HERE TO WATCH GIRLS, CHAPTER NINE: TRISTAN AND ISOLDE (9 OF 15?, TOTAL. POST 5 OF 5 FOR TODAY)

[protoneoromanic.livejournal.com]

Title: Here to Watch Girls
Author: ProtoNeoRomantic
Betas: Gilescandy & porkwithbones
Rating: NC-17 (work as a whole) Rated on the side of caution.
Paring: Giles/Willow, Giles/Buffy, Giles/Cordelia, Giles/other female characters
Word Count: 1403  (this chapter)

Chapter Nine: Tristan and Isolde

“Is everything all right?” Willow asked, brow slightly furrowed. Obviously she'd noticed the fact that Giles had very little to say in response to her dramatic account of being evacuated or her worried speculation about when school would be able to start again.

“I'm... fine,” he managed to mumble without looking at her. His eyes were on the road, but his focus was elsewhere. Brooding. God, there was no way he could do this. She was too incandescent and too innocent, too capable and too uncertain. Too sixteen.

“Is it...” her voiced dropped, her eyes flicked guiltily across his face before zeroing in on her own hands folded in her lap, “the baby?”

Giles blinked. “What?” Told you so. That doesn't necessarily mean... Choice of words, man. That's where her head is at, and I told you so.

“It's just,” Willow warbled at him worriedly. “You're not saying anything.... About anything, and I know we haven't really talked, and it's a huge mess... and, and scary... and I thought, all right, talk about something else, but, but you aren't saying anything!”

Giles looked over at Willow for the first time since they'd started driving. “I'm sorry if I've been... distracted,” he apologized. “I'm just... having a lot of thoughts at once and not sure what to think about them.” Willow nodded, made understanding noises and offered to change the subject again if he wanted. “No,” Giles countered. “We do need to talk. Seriously I mean. About our... erm relationship and the directions our lives are taking.” Willow nodded, looking both hopeful and terrified. This couldn't wait any longer. She needed an explanation, and she deserved the truth. Oh, man! You are the limit!

Giles turned off on Weatherly and pulled in at the park. “Let's go for a walk,” he said. Willow nodded. They made their way from the parking lot to the shady walking path in silence. She was waiting for him to start. “I love you, you know that,” he began, taking her hand as they walked beneath the winter-bare branches, surprising himself a bit. But it was true. “But...” The look on her face was agonizing. “Well... have you ever heard the story of Tristan and Isolde?”

“Yes,” she admitted hesitantly, seeming as much puzzled as worried now. “Rupert, you're not trying to tell me you're suicidal?” He couldn't help laughing at that, which broke the tension between them a little, though his heart still hurt to look at her.

“No, no,” he assured her. “It's just—if you recall—even though... their, their love was caused by... something outside themselves, it was real between them. They did love each other, but well... that didn't change the fact that, that... there were other forces at work.”

“Rupert,” Willow repeated, her tone gently annoyed, half scolding now. “I know this... what's happening, is kind of a disaster. You don't have to explain it in the form of a fairytale.”

“No, but it's... It's more than that.” He warned her seriously, miserably. “What I'm trying to say—D'you remember when we'd only just met and, well... more or less instantly found ourselves... erm... getting involved.”

Willow laughed. “I vaguely recall that, yeah. And, yeah I was surprised but, you know, then I realized, this is love at first sight. What we have, it's just that powerful.”

“But... there's more to it than that,” Giles insisted. He spotted a bench and pulled her over to it. He needed to look her in the eyes when he explained all this, to make sure she really understood. But sitting there with her, clasping her hands, looking into those eyes, he still couldn't quite seem to start explaining it. He tried another oblique approach. “Do you remember when I was telling you about my work at the British Museum and, and consulting on that archeological dig in Syria and you asked me if I was really a librarian at all or if I was undercover for MI5 or something like that...”

“Rupert,” again she repeated his name, more and more like an admonishment, growing impatient. “We've know each other less than a month. I think you can stop asking me if I remember all of it.”

“Yes, sorry, but—”

“You said 'or something' and we both laughed like it was a joke,” Willow recalled. “But it's not is it? You didn't move halfway around the world because of a sudden burning desire to become a high school librarian. So what? Who are you really, and what's going on with you that us getting 'involved' makes me suddenly need to know?”

“I am a... erm, a secret agent of sorts,” he finally admitted. “Though not for the government, yours or mine.” Willow listened patiently; perplexed, perhaps becoming skeptical, it seemed, but willing to hear him out. “I work for an organization called the Watcher's Council of Britain. It's... we're... a secret society, I guess you would say, dedicated to... to...” he couldn't quite say this last without embarrassment, aware that it must sound insane to her, “well, battling supernatural evils. Or, or rather, assisting with, with that battle.” Willow's face was unreadable, but within reason, Giles knew what she must be thinking. She must think him a mad man. Or a scoundrel who'd taken her for a fool.

Then, suddenly, “I knew it!” Willow declared, breaking into a huge grin.

Giles found himself blinking once again, utterly stunned. “You did?”

“Well, I mean, I thought I was probably imagining it, but... all the new books? And, and all the things you know about, well, everything? Yeah, it makes sense or, you know, as much sense as something supernatural can make.”

“Oh, Willow!” Giles all but gasped, sagging with relief, squeezing her hands tighter, “You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that! If I couldn't convince you, then what hope—! But I'm getting ahead of myself,” he half apologized again, then continued on seriously. “How much do you know about the history of this town? ...”

When Giles had finished explaining about the Hellmouth, the vampires, the Slayer, and the coming crisis, Willow was subdued. “I want to help,” she agreed. “I need to. I mean big, big no to the end of the world, obviously, but... One question?”

“Yes?”

“Why does this conversation start with Tristan and Isolde?” Giles dropped his eyes at last. “I mean...” Willow continued nervously, “You don't mean... someone put a spell on us? Literally?”

“No, well...” Giles fumbled guiltily, “Not, not exactly a spell. This is more the work of well, a demon. An incubus. Not... the way we feel about each other, obviously,” he hastened to explain. “That comes from the heart, God help me it does, but... the process of... becoming close enough to develop and entertain those feelings.... My compulsion to make love to you the moment I first saw you.... Yes, I'm afraid that was the demon at work. Because the Hellmouth is directly below the library, you see...”

Willow's eyes widened. “Oh God!” she half wailed, half whined miserably. “No wonder we—and I thought—Oh God, I'm so STUPID!”

“No, Willow, you're not,” Giles assured her earnestly, squeezing both of her hands tightly in his. “You are one of the smartest women I've ever met, of any age. And if... I would never have—that still doesn't change the way I feel about you, honestly it doesn't, but... that doesn't mean this is going to turn into a fairytale instead of...”

“A tragedy,” Willow whispered grimly, looking miserable and in shock, but also stoic, resolved, shutting down and focusing. “Which we can worry about after we make sure the world doesn't end.” At that Giles nearly wept. That was half the reason why he loved her, his beautiful, sensible girl. “So what about this 'Slayer' person? She seems to be the key to the whole thing. How do we find out who she is and get her here?”

Giles sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know who the Slayer is,” he admitted. “She arrived this morning. I just—the Slayer is the new student, Buffy Summers, but...” God, there was no explaining this!

“Buffy Summers?” Willow repeated worriedly, “The girl that just got arrested for setting the school on fire?”