Title: If We're Together 1/3
Author: Gail Christison
Rating: R for low-level violence, character death
Summary: Trish's challenge with some elements incorporated which may be future spoilery but since I'm not telling you which ones, you won't be spoiled, right? ;-) Basically I moved the challenge slightly into the future, past ep 20... It's a mixture of pure fiction and spoilers but unless you are already spoiled you won't know which is and which ain't. So you should still be able to read the story, right? :-)

Disclaimer: Joss and Marti are the vandals...I mean owners...of this show. I only mourn in writing...
Distribution: Probably OMWF http://www.wickedsky.com/oncemore and all you guys who have permission. Anyone else just ask away :-) Songs copyright their respective composers/writers/owners
Feedback: Always love to know what you think. *Except* I don't want to know if you don't like the character death. Characters are frequently killed off in fics, even Buffy herself and often Giles. If you've read the challenge and don't want to see this character killed off why are you reading the fic? 'And that's all I'm going to say about that... ' :-)
Author Notes: See above. I wrote this fic according to what Trish asked for because I needed to, and because I think a point had to be made here. If she'd asked for Riley or Dawn to be knocked off no one would have said a word. There might even have been cheers <wink> I doubt anything would have been said even if it had been Giles,Willow or Xander because fans of those characters know main characters get killed in fics all the time for dramatic and creative reasons. And so it is in my vignette for Trish.

Dedication: To Trish, for being so gracious while under fire; for Ruth who beta-ed, and for Gileswench, Karen, Ewie, GG, Dword, Sandra and everyone else who understands. Thanks.


Trish's challenge:

Now I want to issue a challenge. Giles is depressed, he goes to the Espresso pump (yay!) and sings (some depressing song), the Scoobies (the CORE Scoobies) show up and wonder why he looks so sad (they obviously don't know what happened (keep them in the dark). Buffy shows up, looking horrible (like she's been crying or whatever, cause she feels bad for what she did (shame on her!) and she sees Giles singing. (They don't notice the Scoobies are there, so they start talking. (with comments from the Scoobies wondering what's going on)

Can someone write this? I need a good fic after this episode. :) And smoochies! and a staking of Spike wouldn't hurt. :-)

The old guitar slid to the floor again. Giles swore and stooped to pick it up before going to the small bench to put the kettle on, and leaning the instrument against the wall, since it didn't seem to like standing on the soft carpet or resting against the hotel bed.

Since his return, he hadn't touched a drop of Scotch...even though he'd have given anything for a bottle of good single malt many times in the past weeks. Circumstances did not permit him to indulge his own feelings, to give in, even for a moment, to the crushing sense of loss with which the First's destruction of his personal world had left him.

The eventual whistle of the cheap electric kettle was almost comforting in its own way, even if it did sometimes make him forget he was in a small, impersonal hotel room rather than either the intimate comfort of his Bath flat or the snug familiarity of his tiny Sunnydale apartment...or even his old library nook...and the past that went with them...

In that split second it began to sing, his mind would momentarily find itself in quite another place, another time; that moment always followed by exquisite pain, as he crashed back to earth amid the lonely silence.

Back to a Sunnydale gone mad. Nothing would ever be the same again. His world, so much of the intricate tapestry of his past, his career, his life, had been torn apart by the First. Not even Buffy had escaped its destructiveness.

He flicked open the wrapper on a hotel tea bag and dropped it into the cup of boiling water he'd just poured. He hated teabags, but somehow he never seemed to find the time or the desire to procure a teapot, or even tea. Somehow, it just didn't seem to matter anymore...

Halfway through the cup, his eyes flicked across to the guitar again. He'd brought it with what little other luggage he'd carried from England in the hasty flight to Sunnydale with the group of potential slayers. Why, he couldn't say for certain. He just knew that when he'd looked up while packing to see it resting in it's corner of the bedroom in the Bath flat, he knew didn't want to leave it behind.

So many times since his near execution, he'd felt as though he wasn't in control...as though everything was spiralling into hell and he could do nothing...or worse, that he seemed always to be one step behind. Half the time he could barely remember incidents that had happened days before, or even hours...unnerving and sometimes terrifying. With the Council gone, there was no one to turn to, nowhere to go to find out what the hell might be happening to him. And with the rest of them either inexperienced children, or seemingly incapable of taking their current situation seriously, he could see no point in adding further worry and confusion to the mix.

He would handle it, or not, himself, for the time being...

He stared at the shabby guitar case still lying by his bed. Earlier he'd been practising some of the songs he used to sing at the Pump, mostly because he hadn't learned any new ones, well almost none, since. He also needed badly to take his mind off recent events...to keep the emptiness from closing in on him...

...Anything to keep from thinking about the look on Buffy's face when she'd closed that door on him. True, she hadn't thrown him out, or locked him out of her home...but she had symbolically locked him out of her heart...and that, perhaps, haunted him most of all.

He sighed jaggedly. How had it come to this...? What the hell had happened to them all...? He had returned to find a Buffy even less equipped to deal with reality, with life, than the pathetic creature he'd attempted to force to stand on her own two feet the previous year. Sometimes he wondered if there was something more at work there...something keeping her from being the woman he knew...the Slayer they all needed so badly now...

Giles closed his eyes again, this time against an unexpected wave of emotion, and a fiercer one of recrimination. *He should never have left her after she was brought back. It was the right thing to do...but it was also a damnable thing to do. He should have known there were far too many things that could go wrong...should have known she wasn't ready to stand alone...*

The emotion rose in a mixture of anger, heartache, overwhelming sadness and frustration. He was beyond angry with Buffy's recent behaviour: angry that she seemed as though she was never, ever going to grow up; that she continued to allow herself to be defined...and demeaned...by her sexual liaisons. It was as though, somehow, the emotional dependence and need of her by creatures like Angel and Spike...even the hapless Riley...could somehow fill the void left by the desertion and dereliction of previous male role models in her life, particularly her father: most damned of any of them, and leaving the greatest scars of all. Until she stopped trying to fill the void he'd left by confusing neediness and obsession with love, she would never be happy and would never stop torturing herself with hopeless, unhealthy relationships...

He cleared his throat, forced open his eyes and downed the last of the tea, tepid now, in one gulp before discarding the cheap, heavy hotel cup on the sink and heading for the shower.

An hour later he walking the two blocks from his hotel room to the Espresso Pump. He wasn't sure why. And a part of him was shrieking with panic at what he'd done: impetuously calling Dominic, offering to come and play for free. He sighed, remembering how he'd responded so quickly to the other man's enthusiasm, enjoying the unconditional affection and admiration with a neediness of his own that he heartily despised.

He still didn't know why else he'd done it...except that he couldn't sit alone in that room a moment longer, and he couldn't hide in the shower forever...

*******

Xander emerged from the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn and went to sit with Dawn, who was trying to watch, with something resembling enthusiasm, and old film her mother used to love, but it was obvious that she was worried about her sister and about what was going on around them. Even his proffering of the aromatic bowl did little to lighten her mood, or ease the tension in the young face.

He sighed. Somewhere in the house, Willow and Kennedy were probably going at it yet again...seemingly their answer to everything, lately...

And Anya was outside, of all things, putting washing on the line. Xander wasn't sure what her deal was lately with the need to be one with the cleaning and washing all the time...*like she needed something...anything she could be the boss of, or something.* It both irritated and unnerved him a little. Not as much as Andrew the idiot and the endlessly annoying potentials, did...but enough. He was also glad Faith had taken geek boy and a group of potentials most needy of the training, out to look for Bringers and anything resembling Intelligence about the First.

Half an hour later he mentally apologised to Willow and Kennedy, who emerged, fully clothed and weary-eyed, from what turned out to be some heavy, but fruitless, research about the First, books and all, to flop in the other chairs in the living room. They shared the popcorn, all silently and moodily focused on the remainder of the film.

Xander didn't notice until Gary Cooper was meeting the President that Kennedy had gone to sleep curled up in an armchair and Dawn was now pretty much comatose on her end of the couch as well.

Willow looked around at the soft thud of the bowl being put down on the coffee table. Xander touched a finger to his lips and motioned her toward the kitchen.

"I don't know about you, but I need to get out of here. I can't do this anymore: pretend everything's okay, when nothing's okay."

Willow touched his arm. "I know things have been, y'know, kinda tense and all...and I wish I knew where Buffy was too, but what else is there? Someone has to watch out for Dawn and make sure the Slayer-wannabes don't go doing anything dumber than usual..."

Xander rolled his eyes. "I know...and I know things are bad with Giles and Buffy...I know all that, but it seems like forever since we did anything even remotely...normal. I just want...Kennedy's here with Dawn and she's a better bodyguard than either of us...I want to do something like we used to."

She searched his face. "Like what? Nothing's the way it used to be. Those days... even our actual school...they're gone...kinda forever...sorta like the old us," she said sadly. "And I don't know about you but: not really nostalgic for the old family bosom, if you know what I mean. Apart from the Library and the Bronze, this house is the only other place we all used to hang out together..." Her expression changed a little when she realized how morose she was beginning to sound. "Unless...unless you want to go to the Bronze? Dance? Hang out? Pick up girls?"

Xander's eyes grew wide and his serious expression turned to one of someone trying very hard not to laugh. "Pick up girls...you and me? Together? Demon magnet, remember? I'm on the wagon. No picking up of the female gender for the foreseeable future; focusing on Scott Bakula's butt every time I feel myself slipping..." He shook his head. "I don't think I could handle the Bronze right now, either. God, there are so many memories...and the interesting thing is for every good one, there's a really, really, bad one to go with it. And right now all I seem to remember is..." he shuddered to illustrate his point, "...the nastiest ones."

Willow only contemplated that for a moment before looking down at her bosom and turning bright red, remembering her own and Anya's contribution to that collection of the group's most unpleasant Bronze experiences.

"Well, hey, you know, we could just go for a walk...or...or a drive, to kinda not be so vampire-baity. You wanna, maybe, drive up to Lover's lane or just out for donuts or something?"

Xander couldn't help chuckling again and waggling his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Lover's Lane? You and me...?"

Willow coloured again and biffed him in the arm. "Not like that, dumb head. You wanted nostalgia...I figured you'd been up there a time or two back in high school, probably with Cordelia...we could just go visit for old time's sake..." She saw his expression and swallowed. "Okay, so strike Lover's Lane. Donuts are starting to sound mighty good...or there's a late movie..."

Xander's eyes finally lit up. "Coffee," he said unexpectedly. "I want a double mocha and lots of those little cookies they have in the jars on the counter..."

Willow's eyes lit up. "The Espresso Pump! Do you know how long it is since I last...?" Her voice trailed off, her expression growing bleak.

It took Xander only seconds to realise why. Willow loved the 'Pump, but she hadn't been back since Tara's death.

"It's okay, Will. We don't have to go there, either..."

"No, really," she said, looking towards the living room and Kennedy. "I want to go. I've been in mocha withdrawal for so long..."

Xander bit back a wave of emotion at the sad wistfulness in her voice. "I'll go start the car while you get your doodads together."

*******

Buffy leaned against the old elm, her favourite tree in Restwood Cemetery, and closed her eyes. Everything was closing in around her. It felt like everything was spinning out of control...like the First had everyone and everything on a string and every time she thought she understood what was going on, it would yank on the strings and change the rules again...

For the first time in months, maybe even longer, her mind wandered back to better days. Still Slayer days, and always with the pain in the background, but much better ones: back when things weren't nearly so harsh, complicated or painful as they were now. She closed her eyes against a heart-rendingly vivid memory of an all-nighter in the library: Xander stuffing himself with Pizza while they researched, and Giles bitching in his usual Giles-y 'look down his nose' voice about greasy fingers on the old books, Willow echoing the outrage and Cordelia telling everyone to get over it, because they were just dusty old books and asking Giles if he'd switched to coffee without telling them, or something. A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth at the memory of his expression and the harrumph that followed, before he carefully removed the precious volumes from greasy paws, pointedly handed Xander a paper towel, and headed back to his office clutching his babies to his grumpy breast...

Two tears forced their way under her lids as she came back to the present and the knowledge that those days were done and that she could never get them back. She also didn't know how she'd let things get so out of control, or how she'd ended up out here all alone. It felt eerily like that horrible dream back when the First Slayer had gotten inside their heads, with all the harping about her being alone, and not being able to find her friends anywhere...

She shook herself and pushed those memories away again. She had enough crap to deal with, without delving into the past as well. The present was bad enough.

Sometimes it was like the world, her world, was skewed to the point where things seemed to happen by themselves, and then phone themselves into her brain later. As the haze of rage, bitterness and disappointment at the ease with which Faith had usurped her place in the group had gradually lifted, it slowly became clear that she hadn't exactly helped her own cause. She frowned, trying to remember why she'd said and done some of the things she had. She didn't even know why she'd woken up next to Spike that morning...only that she had to get away as quickly as she could. Now she didn't even know where he was, either. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered...

She would have given anything to feel like something did.

All that was certain was that the world had to be saved. Again. And she knew that Faith wasn't going to be able to do it. She also knew that this time it was no conceit. Just a sure knowledge, something perhaps left inside her by the First Slayer: something that told her in no uncertain terms that *she* had to be the one. That it was still her job, no matter what the others might want to believe.

At that point, one face swam in her thoughts, floated accusingly in front of her, despite the hurt in its eyes, the pain in its normally comfortingly familiar visage. The way he'd looked just before the door had slammed in his face...

A sob rose in her throat. A part of her was still raw from the wound left by Giles' betrayal, even as her mind, at last, began to process what he'd been trying to tell her while they were patrolling. Losing Giles had been worse than almost any other loss she could ever remember. Nothing could have prepared her for the idea that he, of all people, wouldn't stand behind her, no matter what her choices. Now, here, in the darkness... Her heart sank. Darkness, again: maybe she really did belong in it...?

Here, alone with the night, the truth had finally found a voice amid the cacophony of her rage and hurt. The truth was she'd forfeited the Watcher's loyalty a long time ago. Perhaps as long ago as the decision to lie to him about Angel, after all that Angelus had done, all the he had put Giles through. She knew it, and yet between them there continued her unspoken expectation that he would be there, and his equally unspoken undertaking to fulfil that trust.

Buffy struggled to her feet, not even trying to stop the small chokes or the moisture that seeped down her hot cheeks. She'd let it all go: Giles, Dawn, Xander, Willow.

Somehow, she'd isolated herself so much from all of them, that she'd lost them... and it was all her own damned fault; hers and...

"Buffy...?"

She started badly and turned. "What do you want?"

He shrugged. "What are you doing here? In case you didn't realize, I don't exactly live around here these days."

"I didn't come here looking for you."

"Oh...so now it's off again, eh? I get one night before you decide to throw me away again...is that it?"

"You know why last night happened."

"Do I? Am I a mind reader or something? She loves me; she loves me not? I may be love's most pathetic bitch, but I know there was something there last night... something that was enough to make you forget some things that aren't usually forgettable...if you take my meaning."

Buffy, taking his meaning exactly, seemed to almost physically shrink with self-loathing. "I don't know what happened last night. I know I was hurting. I know...I know I still have feelings for you...even after everything...but I never meant..." She drew herself back up into a more defiant stance. "I don't know what's been happening to me since the First came. I've done a lot of things, made a lot of choices I can't explain...too many of them. I don't know who I am, anymore...it's like I don't always control me...and I wasn't made to be someone's puppet. You know if I find out the First," her voice grew harsh, "or anyone else, has been jerking my chain, I'll make them wish they were never born...or reborn!"

He smirked a twisted smirk. "Got it. Only don't look at me." He hummed a few bars of the wretched tune the First had been using to trigger him. " Number one puppet, remember? So what's your tune?"

Buffy's eyes filled with moisture again. "All I know is that I'm alone, which is probably exactly what the First has wanted all along. I can't believe I let this happen. The First Slayer wanted me to work alone, but I knew...I knew I was strong because of my friends...because they were always there, helping...and Giles..."

His eyes narrowed. "What about that stupid old bastard? He sold you out and almost got me killed. You can't seriously still care about the sod?"

Buffy's damp gaze flew up to his. The vampire had said that in a way that had nothing to do with the words.

Spike realized at the same moment what he'd revealed without meaning to.

A lot of things fell into place then, as far back as the night they'd overheard Giles ranting at Willow about the irresponsibility of raising her from the dead, and Spike's immediate assumption that she would be hurt by the things the Watcher had said.

The blue-grey eyes widened as they stared at him. "You...all this time you felt threatened by *Giles*?"

The vampire managed to look extremely self-conscious before his expression hardened and the cynical mask fell back into place.

"Bugger that. He's as old as Methuselah, a right old woman. Why would a young buck like me be threatened by an old fart like him?"

Buffy struggled with that question too. It hadn't made a lot of sense to her even the first time Spike had alluded to the idea of something going on between Watcher and Slayer.

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