And the last of my Still Grrr prompt fics for now!
Title: Against His Better Judgment
Author: Laura Sichrovsky
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG or FRT
Pairing: None
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Season: Takes place between seasons two and three, while Buffy was AWOL.
Summary: How did Giles hold the Hellmouth with Buffy gone? How did the Scoobies get to be a vampire assault team?
The only solution was to work together, even if it scared Giles stupid.
Spoilers: Gives away the season two finale ending.
Disclaimer: This is where I put the statement saying that I do not own Buffy, Giles (Heh! I wish!), Sunnydale, or anything relating
to the show. No one is paying me to do this and if you feel the sudden urge to send me gifts, you might want to talk
to someone about that. Joss Whedon owns all things Buffy and has not given me permission to use these characters
as I have so if you have problems with the story, please send the pretzel bombs to me, not him.
Author's Notes: I actually wrote this in response to a prompt contest on Still Grrr on LiveJournal. We were supposed to
write something that happened between seasons 2 and 3. Of course I had to write about my Giles. grin So,
here is what I think happened. Thanks need to be given, and here is where they go. Thanks to Joss for creating
characters so fun to watch and to borrow for a bit. Thanks to Tony Head for making Giles so amazing. I tried to
fight it, but he was just too remarkable not to fall for. To Janet, Laura (God save the Queen!), for the betas.
I appreciate it! To Ann for everything. I love you, dear! To Samuel for being Samuel. Thanks to my amazing
husband who not only doesn't get upset when my writing takes over, but who doesn't freak about the men who
live in my head. I love him so.
Against His Better Judgment
Rupert Giles sat on his couch, his head bowed, his good hand rubbing his temple. His head was throbbing and he felt an exhaustion that had nothing to do with losing sleep.
"Giles, are you all right?" Willow asked from where she stood next to Oz.
Giles looked up, feeling the pain in his temple stab with the movement. He wanted to tell her that he most definitely was not fine, but seeing the worry on her face, he refrained. After all, none of this was her fault. He looked at the children gathered in his living room; Willow with her anxious face, Oz, impassive as ever, Xander who was leaning against a wall with his eyes closed, and Cordelia, her usual arrogant distain sublimated by the current crisis. He realized as he looked at them that he was being unfair to them. He wasn't the only one thrown into pain and panic by Buffy's disappearance.
In truth, these children had come through for him in a completely unexpected show of support. He'd checked out of the hospital as soon as the medical staff would let him go, returning to work and his duties, desperately pretending that nothing was wrong. He'd told them he was fine, the injuries looked worse than they really were. It was only when he was alone that he could admit that it was really the opposite. In the mornings, the pain was so bad that just getting out of bed was an ordeal of agony and nausea. And of course he could never ask them for help, never admit that he was weak and unable to even do something as simple as apply the antibiotic cream the hospital had sent home with him.
And yet, somehow they knew. One night, a week or so after Buffy's disappearance, Giles had been patrolling the cemeteries in her place. He could not let the vampire population get out of control or she would be overwhelmed when she returned. He was limping, his head hurt, and he was having trouble working the crossbow with his splinted fingers. He would have gone home, but his sense of duty to the community and to his Slayer kept him there. He encountered three vampires and was beginning to think he was in far over his head. He had tried to fire the crossbow, but it slipped, sending the bolt off into the bushes. One of the vampires moved in, pinning Giles against a crypt. He was struggling, trying to reach the cross in his pocket, when the vampire exploded in a cloud of dust. Xander stood there, a stake in his hand and a look of panic on his face.
Giles had slumped against the mausoleum, gasping for breath and trying to hide the violent shaking that was overtaking him. He suddenly remembered the other vampires and looked up in alarm. Oz and Cordelia were bent over a pile of dust, both brandishing stakes. Willow stood to the side, a crossbow in her hands. As Giles looked around he realized she must have shot the remaining vampire. He looked up at Xander, finally trusting his voice not to shake.
"You have brilliant timing, Xander."
Xander stood looking at him for a minute as the other children gathered around. Finally he drew in a breath and spoke to Giles.
"Are you stupid?" It wasn't the affectionate greeting Giles had grown accustomed to.
"Excuse me?"
"What the hell are you doing out here by yourself?" Xander continued.
"I'm the Watcher," Giles replied indignantly.
"You're an idiot!" Xander thundered. Giles was taken aback. He'd never seen Xander this angry before. "You're injured and alone in a cemetery on the Hellmouth at night? Did you pick up another head injury?"
"Xander," Willow said gently.
Giles watched in fascination as Xander pulled his temper back in, breathing deeply. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
"You could have been killed. Or worse. What were you thinking?" At the last sentence Giles heard the naked worry in Xander's voice.
"I…I was thinking that someone has to patrol until Buffy returns."
"And you didn't think to ask us to go with you?"
"I didn't wish to put you in danger."
"How much danger do you think we'll be in if you get killed? Or turned?" Xander's face betrayed his anxiety for a moment, and then the calm mask returned.
"I…I thought I could…" Giles's voice trailed off and he looked at the ground.
"Giles, you can't even dress yourself," Xander returned, gesturing at Giles's untucked shirt. "God only knows how you are handling showers and medicines. You can't patrol."
Giles's head came up at Xander's last statement, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Listen here now," his voice was firm with an edge. "I'm the adult and I'm the Watcher. If anyone is going to…"
"Giles, please," Willow interrupted, her voice gentle.
He looked at her, his whole body stiff, feeling a building anger at being coddled by a group of teenagers.
"Giles," Willow said, stepping forward and putting her hand on his arm. "You have no idea the panic we felt when we saw you being attacked. Three vampires are a lot to handle even at full health. We saw and…God Giles, if we lose you…"
Her voice cracked and Giles looked at her, completely caught off guard. She was worried…no, she was terrified. For him. He looked up, scanning the faces of each of them, his eyes widening as he saw similar expressions of concern on each of them, even Cordelia. He'd never realized that he meant so much to them. He looked down, then back up again.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I…I suppose I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful from now on."
"We should patrol with you," Willow put in, looking at the others.
"Willow, I couldn't ask you to…"
"You aren't," Xander said. "We're volunteering."
Giles stood for a moment thinking.
"I'll agree on one condition," he finally said.
"What?" Willow asked.
"You will patrol and I'll train you."
"Train us?" Cordelia asked. "Like you did Buffy?"
"Well, not exactly. You lot aren't Slayers. But I can train you to be more efficient, better fighters."
The children looked at each other, silently discussing it. Finally Xander turned to him.
"When do we start?"
Giles had been touched by their willingness to help him. Now, he sat on his couch thinking, remembering all the hours and work that had gone into their training in the weeks since. They weren't Slayers, but they were doing a passable job. He'd fussed a bit at all the technology that they brought into it, but in truth, he appreciated anything that helped to keep them safe.
"Giles?" Willow's voice cut into his musings again.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you were okay."
"I'm fine, Willow," he replied, sighing. "I just have a slight headache."
"You need to rest," she said gently.
He smiled at her.
"I'll go to bed right after you lot get back from patrol tonight. Are we clear on the plan?"
"Giles, we've been over it six times," Xander replied, opening his eyes.
"This is your first night patrolling without me." Giles rubbed his temple again, his eyes narrowing in worry. "Maybe I should come along after all."
"Giles, your recovery is taking longer than it should because you won't take care of yourself," Willow said gently. "We've trained. We've practiced. We can do this."
"Yes, but…"
"No buts, G-man," Xander said, moving from the wall. "You rest, we Slay."
Giles frowned, but nodded.
"We should go," Xander said. "We'll call and report when we get in."
"You will be careful?" Giles asked as they gathered their things to leave.
"We always are, big guy." Xander smiled at him.
"Your list of names for me is getting more obscure," Giles observed.
"We'll call you," Xander replied.
As they moved to the door, Willow stayed behind.
"I need to talk to Giles," she said. "I'll meet you at seven at Ben and Jerry's."
"You sure?" Oz asked.
Willow nodded and they closed the door behind them.
"Is everything all right?" Giles asked, looking up at her. He was pleased that she'd healed from her injuries so quickly. He'd been worried when she'd had to be in a wheelchair. Now, several weeks later, he couldn't even tell she'd been injured. He on the other hand…
"I was just going to ask you that," Willow laughed, interrupting his musings. "You're pale and you look tired."
"I'm…well, I will be fine."
"You're worried," Willow said, sitting next to him. It wasn't a question.
"I'm terrified," Giles admitted, looking at her. "I really should come…"
"Giles," Willow smiled at him. "We can do this."
"But if anything happens to you…" Giles left it hanging, unable to finish his thought.
Willow put her hand on his arm.
"There really isn't a choice, is there?" She asked quietly. "You trained us, now we have to do our best."
Giles nodded, sighing. He couldn't tell her what was really on his mind. He couldn't tell her that for the first time in forever he felt accepted and wanted, cared for; he had family and it was destroying him not being able to protect them. He couldn't tell her that if anything happened to even one of them, it would kill him. He couldn't tell her that he was terrified that Buffy would never return and this would be their lives from here on out. Instead, he struggled to his feet, limping to the kitchen to make some tea.
"Giles, you need to rest," Willow said, following him. "I'll make the tea."
Giles nodded again, bending to retrieve the tea kettle. He felt one of his cuts tear as he leaned too far and he gasped. Willow crossed over to him, watching as his good hand involuntarily went to his side, probing the cut. She moved forward, gently touching his wound through the shirt.
"You aren't putting the cream on, are you?"
He cursed himself for ever telling her about it. She shook her head at his silence.
"Giles, you'll never get better at this rate."
He muttered under his breath, saying something about it not being her business.
"Yes, it is my business," she said quietly, startling him with her comment. "You are afraid of losing us. You don't think we're scared stupid at the thought of losing you?"
He looked up at her, his breath catching as he saw the sincerity of her words. She smiled at him.
"I'm going to put the water to boil and then we are going to get that cream on before you do any more damage."
He opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, simply nodding. He was tired and it sounded nice to have someone take care of him. He went to the couch, lying down and listening to Willow bustling around his kitchen. He closed his eyes and relaxed for the first time in weeks.
The End
Look for the sequel, Cold Comfort