They had barely exchanged a word on the way to the station and now squeezing into a packed carriage, Buffy knew that conversation was off limits for the immediate future, as Brits seemed to believe that talking on the tube was against the law.
Buffy had never used London Underground at this time of day, rush hour was still in full flow and the amount of people surging onto and away from the platform was almost overwhelming. When the doors had opened, she couldn’t see how they were going to get on a train that was so obviously full, then Giles stepped forward leaving her with no choice but to follow.
She wasn’t at all claustrophobic, but being so tightly surrounded was setting her on edge. Buffy was practically in a full body press with a woman who was forced by the lack of space to hold her book so that it was almost touching her nose, yet was reading it with satisfied self-absorption as if totally alone. Looking over at Giles, who was tilting his head to read someone else’s paper over their shoulder, Buffy saw that he too had tuned out. At least Giles was tall enough to reach the bars, stuck in the middle Buffy had nothing to hold on to and was constantly being pushed around by the jolting motion of the train.
At the next stop several passengers headed towards the exit, the lack of space meant that Buffy was forced to step off with them, and was left struggling to get back on when the doors began to bleep and close. At the last moment an arm shot out, dragging her back into the carriage. Giles pulled Buffy in front of him, holding his arm down and across her body, keeping her steady as the train shuddered into action. With a sigh Buffy leaned her head back against Giles’ chest, relaxing as they rattled on through the darkness.
********************
On leaving the station Buffy received two surprises, the first being the temperature which after the heat of the tube seemed even lower than before and the second was that as soon as they stepped outside Giles lit a cigarette.
‘When did you start smoking?’
‘When I was fifteen,’ came the terse reply.
Clearly Giles wasn’t returning to conversation mode any time soon. Buffy noticed that once again he had spoken in the tone of someone not used to being questioned or interrupted, just as when he told her to come home with him. Everyone had tensed up when he’d walked into this morning’s lecture, though totally hyper and out of control, Caitlin had stopped fighting the second she’d seen him, and Giles had ordered his sweetly sexy young secretary out of the training room in a cold almost ruthless fashion.
It was power. Now Giles had it Buffy was seeing a whole new side to him. Since arriving at Council Headquarters Buffy had listened to people talking about Giles and at times barely recognized who was being discussed. The trainees he’d personally recruited were lost in hero worship, the less reserved instructors had aired opinions that ranged from intimidation to contempt. Once or twice Buffy had come perilously close to giving herself away as she tried to redress the balance of opinion. However there was no denying that publicly, at least, Giles had changed. Had he been like that before she knew him or was this what taking charge forced him to become? Whatever the answer Buffy found the effect impressive and attractive. Authority, decisiveness and spiffy tailoring, what’s not to like?
They turned off the main road, onto a quiet street of plain looking terraced houses. Giles pulled out his keys, stopping outside the fourth one.
‘This is it.’
As she walked in Buffy saw that the house had been converted into two flats. The door opened onto a tiny hallway and a flight of stairs, she followed Giles up. He folded his coat over the banister so she did the same.
‘Study, lounge, bedroom,’ said Giles flicking lights on and giving Buffy an extremely brief tour that ended in a large, compared to everything else, kitchen.
‘Bathroom’s through there,’ he said pointing towards a short corridor with a door leading off it. ‘Do sit down.’
Buffy sat at a table, covered with neat piles of books, papers and CDs, that dominated the room and glanced about. The pale walls and sleek modern furniture created an illusion of space, but it was just an illusion, this place was as small and cramped as the loft in Sunnydale had been spacious and airy.
Setting a bottle and two glasses between them, Giles sat adjacent to Buffy at the end of the table and began pouring the wine. He caught her bemused expression.
‘In recent years London has experienced something of a property boom and I am not a rich man.’
‘No, it’s nice,’ said Buffy hurriedly, regretting the use of such a lame word as soon as she said it. She looked around again, realising what was wrong. ‘Where is everything? This place has like zero personality, where’s all the freaky antiquey stuff we came to know and ignore?’
If he was offended by Buffy’s tactless dismissal of his home, Giles didn’t show it.
‘Storage. This place came fully furnished, I keep meaning to sort things out. There there simply hasn’t been time.’
Before she could comment Buffy’s stomach gave an audible rumble, her look of horror made Giles chuckle.
‘I was about to ask if you were hungry, is pasta alright?’
‘Anything that stops me embarrassing myself like that would be awesome.’
Giles shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
‘Try not to fade away in the next ten minutes,’ he said as he got to his feet and began pulling various ingredients and utensils from cupboards.
Giles had refused Buffy’s offer of help, so she stayed where she was sipping her wine, trying to decide whether she liked the music that he’d set playing quietly in the background - the vocals were good, but the guitar solos seemed endless.
They talked casually, mainly about Dawn and her travels, Giles expressing the same desire for Dawn to fully embrace the opportunity to discover the world and a contradictory concern for her safety that Buffy felt so deeply.
In a short time Giles set two steaming plates and a salad on the table.
‘This is about the third time I’ve seen you use cutlery,’ teased Buffy.
‘Yes, eating on the Hellmouth did seem to involve a lot of cardboard boxes and standing up, didn’t it? It’s put me off doughnuts for life.’
‘It was quite an intense relationship you were having there.’
Buffy eagerly attacked her food. By contrast Giles took one mouthful, pushed the pasta around his plate for a while then set his fork down. He stared at Buffy until she felt the force of his gaze and looked back. She knew what was coming. He drained his glass, filled it up again then leant back in his chair.
‘Explain.’
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