't ever found me leaning over a freshly killed person. That probably makes a difference. So...glad to see me?"

"Of course I'm glad to see you," he assured her. He opened his arms and she moved into them gratefully. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. "I've missed you," he said at last.

"Me too," she said into his sweater, "missed you, that is. Hence the coming to see you." She drew back suddenly and searched his face. "It is okay, isn't it? Me dropping in this way?"

"It's okay," he confirmed. "It's just unexpected. Which is why I ought to have expected something like this."

"That's me, Unexpected Girl."

She looked around her for the first time.

"Nice place," she said. "Very you. It reminds me of the place in Sunnydale, only less Spanish influence and, I'm guessing, an actual door on the bedroom, since I don't see a sleeping loft."

"No, no loft," he agreed. "I have privacy now, when I want it."

Buffy nodded and smiled. She looked more closely at the room.

"It's funny how much of this stuff I remember. You don't expect to see stuff you're used to when you go to a whole other country." She stopped, puzzled. "Nice tree. Is it an English thing to leave it all naked like that?"

"No, it's more a matter of...lack of holiday spirit."

"Well, we're fixing that right now," Buffy decided. "Lead me to your tinsel."

"Ill make you a deal," Giles said as he leaned against the back of the sofa and folded his arms across his chest. "You tell me what you're doing here, and I'll allow you to decorate my home for the holidays."

"Can't a girl just decide to come visit her favorite Watcher in all the world on a whim?"

"When her job barely pays the mortgage, it's not the most productive of whims, is it? Buffy, I know there's more to this than a simple desire to spend some time with me. You'll save us both a great deal of time and trouble if you just tell me what's on your mind now."

Buffy looked sheepish.

"That's just it. It really is because I want to spend time with you. I...sort of need to spend some time with you. Something's coming. Something big. And right now, I don't have any idea what it is."

Giles pushed off the sofa and removed his glasses.

"I know," he said as he began to clean the lenses. "Willow felt it. Has she come up with any information on it?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Not enough by a long shot."

"And you think I'll do better?"

"It's worth a try. But that's not the reason I'm here."

"And the rest of the reason would be...?"

She looked him square in the face.

"I don't know how this thing is going to play out. I have sort of a bad feeling about this one. Like I might not make it. Again. For real this time. Giles, I'm scared. Not so much of dying, 'cause, hey, been there, done that. But I don't want to die again without...without at least saying thanks."

"Thanks?"

"For all of it. For all the research and the spells and swordfighting and concussions and cracked ribs and Ethan slugging and pushing and nudging and everything you've ever done for me. I don't think I ever said it before. And if I did, it sure as hell wasn't enough."

"And the reason you couldn't have said this over the phone or in a letter?"

"That would have been pretty cold, I think. You deserve better. You always deserved better, but you got me. I wanted to do this right, and I wanted some quality Gilestime. I don't want to leave it the way it was last time. When the last memories you had of me were all about yelling and not listening to you. If it happens again - "

"Why do you think it will? Buffy, have you had a - a dream or some sort of vision?"

"I don't have to have a dream. I'm the Slayer and I'm almost twenty-two years old. In Slayer years, I'm already dead. But this isn't me giving up; it's just me wanting to cover all the bases for once. It's me not wanting to leave stuff unfinished."

"What sort of stuff?" Giles had to ask.

Buffy twisted her fingers nervously.

"Any stuff. Especially Gilesy stuff. I want you to know - if anything happens - that I...I did really care. And I didn't mean to get so heavy right off the bat. I was thinking more presents, nog, mistletoe."

"M - mistletoe?"

"Relax, Giles, I was talking generalized mistletoe." She frowned for a moment. "And what would be wrong with mistletoe with me?"

"I suppose I rather thought you'd object to mistletoe with me," he said quietly. "Not that I have any."

"But you have lights and ornaments and tree trimming goodies, don't you?"

"I even have egg nog, if you'd like some."

"I'd like. Just a little, though. I'm discovering that booze and Buffy is a recipe for disaster."

"You just need to learn to handle it," Giles told her as he poured her a cup. While he was at it, he refilled his own. One more wouldn't hurt, and it wouldn't do for Buffy to be drinking alone. "Taken in moderation, there's nothing wrong with the occasional drink."

"Plus it's a festive part of the season." She took her cup, her fingers brushing slightly against his. Their eyes met and Giles felt the unspoken something in the air again. From her slight blush, he felt certain Buffy felt it, too. She turned quickly and put her egg nog on the table. "So, where are those tree trimming supplies?"

Giles put down his glass, too.

"I'll go get them," he said quietly.

Buffy swore under her breath as she watched him go into another room.

"Great job, Buff," she scolded herself. "You were supposed to be proving to yourself that it was all in your mind. Too many butterflies in the tummy for that to be true."

She picked up her drink and took a small sip. It was surprisingly good.

"Who knew Giles could make egg nog? Then again," she reminded herself, "he's good at languages, magic, swordfighting, making mental boo boos better, cross-referencing, Mayor skewering, library exploding, and cooking. What made you think he couldn't handle making a little glass of egg nog?"

She took another, slightly larger, sip.

"You know what it is," she continued to berate herself. "You just can't stand to think of him that way because it makes you all...not comfortable. It makes you have to take him seriously. It makes you see Giles the guy instead of just Giles the Watcher."

She shook her head as she sipped again.

"Great. So this guy who's been there for you practically nonstop since you were sixteen and has only hurt you a couple times - and then either because someone made him or because he was trying to do the best thing for the long run - and he scares you more than vampires or giant snakes or even a Hellgod. Maybe I'm out of my mind."

She was pulled from her reverie by Giles' return. He set down the boxes of ornaments next to the tree and joined Buffy at the table.

"There," he said. "Everything we need to deck the halls to your hearts' content."

Buffy couldn't think of anything to say, so she took another sip of her drink.

"This is seriously yummy, Giles," she told him. "You should bottle it. You'd make a fortune."

He chuckled softly.

"I'm quite comfortable as I am. People always want things of the rich. I prefer to be left alone."

"Liar," Buffy challenged him. "The way I remember it, if I leave you on your own too long you go a little nuts."

"I was on my own most of last year. Strangely, I was able to resist the lure of public nudity and necrophelia even without you to guide me."

Buffy's eyes widened with hurt. Giles took one look and regretted his joke. Still, he couldn't help the exasperated tone in his next words.

"That wasn't meant to be about you, Buffy," he explained.

"Yes it was," she said tightly. "It was about me and Spike, but that's over. I told you. If I could change what I did last year, I would, but I can't. And I'm through apologizing. Anyway, you're the one who laughed at me about it. If it bugs you now, that's your problem."

To her surprise, Giles didn't snap back or apologize. He smiled. A full-fledged grin spread across his face. His eyes twinkled merrily.

"What?" Buffy asked suspiciously. "What's making you all Cheshire?"

"You," he said "It's been far too long since you gave me a piece of your mind like that. And now I find I'm in a far more festive mood than I was before. Come on, let's trim the tree."

Buffy shook her head.

"Has anyone ever told you you're one seriously strange person?"

Giles shrugged and continued to beam at her.

"At least it makes a change from being called irretrievably dull and stuffy."

"You're getting way too happy, Giles," Buffy teased him. "Has someone been selling you band candy again?"

"Oddly enough, since my return, I've spent very little time with the local youths. There hasn't been that particular opportunity for disaster."

He opened the first box and began to untangle a string of fairy lights as Buffy unwrapped the less electrical ornaments.

"Afraid someone will think you're a total Humbert Humbert?" she asked.

Giles stopped what he was doing.

"What do you know of Humbert Humbert?" he asked in amazement.

"I know he was a total skank who liked doing it with little girls. Especially his own stepdaughter. I kept reading and hoping he'd turn out to have like tentacles or something and it would turn out Lolita was a Slayer and had to kill him off. Not that she was any better. I mean, she was two-timing him with Quilty. That was beyond gross. I mean, couldn't they wait until she at least grew up?"

"Let me get this straight," Giles said. "You've read Lolita? By Vladimir Nabakov? The novel?"

He began to wrap the tree in lights.

"Sometimes I wasn't all that sure it was a novel and not the Jerry Springer show, but yeah. I read it. Cover to cover and everything. Not like it was War and Peace. Lotita's shorter, for one thing."

"And what prompted you to read this classic piece of literature?"

Giles plugged the lights in. They sparkled merrily, making the little tree look happier than it had when Buffy arrived.

"Well, you know what you said about my job?" Buffy asked as she reached over to check the effect of a glass icicle on the tree. "About how it doesn't pay much? That means we have to find cheap ways to have our fun. First run movies are out. So's cable. But a library card is free and Dawn's really into books. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."

She adjusted a tiny holly wreath on its branch while Giles hung some ceramic candy canes.

"And what do you think of them? Books?"

"Well, I'm never going to become Miss Nose In A Book All The Time, but it's not so bad, this reading thing. I like books that have happy endings. Lolita did not have a happy ending."

"No, it certainly didn't," Giles agreed. He placed a small wooden elf on the tree. "But it was a very good book, all the same."

"So sue me," Buffy shrugged. "I like a Disney ending."

"Then I suggest you avoid Anna Karenina."

"What happens at the end of that?"

"She throws herself under a train."

Buffy made a face.

"Ick. Russian?"

She added an angel in a white dress to the tree.

"Russian," Giles confirmed.

"Do they ever write happily ever after stories?"

"Not many, no." He leaned over her to put the star on top of the tree. He put one hand on her shoulder to steady himself. When he leaned back, he left his hand where it was. "Do you like it?"

Buffy looked at his hand, then at the gold star.

"Yeah. It's nice."

Giles looked down as Buffy looked up.

"I've always thought it was quite pretty," he said.

Buffy wasn't sure why she blushed. In a sudden rush of nervousness, she pulled slightly away from him.

"Um...do you think it needs any more? Ornaments?"

Giles put his hand in his pocket and studied the tree critically.

"Two more icicles and that tree is going to fall over," was his verdict. "I think we've finished it."