FORBIDDEN FRUIT
Laura Smith
Willow sat at the bus station, her suitcase between her feet. She'd just spent three days with relatives, and was glad to be home. The Hellmouth had nothing on three kids under the age of five.
But she was starting to worry. Her parents were out of town, so Xander had volunteered Cordelia to pick her up. Two hours ago. Nobody was answering the phones and night was falling.
And in Sunnydale, that meant only one thing. Vampires.
She looked to the east where the full moon was rising. Okay two things. Werewolves and vampires.
Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she sighed. It wasn't too far of a walk to the school. From there, she could surely find Giles or somebody without fangs to give her a lift home. And if not, well, it wouldn't be the first night she'd slept in the library.
She picked up her bag and started walking. She'd probably been foolish to wait so long hoping her best friend would put her before his hormones. She walked down the deserted streets, mentally kicking herself.
The pop of the streetlights coming on caused her to shriek. Almost dark. Nobody in sight. No cross, no stake, no holy water. "Rosenburg, you're a first class idiot."
"Talking to yourself young lady?"
She looked up to see a handsome young man leaning against a car. She swallowed. Darkness had fallen.
"Sort of."
"You know, it's not safe for a young thing like yourself to be out alone after dark. Any number of things could happen."
The tone of his voice changed, and he began advancing towards Willow. She searched his face for any sign of change. But all she saw was violence and predatory lust.
*Funny, * Willow's subconscious thought. * We're all so worried about supernatural threats, we forget about the human ones. *
She tried to move, to run, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
"You look like a little mouse seeing an eagle. Aren't you going to run little girl? I do so love the chase." He walked right up to her, lifting her chin with one finger. "You're spoiling my game."
Her hazel eyes were wide with fear. This was it. No Buffy. No Oz. No Angel. No Xander. No one to save her. He was going to hurt her then maybe kill her. Somehow it just didn't seem right. A Slayerette should die of something much less mundane.
He growled low in his throat and slapped her. "All right. You'll just have to provide me with some other kinds of fun down the line." He wound her hair around his hand and started pulling her toward the car.
Suddenly, the pressure ended. She heard a loud "What the…" then his hand tore from her head. She saw at least two vampires behind him. Vampires she could deal with. Willow ran.
She stopped, breathless, pounding viciously on the door. She could hear them behind her, getting closer. "Oh please, please be home. Please, please!" She whispered fervently. The tears came from nowhere, great sobs wracking her body. "Giles, please?"
She collapsed against the door as it opened, falling halfway into the foyer. Giles looked up from her, saw the charging vampires, and quickly pulled her inside.
The vampire hit the door way hard, the force of the forbidden entry flinging him back several feet. Giles swung the door shut and locked it. He took a shaky breath of his own before turning his attention to the girl gasping for air on his floor.
He looked her over quickly for wounds, his worry overshadowing the rush of desire he always felt when he saw her. He always made sure there was something overshadowing that. Allowing himself just a brief moment to appreciate her sprawled figure, especially the long, smooth leg exposed by the precarious lay of her skirt; he knelt down beside her. "Willow?"
Her face was pressed against the cool tile of the floor. "Hi."
"You certainly know how to make an entrance." He offered her a hand.
She took it, standing. "Thanks for being home."
He guided her to the loveseat and sat her down. "My pleasure." He walked into the kitchen to make some tea.
"Um, Giles? Don't…don't leave me just yet?"
He nodded and walked back into the living room. Staring at his bookshelf, he fought to take his mind off her. The library was easy - potential students, principals, slayers, vampires - but this was his home. With his bed. Where he thought about… He stopped that thought before it was fully formed. Feeling threatened by her close proximity, he took refuge as he always did. "What on earth were you doing out there? Have you no common sense, child?"
At the last word, Willow's head snapped up. She began trembling violently, silent tears running unbidden down her cheeks.
"You should know better Willow. No protection whatsoever? What if I hadn't been home?" His worry and fear, the thought that he could have lost her tonight, shook him. "I'm sorely disappointed in you Willow." Under control, he turned around.
And lost it. She sat there, eyes staring at him, tear tracks staining her face, body shaking, silent sobs causing her small frame to convulse. He strode to her quickly, enveloping her in a hug. "My sweet, sweet girl, don't cry."
"H…h…he was gonna ra…rape me." Her broken sentence pierced his heart.
"Who Willow?"
The tears over took her again. At a loss, he simply gathered her into his arms and rocked her gently. "Ssh Willow. It's all right. Quiet love."
Slowly they subsided. Once she calmed down, he set her down. "Would you like some tea?"
"Do you have anything stronger?"
He nodded and poured them each a glass of scotch. He had a strong feeling they would both need it. "Do you think you can tell me what happened?"
She emptied the contents of her glass in one gulp then held it out to him, her hand not quite steady. "More?"
He obliged, barely registering that she had just downed aged scotch like a heathen, then listened as she told him everything that had happened. In her nervous state, she covered everything, even her thoughts. Two glasses later, she finished with a hiccup. The alcohol had calmed her down considerably, but she was still shivering.
"Would you like a blanket?"
"No. But could I…Never mind." She blushed a deep crimson.
"Tell me."
She stood and walked over to him. Leaning down, she whispered, "Could you just hold me in your lap again?" She backed away quickly, her blush deepening.
"Of course." He opened his arms to her. She fit so comfortably there, her head resting in the hollow of his neck. He rocked her gently, feeling the stress, alcohol and movements lull her to sleep.
He carried her upstairs and lay her on his bed. He undid her shoes and slipped them off before sliding her under the covers. He tucked the comforter firmly around her, his heart in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her lightly before backing out of the room.
Giles swirled the whiskey in his glass, staring unseeing into the amber depths. He heart ached for her. She was so sweet, so fragile. He laughed softly. No, fragile, she was not. She gave that illusion, but she was probably the strongest of all of them.
Still, as he went over the events she'd related, he knew how close she'd come. With both sets of attackers. The thought of something happening to her caused a maelstrom of emotions. Murderous rage toward Xander and Cordelia, fear and worry for Willow - how would she handle this? -, Concern that Buffy would blame this on herself, and frustration for himself.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the chair. If he was honest with himself, there were a few more emotions thrown in. Holding her at first had been no problem. His concern for her safety was paramount.
But just holding her…He'd been extremely glad she'd fallen asleep quickly. He wasn't sure exactly how he would have explained away his very obvious erection.
Finishing his drink, he stood and went to the front door. The vampires had given up long ago. She'd probably want her suitcase in the morning. He sighed at the garments scattered across his entryway. He gathered them quickly, feeling exposed. Unceremoniously, he stuffed them back into the bag. Inside, where it was safe, he could straighten them out.
He locked to door and sank to the floor in front of the fire. Emptying her bag, he began folding things, restoring them neatly in the small case.
He was torturing himself. Every garment smelled of her. Lavender, vanilla and something that was just distinctly Willow. He touched something soft and looked down. A short, emerald green satin nightgown. Giles pictured her in it and groaned. There was an image he was never getting out of his head. He could envision her in it, looking for all the world like some medieval temptress.
He shoved the remaining clothes in the bag, heedless of neatness. Her nearness was driving him crazy. He pushed the bag away and stood, trying to figure out what to do.
Realizing that he was pacing, Giles stopped himself. A cup of tea. And a cold shower. The vision of her was just behind his eyes. Very cold. Screw the tea.
He paused in the bedroom doorway, staring at her. She had all of the covers kicked off and one arm thrown over her head. The casual position had caused her T-shirt to rise up on her body, exposing the softest hint of flesh and the colorful hue of her lingerie.
His cock surged. Right. Cold shower. Immediately.
It hadn't helped. Physically, the moments in the spray had taken the edge off, but his mind kept calling up images of her. He wrapped the towel around his waist. Looking in the mirror at his reflection, he chastised himself. She was practically a child. And he was not. "Rupert, old boy, you've got to get a grip on yourself." He laughed bitterly at that thought. He'd been doing that since he'd met her, and it hadn't helped a bit.
Then she screamed.
She was sitting up in bed, eyes wide. He could tell her heart was racing from the very visible throb of her pulse at her throat. Every vampire in town was probably salivating.
"Willow?" He stopped in the doorway not wanting to frighten her. "Are you all right?"
Her eyes focused on him. She sprang out of the bed and into his arms. "Oh Giles, he was chasing me then he caught me then he threw me down then he…." She ran out of breath. Her body was still trembling from the after effects of the dream.
"Ssh, you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. Please Willow, breathe." He raised a hand to stroke her hair. Her face was pressed against his bare chest, her warm breath on him wreaking havoc. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation.
Moments later, she pulled away, her pulse returned to normal. "I'm a basket case, aren't I?"
"No. You experienced two terrifying events tonight. One of which was more than sufficient to give you bad dreams."
"The scotch wasn't that bad."
"I should say not. It's at least two hundred years old."
"Wow. You broke out the good stuff." She smiled shyly. "Thanks."
"It's just whiskey."
"No. For saving my life."
"Well…" he stopped all of his higher functions arrested by the affection in her eyes, the smile on her face.
She looked back down and realized she was staring at his naked chest. She closed her eyes, afraid to look lower. "Are you…naked?"
"Good heavens, no."
She opened her eyes, relieved, and looked down.
"I'm wearing a towel."
Willow "eeped" and closed her eyes even tighter.
Giles looked down. Well, there had been a towel. Her shaking as he held her combined with his "attentive" body parts had disposed of that formality. "I apologize." He retrieved the towel and rewrapped it. "I was so concerned, just showered. I was worried. Oh Gods."
"It's all right."
"The Hellmouth never swallows you when you need it to."
"Really. It's all right." Willow grabbed his hands. "Giles. Thank you. I'm glad you rushed in here."
"I…"
"Giles, please stop it. Go finish what you were doing. I'll be all right."
He left the room, his skin as red as her hair. She bit her lip. "Wow," she whispered as he left the room. "Giles is…impressive."
"Christ Rupert. A robe is too much trouble? The poor child isn't traumatized enough?" He turned the cold water on again. "You couldn't tell it had gone missing?" He stepped into the spray, biting back a scream. "You couldn't tell she was pressed right against the damn overactive thing?" His own questions made him think. Unconsciously, he reached for the shower control and turned the water to warm.
As a watcher, he knew life was short. Tonight had given him opportunities he'd never have again. He leaned back against the wall, his hand slowly massaging the tip of his penis. No sense in letting them go completely to waste.
Willow stood outside the bathroom door listening to his muttered conversation. She was overwhelmed. * He wants me?! * Her mind couldn't quite grasp it. * I turn him on? * She smiled. That wasn't so hard to grasp. Since Oz, she'd gotten a little more self-esteem in that department. But this was Giles. A grown man. Wanting her. Willow Rosenburg.
She heard a soft moan from behind the door and his first late night shower came into focus. She smiled. "Hmmm."
He opened the door, safely clad in a long, thick robe. She was standing there across the hallway wearing the green nightie. Her hands were clasped behind her back, causing her breasts to thrust forward. He stopped. Or perhaps time stood still. "Goodnight Willow."
"Giles?"
*Oh God, please don't. * He thought. "Yes Willow?"
"I'm afraid the dreams will come back."
"A reasonable fear."
"Could you stay with me?"
His mind reeled, his body responded. "Of course." He walked her back to the bedroom, unsure of what he was doing. She climbed into the bed. "Good night."
He sank, relieved, into a chair. Watch her. He was insane to think it was anything else. Watch her. He could do that. Part of his job description. Sort of. "Good night Willow."
He dozed fitfully for an hour or so. The soft, even sound of her breathing soothed him, at the same time it aroused him. He didn't realize how difficult this simple task would be.
She started whimpering. He was beside her in an instant. Lying next to her, he wrapped his arms around her again.
Seeking warmth, one hand slid inside the opening of his robe to wrap around his chest. Her head slipped onto his shoulder and he held her. Her breath caressed his chest. He closed his eyes, his prayers alternating between having it all be a dream and begging for it to be real.
"Mmm," her hand slid down his side, opening the robe even further. With unerring accuracy, her hand slid easily around his cock.
Life was cruel. When he'd been in college, he was typical. Once, maybe twice a night. Now, but his in bed with a student half his age, after two bouts of cold water masturbation, and his traitorous cock was harder than it had ever been.
She opened her deep green eyes to peer into his. "Forbidden fruit."
"Pardon?"
"That's why it's so easy. Your body's responding because it knows it's doing a big naughty."
"This is wrong. Besides the moral, legal and ethical considerations, you suffered two very traumatic attacks tonight. One of which was sexually oriented. I'm sure the last thing you need is …this."
"Rape has nothing to do with sex." Willow's eyes implored him.
"And neither should we. I'm an instructor Willow. You are a student."
"Who, because of where she lives and who she pals with, could die tomorrow. I'm eighteen Giles." Her hand slowly began to move.
He struggled to think clearly, to rationalize through all the thick passion she was arousing. "Your boyfriend is a werewolf. On my list of people to betray on a full moon, werewolf is about as low on that list as is possible." He realized he was begging her. He also realized he didn't know which result he was begging for. "He knows your scent Willow."
Her smile was not one a sweet, fragile innocent girl should have. "Giles, there's a lot we can do without altering my scent."
"I'm dreaming. Yes. Must be."
Willow giggled, "I like your dreams." Her hand stilled on his erection. "If you want to walk away from this right now, I'll understand. No hard feelings." She giggled again at the irony. "But I swear to you, if you don't, it never leaves this house. It stays between us."
He was about to reply when a loud pounding sounded at the door. "Oh Christ."
"Giles?" They both started at the sound of Xander's voice. "Giles? Come on. Don't make Buffy kick the door in."
He pulled away. "He's looking for you. Get dressed."
"I want to stay."
"And explain it how? We're having a slumber party? Get dressed." His tone told her he would brook no argument. He slid a pair of jeans on under the robe and started down the stairs. He knew he'd been harsh with her, but his frustration was at an all time high. He was beginning to see why Xander hated Angel.
Giles threw open the door, unaware of how dangerous he looked. Xander, Cordelia and Buffy stood there, worry in their eyes. Well, all except for Xander. For him, anguish was the better word. "Don't worry. She's safe."
Xander pushed past him to get to Willow. She was coming down the stairs dressed in something other than that damn nightgown. He grabbed her arms, "Wills? Are you okay? I'm so sorry Willow. I didn't mean to forget." Tears filled his eyes.
Buffy looked at Giles. "We found a body. Drained. He had some of Willow's hair clutched in his hand. Her bus ticket was on the ground. We should have come here first."
"She's shaken, but unharmed. The vampires saved her actually."
Cordelia stared at Willow and Xander. She felt awful for having persuaded Xander to come over to her house for just a little while before they picked up Willow. Not that he'd needed much persuading, but now, staring at her, knowing that someone had tried to hurt her. Someone human had tried to hurt her, she felt horrible. God she hated being a Slayerette.
"I'm fine Xander." Willow's voice was loud in the quiet room. "But I have enough to deal with tonight without having to worry about absolving you of your guilt. I just want to sleep."
"You could come home with me…"
"No Xander."
"Cordy…"
She and Willow both shook their heads. "No Xander."
"Buff?"
"I have some vampires to catch."
Giles cleared his throat. "She's more than welcome to stay here." He caught Willow's eyes and realized he'd given her his answer.
This time it was Buffy and Xander who spoke in unison. "No."
Willow smiled at Giles. "We could all go to the library."
"Oz!" Xander shouted.
"Pardon?"
"Faith. In the library. Watchin' Oz. Will relieves her. Two slayers free to hunt the creeps who attacked Willow. I'm seeing no down side."
Giles' voice gently chided him. "And who will stay with Willow?"
Xander's protective instincts kicked in. One good thing about being a hyena, you learned to trust your gut. "I will. No guilt Will. Just Xander. Your best bud. Deal?"
She half closed her eyes, looking at Giles through her lashes. He was right. And Xander and Buffy seemed a little too perceptive tonight. "Deal."
They left in Cordelia's car just moments later. Giles' body still ached for her, but the stress of the evening was finally catching up to him. He was exhausted.
He walked into the bedroom. Lying on the bed where he had held her was that damned nightgown. He picked it up and inhaled the smell of her. Perhaps tonight was simply a moment out of time, but he would treasure it forever.
He noticed a slip of paper on his bedside table. He'd recognize her writing anywhere. He undressed and slipped into the still warm bed. He chuckled as he read her hastily scribbled words.
"Don't worry Giles, forbidden fruit is always in season."
The satin was cool against his skin, where he clutched it to his chest. "Forbidden fruit, indeed."