Title: Atonement, Part 9
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Overall rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Angel
Summary: Angel returns to Sunnydale intent on saving Giles’ life and making amends, but discovers that his good intentions may bring about more suffering than either of them can handle.
Setting: Season four of BtVS, season one of AtS.
Warning: Slash and a little angst.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Kuzui, Fox, ME, Sandollar, etc. own the rights to the characters in this story, but I’m happy to live in their shadow.
Xander and Buffy arrived at Giles’ place at almost the same time, and when they found Willow alone—Gilesless—they lay into her with some serious third degreeing.
“I don’t know where he went,” Willow said, her big eyes doing their damndest to convey her innocence. “But he was alone in the car.”
“You don’t think…” said Xander. “Nah.”
“What?” asked Buffy.
“It’s just…you don’t think he might be going after Angelus himself, do you?”
“That would be suicide,” said Buffy.
“Yeah, it would. But he might see it as more of a selfless sacrifice,” said Xander. “Think about it—Angelus was here last night, but he didn’t hurt us. I think he’s playing head games with Giles. He probably made threats against us.”
Buffy’s eyes went wide. “Angelus was here last night?”
“Long story,” said Xander, sparing Willow from yet another guilt trip over the de-invite thing. “The point is, Giles is totally the silent hero type, and this time it’s gonna get him killed.”
Buffy started in with the heavy pacing. “Do you have any idea where they might be?” Willow and Xander could only shake their heads apologetically.
“Ooh—but I’ve got orbs,” said Xander, and he fished around in the bag he was carrying and pulled out what appeared to be two plain glass balls.
“You stole two?” asked Willow.
“You never know when a spare one might come in handy,” he answered.
“Valid point,” said Buffy.
Willow quickly cleared a spot on Giles’ dinner table and took a seat. “C’mon, Xan. What are you waiting for? Ball me,” said Willow, blushing a hot pink.
Xander smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.” He handed her the orbs and took a couple of steps back—he’d developed a healthy respect for magick over the last few years, and he couldn’t shake the fear that proximity to it might somehow transform him into a toad or something.
“Good—you guys do your thing. I’m gonna check out the factory and the mansion—Angelus likes familiar surroundings.” She slipped out into the dark night and Xander shut the door quietly, careful not to disturb Willow, who’d already begun the incantation.
Angelus laid his prey out on the throw rug in front of the fireplace. Giles sluggishly tried to roll away, but what little blood he had left was too busy trying to keep his heart pumping to spare any for an escape attempt.
Angelus stood over him, amused. “You never give up, do you?” As Giles glared up at him defiantly, Angelus stripped to the waist. With the knife he had tucked in his back pocket, he sliced into his own skin, making a deep gash along his chest, just over his heart. He then knelt next to Giles and gathered him into his arms.
Giles had no energy to pull away, but he told himself he could still choose death over drinking Angelus’ blood. With his face now smothered against the vampire’s chest, Giles kept his mouth firmly shut. But Angelus was right—he’d had no idea what it was like to be turned. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to take the blood. The scent of it was more intoxicating than anything he could have imagined, and even as he told himself he could resist it, he found himself opening his mouth.
Giles had been in enough fights over the years to know what blood tasted like. But this was different—it was sweet, not metallic—nothing had ever tasted better. The sensation was euphoric—like a man perishing under the hot desert sun drinking his first sip of cold water.
Angelus raked his fingers through Giles’ hair, imagining the powerful vampire his new fledgling would become. He could tell he was fighting it at first, but eventually the lure of his blood took hold and Giles began to swallow.
It was then that Angelus felt a familiar, wrenching pain, like he was being ripped out of his body. He growled and cursed, but the sounds never made it to his lips—Angel was back in control, pushing him once more into the darkest reaches of his mind.
Angel’s head was swimming. The last thing he remembered was…
Angel dropped that line of thought the second he realised someone was feeding off him. He looked down at the man pressed against him and went into a full-fledged panic.
“Giles!” he shouted, and pried the man off him. Giles clung to him desperately, trying to reach the life-giving wound on his chest, but Angel kept him at a distance. It wasn’t long before Giles’ strength gave out and he fell limp in his arms.
Angel had no idea how far gone Giles was. He felt for a pulse, fearing it was too late. But it was there—thready and precariously weak, but it was there. He was still alive. Little snippets of memory bombarded Angel’s mind, and he groaned.
“Don’t die on me, Giles,” he whispered as he lifted him and carried him outside. He managed to get him into the backseat of the Citroën, thinking all the while that if Giles didn’t survive this he might just beg Buffy to dust him once and for all. Put an end to his suffering, like some rabid dog.
The keys were still in the ignition—as if Giles knew he might need to make a quick getaway. Angel started the engine and was about to peel out when Buffy appeared at the driver’s side window and pounded on the glass. Startled, Angel slammed on the brakes. Their eyes met, and in a matter of seconds everything that needed to be said had been said without either of them having to speak a word.
Without a word, Buffy got into the backseat of the car with Giles, feeling like she was suffering from a whopping case of déjà vu. They drove all the way to the hospital in silence—Buffy was too worried about Giles to make conversation with Angel, and Angel was just thankful for the quiet—he had a lot to think about.
Giles awoke in the hospital, surrounded by friends and more flowers than an Easter Parade float. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and when he reached for the pitcher of water on his bedside table his young friends raced madly to get it for him. Not surprisingly, Buffy won, and she presented him with the little Dixie cup of water like it was some kind of trophy.
He downed the water in one gulp, wetting his throat enough so he could speak. “What happened? Where’s Angelus?” he asked.
Buffy and Willow looked at each other then at their feet, unable to look him in the eye. Xander finally answered: “Willow put Angelus back in the box,” he said. “Close call, though.”
“My fault,” Giles rasped. “I should have known better than to face Angelus alone. Don’t know why I did it, to be honest. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m so sorry for running out on you, Willow—you must have been worried sick.”
Willow’s large, hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “Just promise you won’t go after any more arch villains on your own.”
“Promise,” she said and gave her hand a squeeze.
“You had us all worried, you know,” said Xander. “For a while there we thought…” he choked up, then, and looked away.
“Well, I’m still here—a little worse for wear, perhaps, but I’ll survive.”
“We should go,” said Willow. “You should get some sleep.” Willow dragged Xander out of the room with her giving Buffy a look of support as she went.
Buffy shifted from foot to foot and chewed her lip—she hadn’t felt this anxious since that time when she was eight and she had to tell her mom that she’d burned down the shed. “Giles…on a scale of one to ten, how mad at me would you say you are?”
“Come here,” he said. Buffy edged closer. “Sit.” Giles patted a spot on the bed next to him, and Buffy dutifully took a seat. Now she was really worried—whatever he had to say must be pretty bad if he thought she needed to sit for it.
“Buffy, I’d be lying to you if I said it’s all water under the bridge. It’s going to take time for me to make peace with everything that’s happened over the last few days—you do understand that, don’t you?”
Buffy nodded and blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes.
“That said, I also want you to know that I understand the reasons for what you did. You acted with the best intentions, and I can’t fault you for that. I’m partly to blame, myself—if I’d simply told you right off what the Freb-Ont ritual involved, none of this would have happened.”
“No. It was my fault—I should have listened to you. I should have known you had a good reason for not wanting Angel involved. And now…” her voice cracked and the first hot tear slid down her cheek. Giles reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.
“Let’s just say we both need to work on our communication skills and call it even,” said Giles with a trace of a smile.
Buffy smiled sadly back at him. “Giles…are we good?” she asked quietly.
Giles pulled her into a gentle hug. “Yes, Buffy, we’re good.”
“Now you’re sure you’re gonna be okay by yourself?” asked Xander.
Giles knew the boy was only asking out of politeness. He’d been camping out on his couch for nearly three weeks, and although he never complained, Giles suspected Xander would be relieved to be in his own bed again. Even if it was in his parent’s basement.
“I’ll be just fine, Xander. Thank-you.”
“Alright. But if you change your mind I want you to call me. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Xander wasn’t entirely convinced that Giles was ready to be left alone. He was doing okay with the physical stuff, like getting up the stairs, but there were other things—like the nightmares. Giles probably didn’t realize that he knew about them. Those nights when he tossed and turned and woke up in a cold sweat, Xander had pretended to sleep through it—thought Giles might get embarrassed by it. But Xander knew.
He was about to step out the door when Xander turned and gave Giles a good, long hug.
“What was that for?” asked Giles.
“You looked like you needed it,” he answered.
“Um…well, yes. Thank-you, Xander,” said Giles awkwardly.
“Don’t mention it,” said Xander. “And of course I mean that in the literal sense.”
“Mum’s the word,” said Giles, and with a friendly pat on the arm, he ushered Xander out the door.
Alone at last, Giles closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. It had been too long since he’d been left un-chaperoned, and he was looking forward to some peace and quiet. He was hopelessly behind on his journals, although that was more due to procrastination than a lack of privacy. He didn’t care much for the thought of putting the events of the last few weeks down on paper. But he would do it, nonetheless, in the hope that future generations of watchers might benefit from his experience.
Less than an hour later, Giles had decided that peace and quiet weren’t all they were cracked up to be. His thoughts were too turbulent to afford him any peace, and the quiet was verging on oppressive. He busied himself with dinner preparations, chopping veggies for a fresh garden salad, and tried not to jump at every little noise he heard. When the doorbell rang, he was wound so tight that his hand slipped and he sliced into his finger, cutting it deep.
“Aw, f…” he bit back the string of curses that were pushing to spill out and sucked on his finger to stop the bleeding. But the taste of blood stirred up some disturbing memories, and he quickly pulled his finger out of his mouth and wrapped it in a tea towel.
The doorbell rang again, this time followed by a timid knocking.
“Coming,” said Giles as he made his way to the door. He opened it, expecting it to be Willow or Buffy paying him a surprise visit. But his blood ran cold when he saw Angel on his doorstep. The vampire looked decidedly uncomfortable to be there.
“Angel?” asked Giles. But what he was really asking was ‘is it you…or the other one?’
Angel nodded, nervously twisting the claddagh ring on his finger, his eyes shifting away from the man he’d nearly turned.
Giles hesitated, torn between inviting him in and ramming a stake through his heart. He couldn’t help thinking that if he’d chosen the stake when he’d shown up on his doorstep a year ago things would have turned out for the better.
“I thought you went back to L.A.,” he said.
“I did,” said Angel. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on staying long. I just came back to see you.”
Giles crossed his arms and glared at the vampire. “You’ve done that. You can go now.”
“I also wanted to apologise for what happened. I know it hardly matters after what I did to you, but…”
“It matters,” said Giles, his demeanour softening slightly. “It matters a lot, actually.” After a moment’s serious deliberation, he stood aside and said, “Come in.”
Despite his shock at the unexpected invitation, Angel didn’t hesitate to join him inside.
“No crossbow this time?” said Angel, only half joking.
“I think we both know that a crossbow wouldn’t stand in your way if you had it in your mind to kill me.”
Angel winced at the painful reminder of their most recent encounter. “Then why invite me in?” he asked.
“Because we need to talk,” said Giles, gesturing for Angel to have a seat. Angel sat on the couch and was more than a little surprised when Giles chose to sit down next to him.
“Whether I like it or not, you and I have a history. I can’t pretend nothing happened. And I can’t spend the rest of my life fearing that you might come after me again.”
Angel shifted in his seat, not liking the direction this was going.
“Don’t worry,” said Giles, as if reading his thoughts, “you’re safe, Angel. All I’m saying is that if I’m to stand any chance at leading a normal life again, I have to confront my fears.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Giles,” said Angel.
Giles’ lips curled up in a bitter smile. “This has nothing to do with what you want,” he said. “This is about me coming to terms with my feelings—my fears…and my desires.” Giles lifted his head and made eye contact with the vampire.
Angel swallowed hard and blinked at him. It didn’t seem possible that he’d said what he’d just said. “Desires?” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.
Giles nodded, still holding Angel’s gaze. “If you hadn’t noticed, when we…when we were back in the temple, you weren’t the only one to…uh…”
“Experience a soul-losing moment?” Angel supplied helpfully.
“Quite,” said Giles. “And as hard as it is for me to accept it, I can’t deny that a part of me enjoyed it. Something happened to me in that temple—something in me changed. That night when you almost turned me…”
“About that, Giles—I’m so sor…”
“No, let me finish. That night I should have stayed at home—I knew Buffy would never have let you hurt the others. But I was drawn to you. A part of me wanted to go to you. I think…I think maybe I wanted you to kill me.”
“Giles…” Angel began, but he had no clue what to say to him.
“Just answer one question for me?” asked Giles.
“Anything.”
“Why me?”
Angel didn’t answer straight away. He didn’t think Giles would be happy with the truth, but he owed it to him to be honest. “Well, there was the revenge—that was a part of it. Knowing that it would kill Buffy to see you turned was a big factor. But mainly it was just because I was attracted to you. In Angelus’ eyes you would have made the perfect companion.”
Giles’ green eyes bored into his; “Angelus was attracted to me? Or you were?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes, it does.”
“We’re two sides of the same coin, Giles—we feel the same things. The only difference is the way we show it. All I wanted was to protect you, and earn your respect, but Angelus…he took those feelings and twisted them into something…wrong. He wanted to possess you.”
“He almost did,” said Giles, and he got up off the couch and walked away.
Angel followed him into the kitchen where Giles stood facing away from him, running water over his cut finger. Angel approached slowly, but stopped when the scent of Giles’ blood reached his nose. He closed his eyes, fighting back the urges that always surfaced in the presence of human blood as well as some new urges that were almost as unsettling.
“So what do we do now?” asked Angel, trying to stay focused.
Giles faced him, a weary look on his face. “We do what we always do, I suppose. We go on with our lives, we fight our battles.”
“And us?” asked Angel.
“There’s a lot of bad blood between us, Angel. You can’t expect me to simply forget everything that happened.” Giles brushed past him, and Angel fell into step behind him.
He caught Giles by the arm and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”
“I honestly don’t know,” said Giles sadly. “I know that might not sound fair—I realize I’m angry at you for something you had no control over—but I can’t help the way I feel.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Angel. “I’m surprised you were willing to talk to me at all, really. But if there’s anything I can do to start making things better between us…?”
“There is one thing,” said Giles. “I’d feel safer if you could arrange an early warning system—have someone give me a head’s up in case you ever lose your soul again.”
“Of course,” said Angel. He was aware that Giles was subtly steering them towards the front door, and he took the hint. “So…I guess I’ll leave you to your dinner.”
“I think that would be best,” said Giles.
“Thank-you for seeing me,” Angel said as he stepped outside. “I know how hard it must have been.”
Giles stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. It was the only way he could hide the fact that his hands had begun to shake. “Yes…well. Goodnight, Angel.”
Angel dropped his gaze to the ground and turned away, the shadows consuming him.
Giles closed the door, resting his head against the solid wood barrier. He was so jittery he couldn’t even manage to turn the deadbolt. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. It was over. It was done. The dreaded confrontation had passed and he was still standing. But it had left him severely shaken, and the apartment no longer felt safe.
He went straight to the phone.
“Hello, Xander?” he said into the receiver. “Can you come over?” The sound of the young man’s voice saying ‘yes’ on the other end of the line was all he needed to know everything would be alright.
END