Giles stirred and tried to pull the covers more closely to him. The fact that he met with no resistance troubled him even in his sleep, and he reached out for Anya, his eyes blinking open owlishly when he found himself alone. Her side of the bed was too cool for her absence to be accounted for by a brief visit to the toilet. When his eyes became accustomed to the early morning light, he noticed that Anya's robe was missing from the back of the bedroom door. He strained to hear some sort of movement from elsewhere in the apartment, but there was only silence.

He hesitated for a moment before he reached over the side of the bed to scoop his own robe from where it rested on the floor. It was entirely possible that she had left their bed because she was feeling stifled at his continual presence. They had hardly indulged in the extended courtship that gave a couple the opportunity to become gradually acclimated to each other's presence. However, he found himself unable to rest until he had checked on her. If she needed solitude he could always give her that space, but if something other than his presence was troubling her, he didn't want her to feel alone unnecessarily. Or it might simply be that her body clock had yet to fully adjust from Paris time. It didn't necessarily mean that she was uncomfortable sharing a bed with him.

He slipped his arms into his robe and fastened the tie at the front before he pulled open the bedroom door, not because Anya hadn't already seen all there was to see, but because they still hadn't reached the level of familiarity where nakedness could be taken casually.

There were no lights visible in any of the rooms, but he pushed open the door of the second bedroom and looked in before he made his way downstairs in any case. Despite the differences, the layout of the apartment was sufficiently familiar for him to make his way downstairs in the dark. The living room was also empty and he began to worry that perhaps Anya had gone out alone in the middle of the night, until he noticed that two of the cushions from the sofa were missing.

He picked his way over to the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room, smiling at the scene that met his eyes. The missing cushions were on the floor by the wicker dog basket and Anya was curled up on top of them, stroking the head of the young collie where it lolled over the basket's edge. The tiny black pup was curled against the bitch's stomach, sound asleep, but his mother gazed at Anya in evident adoration.

"I seem to have competition," Giles commented dryly.

"I thought I should check on them. It's been so long since I've been needed. I didn't want to mess up before I start."

"She doesn't seem to think that you've messed up. Have you thought any more about names, yet?"

"I think she looks like a Patches," Anya answered, nodding gently when Giles lifted down a pair of tumblers from one of the cupboards and broke the seal on a bottle of single malt that was sitting on the counter, tilting it in an obvious question.

"And the little chap?" He splashed a reasonable measure into the bottom of each glass and passed one to Anya.

"I was thinking Randy. The more of those embarrassing uppercrust English names of yours that we can use up on the animals, then the more chance there is that our children will make it through kindergarten without having their heads flushed down the toilet."

He knew he should be offended, that he should defend his privileged background and its traditions, but instead all he could do was laugh. "Come on," the watcher placed his glass on the counter and reached down to take Anya's and put it alongside before he offered her a hand.

She took it with only a brief glance back at the dogs, melting into his arms and resting her head against his shoulder when he pulled her to her feet.

"We'll move your new family into the en-suite for the rest of the night. We can put down newspaper there just as easily. That way you can keep an eye on them without having to get up."

The brilliant smile that Anya gave him was answer enough. Her words were a bonus. "And I can curl up with you at the same time... You could read to me again, unless you would rather continue to prove your virility."

"I don't see why the two need be mutually exclusive," Giles answered his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I have been told that some women find reading sexy."

"You really think you'd be able to concentrate?" Anya asked as she loosened the tie on his robe, pushing the fabric to the sides as her hands glided over his chest and then slid the towelling from his shoulders.

Giles lifted her up onto the counter. "Probably not," he conceded, and stepped between her legs as the material fell to the floor.