TITLE: Rapture
AUTHOR: solo84
E-MAIL: solo84@bgshippers.com
SPOILERS: All the way up to "Enemies."
SUMMARY: Buffy is lost and turns to the one person, she knows, will understand. B/G.
RATING: I’d have to say a pretty resounding, NC-17.
FEEDBACK: Yes please. I can’t even tell you how much I need it.
DISTRIBUTION: Pretty much my site alone, but maybe, if you ask real nice J
DISCLAIMER: They're all the property of, the man, Joss Whedon. Sustainer of my life.
NOTE: Okay now. This is my very 1st fan-fiction. In fact it may be my very first completed story ever, so please, be gentle.


The Flight of Love
(1st paragraph)
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead-
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbows glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley

Buffy sat listening to Sarah McLachlan’s "Surfacing." The song currently aiding in her wallowing session (an activity she rarely had time to revel in) was Angel.

<How convenient> she thought sarcastically. God, she felt like such a ninny. Why couldn’t she face Angel? Why did she walk out on him like that? The entrapment of Faith had been partly her idea, but for some bizarre reason it had just been too much. Too much and waaay too soon. He was a damn good actor, alright. Couldn’t have been better… and that scared her. The fact that he could just, change like that. The fact that Angelus was lurking right beneath the surface, the only thing holding him back being Angel’s thin shred of self control, was a frightening thought. And one that she couldn’t easily block out of her mind.

‘You’re still my girl.’ The words echoed in her head.


Still his girl. Ha! Why she’d agreed to those words was lost on her at the moment. She didn’t see how she could be his girl ever again…

Unfortunately Wesley (after being taken aside and mildly threatened by Giles) had given her the night off. That was the last thing she needed right now. What she needed was a good fight. Something distracting to get her mind off of the ground shaking events of the night. Buffy tossed the CD case onto her desk and flopped back onto her bed landing on her back in a slightly contorted position. She made no effort to adjust herself, but just lay there starring blankly at the ceiling, attempting to clear her mind of all thoughts.

<God, why is life so complicated!> she thought, whipping upright, completely killing her attempt. "I have got to do something." She said aloud just as Sarah McLachlan’s voice sang out the first few soulful lyrics of her song Full of Grace <This is so not helping.>

Buffy rose off of her bed and quickly stopped her CD. Relieved she, plopping back down onto her bed, glanced over at the clock. 10:15pm. <Hmmm… maybe Willow’s up for some distracting activity.> Buffy, brightening at the thought, reached over and grabbed her phone.


After about 6 rings Willow finally picked up.

"Hello…?" she answered groggily.

"Hi, Will, I was just… hey, wait a minute. Were you just sleeping?"

"Huh…? Oh, um… yeah Buffy."

"Hey bat-girl, it’s 10:15." Buffy protested a bit deflated, "I was wondering if you wanted to go over to the Bronze or maybe help me dust a few. I still have my minty fresh protection."

"Aren’t you tired?"

"No, in fact, I’m remarkably alert and rarin’ to go!" Her false enthusiasm fell hard and flat. There was no need for Willow to say a word. They both knew how much the events of the day had effected Buffy.

"You should get some sleep Buff."

Relenting Buffy sighed. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Will"

"G’night Buffy. We’ll talk latter, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Buffy hung-up.

Finally, unbidden and completely unwanted, the tears came, stinging her eyes and contorting her face in anguish as she bowed her head. She just felt so alone. A fight was not what was needed here. What she needed was someone to talk to. Someone who would listen to, understand and comfort her… someone who was probably brewing a fresh pot of tea right about now. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the thought. Ever since their first meeting she’d assumed that he doubtlessly did so every hour on the hour.

Buffy used her shirt to wipe her tear stained face. <Giles> she thought to herself as she rose off the bed and grabbed her coat from her desk-side chair.


Buffy burst through the doors of her kitchen startling Joyce more than just a little bit.

"Buffy, please! Try not to do that." There was a pause. "Wait a minute. Where are you going? I thought there was no patrol tonight."

"There isn’t." Buffy replied a bit distracted.

"Then wha…"

"I… I’m just going for a walk… umm, Mom, what exactly are you making?" Buffy asked, indicating the cutting board.

"Oh, gingerbread cookies, honey. I know I haven’t made these for awhile, but for the past few weeks I’ve had this uncontrollable urge. I just couldn’t deny myself any longer." A bit concerned, Buffy looked closely at her mother.

"Okay Mom, but if two little kids come to the door try not to let them in."

"Oh honey, don’t worry, I’m not one to make the same mistake twice."

"Good to hear that." Buffy said a little residual concern still hanging onto her words. "I’ll be back in about an hour or so."

"Alright. Please be careful."

"Aren’t I always?"

"Ha, ha, ha…" Joyce responded sarcastically and on that Buffy was out the door.



(1st paragraph)
I’d rather have the thought of you
To hold against my heart,
My spirit to be taught of you
With west winds blowing,
Than all the warm caresses
Of another love’s bestowing,
Or all the glories of the world
In which you had no part.
~Angela Morgan

She hoofed it through the streets of Sunnydale stopping only once to dust one irritating instigator of her spidey senses. She made it to Giles’ house in a clean fifteen minutes and, completely out-of-breath, knocked on the large wooden door.


Giles sat comfortably, shirt half unbuttoned, suspenders laying slightly askew at his sides, reading a rather ancient prophecy when a knock came at the door. Utterly perplexed and slightly concerned as to who it could be at this hour, he carefully placed his mug of (freshly brewed) tea onto the floor and the ancient tome he was reading onto the couch cushion to his left. He rose off of the couch and, making it to the door in two strides, wrenched it open.

"Buffy!" He said, shocked and concerned at the sight before him. "What’s wrong? What Happened?" Unable to speak, just yet, her breathing still coming in gasps, Giles chose a different route "I’m sorry, Buffy. Please, come in and catch your breath." She gratefully accepted his invitation. He stepped aside allowing her ample room to pass and then closed the door just as her intoxicating scent wafted passed assaulting his senses as he battled with himself, for the thousandth time, to ignore it.


(2nd paragraph)
I’d rather have the theme of you
To thread my nights and days,
I’d rather have the dream of you
With faint stars glowing,
I’d rather have the want of you,
The rich, elusive taunt of you
Forever and forever and forever unconfessed
Than claim the alien comfort
Of any other’s breast.
~Angela Morgan


Buffy felt better just being in his presence, sitting on his couch, surrounded by the smell of musty books and a scent she could only describe as being utterly and distinctly Giles.

"Would you like some tea?" He offered, a bit hesitantly, not quite knowing how to handle this situation. "I’ve just brewed a fresh pot." Buffy smirked slightly at this.

"That would be nice."

"Um… do you mind that it’s caffeinated?"

"No, but thanks for asking." Buffy pulled her legs up onto the couch and awaited the steaming beverage.

"Cream and sugar?!" Giles called from the kitchen.

"Yes please!" Buffy responded noticing the book beside her. She picked it up and began thumbing through its pages just as Giles came back, tea in hand.

"You can take the work away from the man, but you can’t take it out of him." Buffy remarked jokingly, but with a slight reminiscent edge, as she graciously accepted her mug. Giles sat attentively, (elbows resting on his knees) on the cushion at her side.

"Pardon…? Oh… uh, yes, well, I told Quentin I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it, Buffy." He said, taking back the book and placing it on the floor. "I know I told you I enjoyed cross-referencing, but did you really expect that was the only way I planned on spending my time?"

"No." She responded a little amused.

"Good. In any event, I know this visit isn’t about me, Buffy, so please, tell me. What happened?" At this Buffy’s eyes clouded over.

She opened her mouth to say something, but was forced to bow her head for a moment to collect herself. When she looked back up into those warm green pools of concern and caring she almost burst into tears again.

"Buffy?" Giles inquired, concerned.

"Oh, you know Giles. It’s just the same old stuff. My boyfriend’s an undead demon battling daily with every last shred of his being not to go on a ravenous killing spree."

"Buffy I…"

"No comfort needed here, Giles. I’m a rock. In fact I don’t even know why I’m here. I can take a good beating and walk away smiling. Heck, I suppose that’d be a handy metaphor for my entire life wouldn’t it? Just one huge torturous beating!" Again the sting of tears assaulted her and she stubbornly swiped at them as she sprung up off of the couch. "Hey! Doesn’t anybody want another shot?! Come on! See if you can knock that smile off her pretty little face! She can take it. What’s one more, ounce of pain and torture huh?! She carries the weight of the whole damn world on her shoulders!" Sobbing Buffy began to crumple, but Giles reflexively leapt off the couch and caught her before she hit the ground. Slowly, cradling her sobbing form, he slid down as well, his back pressed against the base of the couch. Then, for lack of much better and safer judgement, gently, protectively, he enfolded his slayer (yes, his slayer) in his arms

"Shhh, Buffy. It’s okay. Shhh-shhh… he whispered comforting words against the top of her head until, minutes latter, her sobbing finally abated.


(3rd paragraph)
O lover! O my lover,
That this should come to me!
I’d rather have the hope of you,
Ah, love, I’d rather grope for you
Within the great abyss
Than claim another’s kiss-
Alone I’d rather go my way
Throughout eternity.
~Angela Morgan

Fastened to one another they both knew the time for much-needed-comfort was long gone, but neither moved to pull apart. Buffy clung to her watcher for dear life, her head resting comfortably against his broad chest, enfolded in his strong heavy arms, unable to remember the last time they’d been this close or the last time she’d felt so comfortable. She could hear the slight falter in his breath, but chose to ignore it.

Giles loved holding her. Loved the feel of her body pressed against his so much that he was almost ashamed. The smell of her shampoo wafted up to him as…

She tilted her head slowly upward to look at him he, in turn, tilting his head down to meet her gaze, a look of concern, and curiosity in his eyes.

…They were captured…

Seconds passed as they continued to gaze at one another, their crashing emotions seeming to blanket the room in a sort of absolute-silence. Giles felt the single bead of sweat that trickled, moist glistening and salty down the side of his cheek.

Buffy shifted her position, sliding languidly up his side, causing Giles’ heavy, warm hand to slide slowly down her back, sending a warm chill throughout her entire being. Unconsciously, still lost in his caring gaze, she closed almost all that was left of the small gap between them. They were so close now that she could’ve almost tasted the tea in his breath. If he’d been breathing.

Giles knew that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be close enough to his slayer to almost be able to taste the sweet smell of her breath, but something prevented him from pulling away. He could feel the tingling warmth spread throughout his body, helpless to stop it and not quite knowing that he wanted to.

"Buffy I…" he attempted to break the sensuous spell with words but they were halted by Buffy, her hand now eliciting chills from the poor man as it slowly it ran up and down the back of his neck.

Now mere millimeters apart she leaned in and slowly, hesitantly, pressed her lips to his. Losing himself in this sinfully soft and dangerously sweet connection, Giles lingered a bit longer than necessary before he finally broke the kiss. Buffy licked her lips, unconsciously sensual.

"Buffy. T-this isn’t right." He protested, pitifully. "You’re upset and I don’t think…"

"What Giles?" She responded, pulling away, a bit provoked by this very characteristic shielded remark of his. "What isn’t right?" There was a pause. "Come on you can tell me! Is it the fact that I just kissed someone of my own species? The fact that I just kissed someone closer to my own age or is it the fact that I just kissed someone who I’ve b…" she trailed off, a little embarrassed, at this, her second uncontrollable outburst of the night, but more so than embarrassment; shock was the emotion she faced right now. Shock at her own thoughts. Her own feelings, which were a bit uncontrollable themselves. "Or is it the fact…" she continued faltering, but stubbornly determined to get this out; to put the revelation in her head to words so she could hear it with her own two ears. "The fact that I kissed someone who…who I’ve…" she stopped and sighing, frustrated at her own nervous reaction, averted her gaze.

"Buffy?" Giles inquired softly and a bit shakily forcing her gaze back up with his infinitely caring tone. Buffy looked her watcher straight in the eyes, ignoring the worry there, her own moist with renewed fire and determination.

"Or is it the fact that I just kissed someone, who I’ve been in love with for longer than I can remember?"

…an audible silence blanketed the room…

Giles sat dumfounded. He couldn’t believe it. <How on earth could she say such a thing!?> This clearly made no sense whatsoever. She loved Angel. She would always love Angel. He’d learned to accept that as one of the inalienable truths of life, long ago, and now she’d just said to him the one thing he’d never thought possible. The one thing he’d secretly dreamt of knowing the dream world was the only place he’d ever hear it… but this wasn’t a dream. It was real, and for the first time in his adult life, staring down at this beautiful girl, no, this beautiful woman who gazed up at him, an expression of world-weary defeat plastered to her features, Rupert Giles couldn’t think of a bloody thing to say.

"Giles?" Buffy pleaded.

"Buffy, I…" he sighed, "but you can’t possibly -I’m too…"

"Old? I thought we just covered that."

"But what about…"

"Angel?" She sighed, "Giles, Angel and I can never be. He knows that. You know that and I know that. Heck everybody knows that. Sorry it took such a hell-of-a long time, but I’ve finally accepted it and, in doing so, realized to what extent I’ve been fooling myself all this time."


"No wait. Let me finish." She paused. "God, Giles… I think… I think I fell in love with you the first time I stepped through those library doors and saw you standing there looking all cute and eager," she smiled grievously, "but for some reason, you always seemed so unattainable, so untouchable (literally). Especially when I saw that you were my watcher. I just never thought… I was so young Giles and you were so… so handsome and so experienced. I just… I never thought that you’d be able to see me that way." Giles stared at her, stunned, not quite knowing how to take this. Buffy sighed, "so I just blocked it out or at least I tried to. I hid behind the cynical remarks about you, your car, your house, your life and tried to fool my friends, you and even myself." She paused bowing her head at an attempt to quell the emotion swelling within, "I can’t do it anymore Giles. I just can’t live like that. I love you and it’s just too much…" she sighed, wiping the moisture which had collected in her eyes, "There. I’ve said it. I don’t expect you to say anything. I don’t expect anything from you… anyway, I told my mom I’d be home in an hour or so, so I should just…" her words were cut short as Giles gently placed his index finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up.

Now gazing into each others eyes he leaned in and, still a bit uncertain, captured her lips with a soft kiss. It felt so pure, so sweet and Buffy, promptly recovering from the initial shock, was determined to make this one last. She reached up and laced her fingers through the hair at his nape pressing his head demandingly to hers, invoking a gasp from Giles, alarmed at her unabashed desire.

As the passion began to build, spiraling out of control, the kiss became more and more lascivious until she was forced to prop herself up onto her knees, bracing her body by grabbing unconsciously onto his right thigh. This eliciting a reflexive moan from her watcher. Encouraged, Buffy, plunged her tongue into his delicious mouth, savagely claiming her territory, an action that sent Giles whirling, a warm shiver spreading through his body, as he indulged in the absolute-sweetness of her. He was beginning to register, though, that if she kept her hand on his thigh, as it was, this situation could become far worse. He halfheartedly attempted to pull away and was punished, as she, experimentally, slid her hand further down his thigh and squeezed. Eliciting yet another strangled moan from her watcher. Buffy smiled against his mouth, giddy with the knowledge that she was able to undo him so quickly, but aching for further contact. Unconsciously, she slipped her right leg over his body and slid comfortably into a position astride her watcher, feeling the rough tweed beneath her thighs as her skirt bunching about her hips displaying two very curvaceous legs. Startled, not expecting it to go this far, Giles broke the kiss.

"Buffy, I don’t think…" she interrupted by grinding her hips, slow and hard, against his obvious arousal, a mischievous grin now highlighting her features. He breathed out a bit shakily.

"What-did-ya say Giles? I didn’t quite catch that."

"I-I don’t think…"

"Sorry, times up, but, lucky you, there’s a bonus prize!" she said, tenaciously pressing her lips to his as she drove her outspread fingers, at a painfully slow pace, through the crisp, sweat slicked, hairs of his chest. Giles felt her unbuttoning his shirt and knew he had to stop this, so much had happened in the past few minutes and he hadn’t had any time to think. All he knew now, with the last little shred of rational he had left, was that he didn’t want to take advantage of her like this. She was still so young, no matter how much the hands which expertly massaged his chest and the hips which wriggled obliviously over his center, told him different. Mustering all the strength of will he had left he tore away from her mouth gasping for air as he tried desperately to avoid looking at her heaving, scantily covered, chest.

"Buffy, t-this isn’t right. You don’t want this." She scowled at him desire still present in her gaze.

"I don’t want this Giles? Since when do you know what I want?" She had him there.

"Buffy, please. Are you absolutely sure?"

"I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life." Giles had an answer, but he still wasn’t convinced.

"You can stop me at anytime and I’ll…"

"I’m sure, Giles!" She said vehemently, fire and determination mingling with the desire already present in her eyes… Finally, after all these years, he saw it. He’d always known how mature she was, but now it was clear to him. Buffy had been what he wanted and all he needed since the day they’d first met. She wanted this. She knew she wanted this, so who was he to deny her?

"Buffy…" He whispered, his voice now low and dangerous. Holding her gaze he powerfully grasped her hips with both hands, and pulled her down hard against the center of his passion. She groaned at the feeling of him pressing hotly against her core, tilting her head back soon enough to miss the rogue grin that passed over the features of her watcher. And only mildly registering the onset of his systematic assault on her neck with hot, passionate, pillow-soft kisses, as her body throbbed with unrivaled pleasure.

Seconds passed and she finally tilted her head back up and, grabbing his hair, pulled him forcefully away from his ministrations.

"No fair." She said, simply, an unreadable expression overcoming her features. "I wanna’ play too." And at that she rose slightly off of his lap and, still holding him by the hair, took her other hand and began to slide it down his twitching abdomen at a agonizingly slow pace, stopping teasingly at the rim of his pants. She looked up at him a smile curving the corners of her mouth at the look of apprehension she saw. "Don’t worry. You’ll like it." She whispered simply, sweetly, with a dangerous edge, as her hand slid beneath the rim of his pants and stopped again. Then, affixing her penetrating gaze to his, she slid her hand beneath the tight, elastic rim of his boxers and encircled him, squeezing slightly.

Giles arched his back gasping reflexively the sensation almost too much to handle. Buffy let his gaze slip away satisfied as she watched his face contort with pleasure. In fact Giles was so euphorically inebriated that he barely noticed as Buffy’s hand abandoned its post behind his head and began nimbly undoing his belt buckle. Just as her other hand slid down his shaft causing him to buck beneath her, she quickly unzipped his pants and slowly, expertly, slid his throbbing member out from beneath the shroud of his boxers. Buffy glanced down intrigued by what she saw. He was different than Angel. Bigger.

Giles opened his eyes, feeling the cold air assault his heated skin, and noticed Buffy gaping down at his manhood. He didn’t quite know what to say.

"Pleased?" He asked a bit uncertainly, redirecting her focus.

"Very." she responded intensely, just as Giles, his fierce gaze now meeting her own, pulled aside her moist panties and slid one finger between her slick inner lips. "Extremely!" She gasped as he pressed demandingly against the apex of her ecstasy. She could feel herself gradually building as he intently massaged her secret. She knew she couldn’t last much longer under such assault and she was determined to please him just as much as he had her. "Now, Giles. Please…!" She gasped, hands, beneath his shirt, clinging to his strong back.

Taking this as his cue, Giles slid his fingers out of her and, delicately brushing a hair out of her eyes, searched her face for any sign that she didn’t want to go through with it. All he found was love and desire, each seeming to permeate from the inner reaches of her soul.

"Beautiful…" he whispered, bracing her hips and shifting slightly beneath her.

Slipping his hands beneath her skirt he clutched onto her soft buttocks and yanked her down, plunging lustfully into her hot, blissfully moist core. His knees jerking upwards as her slick body engulfed him.

"God, Giles!" Buffy cried, loving the feel of him inside her, digging her nails into his back as he thrust forcefully upwards. He gripped her firm butt repeating the action that had pleased her so, again… then, again… and again… and again. Pounding harder and faster each thrust bringing both watcher and slayer unmercifully closer to the edge.

Buffy could feel the urgency build to a fever pitch, so ready to go over, to spiral into that abyss, but feeling that Giles was close, she held on for dear life as her body buzzed with a pleasure so intense it was almost torturous.

"Buffy!" Came Giles’ strangled cry as he thrust with all his might, filling her completely and sending them both rushing over the brink. Their bodies, Convulsing simultaneously floating on a cloud of euphoric pleasure greater than anything either had experienced or could have imagined, until they finally came down, panting, sweating and entangled in a heap of mutual rapture, contentment and…

"I Love you Buffy." Giles whispered, still gasping, into her hair. And at that Buffy smiled, contented, against his chest, knowing just how much he meant it.