CRADLE

Disclaimer, etc. as on first chapter.

A/N: Several things happen in this chapter. There's a whole bunch of Giles angst for you (incidentally, I was going to have Buffy going comatose again because of her sleeping drugs, but decided against it. There's a limit to angst, y'know :D) and my rather rambling attempt to explain exactly how I'm a B/G shipper. But don't panic, there's nothing smoochy or slushy. Just Giles angst. For some reason, I also decided it would be a wonderful idea to have Spike and Anya have a little chat about That Thing from "Entropy", because they (and I) have been avoiding it for too long. No Spuffy except in passing through Spike's wallowing, but I'll get on that soon enough :)

Second note of the evening - something I've been considering, re: Spike's banter. He calls Buffy all number of things, like "pet", "Slayer", etc. And also, of course, "love". In this, I have him called Anya "luv", and I spelt it that way for a reason… Buffy is "love" because he loves her; Anya (and anything else female he might use it for) is "luv", because it's colloquial and Spike-y, but not serious. I'm pretty sure the vocal intonations were different on the show, too, but if not, you can imagine them for yourself… Anyway, I just thought I'd explain it…

Also, remember that special guest waaaay back in chapter 13? Well, she might just make a re-appearance *grins* but I'm not sure if that's going to be this chapter or the next, so bear with me…

Chapter Twenty-Five

Several thousand feet up, Giles was multi-tasking. On the pull-down table/tray in front of him lay a small pad of paper, a half-drunk paper cup of coffee, a pen, and several screwed up balls of paper with various scribblings on them. And on the top of the pad, a half-crossed out correspondence marked his increasing frustration with his complete inability to find the right words to say everything he wanted. After seventeen attempts, he was beginning to think it wasn't such a good idea after all. While he was trying to think what to say, once more, he was also keeping one eye on the sleeping Slayer in the seat next to him, in case she stirred and he needed to re-inject her with the sleeping drug they'd used. (They'd had to pretend, and insist, quite vehemently, that she was incredibly phobic of flying, and that the hypodermic was, indeed, a necessity if she wasn't to have a panic attack mid-flight. With a little help from Buffy herself, who had been very convincingly terrified at the mere sight of the planes outside, they'd gotten away with it.) For the moment, however, she seemed to be deeply asleep, still.

He tore off the top piece of paper again and screwed it up, then, realising his writing surface was becoming crowded, he gestured for one of the wandering stewardesses and politely asked if she would mind bringing over something he could use as a bin bag. She obliged with a nod and made her way down to the staff area at the front of the plane. Giles pushed the pile of paper balls towards the edge of the table, took another drink of his rapidly congealing coffee, and tapped the pen irritably on the pad for a few seconds.

He wrote what he'd written myriad times before already - "Dear all…" - and then chewed on the end of the pen, thoughtfully. The stewardess came back with a plastic carrier bag emblazoned with the airline's logo. Just as she was about to scrape all the paper balls into it, he was struck with a thought, and hastily unscrewed them, searching for one specific draft. When he'd found it, he tipped the others into the bag and thanked her, smoothing it out.

This was getting ridiculous. They were four hours into an eleven-hour flight, and, much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. He put the pen down and stared at his "Dear all…" until the words started to blur, then hastily removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Buffy shifted slightly, curling her feet further under her in the seat, and causing Spike's duster - currently serving as a blanket despite the fact that the airline issue ones were perfectly adequate - to fall to the floor. Glad of the distraction for the moment, he retrieved it and laid it back over her. For some reason, she'd insisted on having the window seat, for all the good it would do her. She hadn't even fallen asleep facing the window; rather, she was facing him.

He smiled down at her, reaching over to smooth a stray hair away from her face. He got shocked, as expected, but only slightly, like static. It didn't bother him, and, once one got used to it, it wasn't too bad. Lightly, he traced her jaw-line with his knuckle before removing his hand entirely. It was finally sinking in that, once the coven completed their spell to recall the magic, he probably wouldn't see her again for a very long time. Leaving the others got easier, each time, just as he was sure his departure got easier on them, too. If he could just get the damned note written, to explain, it would help them understand, and save Buffy the pain of having to tell them his reasoning.

Exponentially, the easier it got with them, the more impossibly, heart-wrenchingly difficult it got with Buffy. He was dreading the moment he'd have to tell her. He could picture it now - her look of pained curiosity, the confused frown, her changing expressions as she tried to decide between anger, disappointment, hurt, and nonchalant disinterest, before finally settling somewhere in the region of shocked annoyance. And that would be just before the tears came. His chest constricted even now to think about it.

The passengers on the plane assumed they were father and daughter, or perhaps uncle and niece. There'd been suspicious glances at check-in at the differing surnames on the tickets, but everybody was too politely professional to question it. Sometimes, Giles did wonder what people thought of them, but never for any long period of time. After all, what did it matter?

They hadn't been Slayer and Watcher for a very long time. They'd even gone beyond the substitute father/daughter bond that had developed over the years. As for what they'd become? He had no idea, and he doubted Buffy did, either. A little of everything, he suspected. The sacred duty remained, and the bond that came with it, never to be broken even by the Council's rash decisions; the respect (well, most of the time, when she wasn't being so damnably stubborn and headstrong) was the same as ever; they were friends, as they always had been. He was still the "grown-up friend", as Willow had once put it, the one with all the answers.

And above and beyond it all, damning himself all the while for feeling it, he loved her. Not like Spike did, not like the Scoobies did, but in his own way, that he doubted he could ever explain even if he wanted to. He loved her, over-protectively, like a parent; he loved her, for all her faults and weaknesses, as a friend who knew her; he loved her, for her strength and spirit, like a Watcher who'd strayed from the sacred path of platonic respect. He'd loved her, even when she was Angel's to love; he would love her still, even when she was Spike's (although he doubted she ever would be, and that they would be each other's. The day she admitted that she belonged to Spike would be the day she finally gave up completely.) He loved her now, as she lay asleep in the seat of an aeroplane, with her head edging ever closer to his shoulder, because, even in her sleep, she knew he wouldn't mind…

…and he wasn't going to tell her. If he did, it would likely blow her entire universe completely out of proportion. He knew she loved him - she'd told him so, once, to reassure herself - and he had a feeling she knew he did, too… but she could never know the truth. She'd spent two years dealing with Spike's feelings in one way or another, and he didn't want to add himself to her mixed emotions. That wouldn't be the right thing to do, not when she had her own life to sort out with the blond vampire, who, it was obvious, was determined to make her happy. She'd only just figured out her own feelings about him. No. Knowing that Giles adored her more than life itself wouldn't help matters in the slightest.

He tore his gaze from the Slayer and sighed a heavy, determined-to-focus-on-something-else sigh. The only other thing in his immediate line of vision was the two heavily scrawled words at the top of his pad. "Dear all…" Suddenly, that didn't seem right, either, and he drew a single, straight line through it, and began anew.

"Dear friends…"

Sunnydale…

The Scoobies and Spike were huddled around the dining room table, Willow at the head of it taking notes. Or, at least, she was trying to, over the thrum of voices all around her as the rest of them debated. She was beginning to wish she could perform a little silencing spell, until she remembered she couldn't do anything, and then, she realised that her magic was what had caused the whole mess in the first place. Maybe being without it would be a good thing after all. It wasn't as if she couldn't learn to live without it.

The banter was friendly, but somewhat forced. All of them were arguing, and although it was supposed to be friendly debating, it obviously had an air of tension that felt like it was going to snap at any moment. Without Buffy or Giles around, everyone was clearly trying too hard to get along, especially, it seemed, in the case of Anya. And Spike had promised himself he was going to get along with everyone. He had no problems with Dawn - she'd forgiven him, and, after their talk, was seeming much less overprotective - nor with Willow since their little heart-to-heart. But there was still some negative air between himself and Xander, which, no matter how politely they spoke to each other, was going to take a while to get over. He was also overdue on a healthy talk with Anya, to clear the air about their mistaken night of passion in the Magic Box, and he was partially glad the place wasn't rebuilt yet, so as not to stir up memories.

As it was, that possibility was seeming a long way off, as he was currently involved in a completely pointless and loud argument with the entire table of Scoobies. Finally, as the noise got too much, Willow banged on the table. "Stop!!" The noise ceased, and everyone looked at her with various questioning expressions. "That's better. Now. What was the decision?"

Xander spoke up. "Well, I have to stay here tonight, at least. Gotta fix the couch and the coffee table. And I say Spike should stay here and help me."

"Don't be an idiot, Harris," he said, although the words didn't hold as much venom as they used to. "I need to patrol every night. Willow's still recoverin', Anya can't handle everything on her own, and Dawn's… well, Dawn." The accused glared at him. He gave her a smirk and a quick wink, just to prove he was kidding, but she still didn't look very impressed.

"I know that. But you helped cause this mess."

"Last time I checked it was your head print on the sofa cushions."

"All right, guys, enough," said Willow. "I know this is going to be difficult without Buffy orGiles, but… look, we have to figure something out, okay?" She stared at her paper, upon which was a timetable was neatly drawn, covering a span of three weeks. They'd worked out that was probably the longest Buffy was going to be gone. "Xander, how long will it take to fix the couch and the table?"

He thought about it, casting a brief glance to the lounge. "Two nights, probably-"

"Okay. You sort that."

"Two nights, with help, Will. It's a big job."

"Fine. But not Spike. We need him for patrol."

Xander sighed irritatedly. "Fine… I guess I can get someone from work to help me out."

"Good," said Willow, nodding. She was beginning to like being the boss again. "That just leaves the rest of us. We'll pair off and take alternate nights. Spike, you and Anya can go tonight, and me and Dawn'll go tomorrow."

Spike seemed rather worried about that. "Why Anya?" She frowned at him. "No offence, demon-girl, but…" He floundered for a moment, then looked somewhat helplessly at Willow and gestured to Xander with his head, who was jotting down measurements on a piece of paper in preparation for his repairs. The red head understood his connotations, luckily, and quickly explained.

"Because we're not only Slayer and Giles-less, but also decidedly magic-less. We're going to have to actually fight the nasties out there, not just whoop their asses with confusion spells."

"So?"

"So you're a fighter. So's Dawn. So I take Dawn, and you take Anya, and then at least she and I won't end up getting dead."

Anya, who had been considerably quiet throughout, finally spoke up. "Willow makes a valid point." Then, possibly too nonchalanty, she turned to Spike and added, "I promise not to have sex with you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Thanks… I think…"

Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Okay, bad mental images here…" Shaking off the image with a shudder, she continued. "But, ooh, I have a question."

"Yes, Dawnie?"

"Who does Xander get to work with when he's finished fixin' stuff?"

Willow thought about it for a moment, and came up completely stumped. Until Spike suddenly had the same idea as Dawn, simultaneously, and they both said, "Clem, of course!"

Xander looked up from his paper. "What? Clem? What?"

Willow wrote it down on her rota in the slot for the third day's patrolling, muttering as she did so. "Third… night… Xander… and… C-l-e-m." She nodded and recapped the pen. "Great, so we're sorted."

"If I'm working with Clem, that makes me the fighter, doesn't it?" he asked, sceptically. Everyone nodded. "Don't know if you've all noticed, but I have a tendency to lose and/or be rendered unconscious on a semi-regular basis."

Anya shrugged. "That was before. You managed to win the fight with Spike."

"Hey!" That was the vampire.

"Sorry, but it's true."

"Only because he surprised me…" he muttered.

Willow intervened once more. "Enough with the righteous indignation, Spike! Anya, stop it. You two have to patrol together, so just learn to get along, okay?"

Anya sulked, as did Spike, and Dawn was beginning to think maybe working with Willow wouldn't be so bad after all. Xander conceded defeat. Patrolling with Clem probably might not be that horrendous. At least he could hold a conversation. Attempting to lighten the atmosphere again, he said, "Gee, Will. Maybe we should throw you another 'Boss of Us' party."

"Oh! That's it!" she suddenly shouted, pulling out another piece of paper from underneath her patrolling rota. "Party!" Off the collection of "huh?" gazes staring back at her, she elaborated: "For Buffy and Giles, for when they're back. I thought we could surprise them."

"Oh, great idea, Willow!" said Dawn. "We can give her a huggy ambush." She grinned widely, already planning on where to stand for this idea.

"That's really sweet, Will. She'll love it."

So, she had both Xander's and Dawn's vehement votes of confidence on the matter, and a brief nod from Anya, but nothing from the vampire. "What about you, Spike? Don't you wanna surprise Buffy, too?"

"Uh… no, count me out, Red. I think I've surprised her enough already these past few weeks, don't you?"

"Ah… I guess so. But… you'll still be here, right?"

"Of course. I'm not missing her coming back for anything."

"Great. Well… it's nearly dark, so you and Anya'd better get going. Dawn and I'll start planning for this party. Xander, you wanna call your buddy?"

Rolling their eyes in a mutual gesture of despair at Willow's bossiness, everyone headed off in their respective directions, Xander to the telephone, and Spike and Anya towards the front door. Willow and Dawn went into the kitchen to get some snacks for their party preparation. It was going to be a very long few days - or weeks - until Buffy and Giles came back…

Cemetery, one hour later…

One blond vampire and one slightly less blonde vengeance demon were ambling between the headstones, the latter tossing her stake like a baton to ease the tedium, and the former feeling very vulnerable and non-Big-Bad without his favourite coat. Or, in fact, without his only coat. He wanted to put his hands in his pockets, and couldn't, so ended up fidgeting; he wanted to have a cigarette, but they were halfway to England by now because he'd forgotten to retrieve them from the duster before he gave it to Buffy; moreover, although he wasn't entirely averse to Anya's presence, he would much rather have been wandering through the cemetery with his Slayer, or even her sister.

However, now that Anya was here, and it was obviously going to be a quiet night - clearly, the vamps were all still nervous after the various encounters with the magic - he could have the talk he'd been intending to have with her. In a sense, they were equals and opposites at once. They were both trying to sort out relationships, and they'd both changed considerably in the process, only she'd gained her demon-ness, and he'd gained a soul. They'd barely spoken two words to each other since his return, purely to make life easier, but if he was going to try and be one of the Scoobies, he supposed he ought to clear the air with her. Considering the last time they'd talked hadn't ended precisely how he'd anticipated, it was proving tricky to even start the conversation without the presence of copious alcohol. Luckily, an opportunity arose when she tossed the stake in the air far too high, and dropped it.

She stooped to retrieve it, and then he said, with an impatient sigh, "Either catch it every time, or don't bloody do it at all. Just because I've got a soul doesn't mean I'm immune to accidentally flung stakes, you know."

She looked a little sheepish. "Sorry…" She put the stake into her coat pocket, making Spike feel even less be-dustered than before. "I'm just so gosh darn bored!" She was clearly putting on an overly cheerful front, but something was bothering her and even Spike could tell.

He cleared his throat. Might as well just go for it, he thought. "Is… um… is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. Why should something be wrong?"

"Let's see. Repetitive over-exaggeration of nothing being wrong. I'd say there's something wrong…"

"All right. Fine." She stopped where she was. "I suppose I can tell you. But only if you'll tell me what the heck is going on with you and Buffy. One minute you're up, the next you're down… it's enough to drive a girl insane."

He laughed. "I'll try my best, but I'm not entirely sure myself…" He perched on a headstone, wished for a cigarette for the second time in as many minutes, and gestured for her to sit as well. Anya inspected it for grime and then leaned against it, making herself as comfortable as it was possible to. After a moment's silent thought, she started.

"It's just… this… this thing with me and Xander… I mean… we were making progress. I'd stopped wanting his organs to rot, and he'd stopped hating me. That's progress, right?" Spike nodded. "And… and we had this really long talk right before the big Magic thing, about forgiveness and mistakes and the fact that we still loved each other but needed to build up trust. As I understand it, conversations of that type tend to be steps in the right direction, yes?"

"I imagine so," he said, honestly, having never had any such conversation that he could remember. He'd never needed to 'talk' with Dru, and doubted she was sane enough at the best of times to do so; he had an impending Conversation with Buffy, however, for which he was woefully unprepared.

Anya nodded, agreeing with him and herself, then sighed. "The last thing I asked him to do that night was to play nice where you were concerned, for Buffy's sake. She's been through enough this year without Xander being all vengeful against you, especially since he'd forgiven me for…" She let that trail off, but he understood. "I explained that it wasn't just you… just so you know…"

"Thanks…"

"Anyway… he promised me he'd lay off you for a while… and then, well… he broke his promise."

"I'll say…" he muttered. "So is that all that's bothering you? That the Whelp decided to have at it with me?"

"No. See, that's what's weird… once I'd thought it over, I found it pretty easy to forgive him. I know he's never been on the best of terms with you, so, you know, it made some sense. Not that it was right, or anything, but…" Spike nodded understandingly to stop her rambling. "Anyway, after that, I didn't really get much chance to talk to him, what with the running-into-battle, and all… But before we all went off the second time to help Buffy with the purging, he kissed me… and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed…"

"And now you two are all moody again. Even I could tell that much."

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know, I think he's just worried about Buffy or something. Not that I'm not, you understand, but…" Frustrated, she finally got to the point. "Oh, it just seems like he's spending all his time worrying about Buffy, or Willow, or Dawn, or how to get you out of the picture, or whether or not he even likes you now, and no time worrying about us…"

She'd apparently finished her rant. The two stared at each other from across the distance between the headstones in silence for a moment, then Spike said, "Right. Sounds fair enough. I'd offer comfort or hug you or something, but, you know, awkward…" He gestured at the air between them somewhat helplessly.

"It's fine… It was nice to have someone actually listen to me for a change." They both remembered where 'someone listening' had gotten them the last time, so she quickly moved onto a slightly safer topic. "So. I've held my end of the deal, now it's your turn. What's going on with you and Buffy?"

Spike stood, and stretched. "Mind if I tell this on the move, luv? We ought to be getting back." She shook her head, and they resumed their leisurely walk through the cemetery. They were silent for a while, as Spike tried to collect his thoughts together. He decided to start by ascertaining exactly what Anya already knew. "Okay, just how much do you know about us?"

She thought about the facts she'd managed to garner. "I know that you were sleeping together, because you pretty much told me so, and Buffy clarified it… And I know about what nearly happened in the bathroom, before you left. And I knew about the soul before anyone did; I could tell as soon as I saw you." She paused slightly before continuing. "I know that you love her… and I can tell that she loves you, but I think you've realised that…"

"Yeah… And so's she, at last. Told me so, and everything."

"Really? Wow… that's a definite advantage."

"I s'pose so." He scratched the back of his head, nervously. He didn't like letting his barriers down at the best of times, and especially when he didn't have his coat to hide in. "It's just weird, you know? Ever since I got back… Buffy came to see me, for a start… and if that wasn't mind-bogglin' enough, she apologised. Never thought I'd hear that in a million years, but she did. I made a right idiot of myself, too…" He wasn't willing to expand on that particular piece of information, and hastily carried on. "Anyway, we had a chat about where I'd been and such… and I didn't see her much after that. Although it was slightly suspect when she came over and dressed my wounds. It was almost as if she was… concerned, despite her usual, well, Slayerness."

"Maybe she was… Your leaving hit her pretty hard, you know."

"Maybe… Well, after that, she told me to get over to her house so she could hold a Scooby meeting, and… well, you know what happened that night. When she came back and found me skewered, it seemed to hit home, or something. I think you missed most of this, but, right before she went out to chat it out with Xander, she kissed me. Nothing special, just a peck, really… but it felt different. Like she meant it. Then, just to make it even more bloody confusing, she hugged me. Hugged me."

"So?" asked Anya, slightly confused by the apparent importance. "Buffy hugs everyone."

"Not me. Never me."

"Oh, I see… What else?"

He raised a dubious eyebrow. "What makes you think there was anything else?"

"Hello? Vengeance demon. I have a relationship-radar. It tends to help when you're looking for… clients."

"Of course… Fine, you got me. There was something else. In her basement. She… she got all upset over something. Well, lots of things. Couldn't really figure out which was bothering her the most, but I was being all comforting… and told her I loved her, as if that'd make all the difference. And she kissed me again. Really kissed me… and it felt exactly like the last one…" Deciding he ought to explain a little, he sighed heavily, and hoped Anya wouldn't needle him too much for being a wimp later on. "I love that girl more than I can even try to explain, even to myself. Willow said I'd hit it on the head when I said I was willing to let her 'be my death'… but that's just the tip of the iceberg. We're gonna be here all night if I try and explain any more. But anyway… before… all this…" - here, he gestured vaguely to encompass the whole of Sunnydale - "when she kissed me, it was just… just her. No feeling behind it, much as I hated to admit it. And that morning in the basement, it was… there was something there. But before I could find out what, Giles came back and she got scared and ran off… and I ripped her out for it." He shook his head at the memory, frustrated. "I gave her a sodding ultimatum, and the silly bint agreed to it."

"That explains the hatey vibes I was getting off you two at the meeting… but now you're both all… I don't know, cozy…" She looked across at him where he walked, squinting in concentration, and was a little surprised by what she sensed. "And scared…"

He smiled. "That about covers it. She didn't know if she was coming back alive from that magical purge, and, being the Queen of Bad Timing, chose that moment to tell me how she felt… Right when I couldn't do a thing about it. Then she went and got herself all electrified, which hasn't helped much, but… she loves me."

"So, you're going to be okay?"

"Here's hoping. We're overdue on a long talk, though. Not lookin' forward to that, I can tell you…"

Anya smiled supportively. "Well, good luck. If I can just sort out my relationship with Xander, everyone'll be happy." Apparently, she'd just remembered something else, and sighed sadly. "I just wish I knew…" She trailed off, dismissing the idea.

"Knew what?" he urged. "And be careful with those wishes, demon-girl…"

She gave a weak, vaguely amused smile, and said, "I wish I knew what was going on with him and Willow… I missed a lot before Giles dragged me back into Scoobyville, and… and those two love each other. They always have. I just can't tell if it's more, or if it's just me being paranoid."

Completely sure of himself, Spike answered, "It's just you being paranoid…"

"What?"

"It is. Xander loves you." He gestured where the stake had pierced his chest. "You think he'd've done this if he didn't?"

"I… I suppose…"

"I know," he said, firmly. "I may not be a vengeance demon, but I can pick up vibes, too. I think maybe bein' around Buffy's helped with that, or something, but I can tell that there's still something between you two."

Anya said nothing, but seemed very pleased by the information. They were nearly back at Revello Drive by this point, and she had one more thing to talk to Spike about, which, incidentally, turned out to be the same thing he wanted to discuss with her, too. "Um… that night… at the Magic Box. What did you come for? I barely remember most of what happened…" She hoped he wouldn't take offence at that, but he didn't seem to connect it to the 'incident'.

"I came in for a spell. To make me stop loving her." He laughed at himself. "Bloody messed that up, didn't I?"

Anya laughed, too, lightly. "Yes, that you did…"

"I never wanted to… I mean, I wasn't intending to… when I came in. It was-"

"A mistake," she finished. "I know. Really, it's all Halley's fault. She put the idea in my head to make Xander hurt as much as I was, and then… well, you appeared, and..."

Spike muttered something, hoping she wouldn't hear. "That Cecily always was a nosey little bitch even when she was human. Don't know why I ever fell for her."

Unfortunately, Anya had heard him, although she didn't have a clue what he was on about. "What?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter…"

She shrugged. "If I'd known about you and Buffy, I swear, I'd have never-"

"Forget it, Anya. I was lookin' to make her hurt, too. Let's just… forget it, okay?"

"Deal," she said, obviously relieved.

As the welcoming lights of the Summers house approached, the two finished their patrol in a far more amicable silence than when they'd started, content in the knowledge that there were no qualms between them any more. Anya, thanks to Spike's adamant observation about Xander, now had hope for redeeming their relationship. It would take time, but she was determined to see it through, and was sure that Xander was, too.

Spike was now feeling slightly better about trying to make friends with the Scoobies, and the prospect wasn't as hideous as he'd first imagined it to be. Xander was really the only one he still had to make peace with, and it seemed as if it wouldn't be too difficult after all. For Buffy's sake, he was willing to try, anyway.

As for Buffy, he was already starting to dread their impending conversation, even though he knew it had to happen. Despite her affirmation that she'd meant what she said at the abandoned factory, he was still a little paranoid that it had been a spur of the moment thing. And he wasn't entirely sure how the Magic had been affecting her afterwards, so the sooner it was out of her system and she was back to normal, the better.

All he wanted to do was forget about whatever constituted as their past, and start over. She loved him, and she'd finally accepted that for herself, and that was all he needed to know. He knew, however, that they needed to see through the pain before they could do anything to make it better. If talking it through was a means to an end, then he'd have to do so… but he'd managed to talk to Anya without it turning into a shouting match, so he was feeling a whole lot more confident about it.

The only thing he really wanted now was to be with her, no matter what it took. To forget the past, they had to talk about it. It didn't promise to be easy, but that was par for the course. And he was sure, that this time, it would all be just fine…

To be continued…

A/N: I'd like to mention right now that reviews, as always, are appreciated. However, if I get anything along the lines of "Buffy/Giles - EWWWWW!" then I will NOT be a happy bunny, and will be forced to do something rash. It's not too late to kill Buffy off, you know. However, I can't be too harsh because I'm still aiming for 200 reviews, but… take heed. Next chapter coming soonish, I hope. Can't you tell it's nearing an end?