Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or anything else that anybody in the known universe could sue me for. I own nothing.
Dig a Grave
A Slayer is not meant to outlive her Watcher…
Buffy moved slowly, hazily. As if her body was on auto drive because her mind couldn't stand to do it. In a way it was true. Terrified that if she crawled out of the haze, then that made it real. Maybe if she just walked away for a little while, then none of it was real. Not the pain, not the blood on her blouse and jeans, not the shovel in her hands, not the body with the ruined chest beside her…
A Watcher dying to save his Slayer…
At that single thought her heart locked up. Buffy's legs buckled underneath her, the only thing holding her up was her death grip on the shovel. She sobbed, hopelessly collapsing onto her knees in the dirt. There was the fleeting thought that her jeans were ruined; with the dirt now, and the dried, caked on blood from earlier. Leaning against the wall of the grave she was making, she let the tears flow. She didn't want to cry, that made it real right? That made it all real…
The Slayer didn't move, even when she heart the rustling of leather and cloth in the woods around her. Vampires…just a few sounds and she knew them, the way they moved had to be a birthright or something.
She was about to break off a piece of the shovel and dust them when she heard that all too familiar voice. That fine accent she was used too, the scent of his cologne in the breeze, and the soft, gentle tone he rarely used, "Dear God, luv…what happened?"
Then the second vampire, an angel in his own right, must have seen the body, "Buffy…I'm so sorry…"
She didn't say anything, didn't have to. Didn't want to tell them what happened…she could only hope that the ruined chest was enough to tell them.
"We…" Spike was the first to speak, he sounded unsure, like he felt she was about to break off the end of the shovel and stake him if he said the wrong thing. "We saw the truck you and Giles came up here in…"
Buffy interrupted him, not wanting to hear that name, "There…there were only supposed to be a couple vamps…" Her voice was cracking, more tears came out, "That much was true…there were only a couple vamps. We hadn't counted on the demon…"
She didn't want to speak, didn't want to cry, she couldn't stop either flow for some reason, "He was…stronger than I could have ever imagined. Five times a normal vamp at least…He tossed me to the ground like, like I was nothing. When I saw him coming in for the kill…a part of me didn't really care. There are more Slayers than we can handle, I wasn't solely important anymore. I did my duty, and I did it well. I was proud of what I'd done. But I was scared too, who wouldn't be?" She glanced up at them for the first time, just to see them, to make sure they at least were still alive. "Giles…Giles got between us."
Sudden, sickening revelation dawned on her, "I couldn't protect him…I'm the Slayer. I should have been stronger, faster, smarter. I should have known it was an ambush. I shouldn't have let him come…"
"You're the Slayer, Buffy, that doesn't mean you can see the future, or change it," Angel spoke, calm, even voice. But it also held that same tone it always held, the weight it held from centuries of guilt from his sins. Buffy realized that if anybody should understand guilt it was him.
"…He didn't have to do that…shouldn't have."
"…Couldn't have gone down any other way, luv."
Turning her fiery, hazel eyes on Spike she yelled, "How would you know?! He's a Watcher. I'm the Slayer." She paused, her voice coming out in a whisper due to the sudden wave of pain that washed over her, "A Watcher is meant to watch the Slayer die. Hence the name."
"…But a father isn't meant to watch his daughter die."
The full force of the words hit her as though she'd been slapped. No…she had a father, and Giles most certainly was not him…
But he was. In his own way. He hadn't just watched her, he'd looked out for her. Early, almost two years after she first came to Sunnydale, her first big anti-apocalypse campaign. Prophecy said very clearly that she would fight the Master, and she would die. Giles was ready to go in her place, resigned to the fate he'd chosen for himself. He knew he would die, but he hadn't cared. As long as she lived he hadn't cared…
Wasn't that was a father really was? As long as she could remember her real father had been none of those things…
The image replayed in her mind again, she didn't think she'd ever forget it. She was thrown against a wall; it disoriented her, but didn't seriously hurt her. The large, mass of tentacles, with two white eyes shining though what passed as its head. A long claw poised and ready for the kill.
Time slowed. The claw came down. She knew this was it. What she hadn't expected was Giles coming between them with a speed that didn't suit a man of his age. The claw found him instead, shattering his ribs and destroying his heart and lungs. He fell to the ground, an expression on his face that could have been considered surprise. Buffy remembered the death rattle, the light leaving his eyes, and the darkest heart's blood that continued to pour from his chest minutes after he'd already left the world.
After that her memory was only a blur of purest rage, and deepest hate. She didn't remember how she killed the son of a bitch. She only remembered beating at the gooey mass of mush that was no longer even remotely human shaped.
She heard Angel and Spike whispering amongst themselves, Angel was saying, "Go back to the truck, I think there was a sheet in there."
"She gonna be alright?"
"…Yeah, I'll stay with her."
At any other time, Spike would have come back with something snide. But he said nothing, just walked off in the direction they'd come from.
Angel helped Buffy dig while Spike wrapped Giles up in the white cloth. Buffy knew that Spike and Giles had never really gotten along. But there was a careful, gentle respect to his movement's now. Whether that respect was actually for Giles or her, Buffy had no idea. In any case she was grateful for their help. She didn't think she could have done it by herself…
It was almost dawn by the time all the preparations were complete. Buffy was sad they didn't currently have the resources to bring him back to a proper cemetery. But they were in England, just like he wanted, and it was a little better this way. Out in the middle of nowhere. Actually quite a beautiful woods actually, and no other bodies buried in the near vicinity, so it was better than those overcrowded public cemeteries.
Later she'd come back with everyone else, they could have a proper funeral and let everyone else say goodbye. Not to mention come back with a proper gravestone.
But for now, Buffy guessed this would have to do. They used Spike's duster to gently rest her Watcher in the grave that was as tall as she was. Spike didn't complain about it, at least he understood how important it was to her. Then the three of them got to work throwing clusters of dirt to fill the grave. Buffy used the shovel; the vampires used their hands.
When they were done, the three of them stood over the grave.
"Buffy," Angel again, he'd been so supportive all night, "Do you want to say anything?"
"Yes…" She trailed off, staying silent for a heartbeat, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. That I wasn't strong enough. And I'm thankful…So thankful for everything you've done."
She suddenly remembered all the other graves she'd had to stand over. Various classmates, her mother, Angel's, Spike's, Anya's, the Slayers-in-Waiting she'd lost when at battle with the First. She'd lost so many people she cared about in her run as Slayer. It never really occurred to her at the time, but the Watcher's Council might have had a good idea about the Slayer forsaking all her friends. Maybe the reason they did that was because she was always in danger, and it was just easier that way. Not to care at all, it had to just be easier that way. They did it because…
Because a Slayer's path will always be laden with the blood of those she loves…
…and the dust of those she hunts…
End