Title: Yule Traditions, Past and Future (4/11)
Author: Gileswench

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

That night, Buffy lay in bed calling herself fifteen kinds of coward. She could count at least three openings she could have used to discuss her growing feelings for Giles that evening. Of course, it would have required actually making use of one of these opportunities to get anywhere. And he looked so good all day long in that dark red sweater, old jeans that had been molded perfectly to his long legs by hard wear, and hiking boots. So, his brow wasn't smooth anymore and his hair was almost more grey than brown. He was still strong and handsome.

He made her knees melt.

*****

Giles lay in bed across the hall, but he couldn't sleep. There was clearly something big on Buffy's mind. He knew the signs too well to ignore them.

If only she'd speak up and tell him what was going on in her head, he could just get the disappointment out of the way and not spend Christmas waiting for a blow to his heart.

After all, this reluctance to tell him something had always meant some form of distress for him in the past. As a Slayer, as a friend, even as a housemate, the only times she kept something from him were the times when she knew what she had to say was painful. Of course, there were so many painful or difficult subjects between them that this had sometimes lead to long silences and overwhelming disappointments.

He hoped she would find her courage sooner this time.

Not that he had much to brag about when it came to that particular attribute at the moment. It had been weeks since the penny had dropped and he'd discovered why his smile brightened every time she came into the room. It was the same reason he hadn't gone on a date in so long.

Love.

At long last, he'd bloody well gone and fallen head over heels for his Slayer.

*****

Buffy flopped over onto her stomach and tried again to make her thoughts stop racing. If she could just get her mind off Giles for five minutes, maybe she'd be able to sleep.

She ran through her conversation with Willow in her head for the umpteenth time. The whole thing sounded so simple, so straightforward, when she was talking to her friend. She was crazy about a guy she already shared so many things with, who was alive and had shown her unconditional love for years. Really, there was nothing to be afraid of. Even if he didn't return her feelings, he would be nice about it; let her down gently.

And he'd still be there as her friend.

"So why can't I just say the words, already?" she asked the thin air.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and moved to the old-fashioned dressing table across the room. She shivered in the cold. Opening her jewelry box, she took out the one thing she'd saved other than the clothes on her back when she took her army of Potentials to fight The First. A ray of moonlight caught the delicate gold, making it shine softly.

Giles had been right so long ago. It was much stronger than it looked.

Perhaps this was the key.

*****

After an hour of tossing and turning, Giles gave up. Not only was he still wide awake, his bladder was becoming insistent that he do something about how full it was.

It was torture to climb out of his warm bed and into the cold December air. Still, slippers and a heavy robe made the journey down the hall to the bathroom less uncomfortable.

When he'd finished, he headed quickly back to his bedroom. The sight of a light under Buffy's door stopped him, though. He knocked softly.

"Buffy?" he whispered. "Are you still up?"

"Um...yeah."

The door opened. Giles saw her rumpled hair and fluffy pink slippers. He also saw the questioning look on her sleepy face.

"I...um..." his mind fumbled for an explanation why he was disturbing her at this hour. "I saw your light on. Can't you sleep?"

"Nah. Too many things on my mind. Did you know this is the first Christmas I can remember when Dawn wasn't around? I know she wasn't really until the monks...but it feels weird her being gone."

"I know. I remember my first Christmas without Simon. It was strange, but things have improved since."

"And at least I know Dawn is safe. She's just staying with friends instead of her big sister." She opened the door wider, tacitly inviting him in. "You never told me what happened. To Simon."

"It's a long story, and it's very late. Perhaps another time." His eye was drawn to a glint of gold in her hand. "What's that you've got?"

"Oh. This." She held up the cross.

"You've still got it?" His hand moved involuntarily to touch the necklace. "I thought surely...when the Hellmouth was destroyed..."

"I...right before we went, I suddenly had this urge. I went and got it and put it in my pocket. Still not sure why." She looked at the jewelry in her hand. "It just seemed important. I've always been glad I took it."

"You never wear it."

"I know. Somehow...I don't know...it doesn't feel right, yet. This is a family heirloom. I don't think it's really mine."

"It is." He took her small hand in his and closed it firmly around the cross. "I gave it to you a long time ago."

She looked down at their clasped hands, then up at his face. His eyes were slightly bleary and his chin bristled with incipient whiskers.

God, but he looked sexy!

"You should probably get some sleep," she said at last. "It's late and Aunt Min will be at the station early."

Still, she couldn't stop her free hand from reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned slightly into her touch and closed his eyes.

"You're right, of course," he said in a suddenly husky voice. "And you should get some rest, as well."

Despite their words, neither moved.

Her thumb began to rub itself gently over his stubble. His hand rose to touch hers, shadowing, but not restricting her subtle movements.

"I'm not sleepy," she said.

"Suddenly, neither am I."

She smiled up at him. Actions had always come to her more easily than words, and his actions were those of a man who was definitely interested. The hand on his cheek moved to the back of his head. She didn't have to pull him down. He was already moving in her direction. At the last moment before their lips touched, he stopped.

Her eyes opened to see his. They were that stormy green again. Her belly warmed with desire.

"Giles," she whispered.

This time he didn't stop.

Again and again they kissed, softly at first, but passionately, hungrily, as if they'd been waiting years for this moment. Their hands remained clasped over the antique cross.

*****

Christmas Eve, 2004.

Buffy woke to find Giles still asleep next to her. She eagerly drank in his features; his bedhair sticking up at all angles, his slack mouth that still managed to look hopelessly sexy, the collar of his flannel pajamas which appeared ready to poke someone in the eye at the slightest provocation. When she smoothed her fingers across his bristled cheek, he murmured something unintelligible and pressed closer to her.

"Hey sleepyhead," she crooned, "time to wake up."

He grunted slightly and burrowed into the pillows.

"The horses are probably hungry."

Another grunt.

"Your aunt will be at the train station in a couple hours."

A whiny snort rose from the pillow.

"Santa's gonna find out you're a naughty boy."

"I was nice," Giles protested sleepily. "Haven't had a chance to be naughty...yet."

He grinned up at her and pulled her into his embrace.

"And whose fault is that," she giggled. "Someone wasn't a Boy Scout."

"You were no better prepared," he reminded her. "But it's fine this way. I was happy just to hold you."

He kissed her. Buffy was amazed at how easily they'd fallen into this new phase in their relationship. She'd thought it would feel strange to kiss Giles, but it didn't. It felt right. She groaned when he pulled back.

"None of that," he scolded her jokingly. "As someone reminded me not long ago, we've horses that need feeding, and then I've got to go pick up Aunt Min."

Buffy giggled again when she heard rumbling from the vicinity of Giles' midsection.

"The horses aren't the only ones who need to be fed, are they?" she laughed. "Okay, get up and I'll make breakfast."

With another sound kiss, they rose and separated. As he ambled out the door to go to his own room, Buffy's eyes flickered up and down Giles' retreating form. Her hand moved to her throat where the cross he'd given her now resided.

Another laugh bubbled up inside her. At long last, she felt as though she was home. She quickly pulled on some clothes and headed for the kitchen.

In honor of the day, she decided to make a big breakfast of bacon, sausages and eggs. Giles could go back to his precious oatmeal after the holiday. Right now, there was something to celebrate and Buffy meant to do it in style. Soon a large and unhealthy meal was bubbling away atop the Aga, her coffee was brewed, and his tea stood ready to steep as soon as he returned from the stables. There were even scones baking in the oven.

A minute later, Giles walked into the kitchen and hung up his jacket.

"That smells terribly fattening," he said, sniffing the air. "You realize you're not feeding an army, don't you?"

"I know. I just thought I'd spoil my guy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Not a thing." He came up behind her and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "In fact, I rather like the idea of being spoilt."

"How are the horses?"

"Fine. As are the kittens."

"How did you know I was gonna ask about them?"

"I know you."

She grinned widely and turned the bacon.

"Breakfast's almost ready. Go wash your hands."

"I hear and obey," he sighed happily.

With another small kiss and a quick squeeze of her shoulders, he left. Buffy laughed and poured the boiling water for Giles' tea.