Strictly Business: Something Stupid
by Fairfax
Anya mooched along the pathway, with no particular destination in mind. It was good to be in the fresh air, and taking a walk was her way of killing time until Giles appeared so she could check that he was okay. Last night he’d been pleased to see her, but had had no choice and was a little out of it. Given the opportunity, she knew Giles well enough to know that he’d hide away until he either felt better or could fake it enough to fool everyone.

During the storm it had seemed like the world was trying to destroy itself, but now everything was peaceful and warm. The path led to the stables where a couple of horses were lolling out over their stall doors, waiting for someone to come by and make a fuss over them. Anya was happy to be that someone.

‘I see you’ve met Cloud,’ called Giles as he came and stood on the other side of the sleek grey horse who instantly transferred its affections to him. ‘We’re old friends.’

‘I can tell,’ said Anya as she watched Cloud tremble while Giles smoothed between the horse’s eyes, hitting a sweet spot that caused Cloud to snort his appreciation.

‘You got up, and you shaved. You should have skipped the shaving, but up is good.’

‘Yes it is,’ agreed Giles, stepping back as Cloud butted against his chest. ‘He’s looking for mints. Sorry, mate, I don’t have any.’

Cloud flicked his ears a few times, then left them up straight, facing ahead.

‘He’s really content,’ Anya observed.

Giles glanced at Anya. She was relieved to see that the uncertainty that had been in his eyes the night before had gone, replaced by the usual kindness.

‘Do you like horses?’ he asked.

‘Everyone had to until cars, or never go anywhere.’

‘Right, I wasn’t thinking. I mean, it i-t’s easy to forget that you’re…’

Whatever he’d been going to say was lost when Cloud shook himself, connecting heavily with the splinted hand Giles had rested on the side of the horse’s head.

‘Oh God, are you okay?’

‘I’d be a lot better if people stopped asking me that,’ snapped Giles. He snatched off his glasses, only then seeming to remember that he wasn’t physically able to clean them. For a moment he stood, frozen and tense, before, suppressing his temper with a long drawn-out breath and calmly putting his glasses back on.

‘Sorry, I didn‘t mean that,’ he apologised. ‘It’s just I seem to the centre of attention and it is not an enjoyable experience.’

‘You scared the hell out of everyone,’ said Anya.

‘I know; Cassie has just spent the last few minutes shouting at me.’

‘She loves you,’ Anya didn’t have to ask, it was evident in the way she and Giles behaved around each other. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing, nothing ever happened.’

‘That’s sad,’ Anya meant it: though when she looked at Cassie she saw an old woman. Giles could obviously see something else. ‘How long have you known her?’

‘Since I was seventeen.’

Cassie would have been in her mid-thirties. She was attractive now; back then she must have been stunning.

‘I think in her eyes I’m still a naïve schoolboy,’ said Giles with the hint of a sad smile. ‘She certainly talks to me that way.’

‘Maybe you should stop doing stupid things.’

‘Stupid?’

‘Like getting hurt and not saying anything, or turning up all sexy and heroic and not bothering to warn us that Willow was going to kill you. How about keeping quiet when we got here so that suddenly you’re on the floor and everyone thinks you’re dying.’

‘I wasn’t dying.’

‘You were in the Magic Box!’ Anya was starting to get angry - she hated the way he was always so worried about everyone else’s safety, but so casual about his own.

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘No, Giles, that was few months ago. Want to lie some more about how you’re over it?’

Giles stared down at the ground. ‘It’s not a question of of lying, merely priorities. My job, Buffy, will always come first.’

Priorities, he was going to let priorities kill him.

‘You know she doesn’t give a shit about you?’

‘That’s unfair, and hopefully untrue,’ Giles said quietly, giving Anya further proof that he still wasn’t feeling right. Criticism of Buffy normally guaranteed a strong reaction. ‘Even if it were the case, then that would be Buffy’s prerogative as a Slayer.’

The fact that she was the Chosen One gave Buffy a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card in Giles’ eyes. Anya wondered if she was being harsh. Maybe this was normal for a Watcher and a Slayer: obsession versus indifference. They certainly ran deep, and Anya realised that she would never, ever understand what went between Giles and Buffy, only that sometimes it was horrible to witness.

'The Committee make you their slave, then you go and let Buffy do the same thing.'

'Hey, enough!' Giles was finally stung into responding with some emotion.

Not liking the change in atmosphere, Cloud tried to push as much of himself as possible into Giles' arms.

'All right, old chap. Nothing to worry about.'

Giving the horse a final reassuring pat, Giles drew closer to Anya. 'You make me sound entirely hopeless, and yet here you stand.'

Anya found it hard to meet his eye, for some reason she focussed on Giles' shoulder instead.

'You may think I'm stupid, but I'd have to be a bloody fool not to know why you are here.'

There was hardly a gap between them now, she had to fight the desire to close it.

'And an even bigger one to be anything other than delighted.'

The tension was palpable. Giles leaned little more forward, then abruptly pulled away. 'Come on, I want to show you something.'

They walked in a silence that Anya was desperate to break, as the path gave way to grass, that gave way in turn to rocks and gorse. Then, through a gap between two boulders, there was a short, lichen-covered platform of stone, and after that the Earth simply fell away.

‘I tried to describe this to you in one of my letters,’ said Giles, leaning back against a rock. ‘However, words don’t really do it justice.’

Anya nodded and stood as close to the edge as her nerve would allow. She could see for miles and miles and miles, out over the moor to the point where it was tamed into a neat patchwork of fields, further still to the curved dark smudge that was the city of Plymouth, and on to the light blue horizon created by the Atlantic Ocean.

‘That church in the next valley dates from the ninth century, though as you do as well I assume that isn’t something that would impress…do you, do you remember it well?’

Searching her memory for a really good tale, Anya came and sat next to Giles before launching into an account of one of the funniest things she could recall. He attempted to follow the story, but she could tell that she’d lost her audience along the way. Perhaps you had to be there to appreciate just how shocking and hilarious it had been when the old black sow had escaped and run, squealing, into the barn as everyone had gathered inside it to hear the first recitation of the new riddle.

Anya drifted towards the edge again, irresistibly drawn by the hypnotic natural beauty before her. Then she noticed two black shapes in the sky seemingly below the level of the granite outcrop and approaching fast. So fast that they were almost upon her before the roar of their engines hit with an ear-splitting sound that Anya felt resonate in her stomach: fighter planes. Keeping her eyes on them as the jets flew into sharp focus, angular and lethal, Anya inadvertently stepped back and back when they screamed overhead until she collided with something solid. It wasn’t a rock; rocks don't breathe and they definitely don’t wrap an arm around you and pull you even closer if you accidentally step into one.

'This is the Thursday War,’ explained Giles, once the noise had died away. ‘A lot of the moor is owned by the Ministry of Defence and used for training most of the time. Yet for some reason they really push the boat out on Thursdays.’

As if on cue, the steady crump-crump of heavy artillery began and was quickly accompanied by the tinny clacking of small arms fire.

Anya moved a touch to her right, straightened her legs for maximum comfort and happily leant back against Giles’ chest. Xander was tall, Giles was taller and she liked it.

‘You accused me of doing stupid things. Thus it is only fair to warn you that I’m thinking of doing another.’

As he spoke Giles swapped arms so that he could still hold onto to Anya whilst gently stroking the side of her hair.

‘Mmmm, what’s that?’

‘In about ten seconds,’ he whispered in a low voice. ‘I’m going to turn you around and kiss you.’

‘We’ve kissed before.’

‘Excellent point. I have a feeling it might be even more pleasurable if we both know who we are.’

Even more pleasurable, last time Anya had been with Xander so she’d dismissed the kiss as a spell-induced disaster, only her memory stubbornly refused to let it go and had noted the real sensation.

‘Ten seconds,’ echoed Anya.

‘Well, more like five now.’

Pre-empting Giles’ move, Anya spun around and made one of her own. Why wait?

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