Title: The First Step
Author: knightshade
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or the characters. Joss is the brilliant one. I just play.

Author's Notes: This was originally supposed to be pre-Lessons, but I'm not sure it works before the first scene with them in England. It might only really work in place of that scene. Whichever way works for you is fine with me. Thanks to Tomy for the wonderful suggestions and the beta read.

The First Step

"I'm sorry I dropped you from the ceiling," she said quietly with a dull, flat inflection that didn't do much to ease his concern. But at least it was something. And it was a lot better than the near catatonic silence she'd shrouded herself in throughout their journey here.

"It's alright," Giles said carefully. He wanted to say something else, something like 'it wasn't really you.' But he was afraid that wasn't entirely true, and while he felt he needed to say something, he didn't want to say the wrong thing. He didn't want Willow to stop talking again.

"It's not," she said, picking up a bit of clover and pulling the leaves off slowly. She was sitting under a gnarled tree on one of the rolling hills behind the manor -- in the short time she had been in England, it had seemed to become her favorite hiding place. Her legs were crossed tightly and her red hair was falling in front of her face. Her eyes were fixed on the movements of her slender hands.

Giles sighed and sank slowly to the ground next to her. He had to admit that he was at a complete loss. "Willow, you aren't the person you were at that moment."

"No. But that doesn't make what I did at that moment right. I could have killed you."

"Well, most likely not," Giles said, thinking that a fall probably wouldn't have killed him. Although there were plenty of other things she could have done that would have.

Willow sighed and tilted her head to the side. "I meant to hurt you."

"You were angry and hurt, Willow. People do things they don't mean --"

"Yes, but I -" It came out a tortured gasp and her mouth snapped shut, clipping off whatever else she was going to say. Instead she picked another clover and began slowly peeling it apart, looking thoroughly tormented. Giles knew there was nothing he could say that could ever take away what she'd done. He could forgive her a hundred times over, but it wouldn't matter until she could forgive herself.

Lacking words, Giles moved closer and put an arm around her shoulder. He was expecting her to hold onto her stiff, isolating distance, so he was surprised when she leaned her head into his chest. "It's okay," he said reflexively.

"How can you keep saying that? Nothing's okay," she said pushing away from him. Giles' heart broke at the pain infusing every syllable, every sound.

"It's not okay at all. I killed someone. I flayed him. I attacked the people I love. I tried to destroy the whole world. It's never going to be 'okay.'"

"You were hurt, Willow, and under the influence of powerful magicks."

"I'm not the first person in the world to lose someone I love. Most people don't turn all veiny and go on murderous rampages," she said, her self-loathing utterly evident. She swallowed hard, her voice catching in an aching sob. Then she looked up at him, her impossibly large eyes were red rimmed and filled with tears. "What's wrong with me?" she pleaded in a way that devastated him.

Giles carefully thought through what he was going to say. She seemed so fragile, so close to the edge. "Willow, most people don't live the life that you do. Most people haven't seen what you've seen, haven't grown up in the presence of vampires, demons, and other dark forces. And most people don't have access to the kinds of powers that consumed you. You made a rash decision in a moment of tremendous grief. It wasn't right, but it was very human."

At least she had a somewhat reasonable excuse for the chaos she'd wrought. Giles' own disastrous experience with dark forces had been the result of adolescent rebellion and boredom.

Willow rested her head back on his shoulder and for a long time didn't say anything. He could tell that she was still weeping softly in a way that he found comforting. At least she wasn't retreating back into herself. At least she was trying to work through what had happened.

Finally she pulled away and he handed her his handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and then smoothed the cloth out over her knee, running a finger over the monogram. "Did you know that I used to have a crush on you?"

Giles paused, not sure he had heard right. "Ah . . . no. No, I didn't know that."

"I did. It seems like a thousand years ago."

Her voice was almost wistful and Giles had to look away from the directness of her stare. He bent his head and tried to figure out where she was going with this. Willow had made it quite clear that she was gay. Maybe she was just trying to hold onto something – an adolescent crush on an authority figure -- from a time when things had been simpler. But of course things had never really been simpler.

When Giles looked up again, Willow was still staring at him. Her eyes were almost feverishly intense and still bright from the tears. Before Giles fully understood what was about to happen, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a tentative, fluttery kiss - experimental. Her hair brushed against his neck and he could smell her flowery shampoo and the lingering hint of incense. Her lips were soft and small and he was dismayed at just how long it took him to break it off. He tried to tell himself that he was afraid of upsetting her by pushing her away too abruptly, but even he himself wasn't buying that. He had always felt a little guilty for noticing how attractive she'd become.

"Willow, I . . ."

"Please. . ." She was looking up at him with the most heartbreakingly haunted eyes. "Giles . . . I need to feel something . . . anything other than this." Her chin was trembling and the tears had started to form trails down her cheeks again. "Please," she said in a small, desperate whisper.

Giles wished there was some way that he could take away her pain, but he knew this wasn't the way to go about it. Not now, with her like this. "Willow, you're a very beautiful woman," he said, not sure if she would know just how truthful he was being, "but right now . . ."

He didn't get a chance to finish before she choked off a sob and pulled away from him. She shot to her feet and marched back down the hill toward the manor, her body a collection of stiff, jerky movements as she negotiated the uneven terrain.

"Willow, wait," he called after her.

When she didn't stop, he quickly got to his feet to follow her. He caught her arm at the bottom of the knoll, and turned her around to face him. She stood there with her head down and her shoulders heaving with gasped breaths -- the picture of misery. "I don't want . . . to feel like a . . . like a monster. . . anymore," she said in between wracking sobs.

Giles' shoulders sagged and his chest constricted. He had known that pain himself and it was tearing at him to see it in her. He took her face gently in both of his hands, and coaxed her to look up at him. "Willow, you are not a monster." He used both his thumbs to wipe away the tear streaks.

"Then why . . ." she trailed off and lowered her eyes again.

"Because I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt you further."

She let out a bitter little laugh and Giles began to understand where this was going. Willow was desperate to believe that someone, anyone could still love her. He knew the desperation that self-loathing could bring – especially when it was born of the kind of guilt she carried. He had gone looking for reassurance and love after Eyghon too. He wondered if that was simply the first step in learning forgiving yourself.

Giles stroked her cheek lightly. He needed to convince her that she was cared for, cherished, and he was realizing that perhaps words alone wouldn't be enough. Words wouldn't have been enough for him when he'd been in her shoes. So he bent down, pressed his lips against hers, and as lovingly as possible, returned her kiss. She leaned into him, her body still trembling from her tears, and kiss him like her world depended on it. Giles had to resist his own body's reaction - to pull back despite what he might want. Finally he broke away slowly and then gave her an ardent kiss on the forehead before catching her up into a tight hug. She curled into him, tucking her head under his chin as he held her.

"The pain will fade, Willow. It's just going to take time," he murmured. He rocked her gently and stroked her hair while her tears slowly hitched themselves out.

knightshade
May 23, 2005