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As the sun of a new day peeked through the gap between the curtains, Buffy estimated it was about two hours since rational thought had bid it’s hasty retreat. The preceding two hours had therefore been filled with alternating denial, loathing and a selection of feelings intent on making her dizzy. She hadn’t slept and didn’t want to, she’d simply wanted to sit and so she had. She’d wanted to watch. She’d wanted to cry when he had become haunted as so often before by Angelus, when he had cried her name in to the dark and told her he was so sorry. Giles had literally flinched at her touch as she rose from her seat and tried to soothe him, unable to bear the heartache and torment carried in his voice, the voice she loved to hear first thing on entering the library, that soothed her and made her world right. As right as a Slayer’s life could be.
Shifting a little, she observed the steady rise and fall of his chest as he lay upon the bed, sweat dampened sheets ensnaring his legs as he slept relatively peacefully. Outside she could hear the familiar sounds of suburban California; birds singing, the odd car driving past, the vicious revving of some weird balding guy already out with the lawn mower at…eight thirty in the morning. Some people had even less of a life than she did, a thought that brought an involuntary smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, light relief to the continuous entourage of other thoughts she was having. Inside the bedroom the only sounds were his soft murmurs every few minutes accompanied by the quiet rustle of cotton sheets. Once more she looked up as he formed her name, a frown marring his brow, and once more she wondered what was playing through his mind. The truth of the matter was she didn’t know and last night had been the first time she’d thought to ask.
Checking to make sure she hadn’t woken him, The Slayer gently pulled his door shut and then headed down the stairs, reviving aching muscles in her arms and legs as she made for the bathroom. Re-emerging five minutes later she turned her attention to his kitchenette, well aware of her need for caffeine but not quite as aware of when his kitchen cupboards had become such familiar territory. Adding water to the mug and stirring, she carried it across to the couch and sank into it’s welcoming cushions, eyes open but unseeing as memories from the night before arranged themselves in her mind. In the light of day it almost seemed surreal, all a bad dream but for the sticky amber patch on the floor and the shards of broken glass surrounding it. Reality always hurt more.
Buffy held him tight, as if the physical force of her arms around his body alone would dry his tears and make everything alright. At some point during the embrace she had begun a soft mantra of soothing sounds close to his ear as his salty tears fell upon her shoulder, little more than a whisper now as the tears gradually stopped. When they dissipated completely, she wondered if embarrassment would rule the moment but he did not pull away and she did not let him go. Despite the circumstances, it felt so good to hold him, to feel a form close to her own. One that was warm and alive.
Finally he did pull back, running shaky fingers through his hair and unable to meet her gaze. He tried to find words to say to her but he couldn’t and she didn’t want any, she wanted to hold him again and not let him go. Instead she did the sensible thing.
" Giles…come on. "
Hesitantly the Watcher lifted his face to meet hers, searching her features for something although she didn’t understand what. She could feel his tired green gaze on her as she untied his shoes and dropped them at the end of his bed and by the time she had pulled the sheets over him he was almost asleep.
" Sleep… " She instructed, settling herself into the chair by his bed and reaching for the lamp switch.
Buffy sipped the black coffee, her thoughts in a whirl wondering where things were going. If there had ever been a world record for the urge to repress and ignore then this had beaten it by a lot. It was an all encompassing desire to ignore the thoughts and feelings running rampant in her mind.
By now she had been able to process most of it, identify the emotions present; anger and self-loathing for the things she’d said, for al the things she’d done that had hurt Giles. She’d never wanted to hurt him but now in the harsh light of day she knew she had. Failing to kill Angel had been the proverbial icing on the proverbial cake known as her life. <Angelus> the little voice in her mind screamed, <Angelus not Angel>, but for once she could draw no true comfort from that thought, instead it served only to remind her of how doomed their relationship had been from the start. As much as she hated to say it, she was over him. Maybe not over what she’d done to a man she *had* loved, but over her infatuation with the brooding ‘I’m such a mysterio’ vampire. It had started to end the moment he had slated their love-making after he’d turned. Telling him she’d loved him before she’d sent him to hell had been…well, she didn’t know what it had been, it had just felt right. Just like Giles comforting…
My God, Giles had comforted her over Angel! The one time she had broken over his loss in her Watcher’s presence, the still bandaged Englishman had sat before her listening and offering support when all the while he carried the horrible truth of what her boyfriend was capable of. Buffy felt ill. She felt empty and completely contemptible. Guilt was another emotion she had gotten to know intimately in her hours by his bedside earlier, along with all the trimmings such as the realisation she’d betrayed Giles, been a lousy friend when he’d needed her the most - after Ms. Calendar in particular - and generally been completely selfish. And god it hurt. But aside from all this, something else stayed half hidden in her subconscious, niggling at her until her inability to label it was almost driving her mad. Buffy groaned and banged her head against the back of the couch. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t she just hate herself and get on with trying to make it up to the man she’d seen almost every day for the last two years? Why all these unintelligible indescript feelings? <Because your Buffy and you don’t do simple>
After clearing away her coffee cup, it took Buffy ten minutes to find his dustpan and brush and then another five to locate a suitable cloth to clean up the remains of his Scotch. Crouching by the mess, the fumes were still strong causing the Slayer to wrinkle up her nose as she swept all the large shards of glass up. She wondered how much Giles had managed to get inside him before she had shown up at his door. Carrying the now full pan carefully back into the kitchenette, the contents of his flip-top bin held the answers as another bottle of Glen Fiddich - notable only for it’s lack of contents - stared back up at her. She wondered how bad Giles’s hangovers got and, if the Eyghon incident had been any indication, where he kept his Tylenol. She wondered how long he’d sleep, which rapidly changed to wondering whether he’d want to see her. Maybe he’d want to be on his own, to deal or something. <Brits don’t deal>. She stopped scrubbing at the patch of hardwood floor that had so occupied her attention for well over five minutes and continued with the rest of the stain. The loud knock at his door made her start and her hand instantly found what had to be *the* remaining shard of glass, blood welling in the two inch gash as she tore to the door before the visitor could knock again. She didn’t want Giles woken until he woke naturally.
Standing on his porch in the bright Californian sunshine, Willow raised her hand to rap again when the door flew open to reveal a slightly tousled Slayer.
" Buffy, Hey!" The red-head started cheerfully, crossing the threshold.
" Shh, keep your voice down Will."
Willow glanced around the apartment in what would otherwise have been a comic gesture. " Why?"she staged whispered. " Where’s Giles?"
Buffy closed the door behind the two of them, slightly taken aback by her friends presence.
" He’s, well, sort of asleep."
Willow looked at Buffy, depositing her rucksack on the couch. " Giles? He was meant to be helping me this morning. As adept at defining her friends moods as ever, it was quickly followed up by, " What’s happened?"
" He uh, well he’s tired." She knew before the words had left her mouth that the astute Willow would not be buying that. The red-heads gaze confirmed it.
" Complicated and requiring much caffeine. Buffy informed her with a sigh, crossing to the kitchenette and beginning her second coffee making ritual of the day.
" …so anyway I persuaded him to go to bed, not that he really had a choice." Buffy fiddled with the edge of one of her sleeves, Willow curled up cross-legged at the opposite end of his couch.
" D’you think he was drinking ‘cos of, ‘you know, Ms. Calendar and A-Angel and stuff?
Willow asked tentatively, drawing the cushion closer to her chest. Buffy nodded finishing her second mug of strong black coffee. Willow had been relegated to tea.
" Yeah, you know I think it finally caught up with him. So anyway Giles’ is sleeping off about a bottle of Scotch, hence lack of Giles."
" Oh." She hoped the sound wouldn’t be as non-believing as she felt it to be. <Drinking over that my eye> Willow mused, watching her friend over the rim of her beverage. Buffy had refused to meet her eyes more than once during the showing of ‘Night Before: The Slayer’s Cut’ and when she did, Willow could see what Buffy could not, could translate the feeling that had been leading her a merry dance. So often when she spoke did her eyes mirror her soul, although Willow was sure that Buffy didn’t know it. Like so many occasions in the past, like right now.
" So how come, like, you’re still here? Willow asked, leaving her musings.
Buffy looked up and floundered for a moment. Me still here?"
" How come you didn’t go home?" Willow reiterated slowly.
" Oh, well, you know - a drunk Giles and it was late and everything and well it-just-seemed-sensible-to-stay-here… <Wow articulate or what Buff!> She inwardly sighed with relief as Willow seemed to accept that.
" What are you gonna do now then?"
" Wait for him to wake up."
Giles paused on the stairs at the sound of soft feminine voices from his front room. Concentrating as hard as his protesting half-drowned brain would allow, he soon identified the soft responding voice that met his Slayer’s and it took him several moments to recall that he had agreed to help Willow study for some project or other. For a minute he considered returning to his bedroom; he really didn’t want to have to face *either* of them right now but Buffy especially, he didn’t know where to start with her. She had seen something that very few people ever saw, she saw Rupert Giles break down and cry, she saw Giles hurting and in need. It was one of two sides of his personality that he had never wanted that young woman to see. Well, there was another of his failings, because now she’d met both; seen the irresponsibility and viciousness of Ripper AND had to deal with his self-destructive side what, oh, twice? Despite that fact, he still found himself padding barefoot down the last few stairs until he was standing by the kitchen arch, just in time to hear Willow’s question and Buffy’s subsequent answer. The words had left his mouth before he’d even had time to think about them or worry what effect they might have.
" Well, you don’t have to wait any longer.
Buffy turned instantly at the sound of his voice, surprised not to have heard his approach. Within two seconds her brown gaze had taken in every detail of his appearance from the bare feet to his slightly blood-shot eyes and realised that he barely looked any worse than he usually did. My god what planet had she been inhabiting? Blind bitch did not cover it. The silence hung heavy in the room.
" Hey…Giles." Willow finally said in greeting to the older man when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to say anything more.
" Willow." He acquiesced, seemingly intrigued by the floor at his feet. Willow looked from Giles to Buffy and then back again, not sure how to play this for the best. The easiest answer seemed to be to leave and after a moment of hesitation it was the best answer, so she rose and picked up her bag.
" I think I’m gonna go, you know, leave you two to…well, I have stuff to do, I’ll see you later…
Tearing her gaze from Giles, Buffy turned to her best friend.
" Yeah, um, bye Will. You’ll be at the Bronze right?
" Sure. Bye"
The red-head let her self out and made straight for Oz’s place.
As soon as the door had closed, Buffy was up and making for the kitchenette where on first inspection Giles was making tea, which on second inspection turned out to be coffee. Placing her mug on the side and spooning a heap of instant coffee granules into it she wondered what was going to happen now. <three cups of coffee in an hour? Bad Buffy, very bad Buffy!>
Giles waited for the kettle to boil, aware that she had no intention of going anywhere and also aware that he was unable to meet the gaze he could feel on his back. He’d never dreamt that she would stay but even so, when he had woken alone in his room, the assumption that she’d left had hurt him. She must hate him almost as much as the Watcher detested himself right now, if not more. She should never have had to find out, he was weak and a fool and he had failed her again. In the light of the day the situation to him looked even worse than it had done in his alcohol addled state.
Picking up the kettle, he filled firstly her cup and then his own, not bothering to leave room for milk but adding a teaspoon full of sugar. It always struck Buffy as funny that when she added sugar to tea he claimed that she was massacring it, yet he had no qualms to adding sugar to coffee. Today the thought barely flit through her mind as she watched his back beneath the white Oxford shirt. At his stuffiest Rupert Giles had never seemed so far away as he did today, as if it would take an amazing feat of Slayer strength to so much as step forward and touch him. He had yet to meet her gaze once and for some reason that scared her more than the fact that he still hadn’t directly spoken to her. She just wanted to know that he was alright. No, that was stupid. She already knew that he wasn’t alright, but she wanted him to know that she was here.
" Are you okay?" There, the words were out even if she already knew the true answer.
Giles looked down, wondering how her voice could hold so much concern for him after all he’d done, how she could still care.
" Nothing a, uh, Tylenol or four won’t cure.
Buffy took a step towards him, reaching out and touching his shoulder with the softest of caresses much in the same way as she had the night before.
" That’s not what I meant."
Shivers ran the length of Giles’s spine at her soft words and he berated himself all the more for allowing these feelings for her. He was a sick man for even conjuring the thoughts that came to mind when she was near. He had to turn now. He could deny her nothing.
" I’m alright Buffy."
<The eyes, it’s all in the eyes…> she thought as she forced him to look at her.
*****
" Do you think she knows?"
Willow shook her head. " No, but I mean even if she did she wouldn’t act on it. God this is scary…"
" I’d go with scary." Oz agreed.
" I just…I don’t know, it’s like she talks to me and I see it there, I see her soul. She loves him Oz and he needs her but she hurts him so much that I’m scared one day he might just leave or something."
The guitarist wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. " Giles wouldn’t do that babes. He loves her.
" But unless Buffy sees what’s right in front of her face, one day she’ll destroy him. She almost did with Angel.
*****
" You must hate me." He tore his gaze from hers, no longer able to stand her scrutiny and crossed to the sink to empty the dregs down the drain. Buffy couldn’t quite believe it, he actually thought that she did hate him, that this was all his fault, that somehow he was in the wrong when all this time he’d been the victim and not just to Angelus.
" No, God Giles no, never…"
" I am so very sorry about last night Buffy. He informed her in a small voice, one that hardly seemed his own. Her heart lurched at the sound and her feet followed. <I have to make him see, have to tell him it’s okay, that I don’t want him to be sorry, that I -> She paused and it hit her like a sledgehammer, crashing through the screen her subconscious had put up against this <That I…love him. Oh Christ. Okay we shut brain down now Slayer girl. Can’t deal with this now.> All that came out as she slipped her arms around him was one word. " No.
Giles clung to her for dear life, his heart feeling things that his head would not allow.
*****
Buffy left the Bronze and stepped out into the rain, letting it soak her skin and her hair. By the time Willow had noticed and made for the exit, the blond was well away with almost no chance of being followed. The girl sighed, Oz appearing at her side as she stared out into the wet night.
" She’s gone."
Buffy wandered, unaware of where she was going or what might be lurking around the next corner, aware only of her Watcher and what she felt when she thought of him. She had left him before lunch, citing a need to shower and change and to do ‘stuff’ for her mom. Going to the Bronze with Willow and others had been a mistake though. Her thoughts had been in a whirl since, well last night, and her head was already spinning before the deep heavy pounding of the bass had started up. She didn’t really feel like company either, she needed to think and make sense of this.
It had been so sudden standing in that kitchen, when she heard his voice and the pain and vulnerability that he hid so much from her, for her. It wasn’t like Angel and it made her wonder if Angel ever really had been love or just some facsimile of something else, something bigger. Giles had felt so warm in her arms, so real and he had made her feel safe just by being there. Giles would protect her from anything, he’d die for her and he’d forgiven her everything - every mistake, every lie, every excuse and every insult that she’d ever thrown at him. He’d never hurt her, he’d never become Gilesus either if they ever…Buffy hadn’t thought about that side of it. Giles as a man, one that was already devoted to her through duty and tradition, that had proven time and time and again that he would do anything for her…she shook her head, water cascading over her face. What if this was all in her imagination? What if this was some obscure reaction to Giles’ revelation about Angel the previous night? It was too much. Reaching the park, she sat upon one of the swings and closed her eyes. When had life become so complicated?
Across town, Giles pulled the collar of his coat up a little as he aimlessly wandered in the un-forecast downpour. He loved the feel of the rain trickling down his skin reminding him so much of home. He needed the fresh air, partly to clear the remnants of the worst hangover he could remember having in twenty years and partly because he needed to banish these thoughts from his mind forever. The comfort Buffy had brought him had rapidly become something else.