Chapter One - Broken

Giles stood alone in his kitchen boiling water for his tea. It had been a long day for the Watcher. He had already changed into sleep pants and a plain white t-shirt. He only wanted to curl up on his couch with a good book and a cup of fresh brewed tea. The opportunity to enjoy such luxuries rarely came along for Rupert.

Things had been quiet in Sunnydale for nearly two weeks. No disappearances or unexplained phenomenon. Just your typical, easily remedied, dimwitted vamp or two trying to snag a bite to eat at the Bronze. Nothing the slayer couldn't handle.

The Slayer. Giles thought. Things had been so quiet that Buffy finally had a chance to focus on her life…the non-slayer parts…and she was doing just that. Or he assumed she was. And Giles was happy for her. She deserved some time for herself. She now had all the time in the world for classes, regular lunches and coffee with Willow, and Giles assumed she probably had managed to find time to go on a date or two. It had been a week since Buffy had stopped by, so in reality, Giles had no idea what she had been doing.

The teapot began to whistle as steam shot from its spout. Giles made his tea and went to the living room. He sat on the couch, removed his glasses, and absently rubbed the lenses with his t-shirt. He allowed his head to fall back against the sofa as he tried to relax. He rubbed his eyes, making a physical effort to clear his mind.

He began to wonder where Buffy was. Was she alright? He looked at his watch. 9:00 pm. She was probably out on patrol. Giles made a mental note to call her in the morning and check on her. He had tried not to need to speak to her, but a whole week was a long time for them to have had no contact with each other. He needed, if only to say hello, to hear her voice.

Giles silently wished that something would happen in Sunnydale. Nothing apocalypse-sized, but something that would bring Buffy back to him. He missed her, and frankly, he was bloody bored. His day had consisted of cataloguing his books, searching newspapers for any new occurrences, and resisting the urge to call Buffy. All in all, not too much accomplished, but the day had been straining nonetheless.

Giles opened his book. He sat there trying to read for nearly twenty minutes. When he couldn't read a complete page because his thoughts were elsewhere, he gave up on the book. He sipped his tea, which had since cooled to barely lukewarm.

His thoughts remained on Buffy. This had begun to happen more frequently when he was alone. He almost always thought about her.

"Bugger this," He said aloud to himself in complete frustration. "Buffy, get the bloody hell out of my head!" And his head fell backward once more resting on the back of the couch.

Why was it always like this? He knew she could take care of herself. He knew she didn't need him. He knew he was no longer responsible for her. And yet…when it came right down to it…

He missed her. He needed her.

He placed his glasses on the end table next to the couch, and lied down. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to escape the thoughts of Buffy that were swirling through his head. God, he missed her.

Giles felt her hand touch his cheek gently. He opened his eyes to see her gazing at him, smiling. Her hair flowing around her face, over her shoulders, made her look like a goddess to him. He overlapped her hand with his and turned his face into it. He stared into her eyes.

"Buffy?" He asked. Was this a dream? Could it be real that she was there looking at him, touching him?

"Wake up Sleepy-Head." It was Buffy. That was Buffy's voice speaking to him. It was her hand that was touching him. It was real.

Giles sat up. "Why are you here?" He asked.

Buffy pouted as if offended by his question. "Because you wanted me here. Didn't you miss me? Don't you want me?"

Now Giles took her face in his hands. His heart sank when she said that. How could he have ever allowed her to doubt that he wanted her? "Oh, God yes. Buffy…"

His voice trailed off as he gently guided her face toward his. He watched her eyes close and her lips part. Everything was moving in slow motion.

Their mouths were so close he could feel her breath when she spoke. "Giles." He could hear the longing in her voice, the need that he himself was so familiar with.

"Giles…"

"Giles?" He heard his name being called. It was faint and far away, but it was enough to disturb his sleep. He put his hands over his ears and tried to ignore whomever was outside his door at this ungodly hour. He closed his eyes. He needed to go back there. Back to where Buffy was. He had been so close to tasting her lips. He needed to get back.

There was a pounding on the door now. Whoever was outside was not leaving. Giles stood up. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He called, annoyed.

He put his glasses back on and walked to the door. He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door without looking through the peephole first.

"Giles." She said.

"Dear God, Buffy." Giles' jaw dropped when he saw her there.

Buffy stood outside his door beaten and bruised. The whole left side of her face was black and blue and there was a gaping scratch across her forehead. She held her left elbow in her right hand, supporting her arm. Her chest heaved, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, evidence that she had been crying. Her hair was a mess, and blood trickled down past her ear from an unknown head wound.

"Can I come in?" She asked.

"Oh, yes of course." Giles answered as his trance was broken. He opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow her entrance. He noticed she was limping badly and placed an arm around her waist to support her and guide her to the couch. Walking with her in front of him, he saw through her torn shirt, four parallel scratches that ran across her shoulder blade and down her arm. He assisted her as she sat gingerly on the couch, careful not to further agitate any of her wounds. He retrieved a first aid kit from a closet in the hall and returned to her. He knelt in front of her.

"What in God's name happened?" He asked.

"Giles, I-I wasn't prepared. I-I felt too…too safe I guess. I was unarmed." She sobbed, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Giles softly brushed her hair out of her face, and began to clean the wound on her forehead. "I just wanted to go for a jog. I wasn't going far. It was still early. It wasn't dark out yet. And everything has been so calm around here lately."

"What was it that attacked you?" With the dirt successfully removed from her face, and the wound there clean, he sat on the couch beside her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently positioned her so her back was to him, giving him access to the scratches on her shoulder blade. He gently cleaned her cuts as she continued.

"I don't know. Demon, I guess. Big claws, hence the scratches. It was quick. Had horns. I don't know what it was."

"And it's still out there?" Giles asked, his voice full of concern.

"Oh, um, nah." Buffy chuckled. "I killed it. Don't ask me how I did it. I thought I was dead. Adrenaline kicked in and then it was dead. It just kind of melted away into this big puddle of ooze. And now, here I am." She seemed to be regaining her composure.

"And thank God for that. Buffy, we need to get you to a hospital."

"No, I don't think anything is broken. I'll be ok in a day or two. You know I heal really fast. It just hurts now. I couldn't go home like this. Oh, God, Giles I'm so sorry!" She turned to face him and threw her good arm around his neck, embracing him. "I'm so sorry! I had nowhere else to go. I didn't know where to go." She sobbed into his neck, tears beginning to soak his t-shirt.

"Shhh," Giles comforted her, stroking her hair, and let her cry on his shoulder. "You are always welcome here. You know that."

"It's late, I should go. I'm sorry I came here." She forced herself to sit upright. "Thank you, Giles."

"Nonsense. Buffy, where will you go? You are hurt and unarmed. You will stay here tonight."

"I really can't impose like that."

"Then do it for my peace of mind. I couldn't let you leave and not be up all night wondering if you are alright." Giles stood and extended his hand to her to help her off the couch. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep down here." He slipped his arm around her waist, as he had before, and led her toward his bedroom.

"Thank you, Giles." She didn't have the strength to object a second time. She held on to him with her good arm and went willingly to his bed.

Giles tucked her in, like a father would his young daughter. When satisfied that she was comfortable, he turned to leave the room. "Get some rest, Buffy. You will heal faster. If you need anything, I will be right downstairs."

"Stay with me?"

"Pardon?" Giles felt knots immediately form in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't heard her right. It couldn't be.

"Just till I fall asleep. Stay with me? Please."

"Of course." And Giles sat in the recliner next to the bed and watched her until her eyes fluttered and her breathing had become more regular and he knew she was asleep. And then he watched her some more.