The problem was that Xander had reshelved some of my books while he was housesitting for me. I was looking for the Smith Codex of Demons from the numerous bookcases when the phone started to ring. I ignored it for the first few moments, but then reluctantly turned from my search to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Giles!" Buffy's voice greeted me with some urgency and I immediately went on my guard.

"Buffy? What is it? Did Diar--?"

"Willow's sick. Really sick. But she's in denial mode about it."

My brow furrowed. "And?" What exactly was my role in this?

"I need you to go downstairs and check on her. I think she's getting all sleepy and stupid."

"Oh." It seemed a simple enough request. I had a spare key to her apartment, for emergencies, and she was ill. "Fine."

"Good. Call me with an update, okay? I'm off to find our new demon friend."

She disconnected before I could warn her to be careful. I really hate it when she does that.

Gathering the few books I could find that may have had references to 'our new demon friend', I hurried upstairs to Willow's.

I wasn't prepared by Buffy's quick phone call for the condition Willow was in. Her face was a ghastly white, her normally vibrant red hair a dull shade, and her constant working of her throat, even in sleep, let me know how much pain she was in.

"Poor you," I murmured to her, sitting softly on the side of her couch. She tossed slightly in her sleep, obviously uncomfortable, but too tired and ill to remedy it. I reached for one of the pillows crushed up against the wall, when Willow suddenly gave me a good shove. Not being remotely prepared for it, I landed fairly ungracefully beside her sofa.

"I'm so sorry Giles..." She said softly, her voice raspy and pained.

I stood quickly and tried to look nonplussed by the fact that a very petite redhead who was sick had managed to throw me to the floor. "I apologize for startling you. Are you all right?"

"Yes." Even as she spoke, I could hear the lie. Her teeth began to chatter, and I noticed how her cheeks were beginning to take on the pink hue of a fever. I don't know why my heart melted in that instant, but it did. She began glancing around the room, and I located the blanket for her, bringing it to her and carefully wrapping it around her. A slight, soft smile appeared on her face as she watched me, and my face warmed. This was why I had been afraid to come up here. Taking care of Willow would let my heart go in places where I normally forbade it to wander. "Warm?" I asked, looking to her comfort.

She nodded, looking a little more relaxed. "Better."

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I don't think so." Her voice was barely audible, even in the quiet of the room. It was clearly very painful for her to speak. "Thanks, though. Shouldn't you be researching something?"

Involuntarily, I let my eyes travel to the stack of books on her table. Diar. Plus, I still needed that Codex. But some things were more important. Having a functioning team was more important. We couldn't defeat him without that. My heart called me on the lie I was feeding myself. To me, Willow was more important.

I caught sight of her eyes, and was sorry I had looked at the books. She was sorry I was here instead of researching. "But, Giles..."

"Hush, now, Willow. Talking can't be good for your throat. I won't have you arguing with me, I'm staying here and that's that." I hoped against hope that she wouldn't argue. Not just for her throat's sake either. The pink on her cheeks had deepened even as we had talked, and I reached out to press my palm against her forehead. She felt very warm to my touch. I looked around and spotted a thermometer sitting on coffee table, beside Kleenexes and throat lozenges. I took it and gently waved it at Willow until she opened her mouth obediently. I popped it in, checking my watch so I could time it. "You're running a fever," I explained as her eyebrows raised in question to me. Her eyes glanced at the books as she nodded, making me feel strangely guilty for even bringing them here. "And, I won't have any more trouble researching here than I would at my apartment. We're on different floors of a building, not on different streets. If I need another book, I'll just run down to get it." I smiled, hoping she was reassured.

Her face softened and her eyes lightened.

I knew then that I was staying.

She had fallen asleep again mere minutes after I finished taking her temperature. She was sitting at a balmy one hundred degrees.

I sat in the chair facing the sofa, watching her as she slept. She has all the innocence of every angel when she sleeps. We should take a picture of it and put it in the Watcher's Training Guide to show all those idiots just what we fight for.

I stood to go make her a hot toddy, to soothe her throat.

When I returned from her kitchen, she was tossing restlessly, occasionally whimpering and pushing at something in the air around her. It was obvious she was having some kind of nightmare. Her quiet speaking of my name as she struggled made my heart drop. Whatever was happening in her mind, I was a bad part of it.

I sighed and placed the cup in easy reach, moving to the couch and reaching for her hand. She stilled slowly, as if by degrees, and eventually settled into a quiet sleep with a dreamy sigh. I smiled, glad I could help in some small way, and stared at her.

I wondered if she knew that I use her for inspiration. Not just because she represents to me what is good and right with the world we save so often, but also because she represents the idea that the others will someday treat me as more of a colleague than a father figure. For all the teamwork we have amongst us, it's still only Willow who truly treats me like an equal, and not a substitute father. Maybe that's what stirred up those feelings that I have for her that I continually bury. Or maybe it was just the way she brightens a room merely by walking in. Who am I to say?

"Giles..." Her voice was so quiet, in sleep she didn't know that her throat isn't functional, and the plaintive sound of my name sent my heart off a teetering edge.

Before I knew it, I'd gathered her close and was holding her. It was pleasant, to say the least, to have her in my arms, relaxed and trusting. I leaned forward, studying her face, and then it happened. My lips were on hers softly. I felt shamed immediately, for taking advantage of the poor girl while she was sick and asleep, but when her lips responded to mine, it became impossible to pull away.

Abruptly, she started to stir and awaken. Carefully, I withdrew myself from her and squatted down to her level on the floor, waiting for her eyes to open. "Nightmare?" Was that another nightmare for you, Willow? To be kissed by me?

"N-no. Not a nightmare," she replied, her voice trembly. "Well, some nightmares. One good dream. Very real dream. So totally way real. I'm talking very real. Sort of confusing, but..."

I think my heart stopped with her words. A good dream? My kiss was a good dream? "But...?"

"Nice," she answered softly, at length. "Way nice."

I smile softly, pride in my features. "Was I there?" I asked, hoping she realized she was kissing me and not some other.

"What?" she asked. Her features looked worried, as if she was afraid she'd told me a secret in her sleep. I smile even more broadly at the new possibilities between us.

"In your nightmares, you said my name once... You sounded scared." She looked away with my words, hiding her eyes from my gaze. So very gently, I turn her chin so she's gazing at me instead. "What happened?"

"Oh... You died to save me from something. It was..." She looked confused, and I suddenly felt guilty at my actions. She must view me the same as the others, from the upset expression on her face.

"Natural," I replied, finishing her sentence for her and giving her the easy way out. She gave me a startled look, and I hurried to continue, hoping I'm wasn't making her more uncomfortable by the second. "Nightmares of the father figure dying... All that. It's normal, Willow. And I'm here, and just fine."

Gently, I reached for her hand, letting all the silly possibilities my heart was clamoring for drop to the ground between us. I couldn't pursue that avenue. Her next words shocked me. "Giles, you're not my father figure."

Now it was my turn to be the confused one. I nervously readjusted my glasses, and looked away from her sincere eyes. Doesn't she know this is hard for me? "I see."

"No!" She's frustrated with my lack of understanding. "It's just... not like that with us, Giles. I mean, with Buffy it is, sure. Even with Xander and Oz and Cordelia. I think, in a weird way, with Angel, too. But... Not with us. We're... just different."

I could barely push the word past my lips. "How?"

She blushed deeply and the song of hope began in my heart again. "We just are. Friends. But we don't have a father, daughter thing going for us."

Colleagues? Friends? Don't many good relationships begin that way? "Is there a particular reason why that would be undesirable?" I asked carefully.

"A lot of reasons," she answered, fidgeting. She seemed to think that I would be unhappy with her answer.

My smile felt wonderful. Genuine smiles are somewhat rare for someone in my position. "I happen to agree. I'm not offended. Not in the least."

Her throat worked as she nodded in agreement, and I felt the overwhelming urge to take care of her. I reached for the cup on the coffee table, bringing to her lips. Just the sight of her mouth made me distracted again. "Here, drink this. It should make your throat feel better, soothe your tonsils a bit."

She made a face as she gave it a tentative sip. "Tonsils?"

"I think you have tonsillitis. You should heal quite nicely after this, but if you get sick again you should definitely see if they need to be taken out."

She shivered and looked alarmed. "I hate surgery."

"If you liked, I would come with you, should you need it." The offer was made in genuine concern and friendship, but I suddenly feel my heart grow cold with the fear that she may not need me.

"I think I would," she replied, smiling and blushing at the same time. I've always found that so charming. Gently I let my hand trace her cheek, and I wondered if all this would be forgotten when she had her full capacities again.

"Will you stay with me as I sleep?" she asked, her question sounding very much like an invitation to my overactive imagination.

I'll stay as long as she wants and needs. Someday, she'll realize that. When I get up the courage to tell her. "There's no way you could make me leave."