TITLE: A Matter of Time
AUTHOR: Head Rush
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Giles/OC (Megan from ‘Allies’ and ‘Dazed and Confused’)
SUMMARY: Post-Becoming
WARNING: Angst, violence, torture, non-consensual sex
SPOILERS: Up to the end of season 2
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, but please be gentle :-)
EMAIL: head_rush100@yahoo.co.uk
THANKS: To Vatwoman, Kathy P, and Dana; for editorial greatness, moral support, and occasional stompiness – and for knowing when each was required!
ARCHIVES: Sure, but please email me first so I know where it’s going :-)
DISCLAIMER: All things ‘Buffy’ belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. This was written for fun, not profit, so please don’t sue.

“Jenny. He’s talking to Jenny. He’s been doing that for twenty minutes, since I got here. Kinda fading in and out. When I got him out of the mansion, he said Drusilla’d done some kinda mind mojo on him, and tricked him into thinking she was Jenny. That’s how they got him to tell them how to finish the Acathla ritual.”

It was Xander. Xander had got him out. Jenny. Oh, God.

“Giles?” A hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. The pressure disappeared, and then the hands were back, fumbling with his shirt buttons this time.

***

Angelus’s eyes had positively danced as he’d unfastened each button with calculated deliberation, giving Giles’ imagination enough time to do half the vampire’s work for him. It was standard technique, but effective nonetheless. Giles was resolved. Whatever happened, happened, and there was nothing to be done but keep quiet until he was rescued or killed. Angelus finished with the buttons at last, looked up into Giles’ eyes, and showed him his game face, just for a moment. Giles was expecting that, and didn’t flinch, didn’t give him the satisfaction. Angelus had smiled approvingly, then pressed his ear to Giles’ bare chest, and listened to the wild thumping of his heart.

***

A different, stronger grip on his arm. it was gentle, but the pain shot down into his bad hand, and Giles jerked away. There was no way he could go through that again. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry, and he was too tired. Acrid, coppery fumes from sweat, fear, and blood clogged his nostrils.

“Oh, man. We gotta get you to the hospital.” What was Xander doing here?

“Have you tried to do anything for him?” That was Willow.

“I don’t know where to start. I think the worst of the bleeding’s coming from his back. I tried to take a look, but he yelled so loud I thought I’d better not move him.”

“Well, we have to do *something*!”

He was hot, and scared, and it hurt, and he couldn’t think. It was all he could do to open his eyes. After a few moments he realised that this was his living room. Willow was perched on the stool, her pupils blown and a bandage on her head. Xander was kneeling by the side of the recliner with his arm in plaster.

“You… all right?” Giles managed, and they nodded and smiled, though they were looking at him so strangely. Willow’s gaze locked onto his for a moment, and something tugged at him deep inside. Mystical energy, but it wasn’t his own, and there was nothing controlled about it. He was too weak to resist, so the power surged through him, unchecked, in alarming fits and starts. It mingled with his energies, testing him, trying to draw out a reaction.

“Spell… worked. Stopped… Acathla,” he said. She nodded again, but didn’t smile this time. He looked Willow in the eye. “Stop it.”

Her face went blank. “Stop what?”

Giles shook his head. He couldn’t feel the energies anymore, and any discussion was beyond him. His stomach lurched as he realised someone was missing. “Buffy?”

Willow glanced at Xander. “Um, she went to Monterey with her mom.”

He stared at her.

“It was an important gallery thing,” said Xander. “She promised her mom she’d go, and she didn’t want to upset her after all the problems they’ve been having. She’ll be back later.”

“She’s gone away?” It made no sense. Nothing made sense, and his head was killing him. Giles could still feel the incredible strength in each of Angelus’s fingers as they’d dug into his scalp, then cracked his head on the stone floor. The pain was coming in intense, throbbing waves.

“Yeah, but she’ll be back.”

She’ll be back. “Jenny?”

Xander’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “She’s okay, Giles.”

He looked from one frightened young face to the other, and around the living room, but somehow nothing was connecting in his head, and the only thing that felt real was the piercing jolt he got each time he took a breath. Everything was out of reach, and perhaps that was for the best. “Tired.”

Willow nodded. “We should call an ambulance.” Then, more softly, “Look at this.”

Xander moved to the other side of the chair, and they both stared at the floor.

“What?” said Giles.

“Blood,” Xander said at last.

“Angelus’s?”

Xander blinked. “No, yours.”

That explained was why he was so warm, and so weak, and sticking to the leather recliner.

Willow stood up a little shakily. “Okay. Calling 911 now.”

“No,” Giles whispered firmly.

“Yeah,” said Willow, sympathetic, but just as firm.

“I think… he might be afraid they’ll think he’s a little unhinged, the way he is right now,” said Xander. “Which is a good point.”

Giles was grateful for this show of insight. His vision kept blacking out. He was going to faint any second. “Call Megan Jones… friend at… coven in England. Number’s… in my book.” They looked unconvinced. “She’s… a healer.”

Xander shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s too far away. We can’t wait.”

“She can… teleport,” said Giles, and passed out on another wave of pain.

***

“It’s all right… We’ll be together… finally… We’ll have everything we never got to have… Never got to feel.” Her fingers brushed through his hair, and the gesture was so longed-for, so comforting, that his eyes stung with tears.

***

“Rupert?”

“Jenny?”

“No, love. Try again.”

He opened his eyes. “Oh.”

“Not quite the greeting every girl dreams of, but I’ll let you off this time.” Megan’s fingers swept through his hair again. When they came away covered in blood, she folded up a damp flannel and pressed it firmly to the back of his head. The pain was blinding, and he made a noise of protest.

“Sorry. Bit of bleeding back there,” she said calmly. “I was just telling Willow and Xander about the joys of teleporting, and how it’s not as easy as it sounds. Remember when you were learning, and you ended up on a cross-channel ferry?” He opened his eyes again, and watched her rearrange her expression. “I would ask how you are, but I think that’s obvious. So. Two choices. I can treat you at the coven; or we can go the conventional route and get you to the hospital.” She paused to let the information register. “What would you like us to do, Rupert?”

“Not hospital.”

“All right. The coven, then.”

“Can’t leave Buffy.”

“I understand, but we have to take care of you first, and these are complicated injuries.”

Willow was still eyeing the carpet. “Giles, you should go.”

“We’ll make sure Buffy’s okay,” said Xander.

He opened his eyes. “She needs help.”

“So do you!”

“Slayer comes first. She has to.”

“Rupert, you’re sitting in a puddle of your own blood,” said Megan, an edge creeping into her voice. “I’m sorry, I know you want to be here for Buffy, but you’re really not in a position to be that noble just now.”

As he tried to focus, it came back to him just how bloody stubborn she could be.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn and argumentative?” she said, smiling as he smiled a little.

There was a pause, then Willow crouched beside the chair, and he knew it was going to be bad. “Giles, please don’t be mad, but the truth is, Buffy ran away last night.”

His head throbbed as the adrenaline rose, and the room tilted. “What?”

“Willow,” Megan warned.

“Will, shut up.”

Willow flushed. “We can’t lie to him! She left a note, but we don’t know where she went. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. We just didn’t want to upset you. Her mom, the police, everyone’s looking for her. Go to the coven. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and Megan put her hand on his arm.

“Rupert, is your heart beating too fast? Do you feel weak, cold, queasy, faint, shaky? That’s because you’ve gone into shock and you’re bleeding to death. There’s nothing you can do about Buffy right now. We have to concentrate on you, or Buffy won't have a watcher to come home to, and I know that’s not what any of us want.” Her expression softened. “We’re going to stand you up, and get you to the coven. You can argue all you like once we get there.” She got to her feet and looked at Willow and Xander. “Let’s do this in one, shall we? As soon as he’s upright, you let go, otherwise you’ll be coming with us.”

They nodded, and he almost blacked out again as Xander grabbed him from one side, Megan and Willow from the other. Xander counted down, they hauled him up, and the last thing Giles heard was his own scream.

***

He was still screaming when they arrived at the back door of the Regency farmhouse. Megan handed him over to two men who carried him, fast, up the steep oak staircase. They carefully negotiated the doorway of a small, warm room, and headed for the double bed.

Megan spread a thick woolen picnic blanket over the colourful quilt. “Don’t lay him down; his back’s too bad. I haven’t assessed him properly yet, so I don’t want him on his front either, in case there are internal injuries.”

Giles cried out as the witches eased him down to lie on his right side.

A young woman with a ponytail rushed in and handed Megan a large green first aid kit. “What else do you need?”

“All the bandages you can find, a big basin of lukewarm water and a flannel… Old clean towels… something for Rupert to wear, and a glass of orange juice and a straw - quick as you can.” 

The woman nodded and shut the door behind her.

Megan turned on the main light and the extra bedside light, then knelt beside him. “Does any one place hurt worse than another?”

“No, everything bloody hurts!” And to top it off, his bloody slayer had run away.

“I know.”

Pressure in his chest grew and spread. “Fingers.”

***

The snap and grind of bone on bone. All white, then black.

***

He winced at the memory, frightened by how real it was. Seemed.

She indicated the two swollen, crooked fingers on his left hand. They throbbed in time with his pulse, and hurt less if he didn’t look at them. “I’ll sort those out as soon as we get the bleeding stopped.”

He flinched involuntarily as hands that were not his own started removing his clothes. Megan stopped, and raised her eyes to his. “All right?”

He nodded.

“You’ll feel better once you’re out of these.” She paused. “Did the vampires undress you at all?”

“I don’t… yes.”

The door opened, and Eva and one of the men who’d brought Giles in deposited everything Megan had asked for. Eva left a soft blue t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the dresser. It was a painful and messy business, but the filthy shirt came off, and then the trousers.

There was dead silence in the room, and Giles finally looked at Megan.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “It’s highly unprofessional to stare at one’s patient. But I have to say that if I ever meet the creature that did this, he’ll wish he had never been born.”

Megan picked up the basin of water, moved around to cover his lower half with a light blanket and sat behind him on the bed. She wadded up the towels and packed them around him.

A cold, unsteady hand touched him briefly. “I’m just going to clean this up a bit. I’ve put witch hazel in the water, but it won’t sting.”

She was right. Although having the wound on his head tended was quite bad enough, it was nothing to his raw back, where even the lightest touch was agony. Megan handed him three small but powerful pills and steadied his hand on the juice glass as he gulped them down. They didn’t help much. He stared fixedly at the small white bookcase in the corner; proof that he wasn’t still in that room with Angelus, until everything became blurry.

***

Angelus knelt beside him as he lay on his front on the floor, staring in disbelief at his misshapen left hand. “Don’t move.” Thick white fingers carefully removed his glasses and set them on the floor a couple of feet away. Angelus stamped on them, once, then lay down on his stomach beside Giles. “When I was at school, we had this teacher everyone hated. If you made a mistake in your work, she wouldn’t accept it. She made you do it over and over and over… until you got it right. She was a real bitch, but by Christ I learned from her. Sit up and take off your shirt.”

Giles turned to look Angelus in the eye. “Go and fuck yourself.” He was damned if he was going to make it easier for anyone to torture him. Angelus hauled him to his feet with dizzying speed. Giles rammed the first two fingers of his right hand into Angelus’s eye sockets. A shout, a fist slammed into his side, and Giles barely had time to register the crack before he was shoved against the fireplace. The back of his head hit the corner of the mantelpiece. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor again, blinded by pain. The back of his head and neck were warm and wet. Blood traced the line of his jaw and pooled below it. His shirt lay beside him.

“Angel...”

“Angelus. Don’t piss me off, Rupert. I can’t kill you yet, but I’ll make you wish I had.” Angelus picked up a large, jagged fragment of lens, and squinted through it. The buoyant tone returned to his voice. “As I was saying, I think I know the solution to our little Acathla problem, but I’ve nothing to write on. So I’m going to take this,” he waved the shard in front of Giles’ face, “and write the answer on your back, and you can tell me if I’ve got it right. If I’m wrong, well I’ll just try again… and again… until I get it. Sound good to you?”

“Giles!… Giles!”

Buffy? Giles tried to control his breathing to listen better.

“Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you, Buffy won’t be bailing you out. She’s here already, but she’s kinda tied up with Spike and Dru.”

“Giles, don’t tell them anything! I’m – ” Buffy was cut off with a cry. The sound turned him over, though he couldn’t be sure it was really her. It sounded like her, but then, Angelus would have a good idea of the sort of thing she’d say. But he wasn’t sure.

He ached to call out to her, just in case, but made no reply. He heard Angelus moving behind him.

“Such self-control, Rupert! I’m curious to see how long that lasts.”

The glass bit into Giles’ back.

***

“Rupert?” Hands either side of his face. He opened his eyes, and stared into someone else’s. “Rupert, hold on!” Her voice was so shaky.

He couldn’t respond. He had no idea where he was, or what was happening. There was nothing but the pain.

“I’ve just taken a piece of glass out of your back. You hang in there, all right? I’m going to get some more healers in here. Hold on, Rupert.”

He couldn’t speak. She ran to the door and shouted down the hall to whoever was out there.

***

“My father told me that a good craftsman never blames his tools, but you know, I think there must be something wrong with this glass. You really should’ve given me something by now, Rupert,” Angelus brought the flat of his hand down hard on Giles’ back. “There’s not much room left on this parchment.” As he rode out the pain, Giles heard Angelus stand and walk about the room. Then he was back. He placed two candles and box of matches in front of Giles. A long dagger. A short dagger. A paring knife. A short sword. “I hope for your sake that there’s nothing wrong with *these*, or we could be here a very… long… time.”

***

By the time the cuts, gouges, and burns Angelus had taken such delight in inflicting had been washed, dried, closed, salved, and dressed, he was awake and aware again, supported on either side by healers. Every muscle was taut and trembling violently, despite the exhaustion. He was covered in sweat, ready to be sick, and determined not to embarrass himself.

“That’s that for now. The bleeding’s pretty well stopped.” Megan stood up. “You’re a star, Rupert. That was quite an ordeal. Will you be all right if I just go and wash my hands?”

He nodded.

She handed him a cool, damp flannel and put the plastic wastepaper bin beside the bed. “Think happy thoughts. I’ll be right back. Eva and Dan will keep you company for a minute.”

She disappeared into the hall, and he heard Eva ask Megan if she was all right. There was no reply, but the sound of the bathroom door slamming.

***

Megan returned about ten minutes later, decidedly paler than before.

“Sorry,” said Giles, when Eva and Dan had gone.

Megan shook her head, and gave him some more orange juice. “Don’t be stupid,” she said gently. “I guess it’s just that… you’ve been so far away since you were assigned to Buffy that, even though I *know* you’re the slayer’s watcher, and she’s in danger constantly, I never really thought… Or I never really *let* myself think about what that could mean for you. That this sort of thing could happen to *you*. I know that sounds incredibly blinkered, but it was the only way to keep me from worrying myself…”

“Sick?” he supplied. She had really been that worried about him?

She smiled. “Yeah. Didn’t work too well, did it?” He smiled slightly. “I need you to lie on your back now, if you can.” 

“Thought… fingers first.”

“I’ll do them first, so long as there isn’t anything internal that needs attention more urgently.”

He had rarely, if ever, been hurt so badly that he wasn’t certain that he could move without passing out, and it was frightening. There had to be internal injuries; otherwise it wouldn’t hurt like it did, but beyond his ribs, he had no idea what they were, or how serious. His good arm cradled his middle.

“Whatever it is, it can be fixed.” Megan touched his hair lightly, and he flinched. “You’ve had that reaction twice now.”

A surge of panic as it dawned on him what she’d be wanting to do. “Leave it.” The whole situation was mortifying enough without her knowing every detail of what Angel… Angelus… had done.

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

“I don’t want anyone going into my head.” He would remember the naked hunger and triumph in Drusilla’s crow-coloured eyes for the rest of his life The heart-stopping grief when he’d surfaced from them, unaware that he had been drowning, guaranteed it.

“I realise that, love, and it’s completely understandable.”

“I mean it.” There were things he didn’t want confirmed, as well things she absolutely must not see, and not all of them had happened today.

She was looking doubtful. “I’ll leave it for now. We’ll see how you go.” She rubbed her hands together vigorously, then placed one on the left side of his chest, and one on the right. He tensed; they were cold enough to give him goosebumps at first, but soon began to emit a penetrating warmth. The heat radiated through him, and as it spread, he felt discomfort, then pain, in his chest, side, and back.

***

The stone floor was cold, and he’d been face down on it long enough to be chilled. Angelus’s full weight came down on his back, sharp fingernails burrowing into the shredded flesh on each shoulder blade, and knees gripping either side of his hips. “Rupert, you and I both know that I can do anything I damn well please to your body – and believe me, I will – but apart from working off a little…” a smile came into his voice, “Well… *tension*, there’s no lasting satisfaction in it. Later, I could tear your eyes out, but next week you’d be translating all your books into Braille. So you know what I’m gonna do?” Giles closed his eyes as the weight on him shifted, and Angelus whispered in his ear, “I’m going to bring you to the edge of madness, but I’m not going to tip you over. I’m going to make it so that your sanity is balanced on the head of a pin, just like I did with Dru. All ready to go, whenever you are.” Angelus rolled off him. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. I have to complete the ritual, and you’ll be useless once you’re raving.” He heard the dull chime of metal scraping slate. “So let’s see if this helps speed things along.”

***

“Rupert… *Rupert*! Let go… Rupert, let *go!*”

Disoriented, his grip weakened, and whatever he’d been clinging to managed to pull away. The door opened, and someone said, “You need any help in here? What happened to your arm? Did he do that?” The man had a Somerset burr.

Giles opened his eyes. For a moment he had absolutely no idea where he was, and the fright was compounded by the feeling that he *ought* to know.

“Yeah… he didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll stay.”

“No,” She looked at Giles, and he could see the mask of confidence had dropped, “he’s settling. We’re okay.” Megan’s voice anchored him. Her voice was not Angelus’s, and he was not in the room where his blood filled the cracks in the floor.

“I’m down the hall.” Giles heard Dan retreat, and the door shut.

Megan turned back to him. “How you doing?”

He hadn’t a clue. “Did I hurt you?”

She shrugged it off. “No, don’t worry. These hallucinations you’re having seem to be getting more intense.”

“This… is the coven?”

Megan’s mouth fell open, but she recovered quickly. “That’s right,” she said slowly. “I brought you here about two hours ago. We patched up your back a bit, and I’d begun a mystical resonance scan of your upper body. That can cause pain when the energies encounter resistance from physiological or mystical disruptions, and that’s when you blanked out as you did before, when we were doing your back. As you started coming to, you grabbed my arm and held it away from you.”

Fragments of the flashback were coming back to him. Angelus hadn’t been bluffing. He was losing his grip on reality. A wave of terror and hopelessness engulfed him, then anger, wishing Angelus had just killed him, rather than leaving him useless and helplessly confused. His chest heaved, and his ribs flared up.

“Rupert? I’m going to heal the worst of the damage now. The internal injuries and your fingers.”

He nodded, but if he was going mad, it didn’t matter a damn if she saved him or not.

“Accelerated healing is usually more uncomfortable than actually painful, but there’s some severe trauma to one of your kidneys, as well as internal bleeding, a couple of broken ribs and the…” He shut down instantly, and she skipped it. “I think this may hurt quite a bit. If it gets too much, tell me and I’ll ease up, but I can’t stop once I start.”  He must have looked worried. “Would you like to go to sleep for this?”

He shook his head, knowing he had no reserves left with which to brace himself.

Her hands were still shaking when she pressed them to his left side. It started to hurt immediately, and he tasted blood again.

***

He was so thirsty, he could drink forever from the intoxicating fountain that lay atop him. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, too, but barely aware of it. He just wanted to drink and drink and never stop.

The source of his pleasure began to pull back. His hand tightened around her smooth, warm neck, and he tried to move with her, but she pushed him back down with surprising strength. “You always wanted to taste me, didn’t you, England?” The voice shocked his eyes open. He was lying on the floor. Jenny sat astride him. She leaned over, and he saw the ragged bite mark below her jawline. Blood ebbed and flowed from the wound, dyeing her collar deep red. The same sticky, metallic liquid coated the inside of his mouth.

“Jenny… what…” He so wanted it to be her, but this wasn’t right.

“Now it’s my turn. Hush, Rupert, just let yourself enjoy it.” She bent down to him again, nuzzling his neck this time. Clean, soft hair spilled over his face. It smelled like honeysuckle, just as it always did, and he was transported.

“Dru, for fuck’s sake, I told you to leave him alone!” Angelus. Giles’ eyes flew open, and Jenny was lifted off him. There was something wrong about the way she looked, but he couldn’t think what it was.

Jenny twisted in Angelus’s arms. “Help! Rupert, please!” Tears ran down her face, mingling with the blood. As he stared, utterly confused, she giggled. “Save me from the nasty vampires!” He blinked hard, and for an instant saw Drusilla’s ecstatic face. Wherever Jenny was, she wasn’t here.

He had been made to think he’d drunk Jenny’s blood, and he’d been aroused by it. His stomach heaved. He sat up to be sick, and an iron bar slammed into his lower left side.

“And I told *you* not to move!” Angelus’s boot connected with his ribs and the pain exploded. Stunned, Giles was shoved over onto his back. Angelus’s left hand closed around Giles’ neck, while the right went to his belt buckle.

***

If Giles could have thrown himself sideways, he would, but strong arms held him down. He opened his eyes but took nothing in. Something had happened to Jenny. Angelus, Spike, and Dru had stolen her not once, but twice; they’d taken what they wanted, then fractured and perverted the imperfect memories that were all he’d had to hold on to. He couldn’t make them suffer as he and Jenny had, but he would kill them. He fought, and was just making progress when more people arrived, and then he could barely move at all.

***

“That’s it.” Angelus deftly unbuckled Giles’ belt. “You know, normally I’m not this way inclined, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The pain in Giles’ head was all-encompassing. He couldn’t think beyond wondering if his skull was fractured, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t resist as Angelus jerked his trousers and boxers down. “Nice ass, Giles.” Then he was pushed over onto his front again. Angelus rested cold hands on his upper back. For a few moments he remained motionless; then held Giles steady with one hand, as he trailed the other down and down.

“Don’t… please.”

“Fine. Just tell me how to wake Acathla.”

When Angelus changed his position and unfastened his own trousers, Giles fought like hell for as long as he could.

***

He screamed what he would do to Angelus – to anyone who came close. When burning sobs finally erupted, he continued to fight until remembering that he could conjure something much more effective than physical resistance. As he began to stumble through the Latin, a cool, tingling hand pressed against his forehead, and a distant voice commanded him to sleep.

***

He awoke to find his bad left hand pressed between someone else’s hands. He could feel the bones, vessels, and tissue moving of their own accord. The grip on his hand was very firm.

***

Angelus knelt beside Giles’ chair and placed a cold hand over Giles’. “Buffy tells me that you always write in longhand.” He seized Giles’ left wrist with one hand, and wrapped the other around Giles’ index finger.

***

“He’s coming to.”

Instantly, grips tightened on his arms, shoulders, legs, and head, and instinct told him to struggle. He couldn’t move his left hand away.

“Rupert?” The familiar voice stopped him. “Let go of his head, Max.” Megan sat at his left side, his hand in hers. “It’s all right. You’re here, at the coven. We’ve healed the internal injuries to the point that they’re not life-threatening anymore, and your body’s natural healing ability can take over. I’m setting the bones in your fingers now. I know it feels horrible, but I need you to keep still until it’s done, and they’re splinted. You’ll end up with crooked fingers otherwise.”

He blinked at her. “This is real?”

“This is very real.”

“I’m here?”

She looked into his eyes and smiled. “You’re definitely here.”

Five people were restraining him, and he had no idea why.

“Eva and Dan you’ve met. These guys are Max and Christopher. All of them have healing gifts. Between the severity of your injuries, and the hallucinations, I needed reinforcements. Okay?”

Giles nodded, as though his consent had actually been sought. He was still not entirely certain that he was where he seemed to be, but one thing was clear. “I need to call Buffy and Jenny while I’m lucid.” He hadn’t seen either of them since leaving the mansion. Five pairs of eyes looked down at him appraisingly, and he realised his mistake. “I mean… just Jenny… Buffy ran away, I remember.” He shifted weakly in the witches’ grasp. “Let go? Please?”

“I think… perhaps not yet,” said Megan. “You’re exhausted, Rupert. Just go to sleep. When I’m done here I’ll call Willow and find out how things are going, all right? Just rest.” That time he fell back under with nothing more than the power of suggestion.

***

He had no idea why Jenny wanted to talk about this, but was so stunned to see her that he could only follow her lead. “Get Angel away from… Acathla…”

Her hands trailed down his bruised chest. “Angel himself? He’s the key…”

That was it, they had to make sure Angel didn’t find out how to draw Acathla’s sword and complete the ritual. “His blood. He must not…”

“Shh…” She kissed him, and everything went away as the fading memory of her soft, insistent kisses became a reality again.

She pulled back. “Sorry… I was in the moment.”

Giles stopped breathing as the realisation hit. As his eyes connected with Drusilla’s, he knew that Jenny was dead. He had failed Buffy, failed himself, and probably condemned the rest of the world as well. The vampires went off to wake Acathla, and he was left alone.

***

Giles was shocked awake by the sound of hysterical laughter. Just another symptom of God knew what was wrong with him. He put his good hand over his eyes, and wept. It was unbelievable how quickly everything he’d cared about, and prided himself on, had been stripped away.

***

The room was darker now. Someone was doing something to his back. Giles gasped and stiffened as once again he felt glass bite into him; tracing the lines of old scars, reopening wounds long healed.

“Wake up, Rupert.” A careful hand massaged the back of his neck, and the room gradually came into focus. “Rupert. Stay with me. I’m just changing the dressings. Won’t be a minute.” Megan began a steady stream of undemanding chatter as she worked, occasionally requiring him to respond, and he managed not to drift off again. Whatever she was doing was painful, but nothing like as agonising as before. A few minutes later she got up and threw the old bandages into a bin, then pulled up a chair to sit facing him.

“How does it feel now?”

“Better, thank you.” He held out his good hand, and she took it in both of hers. “And thank you for bringing me here. I think I would have died.” His head throbbed, and he concentrated all his strength on staying here, in this room with Megan.

“You would’ve *let* yourself die,” she said, tracing the ridges of his knuckles with her thumb. “But that’s a conversation for another time. You need to get some rest now.”

As soon as he started to drift off, his mind would turn on itself, he knew it.

“I’ll stop in here tonight, if it’s all the same to you,” she said, indicating the armchair.

Giles smiled and nodded, grateful not to have to sacrifice his self-esteem further by asking not to be left alone.

Megan curled up in the chair, and began reading by the dim light. Now that the pain had abated, Giles began to relax. There was something in the atmosphere of the place that soothed him momentarily. The scent of sage and damp, cut grass evoked a fleeting sense of familiarity. Although counter to his nature these days, it was a relief to let someone else make the decisions for a little while. He sank into the warmth and quiet, and wondered if he would ever fully comprehend what had been ripped from him, let alone regain it.

***

“All ready to go, whenever you are.”

“Sorry… I was in the moment.”

***

Giles pulled back from the edge of sleep with a jerk and a gasp sharp enough to make his ribs protest. He felt the firm mattress beneath him even before he did yet another visual sweep of the room, trying to satisfy himself that he was where he thought he was. This was the coven, he was at the coven. He focused on his surroundings; the warmth of the room and the sound of people opening cupboards and banging saucepans downstairs. He had to remain lucid, and that plainly wasn’t going to happen if he slept. It was an impossible situation. Sooner or later, he’d have to give in and take his chance. He touched his bandages; further proof that at least the initial ordeal was over. Megan was watching him.

“All right?” she said.

He let out a breath, and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, so he shook his head.

Megan made a sympathetic noise. “Mind if I join you? I’m getting stiff in this chair, and it’s too dark to read.”

He nodded. She took a light blanket out of the cupboard and positioned herself beside him on the bed, careful not to jostle him.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he said, as she lay down beside him, half propped up on pillows. He and Jenny had never even reached this point of intimacy. How dare he be alive and taking solace from someone else, when Jenny had had no one to turn to.

They lay together quietly as the light faded from the room, and Giles tried to run through mathematical problems, poems, passages from texts he liked, and song lyrics; anything to convince himself that he was still able to process his thoughts in a rational manner. He couldn’t keep the recurrent image of Drusilla’s eyes out of his mind for long. He rubbed his eyes again in a futile attempt to erase the vision from his mind. 

“You can’t stay awake forever, kiddo,” Megan said softly, smiling slightly when he looked at her. “You’re absolutely safe here, you know. The place is warded like you wouldn’t believe. Do you remember when you came here with your mum?”

He blinked. “I’ve not been here before.”

“You have. You must have been about nine, and I was about seven. Your mum visited mine a few times on Council business, and she parked you in the study. I thought you were the cutest boy ever. You seemed so grown-up and serious. You told me some bloodcurdling stories about black magic rituals. I remember because I started crying, and you were afraid the witches would put a spell on you for upsetting me, so you hid in the basement. The door was warded so that you could get in, but not out, and it took about an hour to find you.”

Giles laughed, and winced. “Mmm. I thought this place felt familiar.” His mother had been here, and he took comfort in the knowledge that she’d known this place, and these people. “I thought… the first time we’d met was when you were attacked by vampires. I was about nineteen. Still at Oxford. Why didn’t you remind me that we’d met before?”

“I was busy being completely freaked out, and then I guess I was embarrassed that you didn’t seem to remember. You know what teenagers are like.”

He smiled. “I do. I’m sorry, I should have remembered you when you told me your name, but in my defense, I was coming home from a club, and fairly stoned. Still, it was bad form.”

He felt her shake a little with amusement, and she snuggled closer to his side. Giles froze, and then she did too. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Ah, no, I…” His heart sank as she broke the contact and moved away. He was always pushing people away.

“Oh, God. I wasn’t thinking. It’s Jenny, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s… it’s all right. Come back.” He reached out, and she carefully edged back to the way they were. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just that… it’s only been a month.” Night had truly fallen now. The cover of darkness loosened his tongue, and he said, “I haven’t slept in a bed since Jenny was killed, much less shared one.”

“You loved her very much, didn’t you? You were characteristically silent on the subject.”

“It took me a while to realise how I felt, and then I didn’t know how much you’d want to hear.”

“I don’t think I knew myself.”

“I’m sorry this is such an awkward situation. I should’ve let Xander take me to the hospital as soon as we got out of the mansion.”

“No, you did the right thing. The hospital might have been able to deal with the physical problems, but I don’t know if I could’ve prevented them from giving you anti-psychotics, which would’ve been disastrous to mix with the kind of mystical energy disruptions you’re having. To what extent these hallucinations are a direct psychosomatic reaction to the shock and stress, as opposed to the corrupt energies that the vampires and Willow forced on you, I’m not sure.”

“Neither am I.” He remembered Willow’s magic coursing through him, the malignant burn of it, revealing an aptitude for darkness he’d grievously underestimated. “How did you know about Willow?”

“Her energies were so heightened when I arrived, they were quite easy to sense; and I can sense their presence in you, to a much lesser degree. When you’re stronger, your power will subsume hers.”

“I warned her that doing that spell could open a door she might not be able to close, but I wasn’t there, and none of the others could have done it. Willow’s not powerful or experienced enough to be a vessel for black magic, but she had no choice.”  

“She’s not as powerful as you, but she’s pretty damn close. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I haven’t taught her enough… or perhaps I’ve taught her too much. It never occurred to me that she’d be the one to restore Angel’s soul. I was going to do it.”

“After Angelus killed Jenny, you would still have done that for him?”

“I would’ve done it *for* Buffy. I would’ve done it *to* Angelus. The way he gloated over Jenny’s death… I wanted him to loathe himself for it… and for that he’d need a soul.”

“Have you and Buffy spoken about what Angelus did to Jenny?”

“No. It’s beyond talking about, really.”

“Have you spoken about it to anyone?”

“No.” He’d so far been able to deflect Willow’s well-meaning attempts to practice high school psychology.

“Would you like to?”

“No.” His eyes kept closing. He was having to shift around to stay awake.

“Well, that’s that, then,” said Megan. He didn’t rise to the provocation, so she changed the subject. “You’re doing well. This is the longest you’ve gone without a hallucination. Why don’t you try and get some more sleep now." Even the mention of it made him tense. “Any sign of anything untoward, and I’ll wake you, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

He was out before she’d finished speaking, and though she had to wake him from intermittent nightmares, he more or less managed to sleep through the night.

***

As Megan tended his back the next morning, Giles reluctantly began what he strongly suspected would descend into a battle of wills.

“I have to go back to Sunnydale today.” She didn’t reply, and he went on, “I wish I could spend some more time with you, but I have to be there for Buffy. And if she doesn’t come back, I’ll have to look for her. In the meantime, the others are going to need help with the slaying. The vampires will be bolder than ever once they realise Buffy isn’t around.” He sat up slowly and carefully, the bandages pulling at his wounds.

Megan sighed, and got up to put the first aid kit back on the dresser. “I’ve spoken to Willow, and warned her about her magics. I’ve told her they’re not to attempt any spells or slaying till you or Buffy get back, and she agreed. She was worried about you, more than anything. I said you’d speak to her later, and that you’ll be here for a while, not sure how long. Apart from anything else, it’s going to take you quite some time to recover from the blood loss.”

Giles shook his head and pushed down the anger and frustration that was threatening to make him say or do something idiotic. She was only trying to help, and he wasn’t making it any easier, but no one was going to dictate his movements. “If one of my friends gets killed because I’m not there… Don’t give me that look, I’ll do as I please.”

“Why don’t we talk about this later?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“You mean there’s nothing you *want* to discuss.”

He opened his mouth, and she stopped him with a gesture. “I know you’re angry and upset about all sorts of things, but you did not create the situation you’re in; neither is there anything you can do about it in your current condition. You need to calm down. I’m not going to argue with you. Your injuries are such that I’m not even worried about you taking off the moment my back is turned. I’d challenge you to walk to the door, but believe me when I say we’d both be sorry if you try to pull something like that.”

There was a thick silence, until he ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “You’re adequate as a healer, but as a person you leave something to be desired.”

She smiled. “I love you too, you incorrigible prat.”

He met her eyes, and any other time he would have drawn her to him and kissed her. Even if Jenny had been alive, his relationship with Megan was such that he wouldn’t have felt it was a betrayal, but as it was, he simply said, “Does the Council know I’m here?”

An expression he couldn’t bring himself to read crossed her face, then was gone, and she said, “No. They should be informed, but I’ll give it a couple of days, see if everything sorts itself out without bringing them into it.”

“Don’t call them. They’d send a replacement watcher and the most highly trained potentials to take over. Once they start digging around, they’ll come up with a list of charges against Buffy and I that’s as long as your arm.” He rubbed his eyes. “Desertion; dereliction of duty; consorting with vampires; incompetence; withholding information; civilian endangerment; civilian involvement with black magic rituals and spells; endangerment of minors… and whatever else Travers can think of. He’d have Buffy and I pulled from active service. At least.” He needed some air. “I’m going to get dressed and go outside.” No arguments.

***

Giles had been appalled by how weak he was when Dan and Christopher had pulled him to his feet and had to hold him there. They’d more or less carried him downstairs as he did his best to conceal the extent to which he regretted the decision to leave his room. They eased him down onto one of the smooth stone benches backing onto the rough, tawny stone of the house, and left him in peace to compose himself. He tried to clear his mind, to hear the cooing of the doves in the eaves of the house, the breeze moving softly through the leaves of the huge oak and chestnut trees, and the water as it tumbled over stones in the river running by at the bottom of the hill; to smell the herb garden, the damp grass, the smoke, and even the exhaust from traffic going by on the main road. To be where he was.

Megan appeared a few minutes later with a mug of tea and a plate of toast.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said after a while, “but perhaps next time we could just meet up in a restaurant or something.”

She grinned. “Sounds like a plan.” They were quiet for a while, and then she said, “You scared me yesterday. As I said last night, I’ve never really allowed myself to dwell on the possibility of what could happen to you… That I might lose you.” He looked at her, and watched as colour rushed to her cheeks. “You were incredibly brave.”

He was as surprised at this last as much as he was by the way she changed the subject so rapidly. “What makes you say that?”

“The way you held out when you knew that you were probably going to be killed, or worse. The way you put Buffy’s, and everyone’s, life before yours.”

“I’m responsible for all of them.”

“That’s debatable; but leaving that aside, you’re a mere mortal. It took a hell of a lot of courage for you to withstand physical and psychological torture, and then refuse your friends’ attempts to help, just so that you could be there should your slayer have reported in and needed your support.”

“There was nothing else I could do at that point. A slayer’s watcher is her biggest asset, and her biggest liability. I know all that she does, much more, in fact; and, as I lack her strength, I’m an easier target. I have the information needed to bring Buffy down, and I’m the perfect bait; the slayer needs her watcher. Once or twice I tried to get Angelus to kill me before he could make me talk.” He made a noise of disgust. “My mind was broken in no time at all, and all it took was…”

“Jenny?” When he frowned, she added, “Xander told me. You also talked a bit during the hallucinations.”

His stomach lurched, and he wondered how much she knew but wasn’t telling. “Drusilla. I can’t believe I was so bloody weak. Mind control is absolutely standard procedure with vampires.”

“And that’s supposed to make it easier to resist? When you’ve sustained near-fatal injuries and are psychologically shattered?” Megan reached out and lightly stroked her fingers over his knuckles where he was clutching the bench as though afraid he would float away. “Besides which, Angelus knew that you were grieving badly, and that you were more vulnerable, and perhaps less cautious, than you might otherwise have been. It was only a few weeks ago that you went for him with a flaming baseball bat.”

“For Christ’s sake, is there *anything* you don’t know?”

She stared at him for a moment, stung. “Willow and Xander told me. They wanted me to know as much as possible about what’s happened lately so that I can help you, that’s all.”

Jenny was dead. No amount of talking would bring her back; he was just going to have to ride it out, and he didn’t need to provide Megan with any more reason to believe he was a failure as a watcher, a friend, and a man. “Well, I don’t need you to analyse me! I’ve told you, I don’t want to talk about it.” He had to get away, or else break down in front of her. He stood up quickly and barely had a chance to register the intensity of the pain before everything went black.

***

“Buffy tells me you were quite the hell-raiser in your youth,” said Angelus. “She said you called demons forth all the time; even let one possess you. Is that true? I mean, you’ll have to excuse my surprise, but you don’t seem the type.” Angelus dropped to one knee in front of him, eyes wide and unblinking with excitement. “Would you like another taste, for old times’ sake?”

“No.” Angelus couldn’t possess him; he didn’t have a soul.

“So you did do that shit. Interesting. I’ll bet there’s a part of you that burns to do it again. You’ve just forgotten what you’re missing.” Angelus covered Giles’ eyes with his hand.

The transformation took no time at all; the heat and buzzing in his head, the chill in his hands and feet, the sickening rearrangement of bones and muscles and teeth. The hunger overriding the rising terror. The searing rage and lust. The hand was removed, and Angelus stood in the centre of the room. Jenny struggled in the vampires’ embrace. Giles wanted nothing more than to take her, body and soul. To fuck her and drink her and kill her and have her bound to him forever.

He twisted and pulled at the ropes holding him in place. “She was mine! Give her back!”

Angelus’s eyes gleamed in the flickering half-light. “Or else what?” 

Giles surged forward, still tied to the chair, and landed heavily on the floor. He might have hurt himself, but felt nothing, was driven only by the mindless craving for the woman. His legs scrabbled for purchase on the slippery slate tiles as he tried to get closer by pushing himself along on his side. Angelus stepped forward and braced one heavy boot on his shoulder, stopping him. “Tell me how to wake Acathla, and she’s all yours. If you tell me now, you can have the others, too.” He pointed to a corner where Buffy lay, gagged and bound by chains; and another where Megan sat, staring at him with a look of utter disbelief and revulsion.

“Untie me!”

“Tell me how to complete the ritual.”

“Give them to me!”

“Tell me how to complete the ritual.”

But Giles couldn’t think, couldn’t recall anything over the hot buzzing in his head, and the craving for the women and the kill. He tried to get to his feet, but each time Angelus kicked his legs from under him. He struggled frantically with his bonds until his wrists were raw, and his hands were wet and sticky. Finally, Angelus scowled, knelt in front of him once again, and covered his eyes.

***

When Giles could see again, he was staring up past blurry faces, through a dark canopy of leaves silhouetted against the sky beyond. He fought wildly with the people surrounding him, holding him down, as he tried to get an arm free to touch his face, to feel for bumps or fangs. More and more people piled onto him even as he screamed at them to let him go.

“Sleep spell? Megan?”

“No, he’d go right back into the hallucination!”

“Get off me!” As he managed to free himself for a moment, Giles lashed out and tried to make the blow count; he was too weak to fight for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Watch his wrists and his left hand!”

“Christ almighty, there’s blood on the ground. He’s bleeding again!”

Giles kicked and hit out at them as they tried to turn him over. He felt the chill of hands on his back again.

***

“This is a *very* nice ass, Giles. Did Jenny ever get to see it?”

“She’s mine! Give her to me!”

Angelus jerked Jenny’s head to the side, baring her neck. “You want it so bad, don’t you?”

***

“Yes… No! Get the fuck off me!” Still he fought; the survival instinct was stronger than anything.

Finally, as his strength began to fail, someone placed hands either side of his face and held it still, narrowing his focus. “Rupert, what are you trying to do? What do you want your arm for?”

“Let go of my fuckin’ arm!” As he spoke, he had that disoriented, neither here nor there feeling, and tried to remember what he did want that arm for.

“We will, as soon as you stop thrashing around. What is it that you want to do?”

He stared the speaker, a target for his frustration, and realised it was Megan. Megan, Buffy, and Jenny. Then he remembered. “My face! Vampire?”

“No, you’re not a vampire – it was just a hallucination. Rupert, listen to me; you’re not a vampire…” She turned to someone else. “Let go of his right arm.”

His good arm was released, but that was all. Megan took his hand in hers, and pressed it to his face. The skin was smooth, apart from the stubble, and his teeth were normal. He stopped fighting as hysteria gave way to overwhelming relief and tiredness.

“There, see, you’re fine. It’s all right now. You’re awake again, and everything’s going to be all right. Just take some slow, deep breaths and try to relax.” Megan kept hold of Giles’ shaking hand, twining her fingers through his, and spoke softly to him, calming him down still further. The madness was draining away, but the memory of it smothered him. He shook violently, terrified by the extent to which his own mind could turn on itself, and stricken with guilt at the despicable threads that Angelus had pulled to weave such a devastatingly personal illusion. Everyone held their positions for quite some time, until Megan was satisfied that the episode had passed, and the others could go.

***

“I really am here, aren’t I?” he said at last, still lying flat on his back in the grass. His throat was sore from screaming. “This is real?”

“This is very real, Rupert. Everything else is simply your mind recalibrating itself after some extremely traumatic experiences. I’m convinced of that now; and unfortunately, that's why I can't just make the hallucinations stop. They’re a part of the healing process as well as a symptom of psychological dysfunction. Your mind will heal itself, but it will need a little help from you; and you’ll need help from other people. But you’ll be okay, I promise you.”

“You don’t know that. Angelus said that he would take me to the edge of madness, and let me carry myself over. Perhaps he succeeded. Or perhaps all the magics I’ve had poured into me have done something to my brain chemistry.”

“I don’t think so.”

He shook his head. “You can’t be certain.”

“I’ve a confession to make,” she said carefully. “I entered your mind that time.”

*No*.

Megan helped him as he struggled to sit up in the long grass, feeling the burning pain in his back for the first time since coming to. “I’m sorry; I knew you wouldn’t want it, but you were so out of control, there was nothing else to be done. I was going to try to bring you out of it gently, but you came to before I could do it.”

“You saw… that?”

She nodded.

“Then I’m the one who’s sorry.”  He forced himself to look her in the eye. “Really.”

“It was a hallucination, love. You’re not responsible for everything your subconscious throws at you. And the way you envisioned me looking at you bears absolutely no resemblance to how I actually feel about you. I love you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m just trying to get my head around where you’ve been the past few years… as are you, it seems.” She returned his smile, and quickly moved around behind him to lift the back of his t-shirt and assess the damage.

“Even so, I’m sorry for what you saw and felt. And for everything you haven’t seen, that Angelus cobbled together to make me behave that way.” His mouth quirked humourlessly. “I suppose Willow’s right. I’ve far too many ‘unresolved issues’.”

“You think?”

He looked round at her, and was greatly relieved to see her grin. Even the fact that she was laughing at him now made him feel better, an indication that she wasn’t as worried about him as she’d been a few minutes ago, and, therefore, he could be a little less worried as well. At least, for the time being. He could hear the breeze through the leaves again, and the river as it flowed.

***

That afternoon, Giles and Megan sat side by side on the stone bench by the house. He felt drawn to the river, but there was no way he could get down there, and were he to try, he was quite sure he’d be accompanied by five or six witches who suddenly had nothing better to do.

Megan looked up from braiding a long blade of grass. “I don’t know how you do it. Hold it all in like that.”

After a moment he said, “Goes with the job.” They smiled slightly at one another.

She indicated his left arm. “That tattoo says a lot about you.”

He grunted.

“You let your friends and your slayer get away with murder, sometimes literally. But you never let yourself off the hook. Not really.”

“If you’re talking about Randall, that *was* my fault insofar as I could’ve stopped him, and I didn’t.”

“I’m talking about Jenny and Buffy; and your incredible capacity for assuming responsibility for people who are old enough and silly enough to make their own mistakes.”

“It goes with the job,” he repeated.

“No, I’ve met plenty of watchers, and they can be fairly pathologically detached, some of them. But you take good care of people. You always have. I’m just not convinced that they’ve always returned the favour.”

“Buffy does what she can. Slayers have to maintain a degree of professional detachment at least as much as their watchers do.”

“Are you angry with her for running away?”

“I can hardly blame her for doing the same thing I did around her age. She’s only seventeen.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I forget that. Joyce… her mother… will be beside herself.” Then it hit him; Megan was a seer. “Can you help me locate her?”

“Not from this distance. Probably not at all, as she doesn’t have mystical energy for me to lock on to.”

“Right.”

“Are you angry with Buffy?”

“I know it’s not rational, but… yeah, of course. Bloody furious. It’s a stupid, thoughtless, dangerous, irresponsible thing she’s done. ”

“And a bit hurt, perhaps, that she’d leave you, knowing the state you were in.”

“That too. Either she’s not as bothered about me as I thought; or something’s happened that I need to know about. But I won’t know which it is until I find her.” He shifted restlessly. “I have to get back there as soon as possible.”

“But what about you?”

“What do you mean?” he said, willfully obtuse, allowing anger to take precedence over everything else. “I’ve no choice but to go on. The battle against evil can’t come to a crashing halt because the slayer’s watcher lost his girlfriend and got butchered and buggered by a vampire...” He looked at her defiantly, knowing that the roughness of his words had taken her aback. He shook his head. “Which was humiliating, as it was meant to be; but objectively, it wasn’t any worse than being injured in any other way. In fact it was less painful than some of the other things he came up with. Rape was just another means by which Angelus could assert his physical dominance. I didn’t take anything he did personally. The possibility of torture is an occupational hazard for watchers, as is losing the people they love. Anyone near to the slayer or her people is a potential target.”

Megan’s temper rose to meet his. “Sod the occupation and objectivity, Rupert! What about what *you* need? There *will* be further psychological fallout from all this, and the more you deny that, the worse it’ll be. You’ve been feeling it since Jenny was killed, and you’ve endured trauma upon trauma since then.”

“No one can give me what I need.” His hopes had died with Jenny. They might have died anyway, once she’d found out all the things he’d been waiting for the right time to tell her.

They sat in silence until Megan asked, “What was Jenny like?”

He tried to think of how to describe her, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew his voice would crack, so he simply shook his head.

“What you really need is time.”

“I can’t take that, either.”

“You can, and you will. Or you’ll be right back here in a couple of days, but I won’t be able to help you. Normally I don’t tell critical patients how close they came to dying, but in your case, I don’t know what else will get through. You’ve nearly died a couple of times since you got here. No one specific cause; as I said, your injuries were complicated, still aren’t fully healed, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. The psychosomatic stress that your mind places on your body during the hallucinations is dangerous as well, given your current condition. Rupert.” He raised his eyes from the water to her. “Are you listening?”

He smiled. “Of course. I always listen to you.”

She let that go. “I’m just trying to work out why you feel the need to take care of everyone else, and never let anyone help you… Forgive my elementary psychology, but I can’t help wondering if it’s related to the sides of yourself that you’ve locked away, in order to do your job? The parts that Angelus used? Sometimes it seems as if you live in a perpetual state of atonement. I mean, from what Willow said, you were practically suicidal after Jenny was killed – ” He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. “Let me finish. You completely gave yourself over to rage and grief, which scared the hell out of those kids, and you’d have been dead before anyone knew it, if Buffy hadn’t gone after you. You’ve always had this ability to be infinitely calm, then snap spectacularly. I’m a bit concerned about how you’re going to try to atone for Buffy, if… or when…. something happens to her. And I’m even more concerned about how you’re going to deal with the aftermath of what Angelus has done, and the parts of yourself that he’s forced you to confront.”

“Megan…” Her eyes were tearing up.

“I know you think it’s bad enough that I was in your mind in the first place, let alone trying to make you unburden yourself about what I saw there, which is absolutely none of my business; but physical and psychological abuse isn’t the kind of thing you should have to cope with on your own. I want to help, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

He put his good arm around her and pulled her to him. “Don’t be daft.”

Giles held her until she pulled back. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes. I’m truly relieved that you still feel that way after what you saw; and I assure you that I can manage just fine.” Megan was shaking her head, but he ploughed on, “That’s all I *can* say at this point. I’ve never stopped loving you, and that’s all I can say about *that* at this point as well.”

“You still love me?”

He lapsed into a grin. “Of course I do, you stupid woman.”

“This is awkward. Bad timing and all that.”

“Yes, cataclysmically bad.”

“And I really don’t think you *can* cope on your own.”

He wrapped his right arm around her and felt her relax into him, conscious of his injuries. “I’m not going to try to cope on my own.” After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed the top of her head very lightly. “Not any more. I’ll call you when I’m in Sunnydale. You can tell me about your day, and I’ll tell you if I’m about to start frothing at the mouth.”

She took his hand in hers. “Not funny.”

“No, it isn’t, but that’s the way it has to be for now. I’ll have Willow and Xander babysit me for a bit, and I will call you. All right?”

Megan nodded against his chest, and hugged him a little tighter. “I’d like that.”

End.