IV. The Connection

Buffy looked up from talking to Willow Rosenberg and saw her new Watcher looking very out of place on the upper balcony of the Bronze.

She shifted away from Willow, quickly sliding off her chair and spotting the stairs that led up to where Giles was.

"Um, I'll be back in a minute."

"Well, uh, now that's okay. You don't have to come back."

Buffy turned to her new friend, giving her a dubious look. "I'll be back in a minute."

Buffy wound her way through the intense crowd that was filling up the back area of the Bronze, as well as the dance floor.

As she made her way towards the stairs, she couldn't help but feel somewhat proud of her Watcher. Not many men his age would have the guts to arrive in a place such as this without worrying about being ridiculed. She knew that he was there because of what she'd said to him earlier, but she didn't care.

She paused for a moment, thinking about it. Then why was she going to talk to him?

Maybe her new Watcher did care about being ridiculed, but he didn't care at that moment because his need to see Buffy was so urgent.

On that thought she became tingly. The sensation was all over her body until it soon settled as a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that she tried to desperately ignore.

She tried to ignore it as she ascended the stairs, wondering why he had to speak to her so urgently that he came to the Bronze in his tweed.

Buffy quickly came up with a witty opening phrase, not wanting things to be awkward between them.

"So, you like to party with the students. Isn't that kind of skanky?"

'Oh god, did I actually just call him skanky?' she thought to herself as the words flew out of her mouth. Sometime she felt that she just shouldn't speak, and this was one of those moments. Where the words just came out and then left her there feeling like a total bitch and a complete idiot.

He looked up at her from where he leaned on the metal railing; seeming more comfortable with the environment than many other adults would, as if he'd had experience in it.

"Oh right, this is me having fun. Watching...clown-hair prance about is hardly my idea of a party."

Giles words came out with sarcasm lacing them like thick icing. As he looked at his Slayer, he couldn't help but notice how she looked so much more...attainable, in the dark half-light of the club's atmosphere.

"I'd much rather be at home with a cup of bovrin and a good book."

'And not with me?' she thought. Her words said otherwise. "You need a personality, stat."

He began to chew her out, the entire time stealing glances at her figure in her outfit, hoping his looks would go unnoticed in the dim lighting. The skirt she was wearing was even shorter than the one that she'd been wearing when he'd first met her, which he thought was practically impossible, but apparently not.

His voice was low as he spoke. "This is a perfect breeding ground for vampire activity. It's dark, it's crowded...and besides, I knew you were likely to show up and I have to make you understand!"

She began messing with the drink in her hand as she spoke to him. "That the Harvest is coming, I know! Your friend told me."

Giles paused, completely at a loss as to what she was talking about.

"What did you say?"

She sounded miffed as she spoke. "The Harvest. That mean something to you, 'cause I'm drawing a blank."

He stuttered as he answered. "I-I'm not sure. Who told you this?" He raised his voice at the end of his question in order to be heard over the noise.

Buffy shrugged.

"This guy. Dark, gorgeous, in an annoying sort of way. I figured you two were buds." She gave him a slightly confused look as she spoke, wondering what was going on...and why an odd look passed across his face when she had mentioned that the guy she had talked to was gorgeous.

"No. The Harvest. Did he say anything else?"

Buffy shrugged again, a habit Giles was starting to find annoying, yet quite endearing at the same time.

"Something about the mouth of Hell. I really didn't like him."

She turned away from him, leaning on the railing, looking down at the chaos that was called having a social life.

Giles thought for a moment, wondering if he had heard the phrase before, but then saw Buffy staring and decided to show her what he expected of her. He walked around behind her, his arms on either side of her, hands resting on the railings, moving his lips close to her ear so that he could be heard above the din.

'Only so she can hear me more easily,' he told himself. But at the same time, both of them were aware of their nearness, and neither of them did anything to change it.

"Look at them. Throwing themselves about, completely unaware of the danger that surrounds them."

Buffy felt his close proximity and relished in an excuse to be that close to him. To feel his breath against her neck, and his chest nearly touching her back, even if it wasn't exactly the way she wanted.

"Lucky them," she muttered, wishing that she could be as ignorant of her own fate.

"Or perhaps you're right," Giles said, sounding as if he didn't believe a word he was saying. "Perhaps there is no trouble coming. The signs could be wrong. It's not as though you've been having the nightmares."

She froze at his words, realizing he knew more than she did. He knew what was haunting her mind each night as she slept, the feeling of having her blood drained, of a deep, dank cavern.

He still stood behind her, making her senses more aware of his presence with every passing second. With her Slayer sense of smell, it just made it harder. Buffy could smell the faint scent of leather, which made her wonder whether or not he had a leather jacket. His breath tickled her skin, and warmed it at the same time, causing a flush to move across her cheeks, which luckily went unnoticed in the dark shadows. She stared at his hands on the railing next to her own.

He had beautiful hands, an artist's hands. She tightened her grip on the railing, holding herself back from lacing her fingers through his.

Giles wasn't doing much better. He stood there, like a stone, unwilling to move from his position. From where he was, he could smell her hair and her skin.

He caught the faint scent of strawberries...and there was something else. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed to call out to him...as though it wanted him to come just a little bit closer, daring him to cross that line.

Whatever is was, it reminded him of summer storms brewing on horizons. A controlled power, waiting to be unleashed.

Just like her. The Slayer.

That's what she reminded him of: a storm. A storm that was sweeping his feet out from under him, leaving him lying on his back, helpless to resist the all encompassing force that threatened to take him over.

Part 4/12