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Chapter Text

When all was said and done, the zombies just…disappeared. Maybe it was a good thing for Joyce to see her daughter in action; she hadn’t ever witnessed firsthand the way Buffy raged into battle, nor the team effort required by all the Scoobies to defeat their foes. At least that’s what Buffy told herself when she embraced her mom and let the adrenaline start to fade from her system. 

Apparently a good fight was the cure for arguing with her friends. They were hurt, and she understood - God, she understood. Her abandonment was worthy of condemnation, she was well aware. She carried so much guilt and self-recrimination inside her.

But she was also still deeply wounded by their lack of consideration. No one had even asked her what happened. Didn’t they trust her enough to think that there were reasons she ran away? Getting expelled from school, kicked out of her house, on the run from cops, and thrust into terrible grief by killing her lover…it wasn’t just some joyride like they apparently assumed. And no one even gave her the chance to explain. 

Nevertheless, Buffy was determined to move on, so when soft words and open arms were offered, she took them as carefully and dutifully as possible. 

Then she looked up at Giles. He was standing in the corner by himself, a serious, observant expression on his face. When Buffy made eye contact, his mouth turned down into a frown so deep it seemed almost comical. He quickly turned it into a grimace and looked up at the ceiling to blink back tears. 

Buffy dropped her arms from around Willow. Ignoring everyone else, she walked briskly over to Giles and threw her arms around him. They hadn’t really just *hugged* before, but there was no doubt in her mind it was what she needed to do. He was breathing quickly and shallowly when he returned the embrace. 

“Watcher,” she whispered.

“Slayer,” he answered. 

After a quick kiss to the top of her head, he started to pull away. Buffy gripped him more tightly, fingers digging into his suit coat, and softly cried out, “please, Giles. Don’t ever let me go.” 

Giles reached further around her and clutched her to his body with spread hands, one on the back of her head and one between her shoulders. 

“Never,” he said as he rested his cheek on top of her head.

They stayed like that, just breathing each other in, swaying almost undetectably with each breath. Buffy felt acutely protected, and loved, in a way that she hadn’t in a long time, even before she ran away. Her gratitude to Giles was met with a rush of guilt. It plagued her thoughts all summer that he had been tortured. To make things worse, if he was actually hugging her this long, he must have been way worried. 

“I’m really, really sorry, Giles. There’s a lot I haven’t told you yet.” 

Giles finally felt that it was time to pull back, and when he could see her face he replied, “I know. I can’t wait to hear it. I’m so, so glad you’re back, Buffy.” 

He smoothed back her hair that had come down during their hug. They smiled comfortably at each other and failed to notice the rest of the gang shuffling about in various levels of uncertainty. 

Chapter Text

Giles had never been a demon before, granted. But it still surprised him to feel what must be muscle memory in a Fyarl demon, a rising bloodlust and willingness to rage against anything in his path. Anything, even when it was Buffy fighting him. He kept yelling at her to stop, but all that came out were roars and howls. 

The look on her face was cold and rigid as steel, set and determined. The face of a killer. As he reeled away from her, he recognized that her fierce sharpness was a requisite compartmentalization, setting aside her grief and terror to get the job done. Underneath the demon rage he understood that her love for him was driving her actions.

Problem was, Giles didn’t want to be a job that got done. He couldn’t believe this might be the end - after such a stupid, lonely period during which Buffy was busy without him, after such a stupid night drinking with fucking Ethan Rayne. 

She finally wrestled him to the ground and straddled him. “This is for Giles,” she proclaimed as she stabbed his chest. 

The pain caused Giles to widely open his eyes in shock. His eyes were filled with fear, pain, and such sadness that when Buffy looked right at them it startled her to realization. 

She knows me, he thought on repeat. She knows me, she bloody well knows me. Relief poured through him, and he felt suddenly lightheaded when he realized Buffy could and would make Ethan reverse the spell. 

Later, wrapped in a ridiculous velvet shirt of Ethan’s, Giles finally had a quiet moment to reflect. For several minutes he gazed into the hotel mirror, glancing this way and that, appreciating his human features in a new way. He still felt traces of the Fyarl rage, and the bulk and heft of the demon’s body, but he was also somehow lithe and smooth and young. 

Buffy wanted to give Giles space, and it always felt good to give Ethan a whack on the head. But she wanted to check in after such an ordeal, for Giles and for her own benefit, so she walked over to him. Buffy noticed he was bubbly with goodwill now that he’d escaped with his humanity intact. 

“How did you know it was me?” He asked. 

She gazed up at him intensely through her eyelashes. Her green-gray eyes were big and deep in the low light. She looked so serious it stole Giles’ breath as he waited. 

“Your eyes,” she said. God help him, she looked like she was about to declare her undying love. He puzzled over what was happening and if this was something he needed to consider. 

But Buffy deflected with a flippant remark, and he understood her retreat to levity. “Your eyes… you’re the only one in the world who could look that annoyed with me.”

He chuckled and appreciated the movement away from something so serious and…liminal. He was still pressing the spot on his chest where he’d been stabbed, but now he rubbed over his heart with more force. Giles couldn’t stop himself from embracing her body entire, petting her hair, and mumbling to the top of her head, 

“Thank you, thank you. Thank you.” 

Buffy reached one hand up from his back to stroke his hair tenderly and gave a contented hum. 

“Don’t ever let me go,” he said softly.

“Never,” she whispered back. 

Chapter Text

Giles. She had to get to Giles. It didn’t really occur to her that it might be a challenge in her current…condition?…body? until she reached his front door and froze, hesitant to enter. But once she was in his presence, it was just a matter of convincing him that she was really Buffy for him to come around. 

It was a marvel that Giles didn’t drop the dishes he was carrying to the kitchen when he saw Faith enter the apartment. Why couldn’t he seem to make eye contact with the girl? 

When she used her pinky to tuck back a piece of errant hair, something familiar struck Giles. And of course only Buffy would go right for the most embarrassing possible personal reference to prove her identity. 

“When I had psychic power, I heard my mom think that you were like a stevedore during sex…. What’s a stevedore?” 

Once Buffy prioritized finding Faith over talking, they paused for a moment to just look at each other. It was surreal, seeing Giles from a slightly different height, through eyes other than her own that processed light and color in what felt like a foreign way. 

And for Giles, it was hard to wrap his brain around the embodiment of, and combination of, both his dearest friend and an intimidating enemy. 

Buffy moved around the desk to seek a hug. She was relieved to be unified with Giles, but still deeply unsettled with everything going on. Who knew what Faith was up to, or how Buffy could stop her? Her brain chose a strange detail to fixate on - she admired Giles’ beige sweater, such a change from his tweed suits from the previous years, the material both soft and scratchy under her cheek. 

She embraced him strongly and Giles could feel a tremor in her muscles. There was something desperate in the way she pawed at his back. 

He had to close his eyes and stop breathing through his nose, because even though it was Buffy, it wasn’t Buffy. He had smelled the sharp tang of fear in her sweat and knew she was afraid, but behind that was a different girl, different skin, different shampoo, different scent. It was profoundly unsettling. 

Buffy clutched at Giles because she could feel his hesitation. He accepted her, he believed her, but it didn’t feel like his usual hugs. She needed Giles with her, entirely - her partner - as he had always been before. 

She tipped her head up towards his ear and, to better disguise her voice, whispered when she told him, “Don’t ever let me go.”

Giles let out a sigh and relaxed into the embrace, holding her tightly and snuggling his chin in where her neck met her shoulder. 

“Never,” he replied, because even though it wasn’t Buffy, it was Buffy. 

Chapter Text

Tara was the only one who insisted on staying to witness in silent support, gripping the wire of the broken-down fence several feet back. She let tears fall unchecked down her face as Giles raged and wept. He rocked Buffy’s body back and forth, back and forth, sometimes wailing to the sky, sometimes whispering down at her, letting his tears drop onto her face. 

“Never,” he said over and over. “Never, never. Never.” 

His voice gave out when dawn started to lighten the sky.

Chapter Text

It had been 148 days since Giles had slept. Goodness, he thought, massaging his jaw, that was hyperbole. Of course he had slept. But not well, and not without risking nightmares that woke him screaming and reaching for a swig of scotch with a trembling hand. It had been long before that since he’d slept normally. 

But now that Buffy was back - impossibly, impossibly alive - there was no way he was going to lose time sleeping. Even if he was trapped on an international flight, retracing the path he’d taken just a few days prior. 

Upon reaching Sunnydale, Giles practically ran to the door of the Magic Box. He felt desperately eager to confirm her presence. But when he stepped through and saw the whole group sitting at the table as usual, saw her, the breath left his body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He froze with overwhelming emotion when Buffy made eye contact. She reacted in just the same way, he realized, as they started to slowly gravitate towards the middle of the room. He dropped his bags without even realizing and the couple practically floated towards each other. 

Their embrace was everything. Neither paid too much attention to the words they spoke. Under his devoted gaze, in her nervousness, Buffy tried to resuscitate some of her old levity. “A miracle,” she called herself. 

“Yes -” he cut her off with a smile, cupped her cheek, and gave her a look of such adoration and love it flooded Buffy’s brain with something she couldn’t name. “But then, I always thought so.” 

His smile was so genuine and full, so natural and uninhibited, it made Buffy wonder if she’d ever seen him as clearly as she did in that moment. 

Giles’ face suddenly crumbled and he grabbed her into a mad embrace as he broke down in tears. He let her bear some of his weight as he wailed out his grief, and his relief, and his grief again. Buffy readily used her strength to hold him, wrapping her arms up under his armpits and around his shoulders, holding him to her body and letting him feel her power and presence. 

“You died,” he said nonsensically, as if she didn’t know. As if he had to tell her the bad news, as if it had just happened. “You died - “ his voice broke as he lost the ability to speak and sobbed. 

Buffy clung to him and confirmed, “I died.” She was sniffling back her own tears, the first since her resurrection. “I died, I died.” she said, rocking them, nodding into his shoulder. 

The gang situated around the table held their collective breath and stayed mercifully silent. None of them quite understood what they were seeing. Buffy had been so weirdly unemotional since her resurrection that this display caught them by surprise. And they had never seen Giles cry, much less weep. Hell, they hadn’t ever seen him express an emotion so openly. It sort of freaked them out. Of all of them, only Dawn shed tears. 

As Giles’ weeping intensified, his knees gave out and he dragged Buffy to the floor, where he sprawled with legs akimbo and Buffy kneeling in front of him. She never let go. He grasped her with so much pressure she knew his fingers were leaving bruises, if only for a while. She liked that sting of pain; it reminded her that Giles was really there. That she was really there. 

When his tears had quieted, he pulled back to look at her, unselfconscious of the snot on his face and the wetness on his cheeks. “I kept thinking of you trapped in a hell dimension. Picturing you, in constant pain, horror, torture…” and his face crumbled as he choked out, “it was torture.” He choked on a sob and closed his eyes.

She needed to calm him. It was tearing her heart open to see his pain, and this was one aspect he didn’t need to suffer. She had been shaking her head as he spoke, but now she put a hand on his heart to stop him and focus his attention. 

“No, no, Giles,” she started. “It’s ok, it wasn’t…it wasn’t like that.” 

He sniffled and looked up at her, surprised into silence. She bit her lip and looked away when she realized what she’d said. 

Giles narrowed his eyes and looked at her. Really looked at her. He blinked. His eyebrows furrowed as his mind furiously spun. There’s no way, Giles thought. There’s absolutely no - DEAR GOD, he realized with a sudden gasp. She hadn’t been in hell? Then she’d been in…

“Buffy,” he rasped. “ Buffy. Are you…are you telling me…”

This time it was Buffy who let out a terrifying wail. It was high, and loud, and went on and on without breaking. She wailed, and screamed, and cried out in a way none of them had heard a human cry out before. 

Then she suddenly leaned to the side and vomited. Giles instantly held her beautiful blonde hair out of the mess and rubbed a hand on her back as she retched and gasped. When she was done, he thoughtlessly wiped her mouth with the back of his sleeve and scooted them a couple of feet away. 

That was when Buffy started sobbing. Only with Giles was she safe to truly let go; so she did. 

She cried for her life gone by, for the grief of who she was - someone that was never fully coming back, she realized. She screamed for Giles and his grief, his isolation and pain. She cried for her mom, a grief she never even got to fully realize before heading to the grave herself. She wept for Heaven, and for the hell that surrounded her now. She cried so hard her vision went black. 

At first, Giles panicked. This was Buffy, the hero who was always in control, surprisingly so, and she was completely undone. His precious Slayer, his miracle, the holder of his heart. His hands fluttered over her, sometimes on her shoulders, sometimes petting her hair, uncertain how best to contain this unspeakable horror. 

Finally, he grabbed her arms in a movement of desperation and brought her to his chest, then clasped his hands together behind her back and embraced her as hard as possible. 

Over her head, he slowly raised his eyes to find Willow staring at him in shock. His gaze was terrible, and she visibly shivered in fear. His eyes held judgment, and condemnation, and rage, and a grim knowing of what she did and how. She had used dark magic, but in this moment Giles was magic, even darker than hers, and he wasn’t afraid to show her. 

“Clean that up,” he snarled at her. Willow jumped back from her chair and got paper towels and cleaning spray to take care of the floor. She sniffled as she moved, but kept her mouth shut and her eyes on her work. 

“Giles,” Buffy finally managed through her tears. He kissed the top of her head for a long moment and turned back into the embrace. “Giles, I died.” 

“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he whispered and rocked her a little in their embrace. 

“And I was happy. At peace.” She paused to breathe and gather herself. Giles kept rocking and waited patiently. 

“I was warm, and I was loved, and I was finished; complete. I don’t understand theology, or different dimensions, any of it really. I think I was in Heaven. I was in Heaven…” she wailed then, and another spasm of crying took her. 

What could Giles say? It’s not like a pat on the back and a refrain of “it’s ok” would suffice when things had never been so clearly not ok. 

“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I’m here with you, and we’ll figure it out. I love you. I love you.” 

Eventually, he found himself quoting Shakespeare, his lilting voice soothing and grounding Buffy:

   Stay and breathe awhile.
   Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion
   And showed thou mak’st some tender of my life
   In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.

The couple rocked more steadily as Giles calmed her with his voice and his strong arms. After many long minutes, Buffy cried herself out. She didn’t feel better, but she felt wrung out like a sponge. A hollow fatigue filled her. The only thing she wanted in the world was Giles; to touch Giles, to have him hold her, to keep her safe while she finally let herself rest. 

She clung to him and said in a warbly voice, “Giles, Watcher-mine, don’t ever let me go. Please don’t ever let me go.” 

Giles buried his head in her shoulder and let his body shake in sobbing. He couldn’t bloody well tell her right now about the aftermath of her death, about his solitary night with her body. What he’d sworn to her. There was no way he could let that one word slip past his tongue now. 

“Buffy, Slayer-mine, don’t ever let me go,” he said instead. Promises felt futile anyway. 

“Don’t ever let me go,” echoed Buffy. 

“Don’t ever let me go,” whispered Giles. 

They occasionally repeated the beloved phrase back and forth until Buffy lightly dozed off, and Giles carried her to the training room to sleep. 

Chapter Text

“You bloody well do know I’m right,” shouted Giles. 

He threw his hands up in frustration and moved away from Buffy. They were in some crappy motel room in the desert, half a day from what used to be Sunnydale. The wounded had been cared for, Xander retreated to his room with a six pack in silence, and Buffy and Giles were at it. Again. 

“Look.” Buffy stated, planting her feet and addressing him straight on. “I get that there are a zillion new Slayers. Duh, it was my idea. But this is also a chance for me to not be The One in All The World for once! I need - I need - “

“You need to be responsible. You’re right, it was your idea to waken every Potential. Well, now they’re awake! Come ON, Buffy, this isn’t a good time to shirk your duty and-and go o-off…dancing into the sunset.” He waved one hand towards the open door.

Buffy’s eyes widened. How could he be so completely clueless? How dare he be completely clueless? After what she’d been through, what they’d all been through. 

“I’m not working for the Council, Giles. I led us to victory,” she yelled, stabbing her thumb into her chest. “I am at a breaking point, I am not doing anything ambitious right now, and I don’t know why you’re trying to ignore all that.” 

At this, her body deflated. She turned her face away from him and stared at the ugly blue painting on the wall of the motel.  

She felt like she couldn’t quite get on top of the conversation. It was moving too fast, and all the adrenaline had escaped her body after the fight, leaving her muzzy and exhausted. It occurred to her that neither of them should be making any decisions at the moment. 

Giles sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, again, making it stand up at surprising angles. How had it come to this? He arrived at her room looking for an embrace, a congratulations, a rehashing of the battle, and perhaps a bit of celebration. But now he was sweating through his plaid shirt in this ridiculous desert heat and felt a deep wave of homesickness. Maybe that was part of the argument after all. What he wouldn’t give for rain softly falling on green hills right about now. Something, anything, soft and verdant. 

“Buffy,” he said, not as loudly but still obviously irritated. “I have to go. They need me in London, to…to pick up what little remains of the Council.” He paused to choke down a swallow of grief, thinking of all that had been lost. 

“And someone has got to build it again. We can do it, you and I, we can make it better than it ever was.”

Buffy kept her eyes on the wall and slightly shook her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. 

Giles continued in a lighter voice, “Can you imagine? A Council that actually answered to Slayers?” 

But Buffy was unmoved. Giles’ patience quickly faded; anger returned and his countenance turned stormy. “Talk to me, damn you, we have to talk this through.” 

Buffy took a sudden step towards him and his eyebrows shot up, but he held his ground. “Are you fucking serious right now, Giles?” she spat. “I don’t know what kind of bug crawled up your ass in the - oh - roughly four hours since we sunk an entire city, but I’m tired. I’m more than tired. I’m done. If you want to actually ‘answer to Slayers,’ start by listening to me.”

“Unbelievable,” Giles whispered. He threw up his hands again in defeat and stepped back. 

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll listen to you. And then I’ll bloody well go do the job that needs doing. Like I always fucking do.” 

He stretched his hand down to grab his still-packed duffle bag. Buffy saw the motion and, in shock, realized he was leaving. Not like in a day or so, but right now. He was leaving her right now . 

“You can’t leave,” whispered Buffy emotionally. “Don’t leave.” 

Then, as he took a few steps to the threshold of the room, “No, no, do NOT leave!” she ordered, louder, angry this time. 

Giles turned back to look in her face. His eyes were uncaring and fierce; his gaze steely and cold. “Let me go, Buffy,” he commanded.

Panicking and furious, Buffy dramatically shrugged and snarked at him, “I think you’re missing a couple words there, Watcher.”

They paused for a breath, so much passing between them: fury, withdrawal, yearning, connection, grief, and the weight of so many years together. This was a line they could never uncross, and he knew it. 

“No, I’m not,” he said in a loud but even voice. And then, after a breath to let her fully understand, he glared at her and demanded, “Let. Me. Go.” 

Without waiting for a response, he purposefully strode away, slinging his duffel over one shoulder. He never looked back. 

Buffy, however, stood at the door watching his retreating form, head spinning in disbelief. Giles, her Giles, was gone. After everything, even after the victory of sealing the Hellmouth, he was moving further and further away from her. Was nothing she did good enough? She felt like reality was slipping through her fingers. 

Buffy slid down to sit against the doorframe, letting the hot wind rustle her hair and her mind run empty until the sun started to go down. She finally stood, sighed, pushed the hair off her face and turned towards her room. 

“Never,” she said under her breath, with one backwards look in the direction Giles had disappeared.

Chapter Text

It had been Willow’s idea. It’s true, Buffy had spent so much time in Rome she was itching to be somewhere different, somewhere less blindingly romantic, sunny, and full of tourists…. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she just really, really missed her friends that were more like family. 

So when Willow suggested that they surprise Xander and Giles with a visit to London, the idea took hold in Buffy’s brain and she let it percolate for a few weeks. 

One day, she woke to the first cool, fresh breeze of early autumn after a scorching summer. Her favorite bells chimed over the rooftops of Rome. And something clicked in her brain: it was time to see Giles. 

The last two years in Sunnydale were devastating for their relationship, but it was their fight after sinking the city that still plagued Buffy. She understood more, now, how responsibility had rested differently on their respective shoulders. The ending of her biggest battle was the beginning of his, in many ways. And what a success he had made - of the Council, of himself, of Slayers around the world. She was so proud. 

She resisted a familiar rush of guilt, and regret, and wished yet again she had found a better way. 

Buffy still thought the world of him, and thought of him…all the time. And she missed him with such pain and longing it surprised her anew every day. She missed him as a friend, a partner in crime, and, god help her, as her Watcher. It made something possessive and heavy rise inside her to think of him interacting with so many Slayers who weren’t, well, her . 

After a period of silence, and annoying their friends by constantly asking for news about each other, the pair finally discovered texting. It revolutionized how and what they communicated. Buffy and Giles could take their time between messages and consider their words, slowly breaking the ice and starting to reconnect. 

They eventually graduated to weekly calls that delighted and centered them both. More recently, the calls had been even more frequent, and the conversations longer. 

Her thoughts circled back to travel plans. Oh! And Xander! Buffy blushed even more as she realized she’d skipped right over her dear friend. Of course I want to see Xander, a-and Willow, and also Giles, she tried to rationalize to herself. She shook her head and chuckled. She couldn’t even fool herself these days.

Once the decision was made, her eagerness brought her to immediately pack the warmest bits of clothing she had and book the first flight out. 

The advantage of such a quick decision was that she got the pleasure of surprising Willow, too. When Buffy arrived in Dublin, where Willow was studying a precious, ancient, magical text in the Trinity College library, the two reunited with hugs and laughter and frivolity. 

“So,” Willow said, late that night over a pint in a local pub she favored. “Do you want to surprise Xander or Giles first?” 

Buffy sat back and sighed, looking off into the distance. Her instinct was to shout Giles! Giles! Giles!, pick up her still-packed suitcase, and head right to the ferry dock. But maybe that was the wrong way to go about it? 

Jesus, thought Buffy. Calm down. Maybe he won’t even be that excited to see you. The things you said to him….

“Whoa, whoa! That wasn’t supposed to be a hard question,” teased Willow after a couple of minutes. 

Buffy gave a chuckle of self-deprecation and agreed. “Ugh, I know,” she said. “I think we go to Xander. That way the three of us can catch up first!” 

Willow indulgently smiled at the idea and the girls got lost making a list of attractions they wanted to see and shops they wanted to visit. 

Somehow it still seemed quite sudden to Buffy that she was standing on the steps outside Giles’ flat a few days later. The trio shushed each other, then rang the bell. The building was a charming brick row house with metal railings on the front stoop and plants in all the flower boxes. 

Hidden behind Willow and Xander, down a few steps, no one noticed the clammy pallor on Buffy’s cheeks, nor the way she kept gulping in nervousness. 

“What the - oh! Bloody hell! Willow!” Giles exclaimed as he opened the door, smiling from ear to ear, scooping up the redhead into a mad embrace. He looked less stressed, and more full of life, than Buffy could remember. She forgot to breathe. “Hello, welcome. What are you doing here?” 

“Surprise!” said Willow as she stepped back so Xander could take a turn embracing Giles. As they clapped each other on the back, Giles caught a glimpse of Buffy over Xander’s shoulder. Giles froze in place with eyes wide as saucers.

Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, barely breathing. 

“Buffy?” He whispered almost silently. The unabashed hope and love shining in his eyes made Xander’s heart squeeze in his chest as he stepped back. 

Then, loudly, uncontrolled, “Buffy! Oh my God, Buffy!” He exclaimed as he pushed Xander aside, ran down the steps, and swept Buffy into his arms. 

She started to laugh - at least, that’s what it felt like she was doing - but it turned into a bit of a sob and she buried her face in his neck. Giles had literally swept her off her feet and was holding her suspended off the ground, so she just let her feet dangle as he gripped her tightly in his arms. 

“Buffy, oh hell, you came. You came to me.” He held her head tightly to him as he blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He could feel her crying just a little, so he didn’t let up the embrace and buried his face in her hair. “It’s ok, luv,” he comforted her softly. “You’re here now. I’ve got you. It’s ok.” 

Buffy exhaled in relief, and breathing in again flooded her with the warm scent of him, familiar and beloved. Her mouth was right up against his neck, and Giles shivered to feel her warm breath across his skin. 

Over her head, Xander gestured towards the open door with a sweep of his hand. It was cold and dark outside, after all, and they needed to go in. Giles simply carried Buffy up the last two steps, into the sitting room, and down to the couch. He settled Buffy in his lap like they had done this for years, neither one releasing even a bit of the embrace. 

Willow and Xander stood watching them. Buffy and Giles together had always been intense; the gang had often spoken of that Watcher-Slayer thing none of them fully understood. But this felt different somehow. The fierce tenderness with which they held each other, the unyielding pressure of their hands, their unguarded expressions. It was beautiful to see their friends healing right before them. In fact, they felt like they were healing a lot of old wounds, too, just watching, and Willow rested her head on Xander’s shoulder. 

Giles nuzzled his cheek against Buffy, making soothing sounds. She had stopped crying but her whole body was trembling slightly. The two of them had yet to make eye contact at close range. She arched her back to rest heavily against his chest and neck, one hand moving above her to caress his face. Giles pressed long, slow kisses to her temple and forehead. A palpable tension filled the room at their closeness and the energy between them. 

“Don’t…” started Buffy, who had to pause a moment to breathe. She swallowed thickly. Slowly, deliberately, she said, “don’t ever let me go, Giles.” 

He emphatically whispered, “Never!” 

Buffy rubbed her face up to meet his and they locked in a deep, sensuous kiss. He cradled her face in his hands, swiping her cheekbones with his thumbs, and Buffy finally felt what she was searching for all this time: she was seen, known, cherished, safe, and protected in his arms. 

The kiss heated up quickly. Buffy took his bottom lip between her teeth, and Giles tightened her grip. When their tongues finally tangled, Giles groaned with the heady feeling of homecoming. Buffy whimpered in response, needing him urgently, pulling him even closer. 

Willow quickly pulled on Xander’s coattail and silently gestured for them to exit back the way they came. The pair smirked and giggled at having to sneak out the door, but it was obvious their setup worked. And that they needed to be out of that townhouse - quickly, and for a long time. They closed the door as quietly as they could, high-fived, and headed into the night. Buffy and Giles didn’t even notice their absence. 

The couple made sure not to let each other go at all during the evening, nor that night as they finally slept, not even during the morning hours when they woke in delight of their closeness. And no one was surprised when, months later, their wedding vows included that one. 

- THE END -