LEGAL: The characters belong to Joss and whatever network has current rights. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

The sun would be up soon. Another dull Saturday night in Sunnydale, California.

Jenny Calendar pulled her jacket around her shoulder, stretching the sore muscles in her neck and upper back as she tried to get her bearings. Spike and his boys had been exceptionally fun-filled, and it had taken the efforts of all of them to keep Buffy from becoming Notch Number Three on list of dead Slayers.

The graveyard had once been such a kinky spot for dates. Now, searching the uneven expanse of headstones, she longed for dinner and a movie with Giles. The object of her thoughts was near a long-forgotten grave, helping poor Willow back to her feet. It had rained that afternoon, and the girl had slipped and turned her ankle running from one of Spike's minions. Standing there, both covered in mud, Giles and Willow wore bizarre expressions, both cautious and comical. She tried not to smile as her somewhat-sorta boyfriend valiantly lifted and carried the girl to the nearest bench.

It seemed to be the gathering spot, as Buffy and Xander join the pair, followed as always by the shadowy form of Angel. Jenny felt the chill down her spine, the mixture of resentment and blood-fury she could never quite shake in his presence.

Blood-fury was easy. Once upon a time in the history of her family, her real family, Angelus the Vampire had feasted on her ancestor. Hers was the gypsy clan who had doomed Angel to his current hell as a vampire with a soul. Hers was the responsibility to see that he enjoyed the full benefit of that doom.

The resentment was harder. She looked at him now, protective and fierce in his defense of a Slayer he once would have dined on. How could she reconcile his face, his actions, with the gruesome crime for which he still paid penance? How could she reconcile her current life, her sweetly doddering librarian of a boyfriend, these brave, bright kids, with the generations of vengeance she'd inherited?

It was a hard, cold world, she concluded as the joined the gang, the same look of blase perkiness she reserved for Angel's presence transforming her face once again from Janna to Jenny.

***

"No. It's simply not necessary."

Giles was being stubborn. On another night, she'd have thought it cute. This close to sun-up after a night in the Dead-Man Disco, and Jenny was losing her patience. "Point one. You got hit. Hard. Point two. I don't trust you in that rolling death-trap when you're fully functional, much less when you're tired and dazed from Spike-hunting." She smiled at his protests, mumbled and incoherent, proof perfect that she was right. "You'd probably forget you're in America, drive on the wrong side of the road, and then where would Sunnydale be?"

"Without a high school librarian?" he murmured, his eyes sparkling slightly as he once more gave in to her logic.

"You hate when I'm right, don't you?" A smile played on her lips. He *was* cute.

"Yes, actually. I do hate when you're right." He leaned over, brushing his lips over her cheeks, and deposited the disputed car keys in her hand. "I am rather tired. But so are you."

"Deal with it, Watcher Boy." She practically dragged him to her car, pushing him firmly towards the passenger door as she pressed the automatic lock on her key chain. Once he was situated, she crossed in front of the car, waving to the kids as they drove by in Cordelia's convertible. That Cordelia would even speak to the "Scooby gang," was amazing enough. That she would let them ride in her car, even at this deserted hour, was beyond amazing.

But some things were just plain unexpected, Jenny thought as she slipped into the driver's seat. Giles sat next to her, his chin heavy against his chest, eyes closed in sleep. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him for a long moment. Some things were so unexpected.

She didn't wake him as she turned the ignition and started the journey back to her place.

****

Giles woke to a crashing headache and a great deal of confusion. Somewhere along the way, the sun had thought it would be fun to shine right into his blood-shot eyes.

"I'm getting too old for this," he murmured, rolling over amidst a pile of pillows.

"Of course not, Rupert. You're as young as you feel."

Giles yawned. Of course, Jenny would find a way to turn even a compliment into a contradiction. She was maddening....

Giles bolted upright. "Jenny?"

She sat across the room--not his room,he suddenly began to realize--arms folded across her chest as she grinned broadly. "Morning, Sunshine. Nice of you to join the human race."

"Jenny...I...um..." He felt the blood rushing to his face, a sensation only aggravated by the growing awareness that he wore only his boxer shorts and a bedspread. "Were you watching me sleep?" He looked frantically from his own state of undress to her Cheshire cat grin. "Did we...?"

She stood, revealing a pair of long, slender legs barely covered by shorts Giles knew could not possibly be legal, even in America. She wore a Grateful Dead halter top, precariously held in place by tie-died strings at her neck and waist. Her hair was pulled back in a careless pony-tail, girlish and erotic at the same time. "Did we what?" she murmured, crossing the room in slow, seductive strides.

"Er..." He couldn't tear his eyes from her legs. "Did we, um..."

She leaned over the side of the bed, drawing so near he could feel her warm breath curling against the inside of his ear. "Fuck like adrenaline-crazed bunnies?" she whispered.

"Jenny!" Giles shuddered, pulling slightly away, the sudden motion shifting her so she fell laughing onto the bed next to him.

"Rupert, you're so easy." She was laughing at him. Not with him, he was sure. "You were wiped after last night's little gore-fest, so I brought you here." She pulled a pillow from under his head, laughing again as it flopped onto the mattress below.

"Then we didn't..." Giles nodded pointedly. "You know?"

Jenny Calendar gave him a look that could melt steel, or at least the heart of one very confused Brit. "No. We did not...you know." She grinned and leaned over to trace her finger across his lower lip, sending chills through his entire body. "You would have remembered. I guarantee."

With that, she was out of the bed in a single bound. Giles felt the hard shiver course through his body. She had that effect on him. In every other situation, Rupert Giles was a man of calm, steady rationale. A gentleman and a scholar, unfazed by demon, vampire, or sophomore study hall.

But Jenny Calendar could turn him into a blithering imbecile in twenty seconds flat. And she was just playing for the first fifteen.

He had to say something. She was standing there, in that impossibly sexy outfit, watching him watch her. He felt an unnerving pressure between his legs, and decided it was time to take control of the situation. "Why...um, why didn't you just bring me home?" he managed to sputter.

"Didn't like the bed? I put the teddy bears in the closet for you."

"Did you?" He should his head. Don't get distracted. "Why--"

"Rupert, you were exhausted. You and Buffy have been researching ancient prophecies for days on end. And you've had the yearly library inventory hanging over your head. AND Spike decides to hold a rave in the graveyard, with your head as the dance floor." She gave him a gentle look. "I felt better with you here. Besides, someone has to bring you to retrieve the Gilesmobile, although in my humble opinion you should have it towed away as scrap metal and collect what you can in trade."

He grinned despite his embarrassment. "I slept in your bed." Now that his head was beginning to clear, it was obvious to him that the bed had had only one occupant. "You?"

"Comfiest couch in the universe." She laughed at his horrified expression. "I do it all the time, Giles. Now, stop lounging away our Sunday. We have school tomorrow, and you still owe me a date."

"Ah..." He began to get out of bed, then remembered his state of undress. "Could you--"

"Your clothes are in the bathroom. I'll meet you in the kitchen. You can't miss it. Just follow the trail of floppy disks."

"I'll just be a moment."

"Do that. Because you're cooking breakfast, Mister."

And she was gone. Giles watched the closed door for a long time after she left. Jenny Calendar would either make him the happiest man in the world....

Or kill him in the process.

*****

"'Lavender is well known for its headache-relieving qualities. Rosemary strengthens the memory and can soothe tension headaches.'" Jenny read as she leaned over the laptop, juggling the mug in one hand and several jars of herbs in the other. "Good. That should work." She put the jars on the counter, then pulled out a few more. "Add in a dash of rose oil, mugwort, and clove, along with copious amounts of sugar and we are talking serious headache relief."

"Really, Jenny. If you have a tin of Earl Grey, I'd be just as--"

"Nothing doing, Mister. You're not adding caffeine to that headache." She stopped, for a moment hearing the sound of her grandmother in her own voice. Stepping back, she looked at her own personal Clark Kent. "Too much?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Er..a litte." He smiled, and Jenny felt her heart jump in a most un-Cosmo Girl fashion.

"I'm sorry. I don't keep actual tea in the house. I could go to the store and--"

He took her hands in his. "No, please, Jenny. You've already done enough. I'm afraid if you keep this up, I shall become quite spoiled."

She couldn't help but feel a tug in her heart. She wanted to spoil this man. She wanted to take his pain away, and his loneliness, and his fear. "It's my fault you have the headache, Rupert." It was true. He'd taken a blow to the head intended for her, pulling her out of harm's way just in time. Leaning forward, she placed a deep, soft kiss on his lips. "You're my Superman. You've earned a bit of spoiling."

*That* flustered him. A laugh escaped her as said hero blushed furiously and began to fuss with the jars of herbs. "Lavender, you say? I'm familiar with various herbal reme--"

She kissed him again, hard enough to end his skittish words, soft enough to lure him against her. Again she felt the power. She felt it most of the times they kissed, but it was strongest in battle. Rupert Giles was no mere mild-mannered librarian. Jenny had had a gift from childhood for sensing energy in people, and the energy this man possessed could light the Empire State Building for a week.

He hid it. He shied from it. But in her heart of hearts, Jenny knew Giles was magically powerful. His strength shivered through her cells, even when he fought so hard to hide it. With training, she guessed he'd make one hell of a High Priest. That is, if he could be pulled away from his books and Watching long enough to train.

Which, of course, he'd never do. She stepped back, both of them catching their breath as the kiss caught up with them. Giles had lost the look of bewildered amusement he so often wore in her presence. His face was solemn, almost sad.

"What's wrong?"

He lowered his eyes. "This. This is wrong." He turned slightly, as if considering his words. "Jenny, I find myself becoming increasingly drawn to you as time passes."

"And that's bad why?"

Shaking his head, he drew in a long breath. "My life is too...dangerous. Last night we were lucky. The next time--"

She sat next to him, tenderly grasping his face in her hands. "We'll deal with the next time, next time, Rupert."

"There isn't going to be a next time." His jaw tightened under her touch. "Jenny, there can be no next time. It's bad enough the kids insist on joining Buffy on these midnight jaunts, but I will not have you in danger." There was a defiant tilt to his head as he added, "I'm putting my foot down."

It took her a moment to register what he'd said. Did he just *forbid* her to participate in hunts? Did he just go all John Wayne on her, like she was some frail little girl who needed to be protected at all costs? "Excuse me?" A slight laugh escaped her lips. "I'm sorry. I thought I just heard you forbid me to go to a public cemetary on my free time."

"Jenny, I beseech you. Now is not the time for one of your stubborn spells. Spike--"

"Stubborn??" She felt the rage growing in her blood. "Of all the arrogant, priggish..." She sputtered, words eluding her for a moment. "MALE things you have ever said, this takes the cake. I am not some cute little bimbo--"

"Jenny!" He reached for her, pulling her into a hard embrace. Softly, he said, "I didn't mean to insult you. I'm sorry." He waited as she calmed down, then continued in a subdued tone. "I accepted long ago that my duties at Watcher would preclude the need for old age retirement planning."

"Giles." She smiled despite herself.

Looking deep into her eyes, he spoke earnestly and without hesitation. "I long ago accepted that I would die in performance of my duty. I don't like it. I don't want it. But I accept it and am willing to make that sacrifice for the greater good." His gaze hardened slightly. "But I never agreed to put someone I love at risk. I could die tomorrow, and I'd know my life had served its purpose." His hand stroked her back slowly. "But if I lost you... If I lost you, there would be no greater good. There would be no good at all."

"You can't protect me from life, Rupert," she whispered into his shirt. It smelled spicy and Giles-y, a scent she'd come to crave like her next breath of oxygen. "You're not the only one who serves a higher good, you know. Even if I'd never met you and the kids, I would be fighting the good fight, putting myself at risk."

It was partially true. Even as she said the words, she knew her slight omission concerning Angel constituted the worst of lies. How could she tell him? How could she trust him not to hate her? Duty burned hot in both of them, inheritors of a horrible trust established by nameless ancestors long before either of them was born.

"I would die if I lost you," he whispered.

She kissed his cheek, then his closed eyes and brows. "Rupert."

His look of utter loss and fear cut through her soul like a blade. Rupert Giles was the most incredible being she'd ever encountered in her travels. Smart, noble, powerful, *straight*, and open to her interest in the occult. He had his arrogant moments, but overall, he was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time.

It had to end. She felt rather than heard the thought. Duty, vengeance, legacy--it had to end somewhere. We're two people in the 21st century, she thought, sacrificing our lives to battles left over from people we never knew.

"It has to end," she murmured.

"What has to end?"

Jenny stepped back, pulling his hands until they rested on her shoulders. Untying the straps of her halter, she swiftly wrapped them around his wrists, tucking the ends into his startled grasp. "I'm sick of playing by other peoples' rules."

Poor Rupert stared at her wide-eyed. She almost felt sorry for him. There wasn't much he could do at this point. If he pulled back, he would reveal the very body he was struggling so valiently not to ogle. If he moved forward, he would be pressed against said body. Jenny smiled. He was adorable. He was in love with her.

And she wasn't about to let her family destroy her chance at true happines. She untied the waist straps and stepped back, revealing her body bare body to him. In one fluid motion, she'd removed her shorts and panties. Giles stood paralyzed. She reached out to take one of his arms and lead him to the bedroom.

"Come on, Giles. Let's go make some noise."

*****

He stumbled. His mind tossed in a storm. His body blazed in a long-forgotten inferno. He could feel the two warring within--Ripper, Rupert, Id, Superego. Her scent intoxicated him, confusing what should have been such a clear and simple issue.

Rupert and Ripper. The Twin Brothers, he thought them. One who gave, one who took. He couldn't remember a time when they hadn't warred within him. After Eyghon, after his break with Ethan and the darkness of his mispent youth, Rupert had dominated every aspect of life. Turning to duty, to learning, to responsibility, he had effectively imprisoned that darker side of him.

With it had been imprisoned his passions, his desires, even his magical strength. A small price to pay, Rupert Giles had decided long ago, if it meant keeping the world safe from his own folly. It had never been a problem before. The strength he used in battle was controlled, focused. His "training" with Buffy was as much for his benefit as her own. Nothing like having a 16-year-old girl pound you silly to teach a grown man patience and control.

But the introduction of Jenny Calendar had seriously corrupted that vice-like grip he held on his desires. She easily straddled the dark and light, passion and purity combined into one maddeningly beautiful package. He felt his control waiver at the very sight of her.

"Jenny," he managed to choke out as she led him through her tiny apartment into the bedroom, her lean body a glowing, angelic magnet for the demon in his soul.

She smiled a wicked smile, so incongruent with the sweet expression she normally wore. "Only a whisper? C'mon, Rupert. I'm sure we can have you screaming it soon enough."

The very words broke the shackles, and Ripper lept to the forefront of his mind. This was a girl after his own heart. Her body sang to him, every inch a tasty morsel for the greedy bastard who wanted nothing more than pleasure and power. Her words came back to him, and he grinned his darkest pleasure. "'Make some noise,' you say?"

"Yeah," she purred, pushing him backwards onto the bed, crawling forward until she crouched above him on all fours. "Something like that."

"If it's noise you want..." He rolled her onto her back, straddling her fiercely and pinning her wrists together above her head. The face he lowered to inches from hers, the eyes that gazed hard into hers, the voice that slithered from his vocal cords...there was no trace of Rupert Giles in the words that escaped him. "I'll make you scream, pet."

It was her sudden look of shock that released him, the sudden and immediately dismissed fear in her eyes that gave Rupert the strength to fight down his very real inner demon. "Rupert?" she asked slowly.

The doors to the cell slammed shut around his darker passions, the shackles new and fierce around Ripper's wrists and ankles. Rupert Giles reemerged full force. His smile was flustered, voice somewhat tremulous and embarrassed as he released her bruising wrists. "Er...too much?"

She nodded, her gaze scrutinizing. "A little."

"Sorry." He pulled off her as she wrapped the comforter from the bed he'd neglected to make around her nude form. "It's been a while, Jenny. I got a bit...carried away."

Her laugh was reassuring. "Rupert, don't sweat it." She kissed his shoulder. "To be honest, I kind of get off on the rough stuff." She laughed again at what he knew to be the mixture of bewilderment and interest on his face.

Yes, Rupert was strongly entrenched in the forefront.

Jenny Calendar pulled him into her arms. He'd been facing slightly away from her, so the motion left him leaning back against her, his head resting on her shoulder as she placed soft kisses against his temple. "I promise you, Giles. We can explore every aspect of our sexualities together. I'm not spooked or offended or even shocked at your little kinks."

He looked up at her. God, she was beautiful. Perhaps...perhaps if anyone could help to integrate the Brothers, forcibly isolated from each other so many years ago, it was Jenny.

She kissed him on the lips. "I just want our first time to be sweet. Can you understand that?"

He nodded. Sweet. No words were necessary as he turned to face her, pulling her into his arms, embracing his salvation with a deep, tender kiss.

*****

Jenny Calendar somehow managed to find her breath. A tricky feat, considering that Rupert had just knocked it somewhere east of the Jersey Turnpike. What the hell had that been all about? Jekyll and Hyde tendencies aside, Rupert's lips and tongue tracing the length of her neck felt good. She pulled back with a gasp, breaking the contact between them with a show of seductive game-playing to hide the fact that she was breathless.

"Not bad for a high school librarian, Mr. Giles," she teased, hoping he wouldn't know how much he was getting to her.

Her stomach still twisted inside of her from his momentary foray into B&D Land. His hard gaze, his rough hands, his sweltering energy had sent thrills of fear and desire through her. She had no problem with that or pretty much any sort of kink, but something about the moment had seemed wrong, very wrong. It wasn't just the Spike-inspired accent he affected. It was the look of un-Giles-ness in his eyes, the complete lack of sweet in his expression that had turned her body cold and squeamish.

She'd asked him to slow down. To be sweet. To be gentle. But the blood screamed inside her. The blood grew impatient with sweet and gentle, wanting instead another taste of his rough, dark side. "Rupert," she whispered hoarsely, unable to reconcile her two wants, hoping instead that he would reach into her soul and find the balance between the extremes.

He didn't answer immediately. His lips brushed gently against her hair, raining kisses over her in a million breathless drops. "Darling..." he breathed.

His accented voice, low and filled with lust and adoration, triggered something deep within her. Catching his face in her hands, she stopped the kisses. Her eyes locked with his for a long moment, then she pressed her mouth hard against his, tongue flickering into his gasp to taste his sweetness. His entire body stiffened against the kiss, and she used his momentary surprise to quickly unbutton his shirt. A few of the buttons gave their all in the maneuver, but she had a sewing kit. Before Giles could catch his breath, she had his shirt on the bed behind him and her lips in position for another searing kiss.

That apparently kicked-started his hormones. Rupert leaned forward, lifting her clumsily until they were both standing next to the bed, bodies pressed hard against each other as he fumbled with the buckle of his belt. Jenny noted his struggle, and snaked her hands between them to help him. Between them, they got the belt off, and the trousers soon followed suit.

Before Giles could remove his shorts, Jenny stepped back, openly scrutinizing his nude body. At his horrific blush, she laughed. "You've been ogling my naked body. Fair's fair, Mister."

He gulped, but submitted with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. Jenny raked her eyes down his torso with admiration. All those afternoons of training with the Slayer had given him a tight, hard body, slim but flexible. Not overly buff, but extremely babe-worthy. She grinned lasciviously. "Nice abs, Mr. Giles."

"Er...thank you." She felt his gaze searing through her as he struggled to regain a modicum of control over the situation. His eyes lighted on her bare belly button. "As are yours, Ms. Calendar."

Jenny couldn't help but laugh. She tilted her head, affecting a model's pose. "You like, sir?" She turned a quarter-turn, looking back over her left shoulder with her best come-hither, you big stud look.

Giles traced the tip of his right index finger from the base of her spine up to her neck, sending white-fire tendrils of pleasure through her entire nervous system. "I like, madam."

"Oh, gawd," she let slip, dropping the playful mask as his fingers closed firmly around her shoulders, kneading the muscles they found there. He pulled her back against him, his chest pressed hard against her shoulder blades, lips closing around her right shoulder as his hands moved down her torso to her hips, pulling her flush against his pelvis. She could feel the hardness there, pushing against her backside. She had a Harlequin moment, his heat sending a rush through her so hot it made her dizzy. Fortunately, she didn't do something stupid like swooning.

She reached behind her, easing her hand between them to cup his erection. She paused in surprise. Why had she expected him to be hung like the proverbial Clydesdale? He was not the largest man she'd ever been with, but he was respectable. And judging from his performance to date, she suspected he would probably rank in the top one as far as creativity and attentiveness. Wriggling out of his grasp, she turned to face him full on, wrapping her arms low around his back as they kissed hard.

She slipped her hands down his back to caress his ass. "Nice," she murmured into his lips.

"Hum?" He was concentrating on her lower lip. Nibbling it, that is.

"Your butt. Nice and tight. I like that."

"Jenny!"

Jenny burst out laughing. "My god, Giles. Even in the heat of passion, you're a fuddy-duddy."

"That's Mr. Sexy Fuddy-Duddy to you, madam." He smiled, his eyes betraying the pleasure he took in her assessment of him.

"Oh, Mr. Very Sexy Fuddy-Duddy." She squeezed his firm bottom with both hands, then hooked her thumbs into the waistline of his boxers. "Does a Sexy Fuddy-Duddy really need boxers, Rupert?" She tugged gently. To her surprise, he didn't protest as she slid the silky material over his slim hips and let them drop to the floor.

Standing there, naked for the first time in each other's presence, Jenny felt the masks drop in the purest and truest form. Giles stood before her, no shame or embarrassment, presenting himself to her as she did for him, without reservation or regret. There seemed to be a moment outside of time where they just stood there, staring with otherworldly eyes, lost in the nearness.

It was Giles who eventually broke the silence with a single, awestruck word. "Beautiful," he whispered.

"Beautiful," she agreed in an equally starry whisper.

He leaned down to her, taking her against his warm body, kissing her deeply as they sunk to the bed. She tried to ease him onto his back, preferring to take the assertive role with a new lover, but Rupert had other ideas.

Without a word, he rolled her slowly onto her back, effortlessly silencing her not-so-fervent protests with kiss after mind-boggling kiss. Finally, she gave in, sinking into the mattress with abandon as he began trailing a line of kisses down her body. Gawd, please don't let him go straight for the money shot, she felt herself thinking. She was immediately embarrassed at her own crassness. Giles was thinking of her own pleasure before his. The least she could do was not be so cynical about it.

It took her a moment to realize he had not stopped at her sex as she'd expected, but continued the kiss-fest down her thighs and legs. By the time he'd taken her delicate foot into his hands, she was intrigued and aroused. He traced his tongue along the highly-sensitive inner curve of her foot, and she nearly jumped out of the bed.

"Omigosh, Giles," she moaned.

He stopped, placing her foot back on the bed. "I'm sorry, Jenny. Did I--"

"Don't stop," she begged, breathless.

She could have sworn she heard him chuckle as he resumed his oral manipulation of her foot, alternating kisses and licks with a punctuation of small bites. Not content with her foot, he nibbled his way around her ankle and lower calf. Jenny groaned, agonizing as he worked her nerve endings into a frenzy, then pulled away to let her cool down, only to whip them back into a furor once she caught her breath.

It took everything she had to control her reflexes. Every nerve ending in her body wanted to kick away from his torturous manipulation of one of her most sensitive areas, but it felt so damned good. She almost let a pout out when he finally put her foot back on the bed.

"Roll over on your stomach, please," he whispered.

Jenny raised her eyebrows, but complied. Rupert was fast shooting to the head of the Top Ten Surprising Sexual Partners list, straight from the home office in Sioux City, Iowa. She expected him to crawl atop her on the bed, and was surprised to feel his lips and tongue inching their way up her calves, the backs of her knees, her long, slender thighs, all the way up to the small of her back. She almost screamed as he ran his tongue all the way across the base of her back.

"Rupert, oh gawd." Not the most eloquent thing to say, but he was kissing his way up her spine, slowly, languorously, pulling the sensation from her nerve endings like a virtuoso with his favorite Stradivarius. He moved his dexterous hands through her hair, freeing the scrunchy she wore from its servitude. He tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. She thought absently that there was another scrunchy she'd never see again, but his teeth biting gently on her shoulder blade drove the thought from her mind. "You haven't gone vamp on me, have you?" she gasped.

"Mmmm..."

She took that as a no. This was driving her crazy. Giles was taking his good, sweet time, finding spot after spot she hadn't known existed and transforming it into the center of her sensual universe with a flicker of the tongue or graze of the teeth. "Oh, please," escaped before she could stop it. Oh, was she the queen of cliches or what, begging him...to what? That was the question of the hour. She wanted him to continue this torture forever, but the heat between her legs was becoming unbearable. Suddenly, his lack of Clydesdale-icity didn't seem so important. "Giles, for the love of the goddess, please..." Nope, not ashamed to beg.

"Jenny..." was his hoarse reply. Okay, he wasn't the Pillow Talk King, either, but she could live with that. He lay down beside her, carefully easing her up until she could crawl atop his erect cock.

She had wanted to be cool. She'd wanted to be sensuous. But as the head of his cock pressed against her raging-hot opening, she abandoned herself to the lust she felt. Rocking hard, she quickly got his entire length inside her, a most wonderful feeling accentuated by his hard fingers in the flesh of her ass, forcing her movements into a fierce rhythm of his desiring. "Oh, gawd," she almost sobbed as she felt the head of his cock nudge against her cervix. He was tilting his pelvis, rocking her gently as she rode him, switching rhythms and patterns, keeping his movements one step ahead of her, tantalizing her.

She pressed her hands flat against his chest, twisting his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, glad to regain at least a bit of control as he gasped in a mixture of pleasure and pain. She grazed her fingernails across the sensitive knobs, scraping hard as the first wave of orgasm rocked her. She tightened the muscles inside, slowing her tempo to feel every inch of him sliding in and out of her.

Several long moments, and even more hard shudders of aftershock, later, she looked down to see a sheen of perspiration on Giles' face and chest. He hadn't peaked yet. His face was hard with concentration, probably mentally going through the steps of some fight pattern to keep from coming. As her breathing slowed to near normal, Jenny decided it was time to take control of the situation.

"Rupert," she purred, wrenching his attention from whatever tool he used to keep his arousal at bay. "Look at me, Rupert."

His eyes opened and began the long journey up her torso, to her breasts, and eventually to her eyes. "Yes?"

"I don't like being ignored," she teased. "Please look at me."

He nodded, eyes never leaving her body as she began a slow, sensuous rocking, tracing her fingers to her lips and sucking them gently in her best porn star manner. She felt the effects of her efforts almost immediately as his cock began to twitch within her. Smiling seductively, she traced the moistened tip of her index finger around the nipple of her right breast, making a point of showing him how hard it was. All the while, she rocked and swiveled and allowed every bit of pleasure to show on her face.

The sheen of perspiration on his face had turned to outright sweat. He reached up to grasp her thighs, in an effort to control her maddeningly slow movements. With a single, fluid motion, she grabbed his wrists and allowed herself to fall forward, effectively pinning his hands above his head. He had slipped out in the motion, so she took the time to guide him back inside, then resumed her all-fours position above him. "Do you like this, Rupert?" she whispered.

"Yes," was his only reply. His eyes were glazing over slightly. Every time he tried to close them in ecstasy, she nipped his shoulder, or his nipple, or the base of his neck.

She could feel him gaining momentum inside of her. Jenny increased her efforts, rocking hard back and forth on top of him, enjoying the release of frustration she felt as she assumed the dominant role. As far as she could tell by the look of utter orgiastic pleasure on his face, Giles didn't mind the submissive place at all. He gasped, little phrases escaping in his charming accent...all incoherent of course, but that didn't make his voice any less an aphrodisiac for Jenny.

Before long, the fury and flame had risen too high for either to control, and Giles erupted with a scream inside her. Jenny allowed him to roll her onto her back, enjoying the loss of control he showed, the fierce thrusting as he worked out his orgasm within her.

There was not quite enough there to bring her over the top a second time, but by the time Rupert collapsed in a heap next to her on the bed, Jenny had this wonderfully buzzy feeling coursing through her body.

Giles pulled her to him, his chest rising and falling with almost violent breaths. It felt good to press against his hot skin, feel his hands everywhere on her. She could feel him losing energy, feel sleep creeping over him as it did with every other man she'd slept with.

Within moments he was dozing, his lips moving of their own accord over her cheeks and hair.

Sleep well, Rupert, she thought, her body feeling nice and sexy and alive. You're gonna need your rest.

*****

It was Ripper's night to howl. He felt the power of Eyghon surging through his young body, felt the ancient spirit of death embuing him with more life than he'd ever found in books or duty or sex or drugs. He screamed in ecstacy as the demon fully entered him. His mates hooted and laughed. Through the clarity of Eyghon, he saw them for what they were - stoned, pathetic children, too rich for true grit and too bourgeois to be of any real consequence in the world. His body shook with contempt. If anyone could carry Eyghon, if anyone possessed the strength and balls to be the vessel of this great power, it was himself.

"Now, Ripper," Ethan laughed, his face distorted by coke and a bit of peyote they'd managed to snag from an American chap on student tour in London. The fool was just short of wetting himself with anticipation. Ripper was the second to last vessel for Eyghon--once he was done, Ethan would have his turn.

The form of Eyghon within him felt disgust, but allowed a smile to show his chums. "Patience, lad. Soon enough for you. Now, where's this pretty little bird you brought for me?"

Ethan chattered insensantly as he led Eyghon to the alter. "Found her just off King's Row. Some punk rock bitch queen. Says she likes pain."

"That should save time," Eyghon/Ripper murmured, finding his way to the form strapped nude to the alter. Ethan for once was right--she was pretty, under all the make-up and safety pins. Her hair was mohawked, dyed a bright neon blue, face pale and heavily lined with black eyes and lips. She turned a bored look at him, then her face grew even paler when she met his gaze.

How quickly they go from pain queen to simpering coward at the sight of me, Eyghon thought.

"Please," she began to whisper, her thick Northern accent almost undistinguishable. "Please, I've changed me mind." Her eyes grew wide as Eyghon held them. "Let me go. I tell you, I'll scream," she threatened, struggling against her bonds.

Ripper's voice, normally a soft tenor, came out low and dark. "Yes, you will scream."

"What's your name, pet?" Ethan asked, grinning his stupid stoned grin. "So we'll know where to send the pieces?"

"Jenny," she choked out. "Jenny Calendar."

***

Rupert sat upright in bed, her name on his lips. "Jenny?"

She rolled over, covering his torso with a heavy arm. Sleep blurred her words. "It was a nightmare."

He felt the shudders going through him. Sunnydale. The 90s. Jenny. Jenny's apartment. He pulled the covers around him, calming his breath as she brushed her tossled hair from her eyes and sat up next to him.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"Same nightmare," he murmured. "Always the same nightmare."

"Buffy?"

He blinked, then shook his head. "The other nightmare."

"Eyghon." She shut her eyes for a long moment, obviously not keen to think back on her one experience with the demon.

Giles nodded, a wave of shame filling him as he struggled to slow his pulse to something that might possibly not induce a heart attack or stroke.

She smiled, kissing his chin before snuggling into his arms. "Actually, considering how often we've dozed off today, one nightmare is not that bad a record."

"It was fairly bad," he countered. But she was in his arms, not strapped to some alter to be sacrificed to a now-vanquished demon. That was a good thing.

Rupert sighed. There had to be some form of support group for post-demonic desciples. Resting his cheek against her hair, he continued, "I can't help but worry."

"I know."

They rocked gently together for a moment, each finding solace in the other's arms. Giles couldn't help comparing her to the other women he'd been with, not recently of course. He knew in his heart that she wanted more details on the dream. He also knew she wouldn't push him.

My god, he thought. "What am I doing?" The latter came out louder than he'd expected, and Jenny turned a questioning look in his direction. He half-smiled. "Why am I obsessing on demons when I have the most beautiful angel in my arms?"

"Job hazard?" She grinned though, and pressed a firm kiss to his shoulder. "You hungry?"

"Er, no really. I'd prefer just to stay here with you for a while." Giles immediately caught her eye. "Unless you're hungry. In that case, I'd be happy to--"

She slowed his Excessive Compulsion to Chivalry with a kiss. "Nope. Just being a good hostess."

"Ah,then." What he truly wanted was to lie with her next to him and shield her forever from what demons lurked about. He knew he couldn't do that, and the battle between desire and duty raged within. "I love you." The words came unbidden. But as soon as he said them, he knew them to be true. "I love you, Jenny. I know it's not, well, hip to say such things just because two people have...er..." He motioned to the crumpled sheets and pillows askew. "I cannot be what I'm not. I love you, Jenny Calendar."

The long silence that followed unnerved him. Jenny seemed to be pondering the words, turning them over in her head.

He felt his stomach plummet to his hips. "I'm sorry. I overstepped." He felt another wave of shame, and foolishness, and confusion. Americans were different. She was different. She came from another age, a freer age of computers and cybersex and all sorts of notions he'd needed drugs and alcohol to connect with. Free from the influence of drugs and booze, Rupert Giles was an old man. An old man from an old age, lost in ancient texts and ancient moralities.

A surge of self-recrimination pummeled through him. How stupid could he be? How could he possibly think a woman this young and vibrant...

Was crying?

"Jenny?" He leaned forward. Her face was shadowed by the evening light coming through the curtained window. "Jenny, are you...? Oh, dear lord. I'm sorry. I'm so--"

"I love you," she whispered. The very sound of it cut through Giles' heart like a dagger. So full of shame and defeat. So full of loss he almost wept with her. It was not an admission she wanted to make. Unlike him, she did not repeat the phrase. She lay there, huddled into herself like a child too frigthened to sleep.

He stroked her hair gently. "It's not all that bad, is it?" he asked, trying to bring what comfort he could.

"No. It's not bad at all." Her voice stayed low. She made a stab at perking up, but failed to do any more than draw attention to her misery. "It's good," she said flatly. "No. It's bad."

"You know my past. You know who I am." He lifted her chin to gaze at her. "Tell me who you are, Jenny Calendar."

It seemed almost for a moment that she would. The phone rang, breaking the moment. Jenny's mood snapped, and she smiled. "Queen of Melodrama. Happy. I'm happy, Rupert. Really." She leaned over to search for the cordless on the floor near the bed. They'd knocked over the nightstand during their...encounters. The phone continued its insistent ring until she located it under a stack of throw pillows and a copy of SQL for Dummies. Sitting up next to him, she had completed her transformation back to Jenny. "Gotta get this," she murmured, holding her index finger up in the "one moment" position.

"Yes?" She said into the phone. As she listened to the voice on the other end, her expression grew dark. "Yeah, I know. I *know.*" She turned a forced smile to Giles. Covering the phone, she mouthed, "'Collections.'" Back into the phone she said, "Look, I said I'd have it by the end of the month. You need to be patient."

Giles turned his head, uncomfortable and worried. Teacher salaries notwithstanding, Jenny had shown no evidence of a person who was concerned about money. Either she was a very convincing actress...or she was lying to him.

"Look, I can't talk right now. You'll have to wait," she said forcefully, tossing the cordless back on the floor after she disconnected the call. It immediately began to ring again. "Ignore it," she said, a little too brightly.

"Jenny, if there's--"

She shook her head. "I had a disputed charge a while back. You know, telemarketing thing. Now they're trying to collect money for something I didn't buy." She caught her breath as the phone finally stopped riging. "See? The nerve of them, calling on a Sunday."

"If you need to borrow some money, I have a bit stashed away for emergencies."

Her stunned look made him think perhaps he'd overstepped his boundaries, but soon a genuine smile spread over her features. She leaned forward, kissing him, biting his lower lip slightly. "You are the sweetest man in the world. And no," she said. "As generous as your offer is," she looked down, suddenly overly concerned with the condition of her cuticles. The rest of the sentence came out in a low breath. "You can't help me with this, Rupert."

*****

A gentle rain had begun to fall as Jenny dropped Rupert off at the school. She knew him too well to believe his story that he was only going to be a moment in the library then immediately home to sleep. They'd wasted an entire Sunday having a life; she knew he'd be there to the wee hours of the morning, trying to get a jump on the next likely threat to his Slayer.

She felt a sad sort of emptiness as she watched him run through the haze. He wore it well. No one would know the burden he carried day to day. To the world, he was just another underpaid, overeducated thirtysomething making his way through the American culture one day at a time.

As was she.

Once he was safely inside, Jenny took her cell phone from her purse and pressed a pre-programmed number. It answered on the first ring. "It's Janna."

She listened for a moment, knowing the trouble she'd gained herself by seizing those few hours alone with Giles. Her uncle was undoubtedly furious.

"Yes," she murmured quietly into the phone, only half-listening to the tirade being raged in two languages on the other end. It had been worth it. She had not shirked her duty. Angelus suffered still. The soul burned bright within him.

How much was it to ask for one afternoon of joy? "Yes, Uncle. I know how serious this is. He is--" She paused as he cut her off again. One day of selfishness in a lifetime of duty? "Yes, I will. Yes. Goodbye," she said, a deep breath echoing the sense of defeat she felt as she snapped the cell shut and put it back in her purse.

Turning the key in the ignition, she eased the car into reverse. The Gilesmobile rested proud and iconoclastic in the emptry, dreary school lot. She smiled as she passed it, letting the tears draw tiny rivers on her cheeks as she went to carry out her uncle's instructions.

Such was the price of duty.

One year later...

Xander and Willow hung a left from the hallway into the library, otherwise known as Slayer Central, chatting about the weekend they'd had. Buffy was in the back room, checking out the new variety of armament Giles had procured for her use.

"Whoa, nice blade, Buffster." Xander gave a low whistle. "I don't know whether to be afraid or invite you over for fondue."

"Where's Giles?" Willow asked, as usual glancing easily over Xander's attempts at humor.

Buffy turned the blade over in her hands, shrugging as she examined it more closely. "He took half a personal day. Said he had things to do."

"What sort of things?" Willow asked.

"Things? Giles has things?" Xander turned a surprised expression to Willow. "Since when does he have things?"

Willow shrugged. "He has things."

Buffy put the blade back in the hardwood case she'd taken it from, and swung over to sit next to her friends. "He said he'd be back before sundown. He's been acting fairly wonky all week."

"Most un-Giles-like," Willow agreed.

"The man needs to get a social life," Xander said before changing the subject to his new obsession--Claire Matthews, a junior transfer student from Oakland who'd just made life worth living again.

***

It was getting cooler, he thought as he made his way through the stones. Giles didn't know what to expect from this day, but he knew in his heart he had to be here. He'd dreamed of her more in this last week than he had in the whole year. It was only yesterday he realized the cause--today was one year to the day from the first time he and Jenny had made love.

A lifetime had passed since then.

Giles felt the heaviness that came every time he thought of Jenny Calendar. He'd known her so briefly, yet his entire life seemed divided into two categories - before Jenny, and after Jenny. Their time together had its own category, defied categoration.

He knelt by her grave, dry-eyed, having long since cried more tears for her than he thought possible. A single rose and a sheet of textured stationary were all he carried.

She should have trusted him. She should have let him help.

He should have been able to save her.

Giles shook his head. It was far past the time for self-recrimination. Jenny was his angel now, his guiding spirit, the light he followed when duty became too heavy a burden.

He was still in love with her.

Rupert Giles placed the rose on her grave. Opening the paper, he read once more the words that had come to him in the middle of the night.

"A fairer rose I shall not find.A truer heart I shall not seek.Tender, love, thou hold my heartAnd with thy lips, my soul thou keep."

It was signed R. Giles. Today's date.

He folded the paper and placed it next to the rose. After a long moment, he stood, brushing the grass from his trouser knees. This afternoon he would spend walking and thinking. A thermos containing an herbal tea of lavender, rosemary, rose oil, mugwart, clove, and "copious amounts of sugar" occupied the front seat of his car. He would drink it in honor of her as he watched the waves on their inexorable journey to and from the sea.

Tonight, he would return to his duties as Watcher. But today, his heart was going to remember.

THE END