Trust - Chapter 5

The memories hit her like a ton of bricks. Only not like bad bricks. Not like bricks at all really. It was more like being surrounded by rain or clouds to the point that she was completely swallowed up, disoriented, taken out of the world.

No, definitely nothing bricklike there. Actually, when they came inside her, it felt like heaven. To be in a place so completely safe, surrounded by people she loved, and who loved her in return. Everything seemed golden, the way things got on summer evenings when it was still warm, but the sun came down in long, slanting rays. Riding. Playing with Xander and Will like they were all three still little kids. Having tea in the garden with the aunts, who were so very much like Sleeping Beauty's fairy godmothers from the Disney movie--only smart, opinionated, funny rather than silly. Nights in the big old bed upstairs that was so high it had an optional footstool she could use to climb into it. Strong arms around her, gentle hands touching her, making her whole body sing...

Heaven. But she wasn't in heaven anymore. She was here. In Sunnydale. Where everything was confusing, and painful, and scary.

Strike that. Not quite everything.

Buffy knew she was slumped in the big leather recliner in Giles's living room. Little edges of sunlight came in around the curtains, and the lamps had been switched on: the dragonflies, the green one, the ambery-colored one, all shedding their soft, warm light. Giles himself sat only a foot or two away, in the zig-zaggy chair, watching her.

"Buffy," he said in a soft voice, "I am so very sorry."

She tried sitting up and made it easily. There wasn't anything wrong with her but a terminal case of confusion, the newly-regained memories sitting like an archipelago of bright islands in the big, dark ocean of her brain.

Behind him, in the kitchen, a teeny little woman was bustling around, cooking something. Aunt Flora, that was her name. Of the three sisters, Flora, Violet--not Fauna, like in the movie--and Rose Merriwether. Flora looked huffy, if someone's cooking style could be described that way. Buffy had a feeling a certain someone had hit his aunt with one of those Olympic caliber glares and the talk that went with it. Giles still had that slightly pissed off post-lecture look.

But he'd been wrong this time. He'd been so wrong. Did he know how much she'd needed to remember, to get back all that lost time? And, the more she thought about it, the more she processed, it really was a big chunk, nearly all her weeks in England, and for that she was beyond thankful--even though, if she'd known at the time that Flora was such a know-all, see-all type of person, she'd have pretty much died of embarrassment.

As it was, let's hear it for well-developed powers of telepathy. Take that, Time Thief!

Buffy blinked, a sudden vision of her Watcher, naked beside her in the moonlight, flashing into her brain. Another vision of herself, touching him, kissing him, followed after, and Buffy found herself blushing.

Worse yet--or even better, depending on how you looked at it--she found herself wanting to kiss him again. Not just this minute, necessarily, but sometime. Maybe, Buffy thought she could safely say, sometime soon.

"Jeepers," she chirped, and Giles laughed suddenly.

"I'd be extremely interested to know what you meant by that," he told her.

"Just...excuse me, but the mind boggles...we did that stuff? The two of us? You and me?"

He sighed, slumping back in his chair, then winced and straightened up again. "Several times. Is it so dreadful to remember?"

"Not...um...dreadful."

Uh-oh. Now he was getting puppy dog eyes. It was weird, really, to see him this way. Vulnerable. Non-Watchery. Not much like library-Giles. But not like Ripper either. This Giles was an entirely new creature, and she wondered if she, if the two of them, loving each other, had made him that way. The Buffy in her regained memories seemed different too, more confident, more grown-up, more just...there. She looked into what she'd been given back and wanted nothing more than to be, absolutely and completely, that Buffy again.

"What is it, love?" Giles asked her, with a very Gilesian look of worry. There he went again, but the last thing Buffy wanted to do was mock, or correct him. Instead, she felt strangely shy. Shy of Giles, of all people.

"This is very, very weird for me," she told him. "You know that, right?"

Giles nodded slightly, his eyes fixed to hers. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his eyes had a greenness clearer and sharper than she'd remembered seeing before.

"I wish..." she said, and stopped. What was it she wished? That this summer had never happened, that she could go back to the person she'd been? She didn't wish that at all.

Aunt Flora popped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "That's it, loves. Take the chicken from the cooker in half an hour; I've left the rest in the icebox. Best to call my taxi now, I think, before night falls."

"That won't be for an hour yet, Aunt Flora," Giles told her, in a voice that meant, I know exactly what you're up to, so don't think you're fooling me for one minute.

"Still, better safe than sorry, wouldn't you say, Rupert dear?"

Buffy couldn't help but giggle a little at hearing Giles called "Rupert dear," but she tried to hide it, to spare his dignity. "Would you like me to call the cab for you...um...Aunt Flora?"

"How lovely of you, dear," Giles's aunt answered. She played the sweet old lady part to the hilt, but Buffy wasn't fooled either. Maybe Flora was sweet, but she was also ten times as stubborn and sneaky as her nephew had ever thought of being, and Buffy pitied anyone who tried to get in her way. She made the call.

The two of them walked Flora down to the sidewalk--Giles insisting on coming along against both of their protests--and after the goodbyes had been said and the cab whisked Aunt Flora away, she and Giles stood there at the curb, watching each other.

"Well," Buffy said. "You have a very unusual family, Giles."

He shrugged, winced, and shook his head. "Of that, I am only too aware."

"She did the right thing, you know,"Buffy told him. "I'm not a coward, Giles. I want what's mine. And you know what happens when you try to protect me?"

"Frequently, a brisk blow to the jaw." He shook his head again. "Buffy..."

She reached to touch his lips, then stretched up on her tiptoes, moving her hands to the back of his head, feeling his silky hair, the strength of his muscles beneath the skin. Not strong enough, though, to resist as she pulled his face down to hers. He didn't want to resist, not really.

She felt that from him, felt a wave of something that was the essence of Giles, a blend of strength, patience, control, and--this was the surprising part--passion.

Only, it shouldn't have surprised her. Buffy knew that. She'd always known. Giles wasn't cold, wasn't emotionless, it was all right there, only skin deep beneath the surface of that mild, Watchery exterior.

Now, Giles's hands went to her waist--not to lift her away, but to pull her closer, so close their hearts beat against one another. His mouth claimed hers, kissing her with a fullness and a hunger she'd never experienced with anyone. With anyone else, that was, the memories informed her.

Buffy only hesitated a second before kissing him back, matching his need for her, not stopping to think, not wanting to think, only letting those incredible waves of pleasure and emotion roll over her until she lost herself in their deep waters.

She knew then, absolutely, why she hadn't taken off his ring, why she'd never take off his ring.

After a long, long while, the two of them parted.

"Granny Ames would have called that 'doing it in the street and frightening the horses,'" Buffy told him, and found herself laughing, bubbling and fizzing with it, like shaken-up ginger ale.

To her surprise, Giles laughed with her. He looked...not just happy, but delighted, his eyes all bright with it and those very un-Watchery dimples showing. "The horses wouldn't be frightened," he told her. "Though they would take care not to tread upon us."

"Considerate of them," Buffy answered, reaching up to kiss him, slowly and gently, again. He was so warm, that's what hit her, warm and full of motion, full of life.

"Horses are extremely feeling animals." Delicately--an odd word for a big guy like Giles, yet fitting, in this case--he stroked the hair back from her forehead, then ran his fingertips over her temple, her cheek, along the line of her jaw. "I believed I'd lost you," he said quietly, "And now I can scarcely believe I've got you back. Though I appreciate, certainly that you might wish to take matters slowly, not rush headlong..."

Buffy shook her head, trying not to laugh at him. He was so serious, so careful of her, so determined to do the right thing. It was too darned cute.

"No?" he said, taking her silence completely wrong, his face getting all crestfallen. "Buffy, if I've managed to offend, or presume..."

She stopped him with another soft kiss. "If you could do anything," she asked, when she'd finally pulled away, "What would you do right now?"

"Anything?" A little bit of humor began to creep in there, despite all Giles's best efforts. "I'd rather like to sweep you off your feet, like the hero of one of your romance novels, and carry you away to my castle."

"To the tower, of course," Buffy said.

"Naturally. The very best heroes are more than capable of bearing their lady-loves up six or seven hundred uneven medieval steps."

"There you go being all practical, history-guy. You're gonna dress the part, though, right? The breeches, the boots--the big white shirt."

Giles grinned at her.

"Actually, you'd look really good dressed like that," Buffy told him, loving the way Giles blushed at the compliment. "Makes a change from tweed, right? And, hey, on the way to the castle, do I get to ride behind you on your fiery black steed?"

"I hope my castle's not too far off, my love, or your bum will be damned sore."

"See? There you go again. Practical." Buffy shook her head, giving a frown of mock-disapproval.

Giles reached for her hand, closing it warmly in his. "Do you know, Buffy, I couldn't stand to go so much as a day without you? Pathetic, I know, but there it is."

"Even when I didn't know," Buffy told him, "I knew. This was bad, Giles."

He nodded solemnly. "God bless Aunt Flora. Whom I shall now have to be grovelingly kind to for the rest of my days. I am stubborn, at times, and so often about the wrong things."

"Just be glad she was stubborner. Is that even a word?"

Giles shook his head.

"Well, it should be," Buffy told him. "And now, instead of all the galloping, sweeping and carrying action, how 'bout we very carefully climb those stairs, eat the good dinner your aunt made for us, then fall asleep watching TV in bed? If you have a TV, that is."

"Actually, I do, though you'll have to be the one to carry it upstairs, should you truly wish to fall asleep in its company." Carefully, Giles put his arm around her shoulders, and Buffy could see it cost him to do even that. "I hate..." He paused, obviously not wanting to say anything negative, even if it was just, I hate to be like this around you.

"I should have been there last year," Buffy said. "I just... I mean, that is..." She almost, but not quite, touched his splinted fingers, where his hand lay against her shoulder. "I just didn't... I couldn't face..."

Buffy pulled in a deep breath and tried again. "Last year, when...um...it happened, I sent Xander in after you partly--maybe even mostly--because I knew, like Angelus said, that I was looking at some deep odds, fighting his fang gang. But the other part was because I knew I couldn't see what he'd done to you and go on loving Angel, soul or no soul."

Giles got very quiet.

"And so, I didn't look. I was scared even to go to your place, leave you a note, the way I left one for mom. What if I had to see how brave you were being? What if, God forbid, you caught me there, and talked to me? You would have made me stop, you might even have made me be able to stand what I'd done, and I didn't want that. I wanted to wallow. Messed up, huh?"

Giles still didn't say anything. Buffy looked up, trying to read his expression when all she could really see was his profile.

"Would it have made a big difference, me being there?" she mumbled.

"What did you want me to say?" Giles asked, just as quietly.

"Um...the truth?"

"Last summer, I went a bit mad, I think." His face turned away completely, as if he couldn't stand to look at her while making this confession. "The truth is, my love, that much as I would have wished to see you safe and secure at home, the search for you... Without a purpose..."

Buffy understood, she thought: looking for her, the plans, the phone calls, the out-of-town trips--that had given him something to focus on, so his brain wouldn't keep running over the same old poisoned ground. And she knew, suddenly, that even if she'd been there, in plain sight, in Sunnydale, he wouldn't have shown anything, wouldn't have revealed to her the least little crack in that impenetrable armor. Unless she'd wanted to count the empty Scotch-bottles in his recycle bin, that was.

Thank God things were different now.

"This time I'm here," Buffy told him, slipping her arm around Giles's waist. "I'm here every minute. Only, will you be too uncomfortable if I sleep with you tonight?" she asked.

"Sleep...?" Giles looked startled. "Buffy, good Lord, of course I..."

"Don't get all proper on me, Giles. I want to. And I suspect you want me to. Too." She laughed a little, wondering if she was ever in her life going to get any more coherent. "But, the thing is, will you be able to take it?"

"I have pills," he answered, as if admitting to something embarrassing.

"And you're using them?" Buffy gave him a look, knowing very well what his answer would be.

"Actually, I haven't liked to..."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Giles, what am I gonna do with you?"

"Help me up these bloody stairs, perhaps?" he answered, speaking lightly, though he was starting to look way beyond just ashamed at having to say the words. It wasn't easy going, either. The two of them kept having to stop, and each time they did Giles stared straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.

"I won't... Won't always be like this," he gasped at one of their rest stops. "I'm not... That is, I won't..."

Buffy felt spike of fear go through him, one she knew probably hit Giles a lot--the fear of letting her down, all mixed up with something that bothered him horribly, but now that she'd gotten some of herself back, didn't bother her at all. The difference in their ages scared him, really scared him, as if, with all the love and tenderness he held inside him, that one thing could somehow hurt her.

As if she hadn't already spent almost three years of her life head-over-heels for someone not only two-and-a-half centuries her senior, but dead to boot.

"Don't worry so much," she told him, when Giles had gotten his breath back. "You're hurt. We're in a dangerous line of work. If I was hurt, wouldn't you look after me?"

"But, Buffy..." he began.

"Let's say it together, one more time: Giles loves Buffy. Buffy loves Giles. Giles is not stealing Buffy's youth. The end." She held his arm tightly as he stumbled down the last few steps to the apartment door. "Okay?" she asked, as he leaned against the wall, head down, panting, and she wiggled the key in the slightly-stubborn lock.

"I think, perhaps, I'll accept one of those tablets, if it's offered," he told her.

"Yeah," Buffy answered. "I think maybe you will." She wished she could have spared him those last few steps up to the loft, but he climbed them like a trouper, the way she'd known he would. When she brought him his pills he took them without complaint, sitting quietly on the bed, his eyes following her as she went back down to deal with the food in the oven.

When she got back, though, Giles was out like a light, not even having gotten past shoe-removal stage of undressing, so Buffy ended up just kind of grazing downstairs instead of eating a real meal. Afterwards, she called her mom to say she wouldn't be home, then came on up again.

Even though Giles seemed to have gone beyond sound asleep into the slumber-of-the-dead (or at least the thoroughly medicated) realm, she felt a little shy getting undressed in the same room with him. Which Buffy told herself was just dumb, but there it was. She also found herself pulling on sweat pants and a tank top instead of some of the other things she found in the dresser drawer. Double dumb.

Somehow, though, when she'd lain down on the bed beside him, most of that lingering shyness just seemed to melt away. Carefully, she removed his glasses, bending down to kiss his high forehead, loving the feel of his skin beneath her lips. When she brushed his mouth with hers Giles stirred a little, still nowhere near waking, and murmured something she couldn't quite catch.

"I love you," Buffy whispered back. "I don't have everything yet, but I love you just the same."

In his sleep, Giles smiled, reaching out for her.