Title: See and Believe
Author: LadyForASH
Rated: FRAO
Pairing: GB
Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I own nothing and make no profit.

A/N: This is for clavally. She wanted season 3, hurt/comfort, Buffy's way hurt from a fight, death's door kinda thing and Giles takes her in to heal her and take care of her.
Thank you to wide_rider for the beta!

It had been quite a traumatic year, Buffy thought. Her birthdays were commonly sucky, but none more sucky than turning eighteen. Becoming a woman was always difficult, but how many young women were betrayed by the person they loved most, and almost killed, all at the same time on their eighteenth birthday? Then, they find out that this person they've loved, they thought they loved in vain, but find out that the love is returned? A flash of joy. Oh, but no... it's a `father's love.' Not quite what she was looking for. Father's disappoint. Father's betray. Oh wait... Giles had betrayed her.

Or had he? In the end, Buffy came to realize that perhaps it wasn't totally his fault. He was bound by duty, and Buffy really thought that the Council had betrayed Giles, leading him to believe that this test was good for her. It was to her benefit in the end.

They'd been wrong. But at her bleakest moment, a ray of hope. Giles loved her! In that moment, she'd forgiven him for all that had happened. It hadn't hardly even registered to her that Giles had been fired.

But now that thought was starting to penetrate her mind. They hadn't spoken since all that had happened the night before. Buffy was still sore, but her powers had fully returned. As she patrolled tonight, it was routine. She was doing it out of habit. She had to clear her mind and think about what all these changes meant. Her mother and friends had urged her to take the rest of the weekend off to recover and rest. Her Watcher probably would have said the same, if she'd spoken to him. Her avoidance of him wasn't due to being angry or hurt though. She just hadn't decided what to do yet. If it was just a `father's love,'... Buffy sighed and hopped up and over a tombstone. If it was just a father's love, could that be enough?

The blow came out of nowhere. Buffy had been focused internally. On a patrol, that lack of concentration could prove deadly. A horrific pain shattered through her brain and sent her spine vibrating through her entire body. Blood began to flow from the back of her head where the weapon, a shovel perhaps, had connected. Buffy fell to her knees. Her eyes closed and the darkness took over. The pain was unrelenting as her blood coated the cemetery ground.

* * *

Giles didn't remember the last time he'd slept. Before the Cruciamentum he'd been too nervous and outraged to rest at all. When he wasn't arguing with the Council about how brutal and unnecessary the test was, he was trying to figure out the best way to help Buffy at the same time. He almost told her about it several times. In the end, he'd performed the test, and wished he'd have killed himself instead. At the last moment, he'd rushed to his Slayer's aid. He'd have given his own life to protect her. It had never ever occurred to him that he could be fired. He was her Watcher. They had a bond. He couldn't just be replaced, could he?

He poured himself another drink from the bottle of Scotch and continued to pace in front of the unlit fireplace. He'd worry about being fired later. Maybe that was even for the best, especially if Buffy could never forgive him. He couldn't forgive himself, how could she forgive him? He sipped from his drink and gave an anguished sounding sigh. Slamming the glass onto the hearth he moved his hands to his hair, running his fingers through it, leaving it unruly and wild. Why hadn't she spoken to him? They hardly went a day without seeing each other at school, or talking before or after a patrol, or at least a phone call to check in. But it had been two days and nights now, and he'd heard nothing from her.

Communication went both ways. Giles knew that. He could seek her out. He could pick up his phone and call her. But he felt like it was her turn to knock on the door. His door was always open to her. She knew that. He was always waiting for her, caring for her, loving her, worrying over her... wanting her.

Again he paced. A father's love? Bah. It was so much deeper and emotional. It was a soul's yearning love. He'd known it for some time, but had kept that buried deep within himself. Buffy was a glorious flower in bloom, and he was... he was like a huge Oak tree, watching over her and keeping the burning sun from withering her petals. If only he could bend down and caress her. Yet, watching over her had been enough. Until now. Now he had ruined everything, and she would never trust him again. Loving him had always been a fanciful, stupid dream, but at least he'd had her trust and friendship. Now, he felt empty inside. His heart was breaking. And the worst of it was that he knew he deserved it. Fired? Who cared? That was nothing compared to the pain of losing her trust.

He emptied his glass and set it back down on the coffee table. His eyes kept drifting to the phone. It was late. Well past midnight. But it wasn't like they'd never called each other at this late hour many times before.

Finally deciding, Giles sank down in the hard chair behind his desk. He picked up the phone, closed his eyes, and dialed her number.

It rang only once before it was quickly picked up and Joyce's voice came over the line. "Buffy?"

Giles' eyes came open. "No, this is Rupert Giles. Is... is Buffy not there?"

"Oh, Mr. Giles... no, she went on a patrol," Joyce's worried voice said. "We all tried to talk her out of it. She wasn't herself. But she wouldn't listen! You know how stubborn she can be. But she's usually home by now."

Giles swallowed the lump in his throat. When on a patrol, unless something had gone wrong, Buffy had usually called to inform him by now, even on a weekend. "Do you know where she was going?" he asked.

"No, she just left. She didn't take her bag or even a jacket," Joyce cried.

"I'll go look for her," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Giles. Please bring her home safely." Joyce knew if anyone could find Buffy, it was Giles. She didn't know a lot about the man that mentored to her daughter, but she knew that much.

"I will. You have my word." Giles hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket and a sword all in one movement. He was out the door before another minute passed.

He wasn't exactly sure where she would be heading, but he knew that last week she'd been scouring the Restlawn Cemetery, so he headed in that direction.

It was dark. There wasn't even a sliver of moon in the sky. He shivered and pulled the jacket tighter around him, his sword still in his left hand. Giles glanced around, looking for his Slayer and keeping his ears open. He didn't want to yell out her name and call attention to her in case that put her into danger. If there was a fight, he'd hear something. But all he heard was complete and utter silence.

When he reached the boundary of Restlawn, the gate was wide open. Cautiously he stepped onto the grounds. It was a relatively small cemetery in comparison to a lot of the others in Sunnydale. Probably because it was one of the newest, and he was certain its capacity would fill in no time. Not if Buffy could help it, however.

Giles froze when he heard a noise. A scraping? It sounded like the sounds of a shovel turning up the cold Earth. When he saw a shadow moving up ahead, he slowly made his way closer, crouching down and keeping himself as hidden as he could behind the tombstones.

It was some kind of demon, and he was indeed digging into the Earth, creating a fresh grave where there was no tombstone. Giles knew this was not a regular cemetery caretaker, however. Leaning over the concrete cross grave marker, Giles narrowed his focus. Lying at the demon's feet was a body. His breath sucked in and rage filled his vision. Blonde hair, black boots... he felt before he saw that it was Buffy. He gripped his sword in both hands and leapt over the marker, screaming a guttural cry. The sword was held over his head, and before the demon even knew what end was up, the blade severed its head. The demon's eyes went blank as the head rolled into the hole it had been digging for the Slayer. Giles didn't stop. He pushed the demon into the half dug hole, pummeling it with the blade over and over again. Only when there was nothing left but a bloody pulp did he throw down the sword and fall to his knees. "Buffy?"

Her blood covered her clothing and the soil. His fingers sought out a pulse in her neck. She was lying face down, and he was afraid to move her. He gave out a strangled cry when he felt a very weak pulse, and felt her breath on his fingers. She was alive.

Giles stripped off his jacket and pressed it to the wide gash on the back of her head. It seemed to already have stopped bleeding. Any mere mortal would have certainly bled to death, but Buffy's healing powers had begun to already close the angry gash. She had lost a lot of blood, however. "Buffy, Buffy, I have you now. You're going to be okay. Everything, everything is going to be okay." Giles wasn't certain if he was trying to calm her, or himself. Since she wasn't conscious, the question was mostly rhetorical.

After carefully examining her body for broken bones, Giles gently rolled her over. Nothing appeared to be broken, thankfully. Her eyes were closed and she was pasty white. She'd lost a lot of blood. "I'll get you to hospital," he whispered. He gathered her into his arms and stood up. Her small body was cradled tenderly in his arms, her face turning to rest against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and then realized he'd left the sword on the ground. Slowly he knelt down again, not moving Buffy, and snaked out one arm to grab his sword. Awkwardly he pushed it into the sheath on his back and then slowly stood back up again.

"No hospital," Buffy whispered.

His heart almost stopped at the sound of her voice. "Buffy? You've lost too much blood."

"No hospital." Her voice was so weak, yet very determined. He knew better than to argue with her. "Please, Giles..." Her eyes blinked up at him for a moment before closing once again. She lost consciousness and her face again turned in to rest against his chest. He was surprised his racing heart didn't cause her head to move up and down in his embrace.

Giles had cared for his Slayer plenty of times after she'd been hurt in a battle. He knew how to perform first aid at more than a rudimentary level. But he had no way to determine if she'd need a blood transfusion, nor any way to perform such a procedure. He just hoped her healing powers prevented such urgency. Carrying her in his arms, he walked back to his home.

He'd left in such a hurry he hadn't bothered to lock his door. Shifting his burden, he found the doorknob with one hand and entered the house. He gently laid her down on the sofa before quickly going over and locking the door. Turning back around, he looked at Buffy carefully. She appeared to just be sleeping, if it wasn't for the crusted blood covering her skin and clothing, and the paleness of her skin. She was almost translucent in the gentle lighting of his flat. The blood in her veins stood out in stark contrast to the ivory color of her skin. Giles swallowed hard and then went into his bathroom to gather supplies to care for her. When he was done cleaning her and caring for her wounds, he'd call Joyce. And then, he'd wait, watching over his Slayer. It was more than his duty. It was his hear

* * *

The morning sun streaming in slowly graced Buffy's face. Her body was beginning to stiffen and she winced as she blinked. A piercing explosion of pain rippled up from her spine to shoot out of the front of her head at the merest movement, so she quickly refrained from sitting up further and closed her eyes again for a moment. She took a slow, deep and calming breath and then focused her eyes on the man slumped in the chair across from the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. His head was lolled back against the back of the leather chair and his glasses were resting beside him on the table. He looked haggard and worn out and it was obvious he hadn't shaved in a couple of days.

He must have felt her examination because his eyes opened and he lifted his head to look at her. "Buffy? How are you feeling?"

Buffy watched him rub his red rimmed eyes and reach for his glasses. He looked as if he'd been crying, but it was probably just his exhaustion. Still, she could have sworn those were tear tracks drying on his cheeks. "Water?" her voice cracked.

"Certainly." There was a pitcher with two glasses on the table and he poured her half a glass before standing up and coming around the table. He stood awkwardly in front of the sofa and handed her the glass, carefully studying her face.

"Thanks." She again winced as she sat up, and he quickly bent down to help her sit up straighter. "Easy, you have a concussion at the very least."

Buffy took a small sip of water and then gave him a wry little smile. "You know all about those, huh?"

He blushed and slowly nodded. "Yes. I have some pain pills if you want them, but you should try and eat something first."

"I'll be okay," she said softly, watching his face. "Thank you."

He nodded and took the glass, setting it on the coffee table. He stood there as if he didn't know what to do or say next.

There was something off. Buffy was worried about him. She reached out and placed her fingers in his. "You were crying," she said softly.

Something broke on his face then. He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. He hated breaking like this in front of her. He had to be strong for her. She was the injured party. He was afraid she'd die! And the last time they'd been together, he'd betrayed her!

Buffy pulled on his arm. "Please sit down, Giles. Next to me. It... hurts to look up like this."

He quickly sat down next to her on the sofa, surprised when she would not let go of his hand.

"I'm okay, Giles. Honestly. You saved me. Please, don't worry, okay?"

"Oh, Buffy. I always... worry about you." He moved his glasses back onto the coffee table so he could rub at his eyes with his free hand. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you." And he wasn't just talking about her injury.

"You could never lose me," she said softly. "Giles, please, look at me."

He turned his head and his sad eyes found hers. The expression on his face cut into Buffy's soul. He looked so sad and defeated. With her other hand, she slowly reached up and ran her fingers softly over his unshaven cheek. "You love me," she stated.

His eyes widened slightly but then he nodded. "Yes," he whispered. His face turned into her touch and he again closed his eyes, yearning for her comfort and love.

"I know. Now, I know," Buffy said softly. "Giles, look at me. Please, Giles."

Slowly he opened his eyes, still nuzzling her palm and seeking her warming touch.

"Can't you see it in my eyes?" She implored.

His head turned a bit more and he studied her face. He didn't see what he'd been agonizing over for the last couple of days. There was no anger, no animosity, no betrayal on her face. Instead, her eyes shown with compassion and... dare he believe it, love? He leaned closer and his fingers entwined with hers tightened.

"I love you too," she said softly, smiling a little at him. "That's what I was thinking about on patrol. It was my fault, Giles. You taught me better than that. I wasn't paying attention, because I was trying to figure out how to make you love me more than... more than... like a father." He opened his mouth to speak but she moved her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "But now I see. Now I see you and your love. It's... more and everything." Her soft fingers caressed his velvety lips. He opened his mouth and took one of her fingers inside, his tongue tasting her, sucking gently, but his eyes never left her face. He told her everything with his eyes that he'd wanted to tell her for so long. His body responded, wanting to show her, yearning towards her, aching to fill her up and make them whole.

Finally he had to speak. "Buffy," he said, still holding onto her fingers gently between his lips. "Luv, I... I'm so sorry. I betrayed you, and I betrayed myself."

"No, Giles. You were doing what you thought was the right thing to protect me," Buffy argued. "I know that. I forgive you, and I love you, and... it's over, okay? That's all over now." She released her hand and moved her other arm around him, pulling him closer. He was afraid of hurting her but had no choice really as she pulled him down and he rested his head on her chest. Her fingers moved to caress the back of his neck and to run her fingers through his hair. "I forgive you, and I love you."

All of Giles' pent up emotions came out then, as uncontrolled sobs racked his body and his tears dampened Buffy's shirt. Buffy cried with him. They both needed the release. It was a mixture of relief and gratefulness that bonded them even closer together.

Once they quieted they continued to hold each other close. Soon, Buffy fell asleep, her hands still on Giles' face and neck. He smiled softly, kissed one fingertip, and slowly eased himself out of her embrace.

He removed himself to the kitchen to make some scrambled eggs and tea. Buffy did need to eat. Eventually she'd probably want to shower too, although he'd helped her into clean sweats and a t-shirt last night before she'd again passed out into sleep. He was fairly certain now that physically she'd be okay.

Perhaps he should have felt like a huge weight was off of his shoulders now. She forgave him. She said that she returned his love. Giles wasn't totally naïve, however, when it came to head wounds. She still wasn't entirely herself, and a part of him wasn't yet completely in belief that his love was returned. Not completely. Not wholly. Yet he couldn't refute what he'd seen in her eyes.

Mostly, however, he just felt drained, with perhaps a spark of hope needling at his soul. If nothing else, he was determined to make this into a fresh start for him and his Slayer. The Council could bloody well go to Hell.

* * *

"I really want to wash my hair."

Giles jumped. He was still in the kitchen, finishing the eggs when Buffy's voice startled him. She was standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, giving him an amused look. He turned off the stove and set the pan aside, grabbing up a dish towel to wipe off his hands. He gave her a smile. She was looking stronger. "Alright. I can removed the bandage, but we should probably replace it when you are done."

"Okay," she said softly. She went into the kitchen and turned with her back to him, holding her head.

Without a word Giles put down the towel and studied the bandage. He removed it as gently as he could, trying not to hurt her too much. "It's healing nicely. I was afraid..."

"No stitches for the Chosen One," Buffy teased. "It's still awful tender though, but my headache is better."

"Good." He put the bandage remains into the trash can and washed his hands again. When he turned around he gave a surprised little sound when Buffy's arms circled his waist. She hugged him closely, not saying anything. Just hugging him. His arms moved around her. "Buffy..." Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips.

She leaned up and kissed his chin. "Save me some eggs." And then she was gone, and he heard the water running in the shower. And then he envisioned her in the shower and had to adjust his trousers. "Bloody hell," he murmured.

He busied himself setting the table and pouring some tea. He called Joyce again and told her that Buffy was healing well, and would probably be home later. Yes, he promised he'd have Buffy call her mother soon. He was just hanging up the phone when Buffy emerged from the bathroom. Her skin was pink from the heat of the shower, and her hair still a bit damp. She was wearing the gray sweat pants and white t-shirt he'd given her the night before. Because her skin was still damp, the shirt clung to her, and it was quite obvious to him she wore no bra. He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, nodding towards the table. "Breakfast is served."

Buffy wasn't ignorant. She knew he'd been staring, and she'd quite liked it. Her body wasn't just warm from the shower. If she wasn't so sore, she'd have already jumped him by now. She knew he wanted her. She'd felt it when they were on the sofa together. Buffy could be impulsive, but with Giles, she wanted more. He meant everything to her. This had to be special. It was too soon. She didn't want to rush into it and ruin everything. Yet, all the tension and pain that had been between them this last year had all fallen away.

She joined him at the table and picked up her tea, sipping easily before picking up her fork to dive into her eggs. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, and found herself starving.

"I promised your mother that you'd phone her," Giles said. "She was really worried about you."

Buffy nodded. "I'm sure she was. I'll call her later." Buffy didn't want to talk about her mom. She wanted to talk about how her body was tingling, and how it sort of amused her how Giles would give her chest little covert glances, and then in the next instance not be looking at her at all.

Giles, for his part, was cursing at himself mentally. Buffy was healing after nearly dying. They'd just been through a terrible ordeal with the Council. Yet here he sat with a raging hard on, thinking of only how Buffy's nipples would taste through the cotton of that t-shirt. He reached for his tea cup, and accidentally knocked it over, spilling the hot liquid all over the table cloth. "Dammit!"

Buffy went to jump up, but then winced and grabbed her head. He gave her a sorrowful look and grabbed at some napkins to clean up his spill. "I'm sorry, Buffy." He mopped up the mess and tossed the damp napkins onto the counter. "You should lie down again after breakfast. Are you sure you don't want any pain pills?"

"No, Giles. I don't like how they make me feel and... and I want to be clear and focused so we can... talk more." She licked her lips and pushed her empty plate away.

Giles sighed and pushed his own plate away, facing her and looking her into the eyes. "Buffy..."

"When I feel better, we'll do more than talk, okay?" She gave him one of her glorious grins.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh Buffy." He leaned back in his chair, grinning at her. "It's true, right now, the last thing I want to do is talk."

"What do you want to do?" Buffy asked, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. She knew she was teasing him dangerously now, but for some reason, she couldn't help herself. Their lives had been so full of pain and misery lately, and duty. She wanted to explore this new freedom she felt with Giles. Feel the heat coming off of him. Revel in their love for one another. She wanted him to believe, and be easy, just as she felt now.

Giles knew what she was doing. He decided it was time to throw his fears and caution to the wind. He'd built more than layers of tweed between them for years. Now he just wanted to strip himself bare before her. It was liberating, and it was joyful.

"I want to twirl my tongue over your nipples through the cotton of your t-shirt, stoking this fire I feel between us until it consumes us." His voice had taken on a low quality, full of desire and need. Buffy swallowed and her breath almost stopped. "Go on," she whispered.

Giles moved both his hands to the edge of the table, gripping it fiercely. "I want to move my lips and tongue down your stomach until I reach your womanhood, and taste... oh God, Buffy. I want to taste you. All of you."

Buffy made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. Slowly she stood up. He didn't move, and the look between both of them was full of a withering heat for anything that got in their way to distract them from their path of completeness.

Slowly Buffy walked around the table to stand beside him. He turned towards her. She knelt down and placed her hands on his knees, turning his chair to face her.

He was as taut as a wire. His knuckles were white where they gripped the table. His breath was coming out in short gasps. His eyes were open to mere slits as he gazed down at her, and his arousal had never been so hard.

Buffy moved her hands up and down his thighs. "Look at me, Giles," she commanded. His eyes opened further and he watched her. She moved one of her hands up his thigh and then her fingers found his hardness. He inhaled deeply, a jerky, strangled breath. His eyelids half closed in pleasure but still he watched her.

Her fingers curled around his cock outside his pants. She wanted to feel his hot skin. His hips raised off of the chair, thrusting slightly towards her. He bit his lip.

"All your life has been about me," Buffy said, continuing to stroke him. "Protecting me, teaching me, supporting me, giving all of yourself for me. Now, I want to give to you. I love you, Giles. I love you with every fiber of my being. When I realized you loved me too... nothing else matters. Your love is why I fight. Your love makes everything worth it. See me, Giles, and believe. Believe in my love." Her lips found his, and they kissed. His hands left the table to pull her closer, his mouth devouring hers. She released his cock and wrapped her arms around his neck, climbing into his lap. As their mouths fused together, their bodies writhed together, his erection trapped between them. She rubbed herself against him and his hips rocked back into her.

His hands pressed against her back, moving up and down from her shoulders to her hips. He moaned into her mouth and moved his hands to the front of his jeans. He undid his pants while continuing to ravage her mouth. Soon his erection was free. He eased down her sweat pants, and Buffy lifted her hips. In one sudden movement she came down, impaling herself on him. They both groaned. She moved her hands to his shoulders and broke the kiss. Pulling back, her eyes locked onto his. "See me... see my love... Giles... oh... Giles!"

"I see you... I see you, my beloved, my Buffy, mine..." His hands encircled her waist as he felt her body grip onto his. Her orgasm ripped through her, tightening all around him, pulling his own pleasure out like lightening crashing over a barren desert. He watched her face as they both came, until their movements slowed and their bodies melted together. She rested her forehead against his and moved her hands to the back of his neck and head. "Now I see you, and I believe," she whispered.

Giles arms tightened in their embrace. The tears on his cheeks mingled with hers. They were tears of joy and love. Giles saw. Giles felt, and Giles believed.

The End