She Alone
(Never Tear Us Apart series #2)
by GylzGirl
Disc: Buffy, Giles, Sunnydale, the rest of the Scoobies and certain quoted bits from episodes belong to Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh), Kuzui and Fox. Regrettably, not to me (Wah!).
Rating: PG
Type: Angst? You're soaking in it! (aka "Aww, I need a hug.")
Author's Note: This story is a sequel to my story Verge
Written: 1999
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will face the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." Buffy ran her hand over the embossed passage on the inside of Giles' Watcher journal. She tried to hear his voice reciting it in her head, but only two words came. "She alone." Over and over again. "She. Alone."
"Dammit!" She threw the book across the room and it landed with a clink atop yet another pile of broken glass in Giles' apartment. She angrily wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, refusing to cry about this anymore. Tears weren't helping her, and they weren't helping Giles. And that was what she was supposed to be doing here, helping Giles, for once.
He was coming home today. He had narrowly avoided being written up as a suicide attempt and kept for psychiatric evaluation. Giles assured the hospital that he had simply had too much to drink and was trying to move a mirror. It had slipped and broken and in his drunken state, Giles had fallen in the glass, cutting himself something dreadful in his uncoordinated attempts to get up.
Once Giles had also assured Buffy that he really wasn't trying to kill himself, she had backed him up saying he didn't usually drink, couldn't really hold his liquor. That it was simply the anniversary of his girlfriend's death that had driven him to the bottle that night. She had just lost him as her Watcher. She didn't need the school firing him as librarian too.
Buffy carefully moved the book off of the glass and onto his coffee table. She grabbed her handbroom and tray and swept up the shards, depositing them into the bag, the whole time sniffing back fresh tears, the whole time hearing "She. Alone." whispered in her head.
Once all the glass was cleared away, and the sticky patches of alcohol mopped up, you could barely tell what had happened here. The only indications left: a few nicks and scratches on the walls and cabinets from where the bottles had struck, the mirrorless frame hanging on the wall, and the oppressive desperation that had led Giles to his actions hanging in the air.
The Slayer sat once again on Giles' sofa and reached for the book. His book, but her book too, in a way. She opened the cover and began to read the first entry. "Slayer is willful and insolent. Her abuse of the English language is such that I understand only every other sentence." She smiled.
When she had first walked into the Sunnydale High library and had turned to see Rupert Giles standing before her, she had thought to herself that he was prime crush material. A kind of shy-cute, and what a smile, and...sigh English. Then he'd brought out that damn book and everything changed. He was a Watcher. Now her eyes added 40 extra years to the 40 he had already earned. Mentally, she dressed him in tweed down to his socks and boxer shorts. She saw him as one of the nameless, cowardly, weak, old men sending her out to face monsters every night until she finally lost. And she was not going to get attached. She would never make that mistake again.
Damn him for caring about her and making her care in return. Damn him for showing her he was brave and trustworthy. Damn him for being more than his books and his duty. Damn him for saving her life.
Buffy skipped ahead a few weeks in the journal. "Angel has promised me the Codex. I must admit, I was almost giddy at the thought of being able to hold that most valuable volume in my hands. But, beyond that, it could mean so much in protecting my Slayer. To forewarn her rather than having to figure out the problem once the horrors have started. What an asset! As to Angel, he doesn't want to see Buffy. He's trying to protect her, to save her from the conflict her feelings for him cause with her sacred duty. But, I know he loves her. He'd never hurt her, which saves me from having to stake him. I'm honoring his request to tell Buffy nothing of our meetings. Loath as I am to keep secrets from the girl, I think their separation is probably for the best."
She thought back with a smile. Buffy had thought her life was so hard then, watching Cordelia try on her May Queen dress with a wistful nostalgia not many 16-year-olds could know. Now she realized the true difference between the adult she'd become and the child she'd been then, just two short years ago. The child felt sorry for herself, for the things she had lost. She hadn't appreciated just how hard things could really be. There was always a lower level to descend to. The adult had learned through the brutality of experience that you took the special small moments, a look, a touch, a kind word, a smile, where you could get them. They may not be there tomorrow. It took only seconds for your life to be sent spiraling into new frightening directions, and you could never go back the way you came.
Buffy flipped a few more pages and then stopped with a shaking hand when she noticed the date. Two days before the Spring Fling Dance her sophomore year. Two days before she had died. "I have made many adjustments to my intended technique since meeting Buffy. I have allowed her to date, and to involve "civilians" in her work. Unorthodox I realize, but I wonder, looking back, if we'd have done as well alone. Mostly, I have tried to let her remain a normal girl as much as possible to protect her sanity and her soul. No other Slayer has held station over a Hellmouth before, had to endure so much, and prevailed. Only Buffy. Only MY Slayer, and I take no small pride in that...in her. Now however, it seems my good intentions have been in vain."
"There was an earthquake tonight, a portent. It happened moments after I found this passage in the Codex: "The Master shall rise and the Slayer shall fall." I wish to God I'd never seen it, wish I could somehow unlearn what it is I know. My heart is breaking and Buffy's heart will stop."
"This has to be an error...somehow. I'm not giving up. I will research all night. I'll call Angel. I'll call up Satan himself if I have to. The passage would have me send Buffy out for the sole purpose of her slaughter. I can't do that. I won't."
Buffy sat the book down and ran to the bathroom, crying. She splashed some cold water on her face, blew her nose and tried to calm down a bit. She checked her watch. Giles was due to be home in two hours. She grabbed a handful of tissues and made her way back out to the couch.
She placed the book in her lap, took a deep breath and opened it to a random passage. This one caught her eye. The first part of it had been scratched out and he had started over again, but just under the harsh black ink lines, she could make out the words, "My poor Buffy." She gulped and read on.
"Events have taken a most tragic turn, for all of us I fear. Buffy, in her need to be with Angel completely, her need to be loved, had relations with the vampire. And this has loosed unforeseen consequences. It has apparently nullified the gypsy curse that restored Angel's soul to him and left the demon in his body unhampered by the man I had come to call friend and ally. And the man Buffy had called lover."
"Despite her heartache, Buffy foiled Angelus' plans and destroyed "The Judge," a very powerful demon. I drove her home tonight, trying to think of something to ease her pain, failing miserably, feeling her frailty in the heavy silence. When we stopped, she spoke so quietly "You must be so disappointed in me." If I get a chance to kill that monster for this, I will. How could I blame her for having that need? Isn't that why I've craved Jenny so? Buffy and I have both been betrayed tonight by those we most sought to love. Even with this knife in my back, I admit I want Jenny still. How could I blame Buffy for that same emotion?"
"My reassurances seemed to break Buffy down even more and she wept. I pulled her to me and held her until she quieted. Today, more than any other day before, I hate this evil business of Watchers and Slayers. I know our place in the world, but that didn't matter as our hearts broke together in that car tonight. She is simply a girl with a sweet soul. She doesn't deserve this trauma. It is so wrong."
As Buffy passed the entries for the night Jenny died and the week and a half following, each day had barely a sentence written in black ink. Some pages had a few lines added obviously at a later date to fill in more detail, written in blue, but the one entry remained conspicuously brief. "Jenny Calendar is dead. Murdered by Angelus. I tried to kill him, and failed. Pathetically."
Buffy curled her knees to her chest, thinking back on that night. He'd hurt so much, tried in earnest to join his Jenny, to leave Buffy to be with her again. She'd felt so much anger, so much guilt. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." Buffy turned more and more pages, finding a section where again the entries were disturbingly brief. This summer. Of course. Nothing for a Watcher to report when he has nothing to watch. Cursory details of his search lined the pages, some snippets of the things her friends had faced in her place, some pages dated and otherwise totally blank.
Buffy closed the book slowly as she was struck by a moment of utter clarity. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." In the weakest, most emotionally bare moment of his life, the moment he had most needed her or anyone, she had selfishly exacted this solemn pledge from him. Being Giles, crying still in her cradling arms, he had given his oath. And after that promise, she insisted on shutting him out and doing things her way, doing them alone, at every opportunity. And after he had endured hours of torture, she left him, continuing his torture beyond that night for three months more. When she'd come back, he'd forgiven her. Showed nothing but his trust and continued loyalty, and she had betrayed that as well.
Buffy sobbed against her arm. He shouldn't have stuck that needle in her arm. He should have jabbed it into her chest to check for a heart. Or maybe into her head to test for a brain. What more could a human do to show their love? She had driven him past the level of physical endurance anyone should experience. She had driven him to the verge of insanity. She alone. And still, he loved her. Why?
The door opened and Rupert Giles entered his apartment, bandages decorating his battered body. Buffy stood slowly, swallowing a lump in her throat as she approached him. She had counted on Willow, Xander, and Cordy even, to help her smooth her countless misdeeds with the man that stood before her. There was nothing they could have ever done, and she understood that now.
Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to injure him more than she felt she had already done. To her never-ending surprise, he hugged her back, his head resting against the top of hers. She was the only one who could mend the rips in his heart that she had caused. It was her burden and no matter how long it took, she would do it. She alone.
(Never Tear Us Apart series #2)
by GylzGirl
Disc: Buffy, Giles, Sunnydale, the rest of the Scoobies and certain quoted bits from episodes belong to Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh), Kuzui and Fox. Regrettably, not to me (Wah!).
Rating: PG
Type: Angst? You're soaking in it! (aka "Aww, I need a hug.")
Author's Note: This story is a sequel to my story Verge
Written: 1999
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will face the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." Buffy ran her hand over the embossed passage on the inside of Giles' Watcher journal. She tried to hear his voice reciting it in her head, but only two words came. "She alone." Over and over again. "She. Alone."
"Dammit!" She threw the book across the room and it landed with a clink atop yet another pile of broken glass in Giles' apartment. She angrily wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, refusing to cry about this anymore. Tears weren't helping her, and they weren't helping Giles. And that was what she was supposed to be doing here, helping Giles, for once.
He was coming home today. He had narrowly avoided being written up as a suicide attempt and kept for psychiatric evaluation. Giles assured the hospital that he had simply had too much to drink and was trying to move a mirror. It had slipped and broken and in his drunken state, Giles had fallen in the glass, cutting himself something dreadful in his uncoordinated attempts to get up.
Once Giles had also assured Buffy that he really wasn't trying to kill himself, she had backed him up saying he didn't usually drink, couldn't really hold his liquor. That it was simply the anniversary of his girlfriend's death that had driven him to the bottle that night. She had just lost him as her Watcher. She didn't need the school firing him as librarian too.
Buffy carefully moved the book off of the glass and onto his coffee table. She grabbed her handbroom and tray and swept up the shards, depositing them into the bag, the whole time sniffing back fresh tears, the whole time hearing "She. Alone." whispered in her head.
Once all the glass was cleared away, and the sticky patches of alcohol mopped up, you could barely tell what had happened here. The only indications left: a few nicks and scratches on the walls and cabinets from where the bottles had struck, the mirrorless frame hanging on the wall, and the oppressive desperation that had led Giles to his actions hanging in the air.
The Slayer sat once again on Giles' sofa and reached for the book. His book, but her book too, in a way. She opened the cover and began to read the first entry. "Slayer is willful and insolent. Her abuse of the English language is such that I understand only every other sentence." She smiled.
When she had first walked into the Sunnydale High library and had turned to see Rupert Giles standing before her, she had thought to herself that he was prime crush material. A kind of shy-cute, and what a smile, and...sigh English. Then he'd brought out that damn book and everything changed. He was a Watcher. Now her eyes added 40 extra years to the 40 he had already earned. Mentally, she dressed him in tweed down to his socks and boxer shorts. She saw him as one of the nameless, cowardly, weak, old men sending her out to face monsters every night until she finally lost. And she was not going to get attached. She would never make that mistake again.
Damn him for caring about her and making her care in return. Damn him for showing her he was brave and trustworthy. Damn him for being more than his books and his duty. Damn him for saving her life.
Buffy skipped ahead a few weeks in the journal. "Angel has promised me the Codex. I must admit, I was almost giddy at the thought of being able to hold that most valuable volume in my hands. But, beyond that, it could mean so much in protecting my Slayer. To forewarn her rather than having to figure out the problem once the horrors have started. What an asset! As to Angel, he doesn't want to see Buffy. He's trying to protect her, to save her from the conflict her feelings for him cause with her sacred duty. But, I know he loves her. He'd never hurt her, which saves me from having to stake him. I'm honoring his request to tell Buffy nothing of our meetings. Loath as I am to keep secrets from the girl, I think their separation is probably for the best."
She thought back with a smile. Buffy had thought her life was so hard then, watching Cordelia try on her May Queen dress with a wistful nostalgia not many 16-year-olds could know. Now she realized the true difference between the adult she'd become and the child she'd been then, just two short years ago. The child felt sorry for herself, for the things she had lost. She hadn't appreciated just how hard things could really be. There was always a lower level to descend to. The adult had learned through the brutality of experience that you took the special small moments, a look, a touch, a kind word, a smile, where you could get them. They may not be there tomorrow. It took only seconds for your life to be sent spiraling into new frightening directions, and you could never go back the way you came.
Buffy flipped a few more pages and then stopped with a shaking hand when she noticed the date. Two days before the Spring Fling Dance her sophomore year. Two days before she had died. "I have made many adjustments to my intended technique since meeting Buffy. I have allowed her to date, and to involve "civilians" in her work. Unorthodox I realize, but I wonder, looking back, if we'd have done as well alone. Mostly, I have tried to let her remain a normal girl as much as possible to protect her sanity and her soul. No other Slayer has held station over a Hellmouth before, had to endure so much, and prevailed. Only Buffy. Only MY Slayer, and I take no small pride in that...in her. Now however, it seems my good intentions have been in vain."
"There was an earthquake tonight, a portent. It happened moments after I found this passage in the Codex: "The Master shall rise and the Slayer shall fall." I wish to God I'd never seen it, wish I could somehow unlearn what it is I know. My heart is breaking and Buffy's heart will stop."
"This has to be an error...somehow. I'm not giving up. I will research all night. I'll call Angel. I'll call up Satan himself if I have to. The passage would have me send Buffy out for the sole purpose of her slaughter. I can't do that. I won't."
Buffy sat the book down and ran to the bathroom, crying. She splashed some cold water on her face, blew her nose and tried to calm down a bit. She checked her watch. Giles was due to be home in two hours. She grabbed a handful of tissues and made her way back out to the couch.
She placed the book in her lap, took a deep breath and opened it to a random passage. This one caught her eye. The first part of it had been scratched out and he had started over again, but just under the harsh black ink lines, she could make out the words, "My poor Buffy." She gulped and read on.
"Events have taken a most tragic turn, for all of us I fear. Buffy, in her need to be with Angel completely, her need to be loved, had relations with the vampire. And this has loosed unforeseen consequences. It has apparently nullified the gypsy curse that restored Angel's soul to him and left the demon in his body unhampered by the man I had come to call friend and ally. And the man Buffy had called lover."
"Despite her heartache, Buffy foiled Angelus' plans and destroyed "The Judge," a very powerful demon. I drove her home tonight, trying to think of something to ease her pain, failing miserably, feeling her frailty in the heavy silence. When we stopped, she spoke so quietly "You must be so disappointed in me." If I get a chance to kill that monster for this, I will. How could I blame her for having that need? Isn't that why I've craved Jenny so? Buffy and I have both been betrayed tonight by those we most sought to love. Even with this knife in my back, I admit I want Jenny still. How could I blame Buffy for that same emotion?"
"My reassurances seemed to break Buffy down even more and she wept. I pulled her to me and held her until she quieted. Today, more than any other day before, I hate this evil business of Watchers and Slayers. I know our place in the world, but that didn't matter as our hearts broke together in that car tonight. She is simply a girl with a sweet soul. She doesn't deserve this trauma. It is so wrong."
As Buffy passed the entries for the night Jenny died and the week and a half following, each day had barely a sentence written in black ink. Some pages had a few lines added obviously at a later date to fill in more detail, written in blue, but the one entry remained conspicuously brief. "Jenny Calendar is dead. Murdered by Angelus. I tried to kill him, and failed. Pathetically."
Buffy curled her knees to her chest, thinking back on that night. He'd hurt so much, tried in earnest to join his Jenny, to leave Buffy to be with her again. She'd felt so much anger, so much guilt. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." Buffy turned more and more pages, finding a section where again the entries were disturbingly brief. This summer. Of course. Nothing for a Watcher to report when he has nothing to watch. Cursory details of his search lined the pages, some snippets of the things her friends had faced in her place, some pages dated and otherwise totally blank.
Buffy closed the book slowly as she was struck by a moment of utter clarity. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." In the weakest, most emotionally bare moment of his life, the moment he had most needed her or anyone, she had selfishly exacted this solemn pledge from him. Being Giles, crying still in her cradling arms, he had given his oath. And after that promise, she insisted on shutting him out and doing things her way, doing them alone, at every opportunity. And after he had endured hours of torture, she left him, continuing his torture beyond that night for three months more. When she'd come back, he'd forgiven her. Showed nothing but his trust and continued loyalty, and she had betrayed that as well.
Buffy sobbed against her arm. He shouldn't have stuck that needle in her arm. He should have jabbed it into her chest to check for a heart. Or maybe into her head to test for a brain. What more could a human do to show their love? She had driven him past the level of physical endurance anyone should experience. She had driven him to the verge of insanity. She alone. And still, he loved her. Why?
The door opened and Rupert Giles entered his apartment, bandages decorating his battered body. Buffy stood slowly, swallowing a lump in her throat as she approached him. She had counted on Willow, Xander, and Cordy even, to help her smooth her countless misdeeds with the man that stood before her. There was nothing they could have ever done, and she understood that now.
Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to injure him more than she felt she had already done. To her never-ending surprise, he hugged her back, his head resting against the top of hers. She was the only one who could mend the rips in his heart that she had caused. It was her burden and no matter how long it took, she would do it. She alone.
