Sitting. Time passed, slow and dull, leaving gaping holes of nothing to do. The long silences between them had stopped being awkward hours ago. She tilted her head and cocked her ear. For a moment she heard the calming vibrations of the ocean. Or was it the earth inhaling, gathering up force to exert its brutal power again? Her momentary hope of escape when she found the cave had turned to panic at being forever trapped. Giles had done his best to convince her they'd get out, but doubt attacked at regular intervals, like now.
She jumped up and lunged at the rock pile blocking her way out, her way to Dawn, her way back to life. Wrapping her arms around a rock, she wrestled and strained until finally a clump of dust pulled free. She held it in her hand and watched it crumble apart, sifting through her fingers to merge with the pulverized dirt floor. Sweat turned her dusty coating into mud, until it dried again adding a crackled layer to her skin. She looked down at her arms and shivered at the eerily familiar site. The first Slayer had been caked in dried mud. She pushed out of her mind the words that echoed and her breath came hard as fear and anger fueled attacks on the barrier, her fingers prying at the wall, until they were raw and bloodied.
"Buffy."
She didn't even hear him. It took all her focus to keep at it. She fell to her knees, picking her way through the accumulation of pebbles looking for a way.
Giles moved to her side and spoke gently. "Buffy, let me help you, please." They both knew what he meant. That it didn't have anything to do with digging out of this cave.
She didn't look at him when she responded, "There's nothing you know how to do." He knew that the bitterness in her voice reflected her pain and the longer it remained the harder it would be to fight. He knew that, but he didn't know what to do about it.
&&&&&&&&&&
Standing now. A little variety is nice, she thought, as more hours passed.
She thought about what she should be doing on the outside, and as the panic rose she focused on taking a shallow breath; her interior squeezed and shrunk a little more. She slowly walked the length of the room. Leaning against the wall opposite, not 15 feet away, Giles sat motionless, watching her. They were both stuck in this cave but she was the one truly trapped, he knew. Pent up emotion with no place to go. Her brittleness more evident as they lingered in this hole. Her face mimicked the stone: frozen, immovable, void of emotion. It looked as if it might crack if she changed expression.
He could do nothing but grieve for her…and worry. Was she getting smaller? Was her dry outer covering shrinking? He looked over at her forgotten bottle of water lying near the wall.
"Buffy, you should drink."
"I'm not thirsty."
"You look dry."
"I'm fine; I can take it."
"But the point is you don't have to."
&&&&&&&&&&
Pacing. A third option had opened itself up to her. Sitting, standing, and now pacing.
Trickles of dust drifted downward from time to time with a laziness that saturated the air.
Leaning against a wall, Giles watched her move as she attempted to lessen her anxiety, again and again, in the methodical trance-like pace that one uses when lost in their own universe of worry.
Tense, withdrawn and world weary. Grief had taken root in her. It grew, feeding on her pain, rising up through the layers of emotions and now it wanted out, wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged, but she held it inside. It fought her, eating its way to the edges, hollowing her out to a thin layer ready to crack at the merest breeze. She built thicker walls to keep it in, fearing the worst if it ever broke the surface, shattering her to useless pieces. Grief wouldn't give up and it was leaving nothing inside, just as she secretly wanted. No pain, nothing left to feel anymore.
She looked at him and caught his expression. A subtle, irate flicker of her hand deflected his questioning look. "Giles, I've got a lot of stuff to deal with, I can't take you pushing me too."
"I know exactly what you've got to deal with and I'm trying to help you, if you'll let me."
"What do you know?" she muttered, her eyes busy and razor-like as if drawn with a too-sharp pencil.
The frustration of watching her refuse help pushed him to his own edge. Some of the thoughts he'd been holding inside poured out. "Other than that the fate of the world depends on you? I know that after a frightening illness, which you thought was over, your mother suddenly died, leaving you with the responsibility of caring for a younger sister, a sister who is a mystical energy source that could destroy the world. I know there is a hell God trying to take that sister from you for her own evil purpose. I know Angel showed up for one night to comfort you and succeeded in pushing your feelings into greater turmoil. I know a neutered vampire has declared his love for you and refuses rejection." He took a breath as he calmed. "I know vampires continue to rise nightly…and…I know your father hasn't returned your calls."
The more he said the closer he got to the epicenter of her pain, the raw place that her fear was protecting. "I know," his voice softened to a feather touch, "that you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and that you feel utterly and completely alone with it."
Buffy's jaw muscle worked hard while her mouth remained closed tight, staring at Giles, hating him right then, for this way that he could see into her.