Chapter Text
Giles was fading in and out between total darkness and a heavy fog. He couldn’t move, the weight of the world was pressing onto him by all sides and pushing him downwards. It didn’t matter much though, he was far too weak to even budge— let alone open his eyes. Pain wasn’t coming to him like it usually did when sinking in and out of consciousness. There was a dull ringing in the back of his head and a discomfort that filled his sinuses, but There was nothing he could further identify at the moment. His best guess was that he had sustained a concussion somehow, maybe drugged. His brain couldn’t put anything together, the fog was making it difficult to think properly and assess the situation.
It would be helpful to know where he was, but he couldn’t recall the last time he was even awake. his body felt like it was flowing through the waves of the ocean, rolling over the calm lapses as the dull ringing in his head grew higher in pitch. There were muffled sounds under him. Multiple voices— he couldn’t tell what they were saying, but based on the pitch they didn’t exactly sound very happy.
“—Where the hell were you? He was barely able to respond when we found him, were you too busy sucking face with Angel to check up on him?” The voices became easier to understand, clearly in the middle of some argument. “Angel probably did this anyway, didn’t want to share you with anyone anymore.”
Xander. He always went for a more accusatory route when he was upset, but admittedly they’re feelings of Angel are shared. But his reactions and jumping to conclusions often only caused more problems, at least he knew when to walk away.
“Angel is the whole reason we found the glove! Plus I was busy dealing with that Lagos guy with Willow for Giles, how would I know anything went wrong?”
Buffy. Despite her typically defensive nature, she usually found a good excuse. Yes, Angel had found the glove. Yes, she was busy on patrol. She couldn’t be everywhere at once. She was not exactly in the right either, She knew that. But her response when in the hot seat was to deflect blame and move on. She was dedicated to her duty but suffered from tunnel vision that she couldn’t quite escape from.
“Guys, do you r-really wanna do this here? They might kick us out, or wake Giles up from that coma they put him in and make it all worse or—“ “Shut up Willow!”
Willow, obviously. The voice of reason at the wrong time. Like Buffy, deflecting a situation away from conflict to end an argument before it’s resolved. This worked at times, her foot-in-mouth syndrome becoming so distracting that anyone involved loses interest in the argument by the time her almost comprehensive sentence trails off. Still, she was willing to play devil's advocate when necessary.
Wait, coma? Hold on—
“What about Faith huh? What was she up to? She’s the slayer too.” Buffy’s retort derailed his train of thought. “you just let her go commando while our Watcher bleeds out?”
He had to give Buffy props, no hesitations when trying to worm her way out of the limelight. The emphasis on ‘our’ allowed for a temporary shuffle in blame. As far as he could tell, Faith was not present— a very easy target to pivot to.
“At least she isn’t wasting her time feeling up the vampire who tortured your watcher because he couldn’t get off.”
Xander’s ability to escalate just to get the last word was almost impressive. He Rolls with the punches that the others throw at him and comes back harder at the drop of a hat. The harsh truth followed by an insult gives him time to think of his next action while Buffy flusters. He would make a fantastic lawyer if he would just apply himself more.
“You have no idea what it’s like Xander.” Another tactic of Buffys, going the misunderstood chosen one route. Giles can’t hold it against her all the time, he had used it several times over the years to escape blame. “I can’t always be watching out for everyone! You guys choose to—“
“Yeah, we choose to stay and help, like you chose to run away without telling anyone.” Xander cut her off, probably used to this argument. “While you had a jolly ol’ time in LA playing waitress, the rest of us had to pick up the slack.”
This was less of an argument about Giles and more of an ‘attack Buffy’ session— something that was becoming a little too common. Buffy was floundering, Giles was usually the one to step in and put an end to it before it went beyond this. Sometimes these fights were necessary for Buffy’s development, but he did not want the relationships that kept her going to falter because someone with heightened emotions said something they didn’t fully mean. But he couldn’t break from his trance, the sands of his mind were slipping again. The dull gray was beginning to get black around the edges. This would be a perfect time for Willow to intervene—
“Guys cut it out!” Right on schedule. There was a crack in her voice, a fantastic touch. If they knew she was about to cry they’d immediately shift their focus to her instead of him or this stupid argument. “…I-I think we should just go home. There isn’t anything else we can do anyway.”
Willow could take command when she wanted to, she was able to recognize when emotions were at an all-time high and bring everything to a screeching halt. That way at least one person in this group of stubborn teenagers is finally willing to let up.
“Willows right.” Buffy throws in the towel first, she’s fine with admitting defeat when the heat is taken off her. “You guys can head out, I’ll stay and watch him.”
“Buffy…” Willow starts, clearly concerned for her friend's well-being. Lord knows last time she got a proper night's rest this week. A fruitless effort nonetheless.
“No, really,” Buffy reassures. “Xander’s right, Giles is my watcher, he’s my responsibility. I should’ve told him about Angel when I found out— I was so focused on trying to fix my mistake that I didn’t think to check up on him, I guess I just…I wanted a reason for him to stop being mad at me. Look where that got us.”
No one said anything for a moment, he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Not for what he said to her the other day, no— Buffy needed to hear that. But he certainly didn’t want her to avoid him because she felt like she disappointed him. His approach to their discussion earlier in the week perhaps had been too personal looking back, mentioning that Angel tortured him could’ve been viewed as selfish. He forgot how words could absolutely gut someone, especially someone so young— so easily. There wouldn’t be an apology per se when he woke up, but maybe a reminder that he does care about her and he forgave her. That's what she needed.
“We’ll stop by tomorrow. Um.” Xander starts, clearly feeling bad for what he said but still mad enough to not be ready to apologize quite yet. “Call us if anything changes.”
There was another period of silence, the tension in the room had lightened. He could sense Buffy shuffling for a moment more, she paced when she was unsure of herself.
A tentative hand ran over his forehead, stopping at his temple. He could feel a soft pressure against his skin, a bandage of some kind most likely.
“I can’t ever seem to get it right, can I?” Buffy all but laughed, keeping her hand against him.
There was no response. He heard a sniffle.
“I’m really sorry, Giles.” She strained. “I hope you know that.”
He knew. He didn’t blame her for this, that was unfair. He would’ve been smashed over the head even without Angel being back, she couldn’t have predicted that Ms. Post was evil— none of them could have. Buffy fulfilled her duty in terms of fixing the problem she caused, the glove was gone. He was just an acceptable casualty. If only she realized that.
Her hand pulled away, and so did the gray fog that was fighting to stay. Black quickly took his consciousness away from him, not before hearing Buffy returning to what he assumed to be a chair next to the bed. The waves began to flow over him, pulling back under.