Last Resort

~~~~~
Giles drove the short distance to Buffy’s house concentrating harder on figuring out his unusual circumstances than he was on his driving. However, he was aware enough of his surroundings to notice the number of couples walking about. It seemed like everyone was either holding hands or kissing. He wondered if it might be St. Valentine’s Day. Was it possible that he’d lost that much time?

As he pulled up in front of Buffy’s place, he saw Dawn sitting on the front step writing in her diary. When she saw him get out of the car she raced up to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. He hugged her back just as fiercely, thinking how much he was going to miss the youngest Summers girl when he had to leave.

“You’re back fast,” she said, smiling and swinging her glossy brown hair off her shoulders.

“Yes, I’m afraid I rather missed my flight,” answered Giles.

She squinched her face up at him: “I don’t get it,” she said. “Is that, like, some kind of weird watcher humour?”

“What?” asked Giles.

“Never mind,” she answered. “Where’s the stuff?”

“What stuff?” he asked, quickly losing his grasp on the conversation.

“The groceries,” she said as if speaking to a toddler. “Don’t tell me you went all the way to the store and forgot to buy groceries!”

“Yes, well…a funny thing happened on the way to the grocers,” he said, then realised what a horrendous cliché he’d just uttered and decided to stop talking.

“It better be good—you know what Buffy’s like when she’s planning a big dinner.”

Giles shuddered. He remembered all too well the Thanksgiving dinner fiasco two years ago. He was curious as to what the occasion was this time, but he didn’t want to ask and raise any more alarms with Dawn. To her everything seemed to be normal, so it was possible he was the only one being affected by…whatever this was.

Giles stepped up to the front door and knocked on it, drawing an odd look from Dawn, which he chose to ignore. Anya opened the door, which confused Giles until he remembered that there was a special meal in the works. She and Xander were probably helping out with the preparations.

Anya, too, gave him a strange look: “What are you doing knocking on the door?” she asked, then kissed him soundly on the lips.

Giles jerked backwards, his eyes wide with shock. Anya grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Anya,” he said, after he’d regained his composure, “is this about last night? Because I assure you, what happened between us was strictly the result of Willow’s spell.”

“What spell?” asked Anya, her hand gliding down his back to pat his bum. Giles gave a little yelp and jumped out of her reach.

“Anya, please!” he said in a stage whisper. “It was an accident—let’s not make any more out of it than it was.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Anya, also in a stage whisper.

“Our kiss last night,” Giles answered, still whispering.

“What about it?” she asked, dropping the whisper out of annoyance.

“I think it’s best if we both forget it ever happened. There’s no reason any of the others need know of it.”

“Know about what?” came Buffy’s voice from behind him. Giles turned around and froze on the spot like a deer caught in the headlights. His slayer had just come out of the kitchen wearing an apron. And as far as he could tell, that was all she was wearing. His mouth flapped uselessly as he stared at her.

“What’s with him?” she asked Anya.

“He’s behaving strangely,” said Anya. “Ever since he got home he’s been all jittery. I think he’s upset with me for kissing him.”

“Anya!” Giles hissed. He was still reeling from the sight of Buffy in the near buff. He simply couldn’t juggle Anya’s bold declaration on top of everything else. His hand automatically went to pluck the glasses from his face to give them a good, reassuring rub down, and remembered too late that he wasn’t wearing them. “Damn,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You see? I don’t know why he’s mad with me,” said Anya, pouting prettily.

“Are you feeling alright?” asked Buffy, closing the gap between them. Giles took a modest step back, trying to keep a respectable distance. “You look pale. Did something happen while you were out? And hey! Where’s the groceries? I can’t make strawberry shortcake without the strawberries.”

She was now only inches away from her squirming watcher, who was backed up against the staircase banister.

“Where’s my manners?” she said, smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I didn’t even say hello.” Buffy grabbed two fists full of his t-shirt and pulled herself up to him, kissing him hard on the lips.

“Mmmphh!” Giles protested against her lips. He grasped her by the shoulders to push her away, but panicked when his hands met with nothing but bare skin. Her strong little hands roamed shamelessly south until they were firmly planted on his butt. She gave his cheeks a playful squeeze.

“Mmmphh! Hmmph!” he protested vehemently, squirming uncomfortably in her grasp.

Buffy pulled away, a deep frown creasing her brow. “What’s with the freak out?” she asked, concerned about her watcher’s fast breathing and wide-eyed look of panic.

Heavy footsteps clumped down the stairs behind him, and when he looked around, Giles’ heart nearly stopped beating. Xander had obviously just come out of the shower and was towelling himself dry. No one but Giles seemed to notice that the young man was completely naked.

“You’re back early,” said Xander, and he reached over the banister to kiss him softly on the lips.

Giles fainted.

~~~~~
Rupert climbed out of the taxi but didn’t even consider giving the rude driver a proper tip. He’d spent over an hour at the hospital and he’d found the experience to be disconcerting to say the least. He knew many of the doctors and nurses very well, thanks to his fated profession, yet when they greeted him tonight, they’d been cold and distant. They barely touched him except when it was required for his treatment. By the time they released him he was beginning to feel like a pariah—ostracised unfairly by the world at large.

But he was home now, and the thought of being surrounded by family again was enough to dispel the misery of the last few hours. He imagined dinner would be waiting, and their guest of honour would be anxious to start the ceremony. They were probably worried sick about him, and he could almost see the cross look on Buffy’s face when he told her he’d forgotten to get the strawberries.

Dragging his luggage behind him, he went to open the door and found that it was locked. He took a quick peek through the little window in the door and saw there was a light on in the living room, but there was no one in sight. He rang the doorbell and waited, a knot of tension neatly tying itself in his stomach.

When the door was opened by a squealingly happy Dawn, Rupert’s nerves settled a bit and he allowed himself to smile. Dawn threw her arms around him and squeezed him hard enough to make him grunt.

“I knew you’d come back,” she said, her face bright and grinning as she let him go.

“I’m sorry if I had you worried—it’s been a most unusual day.” Rupert followed Dawn inside and set down his bag. He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair, wondering why he’d been so dressed up anyway. He felt as if he’d been wearing every piece of clothing he owned. “Where is everybody?” he asked.

“Buffy’s on patrol and Willow’s…out,” she answered, her vibrant smile quickly fading.

“Dawnie? Who is that you’re talking to? You didn’t invite any vampires in, did you?” Anya’s voice called out from the kitchen. A moment later the ex-demon came into the room and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Rupert standing there.

“You’re back. But I thought…” she started. But before she could finish that thought, Rupert swept her up in his arms and began kissing her heartily. Anya could see no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy it, so she kissed him back, and she was really getting into it when Xander trotted down the stairs and caught them.

“What the…? Anya? Hey!” Xander grabbed Rupert by the shoulder and spun him around, intending on giving him an earful. But he ended up getting a mouthful instead.

Xander couldn’t have been more astonished if he tried. He had literally no idea how to react. If someone had pointed a gun at him and demanded to know what he would do if he suddenly found himself necking with Rupert Giles, he would have been shot, because he’d have been at a complete loss for words. Yet here he was, on the receiving end of an intimate and tongue-involving embrace with his former high school librarian. The Tweed Man unleashed. And why wasn’t he pushing him away, he asked himself? Why hadn’t he knocked him flat on his British butt already? And it was too late now, of course, because the kiss had gone on too long for him to believably pull off ‘disgusted and appalled’. The best he could hope for now was ‘bewildered and abashed’.

Rupert broke off the kiss, sighing happily as he affectionately ruffled Xander’s hair. It took a moment for him to notice the dumfounded stares he was receiving from all three of his companions.

Anya was the first to speak, addressing Xander: “Didn’t I tell you he was an amazing kisser?”

~~~~~
When Giles awoke, he groaned loudly. Not because he was in pain, but because it hadn’t been just a dream. Buffy was still one apron away from full-frontal nudity, and Xander…

Giles groaned again.

“Rupert? Geez, big guy—you had us scared,” said Xander, helping him to sit up.

“Did you and I…did we just…kiss?” Giles stuttered.

“That’s good. Testing the memory is good,” said Xander. “I kissed you hello, then you spiralled with spectacular gracelessness to the floor. Ooh—and your eyes rolled up into your head…I thought that only happened in the movies!”

“You’re hurt. Are you hurt? Was there a demon, or a gang of trolls or something?” asked Buffy, hovering over him with concern etched on her face. “’Cause you haven’t looked this pale since, well, since ever. And why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time concentrating with you in that apron,” he said tactfully.

“You want me to take it off?” she asked.

“No!” he shouted. “I most certainly do not. What’s gotten into you?”

“Okaaay. Maybe we should start over here,” said Buffy. “Hello, my name is Buffy. And you are?”

“Rupert Giles,” he answered tersely, feeling the strain of constant befuddlement. “And I don’t know what this is all about, but if this is some sort of elaborate prank…”

“Hang on,” said Xander. “Rupert Giles?”

“Yes—Rupert Giles. Who else would I be?” he asked a little sharply.

“Well, unless there’s been a divorce we don’t know about, you would be Rupert. Just plain Rupert,” said Anya. “He does realize that he can’t divorce us unless we all consent, right? In which case we would retain full ownership of the Magic Box.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the ex-demon’s tactless obsession with material possessions. There were other, more pressing, matters at stake. “Is this about Spike?” she asked, getting to what she felt was the heart of the problem. “’Cause you were totally on board with it this morning. You even offered to officiate, and we all agreed, and now the roast is in the oven. There’s no going back once the roast is in the oven.”

“Spike? What has Spike got to do with anything?” Giles asked. “All I know is that I was at the airport about to board my plane, then I was waking up in the supermarket car park, feeling very much like Alice through the looking glass.”

“What were you doing at the airport?” asked Buffy.

“Going back to England, as you know perfectly well.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You weren’t planning a trip—not with the ceremony tonight,” said Buffy.

“That’s right. You wouldn’t miss Spike’s ceremony if it was the end of the world,” said Xander, drawing angry glares from the girls. “Sorry—did I just say something jinxy? I take it back—no end of the world. There, is that better?”

“What’s going on down there?” came the familiar sound of Willow’s voice from upstairs. Giles breathed a sigh of relief; if there was one person he could trust to make sense of all this it was Willow. “Who’s missing the ceremony?” she asked.

“No one,” Buffy answered menacingly, shooting a warning glare in Giles’ direction. “Everyone will be here, and everything will go without a hitch, even if I have to tie you all down and force-feed you the roast.”

Willow and Tara descended the stairs together, holding hands. Willow, too, had apparently just come from the shower and had neglected to put on clothing. But Giles hardly noticed. He was too overwhelmed at the sight of Tara.

“Oh, dear Lord,” he said.