Bookends: Old Self
Title: Old Self
Author: il_mio_capitano
Rating: 15+
Characters Buffy/Giles. Post Chosen. Giles has a new life. Buffy won't let go.
Length 2300
Life in this series yet...
Series: Bookends. All the Companion pieces in the series are listed here...
As it turned out, Buffy was not the only person hauling a cardboard box that morning. The last of the young students were similarly encumbered, making short trips to their parents’ double parked estate cars to cram in yet more of their worldly possessions. Others were balancing boxes on the seats of bicycles and heading further afield to the train station. Exams sat and final papers submitted, the student population was in exodus for the summer, keen to relax in villas or sweat at internships leaving only the permanent population of the town breathing a sigh of relief for another year.
Buffy’s box however did not contain books or clothes. She confidently cut through the lines of exasperated parents fearing for their car’s suspension and along School Street and across the front part of Giles’ house. The pavement narrowed under her feet and the rumbling traffic increased. As a consequence of street plans laid down before the invention of automobiles, all of the front doors on that row had fallen to disuse. Some were boarded up completely and many had faded handwritten messages to postmen and visitors that the correct entrance was now to be found around the back of the property.
As she looked at the house Giles rented, Buffy was a little surprised to see the heavy curtains that over looked the street had been opened and that, even more surprisingly, the sash window on his bedroom had been raised and propped open with a study hardback book. In her previous visits she hadn’t known him to care about such things and hadn’t thought that rattling old window even capable of letting in air. She rounded the corner and entered the small courtyard area that held Giles’ house at the head of a group of eight properties. The stone flagged quad area had been garnished with a wrought iron patio table with set of chairs and there were feeble balloons tied to it and evidence of streamers and aerosol string. Remains of an end of term no doubt, though there were no signs of life in any of the seven other houses. Buffy was grateful for once, to not have to run the gauntlet of interested undergraduates, eager to satisfy their curiosity about the mysterious Dr Giles and his occasional American visitor.
She freed a hand and rang the doorbell, reluctant to simply walk in even though his door was slightly propped open. It had been six weeks since they had stayed in London together and she was anxious to see how he was. After the events of the London ball, he had been pretty quiet but more thoughtful than his usual zombie moments. They had spent a comfortable two days in the hotel, having food delivered and sitting on the couch. Giles seemed to be processing his memories and Buffy had been waiting for the inevitable backlash, but it hadn't come. At least, it hadn't come then, for though she had been prepared to wait him out and stay with him as long as it took, a high ranking emissary had interrupted, insisting the French government urgently needed her help. Giles had seized on the excuse to hop the first train and Buffy had reluctantly crossed the channel home again.
Six weeks had been too long a time. The authorities had been in a panic because a gang of vampires with a sense of the gothic, had taken up residence in the Parisian catacombs. Their feeding pattern of picking off stray tourists had raised their profile, and as the area was public and historically sensitive, Buffy could not deploy explosives or risk any damage to such a valuable site. She therefore had had a difficult time eradicating them, and had spent every one of those six weeks wearing them down like a stubborn strain on delicate fabric.
All the while she had no contact from Giles other than an acknowledgement by text for her visit that day. She really hadn’t liked leaving him for so long and took a deep breath as the door opened. She would cope with whatever state he was in. She had to.
“Buffy, hello.”
“Wow.”
He was about as far from zombie Giles in a bathrobe as he could get. He was wearing suit pants, a crisply ironed shirt and even a tie. What’s more, he was clean shaven and his hair was neatly cut and spruced. He even smiled warmly at her as he opened the door wider for her to scoot in.
“Wow, Giles. Hi. How have you been?” This question that had burned uppermost on her mind now seemed ridiculously formal when actually voiced out loud.
“Good,” he replied with sparkling amusement. “How are you, Buffy?”
“I'm good too,” she answered lamely, wondering why their relationship had gone so Jane Austen all of a sudden.
“I’m delighted to hear it,” he said formally, then added, “however, I am a little busy right now. I'm afraid I'm in the middle of marking exam papers and end of term work.” He gestured to the mahogany dining table he’d been using as his main desk. Across it were neat stacks of work and his MacBook Pro was waiting obediently for data entry on his left hand side.
“Oh.”
He stood expectantly, his eyes flitting from hers to the box she had quite forgotten she was carrying. Evidently directly asking ‘what's in the cardboard box’ wasn’t covered by the protocols of Jane Austen etiquette.
“Ah, yes.” She took his hint and set about explaining. “I figured since I was arriving in time for lunch, I probably ought to bring groceries. In case you hadn't been out much.”
He nodded gravely and said, “That is very kind of you.” He leant towards her and began to take the box from her arms. As he did so Buffy reached a hand for his waist but he was already turning towards the kitchen and flicked his hips just out of her reach. “I will reimburse you for these of course.”
Awkwardly she pulled her hand through her hair. “No need.”
“I insist. I will put these away for now. Make yourself at home.”
He shuffled off to the kitchen and her eyes checked over the living area. The light from the nearly opened curtains that backed onto School Street was dull but added new colours to the palette of the room. She had expected to see dust dancing on the thermals but there was little, in fact even the cobweb in the far top corner of the bookcase had been removed. There was no sign of the usual clutter of takeout cartons and used plates and in the corner, Giles' records and cd s were neatly stacked instead of sprawling across the floor.
“Wow. Did you get a maid?” she shouted.
“No.” Came the slightly exasperated reply. “That's what Ethan said too.”
Buffy frowned and followed his voice to the entrance of the kitchen. Everything was spotless there too with the drainer bearing only a few clean plates and mugs, all neatly stacked and nothing evil or plague carrying was festering in the sink.
Giles was kneeling in the small space and filling his refrigerator and vegetable rack. The kitchen had never been big enough space for two people so she lingered and watched him before casually asking, “Has Ethan been here recently?”
“Tea bags?” Giles exclaimed with amusement as he reached the bottom of her grocery box. Holding up the packet he smiled warmly.” Did you think things could be so bad I'd actually run out of tea?”
She giggled as he rose and shook his head in mocking disapproval. The distance between them shortened and Buffy felt a mild thrill at the sensation of Giles looking so healthy and happy. Six weeks had been a long time and this outcome was better than she could have dreamed. She allowed herself to consider other improvements as he came closer. But she was to be disappointed again, because whilst his hands did not stray nervously to his pockets, nor did they wrap around her waist or her hair. Instead he somehow managed to negotiate the tight gap in the hallway and get past her to his main living area.
“I really need to get back to my marking,” he declared with no hint of regret or apology.
“Sure,” she replied and masking her confusion, and added practically, “I'll make a start on lunch for us in here.”
***
Surprisingly they ate lunch outside in the courtyard at the wrought-iron table. The sun had been heating the flag stones for a couple of hours and Buffy slipped out of her shoes to enjoy the sensation on her toes. She wondered that he had opted to be seen with her so publicly but then realized the other houses were empty. The curious students would probably have kittens to see them out in the open and have swarmed all over them with questions but that opportunity was lost to them as Giles had no doubt calculated.
“It’s nice out here,” she said dreamily.
“Yes, I’m quite fortunate. The college lets me stay here rent free on the understanding that I act as warden for this part of town,” Giles explained. “If any of the students get into trouble or just need help they know they can find me here.”
This was unexpected detail to Buffy’s ears.
“Wow,” she responded “I had no idea you were so ...” but he interrupted her careful choice of words.
“Trustworthy?” he suggested.
He was possibly teasing her but it felt like a reproach all the same.
“Respectable,” she countered.
He grinned and she caught the rare flash of his teeth in his amusement. He looked good in the sunlight, Buffy had lost sight of that in her world of shadows. She and Giles had always conducted their relationships in darkness but now, even if there was no-one to see, he was at least out in the open with her.
The grin had gone as Giles dropped his head to remove a foil strip of tablets from his pocket, popping one and swallowing with the last of his white wine.
“New prescription from Dr Clarke?” she ventured.
“No, just something herbal.”
“What do they do?”
“Just help me focus. Actually, there is something I should tell you about Dr Clarke, as you pay his bills.”
“The council pays his bills,” she corrected.
“Quite. Anyway. He and I are good. I went to see him after our time in London and we had a very positive session. He's very pleased now that I have my memories of that night back.”
“That's great news.”
Yes. He thinks it's a serious breakthrough and we don't need any more appointments for the time being. So I’m signed off for now. Of course, we've left it that I'm to contact him if I have any further problems, but everything has been fine so I think were done.”
“Really?” Buffy replied slowly. “Because that’s unbelievably good news.”
“Yes, shall I take these plates back inside? I still have more marking, but you are welcome to stay out her as long as you wish.”
***
Buffy sat outside for a further hour, until the sun had moved sufficiently round to begin to cast shadows where she sat. She'd tried reading a book and had finished a second glass of wine but she couldn’t relax. A lot more had happened in six weeks than she had bargained for and the evidence of her eyes was in conflict with the suspicion in her soul. Giles wasn't at his desk or in the kitchen when she re-entered, so she went upstairs to see if he was ok. There was a faint disappointment when she realised the mundane and that he was just in the bathroom. Something inside her wanted to find him in the bedroom and needing her.
Turning at the top of the stairs to retreat she noticed the door to his spare room was ajar. That was very unusual as Giles had been obsessive about keeping that closed, despite the warped wood in the frame. She’d known he'd stored his father’s books and weapons in there when he'd first moved in. Belonging to an old watcher, she'd figured some of the books would be dangerous and could hardly be allowed to go on general sale. The one time she’d previously sneaked a peak she’d seen packing crates up to the rafters and deep up to the door, Giles having no stomach to unpack anything.
Now she pushed the door open further and took a cautious step inside. The crates where gone and room was transformed back to its basic functionality. Her eye flitted across threadbare carpet, faded slightly childish wallpaper and in the centre, a small single bed made up with pale blue linen.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Giles whispered. Suddenly behind her, very close and as she pushed back a little, he reached round and opened the door further.
“I’m sorry.” She blushed at being caught. “Your fathers stuff,” she breathed softly. “What happened?”
She felt him shrug. “It seemed stupid to keep them here any longer. I was never going to catalogue them, so no point in hoarding them. It’s time to let go of the past.”
Buffy relaxed. “That's good,” she murmured. Conscious he was near her again, conscious of his aftershave, and his height and his hand on the door that almost wrapped around her.
“So Ethan took them away for me. And now I have a room for guests to sleep in. I hope you like it.”
And with that, he turned back down the stairs and leaving Buffy to stare in disbelief at the single bed and the implication of his words. She narrowed eyes. She didn’t like it one bit.