TITLE: The Ticking Clock
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: NC17 (one graphic sex scene)
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in “Death Brings Clarity.” Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers? I got this idea from a challenge on the Watching You, Watching Me website. I won’t tell you which challenge, because that would give it away. :)
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
. Would love feedback. This is only my second fanfic. :) And it’s only my first attempt at writing a sex scene.MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- This is set as a sequel to my first fanfiction piece: “Death Brings Clarity.” It’s not necessary to have read that in order to get this, but you might like to. If not, well then let me just fill in the necessary facts. Last time on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:
After the spear through the side and the RV crash in “Spiral,” as Giles is dying on the table in the gas station, he has an epiphany and realizes he’s in love with Buffy. It’s too late for him as the events of the final episodes lead quickly to Buffy’s death. Buffy herself becomes a ghost, watching over Dawn and Giles as he assumes the role of her guardian. Buffy can’t help but fall in love with Giles as she watches him take care of her sister with such devotion. But, alas, also too late for Buffy who is, of course, dead. Then there is a spell (isn’t there always?) and Buffy comes back to life and back to Giles, and the two are now a couple. After a brief custody battle with her father, Buffy becomes Dawn’s legal guardian on the condition that Giles remain living in their house as a kind of co-guardian. Ok, 105 pages distilled to a paragraph. Now moving on. Five months later…
--------------------------------------------------- Part 1: A Touch of Nymphomania and a Taste for the Hunt Giles found the pages of the book to be a lot softer than he imagined. Not as soft as a pillow, mind you, but at this point they were a welcome substitute. He would just close his eyes for a moment, and then he would be fine. “Giles!” Anya’s voice startled him, and he bolted upright. Flustered and disoriented for a moment, his glasses still askew across his face, he blinked around him, searching for the source of her voice. “This customer has a question. And if you answer it properly, he might purchase something.” He had managed to straighten his glasses and rearrange his clothing to some level of presentability before turning to around to face Anya and the elderly gentleman she had brought to speak with him. He answered the man’s questions in short order, trying not to yawn through every other word and failing miserably. When the customer walked towards the register with Anya, Giles allowed himself to sink back down into his chair. He propped his head up on one hand, as if he lacked the strength to even hold it up anymore. Willow bounced into the chair across from him. She looked far more chipper than anyone had a right to be. “God, Giles, you look like hell.” “Thank you for your kind observation, Willow. I’m just a little tired. Haven’t been sleeping well lately.” The redhead frowned sympathetically and ducked her head to try and look into Giles’ eyes, which were now wavering at half-mast. “Dreams?” He shook his head and yawned. God, his head felt like it weighed a ton. He never thought the hard, wooden surface of a table would look so inviting. Having finished ringing up her customer, Anya joined them at the center table, informing Willow knowingly, “Giles and Buffy have been having a lot of sex.” Giles’ raised his head enough to flash his employee an irritated glare. “Giles and Buffy have been patrolling. Training and patrolling all hours of the day and night. I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately. Time was she used to beg me for a day off. Now I’m the one begging. Willow, you patrolled with her on occasion in college, didn’t you?” “Sometimes.” He rested his head again in his hands. “You ever known her to patrol until the sun came up? As in from sunset to sunrise?” Willow looked surprised. “Wow. That’s some serious slayage. No, she never did that, not that I know of at least.” Giles took his glasses off and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “I was just going through my old diaries. Or at least I was trying to. I’m so bloody tired. Buffy’s had me up all night for the last three nights. She doesn’t even seem to want to sleep. I’ve gone through all my old diaries, and I can’t find any times where she’s patrolled like this. Usually she’s only out until 2 or 3 in the morning at the latest, about the time even the most diehard of human night-owls have made it home safely to bed.” “She putting a good dent in the vampire population?” Willow asked. “She’s averaged ten or more a night as of late. Her instincts for them seemed to have sharpened considerably. She just knows which buildings have nests. And last night, I think she tracked a vampire who was a good three blocks ahead of us.” “Wow.” Willow watched him thoughtfully, and then darted one hand towards him, knocking his elbow out from under him. His head fell forward, stopping only inches from the tabletop. “Hey!” he protested, as he pulled his head back up. “Giles, you’re falling over, you’re so tired. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? Anya and I will keep a watch over the store.” He grunted noncommittally. “Like you both did while I was in England?” Willow crossed her arms and drew herself up straight. “Are we ever going to live that down? ’Cause really, that was like a year ago.” “Besides,” Anya added, “it was really Willow’s fault, with her spell and-” “My spell?” Willow interrupted. “What about your ex-boyfriend the troll? And if you hadn’t been bothering me while-” “Well if you hadn’t been stealing supplies from the store, I wouldn’t have needed to-” “Girls!” Giles shouted, drawing their attention back to himself. “I really don’t need a headache at the moment.” He replaced his head in his hands with a sigh. “And while I appreciate the offer, Willow, Buffy and Dawn should be back from school at any moment. And I imagine Buffy will want to train.” “Come on, Giles,” Willow reached over and gave his shoulder a friendly little squeeze. “You’re going to turn into Rip Van Winkle if you try anymore training or patrolling-” “Or sex,” Anya added helpfully, and Giles gave her another glare. Willow continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “You just have to face the fact that you’re not going to be able to keep up with Buffy.” Giles ran one hand through his hair and nodded wearily. “Yes, I am beginning to feel my age, I’m afraid.” Willow pounded her fist on the table once, startling him. “No! You’re not old, Giles. You’re just not the Slayer. None of us could expect to keep up with Buffy. And yet you’ve gone on patrol with her every night since… Well for a long time.” None of them spoke about Buffy’s death anymore. They wanted to forget what it was like without her. “And now she’s on some kind of slayer mission. You just have to give yourself a break. “I tell you what,” Willow continued, “I’ll patrol with Buffy tonight. I don’t have any papers or exams tomorrow, and I can be her Wicca backup. Maybe Dawn can sleep over at a friend’s, or maybe Xander and Anya can take her?” She looked hopefully at the ex-demon. Anya smiled and nodded. “Sure. Dawn promised to show me how to make amusing prank phone calls. Like knock knock, your refrigerator is running away. Or something like that.” Giles and Willow both looked at her strangely, and then turned back to each other as if she hadn’t spoken. “See, Giles, it’s a plan,” Willow pronounced happily. “Dawn stays at Xander’s, I go patrolling with Buffy, and you,” Willow poked him in the shoulder with one finger as she said it, “you, Mister, go home and have a long night’s sleep. Maybe even sleep in and let Anya open up in the morning. Buffy can come over to our place after patrol, so you’ll have the whole house to yourself.” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, Willow. Maybe if I-” “No, no, no,” Willow scolded. She scowled at him and pointed one finger at her face. “See. Resolve face.” He sighed and merely nodded his acceptance. He was so very tired. Maybe a nice, long night’s sleep would be just the thing. A moment later, Buffy strolled in the front door, Dawn in tow. “Hey Willow, mind helping Dawn with her homework while Giles and I squeeze in a little training?” Giles placed his hands on the table and slowly lifted himself from his chair, as if he were twice his actual age. He shuffled back to the training room, and Willow snagged Buffy as she moved to follow him. “Hey, Buffy, go easy on him. The guy’s exhausted.” Buffy shrugged and smiled brightly. She patted Willow’s cheek and answered, “Don’t worry, Will, it’s just a little light training.” And then she followed her watcher into the back room and shut the door behind them. Anya leaned over and whispered to Willow, “Training is code for sex.” Willow merely rolled her eyes, shook her head, and picked up her bookbag. “Come on, Dawn, let’s go sit at the corner coffee shop and study. Anya, tell them that’s where we’ll be when they’re finished.” The two left Anya alone in the shop, muttering to herself, “Training, indeed. I mean, please, I’m over eleven hundred years old!” *** “Buffy, please!” The door had barely shut behind her before she had him against the wall, nibbling along his neck and ear as she unbuttoned his shirt. His hands came up to stop her progress, but she only moved her attentions on to his mouth, which she covered with a passionate kiss. When he pulled back, panting for air, her fingers slipped down to his belt buckle, and he again stopped her hands. “Buffy, please. I thought you wanted to train.” She smiled seductively and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed beneath his chin, and then up the length of his jaw, finally stopping to blow softly in his ear until he shivered. She giggled, and then whispered quietly, “We’ll both get a good workout this way. And it’s so much more fun.” She began kissing him again, all along his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, her hands moving down to stroke him through the fabric of his trousers. The whole time she kept talking. “God, Giles, I wanted you all day.” Kiss. “I’m trying to pay attention in lecture.” Lick. “Boring stuff about some place I’ll never see.” Nip. “People way dead.” Suck. “The whole time the professor’s talking.” Nibble. “And all I can think about is what I want…” Deep kiss. “…To do…” With tongue. “…To you.” “Buffy!” He finally pushed her back by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. She pouted for a moment as he caught his breath. “While I’m flattered by your obvious desire, I’m just… well, I mean… I find it hard to believe… Are you telling me that after the shower, the kitchen, the back storage room, the car, even, God help me, the park bench, and, oddly enough, the actual bed, after all that in less than 24 hours, and you want to go again?” Buffy frowned and smoothed his brow with her fingers, letting them play with the soft curls of his hair. “Willow said you were tired.” He chuckled and caught her hand, turned his head to gently kiss her palm. “I would imagine so. If all that weren’t enough, then I’m sure the all night patrols are the final straw that puts this man out of commission for the time being.” She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “Then maybe I should take you home and put you to bed.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, laughing. “Somehow, I don’t think that will lead to any kind of rest.” He stroked her hair softly, after all these months still enamored by the feel of the perfect silk of her golden locks flowing between his fingers. “Willow offered- well demanded really- to go on patrol with you tonight. I imagine she’ll drag you home with her afterwards. And Anya’s going to take Dawn for the night. I’m to have the house to myself. I’ve been ordered to have a long night’s sleep, followed by a morning of sleeping in.” Buffy sighed dejectedly. “All right. I suppose I have to let you go home and recharge.” She looked up and studied him for a moment. “You do look tired. Why don’t you go home right now and get like 20 hours of sleep or something totally ridiculous like that.” She grinned widely. “Then tomorrow night you’re all mine.” She suddenly made a face, and cried, “Aghhh!” as she bent her head to his shoulder. “Buffy, what is it?” “I just remembered! We promised the gang we’d go to the Bronze with them tomorrow night. It’s like Xander’s big promotion celebration. We told Dawn she could have a friend over and stay home alone, remember?” She took a deep breath and lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “All right, but as soon as the celebration winds down, you and me are going to fit in some personal training.” He smiled at her fondly and gave her a quick peck on the nose. “It’s a deal.” *** Their lateness was conspicuous. Giles felt the warmth of a blush spread over his features as the gang all threw them knowing looks. He had tried to tell Buffy that a stop at lover’s lane would be easily deduced if they showed up over an hour late to Xander’s party. Buffy, on the other hand, had been very insistent, and very imaginative as she convinced him. “Nice of you two to show,” Xander said with a smirk. “Yeah,” Willow added, “We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you.” Anya looked at the witch in confusion. “No, we weren’t. We were all just saying that they were probably having sex in Giles’ car. Giles has a nice car to have sex in. One time, Xander and I borrowed Giles’ car, and-” Xander quickly fed his fiancé a french fry. “An, honey, let’s not swap stories right now.” “Please don’t,” Giles seconded. “Wherever that was going, I’m sure it would have led to a quick trip to the car dealership and a trade-in.” Buffy and Giles joined their friends at the table, their hands still linked together. The last week or so Buffy had needed to be touching him at all times. Holding hands was fine. It was when she tried to take other liberties that he felt somewhat embarrassed. “I’m going for a drink. Can I get anyone anything?” Buffy had managed to sit for five minutes. Nearly a record. Now she was jumping up to run for refreshments. Everyone shook their heads in the negative, and Giles watched her bounce off to the bar. “Giles, you okay?” “Hmm?” He brought his attention to Willow, who had moved to sit next to him. “You look a lot more rested.” He studied the young redhead at his side. “Yes, I am. But I can see the circles under your eyes.” Willow dropped her head on the table. “Omigod, you were sooo right about the Buffy slaying marathon. We didn’t get home until five. Five a.m., Giles. The last two hours, I don’t think we saw a single vamp, but she wouldn’t call it a night. She was just itching to do some more slaying. I think she was truly disappointed that we didn’t find anymore to stake. I actually fell asleep in a class today. I never do that.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “You can have her back tonight. I’m going to sleep.” She suddenly smiled brightly. “Oooh. Maybe Xander and Anya can go patrolling with her tonight.” Anya frowned. “No, Xander and I have plans. It’s his big promotion. He’s a foreman now, and he gets to boss people around. I find that incredibly sexy. Besides, Buffy’s the Slayer. She doesn’t need anyone to patrol with. Buffy used to patrol alone, before-” “Now, Anya, maybe if Buffy needs us,” he began gently, placing his hand over hers. He didn’t mention that it was Giles more than Buffy that needed someone to patrol with her. They all tended to dance around that issue, including Buffy. “No, that’s ok, Xander,” Giles insisted. “You two enjoy your big night. I’m really feeling much better today. I think I’m up for a little patrol.” At that moment Buffy returned with a diet Coke for herself and a double latte for Giles. He accepted it with a raised brow. “It would seem that you feel I require a rather heavy dose of caffeine for the evening.” Buffy smiled as if she had been found out and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re not falling asleep on me tonight. I have plans for you.” Giles blushed hotly, but the others were kind enough to look away and pretend they hadn’t heard. Buffy herself merely turned back to watch the band play on stage, her fingers nervously spinning her straw around in her Coke. The music pounded all around them, but they were sitting far enough from the stage to still carry on a conversation. Giles watched the throng of young people on the dance floor, gyrating and grinding into each other. He would hardly call that dancing, more like foreplay. He wondered if any of their parents had any idea what went on at the Bronze on a Friday night. And then, realizing what he had just thought, he began to feel really old. He glanced over at Buffy, sitting at his side. She could always make him feel young. Then he noticed that the nervous stirring of her straw had become an absent stroking of its length. In long, sensuous motions, she caressed the straw from top to bottom, one finger massaging the very tip. She seemed completely absorbed in the band on stage and completely unaware of what her hand was doing. He reached out his own hand to stop her, to lace their fingers together and rest them on the table. She turned and smiled at him sweetly, not really comprehending why he was holding her hand, only that he was. Giles examined the others sitting around the table to see if they had noticed Buffy’s odd behavior. They seemed just as entranced by the band’s music as she was. The next song began, a rapid beat that only increased the frenzy on the dance floor. He felt a tug on his hand and looked at his slayer. She was trying to pull him off his chair and onto the dance floor. It was meant as an invitation. If she really wanted to drag him onto the floor, well she was the Slayer. “No, Buffy, really I don’t dance.” “Come on, Giles, please.” She slid her arms around his neck and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Just one song.” He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid I really can’t dance like… like that,” he said, motioning to the grinding and groping that was going on closer to the stage. “Come on, Buffy. Tara and I will go dance with you.” Willow took her lover by the hand, and Buffy followed them onto the floor. Xander elbowed Giles in the rib. “Three girls dancing together. Pretty hot, huh?” Giles gave him a withering stare, and Xander returned to his french fries, muttering, “Oz would get it.” Buffy, Willow, and Tara formed a small circle as they danced together, throwing their heads back and moving their hips in time to the music. Giles watched them, but mostly he watched Buffy. Her whole body swayed with the beat, her eyes half closed as if she were in her own dream world. Her hips rocked in a sensual dance that lacked only the partner to grind up against. Her hands began to explore her own body, sliding over legs and stomach and breasts. Her fingers slid up her neck, piled her golden hair on top of her head, and then let it fall through her fingers. And then she had her partner. A young man, maybe 19, had positioned himself behind her. His hands came around her waist, and now his hips were moving in rhythm with hers. Giles waited for her to push the boy away, to show him perhaps some of her slayer strength for daring to be so presumptuous. Instead she pulled his arms tighter around her, arched her back into him as they moved with the music, and then turned around to accept his embrace. She touched him. Buffy’s hands were pulling the boy closer, caressing him across arms and shoulders and neck. Her head tipped back, her eyes still half closed, heavy with passion. The whole time they never stopped moving together, undulating and grinding together in time with the music. A dance that Giles had moments before described as foreplay. “No sweat, Big-G,” Xander was saying next to him, although his young friend sounded more than a little concerned. “They’re just dancing. Buffy’s danced with me like that before. No big. Just dancing.” If Giles had looked, he would have noticed Willow and Tara’s dancing slow to an awkward rocking and then stop altogether, as they too stared at the young couple beside them. But Giles didn’t notice them; he had eyes only for Buffy. Xander inhaled sharply. “Ok, Buffy and I never did that.” But Giles barely heard the young man. His entire world had narrowed to the sight before him. Buffy and her dance partner had their arms wrapped around each other, the boy’s hands sliding down to her butt and pulling her closer into their grinding dance. And they were kissing. Kissing like the world around them had disappeared. Kissing like they’d each lost something down the other’s throat. Kissing like she kissed him. Giles didn’t see Buffy pull away, didn’t see the total shock on her face. He didn’t see her hands come up to her mouth or her head start to shake as if to deny what she had just done. He didn’t see any of it, because he had already dropped his car keys on the table and left. *** Buffy paced the floor of the living room, chewing on one fingernail. It was nearly three in the morning, and they had looked everywhere for Giles. She had even been desperate enough to ask Spike to help them. The others were still out driving around, looking, but Buffy had come back to the house, hoping to find him here or hoping to be here when he returned. He had left his keys behind at the Bronze for her to drive herself home. Giles never let her drive his car. That in itself made her worry about his state of mind. She kept replaying the events of the evening. She had no idea what had come over her. Only that she had been all over Giles on the drive over, managing to convince him to take a detour through lover’s lane. And still, by the time they got to the Bronze, she felt like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. She was itching to go on patrol and kill as many dark nasties as possible. Lacking that, she was ready to lay Giles right out on the floor of the Bronze and have her way with him. The music had only peaked those twin desires. She had felt the beat thrum through every cell of her body. She had wanted to dance with Giles, to wrap her arms around him, press her body against his, and let the music set the pace for their passion. When he refused, she had thought that maybe dancing by herself, with Willow and Tara, maybe just dancing would take the edge off. But when that boy had put his arms around her, my God she didn’t even know his name, when he had danced with her, it had awakened every carnal instinct she had struggled to keep at bay. She had touched him, moved her body against his in rhythm to the music, and had kissed him. Kissed him with a lust she hadn’t felt since Xander had put the love whammy on all the women of Sunnydale. It was as if she were possessed or under a spell. Yeah, that’s what it had to be. That’s what she would tell Giles. Because she would never have done that of her own free will. She had instantly regretted it, had rushed back to their table to beg Giles’ forgiveness, but he had already gone. Gone to God only knows where to stew over her betrayal of him. Part of her was terrified that he would never come back. That’s what men were like. Angel. Parker. Riley. Her dad. Men left, and they didn’t come back. Why should she think Giles would be any different? She called the local cab companies again. Without a car, that was his likely means of transportation. She prayed he had the sense not to walk home alone after dark in Sunnydale. She kept reminding herself that he always carried a cross and a couple stakes just in case. Still, she called the hospital again just to be sure. When she heard the sound of a car door slamming, she jumped to the window and peeked through the curtains. Headlights, and not Xander’s car. She was pretty sure it was a cab. She heard the handle on the front door rattle and moved to the foyer to let him in. She remembered that he wouldn’t have keys to get in, having left them for her back at the Bronze. He must have realized it too, because she heard him through the door. “Bloody hell!” She turned the deadbolt and opened the door wide. He stood staring at her for a moment, as if trying to place what she was doing there. “You needn’t have waited up for me, Buffy,” he slurred. “I hadn’t planned on waiting up for you.” And then he shoved past her on unsteady feet, his hand reaching out to the archway wall to regain his balance. She shut and locked the door behind him. She hadn’t seen him like this since Spike had turned them all against each other when they were fighting Adam. “Giles, are you drunk?” He pushed off the wall, stumbled through the archway and into the dining room, and made his way over to the corner liquor cabinet. “Not drunk enough apparently.” He rifled through the cabinet, finding only Buffy’s wine coolers and a few bottles of stout ale. He’d never adequately restocked the liquor cabinet after having dumped the entire supply during those dark days following Buffy’s death. “Bloody hell!” he said again. Buffy was afraid to face him, afraid to see the recriminations and betrayal in his eyes. But she wasn’t sure how much better it was to just stand and watch him throw back his bottle of beer. “Giles, please, we need to talk. I am so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am.” He swallowed the ale and turned to her. He pointed at her with the hand holding the beer, his aim wavering through lack of coordination. “You’re sorry? Good for you. I’m sorry too. You know what I’m sorry for? I’m sorry I thought this could ever last.” She took a few steps towards him, her eyes filling with tears. “It was a mistake,” she said, meaning of course what happened at the Bronze. But he read a different meaning in her words and hurled his beer bottle at the opposite wall. She flinched when it smashed and broke, the sound of it echoing through the house. “Damn straight it was a mistake, Buffy,” he was shouting at her now, his voice filled with anger and despair and self-loathing. “It was a mistake to think that I could ever compete with someone your own age. I was a fool to think that you would love me, would want to be with me, when you could have your choice of any man.” She rushed forward, her arms outstretched in a plea. “I don’t want any man, Giles, I want you.” He laughed bitterly, threw his head back and threw off his balance. His hand darted out to steady himself against the dining room table. “Yes, tonight you gave a rather impressive display of how little interest you have in other men.” He met her gaze again, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She tried to touch him, but he shrank back as if burned. Oh God, how could she ever make this right? “Please, just tell me how I can make this up to you.” “Spare me your pity, Buffy. This, all of it, was inevitable. You had died, and I had lost you, and we came together to make the pain go away. People come together in times of crisis. It’s only natural. And then when the crisis passes, the feelings go away. I was an idiot not to see it coming. Tell me honestly, when exactly did you wake up and realize you had stuck yourself with an old man?” “Stop it!” she yelled. She was crying now, wanting so badly to touch him and wondering if she would ever again be allowed that privilege. “That’s not how I see you. I love you!” In two strides he was on her, his hands gripping her shoulders and pushing her against the archway behind her. His eyes drilled into her with that cold Ripper glare she had only seen him give to Ethan, to Angelus, to the Mayor, to Travers, to her father, but never to her. Never to her. “Save the waterworks, Buffy. You can’t fix this with tears and pouting lips and quivering chin. Something must be terribly wrong with us, or you would never have acted as you did. Why don’t you think about it and let me know when you’ve figured out what you want from me? But I’m tired, and I’m going to sleep.” He shoved her aside and stumbled to the staircase. He paused on the bottom step and stared thoughtfully at the couch. “Perhaps we should discuss sleeping arrangements. There are just the two bedrooms now. Do you want the bed, Buffy?” He glanced back at her, leaning against the archway, still weeping into her hands. “Oh, bloody hell. You’re the Slayer. You take the damn couch. I’m going to sleep.” Then he trudged up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Buffy wiped her tears away, and leaned her head back against the archway. Could entire worlds really fall apart in one night? And over a single kiss? Even with Angel it had taken a whole lot more than a kiss. She went out the front door, slamming it behind her. Buffy was going hunting. *** The sound of glass breaking startled her out of a deep sleep. She looked over at her friend Melinda. The crash had woken her, too. Then Dawn heard Buffy and Giles nearly screaming at each other, and she began to cry. Melinda pulled her sleeping bag closer and patted her friend on the back, talking to her and trying to distract her. Dawn heard the doors slam, first one upstairs, and then a moment later, one downstairs. She started to cry even harder. It was her parents’ marriage all over again. *** Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, eating breakfast and pretending to read the paper. Giles hadn’t even looked at her when he left this morning. And she had been too much of a coward to say anything. Dawn and her friend soon joined her at the counter, pouring themselves cereal and watching Buffy. An oppressive silence filled the room, and Buffy wondered how much the two girls had heard. After they had finished eating, Buffy asked, “Melinda, would you like me to give you a ride home?” “That would be nice, Miss Summers.” God, when had she become Miss Summers? Buffy looked over at her sister, who had been quiet and sullen since coming down. Yeah, she definitely knew. Dawn glanced up then, and met her sister’s eyes, her expression clearly saying that she knew that Buffy knew that she knew. “Where’s Giles?” Buffy shrugged casually. “At the Magic Box.” “I thought Anya opened on Saturdays.” There was anger in her sister’s eyes. Just as Dawn had blamed Mom when their dad left, she was now giving Buffy that same look of resentment and hurt and fear and how could you let him leave? Buffy busied herself with putting away the milk and cereal, dumping the dishes in the sink, anything to avoid her sister’s cold glare. “Probably got a new shipment or something. You know Giles.” “Yeah.” Melinda looked decidedly uncomfortable and was probably wishing she’d chosen another night for a sleepover. Buffy smiled at her, a polite fake smile given to company when they happened to be the only thing between you and an all-out screamfest. “Hey, Melinda, why don’t you go upstairs and get your things. I’ll take you home now.” Dawn’s friend left, but she stayed. Dawn crossed her arms and said, “Melinda invited me over to her house for the day. We’re going to play Nintendo.” “Fine.” And then Dawn’s icy front broke, and she bit her lip not to cry. In a small child’s voice she asked, “Is Giles coming back?” Buffy turned her face away, her hand coming up to brush away a careless tear. “I don’t know, Dawn. I don’t know.” *** Willow held her best friend as she sobbed. Buffy was crying like her heart was breaking, like she hadn’t cried since Angel had dumped her before the prom. Willow didn’t know what to say, so she just held her. Tara had left to give them privacy. It was really more of a best friend thing. “He… hates… me… now,” Buffy choked out between sobs. “He… wouldn’t… even… listen.” Willow stroked her friend’s hair, at a loss as to what to say. She couldn’t really blame Giles. It must have been painful for him to see her kissing that other guy. None of them really understood why Buffy had done it. But that didn’t matter. The best friend’s job was to listen, to sympathize, and to badmouth the boyfriend, even if it happened to be Giles. “Yeah, Giles never listens when he’s upset.” Buffy pulled herself out of Willow’s lap, turning terrified eyes to the young witch. “What’s wrong with me, Willow?” She sniffled and wiped away some of the tears. Her hand came away smeared with mascara, and her face was red and blotchy. “It’s like every minute I’m craving the slaying. When I stake some vamp, the rush lasts like a second, and then I need it again. And if I’m not thinking about slaying, then I’m thinking about sex. It’s like I can’t get enough of Giles. But when I can’t have him, the closest guy feels just as good. That’s what happened last night, Will, when I kissed that guy, he just happened to the closest guy. I don’t think I even knew what I was doing until it was too late. It’s like my body has a mind of its own.” Buffy laid back on Willow’s bed and crossed her arms over her face. “Don’t you dare tell anyone this, but last night… God, even Xander was looking good!” Willow sat a little closer to Buffy and crossed her legs Indian style. “Yeah, that might not be something you’d want to mention to Anya.” The two women both laughed, the tension lifting for a moment. Then Willow continued. “Maybe something is wrong with you, Buffy. Maybe you should go talk to Giles.” Buffy rolled away from her and groaned, but Willow pressed on. “Really. He’s at the Magic Box today, right? He’s probably had a chance to cool off. Talk to him. Apologize. Maybe he can crack open his books and figure out the problem.” Buffy nodded and got up. “You’re right. Thanks.” And then she gave Willow a hug goodbye and went to the shop to do just that. When she got there, Giles was nowhere to be seen. She walked up to the register and asked Anya, but Anya continued sorting through the day’s invoices as if Buffy hadn’t spoken. “Anya!” Anya glanced up in irritation. “I am pretending not to hear you, because I am very unhappy with you right now. I believe it’s called the ‘cold elbow’ or something like that. You hurt Giles, and you shouldn’t have been kissing another man, especially not right in front of his nose. This is exactly why vengeance kept me so busy. “Now if you must know, Giles went to pick up a package at the post office and should be back in ten or fifteen minutes. You can wait if you like, but I don’t think he’ll speak with you.” Anya closed the store ledger with finality. “In the meantime, I’m just going to continue to ignore you. Unless you want to buy something, then I guess I would have to tell you how much money to give me. But I wouldn’t tell you to ‘have a nice day.’” Anya turned on her heel and walked into the back storage room. Buffy began to browse through the shelves dejectedly. She deserved everything Anya had just said to her. She hoped it was a spell or possession or a demon or something. Because the thought that she could have done this to Giles all on her own was too much to bear. There were a few customers in the store. One, a college boy about her age, approached her. “You look like you could use this,” he said, handing her a small vial. “Aromatherapy. Lavender. I think it’s supposed to lift your mood. I’m not sure, though. I don’t really understand most of this stuff. My roommate’s into it, and I’m trying to find him a birthday present.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Dave.” Buffy smiled slightly and shook his hand. “Hi, Dave, I’m Buffy.” They talked for a little while, lightly flirting and closing into each other’s personal space. Buffy didn’t really realize what she was doing until she saw Giles’ figure framed in the entrance. He was staring at her. And Buffy had just been leaning in to whisper something in Dave’s ear, her hand placed on his bicep as the other hand playfully swatted her hair back over her shoulder. Buffy froze, her eyes wide. She tried to move around Dave, tried to cross the distance to Giles, but it was too late. He had already disappeared out the front door. Buffy followed a moment later. And Anya, who had caught only the last couple minutes, muttered to herself, “I’ll have to give Giles the chant for Avantarin, patron saint of scorned men.” *** That night, Buffy hunted as she had never hunted before. She was no longer Buffy Summers. She had no life outside of this moment. She had no man at home who was ready to leave her because she had strayed. She had no sister who hated her for driving him away. There was only this moment. Only the chase and the fight and the kill. She was simply the Slayer, and in this moment that was her whole identity. Chase. Fight. Kill. Over and over again. Until she had beaten her own record. Until nearly 20 vamps were dust. And still it wasn’t enough. She still ached. She still craved. Her body trembled with her longing. She still yearned for Giles. She turned towards home. What was it Faith had taught her? Want, Take, Have. *** Giles had fallen asleep, only by burying himself in his research. He would have rather buried himself in a bottle, but Buffy had never come home and Dawn was looking to him to hold her world together. For Dawn’s sake, he had spent the evening pretending everything was all right, that Buffy was just out doing slaying type stuff and tomorrow they would all have a big Sunday brunch, one big happy family. Dawn was getting too old for fairy tales. He had fallen asleep with the book still on his chest, his glasses crooked on his nose. He woke when he felt the bed shift. “Buffy?” He blinked up at her, still slightly disoriented. “What are you doing here?” She took the book and the glasses and laid them on the nightstand. Then in one fluid movement, she was straddling him, leaning over above his face. “I’ve heard make up sex is just the kick.” He took her arms, started to push her off of him. “Yes, but that requires some kind of make up first.” She had his wrists, one in each hand, and was pushing him down, holding him down. He was no match for her strength. Want, Take, Have. “Buffy, what are you playing at?” She smiled down on him, and her smile was almost predatory. “I thought I would prove to you that I want you and no one else.” Then she pulled his wrists together, held them down with one hand as the other reached behind her back. She drew something from her back pocket and dangled it from her fingers for Giles to see. Handcuffs. “Buffy, I’m not amused. Kinky sex is not going change what you did or how I feel about it. Now, please, go, and perhaps we can-” She didn’t let him finish. She covered his mouth with a kiss, which left him breathless and struggling to turn away from her and draw air. But she was his Slayer, and her strength meant the kiss would not end until she decided it would end. When she did finally pull away from him, he was gasping and panting. He noticed that she had also used the kiss to cuff his hands together and through the bed railing. He tested them briefly. They were snug, and he was chained firmly to the iron railing of the headboard. He looked up at her. She was gazing down at him, her eyes glowing with desire and lust. He filled himself with a confidence he didn’t feel and demanded, “Buffy, unlock these now.” She ran one finger down the buttons on his shirt. He had fallen asleep in his clothes and had never bothered to change for bed. She ripped his shirt open, the buttons flying in all directions. “We’re going to have some fun first.” And then she licked and kissed along the length of his stomach and chest. He squirmed beneath her, trying not to enjoy what she was doing, but when she took one nipple in her mouth, sucking as her tongue played over its hardness, he was done for. He was up and wanting her as much as she wanted him. It had been over a day, and considering their recent track record, that was quite a long time. She straddled him lower and unfastened his belt buckle and then his pants. He lifted his hips for her as she pulled off his trousers and boxers. They landed on the floor. His socks followed. She stared at his erection for a moment and then bent her head to kiss across his inner thighs, around his groin, teasing him by never kissing there. And then suddenly, she took him in her mouth. He bit his lip not to cry out from the sheer ecstasy, and he clutched the railing of the headboard so as not to chafe his wrists on the handcuffs. She continued sucking and doing incredible things with her tongue before replacing mouth with hand. She stroked his length with the same finesse she had shown the Coke straw, while her mouth took in the soft sacs of his balls and her tongue darted out to caress the tender skin of his perineum below. Giles bit his lip harder; he thought he tasted blood. He arched his head back into the pillow, every muscle taut and straining towards release. But release didn’t come and neither did he. When he was so close that he could almost feel her touch pulsating all the way up behind his eyes, she stopped. He moaned and began gasping, raising his head to see what she was doing. “Buffy?” She was crawling up his body, not touching him, her body mere inches from his. She bent down to kiss him, and he could taste himself in her mouth. Their tongues fought as she kissed him with a hunger that left him breathless. He struggled to turn his head, but her hands held him in place. She was in control here. She would start, and she would finish. She sat up abruptly, and he drew breath in deep, shuddering gasps, like a drowning man coming up for air. She waited for a moment, straddling his chest and watching him. When he could breathe again, when the world was no longer spinning, he met her eyes. “Buffy, uncuff me.” But she only shook her head and smiled wickedly. “Please,” he asked again, “I only want to touch you.” She reached down for the hem of her blouse, pulling it over her head and tossing it on the floor. “Like this?” she questioned, her hands questing over her own body. Her fingers caressed the blue silk of her bra, sliding up her neck and into her hair, and then tracing the contours of her face until one finger slid into her mouth. She sucked on its length, her eyes closing until she slipped it out and drew a wet line down her neck with its point. Her hands curled up around each breast as she asked him again, “Like this?” He shuddered and nodded, watching as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It landed on the floor beside her top, and she licked her lips in anticipation. She cupped her breasts again, her fingers tracing circles around her nipples. “My skin is so soft, like peaches in summer.” “I remember,” he murmured. She rolled off of him, and he followed her with his eyes. She stripped off her pants and her panties and was now lying naked beside him. He was going crazy not touching her. It was torture. He could only watch as she touched herself, as her fingers stroked between her legs, as her other hand massaged her own breasts. She turned her head to watch him watching her. Her smile was filled with promises and regrets. Buffy flipped back over on top of him, straddling him once again and sliding down closer to his straining erection. “Buffy!” he cried urgently, his head turning to the nightstand. “Oh yeah,” she replied, one hand reaching out and pulling a foil packet from the top drawer. She opened it quickly and slid herself further down his body, teasing him by allowing herself to brush against him as she passed over. The condom rolled on in one motion, and she followed in the next. Giles gasped, turning his head to press against his arm. He gripped the railing again. Every instinct was telling him to curl around her, to wrap his arms around her, to slide his hands down her body to her hips and urge her into the rhythm that would push him over the edge. He couldn’t touch her. He could only sink his teeth into the fabric of his shirtsleeves and wait. She hesitated for a moment, just allowing him to be inside her and nothing more, before she eventually began rocking and thrusting at a pace that was infuriatingly slow. He tried to meet each thrust, tried to increase the tempo, but she held him down, and she was so much stronger than he. He had no control in this. He could only kiss her when she bent her head to be kissed, could only arch his head back into the pillow when her mouth claimed each nipple in turn. His knuckles were turning white where they gripped the railing, his muscles aching from the tension. She kept him always on the edge. She would drive him right up to the brink and then stop. His body and hers were covered in a thin sheen of sweat. When she stopped, he would moan beneath her and thrash and shake his head from side to side and try to buck up against her, anything to finish already. But she would hold him down, and her strength was too much to overcome. She would lean down to cover him with kisses until he thought he would cry from not being able to touch her. She would wait for him to come down just enough, and then they would start all over again. She kept him on the edge for almost an hour. This time when she stopped, he nearly screamed from the frustration. His entire body ached and trembled from the constant tension. He couldn’t even feel his hands anymore. They had become part of the railing. And then Buffy leaned over him, touched her forehead to his, and demanded, “I want you to beg for it, Giles.” What Angelus couldn’t do with his long hours of torture, what he had failed to do with the broken fingers and the brutal beatings and the hot pokers and the sleep deprivation and the hunger and the thirst and the unbearable pain, what Angelus had failed to accomplish, Buffy did. With Giles’ desire for her, his wanting and needing, with her touch and her body, Buffy succeeded where Angelus had failed. She broke him. “Dear God, Buffy, please, I’m begging you.” She smiled triumphantly and began their dance again. This time she did not slow or stop, this time their rhythm increased with their passion. He could feel himself reaching the edge, and this time he was not pulled back. This time she urged him forward. And he felt that blessed moment, that point of no return, that moment where she could no longer pull him back, even if she wanted to. His hands released the railing, straining forward mere inches before the handcuffs stopped him. The metal cut into his wrists, but the pain only merged with the exquisite pleasure that overwhelmed him. He soared. He screamed his climax, and Buffy swallowed his cry with a kiss before she too followed him. Then she collapsed against him and began weeping. He could feel the hot wet tears streaming across the skin of his chest as he panted and caught his breath. But again, he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t dry her cheeks. He could only bend his head to look at her and whisper, “Please don’t cry, Buffy.” She laid on top of him, wrapped her arms around him, still sobbing. “What’s wrong with me, Giles? I’ve been patrolling like an animal. And then tonight, I sure acted like an animal. I wanted you so bad, I handcuffed you to the bed and practically raped you.” He bent his head to rest against the top of hers, her golden hair soft against his cheek. “I can certainly think of less pleasant times I’ve been tied up. Angelus comes immediately to mind.” That only started her crying harder. “I’m sorry, Buffy, I shouldn’t have brought that up.” Giles had never felt so helpless as Buffy wept against his chest. Handcuffed, as he was, he could offer her no comfort except to listen to her tears. “It’s not that. It’s just... Something is wrong with me. The slaying. The sex. The other men. Something is wrong with me. A spell or a sickness or something. Please, Giles, you have to help me. You have to figure out what it is and fix it.” He believed her. The Buffy who had wanted to dominate him was not his Buffy. And he had to admit that her indiscretions in the last days were probably symptomatic of this larger problem. “Shhh... Buffy, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” he soothed. She looked up at him then, her eyes filled with hope. “Really? You believe me?” He smiled for her, and there was forgiveness in his eyes. “Of course.” She leaned forward and kissed him, tenderly this time, and smiled in return. “You are sooo gonna kill me, but I really have to go hunting again. I can’t help it.” She slid him out of her and hopped off the bed, collecting her clothes as she started towards the door. “Buffy!” he cried in panic. She turned back, surprised by his urgency. He rattled the handcuffs against the headboard and pleaded, “The key!” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she was saying as she climbed on the bed next to him, pulling her bra back on as she did. “I think they’re the handcuffs from your little band candy adventure. Any idea where Mom might have put the key?” He closed his eyes in pain. “Bloody hell, Buffy. You cuff me to the bed, and you don’t even have a key?” “I’m sorry,” she said, her top sliding back on as well. “I wasn’t exactly thinking ahead to the letting you go part. Surely you guys got the key, too?” “Yes,” he replied sarcastically. “We were high on the candy, behaving like teenagers, and after stealing that copper’s gun and handcuffs and knocking him unconscious, we of course thought ahead to this moment when you might need the key to unlock me.” “Don’t forget about the part where you had sex with my mother on top of the police car. Twice!” Giles groaned. “Yes, please, let’s do remind me of that as often as possible.” Buffy sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on her panties and then her pants. Giles was beginning to feel quite naked. And cold. And just a little sticky between the legs. “How did Ethan get out of them?” she asked. He closed his eyes and marveled at his blind stupidity. “He picked them, of course. Quick, Buffy, get me some hair pins or something.” And then as she started out the door, he added, “And some tissues.” She returned with the bobby pins and some Kleenex. She removed the condom and cleaned him up as he focused on picking the locks on the handcuffs. The second was much easier to get after he had freed one wrist. And then he was sitting up, stretching his arms and massaging sore muscles. “Much better,” he declared. Buffy was smiling at him slyly. “Wow, you really were the little troublemaker when you were my age. You gonna teach me how to pick locks, hotwire cars... What else do you know how to do?” He laughed and pulled her into his embrace. “How to stack the deck, deal from the bottom, and count a three card shoot.” She made face. “Giles! You were a cheat!” He gave her a wink and a push towards the door, as he bent over to collect his own clothes. “All skills I will not be teaching you. Although, I could show you a one handed cut if you asked nicely. Now, off with you! Go hunting, if that’s what’s going to keep you from ravaging me long enough for me to get some research done.” Buffy blushed, something he didn’t see her do often. It was cute on her. She slipped out the door as Giles dressed. His mind churned with the various avenues of research. What could be making Buffy behave this way? He stopped just before walking out the door himself. He picked up the handcuffs from the bed and placed them in the top drawer of the nightstand. Next time, he would make Buffy wear them. ***
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