Chapter Text
A soft-spoken voice under endless noise instantly recognized
Quiet magic hidden in plain sight
“To Anya,” Xander murmured, lifting his red solo cup toward the fire, holding it aloft for a long moment before taking a drink out of it. Everyone scattered around the mid-sized bonfire followed suit, some also echoing his words.
“Amanda,” Buffy murmured, recalling far too clearly the girl’s death in the caverns beneath what was once Sunnydale. While the others were still surprised by her having spoken at all, she continued, “Annabelle… Chloe… Molly…” They all deserved more words - or better words - than what she’d given them originally.
“Dianne,” Rona added after a beat as well.
Names were repeated variously and everyone drank again. Quite a few of the others gave Buffy an approving or appreciative glance, but she ignored them and kept her eyes resolutely toward the flames. She'd spoken up to respect the fallen, not to earn anyone’s approval.
“And to Spike,” Dawn announced after a respectful silence had past, and there was a smattering of shuffled feet and sideways glances, but the group around the bonfire stayed awkwardly silent after that. “He did save our lives, in the end.” Dawn pointed out, looking at a few people as if to challenge them, but then she met Buffy’s eyes and softened, leaning sideways until her shoulder bumped her sister’s. “He did a good thing, in the end.”
Buffy nodded as she stared into the fire, refusing to look at anyone else’s faces. She knew all too well how they felt about Spike, how they felt about her handling of Spike.
“To Spike.” Buffy murmured, raising her cup briefly toward the fire and taking the remaining sip of her whiskey. To her surprise, Willow and a few of the others followed suit, and it did comfort her in a way.
Pillock didn’t bloody deserve her.
Buffy slowly turned toward Giles in surprise, finding him glaring into the fire.
“Giles!” She hissed at him, lightly scolding, low enough that as the others continued on memorializing the rest of the dead, they didn’t notice her chiding the Englishman. She kept her voice lowered out of respect for said dead, not that she cared if the others overheard her yelling at Giles.
Again.
“Hm?” He raised his head calmly, and she blinked incredulously at him. His brow furrowed as he gauged her expression, and when she glared at him, he outright frowned.
And here’s the anger again. I knew the goodwill would be short-lived.
Buffy blinked a couple more times, quickly, wondering if perhaps the low light of the fire had played a trick on her, and she just hadn’t noticed his mouth moving.
Perhaps I should leave for England tomorrow. Before more words are said that can’t be taken back… pretend that we left it nicely enough in the halls of the old high school.
Buffy’s expression slowly fell, her eyes widening exponentially as she stared at his firmly closed mouth, and a groan emanated from her throat.
Fitting, for such a powerful relationship to end the same place it began. …She sounds in pain. Something’s wrong?
“Buffy?”
“Oh, hell no.” Buffy complained.
— — —
Thinking she’d ‘remembered how mad she was at him again’, Giles made an excuse about making sure their weapons were secure, and fled to the bus at the other end of the motel’s parking lot from their makeshift bonfire. Buffy followed, though kept herself near the door as he stalked down the center aisle.
“Spike burned himself alive from the inside out to save all of us - the least you could do is respect that.”
I’ll send him a gift basket. What’s the postage rate for hell, I wonder? Giles glowered as he stepped through the bus, scanning the seats for abandoned weapons and collecting them into the duffel bag in his hand.
Buffy gaped at the back of his head with a mixture of anger and hurt. Since when had he become so unforgiving? He’d even managed to sort of get along with Angel again, eventually - which all things considered, he’d been well within his rights not to - even if they’d never really became friends like they’d once been.
“Buffy, you had your relationship with Spike, and I had mine. We were not friends, nor were we ever friends.” Giles stated, and for a bewildering moment Buffy wondered if he could read her mind as well. However, he continued on in a manner that suggested he did not, “He harassed, ridiculed, and manipulated our lives for years. He tried to get us killed multiple times. He acted in his own best interests, always - you just got lucky when that happened to work alongside your own.”
Buffy stiffened at his direct accusation, but he kept speaking before she could comment,
“I will give him this - perhaps, in his very final act, he finally made the one true unselfish choice in his life. But that doesn’t mean I have to suddenly like him.”
“I’m not asking you to like him!” Buffy protested. “Just respect his sacrifice!”
Sacrifice?!
“Sacrifice?” Giles snorted derisively, dropping the duffel bag with a clunking clatter on the nearest seat as he faced her. And what of my sacrifice? “He knew nothing of sacrifice.”
“He gave his life for us!”
And one good choice suddenly absolves him of centuries of terrible ones? He snorted aloud, derisively. I’m not bloody Jesus, I don’t have that kind of capacity for forgiveness.
“What is wrong with you?” Buffy looked at him askance, her lips pursing in distaste. “This isn’t like you at all,”
You don’t know what I’m like; you’ve never taken the time to care.
“As things are, my opinion of the vampire is unlikely to change.” Giles informed her with finality, clearly wanting to end the conversation as he turned back around to finish checking the last few seats in the back of the bus. “We’re not all called in this life to like the same people, Buffy. Just drop it.”
“I don’t know you anymore.” She noted quietly, hurt by his thoughts more than his spoken words. She’d used to know him almost as well as she’d known herself… or at least, she’d thought so. Sure, there were a few periods in time that she tried to move him into less of a fixture in her life… fit him in a particular box whenever she felt a little wigged out by how well they blended… but every time, they’d both realized the error of trying to force things. And for a little while, they’d felt good, solid, if not totally unbeatable, but strong. They’d grown closer, so much so that she was sure that they didn’t even have to always talk out loud to understand one another…
And then… nothing had really been the same after she’d died.
I don’t know you. She startled at the thought that came to him, hearing her own younger, teary-pained voice in his head; a memory. The exact same words, spoken so long ago. Giles halted where he was, one hand on the back of a seat and his head tilted down to the side, his next thought entirely his own: God, I can’t take much more of this. I’m so tired of fighting with her.
The pain in his ‘head voice’ made her eyes sting. Very slowly, he raised his head and looked her directly in the eye down the bus aisle.
“I think it’s best we keep our distance.”
“What?” She startled at the decision. Hadn’t they begun to work the kinks out, a little bit? Wasn’t that what they were doing now - getting through the pain to get back to something like they once had? She’d meant it when she’d told him at the house that she valued his opinion - she valued him.
“We clearly cannot be alone together without… clawing at one another’s throat. I believe we both need some time to cool off, not to mention there are far more pressing matters to tend to-”
“Of course that’s what you think is best!” Buffy exclaimed, gesturing her hands in the air. “You always think running away from me will just magically fix everything!”
I can never get away from you. Halfway across the world you’re still bloody there.
Buffy flinched as if he’d physically slapped her, and his expression sobered when he realized what it had sounded like he’d said - not aware that she’d heard his unspoken thoughts which hurt far worse.
“Buffy, I- I don’t mean that you aren’t important-”
“Fine.” She snapped, gritting her teeth against the angry tears that brimmed in her eyes. “If you really can’t stand me that much, you’ve got plenty of other new Slayers to look after,”
“Buffy that isn’t-”
She didn’t wait for him to finish, couldn’t wait for him to finish, didn’t want to hear whatever he might be thinking under his words - spinning on her heel and taking the bus steps two at a time, she fled out into the dark desert night.
— — —
She patrolled uselessly for about an hour or so - there was nothing out here, this far from civilization. Then she walked. She walked and walked, half-expecting to see a mountain lion step out from behind a rock to give her a disappointed, weighted glare. But there were no guardianship spells being performed this time - hell, she doubted that Giles would even be able to perform that spell in the first place. It seemed to her that he had well and truly given up that guardianship, never mind her own words previously ‘absolving’ him of said duties.
At the house she’d been pissed, and hurt, and tried to say the worst hurtful things that she could think of in retaliation to his perceived betrayal. It didn’t mean she actually wanted him gone. She liked when Giles was around, still, she liked the idea that he was always just a phone call away even when they never called one another - she did still seek out his opinion, just as she’d admitted right before the final battle, not because he was her mentor anymore, but because he was her friend.
Or, she’d thought he was… she’d wanted him to be. She’d wanted to get better about the phone calling thing. And then he’d appeared like the most refreshing breath of air at her front door… She’d desperately wanted to confide in him. And then Potentials got in the way, Caleb got in the way, Spike got in the way, the First… She hated what was happening, what she was being forced to do. And she took it out on the man she actually thought could’ve helped her the most.
Self-destructive at its finest? But not just - it destroyed him too. Destroyed their bond. Such a dependable, stalwart thing… she’d honestly been surprised that it could be so burned. But once she got her head on straight, it was the very first thing she wanted to fix. Unfortunately, duty called first as it always did. So they were relegated to a half-assed moment in a room full of mostly-strangers. But she did want to fix it, to fix them…
Clearly, Giles thought otherwise. He couldn’t stand to be around her, and that thought was enough to make her aimlessly wandering feet pause. She pressed her fist against her sternum as she sucked in a harsh, unsteady breath. She’d done this to herself, probably the moment she’d shut the door in his face - maybe even before that - and while her anger at the time had protected her own heart from the pain, she didn’t have that anger anymore.
And it hurt, far more deeply than she expected. It felt almost physical…
“Pain is good. Pain means you still care.”
Buffy gasped as she spun around in shock at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Mom?”
“Kind of.” Joyce offered her a warm, gentle smile. “Hello, honey.”
“Mom,” Buffy sobbed and lurched forward, not caring how impossible this was, not caring about the evil possibilities this could be - she just desperately needed to have her mother’s arms around her again.
Joyce held her tightly and made a comforting noise as she pressed her mouth against Buffy’s hair, holding her for a number of minutes without speaking. Eventually, though, she brushed her hands through Buffy’s hair and gently grasped her arms to guide her back so that she could look into her eyes.
“So you and Mr. Giles are still at odds, hm?” She spoke gently, but her raised eyebrow was pointed, and Buffy winced as she nibbled on her lip and glanced down for a moment.
“I pushed him too far,” She admitted in a murmur, “He’s forgiven me for so many awful things over the years, but now…” Her voice quieted even more, tremulously, “he hates me, Mom.”
“Oh, honey,” Joyce brushed her hand against her hair again, still smiling softly, “that man feels many things for you, but never hate.”
“How do you know that?” Buffy squinted slightly in confusion and suspicion.
“I was sent here to… guide you.” Joyce told her carefully, looking somewhat unsure about the description. Buffy blinked, and then straightened slightly as she took half a step back from her mother.
“You’re not my mom, really, are you?” She had to face the obvious, and Joyce tilted her head to the side as she considered. This wasn’t the First, either - it felt more… benevolent, than malevolent.
“I am… but also not.” She answered slowly. “We are here to warn you. To urge you to return to your path.”
“My path?” Buffy repeated, narrowing her eyes dangerously now as she picked up on the ‘we’. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s no longer ‘one girl in all the world’ anymore-”
“Exactly,” Joyce smiled again then, suddenly, which surprised Buffy. “Clever work there, by the way.” Then her expression sobered just as quickly. “But you are still meant for more, Buffy,”
“I just can’t get away from this destiny crap, can I?” Buffy glowered, pacing away a few feet and coming back again. “Haven’t I done enough? I’m tired. I’m older than any other Slayer in decades. I’ve stopped like seven apocalypses, not to mention all the slightly lesser baddies over the years, I’ve died twice-”
“There is more to fighting for the light than, well, fighting.” Joyce gently interrupted her, and Buffy paused, hesitantly listening. “All these girls, new to their power. Eyes awakened to the forces of darkness in the world. They will need guidance. Training.”
“Watchers?” Buffy huffed a derisive laugh. “The Council is-”
“They will need a new Council.” Joyce interrupted her again, her tone resolute. “A new era of Slayers requires a new era of Watchers.” She paused in a pointed manner then, giving Buffy a look. “Though perhaps, not such a new kind of Watcher.”
“What do you mean?” Buffy frowned, suspicious.
“Giles-”
“Giles is probably packing up for England as we speak,” Buffy interrupted dismissively, agitation pulling her feet into a pacing motion again. “I’m sure he’s right on track for your little path for his life,”
“He is not.” Joyce returned, as resolute as ever. “Because you are not. You are meant for more.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with what I’m meant for,” Buffy argued, “he’s not mine-”
“He has always been yours.” Joyce told her, and Buffy snapped her mouth closed. “The moment he was created, he was for you. Every success, every trial, molded him and led him to your side.”
Buffy frowned, discomfited both by the words being said and the fact it looked and sounded like her mother saying them.
“You,” Joyce emphasized more pointedly, “both are meant for more. Your paths were not meant to diverge so harshly. The First… took advantage of many things. Twisted and cracked and tore whatever it could to destroy the light.”
At that, Buffy’s anger deflated slightly as her hurt took the forefront again. She really did hate how at odds she and Giles have been, how that rare syncopation that used to come so naturally to them had seemed awkward and clawed-at during the final battle.
“You are not a lost cause yet,” Joyce softened her voice again, encouraging now, “we have offered our assistance, so that the two of you can become the proper warriors for the light you are supposed to be.”
“That wasn’t proper enough for you?!” Buffy exclaimed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the once-town now-sinkhole many miles away from them. “We subdued the First Evil. We shut down an entire Hellmouth, completely.”
“This brave new world needs brave new leaders.” Joyce spoke almost cheekily, referencing previous words in a manner that disturbingly reminded Buffy that the Powers That Be were always watching, always listening. “Our Bonded Sword and Shield, protecting the world in an era of peace not before known for centuries.”
“Wh… what?” That threw Buffy off entirely.
“You are meant for great things,” Joyce smiled proudly at her. “To bring great things to the world. But to do so you must be the Watcher and Slayer pair that you were meant to be. We must fix what the First had broken.”
Pair? Bonded? Meant to fucking be? As her mind swirled in confusion, something else the Powers had said struck the front of her mind.
“You ‘offered your assistance’?”
“Yes,” Joyce nodded, still wearing that smile, and tapped the side of her head with her finger. Buffy gaped, indignant and dismayed.
“The mind reading is your fault?! That almost drove me crazy before, I can’t be reading everyone’s minds again-!”
“Not everyone. Just Rupert Giles.”
“What?” Buffy floundered as a hundred questions warred together in her mind. Eventually, she exclaimed, “He’s gonna hate this! How does this help anything?!”
“He must learn to speak. You must learn to listen.” The way that Joyce spoke, Buffy knew that she was preparing to leave again.
“Wait,” She shifted a step forward, not wanting to say goodbye yet to whatever part of this was also her mom. Not to mention the remaining ninety-nine questions she still had.
“Buffy,” Her warm smile was all Joyce, and she held her arms open for one more hug. “I’m always with you.” She murmured into Buffy’s hair. “The power will not drive you mad, this time, and it will go away once the two of you are… healed. It’s the only way to be rid of it.”
“How is this gonna work?” Buffy moaned softly into her Mom’s shoulder. “All I hear from him is anger.”
“And what lies beneath your anger?” Joyce noted, gently pulling away to look into Buffy’s eyes.
“…Hurt.” Buffy admitted. Joyce nodded, and tenderly curled a lock of loose hair behind Buffy’s ear. She simply smiled that enigmatic smile at Buffy for a moment, before eventually sighing.
“I used to be so jealous of the two of you,” She murmured, and Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion. “You’ve always had this relationship that I couldn’t touch.” Buffy felt her cheeks grow a little warm at that, but Joyce only continued to wear that same smile. “But I see, now.”
“See what?” Buffy wondered, and Joyce rested her palm against her cheek for a moment before gently stepping back.
“It’s a bond that no one can touch.” Her smile widened, as if she were proud again. “Not even the purest evil, though it did try its damndest.” She took another step backward, into the night, and Buffy frowned sadly as she pushed her concern and bewilderment aside.
“Mom… I miss you.”
“I’m always with you, Buffy.” Joyce gently reminded her again, touching her hand against her chest, and then with another step backward she was gone.
Buffy stood still for a few minutes, her sadness and longing slowly shifting into comfort and happiness at having that moment to see her mother again… even if she hadn’t entirely been only her mother.
Then, the wind shifted and the cool night air cut through her jean jacket, reminding her that it was time she return to the motel… and face her situation.
— — —
She’s gone she’s gone she’s gone
Buffy could just barely make out the shape of the motel from its dim light emanating across the empty desert when the force of Giles’ thoughts slammed into her.
This isn’t the city, there’s nothing out there, she’s been gone for hours, she’s lost, she’ll freeze, bloody California desert, you berk, this is your fault, she saved the whole bloody world and all you think about is yourself, she’s gone again, she’s out there alone, it’s been hours, what if she’s hurt, what if she’s incapacitated-
He was pacing alongside the length of the emptied swimming pool, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glared at the ground in front of him. She was able to walk right up to one of the poolside tables without him noticing her.
“Do you always worry this much when I go out on patrol?” She wondered. If that were the case, it was amazing that he didn’t have ulcers. The idea of his level of concern was touching, though, too. Maybe the Powers were right… maybe they weren’t a total lost cause.
“Buffy!” He froze and lifted his gaze toward her, wide-eyed. Oh, thank God. She’s here, she’s okay, she’s here. The level of relief in his thoughts was nearly staggering.
“I took a little walkabout,” She said, downplaying the storm of emotions she’d been working through.
“Are you alright?” His brow furrowed with worry, and he stepped closer to her, but there was still a noticeable distance between them. That distance didn’t used to be there, and she frowned sadly as she wondered when exactly it developed… and how had she become blind to it that it had gotten this bad by now?
“I’m-” She hesitated from her naturally immediate brushoff, thinking about what the Powers/her mother had told her. ‘He must learn to talk, you must learn to listen.’ She needed to respond better when he did talk - maybe it would encourage him to talk more. “I’m cold, and tired.” She admitted honestly.
“Here,” He gestured his head and then an outstretched hand toward the corner of the building, where some paving stones led the way around to the front of the building and the parking area. “The fire is low, but still going,” I should add some kindling to it.
She stood silently in front of the fire pit as he poked at it, until soon the blaze had picked up enough again that she could feel the warmth seeping the chill off her skin.
“Thank you,” She murmured softly, pleased when he stood a little nearer to her once he was finished fussing with scraps of wood.
Where did she go? His mind was much quieter as she watched him from the corner of her eye; he was staring into the fire and his expression was difficult to read. He seemed younger, in a way, with the way the warm glow cast light and shadow across his face. His eyes, though, were weighted with a seriousness that almost seemed to speak of centuries of pain, beyond his age.
“Giles?” She said his name softly, not wanting to mess up this brief moment of… gentleness.
“Hmm?” He didn’t divert his gaze at first, until she took a moment to respond, and then when he turned his head toward her she said,
“Please, don’t go.” Her request was earnest, quiet, intent. “Tomorrow, don’t leave. Not yet.”
There’s so much to do. His mind sounded so tired.
“Buffy,” He sighed wearily, and pulled off his glasses to ponder the lenses before tugging his handkerchief from his pocket. “There’s so much to do, these girls-”
“Will be fine for a couple of days.” Buffy interrupted him, still quiet, but firm. “None of that is gonna get fixed in one day, anyway.”
And you think we will?
“Nothing that’s worth fixing ever is.” He mused, still weary, and Buffy held his gaze as he looked back up from his glasses to her.
“That’s true.” She agreed, and he blinked at her. “Giles, I…” She didn’t know where to begin. That she’d seen her mother, out there in the desert night? That she’d talked to the Powers That Be? That she had mind-reading powers again - and that they wouldn’t go away until the Powers deemed the two of them were ‘fixed’ enough? That the Powers thought they were meant to be Watcher and Slayer? “I just don’t want you to leave, yet.” She murmured softly. “Not like this.”
I wonder what she wants from me, this time.
Now that she was aware of it, looking for it, the hurt in his ‘voice’ was so pronounced that she held her breath for a moment. She pursed her lips, initially feeling rather insulted by his assumption that she was only saying this because she wanted something out of him - but she took a second to consider before she lashed out in reaction.
She had to acknowledge that she’d done this very thing in the past. Grimacing with apology, she reached out to touch his arm, to say out loud how sorry she was for how she treated him in the past, but then he was putting his glasses back on and the movement pulled his arm away before she could touch it. She lowered her hand before he noticed.
“I’m sorry I lashed out at you whilst all you were doing was mourning your… lover.” He said that part between his teeth, keeping his head ducked after he’d put his glasses back on. “It was not the appropriate time to vent my own frustrations.”
“He wasn’t my lover,” Buffy told him, and he lifted his head slowly, his expression dry and dubious. “Then,” She amended. “Not by then, we weren’t… we hadn’t been, for a while.”
You still took comfort in him. Giles’ expression didn’t change an ounce, but the pain in his thoughts was more pronounced than ever. It was almost as if he were more hurt knowing that it had been more emotional comfort than physical for them, in the end.
Not emotional enough for Spike, though. He’d been right - she didn’t love him. Not the way that he'd wanted her to.
“I didn’t love him,” She said aloud. “But I did care about him. And yes - despite his past.”
She is still the best of us. Giles’ expression softened alongside the fondness in his thoughts. Her capacity for forgiveness is… amazing, as always.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what he’s done,” She added gently, “just like I’ve never forgotten what Angel has done.”
A confusing mix of disjointed thoughts came forward then, not enough for her to really parse out, but the sour hint of fear behind them made her reach for his arm again. This time, he shifted away half a step, sort of balking from her touch.
“Why are you doing this?” He wondered, sounding slightly lost, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.
“Doing what?” She asked, and he gestured vaguely between them.
“This. Pressing. Talking. We don’t usually… do this.”
“We used to.” She raised her eyebrow pointedly. “Every now and then. When things got really bad. …And don’t you think, right now, things are pretty really bad?”
“The Hellmouth has been closed and the First has been relegated back into its place - I would think that we were recovering from the ‘really bad’ stage.” He noted.
“Between us.” She clarified gently as she let her hand fall to the side again, and he visibly stiffened.
Things haven’t been right between us for a long time. We can’t go back to what we once were. She pursed her lips in disappointment at that thought of his, not that he noticed. She’s not the same woman that she was before her resurrection. To try and find that closeness again would be… courting insanity.
“I’m not the same person anymore, Giles, but isn’t that what happens? Isn’t outgrowing your mentor a good sign?” She couldn’t help but speak directly toward the thoughts she was hearing, this time.
God, I am unbelievably proud of you. But where does that leave me? We aren’t friends, not really.
“Can’t we be, I dunno, friends? Maybe even, like, partners? We still make a pretty kick-ass demon fighting team, after all,” She offered him a careful smile, hoping that it came across as encouraging.
Ha, oh, if you only knew how much I longed for that. It’s like you’re reading my —
The hint of dry amusement in Giles’ thoughts and on his face suddenly cut off, and she could see his shoulders straighten with tension again.
“Buffy,” He asked carefully, his tone now uncomfortably devoid of any emotion, “were you, by any chance… attacked by a telepathic demon, again?” She winced, giving him an apologetic look, and he looked appalled and affronted by her silent confirmation. “Have you been reading my mind?!”
“Not on purpose - it wasn’t a demon, I-”
He shifted back another full step, visibly closing off completely now.
“I will stay long enough to figure out why this is happening again, and to help you fix it, but I draw the line at being manipulated by you prying into-”
“Giles, I’m not manipulating y-”
“My statement before applies - I think it’s best we keep our distance, until we solve this.” He said coolly, and his tone cut through her, reigniting that soul-deep pain in her chest again. “The night is only going to get colder, you should head inside.”
“I know why it’s happening!” She blurted, and he blinked as he considered for a moment. “I… had a visit, out there,” She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the desert night, and his eyes widened slightly. “It’s… them. The Powers That Be. They did this, not a demon. And I’m not- I’m not reading everyone’s mind…” She trailed off, another apologetic look on her face, and Giles scowled as he whipped his glasses back off again.
“Just mine.”
“Yeah.”
For fuck’s sake. “Bloody hell.”
Buffy tittered out a nervous laugh, and he gave her a put-upon look.
“Sorry,” She winced, but another short nervous chuckle fell from her lips before she admitted, “I just can’t remember if I’ve ever heard you say the word ‘fuck’ before.”
“You still haven’t.” He pointed out, and she pursed her lips. Technicalities.
“You know, you weren’t this worried about it the last time I could do this,” Buffy grumbled, mostly wondering rhetorically, “Just all about how to take care of me and keep me from going insane. What’s changed?”
Everything. At that thought, she tilted her head slightly in curiosity at him, and he looked away.
“Buffy, stop.” His request was quieter, but no less urgent.
“I can’t help it!”
“Why did they do this?” He demanded, his glasses tucked between his fingers now as he propped his hands on his hips and paced a few steps alongside the fire. “What’s the purpose? What’s their angle?”
Buffy had a feeling that telling him the truth right now wouldn’t go over well. ‘Well, apparently we’re bonded and we’re supposed to be some great pair of protectors for the whole world for decades to come, but we can’t be as we are right now, so we have to fix our bond so that the evil doesn’t win in the end, after all.’
“I’m not sure,” Buffy said out loud, too overwhelmed to even begin sharing all that with him right now. “You uh, know how vague they can be.”
“Quite.” He sighed with a huff, and after another moment of staring into the fire, he put his glasses back on with a shove. “I’m guessing they are to be the ones to fix it, when they deem fit?”
Buffy nodded silently, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance as he turned away from her.
Bloody interfering nuisances. They probably want us to repair our bond.
Buffy gaped at the back of his head - he knew about it?! And he was aware that something was actually wrong with it?!
It’s for the greater good, so sod the man, right? Surely they know I can’t possibly allow this to happen - I wouldn’t survive this-
Buffy couldn’t contain her sharp gasp of surprise, feeling like he’d done worse than slap her this time - he might as well have stabbed her in the stomach.
“You don’t want to fix us?” She resented the tremulousness of her voice, but couldn’t help it.
“Christ, Buffy, this is exactly why I told you to go inside!” Giles snapped, his tone sharp with…worry. Stop reading my mind, before you see- stop thinking about- I cannot allow this- The other girls, they need me,
“So I was right,” Buffy glowered, wrapping her arms around herself, the fire doing nothing to warm her now. “I have finally pushed you too far. You’ve replaced me.”
I can no more replace you than I could turn off the sun.
She blinked at him, confused by his thoughts, hurt by his words. Was she not listening? It seemed pretty clear, to her - pretty clear that whatever they’d done to one another, whatever the First had manipulated further, it was beyond fixing.
“Stop bloody reading my mind!”
“Then talk to me!”
“No!” Giles glared, and Buffy blinked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “I do not want to.” He told her lowly, and gave the fire one more glance before turning toward the rooms. “That will die out on its own. I will go inside, if you won’t.”
And as he stalked away, all she heard from his mind was a droning recitation of some demonology book from the 1600s.
Buffy turned back toward the fire, not wanting him to see - if he even deigned to glance back toward her - the tears that slipped from her eyes.