CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: BURGUNDY

They gang had moved silently from the kitchen, Dawn gently pushing Stephen out, even though he was still a little cautious about leaving his wife with another man.  They adjourned to the living room and began talking quietly, leaving Buffy and Giles in the kitchen with the silence surrounding them.

Giles still stood, completely dumb-founded.  He took a small step forward to lessen the gap between them, Buffy quickly following suit until they were almost touching.  Giles slowly lifted a hand out and touched her face gently, the moment his skin touched hers, his entire resolved collapsed and he pulled her into his arms.

Buffy clutched at him tightly, feeling her own tears in her eyes.  The past week had been full of teary reunions and explanations, though she had never told anyone the complete truth about things.  She had vagued up her answer as to how long she had been in Quortoth, always saying that she couldn't' really say how long she had been here, that time was a bit of a blur when you had nothing to count it against.

She had, of course, just for curiousity's sake, worked out exactly how long she had been in Quortoth by calculating how long it had been in Sunnydale and multiplying by fifteen.  The actual number had ended up being close to 440 years, a fact that had completely astounded her.  She had been careful to rip up her scrap piece of paper, not wanting her sister or Willow to come across the number and wonder what it really meant.

Giles didn't loosen his hold on her, but he managed to put his hand under her chin so he could look at her face, his eyes searching hers.  Under the tears he could see pain and anguish and hesitation and love and devotion and uncertainty.  There was something so old about her eyes that told of many years of horrific events.

"How is this possible?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a small smile and sniffed back tears.

"Maybe we should be…sitting for this," she suggested.

"Long story?" he asked.

She tried not to burst into tears at the innocent question.  The flippant answer that came to her head was completely inappropriate for their tearful reunion.  'You got 4 centuries to listen?' 

"You could say that," she replied.

He just gave a nod that said he understood and pulled her back against him, just enjoying the gift he had been given.  His Slayer. 

------------------------

Giles felt distinctly uncomfortable as he sat in Buffy's room, Buffy sitting cross-legged on her bed as Giles sat on a chair facing her.  He was having trouble taking his eyes off her, afraid that if he even blinked she would suddenly disappear. 

Buffy cleared her throat, making Giles snap out of his dreary thoughts and he focused completely on her.

"So…how this is possible," she began.  "Well…I was…I was in a hell dimension."

She looked away, not wanting to see Giles reaction throughout her speech.  She had seen the hurt in the eyes of her sister and her best friends when she had revealed that fact to them.  And she knew that Giles would know about the dimension that she had been in.

"It was…it was a dimension called Quortoth," Buffy continued.

Buffy looked up when she heard Giles sharp intake of breath.  He had gone deathly pale and she could see that his hand was shaking.  He had removed his glasses from his eyes, and Buffy could still remember what his idiosyncrasy meant.  He didn't want to look at her while she confessed this to him.  It would be too painful to see her pour her heart out in such a fashion.

"Buffy," he whispered, his voice breaking a little.  "…Qourtoth…it's…it's not possible."

"We spent nearly a year trying to find out about Glory and we never really looked into why she wanted the portal open.  Then that stupid Byzantian Knight guy spilled the beans about her wanting to go home and we never got a chance to work out where her home was.  She opened the portal to it so…it was possible.  Just not very often," she explained.

"Yes I uh…I know about the portal being…time specific, but…Quortoth.  I uh…I have come across it in my research."

Buffy felt her heart catch in her throat.  If Giles had already researched it, then he may well know the truth about her experience.  She almost laughed mentally at the word.  Experience.  Try torture, or hell or the most horrifying time of her life.  Not exactly an experience.

"Oh," Buffy said quietly.

"They…the beings that…that managed to escape from Quortoth…they describe it as the uh…the worst of the worlds," Giles said.

She looked up at him tearfully and hugged her knees tightly.  "They wouldn't be wrong."

Even with his Britsh resolve, Giles couldn't stand the twinge in his Slayer's voice and before Buffy could even realise what had happened, Giles had moved from his seat and onto the bed beside her, gathering his Slayer in his arms, holding her tightly.

It took twenty minutes before Buffy had fully calmed down and caught her breath.  She was still nestled in Giles' arms, although Giles knew it was an action forbidden by the Council, he knew it was something that his Slayer needed from him.  Tangible reassurance that she was back at home with her family.

She sniffled and looked up at him tearfully.  "Sorry," she whispered.

"It's quite alright," he replied, astounded by her apology for breaking down after admitting where she had been.

"Right…so…Quortoth.  Not the best holiday vacation spot, I'll tell you that," she said, making an attempt at levity.

He looked at her, not unkindly, just the look that told her that she couldn't get away with edging her way around a difficult topic with him. 

"What…what do you want to know?" she asked quietly.

Giles pulled back a little and took in the look of her eyes once more.  He knew the question he needed to ask, but truthfully he was afraid for what the answer would be.

"I uh…I've read a little about Qourtoth and the uh….the time moves differently there to what it does here," he began hesitantly.  He felt and heard Buffy swallow nervously and he knew he had picked a sore topic.  But, he could sense that it was one that Buffy needed to tell the truth about.  "Is that…true?"

Buffy sighed and pulled fully away from her Watcher.  She stood up and moved to the other side of the room, completely confusing Giles.  Why had she moved?  He watched her as she bent down and carefully picked up a piece of white cloth and return to the bed, sitting a little further away from him, but close enough so that she could fall into his arms if she felt the need to.

Giles looked at the material curiously.  He didn't recognise it and couldn't understand why Buffy would put it on her bed after his question.  As she unwrapped the cloth, however, he began to understand. 

"Whenever the Gang ask me that," Buffy began, "I can get away with telling them that I don't know how long I was there for.  And honestly, I couldn't say exactly how long it was, but…I do have a pretty good indication.  And I worked it out a few days ago, but…when I was there…time had no real meaning.  The days kinda blended into each other.  The weeks and months meant nothing to me.  Years passed and I barely noticed, just kept going.  I woulda gone nuts and…if I hadn't had this, I wouldn't have been able to stay sane at all."

Giles looked down at the brown leather book she had taken out of the white material.  She handed it to him and he took it reverently, feeling the need to handle this item with as much care as Buffy did.  He stared at the leather cover, unsure as to what it was, though it did look awfully familiar.  He opened it and suddenly realised why.

"Buffy," he breathed quietly, not understanding how this was possible.  This was the journal he had buried with his Slayer, the journal that the Council had confiscated until Wesley had returned it on the day of the funeral.  But how did it come to be in his Slayer's hands.  And how come the pages were yellowed and falling out, brittle from too much sunlight and not enough moisture in the air?  How come the book which he had buried seven months ago suddenly seemed to be centuries old?

And that was when the answer hit him.  The journal looked to be several centuries old because it was several centuries old.  He swallowed hard and could only let a silent tear fall from his cheek for his Slayer, his daughter, the girl that he loved.  He pulled her into his arms once more and this time, they wept together.