RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Buffy and Giles work through some things after he attacks the factory in Passions.
DISCLAIMER: Joss, Fox, and UPN own Buffy.
Going Home
by Rebecca Carefoot
Giles' elbows were propped on the table in the center of the library; his head rested heavy in his hands. Buffy sat on the opposite side of the table and stared blankly past him. She didn't know what to do. She'd never seen him so vulnerable. Lying on the ground where he'd landed from her punch, his fury had turned with shocking speed to deep, wrenching pain. He'd been shaking in her arms, his tears dropping onto her coat, her tears falling in his hair. She'd never seen him break before. He'd always been a little distant, as if being British, or an adult, or a Watcher, somehow prevented him from expressing emotion. The Giles she'd held in her arms was raw, every inner defense, every rational thought banished by hurt, loss. Because of her.
"It's my fault," she said. He didn't raise his head. It was as if he couldn't hear her. He'd shut down after his emotions broke through. He'd stood up, his eyes blank, and helped her to her feet, and opened the car door. As if nothing had happened. "Giles," she said. Her voice dropped and cracked. "Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about," he said, his voice horse, strained.
"Then yell," she said. "Yell at me. Blame me."
He lifted his head and looked at her with dull eyes. "Buffy, are you planning to walk home or would you like me to drive you?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Buffy said. "And neither are you, not until you talk to me."
"Where would I go?" Giles asked.
"Home."
Giles' lips turned up in a bitter parody of a smile. "I'm not going back there."
"You have to eventually," Buffy said.
"I'm staying here tonight," Giles said. Buffy felt her throat tighten with unshed tears at how tired he sounded, how utterly empty his eyes were.
"Avoiding it won't solve anything," she said. "That's what caused this in the first place. Me avoiding reality." She stood up. "Get up."
"Buffy," Giles said. "I understand you're trying to help me. And I do appreciate it. But what I need right now is time, peace. Alone." For a moment, Buffy believed him, and wondered what she was doing. She wondered if she was being selfish, misguided, adding to his pain, torturing him. Then she met his eyes again, and knew she was losing him. She couldn't let him shut down. She couldn't let him leave her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully out of his chair.
"Buffy!" he snapped.
"You're always forcing me to train," she said. "If you're going to go running after Angel and almost getting killed, then I think it's time you started training yourself." She assumed a fighting stance. "Hit me."
"I will not," Giles said indignantly, and moved toward his chair. Buffy pushed against his chest with her hand, just hard enough to hurt a little.
"Maybe I should get you the pads," she said.
"I don't need any bloody pads," he said in irritation.
"Then hit me," she said. "If you can."
He swung wildly at her face. She ducked under the halfhearted punch, and brought her first around to make solid contact with his ribs. Giles grunted at the pain. Then his teeth clenched, and he turned to Buffy with narrowed eyes, eyes that gleamed a little too brightly. She swung at him again, an easy left, which Giles blocked. He slipped his fist under her guard and punched her lightly in the stomach.
"Is that the best you can do?" Buffy said, blocking a second punch. Giles's fist grazed her temple. "Stop pulling your punches," she said. "I can take it." The blows came faster, harder, both of them twisting, ducking, lashing out. They began to sweat, bodies beginning to ache with their movements, but they continued. Kick, punch, duck. Pain. Relief. Each blow, each bruise was like a benediction, a slight, slight lessening of guilt.
Neither of them knew how much time passed. Neither of them cared.
Finally Giles stepped back, sweat rolling down the side of his face. His glasses slipping down his nose. "That's enough," he said. Buffy leaned over, her hands on her knees, panting. She touched her side, probing the ache there, the bruise she knew was coming. Giles touched his jaw, then opened and closed it cautiously.
"Thank you," he said. Buffy met his eyes, felt her lip trembling, and bit down on it. She nodded.
"I'm sorry, Giles," she said.
"I know," Giles said simply. "I'll take you home."
"And you?" Buffy said.
"I'm going home as well," he said quietly.
end
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