Et In Arcadia Ego by Tweed Empress

Disclaimer: I do not own Giles, Jenny or anyone else—I just wish I did! Joss owns all.

Feedback: Yes please. I'm needy ;-) I take full responsibility for any mistakes (spelling or otherwise) in this fic.

Summary: Giles takes a short holiday and receives an unexpected guest.

It's like trying to look through a clouded window, or a dark mirror. You try to look through it, and then reach out to wipe it clean, only to find the glass isn't there. Your hand grasps at cold mist. But the images leak through, bled of color. It only takes a little concentration to connect to one of them, to make them brighter, larger; until you can feel everything they are experiencing, until they fill you. I can feel them. Any of them, any time I wish. And the emotion is stronger than anything I've ever felt before: happiness like a forest of fire, anger like waves breaking on rocks. It's even stronger when you touch the people you knew and like to feel what they feel. But I come back most often to the pain. All consuming. Slowly torn apart with pain and guilt. I cry out, but my voice is lost on the wind, never reaching the ears that need to hear it the most. Every time I am lost in it, a coruscating agony that blinds me and I think I will never find my way out again. But I keep coming back to it. I reach out through the dark mist, and the image burns brightly.

The heat, he decided, was even more unremitting than in California. If such a thing were possible. The heat quivered visibly in the air, so that the buildings opposite him took on the blurred, melting appearance reminiscent of Dali's clock faces. There was the constant low hum of conversations, punctuated by high, loud laughter, or the blaring of a car-horn from the street behind the square. Rupert Giles shifted in his seat and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. The shaded pavement café afforded some respite from the heat of the city, but he still felt as though he was boiling inside his own skin. He made a mental note that the next time he undertook such an excursion he would choose somewhere cooler. That in itself was hugely dependent on there being a 'next time'. It was unseasonably hot—the Indian summer had waited until late October to put in an appearance and the dry heat lent everything a scorched, wilting air. A waiter emerged from the darkened interior of the café and briskly placed the coffee Giles had ordered on the table. Giles nodded in thanks and returned to scanning the people milling about in the piazza. Piazza? He smiled to himself: too many childhood holidays in Italy had affected his vocabulary. The coffee was hot and strong; he could feel its warmth spreading through him with every sip. Not for the first time, he wondered what in the world had brought him here. And for the hundredth time, he answered his own question. It was, of course, Buffy. One of her many brilliant ideas.

Buffy looked up from the paper as her Watcher descended into the courtyard outside his house. At least, ex-Council Watcher—Giles still 'watched', and he was very definitely still hers. He was breathless from his run.

'Still breaking a sweat there, huh?' She raised an eyebrow sarcastically. 'Going for the burn?'

'Yes,' he replied, getting his breathing back under control. 'Before my ancient frame falls into complete disintegration, I thought I'd make the most of it. While I still can.'

He ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair and wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust. Buffy suppressed a smile and folded up the newspaper before holding it out to him.

He opened his front door and entered, Buffy trailing behind him. She deposited herself on his sofa while Giles disappeared into the kitchen.

Giles leaned over the breakfast bar, frowning slightly. 'Is, er, everything…all right?

Buffy's cheerfulness did not prevent a look of consternation descending on his face.

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. 'He's fine. I'm fine. Everybody is fine. God, Giles, I'm just hungry! I haven't had any breakfast yet.'

Giles said nothing more, but gave her another piercing look before retreating to the kitchen. Buffy stretched out on the sofa, the clatter of dishes assuring her that food was on its way. She liked Giles' house—it managed to be sophisticated and homely at the same time, albeit in a very masculine sort of way. Ever since she had started college, she seemed to spend more time there than she did at her own home. Buffy squirmed guiltily. Still, she could swing by home later and see her mother. She had been making concerted efforts to make more time for both these very important relationships. For the moment, she was happy to stay right where she was. Giles appeared, bearing a tray, which he placed on the coffee table. Buffy gazed appreciatively at the mugs of steaming hot coffee and the plate of muffins.

'Cool. Blueberry.' She grinned and took a large yet delicate bite out of one, eventually noticing the pair of green eyes observing her from over the rim of a mug.

Giles cleared his throat. 'You're here, well, um, early…earlier than usual. I just wondered what it is that brought you here.'

Buffy looked slightly hurt. You would have thought that he would simply be pleased to see her, but no. Being Giles, he had to jump to conclusions—and the very worst possible conclusions at that.

'It doesn't occur to you that I might just want to see you? I mean, you complain to Willow about being un-looped…'

'As in left out of the loop,' she clarified, 'and now you complain when I come to see you.'

'I mean, just because I come here, does it automatically follow that I want something?'

Giles treated her to one of the withering looks that he seemed to reserve especially for her. Buffy wrinkled her face slightly.

'Okay, so maybe it…usually…does. But, you could give me the benefit of the doubt!'

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. 'Fine. There is doubt; you have the benefit. Forgive me for being concerned.'

They exchanged a glance and smiled at each other, before settling into their breakfast in a companionable silence. Buffy stole a sideways glance at him and noticed, once again, one of the things that had brought her to his door. He looked tired. Not just tired in a not-getting-enough-sleep way, but tired in a weary-to-the-soul way. It had been a difficult time for everyone after Faith, the Initiative, Oz leaving, Adam and the general day-to-day mayhem that went with life with the Slayer. Giles had never really relinquished the burden of responsibility for her and the rest of the Scoobies, and it was a burden that he tended not to discuss with any one. Sharing was not trait he had developed during his time in America. He was one of the few constants in her life, and Buffy felt ashamed of herself for taking him so much for granted, especially over the past year. She set her mug down on the table and turned to face him fully.

'Giles, I've been thinking and I've had a really great idea. And it's to show that I too feel...concern. For you. It's nothing to do with Slaying,' she broke off to consider this statement carefully. 'No, absolutely nothing. It's more in way of a trip,' she concluded brightly.

A look of horror crossed her Watcher's face. 'Oh dear God, it isn't Ice-Capade season again, is it?' He shuddered slightly, the memories of the last one still haunting him, despite his best efforts to repress them.

'No, it's not time for the… Hey, I thought you liked going to the Ice-Capades with me!' She pouted slightly.

Giles sighed. 'Buffy, much as I enjoy our spending time together, it isn't a venue that I would choose myself. But that, I suppose, is the price one has to pay to be with the people one...cares about.'

'Guess Ice-Capades are right up there with Monster Trucks, huh?' Buffy asked softly.

He looked at her and then turned away, a slight shadow falling in the depths of his eyes. If he could have her back… Giles would gladly have sat through Monster Trucks on a daily basis.

'Something like that,' he replied, eventually, to Buffy's question. 'So, what is your really great idea? And should I take cover now or wait for the apocalypse?'

'Ha-ha. Big with the funny. It just occurred to me that you could do with a vacation. A little one.'

'You know, va-ca-tion? You pack bags, stay in hotels in places other than the one you live-'

'I mean, why do you suddenly want me packed off somewhere else? What's going on?'

'Nothing's going on, I just…you…' Buffy took a deep breath and tried to get her verbal skills in order. 'I just thought it might be good for you to get out of Sunnydale for a while—just long enough to have a break from everything, but not too far that it's…scary.' She shrugged, dropping her eyes from his face. 'You look tired.'

There was a pause while Giles looked at her searchingly. 'Th-that's very considerate, Buffy,' he said slowly, more touched than he allowed her to see.

'So you'll think about it?' Buffy jumped in brightly, before he could think up too many objections.

And naturally, being Buffy, she didn't leave it there. A few days later, she appeared again, bringing Willow and Xander with her.

The three Scoobies displayed a collection of travel brochures. Giles felt his heart sink.

'Thought we'd help you choose a holiday destination, you crazy funkster!' Xander grinned at him.

Some hours and many cups of tea later, Willow, Xander and Buffy were sighing over their preferred holiday choices, at the same as indulging in the time honored game of 'Anywhere But Here'. The latter had resulted in profuse apologies to Giles who had, once again, heard far more about their private fantasies than he had ever wished to.

'It's quite all right,' he had responded. 'I just translate everything you say into Latin—makes it all sound far more noble.'

'Okay, Giles, is there anywhere, you want to go?' Buffy asked plaintively. 'You've rejected just about every city in the U.S, and I am aware that it's because you've already been to most of them.'

'Yeah, you've been more places than I have,' Willow concurred, her tone wistful. 'I've never been to New York…'

'Actually, I'm rather taken with the idea of Mexico,' Giles admitted, his eyes straying over the photos in the brochure.

'Yeah,' Xander agreed enthusiastically. 'All that sun and sea, soft sand, girls on the beach with tanned bodies and little bikinis…' he trailed off, his eyes acquiring a glazed look.

'Oooh, maybe I should tell Anya about that,' Willow said, exchanging an amused smile with Buffy.

Xander snapped back to reality, suddenly panic-stricken. 'No! Oh, God, please no! I mean, I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was just…'

'Jeez, Xand, relax.' Buffy rolled her eyes. 'It's not like she's a demon anymore, she can't hurt you.'

'No, but she was into the whole vengeance thing for a long time. She's picked up a thing or two.' Xander turned pale. 'She can take it out on me in other ways.'

There was a pause while the two girls mentally digested this and came up with a range of scenarios that were big on the 'ew' factor.

Buffy raised her eyebrows in interest. 'Mexico City? That sounds good. Um, why?'

'Yeah, I mean, you go to Mexico you want the sun and beach and…and…all the things I mentioned just before.' Xander managed to bring himself to a halt and received a sympathetic smile from Willow, as a fellow foot-in-mouth syndrome sufferer.

'Mmm, because living near the coast in Southern California, one finds such things extremely difficult to come by,' Giles responded, massaging his temples.

'Okay then, Watcher-mine, what's the big attraction in Mexico City?' Buffy enquired, shooting an admonishing look at Xander.

'Well, around this time of year is the Day of the Dead, and there is very little written in the Watcher diaries—or, indeed, in any of our literature, about the rituals and traditions that…' He trailed off.

'Y'know, Giles, when I suggested a vacation, I meant in the non-Slayer-y, non-Watcher-y type way.'

'I meant for you to something where you'd enjoy yourself!' She said, exasperated.

'Sitting around doing nothing, or indulging in pointless activities one would never dream of when at home, is not my idea of relaxation,' Giles retorted.

Willow and Xander sat silently, their gaze switching between Watcher and Slayer. A confrontation between these two, no matter how trivial, was not a happy place to be caught in.

Buffy rolled her eyes. 'Fine. Go to Mexico City and research. Knock yourself out. Just don't come crying to me if you need a break when you get back.'

In the hours approaching sunset, something in the very fabric of the city seemed to alter. To the less sensitive soul, it was simply as though the natural hum of city life had increased. To those more attuned to these occurrences, there was a palpable electricity in the air. Magic. Giles could feel prickles of it running under his skin, but decide to attribute it to the heat. He had been leaning against the balcony of his hotel room, watching as the sky changed from an airless blue to something rich and velvety, with virulent swathes of scarlet and burning gold burning across the horizon. He had decided earlier that he would lose himself in the city that night—it was preferable to the more tourist oriented entertainments available at the hotel, and would spare him the attentions of the receptionist who seemed to have made it her mission in life to make him feel like a piece of meat every time he passed her. Giles took a deep breath of the warm air and turned back into his room. Oversized for one person, he thought to himself. Why on earth would he need a bedroom and a sitting room? In case he got on his own nerves and needed some space? He headed towards the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. A shower was definitely in order before he ventured out again. The water, at least, was cooling, and as he stood under the showerhead, he tried to damp down the restless feeling that had been growing in him all day. It was, he told himself fiercely, purely psychological. A wry smile quickly followed. He had spent his life buried in the sort of paranormal activity that most people quite happily denied, and usually responded to the idea of psychologists the way everybody else responded to the notion of vampires. He turned off the water and stepped back out of the shower.

He hadn't brought many clothes with him—this was, after all, a weekend break—so decided on a fine, white cotton shirt for the evening. The fabric felt cool against his skin. Once he was dressed, Giles moved back into the sitting room and decided to treat himself to a drink before he left. He dropped the ice into the glass from just the right height so that it wouldn't chip, but so that it would make that wonderfully comforting clinking sound. He mixed a weak scotch and soda around it and raised the glass to his lips, just as the final sliver of the sun slipped below the horizon.

He felt it more than heard it. His nerves were suddenly on the alert—honed after all the years of fighting demons and training his Slayer. With infinite care, Giles replaced his glass on the table, his muscles tensing, preparing for whatever it was that had invaded his solitude. He turned slowly, displaying far more nonchalance than he felt, until he faced the intruder. There was a long silence as green eyes met melting dark ones, and Giles lost all sensation in his body. When he finally spoke, he didn't recognize his own voice.

She stood across the room, her expression slightly apprehensive, a thousand different emotions warring in her eyes. There was a loud roaring sound in his ears as he forced the breath back into his body. He could have sworn he had passed out, except for the fact that he was still on his feet and she was still in front of him.

'Is that it? Okay, I wasn't expecting a fanfare and slaves throwing petals before my feet, but I wouldn't say no to, y'know, a little bit more?'

It was her voice. The rich timbre and slightly teasing tone. Her voice. Her eyes—eyes that were shining, full of spirit, and…alive.

She took a few steps toward him and Giles immediately recoiled, his stance becoming more defensive.

'I-I don't really know,' she replied apologetically. 'I'm not a ghost. I'm,' she gestured helplessly, 'I'm just here. Just for tonight. I don't understand how, exactly, but I'm real. It's me, Rupert,' her voice shook slightly, threatening to break. 'It really is me. It's Jenny.'

Giles moved slowly, never taking his eyes from her face as he approached her. She remained still, waiting for him to close the distance between them. When he was a little over a foot away, he stopped and reached out tentatively, just one finger, towards the hand that hung at her side. He gasped slightly at the contact, the feel of warm flesh and smooth skin under his fingers. Once again, their eyes met and he gazed into hers as though he could read in them the secrets of her soul. Her name broke from his lips so softly it was barely heard. And then he pulled her to him, crushing her against him, burying his face in the mass of her dark hair. Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him fiercely, not sure if it was he who was trembling or her. She heard him murmuring her name repeatedly and held him tighter, her hot tears burning her cheeks.

Patrol had been quiet. Buffy had staked fewer than her usual quota of vamps—only because there had been fewer of them around. She pocketed Mr. Pointy and walked back into town from the cemetery. Riley had been, mercifully, absent from the night's hunt. Her brisk pace slowed at this thought. Should she be genuinely grateful that her ever-attentive lover was not with her? Except that, perhaps, attentive was not the right word. Perhaps 'smothering' was more apt. The truth was that Riley was more of a distraction than a help when she was patrolling: she was always worried that he would do something mind-numbingly stupid that would get them—and whichever human was unlucky enough to be there at the time—killed. Yes, Buffy was glad to be patrolling without Riley. She just wished that she were patrolling with Giles. In fact, she wished that she were patrolling with Giles whenever she was patrolling with Riley—and when the three of them were patrolling together she always wished that Riley would just go home and leave her with Giles. That, she felt quite sure, could not be normal. And yet…

Buffy had started her patrol ridiculously early: just after sunset, the time when vampires were only just waking up and beginning to get hungry. The feeling of restlessness had been growing in her all day—ever since Giles had left for Mexico, in fact. And telling herself that it had been her idea that he go was no consolation. Sunnydale without Giles… A Giles-less Sunnydale… It seemed unnatural and wrong. He had been there ever since she had arrived. Given up everything to be wherever she was. Buffy felt a sudden rising panic. Everything? She still wasn't certain exactly what he had done before. Despite her slight knowledge of his Ripper days, it was almost as though he had simply sprung into existence in the library on her first day at Sunnydale High. There was still so much that she didn't know about him. So much that she had never asked about. And it wasn't that she didn't care, or wasn't interested, but Giles was such a private person. He would tell her if there was anything he wanted to talk about.

But, maybe, even if he didn't want to tell her, perhaps he would like to be asked.

Of course, he would never tell her that—he always put her first and never demanded anything for himself. Riley, on the other hand, competed with her in everything. He said that he loved her strength, but he actually resented the fact that she could beat him.

Giles pushed her hard, and the more she was able to best him, the happier with her he was. That was when he would get that certain look in his eyes. When he would look at her, the way no one else in the world looked at her.

Buffy stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. She felt as though she was hovering on the edge of a revelation, but she couldn't quite make that final step. Unconsciously, she looked at her watch, trying to work out how many hours before Giles was back. Maybe, when she could look him directly in the face she would be able to make sense of what was happening. Put a name to the feelings that were sweeping through her. Until then, she hoped that whatever Giles was doing, he was enjoying himself.

Giles stared at the dark head pillowed on his chest. One hand was resting on her back. He could feel her breathing. It was only this steady rhythm that convinced him that he had not gone quietly and unexpectedly insane.

Jenny pushed herself up and turned to look at him. She couldn't remember how they had ended up sitting on the sofa, or how long they had remained entwined together. But now she had the desperate need to hear his voice.

He blinked at her and she could almost see the struggle to form coherent words; he raised a hand and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

'I'm sorry,' he said at last, 'I don't think I can remember words, let alone say them.' He was now running his fingers across her cheek. 'I-I just can't believe that you…you're here, and I don't understand…how, I'm—I'm not…it's just…' Giles broke off and took a deep breath, willing himself to come out of the daze that engulfed him.

'In my wildest dreams, I held you again. I never thought that it would happen while I was still alive.'

'You're alive all right, England,' she replied, 'and perfectly sane. So don't think you can go using the diminished responsibility card with me.'

Giles suddenly released her, pulling away and looking her directly in the eyes, as though he had seen her for the first time.

'I can feel that you're alive—you're warm.' His hand slid down to her neck and he could feel her pulse under his fingers. 'But I still can't imagine how.'

Jenny sat back against the sofa, frowning slightly. 'To be honest, I don't really know. I am alive, for now. It's just for tonight—that much I do know,' she smiled at him wistfully.

'Goddess, this is hard to explain. I was given this opportunity to come back. Some people are. To see those we were…close…to. Before. If you hadn't been here, in Mexico, I wouldn't have been able to.'

'Yeah. It's all to do with some ancient mysticism and rituals. Which would all be very interesting if I could actually remember anything about it. It's so strange—now that I'm here, I can't really remember what it's like when I'm there. And all of the things that I observed happening after I died are so much more real and vivid-' Jenny broke off and sighed impatiently. 'And I'm starting to think that that must be somewhere in your top ten of all time incoherent explanations.'

Giles smiled. 'Not at all. And even if it were, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Not now.'

'Indeed. And this time there isn't a crossbow in sight,' he responded, watching as she flushed slightly.

'Probably wouldn't have made much difference in the long run,' he answered firmly. 'You didn't know all of it, either.'

'Maybe not,' Jenny replied dryly. 'But keeping what I knew… It was part of the culture I grew up in, and-'

'Yes, I do. You were honest with me. You told me things about the Slayer and the Council, that I'm guessing you probably weren't meant to.'

'Cliché much?' A voice asked in his head, which sounded frighteningly like Cordelia at her most sarcastic.

'Well, I didn't exactly repay it in kind. I was supposed to watch Angel and report back to my elders. But then I got involved; with you and Buffy—even Angel. And then, after a while, I stopped sending the letters, but I still felt some kind of loyalty to them.' Jenny paused and then shook her head. 'But it wasn't just that. It was guilt. I'd already betrayed them enough and if I'd told you, it would have made the betrayal complete.'

'I took the name Jennifer Calendar for myself. Then, after a while, I became her. The new age computer teacher with the liberal views who went out with the charismatic British librarian,' Jenny smiled as she saw the slightly startled expression appear on his face. The smile faded as she continued. 'It wasn't just a name, it was who I was, and I wasn't Janna anymore. Jenny was my new life—and you were part of that life. As much as telling you about Angel would have been betraying my tribe, telling you about Janna would have been claiming something I didn't feel a part of. As though if I didn't talk about it, it wouldn't exist. Pretty dumb, huh?'

Giles leaned forward, gently cupping her cheek in his hand. 'No, not "dumb". I do understand, Jenny. I think I worked most of it out a long time ago. And I've had a lot of time to regret my own behavior. If I hadn't ignored you the way I did, then maybe-'

'You were protecting Buffy. I understood that,' Jenny stated. 'And there was no way anyone could've known what was going to happen. I don't think it could've been prevented, in all honesty.' She gave him a slightly lopsided smile. 'Well, so far this hasn't exactly been the joyful reunion I pictured, but at least we established the mutual no blame club.'

'I know,' she replied. 'I know. And I'm so sorry—for the pain. Your pain. I would have done anything to spare you that.'

'I was there, that night, you know,' she continued, speaking quickly as though afraid she would run out of time. 'I saw everything you went through, what he did to you. And then, that thing, wearing my face…' Jenny shuddered, and she could feel his breath hot against her skin. 'I wanted so badly to stop them, to let you know you weren't alone, but there was nothing I could do.'

She took hold of his wrists, pressing his hands closer against her cheeks. 'I tried to reach out to you, but then I felt the spell being cast and-'

Giles pulled away, his face alight. 'It was you! I knew it! Willow said that she felt something entering her, giving her strength. I knew it had to be you… Your final wish.'

He stiffened slightly, his eyes widening as though he had been caught out in some terrible faux pas.

Her soft voice stopped his self-conscious rambling and he looked at her enquiringly.

She leant closer to him, until her features blurred before his eyes and the scent of her hair overwhelmed him. Very gently, her lips brushed against his.

She tilted her head, smiling gently. 'You noticed that, huh? I told you; I wanted to be right with you. That never changed.'

She bent and kissed him again, lingering slightly longer. Once again, she pulled away, taking in his reaction.

Giles caressed her face, gently running his thumb over lips, before slipping his hand to the back of her head and pulling her down to him.

Jenny sighed as he took possession of her mouth, the increasing passion drugging her mind against all other thoughts. For the moment, her senses were intoxicated by the feel of his arms holding her, the heat of his body penetrating the gauzy fabric of her dress. She ran her hands through his hair, remembering the silky feel of it between her fingers, before locking them together behind his head. Her head fell back as Giles released her mouth long enough to begin a brief assault on the sensitive skin on her neck. Jenny couldn't stop herself from letting out a faint moan as he sucked on her earlobe and then nipped the soft hollow just behind her ear. His hands slipped down to her waist and raised her slightly, pulling her across him until she straddled his thighs.

Giles gazed up at her, reveling in the sight of her flushed face, her swollen, slightly parted lips and her dark eyes, shining with desire. Even more beautiful than he remembered her, her body now molding itself to his, Jenny was ensnaring his soul. Again.

Jenny settled herself happily on him, unconsciously licking her lips as she felt him, hard and strong, beneath her. Her hands broke away from his neck and roamed over his shoulders and chest before moving up to trace the chiseled contours of his cheekbones. His eyes were focused on her with the same intensity as their last time together. Jenny felt her pulse increase, her heart hammering painfully in her chest as she was overwhelmed by her love for this man. She was his again, just as she always had been.

His hands were roaming over her body, every nerve ending on fire under his fingers. He had found the hem of her dress and was slowly drawing the fabric up over her legs and she let out a sigh of pleasure as his hands met the bare, silky skin of her thighs. Jenny pressed herself closer to him as his hands caressed her—his agile fingers running up and down the back of her thighs until she was digging her nails into his shoulders in a desperate effort at self control. His hands continued their journey upwards, pausing briefly at the soft curve of her buttocks before continuing to her waist. Jenny drew away from him, releasing her grip on his shoulders but still keeping her gaze locked with his, only to allow him to strip her dress away from her completely. He pushed it up her body, his lips barely losing contact with the smooth skin of her neck and face. The dress fell to the floor and his eyes traveled down her body, his gaze a mixture of reverence and desire.

As he gazed up at her, Giles tried to remember the years of being without her—the agony of his grief and the desolate loneliness he had endured after he lost her. But he couldn't. The lasting scars of that pain had vanished under the magic of her embrace and all he could feel was the electric ripple of excitement through his body. And she was so perfect: her honey colored skin, her toned limbs, the soft contours of her firm breasts. Her eyes were great, dark pools shimmering down at him with a love that took his breath away.

'Have you any idea how much I want you?' His voice was husky, shaking slightly with passion, his hands tracing lines up and down her back.

She caught his mouth in hers, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips before they parted for her and she groaned into his mouth as his teeth gently skimming her probing tongue. Giles broke away from her mouth and drew a trail of kisses down the curve of her throat. Once again, she twined her fingers behind his head, and let out a deep hum of pleasure as he kissed the soft underside of one breast, before he engulfed it in his warm mouth, his teeth grazing the passion-hardened peak.

Jenny slid her hands down his shoulders until they met the first button of his shirt and for a few seconds she fumbled with it until she was able to undo it. She could feel him smiling against his skin and she caught his chin in one hand, forcing his head up to hers so that she could both kiss him and look into his eyes.

'You're wearing too many clothes, England,' she murmured, her fingers continuing to work the buttons of his shirt. He was still caressing her back and dropping long, warm kisses onto her breasts and shoulders, which only made Jenny's task more difficult. She groaned in frustration as the buttons refused to obey her impatient hands.

'Think you could give me a hand here?' she demanded, even as his lips claimed hers again.

Giles' eyes gleamed and his arms tightened around her possessively. Holding her closely to him, he stood up, carrying her effortlessly in one those surprising displays of strength that had always amazed her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and had the pleasure of feeling the skin she had managed to expose under his shirt pressed against now overly sensitive breasts.

He shifted her weight in his arms slightly and they both groaned as the movement brought her warm center into more intimate contact with his arousal. He stood still for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her limbs tightening their hold on his body and her breath coming in hot, shaky gasps against his skin. With her arms snaking around his neck and her mouth hungrily seeking his, Giles swiftly bore Jenny into the welcome of his dimly lit bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, attempting to get her breathing under control. Giles was kneeling on the floor, between her legs, kissing and nuzzling her neck. Jenny gave into the sensation for a few moments, tilting her head back so that he had better access to her throat, before pulling herself together enough to resume her attack on his shirt. When all of the buttons were finally undone she pushed the fabric down his arms, momentarily pinning his arms against his sides and taking advantage of this to capture his lips in a searing kiss. She locked her ankles behind his back, pulling him closer towards her and for a while, the only sounds were their soft moans of pleasure. Until Giles began to struggle against the constraints of his shirt.

'For God's sake, woman, let me out of this thing,' he muttered against her mouth.

Jenny grinned back at him. 'I dunno, I kinda like having you exactly where I want you.' Her voice sounded sultry, even to her own ears.

He pulled his back from her slightly, his mouth curving into a smile. 'You might find these positions a little...um...prohibiting.'

Jenny felt an added flutter of excitement and freed him without further resistance. One arm immediately snaked around her waist, his other hand tangling in her hair as he plundered he mouth. She could feel the muscles in his back tensing under her fingers and his skin was burning hot. His savage kisses, his body pressed hard against hers, were driving her wild with desire. She pressed herself against him as though, by holding him close enough, she could meld their bodies together—crawl inside his skin so that she would never have to leave him again. Giles seemed to sense her desperation—he loosened his hold on her, gently moving his hands to cup her face in that achingly familiar gesture. With their foreheads resting together, they both took deep steadying breaths until Jenny began to feel that great torrent of emotion subside a little. Then she noticed something.

'But good intense, right?' Jenny asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into he voice.

This time he smiled, his hands tenderly slipping down the contours of her face and neck until they were resting on her shoulders. He gazed deeply into her eyes.

The kiss this time was sweet and languorous. Jenny sighed happily and the next moment found herself being gently pushed down to lie back on the bed.

Giles ran his hands adoringly down her body, pausing briefly to cup her breasts and tease the nipples between his fingers; Jenny instinctively arched her back, emitting a low groan. His hands had reached her hips and were, even now, busily removing her underwear. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of so much beauty waiting for him, before raising her foot to his mouth and pressing his lips to the hollow inside her ankle. His other hand began tracing feather-light patterns along her leg and over her kneecap. She felt as though electric currents were shooting from his hands directly into her body.

And then he was kissing his way up her legs, his hands following in firm, dreamy strokes. Until he reached her core.

Jenny's hands had already settled into a death-grip on the bedding and her head began to thrash as he finally engulfed her in his mouth. She couldn't stop herself from crying out. He was licking her, sucking her, his teeth scraping gently over her swollen clit, his tongue rasping against the moist folds of her inner walls. Her heels were digging into his back, her body arching off the bed as the intense pressure was built under his relentless assault. His tongue pressed into her even deeper, at the same time he sucked on her, hard, and she let out a breathless scream of ecstasy as her climax pulsed through her body.

Giles continued to kiss and lick her, gently calming her with tongue and fingers. He could feel the tremors still running through her and smiled as he heard her whispering his name. He moved back up her body, worshipping every inch of flesh as though memorizing her. Jenny's face was flushed and her hair in wild disarray; he grinned at her, enjoying the obvious signs of her pleasure. She raised one hand—still trembling slightly—and traced the outline of his lips, before pulling his head down to her mouth. Her legs moved to wrap around him and she cradled his body in hers.

Her hands were running over the muscles in his back and shoulders and she could feel the tension in his body—she tilted her hips slightly and heard him groan as his powerful erection was pressed between them. Holding his gaze, she moved from under him, inching back across the bed until she was against the pillows. Her eyes traveled over his body before meeting his again.

Wordlessly, he came to her—his eyes alight with desire and tenderness. Jenny pushed herself up on her hands to meet him. He tugged gently on her lower lip with his teeth before her tongue swept into his mouth. He broke away from her lips, trailing kisses along her neck and the curves of her shoulders. Jenny traced the folds of his ear with the tip of her tongue and then nibbled on his earlobe. It had the desired effect and he pushed her down into the pillows, his body flush against hers. He moved one hand between them, his fingers tracing the edges of her nether-lips, but never touching her swollen, hardened nub that was, again, aching for his attention. She groaned in anticipation as he removed his fingers and they were replaced by his engorged tip, pressing hard against her.

He felt her pelvis tilt towards him, inviting him in and then, slowly, pushed into her liquid heat. Jenny murmured incoherently, stroking his calves with the ball of her foot and gripping his shoulders a little harder. Giles rested on his elbows so that he could tangle his hands in her hair, his tongue teasing her mouth with the same deep, languorous thrusts as his hard shaft inside her. He pulled out of her almost completely and angled himself over her so that he rasped against her clit with every stroke. His upper body was entirely still, just his hips grinding against hers relentlessly. Jenny could feel his powerful shoulders shaking with effort and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, driving away his self-control. Giles stilled over her—she was so incredibly wet and silky and fiery all around him. His beloved Jenny. He was incapable of rational thought: only aware of the primal need to possess her entirely, and lose himself in her.

Jenny gazed up at him, watching the fierce joy on his face and almost laughed from the intensity of her own happiness. She rotated her hips under him and cried out as he bucked into her. Brutal contractions were wracking her entire body and the only thought that penetrated her passion-drugged mind was that it might just be possible to die from pleasure. His body was crashing against hers, all of his strength driving into her. Her cries grew louder, mingling with Giles' deep growls. And just when every fiber was screaming for release, her climax exploded. It pulsated endlessly through her body and she clung to him tightly, feeling him shuddering over her as he poured himself into her.

Giles slipped out of her, gently hushing Jenny's soft moan of protest, and trailed kisses along her skin until he found the juncture of her thighs. She was vaguely aware that he was murmuring to her, his voice husky, but it was overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on her, licking their mingled essences from her thighs. He slid two fingers into her, flexing them against the spasms that were still working through her. Jenny gasped, fisting her hands in his hair, as she broke sweetly around him.

When she finally relaxed her hold on him, Giles deposited one final kiss and then moved up to lie next to her. He pulled her across him so that her head was pillowed on his chest. Jenny immediately nestled against him, wrapping one arm around his waist. His hands were exploring the lines of her shoulder blades and running up and down her spine. A simple but powerful joy had spread through his entire being. He felt slightly drunk. Giles smiled to himself as he rested his cheek against her hair and his arms tightened around her.

Jenny nuzzled into his neck, her mouth brushing against his collarbone, before replying. 'This. When I can feel you under me and you're stroking my back. Love it.'

She felt his lips press against the top of her head and could tell that he was smiling. His hands continued to trace complicated, invisible patterns over her skin.

'Y'know, I think I permanently damaged my vocal cords,' she added some moments later.

Jenny rolled off him and propped herself up on one elbow, eyeing her self-satisfied looking lover. 'You can stop looking so pleased with yourself, England.'

'Okay, so you have plenty to be smug about,' she broke off to clear her throat, 'but that isn't helping the sandpaper effect over here.'

Her eyes followed him as he extricated himself from the sheets and then padded across the room, stopping momentarily to retrieve the bathrobe he had deposited on a chair earlier. It was the first time that she had been able to observe him objectively. In this brief respite, she replayed the events of the last few hours, recalling his every look. He was different. Not in essentials—in those he was the Rupert Giles she remembered and loved. But on the surface, he seemed older, harder, a little more jaded and cynical.

And then there were the physical differences. She had seen the scars before, of course. Sometimes through a haze and sometimes with horrifying clarity. But the reality of them, the jagged white marks against his skin, the tautness of healed burns and the unexpected ridges along ribs where the tortured bones had knit themselves back together...

The memories of that terrible night seared her eyes and Jenny was gripped by a sudden nausea. Throwing aside the covers, she ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before falling to her knees and retching, pitiably, into the bowl. She wasn't actually sick, but her entire body spasmed violently. When it finally stopped, Jenny rested her head against the cool tile on the wall, closing her eyes. Blood was thundering in her ears and her entire body was prickling under the skin—she felt as though she were about to pass out. For a moment, she thought about succumbing to the darkness, but that was just taking an easy way out. They both deserved better than that. With an effort, Jenny forced her eyes open and felt her head begin to clear. She became aware of knocking on the door and could hear Giles calling her, his voice growing increasingly frantic. If she didn't reply, he'd break the door down. Her first attempt at speech resulted in a hoarse rasp. Jenny licked her lips and pushed herself away from the floor, so that she could face the door.

Having successfully mastered simple sentences, Jenny began to feel slightly more in control of herself. Her limbs still felt a little shaky, but she could stand. There was another robe hanging on the back of the door.

She leaned heavily against the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin looked unnaturally pale, but her cheeks were a burning red. Carefully holding her hair back with one hand, she turned the tap on and splashed copious amounts of cold water onto her face. Better. She pressed a towel to her cheeks, dried her hands, raked her fingers through her hair a few times and then made a face at her reflection.

Jenny finally unlocked the door and found Giles pacing anxiously. Three steps one-way, three steps the other. He looked up when he heard the door.

'I'm okay. Really' She offered him a smile and then made a beeline for the bed. There were two glasses of whiskey on the nightstand and Jenny picked one up gratefully, settling herself against the headboard. She held the liquid in her mouth for a moment, her eyes closed, feeling it burn her lips and tongue before it slid down her throat. Warmth spread through her body. The bed dipped and she knew that he was sitting opposite her.

Jenny took his left hand between both of hers and ran her fingers lightly over the scarred knuckles.

'I just...' her gaze dropped to their joined hands. 'I just remembered a time when your hand didn't look like this.'

Giles reached for his glass with his free hand. 'It was a long time ago.' He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze.

'I-I know that. It's just, I mean, it was like actually being able to feel it properly for the first time. I can't really feel anything of my own anymore, when I'm...wherever it is.'

He sipped the drink, watching her anxiously. Her eyes were clouded and he could see the tension in her shoulders. Memories were stirring at her words—the ones he kept expertly buried in the light of day, but which would re-surface to taunt him during his bleakest nights. This night, however, was not the time to re-live them. He forced the monster back into its box and turned the full force of his concern to Jenny. Guilt had now been added to the array of emotions playing across her features.

'Goddess, Rupert, I am so sorry. It's not like any of it happened to me and yet, somehow, I'm the one having a nervous breakdown.'

Giles pursed his lips slightly and regarded her, his head on one side. 'I think we've apologized enough for one night, don't you?'

The sparkle started to creep back into her eyes. 'You're doing Watcher-mode here on me, you do realize that, don't you?'

A slight smile quirked his lips; pleased to hear her gentle teasing. 'I can't possibly imagine why.'

'Th-there's something that I-I, well, what I mean is, there w-was, s-something...a-and now there is...again.'

Jenny shook her head incredulously, wondering anew how anybody so strong could be so unsure of themselves. Whatever he had to say was, evidently, both important and personal. She recognized the signs.

Giles blew out a frustrated breath and mentally cursed himself for his inability to voice his feelings without making a production number out of it.

She smiled, nodding slightly. It hadn't been the most appropriate setting for the words, but she had meant them.

'What I should have told you at the time—what I've regretted ever since...I had fallen in love with you. I loved you.'

'I know, Rupert. I knew it then—I saw it in your eyes. When you asked me to come to you, that day in my classroom, I could see it. I always knew.'

Their mouths met with tender urgency. He tasted of whiskey and another slightly salty flavor that Jenny knew was her own.

'That doesn't mean that you can't tell me again, anyway!' she managed, breathlessly, between kisses. She felt his laughter, and then his breath, warm, against her ear.

There was so much pleasure in being able to say it. To hear the words out loud and feel her body pressed against his as he said them, to hear the happy sigh she let out as she heard it. To feel her loving him back.

Jenny leaned back against the pillows, pulling him with her, and enjoyed the sensation of his weight pinning her down. They lay still together until, by an unspoken accord, they shifted so that Giles was resting against the headboard, with Jenny draped across him. She placed a kiss on his chest where his robe gaped open and Giles' hand resumed its slow caressing of her back.

'Why didn't you try to contact me before?' There was no accusation in her tone, just curiosity.

'I could have done,' he admitted softly. 'I-I was going to, once—but even then I kept putting it off. I always thought, or at least, I always hoped, that you were at peace. You were, weren't you? I mean, aren't you?'

'I've never felt comfortable about disturbing spirits unnecessarily,' he continued, his voice slightly muffled as he rested his head on top of hers. 'Unless there was some evidence of distress, I always preferred to think that they were happy. I needed to believe that about you. After everything that happened, I needed to think that you could rest undisturbed.'

Jenny's hand slipped lower, between the folds of his robe, until she found the warm, velvety flesh she sought. He groaned slightly, immediately responding to her caresses.

She was alternately licking and kissing his chest, scraping her teeth lightly over his skin, until he brought her face up to his, kissing her deeply. Jenny moved until she was straddling him, eager fingers moving the fabric of his robe aside so that he was exposed to her hungry gaze, unaware that he had, somehow, removed her robe until she felt the cool air against her skin. She sank slowly onto him, rocking slightly as she took him inside her. His hands caressed her hips, then were running up her back, tangling in her hair and then back down again. Jenny held still over him, deliberately clenching her inner muscles around him where he filled her. Their eyes were locked and then Jenny leaned down, kissed him sweetly and said, 'I love you.'

Then she began to move, slowly at first, changing angles and gasping as she felt him so deep inside her. Giles had allowed this control, until his hips bucked involuntarily under her and they both cried out. He began to thrust upwards, matching her rhythm, so that he pulled out of her as she rose above him.

Her back was arching and she leaned further back, bracing herself with her hands behind her. Giles' hands were at her waist supporting her. She felt incredibly liberated, yet incredibly secure, with his strong hands holding her steady. Her breath was coming in great, ragged gasps; her entire body resounding with the bliss she was drawing from him. He sat up, placing burning kisses between her breasts, at the same time bending his knees so that she was braced against his thighs. With this extra leverage, he thrust harder upwards, into her. Jenny cried out incoherently, suddenly bringing herself forward and throwing her arms around his neck, claiming his mouth with hers. A powerful wave of pleasure swept through both of them: their bodies shuddering, limbs gripping each other in near-painful holds. Painful but for the exquisite satisfaction they brought. Jenny rested her head on his shoulder, her body loose and weightless from the force of her release. Giles sank back onto the bed, drawing her with him. She could hear his heart slowing to a steady, regular beat—almost feel the reverberations against her cheek.

Time didn't exactly stand still—it continued its inexorable momentum. But for Giles and Jenny it had ceased to have any meaning on this most wondrous of nights. They lay entwined together, a magic spell seemingly woven around their own private universe of two.

But even in the most magical of surroundings, reality must make its presence felt.

'I know that this probably isn't the most romantic statement in the world,' Jenny said, 'but I am starving. You could take that as a compliment.'

A low chuckle answered her. 'Well, I didn't want to be the one to bring it up! I was on my way out, but then I was hi-jacked by this dark-eyed temptress.'

Giles groaned. 'That is one of the most appalling puns I have ever heard. I think the sooner I get you fed, the better.'

'Experiencing the exotic,' she continued, ignoring the interruption, 'taking in the sights-'

Laughing, she pushed herself up, gazing at him lovingly before kissing him. Giles brushed her dark hair away from her face, gently stroking her face with his thumbs.

The hotel foyer was fairly busy. Couples waiting on tables were enjoying pre-dinner cocktails while in one corner a group of businessmen were noisily comparing stock portfolios. The obligatory pianist was playing the usual selection of easy-listening standards. The receptionist glanced up as the lift doors slid smoothly open and a radiant smile lit her face as she spied her current most-favored guest. She had a few plans for the tall Englishman before he left. The smile was replaced by a scowl when she noticed the good-looking brunette accompanying him.

As if carrying an in-built radar, Jenny became aware that someone was staring at them. She scanned the lobby and saw the overly groomed receptionist with the mutinous expression.

'If looks could kill,' she thought, puzzled, before realizing that the unwitting cause of so much hostility was walking beside her.

Jenny snaked her arm through Giles' and pressed herself closer to him; in response, he brushed his lips across her temple. She glanced at the reception desk as they passed by and gave the woman her very best cat-got-the canary smile. Giles remained oblivious. Not for the first time, Jenny wondered if he truly had never realized the effect he could have on women. Such as the enormous crush Willow had had on him. Or the fact that ice-queen Cordelia Chase had volunteered to do so much late-night research just because she liked being alone with him. On the other hand, if he had noticed he simply wouldn't be Rupert Giles, sexy fuddy-duddy extraordinaire.

The evening had brought coolness to the air—a welcome relief after the heat of the day. Crowds of people thronged the pavements, spilling over into the roads where car horns blared angrily at them. The buildings were festooned in brightly colored decorations and masks, all contributing to the vibrant hum. People were hurrying by bearing bunches of golden flowers destined for altars, shrines and graveyards. They would join the offerings of food and candles that had been prepared all over the country. The magic that Giles had sensed earlier had now increased and in his relaxed mood, he could begin to see the color of it: a rich textured gold that wound through the city. He wondered how many other people would be receiving these most unexpected and beloved of guests. If this miracle was an annual occurrence then surely someone, somewhere, must have an account of it? His mind began to ponder the possibilities … Until he felt Jenny tugging his sleeve.

'That "I-have-my-cross-referenced-card-index-memorized-by-heart" look. There will be no smelly old books for you tonight, okay? The only thing you will be reading is a menu.'

He broke off as Jenny launched an attack on him, determined to tickle him into submission. She was held at arm's length and only occasionally managed to make contact with him until, both laughing, he pulled her into his arms and declared a truce. They continued down the wide boulevard, Giles' arm around her shoulders, holding her close. Jenny gazed surreptitiously at him. He looked so happy, so relaxed away from the horrors of Sunnydale. Her heart ached slightly at the thought that he was so happy because she was with him. She sent up a silent prayer to any deity that was listening that they could avoid even the slightest hint of vampires, demons and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night. Just until sunrise.

Giles glanced down at the woman nestled against him and felt almost light-headed with joy. She looked radiant. Blissful. Fulfilled.

'She looks how I feel,' he thought, his vanity allowing him the satisfaction of knowing that he was at least partly responsible for making her look like that. And they still had the rest of the night ahead of them. He just hoped that vampires treated the Day of the Dead the same way they treated Halloween.

They strolled leisurely through the streets, turning away from the Zona Rosa and the more fashionable restaurants close to Giles' hotel. While Giles could appreciate fine dining as much as the next man (provided that man was a gentleman, of course) he had always preferred more informal surroundings. It was something for which Jenny was supremely grateful, and so they headed downtown. It was still too early for the clubs, but every now and then, they could hear the sounds of a band warming up from inside one of the deserted cafés. Jenny was making mental notes of the assorted bars and Mariachi clubs. Giles followed her gaze skeptically, wincing as he saw the poster advertising a night of "Pure 70's Disco!"

'Absolutely not,' he stated firmly before Jenny could even voice the question with her assumed air of wide-eyed innocence. 'No self-respecting male over the age of thirty should be allowed within ten foot of a dance-floor with the phrase 'disco' attached.'

'Ah, yes—how could I have forgotten my previous existence as a John Travolta clone? It's all coming back to me.'

'Oh, Goddess!' Jenny gasped, the incongruous image of Giles, complete with white flares, platform shoes and his very best Watcher glare, springing into her mind.

The restaurant they selected, in the Historic quarter, was lively and a favorite with both locals and the more discerning tourists. Their tiny table was in a more secluded corner—situated so that they could both enjoy the atmosphere and retain a sense of privacy. Giles watched as Jenny eyed the menu greedily and ordered a Margarita. The waiter—with that profession's habitual expression of contemptuous boredom—scribbled down their order and left. Jenny found the green eyes focused on her intently and shifted in her seat.

'You have no idea how hungry I am. And I know I probably shouldn't be drinking those cocktails before dinner, but, hey, I feel like celebrating!'

Giles shook himself and smiled apologetically. 'It isn't that. It's just…W-we're here. In a restaurant. Eating food and ingesting appalling drinks. You and me. The unreality of the situation has made itself known again.'

He smiled. 'You don't have to do anything. Every now and then, I think that I'm about to wake up, but I know that this isn't a dream. We are here, you are real, and right now, I don't care about anything else.'

Jenny placed one hand on his knee and then began to slide it up his thigh. His eyes widened.

She squeezed slightly and he grasped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

Giles let out a shaky breath and met her eyes. His own were smoky, ready to meet her challenge.

The waiter re-appeared, placing Jenny's drink, a basket of bread and their cutlery on the table. He fussed over the arrangement of the napkins for a moment and then withdrew. Jenny's hand remained where it was.

'You'll get us both thrown out of here. You do realize that.' He noted conversationally.

'Are you going to tell me that this isn't the best dinner you ever had in you whole life?'

'Would it be too much to ask that I actually have the dinner before I answer that question?'

Giles regretted the words instantaneously. His gypsy lover's dark eyes glinted wickedly over the rim of her glass while the fingers of her other hand began a gentle massaging motion. He wasn't quite certain whether or not to be relieved that the waiter chose that moment to bring their starters over.

'And I just had to chose something that requires both a knife and a fork. Damn.' Jenny sighed and reluctantly removed her hand.

The meal progressed without further incident, and the couple fell into easy, far ranging conversation. On both sides it was a wonderful revelation to be able to talk to each other without editing their speech, or worrying about secrets and lies. There was still so much they had never been able to talk about. Giles held the image of her in his mind, memorizing everything she told him, building up her story, her past until he knew as much of her as he could. He swore silently that he would never forget a single word. Jenny didn't mind the mild interrogation. Not when those expressive eyes were locked on her, drinking in every word she uttered. There were women who would kill for this kind of attention from a man like him, and Jenny wanted to enjoy every moment. He already owned her body and her heart—she was more than willing to let him know the best and the worst about her.

'Am I asking too many questions?' Giles asked, suddenly aware that he had been quizzing her relentlessly.

'You think I'm going to object to having a captive audience for my life story?' Jenny grinned at him, then reached across and traced the side of his face with one finger. 'I love the fact that you want to know. I'm even prepared to tell you about my teenaged misadventures. Ask me anything.'

Jenny rolled her eyes. 'Umm, rebellious. Bet you didn't see that one coming, huh?'

'I did a lot of stuff to piss off my family. Going clubbing when I shouldn't have, bringing home highly unsuitable boyfriends just to annoy them. That sort of thing. I was looking for a way out.'

'But it isn't that easy,' Giles said sympathetically, taking hold of her hand and running his thumb across the back.

She squeezed his fingers gently. 'No, it isn't. And then I discovered computers, and with them a whole other world.'

Instead of the half-expected grimace, Jenny found her last words greeted with softly glowing jade eyes and an expression of contented curiosity.

'My people were…' Jenny paused, remembering the suffocating society she had been brought up in, and the sullen, mutinous teenager she had been. 'Well, they were strict. My mini-skirts were definitely frowned upon. And they didn't really approve of anything to do with the modern world, so, at first, I got into technology to annoy them. But then it became something could give me the spiritualism that I was used to and new ideas that I hadn't even dreamt of. Do you remember one of the first discussions we had about computers?'

Jenny laughed self-consciously. 'Can we call them lively debates and leave it at that? Anyway, I remember telling you that we were building a new society. That's what I loved about them. That I could escape into this place where people could share ideas and just be…free…from the past.' Her face fell slightly. 'Or as free as I could be from it. It never quite worked out that way.'

Giles nodded. 'I can understand that—trying to get away. It is more difficult when the thing you're trying to escape is part of you. At least you chose a more…beneficial route.'

Jenny looked at him before venturing cautiously, 'How-how bad were you? Y'know—in your day?'

Giles seemed to consider the question carefully, and then sighed. 'Oh… I was angry and stupid and confused. But mainly, I was scared. And towards the end I was bloody terrified. I caused my family a great deal of pain and worry—but I could never quite bring myself to be as truly bad as I liked to think I was at the time. Until Randall. That's when the terror set in.'

Jenny giggled. 'And at the time, you probably would've been just my type! So, is there anything more you need to know about my not-so illustrious past?'

'Er, just one thing,' Giles' eyes gleamed slightly. 'Just how short were these mini-skirts?'

The restaurant was still crowded. The live music was merrily—and loudly—coloring the air and the swell of conversation had risen proportionally over it. In their corner, Giles and Jenny had leaned closer together, their chairs inching across the floor until their knees were touching. Two pairs of hands lay entwined on the table. Giles traced small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

Jenny's eyes widened slightly, wondering how she could not have known that. The necklace was old and held many protection and healing charms. Perhaps, she thought, his having it was partly why she had always been able to feel a connection to him so readily.

'Willow gave it to me,' he continued. 'She found it. I-In your desk drawer… After…'

'I think it did. It felt…comforting to have something of yours so close to me. Tonight,' he broke off, taking a deep breath before he continued. 'Tonight is the first time I haven't had it with me.'

Her lips parted, but she couldn't find any words. For a moment, his face blurred before her eyes and she took a deep, shaky breath past the lump in her throat. He was cradling her face in both his hands and she could feel his warmth penetrating her skin, spreading through her. Jenny closed the short distance between them, pressing her lips against his. One hand tangled in her hair and she automatically twined her arms around his neck, replacing the memory of cold rose-colored stone with the reality of her warm flesh.

The kiss deepened and Jenny moaned softly as he gently nibbled her lower lip before once again stroking inside her mouth with his tongue. She moved closer, sliding out of her own chair and felt his strong arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She ran her hand over his chest, scraping her nails over his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt before linking her fingers behind his head.

Giles' hands remained chastely positioned: one at the back of her head, the other on her waist, but now he pulled her closer to him, his body hard against hers.

The intensity of their kisses lessened until Jenny pulled back slightly, her eyes still closed as she inhaled his scent. She half expected him to be embarrassed at their display in his endearingly British manner. Instead, he shifted under her, re-positioning them both so that she could perch more easily, his arms loosely around her waist.

'You're just full of surprises, England,' she said tenderly. 'I was expecting squirming. Even just a little one.'

He grinned back up at her. 'I think I've moved past the point of squirming, Darling.'

'I liked the squirming,' she replied, idly playing with his hair. 'It looked good on you.' Jenny lowered her head, briefly capturing his lips.

She laughed and then found her head being pulled down to meet his and any other thoughts were driven out of her mind.

The waiter looked over at the table and rolled his eyes. He should, really, go over and ask them to stop. But the restaurant was crowded and no one seemed to mind the couple in the corner. He had, in fact, seen worse during his time here. And there was just something about those two…

His breath was hot against her face as he answered and her eyes flickered closed at the sensation.

He leaned his forehead on her shoulder and groaned before looking up at her in weary resignation. 'Fine. But there is one condition.'

Jenny swallowed the liquid, unable to stop herself from wincing before she licked the salt out of the hollow in her hand and, gratefully, sucked the slice of lemon.

'Tequila. The only drink in the world that makes lemon juice taste good,' she stated.

Of all the places Jenny had expected him to choose, this was not it. The smoke-filled air alone had to be seventy-percent-proof and the number of people converging on the bar made it almost impossible to move. Giles had wedged them into a corner and had shown that he was not above deploying a strategically positioned elbow to ensure that they—or, at least, she—remain unmolested. The pounding salsa rhythms from the band meant that conversation could only be conducted by talking directly into someone's ear. Not that she objected to being pressed closely against Giles. Especially when his fingers kept skimming lightly up and down her arm. The light hitting his glasses made his eyes impossible to read, but she could see him smirking slightly. And she planned to wipe that smirk back off again.

Jenny nodded, watching as he stretched easily across the bar and motioning to the barman to refill their glasses. He seemed quite at home and Jenny was left pondering the thousand contradictions that made up the personality of this quirky, enigmatic man. Like the fact that he had sounded almost afraid when he had asked her if she was a witch and yet was capable of wielding a terrifying amount of power in his own right. And his battered old Citroen, which screamed poverty, had always belied the ridiculously expensive cologne he had his sister send over to him specially. But he had confounded her expectations of him from the moment they met. It was nice to know that some things never changed.

The drinks were placed next to them and Jenny saw, again, the faintly challenging smile on his lips. She waited until he had, meticulously, arranged his salt and lemon-wedge and then took hold of his hand. Keeping her eyes focused on his, Jenny swallowed the shot and then raised his hand to her mouth, slowly licking the salt from it before engulfing the lemon in her mouth, running her tongue over his fingers.

Giles took in a sharp breath, mesmerized as her mouth moved over his calloused fingers. Only when she released him did he raise his glass and downed the fiery liquid. He didn't flinch. He lowered his head towards her.

'I believe you wanted to dance.' His voice was husky and his eyes easily as smoky as the air around them.

Jenny nodded and found herself steered through the crowd until they reached the dance floor. It was full, but there was still enough room to move. Giles offered her his hand and Jenny laughed slightly at the sweetly old-fashioned gesture, allowing him to pull her towards him. It had been a long time since she had done this sort of dancing.

The floor was vibrating with the sheer volume of the music and Jenny could feel her body beginning to sway of its own accord. It was impossible to think, the only thing to do was feel. She realized that Giles was moving with her—nothing complicated but, to her delight, he evidently knew what he was doing. The piece ended just as they were beginning to fall into a rhythm together, but neither showed any signs of quitting the floor.

The band launched into a pounding, sensuous salsa and Jenny found herself pulled hard against him, one arm circling her waist with his hand resting low on her hip. Somehow her feet were moving, following his in a complicated pattern across the floor. His other hand held hers firmly and then she was suddenly spinning out, away from him before being brought back, their bodies colliding. She felt off balance, one foot raised off the floor. Giles took the opportunity to release her hand, cupping her behind the knee and then slowly trailing his hand up the back of her thigh. Jenny stroked his hip with her calf and he smiled slightly at her before allowing her foot to drop back down to the floor. She undulated against him, swinging her hips sensuously and feeling his pelvis pressed against hers. They were circling each other, eyes locked, his hands trailing down her arms as they pulled away in one of those flourishing maneuvers before coming together again. Giles bent her back in a low dip and Jenny wrapped one leg around the back of his thighs, leaning against the strength of his arm. He pulled her up and she gripped the back of his neck, flicking her tongue tantalizingly over his lips. Her heart was keeping time with the thundering, pulsating rhythm. His hands firmly gripped her hips, encouraging her to move against him. She raised her arms high above her head, laughing slightly as he slid his hands from her hips up her body until he took hold of her hands and then pinned them behind her back. He dipped her again, lower and Jenny gasped as she felt him place a kiss between her breasts. She re-surfaced and he released her arms. Jenny held him at arm's length for a moment, deliberately swaying her body seductively before twining her arms around his neck just as he pulled her back into his arms and the music ended.

They stood, gasping slightly and Giles pushed damp strands of hair away from her face. She gazed at him in amazement, her entire body buzzing. The band struck up again, this time in a slower tempo. Jenny rested her head on Giles' shoulder and they began a slow, meandering circuit around the floor. When she moved her head to look at him she found his eyes fixed on her, sparkling humorously.

He laughed to himself at her expression and considered seeing how far he could torment her over this, but then changed his mind. Instead he raised her hand to his lips, kissing it softly before resting it over his heart and drew her a little closer to him.

'Many years ago, my sister decided to take up Latin American dancing. She used to make me practice with her.'

'Well, I rather felt that I owed it to her, at the time,' he said softly and then a smile crept over his face. 'We'd roll back the rugs in the drawing room and put my Santana records on full-blast. I remember once she dragged the potted palms in from the conservatory—apparently they added an authentic touch of Buenos Aires.'

There was a wistful expression in his eyes and he stared a little beyond her, lost in the memories of those distant days. For a moment he looked incredibly young and Jenny couldn't stop herself from running her hand down the side of his face. He started slightly and then smiled self-consciously.

'Perhaps. But the real version is so much better.' She gave him a mock frown. 'Just as long as that's not how you used to-'

'Definitely not,' Giles supplied hastily and then grinned. 'That was entirely down to your inspiration.'

They smiled, a warm current of happiness and understanding passing between them. For that moment, each saw their own expression on the other's face.

The cold blast of air came as a welcome relief after the stultifying atmosphere of the club. Jenny turned her face upwards, enjoying the tingling sensation in her cheeks and pushed her hair out of her face. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Giles' arm closed around her and she nuzzled into his shoulder. Under his jacket, his shirt was clinging to his body and she could feel heat radiating off him. The alcohol in her system seemed to react to the night air and she felt incredibly light headed, hardly feeling the ground beneath her feet. The only thing she was sure of was the solid warmth next to her, and so she clung onto him. In response, Giles kissed her hair and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. His hair was darkened and spiky with perspiration and his eyes were glittering an unearthly sliver-green. Alcohol and the all-pervading magic had loosened his inhibitions and he could feel the mystical currents flowing more strongly than ever.

Jenny recognized the expression in his eyes: she had seen it fleetingly in the past, but he had usually buried it, albeit only shallowly. Now he wasn't bothering to hide.

The glittering eyes focused sharply on her, now almost pure silver mirrors in their intense clarity.

They stopped abruptly in the middle of the boulevard, facing each other, ignoring the people who nearly walked into them.

Giles removed his glasses and gazed into her face, his hands lightly on her shoulders.

Jenny complied and then immediately opened them again when she felt his fingers press against her forehead.

She closed her eyes again, this time prepared for his fingers running in a straight line from the bridge of her nose up to her hair line and back again. And then his voice, telling her to breathe—it seemed to come from the air around her and from inside her head at the same time. His hands ran down the contours of her face and came to rest on the sides of her arms, his fingers gently caressing her. There was a strange feeling of disassociation growing, as though she was separated from her surroundings by panes of glass and yet she could feel and hear everything far more acutely. She had fallen into a pattern of deep, regular breaths and could hear him murmuring strange words in some dead language. It was a hypnotic sound. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling and then the feeling spread over her skin.

Everything was bathed in gold: it swirled in currents, occasionally increasing in density and she could see thin tendrils reaching out and twining themselves around people or following unseen paths down the narrow side-streets. Jenny stretched out a tentative hand and met resistance as though she were moving underwater.

'It's amazing,' she said, her voice sounding far away. 'Is this how you see things?'

Giles smiled slightly. 'Only sometimes. Can't really get away from it here—it's too strong.'

She felt something: a whisper, a breath against her mind. The sensation was wholly alien, and yet she knew immediately where it had come from.

'There's more than you've shown me. Rupert, don't you understand? What you feel, what you see here—I want to see it. I want to feel what you feel.'

He took a deep breath and released it shakily; Jenny took hold of his face and forced him to look at her.

'I want to share this with you. I trust you. I love you. This is part of who you are. Please, let me in.'

The life of the city had not decreased around them, but Jenny still felt separated from it by that thick golden mist. Under Giles' instruction, she had closed her eyes again and had resumed her deep breathing, His voice was working its hypnotic spell again and she began to focus deep within herself. She seemed to be floating: half of her was aware of her physical body, standing in the middle of that golden street, safe in his arms; the other half had retreated, finding the burning white light buried deep down.

'Can you see it?' His voice was so gentle, she wasn't certain that she had actually heard it, but she nodded.

The light vanished and she was plunged into darkness. It closed around her, warm and heavy and she was aware of an echoing throb in her ears. Her heartbeat. And then something insinuated itself into the velvety blackness—a thin, curving line of silver that suddenly flared green.

It swirled, slowly extending itself like a web as though it were trying to fill her completely. His essence, his magic—the most private part of himself, he had placed within her. It seemed to be calling to her; summoning up something ancient and primal within herself that she hadn't been aware existed. And then there was a spark—it rose up until one thin tendril appeared on the edge of that dark place. It glowed softly bronze, flecked with gold.

The two colors danced around each other—parting and then spiraling around. The bronze became denser, more solid and as it began to weave an answering mesh of its own, Jenny became aware that the thundering in her ears had doubled. Two hearts were beating in synch and she knew that she had been drawn into him as deeply as he had entered her. The sliver-green and the rich bronze swirled closer together; tiny sparks jumped the gap between them as they resonated together and Jenny felt a powerful wave of pleasure roll through her. They raced toward each other, parted, chased each other, growing all the time in strength, glowing more brightly as they continued the wild dance. A tiny part of Jenny's mind reminded her that she was standing in the middle of a crowded street, in the middle of the night. The thought, as far as it went, only seemed to heighten the pleasure that was coursing through her.

The colors corkscrewed around each other, generating white-hot sparks of bliss and then, just when it seemed they would burn themselves out, they fused together. There was a dazzling burst of brilliance, almost unbearable in its intensity. It contracted to a pinpoint and then exploded.

Blood thundered through her head, every molecule in her body was shaken loose and mixed with his. They were riding each other, with each other, endlessly, beyond language or understanding but knowing they were traveling as one.

Slowly they began to come down, regaining awareness of themselves. Jenny felt herself trembling uncontrollably—the only thing keeping her upright was the pair of arms holding her tightly. She buried her face in his shirtfront, inhaling his scent and heard him murmuring her name reverently. It was sometime before she was able to raise her head and look at him. His eyes still had the occasional flash of silver, but they had returned to their usual muted jade.

'Only once,' he replied, gazing at her, astounded by her and what had happened. 'But it was nothing like that.'

They found each other's lips, kissing desperately, both acutely aware of every part of the other. Consciousness of their surroundings began to filter through and, eventually, they began to walk slowly down the street. To Jenny, everything seemed more in focus: every sound was clearer, every sight more defined and over all of it she was vaguely aware of humming currents of gold. Tiny sparks and flickers were still working their way through her and she could feel their echo within the man next to her.

If this was how it felt dealing with strong magic, then Jenny could fully understand how anybody could be seduced by it. She had been present at castings, had witnessed spells when the air had crackled with their electricity, but she had never known anything like what they had shared. And what seemed even more astounding was that it had been entirely natural—there was no bargaining with gods, no borrowing of power. Whatever it was he had unleashed in her had always been there and he had only revealed to her his own innate power. She was still buzzing from the experience, but was increasingly aware of the air around them, and the fact that it had become distinctly chilly. Jenny shivered and nuzzled closer to him.

Giles stopped, hastily removing his jacket. 'I'm sorry, I-I should have realized…'

'Ah, but you're forgetting where I'm from!' He gestured to the cool, empty air. 'This is nothing!'

Jenny smiled up at him and then leant into the curve of his arm. 'As long as you're sure. But if you get cold…'

Giles cupped her cheek, exploring her mouth in a languorous kiss before pulling back and gazing into her melting eyes.

Jenny looked about, grimacing slightly as a passing car honked its horn brazenly.

Giles considered this. 'There's a park—well, a sort of wood really—close to the hotel. Would that do?'

Giles glanced into the street. 'And, if I'm not mistaken, our taxi is heading towards us.'

Jenny followed his gaze and spotted an old-fashioned, horse-drawn carriage making its way up the street, and sighed in relief.

'Oh, thank you Gods and Goddesses in your mercy! I think my feet would have gone on strike!'

The horse stretched its head towards them, sniffing them cautiously as the driver turned the open-air carriage toward them. It whinnied excitedly and tossed its head with a snort. Giles gallantly handed Jenny into the carriage before taking his place next to her. The aged leather seat was soft and comfortable as Jenny and Giles settled themselves for their journey north.

The motion of the carriage, the night air and the comforting warmth of the body she was resting against, were making Jenny increasingly drowsy. They had begun the drive sitting decorously next to each other, but had ended up entwined together. She was, quite happily, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat when she felt his chest shaking and heard a low rumbling.

'You. "Oh, let's get out of the city," she says. Five minutes later, you're fast asleep.'

'Huh?' Jenny looked around and realized that the carriage had, indeed, come to a halt next to a large expanse of darkened parkland. 'Oh. That was quick.'

'Mmmm,' Giles responded, handing a bundle of notes to the driver. 'Funny how sleeping will do that for you.'

'I was not asleep!' she reiterated, ignoring his offer of assistance as she descended. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Jenny felt her knees buckling beneath her and was grateful for Giles' steadying hands on her shoulders.

'Okay, maybe I was just dozing slightly,' she admitted. 'That doesn't mean you get to pick on the tired person. Where the hell do you get all the energy from, anyway?'

Their taxi trundled down the street and Giles glanced after it, concern replacing the amused grin on his face. 'But if you would sooner go back to the hotel, I-I could call the driver.'

Jenny smiled, shaking her head. 'Nah. I'm refreshed after my…nap. Anyway, the fresh air will do me good.'

The park was cool and sweet, the air redolent with the scent of pine, wood and damp earth. The sky was a deep, velvety blue and without the glare of electric lighting, the stars burned with a fierce beauty. Silver-tinged clouds raced across the moon so that the scene was occasionally plunged into darkness, occasionally flooded with moonlight. But at irregular intervals in the dark, they could see flames that spoke of campfires and hear the hum of voices, broken by the odd shout of laughter.

'Seems like we're not the only ones here tonight,' Jenny commented, pulling Giles' jacket closer around her shoulders. A sudden thought struck her. 'Do you think it's safe?'

Giles frowned slightly. 'I think so. I haven't felt any vampiric activity so far tonight, a-and it doesn't sound as though there has been any trouble,' he added, nodding in the general direction of the fires.

It was Jenny's turn to frown. 'I never really had you down as the Boy Scout type, Rupert. And I think I would have noticed if you had a stake concealed on your person.'

Jenny plunged her hands into the jacket pockets and discovered a stake in one and what felt like a phial in the other. She hazarded a guess that it was holy water.

It had taken only a few moments of walking across the grass for Jenny to bend down and take her shoes off. She stood still for a few moments, wriggling her toes between the damp blades and enjoying the feel of soft dark earth beneath her feet. Giles watched her, admiring the way the moonlight turned her thin, clinging dress a translucent sliver and highlighted the rich darkness of her hair.

'You have no idea how good this feels,' Jenny said. She took in a deep breath of air and stretched out her arms, arching her back, before dropping them back to her sides with a contented sigh, her shoes dangling from one hand. She looked at Giles and found him gazing at her. 'A night like this is too good to waste standing still.'

One of his fleeting, brilliant smiles crossed his face and he held out his hand to her silently.

They roamed through the park, avoiding the occasionally raucous groups who had elected to hold their festivities in the open. Both were still aware of the blanket of magic that enveloped their surroundings—for Jenny, it had become a slight mist that hovered on the edges of her consciousness, more apparent when she didn't concentrate on it. After some time, Jenny noticed that the same, wistful expression she had seen on his face earlier had returned.

'Wha…I-I, er…' He ducked his head away from her, and even in the semi-dark she could tell that a blush was creeping up his cheeks.

'Tell me,' Jenny urged. 'I don't bite! Well, not much.' She looked at him guiltily and he laughed.

'I-it's really nothing,' he protested and then sighed in defeat. 'I was just remembering when I was a child and I used to go walking in the woods... There was a story I used to read a-and there was this huge tree in it that led to different worlds-'

'The Magic Far-Away Tree,' Jenny interrupted, her eyes luminous. 'I loved that when I was little.'

An expression of relief spread over Giles' face and he relaxed visibly. 'It was the forest that I loved—the trees that could talk to each other. Every time I passed a tree I used to wonder… I was convinced that if I caught one at the right time, or listened hard enough, I would hear them.'

Jenny's eyes were dark pools, their depths unreadable. Her head was tilted to one side and she watched him for a few moments and then slowly turned away at the same time stretching out one hand until her fingers touched the nearest tree.

'He looks friendly,' she remarked, gently stroking the satin-smooth bark. She moved toward it and then wrapped her slender arms around the trunk and pressed her ear against it. Her dark eyes focused on Giles and she smiled.

'Nothing,' she said sadly. 'He might be friendly, but I don't think that he likes me.'

Giles was transfixed, drinking in the sight. In the moonlight, her skin glowed pale silver and her hair was the color of night. With her arms wound around the curved trunk of the tree, she looked like a wood nymph.

'How can I let her go?' he thought desperately and felt a sudden panic rising in his chest.

Jenny seemed to sense his thoughts: she crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck, his jacket slipping off her shoulders, and kissed him. He had barely responded to her caresses when she pulled away from him.

'Catch me if you can!' she said, eyes sparkling with mischief. She took off, running lightly over the grass. Giles stared after her for a moment and then followed, the momentary anguish banished for a little while longer. He could hear her laughter and her voice echoing through the night air, urging him to catch up with her. When he did, eventually, laughing breathlessly, he scooped her up in his arms, spinning them both around. They came to a dizzy halt, gazing at one another. Jenny stroked the side of his face.

'Ah. W-well, I'm… Now that you mention it, it is somewhat cooler than I thought.'

Giles slid the entry card through the slot at the side of his door. It shouldn't have been a difficult task, but the little light obstinately refused to turn from red to green and so, for the moment, they were trapped in the hallway.

'What the bloody hell was wrong with bloody keys?' he wondered, viciously swiping the card again. His concentration wasn't aided by the fact that Jenny was pressed against his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and she was kissing his neck, her breath distractingly warm against his skin. He groaned slightly as she nipped his flesh and nearly dropped the card. Giles took a deep breath, made a valiant effort to pull himself together and passed the card through the slot. There was a click and the door swung open. They stumbled into the room, almost defying the laws of physics in their attempt to occupy the same space at the same time. Giles pressed Jenny against the back of the door, his mouth plundering hers, his hands roaming over her body. Somehow, they maneuvered across the floor, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, slowly shedding layers of clothes until Jenny felt the bed at the back of her knees and sank down onto it. Giles followed her down, one hand on either side of her. The residual sparks of the connection they had shared earlier flared back into life and Jenny became as aware of every particle in his body as she was her own. She arched her hips toward him when she felt his tip pressing against her and let out a sob of relief when he entered her. Her limbs were wrapped tightly around him, urging him deeper. Giles responded to her, sliding his hands along her legs and then gently raising them so they rested on his shoulders, letting out a deep growl as he penetrated her further. Jenny could barely move in this position—all she could do was let him take her, and pull his head down to hers. Her lips were salty from the tears that were streaming down her cheeks and Giles kissed them away, murmuring her name.

'I love you so much,' she whispered and then gasped as she felt her climax building. It pulsed deep within her from where they were joined and then raced through her, white light blinded her and she heard two voices crying out together. Giles collapsed on top of her, his ragged breath hot against her neck. They lay still until Giles began to move off her.

Her legs slipped down the sides of his body until she could wrap them loosely around his waist and then cradled his head against her chest.

Giles chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her, one hand idly caressing her breast. 'Occasionally.'

'Any plans on updating your repertoire? Maybe adding…oh, I dunno, a bit of Lenny Kravitz or something?'

'Funny you should mention that. I actually do a very nice rendition of American Woman.'

The slightly altered position had reminded both that they were still joined. Jenny wriggled slightly under her lover, eliciting a groan from him.

In that quiet time between night and dawn, the city was lulled into a momentary rest. The sky had lightened to blue-tinged gray, but the sun had not yet put in an appearance. On the balcony of one of the topmost floors of the building, two figures stood. They hadn't bothered to dress again: they had wrapped their dressing gowns around themselves and emerged into the chilly air, preparing to face the inevitable.

'I could keep you here,' he grasped her shoulders, his voice rough at the edges. 'There are ways, spells, do you know that? I could keep you with me. Always.'

'No.' He released her, leaning heavily against the wall behind him. 'No, I…I couldn't do that to you. Damn it.'

Jenny took a step toward him. 'I didn't choose to leave you, Rupert. I don't choose it now. But even though it may not seem like it, I do choose to be with you. I'm always with you, one way or another.' She paused, her eyes searching his face. 'Have you ever heard it said that when you die, someone you loved comes for you?'

Jenny smiled softly. 'My dad. He died when I was very young. But he came. And I will come for you. I'll wait, and when the time is right, I'll come for you. But until then, I don't want to see you up there.'

'I don't want you up there!' Her eyes flashed dangerously. 'I know what you're like, you take too many risks.'

'Yes you do! You always want to save everyone else and you put yourself in danger. And don't you dare try to rationalize getting yourself killed by going out in a blaze of self-sacrificing glory. Buffy needs you too much. And Xander. And Willow—hell, the whole world needs you, whether you know it or not.'

'Of course I do. I've waited this long—I can afford to wait a bit longer. But you have to wait, too. And you have to keep doing what you're doing. You can't let it be for nothing.'

'Jenny. Janna. I have never loved anyone the way that I love you. I never will. Oh, my darling, you mean the world to me!' He sighed, but a faint smile appeared. 'I'll wait. You're worth waiting eternity for.'

Jenny leaned into his caress and felt her eyes suddenly fill with tears. 'There was so much I still wanted to say to you!'

'The next time,' Jenny repeated softly. 'The next time, you won't be getting rid of me.'

He sighed, giving her a watered-down version of the famous glare before relenting. 'Very well; I promise.'

Jenny placed both hands on his chest and took a deep breath. 'I need you to live. And I mean really live, no holding back. Enjoy your life and if you find a chance for happiness, take it.'

The greatest happiness he had ever known was standing in front of him, her beautiful dark eyes full of pride and love and passion. She had never run from life—maybe he owed it to her to do the same. Giles wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest and burying his face in her hair.

Jenny's lips found his and she gave herself entirely in that kiss. He felt her solid warmth pressed against him and then, suddenly, the warmth of the sun as the first pale rays pierced the steely dawn. Heat penetrated his body, sweeping through, dulling his senses to everything else. And with it came calm, rest and a rich happiness. He stood, feeling it play across the edges of his mind, searching for a resting place. The sun grew steadily brighter, enveloping the solitary figure on the balcony, continuing its relentless invasion of the empty air.

Buffy knocked sharply on the door, not bothering to wait for a reply before she bounded in.

'Giles!' She beamed at the figure straightening up behind the breakfast-bar and fought back the urge to throw her arms around his neck. 'You're back!'

'Either that or I'm my own evil doppelganger,' Giles replied, smiling patiently.

Buffy cringed inwardly. She was, she knew, rapidly turning into babble-girl. The last few days had been amongst the longest and most frustrating of her life: but the instant she had seen Giles, everything slipped back into place and she was able to draw the first clear breath since he had left. Everything was back to normal. Well, almost normal. The turmoil of emotions was still there, but it didn't seem as overwhelming. Something to be filed away and discussed with him at a later point. Like when he wasn't slightly jet-lagged.

'So, how was Mexico?' Buffy hopped up onto one of the stools. 'Did you bring us any souvenirs?'

Giles smiled to himself. He should have known that his Slayer would sweep into his home like a tiny blonde hurricane only a few hours after his return.

'It was either this or a complete set of Day of the Dead posable skeletons,' he replied dryly.

'Good call on the piñata!' Buffy stroked its nose and smiled. 'I've never had one of these.'

Giles leaned against the breakfast bar. 'I-I thought that it was something you could all enjoy together. You can take turns, well, er…hitting it. A-and then-'

'All partake of the chocolaty goodness when it breaks!' Buffy finished. 'But we'll have to fight Xander for the candy. You do know that, right?'

'The thought had occurred to me,' Giles replied and they shared a knowing grin at the expense of their absent friend. 'I'm also half-expecting to receive a lecture from Willow defending the rights of chocolate-filled papier-mâché donkeys everywhere.'

Buffy giggled—the vacation had evidently not removed the layers of acid from Giles's tongue.

'Even she has to admit that a piñata's role in life is to be hit with big sticks.' She narrowed her eyes as a thought struck her. 'Wait a minute, this is just part of your on-going mission to make me do more target-practice, isn't it?'

Giles laughed. 'And I thought I was being so subtle,' he teased. 'Would you like some tea?'

Buffy shook her head. 'Not tonight, Josephine. And none for you either. That's the other reason I'm here—I am to escort you to the great Scooby reunion.'

'Uh-huh. You, me, Will and Xander—the original and best. We decided that it's grown-up time at the Espresso Pump—or, at least, it's Giles-time. They're waiting for us so you can tell us all about the vacation.'

Giles looked at her eager face and felt a rush of affection. He had no plans for the evening beyond unpacking, and he had, more or less, done that already. Maybe it would do him good to get out of the house for the night—it wasn't as though Buffy would leave him much of an option anyway.

'I'm glad you're back!' Buffy blurted out suddenly. She dropped her eyes and fiddled with an invisible something on the bar. 'I-I missed you.'

She slid off the stool and started to walk across the room, but Giles had caught her hand and pulled her gently toward him. Buffy's eyes widened as her resolutely non-touchy-feely Watcher dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Giles rested a hand lightly on her shoulder and Buffy automatically took hold of his wrist, holding his gaze. For the first time, she looked at him properly. Giles looked different: there was something in his eyes… Buffy realized, with a jolt, what it was. A shadow that had fallen across his eyes on that horrific night so many years ago… It had been there for so long that Buffy had stopped noticing. Now, she noticed it by its absence. Or not quite absence: it had not lifted completely, but it had receded. Instead, his eyes had regained something of the hope—almost innocence—that had gone away when his love had died.

Giles gave Buffy's shoulder a gentle squeeze and dropped his hand, walking past her and up the stairs.

She could hear him moving about upstairs and leant heavily against the banister, more confused than ever.

Giles ran his hands through his hair, thankful that he had showered and shaved after his flight. At least he would look presentable. He pulled the jacket on and felt something heavy knock against his hip. For a moment, he hesitated, uncertain, and then delved into the pocket. Giles pulled out a handful of rose-colored stone and stood, staring at it. The moments ticked by until, with a deep shaky breath, Giles walked across to the dresser and resolutely placed the necklace on it. He spread it out, lovingly running his fingers over the delicate quartz. For one more moment he looked at it, his hand still hovering over the cool surface and then, squaring his shoulders, he turned. It was fleeting—only a split second—but out of the corner of his eye, Giles caught a flash of gleaming dark hair. Smiling, he descended the stairs, tendrils of gold-flecked bronze tightening slightly around his heart, and rich gypsy laughter echoing in his ears.

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Et In Arcadia Ego

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