AN: Forgive this deviation from my other WIPs. What I've got for those stories isn't worthy of publishing yet and I've been bogged down with RL what with a big move into my grandmother's home with my little family and work going CRAZY.

I've liked this pairing for a while now and I figured I'd test the waters with this chapter.

Set after Normal Again.


Late Spring 2002

The house was sold. The majority of her belongings had been stuffed into three suitcases and a lovely weapons chest waiting by the front door. The apartment she had rented in the outskirts of town was filled with any of the furniture that could fit - namely her bed, a night stand, a dresser, and her mother's desk and chair. The rest of the larger furnishings would stay with the house. Everything else had been donated, put into storage at Xander's, or had gone with Dawn.

Buffy was tired. More tired than she'd ever been in her entire life, deaths, or revivals, but she couldn't quite place why. Dawn was happily ensconced in their father's posh home in L.A., awaiting the first day of school in her old hometown. While the sisters missed each other, Dawn was thrilled to be spending away on their dad's guilt credit card. Willow was rooming with Xander until the UCSD dorms were available again. She and Tara had finally made up and though the couple weren't moving in together again, they were cheerily dating. While the drama with Xander and Anya hadn't settled, they continued to move forward with their lives, moving on.

Spike had left town on his motorcycle weeks ago. Her final confrontation with the vampire involved brass knuckles, angry tears, and shouted words of recrimination and frustration, but he was finally out of her life. With him, he took most of her anger and resentment, leaving only guilt and self-loathing. It was still a relief to know he was gone.

The feeling of bone weary exhaustion weighted her footsteps heavily as Buffy climbed the stairs to the nearly bare bedroom that was once hers. She sat on the empty floor where her bed had been and gave a little sniffle. Her sad eyes looked around, soaking it in. This had been home, if only for a few years. There was that window that she had snuck out of and Angel had snuck into, and on the wall, those butterflies she'd glued on even before her first day of school (that had refused to come off without taking the wallpaper with it), and the heart shaped stain on the carpet that was the result of a spilled cup of fruit punch during a popcorn fight with Willow. She sighed. Not home anymore, she reminded herself. Just a house.

On the bedside table leftover from the move lay pages and pages of handwritten words, scratched out, erased, tear stained and nearly illegible in some places. Buffy stretched her hand out, snatching the long letter and looking at her writing critically. God, she could never send this as it was, but every time she tried to rewrite, the wording got changed and began to ramble. She looked around the room again. Against the wall, the CD/radio/tape player and recorder was still plugged in and on from her last use of it earlier in the morning. She had once used the ancient thing to make mix tapes for her friends in L.A. Even found some blank tapes in her closet while cleaning it out. Now, there were two new songs on one of them. And plenty of recording space for more.

She cleared her throat and pressed the record button.

"Hi Giles. It's me. Buffy me." She let out a nervous breath. "I wrote you a very long letter, but I'm kind of embarrassed to send it, what with all the grammatical errors and horrible handwriting. I already recorded some songs that I wanted you to hear on this tape (I hope you liked them), so I figured, why not record my letter, too?" The pages rustled in her hands. "Well, here goes nothing," she muttered.


One week later in Bath...

Rupert Giles clutched two bags of groceries against his chest, mail between his teeth, as he juggled his keys in his left hand, fumbling for the right key for the front door. Just as he slipped the key into the lock, the door flew inward. "Finally!" an exasperated feminine voice called. Olivia took the envelopes from his mouth just as they were about to tumble to the floor. "Honestly, Rupert," she sighed, exasperated, but amused. "I believe I had said that takeout was fine."

"Yes," he smiled, adjusting his grip on the groceries, "and I said that takeout was fine, but homemade much better. Mine in particular."

"Well, Roger and Millie will like anything you serve them. Alright, but I hope you don't expect me to wash the dishes. You see- that's the beauty of ordering in, disposable dishes." Olivia grinned, tossing the mail onto the desk against the wall and following Rupert into the kitchen to help him unpack the food. Neither took notice of the slightly bulkier, padded envelope slide behind the desk, catching between the wall and the piece of furniture itself.


Summer 2002

Buffy hadn't had much luck with the annoying trio. She had managed to retrieve some of their plans from their lair/booby trap- papers, a few files, blueprints, and a sliced up book, that Willow and Tara were interpreting as best they could at Xander's apartment. There wasn't much else she could do besides wait. Wait for the Scoobies to find a clue, wait for Warren and his little pain in the ass sidekicks to make a move, wait for another apocalypse, wait for another big bad to target the Hellmouth, wait for all the little bads to realize that they were dead, wait for her own predictable death.

She patrolled every night for hours. In a way, it was kind of liberating to be able to leave her apartment at any hour and come home at sunrise with no one to worry about and no one to worry over her. Sure, Willow, Tara, Xander, and occasionally even Anya checked in on her to make sure she was alright, but unless they were working on a specific researchy problem, Buffy and her friends usually just missed each other. She didn't own a phone anymore so the only way they could check on her would be to drive to her building in the evenings after work and school - when Buffy was normally already on patrol. During the day they had their lives and she had to sleep. She did try to make time for them on the weekends, maybe lunch with Willow or a video with Xander before her patrol once in a while. Buffy called Dawn once a week from Xander's place or the Magic Box, when she'd typically find her best friends waiting for her. She was grateful, at least, that they tried to act like everything was normal and no longer pressured her to be more or less than what she was. No one knew about her affair with Spike and no one mentioned Giles anymore after she had walked out of the conversation when his name was mentioned more than once, her jaw tight.

Life was dull and routine. Wake up, patrol, shower, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Buffy circled the Bronze twice before deciding it was all clear and began walking in the direction of her apartment on the other side of Sunnydale. As she passed the front entrance for the third time, a dark haired girl ran out and straight into Buffy. With the door suspended open for a moment, she could hear the sounds of a fight pouring out, before it swung shut again. "Great. Slayer to the rescue!" she muttered to herself.

The girl had already run away in tears, so, of course, Buffy walked into the night club to investigate. What she found half amused her and half irritated her - Warren trying to hit on a group of girls at the bar, a few guys out for the count on the ground, and Jonathan and that other guy hanging around on the side.

She just had to make a disparaging little comments about his pick up lines. It was tradition. "Oh, please, leave the poor girls alone. One, no one wants to be called baby before you even know their name, if ever. Two, calling yourself daddy is so very, very lame and kinda gross. And three, you've never even had a little bit of sex, have you?" Warren's face darkened in fury and surprised her with a right hook that sent her through the doorway and back into the wall across the street as he stalked after her. Jonathan and the guy with the fruity drink, Andrew?, followed behind, wide eyed, tugging on his jacket. They mumbled something to him, checking their watches. While Buffy was on the ground, shaking off blooming bruise on her jaw and an answering knot on the back of her head, the evilly obnoxious trio ran off into the night. She wondered briefly how Warren had made himself so strong, but then decided she didn't care. "Aw, crap," she pouted when she noticed they were gone and headed quickly to Xander's apartment to see what Willow and Tara found out. If she ran, she could make it there in 14 minutes time.

According to her friends, Warren, Jonathan, and Tucker's brother were planning on a spree, to rob and pillage banks and armored cars and the like. Willow even found where they were headed later that night. An armored car at the nearest amusement park, and Buffy was off running again. Who needs cars when you have shoes?

She arrived just in time to find the freakishly strong Warren tipping the car like a wayward cow and tearing the steel door away, the other two watching on the side again. Buffy made a punny remark that went over his head. They fought, Andrew cheering him on, Jonathan surprisingly giving Buffy the answer to relieving Warren of his strength. Orbs broken, Warren lost the fight. Then, in a move both annoying and completely ridiculous, he shed his jacket and did a Rocket Man. "Oh, come on!"

Who the hell has jet packs that actually work, anyway? Andrew did, too, apparently and managed to fly himself into an overhang, knocking himself out. Sighing, Buffy let the police take it from there and tiredly walked home, resolving to drop by the Xander's to let the gang know what was up after she got at least three hours of sleep.

A few hours later, when the sun was fully up and awake, Buffy trekked back toward the docks. At the edge of the warehouse district stood an old, three story, brick apartment building. Some of the windows were cracked and repaired with newspaper and the narrow staircase to what could generously be called a lobby had loose bricks and a rusty handrail. But it was home now.

She walked up the steps and through the glass fronted door. She checked her mail, a familiar feeling of disappointment when there she found no personal letters as she shuffled through the bills and ads, a little boy from the third floor came careening out of the elevator, his backpack on and his harried looking mother following. "Jacob! Slow down!" The boy slid to a stop next to Buffy and looked up at her with light green eyes. That particular shade of green was so very similar to the eyes of a man she hadn't seen in months.

"Hi!" he beamed at her, practically bouncing in place.

"Hey," she managed a smile back.

"Today is my birthday and daddy said I get an ice cream cake!" The confession exploded from him in a flurry of words. The boy's mother sighed digging through her bag for something.

"Well, happy birthday, kiddo!" Buffy bent down and ruffled his brown hair. "How old are you today?"

"Jacob, can you wait here for a minute, I must have left the keys in the door again." The mom rolled her eyes at Buffy in commiseration. "I just keep forgetting."

"Ok, mom," Jacob said distractedly as he was determined to brag about his age with the pretty blond lady. "I'm six! See?" He held up six fingers. He really was cute, all round, rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and pudgy fingers.

"Wow! You're so old! Are you gonna have a birthday party?"

"Yah! I -" The boy froze and his green eyes widened in confusion, fixed on something behind her. She turned and saw Warren through the glass door marching purposefully up the narrow stairs something black and shiny in his hand. Buffy threw herself in front of little Jacob, arms spread wide defiantly.

Warren slammed the door open, the glass rattling, a crazed gleam in his eyes. "You think you can just do that to me? You think I'd let you get away with that?" He laughed hysterically. "Think again."

When Warren raised the gun, Buffy turned and wrapped her arms around Jacob. She didn't hear the gunshots, didn't feel them, only felt the shaking scared little boy

His scream was the last thing she heard before the world fell away to blackness.


beep…. beep…. beep….

The steady beet of the heart monitor was the first thing she heard as she clawed her way back to consciousness.

beep…. beep…. beep….

Her first thought was of the little boy with the green eyes. Was he alright?

beep…. beep…. beep….

She could barely open her eyelids, they felt bruised and heavy, but when she did open them the blurry outline of a dark haired, person shaped object sitting beside her with glasses was what she saw first.

beep.. beep.. beep.. beep..

"Giles?" her voice was raspy and it came out as a hoarse whisper. The person didn't hear her. "Giles?" she tried again. He turned to her. Only he wasn't Giles.

beep…. …. beep….

"Hello, Buffy," Wesley's voice was gentle, calm, and quiet. "Don't worry, I'm not the only one here, it's only my watch. Let me just call Willow and Xander. Dawn is right outside as well." He swiftly left the room before she could ask him questions, his booted feet clomping loudly in the quiet hall.

beep…. beep…. beep….

He wasn't here. Of course he wasn't here. Her Watcher would be somewhere across a whole continent and an ocean. As far as he could get from the kind of vigil poor Wesley was holding. As far from her as he could get. What was Wesley doing back in Sunnydale anyway? She was in the hospital obviously what with that mediciny smell and scratchy sheets and the beep beep of her heart monitor. She shut her eyes, closing out the world and a hot tear escaped from one of her eyes and leaked down into her pillow.

Why couldn't she have just slept forever? What did she have to wake up to? More slaying, of course. Sure, but what was the point? Save her friends and family? Gladly. What was in it for her? It was a selfish thought, she knew, but shouldn't she get some kind of happy out of risking her life and saving the world? All this thinking made her head throb.

The door to the hallway was open and she could hear hurried footsteps, familiar footsteps. Dawn's pitter patter, Xander's shuffles, and Willow's clip clops along with Wesley's clomps. "… was asking for Gile's again. You said he didn't pick up when you called. I don't understand why you can't call him again. She needs him." Wesley spoke in a harsh whisper.

Had she woken up before asking for Giles and not remembered? Her small group of visitors stopped just outside the door, but Buffy could hear them clearly. Xander immediately rose to the defense, "We can't call him again. Not with-"

"You don't understand, Wes," Willow interrupted now. "When I called last week, do you know who picked up? Giles' father. He told me that Giles was going to get married that day. He'd probably be on his honeymoon right now. I mean, do we have the right to disrupt that?"

"Damn straight, we have the right!" Dawn hissed. "This is Buffy. His Slayer? Buffy almost dying. Buffy lying in a hospital bed calling out for him! He can't pick up the frickin phone?"

"But Dawnie, he's gone now." Xander sounded sad and resigned. "He chose to leave, cut us out of his life. He left us. Left her. We really don't have the right to interrupt whatever business he's got going on in England. And honestly, I don't want to. He's not part of this anymore."

"Are you telling me," Wesley sounded concerned, "that Mr. Giles wouldn't drop everything if he heard, if he knew, just how close Buffy is, was, to death's door? You think that he wouldn't be on the next flight to Sunnydale?"

It was quiet for a long moment. And Buffy answered him in her mind. No. Mr. Giles wouldn't. Married? A bitter twisting sensation flooded her chest and breathing was suddenly very difficult. He's obviously moved on to better things, Wes. I don't need him. I'm strong on my own. I don't need him.

"I don't know," Willow finally answered. "I really don't."

"Willow?" Buffy whispered hoarsely, her eyes still shut tightly.

"Buffy!" The redhead rushed into the room and took Buffy's hand, followed quickly by the other three who surrounded her bed. "Hi sweetie, how you feeling? We- We're so glad you're finally awake again!" Willow's eyes were swimming with unshed tears and her nose was a little red.

"Don't tell, Giles, ok?"

"I- " Willow looked uncomfortably at the others, who looked right back at her helplessly, then back at the girl in the bed, "Well, I was gonna try to call him again tomorrow, but-" when Buffy began to shake her bandaged head vigorously, Willow quickly placated her friend, shushing her, and patting her hand. "Don't worry! I don't have to call if you don't want me to."

"Please?" Buffy cracked her bloodshot eyes open. "I'll be fine. He doesn't have to know. Dawnie, why aren't you in L.A., I mean, in school?"

"Angel had Wesley drive me down. You were shot, Buffy, in the head. I think it's reasonable for me to miss a few days of school and make sure you're ok." Dawn took Buffy's other hand. "I may live in a different zip code, but I love you, and, and you're my sister and I'm going to take care of you. The way you always take care of me." The look on the teenager's face dared her sister to argue.

Buffy smiled through cracked lips and whispered, "Thanks, munchkin."

"And don't worry about the slaying, Buff. Willow, Tara, Anya, and I have it covered for a while until you recover," Xander said with cheery bravado.

"And I'm helping!" said Wesley. All eyes turned to the suddenly self-conscious British man.

"Thank you, Wes. For bringing Dawn," she was whispering still. The gang was quiet for a moment, long enough for Buffy to begin thinking. "What happened? I remember Warren. And - the boy! Jacob, I think. Is he alright? It was his birthday!"

Xander answered. "You saved him. He was scratched with the bullet that grazed your arm, but he's fine. His mom came out of the elevator in time to see Warren split. She called the paramedics. You took a bullet to the head and another bullet went into the wall, Buffy."

Buffy's hand, heavier than it really ought to be, lifted to her forehead where a bandage sat, her fingers following it around the circumference of her head until they reached a much more heavily padded section of gauze was secured. "Why-" she coughed, her throat incredibly dry. Dawn handed her a glass of water. She sipped and then sighed. "Why am I not dead? Gunshots to the head are usually pretty gruesome aren't they? T.V.'s taught me that much. And why am I not a vegetable?"

"I'll go get Dr. Carson," Wesley said quickly. "I'm sure he can explain everything." and rushed out of the room.

Dr. Carson turned out to be a middle aged neurosurgeon with a kind and straightforward bedside manner. He explained that she had been incredibly lucky. The bullet had taken a path that barely skimmed the left lobe of her brain. It had still fractured the bone in its path and created havoc on the soft tissue within her skull, but when she had been loaded onto the ambulance, she had been in and out of consciousness - a sure sign, even then, that she had a good chance of recovery. Her body was fighting in an astonishing display of natural healing. Dr. Carson had only to remove the smallest bit of damaged and inflamed brain matter to reduce some serious swelling, but the tissue was already mending itself when he had gone in, veins restoring themselves. He had replaced the skull fragments and loosely packed them to relieve the swelling pressure and put her into ICU.

"And how long have I been here?" Buffy's eyes met those of the people around her.

"A month," answered Xander.

"Four weeks tomorrow," said Dr. Carson. "Your body's healing abilities are incredible, Ms. Summers, but it still needed time to recover. You were never in a coma, only a very deep restorative sleep. At one point you developed a rather severe infection, but a cocktail of very strong antibiotics took care of you quite nicely."

Buffy remained quietly thoughtful for a moment and the others stayed silent as well. "I was sleeping." It wasn't a question. "That means that I must have woken up sometime, right?"

Dr. Carson smiled. "Yes, though I don't expect you will remember. Your painkillers and other medication would have made you very loopy."

"Then why-"

"Are you lucid now? You've healed enough that my team and I were convinced you wouldn't do yourself or others harm when you woke up - uh, you're very, um, strong, Ms. Summers and there were some instances when you had regained consciousness, but…" the doctor traded a quick glance with Wesley. "So I lowered your medication significantly as of 24 hours ago."

"Huh." Buffy looked stumped.

"You're a very lucky young woman. With many people who love you. Well, I'm afraid I have to leave you now- consultation in 10 minutes. I'll be sure to visit later in case you have any more questions. It's nice to finally meet you, Ms. Summers. And don't keep her talking too long, now." He spoke the last to the girl's friends and family.

"Four weeks?" she whispered as Dr. Carson left the room. "Dawn! You've been out of school for four weeks?"

The others chuckled. Dawn shook her head, smiling. "I came up in the beginning for a weekend, but once you were stable Dr. Carson convinced me that you would be fine and Willow convinced me that you would kill me if I missed school. Xander called when they said you might wake up soon. I've been here for four days."

Buffy relaxed and smiled gratefully at Willow and Xander. "Thanks, guys."

Wesley stood again, "You should rest again, Buffy. You look quite tired." They all nodded in agreement.

"Yah, I guess I feel tired too. Funny. I've been sleeping for a month and I'm still feeling all dozy." Her eyelids were heavy.

"We'll be right outside, Buff," Willow squeezed her hand before heading out the door. The others followed suit, Dawn bending to kiss her on the forehead.

Buffy closed her eyes and was alone again with the beeping of her heart monitor, trying not to think about how much she wished she hadn't woken up. Trying to be grateful and not bitter or angry.


Meanwhile in Bath

The tea had been forgotten and was growing cold on the coffee table. Giles' eyes were glowing and he was clutching the hands of the woman in front of him tightly. "You're joking!" He laughed joyously and kissed her cheek soundly. "Pregnant? How far along?"

"Three months," Olivia was beaming. "Are you alright with this?"

"Am I- Of course! Of course, I'm alright - I'm more than alright! Pregnant! This is fantastic news! Good lord, Millie will be ecstatic!"

"To say the very least!" Olivia laughed, holding tightly to to his hands as well, as if her happiness might buoy her up and carry her away with the wind. "I'm so glad, Rupert. I'm so very happy that you've come back and that you're here for this."

For the briefest moment, a shadow passed over his features, but his smile remained and the shadow was gone. "I am, too, my dear."


AN: To be continued? What do you think? I've got one more chapter ready. And one more yet to write. But if the response is in the negative direction or non existent, I'll put this one on hiatus until I'm done with my other HP stories... Be honest now... Did what do you think?

Also, this is the (totallyawesome)song I listened to on repeat (on Buffy's mix tape) while writing this.

Take It All by Adele

Didn't I give it all
Tried my best
Gave you everything I had
Everything and no less

Didn't I do it right
Did I let you down
Maybe you got too used to
To having me around
Still how can you walk away
From all my tears
It's going to be an empty road
Without me right here

But go on and take it
Take it all with you
Don't look back
At this crumbling fool
Just take it all with my love
Take it all with my love

Maybe I should leave
To help you see
Nothing is better then this
And this everything we need
So is it over
Is this really it

You're giving up so easily,
I thought you loved me more than this

But go on and take it
Take it all with you
Don't look back
At this crumbling fool
Just take it all with my love
Take it all with my love

I will change if I must,
Slow it down and bring it home,
I will adjust,
If only you knew,
Everything I do,
Is for you

But go on and take it
Take it all with you
Don't look back
At this crumbling fool
Just take it all with my love
Take it all