Giles waited until he had his breath back, quickly checked that they were out of sight of any inquisitive would-be customers and scooped Anya into his lap, not bothering that his trousers were still somewhere down by his ankles or that Anya's knickers would have to be retrieved from the top of the bookcase. All that could wait.

"Anya, dearest, not that I'm unappreciative of the welcome, but I rather get the impression that while I was out something happened to alter your mood." He tried to cajole a smile. "At least I hope those frown lines aren't due to any deficiency on my part?"

For a fraction of a second the sun broke through, but her smile was brief. "You know that I find our orgasms highly satisfactory," she informed him as if he should know that this was a fact accepted worldwide at least as readily as Mastercard.

Giles couldn't help it. Something was making Anya upset and that... made him upset. "Then what is it?" he asked with just a hint of sharpness to his tone. How could he help, if she wouldn't let him know what the problem was?

"Joyce's papers are here," the blonde admitted almost petulantly.

"And?" Giles used one hand to tip back the woman's chin so that she couldn't hide behind her hair. "Why should that cause all these frowns? Surely you're happy for Joyce?"

"Well...yes..." Anya grudgingly admitted, "but now you'll go back to England."

Giles felt like a hammer had hit him right between the eyes and it was a good hammer. He let the fingers that had been supporting Anya's back reach up and tangle in the waves of her hair. His mouth claimed hers, partly from sheer joy at her words and partly to try to make the damn woman understand in no uncertain terms that he was in no hurry whatsoever to let her go. He was just getting started when the heel of a delicate but strong hand began to pound on his collar bone. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes there was a blend of irritation and confusion in their depths.

"We've done the kissing. We can do it again later if you want but you made me talk and if I have to talk so do you. And you look happy even though you're meant to be sad when I'm sad." There was a wariness to her words, as if she wasn't entirely sure if his merriment was at her expense, and Giles wished, not for the first time, that he had drawn out the fracas at the airport just a bit longer.

"Joyce's papers are here so, assuming I turn down Quentin's offer of yet again becoming Buffy's watcher which I'm sure will be in there somewhere, I can go back to England but, in truth, I don't particularly want to go." Anya's mouth formed a perfect O of surprise and he struggled not to kiss her again. "I know I promised that I would give you space and I know you bought the guitar because you didn't imagine I'd be bringing my things over from England any time soon, but compared to the last week, going back to that apartment on my own would feel like a prison sentence. That's why I wasn't sad because you were sad."

"But you started it," Anya accused but the frown lines were banished from her face. "You got me the dogs so that I wouldn't be alone when you went back."

"You mentioned dogs. I assumed you wanted some and, yes, I thought when I'd outworn my welcome for this visit that they'd be company and that they might remind you of me," Giles replied in exasperation.

"So you weren't really planning to leave?" Anya asked, sounding almost as vulnerable as that first morning in Paris.

"I planned on being wherever you needed me to be, even if that meant going back to England and giving you some time on your own to work things out."

Anya's head tilted on one side and she seemed to consider this for a second or two before she spoke. "You should really pay half the rent if you're going to be staying properly, and we might have to keep some of your books here. That way the apartment might still look like a home rather than a musty old library."

Giles grinned as broadly as if she had just declared undying love. "I think that could be arranged," he conceded before brushing a gentle kiss onto the tip of Anya's nose.

"So you'll stay?" Anya asked her tone of voice a mixture of eagerness and caution.

Giles nodded, feeling his lips twist into a slightly asymmetrical smile.

"And you're going to be Buffy's watcher again?" Anya asked, with not quite the same level of enthusiasm.

"No," Giles shook his head, the gesture betraying a hint of sorrow. "Buffy will probably pout at the idea of having to break in someone new, the money would be useful, and I dare say that when the next apocalypse rolls around we might find ourselves getting roped in anyway," the former watcher admitted, watching as the woman in his arms obviously weighed his every point, "but in the general run of things, I think I'd far rather spend my evenings at home than researching the latest demon.

I can definitely forego Buffy's friends descending in hordes on our apartment, disturbing any private moments we might hope to have, working their way through the kitchen cupboards like locusts and most importantly... I think if I were to accept the job, it would place me in a position where I would constantly find myself having to choose between you and Buffy. I think it's far better I make my choice clear right now."

"You're choosing me over Buffy?" Anya sounded incredulous, as if he had presented her with the world's most precious gift.

"I'd have to be a damn fool not to," Giles assured her, wishing yet again that he'd hit Xander just a few more times. Say thirty or forty might have done it. "Buffy is very dear to me. It wouldn't be unreasonable to say that I love her almost like a daughter, and, like a father, the more independent she has become the more I've been left behind... as is only natural. She isn't the woman I want to share my life with.

Of course, it might be more diplomatic if we tell her that I'm getting a bit old for the training sessions."

This time it was Anya who pulled his head down to hers, not speaking until they were both in need of air. "Old schmold," she whispered against his ear.