Title: Odd Couples
Author: Gileswench

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

Giles entered the church with a growing sense of unease. The more time that passed between his last conversation with Buffy and their next meeting, the more he'd become convinced that he would lose her. Worse, he wouldn't lose her entirely. She would probably want to remain friends and continue to ask his advice. She might even ask him to keep acting as her Watcher. In that case, he wasn't sure what he would do.

To have had Buffy and lost her completely would be incredibly painful. To have had her and lost her love while retaining her friendship might well be unbearable.

The door opened. He looked up hopefully. His expression of nervous expectation turned to one of slightly disappointed affection when he realized it was Willow and Anya rather than Buffy.

"Hey, Giles," Willow bubbled. "Are you nervous yet? I'm nervous already and all I have to do is walk up the aisle and stand there with Buffy. Not like I'm the one with lines, or life-changing events hanging on those lines, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, Willow, I know what you mean. It's...it's important, what's said here tonight."

"Don't you mean tomorrow?" Anya asked bluntly. "This is just a rehearsal. Tomorrow is the performance. That's what counts."

"Ah, yes, of course you're right. I suppose I've got a mild case of the pre-nuptial jitters."

"You look a little distracted," Willow agreed. "Is there something we can do, or get for you?"

"I have a bottle of whiskey at home. I could go get it if you need a drink," Anya suggested.

"Thank you, ladies, but no. I believe I can get through this without any alcoholic stimulus. Now, if you'll excuse me, my best man has just walked in the door."

With a friendly nod to the girls, he went to Xander and Joyce. One look at their faces told him they knew things were not as they should be.

"Buffy didn't come with you?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

"No, Big Guy. She said she wanted to walk, clear her head a little."

"Did she...um...she didn't happen to tell you why, did she?"

"She told me, I told Joyce. If it makes any difference to you, it doesn't make any difference to us. We're behind you, Giles."

"Yes, but will it make a difference to Buffy?"

"That's something only Buffy can tell you," Joyce said. "It's not up to us."

Giles sat heavily in the nearest pew.

"I ought to have been honest with her from the beginning."

"Yes, you should," Joyce said tartly. "Sometimes I just want to take you and Buffy and knock your secretive heads together. But it's a little late to worry about that now."

"Honey, I don't think that's helping much," Xander said.

"I know. I'm sorry. Your daughter is kicking me in the...let's just say somewhere uncomfortable, and it's making me a little cranky. Now, where's the ladies' room?"

"Oh, uh, into the lobby, and down the hall on the left, I believe." Giles watched Joyce make her way out of the room. He turned to his best man. "Do you think she'll come?"

"I think she'll come, I just don't know what she'll do when she gets here. You know Buffy. She doesn't do well with stuff dropped in her lap at the last minute."

"No, she doesn't," came a feminine voice from the doorway. "But I'm here, anyway."

Giles looked at her in mute concern. She avoided his eye. Xander looked from one to the other and slipped away. When he was gone, Buffy looked at the floor.

"Buffy...?"

"I'm here, but I'm still not sure. I just...let's get this over with so I can think."

He nodded and offered his hand. She took it hesitantly, but pasted on a smile for their friends. A moment later, the minister bustled into the room and called for order.

"Now, Rupert, you and your best man - where's the best man? - good! You'll come out of this door and walk to the altar, here. Now, who's escorting the mother of the bride to her seat?"

For several minutes, the minister ordered the wedding party into place and offered corrections. Giles couldn't help thinking of a twittering bird as he watched the small woman manhandle people into their places. She was here, she was there, she was irritating and amusing and energetic. At last, everyone had satisfied her that they knew where they were supposed to be and how they were supposed to get there.

"And...the processional begins now!"

Giles watched Willow make her way nervously down the aisle, grinning and ducking her head as she went. Some things would never change, he decided. From their earliest times together he'd known Willow hated the spotlight as much as he did.

"And...can we have the bride now!"

Buffy started down the aisle, still looking at the floor.

"Lift your chin, Buffy," the minister called. "Let everyone see how pretty you are."

Giles watched her follow instructions. His heart sank a bit when she concentrated on a point directly in front of her nose without even glancing at him. A large part of him longed to end the charade and go home to lick his wounds in private. Then she was by his side.

"Now, take Rupert's hand," the little bird woman said. "When we get to the vows, Buffy, you'll turn to Willow and hand her your bouquet. Will you be wearing gloves?"

"Um...no. No gloves."

"Good. They're nothing but trouble when it's time to exchange the rings. Now, take Rupert's hand. Don't be shy."

Giles reached out slightly and was relieved to feel Buffy's delicate hand slip into his palm. He didn't hear the minister very clearly as she ran through the ceremony. All he could think of was whether this was or wasn't a travesty. He was startled to feel Buffy turn and hand off the dummy bouquet to Willow.

Pulling himself back into the present, he looked down at his love. At that same moment, she looked up at him at long last. She seemed to be searching for something in his eyes. He blinked several times. His breath was gone. He found himself incapable of clear thought. He watched as the corners of her lips finally curled into a warm smile. A sigh of relief escaped him as his smile answered hers. Then there was a nudging at his back.

"Giles," Xander urged, "it's your line!"

"Oh! Oh, sorry...I - uh, I do."

The church filled with laughter as Buffy and Giles grinned and hugged one another.

*****

The rest of the afternoon passed relatively smoothly, despite the way the tiny minister reminded Giles of a drill sergeant. Again and again she forced them through their paces until she decided more rehearsal wasn't going to improve anything further and let them go.

As everyone moved to gather up their belongings and head for the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was to be held, Buffy wrapped her arms around Giles' waist and lay her head against his chest. He responded by pulling her closer, one hand softly stroking her hair.

"I take it you've decided?" he said at last.

"Yeah. And it was easy."

"Oh?"

"Mmm hmmm. All I had to do was listen to my way brainier than he lets on stepdad."

"Xander? What did he say that convinced you?"

"He didn't really try to convince me, anymore than you or your dad did. But he said the words that made convincing possible. He said if I looked in your eyes and I could let go of normal, then I should just accept the weirdness. And he's right. Normal isn't where I belong. I've tried so hard for so long to fight it, but maybe my picket fences were never meant to be white. Maybe they were supposed to be purple all along and I wasn't looking at them right."

"Purple picket fences?" Giles chuckled. "That's...original."

"Which, translated from the Rupert, means 'that's incredibly freaksome'. But it's okay. Purple's non-standard, yeah, but it's pretty and it stands out. Purple never gets lost in the crowd. That bothered me when I thought blending was what I wanted. Then I looked in your eyes, and I knew blending wasn't for me."

"So you're okay now? With everything?"

She reached up and caressed his cheek.

"I'm okay with you. Anything else, we'll deal with one crisis at a time."

As he bent his head, she lifted hers. They met in the middle with a gentle kiss.

"One crisis at a time," he agreed. "Somehow, I think we'll manage."

*****

Later that night, Buffy sat on her bed, brushing her hair and mentally checking her lists. It felt odd to realize this would be her last night sleeping in this room. Most of her belongings were either packed up to go to Rupert's apartment, already there, or sitting in boxes waiting to be donated to charity. All that was left was the clothes she'd worn that day, her clothes for the wedding day, her necessary toiletries, and a few scattered objects she hadn't decided what to do with yet. In the morning, she would pack up the last odds and ends for Xander to take over to her new home.

She looked up, slightly startled, at a quiet tap on the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's me. Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Joyce opened the door and entered. She looked around the room, her eyes growing misty.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?"

"I can't believe this is it. You're leaving tomorrow."

"I left for college a long time ago. You didn't cry then. Don't break your perfect record."

"I wasn't pregnant then, and I knew you'd come home for holidays and summers. Now...now you're just gone."

"Mom, we already said we'd be here for Christmas dinner. And New Year's. You'll see me so much you'll probably get sick of me. Six months from now, you'll see me coming and say: 'gosh darnit, doesn't Buffy have a home of her own to go to?'"

"No, six months from now, I'll see you coming and think: 'thank goodness the babysitter's here'."

The two women shared a laugh. Buffy moved to sit on her bed.

"So, what's the what, Mom?"

"Well, it's traditional for the mother of the bride to have a talk with her daughter about marriage on the night before, when it's probably too late to tell her anything very useful."

"I know, I know, 'lie still and think of England', right?"

"Think of England if you want to, Buffy. I don't want to know about that part. Lying still, however, isn't very much fun for anybody involved."

"Mom!"

"Well, it's true. We haven't talked about it a lot, but your father and I did have sex a few times."

"Yeah, I know." Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "I kinda figured that out when they showed us the films about where babies really come from in school. Now let us never speak of this again."

Joyce laughed and sat next to her daughter.

"I'm going to miss having you here, y'know."

"You realize I'm only going across town, right?"

"I know. But it's not going to be the same. Who'll watch Thelma and Louise with me in the middle of the night?"

"Buffy Two?"

"She's not a replacement. She'll be...whoever she turns out to be. We'll have to wait and see who she is."

"Xena Gabrielle?"

"I don't think so. I never cared much for that show."

"Probably just as well. With a name like that, she's gonna be way into the violence and 'who needs men?' vibe."

"Of course. Because the first thing people think when they hear 'Buffy' is 'death to vampires'."

"Some people do. People who know me."

Joyce wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Honey, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: that's not always the first thing we think of. Slaying is a big part of who you are, but you're Buffy, too. And some of us really do love Buffy." She stopped and took a deep breath. "If I cry now, can we just blame it on hormones?"

"Sure, Mom," Buffy said shakily as she hugged her mother closer. "If that's what you really want. But what's gonna be my excuse?"

"Pre-wedding jitters?"

"Sounds good. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."