Chapter 7 is up for you to enjoy! Chapter 8 will follow
soon. The next two will be posted by tomorrow night.
Things are starting to get a bit better, but the tension is still rising...
Reviews are most welcome!
POV's in this chapter: Anya, Tara and the end bit of Giles.
Chapter 7
Some Reality Acquired
* * * * *
Well, folly on him.
He seemed uncharacteristically quiet this morning. He kept staring straight ahead, the muscles around his eyes jumping every time he blinked.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say Giles was in a foul mood.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
He nodded, but didn't say anything. Which was a start, right? I knew he would break out of his funk sooner or later. He just had to. It was my job as his assistant sales manager to try, right?
"Where do we go first?" I asked as he parked the car close to the office supplies store. He didn't say anything for a moment as he pressed a button and the top to his car went up. After he snapped it into position, he silently got out of the car. I followed him, curiously. "Giles?"
"What's on the list?" His voice was so quiet I wasn't sure I'd heard him. But since I clutched the list in my small clasp bag, I pulled it out and read off the first store listed; the office supplies store in front of us.
We went inside through the automatic doors and went toward the carts. As much as I found automatic doors fascinating and wanted to spend the next few moments going inside and outside and back inside again, I knew Giles' patience was on a short leash today, and he never had that much patience for me to begin with.
We walked quietly through the narrow aisles, only stopping to pick up what was on the list I held in my hand. Finally, at the checkout, he handed me his small leather case while he dug out his credit card to pay for the lot. I couldn't help peering inside of it, and found a small slip of paper addressed to the local leather store. "What's this?"
He turned to me as he swiped his card, his eyes flickering with interest. "A gift certificate. I'm sure you know what those are."
I nodded. "Are we going there?"
He shrugged and turned to me. I sighed and picked up the two large bags and dragged them out into the mall as Giles signed for the receipt and followed me. "Let's try it out, shall we?" he asked, in the same calm voice he'd use on a five-year-old.
But this was so much more exciting. When the leather store came into view, he paled slightly and looked at his feet. "Maybe some shoes?" he asked.
I shrugged and cheerfully walked inside. Grumbling, he followed me at the slowest pace. And we glanced around.
"Giles, look at these pants," I yelled, running over to a gorgeous pair of studded pants sitting on the male mannequin. "Have you seen such lovely pants?"
He rolled his eyes and picked up the office supplies bags I'd just dumped in my quest. "They do have a touch of something."
I pulled a pair off the table, checked their size and extended them toward him. "Try them on, they're on clearance. Thirty percent off, plus the fifteen percent sale for today. I'll try finding you a jacket."
"I will not wear leather pants," he grunted, but he was smiling, and for once the smile had reached his eyes. He was probably imagining his friends laughing at his leather pants if he wore them. The wuss.
"Take them," I said in a warning voice, and maybe because he didn't want me to rant on for the next hour about why leather pants would look good on him, he threw me a dirty look and proceeded to the nearest dressing room, leaving me standing by the mannequin, satisfied. Then I started through the leather jackets, thinking that if I found one to enhance his figure a bit more, he'd be more popular in the leather than the tweed at the shop.
He returned a moment later, standing with his legs squeezed together, as though he couldn't find any reason to separate them. My gaze traveled from his well-worn shoes to the leather pants to his face. The moment my eyes met his, we both dissolved into giggles.
"I look ridiculous," he finally choked out, wiping his eyes after removing his glasses. "You want to see what a well-known British man looks like in beaten cow hides? This is your vision."
I tried to contain my laughter, but it was hard. Finally, I handed him the jacket I'd found. "Try that on for size," I gasped, wiping my own eyes as he took the jacket, surveying it with a critical eye. With a heavy sigh of annoyance, he disappeared back inside the room.
My eye caught on a display of discounted sleeveless shirts for men. I practically ran into the other shoppers in my mad dash to get to the table, setting down the bags of office supplies. I lifted one up. It was some shiny silver material, like dragons scales, and really tight. With a little sigh, I pulled it to myself, trying to imagine how I'd look in the shirt. Finally, Giles walked out behind me.
I couldn't help it. My jaw dropped. "Whoa," I stammered out.
He was seriously good-looking in the leather pants and jacket. Even with his hair still perfectly combed in place and his glasses sat rigidly on his nose. Apparently, he was still trying to hold onto his crisp British side, while maintaining a look that proved his good looks were something other than hidden behind tweed. He looked fantastic.
I wordlessly held out the shirt for him. He silently took it. There was a silence between us intercepted only by the fact I still couldn't take my eyes off him and I was an engaged woman.
He took the shirt with him back into the dressing room and I wandered around the store, pulling a few accessories, odds and ends into my arms, having given up on toting the large bags of office supplies around. It seemed like yesterday we'd been a sullen pair shopping in a dull store. He had been more lively in the past half hour than he had been in the past week.
I saw Giles' body reflected on the mirror in front of me as I turned around. This time I laughed, as did he. The silver shirt did not look good with the leather. With another burst of giggles, I handed him a leather shirt and he took it, his eyes twinkling. "Now this is what I call stress relief!" he said, his voice slightly giddy.
And, as I watched him return to the dressing room as I dragged our other bags around, I couldn't agree with him more.
"Good afternoon," I said, trying to keep my voice cheerful. She smiled at me before taking a seat and setting her head carefully in her hands. "How are you feeling?"
"Like an idiot," she whispered, with a sigh. "I really blew it last night."
"Spike didn't seem to mind," I replied with as much cheer as I could muster. Spike falling from the second-story window had caught me off guard. Hell, even his attempts to 'comfort' Buffy had caught her off guard.
"Not Spike," she said sadly as I handed her two aspirin and a bottle of water. "I mean Giles. Why did I have to lose my temper with him? He was just trying to do what's best for me."
I shrugged as I wiped the island off. "You were awfully hard on him."
"I'll go apologize to him later," she said, sighing again as she glanced outside. Dark clouds had tumbled in, blocking out the bright sunlight that had woken her up earlier. "Hopefully it won't rain."
"You might want to apologize to Spike, too," I added as an afterthought. "He was quite angry you threw him out of your room."
"I just wished he'd hit the top of the picket fence below," she replied sullenly as she drank the water. "I'm not apologizing to him. He should know by now that if he's still alive and not breathing, he's been apologized to."
All I could do was smile, even though I was slightly disturbed.
"Could you do something for me though?" she asked, turning to face me. I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head as she explained what had happened the night before. "I just want to make sure he can never get into my bedroom again."
I nodded, trying to force another smile. "You want me to do a spell?"
Buffy nodded. "Could you make it so my room is off-limits to him?"
While we were talking, Willow came into the kitchen, dressed brightly. "What's going on?"
I turned and slipped my arm around her waist, giving her a sideways hug. "Buffy and I were just talking about last night," I said as Willow kissed the top of my head. "She wants to do a vampire rejection spell from her bedroom."
"Seems easy enough," Willow said with a furrowed brow, turning back to Buffy. "Are you absolutely certain?"
"I've never been more certain."
Willow and I exchanged a glance. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?" Willow asked gently.
"I'm not," she replied stubbornly, crossing her arms. "I think he deserves what is coming to him. How dare he try to show up for some 'comfort' in my bedroom!"
We exchanged another glance. Buffy caught it. "What?"
"Nothing," I finally said, standing up and reaching behind me to push the stool in. "Willow and I will do your spell."
"Good," Buffy replied, also rising. "I'm going to go get dressed. What time is Dawn due home?"
"She works till six on Sundays," Willow replied softly as Buffy turned to leave the room. "Are you okay?"
She turned back to us, her face slightly strained, yet she smiled bravely. "I will be."
We watched her leave and exchanged another glance and sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
It was Willow.
"Have you seen Buffy?" she asked impatiently. "She disappeared about two hours ago. It's starting to get bad outside."
I nodded, glancing outside to see the heavy rain and lightning cascading across the sky. "I haven't heard a word from her," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "I'm not exactly on her list of to-speak-to."
"Oh, no," Willow moaned. "I've called everyone I could think of. She hasn't shown up anywhere! I even tried Anya's apartment. She said you'd been shopping all day."
I glanced at myself. I was still wearing the leather Anya had talked me into buying. I was wet from head to toe from having to drag two loads of shopping bags from my car to the apartment I lived in. "I was gone a good majority of it, yes," I replied, cleaning the water from my glasses. As I placed them back on, I heard a gentle tap against my door. I could have sworn it was the wind, but it warranted a second look. I brought the phone with me, trying to console Willow in her panic.
I opened the door.
She didn't need to panic anymore.
Buffy stood there, drenched from head to toe. Her hair had curled in the rain, and her face was splotchy, as though she was crying, her tears mingling with the rainwater.
"I'll call you back," I said, touching the off button and throwing the phone aside.
And I just stared at her. She blinked up at me.
"Giles," she whispered.
"Buffy." The word was full of tentative emotion as I glanced at her. She didn't look angry or bitter or murderous. She looked miserable. Just like I'd felt before my shopping spree with Anya.
"Giles, I need to talk to you." Her voice was so sad, almost as though she'd been memorizing the words. I could see her avert her eyes from mine and glanced down at the rain puddling near her shoes. "Please?"
I pushed the door open further to let her in.
She stepped inside. And I closed the door behind us.