"Buffy?" Giles watched curiously as she attempted to form words.
Her mouth shaped into a silent 'o', then pouted in confusion before she puckered up for a 'w'. She held that face for a long moment before actually speaking. "W- what?" She chewed her lip for a second, before clarifying, "Why... why would you do that? That's just... that's stupid."
Giles shook his head gently and dropped his hand to cover her clasped hands resting in her lap as he spoke. "There was nothing stupid about it. I just did what I had to - after all, life's too short to bear grudges."
"Ha!" The sound burst forth unexpectedly, joined by sudden tears. Pulling one of her hands from under his she quickly brushed the tears away. "Wish I'd thought of that - you'd have thought that I would have - what with my life expectancy, and all."
"Buffy..." He captured her hand and pulled it away from her face. "I understand..."
"No, Giles." She stopped him before he could continue. "Don't pity me. You're right... I shouldn't have wasted so much time being mad at you... although, you really hurt me, you know? I mean you should have trusted my judgment. So, I-I guess what I'm saying is that, well, um, I was right and you were wrong, but I was wrong, really, 'cause you were right: I was letting my... 'relationship' with Spike impair my ability to see the bigger picture... but in some ways that was good 'cause it kept him here and it stopped the First from getting control of him and it meant that we could win the war. I just wish... I don't know... there should have been some way we could have talked it all over and agreed what to do, before everything got out of our control." Buffy stopped at last, realising the need to breathe. She allowed the deep, steady breaths she took to fill her lungs to capacity; the motion seeming to calm her a little.
"Sorry." She smiled weakly at him. "I just... I want to make things better, but I don't know how. I know you said that you want to apologise, but... but I don't get why. I mean... it was me who screwed up. It was me who pushed you away."
"But, you wouldn't have needed to," Giles reasoned, "If it hadn't been for my selfishness and petty jealousies - and in particular, my failure to discuss things rationally with you."
"None of us were especially rational around that time, Giles. Look at me... look at all the stuff I did, and all the girls that got killed because of my recklessness, and..." She paused for a moment, eyebrows drawing together in thought.
He took full advantage of the moment to squeeze her hand reassuringly. "You can't blame yourself for what happened..."
"I can and I do." She insisted softly, before cocking her head to one side as the thought took form. Staring at him, she found herself suddenly wondering who this man in front of her really was. "What do you mean: your 'jealousies'?"
"Oh, uh..." He withdrew his hands and sat back on his heels, looking anywhere but at her. "I... well, that is to say... it, um... it's not really relevant... o-or-"
"Giles." In a reversal of roles, Buffy leaned forward and brought a finger to his chin, tilting it up to face her. "You said we should be honest with each other... so, come on, let's hear it. What were you jealous of? I can't think of anything it could be, except my so-called-relationship with Spike, which... well, somehow, I don't think so. So, what was it?"
He shook his head, but didn't speak for a full minute. When she nodded encouragingly, he at last - reluctantly - made his confession, still unable to look her fully in the eye.
"It wasn't so much your 'relationship' with Spike that bothered me, as it was your total, utter dependence on him for help in every decision; the way you looked for his support instead of that of those who you could trust. To be specific: it was the way you shut everyone else out of your life and centered all your attentions on him. Part of me tried to be rational: I tried to convince myself that it was your sense of responsibility for his soul that made you act the way you did. But whatever it was, I knew one thing for certain: the people who had believed in you for so long, the people who loved you and who weren't especially enjoying watching you self-destruct were being pushed out of the picture. And, in the moments I was honest with myself, that's what it all came down to. That's why I permitted Robin to do whatever he needed to with Spike. I wanted you to need me again. Not Spike. Not someone whose motive was entirely selfish - soul, or no soul - but someone who had trained, guided and protected you for the better part of six years, and who wanted to continue to do so until his dying day - not for whatever it was Spike got in return, but simply to keep you alive."
He finally looked up at her, his deep green eyes betraying the full range of emotions that were reawakening within him at the memory. "I failed you twice, Buffy. I had no intention of doing so again. I thought that by... eliminating Spike... you would be safer and more focused on what was going on around you - and, at the heart of it, I hoped that as a result, you would seek counsel from me again; that I would be a part of your life - wanted and needed, instead of cast aside - and able to protect you once more."
"But it didn't work." She reminded him, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I saved him and pushed you away."
"Yes." He agreed, with a sad smile. "It's rather ironic, isn't it? The one thing I do to try to bring us closer, set us further apart than we've ever been."
There was a moment of reflective silence and each looked away again as they mused on the truth of his statement. Eventually, a thoughtful murmur from the Slayer broke it.
"I really wish we'd just talked about it. Maybe things wouldn't have gone so wrong... maybe I would have remembered what you used to mean to me, and maybe... maybe we could have worked things out. I mean... it's not just your fault that we lost each other." She leaned closer without realising it, as she spoke. "I should have asked you what was going on instead of just slamming a door in your face. Everything you did that night... it was so out of character, I should have guessed there was something wrong." She paused for a moment, before almost inaudibly adding, "Giles, you need to know that... well, I never blamed you."
"Really?" He lifted his eyes so that they met her darkening grey irises. "But it was-"
"All your fault? No." Keeping their gazes locked, she shook her head. "Haven't you been listening? Yeah, I was hurt and angry at the time, but it's my fault things went wrong... and..." she swallowed against the sensation of tears lining her throat and tickling her nose.
"Buffy?" He lifted a hand to clasp hers, still resting absently beneath his chin, while his whole body lifted and pitched forward slightly so that he was once again perched on his knees.
"I... I shouldn't have said that I didn't need you." A small sniffle escaped against her will, as the tickle in her nasal passages intensified to almost a burning feeling. "I didn't mean it."
"Oh, Buffy...." Still clasping her hand, he shuffled as close to her as possible.
"I always need you, Giles. Always." With her free hand, she wiped away the tears that had started to run free.
"Come here." His voice was warm and forgiving and yet commanding, and she allowed him to pull her into a loving embrace. "I know... I know." He felt her relax completely against him at his words, although he could tell she was still distressed. "It'll be okay, Buffy. We can mend this, you know. I promise."
"I'm sorry, Giles." The words that had waited for so long to be poured out were muffled against his sweater.
"I'm sorry, too." He rubbed her back soothingly.
After a beat, she pulled back, placing her hands flat against his chest and gazed at him with watery eyes, suddenly aware of how very close their faces were. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised how intently he was watching her. "What?"
"I... just..." He swallowed hard, desperately fighting the irrational urge to kiss her, yet making no attempt to move away. If anything, he inched closer, hypnotized by the way her eyes were searching his for answers.
"Giles?"
Barely aware of what he was doing, he lifted the hand that wasn't tightening around hers to stroke her hair, listening as her breathing shallowed as he continued to gradually close the distance between them. "Buffy, I-"
Lost for words, he studied the depths of her eyes for eternal seconds, seeking confirmation that she wanted this as much as he did. He found it in them just before they drifted shut; and, after months of longing to do so, he at last closed the final gap and gently planted his lips upon hers.