Chapter Nine: Please Understand

Giles flipped through the spell book, trying to keep his mind on matters of importance, and having difficulty not worrying about where Buffy was. Most likely Spike had gone after her, the ruddy bastard. If he could just apply himself, he could neaten this situation up for her before she was back. Aware that he had cause her more pain by speaking to her angrily, he desperately wanted to help with something, anything.

His eyes caught the spell on the third go through the book. Written in Latin, his eyes skimmed the definition of the spell, entitled simply Laetabilis, roughly translated as joy. He read through it, then glanced around the bathroom. It was a fairly complicated spell to prepare, but to an adept of Willow's level, it shouldn't have been a problem. Of course, she had been in a hurry, most likely. And that was never a good way of preparing for something of this nature. The spell should have made Buffy, while still aware of what had transpired, happier in her situation. It was manipulation in its worse form, and he silently cursed the girl for tampering again in things she had no right to meddle with. Willow had clearly realized the mistake she had made, and instead of apologizing for it, had decided to take the easy route and deal with it by magical means.

The casting circle had been scattered over the bathroom floor to make way for bath time, and he began to gather the stones, setting them in the middle of the floor in a pile. The bowl she'd used had the residue of the potion in it, and he set it aside to analyze it later. He picked up a large stone and studied it briefly. It seemed to be Thulite, known widely as a heart-healing crystal, soothing emotional wounds. He set it down, frowning distractedly as he gathered scattered sticks from behind the sink. Thulite. Thulite.

"Thulite," he said aloud, staring into space. "Of course!" In excitement, he grabbed the book and glanced through the ingredients again. The focusing stone called for a blue sapphire, which was used literally to call forth joy. Obviously she hadn't possessed a blue sapphire, and substituted, thinking one would do just as well. Thulite also had other uses besides helping heart-break. It was used for helping children relieve memories that had caused heart-break.

Giles sat back, puzzled. It seemed strange that they should all be the same age... His mind whirled over the possibilities, and he reached for the bowl containing the leftover potion. There were half burnt sticks of hazel root. Looking back at the spell book, his eyes skimmed the ingredient list. It called for only one root. Sifting gingerly through the bowl, he surmised that there had been at least five roots thrown in.

"Damn and blast," he cursed vehemently. Not only had Willow meddled in something she shouldn't have; but in her excitement, she hadn't measured correctly, substituted the wrong stone, and endangered all of their lives. At least now he would be able to figure out a way of breaking the spell.

"Hopefully before anyone wants another bathroom break," he muttered to himself, pulling off his sweater to reveal a white undershirt. He would be working hard over the next hour, so he needed breathing space. Casting a glance out the door, he listened for sounds from the bedroom. All was silent.

"About bloody time," he said. "I'm too old to be living in a perennial circus."

After a half hour of study, he knew what needed to be done. Tara and Willow tended to keep most of the supplies in the living room cabinet, and he crept down stairs quietly. When he reached the living room, he jumped and let out a short shriek at Buffy sitting as still as a statue on the coffee table.

"Very manly," she smiled. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked past her, opening the doors and searching for the ingredients he would need.

"I've found a way to reverse the effects of the spell," he explained neutrally. Frankly, he was mortified over their last conversation, and feeling as she had already rebuffed his show of feeling, he was more comfortable on the normal business level they maintained as Watcher and Slayer.

Buffy watched his back sadly, knowing she had somehow hurt him. Spike's words had really hit her. She rubbed her jaw ruefully, thinking that wasn't the only thing that had jarred her. Leave it to Spike to resort to violence. At least he hadn't tried to kiss her.

She had left him without a word outside, shutting the door gently in his face. Giles' earlier words rushed over her, and she contemplated them as she sat in silence, hearing the sounds of footsteps and the rustle of papers from upstairs. With growing shame, she could recount the times just since she had been back when she had used him to deal with her mess. Leaving him with the bills so she could coddle Angel and reassure him everything was fine. Making him be the dad to Dawn when it was her own job as guardian to keep the younger girl in line. Taking money from him and referring to him as her mom had also seemed to hurt his feelings, she could see that now.

Setting the last ingredient down, he closed the doors and stared hard at the wooden doors, trying to read his next move in the grain of the oak before him. He could feel her eyes on his back, and inwardly resolved to make her speak first. Counting to ten, he decided that if she wouldn't say anything, he would go past her and break the spell. He owed her that much, as her Watcher. There was no other way he could help her, nothing else she wanted from him. Buffy had made that clear in her panicked flight from earlier.

Drawing in a deep breath, he bent down and gathered the supplies, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. He straightened slowly and looked down at her.

"Stay for a moment with me?" she begged softly. He followed her silently over to the couch and sat beside her, inwardly glad for the physical contact. They sat staring ahead for a few minutes, and then she surprised him by laughing shortly.

"God, this is so stupid," she said. Something in her voice arrested him, and he turned toward her to meet her eyes. They danced with some unshared joke. He must have looked confused, for she continued, "Back when we were fighting Glory, we could talk about everything. And here we are, unable to think of a whole sentence. It's sad after all these years."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away from her. She touched his arm again, and he looked back at her.

"It's not your fault, Giles, it's mine," she said, a divot creasing her brow. "I really have been... I can't even come up with a word for what I've been going through since I've - been back. But I should have been able to talk to you."

He opened his mouth, ready to pardon any mistakes she had made readily, and she shook her head to stop him. "No, Giles, I can take responsibility here. What Willow and the gang did was wrong, and saying sorry won't help me forgive them." She looked away from him. "Having them here isn't helping me. I need time to heal. And Willow needs help."

"I know," he agreed. "I intend on talking to her when this is over."

"Not before I talk to them," she nodded. "I'm going to ask them to move out, Tara and Willow both. I need to concentrate on Dawn again." She looked up at him pleadingly. "I need you to help me, Giles."

A crushing weight threatened to steal what little breath he had, and he looked away from her, miserable. "I can't be your father, Buffy. I can't let you lean on me whenever it's too hard for you to," he managed.

"I know that."

Surprised yet again, he faced her, his lips parting, unable to form questions. She smiled at him again. "I don't need you to be a parent to me, Giles, I need a friend. And you're the only real friend I've got right now. That is, I'd like you to be my friend," she added shyly. He reached out and grasped her folded hands tightly.

"I'd do whatever I could to stop the pain you're going through," he said feelingly. "But I don't think I can do what you want me to."

She drew in a deep breath. "I'm not asking you to help me with bills and a job search here, Giles. I'm asking that you sacrifice a little more for me, if you could. I need to know you'll be here to talk to."

"I could always be on the other end of the phone line," he objected, standing up abruptly and walking a few steps away. "I don't think you realize what you're asking me to do, Buffy. I don't think I can stay here much longer."

There was no answer, and he looked back at her. She was standing now, her hands clenched in tight balls, and her eyes shining in the light with unshed tears. "I thought I was your home, Giles."

He blushed to recall his words. "I-I d-didn't mean..."

She moved to his side. "It's been a long time since you've stuttered, Giles. I've missed that." Alarm filled him as he realized that he was fighting a losing battle. "Buffy."

"Please, Giles," she beseeched him. "I'm not sure how I feel right now, except that without you here to anchor me, I might not be able to pull through. That's not emotional blackmail, believe me. I could do this without you. I just don't want to have to face the day when you're gone."

He stared down at her, and she nodded. "You think I didn't hear you singing to me, Giles? I'm not that far gone. I just couldn't handle what you were trying to say to me. You're not standing in my way, and I'm not asking you to lead me by the hand. I need a friend. I need my Watcher. I need you, Rupert Giles."

"That's the third time you've referred to me by my first name," he said wonderingly.

"It's this new thing I'm trying," she confided. "I'm trying not to take you for granted. Clueless Buffy still happens to visit often, but I'm trying to fix some things."

Unable to resist, he reached out and touched her cheek, much like the first time when he had greeted her return with awe and joy. "You've come back."

She nodded slowly. "I really have. I got a little lost on the way."

"How did - when did this happen?" he asked aloud, not expecting an answer. She smiled up at him.

"I had you here to yell at me. And Spike gave me a punch when I was down. Literally."

Tentatively, fearing she might turn tail and run, he folded her into his arms and pulled her to his chest, mindful of her recent attitude of distance. When her arms came out and embraced him in turn, he dropped his head to rest his lips against her hair. "I'm so sorry, for everything," he whispered. She shrugged against him, breathing in the scent that she had always defined as 'Giles'.

"It's not your fault, Giles." They remained still, not knowing who was holding each other up this time.