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“Should I pack her an extra jacket?” Buffy stuffed a stack of shirts into the bag she was packing for Willow. “England’s dreary right, dreary like really cold dreary?” Buffy started poking in Willow’s closet to see if she could find another jacket. Maybe something heavier.
“An extra coat would not be amiss,” Giles remarked, sinking down onto the corner of Willow’s bed and watched Buffy.
They both avoided the dark stain on the carpet. Xander had told her he’d tried scrubbing it up but was going to get some stronger chemicals from work. Sunnydale residents had long since figured out the best products for getting out blood stains.
“Okay, check then.” Buffy folded up a dark purple jacket and shoved it into the bag beside the shirts and the rest of the clothes she’d gathered up for Willow. Giles had reassured her that these clothes would just be to get Willow settled in. If she needed anything else he’d provide it for her.
None of them knew how long she would need to be with the coven.
“I’ll do my best to take care of her,” Giles promised softly.
“Like you took care of her before?” Buffy turned her back on him and went back to Willow’s closet, trying to ignore the side where Tara’s clothes still hung. It wasn’t her place to go through them. She knew Willow would want to when she was ready – if she’d ever be ready.
“Like you took care of me.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Buffy,” Giles rose, his hand warm on her arm, and Buffy couldn’t bring herself to look up – the hurt was rising up in her once again. She had tried to ignore it. She’d been genuinely happy to have him back. She’d felt such relief when she’d seen him again. It was Giles; Giles would make everything better.
Except when she had needed him most, when she had been at her lowest - he’d left.
“You left,” she declared softly, not able to get past that one fact. She looked him in the eye. “I told you I’d been ripped out of Heaven and you still left.”
The smile he gave her was sad. “I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was helping you to stand on your own.”
“I was already standing on my own, Giles.” Buffy’s voice broke. “I wanted to die.”
“I’m sorry,” and he seemed defeated in a way she had never seen him be before. “I was wrong and I’m sorry, Buffy.”
Buffy felt the tears well up and let him pull her in close. “Well that’s a start at least,” she muttered for a moment, letting herself bury her head in Giles’ shoulder, take comfort in his embrace, before pulling back and wiping at her eyes.
“I will take care of her, I promise you,” Giles swore softly, and his own eyes looked damp.
“I believe you.” And Buffy did; they had both seen what Willow’s grief had turned her into and she had to believe Giles wouldn’t abandon her. He’d come back, he’d saved the day, and it had been him to suggest the coven in Devon for Willow.
Buffy would give him a second chance, for Willow’s sake if not her own.