Giles pushed open the library doors, glancing at his watch. Just after
ten...the appointment at the dentist hadnât made him too late. Good. He
ran his tongue over teeth that felt as if theyâd been extracted, dipped
in acid and shoved back in at random. But clean. Oh, yes, he supposed
they were clean.
Finding Willow in his office was a surprise, but a momentâs thought
reminded him that she had a free period. She liked using the library to
study and he encouraged her, finding her company to be soothing and her
conversation entertaining. Away from the others her babbling and
shyness seemed to lessen, as though she felt relaxed with him. Giles
found that oddly touching. Theyâd had some fascinating discussions
about magic too, ones that had left him eying her with a mixture of
trepidation and respect...and had led to him hiding certain volumes. No
need for her to read them just yet, he told himself.
A stray beam of sun lit up her head, bent over a book, and Giles felt
his breath catch in his throat. Her hair was so beautiful...silky and
strong and so bright and alive. Heâd been sitting in front of the
computer last week, baffled and angry, and sheâd come over to help him,
leaning low, with her hair spilling forward to brush against his face.
Heâd wanted to touch it, let it curl around his hand, wanted to push it
aside and kiss the nape of her neck, pale and hidden. Instead heâd
pushed back his chair, stood up, muttering something about computers
that made her deep brown eyes look reproachful, and retreated to his
office.
“Giles!” Willow looked up and smiled at him. “How did it go? I made you
a cup of tea. You can have it, right? Not, not too ouchy or anything?
Because the hot might help, I mean, a hot water bottle does, and yes,
sure this isnât exactly the same but -”
Giles held up his hand, bewildered by the flow of words. “Iâm fine,
Willow. A cup of tea would be very nice, but you really didnât have to,
you know. You should be studying.”
He squinted sideways at her book, an automatic check heâd made ever
since the day heâd come in to find her reading about the mating rituals
of the Frexin demons, with Xander standing behind her, mouth open as
wide as his eyes. Reassured by the lack of pictures and the dense text,
he returned her smile and accepted a cup of brown liquid, trying not to
anticipate the taste of lukewarm, stewed tea. Freshly made seemed to be
an alien concept over here when it came to tea.
He took a large gulp to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible
and turned a grimace into a swallow. “Tastes a little...different,” he
said tentatively, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
“Probably reacting with all the goop they make you rinse with,” she
said.
Giles noticed that sheâd relaxed again and smiled, taking one more sip
and then placing it down beside him. The office began to spin slightly
and he sat down. “Goodness, I feel...Willow? Did you - was there
anything in that tea?”
“What?” Willow asked, laughing in what he couldnât help thinking was a
rather unconvincing way. “Honestly, Giles; did you think Iâd slipped
you a love potion or something?”
The room steadied and Giles castigated himself for his swift
accusation. “Of course, not; I do apolo - a love potion?” She met his
eyes without speaking. “Why would you want to, I mean, well, you
wouldnât, would you? Would you?” Because you really wouldnât need to,
you know, he finished silently.
“Thereâs no love potion in the tea, Giles,” she said, her voice firm
and calm.
“Of course there isnât,” he said, striving to match her tone. To prove
he believed her, he took another sip and glanced at the cup as he
replaced it in its saucer. “It does, however, seem to be green tea, not
PG Tips. Green as in it is has unidentifiable shreds of herbs floating
around it it. Willow?”
Willow sprang to her feet and he stood too, blocking the doorway.
Folding his arms, he gave her his sternest, most implacable glare, the
one he usually saved for Xander. She looked back, her eyes tragic, her
lip caught between her teeth. “Itâs...it wonât hurt you, Giles, I
promise. Just a teeny spell...itâll wear off in no time.”
Giles clenched his teeth and felt a tremor of pain quiver through his
abused jaw. It made his voice harsher than heâd intended. “I demand to
know what youâve done.”
“Itâs a truth spell! I wanted to know...something, and I knew you
wouldnât tell me and this seemed like a good way of finding out and
practicing magic, sort of a twofer, you see and I didnât think youâd
even notice your tea tasted weird because it always does
anyway.”
“It tastes perfectly fine when itâs brewed correctly,” Giles snapped.
“A truth spell? What could you possibly want to know that would require
such extreme measures? Havenât you lived here long enough to know the
dangers of magic used for personal reasons? Havenât - oh, whatâs the
use?”
“Iâll tell you, Giles! I will. Trust me, I didnât -”
“But I donât, Willow.” His tone was brutal. “I donât trust you at all
right now. In fact,” his gaze fell on the half -full cup of tea, “I
think the only answer Iâll trust is one given after youâve consumed the
rest of this devilâs brew.”
Willowâs eyes widened. “No! Giles, please...”
Giles held the cup out and said softly. “I can get it down your throat
in several ways, Willow, none of them pleasant. Please donât make me
demonstrate.”
She looked wretched, but she took the cup, stared down at the liquid
inside, and then shrugged, took a deep breath and gulped it down,
making a face as she did so. Giles watched her until he was sure sheâd
drunk it then took the cup from her. She staggered and he remembered
his own fleeting dizziness and reached out to support her. It seemed to
have affected her more strongly, because she lurched forward into his
arms, small hands clutching at his jacket. For an instant, he wanted to
cradle her to him and brush a kiss on that shining hair, but he
resisted. Time to test this...
“Willow, do you really need to use me as a prop, or are you
exaggerating your reaction to the tea?”
“Iâm exaggerating it,” she replied immediately. Her jaw dropped and she
started to struggle free, but he held her in place.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to touch you, to get close to you.”
Giles paused to think about that for a moment, his thoughts chaotic. It
was a mistake. Willow tilted back her head and said quickly, “Why
arenât you letting me go?”
“Because I may never get a change to hold you again,” Giles replied. He
gasped. The sensation of having words taken from his mind and forced
into the ambient air was both disconcerting and strangely exhilarating.
It should have been an invasion of his privacy, resented and disliked,
but he found himself hoping sheâd ask him more questions...but if she
didnât, he had to know...
“Why did you -” he began.
“What would you do if I told you Iâd done this to find out where youâd
hidden the magic books?”
“Put you over my knee! Willow, theyâre hidden for a reason and -oh.
Wasthat the reason?” Giles felt deflated and sad.
“No. I was just curious about that. I found them last Wednesday and I
was worried in case I hadnât put them back in the right order and youâd
noticed. But as you havenât spanked me or anything, I guess Iâm safe.”
“Well, you were...” Giles said grimly. He looked down at her. She was
making no attempt to struggle free now; in fact, without him being
aware of it happening, her arms had slid around his waist and her body
was pressed against him. “Would you like me to spank you?” he asked
casually, feeling the quiver that ran through her.
She tried not to answer and he grinned rather heartlessly at her futile
struggles. “Yes, I would. Giles! That wasnât fair!”
“I rarely am,” he murmured, “and as they say, ‘Allâs fair in love and
war.â”
“Which is this, Giles?” she said quickly, with a triumphant little
twist to her lips that made him long to kiss her into a proper
contrition for her sins. Truth spells, indeed.
“Both,” he answered, getting away with it because it was truer than
heâd realised, but the war was within him, not with her. “And now itâs
my turn. Why did you do this?”
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
“I know that,” he reminded her. “If you donât answer me properly, Iâll
be most displeased.” He opened his mouth to refine his question into
one she could not possibly sidestep and she forestalled him.
“What do you do to people who displease you, Giles?”
“I sometimes kill them, or hurt them,” he said. Her eyes were wounded
and concerned and, truth spoken, he hurried on. “Not you, Willow. Never
you.”
“So what would you do to me?”
She had a dimple, he thought, a dimple and heâd never noticed it
before, just to the left of that entrancing smile... “I think we
covered that under the penalty for reading books, Willow.”
She blinked slowly. “That was an evasion, Giles. The spell must be
wearing off.”
Panic hit Giles. “Willow, I love you. Tell me, before it does, I have
to know...do you love me?”
It was blurted out, blunt and bare but he was past caring. Sheâd drunk
after him; it had to still be working...
“Yes, of course I do. Itâs why I did the spell.”
Giles closed his eyes, stroking her hair with his hand, as silky
beneath his hand as heâd known it would be. When he opened them again,
Willow was looking at him anxiously. “Giles? Ask me something else.”
“Whatâs your name?” he said dully.
“Uh, Cordelia. Buffy. Xander! Guess itâs worn off.”
“Yes.” He looked away, moving out of her embrace. “All back to normal
now.”
Willow shook her head, her eyes desperate. “No! Giles, look at me! Do
you love me?”
He turned and stared at her, face blank. “No. It would be inappropriate
and absurd.”
She made a sound like a sob and his heart broke a little within him.
When he said nothing, her lips firmed. “Ask me, Giles. Go on. Ask me.”
“No. I wonât do it, Willow. Donât ask me. You owe me that much at
least.” He couldnât keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“I still know, Giles. You canât take that away from me.”
He watched her walk away from him, her steps swift and angry. “Oh, I
could,” he whispered, “and as soon as I can, I will.”
He looked down at his hand. The strands of hair heâd need for the spell
wound around his fingers, clinging tightly.
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