Chapter 1
It had been quite a traumatic year, Buffy thought. Her birthdays were commonly sucky, but none more sucky than turning eighteen. Becoming a woman was always difficult, but how many young women were betrayed by the person they loved most, and almost killed, all at the same time on their eighteenth birthday? Then, they find out that this person they've loved, they thought they loved in vain, but find out that the love is returned? A flash of joy. Oh, but no… it's a 'father's love.' Not quite what she was looking for. Father's disappoint. Father's betray. Oh wait… Giles had betrayed her.
Or had he? In the end, Buffy came to realize that perhaps it wasn't totally his fault. He was bound by duty, and Buffy really thought that the Council had betrayed Giles, leading him to believe that this test was good for her. It was to her benefit in the end.
They'd been wrong. But at her bleakest moment, a ray of hope. Giles loved her! In that moment, she'd forgiven him for all that had happened. It hadn't hardly even registered to her that Giles had been fired.
But now that thought was starting to penetrate her mind. They hadn't spoken since all that had happened the night before. Buffy was still sore, but her powers had fully returned. As she patrolled tonight, it was routine. She was doing it out of habit. She had to clear her mind and think about what all these changes meant. Her mother and friends had urged her to take the rest of the weekend off to recover and rest. Her Watcher probably would have said the same, if she'd spoken to him. Her avoidance of him wasn't due to being angry or hurt though. She just hadn't decided what to do yet. If it was just a 'father's love,'… Buffy sighed and hopped up and over a tombstone. If it was just a father's love, could that be enough?
The blow came out of nowhere. Buffy had been focused internally. On a patrol, that lack of concentration could prove deadly. A horrific pain shattered through her brain and sent her spine vibrating through her entire body. Blood began to flow from the back of her head where the weapon, a shovel perhaps, had connected. Buffy fell to her knees. Her eyes closed and the darkness took over. The pain was unrelenting as her blood coated the cemetery ground.
Giles didn't remember the last time he'd slept. Before the Cruciamentum he'd been too nervous and outraged to rest at all. When he wasn't arguing with the Council about how brutal and unnecessary the test was, he was trying to figure out the best way to help Buffy at the same time. He almost told her about it several times. In the end, he'd performed the test, and wished he'd have killed himself instead. At the last moment, he'd rushed to his Slayer's aid. He'd have given his own life to protect her. It had never ever occurred to him that he could be fired. He was her Watcher. They had a bond. He couldn't just be replaced, could he?
He poured himself another drink from the bottle of Scotch and continued to pace in front of the unlit fireplace. He'd worry about being fired later. Maybe that was even for the best, especially if Buffy could never forgive him. He couldn't forgive himself, how could she forgive him? He sipped from his drink and gave an anguished sounding sigh. Slamming the glass onto the hearth he moved his hands to his hair, running his fingers through it, leaving it unruly and wild. Why hadn't she spoken to him? They hardly went a day without seeing each other at school, or talking before or after a patrol, or at least a phone call to check in. But it had been two days and nights now, and he'd heard nothing from her.
Communication went both ways. Giles knew that. He could seek her out. He could pick up his phone and call her. But he felt like it was her turn to knock on the door. His door was always open to her. She knew that. He was always waiting for her, caring for her, loving her, worrying over her… wanting her.
Again he paced. A father's love? Bah. It was so much deeper and emotional. It was a soul's yearning love. He'd known it for some time, but had kept that buried deep within himself. Buffy was a glorious flower in bloom, and he was… he was like a huge Oak tree, watching over her and keeping the burning sun from withering her petals. If only he could bend down and caress her. Yet, watching over her had been enough. Until now. Now he had ruined everything, and she would never trust him again. Loving him had always been a fanciful, stupid dream, but at least he'd had her trust and friendship. Now, he felt empty inside. His heart was breaking. And the worst of it was that he knew he deserved it. Fired? Who cared? That was nothing compared to the pain of losing her trust.
He emptied his glass and set it back down on the coffee table. His eyes kept drifting to the phone. It was late. Well past midnight. But it wasn't like they'd never called each other at this late hour many times before.
Finally deciding, Giles sank down in the hard chair behind his desk. He picked up the phone, closed his eyes, and dialed her number.
It rang only once before it was quickly picked up and Joyce's voice came over the line. "Buffy?"
Giles' eyes came open. "No, this is Rupert Giles. Is… is Buffy not there?"
"Oh, Mr. Giles… no, she went on a patrol," Joyce's worried voice said. "We all tried to talk her out of it. She wasn't herself. But she wouldn't listen! You know how stubborn she can be. But she's usually home by now."
Giles swallowed the lump in his throat. When on a patrol, unless something had gone wrong, Buffy had usually called to inform him by now, even on a weekend. "Do you know where she was going?" he asked.
"No, she just left. She didn't take her bag or even a jacket," Joyce cried.
"I'll go look for her," he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Giles. Please bring her home safely." Joyce knew if anyone could find Buffy, it was Giles. She didn't know a lot about the man that mentored to her daughter, but she knew that much.
"I will. You have my word." Giles hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket and a sword all in one movement. He was out the door before another minute passed.
He wasn't exactly sure where she would be heading, but he knew that last week she'd been scouring the Restlawn Cemetery, so he headed in that direction.
It was dark. There wasn't even a sliver of moon in the sky. He shivered and pulled the jacket tighter around him, his sword still in his left hand. Giles glanced around, looking for his Slayer and keeping his ears open. He didn't want to yell out her name and call attention to her in case that put her into danger. If there was a fight, he'd hear something. But all he heard was complete and utter silence.
When he reached the boundary of Restlawn, the gate was wide open. Cautiously he stepped onto the grounds. It was a relatively small cemetery in comparison to a lot of the others in Sunnydale. Probably because it was one of the newest, and he was certain its capacity would fill in no time. Not if Buffy could help it, however.
Giles froze when he heard a noise. A scraping? It sounded like the sounds of a shovel turning up the cold Earth. When he saw a shadow moving up ahead, he slowly made his way closer, crouching down and keeping himself as hidden as he could behind the tombstones.
It was some kind of demon, and he was indeed digging into the Earth, creating a fresh grave where there was no tombstone. Giles knew this was not a regular cemetery caretaker, however. Leaning over the concrete cross grave marker, Giles narrowed his focus. Lying at the demon's feet was a body. His breath sucked in and rage filled his vision. Blonde hair, black boots… he felt before he saw that it was Buffy. He gripped his sword in both hands and leapt over the marker, screaming a guttural cry. The sword was held over his head, and before the demon even knew what end was up, the blade severed its head. The demon's eyes went blank as the head rolled into the hole it had been digging for the Slayer. Giles didn't stop. He pushed the demon into the half dug hole, pummeling it with the blade over and over again. Only when there was nothing left but a bloody pulp did he throw down the sword and fall to his knees. "Buffy?"
Her blood covered her clothing and the soil. His fingers sought out a pulse in her neck. She was lying face down, and he was afraid to move her. He gave out a strangled cry when he felt a very weak pulse, and felt her breath on his fingers. She was alive.
Giles stripped off his jacket and pressed it to the wide gash on the back of her head. It seemed to already have stopped bleeding. Any mere mortal would have certainly bled to death, but Buffy's healing powers had begun to already close the angry gash. She had lost a lot of blood, however. "Buffy, Buffy, I have you now. You're going to be okay. Everything, everything is going to be okay." Giles wasn't certain if he was trying to calm her, or himself. Since she wasn't conscious, the question was mostly rhetorical.
After carefully examining her body for broken bones, Giles gently rolled her over. Nothing appeared to be broken, thankfully. Her eyes were closed and she was pasty white. She'd lost a lot of blood. "I'll get you to hospital," he whispered. He gathered her into his arms and stood up. Her small body was cradled tenderly in his arms, her face turning to rest against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and then realized he'd left the sword on the ground. Slowly he knelt down again, not moving Buffy, and snaked out one arm to grab his sword. Awkwardly he pushed it into the sheath on his back and then slowly stood back up again.
"No hospital," Buffy whispered.
His heart almost stopped at the sound of her voice. "Buffy? You've lost too much blood."
"No hospital." Her voice was so weak, yet very determined. He knew better than to argue with her. "Please, Giles…" Her eyes blinked up at him for a moment before closing once again. She lost consciousness and her face again turned in to rest against his chest. He was surprised his racing heart didn't cause her head to move up and down in his embrace.
Giles had cared for his Slayer plenty of times after she'd been hurt in a battle. He knew how to perform first aid at more than a rudimentary level. But he had no way to determine if she'd need a blood transfusion, nor any way to perform such a procedure. He just hoped her healing powers prevented such urgency. Carrying her in his arms, he walked back to his home.
He'd left in such a hurry he hadn't bothered to lock his door. Shifting his burden, he found the doorknob with one hand and entered the house. He gently laid her down on the sofa before quickly going over and locking the door. Turning back around, he looked at Buffy carefully. She appeared to just be sleeping, if it wasn't for the crusted blood covering her skin and clothing, and the paleness of her skin. She was almost translucent in the gentle lighting of his flat. The blood in her veins stood out in stark contrast to the ivory color of her skin. Giles swallowed hard and then went into his bathroom to gather supplies to care for her. When he was done cleaning her and caring for her wounds, he'd call Joyce. And then, he'd wait, watching over his Slayer. It was more than his duty. It was his heart.
