********
Chapter Two: It's *NOT* a love spell, dangit!
"Takin' a break, Batgirl?" Xander "Superman" Harris asked as he sat down
beside his best friend. He and Willow had both spent the last couple of
hours dancing with almost everyone that wore a skirt (and some that wore
tights) and both had found how hot rubber and spandex could get.
"Oh yeah," Willow affirmed, taking a deep gulp from her water glass. She
sat back in her seat with a little sigh, pulling off the mask that covered
her eyes and hair.
Xander looked at her in awe. "How do you do that?" he marveled. "You're
like Super Hair girl or something." He grinned as he reached out and tried
to mess up the red strands, which somehow had not plastered themselves to
her head but instead fell straight and loose to her shoulders.
"It's magic," Willow responded archly. Then she grinned. "Well, okay, it
was mousse. But...Magic Mousse. That's the name of it. I don't think it's
actually magic, though..."
"Ay-yi-yi," Xander interrupted, his eyes tracking the form of a very tall,
very curvy Greek Goddess. Her glance fell upon Xander briefly, and she
bestowed a small smile on him, which he accepted as if it were twelve dozen
Twinkies. "Will...did-did you see that?"
"Uh-huh," Willow replied, also catching the glance of the goddess, who gave
*her* a *very* big smile and a wink. Willow returned the smile, and turned
back to Xander after the girl had passed. "That's Vanessa. She's in my
Natural Arts class. She keeps asking me out, but I'm just not ready yet.
She's been pretty cool about it, though."
"Yeah," Xander said, swallowing his grin. "I bet she's a great gal."
"Mmm-hmm." Willow replied, and then fell silent, her eyebrows furrowing.
Xander didn't miss his friend's sudden pensiveness, despite his own brief
pity-party. He considered her for a few moments, and then nudged her with
his elbow. "Hey, what happened in there? I was just about to launch into
my why-can't-I-find-a-normal-girl routine when you bailed on me. What's
up?"
"Sorry, honey," Willow apologized. "My mind just did one of those walkabout
things, you know? Where you're just thinkin' about one thing and that makes
you think about another thing and *that* sends you off to another thought
entirely."
"Yep, I've done that," Xander affirmed. "But you must have taken a turn
into the bad part of town. You've gone and lost all your Halloween spirit."
"Yeah, well, I had Tara on my mind there for a minute, and then I thought
about how I don't think I'll ever find anyone else for me because we were
like *soulmates*, you know? And then I started thinking about what
soulmates *are*--" Willow took a deep breath and rambled on: "--two people
who are destined to be together, who complete each other, who would be
lessened if one of them were taken away from the other. And then I thought
about how that really describes Buffy and Giles."
"Whoa there, ya lost me, Will," Xander interrupted, a somewhat sour look on
his face. "How did you come up with Buffy and Giles as..." He squinted at
her. "Soulmates?"
"Still nursing that high school crush, are you?" Willow remarked dryly.
"Anyway, as I was saying..."
"Rambling. You were rambling, Will."
"Whatever. So, then I thought about how Buffy and Giles are probably actual
soulmates, just because of their Chosen-ness, and I've had my suspicions
lately about their feelings for each other, and we really need them to be
working together well right now, and *that* got me thinking about the
clarification spell I just cast ..."
Xander spit out the mouthful of soda he'd just taken. "You did what??" The
music blaring over the speakers was pretty loud, but surely he'd
misheard...?
"I cast a spell," Willow repeated, a little less certainly. "It's made to
uncover hidden things...feelings..."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Xander took another sip of his drink,
which he managed to swallow this time. "Willow, what were you thinking?"
Willow shrunk down in her seat. "It was just a *little* spell, Xander.
A-and, it wasn't for a bad, control-y, evil reason..."
"Will, that's the kind of rationalization that got you all black-haired and
veiny. Not a great look for you."
"I realize that, Xander," Willow replied, sitting up straight again,
firmness in her voice. "Do you think I just woke up one morning and thought
'oh, it's Tuesday, I think I'll cast a spell on Giles and Buffy'?" She
shook her head. "I gave this some major thought, and you have to believe me
when I tell you that I had a really, really good reason."
Xander leaned forward. "Will, I trust you, I do. And now you have to trust
me, and tell me your reason so I can decide whether or not to leave right
now and keep my friends from embarrassing themselves for life." He looked
at her expectantly.
"Well..."she hesitated. Where to start?
"Look, I'll rephrase the question," Xander said. "How do you know that
Buffy and Giles have feelings for each other that needed that much help to
express?"
Willow snorted. "Are you kidding? When it comes to hiding their true
feelings, Buffy and Giles are the reigning champs."
"You've got a point there, Will. But again, if they're so good at hiding
their feelings, how do *you* know what they are?"
Willow sighed. It was a lot more complicated than that, but she had to
start *somewhere.* "The earth told me."
Pause.
"Oh."
*****
"You need what?" Giles almost laughed, but managed to contain himself.
"Mister Gordo. He's in the bathroom on the counter." She looked up from
the wires behind the television and saw the look her Watcher was giving
her. "And he's essential to the watching of the scary movie."
"Ah."
Buffy glared. "Don't pull that face at me, Rupert Giles. Someday your best
friend could be small and fluffy."
"Fine, fine," Giles acquiesced, and headed up the stairs. Her voice echoed
in his head. She'd called him Rupert. Why should that make him feel like
running--floating--the rest of the way up and back?
Everything was where she said it would be, except the stuffed pig. Giles'
arms were already full, but he knew he'd better find Mister Gordo or suffer
the wrath of Buffy. He finally found the thing almost hidden between two
pillows on the bed. He picked it up and tucked it under his belt, since he
was practically juggling everything else. Giles allowed his gaze to linger
on the bed for a moment. It was her old bed, he knew, but in this room it
looked...different. Bigger, perhaps. More...accessible. '*Accessible?*
Good God, old man--now you're really dreaming.' He actually flushed at the
thought. Buffy had changed in many ways since he'd left last year, but was
he really ready to think of her in that way? As an attractive --and yes,
desirable--woman? Well, the real question wasn't whether he was ready, but
if she could ever, in a million years, reciprocate. He had no doubt of her
love for him, but he was afraid she still thought of him as more of a dear
friend. 'Or rakish uncle,' he mused. 'That is what you positioned yourself
to be, after all. No one to blame but yourself.' He closed his eyes
briefly, bringing his thoughts back in line. The reality of Buffy was
waiting downstairs, and whether or not she ever merged into his heart's
desire, she was still his Slayer. So at least in some way--a tangible,
solid way--she was still...*his.*
*****
Buffy looked up with a grateful smile as Giles re-entered the living room
and put down his armload. She reached for the old flannel throw that was on
top of the pile. "Thanks mucho, Giles." Ah, that flannel smell always took
her back to her childhood, she thought as she closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, Giles was gazing at her with a softness in his eyes
that she had never seen before. It sent another tingle through her before
she noticed something else. Mister Gordo's head was sticking out from the
top of Giles' Zorro pants, and the stuffed pig created a distinct bulge in a
place where she suddenly pictured a more anatomically correct one. She felt
her body heat up in a few unmentionable places at the thought. A grin
crooked the corner of her mouth as she let humor cover for her obvious
stare. "So.is that Mister Gordo in your pocket, or are you just happy to
see me?"
"W-what?" Giles glanced down, and suddenly remembered the pig. "Good
lord," he muttered, removing the stuffed toy from his belt and sitting down
quickly. He handed it to Buffy with a rueful grin, and she accepted it with
a twinkle in her eye.
"Thanks." She settled down into the sofa with the pig in one hand and the
remote control in the other. With her legs stretched out to the side, she
could just touch the soles of her feet to Giles' leg. She smiled to herself
complacently as she watched him jump--just a little--and then relax into the
sofa himself.
He cleared his throat. "Er...dare I ask what film you'll be subjecting us
to?"
"Well, I chose a few classics: 'Friday the 13th', 'Halloween,' and 'Scream.
'" She wrinkled her brow. "Although 'Scream' doesn't really count as a
classic, since it's not even ten years old yet." She shrugged. "Have you
seen any of them?"
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure, no. I prefer to get my thrills and
chills from real-life situations."
"Ooh..." Buffy grinned coyly as she started the first movie. "And which do
you prefer, Giles--thrills or chills?" She blushed a little at her
boldness, wondered at it. What was she thinking, exactly? She didn't know,
and at the moment, she didn't care. All her questions faded away as she
looked her Watcher over. The Zorro costume only accentuated what she'd
already known about him--he had great muscle tone over his chest and arms.
Belly was a little poochie, but kinda cute, in a Giles-y way. Legs...yowsa.
Legs went on for-freakin-ever. Her eyes narrowed and her grin widened.
Giles looked at her askance. Was she...was she really *flirting* with him?
That look in her eye, which normally might have sent him into a Hugh Grant
impersonation, challenged him for some reason instead. A bit of his
"Ripper" side bubbled up to the surface, and he went with it.
"Well, we get enough chills here in Sunnydale without even looking for them,
wouldn't you say?" He leaned toward her a little. "I much prefer thrills,
I suppose. You have to work a bit harder for them, but you're never sorry
you made the effort." His eyes darkened, and another one of those grins
bent the corner of his mouth.
Buffy gulped, and her smile melted away as she felt the familiar tingle
again. Only this time it settled at the base of her spine and radiated out
to her fingers and toes, heating her flesh everywhere. She managed a
pinched laugh, and turned her attention to the television screen. "Well, it'll
have to be pretend thrills for now. The movie's starting."
Giles let his gaze linger on her for a moment longer, and then he too
focused on the screen, a smile hovering on his lips. Memories of his youth,
of hours spent in dark theaters with some female or other attached to his
shoulder filled his mind. But none of them held a candle to the woman
beside him. He took a moment to appreciate the poetic irony of her choice
of costume. It left almost nothing to the imagination--every muscle, every
finely-honed plane was obvious. But he'd always known how physically strong
she was, and for years she pranced around in barely more than she was
wearing now. So why was he now seeing her body as if it were for the first
time? He abruptly started reciting the Latin alphabet in his mind. 'A bit
of control, remember, Rupert?' he thought as he folded his arms with a
sigh.
*****
The problem with watching scary movies in a town like Sunnydale, Buffy
mused, was that most of the situations could be all too real--and the
characters did the absolute stupidest things possible in order to move the
plot line along. If you happened to have insider knowledge about certain
types of demonic activity, it might get downright uncomfortable to watch
clueless people stumble around in the dark--literally--while the bad guy
mercilessly knocks off one dope after another. You might even find yourself
yelling at the television, or worse, at the movie screen in front of lots of
strangers. Fortunately for Buffy, who was finding herself in just such a
situation, she was neither at the movies nor with a stranger, so her
frustrations were vented to a sympathetic ear. A rather cute ear, with a
sexy silver hoop earring...
'Bad Buffy! Very, very bad...' Buffy remonstrated with herself. Somehow,
in the last fifteen minutes or so, she'd managed to scoot herself to within
six inches of Giles, and somehow he'd closed the gap between them. Buffy
could feel the heat from Giles' skin through the fabric of his pants, and
she found she had to exert some effort in order to keep from laying her hand
on his thigh. Even breathing seemed like an effort, although that deep,
woodsy scent that seemed to weave itself into her brain wasn't exactly a bad
smell...
"Jeez!" Buffy yelped as one of the unfortunate characters met a rather nasty
end. She jerked her fuzzy blanket up over her eyes and held Mister Gordo
tight to her chest. No matter how thoroughly she expected it, the blood and
guts still startled her and made her stomach turn.
"Buffy?" Giles chuckled, putting his arm around her--casually, as if he did
it every day. "I never thought you'd be this...sensitive." He smiled down
at her, and almost forgot to breathe when she snuggled down into his
embrace. He resisted the urge to bury his face in her hair, to breathe her
scent in deeper. He closed his eyes against the feeling of absolute
contentment that washed over him. It was as if he belonged there, at her
side, his arm around her shoulders, an eternal embrace that had existed from
the beginning. A question stirred, tried to surface in the back of his
mind, but the feel of her was so potent. There were no questions. Only the
present.
"It never gets any easier to watch, Giles," Buffy replied. "I wish I could
just...just jump into the television and knock some sense into these guys!"
She glanced up at him with a grimace, and looked away quickly. When did he
get so close?
"Be careful, luv," the Watcher reminded her, "around here you might get
your wish." He smiled, raising an eyebrow. "And I really don't want to
have to follow you into a Hollywood film. The pop culture references alone
would kill me."
Buffy made an impertinent face at him, but settled back into the crook of
his arm. It was a surprisingly comforting place to be, despite the
butterflies that seemed to be migrating to her belly after his casual "luv."
That word, in that voice...Buffy jumped again as another stupid teenager was
ambushed by the creepy monster guy. "God, did I not tell you? These people
are morons!" She lectured the television. "What are the rules, guys?" She
counted them off on her fingers. "If it's dark out, stay inside and keep
the doors locked. Don't go out looking for the generator or the gas
shut-off or for a pizza place. There's *always* a creepy monster guy." She
shook her head and then looked up at Giles. "They never learn."
Giles inclined his head to meet her gaze. "No, I suppose not." He noticed
how close their faces were, and he could feel Buffy's warm breath against
his cheek. He tried to chuckle lightly, but felt a tightness in his stomach
that belied his joking manner. "But how many movie tickets would be sold if
the victims were actually intelligent, hmm?"
"Not...many," Buffy replied slowly, all at once feeling her bones melt as
she held his gaze. In the flickering light from the TV screen, Giles' eyes
sparked with untold secrets, and she felt a hungering need to discover them.
The energy between them surged and pulled them closer, and their pulses
again throbbed in unison. The strength of their combined heartbeat was like
a jungle drum, a pounding rhythm in some hazy, humid tropical forest...no,
it was more like a jackhammer now...or a frantic knocking...
...Someone knocking...
Someone was knocking on the front door, loud and strong, and it split the
two apart as if they'd been doused with water.
*****