Fic: My Interview With Rupert Giles

[ladyforash.livejournal.com]

Title: My Interview With Rupert Giles
By: LadyForASH
Rated: FRT
Pairing: GASP, there is none! This is gen Giles. Mostly. Er, you’ll see.
Summary: Post Chosen. Several years later, in London. AU. This is what happened when I interviewed Giles!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is strictly written for fun. Please enjoy.
Written for Summer of Giles, 2009 :)

Special thanks to wide_rider, monkeyscorpion and clavally for the betas and advice.

Questions and Prompts provided by: ljs, bookishwench, helenkacan, wide_rider, lily_diablo, froxyn, myhrmaid, opalesence_, escargoat, fairygothmum, xenaclone, monkeyscorpion, urania_calliope, sunbrae, and qb_fox.

It was my first trip to London, but I was way too nervous and stressed out to enjoy it. Besides, I would have no time for sight seeing. The Haunted London tour would have to wait another day, or for another trip, because this one was all business.

To say I was disappointed to be having my meeting in an out of the way coffee shop would be an understatement. At best, I was hoping for a more intimate setting for this interview. His living room perhaps? Or his personal study or library? At the very least, at the new Council headquarters? But he’d chosen a neutral site. I guess I should have been grateful that he’d agreed to this writing endeavor at all. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?

I am not a Watcher, nor a Slayer, nor do I work for the Council, but I was hired by some of their students and colleagues. You see, Rupert Giles is a legend. He is inarguably the best Watcher that ever was. He saved the world, a lot. Of course his Slayer, Buffy Summers, had something to do with that as well, but this is about her Watcher, Giles. I was asked to write his memoirs, so that others could learn. The new Council was started from the ground up by Rupert Giles and his friends and colleagues. Everything he did has to be recorded, so that others may learn. This is a new generation of Watchers and Slayers. Everything is different, and it all started with him. This interview was about gathering all the information we could about the best Watcher that ever was.

Mine was an intimidating job. I’m just a so-so writer, and I suppose a student. I had my briefcase filled with research, cross references, and of course the questions gathered from my own colleagues and assistants and fellow students. This was not a one woman job. It was a collaboration. I had questions of my own, as well as questions gathered from students at the Watcher Academy, Slayers, and the friends from my writing circle. Rupert Giles had agreed to this interview, albeit reluctantly, because he knew how important it was, although he didn’t know the specifics of my questions. It would be personal at times, perhaps even painful at times. I just hoped he didn’t have any desire to kill the messenger.

I took a deep breath, and entered the café.

It was no surprise to see him sitting in a far corner, facing the door. From that angle, he could see anyone entering, or watching, or… doing anything remotely suspicious. We’d never met in person before. A few emails, a phone call to set up this appointment, but this was our first meeting face to face.

I could feel my face get warm as our eyes met. He gave me a small smile, just one corner of his mouth tipping up, and it didn’t really reach his eyes. Then he was standing, and I was there before him, nervous as all get out. He held out his hand and I found his grip firm and warm within my own. I felt… calmer. He had a steadying presence, when he wanted to be. I also knew without doubt that, if he’d chosen, I would be withering away. Thankfully, he was willing and I hoped, open.

There was a pot of tea on the table and I could see remnants from a pastry. A jelly donut perhaps? I thanked him when he poured me a cup of tea before refilling his own. I tried to distract myself from my nerves by focusing on the job. I opened my briefcase and took out my notes.

His eyes went wide when he saw the thick sheaf of paper. “It appears you have been very thorough.”

Taking that as a compliment, I smiled, and finally I began to relax. “I had a fascinating subject, sir.” I felt like I’d spent my entire life studying this man, getting to know him through others, as well as through his own personal journals. I knew him intimately, in some ways, and there was no one else I respected more. I think that was one of the reasons I got this job. He knew he could trust me, but at the same time, I wouldn’t go easy on him. It was most certainly his call of duty beckoning him once again. I just prayed I didn’t take advantage of that strength in his character.

“Please, just call me Giles.” A real smile this time, and my heart did a flip.

So yeah, I also had a little crush. Or maybe even a huge crush. But he didn’t know that, right?

As I gathered my notes, I was also taking in everything about him, as stealthily as I could. He seemed resigned to this interview, certainly, but as a man he just seemed so… lonely and sad. What an awful position to be in, I thought, to have duty be your everything, with really no choice in the matter. I suddenly wanted to reach out and take his hand, to comfort him, to thank him for all of his sacrifices, to… to love him. I wished for a time machine, so I could take him back to the beginning so he could start over and make other choices that would leave him loved and happy and surrounded by friends and family. But then, the world would be a very different place. In all reality, the world might have ceased to exist, if not for Rupert Giles and his duty. To say I was humbled before him is a grand understatement.

I cleared my throat and smiled awkwardly. “There are questions that I accumulated from the potential slayers and watchers and other students at the academy.”

Giles nervously sipped his tea and then removed his glasses to give them a good polish. “Go on. Let’s get this over with.”

I thumbed through my notes trying to decide where was best to start. It was warm in the café, and Giles took the moment to shrug out of his jacket. A waiter came over, refilled our tea pot, and removed the soiled linen napkins. When we were alone again, I felt Giles’ eyes on me. He was getting impatient. Then, as if sensing my foreboding, he chuckled softly. “I think you are more nervous than I am. Just relax. You’ll do fine. I promise, I won’t bite.”

That was easy for him to say now, but I knew that I would be asking some very personal questions. This wasn’t just about his duty, or his calling. This was about the man himself. What made him do the things he did? Did he have regrets? How did his calling affect others in his life? Did he ever love? Or want? On the surface, the questions appeared intrusive and would seem to have nothing to do with his ‘job.’ But it was all connected. With every fiber of his being and emotion and feeling this man had, or pushed away or kept hidden… it all mattered. It’s what made him so successful. It’s what saved the world. No stone could be left unturned if others were to succeed him.

Exasperated, Giles reached over and plucked my notebook out of my hands. He skimmed over the notes. I could tell by the look on his face that some of the questions were… mortifying? He glared at me once or twice, and I swear I shrunk in my seat at least a few inches. Then, suddenly, he let out a laugh and handed me back the note pad. He pointed. “Why don’t we start with that one?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced at where his finger was pointing. “Oh God,” I groaned. “Uh, I think that was just a joke. Really, you don’t have too… although, I am kind of curious.” Embarrassed at myself, I clapped my jaw shut.

Rupert Giles laughed. It was wonderful to see such a display. He did it with his entire body, and he seemed much younger and… lighter. As if the weight of the world had left his shoulders for that moment. He gathered himself, held his hands together on the table, and with a smile said, “Boxers. Always boxers. I find them much more comfortable and… liberating.”

His eyes bore into mine, shining with humor. If ever there was a light side of Ripper, there it was. I smiled, certain that my ears were red, and picked up my pen. I wrote Boxers next to the silly question of, “Boxers or Briefs?”

“That wasn’t one of your own, was it?” he teased me again.

I shook my head, blushing furiously now. “No, that was… uh…” I glanced down at the notes again, “that was from one of my very good friends. I think she was trying to lighten the mood.”

“Actually, it’s not a bad question,” he stated. Then he began to explain how clothing affected different fighting techniques, flow and ease of movement, the ability to hide various weapons, etc. It actually ended up being quite interesting. But then, I found his voice so sexy and soothing, that I think I could get lost in his voice as he read a phone book.

After his dissertation on proper underwear, he took another sip of his tea. He grimaced slightly. “This tea is horrid.”

Fascinated, I studied the warm beverage in my cup. It tasted fine to me. “And how does one make a proper cup of tea?”

Giles smiled and leaned back in his chair. “A proper cup of British tea is a relatively simple matter that you bloody colonials have mucked up rather badly. For instance, you take the boiling water, not hot water, but boiling water, to the tea bag, and not the other way around. If the water isn’t boiling when it makes contact with the tea, it will never brew properly. It’s always a good idea to have the pot and the cup warm before you even start.”

I nodded. How tea could be so interesting, I have no idea, but when Rupert Giles spoke about it, it was.

“You should also leave the tea in the water for at least two minutes. Longer if you like it stronger, like I do, but at the bare minimum, two minutes. None of this dunk and be done with it junk. For god’s sake, resist that temptation. Just leave the tea bag resting in the water until its done steeping. “

“What about loose leaf tea? Is that better than a tea bag?”

Giles adjusted his glasses. “I prefer loose leaf, but honestly, it’s the type of tea that matters. Over here our tea is much stronger than those winsome bags in America.”

It was my turn to chuckle. I felt I was doing rather well, loosening him up before the hard questions, at any rate. Or had that been the other way around?

He leaned forward and smiled at me then. “You’re not going to ask me how to play cricket next, are you?”

I panicked for a moment, caught off guard by his attempt at humor. “And if I was?”

He rolled his eyes and then shrugged. “Perhaps we should stick to the subject at hand, yes?”

“Alright,” I answered, relaxing again in my chair. I could do this. He seemed more than willing. Perhaps it was time for a tougher question. I set down my notepad and folded my hands in my lap, fixing him with a now serious gaze. “Of all the wrong decisions you've made in your life, which is your biggest regret?”

A long moment of silence followed.

“That’s a very long list,” he muttered. He fanned his hands along the table until his fingers found one of our tea spoons. He curled the stem in his finger. “If only I had a crystal ball, when I was just a lad, would things have turned out differently?” The expression on his face told me he’d gone somewhere else for a moment, but then he blinked himself back to the present and looked back across the table at me.

“You might think I’d say Randall. Or Eyghon. Or when I left Sunnydale after Glory. Any of those answers may be correct, but if I was being truly honest with myself, I’d have to say that I have no regrets.” He held his hands up. “Perhaps you think that’s a cop out to your question, but I’m being serious. Every step we make in our lives is a building block. It makes us into the person we are right now, at this moment. If I’d made one different decision, one different choice, things might be totally different in this moment. I may not have been here. You might not have been here. One of the bad guys may have won. The errors I made in my youth helped me become the Watcher I was for Buffy. I have no regrets, because I could not be more proud of my Slayer. Hence… although sometimes misguided, or just plain incorrect and stupid, I would not change any of the decisions I made.”

“Speaking of that time in your youth,” I started, “At what point since your return to the Council after Eyghon did your motivation move from shame or repentance to a desire to be an excellent, dedicated Watcher?”

Giles took a steadying breath and frowned. The expression on his face told me he didn’t see our little café, nor his tea cup at his fingertips. He was somewhere very far away. “As soon as Randall died, I knew… I had been terribly misguided. One could say I ran with my tail between my legs, back to my father. The Council… at first, I rebuked them, even after what happened. Their drilling into me about duty and calling and evil… eventually, they got past my pain and the awareness of what they were actually trying to teach me sunk in.” He paused and his eyes found mine. “The old Council was wrong in many ways, but the foundation of their beliefs, their ultimate goal… was good. Did they handle everything correctly? God knows they did not. They became consumed with power, or at least, some of their members did. But I realized that the foundation was solid. And either way, this girl… the Slayer… she would be in my hands, and she would be the only one standing between the world, and evil. I could not fail her. I just… I could not fail her.”

Wanting to change the subject, and perhaps lighten the mood, I flipped through my note pad without really seeing it, because my next question was already on the tip of my tongue. “There have been a lot of stories and rumors about the Council of old, their brain washing techniques, their use of seers and dedication to research. But what about your training? What was your favorite part of Watcher’s training?”

“I liked all of the physical things, the fighting techniques from various cultures, pushing myself to the limits of complete exhaustion, and… well, weapons of course.” He smiled again. “There is nothing like holding a sword in your hand, when it becomes one with you.” He blinked for a moment, and I knew that he was thinking of Buffy, and how she would understand what that felt like more than most. I’d never held a sword, how could I possibly know? But I believed him.

“Sword training was my favorite, if I had to pick. It’s a lot like…well, riding a bike. It’s just you and the sword, and your opponent. Everything else just fades away. It has its own rhythm. It’s like… music, a steady beat, parrying and thrusting, quick movements at one moment, subtle at the next…”

I cleared my throat. Was it getting hot in here or was it just me?

His eyes had glazed over a bit, but at my grunt, he came back to himself. He shrugged and again gave me that little smile. “Weapons, and in particular sword play… that was my favorite training, back in the day.”

I swallowed and nodded, and then bit my lower lip. I knew he’d been thinking of Buffy as we talked about the swords. It was all over his face. Something came into his eyes when he spoke of her, or thought of her. I looked down at my notes. “I know you’ve had this question asked before, and it’s… awkward. But I believe it is valid, when all things are considered. Buffy was… is… amazing. That goes without saying. And she is a beautiful woman as well as being strong willed and powerful. There is an… attraction there. As her Watcher, did you ever… have erotic feelings for her? Did she invade your dreams? As a man, with a woman… did you resist those feelings in order to focus on your calling… or maybe… you didn’t resist?”

Giles glared at me for a moment. I tried not to whither. He had to know this question would come. And he knew it was a completely reasonable question to ask a Watcher in regards to his Slayer. Was it personal and private? Hell yes. But what they did together, saving the world… what they had was special. And what was between them had to be analyzed if we were ever to understand.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and returned his look. I had to be strong in this. If he had any idea how I was feeling in that moment, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he’d understand better if he knew… it’s not like I wanted the dirty details!

“I am a man,” he finally said, almost haltingly. “I’ve had many erotic dreams about many people, and yes, Buffy was one of them. Often. Especially when we were in the trenches, so to speak. And yes, that was covered in Watcher’s training. Focus, at all times, on the goal. I had to protect Buffy, not… attack her.” The look on his face was almost painful, and I didn’t know if the pain was his, or because of the thought. Then he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing ever happened. When the world is at risk, you can’t let personal motivations or desires get in the way. Essentially, that’s what became of the old Council. They let personal motivation get in the way, instead of focusing on the greater good. Distractions such as you describe could not and would not have helped our Duty, our Calling. It would have been a moment of gratification that could have ended… in an apocalypse.”

“But maybe not,” I said softly. I studied his face. “Giles… you’ve sacrificed so much. Did you ever wonder if there was a way to… fulfill yourself and fulfill your Calling?”

Something shifted in his expression then. His eyes softened as he looked at me. “When you find the answer to that, please, let me know."

He had that look come into his eyes again; one that spoke of great sadness and loneliness. I wanted to reach out to him, but once again, I did not. Instead, I tried to convey everything with a smile. He must have understood something in my look, because he returned a smile of gratitude before chuckling, “Do you have any more of those Boxer versus Brief questions?”

I laughed. “Well there is one here about motorcycles.”

“Ah!” He rubbed his hands together as if warming to the question. “Yes?”

“Well, it’s fairly well known that you like motorcycles. I do too, in fact.”

“You do? Do you have one?” He looked at me with surprise and perhaps a bit of respect.

I blushed. “Yeah, I have a Harley Sporster.”

“Of course. A Harley.” He rolled his eyes, teasing me. “883, or 1200?”

“1200 Custom. And I love it. But… what about you? First off, do you have a bike now? And what we want to know is, which do you prefer, the Norton, or the Triumph?”

Giles settled back in his seat with his tea again, this time with a thoughtful look on his face. “I do not presently own a bike, which is a pity, really. I make excuses that I don’t have time, I travel so much… I keep putting it off. I should remedy that.”

I noted he hadn’t said because it was too dangerous, or that he was too old, of which I was glad on both counts, because it just wasn’t true. Especially considering he fought vampires on a daily basis! (Or did.)

“The Triumph is a great example of a brand trying to compete within the contemporary marketplace. It had its place in history. Everyone knows a Triumph. Not only that, but people are passionate about Triumphs, including the manufacturers. They have a desire for excellence that cannot be over looked.”

Giles now leaned forward on his seat, getting into his discussion. “Nortons, on the other hand, are older bikes built with a more contemporary technology and up to date performance components. Demand has been great, but they are very costly to build and to maintain.” He sighed and took off his glasses, using another clean linen napkin on the lenses. “I suppose if pressed, I’d go with Triumph. After all, it is a classic.” He grinned. “Kind of like me.”

I grunted with a smile. “I’m not sure I’d say that. Legend, perhaps, and excellent, but not a classic.” Realizing what I’d just said… oh my god, I was actually flirting with Rupert Giles… I blushed furiously and scrambled for my tea. I ignored looking at him for the moment, but I could hear the laughter rumbling out of his chest.

“Bloody awful American tea… that reminds me,” Giles began. “I noticed you had Spike on your list, how it was having him as a roommate?”

I nodded, intrigued now. I flipped a page over on my notebook and started to scrawl some notes on the paper, but my pen went dead. Giles smiled, reached into his briefcase that was lying on the chair next to him, and handed me a fountain pen. I smiled graciously and took the pen. It was customized with his name on it. I was holding Rupert Giles’ pen!

Oh god, I had it bad.

“Thanks,” I muttered, and started my notes again. “Yes, Spike living with you… wait a minute. What does that have to do with awful American tea?”

Giles chuckled. “Spike liked to play practical jokes.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” I leaned towards the table, reflecting how this interview process hadn’t been so bad after all. We had traversed some rough, very private ground, and had come out on the other side mostly unscathed. In fact, even Giles seemed to be enjoying telling some of his stories. I gave him another encouraging smile.

“Yes, well, one afternoon, he slipped something into my tea.”

My eyes went big. “Uh oh. What was it?”

Giles took off his glasses and wiped at his forehead with the linen napkin. “I believe it is commonly called… the date rape drug?”

My jaw hit the floor. Oh my god. He didn’t… he’s not going to tell me that Spike… and he…

Giles shook his head and flipped his glasses back on his nose. “It was an eerily familiar feeling, back to my Ripper days with Ethan. Only then we induced that sort of state with magic. Spike had no idea what he had done.” Giles sighed. “He just wanted to have fun, find a pub and get the Watcher shagged, as he put it.” Giles gave me an almost apologetic smile. “So we went to Willy’s. I’d never go there if in my rational mind, of course. And if Buffy had found me there…” Giles paused. “Actually, if Buffy had known about Spike’s little joke, she probably would have staked him and saved us all a lot of trouble.”

“Yes, but Spike was needed at the end… but please, go on!”

Ignoring my comment about Spike, he continued. “When we walked in, Willy became a bit frantic.” Giles smiled, and it was a feral smile that gave me goose bumps. I’m not sure I liked it on his face at all. “Now you must realize, I pieced most of this together later. I had to go back and talk to Willy because I didn’t trust a thing Spike told me. Plus, I needed to guarantee that Willy kept his mouth shut.”

I nodded with understanding. Giles wouldn’t want it known that he’d… done whatever he’d done. I was shocked he was opening up to me about this now! Had he ever told anyone?

“I don’t remember a thing, even to this day. I believe that’s part of the effects of the drug. When I woke up the next afternoon, still in my old clothes, stinking like swill and piss, Spike was gone. But I found a receipt from Willy’s in my pocket so I put two and two together and went to talk to him.” Giles ran his fingers through his hair.

“Giles,” I said, hesitantly. “You don’t have to tell me about this. Or… I mean… I can make this off the record.”

He smiled and nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I don’t know why I’m unburdening myself now. I suppose you’re a good listener and… I’m in a self exposing kind of mood.” He laughed at himself for a moment. “Considering what I did at Willy’s, you’ll appreciate the pun.”

I put down the pen and folded my hands over the notebook.

“Yes, well, apparently when we first arrived, I went straight to the juke box. I bellowed that they were playing bloody awful music, so I kicked the machine a few times. Several customers, which were all demon, of course, erupted from their seats. Instead of shagging, Spike found himself in the middle of my melee. It was quite the fight, I was told. Me against a dozen or so demons. At that time, Spike didn’t know he could hurt demons without his chip going off, and according to Willy, Spike was either too stunned or too upset at being left out of the fun, so that he just slunk behind the bar and drank beer, ducking every once in awhile when a flying chair came his way.” Giles smiled. It was as if he was reciting a fond memory, and not an embarrassing one. I could see that he enjoyed letting his wild side out once in awhile.

“I thoroughly trashed Willy’s. No one could stop me. Willy ended up hiding under a table. Then supposedly I righted the juke box, put some Rolling Stones on, and proceeded to strip out of my clothes and dance around the bar.” Giles blushed and then looked at me sheepishly. “I’m sure more happened, but that’s all I know. Spike won’t talk of it. He was mortified, and I think… frightened. He saw Ripper at his core. For that, I’m not sure I’m sorry.”

“Wow,” I uttered. “I can’t believe Spike stayed with you after that? Or that you’d let him?”

“I didn’t. It was just a few days later when Olivia came for a visit, so I shipped Spike off to Xander.”

I saw a sad little smile creep over his face at the mention of Olivia. “What happened to her? To Olivia? Did you ever see her again, after Sunnydale?”

He waved the waiter over for a fresh pot of tea and also ordered us some scones. Once the waiter left he settled back into our interview. “She sought me out last year. Somehow she’d heard I’d returned and was staying at my family estate. She just showed up on my doorstep one evening, acting as if nothing had happened. But I knew otherwise.” Giles paused as the waiter came back with the refreshments. “It took her awhile to get to the point of the visit. She was… fishing, asking me questions about Sunnydale, Buffy, magic… Olivia wasn’t ignorant of all that. She knew my past of course. Something was bothering her, however.”

Giles turned his head and looked out the window. I noted that the clouds had come out while we spoke, and now it looked like rain. Not surprising in London. “She’d found out an old boyfriend had died of AIDS. She needed me to be tested.”

I tried not to gasp, but I’d been about to take a bite of my scone and had to set it down instead. “That’s… oh geeze.”

Giles turned back to me with a nod. “I tested clean, and I wasn’t truly worried.”

“But Olivia?”

“She’s HIV positive, but so far her medications are helping.”

“I’m so sorry,” I told him. This time I did reach over and laid my hand gently on one of his, giving it a light squeeze. I did it without thought. He glanced down at our hands, gave a soft little smile, and nodded. “Thank you.”

I pulled back and picked up my tea cup as he continued. “I see her occasionally, but whatever it was we had has long since cooled. We’ll always be friends, and I’ll always be there for her if she needs me, but thankfully she has a close girlfriend and family to help care for her, when and if she needs.”

It was a sad ending to a friendship, I thought, and it was ironic that it wasn’t a demon or destiny that came between them, but a disease. Although Giles’ calling had seemed to come between them long before.

Personally, I thought she was an idiot for leaving him in the first place.

“I’m sorry to tread on such personal ground here,” I said softly, “but were you ever able to forgive Buffy for making you choose between her and Jenny?”

“There was nothing for me to forgive,” Giles stated matter-of-factly. “Just as I stated earlier, my life is… was… about protecting and training Buffy. I belonged by my Slayer’s side, whenever she needed me. My needs and desires could not factor into it.”

Had there ever been such a selfless man?

It was a humbling experience to be sitting across from him, having these thoughts.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said softly. “I had my moments, terrible moments when I neglected my duty. And there were other times when I was free to venture into personal domains. When Buffy was visiting her father for the summer, in those early years, for example. And I am just a man. Very fallible. Do not make the mistake of putting me up on a pedestal just so I can come crashing down.”

I blinked a few times, glanced down at my notes, and then looked up at him again. “What made you think that leaving for England would make the situations in Sunnydale better, instead of worse? After Buffy… died and came back?”

Giles snorted. “Came back? You mean Willow’s spell?”

I nodded.

Giles sighed. “My mistake was not in trusting Buffy, but in trusting Willow. That was a very troubling time for all of us. I… I couldn’t stay there and be of help to anyone, at that point. I needed to heal myself. Can you understand that? I was no good to anyone without taking care of myself first.” He gave a weary sigh. “I knew that in the end, Buffy would be okay. She is a remarkable young woman, and I wanted to help her all I could, but in some things… there is no helping. A person has to decide within themselves to pull themselves up, to go on, to take back the power and control.”

“Does Willow frighten you, or do you think she has control now?”

Giles rolled his shoulders and then put his elbows down on the table, resting his chin in his hands. He gazed at me over the top of his fingers. “Magic doesn’t ever leave you. It pumps and flows like blood in your veins. And there can be no light without dark. Willow… once she touched that darkness, it’s always inside of her. That’s what I should have realized, and failing that… well, that was my mistake.”

“Well, it seems like you got there just in time,” I told him.

He gave a tired smile and shrugged. “I wasn’t ready before that. If I had stayed, Willow just may have had me for tea. So I suppose you’re right.” He smiled. “The Coven definitely helped as well. And Xander… well, he was amazing. But then, he always was. But as far as your question regarding Willow now… yes, magic frightens me. In the wrong hands, a wrong word, an incorrect gesture… all could be lost. The magic infused in Willow is more powerful than I think any of us can ever know. Do I trust she’s in control now? Yes. Do I fear that could one day change? If I’m being totally honest with myself, yes. But she is surrounded by her family, and she knows we love and support her. The rest is up to her.” He smiled then. “She too is a remarkable young woman, and obviously without her abilities, without her being the woman she is, we all would have failed.”

It was easy to see how much he loved all of them. They were his children. Maybe, in some ways, we all were.

“When you were standing at the crater that was once Sunnydale, what did you really want to say to Buffy? Because from what I’ve heard and read, it seems like there was so much that was left… unsaid.”

Giles let out a bark of laughter. “That was the description of our relationship, wouldn’t you say? Things left unsaid? Willow used to call me, ‘the emotional marathon man,’ and I daresay, she was right.” He sobered slightly. “I would have told her how proud I was of her. How thankful I was, and how thankful the world would be, if they knew all of her sacrifices. I would have told her to go shopping, enjoy life, and turn her back on everything that was Sunnydale. She deserves to rest, to live, to play, to… self gratify herself in every way possible, because she’d had to restrain herself for her entire life, up to that point.”

I smiled at him then. He gave me a curious look. “What?” he asked me.

“It seems that the same could be said to you, for all you’ve sacrificed, for all that you have given.”

He blushed then, and shrugged.

“I have an idea.” There were many questions left unasked, but they could be perused at another time.

He sat back in his chair and smiled as I closed my notebook. “Have you then? And what would that be?”

“I think you need some fun. I noticed a motorcycle shop on the corner next to my hotel. What do you say we go do some window shopping? And just perhaps… you go wild and get that bike you’ve been wanting?”

He gaped at me for a moment. And then another smile broke over his face. This one touched every fiber of his being, coming out his green eyes like sunshine. He clapped his hands with delight. “You’re on!”

If only I was the type to say, “Give us a kiss, gorgeous!” But alas… this ending will have to do.

End…