Title: When You Are Ready to Say Hello
Author: littleotter73
Pairing: Buffy/Giles
Rating: FRT
Setting: Post Series, no comics
Summary: This is the follow on story of Until We Next meet and the third story in what I am now calling "The Salutation Series." There will be fourth (and final story) in this series. This story takes place eight months after the previous one. Giles has business in London and, after having spent months avoiding her, seeks Buffy out for advice and tries to mend the growing gap between them.
Beta: il_mio_capitano.
Disclaimer: Not for profit. Just for fun.
When You Are Ready to Say Hello
"Do you have any questions for us?" the silver haired director of the Victoria and Albert Museum asked from behind his desk.
"Just a couple. When do you plan on making your decision and by when would you need my answer?" Giles asked in return.
"Why, Doctor Giles, this interview is only a formality. The position of Director of Collections is yours should you wish to accept. Your credentials are exemplary and your references are outstanding. We were also extremely impressed with your handling of that… dangerous artifact for us several months back. Who knows what might have occurred had a member of staff handled it improperly. Your knowledge and skills would be a considerable asset for the museum."
"Thank you, Sir John," he said as he looked down at his hands with modest embarrassment. "As you know, I currently work as a consultant and my 'talents' are in high demand. I have many clients that will need to keep me on retainer, and there will be times when I will need to leave abruptly to take care of… emergencies."
"That will not be a problem," the older gentleman agreed. "Oh and to answer your other question, we expect an answer by Wednesday of next week. We understand that you will need to discuss the opportunity and relocation with your wife."
Giles shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tapped his index finger against the talisman in his left pocket. "I'm afraid your information is outdated, sir. My wife was killed in a home invasion close to two years ago."
"I do beg your pardon, Doctor Giles. My condolences."
"Thank you," he said and stood up, extending a hand to the director. "You shall have my answer before next Wednesday."
Giles left the office with his battered briefcase and made his way through the hallowed halls of the Victoria and Albert Museum. He pulled at his tie to loosen it as soon as he was through the great doors and out into the open, taking a deep breath. Until then, he hadn't been sure if there was anything more stuffy than the Watchers Council before it was left in tatters by the minions of The First.
The Council.
His mind wandered to his Slayer. Buffy. She successfully ran the Council now, highly respected and firmly in charge, and he smiled at that thought as he headed towards South Kensington Station. He'd last seen her three months ago at the new Council headquarters in Canary Wharf when she'd presided over the memorial service for those who had given their lives in the war against The First. The whole gang had been there: Xander, Willow, Dawn, Faith, Robin Wood, and the surviving Slayers who'd fought alongside them.
He stood on the wrong platform, he knew, his hand in his pocket, fingering the battered piece of paper he carried as his talisman since Buffy drove off in a taxi so many months before. His train was due to leave London on the hour. But his heart directed him elsewhere. He had a decision to make and he needed someone to talk to.
—
Buffy sat in her office listening to a dispute between Ella and her Watcher Devon. It wasn't the first time this pair had come before her for arbitration. The last time she'd faced a screaming match with accusations of the Watcher deliberately sending the Slayer into harm's way with no weapons, research, or resources, and the Watcher claiming that his willful and defiant Slayer had refused to listen to reason and had run off full tilt without being prepared. This time the accusations were worse… only it was the Watcher accusing the Slayer of leaving him to die in an alley after they had been ambushed by a gang of vampires. He'd narrowly escaped thanks to his lighter and an abandoned can of spray paint left by some street artist, but the Slayer had protested that she had been too busy fighting off the enemy to help him and had doubled back as soon as she had staked the last vamp, but by then he'd already run off.
Her gut told her that neither was trying to deliberately hurt the other, that the problem arose from miscommunication and hurt feelings. Dealing with them was like listening to two squabbling siblings fighting and embellishing the story of the actual events for the benefit of the parent or teacher who was expected to mete out justice.
She'd called Giles after the first round of complaints the pair had brought against each other two months ago, and they'd talked for about an hour. This, he'd supposed, was the result of not having Chosen Watchers for the Chosen Slayers. He'd explained that being a Watcher to an Active Slayer wasn't an assignment, but a destiny, chosen by fate… or something, he didn't know. With The First culling the pool of Watchers and Buffy and Willow changing the paradigm of how Slayers were called, assigning a Watcher to a Slayer had been put into the hands of an organization, and therefore pairings weren't "natural". Bonding between the two was now dependent on whether the two were compatible personality wise more than anything else.
That had certainly explained why she and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had never gotten on. It also explained why, after everything, she and Giles could forgive each other of almost anything. Almost.
God, how she missed him. It had been eight months since she'd left his home, her heart broken after declaring her love for him and being rebuffed. She'd seen him since, but it had been awkward. Willow had commented on it at the pub they'd gathered in after the memorial. She'd asked Buffy if she and Giles were still mad at each other for the things that had transpired in Sunnydale and then gently suggested no one could be held accountable for their actions and emotions during that time because they didn't know to what extent The First had been preying on their insecurities. Not wanting to expose the issues between her and Giles, Buffy had admitted to quarreling with him when he'd turned down her job offer. While it wasn't strictly a lie - she did harbor some resentment towards him for not accepting the position - she assured Willow that she would try to mend the fences the next time they spoke.
Devon and Ella were shouting at each other again and pulled Buffy from her thoughts. She stood up and slammed her fist down on the desk, grabbing their attention. "Both of you are deactivated until further notice. Ella, pack your things and move back into the dorm here. Allan will give you a keycard. See him on your way out. Devon, report to Xander on Monday."
As the two started fighting again, assigning blame for the trouble they both found themselves in, Buffy raised her voice and shouted, "Enough!" They turned to heed her and she added, "This ends here in my office. Geez, you're supposed to… look out each other, but all I see is how much you hate the other."
"I don't hate him," Ella spoke quietly.
"Hate is too strong a word," Devon agreed grudgingly.
"Just go," Buffy sighed. At least they could agree on something.
She looked at the time on her computer screen before following them out. Catching the eye of her assistant, she said, "Allan, after taking care of Devon and Ella's needs, please cancel any appointments I have for the rest of the day. I'm done seeing people. Then go ahead and take off early."
"Thank you, miss."
Rubbing her temples, Buffy returned to her office and shut the door. What a mess. Now she'd have to brief Xander on the situation between the Watcher and Slayer pair; and she still had memos to write, various issues to address, and there was the disaster in Romania that needed to be cleared up. It was going to be another long night at the office.
—
After changing trains at Westminster, Giles found himself at Canary Wharf staring up at the Council building. He needed a moment. It was stupid of him to come. He'd avoided London since Buffy had moved the Council from New York City six weeks after she'd walked out his door. The only time he'd come to the city was for the memorial, and only then because it was one of those social functions he couldn't avoid.
And yet here he was.
"Like a moth to a bloody flame," he grumbled under his breath.
His nights were filled with the erotic memories of Buffy's visit and their night in the motel in the desert after Sunnydale imploded. During the day, he pined for her and the love he had given up. He had mistreated her terribly and regretted his actions every day since. In the process of punishing himself for the past transgression of not loving his wife Karina enough, he'd wound up hurting the one woman he loved above all.
At the memorial service, he could still see the pain deep within her eyes, though she'd tried to hide it, so as soon as he was able to slip away from their gathering, he did just that, to avoid hurting her further he'd told himself. What he should have done was approach her, tell her what an idiot he had been, ask for her forgiveness, and beg for a second chance to love her.
He sat down on one of the benches and dropped his head into his hands.
He was such a coward.
And now Giles had an important decision to make, and the only person he wanted to discuss it with was Buffy. He knew he had no right to ask anything of her after he had dismissed her feelings and left her heartbroken.
God, he had been such an idiot.
He considered turning around and heading home when he put his hand his pocket and pulled out the note he always carried with him. He unfolded it and read it again.
Dear Giles,
I hope we can still be friends.
Yours,
Buffy
He trailed his thumb over the line 'I hope we can still be friends', written in her despair before she left, and realized that he had nothing to lose, he'd already lost it all. The only thing now, was to see if he could repair a friendship. And if by some miracle she still loved him and could forgive him, he had a chance at more. The worst that could happen was that she would throw him out on his ear, which, he knew he deserved.
—
The Council security system had been designed by a certain Mr Wells. All shiny and new, sporting the latest in biometrics and combined with Andrew's own genius coding, it would make Q from James Bond proud. Entry to the building was based on a handprint and a passcode. After hours access to the Slayer's office on the thirty-third floor required a retina scan in the lift. Fortunately, all of these had been taken when Giles had visited the Council building for the memorial service.
As he neared his destination, his nerves started to get the better of him. "Steady on, Giles!" he told himself right before the bell chimed announcing his arrival.
The reception area was dark and vacant, and he wondered if he had missed her. As he neared her office door, he heard the methodical sound of typing on a keyboard and found himself both relieved and nervous at the prospect of her still being there.
"Come on in, Giles," she said loud enough to be heard through the door just as he raised his knuckles to the wood.
He opened the door. "H-how did you know?"
"Security," she answered automatically, her eyes still on the computer screen. "The system announces who's on their way up if it is after business hours."
"I see," he replied as he stood rooted to the spot just inside the door. "I am terribly sorry I am here without an appointment-"
Buffy raised her eyes to meet his for the first time. "Scoobies don't need appointments." She stood and walked around to the front of her desk and leaned against it. "Besides, it's late and I don't schedule appointments after four in the afternoon. Bad form to keep people beyond business hours."
"Fair enough."
There was a momentary awkward pause as they surveyed the other.
"You look good," Buffy said, breaking the silence.
"You… uh… you do as well. Leadership agrees with you." He wanted to groan.
"It's a full time gig and pays the bills." Buffy inwardly rolled her eyes. God, seeing him again was so hard. Trying to start a more natural conversation she added, "Better than flippin' burgers, that's for sure."
His lips twitched into a slight smile. That was more like his Buffy. "Yes, well, we both know that that job was a waste of your talents."
"As much as I so want to go down that particular branch of memory lane," she started. "I have to ask, what brings you to London town? I know it's not to see me."
She'd lulled him into a false sense of security and then pulled the rug out from underneath him.
"That's… n-not exactly fair," he sputtered.
"Oh come on, Giles, I moved here six months ago and the only time you could be bothered to come into the city was for the memorial you knew you couldn't get out of, and even then you didn't stay for more than an hour at the after party with the rest of the gang. It's a two hour train ride, not a transatlantic flight!"
"I uh… I could see how distressed you were. I didn't want to cause anymore-"
"And quietly slipping out without saying goodbye was the right thing to do?" she admonished. "It was family, Giles. You, me, Dawn, Wil, and Xand. Just us, chillin' after the ceremony at the pub. Did you think we wouldn't notice when you ditched us?" He at least had the grace to look ashamed. "As for distressed. Of course I was distressed. It had been a rough day - for all the reasons you might think… not just memorializing everyone who died on the Hellmouth and in the struggle with The First."
"I had a train to catch. To Edinburgh. I had a meeting the following day."
"You could have rescheduled. Or caught an early train the next morning."
"I'm sorry."
"You say that a lot."
He looked down at his shoes. "I know."
Buffy crossed her arms. "So why drop by?"
He lifted his head, his green eyes catching hers. She was still angry, and he was growing tired of the interrogation. "I am in town."
"Clearly." She knew she was being harsh, but her emotions were rather raw and he had caught her off guard showing up out of the blue.
"I… uh…" Giles hunched his shoulders and looked away again. "Perhaps this isn't a good idea."
"You're here now, and I gotta admit, I'm curious as to what would bring you by to see me." Her tone had softened, but the edge was still there.
He looked up expecting to see her standing defiantly with her chin jutting out defensively, but her posture was relaxed as she leaned against her desk, waiting expectantly for his answer.
"Alright. I am here on business and would like your opinion on a professional matter."
Disappointed wasn't quite the word Buffy would have used to describe what she was feeling at that moment. Admittedly, any scenario where he didn't show up at her office, admit what a coward he had been, take her in his arms, and declare his undying love for her as he begged her forgiveness fell far short of satisfaction.
Still, he was here and they were talking, and she missed him - not just as a lover, but as a friend. Of course, he'd provided her with counsel with regards to her own professional dilemmas. It seemed only right to help him with his.
"Lord knows, I've called you a few times for help with a few Council matters." She pushed off from her desk and walked over to the door, grabbing her jacket off the hook. Shrugging it on, she looked at him and said, "I don't know about you, but I am starving. There is a nice place near my flat over in Southwark. It's quiet and has good food."
He smiled a genuine smile and felt some relief when she returned it. Hers was more guarded, but he took that as a first step.
—
As they rode the Jubilee line back towards her neighborhood in a nearly deserted carriage, Buffy filled him in on the latest quarrel between Ella and Devon. He shook his head and asked her what she was going to do.
"Bench them for a while. They need to calm down. Then we'll get the real story of what's been going on between them. After that, we'll try to match each of them up with a new partner."
"Sounds reasonable."
"Willow's working on a spell to see if we can identify people as Chosen Watchers for the Slayers, but there is a dilemma there with regards to our philosophy. If we do identify these Chosen individuals, we can't force them to assume their role anymore than we can force a Slayer to do her duty. And what if these people are like fifty years old?"
"That's a bit ageist," he argued, not really wanting to remind her that he'd hit the big five-o earlier in the year.
She stared at him a moment before realizing that he'd taken offense. Taking a different tack, she explained, "But the spell could identify anyone. Can you imagine trying to recruit some soft, middle-aged office worker who believes that vamps and demons only exist on screen or on the pages of horror novels that they have been Chosen to train and watch over a teenage girl who is defending the world from evil? It would be comedy gold, I am sure, until they call the nice men in the white jackets and try to have our representative committed."
"That would be problematic," Giles agreed. "Although, Chosen Watchers run in families. There were about fifty families from around the world. It might be worth while researching the genealogy of each."
"Great suggestion. Although we still could end up with the previous example… our soft, middle aged office worker could be a fourth cousin twice removed."
He shrugged. "It's worth a look, however, I think the paradigm is well and truly broken now. Even before the First decimated the Watcher ranks, the families could never supply enough Chosen Watchers to fulfill the needs of the current crop of Slayers."
"You're probably right," Buffy huffed with disappointment. "Oh, we need to alight here."
"I see you have the lingua franca down," Giles said as they rose made their way to the doors.
"Yeah, mind the gap."
He laughed.
—
As they walked to the restaurant, Buffy told him that her flat was in Butler's Wharf.
"It's about a ten minute walk to each of the three Tube stations around here, but I don't mind. It gives me time to prepare for work or unwind from it, and on a few occasions coming home, I've gotten to stake a vamp or two."
"I bet you have a fantastic view," Giles said, conversationally.
"Oh yeah, my flat faces the river and I have an amazing view of Tower Bridge… and the Gherkin, and you can see St Paul's too. The best part? Drinking coffee out on the balcony in the morning, weather permitting, of course."
He grinned. "I told you it doesn't always rain."
She laughed with him. "If the weather this winter was anything to go by-" She stopped mid sentence and looked away. "It was a really rainy spring," she started again, trying to keep her composure and not get angry with him. Mention of her stay with him back in January was taboo. It hurt too much to think about, much less bring up, even indirectly. "Kind of a bitch moving furniture and all my stuff into the flat."
Picking up the tension, he cleared his throat, "Yes, the weather was most unkind until about May."
"Ah, here we are," she said, thankful for the change in topic. Grabbing his elbow, she led him towards the restaurant. "I hope you like rustic Italian."
To say Giles was surprised by the contact was an understatement. It was the first time she had touched him since she'd kissed him goodbye upon leaving his home. When he'd arrived at the memorial, she'd deliberately shoved her hands in the pockets of her suit pants and given him a tight smile, keeping a healthy distance from him. He hadn't been given the luxury of even a handshake, much less a hug after everything they had been through together.
The restaurant wasn't crowded and they took a table outside on the veranda overlooking the river, sitting opposite each other and drinking a light fruity Italian red wine as they waited for their starter.
"So tell me about this professional matter," Buffy said after placing her wine glass back down on the table.
Giles leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, swirling the wine in his glass. "I had an interview today."
"O-okay." She was a bit startled by this news. If he was looking for a job, he knew he had one at the Council. Of course, they hadn't really spoken outside of business matters for eight months, but that shouldn't have deterred him from seeking employment if he wanted it. "So, uh, what's the gig?"
"Director of Collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum."
"Wow, Giles, that's… that's kind of a huge deal." She was extremely impressed.
The corner of his mouth twitched at her reaction. "Thank you."
"So why quit the consulting gig? I mean, work when you want, make your own hours, work from home, travel on the customer's dime. Pretty sweet deal if you can swing it."
There were times when Giles craved cigarettes and at that moment, the craving was really strong. He'd given up the habit when he'd started as curator at the British Museum. The long hours didn't afford smoke breaks and he'd pretty much weaned himself from the nicotine in a matter of months. But now he needed something to do with his hands, and something to calm his nerves under her scrutiny. He could tell she wasn't really happy about this news.
He took another sip from his glass. "Well, the director of the museum reached out to me. I must admit the work is intriguing and the offer is very generous. As far as why leave consulting behind? For the most part, I'm bored. It's a lot of the same thing. I'll still do some work for clients who are dealing with issues more… suited to our expertise, but there is no joy in it."
The waitress brought their starter of calamari and dished some onto their plates.
"So what's the problem?" Buffy asked. "They've given you an offer. Don't you want the job?"
"It's been a very long time since I've done any museum work."
"I'm sure it's like riding a bike."
"It's horribly stuffy."
"Are you in need of tweed?" she asked, mischief shining in her eyes.
Giles giggled and it was infectious. Buffy couldn't help but giggle too. After a few moments he cleared his throat, took a drink of water, and answered, "In fact, I probably am. I think I burnt all but a tweed jacket your freshman year at university, and I believe I donated that one when I left Sunnydale after… well, it doesn't matter."
"Seriously, what's got you so worked up about taking the job?" She stuck a calamari ring with her fork and popped it in her mouth after dipping it in the accompanying marina sauce. "Unless you don't want it."
"Well, I'd have to move here."
"Well, that's a no brainer, the museum is here and your house isn't. Otherwise it would be one hell of a daily commute."
"Not ideal, no."
"Is living in London a problem for you?"
"No. I've lived here most of my adult life."
"Okay, then, so you'd have to move. Not like you haven't done that a few times before. What else?"
"The atmosphere really is stuffy."
"Okay. You've mentioned that twice. It's a museum. Those places are usually fairly uptight. And you are talking about Queen Victoria and her times. That sort of ranks up there with the über stuffy."
"Alright. Dealing with the upper brass is stuffy," he admitted. "The department… the people in my department are not. In fact, they are a bunch of eclectic individuals. I worked with several of them late last year with regards to a dangerous artifact."
"Who would you be dealing with more on a daily basis?"
"My team."
"Less stuffy."
He sighed and pushed the last calamari ring around the plate with his fork.
"Stake it already!" Her impatience got the better of her and he looked up at her with a startled expression. Taking a calming breath she said more calmly, "Giles, if you don't want this job, then don't take it. I mean, you have other options. You can continue working as a consultant, taking on more interesting cases, or you could come work for me…" She saw him grimace and look away. That was a job he truly didn't want and she wasn't going to push him. "Or you can look for something else if you truly need a change of scenery."
"I think the problem is that I do want it," he finally answered, turning his attention back to her.
"Okay. Why is that a problem?"
"I suppose… I suppose I worry about-"
The waitress brought their main courses, interrupting their conversation. When she finished grating parmesan on their dishes, Buffy thanked her and returned her attention to Giles.
"Well, on the plus side, if your team runs across anything dangerous when they are inventorying, cleaning, or processing new artifacts, you'll be there to save the day."
Giles looked down at his scallops risotto. The dish looked really good and he was hungry. It had been a long time since breakfast and he had skipped lunch in part because he was running late to his interview due to unexpected track work, and partly due to his nerves wreaking havoc with his stomach lining. And in truth, he was experiencing a bit of the latter at that moment.
"It would be good to have someone like you there, Giles. If there is an issue, you can contain it. If you need our help, well, all you would have to do is call and someone would be right over in a few minutes." Buffy picked up a slice of her pizza and noted Giles' look of disapproval. "I'm not eating it with a knife and fork. You Brits are weird. It's finger food."
He sighed for affect, knowing that she would do as she pleased.
"I'm sorry, before our food arrived you said you were worried about something…" she prompted.
"Oh, well, I… uh… I'm a bit worried because my background doesn't cover the Victorian era. Medieval Europe and Ancient Civilizations are more my areas of expertise." There was truth in that, but that really wasn't what had worried him. He was more concerned that he was distancing himself more from his life as a Watcher, and as Buffy's Chosen Watcher - not that she needed him in that role anymore, but it was an identity to him and his last connection to her. Thankfully, she had just suggested that he still could be of use to the Council in his role at the V&A.
"It's a director's position, Giles. You're the guy in charge. You need to enable your people and lead them. And one thing I've learned about being in charge over the last year is that you need to trust your experts. You won't know everything. No one knows everything, but there is always someone there who knows something you don't."
She was right. He was so proud of the person she was and had become. She truly was the greatest Slayer who ever lived, and now she was the successful head of an international organization, leading a troupe of Slayers and their Watchers against supernatural threats to the world.
"Wise words," he said, holding his glass up in salute.
Buffy raised her glass in acknowledgement. "Besides, if I know you, it's just another exciting opportunity to learn more, knowledge guy."
His lips twitched up into a shy smile. "Well, there is that."
"And you can't swing your dead zombie cat without hitting something Victorian in this country."
"I'll kindly remind you that it was your dead zombie cat first, thank you very much," Giles reminded her with a feigned indignity. He shook his head. How many years ago had that happened? Seemed like a lifetime ago. Buffy let out a genuine, full belly laugh and he found it made him truly happy to hear it and he was enchanted. God, he'd been stupid to let her leave. Clearing his throat, he added, "There is a lot of truth to what you said. The woman reigned long enough that people's attics are still full of items from that period. The museum gets new collections in all the time, and ever since they found an artifact of questionable… er… power, much like your mother's Nigerian mask, they have wanted someone with my expertise to oversee the collections."
The smile on her face faded a little. "Well, then it sounds like a perfect match, Giles. Don't pass this up."
He noticed her change of mood right away. "Are you alright, Buffy?" he asked softly.
She looked down at her half eaten pizza. "Yeah, I've just been missing Mom lately."
"That's only natural," he replied, wanting to reassure her, wanting to reach out and pull her into his arms. But he wasn't allowed that luxury. He'd given that up when he let her go eight months ago. "So much has happened in the last few years. And this past year… well, none of us expected to be… free of the Hellmouth."
Buffy sniffed and gave a little smile as she focused her attention back on him. "Yeah, if she could see me now."
"Joyce would be immensely proud." Giles said, his tone rich and soothing as he reached out and placed his warm hand over hers.
"Not bad for a juvenile delinquent who torched two schools, huh?" Buffy asked in a halfhearted tone, squeezing his hand in appreciation.
"Not bad at all," he answered quietly, allowing her her moment before pulling his hand away. Of course, had Joyce lived, she probably would have strung him up by his testicles for behaving so callously towards her daughter. As it was, he hadn't heard from Dawn in months. "Uh, how's your sister?"
"She's mad at you."
"So I gathered. She won't return my calls or emails."
"Your disappearing act at the pub hurt her tremendously."
Giles wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. At least the girl didn't know of their liaisons. "I've tried to explain. My business trip-"
"She hadn't seen you since Sunnydale imploded and thought you might want to spend some time with her."
He had every intention of playing host and tour guide to Dawn, but when he'd planned the trip to Edinburgh, he'd thought only of limiting his presence so he wouldn't hurt Buffy any further. And if he were honest, to dull his own pain as well.
"She spent three weeks with me, Giles. You never once called to see how she was doing."
"It was unforgivable of me, I know. I just…" He really had no excuses. In his misery, he hadn't thought of Dawn at all.
"She'll come around," Buffy sighed. "Just give her time."
"I'll make it up to her when she visits next. I give my word."
"Giles," she began, meeting his eyes over the table. "Whatever happened between us, and whatever happens going forward, please don't take it out on the rest of the gang. They miss you."
"They… don't know?"
"About… us? No. They think we're fighting because you won't take the job at the Council."
Somehow that surprised him. He was sure she would at least confide in Willow. The redhead had seemed distant, but he also knew she had been busy with her own duties within the Council.
Buffy pushed her plate away and took a sip of wine. "Can we just… can we start over? I hate this awkwardness. I'd like us to be friends again."
"I still want to be friends too," he answered as he searched her expressive eyes, imploring her to see his sincerity. "I don't want to think that we ever lost that."
She wanted to argue that they had, in fact, lost their friendship. That friends just don't abandon each other or avoid each other when they have issues, but she had been just as guilty of that, having run out on him, heartbroken and angry.
Taking a deep breath and resolving to get their friendship back on track, she asked. "Are you staying in London?"
"No, I will be returning home tonight."
"Did you drive?"
"Heavens no. I took the train."
"When do you need to be at the station?"
"There is a train every hour until eleven and then the last train leaves at eleven thirty."
She nodded at his implied statement. That he was at her disposal until such a time that she tired of him or he had to leave to catch the last train. "Would you walk with me? It's such a lovely evening."
—
Buffy insisted on paying the bill, laughing that the Council paid her well enough when Giles tried to argue the point and at least pay his half. Afterwards, they walked along the Thames to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. The conversation between them had grown lighter and more congenial and they stayed to watch the sun set over the river.
"One day I'll get to watch a play from in there," Buffy sighed as they turned and headed back towards her neighborhood.
"I'd like to experience that as well and perhaps take a tour of the theatre one afternoon," Giles added.
"That would be cool. So, if you are going to move here for your new job, then maybe we could take in a show some time."
Giles placed his hands in his pockets. "I'd like that. Perhaps I could entice Dawn to visit for her spring break. I'll pay for the airline tickets, of course, and the three of us could catch a show then."
"Trying to get back in her good graces?"
"Whatever it takes."
"Prepare to grovel. She likes that."
"And you? Shall I grovel for you as well? I do owe you an apology, Buffy. My behavior has been rather boorish."
"No. Just… don't be a stranger."
He placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, half expecting her to push him away. Instead she slipped her arm around his waist beneath his suit jacket. It was new for both of them, showing affection and being tactile in public, and they walked together in silence before she let go and walked over to the edge, placing her hands on the rail and looking out over the river, down towards Tower Bridge.
"I love this city. I love the energy and how beautiful it is," she finally said.
"You know, many, many years ago when I was running around London trying to escape reality, I actually lived in your building."
"No way!"
"The area obviously wasn't the place to be back then. Rejuvenation didn't really start happening until the mid to late eighties."
"Tell me Ethan didn't live here too. I'd have to move."
Giles laughed. "No, I'd left him and the gang for a girl I'd met at a party and shacked up with her. She was an artist who lived and worked in her studio."
"How long did you live there?"
"About a week. Our dreams were incompatible."
"How so?"
"She wanted to make a real go of her art and I only wanted to make a real go at… well…" he trailed off and shrugged in embarrassment.
"Pig," she muttered in mock disgust, playfully shoving him with her shoulder.
He chuckled. "Indeed. She threw me out the door whilst I was suffering the mother of all hangovers and then threw my things out the third story window. I grabbed what I could and ran with my tail between my legs back to Brixton and the abandoned building where Ethan and the others were squatting."
He leaned up against the rail, his back to it, and looked at her. She was trying not to laugh, but the schooled line of her mouth gave way to a full grin and she finally gave in to the laughter. After she was able to get control of herself, her dark green eyes glowed with amusement and he wasn't sure he'd seen anything more beautiful.
"True story?" she asked, turning to face him.
"Every word."
"You deserved it," she remarked.
"I did."
Buffy pushed off the wall and started walking again. When he caught up with her, she looked up at him and stated warmly, "Thank you."
"What for?"
"For sharing a part of your life that you would normally keep buried."
When Giles slowed his pace, she stopped and turned to face him. They were close, almost touching, his face masked in the shadows between lamp posts and trees. "I was a scoundrel and a layabout at best. A petty thief, a carouser, and a borderline alcoholic and drug addict at worst, and I also abused magicks for any number of selfish reasons. It was a difficult period in my life, and there isn't much to be proud of, but there are amusing stories here and there. I don't mind sharing them with those whom I trust."
She was held captive by his voice, quiet, low, tinged with regret, and full of a hard honesty. He'd only ever told her and the others anything private when it was forced out of him. It was the way it had been since early on in their relationship, starting with Eyghon, and ending with his confession about how he had felt about her while he had been married to his wife. She dared a question as she listened to his breathing and the lapping of the waves as a river cruise boat made its way slowly up river.
"And the not so amusing stories?"
"Whatever you want to know," he murmured and waited for her to ask something, anything. He would be totally honest with her, needing to connect with her.
There was a long pause between them as she waged a war with herself on which question to ask. She finally settled on one. "Would you have returned to the Council had Eyghon not happened?" It wasn't the question she'd wanted to ask, but it was a safe one. It would also gauge his sincerity in her mind. Whether he could engage freely and honestly in a proper dialogue.
"In time." He took a moment to think. "The gang had started to splinter months before Eyghon. Randall was losing himself to drugs. Philip was starting to feel the pull of impending responsibility. And we were all rather weary of Ethan, who was terminally bored with everything and diving deeper into the dark magicks. Had that night not ended in catastrophe, it very well may have been the last hurrah for us anyway."
"And you?" she asked, slipping her hand through his arm and leading them on.
Giles gave her a smile and walked in step with her. "I was tired of being cold and hungry and moving every week or two. Fighting. Staying ahead of the law. It was… exhilarating for a young man who had grown up the way I did. Being numb, living only for the moment… it was what I needed for a while, but after two years the blush was wearing off the rose."
"You could've disappeared and reinvented yourself somewhere."
"I missed my parents. I knew I had disappointed them. When I returned, I threw myself into my studies, and once I had graduated, I threw myself into my training. I needed to prove to them and to myself that I was worthy of their trust again."
"The prodigal son."
"I had a lot to atone for. Still do."
"You're a good man, Giles," she said looking up at him, meeting his gaze and willing him to believe her.
He stopped them again just before Tower Bridge, his face serious and sad. "After everything I've done. All the hurt that I have caused you." He raised his left hand and caressed her cheek. "I am not worthy of that," he whispered as his eyes searched hers. "Not from you."
"Giles…" she breathed, mesmerized by the adoration she saw reflected in his smoky green eyes.
He leaned in, his nose caressing hers as their eyes fluttered closed and her hands wandered up his chest. Their breathing shallowed and hers hitched as his lips finally sought hers, but in a moment of clarity and self preservation, she backed out his embrace and lightly pushed him away.
"Don't! Don't."
Giles tried approaching her. "Buffy, I-"
"I can't do this," she interrupted, holding her hand out in front of her, holding him at bay. "Don't kiss me. Not when you're just going to catch the train and say goodbye. It hurts too much."
"I-I can stay. Please, I-"
She approached him, put a finger to his lips, and closed her eyes. Slowly shaking her head, she tried to check the emotional tide that threatened to overwhelm her. It had taken all she had to work up the courage to face him at the memorial. Afterward she had come to grips with the fact that he truly didn't want to be with her, and her heart had shattered. She couldn't do it again. She couldn't let herself kiss him, take him back to her flat, and then let him go again. It had to stop.
When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw the despair in his and moved her hand to his shoulder.
"We can't keep doing this. I can't… do this. Not without more from you."
Giles wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, his cheek nuzzling hers. He felt her arms circle him, her hands on his back, holding him tight. He wanted to explain, needed to apologize, tell her that he loved her, that he'd never stopped. "Buffy-"
She steeled herself with a deep breath as she caressed the back of his neck and whispered, "Kiss me when you are ready to say hello."
Giles pulled back to look at her and she stepped out of his embrace. Her green eyes were wide and awash with unshed tears as they sparkled in the lamplight. She drew her right hand down his arm as she pulled away until her fingers caressed his, her eyes never leaving his until she turned around and headed towards home.
He let her go, watching her until she was out of sight, his heart heavy before crossing the bridge to catch the next train.
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