"In Your Keeping"

Author: Amy
Contact: Slvrbttn@aol.com
Notes: Jann Arden wrote and sings the song at the end. Thanks to Tracy who provided the lyrics of the song to me, who betaed, and who is wonderful in general.

It wasn't the kind of morning she was used to. Usually she would wake up and stretch and then get up for her morning ritual of showering and brushing her hair and teeth before going downstairs to eat breakfast with her mother and Dawn.

But now there was no mother.

Now there was nothing; nothing inside of her that wanted anything important, nothing inside of her at all. So she didn't get up. She didn't shower and brush her hair and teeth, didn't go downstairs for breakfast. Didn't do all of the things that had always comforted her, the rituals that she had relied on over the years, the little things that she always did and could always do and could count on.

She stayed in bed.

She didn't move for she didn't know how long, until Dawn knocked on her door and peeked inside with eyes still too red and puffy from crying, a face still too pale from shock. Buffy finally shifted then, finally opening her eyes to a day that she didn't really care to see. "Dawn? Come on in."

Dawn nodded and shuffled inside, looking as though the fourteen year old had died and been replaced with someone in their eighties or nineties, hunched over, the simple act of walking causing her pain. Slowly she crawled in bed next to her older sister and Buffy felt the responsibility of loving Dawn as she wrapped her arms around her.

Dawn hadn't stopped crying since the previous night. Once the vampire had been slayed, the two sisters sat on the cold ground of that cold morgue and watched their mother as she did... nothing. And Dawn's hand had reached out, to see if it was real, if there was *any way* that it could be a dream.

But no. Her hand had touched her mother's cool face, drifted over the features she knew so well, features that were no longer really a part of Joyce because...

Joyce was gone.

The tears had choked her then. No more denials about her mother dying, no more accusations that her sister was a liar, doing this out of some cruel desire to hurt Dawn. Just tears. She didn't have room inside of her for anything else.

Buffy had felt like a little girl as she watched Dawn weep, realizing that as long as Dawn thought it wasn't true, a part of her had too. Slowly, still on her hands and knees, she crawled over to her and put tentative hands around Dawn's shaking shoulders, expecting them to be shrugged off.

But they weren't. Dawn leaned into her like a child who'd just woken up from a nightmare and needed reassurance.

And Buffy didn't have any to give.

She couldn't say, "It'll be okay," or "Time heals all wounds," or any of the other thousand cliches that she had heard and was bound to hear before this was over. Because she didn't believe they were true. It wasn't okay. Time wouldn't heal this wound. This was something that killed, not just her mother ~Oh, God, my mom is dead~ but Buffy and Dawn because it hurts to lose someone you love.

Loved.

Somehow, Buffy had taken Dawn home and put the still-sobbing girl into bed before she made her way to her room, sitting down on her mattress and then crumpling into a ball. She'd been sure she wouldn't stop crying long enough to sleep but somewhere in the night the tears had faded and blessed exhaustion had overwhelmed her.

And now as she held her little sister in her arms, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. All she wanted to do was go to a place that didn't hurt anymore, a place where her subconscious comforted her, pretended that things were normal, dreamed about her mother being safe and alive and well in the next room.

Just as she started to drift off again, go to a place where things still made sense, Dawn tugged weakly on her hand. "Buffy? Do I have to go to school today?"

"Of course not," Buffy whispered back, not trusting her voice to not tremble. She rolled over so that she was flat on her back, careful to keep her arm still firmly around Dawn, and stared up at the ceiling. There was a medium-sized, jagged crack down the center of it, hardly noticeable unless you really looked. Her eyes burned.

Her mom had been meaning to call someone about that.

"When is the... When...?" Dawn started to ask and then trailed off, closing her eyes.

"Day after tomorrow," Buffy murmured, tightening her hold on Dawn. "Giles said he would take care of it. I should do it, though..." ~I don't even want to go.~

"No, let him. He knows... Knew Mom pretty well. I'm sure he'll make it nice for her," Dawn mumbled.

"Maybe. Yeah, he will," Buffy sighed. She let her eyes slide shut again, staring at the blissful blackness that surrounded her when she did. ~Dawn.~ "Do you want me to make you something to eat? You should eat. Or do you want to take a bath or something? A bath might feel nice."

"I don't want to eat," Dawn said petulantly and then looked at Buffy apologetically. "I'm sorry. Maybe a bath. Mostly I want this to be over."

"Or to never have happened?" Buffy suggested.

"That's it."

"You wait here. Close your eyes and just try not to think. Sometimes that helps," Buffy instructed, stumbling out of bed blindly.

"Okay."

She went to Dawn's room and pulled out a comfortable pair of jeans and a clean shirt and grabbed a towel out of the closet on her way to the bathroom. Turning on the faucets, Buffy sat town on the rim of the bath and waited for it to heat up. She plugged it up and then automatically reached for some bath salts and poured them in before realizing that they were her mother's.

Joyce had lent them to her two days ago, when she had run out of her own.

Her mother's scent-- honeysuckle-- filled the room and Buffy let her hand skim the rising water, wanting to let go of the pain, of all of the hurt that she had inside her now but not knowing how to. The tears fell, streaked her face and she watched her hand as though she had no control over it as it dipped under the water and pulled the plug out.

Dawn would know what that scent was, and it helped nothing to upset her.

Buffy refilled the bath and added rose bath oil instead and then went to fetch Dawn.

"The funeral was lovely, dear."

~No it wasn't.~ "Thanks, Aunt Lila."

"I'm sure your mother would have liked this very much."

~No, she wouldn't have.~ "I'm sure you're right, Uncle Stan."

"I'm... So sorry about your mom, sweetheart. She was... This is the number of my hotel. I'll come by and see you two in a little bit. ...Unless you want me to stay. I'll stay. Should I stay? I love you."

~Leave me alone.~ "No thanks. You go on. I love you too, Daddy."

"I didn't know your mother very long, but I really liked her. She was a wonderful woman and I'm sorry for your loss."

~Yes, she was. She liked you too.~ "Yes, she was. She liked you too, Brian."

"When is this all going to be over with?"

~Never.~ "Everyone's leaving now, Dawn. Why don't you go upstairs and change or rest?"

"Okay."

Buffy finished gathering condolences until everyone but the original Scooby gang had gone. She looked around her house and wondered idly how much longer it was going to be her house before she walked over to the couch and sank down tiredly. Giles, Willow and Xander came and sat beside her.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "I can't imagine another day like today," she murmured, then paused. At length, she whispered. "But every day is going to be like today, like the last three days... Forever and ever and ever, isn't it?" She opened her eyes and glanced at Giles, her gaze bright with tears.

"In some ways," he nodded.

"Buffy..." Willow spoke up, looking at her friend with concern.

"If there's anything we can do," Xander continued for her and then fell silent, not knowing exactly how to finish the thought.

"I'd like to be alone with Dawn, please," she said, still looking at Giles.

He nodded. "Of course."

Finally she glanced over at her friends as they stood and started for the door. She gave them a small smile. "But thanks."

Buffy looked up at the knock on her door. After a moment she sighed and sat up in bed. "Come in," she called wearily.

Angel stepped inside.

Not surprised-- she would know that knock anywhere, that feeling-- she looked up at him expectantly as he made his way over to her bed and sat down next to her. "Dawn let me in," he said quietly. "She didn't invite me in, though."

"Well, that's a relief anyway," Buffy murmured. "Why are you here?"

"I heard," he said simply. "And I wanted to see you. Why are *you* here?"

"This is where I live."

"Buffy, it's nine o'clock and you're in bed," Angel said gently. "Dawn says you've been going to bed earlier every day, sleeping later. She says you hardly ever come out of your room and that when you do, you don't say anything."

"I don't have anything to say. Or anyone to say it to," Buffy whispered, looking down. After a moment, she glanced up at him, the ghost of a smile curving her mouth. "I knew you would come."

"I had to."

"Of course you did." Buffy took his hand, tracing the patterns on his palm with her fingernails. He allowed her the silent inspection, waiting for what he somehow knew was coming next. "And I love you for it. But, Angel..."

"You want me to leave," he stated softly and then it was him who was holding her hand instead her holding his. "Which I'll do. I'll let you push me away because you're scared and don't need me to rush you, as long as you know that when you think you can, I'll be there to talk to. I'll be there to do anything for you, anything that you need. I love you, Buffy. I love you and I know you're going through something that's incomprehensible right now. So..."

"I know," she murmured gratefully, her eyes shining with tears. "Thank you."

She kissed him hard then, whether for his peace of mind or hers she couldn't tell. It wasn't a kiss of passion-- passion felt out of place, felt wrong, in the mess of her life and mind-- but of determination. ~I choose to always love you, Angel. I *will* always love you.~ She dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling him close, willing herself not to cry as his lips plundered hers with a tenderness that hurt her heart.

Finally she broke away, unable to look at him. He lifted her hand to his lips; kissed it. When she still didn't look at him, he pulled her close and hugged her tightly before letting her go and standing.

With a last look at her, wishing that there was something, anything, that he could do to ease her pain, Angel left.

And then Buffy let herself cry.

Giles stepped into her room without waiting to be invited in. Buffy glanced at him, surprised, her eyes red and swollen. "Dawn tells me that you sent Angel away," he said without preamble.

"Yes," Buffy admitted. "And if you don't mind, I'm going to send you away, too. I just want to be alone, Giles."

"You've been alone for too long," he said, shaking his head. He sank down into the chair next to her bed and stared at her. "And I let you be, and Xander and Willow let you be, and Dawn let you be. Even Angel left when you asked him, which I can't say wasn't the right thing to do, because I wasn't here. But I do know that I've been wrong. That we've all been wrong in allowing you to push us away when you need us right now."

"I can't need you," she argued feebly. "I'm not going to need anyone."

"No," he agreed, "Not after you've died from malnutrition. Dawn tells me that she's tried to make you eat dinner, lunch, anything, and you won't. Buffy, I don't want to have to say this, but you're supposed to be taking care of her, not the other way around. It's been three weeks since your mother died."

Buffy flinched and then rolled over in her bed, facing the windows. "I'm not going to talk to you."

"Good," Giles said sadly. "Because I need you to listen."

When she remained silent, he continued, "I'm not here as your Watcher. I'm here as... Giles. The man who's seen you grown up and cares a great deal about your well-being. Not for the world, not for the safety of humanity, but for you. Buffy, you need someone right now. Let me be that someone."

She bit her lips, shutting her eyes tightly as if that would shut out what he was saying to her as well.

"I hate seeing you like this. We all do," he said, his voice rough. "Willow is beside herself with grief and concern combined. Xander doesn't laugh anymore. *Xander.* Anya doesn't speak and Tara is constantly surrounding Willow, she's so afraid for her. This isn't right. And Dawn..." He paused for a moment.

"Dawn doesn't know what to do. The path you're heading down is a dangerous one, Buffy, not only for yourself but for her as well. She's become an entirely different person. With finding out what she is, something that she can't help, and your mother passing... I'm afraid for her."

With still no answer, Giles sighed heavily and stood, preparing to go. He leaned down and touched her hand. "I'm afraid for you," he breathed.

As he began to walk out, he heard a soft whimper. He turned back around. "Buffy?"

So quietly that he had to strain to hear her, she said, "I was confused when Angel turned evil, and when he moved to LA. ...When I had to send him to hell. I was confused when I fell in love with Riley, when I found out what he was. And when he left, I was so scared. But I've never felt like this."

"I know." He walked back over to her, sitting next to her on the bed, laying his hand on her shoulder. "I know."

"How can you when I don't?" she asked, her question trembling as it hung in the air. "How can anyone want to comfort me when they don't even know what I need? When they can't because I don't? How can I want these things, need them and crave them when someone I loved *so much* is dead? How can I still think about things like friends and love and happiness when my mother, who all of these things had been wrapped up in, will never come back?" The tears fell and Buffy didn't try to hide them as she rolled back over to face him, staring up into his eyes.

Giles shook his head slowly. "Being alive is wanting these things. And no matter how much you don't want to be right now, you are. And so you desire things that won't make you feel so hopeless. Things that will comfort you when you feel this way. Denying that you need them doesn't help."

"Nothing helps, Giles," Buffy wept, lacing her fingers through his, pulling her knees up to her stomach.

"No, my dear, nothing ever will," he said compassionately. "The best I can promise you is that later on, you'll still miss her terribly. And that some days you might want to join her. But that a lot of the time, when you think of her, you won't need to cry. And instead you'll feel glad to tell your children about her, feel proud that she was your mother while she was."

"I am proud, and glad," she nodded, her chin quivering, her words filled with tears. "And brokenhearted, Giles. My heart is so broken that I've lost her. Because she was my whole world some days. She came the closest to my heart that I've ever allowed anyone. She knew things about me I didn't know. And now she won't be here to tell me those things when I ask then about myself. She won't be here on the days that I need her, like if I ever get married or have kids. On the day when I'm just not strong enough and one of my friends dies because I couldn't save them, she won't be there to help me through it. It'll just be me," she sobbed. "It'll just be me."

"No, it won't," he soothed kindly, smoothing her hair back. He pulled out his handkerchief and began wiping her cheeks. "I'll be there. And while I'm no substitute for her, I do love you, Buffy. So many people do."

Buffy nodded, her ragged breath slowly calming. "Giles?"

"All right," he said, understanding what she was saying before she said it. "But I'm calling you tomorrow. And if you don't take the call, I'm coming over. Because I'm determined to be there for you, Buffy, whether or not you want me."

Her smile wobbled. "Not very British of you, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," he exhaled, rolling his eyes. "But then, I have been living in America for a few years now."

"I guess you have," she consented.

Giles kissed her forehead firmly and then left.

And for the first time in weeks, Buffy felt the hope of something good.

"You died on a Tuesday. I wasn't there. Part of me feels like I should have been; a big part. Like that even the doctors say it would have happened anyway, that if I were there, I would have been able to stop it. And you would be alive. And things would be like they should be." Buffy sank down onto the grass, laying the lilies under the headstone.

"Things can't be like they should be. Things will never again be the way they used to be. We all miss you, you know. I thought I knew how much Willow and Xander and even Giles cared, but I was wrong. They cared almost as much as me."

She smiled. "But not quite. I don't think anyone loved you the way I loved you. I'm not sure anyone could. And I don't think anyone could love me the way you did. You loved me so well, Mom. I never thought, even when things were at their worst, that you didn't love me. I guess that's what makes a mother a good one."

"Dawn is still sad, of course," she continued. "So am I. How could we not be? But she seems glad that I'm out of bed. And now she can be the kid again instead of the worried grown-up. Which should have been how it was the whole time, only... Only I didn't know how to live without you, because you had always been with me. Even that summer I was gone, you were with me in a way. And now you are in a different way, I guess, but not how I want."

Buffy scooted farther over and then stretched out beside the grave, as if she was laying next to her mother. She looked up at the sky. "People will take care of me. Willow and Xander will. Dawn will, if I need it. Angel will, if I call. ...Giles will, no matter what I say or do to stop him. Is it wrong to tell you that he's like a father to me? Or did you already know that? You probably did. You knew a lot of things I never told you."

She sucked in her breath. "I miss you."

Lifting her head and wiping her eyes, Buffy turned and began walking. For some reason, she had thought that since her mother was gone that she couldn't love her in the same way. That all of the things she had felt for her were now in the past tense, couldn't exist if Joyce wasn't alive to reciprocate them.

But now she knew that it didn't matter. She would always love her mom. And even though she hurt... Well, at least that meant that she was alive.

And besides... Buffy grinned in the bright light of the morning.

She was in pretty good hands.

The End

Tell me I will never die
Take away my pain
Rock me gently in your arms
Say that I'll remain in your keeping

Brush the hair out from my eyes
Read me a good story
Kiss my fingertips goodnight
Say that I can stay In your company

And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping

You have always been my friend
I can see your beauty shining
I will love you till the end
Long will I remain in your keeping

And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping
While I am peacefully sleeping

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