Home for the Holidays
by: Gileswench
Rated NC-17
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Date: 12/5/02
Spoilers: Through Conversations With Dead People, after which it goes pretty seriously AU
Summary: Giles is home for Christmas...or is he?
Rating: NC17 for major smuttiness, Nabakovian literary criticism, attempted vamprape fallout, Gilesean stubbornness
Pairing: Buffy/Giles, a little X/Anya
Category: Romance/Smut
Distribution: If you've had my permission in the past, you have it now. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.
Notes: I know this is a bit unusual, but I answered my own annual holiday challenge, which reads as follows: Well folks, it's that time of year again. Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, and before we know it, Hanukkah will be upon us. And we all know what that means, don't we? Yes, it's:
The Annual Wencheriffic Giles-centric Holiday Challenge!
This has produced some really great fic in the past two years. Let's see if we can make three a charm!
Due date: Dec. 26, as per tradition.
Pairing: Giles/Anybody. Genfic, threesomes and orgies also more than welcome.
Timeline: Past/Present/Futurefic all welcome.
Rating: Anything goes from G to NC17. But please, if there is graphic sex involved, make sure all participants are over the age of 18 and consent fully in advance to whatever sexual activity they participate in.
ALL of the following are required: a holiday tradition connected to any of the following holidays: Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Saturnalia, Giles drinking something other than tea or whiskey, an unexpected phone call or guest, someone thanking Giles for something he did for them in the past.
At Least THREE of the following are required: chocolate, someone other than Giles singing, a stray cat or dog, someone taking a photograph, someone putting blue nail polish on Giles' toenails while he's asleep, A happy memory of any of the following deceased characters: Joyce, Jenny, Tara, Gay Larry, Principal Flutie, Randall.
That's it. Make me laugh, make me cry, make me sigh, make me squirm. It's all good. It's all Giles all the time, and that's enough for anyone to get celebrating!
WARNING: While there is no rape, BDSM or pedophelia actually happening in this story, all these issues are discussed fairly frankly at some point in the proceedings.
Dedication: To all my beloved Gilesdroolers on the GRB, GilesScribes, The Stacks, and WatcherGirls who make the job of owning and/or moderating on these lists so easy and such a joy. Special thanks to my always brutal and always wonderful beta, Rari, without whom my fic would be much less comprehensible on more levels than I care to contemplate. Whatever winter holidays you all celebrate, may they be joyous and peaceful.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Giles looked up from his egg nog and sighed. Somehow, being home - in England - for Christmas wasn't making him happy. He'd expected to be lonely the previous year. After all, he'd barely left Sunnydale and his young friends then. He'd barely left his Slayer. His Buffy.
This year, he'd actually had time to adjust to being alone. He'd gently helped Willow out of the nest months ago. And this time, he was actually getting phone calls from Buffy, Willow, and Xander on a semi-regular basis. Not as often as he'd like, it was true, but then, they were all young and impecunious. It wasn't as if they could afford to make overseas calls every day. Still, they called. They kept in touch.
They even occasionally let him know they missed his presence for something other than advice and information gleaned from dusty old volumes.
With another sigh, Giles returned to his annual reading of The Christmas Carol. It was a tradition he'd kept up from childhood. His mother used to read it to him when he was a boy, and, after her death, he'd found it comforting to read once a year, at Christmastime, as a way of staying close to her. Even in years when he couldn't be bothered to go to the trouble of getting and trimming a tree, he read the Dickens classic.
This year he actually had picked out a tree and brought it home. It sat forlorn and untrimmed in its stand in a corner of the sitting room. He looked at it. It seemed to regard him with contempt.
"It's another four days to Christmas," he reminded it. "Plenty of time."
He knew he was lying. On Christmas morning, that tree would be every bit as bare as it was in this moment.
After all, it wasn't as if there was anyone to see whether he was jolly for the holiday or not.
He found his mind drifting back to Christmas two years ago. It had been such a lovely time. Buffy was at her strongest, emotionally as well as physically, and they had been truly close. Friends - with something unspoken hanging tantalizingly in the air every once in a while. Nothing either had ever acted on, and something neither might ever act on for any one of a million reasons, but still there was a hint of possibility that intrigued him.
Joyce had been recovering from her surgery well. She had been bright and charming that day. They'd put the awkwardness left over from Ethan's band candy prank behind them once and for all. He'd finally felt Joyce was his friend. It seemed then that nothing would take her bright star from their lives.
Xander and Anya had been together and happy. True, they argued, but the love they shared at that time was obvious. He'd assumed that they would find a way to deal with whatever issues came up between them. Anya had even begun to mellow into an acceptable human being. A blunt, occasionally unsettling one, but still someone he frankly enjoyed working with, as unlikely a scenario as that had been mere months before.
Dawn hadn't known about her supernatural origin. She'd been able to be a normal, teenage girl with the ordinary interests of a girl her purported age. He wished she could have been allowed to keep her innocence longer.
As for Willow, she was still the Willow he'd been so fond of since the library days. Brave, intelligent, quick-tempered, yet vulnerable, with no obvious sign of the darkness her heart could hold.
And Tara. Dear Tara. Giles found he missed the gentle young witch with all his heart. She'd been so unsure of herself, and yet, in many ways, was the strongest one of the group. Her quick - if occasionally incomprehensible - wit and her brave, kindly heart had made her a favorite with Giles from an early point in their relationship. If there was anyone in his group of young friends he'd ever thought of as a daughter, Tara was certainly the one. She brought out his protective streak. He wished he could have protected her from Warren's gun.
He wished he could have protected them all from what fate held in store for them.
Giles shook his head and went to get another egg nog. This sort of self-indulgent mawkishness was something he couldn't abide in others. He really needed to get over it himself.
And yet, he couldn't help wishing he could be with them all now - at least the ones who were still alive. For all he wished he could see them one more time, he knew it was best Joyce and Tara rested quietly in their graves. If nothing else, they had peace. It is the living who truly need one another.
He thought again of Buffy, and of the something in the air he had felt so long ago. Truth be told, he'd felt it again when he'd come to fight Willow. He rolled his eyes when he remembered what he'd said to her: "you've cut your hair"! What a silly thing to say. Of all the meaningful, intelligent things he might have said, that was what had popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A puerile, schoolboy remark if ever there was one. He'd hardly been that awkward and ridiculous with Jenny.
Well, if he was being honest, he had to admit he was even more ridiculous with Jenny.
He laughed ruefully. He couldn't help remembering the time she'd convinced him for two heart-rending minutes that she'd destroyed his father's first edition of A Room With A View. As if a woman of her intelligence and warmth would have harmed his book with such cavalier unconcern. Still, her deadpan delivery had made him squirm desperately for a long moment. There had only been two women in his life who could play so skillfully with Giles' heartstrings. One was dead, never to return. The other had died twice, thus far, but hadn't yet let a little thing like that stop her.
Perhaps after the New Year, he might take some time off from Council work and visit for a few days. Maybe see if that something in the air could be turned into something more concrete. He knew Buffy wasn't seeing anyone. Willow made a point of mentioning that fact every time they spoke. He wasn't sure how much his redheaded friend knew about his feelings, but she must have picked up on something. She certainly must have figured out he was attracted to Buffy. The fact that she kept tacitly encouraging him must mean she'd seen the something from Buffy as well.
Or perhaps it was all simply wishful thinking.
He tossed back the last of the egg nog. He considered having another cup. It would be a pity to waste it after he'd gone to the trouble to make it. Then again, he wasn't sure waking up to a hangover would improve his holiday mood.
Then again, considering the mood he was in this holiday, could it really hurt matters?
He'd almost convinced himself that another drink was what he needed when the doorbell chimed. Giles frowned in puzzlement. He wasn't expecting anyone, and few people came to visit him unannounced of late. The bell rang again, impatiently, it seemed to him. He put down his glass and went to the door.
End Part 1
* * * * *
Part 2
"Yes?" he snapped as he flung the door open. He took a look at his visitor.
He stood amazed for a moment, then stood silently aside as she walked through his door and dropped her suitcase.
"Hey, Giles," she said a bit shyly. "Surprise?"
He found his tongue again.
"Buffy?"
"Yup, it's me," she said. "In the flesh, not an apparition or anything."
"But...but how...?"
"Well, in our modern world we have these things called airplanes," she explained. "I got on one, and then I got on this thing called a train, and then I took the bus and then I asked directions. I gotta say, the cops in this country? A lot more helpful than the ones where I come from. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact they don't know me and haven't ever found me leaning over a freshly killed person. That probably makes a difference. So...glad to see me?"
"Of course I'm glad to see you," he assured her. He opened his arms and she moved into them gratefully. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. "I've missed you," he said at last.
"Me too," she said into his sweater, "missed you, that is. Hence the coming to see you." She drew back suddenly and searched his face. "It is okay, isn't it? Me dropping in this way?"
"It's okay," he confirmed. "It's just unexpected. Which is why I ought to have expected something like this."
"That's me, Unexpected Girl."
She looked around her for the first time.
"Nice place," she said. "Very you. It reminds me of the place in Sunnydale, only less Spanish influence and, I'm guessing, an actual door on the bedroom, since I don't see a sleeping loft."
"No, no loft," he agreed. "I have privacy now, when I want it."
Buffy nodded and smiled. She looked more closely at the room.
"It's funny how much of this stuff I remember. You don't expect to see stuff you're used to when you go to a whole other country." She stopped, puzzled. "Nice tree. Is it an English thing to leave it all naked like that?"
"No, it's more a matter of...lack of holiday spirit."
"Well, we're fixing that right now," Buffy decided. "Lead me to your tinsel."
"Ill make you a deal," Giles said as he leaned against the back of the sofa and folded his arms across his chest. "You tell me what you're doing here, and I'll allow you to decorate my home for the holidays."
"Can't a girl just decide to come visit her favorite Watcher in all the world on a whim?"
"When her job barely pays the mortgage, it's not the most productive of whims, is it? Buffy, I know there's more to this than a simple desire to spend some time with me. You'll save us both a great deal of time and trouble if you just tell me what's on your mind now."
Buffy looked sheepish.
"That's just it. It really is because I want to spend time with you. I...sort of need to spend some time with you. Something's coming. Something big. And right now, I don't have any idea what it is."
Giles pushed off the sofa and removed his glasses.
"I know," he said as he began to clean the lenses. "Willow felt it. Has she come up with any information on it?"
Buffy shook her head.
"Not enough by a long shot."
"And you think I'll do better?"
"It's worth a try. But that's not the reason I'm here."
"And the rest of the reason would be...?"
She looked him square in the face.
"I don't know how this thing is going to play out. I have sort of a bad feeling about this one. Like I might not make it. Again. For real this time. Giles, I'm scared. Not so much of dying, 'cause, hey, been there, done that. But I don't want to die again without...without at least saying thanks."
"Thanks?"
"For all of it. For all the research and the spells and swordfighting and concussions and cracked ribs and Ethan slugging and pushing and nudging and everything you've ever done for me. I don't think I ever said it before. And if I did, it sure as hell wasn't enough."
"And the reason you couldn't have said this over the phone or in a letter?"
"That would have been pretty cold, I think. You deserve better. You always deserved better, but you got me. I wanted to do this right, and I wanted some quality Gilestime. I don't want to leave it the way it was last time. When the last memories you had of me were all about yelling and not listening to you. If it happens again - "
"Why do you think it will? Buffy, have you had a - a dream or some sort of vision?"
"I don't have to have a dream. I'm the Slayer and I'm almost twenty-two years old. In Slayer years, I'm already dead. But this isn't me giving up; it's just me wanting to cover all the bases for once. It's me not wanting to leave stuff unfinished."
"What sort of stuff?" Giles had to ask.
Buffy twisted her fingers nervously.
"Any stuff. Especially Gilesy stuff. I want you to know - if anything happens - that I...I did really care. And I didn't mean to get so heavy right off the bat. I was thinking more presents, nog, mistletoe."
"M - mistletoe?"
"Relax, Giles, I was talking generalized mistletoe." She frowned for a moment. "And what would be wrong with mistletoe with me?"
"I suppose I rather thought you'd object to mistletoe with me," he said quietly. "Not that I have any."
"But you have lights and ornaments and tree trimming goodies, don't you?"
"I even have egg nog, if you'd like some."
"I'd like. Just a little, though. I'm discovering that booze and Buffy is a recipe for disaster."
"You just need to learn to handle it," Giles told her as he poured her a cup. While he was at it, he refilled his own. One more wouldn't hurt, and it wouldn't do for Buffy to be drinking alone. "Taken in moderation, there's nothing wrong with the occasional drink."
"Plus it's a festive part of the season." She took her cup, her fingers brushing slightly against his. Their eyes met and Giles felt the unspoken something in the air again. From her slight blush, he felt certain Buffy felt it, too. She turned quickly and put her egg nog on the table. "So, where are those tree trimming supplies?"
Giles put down his glass, too.
"I'll go get them," he said quietly.
Buffy swore under her breath as she watched him go into another room.
"Great job, Buff," she scolded herself. "You were supposed to be proving to yourself that it was all in your mind. Too many butterflies in the tummy for that to be true."
She picked up her drink and took a small sip. It was surprisingly good.
"Who knew Giles could make egg nog? Then again," she reminded herself, "he's good at languages, magic, swordfighting, making mental boo boos better, cross-referencing, Mayor skewering, library exploding, and cooking. What made you think he couldn't handle making a little glass of egg nog?"
She took another, slightly larger, sip.
"You know what it is," she continued to berate herself. "You just can't stand to think of him that way because it makes you all...not comfortable. It makes you have to take him seriously. It makes you see Giles the guy instead of just Giles the Watcher."
She shook her head as she sipped again.
"Great. So this guy who's been there for you practically nonstop since you were sixteen and has only hurt you a couple times - and then either because someone made him or because he was trying to do the best thing for the long run - and he scares you more than vampires or giant snakes or even a Hellgod. Maybe I'm out of my mind."
She was pulled from her reverie by Giles' return. He set down the boxes of ornaments next to the tree and joined Buffy at the table.
"There," he said. "Everything we need to deck the halls to your hearts' content."
Buffy couldn't think of anything to say, so she took another sip of her drink.
"This is seriously yummy, Giles," she told him. "You should bottle it. You'd make a fortune."
He chuckled softly.
"I'm quite comfortable as I am. People always want things of the rich. I prefer to be left alone."
"Liar," Buffy challenged him. "The way I remember it, if I leave you on your own too long you go a little nuts."
"I was on my own most of last year. Strangely, I was able to resist the lure of public nudity and necrophelia even without you to guide me."
Buffy's eyes widened with hurt. Giles took one look and regretted his joke. Still, he couldn't help the exasperated tone in his next words.
"That wasn't meant to be about you, Buffy," he explained.
"Yes it was," she said tightly. "It was about me and Spike, but that's over. I told you. If I could change what I did last year, I would, but I can't. And I'm through apologizing. Anyway, you're the one who laughed at me about it. If it bugs you now, that's your problem."
To her surprise, Giles didn't snap back or apologize. He smiled. A full-fledged grin spread across his face. His eyes twinkled merrily.
"What?" Buffy asked suspiciously. "What's making you all Cheshire?"
"You," he said "It's been far too long since you gave me a piece of your mind like that. And now I find I'm in a far more festive mood than I was before. Come on, let's trim the tree."
Buffy shook her head.
"Has anyone ever told you you're one seriously strange person?"
Giles shrugged and continued to beam at her.
"At least it makes a change from being called irretrievably dull and stuffy."
"You're getting way too happy, Giles," Buffy teased him. "Has someone been selling you band candy again?"
"Oddly enough, since my return, I've spent very little time with the local youths. There hasn't been that particular opportunity for disaster."
He opened the first box and began to untangle a string of fairy lights as Buffy unwrapped the less electrical ornaments.
"Afraid someone will think you're a total Humbert Humbert?" she asked.
Giles stopped what he was doing.
"What do you know of Humbert Humbert?" he asked in amazement.
"I know he was a total skank who liked doing it with little girls. Especially his own stepdaughter. I kept reading and hoping he'd turn out to have like tentacles or something and it would turn out Lolita was a Slayer and had to kill him off. Not that she was any better. I mean, she was two-timing him with Quilty. That was beyond gross. I mean, couldn't they wait until she at least grew up?"
"Let me get this straight," Giles said. "You've read Lolita? By Vladimir Nabakov? The novel?"
He began to wrap the tree in lights.
"Sometimes I wasn't all that sure it was a novel and not the Jerry Springer show, but yeah. I read it. Cover to cover and everything. Not like it was War and Peace. Lotita's shorter, for one thing."
"And what prompted you to read this classic piece of literature?"
Giles plugged the lights in. They sparkled merrily, making the little tree look happier than it had when Buffy arrived.
"Well, you know what you said about my job?" Buffy asked as she reached over to check the effect of a glass icicle on the tree. "About how it doesn't pay much? That means we have to find cheap ways to have our fun. First run movies are out. So's cable. But a library card is free and Dawn's really into books. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."
She adjusted a tiny holly wreath on its branch while Giles hung some ceramic candy canes.
"And what do you think of them? Books?"
"Well, I'm never going to become Miss Nose In A Book All The Time, but it's not so bad, this reading thing. I like books that have happy endings. Lolita did not have a happy ending."
"No, it certainly didn't," Giles agreed. He placed a small wooden elf on the tree. "But it was a very good book, all the same."
"So sue me," Buffy shrugged. "I like a Disney ending."
"Then I suggest you avoid Anna Karenina."
"What happens at the end of that?"
"She throws herself under a train."
Buffy made a face.
"Ick. Russian?"
She added an angel in a white dress to the tree.
"Russian," Giles confirmed.
"Do they ever write happily ever after stories?"
"Not many, no." He leaned over her to put the star on top of the tree. He put one hand on her shoulder to steady himself. When he leaned back, he left his hand where it was. "Do you like it?"
Buffy looked at his hand, then at the gold star.
"Yeah. It's nice."
Giles looked down as Buffy looked up.
"I've always thought it was quite pretty," he said.
Buffy wasn't sure why she blushed. In a sudden rush of nervousness, she pulled slightly away from him.
"Um...do you think it needs any more? Ornaments?"
Giles put his hand in his pocket and studied the tree critically.
"Two more icicles and that tree is going to fall over," was his verdict. "I think we've finished it."
End Part 2