Summary- There is a bond, of course, between Watcher and Slayer. Can it be more?

Rating- R, to be on the safe side. There will be plenty of suggestive descriptions, though nothing explicit, and later, unpleasantness of various sorts.

Author Note- This started as a simple little romantic exercise. I was inspired by a song and wanted to write sweet fluff. Then I didn't know how to start the fluff but I had a brainwave on some drama that became a plot before the fluff had even been properly started. It was wasn't until much later that I got the idea for how to even start the thing. Now it's grown into the first series I've ever written and I'm a little bemused at how such a small endeavor grew so huge.

Setting- something of an AU Season 4. Graduation and Ascension happened as depicted on the show, but little after that went the same. UC-Sunnydale still happens the same way but there's no problems with the Initiative, no Olivia, Anya doesn't come back, and the Scoobies aren't keeping poor Giles at arm's length. Just everybody growing closer together and, for Giles and Buffy, dawning realizations

Disclaimer- Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, et al own these wonderful characters and I am grateful that I am allowed to play in their sandbox.

Chapter 1- That Which is Never Seen

Buffy spun a graceful kick at the sawdust dummy's head, grinning at the impressed comment that followed the soft thud of impact from her bare foot.

"Well done, Buffy," Giles said with an approving smile. "Are you ready for a break?" She nodded and moved to the bottom stair step where she had left her water bottle, towel and jacket. Giles straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall next to the short hall to the kitchen and moved over to her. "It shouldn't surprise me how quickly you learn something new." His voice was warm and Buffy smiled. "How long of a breather will you need?"

She took a gulp of her water, brushing loose hair away from her sweaty forehead and allowing a grin. "I'm ready to move on whenever you are, Giles. That is, unless you're too tired from standing over there holding the wall up while I do all the work." He wordlessly fixed her with one of his glares, the one that seemed so repressive but actually hid deep amusement. The one he seemed to use for her so very often. Buffy stuck her tongue out at him as she picked up the towel to wipe the sweat from her face and bare shoulders. Giles made a growling noise about ungrateful Slayers as he moved the dummy away, once more clearing the space in the middle of his living room.

It was fascinating sometimes to simply watch him move. Buffy giggled to herself. Watching the Watcher. Giles gave her a look and she got the giggles under control with some effort. Once, she had never suspected that he could be anything other than the shy, bookish man she had first met in the high school library, solid and dependable but uninteresting and not really anything she would call fun to be around. Now, though. Now, there were times he hardly seemed like the same man. Now, they had an easy camaraderie in their training and it seemed to be blooming into a genuine friendship beyond that which they'd enjoyed as Watcher and Slayer. Guess it just took getting him out of the library.

Thestress of Ascension day had driven them all closer together in the aftermath and, as the summer wore on, all of their friendships had deepened. Giles had begun spending more time with not just Buffy but Willow, Oz, and Xander as well, though he definitely seemed to prefer the company of his Slayer. At first, he'd remained a little withdrawn despite making his home available to them as a gathering place. As the summer had worn on, however, he'd joined in on their gatherings more and more often.

Buffy remembered with a smile the day he'd reacted to Oz playing his guitar by pulling his own guitar out of the closet. It had been one of the first overt hints that there were hidden facets to her Watcher that she had never suspected and Buffy had sat enraptured with the rest of them, listening to him sing. After that, she had made it something of a hobby to try and tease out more of his personality that had been hidden by tweed and shyness. The others had lent their help to the project enthusiastically. There definitely were still times that he was so stuffy and British that she could only roll her eyes and she still couldn't really picture him ever cutting loose with silliness like Oz and Xander. But now she could see past 'Giles the librarian' and even 'Giles the Watcher' to 'Giles the man'. The man who had become as much a dear friend to her as the rest of them.

Giles shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the couch which had been shoved to the side of the room, and placing his glasses out of the way on the mantel, remaining in his long-sleeved shirt, bare feet and loose slacks. "Are you ready?" he asked, moving to his customary position on one side of the mats. Buffy nodded before taking a last long swig from her water bottle and padded back onto the mats, the cloth of her white tank top and gray cotton track pants rustling softly, stopping opposite him. He simply stood for a moment, studying her. Buffy waited patiently.

Giles nodded as if to himself and dropped into a ready stance, Buffy mirroring him. She watched him as he had taught her, looking for the small tells and signals that would let her know what he would do next. Giles slid a step forward and Buffy suppressed a smile. So obvious when you know what to look for. Another step- A shift in his weight, almost imperceptible- and there! He lashed out with his right hand, a swift strike and Buffy parried. The fight was on. Buffy smiled as they moved

together fluidly.

They both knew she could wipe the floor with him easily. That had been obvious from the start and she frequently had while she'd still been in school. But that wasn't the point of this at all. These bouts were more like duels rather than strictly combat. Raw Slayer strength notwithstanding, Buffy was as yet fairly inexperienced in the finer points of combat and this was what her Watcher sought to impart through these training sessions. Where he lacked her strength, Giles made up for it with skill and the knowledge gained from a dedicated lifetime of seeking it. These exercises taught the principles and structure of combat, allowing her to learn from his experience.

She spared a fleeting thought of regret for the time she had spent more focused on dates and fun rather than training. It had taken too long for her to truly grasp the importance of these lessons. All she had been able to see was her Watcher, the stuffy librarian, trying to keep her from having some semblance of a life. She had tried not to hold it against him too much; he'd been much too polite about it. But it had been irritating.

Distracted by her thoughts, Buffy overreached, over-balanced, and Giles seized the opportunity. In one fluid motion, he evaded her attack and grasped her wrist in both hands. He spun gracefully, bringing her arm behind her back before he stopped and held her in that position. And Buffy was suddenly, devastatingly aware that 'Giles the librarian' who had become 'Giles the man' was in fact, undeniably, a man. His scent, soap and incense and old books, filled her senses as did awareness of his muscles, strength and easy grace. She could feel his chest pressed against her back, his panting breaths and pounding heart tremoring through her own body.She made an involuntary noise deep in her throat, her own heart seeming as though it would pound out of her chest.

The sound of Giles clearing his throat broke into her confused thoughts and he released her hastily. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

She stared at him for a moment, confused, then it clicked. That noise I made. Guess he thinks it was pain or something. She hastened to reassure him. "Oh. Nah, Giles. I'm fine."

"Good." He smiled at her and Buffy's gut did a flip. Whoa. Now where did that come from? Since when do I get butterflies at a smile from Giles? Not that he doesn't have a nice smile... She tried to focus back onto their sparring, but she couldn't. The memory of that smile and of his chest pressed against her back kept intruding. After the third time he won a round, she shook herself and glanced at the clock on the wall then did a double take.

Crap.

"Giles, I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I've gotta meet the guys for lunch. Was there anything else today?"

He looked faintly surprised. "Er, no. Not particularly. There was more I wanted to go over today, but it's not critical."

"Do-do you want to join us?" She winced inwardly at her stammer. "It'll be greasy burgers and fries. Fun fun!"

He hesitated for a moment then smiled warmly at her. "No. Thank you, Buffy, but I've got some things I have to attend to."

A surge of disappointment went through her at his words, much stronger than she would have expected for a simple declined invitation. "Oh. All right, maybe next time then." She headed out into the late morning sunshine, focused on thoughts of a shower, clean clothes and lunch, trying not to think of the odd sadness filling her at the idea that he was staying home.

((((((

For some time after Buffy left, Giles stood staring at the closed front door, lost in thought. Buffy's distraction had been odd and he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong. Shaking his head, he moved into the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and settling it onto the stove burner. He realized what he was doing with a wry grin. It's such a rote motion now. How they would all tease if they knew. British cureall for confusion? Tea. Solves all the world's ills. Or very nearly. He turned on the burner and leaned back against the kitchen counter contemplatively.

Buffy had been fine all morning until the end of their sparring session, then had seemed preoccupied and distracted until she left. He wondered for a moment if the lunch plans had been genuine or she had merely been trying to find a way to leave. No, she'd invited him along. Did I actually hurt her with that hold? But that didn't make sense either. He had asked if she was injured out of sheer reflexive surprise at the noise she made but, thinking back, he knew she hadn't been. It took more than that to truly hurt his Slayer.

His Slayer.

Her Watcher.

Giles let a smile quirk the corner of his mouth.

Not that he was truly a Watcher anymore, hers or anyone else's. Even if he had still worked for the Council, Buffy had long since proven that she no longer needed a Watcher. What they had now was unorthodox, but it worked. He laughed quietly. Unorthodox. Perfectly understated description of Buffy Summers. Not that he had ever been truly content with the normally mandated relationship between Slayer and Watcher. It was too cold, too impersonal. He'd tried briefly, initially, for the detached manner toward her that the Council's training had drilled into him. It had never truly worked and he'd given up on it entirely after the Cruciamentum.

Whether it was his nature or Buffy's own manner that prompted this familiarity was unclear. And in the end it didn't matter. Something about her compelled him. Always had. Slayers were all like that; their natural charisma ensured it. Every one of them was a naturally forceful personality. They had to be. But Buffy... There was a magnetism about her that drew him, drew all of them. Even her friends who, by rights, should have run screaming years ago after the first encounter with the supernatural dangers that plagued their lives. But they hadn't.

Now they all- Slayer and former Watcher and associated pack of friends- had formed an unlikely but strong friendship. It had begun, in the aftermath of the mayor's failed Ascension, with quiet evenings simply spent enjoying each others company, perhaps in reassurance that they had all survived and still had each other. Initially, he had been content to merely provide his home as a place for them to gather now that their library haven was no more. He was, of course, glad they were all still alive but he remained separate from the group, content to observe. For their own parts, the rest of them seemed glad enough for his company but made no overt efforts to include him.

Giles suspected that it might have remained so but for one evening when Oz had brought his amp and guitar to perform for them. He was talented certainly, but still young and still had a great deal to learn. And Giles had little patience for mere electric noise. Bolstered into recklessness by a bit of whiskey, he had pulled his own guitar from the closet, proclaiming that he would show Oz "how it was done". Their spellbound faces as he'd played and sung had been gratifying. Now, it was a routine request of theirs for him to perform and Giles usually indulged them. From that moment on, a subtle but significant shift in the group dynamics had begun. Now, he was no longer on the outside in the least. And he found that he was pleased with it rather than annoyed.

A week or so after the initial performance, Xander had called him 'Watcher'. Giles had, somewhat bemusedly, tried to correct him. He wasn't a Watcher anymore, or even a librarian. Just Giles. Just Rupert. And he hadn't realized until that moment how much the notion had terrified and thrilled him in equal measure. He had spent so much of his life struggling to carefully conform to what other people wanted of him, the predetermined molds they expected him to fill. Even as Ripper. Ethan and the others had expected trouble from him and he'd been only too happy to oblige, masking his gratitude at being accepted with delinquency. There had been no time during which he had been allowed to simply be Rupert Giles, only the bits of his true self he could allow to leak around the edges of whatever persona he had been required to don. Even after the break with the Council, he had still felt constrained: by too long ingrained habit, by certainty that it would give Buffy and her friends aneurysms to see him in any other manner than as their stuffy librarian, and then by the arrival of Wyndham-Pryce. The other Watcher's strict insistence on protocol had been stifling.

Buffy had broken into his protests and told him in no uncertain terms that even though he no longer was a Watcher in any official capacity she still considered him to be her Watcher. He smiled as he remembered the barely concealed venom in her tone that told him plainly what she thought of men on the other side of the world trying to run her life, using several choice invectives that still made him blush to remember them. She'd told him that she needed him. That she wanted him as her friend and to stand with her against whatever dangers might come against them. That she needed him at her back and at her side. That, in addition to being hers, he should never again in her earshot refer to himself as "just" anything and was that perfectly clear? Her opinion had been vociferously seconded by the others and a warm glow spread through Giles again as it had at the time. He was still wanted. Still needed, against all odds, by these people who had improbably grown from irritating children to poised and mature adults.

He'd agreed with her, of course. It was a rare time that he could refuse his Slayer anything.

He remembered the emotion in Buffy's voice as she had told him that she needed him, wanted him in her life. Her eyes had seemed wet with the strength of her words, the force of her conviction. She'd stood in front of the hearth, fists clenched, an almost wild look in her eye. The others, Giles remembered, had been looking at her with concern, surprised at the force of this outburst from their friend but voicing their whole-hearted agreement with it. Giles had risen from his chair and gone to her, a smile on his face. "Thank you, Buffy," he'd said. "Thank you, all of you." He'd held out his arms, offering Buffy a hug and she had taken it with enthusiasm, joined a moment later by the other three. He remembered well the joy that had spread through him at the embrace from the others but sharpest for his Slayer. He'd been keenly aware of Buffy.

As he had been that morning.

If only she knew the truth.

With a sigh, Giles pushed the thoughts out of his head along with the memory of what it had felt like to hold her so close that morning. There were few things he wanted more than for his Slayer to know how he truly felt about her and nothing that was more impossible. Besides, it was unlikely in the extreme that his suspicions were correct. Buffy saw him as her friend, a dear enough one but nothing more, and he cherished that friendship. I'll be damned if I risk losing it over a foolish wish. Be content with what you have, old man, and don't go chasing dreams that can never be.