Inamorata
This fanfic is dedicated to my beta and all-around outstanding friend, Katrina, who has
been on this planet for 23 fantastic years as of July 20. She is a true Buffy/Giles
shipper, and I have decided to write this as a thank you gift and as a dedicated birthday
present. Because she is my beta and is not on tap with this spiel, this fiction is
un-beta-ed. If you would like to be beta me for one teeny tiny gift, email at
ajaynac@hotmail.com.
Reviews are most welcome. Point of Views vary by chapter. The first chapter is Giles POV.
While She Was Sleeping
It happened right before my eyes. I had glanced up, and watched, as she fell from the sky, bolder than the slayer I had ever met. Her eyes had been shut tightly, her face readying for the pain the portal would drain, as her life was swept before her eyes. I could imagine what she had seen. Her mother and her father, her sister, Dawn, all of her lovers and friends, and in the blink of an eye, I am certain she saw my face before she fell.
I had worried when it happened. I saw the portal close and her body fall from the tower. Bless my heart, I saw her face, the terror, the understanding that she was giving up her life for the lives of ours.
And at that moment, I knew. I knew I loved her. She was unique, a special woman, who had worked and strived to make our town safe. I had worked by her side, as her Watcher, but as a friend too. I had given her advice over the years. I had given her my heart, had looked at her as a father figure. But as she fell, I could understand what Spike, a vampire who was only a small metallic chip away from brutal murder, could see in her. I could see her sacrifice. I could feel her heart.
I was the first one to her side. Xander and Willow were right behind me, both sporting their own wounded lovers. Spike was huddled behind me, buried under the dust from his fall, his eyes wide with disbelief. Dawn was above us, screaming to get down, her eyes wide because her sister was still alive. Her screams died as I gave the order for Willow to get help. Dependable Willow knew the anxiety in my voice had risen. She had left Tara with me to get help. I saw Tara reach after her, her hand outstretched, reaching for what she'd nearly lost.
I watched the Slayer dying in my arms.
In the two days that followed, I was in a daze. The ambulance trip had passed in the blink of an eye. I had held Buffy's hand even as the paramedics tried to force me away. I could see out the back of the ambulance the other two that followed. One held Dawn, who had passed out halfway down the tower and had taken a rather nasty fall. The second held Anya, who was still weak from being pelted with cargo which had tumbled onto her during the final battle. I had turned away and back to my Slayer, who was very pale under the white sheet, the oxygen mask covering her lovely face, a face once seen vibrant and full of life. The emergency room had been cold. I shivered underneath my tweed blazer, watching as my slayer fought between life and death. The others had come in, healed from their own injuried, their faces expectant. Two days turned into two weeks.
That was when they told me the hope was almost gone. Buffy would never recover from the coma.
It shook me then, how much she had grown on me. From her first antics as a wild fifteen year old to a beautiful twenty-year-old, she had proven to me once and again her worth.
I cried that night. It was the first time in nearly three years I had cried.
They were not the hot, bitter tears I had spilled over her disappearance after she had calmed Acathla and killed Angel. They were tears of sadness, of angst, of pity. I had forced my way upon her for so long.
Two months turned into four and quickly multiplied to eight. I had rarely left her side. The Watcher's Council visited frequently, as I could tell by the multiple vases of decaying flowers and the wilted balloons and stacked teddy bears that she was among friends. I was both impressed and amazed by the impact she'd had on the lives of those that poured in, day after day, to leave gifts, to say prayers, to take my place so I could find a spot for a few hours of sleep.
I usually took my guitar into her private suite with me. Next to its battered leather case was my teapot, an electric that plugged into the wall. Normally, I'd be opposed to such a catastrophic event, but the past eight months have tamed me. I've become more sensitive, a better listener. I watched her face closely, saw her muscles twitched. Conversations from years past floated in my head. I smiled fondly at the memories.
Willow told me during one particularily hard night that I should just go home and rest, because Buffy was in the best medical care the state of California had to offer. Willow and the others, under the protection of Spike, were working day in and day out to prove themselves to me. And, in part, to the Slayer. They were good too, bloody good. They had staked nine of ten vampires and had even attacked a horned demon the night before. Willow was starting to get a firmer hold on her magicks, and Tara was by her side, controlling her, being the string holding Willow together. Xander and Anya were planning their way to the altar, which they would set after Buffy had awoken. If she awoke.
I truly believed she would. Like Faith, she was in a coma. And like Faith, she was fighting her worst demons to come alive. I could see it in her face, the heartbreaking struggle between life and death. She was lost, alone, cold in a stormy meadow, fighting her way home.
I prayed that night, harder than I prayed before. I held her hand and sang softly to her, my voice rising and falling to the beeps on her heart monitor.
Finally, I released her hand and sat back, too tired to continue. I just wished she would wake up, so I could finally tell her.
I would tell her how much I had missed her in the past eight months. I would tell her how much I respected her decision that night, so far back, to jump off the tower and to give her life for Dawn's. I would tell her how proud of her I was, to have fought off and defeated Glory. I would tell her about Ben, about how I had killed him so he could no longer hurt my Slayer. I would tell Buffy that the Council had been visiting weekly, sending their regards in visits and teddy bears. I would tell Buffy how much her friends had missed her, waiting for her to come back to them. I would tell her how much I missed her, how much I longed to hear her laughter, to see that smile on her face, to hear her voice sardonically telling me off, to watch her fight and win. I would tell her how much I missed her winning, her victories.
I opened my eyes with a start and watched her face. The silver shadow of light falling from the moon outside cast an eerie shadow on her pale face. She had regained color in the past few days and was stirring more. I moved forward and placed another tape into the casette player and listened to the soothing cello.
"Yeah. That'll do it. Boring her into another coma, Watcher?"
I opened my eyes to see Spike standing in the doorway. Although there was a trace of lost emotion in his eyes as he glanced at Buffy, he flickered his eyes back to me with his usual smirk.
"It's soothing, the cello. You should try it sometime," I insisted.
Spike gave a casual shrug before risking another look at her again. "No change," I said quickly. He glanced back at me.
"Just came to fill you in on the nightly patrol. We managed to run into another one of those ugly one-horned demons. Willow managed to levitate it and place it into a giant nitrogen bubble. Managed to give herself a migrane, that witch. Anya and Xander were standing beside me, arguing about which color the bubble was. A great show, that one. You should have been there. She should have been there..." his voice trailed off. "I tried to videotape it. Wouldn't have the same effect though."
All I could do was sigh and reach over my shoulder to plug in the teapot. "You here to relieve me or bore me underground?" I asked, an edge to my voice.
Spike's eyes flickered in the darkness. "Watcher's got a cold shoulder, does he..."
"This Watcher has the emotional range of an artichoke," I snapped, reaching moodily for my mug and slipping inside a teabag. "I've been sitting in this chair for eleven hours now."
"Which is exactly why I'm here," Spike replied, his signature smirk flashing his face. "Go home, Rupert."
I ingored his comment while I filed my cup to its brim and set it aside. "Are you really here for me, or are you in here for her?"
"You," Spike said, much too quickly for my taste. I turned my gaze to him as I silently sipped my tea as he spilled through one explanation after another. But they all lead me to the same truths. He was still in love with her.
"Do you love her?" I asked, cutting him off. He glanced at me, speechless for a moment before he took a breath.
"I think I was back then," he said, speaking in a low voice. "But now things have changed. I've found myself out there, in the real world, while she was sleeping. I can fight demons. I can fight evil. And I can do it with or without her. Even if she wakes up, I can stand aside. She can have her life and I can find mine."
"Where will you go?" I asked, finding my tone surprisingly understanding.
"Once Xander and Anya get shacked, I'll take over her apartment," he said. "It's got a great ground floor view and with heavy shades, it'll be as good as my crypt."
I continued to sip at my tea, my eyes on the bleached blonde, considering his words. "I'm sorry," I finally said, setting my empty mug aside. "I have misjudged your intentions."
"I'm on your side, Rupert," he said with a steely tone. He gazed at the Slayer for a long moment before returning his gaze to mine. "I've had enough of being a lapdog. I'm trying to be my own man now. Trying to redeem myself for the hundred years of torture, pain and mayhem I spread in my glory days. I'm trying to reclaim my glory days, with a new definition. A new reason to be, to exist. As long as she sleeps, I'm the hero. When she wakes up, I'll still be a hero. No more googly eyes. No more hormones. No more moody romantic."
I frowned as his words sank into me. In the past few years, I had known one Spike. He had been trying from right after Dawn had been discovered as Key to get into Buffy's love life. He had driven off Riley, the only semi-normal man Buffy had ever loved. I peered curiously toward him as I wordlessly stood up, gesturing toward my chair. "It's all yours."
"I'll call you if there's any change," Spike replied, disappearing into the bathroom to gather a tattered plastic bag. He returned with it a moment later, taking my chair and removing bagged blood and a large book, which fell onto the floor. He followed my gaze as I read the title and smirked. "I didn't know learning about one-horned demons was against the rules, Watcher."
For bloody sake, that was beginning to annoy me. His calling me 'Watcher'. I rolled my eyes as I collected my coat and left, eight months of memories following me as I walked through the door.
In the lobby, Willow was curled in a chair, sound asleep. It was evident Spike had dragged her down here to drive me home. I was touched by his thoughtfulness, even though I had once thought he had none. I gently nudged her and she awoke, gazing at me as though I were a fond memory of time past. Taking my hand, she rose, her words melted into a yawn. Silently, she lead me outside, into the cold, clear night.