Transformations - Chapter 9
They lay together like spoons in a drawer--well, not really like spoons, because those lay on their
backs and she and Giles were on their sides, and anyway, the spoons at her house had chunky
handles and just kind of sprawled all over each other instead of stacking up neatly.
Buffy's head rested on Giles's upper arm, and even though, now, she'd seen him in t-shirts, it still
surprised her how firm the muscles were, the skin smooth and taut over them. His chin rested
lightly on the top of her head, and her back pressed to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat,
slowing now, though for a while it had beat really fast. Her bottom touched against the lower
part of his body and his long legs were tucked up behind hers. Ever so often, she felt his cock
move a little bit between their bodies, still excited, though probably not completely ready for
She wasn't sure. It occurred to Buffy how little she knew, really, about guys--being with guys, of
which Giles was one, although only a few days before she would have sworn on a stack of his big,
musty books that that wasn't the case.
All she knew was this: she excited him. She excited Giles, and he loved her. He'd worshiped
her with his body. It amazed her how well they fit together, even though he was so much taller.
His left hand lay over her stomach, very softly stroking her skin, and even though the huge
explosion had come and gone, she still felt little tingling aftershocks.
It's going to be okay, she told herself. Really. Really.
Buffy wanted to sleep, but part of her was afraid to. She'd almost started to hold her breath,
waiting for the bad thing to come, words that would send her stumbling from his bed with hot
tears coursing down her face, as she tried to clutch something to cover bareness and hide just a
little of the shame. No matter what encouraging words she told herself, she half expected it to
happen. Her stomach started hurting with the tension.
But after a few minutes more of the silence, Giles said, almost too quietly to hear, "Buffy, I have
loved you such a long time." His voice sounded raw, and Buffy realized that his fears were hardly
any different from hers--that he really did love her almost more than he could stand, and that he
was waiting for her to say something that would break his heart.
She turned back toward him, reaching up for a kiss, and the one he returned to her was gentle but
passionate, his tongue parting her lips, a greater warmth slipping into the warmness of her mouth.
He drew her in close, turning so that she lay half on top of him, her head on his chest, pressed
again to the slow, comforting beat of his heart.
"I was so scared," she whispered, half hoping he wouldn't hear.
Giles stroked her hair, all the comfort in the world in his touch. Buffy could feel him laughing a
little, though as usual his laugh didn't make any sound. "As was I," he confessed.
Buffy raised up on her elbow, looking down into his face.
"I never thought..." Giles told her. "I...ah...honestly never thought that we would, and yet..." His
eyes met hers, their normal gray-green for almost the first time that day. "You are the most
wonderful young woman, and I shall never stop loving you."
She remembered what he'd said to Moira, when he hadn't thought she'd overheard, about neither
of them dying of old age, and tears flooded her eyes, spilling over the lower lids to drop onto
Giles's chest. He wiped them from her face with his fingertips, and then his hand cupped her
"Buffy, I ought to have asked you at once," he said, in his familiar, comforting, rational Giles-voice. "You're all right? No worries? No regrets?"
"I..." She started crying again. It was such a relief, to be loved like that, in a way that wouldn't
change, in a way that was okay, well, maybe a little weird--how was she going to explain this to
her mom, or to the guys?--but really normal underneath that part. To be loved in a way that was
so warm, and human, and even if it did change, the change wouldn't happen in a bad way. No
one dead because they loved each other, and no souls to be lost. She might not know every last
little fact about Giles, but she knew what he was like, maybe even more than he did himself. She
knew that, in this, he meant what he'd said.
"It was so...different," she told him.
"Now there's a ringing phrase of approval," he said, but he was still laughing, shaking with it, not
offended at all. He knew what she'd meant: that different, this time, equaled good. He dried her
eyes again, and Buffy smiled down on him.
"You're not a bad guy, you know," she said, "Down below that tweed."
"No tweed here presently," he answered. "But I make no promises for the future, in that respect, at least."
"I've gotta tell you--" She kissed him again, playfully, tracing his lips with her own tongue-tip. "I
always kinda liked the tweed--" Another kiss. "Even if it did hide some interesting...stuff."
"I could hardly say the same for you," he told her. "I kept wondering if there existed,
somewhere, a fabric shortage, and for the past six months I've had to keep doing Latin translations
in my head, merely to deal with the sight of you."
"What sort of translations?" she asked him. "I hear those Latin guys got pretty raunchy."
"Roman..er...guys, Buffy. And, believe me, nothing in the least bit risque. Philosophical
discussions of the nature of good and evil, mainly."
"Oh, boring stuff."
"Indeed," he replied.
"So, in the temporary absence of tweed..." Buffy sent her hand darting low, and Giles gave out a
sound that was startled, but in no way displeased. She stroked him slowly, tenderly, marveling at
how soft the skin was--almost like baby-skin, but even softer than that, and warmer--and at the
way the head and the shaft had different textures. She could feel a vein on the underside, and his
balls, cupped in her hand, gently rolled between her fingers, seemed even softer, and heavier than
"Ready for round two?" she asked--but she could tell he was. His shaft had stiffened almost
instantly under her touch.
"Am I likely to survive the week?" Giles asked her, still chuckling.
"Not if it's up to me," Buffy answered, taking her hand away. "Want me to stop?"
"Ah, no, no, please proceed."
"Only you," she told him. "Only you." By which she meant several different things.
They went slowly, exploring one another by touch, not really needing to talk. Now that Buffy
knew she didn't have to be afraid, she felt free to relax and enjoy herself--and Giles certainly knew
how to help her do that. His hand seemed to find all her spots without even trying, and to excite
them in exactly the way she liked, never too rough or too clumsy. She couldn't help but wonder
how come he'd been so shy with Ms. Calender, since he obviously knew how to do this kind of
stuff better than perfectly well.
After her bout of foot-in-mouth disease that morning, though, she knew better than to ask.
Questions like that could come later. Way, way later.
Buffy could only wonder, too, what it would be like when Giles had two good hands. Judging
how she felt with only one to pay attention to her, she'd probably explode.
"You laugh," he said reflectively, "Quite a bit."
Astride his body, rising and falling with a gentle motion, his cock filling her beautifully and his
thumb just touched to the nub of her clitoris, Buffy couldn't help but smile. "You don't like?"
"You haven't laughed enough in so long." Giles looked as adorable in his birthday suit, Buffy
thought, as he had in his tux, though a lot more tousled, of course. Watching him grin up at her,
she realized that she'd never before seen him look so relaxed, or so entirely happy. "Naturally I
like it very much," he told her. "That goes without saying."
"Does it?" Buffy speeded up her motion a little, her walls beginning to pulse around the fullness,
Giles's hips rising to meet her every motion, until she had to go faster and faster, riding him with
wild abandon, his hand on her breast, her hip, her thigh until at last he held her down to him and
both their bodies went rigid, locked together in intense, strobing passion--it was like flying very
fast through the air and knowing nothing bad would happen when at last you touched down.
And nothing bad did, except that, utterly spent, Buffy flopped forward on Giles's chest, his cock
still inside her, her chin propped up on her crossed arms so that she could see his face. All the
little lines remained there, but they'd changed, somehow, until Giles happy looked happier than
anyone she'd ever seen. Slowly, his features relaxed even more, and Buffy realized he was doing
the guy thing, dropping right into sleep, which was okay by her--he'd had quite a day, after all.
She reached over to grab the quilt, and pull a fold over their bodies, then laid her head flat against
him, once more against the wonderful, peaceful beat of his heart.
A few hours later, Buffy felt completely rested, perky and full of life, the way she hadn't in the
longest time--maybe all the way back to before her seventeenth birthday. Giles made little
grumbling noises when she started moving around--making her think of a woman comedian she'd
heard one time, who'd said, "Men are like bears with furniture." Giles reminded her of that with
his growling; he appeared to be deep into some sort of off-season hibernation.
She kissed his mouth, making him smile in his sleep, that wonderful Giles-smile that was like no
one else's. God, she was getting sappy.
"I'm bringing you some juice," she told him. "And you have to wake up enough to drink it.
"Well, by all means, then," he muttered, and having recovered the Oxford cloth shirt and put it on
again, Buffy went.
The kitchen was completely trashed, and she'd have to deal with that later, but luckily there was
actually some o.j. in the fridge. There didn't seem to be any alcohol at all, which kind of
encouraged her--last year around this time there'd been lots, even that annoying little demon-guy
Whistler had commented on it, working his way around Giles's apartment, sniffing bottles. Buffy
drank some juice herself, and ate one of the muffins, which was bursting with fresh blueberries--it
would have been a yummy brunch, if it hadn't gotten ruined.
She poured a big glass of juice for Giles--a little too full, so that she had to be careful carrying,
but that was one of the less-publicized Slayer skills. She made it without losing a drop.
"Giles," she said, just inside the bedroom door. "Juice."
He'd rolled over onto his stomach, only a the crown of his head showing over the covers, but he
turned again at the sound of her voice, without giving any real sign of waking.
"Giles," Buffy said again. She took a seat on the edge of the mattress and set her glass on the
nightstand. It struck her as funny, suddenly, that she was still calling him Giles, since they'd had
majorly hot sex not once but twice in as many hours--but she still couldn't get her tongue around
"Rupert," and any of those mushy little boyfriend/girlfriend names just struck her as stupid. After
all, Giles making passionate love to her was still, after all, Giles. It wasn't like they were going to
be sucking face together at The Bronze.
Once in her life she might have cared about that, but she didn't now, not anymore. And she'd just
have to practice saying "Rupert" until she could make it sound natural. She reached down and
stroked the hair back from his forehead, whispering, "I love you, Rupert," until his eyes opened.
"Thought that would get you," she said.
"I didn't think..." His eyes were actually getting misty--she could tell he was still tired, and almost
overwhelmed by this emotional peak. Plus, his blood sugar had to have hit rock bottom.
"C'mon," she told him. "Moira's orders."
"She Who Must Be Obeyed," he murmured, wriggling up against the headboard. Buffy wanted
to question him about some things, but again bit her tongue. She didn't need to ask for
comparisons, who was better and who was worse. Giles loved her, and that was enough. The
look he gave her told her everything she really needed to know
He picked up the glass and drank, thirstily, almost to the bottom.
"Every drop," she commanded.
Giles laughed a little. "And yet another contender for that title." He finished his juice and
returned the glass to her. Buffy rolled it between her hands, the condensation wetting her palms.
"Do you think I'm bossy?"
"I adore bossy women," he answered, burrowing back into the covers. "I love strong,
opinionated women, who will give me a good argument, and I love warmth--" He reached up
behind Buffy's head, pulling her face down to his--kissing her, with his mouth tasting of oranges.
"And sweetness." Another kiss. "And I love you, Buffy Summers, light of my life."
"Go back to sleep," she told Giles, rubbing his chest. She just couldn't seem to get enough of
touching him. "I'm going out for a little while, to get some clean clothes, and something for
dinner, and maybe a movie, if you think there's some chance you might stay awake for five
"I could sleep on the sofa with my head in your lap," Giles answered, already drifting. "That
might be delightful too. Please don't rent anything with monsters."
"I hear you," Buffy said.
"Wallet in the nightstand," he told her.
It was funny, she thought, because usually Giles hated like poison for anyone to fuss, but this time
he'd almost seemed to enjoy it. She cuddled up next to him for a few minutes, watching him drift
all the way into sleep, glad that he hadn't really been hurt so, so bad--he'd mostly just needed
the rest bigtime, and maybe a little TLC from her. With no weird prophecies on the way, and the
Hellmouth being quiet for the moment, this was a good time for him to get both. A good time for
the two of them to be together, and maybe hammer out all their issues, in the nicest possible way.
Feeling amazingly happy--what Willow called bubbly, fizzy happy--Buffy caught a quick shower,
pulled on her track pants under his shirt, shoved his wallet into her zippered pocket and went.
She stopped by her friend's house on the way, just on the off-chance that Will might be home.
Willow slouched toward the French doors when Buffy knocked, and let her come through into the
bedroom. For once, Oz wasn't there. Willow's face looked puffy, like she had a cold, and she
had on the drabbest, frumpiest gray outfit Buffy had ever seen.
Willow's lower lip quivered. She sniffed, loudly, and dug a tissue out of her pocket. Buffy
couldn't figure out what was wrong.
"Is--umn--Oz rehearsing?" she asked.
"Tour. Gone." Willow sniffed again, slumped her way back to the bed and threw herself down.
"Ouch. Sorry. I forgot."
Buffy sat beside her friend on the end of Willow's bed, stroking Willow's soft auburn hair as she
watched Amy the rat scurry around her Habitrail.
"Still no luck?" Buffy asked. She wanted to tell Willow so bad she felt like she was getting ready
to detonate--she just didn't know how to say the words, and wasn't sure, anyway, that this was
the right time.
"I think Amy's resisting me. Oz says she's cool with her rathood. But her dad keeps calling and
asking in the saddest little voice, 'Do I have a human daughter yet?'"
Amy drank from her water-bottle, whiskers quivering, then took a pellet from the dispenser.
"See?" Willow sat up, cross-legged, brightening at least a little. Will never could stay completely
down for too long.
"If you don't mind my asking," she said, "What has Buffy in such a good mood? Where've you
been? I tried calling, to see if you were all right. And what's up with that outfit?"
"Like you have any right to ask that one?"
Willow looked down at her gray frump-suit and giggled. "This is my depths-of-despair costume,
and I'm sticking with it."
"Every right to do so, Will," Buffy agreed. "But I'm fine. Of the good. Better than of the good.
Of the wonderful."
"I'm glad someone is--and I could tell," Willow informed her drily, then her eyes sparkled. "You
have a new guy! I sense guyness! Buffy!"
"Not so much new." Buffy giggled too: it felt like being fifteen again. "I guess you could say
All the sparkle left Willow's face, as if it had never been. "It's not that I don't want you to be
happy. I do. I want you to be happy. But, oh, Buffy. Not again."
"It's not Angel," she assured her friend. "It's someone you like."
"I liked Angel--well maybe 'liked' is the wrong word. Didn't dislike? No, that's not right either.
Is it Xander? That kind of a Xander outfit. Wait--you said old. The only person you ever call
old is..." Willow's jaw dropped. "Buffy!"
"Was that a good 'Buffy!' or a bad 'Buffy!'"
Willow stared at her with a funny look in her big green eyes.
"Okay, got it--it was a bad. I know it seems weird--me and Giles--but I didn't think you'd hate
the idea. Maybe you just need to get used to it."
"Giles has been in love with you forever," Will told her, in a voice she'd never heard her friend
use before. "Even Xander figured that one out. Why did you think Xander hated Angel so
much? Because of you?"
"Well...yeah. I guess. I thought Xander was...you know...jealous, maybe?"
"Nope." Willow shook her head, then looked down, tracing a finger over the pattern in her
bedspread. "Xander got over you ages ago."
"And, about Giles, I knew. I mean, I guess I knew. But I was too young, and too--?"
"Obsessive?" Willow asked in the same strange voice.
"I'm not doing this `cause I'm on the rebound, or trying to replace my dad or anything. I want
you to believe that, Will."
"And if Angel walked in through that open window right this minute...?"
"Which he couldn't, because he's still uninvited here."
"Say I invited him. Would I be calling Giles tonight and lying to him for you, saying you
wouldn't be back, that something came up? I won't do it, Buffy. I won't!" Tears came into her
eyes. "I love Giles like...like family...if I loved my family, which I'm really kind of afraid that I
don't. But the way I would if I did. And maybe he could take being hurt that way again, but he
shouldn't have to." Willow said all that on one breath, and was panting when she got through.
"So, if you can't really commit to this, don't go there. Don't get his hopes up. Leave the poor
man some dignity."
"Wow," Buffy told her. "I never knew you felt that way."
"Well, that's me. And my feelings. Which aren't always nice feelings. I know this." Willow
brightened a little. "But if you're sure sure, then--oh, Buffy!"
"Okay, that one was good. And Will..." Buffy stopped, not exactly sure how to proceed.
Willow's eyes got even wider. "Buffy? No. No! Big, big no." She leaned forward. "You did?"
Buffy nodded. "And it was. Was..."
"Nice?" Willow supplied.
"Mmn...maybe looking for a stronger adjective?"
"I can't get past 'nice' without blushing," Willow told her.
"I tried 'different' with Giles, but that made him laugh."
"Laugh? With sound and everything?"
Buffy nodded again. "And I love him. Maybe I always did. Can you love two people at the same
"Oh yeah," Willow answered, with a funny little explosion of breath "But, oh--oh, not that I'm
raining on your parade or anything. Big no on parade raining. But what about the Watcher-lady
that Cordy saw Giles kissing?"
"Moira? She's nice--well, nice maybe isn't the best word there, either. They have history, lots
and lots of history. Is it okay to be jealous?"
"I think, maybe, in this case--acceptable."
"Giles says she's his Buffy, and he's her Willow, except sometimes the other way around.
Anyway, his best friend. So it was more of a 'this is the way we got used to kissing' friend kiss,
instead of a big burning love kiss. And, I have to say--and please, please don't go ewww, or start
blushing, because I promise you I won't even go into the blushing zone--that Giles is a seriously
yummy kisser. Cor was right about that. And a nice cuddler too."
"I always thought he would be."
"And, Will, I desperately need your help. I said I'd pick up dinner and a movie--but I don't
know what to get. And I want to wear something that's...I don't know...pretty, and maybe sexy,
a little bit--but not slutty. And I'm staying over tonight, so I need stuff for that too."
"Staying over? Buffy, maybe you shouldn't rush--"
"No, it's not that. But what started all this is that Giles cut his hand really bad, and I was
supposed to be stopping the bleeding, only I wasn't paying attention and he kinda passed out and
hit his head pretty hard on the corner of the sink. So Moira said I should stay with him. Which--okay--I wanted to anyway."
Willow laughed. "Oh, poor Giles, not again! Is he okay?"
"Yeah, I think so. He had kind of a headache earlier, and of course there was the blood loss stuff.
Mostly, I'd say, it was just the fallout from being in, like, constant research mode for weeks now.
And it's not like afterward we didn't--" Buffy felt herself giving the goofiest grin of her life as she
held up two fingers for Willow to see.
"Okay! Blushing! Blushing now!" Willow covered her eyes with her hands, like the "see no
"So, you'll help me?" Buffy asked. "Please please please?"
"You know I will," Willow told her, smiling. "Wow. You and Giles. Wow."
"Freaky, huh? I don't know how I'm gonna tell my mom. I just keep flashing onto this image of
Giles assuring her that his intentions toward her daughter are perfectly honorable--which I'm
pretty much totally glad they aren't."
"Buff, you're bad," Willow said.
"The baddest,"Buffy answered.