Ties that Bind
Part 4 in the "Unbreakable" series
by: Koala
RATING: TV-MA
SUMMARY: Last time: Quentin Travers arrived in Sunnydale intent on bringing Giles back to the Council. To this end, he employed Emily, a secretary besotted with Giles, to woo him back, while the Council distracted Buffy with a series of meaningless tests. But Emily was playing to her own agenda, out to nab Giles for herself. Scorned by his rejection, she exposed his love affair with Buffy--a Council no-no. Travers immediately had Giles' residency status revoked, and planned to deport him the following day. It looked bleak, until Buffy and Giles jumped into a natural but impulsive solution--marriage. Now: Giles' plans for a romantic getaway, in lieu of a honeymoon and in celebration of Buffy's 20th birthday, are put on hold when Dawn's true origins are revealed.
SPOILERS/TIMELINE: Set in and around S5's "Blood Ties".
RATING: TV-MA
DISTRIBUTION: Koala's Tome, GylzGirl's HeadQuarters, DWord's the LIST. Others please ask first.
DISCLAIMER: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER characters and concepts are copyright ©1997-2003 20th Century Fox. "Blood Ties" written by Steven S. DeKnight. It's not stealing, it's continuity!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is an AU retelling of the episode where Buffy and Giles are together, although still following the basic "Glory" plot of Season 5. My version features extra B/G stuff, plus some changed and/or added scenes, and is intended as a companion piece to the televised ep, not a replacement. This part introduces and expands on the false spoiler of how the monks 'made' Dawn. I'm sorry these fics get longer each time, I just can't seem to help myself! Finally, I'd like to point out that while I know that's not really Giles' ring, the title photo of Buffy wearing it on that finger is NOT a fakie!
POST DATE: June 14, 2003 (unbeta'd); June 18, 2003 (beta'd version)
Giles scrutinized the tiny objects before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. Pushing his glasses further onto his nose, he bent down to eye level in order to assess each of them in closer detail. It was difficult to believe something this small required such monumental consideration, the outcome of which he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
At least he had narrowed it down to these two.
With a critical eye, he examined the features of both, weighing the pros and cons for which would be the better choice. There were numerous factors involved in making the right decision--tradition versus practical considerations--and he painstakingly reevaluated each for their own merits and faults.
Gold or platinum? Conventional or contemporarily styled?
Never had he believed that choosing wedding rings could be so astoundingly complex. Certainly, he was old-fashioned at heart, and until he started talking with the jeweler that afternoon, he hadn't really given thought to purchasing anything but traditional gold bands. Now he wasn't so sure. Given Buffy's calling, the fact that she would be slaying in his choice, he was now leaning towards platinum, if only for its durability.
His eyes darted from one pair to the other in critical analysis of the two wedding sets resting on a black velvet counter mat before him. He wished Buffy were there to help him decide, but then again, if he involved her he would not be able to surprise her on her 20th birthday, next Tuesday.
The jeweler made a disagreeable noise, obviously impatient with his indecision. Giles straightened, his gaze still fixed on the ring sets, rubbing his chin. After one last long moment of deliberation, finally made his choice.
"These," he said, much to the delight of the man behind the counter, who had spent the last hour and a half personally tending to him. "I'll take the platinum set." Modern and stylish without being ostentatious; he hoped Buffy would like his choice.
"A good choice, sir, for the active woman," the clerk assured him, hurriedly collecting up both rings sets before he changed his mind. "Will that be cash, check, or credit card?"
"Check." Giles followed the jeweler to the cash register, pulling out his checkbook and pen. At least money was no object. The direct deposit the Watcher's Council had made into his account--the lump sum payment for the retroactive salary owed to him as Watcher--would not only buy their wedding rings, but also pay for everything else they needed to start their married life together, and well beyond. Perhaps even a down payment on a house . . . something larger than his cramped one-bedroom apartment that would convince Buffy to move in with him, something with a more modern kitchen and room for expansion . . .
As Giles tore out the check and handed it to the clerk, he found himself fighting unexpected melancholia at the thought of a future that, thanks to fate and destiny, would likely never happen. While nothing would have been more gratifying to him than the notion of children, someday, and of growing old with the woman he loved, the reality of the situation was that neither seemed a very likely scenario. Call it 20/20 hindsight, but now they had beaten the Council at their own game, Giles guiltily understood why his superiors imposed tests like the Cruciamentum and enforced seemingly ridiculous rules to prevent any romance between its Chosen. A Watcher and a Slayer had no future together--here, on the Hellmouth, even less so. There was no 'happily ever after' in store for him and Buffy, no matter how much they pretended to believe there was. Indeed, anything beyond even tonight's patrol was speculative, at best. Buffy was a slayer, destined to share the same fate as all the slayers before her, and all those who would inherit the legacy after she was gone.
"Well, well," said a familiar voice behind his shoulder, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say Rupert Giles was turning into a 'mall rat'."
Giles raised an eyebrow at the man who stepped into his peripheral vision, recognizing his old friend from Sunnydale High School. He hadn't seen Carlton Fisk in two years, until he'd run into him, and his young pregnant wife and son, during a trip to the Sunnydale Mall last week to utilize an instant photo booth. That had been just before Quentin Travers and the Council delegation had arrived in Sunnydale; before he and Buffy had jumped feet first into 'a marriage of convenience' to prevent them from deporting him.
"Never," Giles said, feigning offense to the 'mall rat' reference. He slipped his checkbook and pen back into the inside pocket of his tan leather jacket, and faced his friend. "I was simply in need of a reputable jeweler."
They shook hands in greeting. Carlton smiled broadly, and Giles endeavored to return it. Never was there a more blatant reminder of what he and Buffy would never share than what Carlton had with his young wife, Angie.
"They do good work here," Carlton agreed, indicating his purchase of a beautiful diamond necklace.
"Lovely. Special occasion?"
"You remember me telling you about my soon-to-be-second-son, Devon?" Carlton asked, referring to the introductions he'd made while indicating his pregnant wife. "Well, 'Devon' turned out to be 'Diana', six pounds eight ounces, and two weeks early."
"That's wonderful news, Carl, congratulations," Giles said, although unable to stop the thud of his breaking heart.
"Yeah, I'm one lucky guy," Carlton agreed honestly, aglow with the pride of a new father. "To have a girl like Angie fall in love with an old fossil like me."
Giles nodded, thinking of Buffy, who was only a year younger than Angie. The jeweler tending him asked for 'his fiancée's' ring size, so he fished into his shirt pocket for the piece of paper on which he had traced the inside one of Buffy's other rings, specifically for this purpose.
Carlton took note of the word 'fiancée'. "Finally talking the plunge, I see," he said, paying for his diamond necklace with a credit card.
"Took, actually." Giles smiled, suddenly giddy with new-fangled pleasure of being a husband. "Five days and counting."
"Congratulations yourself, then." Carlton raised an eyebrow. "Although since you're just now buying rings, you've got me curious. When I met Buffy last week, she wasn't pregnant and about to give birth, nor was she wearing an engagement ring. So I'm guessing . . . " He snapped his fingers. "Got it. Her parents finally found you out." He grinned again, pocketing his wallet and collecting up his bagged purchase with a brief nod to the clerk. "Shotgun wedding, was it? Daddy upset to learn his little girl was dating a man older than himself?"
"Not quite. Although I dare say the shotgun is a definite possibility when her father is told. He's abroad at the moment. Buffy's parents are divorced."
"Well, at least you only have to fight one of them at a time," Carlton mused, knowingly. "So . . . you married Buffy. What, did you have a momentary lapse of sanity or something?"
Giles chuckled, enjoying the good-natured teasing. It was nice to have a friend his own age who understood things--at least things pertaining to the non-Hellmouth side of his life. "We sort of . . . eloped."
"Oh, I can imagine how well that went over with dear old Mom."
"Quite," Giles agreed, sparing a thought for poor Joyce. Although overall supportive of his relationship with her eldest daughter in a determined-to-give-Buffy-all-possible-happiness-in-her-destined-to-die-young-life sort of way, Joyce had almost needed oxygen when they dropped the bombshell of their impulsive nuptials.
Carlton laughed. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, 'been there, done that.' Although 'Daddy' never really has made a point of actually speaking to me. Here's hoping a new granddaughter brings him 'round."
The jeweler returned to give Giles his receipt, telling him the resized rings would be ready to pick up Tuesday afternoon, which was perfect timing. Tuesday was Buffy's 20th birthday, and he could think of nothing more he wanted to give her than his undying love and devotion. What better way to show her than with their already overdue wedding rings? Of course, the other little gifts he planned to shower her with probably wouldn't hurt, either.
He and Carlton left the jewelry store by mutual accord, and suddenly found themselves back out in the ruckus of the Sunnydale Mall on a Saturday afternoon. No doubt their young wives would feel right at home amidst the bustling throng, but for two middle-aged men buying expensive jewelry for their young wives, they felt completely out of place amidst the mostly adolescents hanging out on the weekend.
"There's a sports bar down the street," Carlton said, obviously having the same eye-opening experience as Giles. At least at the bar they would be surrounded by people old enough to drink. "Buy you a beer?"
"Delighted."
* * *
"So . . . no honeymoon?" Carlton asked, politely waiting until they were halfway through their second beers to broach the topic. They sat either side of a booth table at the back of the Lenny's Sports Bar & Grill, far enough away from the big screen television to hold a conversation in relatively normal tones.
"Hasn't been time, I'm afraid," Giles confessed, absently watching his thumb trace though the condensation on the outside of his glass. It was unfortunate, but true enough. The Council had stayed an extra two days after Buffy's power play, the time needed to divulge everything they had gleaned about Glory, every last scrap of information and speculation no matter how small or insignificant, or ridiculous it sounded. Emily, thankfully, had been sent away the morning after, presumably on the same flight that had been booked for Giles' deportation. Then, as quickly as they came, Travers packed up his cronies and returned to England, leaving behind such a plethora of potentially useful--or useless--information that it was almost overwhelming.
The following days had been spent sorting through the muddle; long, exhaustive hours that Giles squandered away as he deciphered fact from fiction and slowly pieced together a clearer picture of who and what Glory was, hours and days that should have been devoted to his new bride. But old habits died hard, and he had been a Watcher far longer than he'd been a husband, and unraveling the arcane knowledge within the books, documents, and files the Council had provided was vital.
"Is that why you look so down in the dumps?"
Giles glanced up, unaware that he had dropped into a brooding frown. "Sorry?"
"I didn't know selling magic-mumbo-jumbo to the masses was so time consuming," Carlton quipped of Giles' day job. He raised his half-emptied glass for a sip. "Seems to me that all work and no play has made Rupert into a dull husband."
"Yes," Giles agreed, musing only half-heartedly that if he didn't allot some quality time to Buffy soon, then he would have no one but himself to blame when she filed to have their marriage annulled. "I suppose, in a way, it has."
"Then I've got the perfect solution." Putting down his beer, Carlton fished in his pocket for his key ring. From it, he finagled a single brass key as he spoke. "Angie and I--well, 'I' actually, but what's mine is now hers and all that--anyway, we have a house on the beach, couple of hours drive up the coast." He placed the key on the tabletop, and slid it toward Giles. "It's nothing spectacular, weekender sort of thing, but it's comfortable, and secluded . . . and I think you should take Buffy there for a few days before she divorces you."
Given present circumstances, Giles immediately shook his head. "I can't possibly--"
"Can't, won't, or don't want to?"
"Carl, I know you mean well, but there's . . . the shop . . . a-and other things."
"The shop? You're putting the shop above your lovelife?"
"It's not that simple."
"It never is. Especially when you're in love with a woman less than half your age." Carlton drained the last of his beer and thumped the heavy glass on the tabletop. "Look, Rupert, I've met Buffy--I mean, she's gorgeous! She could've had any man she wanted, but she chose you." He pushed the key a little closer to Giles. "Don't let her think she made the wrong choice."
Giles stared at the brass key. The idea of getting away for a few days, just the two of them, was something he had only ever dreamed of actually doing. Now he was being offered the opportunity, with no stings attached. Could it really be that easy? With Glory on the rampage, he seriously doubted Buffy would ever agree to leave her mother and sister unprotected for any length of time, and rightly so, but part of him had already started to warm to the idea. It would be so delightfully 'normal' to go somewhere together, without the fear of what the coming night would bring, and just . . . enjoy each other's company.
Of course, the fantasy of escaping the rigors of slaying and the constant threat of injury or death was nothing new. It was simply something he had long considered--even in high school--as impossible. Now that he and Buffy were lovers, the desire to whisk her away someplace safe was magnified tenfold.
He eyed the key on the tabletop before him, sorely tempted.
Carlton noted his hesitation, and weakening resolve. "Take it for the weekend . . . or the whole week, if you want. With a new baby in the house, Angie and I won't have any time for romantic getaways anytime soon. The place is yours, whenever you want it, for however long you want it."
"That's a very generous offer."
"It's also your chance to take a blanket down on the beach, and make love to your wife under the stars."
"Good Lord, it's that secluded?" Giles asked, doubtful that any spot of Californian beach could be so private.
"Yeah, it really is. It's a good place to make babies. Believe me, I know."
Despite himself, Giles barked out a laugh. "That's the last thing we need right now!"
Carlton chuckled. "Then be warned, my friend, babies work to their own agenda."
In a decisive move, Giles reached out and claimed the key, sliding it toward him under his palm. It wouldn't hurt to take it, after all, even if he never used it. But the fancy had taken root in his mind, and practicalities aside, a little relief from the constant stress might actually prove beneficial to them both. Of course, even to consider it, he'd have to step up his research a bit, and pull double-duty for the next few days to clear the mess the Council had left behind, which certainly wasn't going to score him any husbandly points. But he would make up for it with a romantic getaway, starting, if he played his cards right, on the eve of Buffy's 20th birthday . . .
"Thank you," Giles said, pocketing it the key. "For the warning and the opportunity."
"Just enjoy it." Still grinning, Carlton flipped over an unused cardboard coaster to write on, and motioned to him with his hand. "C'mon, give me your pen, and I'll draw you directions."
* * *
'Tarnis, 12th century, one of the founders of the Monks of The Order of Dagon. Their sole purpose appears to have been as protectors of The Key. The Key is not directly described in any known literature, but all research indicates an energy matrix vibrating at a dimensional frequency beyond normal human perception. Only those outside reality can see The Key's true nature. The Key is also susceptible to necromanced animal detection, particularly those of canine or serpent construct--'
The last letter of the word skidded a bit as he was grabbed from behind, the unsightly new tail on the 't' causing him to frown. Pen paused, Giles looked up from his journal. Transcribing 'The Book of Tarnis' from its original Latin to English, then recording it in his own words, required concentration at the best of times, never more so when Buffy insisted on distracting him. Arms looped around his neck from behind, she proceeded to nibble, insatiably, on his ear. While he appreciated the attention, now was not the right time or place--especially not if he wanted to finish his research in time to surprise her with his proposed beach house getaway. Her birthday party was tonight, and the translations were taking longer than he anticipated. He was never going to finish it all, but he wanted to accomplish as much as possible.
"You're supposed to be training," Giles said patiently, his breath catching slightly as her tongue found an erogenous zone.
"All finished."
"I didn't see you use the pommel horse."
"That's 'cause you weren't watching." Leaning forward, Buffy planted a loving kiss on his cheek, a move that pressed her entire body snuggly against his back. "Too busy with your books. Again." She made a disgruntle noise. "I think I'm jealous."
Giving in with a grin, Giles tossed said books to the blue mats presently covering the training room floor, and promptly hauled his Slayer--his wife of just eight short days--around onto his lap.
'Eight days,' Giles thought, silencing Buffy's giggle with a slow but passionate kiss. Her eager response only made him realize how much more she deserved than these few stolen moments. Carlton was right; a romantic getaway was just the thing they needed. No doubt he would spend the entire time atoning for being a 'dull husband' . . . and devilishly loving every minute of it.
The kiss ended all too soon, and Giles pulled back to bestow a weary, apologetic smile on his new wife. "Still jealous?" he asked, hoping to have imparted just how much he loved her without the need for words.
Buffy's eyes grew mischievous, as her arms encircled his neck. She had hardly broken a sweat, despite allegedly having completely what he considered a well-rounded workout session, and her mood was clearly more playful than aerobic. "Um, yeah. I'm thinking I might just need a little more of that husbandly TLC to make me feel . . . y'know . . . un-jealous."
"Pommel horse," he insisted, knowing that if they got into it now, he'd get nothing more done for the remainder of the afternoon. There was his research, yes, but he also needed to revisit the jewelers for his rings . . . if, indeed, he could sneak away from the shop without too many explanations.
"You're not going to cut me any slack, are you?" Buffy asked, pouting. The little minx knew what a good pout could win her, but he wasn't giving in; it would spoil the surprise he had in store for later tonight. "Even though it's my birthday?"
"Especially since it's your birthday," Giles said, hiding a teasing grin. "We don't want you getting flaccid in your old age."
"I'm gonna remember you said that," she promised, climbing off his lap. "When it's your birthday."
He set her on her way with a pat on the rump, watching her walk to the pommel horse, where she effortlessly executed a handstand mount. The natural ease of her skill and agility never ceased to leave him in awe. Buffy brought her legs down through her arms, extended them horizontally for a moment, before she settled into a scissors routine that would have given an Olympic gymnast a run for a medal.
Refocusing on his work, Giles reached to retrieve his discarded books. Finding the right spot in his Watcher diary, he began to write again:
'The monks possessed the ability to transform energy, bend reality. They started work, but the Council has suggested to us that they were interrupted, presumably by Glory. They obviously did manage to accomplish the task. They had to be certain the Slayer would protect it with her life, so they sent The Key to her in human form; in the form of a sister.'
Frowning again, he glanced up, although this time lost in thought. At a Scooby meeting last night, here at the store after closing, Buffy had insisted it was time their friends knew the truth about The Key. The news of Dawn's true origins had been met with mixed results. Willow and Xander were initially angry to learn they had been kept in the dark, but ultimately sympathetic to the reasoning behind it. He wasn't sure Buffy's decision to tell them was all for the best, because the more people who knew, the better chance Glory had of eventually discovering the secret. By all accounts, this 'Hellgod' was a powerful being not to be underestimated, a formidable opponent who, at this point in time, he wasn't completely convinced Buffy could defeat. And if the Slayer stood no chance, what hope had the rest of them?
His thoughts turned to Willow and Tara, whom, earlier, he had left drawing runic symbols in colored sand on the street outside the shop. He wondered if their incantation for an 'early warning' detection spell had been successful. Such a spell might give them a heads up to Glory's arrival, but it did little in the way of actual defense. The truth was, if Glory discovered that Dawn was this mystic 'key' she so vehemently sought, then there was nothing any of them could do to prevent her from marching in and taking it . . .
Giles felt Buffy's arms again encircled him from behind, her loving touch bringing him back to the present.
"Happy now?"
"Well done." He patted her arm, hoping she hadn't noticed that he had tuned out and completely missed the pommel horse regimen he had ordered. Looking down, he spied his signet ring on her left hand, still standing-in as a substitute for a proper wedding band. It reminded him that he needed to return to the jewelers at the Mall before the party tonight, to pick up their rings . . .
"I'm gonna grab a quick shower." Her voice grew husky as she whispered in his ear. "Wanna join me?"
Giles moaned wantonly at the suggestion. With all the research, especially in the past few days in his doubled effort to clear the workload, intimacy had become a casualty of their present predicament. Swiveling on the green settee, he mustered up a regretful smile for another lost opportunity.
"Darling, I'd love to." He indicated 'The Book of Tarnis', still resting open on the wide arm of the couch, and his journal in his lap. "But I still have work to do. I'm sorry."
Buffy's face fell in obvious disappointment. "You know," she said, attuned to the same wavelength, "we had more fun before we were married."
"Buffy--"
"I know, I know. Research is important, I get that. Doesn't mean I have to like it." She stood sulkily, and headed for the small recessed bathroom in the back of the training room without another word, catching up her day clothes along the way.
Frowning, Giles watched her shut the tiny door. Even without an insane, invulnerable Hellgod threatening the world, or his desire for a weekend getaway, what she perceived as his apparent devotion to duty wasn't just about 'the research.' Their marriage was of utmost importance to him, and figuring out a way to keep her alive long enough to partake in it took priority over all.
Readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he determinedly returned to his books.
* * *
Showered and dressed in a t-shirt and skirt, Buffy trailed behind Giles, idly sipping on a bottle of water. He was in super-research mode, still fussing with his Watcher diary and making notes as he walked from the training room into the shop. Her eyes dropped to regard his butt. Giles had a nice butt for a guy his age. Although, if she were being totally honest with herself, she liked it a whole better without the baggy sweat pants covering it . . . something she hadn't been seeing a whole lot of lately.
She really wished she had been able to tempt him into showering with her. Not that he actually needed a shower. Although still in his workout clothes, Giles hadn't done anything in the way of training with her today, engrossed as he was in one of the old books the Council had left him. There was a ring of truth to what she'd said earlier; she was starting to feel jealous of his books, and the time and attention he gave them. If it wasn't for the fact that she knew how important the information contained within them was, she probably would have turned into Psycho-Wife a week ago.
'Wife.' She was still getting used to referring to herself in that capacity, although no more so than actually calling Giles her 'husband.' Yet that was exactly what they were. Despite Council policy, and all their stupid rules and traditions, she and Giles had made the incredible transition from 'Watcher and Slayer' to 'Husband and Wife.'
The thought made her giggle.
"I'm not sure our regular workout is challenging you any more," Giles commented distractedly, hearing her laugh as they headed for the sales counter. "Perhaps we should make it harder."
"You always think harder is better," Buffy returned jauntily. "Maybe next time I patrol, I should carry a load of bricks and use a stake made of butter."
Reaching the counter, Giles turned to her and scoffed. "Very amusing."
Buffy grinned, turning the smile into a greeting for her sister, who had just arrived at the Magic Box after school.
"I'm sure Dawn feels that way about her schoolwork sometimes," Giles said, also welcoming the teen with a warm smile.
"That true?" Buffy asked. "How was school today?"
"The usual," Dawn said, opening her homework book on the counter. "Big square building filled with boredom and despair."
"Just how I remember it." Buffy spared a brief look at Giles, as he prepared to hide his books in a secret compartment under the sales counter. No doubt he'd get them out again and work some more when Dawn was gone, but for now, the information within, especially in his dairy, was not something intended for her sister's eyes. "So," she said, attempting to distract Dawn. Capping her water bottle, she purposefully moved away from the counter. "What's the homework sitch?"
It worked. Dawn's gaze followed her, rather than pay attention to what Giles was doing as he popped a secret catch and slid his books inside. "We have to imagine what we'll be like ten years from now, and write a letter to our future self. The teacher's clearly so out of ideas. Wanna help?"
"Maybe later. I have some stuff I have to do first." Like putting up the decorations for her own birthday bash. As usual, her mom had insisted on doing 'the party thing', even in spite of--or maybe because of--her recent brain surgery. Buffy felt she needed to help out, so she had volunteered to blow up balloons and string streamers in the living room.
"Is it about that weird girl that came to the house?" Dawn asked.
"Glory," Buffy clarified, folding her arms. "And no it's not."
"Like you'd tell me anyway. 'Dawn's too young' and 'Dawn's too delicate.'"
"Right. A young, delicate pain in my butt."
"I just think you're freaking out 'cause you have to fight someone prettier than you," Dawn teased. "That is the case, right?"
Buffy approached Dawn, needing her to understand that this wasn't a game. "Glory is evil. And powerful," she said seriously. Then she gave her sister a 'get real' look. "And in no way prettier than me." She didn't miss the way Giles quirked an eyebrow over the cash ledger he was studying. He'd pay for that later.
"I just think you're getting soft in your advanced age," Dawn badgered. "She didn't look that tough to me."
"Who's getting soft?" Xander asked, as he and Anya appeared at the counter.
"The birthday girl," Dawn pointed out.
"Pretty soon," Anya added cheerfully, as Willow and Tara joined the conversation, "she'll be slaying with a cane."
"Oh!" Willow said enthusiastically, turning to Buffy. "You could have one of those canes with a secret pull-out handle, only instead of a swordstick, it could have a stake inside."
"Guys," Buffy said, looking around at her friends in mild disbelief. They were only teasing. At least, she hoped they were. "I turned twenty, not eighty-two. Okay?"
"You have to admit, Buffy," Giles said, wandering back to the cash register with the ledger in hand. "For a Slayer, twenty is bordering on geriatric."
"Geri--?" Slack-jawed, Buffy let the word die. He was the one too busy with his musty old books to take her to bed! "Right," she announced, grabbing her sister by the elbow and starting for the exit. "We're leaving." Noting the shift in Giles expression, the fact that he honestly thought she was miffed by his teasing, she let go of Dawn and backtracked to give him a quick kiss to prove that she wasn't. "I'll show you 'geriatric' later tonight, mister," she promised. "If you can tear yourself away from your books."
"Consider them already forgotten." To prove his point, Giles dropped the ledger on the counter and scooped her into his arms. Despite the audience, he lowered his head to kiss her quite thoroughly.
"You two," Xander complained, "all lovey-dovey and making with the touchy-feely, acting like a couple of newlyweds."
Reluctantly ending the kiss, Buffy shot her friend a pained look. "Xander, we are newlyweds."
"Well, yeah. I knew that." Xander shuffled his feet as everyone looked at him.
Buffy glanced at her left hand, still resting on her husband's shoulder, and tried not to frown. While the significance of Giles giving her his signet ring was touching, the little girl inside her who wanted to grow up, fall in love, and marry her Mr. Right, just didn't understand why he hadn't bought her a real ring. Sure, she knew the importance of his research about Glory and tolerated the hours he devoted to it, but deep down Buffy feared that maybe Giles had really meant it when he told her, in the car, on their wedding night. Nothing had really changed between them. Their marriage was, after all, just their signatures on a piece of paper to stop the authorities from deporting him.
Because no one would ever suspect they were husband and wife. Apart from no wedding rings, they didn't act any differently, they didn't live together, and in the whole eight days they'd been married, they had only slept together once. To be fair, though, that wasn't all the fault of Giles and his marathon research. Buffy had grown extremely reluctant to leave her mother and sister unguarded with a crazy Hellgod on the loose, especially at night, and she couldn't really blame Giles for not wanting to sleep at her house, in her bed, with her mom just down a few feet the hall. That was kind of wiggy, even to her.
Staring at Giles' signet, she wondered if things would ever be any different. Even if they lived together, it was clear to her that they would live very separate lives. She'd still spend her days at school while he worked at the shop, and then he'd waste the evenings researching while she was out on patrol. If she were lucky, their paths would cross for maybe an hour or two . . . when they went to bed, too tired to do anything but sleep.
Giles touched her face, the tenderness of action snapping her uneasy gaze back to his. He smiled fondly, and Buffy hid her unfounded doubts and insecurities way down deep in a place where he wouldn't see. Too late she realized that he had noticed something amiss.
She pulled out of his arms before he could pursue the matter. "See ya," Buffy said, conjuring up a smile.
He nodded, letting whatever he had been about to say remain unsaid. With Dawn in tow, Buffy hurriedly left the Magic Box.
* * *
Giles heaved a sigh of relief as the bell above the front door of the magic shop tinkled as Buffy and Dawn left. "Thank God," he murmured to himself. "I thought she'd never leave."
Xander raised an eyebrow at him. "And here I was thinking you were Mr. Happily Ever After."
Not even dignifying that statement with an answer, Giles crossed to the cash register. There was a soft 'cha-ching' sound as he opened the money drawer. "I simply have somewhere else I need to be, and I'd rather she didn't know."
"Oh, I get it," Xander quipped knowingly. "You forgot, didn't you, and now you gotta rush off and buy her a present."
"I certainly did not," Giles returned, slightly affronted by the implication that he had forgotten his wife's birthday. "I simply need to pick it up."
"Sure," Xander smirked. "Been a little too busy with the books lately, huh Big-G."
"At the jewelers," Giles insisted.
"Ooh," Willow crooned excitedly. "Is it expensive? Diamonds? Pearls? Diamonds and pearls?"
"I bet it's a ring," Anya said astutely. Giles glanced at her, wondering if he were really that transparent when it came to buying jewelry for his beloved. "Well, Buffy doesn't have a real wedding ring," she explained, "and you need to go back for those after they're resized, so my bet is that's what it is."
"That's so romantic," Tara joined in.
Cat out of the bag, Giles suddenly broke into a grin. "I just hope she likes it."
"She will," Willow said, smiling, "if it's coming from you."
"And if it's really expensive," Anya added.
"It's a wonderful birthday present, Mr. Giles," Tara agreed. "I'm sure she'll love it."
"There's, um, more, too." Giles turned to the small group--Xander and Anya, Willow and Tara. "But first I need to ask a favor of you all."