This chapter is dedicated to my friend, who inspired me. Thank you, Wicked Thespian for everything you've done to help make this story possible.
Oh, and thank you to those who faved, reviewed and alerted. You've inadvertently forced me to keep writing this story and I love you for it!
"So, no more Riley?" Willow asked in uncertain tones. The blond shrugged.
"No more Riley. Oh, Willow! I'm so ashamed! I let him hurt me. I wanted...him to hurt me."
She unbuttoned her cute blouse and turned her back to the redhead. Along the skin were the thin red lines from the night before still on her back. With Buffy's rate of healing, that was hard to accomplish and her best friend found a new respect for what had happened and what the blond was telling her. Most of her didn't understand much about the confession.
"Buffy, why did you want him to hurt you?"
"I thought I deserved it."
"How could you deserve that?"
"Because he's right, Will. I don't know why. I wanted to love him. I even believed I did for a while but when he touched me. I was happy but I knew something was missing. The pain...there was something inside of me that was missing." She didn't want to cry, not anymore. "Is something wrong with me?" she asked the only woman she trusted as much as her mother.
The redhead's eyes widened and she hugged her friend, whispering fiercely, "No! God no, Buffy!"
While it was true that Buffy tended to be a masochist, it was usually in a more personal sense and much less physical than this. She felt the nagging voice of guilt in her. The redhead frowned and turned toward Buffy. "It may not be wrong with you, Buffy. It might have been me…"
At first the blond didn't understand. She looked to Willow as if she'd just spoken Greek before a tiny glimmer of understanding reached her mind. Her heart sank.
"Oh, Willow, please tell me you didn't."
The other raised her hands defensively. "Only a little push, Buffy. We all just wanted to see you happy again."
"We?"
"Oh, yeah…you see…" her friend paused. "Xander, Giles and me."
"How could you, Willow? This is my life!"
"I didn't know it would happen like that, I swear!"
"You didn't know I'd wig and spend the night with Spike?"
The other paused. "You spent the night with Spike? What? Buffy, I don't understand."
The blond paused. She hadn't intended to bring up Spike but the words slipped out in her anger. "He found me, after Riley left." She explained. "He said he could smell the blood. He didn't know it was me."
"But why did you sleep with him, Buffy?"
Her eyes widened. "Ok, ew. I can't even imagine that. Oh, I just don't want to. I didn't sleep with him, Will!"
"But you said."
"I don't know. I asked him to kill me. I wanted to be punished for all of this, for something! I just feel so guilty all of the time and I knew he was the one person…the one thing that truly hated me. He was safe, don't you see? And you know? He didn't even touch me. He was nice…"
The tears finally came again and the redhead was lost for some way to respond. There was something wrong with the whole thing but she couldn't say that and make her friend feel worse. Buffy collapsed into her arms, crying in her lap. The nagging voice of guilt grew stronger but there was nothing to be done to undo it. She brushed her fingers through her friend's hair and let her cry. After all, she deserved it. Inside her own heart was breaking to be the cause of something like this.
The blond eventually fell asleep and Willow chanced getting up. She covered Buffy with a blanket and snuck out of her dorm room. Half an hour later she was standing in front of a familiar wooden door. She knocked twice and waited for someone to answer. The Watcher opened the door a short while later and Willow burst in without an invite.
"I'm coming in!" she paused, once inside, "can I come in?"
Giles' green orbs glanced over the agitated witch. "Willow, do sit down and tell me what's happened."
She sat immediately and then jumped up again, pacing, unable to hold still.
"I did it to her, Giles. It's my fault. I can't fix this."
The thoroughly confused Watcher sat her down, looking stern. "What's this about?"
"The spell, Giles. Buffy… and Riley…"
The whole story tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. She felt guilty and heartsick by what had happened, causing her best friend such unhappiness. For his part, the Water said nothing. He simply gazed at the witch and considered the situation carefully. Seconds turned to minutes and more time passed before he finally ventured to speak.
"Perhaps this is for the best, Willow." At her look of confusion he clarified. "Buffy wasn't truly happy. She couldn't be if she wasn't in love with the lad. Neither was Riley, apparently. Perhaps it was time for this particular relationship of hers to end."
"But, Giles…"
"No, Willow, stop now. It's alright. While the spell didn't have the desired affect, that doesn't mean you did it wrong."
He felt familial toward this woman, too. It seemed Giles was not a very good Watcher. The goal of his job was to train the Slayer and test her courage and conviction. He was never allowed to get too close. Instead, he'd become infatuated with her and loved her friends as his own family. There was nothing he wouldn't do for these children in his care. And, after all, no one had ever challenged the job quite so much as Buffy did. She wore what she liked, followed her own methods, had friends, dated, and tried to be like normal girls. That effort alone made her more than normal girls. It made her extraordinary.
Still, he tried not to show his affection overly much. It was one thing to feel the swell of pride in his heart when Willow learned to cast a spell or when Xander managed not to get hurt in a fight. It was another thing entirely to be familiar with them on a physical level. "Like I have with Buffy." He thought darkly, though he didn't let the idea show on his face. "Willow, I can only counsel you to be careful with these magics. They are not something to be toyed with lightly. The repercussions of what you do can be profound as you've learned. I'm afraid you may not be able to control them."
She blinked at him. A warning? After all the guilt she felt? She shook her head. "I'm not a child, Giles! I can do this!"
"Lately I seem to be hearing that often from you lot. You're not children." Rather than anything else it could have sounded like, Willow thought maybe she detected regret…sadness?
"Giles?"
He blinked, looking her way. "It's nothing Willow. Pay it no mind." He looked older now and more tired than she usually saw him. Something was bothering him and whatever it was, it traveled deep. It was not like the Watcher to keep secrets. He was more trusted than most adults they knew. Every one of them had one or both parents that disappointed them in some way, leaving them to fend for themselves. Willow's mother, for example, seemed to know everything about every child but her own. Her father, too, was out of the picture in almost every way. Giles was her replacement for the love and comfort of a parent so when he reprimanded her for anything, it stung. She believed it to be true; you always hurt the ones you love. She believed it because she loved him and she allowed him to become important enough to hurt her.
"Tell me." She asked, trying not to push him but trying to ease his concerns.
"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand what I'm thinking." He replied in weary tones, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The gesture wasn't useful in any sort of significant way, but it was a habit born of long hours reading.
"Try me." She prompted. He only sighed.
"I can't, Willow."
She pouted, drawing her pink lips down. She looked cute like that and had won many a fight with Xander by pouting like a puppy until he gave in to her demands. This tactic, however, did not seem to impress the man in front of her but he smiled halfheartedly. "You are a remarkable girl, Willow Rosenberg." He admitted softly. "Remarkable woman." He amended.
"Giles, I think I'm gay!" she blurted out and turned almost as red as her fiery hair.
He blinked. Then blinked again. He was truly startled out of his voice by her confession, to him of all people. He was unsure of what to say but she seemed to expect and answer so he carefully tried to reply. "Willow," he said patiently, "I'm told these experiences in college are normal. Quite common, actually."
She started nibbling her lower lip. It wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "No, Giles, I think I'm really gay. There's this girl, that I like…" The look on his face made her pause. It wasn't a bad look, only a deer in the headlights look.
"Nevermind." She murmured softly.
"Willow, perhaps you want to talk to your mother about this?"
"She tried to burn me at the stake, Giles. We haven't been buddy buddy in a while."
"She was under the influence of a demon." He countered feebly. Willow looked down at the floor and he felt guilty for letting her down. Sighing, he put an arm around her shoulder and she brightened. "The heart wants who it wants, Willow. I know this from experience. Just make sure you know if what your heart wants is something lasting or is acting merely on lust."
"I should take my own advice." He thought softly when he fell silent. "Buffy's enough to drive a man to distraction but if I want to pursue this, I do it knowing full well I may lose everything. I can't possibly act without knowing whether I'm suffering an old man's fancy or if she really touches my heart the way I suspect she might."
He was not, however, willing in any way to admit he might lover her aloud. Willow laid her head on his shoulder, content. Problem solved. Her indulged her and, indeed, himself for a while. "I feel bad for Buffy, Giles." She said at last, breaking the silence. "She's lost Riley and was broken up enough about it to spend the night with Spike."
He frowned at the last bit, rather disliking the platinum vampire. "Buffy is strong. We have to trust that she knows what she needs."
Willow closed her eyes and nodded, committing to do just that. It was easier for the redhead than for the older man at her side. He knew he has a lot to think about and should he finally suss out whatever it was he wanted, that wasn't going to make it easy. Nothing about this in either direction was going to be easy.
"Right, Willow, I ought to let you get back to your room. Life does continue on. Besides, it's more important to be there for Buffy than for an old Watcher like me."
"You're not old." She said tenderly, smiling at him.
"Pray you're right."
When she left, he made a cup of tea and drew the Watcher's journals from his shelf. The newest one was the one he had in his hand, his own. Taking out a pen, the Watcher braced the book against the chair arm and considered carefully what he should say. The feelings he had were something that needed to be preserved, a danger to future generations. The Watcher's journals were filled with the exploits of Slayers but more than that they were filled with the thoughts of men, men like him. In later decades women penetrated the ranks of Watcher and now those journals existed as well.
I have formed an unhealthy attraction to my Slayer. He paused, scratching that out. It sounded like the beginning to a bad wanking story. I have let my feelings for my Slayer affect me more deeply than they should. I love Buffy as if she were my own child. I embrace her friends as my family and I have failed as a Watcher in that respect. The more he confessed himself, committing the sins to paper, the closer he found redemption. Needing release, he continued.
Some nights ago during the Faith incident I kissed my Slayer, Buffy, while Faith occupied her body. I did not know then that she was not as I thought her to be. Since then I have been wracked with guilt, having let my desires as a man cloud my judgment for my place as her Watcher. I told the girl of my indiscretions, unable to hide the deed from her. Perhaps I wanted her to know what I'd done, just to see her reaction. Whatever the reason, I've lost her trust.
She asked me to kiss her two nights ago, to show her what happened between Faith and I. Good Lord, I am only a man! How could I deny her request? When she kisses me, it burns, and I feel myself hungering for her in ways I have not felt since my youth. She is a fantasy, a phantom, and I allow myself to commit to the idea when we touch. She consumes me and I fear I may go mad if I continue to linger in these thoughts of her.
I have indulged her too much. If I'd taken her away and isolated her as so many of my colleagues have done, she'd be more disciplined and perhaps more willing to follow orders. When they told me I was to be positioned with her on the Hellmouth, I was terrified. It was an honor I dreamt not of. And then when I met her and saw how young she was and how desperately she hungered for a normal life, I fell in love with her. She was someone I needed to protect. Someone I still protect even to the point of discarding the only rules I know. She was the daughter my flesh had never given me.
I have no idea how to balance this old and new way of thinking. I know I cannot allow this barrier to be crossed more than it currently has but I find it impossible to forget the knowledge I have gained. Even now I'd spare her any pain in the world if my own hand could stop it. Perhaps that is the penalty for giving her this normal life. In allowing her freedom, I have confined myself to this pen. In loving her as a daughter, I have opened to the idea of love and crossed the border. This is my sin to bear. She acts with passion in everything she does. If I did not allow her such freedom, she would not show me such passion in her duty. How much more can I ask of the girl that was willing to die to prevent the Master from rising?
No. I must keep these thoughts to myself. If I am to survive without endangering her life I must never suffer these thoughts to be acted upon. I am only too aware that I am twice her age. I am well aware that Spring never can marry Autumn. The thought is too preposterous for words, and yet if she were to ask I'm not sure I'd have the restraint needed to say no. Perhaps I need to look into going back to England. Another Watcher will love her less and will not fail as I have. I may not be in love with Buffy, but I think I could very easily if she showed me even the slightest interest in it. And there is the main crux of my heartache. What I dream of cannot be.
She's having troubles of her own. I made no apologies for my dislike of her affair with the vampire Angel. In them I recognized a love that could breed their destruction and it very nearly did. And somewhere in the middle of it I lost Jennifer, a night that still lives on in my nightmares. Were I able to give up my life to offer destruction to that demon, Angelus, I would have. Understand now that I make little distinction between the two personas. I know what it is to have evil lurking inside of you, clawing to get out. I know what it is to feel the pull of temptation. It is an everyday struggle. I can never think of Angel and Angelus as two beings because I know the truth of it. Angel will always be Angelus somewhere beneath.
And now my Slayer has lost another love. I feel the hurt of it as my own and part of it may be to my suggestion. I encouraged Willow, the budding witch (with some power much to my dismay) to do a spell to set things as they should be. Human beings are not meant to be manipulated by magic and it fell spectacularly to pieces. My first instinct was to be glad for it and the thought of that alone cripples me more than I can say. To take joy in my Slayer's suffering is a cardinal sin. I shall never breathe a word of my growing despair to anyone of this circle of friends. I shall never touch Buffy again in any way that is not forthright as her teacher. She makes sacrifices to save people she will never meet. I can sacrifice my heart for the love of her, as odd of a thought as that is.
There the words ceased to flow. He felt cleansed in his confession. All the words on a page before him. What would those Watchers after him think? Was his confession something better left unsaid? He couldn't say and before he lost his nerve he closed the book and replaced it to its shelf. Had he not, he'd have burned the pages before letting anyone discover them.
Somwhere across town a demon reclined in his throne. He was new to Sunnydale and the town seemed ripe for the taking. He was an ancient being, living for this long in his dealings with human and demon kind alike. His body was brownish in color, patching in color here and there. He looked almost like living stone. Around his head was a circle of small horns protruding short spikes. Two longer horms started where his eyebrows might have been, reaching back to lay flat on his head and stopping midway back like bony ridges.
Another demon was by his side, an enforcer demon, a Furlon. He contrasted against his master about as much as one could. While the brown demon looked solid and hard, the other demon looked like it oozed, green pus dripping down its body. It had a long snout and powerful arms. Tree trunk legs help the thing upright. From parts of him it looked like green things wriggled. The brown demon narrowed its eyes. There was something for him in this place, something calling to him through the dim light of dawn. Two of his children sought refuge here, taking shade in the Hellmouth's glow. Though it had taken him years, he finally tracked them down. In the end, his Children of Chaos would pay their debts.