Work Text:
Buffy pushed through the library doors, anxious to check on her Watcher. At least this time he hadn't been knocked about the head, but she was aware that Giles spent far too much time unconscious because of her.
After Angel had shown up and killed Pete, she walked him back to the mansion. The manacles were toast, so she just had to hope he wouldn't leave while she was gone. She didn't want Giles to be alone for too long.
She doubted Faith would go back to the library after she and Willow dragged Oz off to be somewhere safe until morning. Willow probably stayed with him, tranq gun in hand, just in case. She imagined Faith would probably have just gone home.
When she got back to the school, she saw the cop cars. Xander and Cordelia were talking to investigators, probably feeding them some sort of story that would explain the insanity sufficiently for them to sweep it under the rug as just another bizarre Sunnydale death.
They probably thought she killed Pete. It was easier to let them believe that than explain about the Angel of it all. What would she even say? "Hey guys, I know this might come as a shock since I disappeared for three months after I killed him, but Angel is back. Oh, and he might be evil. Still not sure." Buffy shook her head. There was no way she could tell them anything yet.
As she got closer to his office, she found him exactly where they'd left him an hour earlier, still asleep, glasses askew, and drooling on the library floor.
"Poor Giles." She said, walking over to him and kneeling. She pulled the dart out of his backside, then reached up to pluck his glasses off his face. She folded them up and made her way into his office to set them on his desk. She found one of his jackets hanging over the back of his chair, so she grabbed it and folded it up and set it on the checkout counter before making her way back to him.
He was too big to carry anywhere. She could deal with the weight, but he was way too bulky. She never really thought of him as being a big guy until she needed to haul him somewhere, and she was having to contend with broad shoulders and legs that went to the ceiling. There wasn't really anywhere she could move him. His office was small, but she didn't want to leave him in the middle of the library, especially not with the police milling around.
She picked up the table that had been knocked over when he'd collapsed and stood it back up in its place so nobody walking by would know there had been a disturbance in the library. Then she grabbed his feet and started dragging him behind the checkout counter in an effort to conceal him better.
She grabbed his folded jacket and settled herself on the floor by his head. Buffy placed his jacket in her lap, then picked up his head and scooted closer so he could use the jacket as a pillow. She leaned back against the counter and waited for him to wake up.
It didn't take long for her fingers to find their way to his hair, unconsciously toying with it as he slept. It was softer than she imagined. And she had imagined what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair. Buffy would never admit to it, but her thoughts would sometimes stray to things like the twinkle in his eyes when he knew he was about to beat her in a fencing match or the way his hands felt when he'd adjust her stance during training. She supposed it was inevitable, working that closely with him for that long.
Now, seeing him asleep, he looked peaceful. No furrowed brow. He looked years younger. She couldn't imagine trying to do all of this without him, but at the same time she wished his duty to her didn't take so much out of him. He was probably the only person, besides Faith, that understood her calling, because his was so similar.
After a couple of hours, she dozed off, but when she felt him start to move, it woke her. She looked down and saw his eyes start to blink open. "Hey, Sleepyhead." She said, her fingers resuming their previously abandoned mission atop his head.
He made a small incomprehensible noise as he tried to blink away the drowsiness.
"What?" She asked, slightly amused by his incoherence. She could just imagine Giles first thing in the morning, before his first cup of tea, looking sleepy and rumpled while his voice adjusted to wakefulness.
"Head?" he asked, reaching up, his hand pausing as his fingers met hers.
She blushed and took her hand away. "Your noggin is fine, or as fine as it can be with your spectacularly robust history of head trauma." She assured him. "You got hit with a tranq dart." She reminded him. "I didn't want to leave you in a heap on the floor, so I came back once… once everything was taken care of."
As he became more aware of his surroundings, he suddenly realized his head was on Buffy's lap, and he bolted upright, only to fall back into her lap, his head spinning.
"Slow down, you still probably have the tranquilizer in your system." She said, helping him sit up slowly. "Once you're okay to walk, I'll drive you home."
He looked at her with alarm.
"Don't worry. Mom and I have been practicing."
"Do you even know how to operate a manual transmission?" he asked, squinting slightly, his eyes not quite adjusted to the bright lights.
"That's when it has the stick, right?" He quickly opened his mouth to argue, but Buffy cut him off. "You know, that was a lot of big words for someone who couldn't form a sentence a few minutes ago." She pointed out.
"Perfect, then I can drive." He suggested.
"I don't think so, Mister. I'm pretty sure there's a warning somewhere on that tranq dart that says not to operate heavy machinery, even if it's a car that can't do more than fifteen miles an hour."
He tried to stand up and almost lost his balance; Buffy was there to steady him, placing her hand on his arm. Perhaps she was right about driving, though he wasn't sure he was any safer with her behind the wheel.
"What did I just say about slowing down?"
"Perhaps I should just spend the night here." He suggested. It wouldn't be the first time he'd spent the night in the library. It wouldn't even be the first time this week.
"Probably also not a great idea." She told him. "There are police on campus." She avoided looking into his eyes. She knew what he would suspect happened, and she needed him to suspect it, but if he looked into her eyes, he would know she was lying. He more than anyone didn't need to know about Angel. Not after what happened. She had no idea why Angel was suddenly back, but telling Giles without knowing why would just upset him prematurely. "They came by already once, but they didn't really do a ‘search’ search. Just saw that it was empty and left, but if they come back…"
He looked at her for a few minutes, but she wouldn't make eye contact. "Very well." He conceded.
She reached into his jacket pocket for his keys and looped her arm with his. "Are you ready to go?"
He nodded, though as he started to move, his limbs weren't quite as cooperative as he had hoped. Buffy had to wrap an arm around his waist while his slung over her, so she could shoulder most of his weight. If she had been anyone other than the Slayer, she would've collapsed onto the floor.
She kept glancing at him as they made their way out to his car. The worry lines had once again taken up residence on his handsome face. She hated that he worried so much. Though, she mused, he might be less stressed if she avoided doing things like shooting him in the ass with a tranquilizer gun. It hadn't been entirely her fault, but she was determined not to cause him any more stress if she could help it.
She would not crash his car driving him home. She would show up to all her training sessions on time, and she wouldn't even make him listen to her music. And she would absolutely not tell him anything about Angel until she could tell him why he was back, and if he was dangerous.
From now on, she would be the perfect Slayer.
"Ow!"
She hadn't been paying attention, and hadn't taken his height into consideration when lowering him into the car; his head thwacked forcefully against the door frame. "Sorry!" She said with an apologetic wince as she shut the passenger door.
"Bloody priceless." He muttered as the door was closing, his hand coming up to make sure he wasn't bleeding.
She took a deep breath and walked to the other side of the car. "Perfect Slayer. Perfect Buffy. Starting now."