No Place For A Rose 

Giles held the packet of seeds in his hands. He didn't know why he'd
kept them. All they did was remind him of things undone. All they
did was torture him.

And that was exactly why he'd kept them. Some part of him needing
to remind himself of the things he'd lost... of the choices he'd made.

He tossed the seed packet onto the table next to the invitation to
Xander's wedding and took a deep pull from his glass of scotch.
How was he going to face her tomorrow?

My God... the things he'd said to her. The way she'd looked at
him. So betrayed and confused... and then finally that last
day. The day she left. He could remember every nuance of
the way she looked when she walked in his door for that last time.
She seemed so far away already.

He'd fought every instinct that screamed at him to grab her and
hold her and never let go. Instead, he stood across the room afraid
to get too close and forced her to leave.

It was the right thing to do, he told himself... again and again.

It was the only way to keep her safe. He knew as surely as the
sun would rise that if she stayed here, stayed with him... she'd
die. She should have died that night, was dead for a moment...
and he would not, could not bear that again.

If the only way to be sure she was safe was to send her away, then
so be it.

He still had nightmares about that night and the tenuous existence
that followed.

He'd felt his reality slipping away with her. Helplessly watching as she
struggled for life. And then, when by some miracle, she'd been given a
second chance, he knew he would be damned if he'd let her waste it.

It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.

He sighed and looked at his watch. It was nearly two in the
morning. Shaking his head, he finished the last of his drink and
put the seeds back in the small drawer in his desk he reserved for
such things. Trying to put away the memories and hide from his own
dreams that their garden, their secret garden could live again.

In spite of it all, he smiled. She'd called it their secret garden. It wasn't
much of a garden, really no more than a few rose bushes they'd
planted a few years ago. And not exactly a secret either. Just a small
patch of land Willow had co-opted from the city.

One day, just out of the blue, she'd gotten the urge to grow something.
Unfortunately, his landlord was less than accommodating. So, in true
Willow fashion, she'd wandered the town looking for a neglected spot she
could call her own.

Giles hadn't thought much of it at the time. Just another Willow project.
She was always doing something like that. Finding something
to fix, or someone to help. Just making life a little more beautiful, doing
the little things that seem to make all the difference.

She had a way about her, breathing life into things everywhere she
went. From the first moment he'd met her in the old library to that
first tentative kiss, she'd made his world more beautiful every day.

And so, she tended the small patch of land, just as she had his heart.
Gently coaxing it to life.

Until finally, it was ready and together they'd planted the young rose
bushes. Giles had grumbled about the thorns, pricking his finger. But
Willow just smiled and kissed the small cut.

The climate had been deceivingly temperate and the flowers flourished,
practically in constant bloom. There lived their secret garden, a vibrant
patch of color in amongst the browns and grays of the things
uncared for.

It seemed like it would last forever.

But then winter finally came and with it a violent storm, quick and
ruthless. In what seemed the blink of an eye, the roses were gone.

No great herald or portent. Just a cruel storm and the demon that
came with it.

In the blink of an eye, it was over and Willow lay near death.
That one night had changed everything. Seeing her broken body
changed him. He'd been selfish to keep her here. He'd wanted
to have her by his side at any cost... until the cost was nearly too
high.

So he lied and hurt and let her take that second chance. Somewhere
far, far away.

And without Willow to tend it, their secret garden lay fallow.

He always took the long way home now, never daring to go past
their secret garden anymore. Overgrown or under someone else's
care, he didn't want to know. And so he drove the far way around,
not minding how long it took. There was nothing to rush home to.

With one last look at the small desk drawer where the unplanted
seeds lay hidden once again, he sighed and started upstairs.

In his loneliness Giles reasoned away the pain. The Hellmouth
is no place for a rose anyway.

The End