Author's Note: So sorry that this took forever. I hope you haven't forgotten the beginning of this story. :/

I thought I needed to mention the AU absence of Spike (as I failed to do in the first chapter). For all intents and purposes, he left town a week before Giles did and is on a self-destructive, out of the loop, angsty quest of some kind. I hate to chop him out of anything, as I think he is one of the most fascinating characters in the Buffyverse (next to Giles), but he just doesn't work here. For now. ;)

Enjoy!

Chapter 3- This Strange Estrangement

The days that followed passed in a jumble of emotions, challenges met, and awkward adjustments. Some things were as difficult as he could have imagined and others were easier than he might have expected. For instance, Giles had been worried about over-crowding his recently revived slayer in an attempt to alleviate his own… bewilderment. Surely, in the case of a loved one risen from the dead (though Giles was certain there wasn't a handbook on such a milestone- at least not one that wasn't considerably outdated), the constant urge to reach out, to physically affirm tangibility, was more or less to be expected or, at least, understood. What he hadn't anticipated was Buffy's eagerness to reciprocate. In fact, Giles found more and more each day, that he was never want for physical nearness when it came to his slayer. She found every occasion to touch him and sometimes needed none at all. From strategically placed seating and comforting hand squeezes to spontaneous hugs, Buffy seemed to thrive upon their physical displays of friendship and closeness. Giles was both overjoyed beyond measure by this astonishing development and deeply concerned.

As it were, Buffy wasn't sharing this level of openness as easily or naturally with all of her loved ones. Xander and Willow's delight over whatever Buffy took comfort in generally seemed to prevail over their healthy modicum of jealousy concerning the "PDA." However, in Dawn, he was beginning to see real hurt. Giles didn't know if Buffy had been especially keeping her sister at arms length, but she certainly seemed to be most sensitive to the distance. Unsure as to how to persuade his slayer to express some genuine affection for the girl, he had settled for overcompensating with his own attentions. Having always been somewhat the patriarchal figure within their small group, it was easy for him to fall into the role and he made of point of being more of a father figure to Dawn than he had ever been. For the time being, at least, it seemed to uphold some level of balance.

Giles' only conscious explanation for Buffy's change in behavior toward him was perhaps the financial stability he'd been able to provide. She had spoken with him that first night about their, more or less, dire situation and it pained him to think that, on top of all that had happened, she'd had this anxiety to add to her burdens. He had been quick to assure her that, since she was now the active slayer again, he would do everything in his power to ensure that the council provided for all of her material needs- and had been largely successful, much to everyone's relief. They weren't living extravagantly, by any means, but the collectors stopped calling and they were once again recycling their junk mail instead of sifting through coupons.

Yet, still, there were moments of true alarm.

Buffy had gotten a late start today. It seemed to Giles that, since she'd been back, the girl either rose as early as he did (a time which most of the Scoobies considered an ungodly hour) or not before Noon. It was nearly 2:00pm before Buffy decided that she would ride with Giles to pick up Dawn from school and then to The Magic Box to spend the rest of the afternoon in training. Giles had just gone upstairs to change when he heard the panpipe sound of his tea reaching its boiling point and he rolled his eyes at the fluted melody. Willow had placed an enchantment on the iron kettle a few days before to replace the "shrill shriek" of the spout with the soothing sounds of a Peruvian wind instrument. Giles, however, was of the belief that there were some worldly necessities which functioned just as they ought to and, in all honesty, found few things in life as truly soothing as the stalwart whistle of a ready kettle.

"I got it..." Buffy yelled up from the kitchen. Giles checked his reflection in the bathroom, finished pulling on his sweater, and descended the staircase, straitening his collar as he went.

"You know, I thought perhaps we might see if Dawn was interested in going out for a meal this evening. Once we've finished training, of course, and she's finished with her…"

Giles' voice trailed off as he'd rounded the corner and stopped short in the doorway. There was Buffy, standing in a bit of a daze next to the stove top where the kettle had been set aside and the gas left burning in a thick, blue ring of sputtering flame- her outstretched hand held directly above it.

"Buffy." Giles spoke quietly, while his mind tried to wrap itself around the bizarre scene.

"Buffy!" He shouted, this time in urgency, and was at her side in another second. It wasn't until his hand snatched at her wrist that she seemed to jolt out of her trance to find her fingers being plunged under running water. Giles' arm ran the length of her own as he stood from behind and held out her hand to steady her. His breathing was quick and heavy against her shoulder.

"What on earth… Buffy, what on earth were you thinking?" He asked, incredulously.

"I…" Buffy struggled to break through the confusion, the sensation, and the lack thereof. "I… It's cold."

"Yes," He replied hastily, "We, we have to stop the swelling- stop the burning." Any average human, and the wound would have already begun to blister and boil. Yet, for much the same reason his slayer didn't easily bruise, hers was merely an angry shade of red. Still, Giles was visibly frightened.

"No…" Buffy backpedaled for her words, "I don't mean the…"

They both heard the loud slamming of the front door and locked eyes for a moment.

"Hey Gang! It's me!"

As Willow rounded the corner it had been Buffy to shut off the faucet and break away from their strange embrace and, though neither had been able to shake Willow of the feeling that she had interrupted something major, in the end, Giles let Buffy slip out of the awkward stand off and to her room. She'd remained there until it was time to leave.

The car ride might have been a silent one if not for Dawn's new History teacher, the scruffy, fresh out of grad school type, who had just been assigned to her sophomore class by no less than act of god. Apparently he was inexhaustibly "babe worthy" and Buffy even chimed in amidst the descriptive chatter to cautiously inquire after the fate of the old history teacher. As far as they were concerned, any staff replacement at Sunnydale High warranted a full scale investigation but it was Giles' turn to be distracted and aloof. When they reached the magic box, each sister went their separate ways; Buffy headed for the bathroom to change while Dawn set about laying her books and things at the table for studying. Giles headed straight to the back room. Dawn was rummaging for a pen when she heard him call to her from the kitchenette.

"Tea, Luv?"

Dawn smiled.

"Yes Please."

Giles was worried when the water had boiled and Buffy hadn't yet emerged, but he dutifully marched back into the shop with two steaming mugs in hand.

"What have we today, then?" He asked, setting Dawn's cup on the tabletop and bringing his own to his lips.

"Bio," the girl replied less mournfully than usual. "Mostly bookwork but there's lots of creepy pictures and stuff." She rotated the book in his direction to display a flayed squirrel, it's insides exposed and flesh neatly pinned to a cork. Giles frowned slightly over the rim of his cup at the twinkle in Dawn's eyes.

"Not unlike demon research, wouldncha' say?" Dawn asked casually.

"Indeed," He replied. 'Perhaps she'll be a surgeon,' he mused optimistically, recalling, all too well, a similar look in Buffy's eyes after her first kill with a broadsword.

"Well, we'll be in back if you need anything." He said, brushing her once on the shoulder as he turned towards the training room. Dawn briefly made some verbal acknowledgment before slipping on her earphones and nodding her head to a different voice entirely.

Once back in the back room, Giles shut the door, leaned up against the stacked mats, and waited for Buffy to come out. He knew she would be reluctant to talk about the kitchen incident, but not addressing it simply wasn't an option. Giles had been pleased with the progress they'd made in the time they were together but, of course, they were not always together. If Buffy was having self-destructive impulses, Giles needed to know about them and yesterday.

Just as he was beginning to work up the courage to knock, Buffy stepped out wearing her usual sweat and tank attire.

"So, what's on the menu?" She asked as casually as possible, not quite meeting his gaze. "Weapons and blocks, or crystals and mojo?" For some reason, she hoped for the latter.

"Let me see your hand." Giles replied assertively, setting down his teacup and standing straight.

Buffy thought to make some joke in protest or hold up her other hand instead of the obvious one in question. For some reason, though, she just stepped a bit closer and held out her palm for his inspection. The red had turned pink and shiny; the upper layer of skin melting into something smooth and even that stretched and wrinkled like plastic, spreading all the way to the tips on her middle and forefinger. It didn't really hurt unless she bent it. Much.

"Think it's okay to train? With it, I mean."

Giles removed his glasses and leaned back again, folding his arms in front of him.

"You seem to be healing right along, as usual, but frankly Buffy, that's not quite what concerns me."

Buffy looked down at the floor.

"What were you doing?" Giles asked plainly, clearly expecting Buffy to have an answer.

When she didn't immediately, he pressed on.

"Surely you must understand my… my alarm at walking in on…"

"I know." Buffy cut him off. Shaking her head slightly, she turned to lean up against the mats beside him. "I know," She repeated, "I'm sorry. It's just…" Buffy sighed. She wanted him to understand. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever wanted anyone to understand something more in her entire life (and death combined).

"It just that, most of the time," Buffy continued, "I don't even know if I'm hungry or cold or… Or even awake." 'Or living out a waking hell,' she purposfully didn't add. "I- I just want things to feel the way they used to." She let out another big sigh. "Lately, even the basics seem, just, out of my reach. I just wanna know what I'm supposed to feel." She looked down, again, a little surprised at the tightness in her throat and the sting of encroaching tears, but the feeling faded quickly enough.

"In other words," Giles mused, "you're looking for 'Fire bad; tree pretty?"

Buffy looked up and him and they shared a brief and knowing smile.

"I guess I'm a testament to the first half." She said, holding out her hand.

"Buffy," Giles began, "Our feelings are seldom as simple as they are in... in a fight-or-flight situation- but that doesn't mean we go seeking them out. And no one knows how they are supposed to feel from day to day, well that's only natural," He assured, but Buffy just stared down at her hands and Giles suddenly felt a little foolish. "But this is different, isn't it?" he said, taking on a different tone. He pivoted to face her and rested one elbow on the top mat, bringing them closer. "Is it like that all the time?" he asked gently.

Buffy gulped; here it came. He had to see, didn't he? That she wasn't always basking in the torment? Though she'd only begun to notice it herself, surely there were times when she was obviously more at ease, more Buffy.

"No." She answered honestly. "The only time I…" She fumbled. " The only thing that makes me feel, like living, or even just feel…" Buffy opened her mouth to say one set of words and then, afraid another might come out, closed it abruptly. "Never mind," She finished, breaking away once more.

"Buffy..." Giles urged, "I only want to understand. To... to help. It's why I'm here." The sincerity on his face was almost heart breaking.

"Is it?" Buffy finally asked, peering directly up at him, searching his eyes for something important.

"Is what?" asked Giles, feeling a bit lost.

"Is that why you're here, Giles?"

Giles frowned at at her question and began as if going to assure her but Buffy closed her eyes before he could say another word and leaned in on an impulse to strong to resist. Giles hadn't any time to think as she closed the distance between them yet managed to pull back just as her lips would have made contact with his. When they didn't, Buffy opened her eyes to find a look on Giles' face that she thought would haunt her for the rest of her days.

"Oh my god." She muttered, her hand coming up to her mouth. She felt a little sick. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what…"

Giles had quickly put several feet between them and was running one hand through his hair.

"Ah… It's, it's alright." He stammered, clearly taken aback.

"No. No, far from. I... I should go." Mortified, Buffy quickly made for the door.

"Buffy, wait!" Giles protested, though he was at a loss for what he would say if she did.

Dawn looked up from her books and pulled a headphone off one ear.

"Where you off to in such a…"

But Buffy was out the door before her sister could even really turn around and Giles was left standing in the Magic Box with Dawn and her worried expression.

"Should I go…?" She gestured in the direction of outside but Giles stopped her.

"Ah, no. I... I think it's best perhaps if we just let her…" But he trailed off and retreated back into the training room, closing the door behind him.

"What about dinner...?" Dawn muttered to an empty room and slowly leaned back into her chair.

…

It was nearly dark when Buffy reached Rovello Dr. and she became acutely aware of how little she was wearing. Summer was quickly waning into Fall and, even in Southern California that meant a chilly dusk and a cold night. Crossing her bare arms for warmth, her pace slowed with each step she took closer to her house. Buffy absently kicked at a pebble in her path and sent it flying clear across the street. It didn't feel like her house- not like it used to- before Mom and The Girls and, yes, if she was honest with herself, before even Dawn. Buffy didn't know why exactly but, since she had come back, she thought some part of her seemed to remember a life without her sister. Nothing concrete, really but just... feelings; a slightly lighter load and what she supposed must have been the pride and relief that came with knowing that, when it all finally went to hell, all her loved ones would go fighting by her side- of their own free will and right. Nothing to die for but the world. It seemed to much simpler at times.

But nothing was simple now. Giles was the only thing right in this world anymore and she had just screwed that one up royally. Buffy sighed heavily and leaned up against the tall fence beside her.

"Giles..." She breathed his name aloud and knocked her head back against the fence. Though it still came as a bit of a surprise to her, this time Buffy allowed herself to feel the twisting knot in her lower belly as she thought of his touch and the feeling of his face close to hers. Then came the inevitable inner cringe at remembering the recoil which had followed but she pushed that aside for a second and allowed her thoughts to explore the meeting of their lips, the taste of his skin, his shy yet knowing hand coming around her hip to tug her closer...

Buffy let out a petulant wine and bowed her head into her hands. What was wrong with her? Since when had Giles- tweedy, sexless, dinosaur Giles- become worthy of kissy awake dreams? The regular dreams were bad enough and even those weren't exactly... regular. (Giles by a campfire, Giles on a boat, Giles in weird robes- and each one leaving her all hot and sweaty.) Buffy's dreams of waking up in a box were quickly being replaced by the nightly sexcapades of her and her watcher (each in a new and foreign mystical place of power)- which, by the way, wasn't affording her anymore sleep.

After awaking from the first dream which had turned particularly graphic, Buffy had thought it would be weird to be in his presence and had planned on avoiding him for most of the next day. After all, it couldn't be that hard- she'd been doing it to everyone else. However, it had taken her all of about three second at breakfast to decide that it was stupid plan as she watched him pour his milk into his tea. This was Giles, and nothing could be weird with him. She couldn't control what her brain did in it's sleep (and, quite frankly, nor did she exactly want to). But, at least she had been able to hold herself together around him. Until today. Buffy didn't know why it had felt so normal to just lean in and 'go for the kill', only that, for a second, it had- before reality and the yucky had asserted itself. Or maybe, Buffy mused to herself, it was simply easier than telling him the truth. As it remained, Giles still believed that she'd been resurrected from a dimension of hell and torment. That fact alone, more than any other, kept them miles apart.

With another deep breath, Buffy pushed herself upright and continued on home. In the 60 seconds or so it took Buffy to reach her porch she had already conjured up about six different scenarios for what she might be greeted with inside, each one more imaginative than the next. But the last that popped into her mind, a note on the dining room table and a tear-stained Dawn, caused Buffy to hasten the last few steps to her door.

I have most of Chapter 4 written but I could definitely use the extra encouragement to get it out faster! Let me know what you think. Likes, dislikes... Oh you know the drill. :)