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Wind rustled the pages of the large book, fluttering the corners of the soft, dry, crisp, old paper in the arid California breeze. Rupert Giles absently tapped the end of a pen on the pages and studied the paragraph under the illustration of a grotesquely deformed human face common to vampires. He reread the section three times before realizing he was keeping time to the music, mouthing the words of the old rock and roll song rather than absorbing the contents of the material. With a sigh he leaned back in his chair and dropped his pen, intending to shut off the radio, but the end of, I SAW HER STANDING THERE, was just too enjoyable and he let it finish. Removing his glasses and rubbing his face, he momentarily paused to delight in the warm breeze, the fresh scent of spring, the nostalgic tingles revived by the songs of his youth.
This Saturday morning the high school was quiet. His Slayer off on a shopping spree with Joyce Summers, her mother, and Willow Rosenberg, her best friend, at a mall in San Diego. The box of reference books sent up from his cousin Ian Matheson in LA, arrived during the week and Giles took advantage of the quiet respite to glance through them. Ian had promised they contained relevant information that would be helpful to their immediate problem, finding some clue to the Mayor's ascension. The few pages Willow had been able to purloin had given them a base to work from. And Giles hoped that what Ian had sent down would keep them on the right track. Not that he had specifically outlined, in detail, exactly what he needed, but Ian was intuitive, and lately seemed to be in tune with his requirements.
Typical of Sunnydale California, May was spring-like and temperate. El Nino had taken its toll last year. This year La Nina brought nice, moderate sunshine and an abundance of early poppies and other flora native to the region. Now acclimated to California, he appreciated the mild weather, the fresh fruits and vegetables available year round, and the open lifestyle that allowed so much latitude for explanations of weird happenings concerning himself and his charges at Sunnydale High.
The music though had momentarily transported him back to the warm summers of his youth in England during the infamous Sixties. Before he understood the true weight and responsibility of his future duties as a Watcher. Days when the British replaced American rock and roll sound and he dreamed of being as fun as Dave Clark or as cool as Paul McCartney. Days when he could stroll to the river with his transistor and sing along with every song.
The oldies station in the area was running a 'Beatles weekend' and about every fourth song was from the Fab Four. The DJ announced a 'triple-header', whatever that was, and the familiar drumbeat of SHE LOVES YOU began. Oldies rock and roll was not something he indulged in much. The Beatles, however, were irresistible. There had been endless youthful hours of solitary daydreams about the Fab Four, convenient idols for the isolated young boy who knew his destiny would never include singing or performances -- but instead be devoted to some unknown young girl who would be his Slayer.
He tapped the pen again, this time softly singing along as he vainly tried to study the text. Old Watcher journals and priest scribblings were filled with information about all manner of supernatural creatures, but nothing about ascensions. Distracted by his great-grandfather's watcher's journal, he had read the most depressing passages, when Ian Sampson's Slayer, Arden, had been murdered at age Seventeen by a demon. Moving on to other texts he found himself staring at the repulsive sketch of a Regency-era vampyre. His thoughts imagined it into the visage of Angelus, and Rupert slammed his fist on the offending picture.
Angelus/Angel, the vampire with a soul. Since his return to this dimension -- with his soul intact -- Angel had made life on the Hellmouth discomforting for Giles. Angel's influence on Buffy had tainted the Slayer. Always cunning, Angel tempted Buffy, after his return from Hell, to lie and deceive her family and friends. It had been one of the most painful moments of his life when he realized she had been harboring the vampire. How could she continue to love the monster? How could she protect Angel after all the demon had done to Giles? Unbidden came his own questions of self-interrogation. How could he still love Buffy so much after all the pain she had caused him? The same way Buffy could love Angel after all the demon had done.
Love. Buffy was right the Slayer and Watcher were fated.
The song changed to IF I FELL and his mind drifted automatically to Buffy. Her mother had wanted to take her on this shopping spree. Concerned for Giles and the threat recently from Faith, Buffy had not wanted to leave Sunnydale, but stress was at an all time high. Angel's return, the terrible debacle of her birthday and Giles' dismissal from the Council, the new Watcher Wesley, and the Mayor's upcoming ascension all weighed heavily on the shoulders of the Slayer.
The new threat Buffy perceived from the rogue slayer towards her Watcher (when Faith had attacked Giles) had just compounded their problems. Giles had insisted that Buffy go, not only to please her mother, but because she needed the break. Giles assured her he could handle things at the Hellmouth while she shopped for a graduation dress. But she had made him promise that he wouldn't patrol at all while she was gone. She told him to let Wesley handle it. Never refusing her anything, how could he deny her this simple request? But then, the vision of Buffy in formal wear, coifed to perfection and stunningly beautiful, would make him agree to nearly anything.
Mrs. Summers had promised a getaway of pure fun and spending. Joyce's gallery had erupted into a trendy success thanks to some unusual South Pacific art acquired a few months before and profits at the moment were soaring. The financial windfall enabled the women to have a first class holiday and graduation would be a memorable event one way or another Giles thought ironically. That thought made him turn back to his books; they needed to find something, anything useful regarding the Mayor's ascension
The song changed again to IMAGINE his favorite Beatles song, retitled I'LL GET YOU, probably for Americans, he thought. Phrases and words of the song constantly reminded him of Buffy.
A smile came naturally…
"Oh yeah, oh yeah.
Singing along he leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, forcing memories of English lavender and sweet grass and his first innocent loves. But other faces kept intruding -- Buffy, Angelus, Joyce, Buffy, Drusilla, Spike, and Buffy . . . .
"It's not like me to pretend, but I'll get you in the end . . . ."
Eighteen. Buffy a legal adult. Yet, she had carried the weight of the Slayer on her shoulders for years.
"Well there's gonna be a time,
Buffy's Watcher. He had failed her so many times over these last few years. Her death at the hands of the Master, Angel's revoked curse, her sorrow at killing Angel -- sending her away from Sunnydale. His betrayal to her during the test on her eighteenth birthday. As a Watcher there were too many failures. He had no right to expect her love, did he?
She had been so betrayed by him when he had drugged her for that damned test. But after he was fired from the Watcher Council she was instantly in his camp again, supporting him, allowing him to stay as her Watcher and friend despite the Council's official attitude. Watcher and friend. At that time it was all he ever needed from life, but equally a life sentence for less than what he wanted
"I'll get you in the end, oh yeah . . . ."
His first, last and always duty was to his Slayer, fighting beside her on the front lines of danger. Buffy preferred, in most cases, single combat with the demons, and Giles took the backseat of preparation and research support in his role as Watcher.
Lately as things had begun to change between them he contemplated demanding a more literal definition to his duties as Watcher. Buffy seemed concerned with him continually joining her on nightly patrols, insisting she worried more about him than the undead. But he had started to override her concerns and now with this latest threat from Faith, Giles had been able to keep Buffy company on patrol each night. She had agreed readily knowing that if he was with her she needn't fear for his safety when they were apart. He had promised his Slayer a year ago (following his attempt to kill Angelus after Jenny was murdered), he would never again take insane risks to his safety, and he was compelled to keep his word. He had made a vow to himself; he would do anything to protect her -- even give up his life.
He returned to concentrating on his research, removing his glasses for a moment to clean them he put them back on, accidentally hitting the bruise on his cheek. A visible souvenir from his encounter earlier in the week with Faith. Opening the old tome, he stared at the old drawing of the hideous caricature of Angelus and tried to read again.
***
A loud crash startled Giles from his doze, sending a Fifteenth Century, leather-bound monograph to the floor. He managed a fumbled catch of his glasses before they fell to the floor, and adjusted them in time to see his visitor with crystal clarity.
"Giles!"
"Buffy!"
"You're all right!"
"I -- yes -- "
"I thought you were going to call me if anything important happened!" his Slayer accused.
Standing in the doorway, the slight, eighteen-year-old dynamo seemed an incongruously formidable opponent. Exuding a presence beyond her tender youth, she glared at the adult with irate fire in her eyes.
"I -- uh -- Buffy, I thought you were shopping until -- is it still Saturday?" Shaking the sleepy fog from his brain he collected his thoughts and, as usual in his conversations with Buffy, tried to get a grasp of the untenable dialogue. "Buffy, what are you talking about?"
The blond Californian loosed her irritation. "The break-in! We agreed you wouldn't handle anything alone! It's too dangerous! We know the Mayor might try something at any time! And then Faith… You promised!" She flung down her purse, advancing on him in a strange mixture of two-year-old-tantrum and thirty-year-old-judge.
"What break-in?"
"The break-in!"
Holding up his hands, Giles fell back on his only resource in situations like this. Surrender. He pleaded for her to calm down, start from the beginning, and explain this criminal act he had no knowledge about. Nonplused at this new information, Buffy leaned on the side of his desk.
"The police called us early this morning at our hotel. Mom's shop was burglarized last night."
"That's dreadful. What was taken?"
"A very unusual looking dagger. Actually I think mom said she wasn't sure how it got into the rest of the...well anyway... I thought . . ." Realization of her impulsive accusations gradually dawning on her, Buffy made a slow retreat. "Well, the dagger had a number of crosses decorating their hilt, you know, religious stuff and I thought they had something to do with the Hellmouth and -- and -- stuff. And you . . . ." Giles' astonishment finally penetrated her impulsive anger and she sighed. "Oh, boy."
A qualified expert on antiquities, Giles' knowledge extended worldwide in matters of supernatural or religious artifacts. When Joyce Summers' exhibit of Pacific art opened, Giles had mentioned to Buffy and her friends that several Hawaiian pieces symbolized mythological beings in the over-crowded Hawaiian pantheon of the paranormal. He had no concern about the objects since they were merely reproductions, not original artifacts.
"Buffy, this dagger -- I don't seem to remember them in the articles that came into the gallery."
"Well, it wasn't really part of the items ordered, mom just assumed, she had ordered it and then had forgotten about it."
"Can you describe it to me?"
Buffy told Giles all she remembered of the stolen item and was alarmed by the expression on his face.
"What does it mean, Giles? What's wrong?"
"What? Something -- a glimmer." Giles murmured as if he was no longer in the room.
"Giles, you're giving me the wiggins, with that expression of yours."
What, oh sorry, Buffy" Trying to dispel the Slayer's anxiety Giles continued placatingly. "It could mean nothing more than a mundane act of crime, Buffy. Your mother's shop has become most popular. Even in Sunnydale, such things as normal, human criminals still exist."
"Yeah," Buffy conceded, "but don't you think it's odd? There were lots of very expensive thingamabobs there, but the baddies only did the disappearing act with the dagger. I'll grant the jewels on the hilt looked real, but they could have taken, oh I don't know, the way-too-overpriced paintings mom says I'm not supposed to even walk near. Why take the dagger?"
"Why indeed?" Giles shook his head.
Buffy shivered, rubbing her bare arms to dispel the chill. "You're worried. Spill all, Giles. What do you think?"
"I'm not sure," Giles commented pensively. "But the details you have given me on the dagger, Buffy, tells me, it's definitely not a Hawaiian artifact."
"If it's not Hawaiian, then what is it?" Buffy inquired puzzled.
"I'm not sure… yet. Do you think I could go and take a look?"
"Negative on that big time. The cops are still swarming the place at the moment. I'll ask mom later after the cops have left." Her expression became sour of a sudden. "Mom wants me to spend more time learning the ropes of the business."
The plans surprised Giles. Usually Joyce wanted Buffy out of the way. After Buffy's return from her runaway summer, Joyce became more possessive of her daughter, but that had dissipated, especially after the disastrous Hansel and Gretel incident. Relations with Mrs. Summers and Giles had started out very rocky when Joyce learned Buffy was a Slayer and Giles her Watcher. Buffy's summer sojourn and the Ethan Rayne band candy happening hurt his credibility with Buffy's mother. It seemed to Giles that Joyce had acted almost -- jealous of Buffy's relationship with her Watcher. A few times, Giles had tried to explain the bond between Watcher and Slayer, but Mrs. Summers would have none of it. But over the school year Joyce had begun to realize that some unfathomable bond did exist between the Watcher and her daughter the Slayer. One she probably would never understand. So she tried to accept it and the three had finally worked out a mostly compatible association.
"Well, I'll look into it." Giles looked up at his Slayer.
"Yo, Giles I just told you --"
"Yes, sorry, we must wait until later. And you must satisfy your mother of course, helping her in the gallery. Perhaps it will give you a chance to investigate the history of some of the art?"
"Oh sure," Buffy snapped, leaping off the desk. "Give me orders just like everyone else! You've already planned my whole life for me, Giles! Isn't that enough? No, you want more," she answered herself, her temper rising with her voice. "Just like mom, who also has my life planned out!"
She explained that the weekend had consisted of Joyce' surprise plans for Buffy after graduation. She once more lobbied for Buffy to leave Sunnydale to Faith and attend Northwestern University. Joyce had no knowledge that Faith had turned to the dark side of the Hellmouth and was now aiding the Mayor. Nor did Mrs. Summers really release the idea that somehow Buffy could slip out of he responsibilities as the Slayer.
Dismayed by the expectations, Giles tried to take it all in. Before he could absorb the news Buffy continued, growing more agitated with each revelation.
"She never listens unless I'm brutally honest. Sorry, mom, as the Slayer I have to stay in Sunnydale till I die? Which probably won't be long anyway! I'm eighteen, but I have no independence -- no life! You dictate to me to work, mom dictates what she wants for my life, my Slayer destiny dictates -- that I slay. Where is there room for me?"
She stalked from the room, leaving a speechless, shell-shocked Watcher sitting alone in his office.
Buffy was right, there was little room for her as a person -- she was the slayer. Was that why she had tried so desperately to create a relationship with Angel? Why did it have to be for Angel? All the love and support she could ever need was much closer at hand, but she did not yet see him in that capacity.
Some time ago he thought Buffy had gotten beyond this identity crisis dilemma, but obviously not. Was the dreaded transformation of the Mayor causing Buffy such anxiety? Was it her lack of future beyond the doomed existence of a Slayer? Slayers -- always-young girls genetically predisposed to be the protectors against the Evil Ones -- lived notoriously short lives. Eighteen was almost middle age for life expectancy in Buffy's calling.
Wouldn't she live a long and productive life somewhere else, away from the Hellmouth, away from the death-sentence of a Slayer? The thought depressed him nearly as much as the tragic picture she painted with her stinging words. There was no way to help her out of her trap because he was, in some sense one of her jailers. As her Watcher, he was bound to her in an irrevocable destiny, as centuries of Slayers and Watchers had been before them. All he could do for her was make her life, her job as Slayer, easier. He could not change their fated paths.
He imagined something quite different with his life when he trained at his father's knee to be a Watcher. Like his father, his grandmother, his great-grandfather, he was destined to guide and train a Slayer. Something special met him when he arrived in Sunnydale so long ago. Unlike Buffy, however, he no longer felt trapped in his destined life as a Watcher. It was a privilege to serve as Buffy's mentor and friend. He would never trade it for anything, and he would fulfill his role -- watch over his Slayer -- with his life. Because his Slayer was his life.
***
"Surprise!"
Buffy gasped and fell back against the door. It usually took a lot to startle a Slayer, but tonight she was distracted and upset. Her lonely walk home from school had left her melancholy and unhappy; as much from her current situation as from the ugly and embarrassing scream-fest she had delivered to Giles. She would apologize next time they talked. As always, he would forgive her. Why was that? He always forgave her no matter the transgression. Because he loved her that was why. Was Faith right about a fated connection? Would she ever understand what that meant? And did Giles really understand it? Or was he in the dark just as much as she was?
"Isn't it great?" Willow stood on the stairs, modeling the dress she had purchased in San Diego. Mrs. Summers fidgeted around, adjusting Willow's hair and dress to make the picture detail-perfect.
"Well, say something!" her mother laughed. "We thought we'd have a fashion show and model your dresses." Joyce wore an expensive dress she had purchased on their buying spree.
Buffy plastered a smile on her face. Touched by the sentiment of her mom and friend, she floated into the occasion, the emotions never really sinking deeper than her facial expression. On the outside she went through the motions of dressing in her new dress, fixing her hair, and talking about a summer cruise her dad wanted to take her on after graduation. Inside she was still confused, still missing something out of life that she couldn't even define.
***
After searching several hours, admittedly not in a focused frame of mind, Giles failed to find anything relating to the object that had been stolen from the gallery. To be useful in this robbery case, he would have to investigate the scene of the crime, as the saying went. There would also have to be an examination of the artifacts not stolen from the shop. What if this WAS connected with the Mayor? Was involving Mrs. Summers a ploy to distract Buffy?
***
After the modeling session the three women changed back into casual clothes and put in MY FAIR LADY. Helping her mom set out snack food, they discussed the break-in during the slower scenes in the movie. Buffy vaguely mentioned that Giles could help investigate the theft and Joyce considered the suggestion.
Joyce Summers felt a variety of negative emotions for Giles; at times, resentment for his role as Watcher and therefore somehow responsible for Buffy being a slayer, embarrassment over the whole band candy debacle, jealousy at the closeness Buffy shared with him. But she had tried to work out these resentments in the last few months. She was aware that the Watcher's connection to her daughter and his devotion to her was what kept her alive and sane in her destiny as the slayer. Wasn't that what Buffy had called what fate had chosen for her -- her destiny?
"Buffy? Did you hear me? I said you should come with me tomorrow to check out the shop."
"Oh, yeah, sure, mom. Did the police say anymore about the break-in?"
"No. Not that I trust their competence, but I hope they can get the dagger back. Maybe Mr. Giles should look into it as you suggested."
Buffy grinned happily at her mother. "Great mom, Giles is a master at all this antiquity stuff."
Joyce felt her heart lighten at the grin on her daughter's face, knowing for one of the rare times in their relationship she had said the right thing. "He was certainly very helpful with the new shipment a few weeks ago."
"Which reminds me, he never saw the dagger when it came in and he says by my description of it doesn't sound Hawaiian."
Joyce had no theory on the crime, and went back to watching the movie. Buffy found it hard to concentrate on a musical when there were so many stresses vying for her attention. An odd thought strayed into her brain when Eliza came down the stairs, stunningly elegant for the Embassy ball. Henry Higgins, Buffy realized, was in love with Eliza even then, but could not bring himself to admit the emotion. It was in the eyes, Buffy thought to herself. The eyes always betrayed these straight-laced British types.
***
Knowing Buffy was still technically off-duty tonight, Giles had decided to patrol for a short time. Having done a circuit of the park and a brief stop at the Sunnydale cemetery he eventually found himself in front of the Summer's house.
Standing by a tree in the yard across the street, Giles could see Buffy standing on the porch, waving good-bye to Willow. Bathed in the light spilling from the open door, she seemed like a glowing angel. Although there was nothing angelic about their last conversation, Giles could not discount the heavenly imagery. She was a force on the side of good. She was also all too human, with all the frailties, emotions and flaws incumbent to the Human species. Even as she had shouted at him he knew in his heart she did not blame him for her identity or destiny. Rather, she saw him as a fellow companion in this strange reality of the Hellmouth. They were friends. On a daily basis, their ages, their places in society demanded distance and structure. In their real roles, however, necessity required a rare relationship closer than even blood. As a Slayer, she had to save the world. As a Watcher, he had to protect and train her to do her job. They knew each other well, cared for and depended on each other as Watchers and Slayers had for thousands of years.
"So, the Watcher is watching tonight."
Startled, Giles spun round, on guard, warily facing Faith and silently berating himself for being caught off guard.
"She's going to kill you, Giles."
"You don't know what the bloody hell you're saying," Giles snapped.
"Your devotion to her will get you killed one of these days."
"Is that a threat?"
"Not from me, that's not what I want from you Giles." Faith intoned, her voice becoming subdued.
"What do you want, Faith?"
"What I can't ever have." The Slayer reached up and tried to touch the bruise on his face. Giles grabbed her hand before she could make contact.
"Don't." At his warning she looked slightly amused, which angered him. "Trying a new tactic, are we Faith?"
Faith growled under her breath in frustration. "I don't understand you. You have a Slayer right in front of you who is willing to give you everything you could want, and yet you pine after the one who has no interest in you at all."
The truth in her words stung like acid to his skin, but he kept the anger to the forefront of his mind, repelling the cuts her cruelty delivered with ease. Her tongue was a vicious weapon which frequently hit to his heart with wounding blows. Allowing her to see her success would weaken his frail defenses. Despite his bravado, he was basically at her mercy and she could inflict incredible damage if he wasn't very careful. Revealing no fear, no injury from her truth seemed his only hope.
"I believe we've had this discussion before, Faith. The answer is still no."
"Watcher, you're not getting the picture here. A Watcher/Slayer connection. Think of the power that could be at your fingertips." Faith seemed to warm to her subject, moving her body against his. "You could get back at the Council for firing you. Hey, even better, take over the Council if you wanted too."
"Faith, I don't love you." Giles told her in frustration. Almost preferring her on the physical attack, he silently theorized negative contact between Slayer and Watcher would probably rob any power from the Connection. Not that he would invite an attack, but at least it was a possibility he felt likely. Nor would he share that tidbit of speculation with the volatile Faith. To the erratic rogue Slayer, such a theory would be tantamount to an invitation. "The Fated Connection is a myth, Faith, it has never been proven that bond exists."
"Propaganda, Giles, you know that. Those old windbags on the council would be too damned scared to let any hint out of the likelihood that that kinda power exists."
"And what about your friend the Mayor?"
Sourly she stepped away. "The Mayor is a business associate, I have no friends, if you recall, Buffy took them all." Faith told him bitterly. "And your devotion to her, Giles, is going to be your death."
Giles looked down at the young girl in front of him, wishing things had turned out differently for her, even after everything what she had done. "You still don't understand Faith, as long as I keep Buffy safe, my destiny is fulfilled."
Snarling, Faith seemed ready to strike him.
"Faith, I advise you to take a hike, before I help you along myself."
The voice intoned threateningly as Angel came out from behind the tree. The vampire was aware that the other Slayer had attacked the Watcher not too long ago. Buffy had been sure to inform him of the incident because she wanted Angel to be around to make sure Faith kept her distance from Giles while Buffy was gone.
Faith grinned cheekily at the vampire, just daring him to try something, then turned back to Giles. "Just remember, Giles. There's always another Slayer available."
After Faith had departed Angel stood next to Giles. He didn't say anything for a few minutes as he too observed Buffy's house across the street. Giles waited patiently knowing the vampire had sought him out for a reason. Since Angel's return from hell, they had made it a point to avoid each other as much as possible.
"We're both doomed, you and I, Giles. Our destiny is forever intertwined with hers, but never the way we want it to be. We're both cursed."
Fingering the cross in his pocket, Giles studied the demon that had been both friend and enemy to him. "I don't know what you mean."
"I can never be with her because I'm a vampire. Yet you, you think you can never get that close to Buffy because you're her Watcher. I used to love irony. Now, I just find it pathetic, don't you, Giles?"
Giles throat tightened in guilt realizing that the vampire had read him so perfectly, the same way Faith had been able to discern his true feelings. Was he so transparent that everyone in Sunnydale knew his unrequited love for his Slayer?
"Go away, Angel" Giles dismissed tiredly. "Can't you leave her alone tonight?"
Angel laughed bitterly. "I know you still can't stand to have me around because of how I've hurt you and Ms Calendar -- "
"And Buffy."
"Yes, and Buffy. But I've always respected you, Giles. And because of that I came to see you to give you a warning."
"A warning, about what?"
"I was over at Willie's place earlier this evening."
"And?"
"He mentioned that some guys were prowling around asking questions."
"About the Slayer?"
"No about her Watcher."
"Some of Quentin Travers associates would be my conjecture."
"Watchers?" Angel asked puzzled.
"Probably. I've been interfering where I shouldn't." Giles laughed harshly. "Travers did warn me."
"What will they do?"
Giles looked at the vampire candidly. "A rogue Watcher, that's almost as bad as a rogue Slayer. What do you think?"
Angel actually looked ill. "They wouldn't."
Giles shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. "It really doesn't matter."
"Yes it does, Giles, because your death would probably kill Buffy."
The strange observation gave Giles chills of dread. Almost casually, Angel leaned against a nearby tree. The Watcher also leaned back against a tree, watching his companion.
"I'm not her Watcher. She really doesn't need me anymore."
"Man, you've got it so wrong, Giles." Angel sighed, then continued. "I may have Buffy's love, but it's a doomed love -- a teenage first love. She was already tired of the bad boy attraction when I broke up with her. And she' may still love me, but after seeing my vicious, Angelus side with Faith -- I could see the affection beginning to be replaced with distrust. And my last declaration that our time together was finished doomed our relationship. With time, what we had together will fade into a bittersweet regret."
"Does this lecture have a point?" Giles did not bother to disguise the boredom in his tone.
"Yes, it does."
"I am grateful for your help with saving Buffy on numerous occasions. I will, however, never trust you completely Angel. You are alive today because Buffy loves you."
The vampire flinched from the power of the condemnation. "I didn't realize -- you still want revenge don't you? For Ms. Calendar? Or for the torture I put you through?"
Giles shook his head in despair, his voice strained, quiet. "For what you've done to Buffy. Her love for you has given her nearly unendurable pain. I should have stopped it when I realized . . . . Should have. One more regret from the Hellmouth."
"Then why didn't you kill me?"
"Because your death would hurt Buffy too much. If, as you say -- and I believe you're right -- Buffy has begun to draw away from you emotionally, then that is how it must end. Buffy must kill you in her heart. It is the only way she will ever be over you."
Gravely, Angel nodded. "I know it has to end, and after the Ascension I believe I will have the strength to leave." Angel studied him. "At least you'll be here to take care of her." On Giles' skeptical expression, he clarified. "I also know how devotion between Slayer and Watcher works. She's bonded to you in a way no one else ever could be, Giles. If something happens to you, I don't know if Buffy could survive it."
"What do you mean?"
"She leans on you more than anyone else, even me. Maybe the bond is even more than she understands. I've seen that happen, too, Giles. Protection, devotion, love. There's a mutual covenant between you that no one else can share." He stared at the Summers' house, then back to the Englishman. "I knew two Watchers who married their Slayers." At the dangerous expression on Giles' face, he clarified. "I didn't kill them, I just knew who they were.
Giles glared at the vampire. "You knew them?"
"One of the couples -- your great-grandparents. That's why you're on the Council. Bloodlines count, don't they?"
Rupert's grandmother, the privileged daughter of a Slayer and Watcher, had been the most powerful member of the Watcher Council in two centuries. That was why Giles was such a disgrace to his family and the Council when he quit Oxford and rebelled. The only reason he was sent here to Sunnydale, as an active Watcher, were his bloodlines. Family history had perhaps prepared him for the same fate as his great grandfather. Or from breaking the final bonds with the Council in his refusal to betray his Slayer anymore with the insane test on her eighteenth birthday.
Angel's reflective voice was subdued. "Sometimes ironies make you laugh, because the only alternative is to cry."
Ironies? A vampire in love with a Slayer? A Slayer in love with a vampire, a rebel-Slayer working for a demon, a witch-in-training and werewolf in love, a Watcher's unrequited love for his Slayer.
"On the Hellmouth, irony passes into the pathetic," Giles whispered.
"Someday I'm going to have the strength to let go." The Watcher looked up to stare at Angel, who continued. "On the rebound, after me, she'll probably be tired of bad boys, and date some college kids or some flashy guys with money. But Buffy's heart is going to bring her back to someone solid and supportive and devoted to her and she'll recognize your love for what it is -- to both of you. And I know she'll be in good hands."
Darting a glance toward the house, Angel turned away, quickly closing into the folds of night. Nerves catching up to his adrenaline-delayed senses, Giles' body shook in residual dread. Partially from Angel's presence, partially from the amazement that the vampire had been so perceptive about the bond between Buffy and Giles.
"Giles, what are doing hiding across the street from my house and all alone?"
Giles turned, once again startled by another surprise visitor. "Buffy!"
"Giles, what's going on?"
"I -- uh -- I just wanted to drop by and tell you -- uh -- I've been on patrol."
She stared at him in confusion. "Giles you promised you wouldn't patrol while I was gone."
"You're back." He reminded.
Buffy glared at him in mock anger at his comment then she noticed the odd expression on his face. "Did something happen? Are you okay?"
Touched at her concern he moved closer, his hand reaching for, but not connecting with her arm. "Yes, fine. Thank you. And I haven't been alone."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, first I had a short visit with Faith."
"What, Faith was here?" She moved closer, inspecting his face. "Did she hurt you?"
"No, she's changed her tactics for the moment."
Buffy linked an arm around his, placing her other hand on his shoulder. "Sure? I don't want anything happening to you. I need my Watcher."
Afraid to give away the turbulent emotions that had been aroused by his discussions with Faith and Angel, he simply patted her hand, basking in the moment of mutual affection.
"Sorry about earlier -- the yelling part."
"Oh, don't give it a second thought."
"I knew you'd say that. I mean, not those exact words, but I knew you'd forgive me. You always do, Giles." She rested her head on his arm. "Thanks."
"You are welcome. Do you feel better?"
Buffy looked up at him, scrunched her face in concentration, then beamed him a smile. "Yeah. I'm cool and all centered on the Slayer mode again." She sighed reflectively. "I'm the Slayer, Giles. There's no way to hide from that and I haven't wanted to for awhile, but mom still isn't really with the program. And there lies my problem. She keeps badgering me about learning things about the shop like I'm Eliza Doolittle or something."
"You've read Pygmalian?"
Her face screwed into confusion. "What? I'm talking about Eliza. From My Fair Lady. Didn't you ever see it?? It's British, you know."
His smile was tolerant. "Yes, I'm familiar with the work."
"Anyway, the gallery and going to college and stuff, mom is just non-stop. But I know I need to be who I am, and I can't do that without you." Before he could offer an argument, she hurried on. "And I need my Watcher to do me a favor."
"Anything, of course, Buffy. Except driving you to that Violent-something-or-other concert you wanted to go to next month."
"No, never mind that, Giles. I need you to help me with this break-in at mom's store. The dagger -- I think there's something fishy going on with it."
He agreed to help. She asked him to pick her up at one AM.
Offering a sunny smile, she admitted, "You're the best, Giles." She gave his arm a quick squeeze, then darted back to the house.
He sighed deeply, wondering at the muddled complexities in his life.
***
Reason dictated he take advantage of the time and catch a nap before their scheduled nocturnal jaunt. Thumbing through his grandfather's journal once again, he tried to glean something, anything about the Watcher/Slayer connection that had captured Ian and Arden. Ever since he and Buffy had found out about the Fated Connection, she had wanted to know even more about it. Giles had known of the existence of the connection but like most of the Watchers had never taken it seriously, until now.
As with most of his experiences since moving to Sunnydale, Giles found reason did not enter into his mind as the hours ticked past. Slowly assembling a small bag of weapons and a flashlight, his thoughts returned to his Slayer. No question, he was too close, too wrapped up in her well being to see anything else. Beyond those obvious emotions, he dared not speculate too closely on his feelings. This obsession seemed a natural evolution of his Watcher duties, but from reading old journals from centuries past, he knew closeness between Watcher and Slayer meant a dangerous vulnerability for both as well as additional psychic power. Intellectually, he always knew he should be willing to give his life to his Slayer. After meeting Buffy, he knew his life did belong to Buffy, as well as his heart and soul.
***
Just before One AM he pulled one house up from the Summers' home. Before the car stopped, Buffy dashed from the house and jumped into his car. Speeding away, he kept his eyes on the road.
"Mom went to bed with a headache. She gave me the keys." She smiled, dangling keys in her hand. "Now we don't have to really break-in. Which I don't know how to do anyway."
"I do," he reluctantly admitted.
"You? Wow. The mild-mannered librarian surprises again." Amused, she laughed, "Hey, I am way impressed, Giles. So what other secrets are you keeping from me?"
He cleared his throat. "Well -- " From the corner of his eye he caught her mischievous grin and accepted it as the frivolous, rhetorical question he hoped it was. "I'll never tell," he responded as lightly as he could.
"You know, I never would have met you without all this super hero stuff. And I'm glad I did."
Gravely he studied her face, seeing beyond the surface cuteness to the underlying strength integral in every fiber of his Slayer. Barely realizing his thoughts were tumbling out into audible words, he talked of Slayers past, of Watchers born and bred to guide their sacred charges through the painful duties of being the Chosen One. Tenderly, he related histories of these people as if he had known them personally, as he sympathized with them completely.
Her eyes sparkled with more affection than humor. "Everything I needed to know about being a Slayer I learned from you."
Knotting his hand into a fist, he resisted brushing away the hair framing her face. "Nothing in my training prepared me for you, Buffy."
A smile lit her face. "Surprise. That's a good thing, yes?"
Laughing, he brushed his fingers on her nearby hand. "The best thing that ever happened to me."
She squeezed his hand. "Do you ever imagine what it would be like if we
weren't the Slayer and Watcher? If we were just Buffy and Giles? Without the vamps and curses and," she shrugged uncomfortably, "you know, the short-lifespan stuff?"
"I do --" he stuttered, feeling a burning flush cover his skin. "I mean, I do believe that would take quite an imagination," he laughed mirthlessly, self-consciously. "Buffy Summers, cheerleader, and Rupert Giles, British historian? We would have nothing in common." A little breathlessly, he studied her face so close to his. "Sometimes, I believe destiny would have pulled us together, no matter what century or circumstance. Imagine a time when Buffy Summers defies Fate and becomes the first Slayer to die of old age, as a dottering grandmother."
Laughing, the anxiety melted away from her face, gradually replaced by a resolute sternness. "Then I expect you to be there helping me across the street, Giles, as the world's oldest Watcher." He smiled, but noting her hard expression, he solemnly returned his attention to driving. "Make a promise to your Slayer, Giles."
"What kind of promise?"
Soberness covering her expression and tone, she responded quietly. "Promise you'll never do anything stupid like endangering yourself to protect me."
Giles shook his head. "I can't make that promise, Buffy. You know that, don't you?"
Stubbornly, she glared at him. "Promise, Giles. It's important to me."
Squeezing her hand he then released her to turn the wheel. Gently he deflected her request. "We're here, Buffy."
When he turned off the engine her hand gripped onto his wrist and under the dim streetlight he stared into her sober, bewitching green eyes. "With the ascension coming up and everything, I need to know you'll be all right, Giles. I still need you, whether you're my official Watcher or not, I can't do this without you."
He placed both of his hands around both of hers. Not daring to stare into those eyes while he spoke, he lowered his head. "Please believe me when I promise I will never leave you, Buffy. But don't ask me to deny who I am. I can't, any more than you can deny whom you are. I am your Watcher, your trainer, and your protector. You are my life. I will do whatever I need to do for your protection -- always -- for the rest of my life."
So much emotion bubbled through him he was surprised it didn't shock her through their physical contact. Devotion, love, desire coursed through him like electricity. He wanted to close the few inches between them and kiss her, wrapping her in his arms. Reluctantly he released his steady hold on her hands. Daring a glance at her face, the expression in her eyes stopped him. A fleeting -- something -- maybe love, he'd like to think -- skittered away, overwhelmed by fear, irritation and resignation. She could no more change his destiny any more than she could change hers. Now, he didn't think either of them would if given the choice.
Clearing his throat, he fought for a measure of objectivity. "Now, on to breaking into your mother's shop."
"Investigating." Her correction reflected her subdued manner, yet her eyes remained resolute. For a moment the sober expression of resignation held, then her humor caught the wry tone of his words "We're not breaking in, Giles. I would never corrupt my Watcher like that. We have her permission and the keys.""
He had parked in the designated loading/parking spaces assigned at the back of the shop. Buffy quickly exited the car and immediately entered a passcode into the digital alarm box at the back door of the shop.
They shined their flashlights at the exhibition near the front of the store. Several wooden statues and weapons were set on display. In a one place on the wall was a small placard with no object, obviously the space the dagger had once rested. Giles studied the remaining relics, admitting there seemed nothing sinister in the curios.
In Mrs. Summers' office they went through an itemized manifest, including pictures, of the Hawaiian shipment. Most were listed as carved curios, made by an artisan in the Islands. The stolen item was not listed on the cargo sheet.
"It doesn't seem to be on the original order sheet."
"That was something that confused mom when the shipment came in." Buffy explained. "The item was included with the shipment but wasn't listed."
"How strange."
"That's what mom, thought, so she wrote down her own description. The only thing she found on it was an inscription. She copied it." Buffy pulled out a card and showed Giles the notes her mother had made. "The words were inscribed on the blade, but I didn't understand them."
"That's because it's in Latin, Buffy. Fortitudo, Robur, Fidelitas, Amor The words mean courage, strength loyalty and love." Giles caught his breath and reread the words again this time in the Latin. "My God, it can't be."
"Giles, what's wrong?" She pressed against his arm to get a better look at the paper.
Instead of answering her question, Giles asked one of his own. "Buffy, I know you saw the dagger, but did you handle it?"
"No," Buffy giggled. "Mom didn't want me to touch it, she was afraid I might hurt myself."
Giles smiled at Buffy's comment, also seeing the humorous irony in her mother's caution with a fully trained Slayer. "But I do remember that I really wanted her to hand it to me, I wanted to touch it badly."
"As if you were drawn to it?"
" Yes. Why?" Buffy had felt the undercurrent of Giles unease. "Is the dagger a danger?"
"Nnno," he stuttered, finding his throat dry. What was he going to say? His thoughts stalled a moment as her warm breath brushed against his neck and her sweet scent swept through his senses like a spring breeze. "Not a danger in the Hellmouth sense."
"You're being cryptic again, Giles."
"Buffy, did the dagger seem to have an unusual design?"
"You mean on the hilt?"
"No, maybe I should have clarified myself. The dagger itself, did it seem to be a little different from others you have used?"
Buffy looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it Giles, when mom showed it to me, I remember thinking that it was very odd, not like any dagger, I'd seen before, almost as if...
"As if it were a cross?"
"Yes, that was it exactly." Buffy agreed in dawning realization. "The handle was almost the same length as the hilt and blade." At Giles pensive look Buffy chided. "Give, Giles, you know something."
"I could be wrong about it, but I think it's the Arancor dagger."
"And this dagger might be trouble here on the Hellmouth?"
"Possibly."
"That sounded like a bad possible not a good possible."
"Sorry, actually the danger means more to us then to anyone else."
"Huh?"
Suddenly Buffy stiffened, then looked up, out the office window, toward the front of the store. "Uh, serious trouble, Giles. Shut off the flashlight, someone's coming."
Quicker than the distracted Watcher, Buffy snapped the flashlight off and shoved Giles under the desk, her scrunching in nearly on top of him.
"Vampires?"
She placed her fingers against his lips. "The cops."
The front door rattled. A powerful beam of light strafed the walls of the office. Giles hardly breathed. How could he since his heart seemed stopped. Crushing against him, the Slayer's force over him seemed magnified, intensified in the small, confined space with their bodies crushed together.
In the reflection of the dancing light, he stared into her eyes, seeming to feel, see, and even touch into the center of her soul. Her eyes widening, he thought she might be sensing the same vision, feeling the same power that tingled through him in some deeper place than the marrow of his bones. Finally, releasing a breath, shakily she removed her hand from his lips.
"I think they're gone," came her quavering whisper.
"I -- " He blinked, as if startled, wondering at the incredible power that had charged between them. Buffy studied his face for understanding, and seeing her look he explained. "The link between Watcher and Slayer. A metaphysical union. Rarely a Watcher shares it with his Slayer -- it -- it's not even supposed to be -- be real."
But he KNEW it was real. His great-grandfather, Ian Sampson had experienced it -- true and complete love, devotion and trust -- with his slayer/wife, Arden. There had been so many complications to the relationship and the Watcher Council -- the reverberations still affecting the Council even now. But that deep love had fostered, or uncovered, a psychic link between Watcher and Slayer. Intensified, in it's purest and most complete form of consecrated marriage, the link became the fabled Fated Connection.
Love was one reason he had been sacked by the Council. 'A father's love' they thought. They were afraid of his love for his Slayer. If he got too close to Buffy he might repeat the family weakness of loving a Slayer. With that union would come incredible mystical, magical power and they would never take that chance again. Watcher/Slayer mating --too much force there -- here -- and they feared that power in Rupert and Buffy.
