TITLE: Beauty 5/7
AUTHOR: Lily2332
DISCLAIMER: They’re not mine, don’t sue.
Note: For Diana Macca and Belanna69, my
wonderfully persistant feedbackers.
"I will gather myself around my faith, for light does the darkness most fear." ~Jewel, Hands
~~~
"Buffy!" Giles called down into the basement. "Come upstairs. Take a break." She’d been down in the musty darkness all day, going through box after box of old books. It wasn’t her helpful nature that had her down there working…just another of her many ways to stay hidden until sunset.
"I’m not done." she called back.
Buffy had been with Giles since she’d come to him that night, and the whole while he’d carefully avoided mentioning her need to keep the shades drawn all day, staying holed up in his bedroom or the basement. Now he was beginning to think that that hadn’t been the best way to handle this.
In order to actually see the girl, he’d changed his lifestyle, sleeping during the day, and keeping careful watch during the night.
She was afraid in her dreams; he held her while she slept.
She was afraid to leave the safety of his home; he joined her on patrol each night.
For everything that she feared, he was the solution, near and effective. But he couldn’t be these things forever…they needed to talk.
Buffy heard the creaking of the stairs as her watcher descended them, and wiped her dusty hands on her pants.
"Hi," she said, not looking up at him, even though she could tell that he was waiting for her to.
"Good afternoon," he said, "It’s a lovely day." The greeting meant much more than its face value. In that simple phrase, he let her know that whether she wanted to admit it or not, life went on as usual on the outside. He wasn’t going to indulge her denial, at least, not any more than he deemed completely necessary.
He stood there for another moment, then sat down on an old crate. "Buffy, we need to talk."
Her nose and face were smudged with dirt, a cloth tied around her head, cleaning-lady style. It would’ve made for a truly endearing picture if it weren’t for the guarded look in her eyes that she’d developed since her ordeal. As usual, she avoided eye contact with Giles, looking down toward his shoes as he spoke to her. At times, he found it painful to even look at her, the helplessness he saw was too much. She seemed broken and he had no idea how to restore her to her former self.
"Let’s go out today." he suggested. Her body tensed and she shook her head furiously.
"Not today, Giles. Tomorrow…" she didn’t finish, because they both knew it wasn’t true.
Buffy threw herself at her watcher. She knew that there would be black spots on her knees where she knelt in front of her watcher, burying her face in the front of his shirt, but it was worth it. The solace she found as his hands came down, holding her to him, was better than any therapy that the pushy doctors could offer her.
And there had been plenty of offers. Plastic surgeons, psychologists, and then "trauma counselors," as if Buffy wouldn’t know they were the same thing. Giles took all the calls, referred by her well-intentioned mother, and turned them down politely at Buffy’s insistence.
"All right," he assured her. "Not today." He was rewarded with a heavy sigh of relief.
<God, I love him,> she thought with feeling, and not just from the relief of not having to go out. She felt a need to thank him, and she lifted her face from the warmth of his chest, softly brushing his lips with her own. More than a caress, but not quite a kiss. They were both startled by the tender intimacy of the moment, and were taken aback by this new, unfamiliar side to their relationship. She felt as though for a second they had both been exposed, baring everything to the other. She wasn’t sure that she wanted it.
Giles felt it, too, knowing that it could’ve never been like this before. In the past, her defenses would never have been down far enough to make this connection, and it was just a reminder of what she’d lost.
Buffy slowly pulled herself from his embrace, gracing him with a brief glimpse of nervous green eyes before she looked away. "Soon." She said, in reference to going out, the uncertainty that accompanied that promise making it worthless.
Giles had a reply ready, but faltered on his words as he watched her resume working. His throat constricted, and he had to fight to compose himself for a moment. It wasn’t the scars that affected him, it was the way that she’d allowed them to change her. Frighten her.
Did she think that she was hiding something from him? That he couldn’t see every insecurity and hurt that she was feeling? Because that wasn’t possible between them, it never had been. Her eyes told him more than words ever could, her expressions whispering to him her secrets before she knew them herself.
One of the secrets he’d seen was her love. But as much as he wanted to dwell on this discovery, and what it meant to them, he couldn’t. Because another secret he saw every time he looked into those beautiful, sorrowful eyes, was her sense of fear and shame. It needed to stop, and now was a good a time as any.
"Buffy. What are you doing down here?" he asked her. "You’re down here alone, on the dirty floor, in the dark. Don’t misunderstand, I do appreciate your help. But we all used to do these tasks together, remember? How long has it been since you’ve seen Willow?"
"I-I don’t…"
"Twelve days." He answered for her. He had serious doubts about whether Buffy even knew the date, much less what day of the week it was. "And Xander? He hasn’t even seen you since you were attacked. Tell me what it is that’s keeping you from…living, Buffy, and I’ll help you through it!"
Buffy, who normally would’ve ignored any conversation relating to the attack, responded to the desperation and possibly even anger in his words.
She rubbed her fingers across the cover of the book she was holding, tracing a pattern in the dust. "I want to see them," she admitted. "I miss them. But I don’t want them to see me. People can’t help the way they look when they see me, and I can’t help how I look period. It hurts too much, Giles!" She held his gaze, searching to see if he understood any part of what she was saying.
"You’re the only one who doesn’t look at me and think, ‘Oh God, what happened to her, she used to be so pretty!’ or, ‘There goes the Slayer, looks like she didn’t have what it took.’"
Giles listened closely; it was the first time that she’d opened up to him since it had happened. He could see the tears shining in her eyes that she refused to let go, and was pleased that she’d come far enough to have such control. In her first few days with him, he’d witnessed endless tears, and was astounded each time she finished weeping, only to be overtaken by sobs once again. He’d wondered if it would ever end.
"I don’t look at you in that way, because there is no reason for me to!" he replied forcefully. "And no one else has, either. How could they? No one has seen you! You should be happy. You belong out there," he pointed toward the window, "with your friends, to laugh, and to learn. You belong in the sunshine!" He attempted a shaky smile as he leaned forward, taking her face in his hands, trying to let her see the urgent sincerity of his words. "I want to see you with the sun on your face."
He wasn’t surprised when she let the books she was sorting fall to the ground, creating a thick cloud of dust that hung in the air long after she’d fled up the stairs.
The same worries and doubts that had plagued him for weeks consumed him as he sat in the darkness. He was nothing but a fraud. Everyone was counting on him to help Buffy through this, and in reality he had no idea what to do. His training as a Watcher hadn’t done anything to prepare him for this. He’d learned how to protect her from physical harm, but how could he protect her from something that was hurting so deeply inside her?
With no one to help him make any decisions regarding Buffy’s well-being, his only choice was to carefully decide what she needed, and make it so. He continued to sit in the same spot, making plans for what needed to be done, until the sun had set.