Chapter Eleven: Nightmares, and Comfort, and Waffles (Oh My!)

The light was still on in the bedroom, and she approached the door cautiously, not wanted to run into any of the gang. She had heard their footsteps past the door, but was unable to believe they were truly gone. The sight that met her eyes made her smile faintly.

Giles, tired of waiting for her in the uncomfortable chair at the writing desk, had stretched out over the mussed sheets, his arms thrown over his head. Reflecting silently on the thought that she had rarely seen him in a t-shirt before, she moved forward and began to unlace his dress shoes.

"Better than the bloody couch," he muttered without opening his eyes. She laughed quietly.

"Sorry you had to stay on it," she apologized. The first shoe dropped to the floor, and she began to work on the second. "If I'd had the guts, I would have asked them to leave as soon as I was back, and you would have gotten this the first night you were here."

"So you say," he said, cracking his eyes open. She set the shoe down next to the other and moved up to sit next to him. His recovered glasses rested on the bedside table, and she ran a hand through his hair fondly.

"You'll stay here?" she asked, unable to meet his eyes. He caught her hand and held it.

"As long as you'll have me, Buffy," he reassured her solemnly. She nodded and then pulled away.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning," she said, suddenly awkward. He nodded, following her with his eyes as she left the room.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

He leaned over and flicked the bedside lamp off and was out before his hand hit the mattress.

Screams rent the night air, and he sat bolt upright, tossing the blankets to the floor. He leapt to his feet and dashed out the door, knocking Dawn aside roughly in his blind search. Grabbing the girl, he righted her and moved to Buffy's door.

"I've got it, Dawn," he assured her, and entered quickly. Dawn hovered anxiously in the doorway.

"She does this every week," she informed him. "It was better for awhile when you got back, but I guess after everything..." He reached Buffy's side and grasped her shoulders.

"Buffy, wake up," he said loudly, shaking her. She was covered in sweat, and her sleep shirt clung to her, twisted around her body along with the sheets.

Her eyes opened wide, and he leaned closer so that she could see his face in the streetlight coming in through her window. Gasping for breath, her eyes registered his presence, and he released her slowly.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. Dawn leaned her head against the wall, her hands clenched in balls at her side. When would she ever be alright?

Giles pushed some strands of damp hair away from her face. "I'll be right back, okay?" Waiting for her nod of assent, he stood and moved out of the room. Dawn chewed on her thumbnail nervously, unsure of her welcome.

"Dawnie, please go to bed. It's alright," she said hoarsely. The girl looked uncertain, but seeing Giles return, she nodded and moved back to her own room.

The washcloth was cool as he wiped her brow and cheeks, his face a mixture of planes and shadows in the dark. She watched him as he busied himself with her care, running the cloth over her chin and down her neck. The strokes were firm yet strangely comforting, and her eyes began to drift shut.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over her forehead, unable to stop himself. Her lips curved upward slightly, and then her breathing deepened in sleep.

Morning sunlight streamed into his face, and he pulled himself up, groaning aloud as his back complained loudly in creaks and pops. Obviously, he had failed in his duty to make sure Buffy slept through the night, falling asleep slumped over what felt like her legs.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up, Sleeping Beauty," a voice said, amused. He looked up and found Buffy watching him, bright eyed and alert.

"Ha bloody ha," he answered.

"BREAKFAST!" Dawn bellowed up the stairs with such force it caused him to slip from his tenuous space on the bed and hit the floor. The sound of Buffy's's laughter followed him down, and he glared up at the ceiling.

"I get extra waffles for that," he said pointedly. A hand reached down and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. Buffy smiled up at him, her hair a messy halo around her head.

"You definitely deserve them," she remarked. He looked away from her, knowing she was talking about what he did for her last night. Unable to broach the subject, he cleared his throat.

"I don't suppose I can get the bathroom first?"

"Not on your life!" She dashed past him with a laugh and the door slammed shut, the water turning on in the shower. Sighing, he made his way gingerly down the stairs. Dawn was setting the dining room table, and she grimaced at him.

"You are so not a morning person, are you?" she said.

"How did you know?" he grumbled.

"You have, like, a thousand blanket creases all over your face," she pointed out airily, and went into the kitchen, coming back with a plate piled high with steaming hot waffles. He reached out to grab one and she rapped him sharply across the back of the hand.

"You have to wait until Buffy's down here," she said bossily.

"But, she's in the shower," he whined, unable to stop himself as his stomach growled loudly.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned, wide eyed in amazement, to see Buffy, hair still sopping wet, but freshly scrubbed and glowing, wrapped in a big robe.

"That's-"

"Isn't it crazy?" Dawn commented. "She showers like a dude when she wants to." At Buffy's glare, she shrank slightly. "That's what Xander said once. I have no idea how quickly a guy showers."

"That's my robe!" he finally said. She glanced down, frowning.

"Oh, I guess it is too big to be one of the girl's." She looked up at him apologetically. "I hope you don't want it back now, cause I'm starved!"

His cheeks stained with red, and he turned to sit down at the table. "You just go ahead and eat, Buffy." She smiled winningly and then sat down across from him, tucking her feet underneath her in a childlike fashion.

"Goody, waffles!"

"You are so cool when you're happy," Dawn giggled at her. Buffy began to fill her plate. Breakfast that morning was more reserved without the rest of the gang, but was infinitely more sweet for Giles as he watched Buffy respond to all of Dawn's teenage chatter. The younger girl seemed to realize that it was too quiet, so spent as much time talking nonstop as Buffy did filling her mouth with food. She needed all the nourishment she could get. She had lost too much weight from her already small frame in the past weeks, he observed silently, not for the first time.

The day passed uneventfully, with Dawn putting on a musical extravaganza, as she referred to it. They spent the day in the living room, eating leftover waffles for lunch (Dawn had gone a bit overboard making breakfast.) and watching black and white Fred Astaire movies, to be followed with his personal favorite, Gene Kelly. When four thirty rolled around, Buffy stood and went upstairs without a word. She had refused to change into normal clothes and had remained huddled in his robe.

Dawn stood and turned off the tv with a flick of the remote and faced him, her face anxious. "When are they coming over?"

Glancing at his watch again, he sighed. "They'll be over in about thirty minutes." She nodded and stood, then began to pace. "It's going to be alright, Dawn."

"Yeah. I just want it to be over, you know?"

"I'm sure that Buffy feels the same."

Buffy came downstairs a few minutes before five, dressed in jeans and a dark blouse, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She sat down on the couch next to Giles and rested her head in her hands.

"I don't know how to do this, Giles," she moaned suddenly. He rested his hand on her back.

"Yes, you do," he affirmed. "You've known what to say for a long time, you've just been to apprehensive to do so until it reached this point. We need to think about helping Willow here as well as air out any other grievances." She smiled at him crookedly.

"You sure are fond of the long words."

"It's what sets me above you lot," he replied mildly.

Someone knocked on the door, and Dawn answered it. Pulling open the door, she stood aside wordlessly, pointing into the living room. Xander and Anya entered first, with Tara immediately behind them. Willow brought up the rear, and as they settled, it became apparent that she had spent a miserable night and day separated from the group, as they refused to look over at her. Dawn entered and sat at the desk, her legs crossed and her chin raised defiantly. When they had stilled, Buffy raised her head and stared at them.

"So. We need to have a talk."