Death Brings Clarity

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 24, 2001
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: R (some sexual tension and situations)
SUMMARY: From “Spiral” to “The Gift” followed by my own attempt to put things right. Giles has a moment of clarity, but it’s too late. How he deals with Buffy’s death and how she comes back to him.
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
SECOND DISCLAIMER: I don’t have any knowledge of the DCFS or the legalities of custody, except what I’ve seen on TV. If you do, good for you. This is fiction.
EMAIL: . Would love feedback. This is my first fanfic ever. :)
MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
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Part 6: Bittersweet Homecomings
Buffy pulled her watcher back from the entrance of the school. He looked at her, a puzzled expression creasing his face and a giddy grin lifting the corners of his mouth. She raised her eyebrows and stared at him expectantly.
“What is it, Buffy?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Do you wanna get shot? ’Cause I’ve been dead twice now, and believe me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Giles had the grace to look contrite as he fumbled for the crosses in his jacket. “Sorry, sorry.” Get your head together, Giles. You’re starting to make stupid mistakes.
He passed one to her and gripped his tightly. He took her by the hand, leading her from the school, both of them displaying their crosses high in the air. Xander saw them and let out a whoop of joy. He jumped in the air a couple of times before he took off running towards them, flinging the crossbow off to the side as he went.
Giles frowned. “That was one of my best bows.”
Xander managed to actually knock the Slayer off her feet when he reached her, both of them tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Dawn saw them at a distance, too, but she was not prepared for the sight of her sister. Dawn’s eyes rolled up, and her knees buckled. She crumpled in a heap.
“Dawn!” Buffy called, untangling herself from Xander.
“Oh my God,” Xander added, also pulling himself to his feet.
Giles, being the only one not laid out on the ground, made it to her side first. He gathered her into his arms, seeking out her pulse, strong, and placing his hand against her forehead, cool. He turned to Buffy as she and Xander reached him, assuring his slayer, “It’s probably only a little shock from seeing you, mixed with the stress she was under today and the blood loss. She’ll be fine in a little bit.” He checked her arm where the gag was tied. “The cuts have stopped bleeding. Let’s just get her home.”
He slipped his hands under her back and knees, scooped up the young girl he had been willing to die for, and stood.
Anya rounded the corner of the school at that moment. Took in the sight of Giles holding an unconscious Dawn. Xander, with his arm around Buffy. None of them holding crosses. And Xander’s crossbow in a heap 25 feet away. As if there were a struggle.
“Ahh,” she screamed, as she raised her own bow. “You killed Xander! My Xander!”
“No, no, no,” Xander insisted, waving his hands in front of him. “We’re not vampires.”
Buffy had already darted to Giles’ side and pulled out the cross she knew was there in his jacket pocket. She swung it first in front of Xander’s face, then in front of Giles’. She held it out for Anya to see. “Not vampires, Anya.”
“Oh, good,” Anya cried, as she dropped the crossbow and leapt into her lover’s arms.
Giles looked down at the discarded weapon. “Does no one remember that those are expensive pieces of equipment?”
Anya kissed Xander soundly, and then released him. “I’m very happy that you’re not dead. Or a vampire.” She remembered Buffy standing a few feet away. She smiled even brighter and bounced over to give the slayer a hug. “I am also very happy that you’re not dead anymore. Everyone was very sad while you were.”
Giles cleared his throat. “While I would like nothing more than to stand out here and enjoy Buffy’s miraculous resurrection...” He adjusted Dawn’s weight in his arms. “Dawn is beginning to get heavy.”
“Right, right,” they all responded as they turned to the parking lot.
Giles cleared his throat a second time. He tilted his head to the side. “Are we forgetting something?”
They looked to where his head was pointed. “Oh, yeah,” Anya exclaimed as she fetched her crossbow.
“Xander?” Giles said.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he dashed the 25 feet to retrieve his.
“I wish you would take more care with those,” Giles scolded, as he started walking towards the parking lot. “A good crossbow’s awfully expensive.”
Buffy patted him on the back as she followed him to the car. “Nice to see you’ve got your priorities straight.”
Giles shifted Dawn in his arms, glanced down on her sleeping face. “I do have my priorities straight. Those crossbows could be a liability if they lock up on you in battle just because Xander and Anya couldn’t take a moment to lay them down proper. They might have bent the frames or snapped the catch.”
Buffy smiled as she opened the door to his car, helped him place Dawn across the back seat, and buckled her up. Xander came running up behind them with Giles’ keys. He pressed the remote entry switch for the trunk, nodding his head appreciatively as it popped open.
“Hey, Giles,” Xander said. “Anyone ever tell you how much cooler your new car is than your old one?” He dumped his crossbow in the ‘boot’ as Giles would call it. Anya’s soon followed.
Giles reached for his keys, but Buffy nabbed them first. “I don’t suppose my favorite watcher would let me take it for a spin?”
Giles held out his hand patiently. “No, I don’t suppose he would.”
“Aw, come on,” Buffy pouted. “Isn’t this supposed to be Buffy’s-back-from-the-dead Day? Like when the birthday girl gets whatever she wants for the day?”
He snatched the keys from her hand. “I rather think this is Buffy’s-back-from-the-dead-and-I’m-going-to-at-least-get-her-home-in-one-piece Day.” He climbed into the driver’s seat. “Besides, one brush with death today is enough for me.”
Buffy bit back her protest and dutifully sat in the passenger’s seat. Xander and Anya got into their own car, and at a little after 12:30 in the morning, not even a half an hour after Buffy had returned to her living body, they were all on their way back to the house on Revello Drive. The house that was once again Buffy’s.
As Giles pulled onto the main road, he noticed that his slayer’s hand had crept over to find his own. He flipped his hand into hers and laced their fingers together. They stayed like that, in silence, until he pulled into the driveway and the necessity to shift into park forced him to reclaim his hand.
***
Dawn woke as Giles moved to lift her from the car. He knelt on the ground beside the backseat, waiting for her to open her eyes and motioning for Buffy to wait beyond her sister’s line of sight. Willow had already come barreling out of the house to envelope Buffy in a bear hug, Tara following close behind. When Giles motioned them back, the three women simply waited by the passenger’s side of the car, behind where Dawn was still sitting in the back.
Xander had parked his car on the side of the road, so when Dawn began to stir, he and Anya quickly slipped in behind Giles to smile down on her.
Dawn groaned softly as she blinked open her eyes and looked up at the concerned faces of Giles, Xander, and Anya. She smiled, her eyes filling with tears, as she stretched out one hand to touch Giles’ face, as if to assure herself she wasn’t dreaming. “Hi,” she said quietly.
“Hi,” he answered back, just as softly.
And then her arms came up around his neck, and she was clinging to him as if he might float away. He rocked her gently as she cried, shaking his head at Buffy when she moved to come closer.
“I thought… I had… lost you… too,” Dawn managed between choking sobs.
“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear, still rocking her, still stroking her hair back along her head and neck. “Everything’s all right now, luv. Everything’s all right.”
After a moment she quieted and drew back from him, wiping away her tears on the palms of her hands. He would have offered her his handkerchief, but he had emptied his pockets of everything but the weapons he would need against Marcus and Nicole.
“Giles, I was dreaming that Buffy was in the schoolyard with you. It seemed so real. I thought you were both ghosts, that you were dead too.”
He smiled, smoothed back her hair, and tucked the long strands behind one ear. “Dawn, I have something to tell you. I didn’t want to say anything before. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and then have it not work. It’s rather a long story, which you will get in full tomorrow when we’ll have more energy to tell it. The short of it is that it involves magic, and folding time, and summoning spirits back from the dead.”
“Buffy?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Your sister is alive. She’s right here. You weren’t dreaming, Dawn.”
Buffy had tiptoed around the front of the car and now came into her sister’s field of vision. “Hey, kiddo.”
Dawn beamed, the sorrow and grief melting off of her, her shoulders lifting as if a weight had been taken from them. She stood on shaky legs, and Giles stepped aside for her to cross to her sister. They embraced, Dawn and Buffy, and if their last embrace on the platform all those weeks ago had held all the sorrow in the world as they parted, this one consumed all the joy in the world as they reunited.
***
The Slayerettes settled their Slayer on the couch, the rest of them arranged around her, and Dawn curled up into her lap, her arm cleaned and bandaged. They had a thousand questions for Buffy, but no one was taking turns, and it soon became a tangled mess. They all laughed at the absurdity of the situation for several moments before Willow piped up with the question they had all been asking, but in different ways:
“What was it like being dead, Buffy?”
“Well the first time I died with the Master, that was only a couple minutes. This time was way different.” Buffy’s fingers were playing with her sister’s hair, and Dawn was dozing off and on beneath the gentle touch. It was way past her bedtime. “There was the light, and a tunnel I think. I don’t know. I didn’t really go into the light.”
Buffy looked down to see if her sister was sleeping yet. She appeared to be. Buffy continued on in almost a whisper. “I think I felt Mom there. It was nice. But I needed to know that Dawn was okay. When I turned away from the light, it was just gone. I spent the rest of the time as a ghost, just following people around and stuff.”
“Wow,” Xander said. The others simply nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, it was really weird,” Buffy added. “I didn’t feel different. I still got tired and fell asleep, which is something you wouldn’t think you’d have to do after you’re dead, huh? And the strangest part: I always woke up next to my grave, and I don’t know why. Do you know why, Giles?”
He looked up, startled, as if his mind had been wandering off somewhere else. “Hmm? Oh, no, I… I don’t know why that would happen, Buffy. There’s a lot we know about demons and monsters, but not much about what happens to people after they die.”
She nodded thoughtfully and glanced down at her sleeping sister. “Yeah, it didn’t feel a whole lot different. Although, I didn’t get hungry, which is a good thing, ’cause I couldn’t have eaten anything anyway. But mostly it was like being myself, but no one could see me. Walking through things was kinda wiggy. I tried not to do that.
“And then the whole thing with Marcus and Nicole taking my body. It was pretty scary not being able to do anything. And Willow found the spell to put me back, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I got into one of Giles’ dreams once when I touched him. That was really…”
Giles’ head came up, their eyes meeting from across the room. Buffy smiled.
“…really different,” she finished, unwilling to betray the privacy of his dream. “But he didn’t remember it, or didn’t believe it was really me until almost at the end there.
“And then stepping back into my body after Willow did the spell. It was like slipping on an old pair of jeans that fit just right, you know?”
They were silent for a moment, and then Xander asked hesitantly, “So, Buffy, when you were our little ghostly stalker, did you… umm… did you watch us like all the time? ’Cause that thing Anya and I did with the cowboy hat and boots…”
“Aaagh!” Buffy cried, holding up her hand. “Please, Xander, like being dead wasn’t bad enough without watching you and Anya have sex. How much of a pervert do you think I am?” She shuddered and shook her head as if she could clear that image out of her mind. Too late. She was already thinking of a new interpretation for “Cowboys and Indians.”
“No, you guys should all be pleased to know that I gave you some privacy. I had no desire to follow anyone into the shower or anything.” Well, all right, maybe there was that one person, but she had resisted really, really well.
Xander’s face was burning with embarrassment, and he was very, very eager to change the topic. He jumped to his feet. “You hungry, Buff?” he asked. Willow had already made her hot chocolate.
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t eaten in over a month. Now I think about it, I don’t think this body ate at all the day we fought Glory.”
“What can I get? Omelets? Grilled cheese? Cereal? Anything beyond that, and you’ll have to order in, ’cause that’s about the limit of my culinary skills.”
Buffy smiled and looked down at her sister, sleeping peacefully in her lap. “Actually, all month I’ve been watching Giles make Dawn these really thin pancake things-”
“Crepes,” Giles supplied.
“Yeah, those. They looked really good. Think you can make some for me?”
“They’re really good with strawberries and sugar,” Dawn murmured, blinking open her eyes. “Can I have some, too, Giles?”
Buffy resumed petting her sister’s hair. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Almost.”
“Would anyone else like some?” Giles asked. “As long as I’m making them.”
The others nodded their heads, and as he crossed to the kitchen, Buffy called out, “I want mine like yours, with the butter and the powdered sugar, and then all rolled up. That looked good.”
Dawn made a face. “He puts lemon on it too.”
“Oh yeah,” Buffy called, a little louder. “Put the lemon juice on mine, too.”
“Gross,” Dawn said, and then Buffy began tickling her along her side until Dawn batted her hand away, crying, “Stop it!”
“Look who’s talking, Miss Peanut Butter and Salami Sandwich.”
“They’re good, if you’d just try one,” Dawn protested.
Buffy pushed her sister off her lap and stood, stretching. “Okay, while Giles is cooking me a midnight… well an after one in the morning snack, I think I’ll go upstairs and change into something less…” She looked down at the white lace dress she was wearing. It actually had ribbons on the sleeves and neck. As a ghost, she had pretty much been wearing the white sweater and pants she had died in, but this was… this was… She searched for the right word. “…something less Victorian.”
She made a face and called out loudly to the kitchen: “God, Giles, is this what you picked out to bury me in? It’s sooo not me.”
“I tried to tell him that was the dress Mom made you wear to Aunt Ellen’s 60th birthday party,” Dawn explained. “But he thought it looked nice.”
“I think this is just his revenge for all the jokes I made about his tweed.” Buffy smiled at all her friends, and scampered off up the steps. She came back down a short time later wearing sweatpants and a tank top. And still a little loose, even on her second finger, she wore Giles’ onyx pinky ring.
He noticed. As he served crepes to the group seated around the dining table, he noticed the familiar glint as she reached across the table for more sugar. Their eyes met, and she blushed, possibly embarrassed. He merely smiled, nodded his head, and slid the sugar closer to her side of the table.
The gang didn’t last long past 3:30, but no one wanted to go home. They all wanted to be near Buffy. Dawn hadn’t made it more than ten minutes after they finished their meal and retired to the living room. She snored softly in Buffy’s lap, and when the slayer was sure her sister was down for the count, she carried Dawn upstairs and laid her in Buffy’s own bed.
When the rest of the gang had slowed down in their story swapping, when silence and drowsy giddy grins had replaced the sound of laughter and boisterous teasing, Buffy sent them all to bed too. She gave Willow and Tara Dawn’s bed. Xander and Anya got the couch. And Buffy would sleep with her sister. For just as much as they all wanted to be near Buffy, Buffy wanted them to stay just as badly.
***
He couldn’t reach her. Nicole had him by the throat, and she was just too strong. He could only watch as time stood still, as Marcus bent over Buffy’s form, as he drained her. And then, even worse, as he placed his bleeding wrist over her mouth and forced her to drink.
“Shhh, Giles, it’s all right. I’m right here.” Buffy’s voice, but not from the still form beneath Marcus. This voice came from everywhere.
“Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
And then he did. His heart was pounding, its rhythm ringing in his ears. He was panting, shaking. He felt fingers gently combing through his hair and turned. Buffy was sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling.
“You were having a nightmare. I heard you down the hall.”
He closed his eyes and asked, “I didn’t wake Dawn, did I? Or the others?”
“No. That kid can sleep through just about anything. You should know. You’re the one who’s had to get her out of bed the last five weeks. And I think Willow and Tara are pretty wiped from the spell they did. Xander and Anya are all the way downstairs. So yeah, just little ol’ me.”
He smiled and looked up at her. He took her hand in his, held them both over his heart. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“S’okay.” She shrugged. “All month I’ve been watching you have really bad dreams, and I couldn’t do anything. It’s nice to be able to wake you up before they get really bad.”
They stayed like that for a minute, Giles letting himself calm after his dream and Buffy just watching him thoughtfully.
Finally, he released her hand and looked over to her. “It’s late. You should go back to sleep.”
“Giles?”
“Yes?”
“Can I sleep in here with you?”
Her question startled him, and he hiked himself further up his pillows for a better look at her. “What?”
“I mean just sleep. It’s no big. I mean, I’m dressed and you’re dressed...” She stopped. “You are wearing pajama bottoms under there, aren’t you?”
Giles blushed and pulled the blankets closer to his chest. “Yes.” He was somewhat thankful at the moment to also be wearing the matching pajama top.
“See, no big,” she said, as she slid under the covers next to him. “We’ll just be two fully dressed friends who happen to be sleeping in the same bed.” She snuggled up next to him, her breasts pressing against his side through the soft silk of her pajamas and his. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Giles could feel himself beginning to get hard, and he shifted away from her.
“Buffy, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
She raised herself up on one elbow, looking down at him with what, even in the dim lighting, Giles could recognize as a pout. “Please. It’s just that... I’ve woken up every day next to my grave. I’ve spent the last five weeks not being able to touch anyone. I guess I’m just afraid to close my eyes and wake up and find out that this is all a dream and that I’m still dead.” One tear spilled down her cheek, and he caught it before it could fall. “Please, Giles, I just want someone to hold me through the night. And I think... I think you need to wake up with me in your arms, too.”
He nodded mutely. How could he deny her anything now, especially when she put it like that? And a small, selfish part him wanted to feel her close to him, to wrap his arms around her, and to know without a doubt that this wasn’t a dream, that she was real.
She settled in next to him, pillowed her head on his chest, and wrapped her arm around his waist. He slid one hand up to lie over her arm. The other found her hair and stroked it gently back from her face again and again, allowing the silk strands to flow between his fingers.
“Giles, you’re shaking.”
“Shhh... Go to sleep, Buffy.”
She was silent for a moment, and he thought perhaps she had. But then she asked very softly, “Giles, did you have dreams that bad before I died?”
The hand trailing through her hair stilled. He rested it across her back. “Occasionally.”
“But not every night?”
“No, not every night.”
She pulled herself tighter against him and sighed.
“Buffy?”
“Hmmm?”
He paused for a moment. “You watched over me while I slept... Did you watch me every night?”
“Yeah. Every night. You were in pretty bad shape. Sometimes it scared me. When you thought you were alone, when there wasn’t anyone around to be strong for, sometimes it scared me how bad off you were.”
Giles kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He frowned as another thought hit him. “Did you come into any of my other dreams?”
She tipped her head up to look at him, her chin still resting on his chest. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me about them, and I’ll tell you if they sound familiar.”
He blanched. She giggled. “Now Giles, have you been having naughty dreams about me?”
He blushed and rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to think this sleeping in the same bed was a rather bad idea.”
“No, you’re not.” She laid her head back on his chest, nestled in closer. “You’re loving it. You can’t fool me.” As if to prove her point, she slid her knee up to brush against the hardness that was growing between his legs.
“B-buffy,” he stammered, as one hand pushed her leg back down. “Go to sleep.”
She kissed him softly on the chin. “You first.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, tried to relax into the feeling of having her here, warm and alive and in his arms. He closed his eyes and knew that tonight there would be no more dreams. Tonight he would sleep through the night.
***
Sometimes when the big things click into place, you just forget about all the little things. That is until the little things become the big things. That’s pretty much what happened the next day as they all puttered around the house, sleeping late, skipping school, skipping work, shop closed, everyone just enjoying having Buffy back in their lives again. And then in the late afternoon Xander and Anya, Willow and Tara, they all went home, but only long enough to change for the celebratory dinner Giles had promised them. Yes, after getting Buffy back, none of the little things really seemed to matter anymore. At least not until the DCFS showed up at the door for Dawn.
Dawn had just come down the stairs after taking an overly long shower. Buffy had stood outside the door, pounding, insisting that she would also like to take a shower, sometime today. When they passed in the hall, Dawn had teased her older sister, commenting on Buffy’s noticeable absence from her bed that morning and the fact that Giles’ bed was probably a lot more comfortable.
“Maybe you should shower with Giles. You could save water,” Dawn had pointed out sarcastically.
Buffy had taken her sister by the shoulders and firmly moved her aside from the bathroom door. “Hey you, it’s absolutely none of your business whose bed I slept in last night.” And then she had leaned in closer and asked nicely, “But please don’t mention it to anyone else, ok?”
Dawn had merely shrugged her shoulders, muttered, “Whatever,” and bounced down the stairs as Buffy started her shower.
When the doorbell rang, she was standing right there in the foyer, so she called out to Giles, “I got it,” and opened the door. She expected it to be one of the gang: cleaned up, changed, and ready to go out for some much deserved merriment. Giles had made five o’clock reservations for them at a Japanese restaurant where they cooked your dinner right at the table while you watched.
When she opened the door, it wasn’t Xander or Anya or Willow or Tara or even by some miracle a smoldering Spike. Standing on the front porch were two women in business suits, carrying clipboards, and a uniformed police officer.
“Dawn Summers?” The blond woman asked.
Dawn nodded blankly.
“Is Mr...” She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered down at the clipboard she held in her hands. “Is Mr. Giles at home?” She pronounced his name with a hard “G” like “Guy-uls.”
She looked at the two women in front of her and the cop beside them. Then she noticed her father and Susan standing on the sidewalk near the road.
Dawn backed up towards the dining room until her shoulder hit the archway. The terror that had stalked her the last couple days again closed in around her after the brief respite Buffy’s resurrection had given her.
“Giles,” she whispered softly. And then again, a little louder, “Giles!”
“What is it, Dawn?” He rounded the corner from the living room and stopped short when he saw them too. The three strangers entered the house, standing in the foyer between Giles and Dawn.
“Mr. Giles.” The blond woman got his name right this time. “I’m Anna Iverson from the Department of Child and Family Services.” She extended her hand, but he didn’t take it. She pulled it back and wiped her palm against her skirt, as if her attempt at a handshake had been nothing more than a nervous tick.
“Mr. Giles,” The second woman continued, an overweight middle-aged woman with dark black hair pulled tight into a bun. “I’m Stephie Miller and this is Officer Griffin. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss Dawn’s situation?”
“Well, now that those pleasantries are over,” Giles said coldly, “I’d like to ask you all to leave my home. I am Dawn’s legal guardian, and unless you’ve brought a summons-”
The police officer drew an envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to Giles. He opened it briskly and glanced over the legal phrasing. They were taking Dawn away.
When Giles looked up again, Hank and Susan had moved to stand in the doorway, watching the drama in the entry unfold. Giles glared daggers at Dawn’s father. “What is this about?”
Hank met the other man’s gaze evenly. “When I picked up Dawn from school the other day, I gave them the number at the hotel where I could be reached. They called me today to tell me Dawn hadn’t shown up, no one had called in for her, and the line was busy at the house.”
Giles crumpled up the paper bitterly and threw it on the floor. “And what? You thought I had taken her out of the country? You thought you should bring in the law before you even tried to come here and find out what was going on for yourself?”
“After your little display last night, I wasn’t sure what to think, Mr. Giles.” Hank pulled his fiancé closer, as if to draw strength from her. “But I was pretty sure I didn’t want to leave my daughter here in your care.”
Giles spared Dawn a glance. The poor girl looked terrified. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you wait up in your room for a minute, Dawn?”
She turned to go up the stairs, but Hank stepped forward and pulled her back by the arm. Dawn yelped in pain and flinched back from his touch. Her father released her immediately, his eyes drawn to the three thin lines of blood that were now beginning to show through the bandage on her upper arm. “Honey,” he said softly, “What happened to your arm?”
Dawn’s eyes slipped to Giles, silently pleading with him to give her an answer that wouldn’t include vampires and blood rituals. But Hank took that as her answer and turned on Giles with a cold fury. Only the officer between them prevented Hank from attacking the other man out of the same protective anger Giles himself had felt last night.
“You bastard! You didn’t want her to go on her stupid field trip, but she went anyway. So you what? You sliced her up? She didn’t even want to go, but I made her.”
“Dad, no!” Dawn was crying, her face dropped in her hands. “He didn’t do it. It was an accident.”
The police officer shoved Hank away from Giles and raised a warning hand. Dawn’s father backed off reluctantly, running both his hands through his sandy hair, his face burning with rage. There was nothing Giles could say in his own defense. Really, I didn’t touch your daughter, Mr. Summers. It was a vampire who needed her blood so he could bring your other daughter back from the dead. There was no way to explain away three such perfectly made cuts as an accident. They were deep enough to have needed the butterfly closures Giles kept in his first aid kit.
“Come on, Dawn, you’re leaving with me.” Hank took his daughter by the hand and made to go, but the cop and the two social workers intercepted him.
“Mr. Summers,” the thinner blond, Anna, was saying, “I’m sorry, but Bureau policy in these cases demands that Dawn be placed in foster care until this situation can be resolved.”
“No,” Dawn begged, clinging to her father’s hand. “Dad, please. Don’t let them. Daddy, please.”
Hank looked stricken. Giles couldn’t resist the chance to dig the knife in deeper. “You think this is what’s best for your daughter?”
Hank glared at Giles and spat back, “It’s a damn sight better than leaving her with you.”
Anna stepped towards the girl, placed her hand on her back, tried to lead her towards the door. “Come on, dear. It’s only for a little while.”
“No!” Dawn screamed. “Don’t touch me!”
Giles heard the water upstairs turn off. Buffy must have heard her sister’s cry, and would join them post haste. That could only improve the situation, to have Dawn’s dead sister come down to talk with the DCFS agents.
Dawn turned and bolted into Giles’ arms. He held her tightly, staring down Hank Summers, as if daring the man to challenge Giles’ right to comfort the girl.
“Please, Giles,” she was begging through wrenching sobs, “Do a spell. Make them go away. Don’t let them take me.”
He could do nothing, except hold the girl as she cried. He focused on one of the social workers, Anna. He smiled at her sadly. She was, after all, only doing her job. “Ms. Iverson, would it be ok if Dawn packed some of her things to take with her?”
“Of course.”
Dawn was shaking her head, her hands clutching his shirtfront in a death grip. He patted her back kindly and murmured for her ears only, “Compared to last night, this is nothing, Dawn. Just a little while, and then you’ll be back home. I promise.” He pried her fingers loose from his shirt, and steered her towards the stairs.
It was at that moment that Buffy came barreling down the steps: her hair dripping wet, clothes still sticking to her damp frame, and a toilet plunger raised over her head as a weapon.
“Buffy?” her father whispered, disbelieving.
“Buffy?” the middle-aged social worker, Stephie, echoed as she searched through the papers on her clipboard. “Dawn’s sister Buffy? Our records list her as deceased.”
Buffy lowered the plunger, let it drop on the steps next to her, and looked over the group of people in the foyer. “What’s going on here?”
She grunted as her father claimed her in a desperate embrace. Her sister soon joined him. “Oxygen!” she pleaded. They both released her, her father leaving his hand on her shoulder, as if to anchor her in this world. “Ok, what is going on here?”
Giles stepped forward to fall into his usual role of lecturer. “These people are with the Department for Child and Family Services. Your father went to a judge and obtained an order for them to take Dawn from my custody.”
Buffy stared at her father incredulously. “Is this true?”
Hank straightened himself defensively, for the moment forgetting about his confusion at seeing Buffy alive. “I was just trying to take care of Dawn. I thought that’s what you would have wanted.”
“What I wanted was for Giles to take care of her.”
“Excuse me,” Anna broke in. “I know that this is difficult for all of you, but Dawn really needs to come with us now.”
Dawn started crying again.
“Buffy,” Giles said gently, “Why don’t you take your sister up to her room and help her get some things together.”
Buffy led her sister up the stairs, Dawn following meekly and looking just like a prisoner marching up the steps to the guillotine.
Anna considered the two men in front of her and then the clipboard in her hands. “You’ll each have a meeting in the morning before the judge. I’m sure he’ll want to know why Buffy’s alive, or rather why we thought she was dead in the first place.” She shifted her glasses up higher on her nose and shuffled through some papers. “This is most unusual. We don’t regularly make this kind of mistake. In fact, I could have sworn there was a coroner’s report in Dawn’s file.” The social worker lapsed into silence as she read over the papers on her clipboard another time.
Hank and Giles waited in cold silence, staring across at each other in mutual contempt. Giles knew the man was waiting for an explanation for Buffy being alive. But Giles was damned if he was going to say anything; he was going to make Hank actually ask him for the answer. And Hank, he just stood waiting. There was no way in hell he was going to ask Giles for anything.
A few minutes later, Dawn came down the stairs with her backpack clutched in one hand and Mr. Gordo in the other. She looked back at Buffy, and Giles, and then her father. She walked past Susan. And then she got in the police car and was gone.
The four of them were left standing in an empty house, each of them wondering what they could have, no should have, done differently.
Buffy broke the silence. “Dad, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking you were dead!” Hank shook his head, as if he could clear out the confusion and it would somehow make sense. “Can someone explain to me how I got that one wrong? I mean, I saw your obituary, Buffy. I hadn’t actually made it to your grave yet, but the groundskeeper knew right where it was. And you,” he pivoted to face Giles, “if you knew my daughter was alive, why didn’t you say anything? All this time, you’ve let me believe she was dead, you heartless son-of-a-”
“Dad!” Buffy shouted, bringing his attention back to her. “Listen, it’s a long story. One I do not have the patience to tell right now. And just so you know, Giles thought I was dead too, so just get off his back already.” She took a deep breath and collected herself. “I want you to get out of my house now.”
“But Buffy-”
“Dad, just go. I love you, but I just can’t look at you right now.” She pointed at the door, still open from Dawn’s exit only minutes before. “And take your secretary with you.”
Hank bristled. “She’s my fiancé.”
“Whatever.” Buffy threw up her hands. “Just go.”
Hank reluctantly obeyed, heading out the door as Susan said lamely, “It was nice meeting you, Buffy,” before she followed. Giles shut the door behind them.
Buffy plopped down on the last step, leaning her head against the banister. “What do we do?”
Giles joined her on the bottom step, feeling every bit as miserable as Buffy looked. “We get a lawyer.”
Buffy looked over at him, leaned her weight the other way, and rested her head against his shoulder. Her wet hair made a damp spot on his shirt. He suspected that some of the wetness there might also be her tears, but he didn’t bend his head to look.
Minutes later Willow bounced in the front door, followed by Tara, both dressed up for dinner. The redhead frowned at her friends’ dejected appearance and glanced around the house. “Where’s Dawn?”
Buffy pulled herself into Giles’ arms and started sobbing.
***
A call to London and an explanation of the last few days’ events. Within the hour the Watcher’s Council did what they did best: a few pulls of a few bureaucratic strings and they had Buffy’s alibi. Complete with phony medical records from an LA hospital where Buffy had spent the last five weeks in a coma under the name Jane Doe. Head trauma after being hit by a car, no identification anywhere on her person. It was Giles’ idea to embellish the story with why she went to LA, and Buffy wasn’t thinking clearly enough to argue with him. It was perhaps cruel to say Buffy had gone to LA to try and track down her father through his old offices. It was sure to cause Hank some measure of guilt to know she had lain in a coma, because he couldn’t bother to come home after her mother’s death. Giles couldn’t seem to care.
The Council quickly altered Buffy’s own records as well. She had fallen from a great height, and now the coroner’s report said that the victim’s identity could not be conclusively proven, because of facial and head trauma from the fall. It went on to state that the victim’s friends had identified her by her clothing and jewelry, and she had been buried as Buffy Anne Summers. The service had been closed casket, so no one would know the difference. Especially not after the coroner found himself reassigned to a posh Beverly Hills hospital at twice his salary. The Watcher’s Council was good.
So Buffy and Giles went to Mr. Stockwell’s office and explained to him what had really happened to Buffy. Dawn had been having problems in school, and Buffy had been concerned that she would lose custody of her sister. All true. So she had gone to her father’s old LA offices to try and get the contact numbers for his business trip in Italy. (That would have been about the time they road tripped into the desert to escape Glory). Her first day there, wouldn’t you know it? Mugged. Someone stole her suitcase, jewelry, wallet with ID, and money. She had nothing but the clothes on her back. On the way to the police station, and upset to distraction, she must have stepped in front of a car. That part was still a little fuzzy. And then the next thing she knew, she was waking up in an LA hospital five weeks later. And the entire time, no one in the hospital had known who she was. Of course, she had come back to Sunnydale as quickly as possible, only arriving the previous evening. She felt just terrible about everything she’d put everyone through. And she had planned to tell her father everything, but he had come to the house himself before she’d had a chance.
As for Giles, he was suitably relieved that this was all one big mistake. Whoever had found that poor girl’s body, the one who had stolen Buffy’s clothes, jewelry, and ID, whoever had found her after the fall had naturally called him. His number had been in her wallet. So they had all gone to the hospital, identified her clothes and jewelry, and believed the doctor when he said Buffy had died. They had all simply assumed that Buffy had returned from LA, and for whatever inexplicable reason fallen from the top of the construction site. Of course, now that they knew it wasn’t Buffy who had fallen, it all made more sense. That other girl probably did have a reason for going up there.
And when that other girl’s friends missed her, they came looking. Perhaps they also had whatever else of Buffy’s belongings the girl had stolen. If so, then they would have known Buffy’s name. They would have probably figured out that their friend had been mistaken for Buffy. And they must be the ones responsible for taking the body from Buffy’s grave. When they saw that it was indeed their friend, they must have taken her body home for burial in her own grave. Who could know for sure? The body had disappeared, and now they would never know who had been buried in Buffy’s place.
Buffy and Giles were both very good liars. And they had the proper falsified documentation to back up their lies.
Mr. Stockwell put together a case so Buffy could keep custody of Dawn. The judge would be much more likely to rule in favor of a blood relation. But under the terms of the agreement, Giles would continue to live in the house and help Buffy out. Buffy was young, and that was likely to be a strike against her, but with Giles there as well, her age would not be such a problem.
Dawn’s wounds were explained as self-inflicted. Giles had protested initially, when he and Buffy had discussed it.
“Buffy,” he had said, “You go in there and tell the judge that Dawn cut herself, and you’re likely to cause more problems for her.”
Buffy had stirred her tea, around and around and around with her spoon. Giles had made it for her to help settle her nerves, but it seemed to make her more agitated as she fiddled with the spoon. Maybe if she actually drank it, that would help.
“Giles, it makes the most sense. I mean, Dawn cut herself up pretty good after she found out she was the Key. She needed stitches, and the school counselor wanted us to take her to talk to someone.”
Giles’ had removed Buffy’s hand from the spoon, held it tightly in his own to try and offer her some amount of reassurance. “That’s exactly my point. You tell them Dawn cut herself, and it would be the second time she’s done something like that. They’ll more than likely send her for a psych evaluation. With the amount of distress she’s experiencing at the moment, they might even hold her under a suicide watch. She’s been through enough lately without us adding to it by allowing the authorities to believe she’s a danger to herself.”
Buffy had simply leaned over, laid her head against his shoulder, and sighed. “We can’t let them think you did it. They’d never let you anywhere near Dawn. They might even press charges. And I don’t think I stand a chance of getting custody from my dad without you.”
Giles had given her hand a little squeeze and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Maybe if we talk with your father, try to reason with him…”
Buffy had laughed bitterly. “Don’t forget: I may have been dead, but I was watching. I’ve seen how he’s been since he got into town. And I know my dad. He was like that at the end with Mom, too. He won’t listen to me. And he most definitely won’t listen to you. He really hates you, you know?”
Giles had chuckled. “I know. I’m somewhat ashamed to admit the feeling’s become almost mutual.” He had taken to stirring his own tea nervously, just as he had been annoyed at Buffy for doing moments before. “Buffy, I’m really trying. I know he’s your father, and you love him, but-”
“But sometimes he can be a really jackass. Yeah, I know. Which leaves us back at the beginning. We can’t let them think you hurt Dawn. We certainly can’t tell them the truth. So unless you can think of how she got sliced three times on accident…?” There had been no response from Giles. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. That means we just have to tell them that Dawn cut herself. She trusts us. She knows she can’t tell anyone the truth. She’ll go along with whatever we say.”
So sitting in Mr. Stockwell’s office, Buffy and Giles lied again. They told their lawyer that Dawn had cut herself, having become so distraught over the thought of having to live with her father in Spain. The reason had again been Giles’ idea. He couldn’t resist the chance to shove a little more guilt in Hank’s direction.
The lawyer thought they had a pretty good case. And there seemed to be no love lost between Thomas Stockwell and Hank Summers, although the lawyer held back for Buffy’s sake. He seemed pretty determined that Hank not get custody of Dawn, though. When Stockwell had stepped to the file cabinets against the wall, Giles even thought he heard the man mumble something about “the son-of-a-bitch didn’t want them the first time around,” but the words were spoken softly and the watcher could have been simply projecting his own feelings onto them.
Mr. Stockwell didn’t even think Dawn’s cutting herself would present too much of a problem, putting to rest many of Giles’ concerns. The cuts weren’t that serious, and located on the upper arm as they were, Stockwell didn’t think she would be deemed suicidal, just upset. If anything, her actions might sway a judge to come to a final decision sooner.
And of course, there was Hank’s lawyer, Harold Cates. The man was an excellent lawyer, but not cheap. He had a reputation for representing the less deserving, but far wealthier clients. It couldn’t help but color the judge’s perceptions just a tad.
The only thing that might work against them, the lawyer said, was the fact that judges liked to place children with a parent if they could, especially one who was about to remarry. Judges liked giving children to stable, two-parent homes.
And so Buffy and Giles went back to the house, spent the evening with the Scoobies, and tried not to think about the morning’s meeting with the judge. (“What judge works on Saturday?” Buffy had asked. “You should be thankful,” Giles had answered. “Otherwise we’d be waiting until Monday.”) For the rest of the evening, Stockwell’s words continued to echo in Buffy’s head: Judges like to give children to stable, two-parent homes.
Their friends all tried to cheer them both up. When they first walked through the door after meeting with their lawyer, Anya had presented them with a cake.
“I baked it myself. From a box. Not from an actual box. The ingredients were inside the box.” Anya stopped rambling abruptly and held out the cake proudly. “Here. The ritual exchange of baked goods is a time-honored tradition between people when they’re upset. I believe the usual offering is chocolate chip cookies, but they didn’t have a box for that.”
Giles smiled slightly. “Thank you, Anya, that was very thoughtful of you.”
Anya beamed at her success and took the cake to the kitchen to cut it.
Tara grimaced and whispered to them, “I don’t think Anya’s ever baked a cake before. She insisted that the directions didn’t say to ‘de-shell’ the eggs before adding them.”
Giles and Buffy both shuddered. “Thanks for the warning,” the slayer said.
They walked into the living room, where Willow was busy at the coffee table with her laptop. “Hey guys,” she waved, looking rather pleased with herself. “Guess who hacked into the DCFS computers and got the number where Dawn’s staying?” She waved a little piece of paper in front of them. “You can call her if you want.”
Buffy’s mood actually lifted. “Thanks. I think I will.” She took the number and went to use the upstairs’ phone.
Xander bobbed his head expectantly. “So…? What’s the sitch? You guys gonna be able to take Dawn home tomorrow?”
Giles sat on the couch next to Xander. “Mr. Stockwell seems to think we stand a good chance.”
Xander leaned back and stretched. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got a secret weapon ready. There’s no way they’ll give her to her dad.”
“Xander?” Giles asked suspiciously.
“Hey just be patient, G-man, you’ll find out tomorrow.”
Giles sighed. “I’ve told you not to call me that. And whatever it is, it had better not be illegal, or get us in trouble with the judge. We really don’t need you to screw this up for us, Xander. No offense.”
Xander patted the older man on the shoulder. “None taken. Trust me, Big-G, everything’s gonna be fine. It’s just a little devious and underhanded, but nothing illegal. Or at least, I don’t think it’s illegal.”
“Xander!” Giles admonished. “I’m not liking the sound of your plan already.”
Anya saved her fiancé from further scolding when she arrived with slices of cake. She handed a plate to Giles and waited expectantly. He inspected his dessert with some trepidation. He could see small flecks of white in the chocolate cake where the eggshells had mixed in the batter. The white frosting looked edible, probably from a can.
“Anya, what are these red things on the frosting?” Giles asked, trying not to sound too worried.
“The picture of the cake on the box had pretty red sprinkles on it. I didn’t find any in your cupboards, but I thought the crushed red pepper you had in your spice rack looked almost the same.” Anya seemed pleased at her resourcefulness.
Giles simply nodded and smiled, picking around his cake with the fork. “It looks delicious.” The earlier trip to the lawyer had already established that Giles was a very good liar.
“Where’s Buffy?” Anya looked around, still holding the second slice of cake.
“She went upstairs to call Dawn,” Willow answered.
“Oh.” Anya frowned. “She’ll miss the cake.”
“I’m sure she’ll be very disappointed.” Giles almost managed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Almost.
“But it’s supposed to cheer her up,” Anya protested.
“Hey, An,” Xander said. “Why don’t you give me that slice, and go get Willow and Tara some.”
“Ok.”
As soon as she’d left the room, Willow rescued the two men and dumped their cake in the trash. Anya returned to find their plates empty. “Would you like some more?”
“Yes,” Xander said.
“No,” Giles said at the same moment.
She left to fetch more, and Willow and Tara’s pieces found their way into the trash as well. They were able to keep Anya occupied fetching cake as fast as they dumped it in the trash until there was just the one slice left.
“Wow,” Anya had commented. “You guys must really have liked my cake. Perhaps I should consider becoming a chef.” She frowned down at the last piece. “I know you all asked for more, but this is the last slice. I feel like we should save it for Buffy.”
“Yes.” Giles grinned wickedly. “Definitely save the last slice for Buffy.”
***
Giles was just beginning to drift asleep, when he felt the bed lower next to him, and quickly blinked awake.
“Buffy?” he asked groggily.
“You have a lot of women climbing into your bed in the middle of the night?”
“No, of course not. I just… What are you doing here?” He watched her as she slid under the covers and joined him in bed. He took her in his arms as he had the night before, still somewhat baffled by her presence. “Buffy? You do have your own bed.”
“I know, but the house is so quiet and empty. The gang all went back to their own places and Dawn…” She trailed off. “I just wanted to sleep in here with you tonight.”
He paused, struggling with the best way to broach the subject. “I thought we both agreed that last night was a one-time affair.” He grimaced, and she giggled. “Poor choice of words. I meant that last night was an exceptional situation. We were both vulnerable and needing to feel secure in the other’s presence. But we agreed that sleeping in the same bed would be a one-time event.”
Buffy snuggled up close to him, head nestled up under his chin, arm wrapped around his waist, one leg draped across his. “I don’t remember agreeing to any such thing.”
“Buffy, this is rapidly becoming inappropriate.”
“Giles,” she began thoughtfully. “I was in your dream, remember? You kissed me like I was the antidote to whatever you were dying from.”
He tensed beneath her. “Dreams can’t always be taken literally. Sometimes they’re symbolic. I was grieving. I was missing you terribly. I don’t think you have any idea what it was like for me.”
She looked up at him. “Then tell me.”
He closed his eyes in pain. “Buffy, please…”
“Dawn said it was like having her heart ripped out. Marcus said it was like she took his soul with her. What was it like for you, Giles?” He didn’t answer. His eyes were still clenched shut. “Giles? You’re shaking again. Talk to me.”
“Buffy,” his voice was hoarse, trembling. “I hadn’t seen you alive in nearly five weeks, not even in my dreams. I dreamt of you every single night, but you were always dead. I used to wish…” He choked on the words, and Buffy began to stroke his forehead softly. “Every night I would close my eyes and hope that this would be the night I would see you alive. Hear your voice. But you were always dead. Sometimes the dreams were so bad, I was afraid to let myself go to sleep.”
He swallowed and continued. One tear slipped from beneath his closed lashes. “Once I spent the whole afternoon digging through your family’s video collection, looking for home movies, for anything that would have you in it.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, “We never got a camcorder. No home movies for Giles.” She kissed him tenderly on the chin and waited for him to finish.
“Yes, all I found were old musicals and black and white romances.” He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, not meeting her sympathetic gaze. “I thought if I could find a home movie, if I could see you smiling and laughing one last time, then maybe you might be alive in my dreams.” His hands began stroking lightly up and down her back. His fingers trembled as they touched her. “When you came into my dream that night… God, Buffy, I had been terrified that I was forgetting you, the sound of your voice, the way you smile and move and shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes and have that little bounce in your step and the way you look at me. Most especially the way you look at me. I had to go through three family albums before I could find a picture that showed your eyes clearly. God help me, Buffy, I couldn’t remember the exact shade of blue in your eyes.”
His eyes had closed again, his forehead creased with pain. His hands stopped their nervous travel up and down her back. Instead they clenched into the fabric of her pajamas and pressed her tighter against him. His whole body shook beneath her like an egg teetering on the edge of a counter and very nearly ready to fall off. His breathing sounded labored. His voice, when it came again, sounded raspy. “When I kissed you, Buffy… I knew I was dreaming, but I didn’t think I would ever see you alive again, even in my dreams. I thought all the nights that came after would be like all the ones that came before. I thought it was my only chance… I thought I would keep having the other dreams for the rest of my life.”
She was still stroking his forehead softly. She trailed her fingers along the curve of his cheek and dried the few tears that had escaped from behind his closed lashes. She kissed him again on the chin, and then becoming bolder, continued up the side of his face and cheek until she was nose to nose with him, looking down into the face of her beloved watcher. He opened his eyes, loosing himself in her blue depths. How could he have forgotten that most beautiful shade of blue?
“Giles,” she whispered. “I think you’re in love with me.” She placed a finger over his mouth to still his protest. “I know a little bit about men.” She reconsidered. “Ok, I didn’t know that Angel was going to dump me or that Parker was such a punk or that Riley was addicted to vampire bites and was going to fly off to Central America.” She frowned. “Ok, at first glance it doesn’t seem like I know much about men. But really, I think I know when someone’s in love with me.”
She smiled down at him. “And you, Rupert Giles, don’t just love me, but you are in love with me. I watched you for the five weeks I was dead. In the beginning, I stayed to watch Dawn, but after a while it was mostly just you. And I saw how good you were with her. That’s when I first began to realize what I was feeling for you. The more I watched you, the more I realized that it had been there all the time. I saw you in a whole new light. And I knew. I just knew. I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you.”
She closed the distance between their lips and kissed him tenderly. It was so much better than what they had shared in his dream. His lips were warm and soft beneath hers. And this time there was no desperation, no fear that he would wake at any second. This time they had all the time in the world.
She pulled back and looked down at him. “Tell me I’m wrong about this. Tell me again that when you kissed me in your dream, it was a symbolic grieving thing. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not in love with me, then I’ll go back to my own bed, and we can pretend this whole conversation never happened. I’ll just file it away under ‘times Buffy made a complete fool of herself over a guy.’”
She waited patiently, and he brushed her blond hair back and behind her ear. “Buffy…”
“Yes?”
“We have to see the judge in the morning. Go to sleep.” He pulled her head back down on his chest.
“Does that mean I’m sleeping here tonight?”
“Yes,” he murmured. She giggled, and he sighed. “What is it, Buffy?”
“I was just thinking about what Mr. Stockwell said. ‘Judges like to give children to stable, two-parent homes.’ You think if we mentioned all of this in the meeting tomorrow, it might help?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I think if you mention any of it tomorrow, your father’s very likely to come after me with a shotgun.”
They both laughed for a moment before he again told her to go to sleep.
“Goodnight, Giles.”
“Goodnight, my love.”
Giles closed his eyes. He could easily get used to falling asleep with Buffy in his arms.
***
The judge spoke to each of them separately. First Hank and Susan, then Buffy and Giles. He was quite enthralled with their tale of Buffy’s coma and mistaken death. He looked over the paperwork their lawyer had sent, and if he had been at all suspicious, well everything seemed to support their claim.
Both couples waited in the hall with their lawyers, sitting across from each other on opposing benches. Hank kept watching Buffy, obviously wanting to speak with her, but unwilling to do so in front of Giles. Hank’s lawyer had all the same papers the judge did, so her father knew the story of Buffy’s miraculous ‘resurrection’ by now, complete with all the guilty details Giles had added. Giles still didn’t think the man looked suitably guilt-ridden.
After about an hour, the judge called them all back in for one meeting together. Hank and Susan sat in a pair of chairs on the left side, Buffy and Giles in a pair on the right. Their lawyers stood in the middle, in front of the judge’s desk.
Hank’s lawyer spoke first. “Your Honor, we would like to introduce a witness.”
The judge frowned. He seemed like a kindly older man, maybe in his mid to late 60’s. Small, wrinkled, completely bald, he looked like he had shrunk into his black robes until they were too big for him. The judge looked down his nose at Hank’s lawyer in his expensive Armani suit. “Mr. Cates, this isn’t a trial.”
Harold Cates nodded respectfully. “I know, Your Honor, but this witness speaks to the very character of Mr. Rupert Giles. If you are going to consider him as a kind of co-guardian for Dawn Summers, then I would ask that you hear the testimony of my witness. Otherwise, I would demand that Mr. Giles’ name be stricken from the motion for permanent guardianship and Miss Buffy Summers be considered as the sole applicant.”
Buffy turned terrified eyes towards Giles. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. He gave it a little squeeze, and she relaxed back into her chair.
Mr. Stockwell looked at Giles quizzically. Giles only shook his head and shrugged. He could only think of one person they might be able to bring in here to badmouth him. Ethan Rayne. And as far as Giles knew, Ethan was still in an Initiative detainment facility in Nevada.
Stockwell turned back to the judge. “I, of course, object to bringing witnesses into this meeting. But if my learned colleague feels this is necessary to keep Mr. Giles’ name on the motion, then I’ll allow it. I, of course, reserve the right to cross-examine. If we’re going to call witnesses like a trial, then I should be able to ask my own questions of them too. And if this witness affects your ruling, Your Honor, I reserve the right to appeal and bring forward my own witnesses to Mr. Summer’s character.” Thomas Stockwell let his gaze fall on Hank Summers. Giles got the distinct impression that Stockwell already had said witnesses in mind, and they wouldn’t reflect well at all on Hank’s parenting skills.
The judge steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “I’ll allow your witness, Mr. Cates, with Mr. Stockwell’s provisions.”
The transcriptionist opened the doors behind them and motioned someone inside. She said very sternly, “There’s no smoking allowed in here. It’s a public building.”
“Sorry, pet, I guess I didn’t see the signs.” A very familiar figure, in a long black trench coat, dropped his cigarette on the marble floor and squashed it with his boot.
Buffy’s eyes grew wide with disbelief, fear, and anger. Giles found that he couldn’t really feel all that surprised. Just angry.
Mr. Cates turned to the judge. “I’d like to introduce William-”
“Just Spike, mate,” the bleached blond interrupted, and then threw a wink in Buffy’s direction. “Hey, pet, never thought I’d see you again.”
Buffy glowered at him and made a small staking motion with her hand. Giles reached across quickly and pushed her hand back in her lap.
The judge looked over the blond vampire thoughtfully. “What do you have to say to support Hank Summer’s custody claim?”
“Oh him?” Spike eyed Buffy’s father a bit contemptuously. “Don’t know anything ’bout that bloke. Thought I was supposed to come and talk about Rupert here.”
“You know Mr. Giles?” the judge asked.
“Oh, we go way back. He’s tried to kill me more than once.”
“Excuse me?” the judge exclaimed.
Spike grinned at Giles. “Yeah, this fella’s bloody crazy. Thinks he’s some sort of vampire hunter or something. Hangs out in cemeteries all the time.” Spike pointed at the judge as if he’d just had a thought. “Hey, I bet you get your hired goons in here to search him, you’ll find actual wooden stakes and crosses. Guy should be in the sodding loony bin, not taking care of some poor kid.”
Giles’ jaw clenched, but he resisted the urge to stand up and throttle Spike. That was all he needed in the middle of the judge’s chambers. Instead he focused on Buffy’s hand, gently stroking it with one thumb, trying to keep her calm. He wouldn’t be able to restrain his slayer if she decided that Spike needed a good staking. And that, most definitely, would not help their case.
“You did know he owns a magic shop, right mate?” Spike continued. “Not just the showy Anne Rice, tarot card, crystal ball, and incense, draw the tourists in kinda shop. No, this bloke actual believes he can summon spirits back from the dead and make magic walls and float pencils around and all that crap.” Spike waved his arms in the air as he said it, demonstrating clearly that he thought it was a load of hogwash. He leaned back in his cocky, strutting pose and drew out a cigarette before he remembered that he couldn’t smoke in the building. Instead he used it to point at the judge and punctuate his next statement. “Now tell me that ain’t crazy.”
The judge leaned back thoughtfully, then focused on Giles for a moment, clearly trying to decide how much of Spike’s testimony to believe.
At that moment, Spike turned to Harold Cates and in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was still clearly audible, he asked, “So when do I get paid?”
“What?” Mr. Cates responded.
“Paid. As in you give me money, and I say everything I just said ’bout Rupe over there. Come on, Harold, buddy, we had a deal.”
The judge waved the two men’s attention back to himself. “Just a second. Mr. William… er… Spike, did Mr. Cates pay you for your testimony?”
“Well, not yet,” Spike answered, clearly annoyed. “That’s what we were just discussing, if you don’t mind.”
The judge banged his gavel on his desk to draw their attention again. “I do mind. There are procedures for hiring witnesses to provide expert testimony, but you can’t go around bribing character witnesses. Mr. Spike, was any of your testimony in the least bit truthful?”
“Your Honor,” Mr. Cates protested, “I assure you, I made no deal with this-”
“I wasn’t speaking to you at this moment Mr. Cates. You will let your witness answer. How much truth was there in your statement, Mr. Spike?”
Spike seemed to consider it for a moment, glanced over at Hank’s lawyer, then back at the judge. “Every word.” He leaned back over to Mr. Cates and whispered, “How was that?”
The judge shook his head in disgust. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disregard everything your witness has told us here today. Mr. Cates, is there anything else you’d like to add to these proceedings?”
“Your Honor, I had no idea that this Mr. Spike-”
“Hey, mate, I still get paid, right?” Spike interrupted. “That was the deal. I show up. I talk about Rupe. I get paid. Nothing in there ’bout the judge having to believe me. Personally, I thought I sounded pretty good.”
“Will you shut up,” Mr. Cates said. “I never agreed to pay you anything. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not amused.”
Hank jumped up out of his seat. “I know what’s going on here. This Spike is one of Mr. Giles’ friends. We’ve been set up. They’re trying to make us look bad.”
“Please,” Spike rolled his eyes. “Can’t stand the sight of the man. And don’t pretend you didn’t ask me here to talk trash about him. Just ’cause you’re afraid you’re going to lose to your own daughter, don’t go jumping down my throat. Maybe if you’d actually stopped by a few times in the last couple years for a visit, you might have won ‘father of the year.’ But noooo, you were too busy shagging your secretary. Can’t say as I blame you, she’s a mighty fine dish if I do say so. Although,” Spike glanced back and forth between Buffy and Susan, comparing the two. “She’s a little young for you. And she does bear some resemblance to your eldest there, Hank old boy. There’s something a little sick and incestual about that, wouldn’t you say?”
Spike had pushed Hank to his limit and was standing barely two feet from the man. Buffy’s father decked Spike straight across the jaw, knocking him into the judge’s desk. “How dare you!” Hank sputtered, his face burning with rage, his fist shaking.
His lawyer was pulling him back, trying to restrain him. “Mr. Summers, please.” He looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to request a short recess.”
The reality of what he had just done was beginning to dawn on Hank. There was no way to take it back. Now, Giles thought, Hank looks suitably guilt-stricken.
“That won’t be necessary,” the judge was saying. “I’ve seen everything I need to see here today. I’m granting Mr. Stockwell’s motion. Permanent custody of Dawn Summers will be given to her sister, Miss Buffy Anne Summers. Mr. Rupert Giles will continue to live at the house and assist in Dawn’s care, as he has done for the last five weeks. Visitation will be at their discretion. That is all.” The judge gathered his papers and was out of his chambers in a huff.
Hank sank down in his chair, numb. He barely glanced up when Buffy walked over.
“Dad? I know Dawn would still like you to come visit when you can. I’d like that, too. And maybe if you’re in the States for Christmas sometime or something?”
Hank nodded absently. Then he stood and took Buffy in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. “Oh, Sweetie, I’m so sorry about everything. I just went crazy when I thought you were dead. I’m so glad you’re ok. You know I love you, right? Even if I’m not always the best dad.”
Buffy hugged him back tightly, her eyes closed. “I know.”
He pulled her back by the shoulders, gave her a hard stare. “God, look at you. All grown up. Not my little girl anymore. You’ll take care of Dawn just fine. I have faith in you. And if either of you need anything, call me. I promise to keep you updated with all my phone numbers,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe I’ll even get a pager or something, just for the two of you.”
“That would be nice,” Buffy said, as she wiped a few tears from her face.
Susan stood up next to him, waiting shyly for Buffy to acknowledge her.
“It was nice to meet you, Susan.” Buffy held out her hand, not quite up to hugging her future stepmother yet.
Susan shook her hand and smiled with affection. “We’ll see you at the wedding for sure.”
“We’ll stop by the house this evening,” Hank said. “To see Dawn.”
“Wait until tomorrow,” Buffy requested.
“Ok.” Hank didn’t argue. He paused and looked at Giles for a moment. He wasn’t going to even try and be civil. As far as Hank was concerned, this was all Giles’ fault, including Spike. He simply nodded at the other man in defeat and walked out of the office with his lawyer and his fiancé.
Spike had left immediately after the judge, so now it was just Buffy, Giles, and their lawyer. They thanked him profusely, finished whatever paperwork needed to be done, and got instructions on picking up Dawn from foster care. They left the office, Stockwell in one direction, Buffy and Giles in the other. They had nearly reached the exit, when Buffy noticed Spike loitering in the lounge, smoking. They both approached him.
“Hey,” Buffy said.
“Hey,” he answered, glancing around as if this were some secret conversation that shouldn’t be watched. “So you’re all back from the dead now, are you?”
She smiled.
“Good, ’cause I was gettin’ right tired of lurking in the shadows, looking after the niblet.”
“Thank you, Spike. For everything you did against Glory. For watching over my sister. Although, why didn’t you stop Marcus from taking her?”
Spike shrugged, ducked his head down, rather embarrassed, and kicked some dirt off of one boot with the other. “Her father was driving her. I figured she’d be okay. If I’d known what a right bastard he was, I might have followed him too.”
“It’s okay. Thanks also for what you did in there for us. I was about ready to stake you at the beginning, but by the time you were talking about getting paid, I had it figured out.”
Spike took a long drag on his cigarette, blew the smoke off to his side like a long comet’s tail. “You should thank Xander for it. Was his idea.”
Giles groaned, and rolled his eyes, as if something had just clicked into place.
Spike glanced at the watcher curiously, and then continued with his tale. “He rousted me out of my crypt with a sad song ’bout Dawn’s father taking her off to Spain. Though, he coulda mentioned the part ’bout you being alive again somewhere closer to the beginning.” Spike rubbed the side of his jaw. “Tell the boy he owes me a good watching him get hit.”
Buffy leaned up and gave Spike a kiss on the cheek. He looked sweetly touched. “Maybe stop by some night, any night but tomorrow. My dad probably won’t be too eager to see you. But any other night would be ok. Dawn really has a soft spot for you. And I guess you’re kinda growing on me, too. Although,” she raised one warning finger, “that doesn’t mean I won’t stake you if you ever go back to being evil.”
“Course not, Slayer.”
Buffy smiled again, and took Giles’ hand. They started walking towards the exit. Just at the inside doors, Spike called out to her.
“Buffy!”
She turned around.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “I had myself a real good day today.” And then he stamped out his cigarette and walked off, his long black cloak billowing behind him.
“What was that about?” Giles asked.
“Private joke.” She tugged on his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get Dawn.”
***
“They were nice and all, but they had like ten kids of their own. And they kept trying to convert me. So I started talking about magic and stuff and about how Giles has a magic shop and I know how to put curses on people and stuff. Well, I don’t really know how to put curses on people, but they didn’t know that. Wouldn’t it have been cool if Willow had shown me how to float pencils or something? That would have totally freaked them out. Anyway, they started getting kinda worried that I was gonna brainwash their kids or something, maybe turn them into Satan worshippers, so they rearranged everyone’s rooms, so I got to sleep by myself. And like, whenever I got up to go to the bathroom or anything, Mr. Fredericks would like be standing outside his door when I came out again, like I was gonna sneak in one of his kids’ rooms and suck their soul or something. And then, at breakfast-”
“Dawn!” Buffy interrupted, exasperated. “Maybe you would finish your dinner a lot sooner if you stopped talking long enough to actually eat it.”
Dawn sighed and dutifully dug into the food she had been pushing around her plate. She had been in a bubbly mood ever since they picked her up, and as thankful as Giles was to have her home, he was beginning to wonder if she would ever shut up. Her good cheer was understandable, though. All was once again right in her world. She had Buffy back, alive, and she didn’t need to worry about her father taking her away to Spain anymore. This was her home, now and forever, with both Buffy and Giles.
The Scoobies were all at the dining table, eating with them too. After all, they were also family. It wasn’t the fancy dinner out that Giles had promised them, but that would come another night. Tonight, Tara had organized a sort of potluck for all of them. Buffy and Giles were grateful not to have to cook after their eventful day, and their friends were all pleased to be doing something useful for them.
Willow had begged steaks off her mother, using the excuse on her parents that if she didn’t bring the meat, it wasn’t likely to be kosher. Willow’s mother had a special recipe for marinade that made the steak just melt in your mouth like butter. Tara had made a fruit salad covered in a sweet glaze. Xander had brought salad and potatoes, saying that it was pretty hard to screw either one of those up. And Buffy and Giles had vegetables in the freezer that they warmed up.
“What are these?” Dawn asked, as she picked up a flattish, round disk.
Anya pushed the basket closer to Buffy’s sister. “They’re dinner rolls. I baked them myself. After my previous success at cake baking, I thought I would try making something from ‘scratch.’ Try one.”
Dawn looked over at her sister in fear. Buffy took the roll from Dawn’s hand and replaced it in the basket, saying, “Dawn has a bread allergy.”
“Oh,” Anya said, and then she smiled mischievously as if she’d just thought of something. “One time, there was this man I cursed back in colonial Massachusetts. He had been sleeping with the baker’s daughter, so his wife wished that he would be allergic-”
“An, honey,” Xander interrupted. “What have we said about vengeance stories at the dinner table?”
“Right, sorry.” Anya smiled brightly and leaned over to give Xander a kiss on the cheek. “Here, have a roll.”
Xander looked suitably worried.
Anya rubbed his arm and turned to the rest of the group. “I’ve learned that wives must cook for their husbands, so I’m practicing for when Xander and I get married. Through the centuries, most of the scorned women I’ve helped were either lousy in bed or bad cooks.”
Xander patted his fiancé on the arm reassuringly. “I wouldn’t worry about the first one. As for the second, maybe we should have a more modern, enlightened marriage, where I do most of the cooking.”
“But you don’t cook. You just microwave Spaghetti-O’s and eat cereal.”
Xander looked at his roll thoughtfully. “Yeah, but maybe I should learn.”
“Hey, guys,” Buffy changed the subject. “You know we haven’t gone on patrol the last two nights, what with Marcus and Nicole and then Dawn. The vamps are gettin’ a little too cocky. I figured with the Slayer back on the job now, we might be able to bring their numbers back down.”
Giles tensed next to her and suddenly found his food very fascinating. He wasn’t ready to send her back out to fight and maybe die. He just wasn’t. Marcus’ words echoed in his head: I have waited for her death, knowing that even for the best of slayers, I would not be waiting long. Giles wondered how much longer he would have with her before he would have to bury his slayer again.
Buffy noticed his discomfort and slipped her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He lifted his head up and smiled weakly at her. She squeezed his hand and stroked it with her thumb.
“Hey, Buffy,” Dawn said. “You have a bigger room than I do, and I was wondering if I can have it. You know, now that you and Giles are sleeping together.”
Xander choked on his water, spitting it out on his food. “What?”
Giles and Buffy had pulled their hands apart as if burned, but the others had already noticed.
Willow’s eyes were round as saucers. “What? Buffy! Omigod, why didn’t you tell me?” She started pointing at Buffy’s hand. “Omigod, that’s Giles’ ring. You’re wearing Giles’ ring. Why didn’t you guys tell us?”
Buffy glared menacingly at her sister. “You are sooo gonna die for this.”
“No, it’s cool, Buffy,” Xander insisted. “Really it is. Hey Buffy, whatever you and Giles want to do… is really something I don’t want to hear about. But if you’re happy, Buffy, then I’m happy for you, Buffy. Really, Buffy, I’m totally cool with it.”
Buffy frowned. “You’re saying my name an awful lot.”
“I think it’s nice.” Anya curled her arm into the crook of Xander’s elbow and laid her head on his shoulder. “Giles deserves lots of orgasms.”
This time it was Giles who choked on his water.
“Anya, honey,” Xander scolded, “When we get home, we’re going to have a little talk about private thoughts and public thoughts. And a little thing called ‘tact.’”
“We already had that talk.”
Xander nodded. “But we’re going to have it again.” Anya just shrugged.
Tara smiled shyly and offered up her opinion. “I think it’s nice, too. I mean, Giles really missed you while you were gone.”
Willow was still shaking her head, her cropped red hair bobbing as she did. “Wow, Buffy. I mean, wow. I mean, I knew about Giles. It was sooo obvious. Especially after you died. The guy was a wreck.”
“Willow!” Giles complained.
“Sorry, Giles,” she continued, “but it’s true. We were all really worried about you. But you, Buffy, I never had any idea you might feel the same way. I had a crush on him all through high school.” Willow blushed when she realized what she had let slip, but she continued on bravely. “But all that time, you never said anything like that. I mean, wow, Buffy. You and Giles. What brought this on?”
Buffy shrugged. “I dunno. I guess death brings clarity to a girl. I just knew. And I realized I’ve felt this way for a long time.” Buffy smiled sideways at Giles and linked her hand with his again.
“A toast,” Xander demanded, as he held his water glass in the air. “To three happy couples.”
“Here, here,” they all answered and clinked glasses.
Dawn sighed and asked, “When can I have a boyfriend?”
Buffy ruffled her hair playfully. “When you’re… never.”
And so the Slayer and her Slayerettes passed the rest of the evening in conversation, blissfully happy for the first time since before Buffy had died, since before they had battled Glory, since before Buffy’s mother had died. Probably for the first time since they had all had Christmas dinner together all those months ago.
***
Giles laid in his bed awake and waiting for her. She hadn’t let him go on patrol, insisting that someone had to stay home and watch Dawn. They would really need to work out a system for that. He couldn’t just sit at home every night, not doing anything, wondering if she would ever walk through that door again. He just couldn’t. It would drive him mad.
He looked at the clock again. Nearly two in the morning. He should have made her take Xander and Willow and the others. But no, the Slayer had wanted to go alone. She had called it hunting. Tomorrow night he would go with her. Xander and the others could take turns sitting with Dawn, and that was all there was to it. Giles would go patrolling with Buffy every night until… until… well he would just go patrolling with Buffy every night.
He heard her footsteps on the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief. He heard the water run in the bathroom and closed his eyes as he waited for her to finish getting ready for bed. He felt the bed move as she climbed in next to him. He opened his eyes to look up at her.
“Dear Lord, Buffy, what are you wearing?”
She smiled innocently. “My yummy sushi pajamas just weren’t doing it for me. You like?”
Buffy was sitting on the bed next to him, dressed in a red satin camisole with spaghetti straps. The sheerness of the fabric revealed the shadows of breasts and curves. Her long legs were bare. He turned away from her quickly. His body was already letting him know just how much he liked.
“Buffy, I don’t think… That is to say…” he stumbled over the words. “What I mean is that this is all still very new. I’d rather not rush into anything that you might regret later.”
He felt her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. She was looking down on him, her hair falling over him like a curtain to the outside world, its long waves shining in the moonlight. “I want to rush, Giles. I’ve been dead twice now, and I want to rush into everything. I don’t want to wait for the right time or the right place or even for tomorrow. Sometimes tomorrow never comes. I love you, and you love me, and I want to have tonight and every night after.”
She bent down and kissed him, leisurely, with a deep, smoldering passion. He returned her kiss with equal fervor, his hands coming up to tangle themselves in her hair and pull her closer. After a moment, she came up for air and smiled down on him sweetly. “See? No regrets.” She kissed his chin and then up along the length of his jaw, stopping beside his ear. “Please, Giles,” she whispered urgently, her breath hot against his neck. “Make all this death and pain go away. I need you to make me feel alive.”
He took her in his arms and rolled them both onto her back. She was his Slayer, and he could deny her nothing. He brushed her golden hair back from her face and stared down on her in awe. Their foreheads touched, and he murmured softly, “I shall try.”
Then he kissed her and endeavored to make them both feel alive.
***
Two hours later the new lovers lay naked and sated in each other’s arms. Buffy nuzzled her nose against the nape of his neck, murmuring, “So that’s what a stevedore is.”
Giles merely chuckled and replied, “So that’s what Slayer stamina is.”
Buffy laughed and rolled away from him, stretching out in the bed. “Oh, honey, that’s just a taste of Slayer stamina.” She pulled him back on top of her forcefully, as if to demonstrate, surprising him still with the measure of her strength. “Maybe you need another lesson.”
He smiled down at her fondly, holding himself up on his elbows. “Oh, Buffy, I think I need more of a break than that, else you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Ah, no, no, no,” she said as she placed one finger over his lips. “We’re not going to use the D-word tonight.”
He kissed the finger against his lips, turned his head to kiss her wrist and down her arm. “It’s rather more like morning now. We should probably go to sleep. I imagine Dawn will tease us relentlessly if we spend the whole day in bed.”
She turned her head to look at the clock. A little after four in the morning. She shrugged, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him down to lie on top of her. “It’s Sunday. No school. No work. Meant for sleeping in. Dawn will keep herself entertained.”
Giles groaned. “Yes, doesn’t that concern you?”
They were silent for a moment, relaxed and sleepy, Buffy running her fingers along his back and through his hair. After a bit, she tilted her head to see if his eyes were still open. He was watching her curious expression.
“Giles?”
“Yes?”
“How long of a break?”
He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Go to sleep, Buffy.”
She yawned and darted forward to kiss his nose. “Dawn thought we might save water if we showered together.”
He settled down against her, his eyes beginning to drift closed. He murmured, “There’s something to be said for being frugal. Maybe we’ll try that tomorrow, Buffy.” She didn’t stir. “Buffy?” he called softly.
He glanced up and saw that she was already sleeping. He brushed the back of his knuckles across the soft skin of her cheek. “So much for Slayer stamina,” he whispered. He laid his head back down on her shoulder and closed his eyes as well.
Watcher and Slayer slept the peaceful sleep of the happy and loved. There would be other battles and other foes. And Fate would come one day to steal her away from him. But for right now they had each other and they had Dawn. And for right now, that was enough. Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.
~Finis~ June 24, 2001

DBC Home Back: Part 5: The Spell Next: Book Two: The Ticking Clock
Part 1: A Touch of Nymphomania and a Taste for the Hunt

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