Title: Snow and Fire
Author: Gail Christison

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

He drew the blanket on his shoulders tightly around him, trying not to shiver.

"You need more time before we hit the stairs, but it's too cold to stay here," she muttered. "Why couldn't the guest room be downstairs?"

Then she remembered the bathroom near the back door. A quick sortie revealed that it was fully equipped, though judging by the work boots in the corner and the industrial strength soap and old, faded towels, it was meant for the more stinky clean ups after working outside all day. The tub was extra long, and deep, probably meaning that Rob McAllister was as big as Giles, or bigger. She hadn't, however, seen any pictures, even of kids or animals, in the house.

By the time the faucets were running strongly she was already rushing back to Giles.

When they reached it, Buffy perched Giles on the corner of the tub, shut off the hot faucet and tested the water, topping up a little with cold before shutting it off too.

"Perfect," she announced, then frowned when she realized how much he was shivering and how pale he was again. Without thinking about it she put her arms around him and hugged tightly, rubbing his back as she did so.

"Buffy," Giles said a few moments later, despite the delight of her warmth and her touch.

She paused, realised what she was doing, and pulled away. "I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "We should get you into the tub."

Giles, well aware of a new problem that Buffy hadn't yet noticed, shook his head. He was amazed that she could provoke such a reaction at a time like this, despite the pain, discomfort and miserable cold.

"I'll do it myself. You can leave me now."

"No way," Buffy growled. "There's no step into the tub and you're barely mobile. I know how much of your weight I was supporting to get you in here."

"Buffy…please…I'll manage," he said desperately.

Which of course prompted Buffy to think about why, his modesty being the first thing she thought of, which in turn tracked her eyes right to his shorts, which in turn took her breath away.

Thinking quickly, she turned to the rack of bottles hanging from the shower faucet. There was shampoo, conditioner, degreaser and thankfully, bubble bath. She upended the bottle and agitated the water using her added strength until it was a mass of bubbles.

"Okay, modesty taken care of. I told you, I'm not a kid any more, Giles," she said without looking at him, realised what she was doing and very deliberately turned to face him.

Her own face was burning, not only from embarrassment but also from the intensity of her own reaction to his arousal. It shocked her. It was Giles.

Giles, whom she'd almost lost. Giles, who, when she was touching his face earlier, made her feel warm and protective and, she finally admitted…loving.

"Stand up and face the bath," she commanded before she could say something dumb, and helped haul him up before he could, either.

"Buffy, I'm perfectly capable…" he began but stopped when he almost lost his legs from under him the moment they were asked to take his full weight. Holding him also galvanized Buffy. He was shivering intensely.

In seconds she had unceremoniously pants-ed him and let the damp boxers drop to the floor.

"Bath," she commanded. "They had to come off one way or the other…now, or afterward, and then they'd be all soaking wet."

"Buffy, this is wrong. I'm not turning, or taking a bath with you in the room," he said in a strangled voice. "Please leave."

"I'm turning around now," she told him, refraining from voicing her appreciation of the surprisingly nice butt. "But if you fall I'll personally redecorate the rest of you to go with your new bruises…do you understand me?"

Giles said something rude under his breath and leaned on the bath while climbing into it like a ninety year old geriatric, accompanied by a great deal of grunting and groaning.

When she heard the sound of the water as he sat down, and the sigh that followed it, Buffy turned.

"Modesty preserved," she announced, looking at his head and shoulders poking out of the overabundance of foam and bubbles.

"Modesty already shot all to bloody hell," he growled.

For a brief moment Buffy thought he was teasing, but realised very quickly that he was genuinely distressed about the whole situation, including, apparently, no small pain in his extremities from the temperature differential now that he was immersed in the hot water.

"Giles…are you…do you want out? I can—"

"No…no," he grimaced. "It will stop shortly. All of the moving around the house helped restore a significant amount of circulation. I'm just th-thawing out now. Thank God the shivering has stopped."

She moved closer to the side of the bath and knelt down to his level. "Thank God you're still here," she told him, finding her heart doing strange little flip-flops as the sea green eyes stared into hers. "I…Giles, I can't imagine living without you. I would never have been able to tell you, if you'd died out there. I-I need you."

He blinked then, and the spell, whatever it was, was broken. "Well, you don't have to worry. I'm going to be fine," he said gruffly. "How is our patient?"

"Mrs McAllister? She's fine. She's been drinking water and juice, and dozing, kinda. I'll try the phone again, soon."

"Good." He slid further down into the blessedly hot bath. "Um…I have pyjamas…in the overnight bag," he pointed out.

"Did you bring your spare glasses?"

He frowned. "No. Damn. Never mind. Not important."

"Are you sure you're okay if I go and get your clothes?"

He nodded.

Buffy took one look at the blue silk pyjamas and rolled her eyes. He hadn't even bought a robe, probably out of the expectation that they would have separate, heated rooms at some hotel. On impulse she checked the sitting room and smiled at country efficiency.

The room was filled with the aroma of pine from the gaily-decorated Christmas tree that was standing in one corner, and there were decorations and trimmings all around the room. Best of all a hopper stood, filled to overflowing with firewood and kindling, next to a stone hearth. In ten minutes she had a blazing fire going and was back checking Mrs McAllister again.

That lady was in a deep but relaxed sleep and Rusty had curled up in a blissfully contented ball alongside the bed, opening just one eye to look over his brushy tail at her before closing it again.

An exploratory look at the back of her bathroom door produced a man-sized, long-sleeved, navy blue terry robe. Again Buffy wondered where Mister McAllister was, and if he was trying to get home.

When she got back to the bathroom it was to find Giles dozing in the tub. His face was ruddy and glowing and the one hand on the side of the bath was a healthy, flushed pink.

"We did good," she said softly to herself, loathe to disturb him and still trying to decipher the tumult of feelings and emotions that beset her the moment she saw his face again. Then, for one moment, she allowed herself to examine her impulses honestly.

A moment later she'd turned red as a beet, and a moment after that, lost colour all together. "No," she whispered. She'd promised herself. No more guys. No more pain. She looked at Giles again.

He wasn't just a guy. Nor would he hurt her…not deliberately. Not ever. Her eyes grew luminous and tender. Nor had he ever been old, or gross. He wasn't even stuffy any more. He was…Giles. And he was doing terrible things to her body and her mind. She wasn't supposed to want her Watcher…wasn't supposed to yearn to simply touch him…or to feel his arms around her. It was weird, crazy…and yet....

She stared at the smooth jaw with its hint of a five o'clock shadow, the long lashes on his cheeks and the small crow's feet at the corner of his eye.

So very right…and, she was finally beginning to understand, not new. Not since he'd saved her from Amy Madison's mother, had she been able to conceive of a life without him in it. Not since Angelus had almost killed him, had she been as terrified of losing him. And not since Travers' criminal meddling in their relationship, had she been so unsure of herself…of him.

He stirred slightly, his head slipping sideways a little, bubbles sticking to his right cheek.

Instinctively, she reached out and brushed them away.

Giles woke almost immediately and found himself staring into the blue-grey ones he'd just been dreaming about.

Instead of snatching her fingers back, Buffy allowed the backs of them to silently trail down his cheek, aware of the surprise, and pleasure, in his eyes. She continued, tracing his mouth with a barely steady fingertip, until Giles took her hand in a wet one of his and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them very softly and almost turning her bones to water.

Buffy reclaimed her hand, her heart beating furiously, and scrambled to her feet. "I-I have to check the f-fire," she stammered and backed out of the bathroom.

She was stoking and loading up the impressive pyre she'd made when she sensed someone had come in to the room. She put the poker down and turned around. He was wearing the pyjamas and robe and moving almost normally.

Buffy waited for him, looking up slowly as he stopped just feet away. Her terrified eyes found his, expecting judgement and distaste and embarrassment, and found only concern and puzzlement.

"Was it me?" he asked very softly. "If I did anything…if what happened before…?"

Buffy's eyes widened. "God, no," she responded and saw the doubt in his eyes. She swallowed. Truth time. "You're just unlucky that you're a guy and that it showed."

At his puzzled, bemused frown she explained. "Did it occur to you that I might have felt exactly the same thing you did, except only you men telegraph your…um…interest so darn um…publicly?" she asked tenderly and almost giggled at the look of revelation on his face. "I was just scared."

"Of me?" he asked, stunned.

Buffy shook her head and met his gaze fully and openly. "Of me," she admitted, drinking him in, knowing that it might be the last time they were this close, that she might have made it impossible for their previously easy intimacy…the pure intimacy of friendship, to continue.

Giles stepped a little closer. "Of yourself?" he prompted. "I thought I must have…"

Buffy shook her head quickly, her fast drying hair falling in neglected tangles and rumples around her shoulders.

"Y-you didn't do anything," she whispered, her eyes still lost in his, "except…" she hesitated, knowing that she was beyond the point of no return, and momentarily terrified of what she was about to do. "…Except make me love you even more," she finished in a voice that left no doubt about her meaning or her feelings.

He drew a sharp, frightened breath of his own. It was happening so quickly… everything had happened so quickly…and the circumstances had been so traumatic. The old, cynical Giles was ready to say as much, but the Rupert Giles who had allowed Olivia back into his lonely, Buffy-less life, who had taken the risk of exposing himself to ridicule and worse, by singing at the Espresso pump, out of sheer frustration with the woman in front of him, wasn't ready to destroy the tiny, precious connection that had formed between them, yet.

Instead he searched her face, her eyes, trying to see the truth. And was shaken to the core to see in her face what he'd never once seen there when she looked at Riley. His gaze softened, his heart swelling. She was as vulnerable and as exposed as she had never allowed herself to be with the other men in her life, since Angel.

…Buffy trusted him not to hurt her…trusted him that much.

"I've never stopped loving you," he said very, very gently, knowing only the truth would serve. "And I've wanted you since I saw you walk onto that dance floor at the Prom."

Buffy's eyes grew very bright. "I…I never knew. I wish…I'm sorry I didn't know. I must h-have seemed such a bitch l-last year…n-not to mention incredibly slutty. I—"

But he was in front of her, his thumb brushing her tender lips, his gentle voice whispering "shh," and turning her legs to jello again.

"You were growing up, growing wiser," he said softly. "I hated it, but I understood. Do you remember what I told you about my own youth?"

She nodded and her eyes grew bright with emotion. He did understand…

"I wanted to do everything…be like everyone else who goes to college. I've wanted to be normal for so long…and I thought…I thought it was finally happening."

He nodded. "But you knew, as I did, that it could never truly be, and that made you all the more angry, all the more rebellious…and ultimately separated you from the rest of us."

"And you from your family," she added sadly.

He let his fingers slide across her cheek so that his palm cradled it. "But we both grew up," he whispered and the moment grew charged, so charged that neither could move, nor look away from the other.

For a few moments at least, it seemed neither could breathe, either, and then Giles' gaze softened and sparkled and he began to bend his head very slowly.

Buffy decided she was having a heart attack, but didn't care, every nerve ending in her body screaming as his face stopped only millimetres from her mouth. Without hesitation she slid her arms around his neck and groaned as his mouth covered hers, felt him tremble as they merged, the kiss deepening and crying out to something deep within each of them.

It went on almost forever, until they simply had to surface for air, but only far enough to fall into each other's embrace, holding each other like two souls finding each other after years of searching.

"Don't ever leave me," Buffy whispered against his hair. "I love you so much…I've always loved you." She felt his arms tighten and closed her eyes. "I don't ever want to live without you."

"Never," he told her. "How could I when I have never loved anyone or anything the way I love you?"

Buffy drew away. "Then why…?"

He frowned, holding her in the loose circle of his arms. "Why what?"

She coloured brightly. "I wasn't supposed to tell. Girl talk. Willow told me you almost went away."

Giles looked staggered for a moment. "Willow wasn't supposed to tell either," he said darkly.

"Girl talk is sacrosanct," Buffy told him, "and besides, she made me swear that I wouldn't be mad, that I wouldn't say anything to you, even before she told me."

"And were you…mad?"

"Furious. I wanted to come and beat you senseless. Except, I kind of understood it a little better than Willow did. She kept saying she needed lots of hairy eyeball…I wish I knew what that meant…and that you were more family than her parents ever were. I know Xander feels the same way…but they don't really get it. They don't really get either of us. They never have. They don't understand our kind of 'alone,' or why we sometimes do stupid things. They just…don't understand…"

Giles looked at her in surprise and nodded. "But I knew, and I…I couldn't do anything. It was so damned difficult…being your friend, and yet…and yet being separated by convention, by propriety. Sometimes it was just damned ridiculous. I was the only one who knew what you were going through, and yet I simply had to stand and watch, far too often. It almost killed me at times, seeing you with…others…waiting for them to reach out in ways I knew they never would, or could. It wasn't even as though I…I just wanted to…help. I-I loved you, but I didn't want you then, the way I do…" He trailed off, self-conscious again.

Buffy's lip trembled. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, almost inaudibly. "Giles?"

"Yes, love?"

"I want you to kiss me again."

He grinned. "I think something can be arranged," he murmured and drew her very close, finding and covering her mouth with his again, the kiss this time long, sweet and tender.

When they separated, Buffy's cheeks were glowing almost as much as her eyes.

"I love you," she told him again, and smiled with such joy that Giles was taken aback by it.

He'd never seen her look that way for anyone before…Hurt, grieving, alone, pining, even wanting, especially with Riley…but never, ever like this.

"I've waited such a long time to hear you say that," he whispered and drew her close.

She reached up and touched his face, then smiled again. "Whiskers," she observed. "I thought there were whiskers."

He chuckled.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, unexpectedly serious again.

He nodded.

"I haven't said that to anyone since Angel." It was a confidence, and Giles knew immediately that it was costing her to reveal it to him. "I-I thought you should know."

He took her face in his hands and smiled. "Thank you," he said, and brushed her lips with his. "I'm very glad you told me."

"About the whiskers?" she teased.

"Yes, about the whiskers," he growled and kissed her harder, only to have her kiss him back with even more enthusiasm.

When they broke apart both were breathing heavily.

"Food," Buffy gasped. "I should get us food, and soup for Mrs McAllister."

Giles, just as short of breath and equally as…flustered…let go of her. "Yes. Food." He looked around the room for the first time, mostly because of the slight pall of smoke in the air. "Y-you do that and I'll see to the fire."