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hobgoblinn
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I'm going to be doing some research for a while, but I have another section to carry this story forward, so I'll post it now. Enjoy, or not, at your discretion.
Willow came into the kitchen to find Giles staring broodingly into his refrigerator. He glanced up as she entered and made a rueful face. “Not much here, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have been rather busy.... I’ll go out and get some things tomorrow.”
“That’s okay,” Willow said. “I can take care of it.”
“Oh...ah... are you staying long, then?” Giles asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“Don’t know yet,” Willow replied simply. There was an uncomfortable silence, as she did not ask why he had failed to meet her at the airport, and Giles just as pointedly avoided asking why she’d come here tonight. Giles cracked first.
He closed the refrigerator door, then said, without turning, “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you tonight Willow. Quite honestly, I thought you’d call back and we could make more definite arrangements.”
*For that, read: don’t come, don’t bother about me,* Willow thought.
But Giles was continuing, “And then tonight, I got caught up in some research, and I simply lost track of time.” He had the grace to look embarrassed, but there was also the undercurrent of irritation. He was far too busy and had far too many people and situations and apocalypses vying for his attention these days, to have the time or energy to deal with a houseguest, and an uninvited one, at that. Willow caught the vibe loud and clear.
She ignored it, though, and moved to sit at the table, clearing two spaces, carefully keeping the books and notes in order as she added them to the stratified layers of similar material on the rest of the table. She saw Giles bite back a protest, a *Be careful with that*, knowing as well as she did, that she knew his organization system, possibly better than he himself did. Instead, he poured water from the whistling kettle into the teapot, while she moved behind him to pull two mugs from the cabinet above him.
When the tea things were gathered, she sat at the table and waited for Giles to join her. The tea steeped in silence while Giles rummaged around for several minutes. At length, he joined her, with apologies for having no biscuits on hand, nor any actual Milk. Willow bounced up.
“I know this is sacrilege, but....” She pulled open a low cabinet and began searching through it, then pulled out a container of powdered, non dairy coffee creamer. “Yeah. Thought Buffy left some here.”
Giles sighed as she placed it on the table between them. "You Americans have the most appalling tastes,” he murmured. But it sounded like an echo, like something he was repeating because it was expected of him, and not from anything to do with this moment.
“Yep,” Willow agreed with forced cheerfulness. She stirred the powder and sugar into her mug, then offered the container to Giles, who sighed and took it.
“So,” he said, finally. “You and Kennedy had a dream.”
“And Maia, apparently,” Willow added. At his questioning look, she explained, “That’s how Andrew knew I was coming in tonight.”
“Of course. Very well, then. Continue.”
Willow shrugged. “I don’t have any details yet,” she admitted. “Just a feeling, that I needed to be here. So....” She sipped her tea, enjoying the warmth soaking into her fingers as she held the mug in both hands. “I’ll just stick around here until more information presents itself. And in the meantime, I can, you know, make myself useful.” Her eyes wandered over the scattered books and notes on the table around them.
Giles bowed to the inevitable. “I *could* use a hand cataloguing some of this research,” he admitted grudgingly. “But....”
“And re-stocking your fridge,” Willow added. He scowled at her, and she decided now was not the time to bring up how much weight he seemed to have lost since she’d last seen him. But though he was looking quite frail, his voice had lost none of its authority.
“*But*,” he repeated, more firmly, “wouldn’t you be more comfortable at the coven, or in your old rooms at the Watcher Arms?”
The Watcher Arms was an apartment building near the new Council Headquarters, so named by the Scoobies when they convinced Giles to buy it convert it to all Watcher/ Slayer housing. Willow was surprised to hear her rooms were still vacant. And for a second, she was tempted. She knew how much Not Fun it was going to be, living in close quarters with this man. He was a confirmed old bachelor, and absolutely impossible to live with, even when he wasn’t, as now, resentful of her very presence.
But no. She couldn’t shake the feeling that when the time came, he’d need her to be there. And that meant staying in uncomfortably close quarters. She’d survived worse, she reflected silently. “I can’t explain it, Giles,” she said aloud. “But this is important. Trust me?”
He avoided her eyes. “Of course.” He drained his mug, making a face at the chalky creamer aftertaste she’d often heard him complain about, back in Sunnydale. He rose and carried his mug to the sink. “But it’s very late, and I’m sure you’re tired. We can talk again in the morning.” He rinsed out his mug and placed it in the drain as he always did. Willow rose and followed suit while he rummaged in the drawer under the telephone. He pulled out a key.
“I’ll be leaving early in the morning for a meeting,” he told her. “If you’re intent upon staying here,” and his voice left little doubt that he would have preferred another arrangement, “then you’ll be needing this. Good night.”
