As Wesley came out of the library and nearly ran into Giles, he automatically smiled at the man. It was something he had no power over most of the time. He saw Giles and he had to smile. It faded quickly however when his partner took the box out of his hands, tossed it aside and wrapped his arms around him.
Wesley's eyes were still following the box line of projectory rather stunned, when suddenly there were arms around him. The confusion clearly written on his face, even though Giles could thankfully not see it, didn't stop him from wrapping his own arms around his lover.
"Of course I don't mind," Wesley said, wondering why Giles would have trouble leaving him out of his sight for today. It wasn't as anyone had threatened him now was it? No, it was Giles they were after. The more Wesley thought about it, the more convinced he became.
Rubbing his hands over Giles back, not entirely certain who was soothing whom here but not caring, Wesley kissed his partners temple. "Do you wish to stand here for the rest of the day, or should we move to the shop?" he asked softly, trying for a light tone. Either way was fine with him, as long as he could keep an eye, hell both of them, on Giles.
Knowing he was likely being silly and still unable to get that image out of his mind, Giles snorted and pulled away from his partner. "I'm sorry, love, I know I'm . . . I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." Raising his hand to Wesley's cheek, Giles rubbed his thumb gently along Wes' skin.
"We should go." Picking up the box, Giles nodded back toward the stairs, looking at Wesley for a moment longer before turning and heading down them. He hoped having the others redo the garden for Wesley would make it special again, a gift from friends.
Why on earth Giles was worried about him, Wesley had no idea. It wasn't as if all of this was aimed at him. He didn't think it was Ethan; the man was far more subtle. Or his parents. They may be cunning and...aimed low, but they'd not be *this* subtle. They had after all little to no imagination. Great, now he was thinking about his parents again. He was never going to get rid of them was he?
Looking at Giles, he mustered up a small smile as he pushed all thoughts away. His lover came first and foremost and the man was clearly upset. So was Wesley, but he was going to have to hide it much better from now one. He'd become an open book to his partner, a thing he both loved and hated at the same time.
Nodding at Giles words, he glanced back into the library at the Brownies who looked worried as well. His hand moved to the small of his back to make certain his gun was still there. As if he couldn't feel the cold metal pressing into his skin. Still, the reassurance lifted a small bit of weight from his shoulders. Trotting down the stairs, he took the box from Giles and moved to the table to put the doll in it. He didn't even want his lover to touch the damn thing.
The moment he picked up the doll, he felt the need to wash his hands again. "I'll just go lock the kitchen door," he mumbled, moving over to the kitchen to do just that. And wash his hands. He took a last glance at the doll, an eyeless face staring up at him and shivered.
Giles didn't move to interfere with Wesley's packing the doll away, even though he didn't particularly want Wes to have to do it. He saw his lover shiver and was in complete agreement. The damned doll was beyond unsettling. When Wesley went to the kitchen, Giles took the moment to quickly check the locks on all the windows in the living room before putting the lid on the box and going to join Wes.
He found his lover washing his hands rather vigorously. Knowing he'd have been doing the same thing had he been the one to touch the doll, Giles found himself checking the lock on the backdoor before he could stop himself. He tried not to draw attention to that fact, though, going to the table and getting together the books they might need from there.
"We should call Willow and ask her to drop Connor by the Magic Shop."
Trying very hard not to look at what was left of his garden, their garden, Wesley locked the kitchen door. Then he turned around and moved toward the sink. He felt dirty since he'd touched that doll. What he wanted to do was just take a shower, but washing his hands was going to have to be enough for now.
He was still washing them when Giles came in. Making sure it was the most normal thing in the world to do, Wesley glanced at his lover with a normal expression as rather hot water burned the skin on his hands. It still wasn't hot enough, Wesley thought ruefully. His eyes were to busy following Giles around and his heart sank as he saw the man check the locks.
God no, not that again. He'd been over that when they came back from Paris. Angry now, Wesley scrubbed the small brush a little bit harder over his hands while he jerked his face forward to Giles wouldn't read the anger and the frustration on his face.
"Yes, yes we should," Wesley, agreed, not paying any attention to what he was doing. He was rather busy trying to envision what he'd do to whomever had done this when they caught him, her or it. It wasn't pretty, and he was going to take it slow.
Giles sighed softly at Wesley's tone, frustrated because he could think of nothing that would relieve the tension there. Once this was settled . . . Well, he was fairly sure there would be something else to throw a wrench into the workings, there always was. He, however, was going to do his best not to let that rule all aspects of their lives. Otherwise, they'd never relax again.
Trying to shrug off his own mood, Giles finished with the books and went to Wesley, turning off the hot water in the sink and wrapping his arms around Wes from behind. "I've gathered what books we'll need. I'll call Willow, if you'll start loading the car."
Blinking down at his hands and noticing how red they were, Wesley looked fascinated at the blood nearly bursting to the surface. What the bloody hell was he doing? He slowly let go of the brush, watching it fall down in the sink as though it was going in slow motion.
He closed his eyes and leaned into Giles embrace. Both ashamed and grateful for it. Ashamed because he shouldn't be needing the man's reassurance, grateful because he got it anyway. Wesley thought he'd been over that, that he didn't need that anymore. God, how wrong he was, again, he thought bitterly.
"Alright," he mumbled, reaching for the towel. Drying his hands, he tossed it away without looking where it went, without folding it up or hanging it out and turned in his lover’s arms. For a long moment he looked into Giles' eyes before leaning in for a soft kiss. Then he stepped out of the embrace and started to gather the books in his arms. He couldn't even get excited about the new car they'd just gotten anymore.
Giles watched Wesley for a moment, glancing back to the towel on the counter. It was hardest to know there was nothing he could do for Wesley. Given what the man had born up under before . . . Giles supposed there was a limit for everyone, but he was worried about his lover's reaction to all of this. It seemed . . . it seemed as if there were something more going on and it was frustrating not to know what.
"Wesley? This isn't the end of the world, love. It's not good, but . . . we've gotten through worse. Talk to me?"
Stacking the books so they wouldn't fall from his arms as he took then to the car, he paused and gave his lover a confused look. Talk? About what? What was there to talk about? Was he doing something wrong again? Wesley thought he had a pretty good grip on his emotions. There had been no outbursts of hysteria as far as he knew.
"What?" he blinked at his lover puzzled, picking up the books in his arms. Just enough so the stack wouldn't tip over as he walked it to the car. "What do you want to talk about? How we seem to be running from one disaster to another? I think we've gotten used to that by now."
Or that's what he thought. Apparently one never gets used to that. Or rather, he couldn't get used to the fact that there was someone out there trying to get to Giles. Which meant that he should be there for Giles, he should keep an eye out on Giles. Not the other way around.
"I don't think there's anything to talk about, love." Giving the man a small smile he turned around and started toward the car, stack of books precariously swaying in his arms.
Giles sighed, reaching out to lay a hand on Wesley's shoulder before he'd gone too far. "We've had some calm as well, love. Our lives . . . they were never going to be easy, but at least . . . at least neither of us is doing this alone. That's worth something, I think."
Especially when he thought back, thought about Wesley with a gun pointed at him, thought about how quickly he could have lost his partner then. Giles was determined not to let either of them get put in that position again.
Giving Wesley a bit of a smile, Giles took a large book off the top of the pile. "Let me get the door for you," he said with a glance at the books.
Mustering up a slightly bigger smile for Giles, Wesley nodded at that. At least he wasn't alone. Not this time, or ever since he and Giles gotten together. Except for that dreadful period when Giles had been at the hospital. But even then, Wesley had Giles to worry about, keeping his mind busy.
God, he didn't want to think about that. About how afraid he'd been then. About how frightened he was now that he was going to loose Giles again. Which only made his determination of not letting his lover out of his sight stronger.
"Thank you," Wesley murmured, shifting the book in his arms. He nodded at Giles as the man opened the door and kept one eye on him as he walked to the car. Opening the trunk, he deposited the book as Giles walked back into the house. Wesley had this odd feeling that this time, they were save inside the house.
It was outside, even in their own bloody garden, that they had to be careful. Now if only he know *why* he seemed to think so, and couldn't seem to shake that thought.
Once he was back in the house, Giles used the phone in the living room, stretching its cord to the limit so that he could keep an eye on Wesley through the window. He knew it might see silly, but he didn't think he could not do it. Not after everything they'd gone through.
"Willow? Hello. Yes, I'm glad Xander talked to you. Thank you. I'd rather Connor not see it until after . . . yes, actually, could you bring him to the shop, instead? Right. I don't know. We came back last night and it was in a state. On the hellmouth, it could have been anything."
"Right." The disbelief in Willow's voice had Giles tensing, waiting for the question and knowing he would lie if she asked. "Tell me about it when you can, okay?"
He relaxed a bit, smiling into the phone's receiver. "Of course. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah, just know you better tell me what's going on, Mister." She didn't sound nearly as demanding as she tried.
After quick goodbyes, Giles hung up the phone just in time to realize Wesley was coming in the door. He tried to move away from the window, not to be obvious about the fact he'd been watching his lover, but he was fairly sure he hadn't done all that good a job.
Wesley's eyes were still following the box line of projectory rather stunned, when suddenly there were arms around him. The confusion clearly written on his face, even though Giles could thankfully not see it, didn't stop him from wrapping his own arms around his lover.
"Of course I don't mind," Wesley said, wondering why Giles would have trouble leaving him out of his sight for today. It wasn't as anyone had threatened him now was it? No, it was Giles they were after. The more Wesley thought about it, the more convinced he became.
Rubbing his hands over Giles back, not entirely certain who was soothing whom here but not caring, Wesley kissed his partners temple. "Do you wish to stand here for the rest of the day, or should we move to the shop?" he asked softly, trying for a light tone. Either way was fine with him, as long as he could keep an eye, hell both of them, on Giles.
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"We should go." Picking up the box, Giles nodded back toward the stairs, looking at Wesley for a moment longer before turning and heading down them. He hoped having the others redo the garden for Wesley would make it special again, a gift from friends.
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Looking at Giles, he mustered up a small smile as he pushed all thoughts away. His lover came first and foremost and the man was clearly upset. So was Wesley, but he was going to have to hide it much better from now one. He'd become an open book to his partner, a thing he both loved and hated at the same time.
Nodding at Giles words, he glanced back into the library at the Brownies who looked worried as well. His hand moved to the small of his back to make certain his gun was still there. As if he couldn't feel the cold metal pressing into his skin. Still, the reassurance lifted a small bit of weight from his shoulders. Trotting down the stairs, he took the box from Giles and moved to the table to put the doll in it. He didn't even want his lover to touch the damn thing.
The moment he picked up the doll, he felt the need to wash his hands again. "I'll just go lock the kitchen door," he mumbled, moving over to the kitchen to do just that. And wash his hands. He took a last glance at the doll, an eyeless face staring up at him and shivered.
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He found his lover washing his hands rather vigorously. Knowing he'd have been doing the same thing had he been the one to touch the doll, Giles found himself checking the lock on the backdoor before he could stop himself. He tried not to draw attention to that fact, though, going to the table and getting together the books they might need from there.
"We should call Willow and ask her to drop Connor by the Magic Shop."
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He was still washing them when Giles came in. Making sure it was the most normal thing in the world to do, Wesley glanced at his lover with a normal expression as rather hot water burned the skin on his hands. It still wasn't hot enough, Wesley thought ruefully. His eyes were to busy following Giles around and his heart sank as he saw the man check the locks.
God no, not that again. He'd been over that when they came back from Paris. Angry now, Wesley scrubbed the small brush a little bit harder over his hands while he jerked his face forward to Giles wouldn't read the anger and the frustration on his face.
"Yes, yes we should," Wesley, agreed, not paying any attention to what he was doing. He was rather busy trying to envision what he'd do to whomever had done this when they caught him, her or it. It wasn't pretty, and he was going to take it slow.
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Trying to shrug off his own mood, Giles finished with the books and went to Wesley, turning off the hot water in the sink and wrapping his arms around Wes from behind. "I've gathered what books we'll need. I'll call Willow, if you'll start loading the car."
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He closed his eyes and leaned into Giles embrace. Both ashamed and grateful for it. Ashamed because he shouldn't be needing the man's reassurance, grateful because he got it anyway. Wesley thought he'd been over that, that he didn't need that anymore. God, how wrong he was, again, he thought bitterly.
"Alright," he mumbled, reaching for the towel. Drying his hands, he tossed it away without looking where it went, without folding it up or hanging it out and turned in his lover’s arms. For a long moment he looked into Giles' eyes before leaning in for a soft kiss. Then he stepped out of the embrace and started to gather the books in his arms. He couldn't even get excited about the new car they'd just gotten anymore.
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"Wesley? This isn't the end of the world, love. It's not good, but . . . we've gotten through worse. Talk to me?"
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"What?" he blinked at his lover puzzled, picking up the books in his arms. Just enough so the stack wouldn't tip over as he walked it to the car. "What do you want to talk about? How we seem to be running from one disaster to another? I think we've gotten used to that by now."
Or that's what he thought. Apparently one never gets used to that. Or rather, he couldn't get used to the fact that there was someone out there trying to get to Giles. Which meant that he should be there for Giles, he should keep an eye out on Giles. Not the other way around.
"I don't think there's anything to talk about, love." Giving the man a small smile he turned around and started toward the car, stack of books precariously swaying in his arms.
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Especially when he thought back, thought about Wesley with a gun pointed at him, thought about how quickly he could have lost his partner then. Giles was determined not to let either of them get put in that position again.
Giving Wesley a bit of a smile, Giles took a large book off the top of the pile. "Let me get the door for you," he said with a glance at the books.
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God, he didn't want to think about that. About how afraid he'd been then. About how frightened he was now that he was going to loose Giles again. Which only made his determination of not letting his lover out of his sight stronger.
"Thank you," Wesley murmured, shifting the book in his arms. He nodded at Giles as the man opened the door and kept one eye on him as he walked to the car. Opening the trunk, he deposited the book as Giles walked back into the house. Wesley had this odd feeling that this time, they were save inside the house.
It was outside, even in their own bloody garden, that they had to be careful. Now if only he know *why* he seemed to think so, and couldn't seem to shake that thought.
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"Willow? Hello. Yes, I'm glad Xander talked to you. Thank you. I'd rather Connor not see it until after . . . yes, actually, could you bring him to the shop, instead? Right. I don't know. We came back last night and it was in a state. On the hellmouth, it could have been anything."
"Right." The disbelief in Willow's voice had Giles tensing, waiting for the question and knowing he would lie if she asked. "Tell me about it when you can, okay?"
He relaxed a bit, smiling into the phone's receiver. "Of course. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah, just know you better tell me what's going on, Mister." She didn't sound nearly as demanding as she tried.
After quick goodbyes, Giles hung up the phone just in time to realize Wesley was coming in the door. He tried to move away from the window, not to be obvious about the fact he'd been watching his lover, but he was fairly sure he hadn't done all that good a job.
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