Chapter Three:
Though it seemed unusual for Sunnydale's homecoming to take place so late in the school year, Rose wasn't one to complain. She was more than happy to have an excuse to dress up and enjoy herself. The invitation from Willow to join her group had been a welcome escape from listening to Harmony's endless talk about her dress. Now, Rose found herself climbing into the back of Oz's van along with Xander and a girl named Faith she hadn't met before. Willow sat in the front passenger seat beside Oz, the couple engaged in soft conversation, their hands brushing occasionally.
"Thanks so much for inviting me," Rose said as she settled into her seat, the cool leather beneath her bare legs sending a shiver through her. "If I had to listen to Harmony talk about her dress one more time, I might've shoved it down her throat just to shut her up."
Faith, perched on the edge of the seat with an air of casual confidence, shot Rose a grin and a playful punch to the arm. "I like this chick," she said, her voice husky, the kind that commanded attention.
"Sorry about not doing the limo thing," Willow turned slightly in her seat, apologetic but cheerful. "Buffy and Cordelia needed some alone time to work out their issues."
Rose smiled and waved it off. "Totally fine. You all look amazing, by the way."
The van was dimly lit, the soft glow of the dashboard casting a faint light on everyone's faces. Rose glanced over at Willow and Faith. Willow's simple, sweet dress and Faith's sultry, edgier outfit were striking against the backdrop of the van's interior. But it was the guys in their tuxes that really threw Rose off. She hadn't expected Oz or Xander to clean up quite so nicely.
Xander, catching her eye, looked her over with an exaggerated, wide-eyed stare. "You're one to talk. Have you seen yourself?"
Rose's cheeks burned, and she dropped her gaze to her dress, a long-sleeved black number with intricate lace woven tightly around her form. The soft, delicate fabric clung to her body, revealing just enough skin to send a thrill of confidence through her. Underneath, a simple black balconette bra and high-waisted underwear gave her an air of sophistication while still feeling provocative. She tugged at the hem instinctively, trying not to fidget under the weight of Xander's compliment.
Faith, smirking, leaned back and crossed her legs. "Sex on legs, that's what you are. So, who's the lucky guy you're trying to impress, huh?"
Rose froze, heart skipping a beat. "No one," she blurted out, far too quickly.
Willow's eyes lit up with playful curiosity as she twisted around in her seat again. "I bet it's Robin! He's always trying to get you to sit with him in chem class."
Rose shot her a pointed look, but her lips twitched with a smile. "Will, you know I only have eyes for you in chemistry."
Willow giggled. "I know."
Faith, however, wasn't letting up. "There's gotta be someone. Whoever he is, he won't be able to take his eyes off you."
Rose spent the rest of the ride fighting the rapid beating of her heart. She hadn't intended for her outfit to make such a statement, but Faith's words lingered, making her wonder if everyone else would see right through her as well.
When they finally arrived at the homecoming party, the warm evening air enveloped them as they stepped out of the van. The high school gym had been transformed, decorated with fairy lights twinkling above and tables draped in silky fabrics lining the edges of the room. Music pulsed through the air, vibrating the walls and floor beneath them, as students gathered in clusters, laughing and chatting.
Rose walked into the crowd with her friends, but soon, Xander and Oz offered to grab drinks, and Willow went with them, leaving her alone with Faith. The crowd shifted around them like a sea, and Rose felt the energy of the room as she scanned her surroundings. Bright colors, laughter, and the clink of glasses echoed all around. Yet, a faint tingle buzzed at the back of her neck, a sensation that made her hyper-aware of everything.
"So, hot stuff," Faith leaned closer, her voice lowering, "which one is he?"
"I don't—" Rose's words died in her throat as her eyes fell on Giles across the room.
Dressed in a dark suit that seemed a perfect contrast to the casual chaos around him, Giles stood near the punch table, his gaze fixed solely on her. The intensity of his eyes sent a shockwave through her body, making her heart skip a beat. Her skin prickled with awareness, as though the very air around them was charged with something electric and primal. Everything else in the room faded into the background—the lights, the noise, even the people. It was just the two of them, caught in a current that was impossible to explain.
That magical connection she had felt since they first met surged, growing stronger. Her breath hitched, her body instinctively drawing toward him, despite the crowded room between them. Her mind buzzed with thoughts she couldn't fully form, her pulse loud in her ears.
Faith's voice cut through the haze. "Ah, I see. You've got a taste for the old Watcher."
Rose snapped her gaze away from Giles, her eyes wide. "Taste? No, I haven't… I haven't tasted anyone. Wait, Watcher?"
Faith raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a sly smile. "Wait, you don't know? Huh. Thought they'd have told you by now." With a shrug, Faith's eyes flicked past Rose before she turned and walked away.
Before Rose could fully process what Faith had just said, she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. "Ms. Murphy."
She turned slowly to face Giles, his presence so close now that the rest of the room dissolved into white noise. He towered over her, and yet, despite his imposing figure, there was a quiet softness in the way his eyes roamed her face. The air between them felt charged, as though something was unsaid, something they were both skirting around but neither had the courage to acknowledge.
"Mr. Giles," Rose replied, her voice soft, almost breathless. "I'm surprised you got dragged into this. Doesn't seem like your kind of thing."
Giles chuckled, a rich sound that vibrated through her. "It's one of my many mandatory chaperone duties."
The awkwardness hung between them, heavy and palpable. Rose's gaze flickered to his hands as he removed his glasses—a nervous habit, one she had noticed long ago. His hands were strong but delicate, fingers steady as they polished the lenses. For a brief moment, she wondered how those hands would feel against her skin, but she quickly banished the thought, her cheeks flushing at the inappropriate image.
"I'm glad you're here," she managed, her voice faltering slightly. "Here for the students, I mean."
"Yes, the students," Giles echoed, though his eyes lingered on her longer than they should have. He stuttered as he slipped his glasses back on, trying to regain his usual calm. "You look… very nice tonight."
"Thank you," Rose said, her pulse quickening. "You look quite dashing yourself."
The compliment seemed to catch him off guard. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat again, his gaze flicking down to her dress for just a second longer than necessary. "I was wondering if we could talk about that previous conversation, if your… date can spare you?"
Rose's breath caught in her throat, the suggestion hanging between them. "I don't have a date tonight."
Giles blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh. I… just assumed. Given how… well, never mind. Would you like to accompany me to the library?"
Rose nodded, offering him a small smile, and the two walked out of the gym together, the distance between them growing shorter with each step.
As they left the gym, the shift from the pulsing beat of the music to the quiet hum of the school's hallways was stark. The fluorescent lights above flickered faintly, casting a soft glow over the empty corridors. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence, each step punctuating the growing tension between them.
Rose walked beside Giles, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress as if to anchor herself. The cool air outside the gym was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the crowded room they'd just left. She felt every inch of space between them, though it seemed to shrink with every passing second. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she had to focus on her breathing to keep it steady.
Giles was composed, his posture rigid but graceful as ever. His hands, however, betrayed him—he kept fidgeting with the cufflinks on his sleeves, as though trying to find something to do with them. The air around them buzzed with unspoken words, but neither of them seemed ready to break the silence just yet.
They reached the library, and Giles held the door open for her. "After you, Ms. Murphy."
"Thank you," Rose said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped inside.
The library was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the lamps on the tables. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood filled the air, comforting and grounding. Rose glanced around the room, taking in the quiet serenity of the space. It was a place of solace for her, one she had come to associate with Giles. His presence seemed to fill every corner, making it feel like a sanctuary.
Giles walked past her, heading to the main table where he set down the glasses he'd been holding. He leaned against the edge of the table, his fingers drumming lightly on the surface. Rose could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were drawn tight, as though he was carrying the weight of something he didn't quite know how to express.
She approached slowly, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor, the sound like a steady heartbeat in the quiet room. "You said you wanted to talk about something?"
Giles looked up at her, his eyes catching hers for a moment before he quickly averted them, staring down at the books on the table instead. "Yes, would you like some tea?" he began, his voice low and measured.
"You asked me here for tea?"
"Would you believe me if I said yes?"
"No, but I would appreciate a cup of tea, before we have what I am guessing is going to be a very awkward conversation."
Without a word, Giles disappeared into the office, and a few minutes later emerged with two steaming cups. He handed one to her with a careful smile, his fingers briefly grazing hers as she took it. The touch was fleeting but sparked something between them—a tension that lingered even after he pulled away.
Rose sat on the edge of the table now with cup in hand as she watched Giles closely, the silence between them growing heavier. Rose lifted the cup to her lips, inhaling the warmth of the tea, though it did little to calm her jittery nerves. She felt as though they were circling something neither of them wanted to address, yet it hovered just beneath the surface.
Giles cleared his throat, his voice softer now. "Rose... about the last time we spoke." His voice trailed into silence as he looked to struggle for words..
"I see you were doing a bit of light reading, Watcher." Rose spoke clearly as she nodded to the demonic tombs on the desk.
"Hmm, what was that?" Giles questioned.
"Faith, she called you Watcher." Rose turned herself around to sit on the table and faced him.
"How odd," he replied with a simple shrug, taking a tentative sip of his tea.
"Yes, it is, because I've only ever heard someone referred to as a Watcher when there was a Slayer involved." Rose's eyes narrowed as she watched Giles try to maintain his composure. She caught the slight tension in his jaw, the way he shifted his weight ever so slightly, taking a step back.
"I've never heard of these terms before," Giles said, feigning casualness, though his voice wavered just enough. "Did you read them in a book somewhere?"
Rose rolled her eyes, lifting her cup to her lips for another sip. "You're lying again."
"Am not," Giles responded automatically, though there was a stiffness in his tone now. "I have no clue what a Watcher is. Or a Slayer."
"Slayer!" came a gruff voice from the entrance.
Both Rose and Giles turned swiftly to see two figures—an imposing man, dressed like an outlaw cowboy, and a sharp-eyed woman standing close by his side. The man's presence filled the room with danger, and Rose immediately tensed.
"Can I help you?" Giles asked, setting his cup down on the table with a deliberate calm, though Rose could sense the shift in his posture—alert, protective.
"Yeah," the cowboy sneered, "we're looking for the Slayer. A little birdie told us she might be here."
Giles stepped forward, deliberately placing himself between Rose and the strangers. "There's no Slayer here," Giles replied firmly, his voice low and measured. Rose set her cup down slowly, slipping from the table and keeping herself hidden behind Giles.
The cowboy grinned, revealing a hint of fang. "That's a shame. But I reckon we'll have to make do with you two. I am getting quite hungry."
In an instant, the threat crystallized. Rose felt her pulse spike, her magic responding instinctively. As the man took a step forward, Giles subtly shifted, pushing Rose back with a firm but protective motion.
"Stay behind me," he muttered under his breath as Rose moved to step out from behind Giles, her voice low and daring, "Because if you don't, I'll make sure you regret it."
Giles's eyes flickered with concern as he tried to grab her arm, but she twisted free, her senses sharpening with a mix of adrenaline and magic. She could feel the dark, raw energy pulsing just beneath her skin, aching to be unleashed. She wasn't afraid. Not this time.
The vampire sneered, his eyes locking onto hers. "You think you can take me?"
Rose's smile was cold. "Oh, it's not a thought, it's a fact."
She didn't give him time to respond. With a sharp flick of her wrist, a gust of wind erupted from her hand, sending the vampire flying backward with a violent crash. The force rattled the shelves, and books tumbled to the floor. But the vampire wasn't down for long. He rose slowly, a savage grin splitting his face as his partner, a lithe woman with bloodstained lips, lunged toward Rose with deadly speed.
In a flash, Rose ducked, feeling the vampire's hand rake the air just above her head. She retaliated instantly, driving her elbow into the vampire's ribs with a satisfying crack. The female vampire hissed, but Rose didn't give her the chance to recover. She summoned another wave of magic, throwing the creature against the nearest bookshelf.
The male vampire was on her next, his cold hand clamping around her throat, lifting her off the ground with brutal strength. Rose gasped for air, her vision dimming at the edges as she struggled against his iron grip. Her fingers twitched, crackling with magic, but it was sluggish, slow. She had overexerted herself, and now the consequences were catching up with her.
"Not so tough now, are you?" the vampire hissed, his face inches from hers, his fangs gleaming.
Rose's heart pounded, her lungs screaming for air, but through the haze of panic, she could see Giles moving—fighting to get to her, his eyes filled with fear. The sight gave her a burst of energy. With a guttural scream, she thrust her hand forward, releasing a surge of raw magic directly into the vampire's chest. He roared in agony, dropping her as he staggered back, smoke rising from where her magic burned through his skin.
Rose hit the ground hard, coughing and gasping for air as the vampire stumbled, clutching his smoldering chest. But there was no time to rest. The female vampire was back on her feet, eyes blazing with fury as she charged at Giles, who had just managed to grab a stake.
"No, you don't!" Rose yelled, her voice raw, forcing herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she steadied herself, hands raised, ready to send the last of her energy into a final spell.
Before she could cast it, the female vampire had already thrown Giles against the wall, her sharp nails slashing at his arm. He grunted in pain, barely dodging her next attack. Blood dripped from his sleeve, staining the floor.
"Rupert!" Rose's voice was frantic now, her energy ebbing, but she couldn't let him face this alone. She willed the last of her strength into the air, summoning the remnants of her power. Her eyes locked on a jagged shard of wood from the shattered chair, her breath shallow as she whispered, "Surge et quaere signum tuum…"
The shard launched across the room like a bullet, piercing the male vampire's heart. He let out a strangled gasp before crumbling to ash, his body dissolving in the dim light. But his female counterpart let out a shriek of rage, redoubling her attack on Giles.
Time slowed. Rose saw the fangs inching closer to Giles's throat, the predator's eyes wild with bloodlust. With no other choice, Rose hurled herself forward, tackling the vampire just as she prepared to sink her teeth into Giles. They tumbled to the ground in a blur of limbs, Rose's fingers clawing at the vampire's throat as they rolled across the floor, a feral growl escaping her lips.
"Rose, get clear!" Giles shouted, but Rose barely heard him. Her only thought was survival, the primal instinct to fight, to kill. Her magic was spent, but she wasn't powerless. Using pure strength, she kneed the vampire in the gut, earning a brief reprieve as the creature recoiled.
In that instant, Giles was there, plunging the stake into the vampire's chest with brutal force. The vampire screeched, her body convulsing before collapsing into a heap of dust at their feet. Silence followed, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Rose collapsed against the wall, her limbs trembling with exhaustion and her head pounding. Giles was beside her in an instant, his hands running over her arms, her face, checking for injuries. "You're hurt…"
Rose tried to wave him off, her head spinning. "I'm fine…" But the pain flaring in her side suggested otherwise. Her ribs ached from the impact, and her vision swam from the blow to her head earlier.
Giles crouched beside her, his hands shaking slightly as they hovered near her head. "Rose… you're bleeding. We need to—"
"I can heal," she whispered, her voice faint. "Just… need some help."
Without hesitation, Giles took her hand, his touch both gentle and electric. The connection sent a spark through her, a rush of warmth that cut through the pain. His fingers tightened around hers, and together, she began the familiar chant.
"Sana hanc cutem," Rose murmured, her eyes fluttering shut as the magic flowed between them.
Giles's voice was steady beside her, his words soft but strong. "Haec ossa sana, haec vulnera sana."
The warmth between their joined hands intensified, spreading through Rose's body like liquid fire. The pain in her ribs dulled, the dizziness receded, and her skin tingled with renewed strength. She felt Giles's power flooding into her, overwhelming and intoxicating.
When she opened her eyes, Giles's face was inches from hers, his breath mingling with hers, their hands still clasped. The intensity in his eyes made her heart pound—an unspoken desire crackled in the air between them, more tangible than the magic that had just healed her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them seemed to still as the tension simmered in the air, charged with something far more dangerous than magic.
"Heavens," whispered Giles.
Rose's eyes fluttered away from his, falling to their still-joined hands. The faint traces of joint magic still radiated between them—a subtle ripple in the air, and an almost imperceptible glow illuminating their skin. She had borrowed power before, participated in countless coven spells, but nothing had ever felt like this. If she didn't know better, she'd swear it felt like the euphoric aftermath of an intimate encounter.
"What in God's name..." Giles muttered, his gaze also drawn to their entwined hands. Neither of them made a move to pull away. Their fingers lingered, electricity crackling between them, an unspoken bond holding them together as their eyes locked once more.
"GILES!"
The spell shattered. In an instant, their hands parted, and Rose shuddered at the loss of contact. The magic inside her recoiled, yearning to reconnect, but she forced her hands to remain still against the cold floor. The void left by his touch was almost painful.
"Are you okay?" Buffy Summers' voice cut through the haze. "What happened here?"
"There was a couple," Giles began, his voice unusually calm, though a hint of tension betrayed him. "I think they were on drugs or something."
Rose noticed the conflicted look in his eyes and slowly, carefully, began to rise to her feet. "They attacked us," she added, her voice trembling—not entirely from fear, but from the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. Buffy seemed to mistake the quiver in her voice for fear, her eyes widening in concern.
"They knocked me out," Rose continued, "but Mr. Giles must have been able to fend them off."
"I was able to deal with them," Giles said softly, his gaze flickering between Rose and Buffy, as if uncertain how much truth to reveal. "Scared them off."
"Giles, you're bleeding," Buffy pointed out, her eyes dropping to his hand.
"Oh, I'm fine," he said quickly, almost absently. "What, umm, happened to you two?"
Buffy glanced down at herself, noticing for the first time her torn dress and the grime smudging her skin. "Oh, car trouble," she mumbled, clearly unsettled.
"Well, it seems like we've all had a night," Rose said, taking a tentative step forward, testing her balance. The lingering magic made her feel both heavy and weightless, but she managed to steady herself. "I'm going to go wash the blood out of my hair. Mr. Giles, I'll come talk to you about that book on Monday if that's alright?"
"Yes. Yes, of course," he replied, his voice a little too quick, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer than necessary.
As Rose turned to leave, she could still feel the pull of their connection—an invisible thread that tied them together, stronger now than before. But for now, she had to let it go.