One Long Summer
By Tevye

TITLE:  One Long Summer 6/8
AUTHOR: Tevye
E-MAIL: 
anatevka44@yahoo.com
FEEDBACK:  I like it.  It keeps the voices loud.
DISTRIBUTION:  It's at Solo's but feel free to spread the love, mainly because it makes me giddy.
SPOILERS:  Doomed  (oh, oh look writing in response to this season. Treasure the moment)
RATING:  Nearly NC-17... nearly.
DISCLAIMER:  It's somebody else's sandbox.  I just play there b/c it's fun.
SUMMARY:  This is set in the summer after this season.  Buffy and Giles are both in LA and stuff happens.  I hate summaries.


Angel slammed the door loudly as he entered his apartment. These past few days it had begun to feel like it was his place less and less. It was one thing having Giles there. The man, while not necessarily neat or quiet, had a certain unobtrusive quality to him that made him an interesting companion. But Buffy and Giles together was like gale force wind that swept through his apartment and transformed it into something entirely theirs in less than a week.

Neither one of them was there, but they left the evidence of their presence in their wake. Charts and maps strewn across the table with Giles’ scrawl in the corners surrounded by the doodles Buffy drew when she was thinking. Books were left open, piled one on top of the other all over the floor and couch. He was itching to pick them up cringing at the way the placement was probably breaking the spine, but it would destroy their system. How the hell it was a system he’d never understand, but they seemed to understand it extracting information for each other with a rapidity he couldn’t fathom. He was seeing first hand the one thing Angelus hadn’t been able to break, no matter how much he wanted to---their teamwork. It was an overwhelming experience. Never having an occasion to work with Giles and Buffy when they were on what Buffy called ‘a research binge’ he was getting a crash course in Slayer/Watcher communications and finding that most of it was silent, intuitive in a way that he had never seen matched.

Picking up the empty tea mugs that were interspersed between the ancient manuscripts, Angel ran his fingers over a lipstick smudge, remembering how Buffy had brought the mug over for Giles yesterday afternoon.

*He accepted it without ever looking up. Then taking a sip, and smiling his approval, he leaned back allowing Buffy to get a look at the map. She worried her bottom lip while tracing a hand over the routes Giles had laid out. As if reading her mind he shuffled through some notes that were sitting beside him found a certain page, and showed it to Buffy at the same time handing her a pencil. She had begun to scribble notes at the side of each route while he looked over her shoulder. They stayed like that for at least half an hour. She ran out of soda somewhere during the marathon and without pausing moved her hand from the can to his mug.*

They had just kept working drinking out of alternate sides of the mug, pointing things out to each other, and during the entire exchange Angel figured maybe a maximum of five sentences passed between them. They worked as if they were almost one person.

It made him a little uncomfortable, to be so obviously the third wheel when he used to be the center of attention. Of course he hadn’t expected this week to go smoothly, Buffy and Giles had not taken seeing each other here well at all, he had expected their first few days to be stilted, full of gaps and uncomfortable pauses, much the way he and Buffy had been those first couple of weeks when he came back. Instead, after that first night, they had melded together seamlessly, repairing months worth of separation in a matter of minutes. It was an ability he envied.

Shaking his head, he picked up a few empty soda cans and tossed them in the trash. A smile crept over his face and a strange sort of peace filled his heart when he thought about this afternoon. Somebody was there for her, providing her things she needed that would keep her alive, and he found it rather appropriate that it had been Giles. Angelus had known long before he did he realized. Every harsh blow that came was directed towards the one man who held pieces of Buffy that he could not touch, and the one man who in the end kept Angelus from winning because he kept Buffy from losing. He tensed for a moment, but shook it off, instead focusing on the pieces of the mess that he could pick up without incurring the wrath of his guests. Fighting not to laugh at the absurdity of it all he began to pick up scraps of paper making doubly sure that they had no writing on them. After all, he had expected tension between them. He had just been ready for a different kind.

Resting in the myriad of other scraps and notes was a sheet of torn yellow paper. "Went out. Will be back tomorrow. Buffy." Not far away from that was another note "Went out. Don’t come find me until tomorrow. Giles" < Now how did they think I would find them in this mess? > Staring back from one to the other he smiled. He would put money on it that the notes were written at the same time, and their authors were headed towards the same place, probably together.

*****

Buffy smiled as Giles came over with a soda in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. Handing her the soda, he sat down next her and looked out over the crowd. They had picked corner farther away from the floor so that the music wasn’t quite as overpowering, but they still managed to have a view of the dancers.

"So this is what it looks like from the other side of the fence." She commented grinning.

"Yes . . . I guess it does look different from this side. I’m not even sure you could see from out there." He gestured indicating the dance floor.

"It wasn’t about seeing. It was about feeling." Giles looked over at Buffy with curiosity plainly written on his face. "Just feeling all the responsibility go away for a little while. I liked feeling a little bad. You know I always thought you had too many rules. You’re nothing compared to Walsh. She takes all the fun out of everything."

"Did it feel good?" His voice had lowered a little, and she looked up at him with surprise clearly written across her face.

"You really want to know?"

He traced a finger down the back of her hand, and then covered it with his own. "I think it would be appropriate to say that I feel a desire to know everything I can about the woman I feel very, very attracted to." Looking directly into her eyes, he waited.

Buffy couldn’t look away and really didn’t want to. This felt so different, so real. She suddenly realized how fake her relationship with Riley felt. He certainly didn’t want to know anything about this side of her. He had his safe perception, and he didn’t want to hear or see anything that would break that. But with Giles, she felt the ability to have shadows in her personality. Not only did he accept them, but he seemed to be intrigued by them . . . This was definitely new, and new was definitely good.

"Buffy, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to . . ."

"It felt fantastic. I mean suddenly you’re not expected to do anything at all. No one’s gonna challenge you, and everyone out there wanted what I had. I guess it was just sorta my way of telling Walsh to go to hell without actually ever telling her." She felt a slight ripple go through her. "Oh, sure laugh at me."

"No, not at all. That most certainly wasn’t a laugh."

"What’s wrong . . ." His tension coiled inside her, but it felt different not the sharp steel cold with Angel, but rather heavy and blurred around the edges as though it spread beyond what she was feeling. "Is that what . . . with Eyghon . . . is that how you felt . . ."

He took another sip of his drink before responding. "It was what I started searching for. Unfortunately . . . when I found it, I also found Ethan. Not one of my wiser moves." Buffy turned her hand under his and squeezed.

"Hey. It’s okay . . . well not okay . . ." She smiled up at him, "But it’s me and you now, so nothing bad . . . at least nothing Eyghon bad." They smiled at each other, and then fell silent, content to just let the music flow through them. After a few moments Buffy turned and asked, "So you like this?"

"Hmmm?"

"Just sitting here. You like this?"

He flicked his eyes over to her and then back out to the crowd. "Well, I hardly think of it as *just* doing anything."

"I don’t understand the fascination."

"Oh, I don’t know. You were very fascinating."

She blushed a little at implication in his voice, but then looked up at him and smirked, "Don’t you think I’d be more fascinating up close and personal?" He chuckled at that, and she crossed her arms in a mock pout. "You’re not supposed to laugh."

"I’m just bloody perverse that way." He gave her a small smile, at the same time tracing his fingers along her arm. "I think you are fascinating where ever you are." His feather-light caresses obtained the desired response when she uncrossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"Then what’s the big attraction?" She muttered looking out over the mass of bodies.

"Watch for a moment . . ." Buffy looked out over the people all moving in some semblance of time to the music, a shadowed mass moving as one. The light danced over the crowd and jumped from face to face. A girl with her head thrown back, her body pounding through every ounce of pain inside her. A boy with a slightly bowed head dancing at half time, lazy movements that seemed to be deliberately trying to slow time, and stretch the moment into infinity. A slightly older woman trying to look so much younger than she was. Then Giles’ voice was at her ear melting with music so well that she was barely aware of it. "Now try to feel them. Try to feel the myriad of emotions running through that crowd. Everyone has their own vibration. Feel how all those pulses are running together, melding into one. That’s group mentality." His hand brushed the back of her neck ever so lightly every once in awhile giving her a taste of what he was feeling, until she could wrap herself around it, and let it flow through her. Seductive and coarse in its power, it pushed and pulled against itself, at the same time trying very hard to draw her in.

Finally with great effort she tore her eyes from the crowd to meet the laughter in his eyes. "Still want to know why I like this?" Giles asked barely masking the mirth in his voice.

"That’s not fair. This wasn’t supposed to be a lesson."

"Hell of a lesson though. You have to admit it was a little . . . intoxicating?" He murmured as he traced a hand over her neck, brushing along her pulse, and then sweeping up into her hair tilting her head back so that her eyes looked into his.

His eyes were dilated in response to the low light. His breathing was shallow, and she could feel how his pulse had quickened. Most likely he was seeing the same things in her. Unsteadily, her hand reached for her soda. "Yeah, just a little . . . maybe . . ."

"Group mentality," he murmured again.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because that’s what it is. I imagine that if you ever got around Riley and his commandos then you’d feel something quite similar."

"But there was no control to that. It was just brute force. The guys may be a lot of things but they’re not just animals . . ."

"Are those people just animals?"

Buffy worried the side of her lip. "No."

"It’s not what they are. It’s what they let themselves become, and whether they can control it. It’s simple to control something like that." He waved his hand out of the crowd. "But let yourself go under different circumstances . . . in the heat of battle . . ." His voice was mesmerizing and at the same time terrifying in the picture it painted, "Think of Angel today, while you were fighting . . . He let himself go, let himself become that other part and then he couldn’t control it . . . and it almost smothered you."

Buffy turned back to look out over the crowd again. "Group mentality . . ." She whispered with awe.

"Quite a rush isn’t it?" His hand brushed at the back of her neck. It rested there, and she felt him fall into sync with her, but behind the reassuring hum of him, ran a deeper coarser vibration. Immediately it invaded her, overwhelming her sense of self for the briefest of moments and then receded until it was no more of a flutter. Whipping around in shock, she stared at Giles’ self-satisfied smirk.

"That was not funny."

"But it was fun . . ." He drawled letting his hand sweep down across her neck, caressing her breast ever-so-lightly before coming back to play at the edge of her already enticingly low cut top.

Buffy struggled not to react despite the fact that his teasing fingers were creating whirlpools of need inside her. Every part of her wanted to be touched. She wanted to be consumed with one look, to be devoured by the feel of him vibrating just below her skin, but like his fingers he only teased offering one second and demanding she take the next. She didn’t know what he was playing at, but she liked the game.

Her mind latched onto to something a little disconcerting. "I could have gotten lost in that."

Giles gave a tiny shake of his head. "I had you."

His voice was deadly serious for the first time that night. Eyes that had seemed cold earlier in the week, were now alight with a need to make her understand. In response she lifted her hand to his neck, letting him feel the doubling in full force, "I know."

His eyes twinkled as he dragged her hand from its position on his neck to his lips. Kissing the tips of her fingers he asked, "Want to try again?"

Her eyes went wide at that. "How many times have you done this?"

In response he simply nipped at her index finger and then sucked on it, but she still saw the answer in his eyes. "You voyeur!" The accusation lost its effect as it came out more as a moan than an exclamation of indigence.

"I thought that was what a Watcher was supposed to do . . . watch . . ." He placed a kiss on her palm letting his tongue flick out over it. His smile bordered very close to a leer at the way her tongue mimicked the gesture across her lips.

Buffy needed to move. She needed to fight a couple of demons. She needed Giles to kiss her. She needed to crawl across the table and fuck him right there. She needed a great many things, but most of all she needed to see him just as out of control as she was at the moment. Getting up she walked behind him and whispered. "Fine. Then you can just watch . . ."

With that she began to make her way out towards the dance floor. Tonight however she left off the stalking manner she had adopted so many nights before. A strange ease came through her now. The volcanic urgency was gone, and in its place a lazy, molten desire flowed within her. Strolling through the crowd, she brushed up against several different young men each time checking to make sure Giles hadn’t looked away. Finding a rather unattached looking young man, she hooked her finger in his collar, and led him out on to the floor.

< Like a lamb to slaughter . . . > Giles smiled taking another sip of his drink. Careful not to break eye contact, he got up from where he was and moved over to the steel railing. No need for him to pretend tonight that her movements were just for him. It was obvious in the way her eyes demanded he continue to look at her, in the way her hands trailed over her body, just hinting at things.

A sultry, breathy voice floated just above the bass, which was so amplified that it ran through the club like a pulse. Sensual, dangerous, obsessive, driving, the music captured everything she was feeling. Letting it invade her body, she rocked against the boy. Giles’ gaze bored inside her, and in response she could feel her breath quicken into little pants, pushing her already hardened nipples against the silky stretch fabric of her red halter. She could only imagine how her dance partner was taking that, but she didn’t really care.

It took her a split second to realize that the buzz inside of her wasn’t just the bass. A smirk adorned Giles’ face as the doubling flowed through her, pushing her arousal even higher. It eased through her, tingling and warming her the way a shot of tequila gave off a pleasant sensation halfway down. Tangling her hands up in her hair, she let her tongue flicker out over her lips. Concentrating on the feel of the music, her body began to instinctively obey the command of the beats, the drive of the harmonies. Her vibration fell in with the music, and she could feel his almost immediately follow pursuit. Sinking into the lush, heady, quality of the song, she rocked slowly against her partner. The boy was hard but she was barely aware of that, the feel of Giles was too consuming, too powerful. His arousal magnified hers, driving her farther and farther until the club had faded entirely into the background blurred behind the almost razor sharp edges of the energy that crackled between them.

He had to set the glass down. Reaching back, he located the hard edge of a table and nearly dropped the glass onto it. Buffy's eyes, her movements, intoxicated him to the point where alcohol would simply be overkill. The tremors that ran through him were solely her doing. It was as though a bell had been rung inside him, and now she ran through his veins intensifying his desire for her, until he wanted nothing more than to vault the railing and wrap her around him until she melted inside.

Her hands above her head, she swayed slowly, provocatively. Fingers curled and spread in time with the music seeming to beckon him. The fire in her eyes called repeatedly, and the iron hand in a velvet glove feel of her drew him into the siren’s song, drowning him in endless sultry tones of the harmonies. Sighing he gave himself over to the inevitable and headed down the stairs.

With every step that brought him closer, he seemed to claim her a little more. His eyes never left hers, trapping her as he planned his attack. Prowled was the only possible word to describe his slow deliberate steps towards her. And suddenly it was his hand touching her flesh, snaking around to rest on the small of her back where her top didn’t quite reach her skirt.

Her former dance partner began to object and received an artic glare in response. After taking note of the way Buffy fused herself against this tall stranger, he decided the wisest course of action was simply to walk away.

"I didn’t think you’d come down." She should have had to yell, but they were so in tune that it made it a simple thing to hear each other over the music.

"Your offer was impossible to resist."

"Oh, what makes you so sure I was offering . . ."

His other hand came up to play at the edge of her skirt, which now rode very high on her thigh. "If you weren’t . . . Then this is quite an act." He pulled her hard against his thigh which was wedged strategically between hers, and though she bit back a moan and managed to keep from closing her eyes, her breath speed up just a little, and her hands which were still above her head clenched into fists. Releasing the pressure on her back, he let her drop back in the semblance of a dip and then pulled her back against him.

Automatically her arms landed around his neck. He bent into them, resting his mouth against her check and whispering, "You’re an exhibitionist."

Fighting back a blush, she pulled away slightly. Slowly, deliberately she let one hand trail down his chest. Running her fingertips along the edge of his pants, she toyed with a button, before letting her hand rest just close enough to his erection to tease, but not touch. Licking her lips in an exaggerated movement she smiled. "The exhibitionist and the voyeur. Sounds like a match made in heaven." Letting a breathy quality sneak into her voice on the last word, she shifted her hand just the slightest bit.

It was his turn to bite back a moan. Here, without a fraction of space between them, her power over him increased tenfold. She invaded, conquering every inch of him. He could feel the heat of her hand against the rock hard portion of him that was about to takeover all the decision-making power. The inferno that was her seemed to meld them together, making him wonder if they could ever be separated.

"Giles . . ." Her voice had taken on a singsong taunting quality. Tracing his zipper with a single crimson nail, to make sure she had his attention, she smiled when his hissed and pressed his hand into her back so hard, that were she other than what she was he would most certainly have marked her. "This is a dance floor. You’re supposed to dance."

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "I don’t think . . ."

"Good, don’t think." Shifting a little, she positioned herself between his legs. Leaving one arm draped casually over his shoulder and moving the other to his waist, she began to grind against him in time to the music. He felt good, really good, against her but . . . he wasn’t moving. "You’re being all stiff." She chided, grinning at the double entendre.

"Ha, bloody ha." He muttered. "This isn’t exactly my field of expertise."

"Oooh, something knowledge guy doesn’t know." She rubbed against him again this time managing to successfully coax a moan from him. Still she could see in his eyes just how out of his depth he was, and how badly he felt about it. But she wanted him out here with her, he had shown her his side, let her feel the power, the intoxication of it, she wanted him to taste the sweetness of this. Worrying the side of her mouth, she stared into his ever-eloquent eyes. Allowing her gaze to travel for just a second, she swept the peculiar angles of his face, dancing over his lips, and then coming back up to his to his eyes. An idea had occurred to her. Moving her hand up his chest to meet the other at his neck, she pulled him down, demanding, "Kiss me." Not giving either of them time to object or think she attached her lips to his.

And melted into him. Heat swirled through her, as their vibrations merged into one pulsing drive, pushing them until each’s single body could no longer hold what they were and they had to become a part of the other for their own self was not enough. This was what she had wanted, what she had been searching for with every road she went down. That it had been traveling right beside her all this time was the blank unholy surprise of it all.

Then the tenor of the kiss changed as Giles tangled one hand up in her hair and moved the other to rest against her pulse. Wresting control from her, he swept her mouth with his tongue, not settling for a simple taste, he feasted. He invaded her the way she had overtaken him. He demanded, and she gave.

Unable to act on anything but instinct her hands trailed over him. Needing to feel the reality of him, to separate him from the dream world that she floated in at the moment, she ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, over his heartbeat, tracing the edges of his face, and touching the curve of his hip. Finally one hand settled at his pulse and other on his back. As she did, they balanced, unconsciously centering each other, so that they now floated on the thousands of whispered beats, echoed harmonies.

Although she didn’t move, in fact she seemed to be pressing herself even more deeply into the kiss, Giles could not miss the singular feel of Buffy’s pulse separating from his ever so slightly. He was about ask what was wrong when she suddenly returned, merging with him seamlessly, and then he felt it. Pounding inside his body, infecting him, so that it was impossible to do anything but obey, he absorbed the sensation of the music as a part of him, urging him. Pressing against his skin, wrapping around their connection, tangling and tumbling into their quaking bond, it took over fanning their smoldering desire into flames.

As she felt him begin to respond to the lure of the rhythm that she had dragged into herself knowing he would automatically take it in, Buffy smiled against his lips. He pulled away at that and searched her eyes. Finding them sparkling with mischief and shining with lust, he smiled in response.

Straddling his thigh again, she moved her hand from his back to rest just where his thigh met the curve of his butt. Throwing her head back, her hand ran down his chest to finger his waistband once again. This time it was her who pulled him in, and as she came back up, her mouth met the spot on his throat that she knew would drive all thought out of him.

"Christ!" Giles exclaimed as she nipped and then sucked at his pulse. Unable to help it he thrust against her, his hand clamping around her arm.

A triumphant smile on her face, she looked up at him. "It’s about feeling Giles. Just feel me."

There was nothing he could do. Obeying her command, he let himself sink wholly into her, matching her caresses, moving with her as though they were one. His hips swayed in time with the music that he could still feel inside of him. She ground against him with abandon and he responded with equal desire holding her to him.

As he rocked with her Buffy moved her thigh against his straining erection. He moaned and she felt it run through her. Locking gazes, their hands sought each other out. Tangling their fingers together, Buffy drew one of his hands onto her hip, and placed her other hand on his. Their arousal fed off each other, cascading, building, intensifying with every move they made.

Neither one had ever experienced anything like this. Wrapped together so completely that they were aware of nothing but the other. A sheen of sweat covered both as they danced to song after song, rubbing, touching, tasting each other. Want spiraled into need, as their hearts beat together, their chests rose and fell in time.

"Giles . . ." Buffy worked to articulate what she wanted. "What you said . . ." She shivered as he nipped at her pulse, "about need . . ."

"Shhhhh," He whispered, pressing his lips to hers once more. When they finally convinced themselves that air was necessary, he rested his forehead against hers, "I know. God, I know."

Tugging him back into a dark corner, she leaned against the wall, arching into his caress, "Please . . . you can’t . . . can’t possible want to wait any longer . . ."

His laugh was hoarse and torn from his throat as her hands began to touch him. "I think . . . this is a little too public . . . even for you." Extricating himself from her embrace, he entwined his fingers with hers and led her out of the club.

*****

The chill of the night air hit her skin, causing goose bumps to form, but just as she began to shiver a little, Giles moved his hand to her waist and kissed her neck, causing warmth to suffuse through her. Smiling up at him, she realized that the heat was not just arousal, but also Giles himself. He fed her his own warmth like a coat that enveloped her from the inside out.

The route back to Angel’s took far longer than it should have. They could barely stay separated for more than a block. As they finally stumbled down stairs, Buffy was already working on the buttons to Giles’ shirt. She broke off momentarily as he tumbled back on to the couch, so that she straddle him. When her hand rested on the bare skin of his chest that covered his heart, her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy.

He hummed within her, coursing through her veins, trembling in her muscles. The taste was still in her mouth, and she savored it as the sensations whipped through her. It wasn’t until he had halfway loosened the laces of the back of her top that she even registered his touch. Sucking in a breath of anticipation she brought her hands to the string around her neck, and opened her eyes to meet his . . . which were looking past her at the moment.

Whipping her head around, she met Angel’s non-expression. Jumping off of Giles’ lap she turned away and began to redo the laces of her top. "God, don’t you ever knock?!?!" She growled in frustration.

"It is his apartment Buffy . . ." Giles reminded with just a hint of amusement and great deal of tension in his voice.

"Actually . . . I did . . ." Giving up Angel let out a deep unnecessary sigh and crossed his arms.

"Well, he could at least have the courtesy to wear the little bell Xander got him," she grumbled, as she turned slowly around to face what was rapidly becoming an almost surreal scene.

For long moments they simply stared at each other, the tension running thick through the room. Suddenly, Giles broke out into laughter. It wasn’t exactly happy, but neither was it the short bitter laugh that he had honed into an art.

It bordered on hysterical more than anything. Angel and Buffy just stared at him. "I’m . . . I’m sorr . . . sorry . . . it’s just so . . . ridiculous . . . I feel like I’ve been caught by my . . . father . . ."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Oh, you’re so drunk . . ." but even as she said it giggles erupted, and soon she was collapsing into fits beside him. Even Angel wasn’t immune, and he leaned against the pillar muffling a few snorts.

Finally, the laughter died down and though the tension remained, it was less suffocating. Curling up next to Giles, Buffy looked up at the vampire with an expectant gaze.

He minced no words. "The coalitions are on the move. I intercepted a messenger tonight. They start to congregate tomorrow. If we’re going to take them out it has to be tomorrow night."

"Bloody hell."



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