Fic: "Pink Taffeta and the Opposite of Sex"
For leobrat, who wanted to mock me for my past mistakes. ;)
Posted with no alterations, as written several years ago. Unfinished... and in several different posts, 'cause it's hyuuuuuuuuuge.
Title: Pink Taffeta and the Opposite of Sex.
Author: Jacqui. wily_one24
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: Giles/Buffy (ish, sort of... I can't really remember if I ever got there or not).
Wordcount: 22,500+
Disclaimer: Not mine, this is why.
Timeline: Post Season Four.
Comments: This is a result of a fic challenge by Ally, to make Giles into a woman. See? Not all of the depravity here is mine.
Feedback: Always craved, always answered. wily_one24@yahoo.com.au
***
PINK TAFFETA AND THE OPPOSITE OF SEX
* * * *
Willow furrowed her brow in sympathy as she handed over the heat pack. She wore shorts and a singlet and she could still feel a trickle of sweat roll down her back. Bringing her right knee up, she half sat on the bed and gave a mewl of encouragement.
“I… I have chocolate cake… somewhere.”
A small voice came from beneath the sheet.
“With that gooey icing?”
Willow grinned in triumph.
“Yup! Chocolately goodness coming up.”
She threw her leg back on the ground and went to fetch the plate. The low groan behind her told Willow that Buffy had inched her way out of the sheet and was almost sitting up. There was a definite pout on Buffy’s face as she hugged the heat pack to her belly. The soft, fuzzy fur of Mr. Gordo poked out of the sheets as well. Willow worked hard to keep the smile off her face. At this particular point in time it would not do anybody, least of all Willow, any good if Buffy got wind of just how cute she really was.
“He doesn’t understand!” Buffy’s voice was a combination wail and whine.
“Yes.” Willow nodded her head, sure of her words. “He’s a man.”
“A man, dammit.” Buffy picked at a slice of cake, ignoring the actual cake and content to lick the gooey icing off her fingers. “Only a man would say that. Or Maggie Walsh.”
Willow covered her giggle with a cough, reaching for her soda, she breathed deep.
“It’s just preposterous. Absolutely.”
Buffy’s hand inched its way to her mouth, then paused.
“I mean, does he think I don’t know what’s going on?” The cake forgotten, Buffy began to gesture wildly. “I know there are demons out there! I know we made them all homeless by destroying the Initiative. I know! I’m doing the best I can!”
During this tirade, Buffy had switched from sulky mode to near anger mode and Willow quickly switched into pacifier mode to accommodate her. Not only was Joyce asleep across the hall, Tara was fast asleep in her sleeping bag on the floor.
“We know that, Buffy, really we do. Giles knows it, too.” Off Buffy’s disbelieving look, she continued her damage control. “Honestly he appreciates what you do.”
“No he doesn’t!”
Wham, back into sulky mode.
“Aw, come on, Buffy. You know he does.”
“Oh yeah.” Buffy’s heavily sarcastic voice grew deep. “Don’t you think it’s highly irresponsible to cut your patrol short due to a cramp?”
Willow cringed.
“Ok, yes, I admit, he was a little harsh…”
“Why are you protecting him?” In a matter of seconds, Buffy had turned on Willow. “He’s a MAN.”
“Yes.” Willow drew out the word, testing her footing.
“Men,” claimed Buffy. “they don’t understand. They certainly don’t care. They’d care if they got cramps. Oh yes.”
“Heh.” Back on solid ground, Willow stuck to the safe, well worn path of man bashing. Any minute now, she knew she’d be reliving tales of Angel, Riley, Parker, Scott Hope and Oz. Probably Xander, somewhere in there. “Yeah, even for a day, give them all cramps.”
“Oh no.” Buffy’s eyes were alight now, shining with the idea. “Just Giles. Give him cramps for a… for a month! No! Not just cramps, make him a woman! Make Giles a woman!”
In her excitement, Buffy had knocked the plate off the bed. She scrambled around, trying to pick cake off the floor.
“Oh sure.” Willow grinned. “If only it was that easy. I’ll just snap my fingers like this and Giles will be Gilesette.”
Buffy, straightening up, missed the flash of light that went through Willow’s eyes when she said the words. Both girls giggled, then Buffy groaned again.
“Damn men.” She pouted again as she lay back and snuggled into the pillow, hugging Mr. Gordo and the heat pack closely.
“Damn men.” Willow agreed, easing herself into her own sleeping bag. “It’d be cool, though, wouldn’t it?”
Giggle. Groan.
* * * *
Giles turned over in bed, his head thick and blurred. He wondered exactly how much scotch he’d had the night before. He’d had some trouble sleeping since their shared dreams of the first slayer. All of them had, but he seemed to be copping the worst of it. A little hot cocoa to help him sleep couldn’t hurt, especially if he made his cocoa with ice and a malt beverage.
And to top it all off, he seemed to have developed the world’s smallest bladder. Blinking, he forced himself to throw off the covers and stumble into the bathroom, his bare feet slapping the tiles. He cleared the back of his throat, gargling and clicking his tongue as he did so. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as he stretched his neck. Casually, and without even consciously thinking about it, Giles reached into his pyjama bottoms, anticipating sweet relief.
As his hand grabbed for something that wasn’t there, Giles’ head snapped back up. Then down.
“What the…?!”
When asked about the moment later in life - and being as blessed with such subtle friends as he was, this was a certainty - Giles would forever deny bending over almost double to peer between his legs and frantically pat himself down, searching, disbelieving, for something that he could have sworn he’d had all his life.
And didn’t now.
Now, when patting your genital area down, searching for a penis, it generally doesn’t take too long to discover the replacement vagina. That doesn’t mean, of course, that you accept this knowledge at face value. Questions like ‘where did it go?’, ‘why did it go?’, ‘how did it go?’ and desperate, futile claims such as ‘it has to be there, somewhere’ ran circles through Giles’ mind.
Stupidly, Giles kept looking, thinking, hoping that the second, third and fortieth checks would provide him with the blessed knowledge that this wasn’t happening and that he was most likely high on some form of narcotic. Yes, drugs, that was the answer. He was on a bad acid trip and this was his hallucination. Or, with any luck, he’d been hit on the head during battle and he was in a mild form of coma. Yes. A coma. Thank you very much, I want to wake up now.
Unfortunately, Giles was presented with the discovery that even concussed, crack addicted coma hallucinations needed to pee. And they needed to pee desperately.
He stared at the toilet.
He stared at his pants.
One last desperate check.
“Oooookay.”
He gingerly tugged the pants down and sat on the seat. And waited. He looked at the floor, looked at the sink, looked at his fingernails. His hands. His hands were women’s hands. Looking down again, Giles took in his first glance of, what in his estimation were, some pretty decent breasts. Without thinking, he grabbed to make sure they were real. They were.
“Oh, for crying out loud…” He jiggled on the seat. “Surely going to the toilet with one of these can’t be that hard.”
Relax, he told himself, relax. Take care of this need first, then go and find out what the hell happened and make someone pay. A lot. Giles forced himself to relax, to concentrate on the mission at hand. He forced himself to think about how the act was accomplished with male genitalia.
“It can’t be that hard, honestly… Good lord!”
Without thinking, Giles squirmed on the seat in surprise. Not exactly the best move he’d ever made.
“Oh, lovely.”
* * * *
Sometime, and a lot of paper, later, Giles was standing in front of the mirror. He was in the process of pulling, pushing and stretching the skin on his face. Or, more precisely, what used to be his face, but was now the face of a woman. He could barely form a coherent thought, but those he did understand involved the names Ethan Rayne and Faith. Both culprits that had proven themselves capable in this area of expertise. Exactly how did one re-penisise oneself? Giles let himself smile. Re-penisise? He’d obviously been spending too much time around Buffy and the children. Oh, dear lord. Buffy and the children.
As if on cue, he heard the door open downstairs and Buffy’s voice call out his name.
“Just a…” Giles caught the sound of his voice, several octaves higher than usual. He tried to deepen his voice. “Just a minute!”
“Giles?” Buffy’s puzzled voice drifted up the stairs. “Is that you? Is someone there?”
He heard a catch in her voice and placed it in his memory bank for later, when he was a little more coherent.
“Should I leave now?”
“No!” He called out, stopping to take a breath and brace himself for the inevitable. He began to walk down the stairs. “Please stay, Buffy.”
* * * *
“Please stay, Buffy.”
Buffy could physically trace the narrowing of her eyebrows with each step the woman took. Her arms crossed over her chest and she wondered how any woman could manage to look that good in men’s pyjama bottoms and a shirt.
“Oh, really?” The archness in her voice was the result of arduous hours of practice or, more likely, the instantaneous reaction of seeing this tall, stately, ashen blonde woman stride through Giles’ apartment in Giles’ clothes. “And who might you be?”
“Giles.”
“Yes.” Replied Buffy. “Where is Giles, anyway?” She raised her voice. “Giles!”
“No, Buffy.” The woman stepped forward and reached out to place her hand on Buffy’s arm. Buffy sidestepped her and walked to the stairs, ready to call up to the loft again. “I am Giles. That’s me.”
Buffy’s heart stopped and she turned around.
“So, what, you’re like Giles’ sister? Or Aunt? A long lost cousin still very closely related by blood?”
She didn’t know whether or not she wanted an answer to that question. Finding Olivia had been traumatic enough and there had been no semantic name issues. Buffy thought that she and Giles, all of them as a matter of fact, had grown closer after the trouble with Adam and the Initiative. And here he was, hiding some sort of wife or sister or… or…
“Buffy, will you stop for a minute, please?”
“How do you know my name? Did Giles…” Buffy stopped, obviously the name thing was causing confusion. “I mean, did Rupert tell you about me?”
“In a way, Buffy please.” She reached out and this time Buffy let herself be guided to the sofa. “Now, don’t panic. I have to tell you something.”
“Is it Giles? What happened to Giles?”
“I’m fine, Buffy.”
Frustration surged.
“Not you! Gil… Rupert. What happened to…?”
“Buffy!” The woman’s voice stopped Buffy in her tracks. “Please do shut up and let me speak!”
“Well, that answers that question.” Buffy sat back in a sulk. “You’re definitely a relative. That accent, that same temper and, at closer inspection, a definite family resemblance and, oh look, there’s the Giles’ scowl…”
“Buffy!”
“Yup, definitely a…”
“For god’s sake, woman, let me speak!”
“Fine.” The set of Buffy’s mouth said otherwise.
“Ok. Don’t panic, but…”
“Ok, why say that? You know, the minute you say that it only makes me panic. No one says that unless there’s something to panic about, so it really serves no purpose when you think about it, especially seeing as how you won’t tell me what happened to Giles.”
“I’m here, dammit! Buffy, it’s me!”
“What?”
“My name is Rupert Giles,” Giles breathed in, trying to steady herself. “I’ve been your watcher for four years now and this morning I woke up with… without… that is to say, like this.”
“Oh, ok, sure. ‘Cause I’m Shaqueal O’Neil.” Buffy patted the woman’s hand and began to inch away. “Seriously, where’s Giles?”
“Good Lord, Buffy, in the past year alone you’ve seen Ethan Rayne turn me into a Fyarl demon and Faith stole your body. Why are you having trouble accepting this?”
“Well, to be honest,” Buffy looked the woman up and down. “have you seen you like this? Not entirely watcher like, you know?”
“Oh, yes, because a Fyarl demon is so much closer to my natural complexion.”
Ouch.
“See? Now I’m starting to believe it.”
Buffy looked at Giles, her eyes wide and taking in as much as possible. The closer she looked, the more resemblance to Giles she could see. Before long, she reached out to touch Giles’ face, much the same as he’d been doing minutes before. Fingers touching the skin lightly, she pressed her finger to Giles’ lips, ran her finger up Giles’ cheek and ran her fingers through Giles’ hair. This woman had hair longer than her own.
“How?”
Buffy tugged the corner of Giles’ ear. She pressed a finger into the side of his nose. Giles threw up her hands and pushed Buffy off.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I dialed the ‘make me a woman’ hotline and ordered this. People don’t just wake up as a woman. Unless, of course, they are a woman. Which I’m not. Well, not usually. Buffy, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
During his speech, Giles had noticed a definite drop in Buffy’s pallor, her face had gone pale and her eyes extremely wide and too innocent looking. That usually meant she was hiding something.
“We did it.”
“What?”
“Um, don’t get angry…”
“Why would I get angry, Buffy?”
“You keep saying my name.” Buffy suddenly remembered Willow getting creeped out and now she understood why.
“You keep making me say your name. Don’t change the subject. What did you mean when you said ‘we did it’? We who?”
“Me and Willow?”
“What did you do?”
“Um, well, we were talking, just talking… and I guess we kinds made it happen. You know, like before.”
Giles blinked.
“You were talking about making me a woman?”
Buffy cringed.
“Kinda?”
“What exactly did you say?”
“Um… just that men don’t understand what it’s really like to be a woman and, gee, wouldn’t it serve you right if you were a woman for a month?”
“Me? Why me?” Giles turned her head to stare at Buffy. “A month?! I’m going to be a woman for a month?”
“Probably not. You never know, this could be temporary.”
“It better be temporary, Buffy, this is incredibly irrespons… What? You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”
“Because, Watcher mine, I’m going to have to take you shopping.”
“What?”
“Well, you can’t spend a month in men’s clothes, can you?”
“Can’t I just borrow some of yours? Or Willow’s?”
Buffy gave her a withering glare.
“Oh, yeah, sure. ‘Cause women’s clothes are just that easy.”
“Clothes are clothes, Buffy.”
“Giles, do you remember me having to look up to see your shoulder?”
“Oh, I see.”
“Exactly,” Buffy gave her a saucy smile. “so just sashay that perky butt of yours up those stairs and get yourself half decent. Ok?”
Giles glared at her.
“You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“Want some help?”
“Buffy, as it so happens, I have been in the possession of a human body all my life. It’s just female at the present time. I’m sure I can shower and dress myself quite capably.”
“Oh, really?” Buffy reached out and began to pull up Giles’ top. Giles quickly pushed her away, standing up and backing away from the sofa. Buffy sighed. “Really, Giles, I’ve seen you shirtless before.”
“Maybe so, but this is different.” She gestured at her new breasts. “I have these now.”
“Ok, Giles, you realise that, being a woman, not only have I seen breasts before I actually own a pair of them myself. Relax, I just want to see something.”
She gave Buffy a wary look, but allowed her to lift the tee shirt.
“See?” Buffy crowed with triumph. “I’m not taking you shopping ‘til you shave those pits and, most probably, your legs too. You could make money sending safari groups in there.”
“Yes, thank you, Buffy. This is not at all embarrassing. I’m glad you can joke your way through this.”
“What? I’ve been good. It’s not as if I’m doing this.” Buffy let the tee drop and pointed at Giles’ chest, bouncing on her toes and adopting a sing song voice. “Giles has boobies! Giles has boobies! Gi-yules ha-as boo-bies!”
Giles did not change her expression, she breathed in and waited for Buffy to stop.
“Giles has boo…” Buffy sighed, her face flushed and glowing, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh, come on. Lighten up. Hey, are you blushing? Did I make you blush?”
* * * *
Sometime, and a lot of teasing and glaring later Buffy was smiling to herself as she took the rare opportunity to snoop through… help Giles reorganise… his decidedly male wardrobe into a more feminine friendly apparel. She kept the sound of the running water in her ears, ensuring Giles would be busy for quite a while. Every now and again a female voice could be heard exclaiming in surprise about one thing or another.
It gave her a little glow of warmth, knowing she’d been right; it was quite amusing watching Giles as a woman. It was always fun causing him to get that overly stated expression of annoyance on his face, the sides of his nostrils flaring with each exhalation of air.
“Geez Giles,” She pushed several hangers to the side, looking far back into the wardrobe. “how am I supposed to make you an acceptable woman?”
A small sliver of guilt tried to inch its way into her consciousness and she tried to ignore it. It wasn’t like it was that hard to be a woman, 51% of the world’s population managed it every day. Surely Giles could do it. Exactly how spectacular could one piece of anatomy be that it couldn’t be missed for a few days? Hell, Giles had been blind for a few hours and survived, he’d even been a demon and lived to tell the tale. Buffy had no doubts he could make it as a woman.
The problem was getting him to see that.
The water had stopped and Buffy counted down: five, four, three, two…
“Buffy?” She looked up, only slightly jarred by a woman’s face peering at her from behind the bathroom door. “Can you help me in here for a minute?”
“Sure Baby.” Buffy quirked her lips and winked, laying the last of the clothes on the bed and skipping towards Giles. “Anything you say.”
“I asked you to stop doing that.”
Giles gathered all her strength to glare down at Buffy, but she was looking at her with big brown eyes that shone with laughter, mischief and, if Giles wasn’t mistaken, a touch of flirting. Was that even possible? Either way, it was a nice change to the latest spout of too eager quality time, that touch of forced desperateness that made up their new bonding time after the enjoining spell. He liked this new intimacy, the shared experience, even if he didn’t much care for the experience itself.
Buffy pouted as she dipped her head under Giles’ outstretched arm that held the door open.
* * * *
“Ow.”
“Giles, relax, okay? Don’t tense up so much.”
“Ow.”
“You’re only making it worse, you know.”
“Don’t be so rough, Buffy.” Giles tried not to look at her eyes. “You obviously have no idea how much this hurts. I don’t know how you can be so insensitive.”
“Insensitive?” Buffy’s hand paused. “Listen, mister-miss, you got yourself into this mess, remember? ‘I can do it alone’? ‘Don’t make such a fuss’? If you weren’t so stubborn…”
“Stubborn? I…” Giles’ indignation was interrupted with another vicious yank of Buffy’s hand. “Ow!”
“I’ve just about had it, Giles. Now sit up straight, relax and let me finish.”
Buffy’s left hand held Giles’ forehead in place as she tugged the brush through the mess of ash blonde hair that hung in tangles down Giles’ back. Giles’ neck strained not to stretch back with the pulling of hair.
“Who in their bloody right minds would keep their hair so long?”
“You’ve always liked long hair.” Unconsciously, Buffy flicked her own long hair behind her shoulder, a tad upset. “You told me so yourself.”
“That was before I had it. This is ridiculous.”
“Be patient.”
* * * *
“Ow!”
“Giles! Come back here.”
“Oh no!” Giles spun around, pointing a finger back at Buffy, eyes wide and accusing. “Now I know you’re deliberately out to hurt me. Women can’t possibly go through this on a daily basis.”
Buffy blinked large innocent eyes at Giles and then looked down at the wax strip in her hand. Even she had to admit that the amount of hair that had come of Giles’ armpit had made her wince. There was not much to do, but try and convince the now wary and suspicious Giles to let her finish.
“It wasn’t that bad, Giles. Seriously, waxing may hurt, but it’s better than shaving. Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Now get back here.”
“No.” Giles crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance.
“Don’t make me make you come back.”
Giles’ eyes widened with fear.
“Please, Buffy, surely there’s another way.”
Buffy’s eyes took on a devilish glint as she pointedly looked down to Giles’ legs. Not being completely stupid, Buffy had placed several wax strips on his skin before pulling off the first one. She crooked her finger and gestured for Giles to walk towards her.
Giles whimpered.
* * * *
“What is this?”
“Well, Giles, you have to admit you don’t exactly have the most feminine wardrobe, do you?”
“You can’t be serious. I’m going to look like a raving lesbian.”
“Giles!” Buffy had to contain the laughter, political correctness aside, Giles was going to have to go shopping dressed as a very butch bull dyke. “That’s not nice. Besides, it’s only until we can buy you some girly clothes. At least you’ll finally be able to wear that pink taffeta…”
Giles looked at the blue jeans and white tee, with a checked over shirt and sighed.
“There’s not much we can do about the shoes,” Buffy revelled in her fashion coordinator role. “but if you tie the shirt in a knot in the front, instead of doing up the buttons, it’ll look half decent… and hide the fact that you don’t own a bra.”
She didn’t have to say it, Buffy knew the implication was there, she knew that Giles would have picked it up and comprehended the possible torture ahead, but she couldn’t help herself. The look of desperation on Giles’ face was just too delicious.
“Yet.”
* * * *
“Good Lord!”
“What?” Buffy turned to give a sheepish grin to Giles. “That was a perfectly legal u-turn.”
“In what country?”
“We talked about this, Giles, your driver’s license screams penis. You don’t have much choice but to let me drive.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Hey, what’s this button do?”
“You better be joking.”
“Heh. Yeah, I am… kinda.”
“Good Lord.”
* * * *
“Okay, Giles, I know I’ve said this before, but you have to relax.”
“I’m sorry, Buffy, but it’s just… this place is… I’m not used to…”
“I know, really I do, but it’s one thing to be nervous and edgy here when you’re a man, it’s expected. Hell, why do you think we all tease you so mercilessly? But it’s a whole different thing story if you’re a woman, dressed like you are, hanging about looking pensive and shady in the ladies underwear department as if you’ve been caught looking at porn. It’s like you’ve never shopped for lingerie before.”
“Well, now that you bring it up…”
“Giles.” Buffy put on her serious face. “I know it’s a big step for any girl, but sooner or later you’re going to have to try on your first bra. Here…”
Buffy strode through the aisles of flimsy white, pastel or garishly coloured material, decorated with various forms of bows, ribbons and lace as if it meant nothing to her. Giles shuffled close behind her, wary of the whole process and not game enough to look up. Buffy shoved a hanger in Giles’ hands.
“… hold this one. What size do you think you are?”
“Medium? I guess?”
“Medium? We’re not buying men’s singlets here. Hang on, stand up straight.”
Giles stood, mortified, as Buffy stretched an impossibly white garment around her chest, she looked up at the ceiling and hummed nervously, thinking that Buffy was taking her sweet time about it, probably enjoying every horrific moment.
“Well?”
“This one, I think. You’re going to have to try it on. Want me to help you in the change room?”
“Buffy.” Giles gave her an impatient glare. “While I admit that, yes, some aspects of being a woman have so far stumped me, I can assure you that I have had more than a passing acquaintance with said garment…”
“You know, you can say bra if you’re about to try one on.”
“… with a bra. If you don’t mind, I’m sure I can handle this experience on my own.”
“Fine,” Buffy threw up her hands in mock frustration. “change rooms are over there.”
Frustration often leads to a sense of sadism and Buffy was no different, sitting outside the dressing room, listening to the various grunts and exclamations that came from inside with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyebrows lifted when she heard a yelp and, to her credit, she barely jumped when a sudden crash, followed by several choice words, rang through the air.
She smiled weakly at the sales assistant who kept frowning at the noise. She counted.
“Five, four, three, two…”
“Buffy?” Giles penitent voice came floating out to her. “Buffy, are you there?”
“Yes.” She replied airily. “I am.”
“Um, can you help me please?”
“I don’t know, Giles.” Buffy was enjoying this. A lot. “I thought you were more than experienced in this area.”
“Yes. Okay. You were right. I was wrong.” Giles paused and counted to ten, she was this close to begging. “I’m asking you, please, to come and help me.”
“Who’s the bestest ever Slayer in the whole wide world?”
Her sing song voice was answered with a threatening one.
“Buffy…”
“Exactly!” She crowed as she stood up and immediately opened the door.
Giles’ face blanched with embarrassment as she stood, frozen, to the spot, only her eyelids blinked. Buffy’s sudden burst of laughter woke Giles to reality.
“Are you trying to kill me? Close the door!”
As she stepped into the small room, Buffy tried to control her giggles, she tried hard. But she was only human and the sight of Giles with her arms through the bra straps, cups wildly off center, hands scrabbling maniacally behind her back, trying to join the ends, one of which had gotten painfully entangled in her hair, all while turning in backward circles in the vain hope of making ends meet… well, Buffy had to work extra hard.
“Oh my god, Giles, what are you trying to do?”
Giles sighed and stopped hopping.
“I’m trying to bake a lovely self saucing chocolate soufflé, but I can’t quite seem to get it to rise properly… what the bloody hell do you think I’m doing?”
“Hey, we talked about abusing sarcasm, okay? It’s not helping. Just… just stand still, let me…”
Buffy pushed her way around to Giles’ back and began the process of hair in bra clasp untangling.
“I honestly don’t know how you women do this everyday.”
“I think the bra was invented by a man. An evil sadistic man.”
Buffy lifted her eyes over Giles’ shoulder and met grey ones in the mirror, she poked out her tongue.
“I just can’t understand how putting one of these things on can be so much more difficult than getting it off.”
“Seriously, it’s not that hard once you know how. There.”
With a few deft twists of her hand, Buffy clipped the bra into place. She took hold of Giles’ shoulders and gently turned her around. Avoiding Giles’ eyes, she reached out and cupped the flesh of Giles’ right breast, lifting it and letting it fall back properly into the cup of lacy material. Quickly, she did the same for the left breast.
“There, all supported. Is the fit okay? Not too tight?” Buffy tweaked the bra here, tugging there. “We can always adjust the strap.”
Giles looked at the ground, breathed in, then took Buffy’s hand in her own.
“Thank you, Buffy, torments and laughter aside, you’ve been a big help.”
Buffy smiled.
“Anything, Watcher Mine. Just don’t expect the torment to stop anytime soon, okay?”
“Oh,” Giles smiled in return. “Absolutely not.”
“Hey!” The strident voice of the sales assistant made them both start. “Are you okay? What’s going on in there?”
* * * *
Buffy held up her arms, delighting in the bags that dangled from her hands, oblivious to the people that passed them on their way through the mall. Giles walked a step behind and kept his head down, not entirely enjoying the attention that Buffy was bringing them.
“Now that we’ve got you knickered up, it’s time!”
Giles stopped walking, suddenly looking afraid, his tone of voice was no more certain.
“For what?”
“Ugh.” Buffy looked disgusted. “What culture have you been living in? Have you not learnt anything from the many video nights we have. There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this…”
“Oh no, Buffy, please…”
Giles begged, Buffy grinned.
“That’s right!” Completely enjoying herself, Buffy was not about to let Giles put a dampener on things. “It’s time for our very own movie montage 2000!”
“Buffy, honestly, I’ll try on clothes, yes, but I refuse to parade myself in front of you in outfit after silly outfit, humiliating myself…”
“Giles, relax. I don’t expect you to do that. You think I want to sit around and watch you try on clothes? No way.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Absolutely not, I’m going to be trying on outfits too!”
“Oh joy.”
“Be nice, Giles.”
* * * *
The heavy cloth in front of the cubicle twitched.
“Come on, Giles.” Buffy eyed herself in the mirror, smoothing out a non existent wrinkle in the capri pants she was trying on. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The curtain opened and Giles stepped out. As Buffy’s face stretched out, trying hard not to laugh, Giles frowned. She looked down at herself, still somewhat shocked by the feminine form, then back at Buffy. Her shoulders huffed and she sighed.
“What? Buffy, what’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”
“We’re buying you a change of wardrobe.” Buffy took hold of Giles’ shoulders and turned her back into the dressing room. “So we’re at least going to get you out of tweed suits.”
“It’s a skirt.”
“Yes, it’s a skirt. It’s a skirt for a seventy year old grandmother. Which you’re not. Go… find something younger.”
“But…”
Buffy glared.
“Go.”
* * * *
The dress was very Audrey Hepburn. Buffy studiously ignored the price tag as she twirled in front of the mirror. A neck scarf would complete the outfit, she had several at home. Damn price tag.
“Giles?” Her voice carried over the cubicle. “You ready in there?”
“Um…” A pause. “No.”
“You are so.” Buffy tapped her feet. “I’ve got slayer hearing, remember? You haven’t actually moved in there for a while. What are you doing? Come on, show me.”
A loud sigh and then the curtain opened again.
“Okay, fine.” Giles was pouting. “Stop laughing. I know I look ridiculous. Stop it.”
But Buffy couldn’t, her face red, she just pointed back to the cubicle.
“You said dress younger.”
Buffy snorted.
“I didn’t say spandex!”
* * * *
Buffy shifted her shoulder, the blouse fell over her arm in the most flattering way, showing off the hollow in her neck. She wanted it. Mentally she began to count out her month’s budgets, seeing if she could slice off a text book here or there, crib off Willow’s notes.
“Buffy?” The nervous voice behind her almost made her jump. She turned around. “How’s this?”
“Oh my god.” Giles narrowed her eyes. She was just about ready to give up on the whole day and just go home. “Giles, that’s perfect!”
* * * *
“Buffy, please, I implore you!”
“What was that, Giles? Was that a whine?”
“Hardly. I’m just so exhausted, can’t we call it a day?”
“That was a whine. By George, Giles, you’re whingeing. Ooh, hey, can you pout? I bet you’ve got a sexy pout.”
Glare.
“Look, I know it’s difficult. But, considering we’ve come this far in the Day of Girlie Shopping Glee, we at least have to complete one more stage. It’s absolutely necessary for the mall experience. Fire, flood, demons, nor you in a snit will keep me from it, Giles.”
“I’m almost too afraid to ask.”
“Relax, I’m sure you’ll love this part.” Buffy stopped and adjusted all her bags to one hand, allowing her free hand to gesture in a circle in front of them. “I call it The Realm of the Sticky Food Court, also known as More Chocolate and Caffeine and Processed Foods Than the Human Body Should Ever Be Able To Ingest In One Sitting. Giles, let’s eat.”
They sat at a small table, shifting several large shopping bags around them and juggling a tray of coffee, tea and food.
“He was looking at me strangely, that’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Giles, he wasn’t. Trust me.”
“No, Buffy, that boy at the counter kept staring at me and smiling oddly. I didn’t like it.”
“Really?”
“Off course not. Why would I like that sort of thing?” Giles flipped his hair out of his face indignantly. “And he kept getting our order wrong.”
“Why is anybody supposed to like it? Giles, he was flirting with you. Or, at least, doing a very bad impression of it.”
“He… he was?” Giles blushed and turned his head to look back at the coffee shop counter. “That was flirting?”
Buffy nodded in sympathy.
“Not the best example, but yes. That was a classic man drools over woman trying to go about her normal daily business example. Get used to it, guys are gonna be drooling over you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Good god, man, you’re a very sexy woman.”
* * * *
Giles looked at the bags on his bed. There were so many. All he wanted to do now was lie down and sleep, hopefully wake up and find himself a man again. The last thing he wanted to be was one of those men ruled by that particular part of their anatomy, but hell one day of walking around without that familiar weight between his legs was enough. He’d learned his lesson, oh yes. Women ruled the world. Absolutely. Give him his penis back. He’d gotten beyond the point of giving himself a gentle pat in the nether regions in a vain hope of discovering exactly where it had gone.
It was a strange sensation, almost as if he expected to be walking through his room and out of the corner of his eye find the missing member. Oh yes, that’s where I left it, I remember now! A lonely and limp piece of flesh left lying about like his reading glasses or keys.
Shopping was usually a quick and relatively easy task for him. Today, shopping for a complete wardrobe with Buffy had been exhausting. He’d had no idea that shopping was such a social occasion. Although, to be honest, despite the circumstance, he’d actually quite enjoyed spending the time with Buffy. He smiled as he thought about the day, time spent without the annoying complications of monsters and demons and that elusive edge that had been driven between them, those glances and looks and questions and all those times he’d had to look away, afraid she’d see through him.
A tingle made him squirm. What the hell was that? It couldn’t be… and yet it was. No wonder women liked to wear jeans so much. He kept thinking of Buffy, of having Buffy pressed up against him in the change room. The tingle spread, oozed out over his navel and through his belly. He had to fight the urge to check his pants for a bulge, knowing it wouldn’t be there.
“Giles?” Buffy’s voice made him spin about, a guilty flush of red on his cheeks. He saw Buffy’s head poking around his bedroom door, eyes glowing with excitement. He knew she had a plan and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that plan was. “We’ve just bought all these new clothes. What say we put them to good use? Test them out, so to speak.”
“What…?”
Oh dear lord, she could tell, couldn’t she? Just looking at him, and he knew he was flushed by the heat in his face, she knew what he’d been thinking moments before, knew what he’d been about to do. How in the hell could he feel this naked and exposed when his usual genitalia was so much more… external and obvious?
“Let’s go to the Bronze!”
His face drained of any colour.
“Oh, Buffy, no. Really, I don’t think…”
“Exactly right, Watcher Mine, you shouldn’t think. Why overanalyse? You’re a woman, for the moment, why not have fun and let loose? This sort of thing doesn’t happen everyday. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs, you’re going to shake and shimmy your gorgeous female booty all night. You got me? Good, you’ve got fifteen minutes.”
And with that, she spun on her heels and left. He listened to the click of her steps on the stairs. She was right, dammit, she was absolutely right. How many people got this chance? The chance to experience everything from another perspective? He should take advantage of every moment. He’d be a fool not to.
Slipping his feet out of his shoes, Giles shucked the jeans off his legs and managed to hop across the room while doing so and closed the door. The shirts came off next and he stood naked. Looking down at himself, Giles smiled. Not too shabby.
He lifted his hand to his stomach and pressed in, grabbing a handful of flesh between his fingers and squeezing, he pulled the soft skin and then pressed it again, testing it. It was very soft, softer than his own usually, and so were the fingers, the whole hand. Smaller and more delicate. He liked the gentle curve from his navel downwards, the slope that headed into the thick patch of golden honey pubic hair. A laugh built up in his throat as the thought came to him that at least he was a natural blonde.
His hands moved up, curious. He’d felt a woman before, had touched them all and savoured the feeling of their skin under his rough hands, had loved to tease them with light brushing strokes, laughed at their goose bumps and shivers, the sighs produced. He’d always loved to be the cause of their pleasure and had never really thought about the feelings themselves.
Bringing his hand up, he pressed his fingers into the breastbone, drawing a line between the breasts themselves, almost as if he were teasing himself.
He hesitated, then he let himself touch his own breast. How odd. So lost in the moment, so intensely focused was he, that he forgot to let himself just feel his own reactions. Caught up in the fact of drawing a finger over a nipple, or lifting the whole breast to test its weight, he forgot to pay attention. The nipple hardened under his exploration and he decided to squeeze it, to see what would happen.
A moan escaped his lips as a lightning bolt was sent through his torso to his navel.
Okay, that worked. Breathe, he told himself, just breathe.
It surprised him, really, just how much it took to psyche himself up to go further than playing with his breasts. He remembered his first time with a girl, sticky fumblings in the back of his father’s car, the half light of a street lamp, Erik Clapton’s guitar crackling through the radio, breaths smelling of beer.
His hand fell, lightly brushing the top of his thigh. He hummed a little, pretended to himself that it didn’t mean as much as he was making it out to be, rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Slowly, he crooked one finger.
“Bloody hell!”
“Giles?” Called Buffy’s voice. “Are you okay up there?”
* * * *
“After you, m’dear.” Xander winked as he stood to the side of the entry.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
Willow flashed a smile at him and bobbed a little curtsy as she stepped past, her hand drifting down and behind, linking fingers with softer ones and tugging. Tara stifled a giggle as she followed. Xander waved his arm in a little flourish and followed the girls into the Bronze.
Music pulsed through the air, they could feel it throbbing through the floorboards, felt the flicker of coloured lights across the skin of their eyeballs. The cloying scent of tobacco, sweet alcohol and heated bodies began to wash over them.
“Is she here yet?” Xander’s eyes roamed the crowd. “Can you see her?”
“She said eight.” Tara adjusted the hem of her shirt, trying to pull it down.
“There she is!” Willow pointed across the crowd. “She’s over there with… hey, who is that?”
They took a moment to assess the situation. Buffy was sitting at a table, talking intently to another woman. She kept twisting her ankle around the leg of her chair and her right hand played with the straw in her drink. Xander nudged Willow, trying to get a rise.
“Is it just me, or does the Buff look like she’s flirting?”
“I wish.” Willow tried to get a rise of her own, but before Xander could react she continued. “If she is, then she has great taste.”
Tara nodded her approval while Xander cocked his head to the side, making no attempts to hide his appraisal of the woman. His throat gave out a low rumble.
“Absolutely.” He paused. “Ok, who wants a drink?”
They stood in line at the bar, ready to order, but kept an eye on Buffy and her friend. The woman was in her late thirties, maybe early forties, but looked good for her age. Fine lines around her eyes smoothed out when she laughed, her shoulder length blonde hair bounced when she moved and she wore a white sleeveless silk blouse, with a mauve skirt that reached just above her knees and a matching jacket. Her shapely legs tapered into elegant heels. As they watched, Buffy leaned over to brush a lock of the woman’s hair behind her ear and whisper something. The two shared a laugh.
“Ok, this is getting freaky. Buffy say she had something to tell us, right?” Xander lifted his chin when Willow gave him a Look. “What? If that isn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”
“Maybe…” Tara piped up. “Maybe they’re related.”
This time, Xander gave The Look.
“Yeah, if they’re Southern.”
“No, hang on a minute.” Willow watched the pair. “There is a resemblance. And didn’t Buffy say that her Aunt was visiting them this weekend?”
“That’s her Aunt?!” Xander took a second look. “Well, give it up for the Summers’ genes.”
“I’ll say.” Willow gave a low whistle, then blanked her face out in innocence when she saw Xander and Tara looking at her. “I mean, yep! Those Summers women sure are pretty.”
“We don’t even know who she is, really.” Tara pointed out the obvious.
Xander paid for the drinks.
“Only one way to find out.”
They strode to the table, three very curious friends, winding their way through the crowd and nursing cups of beer and soda, eyes aimed like lasers at the two women sitting innocently at the table. Friendly, smiling eyes, of course, but set on a target and armed with a taste for gossip.
Buffy’s eyes lit up when she saw them, she almost stumbled in her haste to stand up.
“Hey guys!”
“Hey Buff!” Xander jostled her hip with his own as he set his drink on the table, his voice thick and sweet. He gave a wink. “Who’s your friend?”
“Hey Buffy.” Willow spoke to Buffy, but she smiled at the woman.
Tara just nodded a smile.
“I want you to meet someone…”
Buffy began to gesture to Giles, but before she could finish Xander pushed in front of her, extending his hand.
“Hey, I’m Xander. You new here in Sunnydale, or have I just not seen you before? And if not, why not?”
Giles took his hand and smiled a gracious smile, Buffy’s eyes glittered with humour behind Xander’s back.
“Oh, I’ve been here a while.” Giles’ smile turned wolfish. So, he thought, this is the American teen in its natural habitat. “And you most certainly have met me.”
“I have?” Xander’s brow suddenly knitted in confusion. “I don’t think…”
“Xander!” Buffy was almost bouncing by now, unable to contain her secret. “It’s Giles!”
Silence.
“Check it out.” Buffy waved her hands up and down Giles’ body, as if she were a prize on Sale of the Century. “It’s Giles with breasts!”
Willow’s eyes grew wide with realization and memory, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. Tara broke into a laugh. Xander blinked. Then blinked again. Suddenly he pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, his eye brows shooting up into his hairline at an amazing speed.
“Giles?!? Our Giles? As in the MAN Giles?” He coughed, tried to recover his cool. “I mean. Hey Giles. How’s it going? By the way, why are you a woman?”
Giles turned her eyes to Willow.
“Yes, Willow, that’s a very good question. Why am I a woman?”
“Eep!” Willow ducked her head.
“You did this?” Tara eyed Giles, head to foot.
“Well… hey… no!”
Xander began to circle Giles, checking her out from all angles.
“Gotta say, Will, good job.”
Giles stuck out her chin, bristling under the attention.
“Xander, please. I’m not a piece of meat, if you don’t mind.”
“You don’t know it was me.” Willow kept futilely searching for her innocence. “It could have been someone else. It could have been Ethan!”
“Oh, stop it!” Giles nearly exploded. “It wasn’t Ethan and you know it. I don’t know why you children think he is the cause of all mishaps here on the hellmouth.”
“Well,” Buffy slapped Xander’s hand away from actually touching Giles, giving him a glare. “he does kinda show up and cause trouble for you a lot.”
“Yes,” hissed Giles at her through clenched teeth and raised eyebrows. “but he wasn’t the one last night wishing I was a woman, now, was he?”
“I don’t remember wishing you were a bitchy woman.” Buffy mumbled under her breath.
Giles narrowed her eyes.
“I heard that.”
“This… this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Tara tried to restore order. Xander looked thoughtful all of a sudden.
“Hey, did you guys say wish? Did you actually say the word ‘wish’?”
“I don’t think so, why…?” Willow looked confused for all of five seconds, then realization hit. “Oh.”
* * * *
“I didn’t do it.” Anya shrugged as she eyed Giles up and down. “And you know I don’t have any powers anymore.”
“But isn’t there anyone?” Giles had almost hit whining mode, her voice rising high. “Anyone you know of in the vengeance field?”
Anya flicked her tongue over a tooth in the top of her mouth, sucking her impatience back as she glared at the group.
“Those in vengeance are covered by strict rules, you know. We…” She paused. “… they don’t just go around all willy nilly stealing peoples’ appendages on a whim. If you didn’t say the word ‘wish’ then it couldn’t have be… oh.”
Everybody’s heads lifted to attention.
“Oh?” Xander cocked his head to the left. “Oh what?”
“Um…” Anya blushed. “There is one little… tiny… smaller than small possibility…”
“Anya, please.” Giles looked her in the eye.
“Well, the trainee vengeance demons aren’t covered by any strict rules, per se, I mean… granting wishes and altering reality is frowned upon, sure, but unless they’ve been granted vengeance status…”
“And,” Buffy caught on quickly. “They’re probably looking for a new vengeance demon right about now.”
Tiny lines formed in the middle of Giles’ forehead.
“Let me get this straight.” She took a breath, smoothed out a non existent wrinkle on her blouse, trying to keep a straight face. “My penis was stolen by the Trainee Patron Saint of PMS?”
Buffy and Willow burst into stifled giggles.
* * * *
And the giggling continued throughout the night, much to Giles’ embarrassment. Of course, he’d be a fool not to expect some jocularity about his situation, but Buffy’s enthusiasm in retelling the day’s tribulations made the others laugh harder and Giles shrink further into her chair.
“Can we possibly change the subject?” He caught the flash of concern in Buffy’s eyes and was grateful for it.
“Not in our lifetimes.” Willow’s voice was high pitched from giggling, her lips smiling around her straw. “This is the best thing to happen around here in a long time.”
Giles smile looked like a snarl.
“Thank you so very much.” He felt Buffy’s hand reach for his and give it a squeeze, he sighed and shook off his discomfort for her sake. “I don’t see what the fuss is about, it’s just me, it’s not like I’m a supermodel.”
Buffy bit down on another laugh, her cheeks trembling with the effort, then she gave up.
“Rupertina McPherson!”
Another round of guffaws burst around the table. Xander tapped the table for attention, his fit of giggles preventing him from talking, when all eyes looked to him he swallowed.
“Cindy Gilesford!”
“I don’t know Giles.” Willow sat up straighter, her face deliberately innocent, but a glint in her eye. “I wouldn’t play down my looks if I was you. Heck, even Xander was checking you out when we first came in.”
“What?” Xander’s laughter stopped as he sat up straight. The girls laughed harder. “No! I wasn’t! Really.”
“Sure, Xand.” Buffy lightly punched him on the shoulder. “You practically tried to pick him up before you knew it was him.”
Anya glared.
“You were looking at Giles in a sexual way?”
“I didn’t know she was a he, let alone Giles.” Flustered, Xander tried to change the subject. “But, to be serious Giles, I gotta ask…”
“Mm?” Giles was, not unwisely, somewhat wary of the question to follow.
“Seriously, man, how are you not, like, feeling yourself up right now?”
“Xander!” Buffy was outraged.
Anya continued to glare and Willow kicked him under the table.
“Ow! Will, quit it.” He turned to Giles. “I mean it. You’re a red blooded male, usually anyway, and here you are with free twenty four hour access to female booty, without fear of being slapped. I say go for it!”
Giles gave up pretending not to be uncomfortable and gave in to the blushing.
“You frighten me, Xander.” Buffy poked out her tongue.
“Hey.” Xander lifted his hands up in mock defence. “You’ve read my mind, why are you surprised?”
Buffy shrugged.
“Good point.”
“Xander brings up a good point, though.” Willow looked thoughtful.
“I do?” Xander perked up. “Yay me. What I say?”
“If Giles wanted to experience sex as a woman…”
“And why wouldn’t he?” Xander shooshed his interruption when Willow glared at him.
“… then masturbation is probably the safest way.”
“Willow!” Buffy blushed scarlet.
Giles let his head fall down to the table with a bang, emitting a groan. Anya looked interested.
“Well,” Willow wasn’t above blushing, herself. “What I mean is… you wouldn’t want to get pregnant, would you?”
“Oh, lord.” The voice was muffled. “Could this get any worse?”
“Giles?” Anya’s voice was perky and inquisitive. “Does this mean you’re a virgin all over again?”
“Okay!” Amidst more laughter, Giles stood up, pushing the chair back with force. “That’s it. While you children laugh at my predicament, I have to take my impossibly miniscule bladder to the bathroom, once again. Excuse me.”
“Oh dear.” Buffy swallowed her laughter as they watched Giles walk to the other side of the room. “You don’t think we went too far, do you?”
“No such thing.” Xander was adamant.
“Then why, do you suppose...” Buffy quirked her head towards Giles’ back. “… she is heading right for the men’s toilets?”
Faces watched in horrified fascination.
* * * *
Giles looked at the ground, a hurricane of thoughts blowing through his head. Laughter aside, those were points he hadn’t even thought of, let alone made provisions for. Sex? Pregnancy? A shudder made him realise he didn’t even want to think of that other thing that came with being a woman. The un mentionable, fear inducing, decidedly non male business of… he tried to think of something that didn’t sound as stuffy and English as ‘menses’, but something that wasn’t crass and made to make him blush. He couldn’t. He gave up and even the voice in his head rushed through the mumbled words… that time of the month.
A moment too late, Giles registered her rather feminine hand pushing open the door to the male toilets. Withdrawing it quickly, as if burned, Giles was ready to spin on her heels and quietly make her way to the female toilets, hopefully drawing as little attention to herself as possible. It was not to be. A man in his early twenties, dressed in dark colours and spiky metal jewellery came face to face with her as he exited.
A sneer appeared, something feral and predatory, accompanied by a gleam in the young man’s eye. He swaggered, hitching his right shoulder up and jutting his chin out to Giles. Without even bothering to hide it, he let his eyes roam Giles’ body, the tip of his tongue slipping out of his mouth and sliding over his teeth.
“Well, hey babe. You lookin’ for something?”
“Uh, no.” Giles cursed herself, if there was anytime not to revert to form and mumble, this was it. “No. Just a mistake.”
Giles took a step back, trying to put distance between them. The man took a step forward, closing the gap, pressing himself into Giles’ personal space.
“Ain’t no mistakes in life, babe.” Another step, one more and he’d be pressing into Giles. “I think I got what you want, right here.”
“Really, I don’t need anything, thank you.”
“Don’t be shy,” He reached up and touched Giles hair. “We’re all friends.”
“I… I don’t know you.” Giles stammered the words out, not looking up.
“You want to get to know me?”
“No.” Giles looked up, steely and cold, no longer playing shy and stuttering. She saw Buffy half way across the crowd, making a beeline for them, anger already on her face. “I want you to leave me the hell alone.”
Quickly, without warning, Giles grabbed the man’s shoulders and drew his knee up. Hard.
“Jesus Christ lady!” The man doubled up, his face turning red.
“I’m sorry.” Giles smiled sweetly. “Did I come on a little strong?”
“You damned bitch.” It was barely more than a moan as the man’s friends caught up with them and pulled him away, limping and groaning. Grinning, Buffy walked up to Giles and poked her tongue out at the departing group of guys.
“Geez, Giles, I thought I was gonna have to defend your maiden honour or something.”
“I think I’m a little past that, don’t you, Buffy?”
“Technically,” Buffy grinned, looking up at Giles. “Anya’s right, you’re still a pristine untouched virgin. You can still wear white to your wedding.”
Just a light tap across the shoulders, Giles slapped Buffy, a sigh on his lips.
“Can we just go home? I’m very tired.”
“Yes’m.” Buffy bent her knees in a quick curtsey. “Anything for a sweet maiden like yourself.”
“I still need to go to the bathroom though.”
“Just make sure you go to the ladies’. I’ll let the others know we’re leaving.”
* * * *
“Buffy.” A deep, warning growl. It was followed by approximately five seconds of silence. Then the giggles started again. “I said drop it.”
“I know.” She breathed deep, trying to collect herself as she shifted gears. Hilarity threatened to bubble up from her chest again and she tried to squeeze it down. “I can’t help it. Wham. You kneed that guy in the balls!”
“Buffy.” Giles sighed and shifted in her seat. “It’s not funny. That’s a rather… sensitive area for men, you know.”
She turned to look at him straight on before turning back to the road.
“Yeah, we’ve pretty much figured that out by now. It’s kinda why we hit out at it when we’re in trouble.”
“It’s just…” Giles was squirming again, obviously uncomfortable. “When you’re a man, it’s a serious thing. You don’t, you just don’t target that area. Even in dirty street fighting. I’m sure women have the same sort of code, I mean, women don’t go around kicking each other… there. Do they?”
Buffy gave him an amused sideways glance.
“You obviously haven’t been around the right post Christmas sales.”
“I’m serious, Buffy. Tonight, though, tonight all that flew out the window. At the slightest threat I just… just..”
Giles seemed incapable of expressing just what she’d done, so Buffy thought she’d helpfully offer a suggestion.
“Crushed his googlies ‘til they just couldn’t google no more?”
Giles’ exasperation just made Buffy laugh harder. She pulled the car into the driveway and stopped the engine, drawing out the key and opening her door.
“If it’s bothering you so much, why didn’t you just slap him or push him or something?”
“Because.” Giles lifted her chin slightly as she opened the door, not looking Buffy in the eye. “I like this nail polish you painted so nicely…”
Buffy started laughing so hard she nearly fell out of the car.
* * * *
Onto the PART TWO.
Posted with no alterations, as written several years ago. Unfinished... and in several different posts, 'cause it's hyuuuuuuuuuge.
Title: Pink Taffeta and the Opposite of Sex.
Author: Jacqui. wily_one24
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: Giles/Buffy (ish, sort of... I can't really remember if I ever got there or not).
Wordcount: 22,500+
Disclaimer: Not mine, this is why.
Timeline: Post Season Four.
Comments: This is a result of a fic challenge by Ally, to make Giles into a woman. See? Not all of the depravity here is mine.
Feedback: Always craved, always answered. wily_one24@yahoo.com.au
***
PINK TAFFETA AND THE OPPOSITE OF SEX
* * * *
Willow furrowed her brow in sympathy as she handed over the heat pack. She wore shorts and a singlet and she could still feel a trickle of sweat roll down her back. Bringing her right knee up, she half sat on the bed and gave a mewl of encouragement.
“I… I have chocolate cake… somewhere.”
A small voice came from beneath the sheet.
“With that gooey icing?”
Willow grinned in triumph.
“Yup! Chocolately goodness coming up.”
She threw her leg back on the ground and went to fetch the plate. The low groan behind her told Willow that Buffy had inched her way out of the sheet and was almost sitting up. There was a definite pout on Buffy’s face as she hugged the heat pack to her belly. The soft, fuzzy fur of Mr. Gordo poked out of the sheets as well. Willow worked hard to keep the smile off her face. At this particular point in time it would not do anybody, least of all Willow, any good if Buffy got wind of just how cute she really was.
“He doesn’t understand!” Buffy’s voice was a combination wail and whine.
“Yes.” Willow nodded her head, sure of her words. “He’s a man.”
“A man, dammit.” Buffy picked at a slice of cake, ignoring the actual cake and content to lick the gooey icing off her fingers. “Only a man would say that. Or Maggie Walsh.”
Willow covered her giggle with a cough, reaching for her soda, she breathed deep.
“It’s just preposterous. Absolutely.”
Buffy’s hand inched its way to her mouth, then paused.
“I mean, does he think I don’t know what’s going on?” The cake forgotten, Buffy began to gesture wildly. “I know there are demons out there! I know we made them all homeless by destroying the Initiative. I know! I’m doing the best I can!”
During this tirade, Buffy had switched from sulky mode to near anger mode and Willow quickly switched into pacifier mode to accommodate her. Not only was Joyce asleep across the hall, Tara was fast asleep in her sleeping bag on the floor.
“We know that, Buffy, really we do. Giles knows it, too.” Off Buffy’s disbelieving look, she continued her damage control. “Honestly he appreciates what you do.”
“No he doesn’t!”
Wham, back into sulky mode.
“Aw, come on, Buffy. You know he does.”
“Oh yeah.” Buffy’s heavily sarcastic voice grew deep. “Don’t you think it’s highly irresponsible to cut your patrol short due to a cramp?”
Willow cringed.
“Ok, yes, I admit, he was a little harsh…”
“Why are you protecting him?” In a matter of seconds, Buffy had turned on Willow. “He’s a MAN.”
“Yes.” Willow drew out the word, testing her footing.
“Men,” claimed Buffy. “they don’t understand. They certainly don’t care. They’d care if they got cramps. Oh yes.”
“Heh.” Back on solid ground, Willow stuck to the safe, well worn path of man bashing. Any minute now, she knew she’d be reliving tales of Angel, Riley, Parker, Scott Hope and Oz. Probably Xander, somewhere in there. “Yeah, even for a day, give them all cramps.”
“Oh no.” Buffy’s eyes were alight now, shining with the idea. “Just Giles. Give him cramps for a… for a month! No! Not just cramps, make him a woman! Make Giles a woman!”
In her excitement, Buffy had knocked the plate off the bed. She scrambled around, trying to pick cake off the floor.
“Oh sure.” Willow grinned. “If only it was that easy. I’ll just snap my fingers like this and Giles will be Gilesette.”
Buffy, straightening up, missed the flash of light that went through Willow’s eyes when she said the words. Both girls giggled, then Buffy groaned again.
“Damn men.” She pouted again as she lay back and snuggled into the pillow, hugging Mr. Gordo and the heat pack closely.
“Damn men.” Willow agreed, easing herself into her own sleeping bag. “It’d be cool, though, wouldn’t it?”
Giggle. Groan.
* * * *
Giles turned over in bed, his head thick and blurred. He wondered exactly how much scotch he’d had the night before. He’d had some trouble sleeping since their shared dreams of the first slayer. All of them had, but he seemed to be copping the worst of it. A little hot cocoa to help him sleep couldn’t hurt, especially if he made his cocoa with ice and a malt beverage.
And to top it all off, he seemed to have developed the world’s smallest bladder. Blinking, he forced himself to throw off the covers and stumble into the bathroom, his bare feet slapping the tiles. He cleared the back of his throat, gargling and clicking his tongue as he did so. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as he stretched his neck. Casually, and without even consciously thinking about it, Giles reached into his pyjama bottoms, anticipating sweet relief.
As his hand grabbed for something that wasn’t there, Giles’ head snapped back up. Then down.
“What the…?!”
When asked about the moment later in life - and being as blessed with such subtle friends as he was, this was a certainty - Giles would forever deny bending over almost double to peer between his legs and frantically pat himself down, searching, disbelieving, for something that he could have sworn he’d had all his life.
And didn’t now.
Now, when patting your genital area down, searching for a penis, it generally doesn’t take too long to discover the replacement vagina. That doesn’t mean, of course, that you accept this knowledge at face value. Questions like ‘where did it go?’, ‘why did it go?’, ‘how did it go?’ and desperate, futile claims such as ‘it has to be there, somewhere’ ran circles through Giles’ mind.
Stupidly, Giles kept looking, thinking, hoping that the second, third and fortieth checks would provide him with the blessed knowledge that this wasn’t happening and that he was most likely high on some form of narcotic. Yes, drugs, that was the answer. He was on a bad acid trip and this was his hallucination. Or, with any luck, he’d been hit on the head during battle and he was in a mild form of coma. Yes. A coma. Thank you very much, I want to wake up now.
Unfortunately, Giles was presented with the discovery that even concussed, crack addicted coma hallucinations needed to pee. And they needed to pee desperately.
He stared at the toilet.
He stared at his pants.
One last desperate check.
“Oooookay.”
He gingerly tugged the pants down and sat on the seat. And waited. He looked at the floor, looked at the sink, looked at his fingernails. His hands. His hands were women’s hands. Looking down again, Giles took in his first glance of, what in his estimation were, some pretty decent breasts. Without thinking, he grabbed to make sure they were real. They were.
“Oh, for crying out loud…” He jiggled on the seat. “Surely going to the toilet with one of these can’t be that hard.”
Relax, he told himself, relax. Take care of this need first, then go and find out what the hell happened and make someone pay. A lot. Giles forced himself to relax, to concentrate on the mission at hand. He forced himself to think about how the act was accomplished with male genitalia.
“It can’t be that hard, honestly… Good lord!”
Without thinking, Giles squirmed on the seat in surprise. Not exactly the best move he’d ever made.
“Oh, lovely.”
* * * *
Sometime, and a lot of paper, later, Giles was standing in front of the mirror. He was in the process of pulling, pushing and stretching the skin on his face. Or, more precisely, what used to be his face, but was now the face of a woman. He could barely form a coherent thought, but those he did understand involved the names Ethan Rayne and Faith. Both culprits that had proven themselves capable in this area of expertise. Exactly how did one re-penisise oneself? Giles let himself smile. Re-penisise? He’d obviously been spending too much time around Buffy and the children. Oh, dear lord. Buffy and the children.
As if on cue, he heard the door open downstairs and Buffy’s voice call out his name.
“Just a…” Giles caught the sound of his voice, several octaves higher than usual. He tried to deepen his voice. “Just a minute!”
“Giles?” Buffy’s puzzled voice drifted up the stairs. “Is that you? Is someone there?”
He heard a catch in her voice and placed it in his memory bank for later, when he was a little more coherent.
“Should I leave now?”
“No!” He called out, stopping to take a breath and brace himself for the inevitable. He began to walk down the stairs. “Please stay, Buffy.”
* * * *
“Please stay, Buffy.”
Buffy could physically trace the narrowing of her eyebrows with each step the woman took. Her arms crossed over her chest and she wondered how any woman could manage to look that good in men’s pyjama bottoms and a shirt.
“Oh, really?” The archness in her voice was the result of arduous hours of practice or, more likely, the instantaneous reaction of seeing this tall, stately, ashen blonde woman stride through Giles’ apartment in Giles’ clothes. “And who might you be?”
“Giles.”
“Yes.” Replied Buffy. “Where is Giles, anyway?” She raised her voice. “Giles!”
“No, Buffy.” The woman stepped forward and reached out to place her hand on Buffy’s arm. Buffy sidestepped her and walked to the stairs, ready to call up to the loft again. “I am Giles. That’s me.”
Buffy’s heart stopped and she turned around.
“So, what, you’re like Giles’ sister? Or Aunt? A long lost cousin still very closely related by blood?”
She didn’t know whether or not she wanted an answer to that question. Finding Olivia had been traumatic enough and there had been no semantic name issues. Buffy thought that she and Giles, all of them as a matter of fact, had grown closer after the trouble with Adam and the Initiative. And here he was, hiding some sort of wife or sister or… or…
“Buffy, will you stop for a minute, please?”
“How do you know my name? Did Giles…” Buffy stopped, obviously the name thing was causing confusion. “I mean, did Rupert tell you about me?”
“In a way, Buffy please.” She reached out and this time Buffy let herself be guided to the sofa. “Now, don’t panic. I have to tell you something.”
“Is it Giles? What happened to Giles?”
“I’m fine, Buffy.”
Frustration surged.
“Not you! Gil… Rupert. What happened to…?”
“Buffy!” The woman’s voice stopped Buffy in her tracks. “Please do shut up and let me speak!”
“Well, that answers that question.” Buffy sat back in a sulk. “You’re definitely a relative. That accent, that same temper and, at closer inspection, a definite family resemblance and, oh look, there’s the Giles’ scowl…”
“Buffy!”
“Yup, definitely a…”
“For god’s sake, woman, let me speak!”
“Fine.” The set of Buffy’s mouth said otherwise.
“Ok. Don’t panic, but…”
“Ok, why say that? You know, the minute you say that it only makes me panic. No one says that unless there’s something to panic about, so it really serves no purpose when you think about it, especially seeing as how you won’t tell me what happened to Giles.”
“I’m here, dammit! Buffy, it’s me!”
“What?”
“My name is Rupert Giles,” Giles breathed in, trying to steady herself. “I’ve been your watcher for four years now and this morning I woke up with… without… that is to say, like this.”
“Oh, ok, sure. ‘Cause I’m Shaqueal O’Neil.” Buffy patted the woman’s hand and began to inch away. “Seriously, where’s Giles?”
“Good Lord, Buffy, in the past year alone you’ve seen Ethan Rayne turn me into a Fyarl demon and Faith stole your body. Why are you having trouble accepting this?”
“Well, to be honest,” Buffy looked the woman up and down. “have you seen you like this? Not entirely watcher like, you know?”
“Oh, yes, because a Fyarl demon is so much closer to my natural complexion.”
Ouch.
“See? Now I’m starting to believe it.”
Buffy looked at Giles, her eyes wide and taking in as much as possible. The closer she looked, the more resemblance to Giles she could see. Before long, she reached out to touch Giles’ face, much the same as he’d been doing minutes before. Fingers touching the skin lightly, she pressed her finger to Giles’ lips, ran her finger up Giles’ cheek and ran her fingers through Giles’ hair. This woman had hair longer than her own.
“How?”
Buffy tugged the corner of Giles’ ear. She pressed a finger into the side of his nose. Giles threw up her hands and pushed Buffy off.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I dialed the ‘make me a woman’ hotline and ordered this. People don’t just wake up as a woman. Unless, of course, they are a woman. Which I’m not. Well, not usually. Buffy, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
During his speech, Giles had noticed a definite drop in Buffy’s pallor, her face had gone pale and her eyes extremely wide and too innocent looking. That usually meant she was hiding something.
“We did it.”
“What?”
“Um, don’t get angry…”
“Why would I get angry, Buffy?”
“You keep saying my name.” Buffy suddenly remembered Willow getting creeped out and now she understood why.
“You keep making me say your name. Don’t change the subject. What did you mean when you said ‘we did it’? We who?”
“Me and Willow?”
“What did you do?”
“Um, well, we were talking, just talking… and I guess we kinds made it happen. You know, like before.”
Giles blinked.
“You were talking about making me a woman?”
Buffy cringed.
“Kinda?”
“What exactly did you say?”
“Um… just that men don’t understand what it’s really like to be a woman and, gee, wouldn’t it serve you right if you were a woman for a month?”
“Me? Why me?” Giles turned her head to stare at Buffy. “A month?! I’m going to be a woman for a month?”
“Probably not. You never know, this could be temporary.”
“It better be temporary, Buffy, this is incredibly irrespons… What? You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”
“Because, Watcher mine, I’m going to have to take you shopping.”
“What?”
“Well, you can’t spend a month in men’s clothes, can you?”
“Can’t I just borrow some of yours? Or Willow’s?”
Buffy gave her a withering glare.
“Oh, yeah, sure. ‘Cause women’s clothes are just that easy.”
“Clothes are clothes, Buffy.”
“Giles, do you remember me having to look up to see your shoulder?”
“Oh, I see.”
“Exactly,” Buffy gave her a saucy smile. “so just sashay that perky butt of yours up those stairs and get yourself half decent. Ok?”
Giles glared at her.
“You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“Want some help?”
“Buffy, as it so happens, I have been in the possession of a human body all my life. It’s just female at the present time. I’m sure I can shower and dress myself quite capably.”
“Oh, really?” Buffy reached out and began to pull up Giles’ top. Giles quickly pushed her away, standing up and backing away from the sofa. Buffy sighed. “Really, Giles, I’ve seen you shirtless before.”
“Maybe so, but this is different.” She gestured at her new breasts. “I have these now.”
“Ok, Giles, you realise that, being a woman, not only have I seen breasts before I actually own a pair of them myself. Relax, I just want to see something.”
She gave Buffy a wary look, but allowed her to lift the tee shirt.
“See?” Buffy crowed with triumph. “I’m not taking you shopping ‘til you shave those pits and, most probably, your legs too. You could make money sending safari groups in there.”
“Yes, thank you, Buffy. This is not at all embarrassing. I’m glad you can joke your way through this.”
“What? I’ve been good. It’s not as if I’m doing this.” Buffy let the tee drop and pointed at Giles’ chest, bouncing on her toes and adopting a sing song voice. “Giles has boobies! Giles has boobies! Gi-yules ha-as boo-bies!”
Giles did not change her expression, she breathed in and waited for Buffy to stop.
“Giles has boo…” Buffy sighed, her face flushed and glowing, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh, come on. Lighten up. Hey, are you blushing? Did I make you blush?”
* * * *
Sometime, and a lot of teasing and glaring later Buffy was smiling to herself as she took the rare opportunity to snoop through… help Giles reorganise… his decidedly male wardrobe into a more feminine friendly apparel. She kept the sound of the running water in her ears, ensuring Giles would be busy for quite a while. Every now and again a female voice could be heard exclaiming in surprise about one thing or another.
It gave her a little glow of warmth, knowing she’d been right; it was quite amusing watching Giles as a woman. It was always fun causing him to get that overly stated expression of annoyance on his face, the sides of his nostrils flaring with each exhalation of air.
“Geez Giles,” She pushed several hangers to the side, looking far back into the wardrobe. “how am I supposed to make you an acceptable woman?”
A small sliver of guilt tried to inch its way into her consciousness and she tried to ignore it. It wasn’t like it was that hard to be a woman, 51% of the world’s population managed it every day. Surely Giles could do it. Exactly how spectacular could one piece of anatomy be that it couldn’t be missed for a few days? Hell, Giles had been blind for a few hours and survived, he’d even been a demon and lived to tell the tale. Buffy had no doubts he could make it as a woman.
The problem was getting him to see that.
The water had stopped and Buffy counted down: five, four, three, two…
“Buffy?” She looked up, only slightly jarred by a woman’s face peering at her from behind the bathroom door. “Can you help me in here for a minute?”
“Sure Baby.” Buffy quirked her lips and winked, laying the last of the clothes on the bed and skipping towards Giles. “Anything you say.”
“I asked you to stop doing that.”
Giles gathered all her strength to glare down at Buffy, but she was looking at her with big brown eyes that shone with laughter, mischief and, if Giles wasn’t mistaken, a touch of flirting. Was that even possible? Either way, it was a nice change to the latest spout of too eager quality time, that touch of forced desperateness that made up their new bonding time after the enjoining spell. He liked this new intimacy, the shared experience, even if he didn’t much care for the experience itself.
Buffy pouted as she dipped her head under Giles’ outstretched arm that held the door open.
* * * *
“Ow.”
“Giles, relax, okay? Don’t tense up so much.”
“Ow.”
“You’re only making it worse, you know.”
“Don’t be so rough, Buffy.” Giles tried not to look at her eyes. “You obviously have no idea how much this hurts. I don’t know how you can be so insensitive.”
“Insensitive?” Buffy’s hand paused. “Listen, mister-miss, you got yourself into this mess, remember? ‘I can do it alone’? ‘Don’t make such a fuss’? If you weren’t so stubborn…”
“Stubborn? I…” Giles’ indignation was interrupted with another vicious yank of Buffy’s hand. “Ow!”
“I’ve just about had it, Giles. Now sit up straight, relax and let me finish.”
Buffy’s left hand held Giles’ forehead in place as she tugged the brush through the mess of ash blonde hair that hung in tangles down Giles’ back. Giles’ neck strained not to stretch back with the pulling of hair.
“Who in their bloody right minds would keep their hair so long?”
“You’ve always liked long hair.” Unconsciously, Buffy flicked her own long hair behind her shoulder, a tad upset. “You told me so yourself.”
“That was before I had it. This is ridiculous.”
“Be patient.”
* * * *
“Ow!”
“Giles! Come back here.”
“Oh no!” Giles spun around, pointing a finger back at Buffy, eyes wide and accusing. “Now I know you’re deliberately out to hurt me. Women can’t possibly go through this on a daily basis.”
Buffy blinked large innocent eyes at Giles and then looked down at the wax strip in her hand. Even she had to admit that the amount of hair that had come of Giles’ armpit had made her wince. There was not much to do, but try and convince the now wary and suspicious Giles to let her finish.
“It wasn’t that bad, Giles. Seriously, waxing may hurt, but it’s better than shaving. Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Now get back here.”
“No.” Giles crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance.
“Don’t make me make you come back.”
Giles’ eyes widened with fear.
“Please, Buffy, surely there’s another way.”
Buffy’s eyes took on a devilish glint as she pointedly looked down to Giles’ legs. Not being completely stupid, Buffy had placed several wax strips on his skin before pulling off the first one. She crooked her finger and gestured for Giles to walk towards her.
Giles whimpered.
* * * *
“What is this?”
“Well, Giles, you have to admit you don’t exactly have the most feminine wardrobe, do you?”
“You can’t be serious. I’m going to look like a raving lesbian.”
“Giles!” Buffy had to contain the laughter, political correctness aside, Giles was going to have to go shopping dressed as a very butch bull dyke. “That’s not nice. Besides, it’s only until we can buy you some girly clothes. At least you’ll finally be able to wear that pink taffeta…”
Giles looked at the blue jeans and white tee, with a checked over shirt and sighed.
“There’s not much we can do about the shoes,” Buffy revelled in her fashion coordinator role. “but if you tie the shirt in a knot in the front, instead of doing up the buttons, it’ll look half decent… and hide the fact that you don’t own a bra.”
She didn’t have to say it, Buffy knew the implication was there, she knew that Giles would have picked it up and comprehended the possible torture ahead, but she couldn’t help herself. The look of desperation on Giles’ face was just too delicious.
“Yet.”
* * * *
“Good Lord!”
“What?” Buffy turned to give a sheepish grin to Giles. “That was a perfectly legal u-turn.”
“In what country?”
“We talked about this, Giles, your driver’s license screams penis. You don’t have much choice but to let me drive.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Hey, what’s this button do?”
“You better be joking.”
“Heh. Yeah, I am… kinda.”
“Good Lord.”
* * * *
“Okay, Giles, I know I’ve said this before, but you have to relax.”
“I’m sorry, Buffy, but it’s just… this place is… I’m not used to…”
“I know, really I do, but it’s one thing to be nervous and edgy here when you’re a man, it’s expected. Hell, why do you think we all tease you so mercilessly? But it’s a whole different thing story if you’re a woman, dressed like you are, hanging about looking pensive and shady in the ladies underwear department as if you’ve been caught looking at porn. It’s like you’ve never shopped for lingerie before.”
“Well, now that you bring it up…”
“Giles.” Buffy put on her serious face. “I know it’s a big step for any girl, but sooner or later you’re going to have to try on your first bra. Here…”
Buffy strode through the aisles of flimsy white, pastel or garishly coloured material, decorated with various forms of bows, ribbons and lace as if it meant nothing to her. Giles shuffled close behind her, wary of the whole process and not game enough to look up. Buffy shoved a hanger in Giles’ hands.
“… hold this one. What size do you think you are?”
“Medium? I guess?”
“Medium? We’re not buying men’s singlets here. Hang on, stand up straight.”
Giles stood, mortified, as Buffy stretched an impossibly white garment around her chest, she looked up at the ceiling and hummed nervously, thinking that Buffy was taking her sweet time about it, probably enjoying every horrific moment.
“Well?”
“This one, I think. You’re going to have to try it on. Want me to help you in the change room?”
“Buffy.” Giles gave her an impatient glare. “While I admit that, yes, some aspects of being a woman have so far stumped me, I can assure you that I have had more than a passing acquaintance with said garment…”
“You know, you can say bra if you’re about to try one on.”
“… with a bra. If you don’t mind, I’m sure I can handle this experience on my own.”
“Fine,” Buffy threw up her hands in mock frustration. “change rooms are over there.”
Frustration often leads to a sense of sadism and Buffy was no different, sitting outside the dressing room, listening to the various grunts and exclamations that came from inside with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyebrows lifted when she heard a yelp and, to her credit, she barely jumped when a sudden crash, followed by several choice words, rang through the air.
She smiled weakly at the sales assistant who kept frowning at the noise. She counted.
“Five, four, three, two…”
“Buffy?” Giles penitent voice came floating out to her. “Buffy, are you there?”
“Yes.” She replied airily. “I am.”
“Um, can you help me please?”
“I don’t know, Giles.” Buffy was enjoying this. A lot. “I thought you were more than experienced in this area.”
“Yes. Okay. You were right. I was wrong.” Giles paused and counted to ten, she was this close to begging. “I’m asking you, please, to come and help me.”
“Who’s the bestest ever Slayer in the whole wide world?”
Her sing song voice was answered with a threatening one.
“Buffy…”
“Exactly!” She crowed as she stood up and immediately opened the door.
Giles’ face blanched with embarrassment as she stood, frozen, to the spot, only her eyelids blinked. Buffy’s sudden burst of laughter woke Giles to reality.
“Are you trying to kill me? Close the door!”
As she stepped into the small room, Buffy tried to control her giggles, she tried hard. But she was only human and the sight of Giles with her arms through the bra straps, cups wildly off center, hands scrabbling maniacally behind her back, trying to join the ends, one of which had gotten painfully entangled in her hair, all while turning in backward circles in the vain hope of making ends meet… well, Buffy had to work extra hard.
“Oh my god, Giles, what are you trying to do?”
Giles sighed and stopped hopping.
“I’m trying to bake a lovely self saucing chocolate soufflé, but I can’t quite seem to get it to rise properly… what the bloody hell do you think I’m doing?”
“Hey, we talked about abusing sarcasm, okay? It’s not helping. Just… just stand still, let me…”
Buffy pushed her way around to Giles’ back and began the process of hair in bra clasp untangling.
“I honestly don’t know how you women do this everyday.”
“I think the bra was invented by a man. An evil sadistic man.”
Buffy lifted her eyes over Giles’ shoulder and met grey ones in the mirror, she poked out her tongue.
“I just can’t understand how putting one of these things on can be so much more difficult than getting it off.”
“Seriously, it’s not that hard once you know how. There.”
With a few deft twists of her hand, Buffy clipped the bra into place. She took hold of Giles’ shoulders and gently turned her around. Avoiding Giles’ eyes, she reached out and cupped the flesh of Giles’ right breast, lifting it and letting it fall back properly into the cup of lacy material. Quickly, she did the same for the left breast.
“There, all supported. Is the fit okay? Not too tight?” Buffy tweaked the bra here, tugging there. “We can always adjust the strap.”
Giles looked at the ground, breathed in, then took Buffy’s hand in her own.
“Thank you, Buffy, torments and laughter aside, you’ve been a big help.”
Buffy smiled.
“Anything, Watcher Mine. Just don’t expect the torment to stop anytime soon, okay?”
“Oh,” Giles smiled in return. “Absolutely not.”
“Hey!” The strident voice of the sales assistant made them both start. “Are you okay? What’s going on in there?”
* * * *
Buffy held up her arms, delighting in the bags that dangled from her hands, oblivious to the people that passed them on their way through the mall. Giles walked a step behind and kept his head down, not entirely enjoying the attention that Buffy was bringing them.
“Now that we’ve got you knickered up, it’s time!”
Giles stopped walking, suddenly looking afraid, his tone of voice was no more certain.
“For what?”
“Ugh.” Buffy looked disgusted. “What culture have you been living in? Have you not learnt anything from the many video nights we have. There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this…”
“Oh no, Buffy, please…”
Giles begged, Buffy grinned.
“That’s right!” Completely enjoying herself, Buffy was not about to let Giles put a dampener on things. “It’s time for our very own movie montage 2000!”
“Buffy, honestly, I’ll try on clothes, yes, but I refuse to parade myself in front of you in outfit after silly outfit, humiliating myself…”
“Giles, relax. I don’t expect you to do that. You think I want to sit around and watch you try on clothes? No way.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Absolutely not, I’m going to be trying on outfits too!”
“Oh joy.”
“Be nice, Giles.”
* * * *
The heavy cloth in front of the cubicle twitched.
“Come on, Giles.” Buffy eyed herself in the mirror, smoothing out a non existent wrinkle in the capri pants she was trying on. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The curtain opened and Giles stepped out. As Buffy’s face stretched out, trying hard not to laugh, Giles frowned. She looked down at herself, still somewhat shocked by the feminine form, then back at Buffy. Her shoulders huffed and she sighed.
“What? Buffy, what’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”
“We’re buying you a change of wardrobe.” Buffy took hold of Giles’ shoulders and turned her back into the dressing room. “So we’re at least going to get you out of tweed suits.”
“It’s a skirt.”
“Yes, it’s a skirt. It’s a skirt for a seventy year old grandmother. Which you’re not. Go… find something younger.”
“But…”
Buffy glared.
“Go.”
* * * *
The dress was very Audrey Hepburn. Buffy studiously ignored the price tag as she twirled in front of the mirror. A neck scarf would complete the outfit, she had several at home. Damn price tag.
“Giles?” Her voice carried over the cubicle. “You ready in there?”
“Um…” A pause. “No.”
“You are so.” Buffy tapped her feet. “I’ve got slayer hearing, remember? You haven’t actually moved in there for a while. What are you doing? Come on, show me.”
A loud sigh and then the curtain opened again.
“Okay, fine.” Giles was pouting. “Stop laughing. I know I look ridiculous. Stop it.”
But Buffy couldn’t, her face red, she just pointed back to the cubicle.
“You said dress younger.”
Buffy snorted.
“I didn’t say spandex!”
* * * *
Buffy shifted her shoulder, the blouse fell over her arm in the most flattering way, showing off the hollow in her neck. She wanted it. Mentally she began to count out her month’s budgets, seeing if she could slice off a text book here or there, crib off Willow’s notes.
“Buffy?” The nervous voice behind her almost made her jump. She turned around. “How’s this?”
“Oh my god.” Giles narrowed her eyes. She was just about ready to give up on the whole day and just go home. “Giles, that’s perfect!”
* * * *
“Buffy, please, I implore you!”
“What was that, Giles? Was that a whine?”
“Hardly. I’m just so exhausted, can’t we call it a day?”
“That was a whine. By George, Giles, you’re whingeing. Ooh, hey, can you pout? I bet you’ve got a sexy pout.”
Glare.
“Look, I know it’s difficult. But, considering we’ve come this far in the Day of Girlie Shopping Glee, we at least have to complete one more stage. It’s absolutely necessary for the mall experience. Fire, flood, demons, nor you in a snit will keep me from it, Giles.”
“I’m almost too afraid to ask.”
“Relax, I’m sure you’ll love this part.” Buffy stopped and adjusted all her bags to one hand, allowing her free hand to gesture in a circle in front of them. “I call it The Realm of the Sticky Food Court, also known as More Chocolate and Caffeine and Processed Foods Than the Human Body Should Ever Be Able To Ingest In One Sitting. Giles, let’s eat.”
They sat at a small table, shifting several large shopping bags around them and juggling a tray of coffee, tea and food.
“He was looking at me strangely, that’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Giles, he wasn’t. Trust me.”
“No, Buffy, that boy at the counter kept staring at me and smiling oddly. I didn’t like it.”
“Really?”
“Off course not. Why would I like that sort of thing?” Giles flipped his hair out of his face indignantly. “And he kept getting our order wrong.”
“Why is anybody supposed to like it? Giles, he was flirting with you. Or, at least, doing a very bad impression of it.”
“He… he was?” Giles blushed and turned his head to look back at the coffee shop counter. “That was flirting?”
Buffy nodded in sympathy.
“Not the best example, but yes. That was a classic man drools over woman trying to go about her normal daily business example. Get used to it, guys are gonna be drooling over you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Good god, man, you’re a very sexy woman.”
* * * *
Giles looked at the bags on his bed. There were so many. All he wanted to do now was lie down and sleep, hopefully wake up and find himself a man again. The last thing he wanted to be was one of those men ruled by that particular part of their anatomy, but hell one day of walking around without that familiar weight between his legs was enough. He’d learned his lesson, oh yes. Women ruled the world. Absolutely. Give him his penis back. He’d gotten beyond the point of giving himself a gentle pat in the nether regions in a vain hope of discovering exactly where it had gone.
It was a strange sensation, almost as if he expected to be walking through his room and out of the corner of his eye find the missing member. Oh yes, that’s where I left it, I remember now! A lonely and limp piece of flesh left lying about like his reading glasses or keys.
Shopping was usually a quick and relatively easy task for him. Today, shopping for a complete wardrobe with Buffy had been exhausting. He’d had no idea that shopping was such a social occasion. Although, to be honest, despite the circumstance, he’d actually quite enjoyed spending the time with Buffy. He smiled as he thought about the day, time spent without the annoying complications of monsters and demons and that elusive edge that had been driven between them, those glances and looks and questions and all those times he’d had to look away, afraid she’d see through him.
A tingle made him squirm. What the hell was that? It couldn’t be… and yet it was. No wonder women liked to wear jeans so much. He kept thinking of Buffy, of having Buffy pressed up against him in the change room. The tingle spread, oozed out over his navel and through his belly. He had to fight the urge to check his pants for a bulge, knowing it wouldn’t be there.
“Giles?” Buffy’s voice made him spin about, a guilty flush of red on his cheeks. He saw Buffy’s head poking around his bedroom door, eyes glowing with excitement. He knew she had a plan and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that plan was. “We’ve just bought all these new clothes. What say we put them to good use? Test them out, so to speak.”
“What…?”
Oh dear lord, she could tell, couldn’t she? Just looking at him, and he knew he was flushed by the heat in his face, she knew what he’d been thinking moments before, knew what he’d been about to do. How in the hell could he feel this naked and exposed when his usual genitalia was so much more… external and obvious?
“Let’s go to the Bronze!”
His face drained of any colour.
“Oh, Buffy, no. Really, I don’t think…”
“Exactly right, Watcher Mine, you shouldn’t think. Why overanalyse? You’re a woman, for the moment, why not have fun and let loose? This sort of thing doesn’t happen everyday. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs, you’re going to shake and shimmy your gorgeous female booty all night. You got me? Good, you’ve got fifteen minutes.”
And with that, she spun on her heels and left. He listened to the click of her steps on the stairs. She was right, dammit, she was absolutely right. How many people got this chance? The chance to experience everything from another perspective? He should take advantage of every moment. He’d be a fool not to.
Slipping his feet out of his shoes, Giles shucked the jeans off his legs and managed to hop across the room while doing so and closed the door. The shirts came off next and he stood naked. Looking down at himself, Giles smiled. Not too shabby.
He lifted his hand to his stomach and pressed in, grabbing a handful of flesh between his fingers and squeezing, he pulled the soft skin and then pressed it again, testing it. It was very soft, softer than his own usually, and so were the fingers, the whole hand. Smaller and more delicate. He liked the gentle curve from his navel downwards, the slope that headed into the thick patch of golden honey pubic hair. A laugh built up in his throat as the thought came to him that at least he was a natural blonde.
His hands moved up, curious. He’d felt a woman before, had touched them all and savoured the feeling of their skin under his rough hands, had loved to tease them with light brushing strokes, laughed at their goose bumps and shivers, the sighs produced. He’d always loved to be the cause of their pleasure and had never really thought about the feelings themselves.
Bringing his hand up, he pressed his fingers into the breastbone, drawing a line between the breasts themselves, almost as if he were teasing himself.
He hesitated, then he let himself touch his own breast. How odd. So lost in the moment, so intensely focused was he, that he forgot to let himself just feel his own reactions. Caught up in the fact of drawing a finger over a nipple, or lifting the whole breast to test its weight, he forgot to pay attention. The nipple hardened under his exploration and he decided to squeeze it, to see what would happen.
A moan escaped his lips as a lightning bolt was sent through his torso to his navel.
Okay, that worked. Breathe, he told himself, just breathe.
It surprised him, really, just how much it took to psyche himself up to go further than playing with his breasts. He remembered his first time with a girl, sticky fumblings in the back of his father’s car, the half light of a street lamp, Erik Clapton’s guitar crackling through the radio, breaths smelling of beer.
His hand fell, lightly brushing the top of his thigh. He hummed a little, pretended to himself that it didn’t mean as much as he was making it out to be, rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Slowly, he crooked one finger.
“Bloody hell!”
“Giles?” Called Buffy’s voice. “Are you okay up there?”
* * * *
“After you, m’dear.” Xander winked as he stood to the side of the entry.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
Willow flashed a smile at him and bobbed a little curtsy as she stepped past, her hand drifting down and behind, linking fingers with softer ones and tugging. Tara stifled a giggle as she followed. Xander waved his arm in a little flourish and followed the girls into the Bronze.
Music pulsed through the air, they could feel it throbbing through the floorboards, felt the flicker of coloured lights across the skin of their eyeballs. The cloying scent of tobacco, sweet alcohol and heated bodies began to wash over them.
“Is she here yet?” Xander’s eyes roamed the crowd. “Can you see her?”
“She said eight.” Tara adjusted the hem of her shirt, trying to pull it down.
“There she is!” Willow pointed across the crowd. “She’s over there with… hey, who is that?”
They took a moment to assess the situation. Buffy was sitting at a table, talking intently to another woman. She kept twisting her ankle around the leg of her chair and her right hand played with the straw in her drink. Xander nudged Willow, trying to get a rise.
“Is it just me, or does the Buff look like she’s flirting?”
“I wish.” Willow tried to get a rise of her own, but before Xander could react she continued. “If she is, then she has great taste.”
Tara nodded her approval while Xander cocked his head to the side, making no attempts to hide his appraisal of the woman. His throat gave out a low rumble.
“Absolutely.” He paused. “Ok, who wants a drink?”
They stood in line at the bar, ready to order, but kept an eye on Buffy and her friend. The woman was in her late thirties, maybe early forties, but looked good for her age. Fine lines around her eyes smoothed out when she laughed, her shoulder length blonde hair bounced when she moved and she wore a white sleeveless silk blouse, with a mauve skirt that reached just above her knees and a matching jacket. Her shapely legs tapered into elegant heels. As they watched, Buffy leaned over to brush a lock of the woman’s hair behind her ear and whisper something. The two shared a laugh.
“Ok, this is getting freaky. Buffy say she had something to tell us, right?” Xander lifted his chin when Willow gave him a Look. “What? If that isn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”
“Maybe…” Tara piped up. “Maybe they’re related.”
This time, Xander gave The Look.
“Yeah, if they’re Southern.”
“No, hang on a minute.” Willow watched the pair. “There is a resemblance. And didn’t Buffy say that her Aunt was visiting them this weekend?”
“That’s her Aunt?!” Xander took a second look. “Well, give it up for the Summers’ genes.”
“I’ll say.” Willow gave a low whistle, then blanked her face out in innocence when she saw Xander and Tara looking at her. “I mean, yep! Those Summers women sure are pretty.”
“We don’t even know who she is, really.” Tara pointed out the obvious.
Xander paid for the drinks.
“Only one way to find out.”
They strode to the table, three very curious friends, winding their way through the crowd and nursing cups of beer and soda, eyes aimed like lasers at the two women sitting innocently at the table. Friendly, smiling eyes, of course, but set on a target and armed with a taste for gossip.
Buffy’s eyes lit up when she saw them, she almost stumbled in her haste to stand up.
“Hey guys!”
“Hey Buff!” Xander jostled her hip with his own as he set his drink on the table, his voice thick and sweet. He gave a wink. “Who’s your friend?”
“Hey Buffy.” Willow spoke to Buffy, but she smiled at the woman.
Tara just nodded a smile.
“I want you to meet someone…”
Buffy began to gesture to Giles, but before she could finish Xander pushed in front of her, extending his hand.
“Hey, I’m Xander. You new here in Sunnydale, or have I just not seen you before? And if not, why not?”
Giles took his hand and smiled a gracious smile, Buffy’s eyes glittered with humour behind Xander’s back.
“Oh, I’ve been here a while.” Giles’ smile turned wolfish. So, he thought, this is the American teen in its natural habitat. “And you most certainly have met me.”
“I have?” Xander’s brow suddenly knitted in confusion. “I don’t think…”
“Xander!” Buffy was almost bouncing by now, unable to contain her secret. “It’s Giles!”
Silence.
“Check it out.” Buffy waved her hands up and down Giles’ body, as if she were a prize on Sale of the Century. “It’s Giles with breasts!”
Willow’s eyes grew wide with realization and memory, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. Tara broke into a laugh. Xander blinked. Then blinked again. Suddenly he pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, his eye brows shooting up into his hairline at an amazing speed.
“Giles?!? Our Giles? As in the MAN Giles?” He coughed, tried to recover his cool. “I mean. Hey Giles. How’s it going? By the way, why are you a woman?”
Giles turned her eyes to Willow.
“Yes, Willow, that’s a very good question. Why am I a woman?”
“Eep!” Willow ducked her head.
“You did this?” Tara eyed Giles, head to foot.
“Well… hey… no!”
Xander began to circle Giles, checking her out from all angles.
“Gotta say, Will, good job.”
Giles stuck out her chin, bristling under the attention.
“Xander, please. I’m not a piece of meat, if you don’t mind.”
“You don’t know it was me.” Willow kept futilely searching for her innocence. “It could have been someone else. It could have been Ethan!”
“Oh, stop it!” Giles nearly exploded. “It wasn’t Ethan and you know it. I don’t know why you children think he is the cause of all mishaps here on the hellmouth.”
“Well,” Buffy slapped Xander’s hand away from actually touching Giles, giving him a glare. “he does kinda show up and cause trouble for you a lot.”
“Yes,” hissed Giles at her through clenched teeth and raised eyebrows. “but he wasn’t the one last night wishing I was a woman, now, was he?”
“I don’t remember wishing you were a bitchy woman.” Buffy mumbled under her breath.
Giles narrowed her eyes.
“I heard that.”
“This… this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Tara tried to restore order. Xander looked thoughtful all of a sudden.
“Hey, did you guys say wish? Did you actually say the word ‘wish’?”
“I don’t think so, why…?” Willow looked confused for all of five seconds, then realization hit. “Oh.”
* * * *
“I didn’t do it.” Anya shrugged as she eyed Giles up and down. “And you know I don’t have any powers anymore.”
“But isn’t there anyone?” Giles had almost hit whining mode, her voice rising high. “Anyone you know of in the vengeance field?”
Anya flicked her tongue over a tooth in the top of her mouth, sucking her impatience back as she glared at the group.
“Those in vengeance are covered by strict rules, you know. We…” She paused. “… they don’t just go around all willy nilly stealing peoples’ appendages on a whim. If you didn’t say the word ‘wish’ then it couldn’t have be… oh.”
Everybody’s heads lifted to attention.
“Oh?” Xander cocked his head to the left. “Oh what?”
“Um…” Anya blushed. “There is one little… tiny… smaller than small possibility…”
“Anya, please.” Giles looked her in the eye.
“Well, the trainee vengeance demons aren’t covered by any strict rules, per se, I mean… granting wishes and altering reality is frowned upon, sure, but unless they’ve been granted vengeance status…”
“And,” Buffy caught on quickly. “They’re probably looking for a new vengeance demon right about now.”
Tiny lines formed in the middle of Giles’ forehead.
“Let me get this straight.” She took a breath, smoothed out a non existent wrinkle on her blouse, trying to keep a straight face. “My penis was stolen by the Trainee Patron Saint of PMS?”
Buffy and Willow burst into stifled giggles.
* * * *
And the giggling continued throughout the night, much to Giles’ embarrassment. Of course, he’d be a fool not to expect some jocularity about his situation, but Buffy’s enthusiasm in retelling the day’s tribulations made the others laugh harder and Giles shrink further into her chair.
“Can we possibly change the subject?” He caught the flash of concern in Buffy’s eyes and was grateful for it.
“Not in our lifetimes.” Willow’s voice was high pitched from giggling, her lips smiling around her straw. “This is the best thing to happen around here in a long time.”
Giles smile looked like a snarl.
“Thank you so very much.” He felt Buffy’s hand reach for his and give it a squeeze, he sighed and shook off his discomfort for her sake. “I don’t see what the fuss is about, it’s just me, it’s not like I’m a supermodel.”
Buffy bit down on another laugh, her cheeks trembling with the effort, then she gave up.
“Rupertina McPherson!”
Another round of guffaws burst around the table. Xander tapped the table for attention, his fit of giggles preventing him from talking, when all eyes looked to him he swallowed.
“Cindy Gilesford!”
“I don’t know Giles.” Willow sat up straighter, her face deliberately innocent, but a glint in her eye. “I wouldn’t play down my looks if I was you. Heck, even Xander was checking you out when we first came in.”
“What?” Xander’s laughter stopped as he sat up straight. The girls laughed harder. “No! I wasn’t! Really.”
“Sure, Xand.” Buffy lightly punched him on the shoulder. “You practically tried to pick him up before you knew it was him.”
Anya glared.
“You were looking at Giles in a sexual way?”
“I didn’t know she was a he, let alone Giles.” Flustered, Xander tried to change the subject. “But, to be serious Giles, I gotta ask…”
“Mm?” Giles was, not unwisely, somewhat wary of the question to follow.
“Seriously, man, how are you not, like, feeling yourself up right now?”
“Xander!” Buffy was outraged.
Anya continued to glare and Willow kicked him under the table.
“Ow! Will, quit it.” He turned to Giles. “I mean it. You’re a red blooded male, usually anyway, and here you are with free twenty four hour access to female booty, without fear of being slapped. I say go for it!”
Giles gave up pretending not to be uncomfortable and gave in to the blushing.
“You frighten me, Xander.” Buffy poked out her tongue.
“Hey.” Xander lifted his hands up in mock defence. “You’ve read my mind, why are you surprised?”
Buffy shrugged.
“Good point.”
“Xander brings up a good point, though.” Willow looked thoughtful.
“I do?” Xander perked up. “Yay me. What I say?”
“If Giles wanted to experience sex as a woman…”
“And why wouldn’t he?” Xander shooshed his interruption when Willow glared at him.
“… then masturbation is probably the safest way.”
“Willow!” Buffy blushed scarlet.
Giles let his head fall down to the table with a bang, emitting a groan. Anya looked interested.
“Well,” Willow wasn’t above blushing, herself. “What I mean is… you wouldn’t want to get pregnant, would you?”
“Oh, lord.” The voice was muffled. “Could this get any worse?”
“Giles?” Anya’s voice was perky and inquisitive. “Does this mean you’re a virgin all over again?”
“Okay!” Amidst more laughter, Giles stood up, pushing the chair back with force. “That’s it. While you children laugh at my predicament, I have to take my impossibly miniscule bladder to the bathroom, once again. Excuse me.”
“Oh dear.” Buffy swallowed her laughter as they watched Giles walk to the other side of the room. “You don’t think we went too far, do you?”
“No such thing.” Xander was adamant.
“Then why, do you suppose...” Buffy quirked her head towards Giles’ back. “… she is heading right for the men’s toilets?”
Faces watched in horrified fascination.
* * * *
Giles looked at the ground, a hurricane of thoughts blowing through his head. Laughter aside, those were points he hadn’t even thought of, let alone made provisions for. Sex? Pregnancy? A shudder made him realise he didn’t even want to think of that other thing that came with being a woman. The un mentionable, fear inducing, decidedly non male business of… he tried to think of something that didn’t sound as stuffy and English as ‘menses’, but something that wasn’t crass and made to make him blush. He couldn’t. He gave up and even the voice in his head rushed through the mumbled words… that time of the month.
A moment too late, Giles registered her rather feminine hand pushing open the door to the male toilets. Withdrawing it quickly, as if burned, Giles was ready to spin on her heels and quietly make her way to the female toilets, hopefully drawing as little attention to herself as possible. It was not to be. A man in his early twenties, dressed in dark colours and spiky metal jewellery came face to face with her as he exited.
A sneer appeared, something feral and predatory, accompanied by a gleam in the young man’s eye. He swaggered, hitching his right shoulder up and jutting his chin out to Giles. Without even bothering to hide it, he let his eyes roam Giles’ body, the tip of his tongue slipping out of his mouth and sliding over his teeth.
“Well, hey babe. You lookin’ for something?”
“Uh, no.” Giles cursed herself, if there was anytime not to revert to form and mumble, this was it. “No. Just a mistake.”
Giles took a step back, trying to put distance between them. The man took a step forward, closing the gap, pressing himself into Giles’ personal space.
“Ain’t no mistakes in life, babe.” Another step, one more and he’d be pressing into Giles. “I think I got what you want, right here.”
“Really, I don’t need anything, thank you.”
“Don’t be shy,” He reached up and touched Giles hair. “We’re all friends.”
“I… I don’t know you.” Giles stammered the words out, not looking up.
“You want to get to know me?”
“No.” Giles looked up, steely and cold, no longer playing shy and stuttering. She saw Buffy half way across the crowd, making a beeline for them, anger already on her face. “I want you to leave me the hell alone.”
Quickly, without warning, Giles grabbed the man’s shoulders and drew his knee up. Hard.
“Jesus Christ lady!” The man doubled up, his face turning red.
“I’m sorry.” Giles smiled sweetly. “Did I come on a little strong?”
“You damned bitch.” It was barely more than a moan as the man’s friends caught up with them and pulled him away, limping and groaning. Grinning, Buffy walked up to Giles and poked her tongue out at the departing group of guys.
“Geez, Giles, I thought I was gonna have to defend your maiden honour or something.”
“I think I’m a little past that, don’t you, Buffy?”
“Technically,” Buffy grinned, looking up at Giles. “Anya’s right, you’re still a pristine untouched virgin. You can still wear white to your wedding.”
Just a light tap across the shoulders, Giles slapped Buffy, a sigh on his lips.
“Can we just go home? I’m very tired.”
“Yes’m.” Buffy bent her knees in a quick curtsey. “Anything for a sweet maiden like yourself.”
“I still need to go to the bathroom though.”
“Just make sure you go to the ladies’. I’ll let the others know we’re leaving.”
* * * *
“Buffy.” A deep, warning growl. It was followed by approximately five seconds of silence. Then the giggles started again. “I said drop it.”
“I know.” She breathed deep, trying to collect herself as she shifted gears. Hilarity threatened to bubble up from her chest again and she tried to squeeze it down. “I can’t help it. Wham. You kneed that guy in the balls!”
“Buffy.” Giles sighed and shifted in her seat. “It’s not funny. That’s a rather… sensitive area for men, you know.”
She turned to look at him straight on before turning back to the road.
“Yeah, we’ve pretty much figured that out by now. It’s kinda why we hit out at it when we’re in trouble.”
“It’s just…” Giles was squirming again, obviously uncomfortable. “When you’re a man, it’s a serious thing. You don’t, you just don’t target that area. Even in dirty street fighting. I’m sure women have the same sort of code, I mean, women don’t go around kicking each other… there. Do they?”
Buffy gave him an amused sideways glance.
“You obviously haven’t been around the right post Christmas sales.”
“I’m serious, Buffy. Tonight, though, tonight all that flew out the window. At the slightest threat I just… just..”
Giles seemed incapable of expressing just what she’d done, so Buffy thought she’d helpfully offer a suggestion.
“Crushed his googlies ‘til they just couldn’t google no more?”
Giles’ exasperation just made Buffy laugh harder. She pulled the car into the driveway and stopped the engine, drawing out the key and opening her door.
“If it’s bothering you so much, why didn’t you just slap him or push him or something?”
“Because.” Giles lifted her chin slightly as she opened the door, not looking Buffy in the eye. “I like this nail polish you painted so nicely…”
Buffy started laughing so hard she nearly fell out of the car.
* * * *
Onto the PART TWO.