Chapter Thirty-Two
It was practically universal law that if any two people had sex within a ten-mile radius of Anya Jenkins, she would pick up on it the minute they entered a room. Which was why Buffy spent a good quarter hour in front of the mirror trying to primp herself up as much as possible while making a series of practiced unsatisfied faces that hopefully reflected her temperament the last she was seen by her friends. Spike watched her for a few minutes before chuckling and yanking her into his arms to kiss her breath away; thoroughly destroying all attempts.
Buffy pouted. She had no qualm with sharing news of her relationship with the world, as she had assured him earlier that day. She simply didn’t want Anya to let the cat out of the bag before she was granted the opportunity to get a word in.
Then again, in the grand scheme, it didn’t really matter. And it was somewhat unavoidable in any regard.
“Wouldn’t do any good either way, kitten,” Spike assured her, nuzzling her hair. “That glow in your eyes? You can’t mask that.”
“My eyes are glowy?”
“Li’l bit. Got this dazed, ‘it’s almost like bein’ in love’ look about you.” He grinned and her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t say a word. “’Sides, your body’s all soft an’ satisfied.” A hand trailed across her hip, teasing her effortlessly. “An’ you have this goofy smile that won’ go away.”
She blushed and slapped his shoulder. “You’re one to talk.”
“Not tryin’ to hide mine, though.” He leaned in to nibble on her lips. “Let the world talk. Doesn’ matter one way or another to me. Not gonna pull a Sir Broods-Alot.”
“Spike…”
He sighed dramatically, and the look on his face warmed her in ways she hadn’t known to exist. “Don’t dance all night with me, till the stars fade from above. They’ll see it’s all right with me.”
“Okay, now you’re singing.”
“Glad you noticed.” And completely unhampered, he gestured in a way that was completely exaggerated but had her hunched over in a fit of giggles the next minute. “People will say we’re in love!” He finished the well-sung line by drawing her into his arms and kissing her with enthusiasm that ignited her fire all over again. “Can’t help it, sweetheart,” he said a minute later. “In jus’ a day, you made me the happiest bloke in the world. I’d sing it from the bloody rooftops if you’d let me.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I love you so much, Buffy. So much.”
There it was again. That warmth, that lighthearted feeling of delirious jubilation that threatened to knock her off her feet every time she paused and remembered that everything was real. That she wasn’t living in a dreamworld. That last night had happened and they weren’t hiding anymore. Spike loved her; it seemed forever had passed since he turned her reality upside down. She thought she had been loved before, but there was no comparison. He let her know with and without words, with caresses and gazes drenched in longing that did little to mask his adoration just how much he loved her.
She didn’t want to go to this meeting. Her heart wrenched with fear at the thought. As though all the jaded worrying she had entertained all day was finally coming full circle. There was something about perfection that made everything horrible. Perfection had ripped Angel’s soul away, and though nothing of the matter had been said yet, she had the feeling that it was about to do a number on hers.
Angel, she had survived. On a day alone, she knew would not Spike.
So yes. She dreaded the meeting. Just as she dreaded the knowledge that came with Giles’s tone. His comprehension of what the text meant. Of what it would eventually take from her. This happiness. Today in paradise. She should have known better than to accept it at face value. To think the Powers would allow a Slayer to get away with love, whether or not the words were granted a voice.
Buffy drew in a deep breath. Whatever they had in store, she only hoped they were in for one hell of a fight. For having been granted this, the world would have to end before she gave it up.
Of course, those were more than fighting words where she came from.
Something cool touched her lips, and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in Spike’s kiss. The gentle prod of his tongue against hers, the tender sighs and whimpers he murmured into mouth, his hands caressing her skin, cupping her face, whispering without words that everything would be all right. Leaving her to burn in a beacon of ice for the way he touched her.
The world couldn’t melt away, though, as much as she wanted it to. The next minute, the front door was wide open and Willow was in the middle of their dining area, her eyes wide and apologetic. “Oh God! So sorry. I’m interrupting a moment.” She took a second before her eyes flashed to her surroundings. “And damn! This place is cozy! And…” The scent in the air was unmistakable; the Witch yelped softly and looked down with noted embarrassment.
Buffy and Spike pulled apart with some difficulty, but with similar haste at the thrill of being caught. So much for stealthy. “Sorry, Will,” the Slayer said quickly. “We were on our way over.”
“Yeh,” the vampire agreed, draping an arm over her shoulder. “An’ given how dedicated we’ve been to work today, we’d’ve made it in an hour or so.”
The Witch’s face matched her hair color, and she was furtively trying to look anywhere but at the two blondes that couldn’t help but make googly eyes at each other every few seconds, despite the awkward situation. “I-I-I was just gonna remind you to c-come over and stuff. Before, you know, Giles sent Xander.”
Buffy nodded with a grateful smile. “We really were on our way.”
“Slayer’s a li’l antsy,” Spike explained with an easy shrug, tugging his cigarettes out of his duster pocket. “Apocalypse an’ what all.”
That was something she hadn’t told him. Was she that obvious?
One look at her boyfriend confirmed the notion.
“Okay, well…” Willow put on the cheeriest fake smile that she could manage and nodded diplomatically. “Everyone’s here, I think…so we should probably…”
Buffy licked her lips and nodded, hand subconsciously reaching for Spike’s. “We’ll be over in a minute,” she said, smiling when he squeezed her hand in reassurance. “And Will?”
The redhead stopped with a small grin. “It’s fine, Buff,” she said, needing no further direction. And her acceptance—as plain, under-spoken but heartfelt as it was inspired dual expressions of pure bliss. “Really, really fine. But I’m not the one you need to convince.”
The vampire flashed a favorable grin. “Thanks, Red.”
Willow nodded again but did not reply, instead turned to leave the townhouse without making another sound. And dutifully, though with palpable hesitation, Buffy tugged on Spike’s hand once more and followed.
At the porch, things changed. The gravel river between the townhouse and the Wensel estate noting the first steps to be taken with a new revelation on their shoulders. The redhead disappeared inside as though Hell followed at the heels, and the moment she was gone, the Cockney slammed the door shut and shoved the Slayer against it. His mouth was on hers before she had time to react, tasting her with desperation marked with promise. Of everything he felt—everything they had shared in the past twenty-four hours to come full circle.
“I love you,” he said, smiling when she smiled—eyes stormed over at the sight of her breathless with arousal. He loved it that he could inspire her to such a state with merely a touch. It reassured him; empowered him in the knowledge that she felt as he did, even if the words had yet to surface. “Whatever happens in there…your friends—”
At that, her jaw dropped to protest. “I—”
“Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Ever.” He sighed with a small, sheepish grin. “I love you so much. You jus’…I had to say it again before we went in, all right?”
Buffy just stared at him for a long minute before her face crumpled into a smile and she nodded, cupping his cheek and kissing him with all the reassurance he had given her. “Nothing’s going to change,” she said. “Today wasn’t just today to me…you know that, right?”
He nodded earnestly. “I know it.”
“Good.” Her smile broadened and she kissed him once more, unable to resist the sinister temptation of his soft lips. “We better get in there before they send out a search party.”
He nodded, grinning into her eyes. “We better.” He tugged at her hand questioningly, shoulders rolling back with relief when she refused to let go. And then they were walking off the porch and toward the main house. Two people changed for the better. A thousand years had passed since they last did this—since they faced others and smiled politely. Since anything. And now they were going together, and it was wonderful.
Which didn’t at all account for the knot of dread blossoming in her stomach.
*~*~*
The parlor was stretched with people—claustrophobic, but necessary.
Giles and Wesley stood at the mantle by the fireplace, very much like two unruly schoolmasters who were ready to call off an attendance role. Toby had assumed a customary position near the back corner; Josh next to Xander and Anya on the sofa in front of them. Next to her was Sam, and where went Sam, so went Willow. The redhead had just settled herself when Buffy and Spike walked into the room, linked tightly still and thankfully not drawing the theatrically expected silence with their obvious closeness.
Donna—who was seated in the recliner—however, did notice. She noticed and she jumped up immediately to offer them her seat.
“’S not necessary, pet,” the vampire assured her coolly.
“No. I like standing.” She smiled. “My job requires that I sit most of the time, anyway.”
“Except when she’s in my office bugging me about something trite,” Josh remarked, earning a scowl and an automatic slap from whichever female was nearest him. In this instance—Anya, who shrugged, muttered something about it seeming the thing to do in the namesake of vengeance, and went on flipping through her magazine.
“Or bringing you memos. Or teaching you how to use your computer. Or reminding you which tie you wore—”
“Yes, yes. The list goes on and on.”
Giles cleared his throat diplomatically, pointedly not looking in his Slayer’s direction when she finally caved to the imploring looks that the vampire was shooting her way and wriggled into his lap, his arms bound around her waist; his chin hooked over her shoulder. No, that image was much too disturbing. While he was no longer in denial of what had irrevocably happened between them, seeing it flaunted before his eyes would take some very slow, steady working up to.
“Well…” The Watcher began slowly. “Erm, with the assistance of Anya and Wesley, we have uncovered some highly disturbing revelations pending on the inevitable arise of Quirinias.”
Buffy’s face fell. “Rise?”
“Well, erm, yes. That being the problem at the moment.” Giles cast his head downward. “You see, Quirinias is not only a Roman god—nor is he confined to the Sabine culture. It took much cross-referencing, but I am confident now that I know the full of his intentions.” He cleared his throat. “It is my belief that those two are the only cultures that can provide surviving and solid documentation. The Assyrian passages indicated scrolls that mentioned him in passing…as did the Greek…which opened the door to numerous past civilizations with their own account. Which is why I believe that the buruburu attacked you, Buffy. Why it was here at all.”
Xander blinked dumbly. “Uhhh…” He raised his hand. “Can you back up and explain? I’m not following.”
“’S simple,” Spike nearly growled. Through the two minutes of her Watcher’s preamble to the longer explanation, his grip around her middle had restricted possessively. And though she was not facing him, Buffy could feel the hint of yellow behind the daggers he shot across the room. “This bloke’s bigger than the bloody book was forecastin’—covers more territory an’ the like. So when he was released, he let all his sodding baggage out with him.”
There was a minute before Sam realized the last was spoken with a particularly nasty look shot in his direction. “Hey!” he yelped defensively. “I-I didn’t know, okay? A-and it might not even be that it w-was me—”
“Don’t scare him!” Willow snapped.
“Yeah! Don’t scare me!”
Xander was staring at the blondes, his face slack. “Ummm…someone wanna explain to me why Buffy’s sitting in Spike’s lap?” A pregnant pause filled the room before he received several strategic slaps upside the head from numerous benefactors. “Hey!”
“They’re having sex,” Anya said with a shrug, eyes perusing an article in her magazine. “And no, you can’t stop it, so don’t try.”
“I—”
“So much for practicin’ your unsatisfied face,” Spike murmured into her ear.
“I was hoping the impending apocalypse would be more interesting than my sex life,” the Slayer whispered back.
“Never happen, pet.”
Giles was frantically polishing his glasses—Wesley evidently having found something remarkably fascinating with the Monet on the opposing wall. And it was expected. Even with the world literally falling apart at the hinges, everyone took a time out to argue the virtues of sleeping with vampires.
“I just…” Xander met Buffy’s eyes worriedly. “I thought—”
Anya released an exaggerated breath and twisted in her seat. “They spent the day copulating, Xander,” she said softly. “Buffy has found someone to provide her with orgasms, something she has been grossly in need of since—quite frankly—I’ve known her. And even you admitted last night that Spike was the least likely person in the world to harm her. So please desist your irrational objection so that Giles can continue explaining the various ways in which we are about to be extremely dead.”
The Slayer stared at her friend in astonishment. “Xander? You really said that?”
He glanced down. “I didn’t mean it,” he replied unconvincingly. “I just…I was talking and words were said. That’s all.”
“Aww, Harris.” Spike smirked at him in a tone that betrayed his surprise. “Din’t know you cared.”
“I don’t. Again with the words and the meaning nothing.”
“Ummm?” Josh raised his hand slowly. “Can we please get back to the extremely dead part? Or something that might be potentially relevant to everyone here and not your daytime drama that is—don’t get me wrong—not without the entertaining.”
“Second that,” Giles agreed hastily. His face was ten shades of red. “Well, ehm, Spike was right in the sense of…the buruburus attack. I believe that Quirinias mapped out a considerable amount of territory before he was banished. Really, with all the running around that has been done of late, it is fortunate that a buruburu attack was the only out of form creature that anyone has come across.”
Wesley stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Only not,” he said, ignoring the questioning look he received in turn. “Quirinias has one goal: become corporeal. His powers in the meantime have been significantly drained. Reciting the words from the book did in fact give his essence leave, and therefore more power than the original hold—”
Sam studiously ignored every glare he received.
“—but it takes the fulfillment of a certain ritual to grant him a solid body. I believe that is the reason that Buffy’s encounter with the buruburu has been the only known incident. To manifest his hold on creatures that are not originally native to America would take more energy than he has at present. Everything right now is focused on obtaining form.”
There was a pregnant pause at that.
“So…” Toby gesticulated wildly. “Why are we here?”
“You’re here by accident,” Giles said. “The wrong bloody place at the wrong time. Sam’s muttering the words from the text enforced the barrier around the town, I believe—which would also command a significant amount of energy from Quirinias.” He glanced admirably to Wesley. “I believe you are right. That does account for much.”
The younger Watcher blushed. “I…really…the only natural conclusion…”
Donna beamed at him winningly aside her flagrant fear, which only made the blush more furious. At that, Josh snickered and rolled his eyes. Wesley shot a mildly paranoid look in his direction, turned deeper shades of red that looked almost painful, and glanced down again.
“So, in sane man’s terms?” Toby demanded, masterfully getting everyone back on track. “What does this mean?”
“Ah. Yes.” Giles did some more shifting. “The text describes Quirinias as a god feared by anyone who uttered his name—a god as powerful as any of the others in ancient culture, but shadowed with foreknowledge of his power to the extent that he has barely slipped into the history books. And what is mentioned in the more communal text is brief—a powerful god that not much is known about. I am not even sure that the Watcher’s Council is aware of…” He glanced down and cleared his throat. “Well, according to the book, there was a prophecy—”
Buffy groaned.
Sam tossed her a sideways glance. “What? Why the ‘ugh’? I don’t like that sound.”
“Because that word means bad in so many ways,” Xander explained.
“Prophecies equal not good in our world,” Willow explained calmly, though she was gripping his knee as though the apocalypse was literally at the doorstep. “What’s the prophecy?”
Giles and Wesley exchanged a look.
“Well,” the latter began. “Around 750 BCE, Quirinias evidently developed an aspiration to transcend his powers by becoming completely corporeal. He selected the strongest of the warriors at the time to act as a vessel…and the warrior just happened to be—”
Spike held up a hand. His grip on Buffy had suddenly gone rigid. “Lemme guess. A Slayer?”
The Watchers looked at him then with sudden empathy. Not much, but a flash of identical understanding. A knowledge buried that the same would likely destroy him just as well as anyone else bearing that comprehension. “Yes,” Giles said. “A Slayer. And Quirinias was successful. So powerful was the fear behind his name that no one dared contest him. The Slayer fought, of course, but she was overwhelmed. And…”
Josh quirked a brow. “Possessed?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” The elder Watcher cleared his throat. “There was a ritual involved. In order to take over the Slayer, Quirinias focused all his energies into…well, firstly making sure she was…compatible. Her body immortalized and prepared to accept all his power. Hardened. Gave her strength beyond strength. This, naturally, arose the interest of a coven of witches. They set about to stop Quirinias with little to no support…and bargained with a demon for borrowed power that they infested into something called the Rite of Thrieve.”
Wesley stepped in automatically as Giles’s voice dimmed—an eager pitch-hitter that similarly adored expressions of affection or admiration, even if it embarrassed the hell out of him. “What the Rite of Thrieve does exactly, we do not know,” he said. “But the book does detail it specifically…including the exact incantations. For it to work, a witch, a warlock, and I believe a sorcerer are all that is needed…and, of course, a considerable amount of power linked between them.”
“Warlock?” Josh echoed incredulously.
“Sorcerer?” Toby muttered, the look on his face demanding that someone inform him that he had officially lost his mind and was safely shackled up in some loony bin.
Willow whimpered. “Witch? Witch? I-I’m the only witch here…that’s not fair. That’s not…I—”
Giles held up a hand as Sam’s arms came around the redhead in comfort. “We’re not asking you to perform the Rite of Thrieve,” he assured her gently. “I am not comfortable harnessing you with that sort of power…especially when we do not know what it does.”
Xander perked a brow. “Then how exactly are we supposed to stop this thing? I mean, if this bad ass god guy’s after Buffy, then—”
“He’s not.”
“Not what?”
“After Buffy. I thought that much was clear.” Giles pursed his lips. “Quirinias was banished with the Rite of Thrieve…banished, but not destroyed. You cannot fully destroy gods. If they are gods from separate realms or dimensions, you can send them back to whatever hellfire they came from and place a blockade between the fabric of realities to prevent any reentrance, but you cannot kill them. It’s especially trickier with gods from…well, in our case…here. Our dimension. Quirinias has been biding time for centuries…regaining power, formulating moves, but never quite existing. The only true power that he has right now is that of suggestion. Or a pull in all things otherworldly to come when he beckons them. No, Xander. He is not after Buffy at all.”
“Faith.” The word escaped Sam’s lips softly, his eyes softening with remembrance. “It’s Faith, isn’t it? It has to be. The things she said…”
“Things?” Willow frowned. “What things?”
He shook his head, trembling slightly. “J-just things. She was…well, she was…”
“A psychopath?” Toby ventured.
“Any day of the week,” Buffy muttered, leaning subconsciously into Spike for comfort that he gave in abundance.
Sam released a quivering sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I-I…it all happened fast. A-and it seems like it was a long time ago now. But other than being very strong and…demanding…she was…afraid. And mumbling things about how she ran here and couldn’t leave.”
A small silence settled over them as they took in this new information. The Deputy Communications Director had gone pale in recollection of that night, but his eyes were light and oddly relieved. As though he had finally confessed the deadliest of sins.
“So it’s safe to summarize,” Giles said slowly, “that Faith was drawn here for the specific purpose of being used by Quirinias.”
“An’ we followed like faithful chimps,” Spike grumbled. “S’pose it was our job to uncover the bloody book that let the wanker out in the firs’ place, right? ‘S why the Slayer was so bloody sure Faith was in the car ahead of us. An’…” He tossed a mildly apologetic glance to Sam. “Prob’ly the root cause to what happened to you too, mate. Kept the rogue bird nice an’ distracted while we were off gallivantin’ at some bloody tourist trap.”
“Hey!” Buffy twisted in his arms. “It was your idea to go inside.”
He avoided her eyes almost bashfully. “Jus’ wanted to take the sodding tour.”
“And the stupid picture of the stupid mirror.”
“Was jus’ gettin’ my money’s worth, luv. ‘Sides…” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “You din’t seem to mind aaallll that much.”
“Okay.” Josh’s shrill voice intervened their banter before it could be taken any further. “Okay. Let’s just jump to worst-case scenario, shall we? Faith’s out there and been missing ever since she and Sam…uhhh…” He glanced to his friend regretfully. “Since she…well, you know. This god guy’s been distracting the other Slayer with books and buru-whatchamacallitsand her vampire love slave. If he—”
Spike growled defensively. “What’s happened between us has sod all to due with some wanker god, all right?”
“How do you know?” Xander demanded.
Buffy’s face flamed. “Because it was happening before we left Sunnydale.” The Cockney behind her went rigid with her admission, but relaxed the next minute and purred approvingly, subtly stroking the small of her back where the others couldn’t see. “It’s been happening ever since the…well…I think it’s been happening all along.”
Willow’s eyes softened and Donna cooed. “Aww,” she said. “That is so sweet!”
A chorus of ‘no it’s not’ answered her with enthusiasm.
“Whatever.” Josh waved a hand and continued. “Okay. This god guy does the ritual and possesses Faith. What then?”
Giles and Wesley exchanged another helpless glance.
“The words ‘blind panic’ come to mind,” the former said gently. “Without the Rite of Thrieve, there really is nothing. Quirinias in solid form with a body that is already structured to be stronger than any human on the planet is not exactly a heartwarming thought. Especially since he controls any number of ancient demons that seemingly have a habit of following him wherever he goes. Once he crosses that line and fully enters our realm…there will be no stopping him.”
Xander licked his lips. “So I’m guessing the plan is to find Faith before he does?”
There was another pause. “He has Faith already,” Wesley said. “He has all along. He’s had her from the moment she arrived here, and definitely from the moment that his power was fully unleashed with—”
Sam wailed miserably. “I know! I know! Do you have to rub it in?”
“It is your fault,” Anya observed.
“I saw a language. I was curious!”
“Didn’t have to read it out loud,” Donna grumbled.
“A little sympathy here?” He glanced to Willow who offered him her brightest ‘we’re-all-gonna-die-because-of-you-but-I-love-you-anyway’ smile and took him in a comforting hug.
“Okay, so the god already has Faith…” Buffy licked her lips and slowly rose to her feet. “Do we have any way to find out where the ritual will take place? Or when? Or how the hell fast I can get there?”
“We can get there,” Spike corrected as he rose behind her and took her hand in his. “Not lettin’ you go anywhere without me, luv. Told you as much.”
Giles frowned worriedly. “Buffy…this is power beyond power that you have faced before. If you’re too late or…do you realize the magnitude of—”
She waved him off in a manner that did not betray her apprehension. “Yes, yes. I know. Grave danger abounds. One problem. I’m the one chosen to stop the grave danger. Does anyone here have any better suggestions?”
The room fell silent. There was simply nothing to say.
“Yeah. Thought so.” Buffy turned to Willow. “Is there any way you can—”
“If the words ‘location spell’ come out of your mouth, I am turning Spike into a newt.”
Buffy winced. “Do you even know how to do that?”
“W-well, that’s not exactly the point now, is it?”
Sam grinned at her fondly.
In any regard, the Slayer rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I was going to suggest locating Quirinias based on this power he’s allegedly releasing. If you’re tapped into it like that, and if he’s soaking in so much, won’t that give us an approximate on where we might be able to find Faith?”
Willow glanced down at that and shrugged sheepishly. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Giles looked thoroughly embarrassed. “I don’t believe any of us had. Oh dear.” A sigh tackled his throat. “Well, I suppose we didn’t know where to look…and the Faith/Quirinias bond was always a little vague…”
Josh and Toby glanced at each other wryly but opted to forgo commentary.
Buffy nodded and tugged on Spike’s arm. “Well, there’s a start. We’re gonna go get supplies. I want a direction by the time we get back.”
The redhead nodded in turn. “Yeah. Yeah, if he’s using up that much energy, picking up on it won’t take much. Give me ten minutes.”
And that was that. The group dispersed into a various array of tasks from the mundane to the ambiguous. Willow speaking softly to Sam on all the materials she would need. Anya trying to persuade Xander to go upstairs and get in some orgasms before the world ended. Josh and Toby debating whether or not to ring Leo and let him know all that was happening now, thanks to Sam’s thirst for knowledge. Donna and Wesley standing awkwardly with nothing to do, avoiding each other’s eyes now that work had come to an end.
At the door, Giles stopped Spike before he could follow Buffy across the way to the townhouse. The Slayer flashed him a concerned look, but he waved her off reassuringly. A fatherly moment to the boy his baby girl had decided to date, heedless of his warnings.
Heedless of the fact that she was the Slayer and he was a vampire and there should be no discussion after that.
“I just want you to know,” Giles began softly, “if something happens to Buffy, I will hold you responsible. She trusts you—and I believe I can, but you are a vampire with a reputation for murdering Slayers. If something happens to her, I will make you suffer in ways that would make your grandsire weep with shame. Do you understand me?”
Spike nodded solemnly. There was no need to contest; just this much acceptance was more than he had expected. And it was enough. “Jus’ one thing, Watcher.” He waited until he had the old man’s eyes. “’F somethin’ happens to Buffy, my suffering’ll be in vain. Nothin’ you could do to me would compare.” His voice dropped. “Nothing.”
A glare heated between them, and slowly warmed into a gaze of mutual regard. And that was that. Spike awkwardly patted the Watcher on the back and turned to follow his girl across the way, smiling at the way she had waited for him at the porch.
Giles watched them exchange a tender look before they disappeared inside. Watched, and his heart wrenched at the emotion screamed without muttering a sound. He knew then that the vampire spoke the truth, and above all else, would keep his word.
Spike would die protecting her. He would. It was a surreal piece of knowledge to possess, but no less true when pushed under surveillance. Spike would die protecting his Slayer.
Because he loved her.
Giles pursed his lips in silent acquiescence, then turned slowly and disappeared inside the main house.
TBC