This Morning

By Liz

Several hours later found Buffy unable to sleep. She and Giles had agreed easily that she spend the night, though they fought over who should take the bed. A reasonable voice might have suggested that they could easily have shared it, but with Giles determined to be a gentleman and Buffy hell bent on being stubborn, they were nearly shouting before Buffy finally lay down on the couch and refused to move.

Conceding defeat, Giles brought her a pair of boxer shorts to sleep in instead of the jeans she still wore. Then a cup of tea and a new bag of ice for her shoulder. He checked her bandages and plied her with more pillows and blankets than any one person could possibly require. Then after making her promise to call if she needed anything else, he reluctantly went upstairs.

She was exhausted after everything she'd been through that night, but the whopper Giles had laid on her kept her wide awake. Spike loved her? Where the hell did that come from? Sure, he'd been around more lately. And he'd been slightly less annoying than usual, she supposed. She'd even appreciated his company a couple of times, but… he loved her?

Buffy pulled one of her several blankets over her head, wishing sleep would quit playing so damn hard-to-get. She groaned, sitting up in frustration when the movement sent a sharp twinge of pain through her shoulder. Maybe a hot shower would help her relax enough to sleep. It would definitely do wonders for her aching muscles. Buffy swung her feet over the side of the couch, and the room lurched violently. She put a hand out to steady herself against the coffee table and heard a soft voice call to her from the stairs.

"Buffy?"

Giles.

"Yep, that's me."

"Do you… Can I…?"

"Come on down, Giles. You're the next contestant."

He entered the room hesitantly, "I'm sorry?"

Buffy sighed heavily. "Nothing. Defensive humour. A Buffy specialty." She sat up slowly, and room reluctantly stopped spinning. "Lurk on stairs often?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just…" He paused, not wanting to intrude, but he hadn't been able to sleep either. The thought of what had very nearly happened tonight – as if the horror of the 'almost' itself wasn't enough - had shaken him more than he could have thought possible. So he'd sat silently on the stairs, determined to do so until daylight if that's how long it took to reassure himself that she would be alright. And to be there if she needed him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah," she said. "I got pillows. I got blankets. I got room temperature tea, some spiffy blood loss, and a fancy new trick shoulder. What more could a girl possibly want?"

Giles tried to grin at her attempted levity, but it came out looking more like a wince. No doubt she would try to persuade him and the others that she was coping and moving on, even try to convince herself while she was at it. He could already see her hard at work, building a new wall to keep this behind. It was, after all, the only way she knew how to cope with something of this magnitude. Lock it up. Pretend it wasn't there. Throw away the key, and never speak of it again. Truthfully, they'd both been guilty of that in the past, and he knew that what had happened tonight was far too great for her to meet head-on. But no matter how high she built her latest wall, this attack, this tragedy would escape it. When that happened, he would be there for her. Do everything in his power to help her heal. Tonight, however, he wouldn't push.

"M-may I check your bandages, then?" He waited for her permission, knowing better than to approach someone who'd just been assaulted so personally without it. At her quiet nod, he tilted her head forward to look at the butterfly closures and saw, much to his relief, that they no longer seemed necessary. "I'm going to remove these," he told her, before pulling them back as gently as he could.

"Yeouch! Giles, you could at least leave me a little hair, you know."

"Sorry," he said, but he smiled to himself, remembering how close he'd come to cutting the hair away outright. "You'll be pleased to know it's all still there."

"That's me. Pleased Buffy," she whispered, clearly anything but.

He sat next to her on the sofa, neither speaking for a time until Giles said simply, "When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

"I know."

An even longer silence followed until Buffy finally said, "Would you call my house? Nobody's there now, but… just tell them I'm here? So they don't worry?"

"Of course," he replied, crossing to the phone, but he paused when he saw Buffy stand as well. She was still a bit shaky, but already he could see the colour slowly returning to her face.

"I'm gonna take a shower, if that's okay."

"Certainly, Buffy. Anything you need."

"I know," she told him, with a tiny smile of thanks. "I know."

Giles returned the smile as best he could and watched as she padded down the hallway. Then he dialed her number and waited for the machine.

In the bathroom, Buffy carefully peeled off her borrowed clothes. She ran the faucet until the water was hot enough, then switched on the shower and stepped in. The streaming water stung where her skin was still raw, but the warmth enveloped her tired aches, offering sweet comfort.

She saw a groove in the bottom of the tub, a scrape that had been gouged into the porcelain. She toed at it, feeling its rough edges, wondering what had caused it. Then she noticed several others and remembered. The chains. Buffy allowed herself a grin at the memory of Spike shackled in the bathtub, bellowing about the poor accommodations.

She taunted him, and he swore revenge. But tonight, he saved her life.

And her own death wouldn't have been the end of it. She'd have risen tomorrow night as a vampire, her own worst nightmare come true, and gleefully murdered everyone she cared about. Her mom, Dawn, Giles, Willow, Xander, even Tara and Anya… all of them could easily have been dead by this time tomorrow.

The enormity of it finally washed over her. Most girls could measure their love lives in fond memories and broken hearts. Buffy counted hers by the dead left in its wake.

Fighting the nausea that threatened to engulf her, she buried her face in her hands. And with water lashing at her scraped, bruised skin, Buffy sank to her knees and wept.

This morning she'd thought her relationship with Riley had never been better.

This morning she'd meant to be thinking of him in her bubble bath.

But this morning, he was already dead.

~Fin~