It took a quick trip to her room to wash up and start to compose herself once more. When she had settled her mind enough to go in search of him, she found tea and a sandwich in the kitchen, but no Giles.

She scanned the room for a note or a clue as to his absence but found none. Grumpily, she poured a cup and grabbed the sandwich - peanut butter and jelly, which was a nice surprise. She'd half expected fish paste or something equally appallingly English.

By the time her belly was respectably full, Giles had yet to make his reappearance. Even straining her slayer senses, she couldn't seem to locate him in the flat.

With a sigh, she decided she might as well explore. For all they knew, he could meet his doom just as easily by means of a wayward taxi as that of a wayward demon. Couldn't keep tabs on him 24/7.

The light outside was gray but bright. It was mid afternoon on a relatively quiet street which did not really lend itself to visions of imminent death. Which was good. Because she needed Giles alive in order to strangle him herself for being an absolute idiot.

Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her open raincoat, Buffy glanced down the next street and chose an arbitrary direction in which to walk. The cool air felt good in her lungs, slightly easing the knot that had been coiling in her stomach.

Ok, so she'd almost had sex with Giles. Or had had sex, depending on your definition of sex. Either way, she had wanted to do a lot more. Still wanted to, if she was being embarrassingly honest with herself. The man had a way with his hands and mouth that made her oh so very curious about other talents. Not that there seemed much chance of finding out at the moment.

She scoffed aloud, earning a brief, slanting glance from a passerby.

This was ridiculous. You don't just do things like that to a woman and then, what? Run away? Play Hide and Seek?

Taking another blind turn, she picked up her pace. Too much energy left to expend and nothing to Slay. Makes Buffy an antsy girl, she thought with a silent giggle.

Before long, she found she'd broken into an all out run. It felt good, pumping her muscles and feeling the blood flow through them. She circled around within a few blocks of the flat and had just set her path to head back when the rain began.

"Again? Really?"

She knew she ought to be used to it by now but the move from sunny, too-dry California still left her confused by exactly how often water actually could fall from the sky. She dashed through increasingly fat droplets back to the familiar awning. At the same time, she noted another figure fast approaching, under an umbrella and carrying a sack.

"Giles?"

They both stopped short, a few feet apart. "Oh. Good. You found the spare key, then."

"No. I, uh, just left it unlocked."

"Oh Good Lord." He hurried up the steps.

Buffy snorted as he realized the door was in fact locked but she let him fumble in his pocket for the key, awkwardly balancing his umbrella against his shoulder. It was almost worth the few extra seconds in the rain.

Once the door was open, she slipped past without touching him.

Giles set down his sack (of what appeared to be groceries), closing the umbrella and shaking it onto the mat. He didn't look at her, instead frowning down at the umbrella as he placed it in the stand. "That was… unnecessary."

Buffy shrugged. "Oh relax, I'm sure none of those vampires I invited in while you were out will even want to come back." She casually plucked the key out of her coat pocket and dropped it on the end table.

Giles flashed her a tight smile before looking away once more and grabbing the grocery bag. "I thought I'd make something nice for supper." He stopped midway into the hall and cleared his throat. "Um, if you'd planned to stay, that is."

Was this an invitation to dinner or an Invitation to Dinner? She fought the urge to stamp her foot and demand he talk to her like a normal human being. But then, this was Giles, after all. Eventually, he'd open up. Probably after a bottle of wine.

Her conscience bristled at the idea of plying him with liquor but she shushed it. She wasn't doing anything unsavory, after all. Just needed him loose enough to talk to her without all that Britishness getting in the way.

"Well," she shrugged, grabbing the bag from his arms and heading to the kitchen, "since you went to all the trouble." Knowing he was just behind her, she made sure to put an extra sway in her hips.

Let it never be said Buffy Summers couldn't play the Long Game if she needed to.

As Giles began bustling about the kitchen, Buffy departed to take a long, hot bath. Then, after she'd soaked to the point of pruney, she spent some time checking in with Xander, giving vague answers to his questions about where she'd gone and making sure there was no pressing Slayer business to attend.

Before long, yummy smells began to tickle her nose and she followed them back into the kitchen.

"It'll be a while, yet" Giles said, not looking up from the pot he was stirring. "There's a telly in the parlor if you're bored."

"I, uh, thought I'd hit the books again for a little bit." She took a breath. "Would you want to join me? Once things are… simmering, or whatever?"

His arm slowed for a heartbeat or two before he began stirring again with increased vigor. "Ah. Yes, well. I don't think I really have the right books here but, of course you are welcome to them."

Disappointment sat heavy in her belly but she ignored it and went to commune with the books until dinner.

Just as her eyes were getting heavy lidded and the words were starting to jumble, Giles announced it was time to eat. Buffy leapt to her feet, the book tumbling to the floor.

Giles tutted and reached down to pick it up. When he stood up again, Buffy hadn't moved away so they were barely a foot apart. He met her gaze for the first time in hours and held it. His eyes were soft and she felt the look almost like a caress. She leaned closer, anticipation beginning to thread its way down her spine. His lips parted, throat working soundlessly.

And there it was. That heated, hungry look he'd given her before. While they were debauching one another on the sofa just behind her now.

He seemed to have the same thought, eyes drifting briefly to said sofa before returning to her face. His cheeks went a dusty pink and he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss across the knuckles.

Her breath caught.

"Let's have some supper, shall we?" He lay the book on a table without looking at it.

Buffy nodded and allowed him to lead her from the room, still holding her hand.

Dinner was a sumptuous and hearty beef stew that seemed to ignite every tastebud at once. Buffy lavished praise on the flavors, testing even Giles's capacity for false humility.

He seemed surprised when she asked to open a bottle of red but he obliged quite happily, pouring them each a generous glass and toasting hers with a clink.

As they partook of the meal, there was little conversation but the silence seemed to occupy the space comfortably. She could feel his eyes on her frequently and he offered a sheepish smile when she caught him out by looking back. There was really no elegant way to eat a beef stew but she was enjoying it too much to be bothered putting on a show. He already knew what her happy noises sounded like anyway, at this point.

That thought made her shift a little in her seat, pressing her thighs discreetly together.

She made sure to moderate her wine intake but encouraged him to enjoy himself.

"You've worked hard for it," she remarked, causing him to splutter slightly into his glass. That set her off giggling and soon they were both laughing themselves silly. He did pour another glass, she noted.

Though he had offered more pie for dessert, Buffy suggested they go to the parlor, light a fire, and share a nightcap instead. He seemed to eye her suspiciously for a moment, so she put on her most innocent face.

"What? I'm not allowed to have more refined tastes, now that I'm a grown up ex-pat?"

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Port, sherry, or brandy?"

"Um. Which is the sweet one?"

This time she could tell he was biting back a grin. "I'll surprise you."

She was already walking toward the parlor to start the fire when she muttered. "You can say that again."

He joined her shortly with two glasses of dark liquid. It was sweet, almost cloyingly so, but she liked it immediately.

She noted with mild irritation that he settled into the wingbacked chair and not next to her on the loveseat. "Am I that dangerous?"

His brows shot up. "Ehm. I suppose that depends on whom you ask."

"I'm asking you."

He looked down and began cleaning his glasses with a corner of his flannel shirt. "Buffy, you have to understand…"

"Maybe I will if you stick around long enough to explain, this time."

The quip hit its mark and he grimaced. "Yes, I'm aware that was, perhaps, badly done. I wasn't exactly in the right mindset to… No, I won't make excuses this time. I owe you that much at least." He sighed heavily. "You've every right to pass judgement. I am sorry, for what that may be worth. You deserve better."

"Kind of a weird thing to say to a woman when you've made her come twice and then fed her an extravagant dinner." She stretched her legs out onto the cushion beside her, getting comfortable as the fire split the starter log and blazed higher. "I think your game must be way off."

His face colored but he smiled, a huff of laughter escaping him. "That certainly wouldn't surprise me. It's been… quite some time."

A thought dawned. "Is that why you left? Worried you wouldn't, uh, last? Because if that was all it was, I mean -"

Giles held up on hand, palm out, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stop. Please just don't finish that thought. This is mortifying enough." He picked up his glass and took a long sip. That seemed to momentarily fortify him and he continued, "Buffy, our relationship has become… increasingly complicated over time."

"Understatement of the year," she blew air through her lips, making a rude sound. And realizing that maybe she hadn't been as careful with her own wine consumption as she'd hoped.

"Quite." He sipped again, looking into the fire. "This new… development can only make things moreso." He shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding his glass. "There's a lot of potential for further hurt. Disappointment." He looked at her, though his eyes were hidden behind the light reflecting off of his glasses. "Estrangement."

Buffy tried to swallow down the lump that was sitting somewhere between her stomach and throat. He was right, of course. And she hated that he was right. She'd arrived in London still angry with him and seeing Faith had not helped matters. It was only once she'd been distracted by the unexpectedly powerful new attraction between them that her righteous rage seemed to slip her mind.

"You're a real glass half full kind of guy, you know that?" she griped, sampling her own drink again before sitting up and placing it on the table beside her. "But what if you're wrong?"

"I'm not trying to be contrary. Believe me if I thought-" he cut himself off and shook his head. "It's very unrealistic that any… romantic association between us would end well. And at the risk of splintering something that is already, admittedly, quite fragile." He gestured between them with one hand.

Buffy gave a humorless laugh. "On account of my excellent track record with romance?"

"Or mine," he tilted his glass toward her and took another drink.

She thought for a moment. "I don't really know much about your past, you know. Except for the crazy magic addict tattoo-getting days. And you've been kinda cagey about even those."

His mouth opened then shut without a sound. He adjusted his glasses. "I seem to recall you having very little interest in Ancient History."

Buffy made another rude sound. "Only fair. You know all the teenage Slayer hot goss. Probably more sordid details than most."

"Aside from my days as Ripper, there isn't really much to tell. I lived a quiet, cloistered life for many years. My… atonement for youthful indiscretions. Coming to California was the most exciting thing I'd done in decades by that point."

"So, no epic star-crossed romance? No love-child hidden in Wales or something?" She leaned on the side of the loveseat that was closest to him.

He snorted and took another drink. "Hardly. I had a few pleasant affairs. A girlfriend or two, if you must know. But Council business always took precedence." He huffed a small laugh, chin dropping to his chest. "God. The longest relationship with a woman in my life…" he looked at her, "has been you."

"Oh." She didn't know how else to respond to that admission. The truth of it ran deep in her bones, the connection between them that had been seeded so long ago and now spread like the roots of a tree, branching through the years of her life. "Although, I mean, same. About you."

"The difference being that you've still got time to remedy that," he said softly, more to his glass than to her.

She slumped back in her seat, taking a long swallow of her drink and letting the sweetness cling to her tongue. The veritas she'd wanted from this vino was sitting heavy and bitter.

"Is that what you want? For me to go away? Out of your life?"

Giles sat forward immediately. "No! Of course not, Buffy. I'd never want that."

Not looking at him made it easier to talk so she stared into the fire. "Then why did you keep leaving me?"

She could hear him heave a long sigh and shift again in his chair. For a half a moment, she wondered if he was planning to get up and walk out, leave yet another uncomfortable question unanswered.

"I've had a lot of… complicated decisions to make. And I can't say I always made the right one. I can promise you that it was always done with the best of intentions but, in retrospect," a pregnant pause, "I've been a selfish fool. At times. And you have suffered the consequences of that." Another pause. His voice was thicker when he spoke again. "Chief among all my greatest life regrets - and there are many of them, unfortunately - is knowing that I could not be the… the Watcher that you deserved."

Buffy tipped her head back against the seat with a sound of exasperation. "It was never about that, though. I didn't need you to be a Watcher then. Or now. I needed you. Just you. As my friend and… and I don't even know. I just need you."

He gave a dry laugh. "Buffy, I spent half my life defined by that role. I'm still not really sure I know how to be anything else." He stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling… I think I need some rest." At the doorway, he added, "guest room remains yours for as long as you like." And then he was gone.

Buffy squeezed her eyes tight, hands balling into fists as she fought the urge to run after him.