There was no one in her room when she finally got back. She went through the passageway between their rooms, tapped on Giles's door, and opened it. She peeked in: Giles was sitting in the little armchair. He was in a pair of loose jeans and a baggy t-shirt, and was barefoot. He looked tired but he smiled at her when she came over to him.

"Thought I'd find you asleep."

"Couldn't manage it. Been reading to relax."

He held up a little battered hardcover book she'd seen him with before. The Aeneid, untranslated, his usual comfort reading. Only Giles would read something written in Latin to relax. Though now that she thought about it, not only Giles. She could picture poor Wesley doing the same. Maybe anybody raised as a Watcher, as that rare intersection of warrior and scholar.

"Did you have a good talk with Fabio?"

"Fabio? Oh, Twombly. Yes. Most informative."

Giles didn't seem to be in the mood to share whatever information he'd learned, however, so Buffy prodded. "About... hair care?"

There was the flash of amusement she'd wanted to see. "We talked about training, mostly. Combat readiness. The fellow works hard to be in the sort of shape he's in, even with the boost."

"Any tips?"

"Nothing earthshattering. Lift heavy weights and run."

Buffy made a face. She never lifted weights if she could help it. Running, on the other hand, she liked. She hadn't been for a run in nearly a week, come to think of it.

"Was it weird, talking to him?"

"Why should it weird? I rather like him."

Buffy gestured, hoping he would supply an answer without needing her to say something about Twombly being the guy who'd beaten Giles, disarmed him, knocked him down, and made him lift two fingers in surrender. Giles wasn't rescuing her, was in fact gazing at her and waiting for her. "Because, I don't know, because he looks like he walked out of a storybook only with abs like the cover of Men's Health?"

"Am I supposed to envy that?"

"Yes? I guess? Don't you?"

Giles looked tired. "I do. Of course I do. If that's what it takes-"

"Takes to what?"

Giles shook his head. It was Buffy's turn to stare him down. At last he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I suppose, I- What it takes to get your attention."

Aha. Buffy controlled her impulse to leap on him and kept it light. He was feeling a little down after all. "You think it's muscles I want? Not sure that's what I'm looking for in a guy."

"Oh?"

"I might be looking for a guy who can speak five languages. One who takes a minute to figure out what he's doing before he goes and kills the demon. Know where I can find one of those?"

"Perhaps."

"Bonus if he can fight with a sword too."

"However unsuccessfully."

"I don't give my favor to just anybody."

Giles's face changed. "Oh! That reminds me."

He stood and dug deep into his hip pocket. He opened his hand to her to reveal her necklace. It glittered in the lamplight.

"Thank you for the luck of your favor. It was not sufficient to bring me victory, but it was solace in my defeat."

He was all formal and husky as he said that. Buffy came closer and touched his outstretched hand. Giles looked down instead of holding her gaze. She took the necklace and began to reach around behind her head. Giles stopped her.

"May I?" he said.

Buffy handed it back to him and turned around. He fumbled for a moment with the clasp then it was around her neck. He touched it, adjusted it so the the little crucifix was centered. She felt his breath on the back of her neck. Then every so gently, his lips, on her nape. Buffy held her breath. He lingered. His lips were warm and soft against her neck. Buffy wanted to shiver. She held herself completely still, so she wouldn't scare him away. His hand came down and rested on her waist. Another kiss, tentative, on her shoulder. She breathed out unsteadily.

He stepped back and Buffy wondered for a moment if he'd turn and flee from this one as well. But no: he turned her in his arms and bent to kiss her again. He was licking at her lips. He said her name as if he were pleading with her. Buffy clasped him tight in response. He gasped in pain and she let go instantly, shocked.

He had a hand on his ribcage, where he'd been kicked. "Sorry, I'm a bit, ah, battered."

"Been there," Buffy said. She touched the bandage on his arm, to show that she understood. "I'll be more careful."

Giles breathed out deeply and shook his head. "You'll forget. In the heat of- Perhaps I should simply go to bed."

Buffy wanted to argue, but couldn't. She did tend to forget when carried away. She'd bruised Riley more than once. "My bed. From now on. Got it?"

"If you insist," he murmured, but she could see he was pleased.

Buffy left the bedside light on low. She stretched out on the bed, on top of the sheets, and waited for Giles to join her. He did, tentatively, lying facing her with his arm under his pillow. He looked tense. Buffy stroked his shoulder; he was definitely tense. His traps were like rocks.

"You're totally knotted up. Stress monster."

"I suppose I am."

"Massage time. Take your shirt off."

"Do you know what you're doing?" Giles said, eyebrows up.

"I read your massage book. And I have some practice."

"Don't want to be torn limb from limb," he muttered.

He was taking his shirt off anyway. He pulled it over his head and winced. Buffy could see why; he had broad red marks on his rib cage that would blossom into alarming bruises. The fight had been more brutal than she'd thought while watching it. He rolled onto his face and folded his arms under his head. Buffy knelt up next to him. She touched his back, stroked him to let him know she was there, then began to explore.

Solid muscles. Something to dig into with her fingers. There was more muscle there than she'd expected. He had muscles after all; he'd just been hiding them. Where from? Weightlifting? She didn't know what Giles did to keep himself in shape, other than the jogging, but he obviously did something. Had to, to have earned himself lats like those. Riley had felt like this under her hands, though he'd had more sheer bulk. Angel had been bulkier as well. Giles was less sculpted but more brutal. It was beyond wonderful to discover that Giles had been hiding this body.

"So, weightlifting and running, huh," she said.

"Mm. Joined the local YMCA last year. Something to fill the time."

"Did you hang out with all the boys?"

"I left my cowboy costume at home."

Buffy stifled a giggle. She straddled his thighs and leaned forward to get proper leverage. She found the pressure points on his trapezius that had always been the important spots for Riley, and was rewarded by a soft grunt of pleasure. Slayer strength came in handy at strange times. He sighed underneath her and stretched.

"You have wonderful hands," he said, into his folded arms.

"Flatterer."

"Strong. Ow. No, don't stop. That's the spot. You did more than read my book."

"Took a workshop. Couples massage, bring your own sweetie. During that gooey phase with Riley, you know the one."

"Oh."

Mentioning Riley had been a mood-killer, judging by his voice. Buffy cursed herself for a second, then set it aside. Concentrate on his shoulders. Nice shoulders. He had a little scarring across the left one that she'd never seen before. Didn't look like knife cuts, more like claws. What had clawed him? There had been that thing right after her eighteenth, when he'd been all overcompensating. For Giles, overcompensating meant throwing himself in front of a hellbeast to distract it for her. A wave of affection ran through Buffy and she had to restrain herself from leaning forward to kiss his back. Shoulders. Concentrate on those delts.

Then Giles said, tentatively, "He's in Texas, you said?"

He? Oh, Riley. "I don't actually know."

"So that's quite over, then?"

"Yeah. I could swear I told you that."

"You did. I was just, er... verifying."

That explained some of the hesitation, maybe. Maybe it was simply Giles being unsure of himself. The man who stammered and got nervous about asking people out on dates was here, just as much as the man who didn't hesitate about jumping into the ring with a guy guaranteed to beat him senseless. Contradictions. Delicious contradictions. She had him at last, though. He was hers at heart, if not yet in body. He'd kissed her and stayed. And he was in her bed now.

His breathing was shifting, slowing. Buffy slowed and softened her touch against his skin. His eyes were closed again. He'd fallen asleep. Buffy smiled at him and stroked the hair at his temples. Turnabout. She tugged a light blanket over him so he wouldn't wake up cold, then turned the light out. She could see perfectly well without it. She sat on the armchair by the bed for a while, looking at him. It had taken her a long time to see that he was gorgeous. Time and the push from that Slayer spirit coiled inside her, her spirit sister. The strong jaw, the eyes, the crinkle-marks from smiling. The little line between his brows from worrying, maybe about her, or about the world in general. Not a pretty man, but a handsome one, and he would be hers.

Buffy knew she should be satisfied for now. She was satisfied, except that something wasn't settled. She was restless. Not ready for sleep even with this handsome guy half-undressed in her bed. Not even in the least. It was time to hunt.

She changed into dark clothing. Her hair she tied back and hid under a black watch cap. It wasn't that she was sneaking, except she was totally sneaking. She tucked a stake up her sleeve by habit, and also because something was bothering her. Vampires, here? Every time she'd done the honing thing here the answer had been a resounding nothing. Utter safety, for miles and miles and miles. Now... Buffy stood on her balcony and honed, and wasn't sure.

Buffy climbed over the railing and got a grip on the vines. Solid vines, a good hundred years of growth, more than up to supporting her weight. Getting up again would be easy. She let herself drop about ten feet up from the grassy lawn and rolled to take the impact. She followed through and bounced to her feet.

The lane wound around the dormitory building directly to the front gate. The gate looked impressive, all heavy iron. She maneuvered herself around to a spot where she could see inside the kiosk. Inside was a guy in uniform, no doubt with sword like the night before. The stone wall looked easily climbable, but she didn't feel like it. They didn't guard anything beside the front gate, according to what she'd been told, because who would attack a building full of heavily armed extra-strong people? And what did they have that was worth stealing, anyway? Buffy could see the point of not bothering to defend the place. And whatever was troubling her wasn't here. Which way was the town? Vaguely east, and not all that far if she cut across the fields and woods of the order's estate.

She set off at an easy run.

It felt good to be out at night again, hunting. All that sparring had been fun, but it wasn't what her power was for. Her power was for this, for running silently along the lane, leaping over the ditch, side-tracking into an orchard, and dodging through the trees at breakneck pace. She breathed in the sweet air of nighttime country. This place was gorgeous at night, with the moon nearly full and the owls hooting. The knights were on a beautiful piece of countryside. According to what Giles had said, they'd been here for hundreds of years. That remaining castle tower had been Norman era, he'd said, and that made it the oldest building Buffy had ever been near in her life. And they'd been here ever since, guarding themselves magically, training knights, and sending them out into the world to fight dragons. They seemed good. They felt good, if Buffy trusted her Slayer senses. So what was bothering her?

Vampires?

Not nearby, if so. Or muffled. Or maybe it wasn't a vampire at all. Maybe it was. People were talking. Two people. A man's voice, one she didn't know, and a girl. It was Ellen's voice. Buffy's skin crawled. What was Ellen doing outside at night?

"What's she like?" the man's voice said.

"The Slayer? What do you want to know?"

"Can she possibly be what they say?"

"I haven't seen her do anything. She keeps stakes in her bag, but-"

The voices came closer. Buffy saw two figures in motion in the orchard. Ellen and somebody else, somebody tall. Coming right toward her. Without thinking she leapt straight up and grabbed onto a branch over her head. She pulled herself up and kept right on climbing until she had some foliage in between herself and the ground. The tree was an apple tree, an old one. She found a branch wide enough to flatten herself along and shimmied out until she could see the conspirators. What were they doing? Why were they talking about her?

The second person, the man. Buffy squinted and recognized him. It was the boy who'd been loitering in the hallway with Ellen that first night. What were they doing now? They'd stopped and were grabbing each other. Then she realized they were kissing. Buffy pressed a hand across her mouth to stifle the giggles that wanted to escape. Here she'd been thinking doom and gloom and evil plots, and it was as simple as two people sneaking out of the dorm to make out. She hoped they weren't going to do much more than that, because she didn't want to be trapped in the tree as a reluctant voyeur. She even went so far as to wonder if she could manage to leap to the next tree over, squirrel-style, without making too much noise. No freaking hope, she decided. Just then they mercifully broke the clinch and walked on, hands in each other's pockets.

Buffy listened until they were well out of the orchard, then made herself stay where she was for a little longer. Then she scrambled down from the tree. She brushed dirt and bark from her jeans and trotted off back the way she'd came. The town would have to wait. She'd been silly enough already tonight. Maybe she'd just needed the run. The last few days had featured way less activity than usual for her, and she hadn't hunted at all since she'd left Sunnydale. She should try to get in a workout in that yummy gym.

She scampered up the vines to her balcony and popped over the railing again. She slipped inside and pulled the balcony door nearly shut. Giles was in her bed, rolled onto his face with his arms under his pillow. She undressed silently and crawled back into bed with him as quietly as she could. Giles shifted and turned toward her, awake after all. He flung an arm over her and pressed himself against her.

"C'mere," he said. "Wondered where you'd got off to."

Buffy smiled. The wakeful Giles might be nervous, but the half-asleep one was already hers.