The London Sonnets

Spoilers: Anything through Buffy S4 is fair game.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: Giles joins Joyce on a buying trip to London and get back to where they were before the events of Chaos Theory.
A/N: Set about a month after Resting State. Thank you to Savvy and the CN for keeping things in line. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 145. For previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.


Giles watched the clouds sweep by, an alien landscape lit by the moon. This probably wasn’t a good idea. He hadn’t been back to London since he set out for Sunnydale almost five years earlier. Even then, he hadn’t been in London so much as at the Council’s main headquarters. He’d tried to avoid London as often as possible over the years. And here he was, going back, with Joyce.

That was another problem. He and Joyce still hadn’t a chance to talk about things. Things kept coming up, and then Buffy had moved back home for the summer. The trip had seemed like a good idea, but with everything still unresolved, Giles was wondering if he might have made a mistake.

“Rupert?” Joyce asked, looking at him with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just don’t care much for flying,” he lied.

She eyed him critically. “Somehow I don’t believe that. You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?”

“I’m not . . . really. It’s just that . . . I am, actually,” he sighed.

Grasping his hand, “I thought you would. And it probably would have been better to talk at home, but it just didn’t seem to be happening.”

He smiled faintly. “No, it didn’t.”

“Ethan thinks you’re avoiding on purpose,” she said, voice neutral.

“Does he?” Giles tried to keep the anger out of his voice. Of course she’d seen Ethan since, why wouldn’t she? But why had she let Ethan do that to her? And then he had made things worse by . . . Giles had thought he’d had Ripper under control, but that was far from true wasn’t it? Ethan kept proving that time and time again. The whole thing between the three of them had been a mistake. Three way relationships, as a rule, were problematic at best, and factoring in his and Ethan’s respective histories complicated things further. There was too much working against them.

“What are you so afraid of, Rupert?” Her voice was soft.

“Nothing. I just would rather not discuss it here.”

She frowned, seeing right through him.

“Please, Joyce,” he pleaded. He couldn’t put it off forever, but he’d like to try. She wanted answers he wasn’t ready to give.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Never mind”

Joyce went back to her book, withdrawing into her own seat. He could tell she was upset.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know you are,” she looked at him briefly.

“Joyce…”

“We’ll talk later, Rupert,” she put an end to their conversation.

He was going to make a mess of this one way or another. Giles turned back to the window, cursing Ethan and his perception. He wouldn’t avoid this much longer.

They arrived at Heathrow shortly before nine in the morning. Joyce still wasn’t speaking to him as they made their way through customs and picked up their baggage, making their way out to the main concourse. Giles soon learned that Joyce had arranged for a car to take them to where they were staying, but she wouldn’t say where that was.

The car came to a stop outside an old Victorian home not too far from Notting Hill. The brick and white edifice was in pristine condition. Surely they weren’t staying here? A nice hotel maybe, but he hadn’t expected this. Even lower-scale establishments tended to be pricey, and this one was definitely top of the line. It only made Giles feel that much worse about how he’d handled things.

Joyce got out, leaving him to follow her inside the Kildare Gardens Bed & Breakfast.

After getting their bags, he found her already in discussion with an older woman at the front desk.

“Ah, Mrs. Summers, of course. Your trip went well, I hope?” the clerk, Agnes by her nametag, asked as she went about checking them in.

“Well, but tiring,” Joyce replied.

“To be expected. However, I will caution against going to sleep right away, it will make the time adjustment easier,” Agnes said sagely. “Well things are in order, shall I show you and your—” the woman did a quick assessment, “companion to your room?”

“Thank you,” Joyce smiled. Then they followed the woman up the flight of stairs to the first floor.

“If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk. Either my husband and I should be readily available,” Agnes chattered as she unlocked the door then handed Joyce the key. “You just missed breakfast, but I can make you something quick in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

“We’re fine,” Joyce said kindly. “Thank you for your help, Agnes.”

The woman smiled and left them alone.

Pushing the door open, they walked in. Giles nearly dropped the bags when he saw the room.

“Joyce, this is too much,” he said.

Their stay must be costing Joyce a small fortune, but she had insisted on taking care of the arrangements. The mahogany double doors opened into a spacious, wooden-floored room decorated with aqua-blue striped paper and set off by white trim. Rounding out the room was a fireplace and private wrought-iron balcony which both paled next the showpiece, a king size, four-poster mahogany bed.

“I believe there’s also a Jacuzzi in the bathroom,” she walked over and took the bags from him and placing them by the bed. “You don’t like it?”

Finally finding his voice, “It’s remarkable, but . . . you shouldn’t have done this.”

“I wanted to do something nice,” she said, smiling at him for the first time since they had arrived.

“At least let me—”

Joyce cut him off, “Don’t you dare suggest it. This is my treat. And, well, Agnes and her husband purchased a few rare pieces not too long ago from me, for a good price. So this was a bit more reasonable than you’re thinking.”

The woman was amazing, and he was a complete and utter fool.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her relax against him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She smiled up at him, then yawned. “I know sleep is against the rules, but do you think a quick nap would hurt?”

Giles eyed the bed. “It sounds ideal.”

Kicking off their shoes, they went over to the bed and sank gratefully into the white down haven. Joyce snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest.

“Just a quick nap,” she sighed, drifting off, leaving Giles alone with his thoughts.

The quick nap lengthened into a short sleep. When Giles awoke he found that it was nearly four o’clock. If they didn’t get up now, well . . . he looked down at Joyce, still curled against him, and suddenly had no desire to get up. He’d missed this, just being with her. Why did he keep avoiding her? If she could forgive Ethan, then why wouldn’t she . . . Joyce wasn’t the issue here. Giles couldn’t forgive himself. Not for what he’d done that day, nor what he’d done twenty years earlier. Some things weren’t meant to be forgiven; the weight of them was penance. Some things were better left in the past.

“Hey,” Joyce jarred him from his thoughts, voice still heavy with sleep. “Why do I have a feeling that was more than a quick nap?”

“Because it’s four?” he suggested.

“No wonder I’m hungry,” she smiled. “You don’t by any chance know of any good restaurants in the area, do you?”

It was his turn to smile, “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s been a few years, but the good places usually hang around for awhile.”

“Sounds good,” she kissed him quickly before stretching. “Mind if I go freshen up? Nothing guarantees great service like bed-head.”

“I don’t mind the look so much myself,” he touched the mussed hair affectionately.

“Flattery will you get everywhere, mister,” she said, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He really had missed this. Maybe it was time to be a man and try and get things back on track. Giles lay back with a groan. If only it were that simple. He knew he wasn’t ready to give Joyce the answers she wanted. And until she got them, things would never be quite right.