Talk To You
Author: ColeandPhoebe4evr
Rating: At most, probably a PG.
Summary: Sap. Mostly sap. Oh, and did I mention that it's a song fic?
Disclaimers: I don't own squat. Except maybe the story. Then I own that, and let's see…:reaches into pocket: a pencil, eraser, some lead, ooh, a lollipop, and some links for a watch. The characters belong to Joss, and the song belongs to Anthony Stewart Head, off of his album, Music for Elevators. Weird name, isn't it? Good songs though, thus the inspiration for this short angsty little fic.
Pairings: B/G, sort of. What? It's what popped into my head, all right?
Spoilers: Eh, probably from the Gift to maybe before Once More With Feeling. Oh, and a teensy, weeny one for Innocence. I think. If you blink, you might miss it.
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He stared at the wall, lifting the bottle, as though he were about to drink, but put it down again, deciding against it. His gaze shifted to the six stringed instrument that was lying against the wall, a thin layer of dust coating it. Before, he probably wouldn't have let his precious guitar get so filthy, but lately he had more important, and depressing, things on his mind.
He had returned from the Summer's residence, intending on picking all his stuff up to move it to the house, but found himself indulging himself with the mini-bar he found in the cabinet. As he looked at the guitar lying against the wall, the chords of a song began to form in his mind. He decided to just sing, thinking that maybe it would relieve some of the pressure that had been building since he had arrived at the L.A. airport. He picked up the guitar, strumming out the first few chords. Words born from his heart came to his mind and he sang, putting all he felt as he heard the words in his mind.
Talk to you,
I long to talk to you.
Oh, how he did long to talk to her. To really talk to her like he used to before her abrupt death and her even more sudden resurrection. She had become shuttered, her eyes a blank stare, missing the light they used to hold.
It lasts for a heartbeat,
But it's such a feeling, of being one,
When we talk on the phone,
You make me complete,
You make me feel connected,
To the earth beneath my feet,
You make me laugh and
You've helped my to cry,
You've shared all of yourself with me,
You've shown me life,
You've taught me, you let me see,
What's real,
A sob nearly broke from his throat, as his mind went through various memories that latched themselves onto certain phrases of this song that came from the well of his heart. She truly did make him complete, made him feel whole and connected with the very earth. All those times they had simply sat in comfortable silence, or their various training sessions, their movements completely in tune with each other. She had brought light into his life, had made him life by simply being there, and shedding light onto his dark life filled with monsters and demons that most people just thought were delusions. She had kept him sane amongst this darkness. She helped him that night, when no one else had, by holding him and letting him cry for his loss, whilst a fire was burning behind them. As Watcher and Slayer, she had given to him a part of herself she hadn't given anyone else, and he was eternally grateful for that part of her that she had given her. She had taught him as much as he had taught her, maybe even more so.
Whatever would I be without you in my life,
Without the warmth of you in my heart?
Wherever would I be without the light you give me,
Without the thought of you in my arms?
As Giles sung this particular verse, his mind began to speculate what his life would've been without Buffy. Without the light that she gave off, without the warmth that she kept him warm without her even knowing it, or doing it intentionally. Without ever knowing the wonderful girl…no, woman, young woman, that was Buffy Summers. He gave a shudder, thinking how shallow his life would've been if he had never know her, how lonely his destiny would've been had it not been for the light of his life.
And all I can do,
Is wait until the next time,
That I hear your sweet voice on the line,
And I'll feel whole again,
You'll bring me home again,
All that I am is for you.
It truly was all that he could do. All he could do was watch, and wait, and see if his dear sweet Buffy would ever come back to him. At the time being, it was as if she were a continent away. Would it have mattered if he was in England, or Sunnydale? She was so far away, it wouldn't have made a difference, one way or the other. Until she came back to him , it would be like talking to her from miles away, talking on a phone. Until then, he would never be home, because wherever Buffy was, that was where his home truly lay, and wherever Buffy was at the time, he didn't know how to get there. The last line of the song reverberated through him, as the last chords of the guitar echoed off the hotel walls. All that he was, in fact, was all for her. Until she did, he would never know a home. And until she was whole, he would never be whole.
'God, how I wish I could talk to you.'