When the Gang were considering their living arrangements it was the basement of the house that sold it to them. The main house was comfortable with plenty of space. There was a lovely, well-equipped kitchen, large sitting room, and a dining room to entertain in. Upstairs there were enough bedrooms to have a guest room and allow the men to have their own room. Giles and Xander would not have survived sharing a room. The guest room was perfect if Anya or Oz wanted to stay over, although they operated a policy of "what Giles doesn't actively know about sleeping arrangements people's parents can't kill him for". Privately Giles could not see what business it was of Willow or Xander's parents because they had never paid any attention to what their children did when they lived at home. He would always remember Willow's face after she came home from picking up a couple of books a month after she left. Apparently her mother had asked her if she had enjoyed her sleepover at Bunny's house. He had almost gone over to the Rosenberg house and given her mother a piece of his mind on the subject of parents not noticing where their children are living. Instead he had cooked Willow's favourite meal for her and Buffy and Xander took her to the Bronze for some fun.
As I was saying, it was the basement they fell in love with. It was the size of the upper floors, but had been left as one enormous room. They had spent the final month of the summer vacation working on it, turning it into their base of operations. There was room to have all Giles' books stacked on shelves, with spare shelves for new books. One corner was designated for training, with mats on the floor, a punching bag fixed to the ceiling and practise weapons on the wall. Another corner had the cabinets and chests that housed their good weapons in. A small sink and work top occupied another corner, perfect for getting water for spells or making tea. There was a large table in the middle similar to the Library's, where Willow's big computer sat, and a couple of small sofas filled the last corner. The Basement felt as much a part of them as the Library had, although for different reasons. This was a place they had created themselves, working together and carried none of the bad memories from their time at the High School.
By the time Willow and Buffy went down the Basement Giles and Xander had been working for a while. There was tea made in a pot and Buffy poured herself a cup while Willow stared at it longingly, wishing Xander had not found out tea contained more caffeine than coffee and banned her from drinking it.
Buffy had finally, after much debate, decided on wearing sweats and a strappy top. The top was old, and the sweats ancient, so she did not feel like she had made an effort, but she felt good in them. You're going crazy, she told herself again. You know he likes this top, and it shows you off nicely. The sweats aren't really going to make that much of a difference. Pull yourself together and face facts. You're trying to impress him.
She growled at herself inwardly and picked up the book she had abandoned last night to try to shut out her thoughts.
The research was boring and tedious, and so far had produced no results. There were actually a huge number of spells that caused memory loss. They had to read through every one and try to decide if it was a possible, or if they could find a reason it could not be the spell responsible. The possible pile was much larger than the other pile and they had not even started to look at spells that could make the victim do things they would not otherwise do.
After a couple of minutes Buffy's attention wandered again. Giles sat opposite her with a pencil in his mouth and his hair mussed from running his hand through it. Why have I never noticed how cute he is when he does that? Buffy thought dreamily. Cute? What am I saying? Or thinking even? This is Giles! Watcher-guy. Tweed-man. Cute tweed-man . . . stop that! The tweed hasn't even made an appearance for weeks. And doesn't he look good in those jeans . . . no! Don't go there she told herself firmly.
Frustrated at her inability to concentrate, at least on the books, she got up and began pummelling her punch bag.
With each thud Giles winced inwardly, knowing that she working out her frustrations at the situation rather than needing training. He could understand her frustration; not knowing what had happened or why was torture. Although he was not entirely sure he wanted to remember. On the one hand he needed to know what happened during the three day blank but on the other hand, if their flashbacks were any guide, remembering could ruin their relationship. He wanted to remember why Buffy had told him so softly that she loved him, and he wanted to see her expression as they said their marriage vows. But he was afraid, both of the memories and of how much he wanted them. You're a sick old man, he told himself wearily.
Finally Buffy began to slow her pummelling, then she stopped, panting. When she had her breath back she began to slowly stretch out her muscles, feeling slightly embarrassed that after all this time she had forgotten that important part of her training routine in her need to beat out her frustrations. Giles decided his concentration was shot for the morning as well, and acknowledged that a little training would probably do him some good as well. So when Buffy stood from her final stretch she was just in time to catch the practise sword her threw to her.
Without a word they began fighting, thrusting and parrying strokes, neither one getting the upper hand. What Giles lacked in strength against her he more than made up for in skill and speed. He used a series of moves that Buffy had never seen before to neatly disarm her, sending her sword sliding across the floor. Her hand stung a little at the sudden disarming and Giles gave her a moment to recover before coming at her again. Buffy was not fazed at all and managed to avoid his thrust, at the same time using his momentum to throw him to the floor and pin his arm above his head.
For a long moment the two combatants were absolutely still. The sudden tension between them rendered them speechless. Buffy was straddling his stomach and had to stretch along his body to pin his arm down. The position put her mouth only inches from his, and she had the incredible urge to close the distance, just to see if it felt anything like her dreams. Ever so slowly her head began to descend to his-
"According to my stomach it has got to be lunch," Xander announced.
"Didn't you eat breakfast an hour ago?" Willow asked.
The sudden noise shocked Buffy and Giles out of their trance and she practically leaped off him, accidentally thumping him on the chest on the way. Immediately feeling guilty she extended a hand to her winded Watcher.
When he was standing she looked at him for a long moment then said, "I, uh, I . . ."
"Yes, well . . . you need to . . . try to remember not to . . . over-extend," Giles said, still breathless.
Buffy finally thought of an actual sentence, although how intelligent it was is debatable. "I must stink. I need a shower."
She almost ran up the stairs, overtaking Xander and Willow, all the time asking herself what in earth just happened.
Giles was left standing on the mats asking himself the same question. He kept replaying the moment in his mind, the expression in her eyes as she looked down at him, the way she had seemed to be lowering her head to his. If I didn't know better I'd say she was about to kiss me. I must be going senile from the stress. His breathlessness was not entirely down to the misplaced elbow as Buffy jumped. He had been holding his breath, hardly daring to believe what was happening. When Buffy has finished, I think I'll take a shower. A very, very cold one.
***
By evening the Basement was a mess. Empty chip packets and cans were strewn around the room and books littered every surface, nominally in piles of importance although which pile was which was hard to tell. The cartons from the pizzas they had ordered in lay on the table and empty teacups were piled in the sink. The advantage of the Basement over the Library was that they could leave it without having Snyder complaining at them.
Willow eventually stretched, wincing as her cramped muscles protested, and glanced at the clock. "Guys, I have an early class tomorrow so I'm going to bed."
"Sounds good," Buffy agreed.
"I have no classes, because I'm not a shmuck like you lot, but sleep is always of the good," Xander said.
A thought occurred to Buffy. "Will, what did you tell them at college?" she asked, slightly panicked.
"I said you ran away to Vegas to marry your sugar-daddy of course," Willow grinned.
Buffy glared at her. "That is not funny."
"Though of something funny, but not going to say it," Xander commented, looking at Buffy warily.
"Good plan," she said, and then resumed glaring at Willow.
"Ok," Willow gave in. "I just told them you had flu. I mean, you did have oogyness on Wednesday after all. Oh, Giles?"
"Hmm?" he said, surfacing from his book slowly.
"Professor Macarthy called to ask how you were. I told him you were sick and couldn't talk because you had lost your voice."
"Thank you." Giles had not even thought about the days he had missed at the college. As Professor of Mythology he did not have a heavy lecture schedule, but he had probably still caused problems. "Did he leave any message?"
Willow's face took on the glazed look she got when trying to recite something from memory. "He said not to worry, he would let your students know you were ill and he was sure they had not missed enough to endanger their grades. He also said you needed to remember to go to the monthly Faculty meeting tomorrow evening, and he hopes your mother doesn't get sick again. I didn't know your mother was sick," Willow protested.
Giles winced. Although it was worded very politely the message told him quite clearly that Professor Macarthy was not happy with him. "Sh-she died several years ago. I-I needed a reason not to attend the meeting last month when we were having problems with that fungus demon."
"The master of understatement strikes again," Buffy commented, remembering the trail of destruction the demon had left.
"You lied!" Willow accused him.
"I-I suppose I did. It was for the greater good of mankind though, so I doubt it will be counted against me."
***
Buffy could not sleep. Despite her exhaustion from the training and the mind-numbing tedium of the research, it was two o'clock and she was wide-awake. She turned over again and tried to get comfortable but it was no use. Her mind was determinedly awake. The worst part, though, was that the sneaky thought that she would sleep much better if she was cuddled up with someone, a specific someone, kept worming it's way into her mind. Her stomach began to grumble, and she realised that she would never get any sleep now. So she silently got out of bed, put on her robe and headed downstairs to make herself a quick snack.
She snuck down the stairs, through the silent house, trying not to wake anyone else. She did not feel up to explaining why she was so restless. In the kitchen she raided the fridge and began making herself a sandwich.
Giles had been unable to sleep. The couch was not long enough for his tall frame and it was murdering his back. So when he heard someone creeping down the stairs he decided to investigate. He found the Slayer in the kitchen, making what looked like an impressive sandwich. In the moonlight her hair looked silver, and he called himself ten kinds of sentimental fool as part of his mind began comparing her to moonlit maidens from his favourite poems. For a while he leaned against the door jam and watched her as she concentrated on setting the sliced cheese just so on the bread. Then he had to smile as he saw her begin to spread sandwich pickle over the cheese. She was always protesting that cheese and pickle had to be the weirdest sandwich filling ever, and that only the English could think that up. It seemed she had had a change of opinion on that at least.
As she began to cut the sandwich up Giles shifted, accidentally knocking against the pin board by the door. The sudden noise startled Buffy and she spun around, dropping the knife.
"Giles!" she hissed when she realised who it was. In a loud whisper she continued, "Don't you know not to sneak up on a Slayer holding a knife?"
He looked pointedly at the knife on the floor.
"Ok, minor technicality, but I still have a point," she continued to protest.
He walked over and bent to pick up the knife, at the same time as Buffy did the same. His hand closed around the knife handle and hers closed around his. Their eyes met and a spark seemed to pass between them again. Giles suddenly began to feel very warm as he saw the expression in her eyes. There was curiosity in them and he thought he also saw desire. Without speaking they rose and stood, their hands still connected over the knife. He looked down into her eyes, trying to decide what to do.
Kiss me Buffy silently instructed, looking up into his green eyes. What am I thinking? This is Giles! Again with the 'this is Giles' crap. You know you want him, so why protest? Because - because - this is Giles! Great, I'm on the losing side of a pointless argument with myself. I'm losing my mind. Oh my god, he's going to kiss me! At last the thought sneaked itself in, just before her lips met his.
It was only the faintest brush of lips, so gentle she almost thought she imagined it. As he withdrew she raised up on tip toes to kiss him again, surprised by her boldness. Warm. Nice, she thought dreamily.
The lights suddenly blinked on and Xander wandered into the kitchen.
"Why didn't anyone tell me we were having a midnight feast?" he asked as he walked over to the food-laden worktop, blithely unaware of what he had just interrupted.
Buffy and Giles had jumped apart as the lights went on and now stood at opposite ends of the room, both blushing and unable to look at each other. The knife lay where they dropped it, halfway between them.
"I'm going to, uh . . . ya know . . . go, uh, back to . . .yeah." Buffy managed, and practically ran upstairs.
"I-I-I need to, uh, to . . . uh, sleep," Giles stammered and rushed from the kitchen, saying a silent farewell to any hopes he had had of doing so.
"What was that?" Xander asked the empty kitchen. Then he noticed the food. "Great, free sandwich!"
*finis*