This chapter alternates between Giles and Buffy's POV. It does include a line from "Lie to Me", from Season Two. Disclamered.

Thank you for the reviews =)

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Chapter 3
Morning Girl

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I thought I had drifted off to sleep when I heard a small sound next to me. I turned my head and saw her. Her eyes were wide open, staring into mine. Beautiful, soft hazel eyes, filled with warmth. The last time I had seen those eyes was the same day she had told me that if her sister died, she would quit.

But I saw those eyes now. There wasn't a trace left of bitterness or contempt, darkness or malice. All I saw was her eyes, shining at me.

"Did I wake you?" she asked me softly, shifting slightly in her bed.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't bloody well open my mouth. I just stared at her in disbelief. After nearly nine months of wishing, hoping and praying and it had all come down to this. I tried to shake my head, but even that wouldn't work. All I could do was stand there and gape until another body entered the room and gasped.

It was Willow. She had frozen in the room, her own eyes wide as petrified stones. "B-B-Buffy?" she finally managed to choke out.

Buffy turned to her and smiled, a weak, tainted smile. "Hi, Will."

Willow looked as though she were going to pass out. I knew I wasn't going to be of any help to her, so I glanced at her and glanced at the door, hoping she would get the message. She did. "I'll just get the nurse," she stuttered, before rushing from the room. Down the hall, I could hear her shrieks.

I still couldn't do much except stare at the vibrant, beautiful face. The feelings inside me were welling, as though I had found something I had lost, so dear and precious, so long ago. She turned her gaze to me, so innocent, so pure, I couldn't pull my eyes away.

The Doctor ran into the room, an astonished look on his face. "It's a miracle!" he gushed.

Yes, she was a miracle. She always had been. Probably always would be.

The Doctor was scanning her now, checking her vitals, asking how many fingers and other pointless questions. Part of me wanted to get him out so that I could have a precious moment alone with my Slayer. The other half of me was still wondering if I was dreaming. I had to be. It had been eight months since she'd opened her eyes and said anything. The scrapes and bruises and fractures had since healed, but her head, that had been the worst. Like Faith, I thought to myself. Just like Faith.

I was still gazing at her even as a second Doctor, a neurologist, stepped in to ask more pointless questions. I could see that Buffy was growing annoyed with the questions and the concerns that both Doctors were showing. I was even getting annoyed and I was still too stunned to utter a single word.

The moment they stepped out the door, I finally pulled myself together. I hadn't known the right words to say. Until now. "Good morning, Buffy," I said, with an anxious smile as I took my seat again, reaching for her hand. "How's my morning girl?"

She gave me a weak smile, her eyes rolling back. For a moment, I thought I'd lost her again. "Tired. Strong. Alive." She reached up a trembling hand, still attached to the IV. "Want to live."

"I quite imagine you might," I said gingerly. She quickly swung her gaze back to me, her head tilting ever so slightly back and forth.

"No," she whispered. "My spirit guides. They told me to be strong, to get strong, I had to live. I had to want to live."

"Do you?" I asked, knowing this could be the most critical question of all. Faith had wanted to live, but to satisfy her vengeance. Buffy's only vengeance would be on herself, for taking the jump that nearly cost her life.

She stared at me with her hazel eyes, unmoving, unblinking. Just staring.

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What kind of question is that, I asked myself as he kept gazing at me, with that look of both contempt and irritation. I knew that being interrogated and checked over by my Doctors had rattled him. I could understand why. He was the one who had been by my side when I had awoken. Not Dawn. Not Spike. Giles.

"I do," I replied softly, squeezing his hand that so gently held mine. "I always wanted to. I just didn't know how to get back."

"Your strength?" he asked, his voice hushed, as though he didn't want anyone to overhear I had mystical healing powers. "Is it coming back?"

I nodded, gazing curiously at him. I would have thought that if he was by my bed, he would be involved with a book. On the contrary, I saw an electric teapot, his guitar case, a suitcase open with clothes hanging on a rack in a far corner. "Wow, Giles," I breathed, glancing from one end of the room to the other. "You really set up your own hotel here."

"I wanted to be here," he replied gently. "I wanted to make sure that..."

"I wouldn't be like Faith?" I finished for him. He gazed up at me, and judging by the flash of his eyes, my intuition had scored. "I know she betrayed us, Giles. I know she turned reckless when she woke up from her coma. It never happened with me, because I knew who I was when I was sleeping."

Giles glanced down a moment then looked up, a tender look crossing his face. "You truly are the workings of a miracle," he said softly, touching my face as he sat down on my bed. I could feel his weight next to me. It was comforting, really, to feel his body heat so close, when I had been so alone.

But it was the strangest feeling, overcoming me. Giles had never been this close to me before. The way he was holding my hand and speaking of my brief departure from death was making me believe that something had happened. "Is something wrong?" I finally asked him.

He didn't get the chance to reply. The door to my room burst open and Willow, Tara and Xander poured in, all gasping, gushing and crying out. Giles stood up and released my hand. I quickly moved my own back to my lap and turned my attention toward my friends, distributing new balloons, flowers and gift baskets.

"Dawn wanted to be here, but it's the middle of the night for her," Tara apologized as she handed Giles a fruit basket. "You should eat healthy here. The hospital food will kill you."

I smiled, mostly to appease them, but my eyes flittered toward Giles, who was standing, arms crossed, staring at the fruit basket. "Is that a pineapple?" he asked, his tone edgy. Tara nodded. "How is she supposed to eat a pineapple."

"We can take it home," Willow said quickly over the silence that ensued. "I'm sure Dawn would enjoy it."

"Dawn doesn't eat pineapple," I said in confusion, this time looking at Xander.

Xander shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Dawnie does a lot of things that big sis wouldn't understand," he said quietly.

I understood what Giles had been so strange about. I turned back to him. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost nine months," Willow said, interrupting Giles as he cleaned his glasses.

"Nine months?" I gasped, sitting up. A sudden ache hit my head, but I ignored it as I stared at the IV tubes attached to both of my hands. "Why didn't anyone ever try and wake me?"

"The best doctors in the world were trying to save you, Buffy," Tara insisted. "It was just that we couldn't reach you."

"But you were there," I replied. The hint of panic in the room ceased as everyone turned in confusion to Tara. "You were the one that told me she wanted to see me."

"Who?" Giles asked.

"My spirit guides," I replied, keeping my eyes locked on Tara, who was starting to back away behind Willow. "You told me that she would explain my strength, and she did. The First Slayer told me to know my strength from those around me." I glanced at each one of them, her words echoing in my mind. "I'll tell you later, because right now, my head hurts."

Xander was the first to move, getting a bedpan as I doubled over, the pain in my head now staggering my movements. Nine months in a coma and my first ten minutes were spent either in arguments or bending over vomiting in a bedpan.

After Xander had left the room, Giles gently pushed me back down while Willow was quick to pour a glass of water. I sipped it, but the nausea was still bubbling deep inside me. I choked it down and handed the flimsy plastic cup back before I closed my eyes. "Can they give me anything for the pain?"

"I'll go see," Willow said, taking Tara's hand as they, too, left the room.

Giles stood next to me, his eyes full of concern. Even though my eyes were closed, I could see the strange look he was giving me. "I'll be fine," I insisted. "I just need to adjust, that's all. And maybe once I sleep, I'll feel better."

He nodded, but when I opened my eyes, he didn't look too convinced. "There's a whole new world out there, Buffy. There's demons that have appeared from nowhere. Dawn is even fighting, sparring."

I didn't have the heart to ask what he meant by that. All I knew was that my sixteen year old sister was out there fighting vampires, and I was laying in a hospital bed, vomiting up my rejection of reality.

I kept my silence, even when the Doctor and his nurse returned to my room to check my vitals again and give me a painkiller. After a quick word of surprise about my speedy recovery, they left, the morphine now tucked safely in my bloodstream from an IV drip.

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I watched her face as the IV continually dripped the drug into her system. She was weakening, I could feel it. I could also see it. She was struggling to stay awake, struggling to come to terms with the news she had heard, but I knew that sleep would overcome her. I wanted to tell her not to fight it, but I couldn't find it within myself to tell her.

Soon enough, though, her eyes closed and her breathing became regular.

And I sat down. And began to worry.

Perhaps she'd thought only a few weeks had passed since she'd toppled from the tower. Perhaps she had expected everyone to jovially welcome her back. It had been so difficult without her, yet it had been her decision. Her sacrifice.

My Slayer was truly waking up to a new morning. She had taken a deep sleep, and was returning, well rested, for what might lie ahead. In her case, that meant the weight of the world was back on her, and nothing I could do would stop her from slipping back into a trance.

As I sat back down, I plugged in my teapot and took my last teabag out, slipping it into my mug as I thought. There had to be something I could do. My Slayer wasn't too far gone. Not yet. She still managed to care about things. That was why her body had had such a horrid reaction to the news.

The teapot started whistling and I poured the steeping water into my cup and sipped silently, keeping a watchful eye on the girl who's life I was supposed to protect.

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I woke several hours later. It had to have been hours, because the pain in my head was gone, and the lights were dim. There were reflections of light behind the blinds, making me think that morning had come and maybe had passed. I lifted my head and sat up.

Across from me, sprawled in a chair, was Giles. Next to him was his faithful mug, a teabag still inside, a quarter cup of ice-cold tea still sitting in the bottom. I stifled a smile as my eyes wandered over him. Even in his tweed coat and sharp-appearing pants he looked ever the part of my Watcher.

I glanced next to me and saw the guitar case he'd had in my room. Knowing that my curiousity would some day get me killed, I bent down and picked it up, testing my strength. It was surprising light, which I found out was because the guitar wasn't inside but was propped against the back wall. I shook my head and turned over the leather case, slightly surprised when I saw the small, gold print on the edge.

He'd had his guitar case embroidered.

That Giles.

I gently ran my fingers over the inscription. Rupert William Giles.

"Bloody hell," I whispered. I'd been hanging with Spike far too long.

My words seemed to shake Giles from his sleep as he jumped and sat up, rumpling his suit further. I quickly pushed the guitar case off my bed, watching it bounce as it hit the floor, and slammed my back on the bed, closing my eyes.

But Giles wasn't fooled that easily. He gazed at me with a questioning eye and turned, picking up his cup. "Good morning, Buffy."

"Morning," I said, opening my mouth into a yawn. He was still not fooled as he dumped his teabag and rinsed his cup. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, yes," he replied, carefully wiping out the inside of his mug and returning it next to the teapot. "And yourself?"

"I've been better," I said, dolefully looking at the hospital bed and the small, scant room.

"I quite imagine you are."

"Giles..."

He glanced at me before removing his glasses. "I know what you're thinking, Buffy. Does it ever get any easier? I'll lie to you. Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by the pointy horns or black hats. And, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after."

I averted my gaze from him as he slipped his glasses back on. "I was going to ask about your guitar case. Is your middle name really William?"

He was silent for a moment. "Oh. That." He walked over and lifted his guitar case, staring at the embroidery as though he'd never seen it. "Yes, it certainly is."

"Why did I not know that?" I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"Perhaps because you thought it best to never ask?" he replied with a shrug. "You never did ask me about my middle name. Or my birthday. Or even who my parents were."

I thought about that a moment. I turned back to him. "I have time now," I said softly, "don't I?"

"You're leaving in three days," Giles replied in a heavy voice. "I don't have time to go around telling you stories of my existence, no matter how bored you might seem. There's nothing that important that can be learned from my life."

I leaned back on my bed, my eyes sparkling at the thought of Giles entertaining me with his stories. "Enlighten me."

"Well," Giles began. "About twenty years ago...."

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Next part will be posted tomorrow! I hope you liked this!